The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

  Sabot: Start at the left, fire, read the next card and adjust, drop, and go down the line to the right, read, adjust, pull safety, drop, repeat. Then shoot any SAMS that aren’t burning with the fifty. Then trucks. Then soldiers. Keep my hands off the clackers.

  Harbin: (Nodding) Good. Remember: only as fast as you can be accurate. Fast misses don’t count in this game. Read the card, adjust carefully. Don’t worry about anything else until you’re done with that.

  Sabot: …Why not the soldiers first?

  Harbin: SAMs can shoot down Taj, guys with rifles can’t, and the heavy trucks will stay on the road. I don’t think you will, but you’d be amazed how many people freeze up in combat. With your head down and not worrying about what an exploding head looks like in your scope, you’ll do fine dropping rounds on the road. Once the SAMs are down, then we worry about pulling back. Let me worry about the people and selecting good targets. You just lay waste to the roadway and vehicles. Now then, I suggest you work on breathing: in slow, hold, all the air out slow, hold.

  Harbin stands, takes a final look around. He stretches, flexes, adjusts his gear a little, takes a sip of water from a canteen, then squats down in a corner of the gun pit.

  Harbin: Been a long night. Wake me in two hours, or if anything interesting happens.

  Harbin adjusts his helmet, hunkers down, closes his eyes, and appears to fall fast asleep. Sabot looks at him in amazement and shakes his head.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Ambush

  FADE IN

  EXT - DAY - Harbin’s mortar pit

  Full daylight. The dull rumble of many quiet engines and big wheels dominate the background. Sabot is hunkered down in a corner, head down, helmet off, asleep. Harbin is looking carefully over the edge of the pit. He slowly lowers his head. He kicks Sabot’s boot gently. Sabot startles, pops his head up, looking around wildly for a moment, settles down, then perks up at the sound. He looks at Harbin questioningly. Harbin nods.

  Harbin: Might want to get your earplugs and helmet. We’re crashing a bigger party than expected.

  Sabot gropes for his helmet, carefully keeping his head below the edge of the pit. He starts putting his earplugs in.

  Sabot: How long? How many?

  Harbin: A few minutes ago. Bad convoy discipline, all bunched up. Simple. Kaminski should fire first when the lead vehicle of the column is in position. Get your first shell laid in and ready.

  Sabot grabs the first round and card, looks at them dumbly.

  Harbin: Read the card, make the settings, get ready to pull the safety pin and drop after the boom on my say.

  Sabot nods, breathes deliberately, glances at the card, checks the settings on the mortar, and nods. He puts one hand on safety pin, pulls it, and then holds it over the tube, ready to drop. Harbin shifts into position on the heavy rifle, already lying in approximately the correct position, and gives the convoy a quick scan and settles in behind the scope, starting to track a target.

  The camera view rises above the edge of the mortar pit, looking down into the valley.

  Stretched out on the roadway is a convoy of more than twenty trucks, stretching beyond the curve in the road both ways. Six large missile launcher trucks with dual missiles on each. Radar trucks. Supply trucks. Troop trucks. Command vehicles.

  A rolling BOOOM is heard.

  Harbin: (Quietly, after a brief pause as he gauges the lead vehicle’s position) Fire.

  Sabot drops the round, THUMP! A dust cloud springs up around them from the concussion of firing and he reaches for the next one. Harbin starts firing rapidly, starting at the other end of the convoy, aiming at the last dual missile launcher’s pair of long-range death, then working his way forward. The first truck in the convoy, a radar truck, receives a direct hit and explodes. The last SAM erupts, one of its missiles hit in the warhead by Harbin’s HE round, blowing the light command vehicle behind it off the road. A bunched up and slightly disorganized column of trucks descends into total disarray. A line of mortar rounds marches down the column from the front, hitting some trucks directly, near misses damaging others, sending people running everywhere. A few trucks try to get off the road, only to wreck running into trees or the ditch. Soldiers pile out of troop carriers and scatter, getting away from the trucks-as-targets, hugging the ground to escape flying shrapnel and exploding SAMs. THUMP-boom-boom-boom-boom-THUMP-boom-boom-boom-boom-THUMP, Harbin and Sabot lay down an accurate and devastating rain of fire. Shortly all the dual missile SAM launchers have exploded or are burning furiously. The THUMPing of Sabot’s mortar stops and he takes his position at the far end of the gun pit from Harbin, firing his own heavy rifle carefully. Trucks and vehicles try to get out of the killing zone, but the trees and terrain are too rough, they tip or get stuck, and finally shot.

  A spurt of dirt kicks up next to Sabot and he jumps a bit, looking at it in surprise.

  Harbin: (Yelling over the din) DAMN! Only way to stop them shooting is to shoot back! Keep it up! We’ll pull back if there’s a lull!

  All vehicles are now in flames. The heavy rifles are out of ammo, only light infantry remaining. There is a frenzy of movement down in the valley as enemy troops find cover and concealment from their tormentors on the hillside. As they can, they start firing more frequently. Harbin and Sabot pull their heads down and look at each other. Both are dirty and ragged. Harbin has blood running down his cheek. Sabot motions to it. Harbin touches his cheek with his finger, looks at the blood on his hand.

  Harbin: (Casually) Wife’s going to give me an earful about that.

  Spurts of dirt dance on the top of the gun pit. He holds up a small periscope and scans the valley as angry bullets buzz overhead.

  CUT TO

  View through the periscope of the hillside

  The hillside below them is crawling with scores soldiers, working their way up the slope, a few firing at them, while the rest sprint from cover to cover.

  Harbin: (OC, still in periscope view) OK. SAMs down. Very well done, Sabot, almost every round square on the road. Consider yourself an honest to God soldier. Now comes the tricky part. Get ready on clacker number one. The leftmost one.

  The periscope view pans back and forth. The slope near the road is covered with troops headed their way. It pans left. The sound of bullets whizzing overhead or hitting dirt nearby are many.

  Harbin: (OC) OK, get ready. Safety OFF.

  Sabot: (OC) Safety off.

  Harbin: (OC) Annnnd… FIRE!

  Sabot hits the clacker, CLACK KABOOM! A whole line of claymore-type mines go off, and the periscope view is filled with a roiling cloud of dust and debris. All the soldiers in view hit the ground, some diving for cover, some pirouetting into a ragged heap, dead or dying from the blast and steel balls. View shifts right. No soldiers seen standing. Very little firing, but lots of rolling echoes and dust. The periscope pans back and forth. There is some inarticulate yelling, then something that sounds like commands. The view pans to the middle, landing on a bunch of soldiers advancing again.

  Harbin: (OC) Get ready on number three.

  Sabot: (OC) Three. Got it. Safety OFF. Ready.

  Harbin: (OC) Steady, steady. Safe that. Ready number four.

  Sabot: (OC) Safe three. Safe. Got four. Safety OFF. Four ready.

  More soldiers are now moving uphill. More. A wave.

  Harbin: (OC) FIRE!

  Another eruption of dust and debris, and more soldiers down. Sounds of bullets buzzing overhead. Screams of pain, small explosions of ammo burning in fires, the crackle of flames, and dark, acrid smoke fills the valley.

  CUT BACK TO

  View of the gun pit

  They are hunkered down, Harbin scanning with his little periscope.

  Sabot: Do we blow the rest and fall back?

  Harbin: Not quite yet. This is the delicate part. If we blow them when we don’t have to, any decent leader will know that we are trying to cover a retreat and rally for a fast follow up, catch us in the open. Besides, they’re all behind
cover, so we wouldn’t hit anyone. If they think we can do this all day they demoralize and dig in or fall back. So we wait for them to get closer, then blow another one, then again. We fall back the instant we blow one to break up a charge or too much incoming fire and there’s no more of them… Too quiet, now. Let’s see if we can piss them off.

  Harbin cautiously raises his head over the edge of the pit, rifle ready, eye to the scope. He aims carefully, and squeezes off a shot. He’s rewarded by a scream.

  Harbin: Foot sticking out.

  He shifts his aim again and fires. Another scream and a string of incoherent cursing. Another shot, nothing. There is an odd SPANG-WZZZZZ, and Harbin abruptly jerks his head down. There is a rough crease through one side of his helmet, a furrow plowed by a bullet. He stretches his neck this way and that a bit to test function and winces a bit.

  Harbin: Yup. Pissed off again.

  Sabot: You want to piss them off!?

  Harbin: (Nods) So they react. Don’t think straight. Give them time to think and plan, we’re screwed. How about tossing a grenade as far down the hill as you can, see what they do?

  Sabot pulls a small round grenade from his gear, and looks at it. Harbin reaches over, turns it around so the spoon is against Sabot’s palm, and places Sabot’s other hand on the ring.

  Harbin: Sorry. We usually try to train before we use them for real. Your hand will hold the spoon until you throw. Pull the pin, lob it hard, stay down, cover your ears. Easy. Watch.

  Harbin grins his wolfish grin, picks up one for himself. He holds it spoon against his palm, pulls the pin, and just holds it. Nothing happens, Sabot looks nervous. He coils his body and bends his arm, unwinds and flings it hard downhill, then ducks lower.

  Harbin: One, two, three, fou-

  The BOOM echoes across the valley, then the sound of distant gunfire and more explosions rolls in on the breeze. Yelling and a little screaming and crying reaching their ears.

  Sabot: Sounds like this isn’t the only party on the block.

  Harbin nods, and points a different direction than he threw.

  Harbin: Like I said, plenty of targets to go around.

  Sabot coils, pulls the pin, spins and heaves it. Just as his hand is releasing, a lucky bullet rips through his arm, and his follow through brings it down to his chest, where he looks at it dumbly for a moment. Harbin grabs a pressure bandage from a ready supply, tears it open with a well-practiced pull. Another explosion rocks the valley as the grenade goes off. He binds the wound with practiced precision and speed while talking to Sabot.

  Harbin: (Very calmly) Breathe. I’ve got it. No problem. Combat pay and a genuine field injury medal, your lucky day. War stories and scars to prove it. No bone, so you’ll be doing push-ups again next week. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, hold. Doing good. Just a flesh wound, no problem. Trigger finger still work? Might need it soon.

  Sabot stares up into the sky, jaw clenched, as Harbin works. Finished wrapping the wound up, Harbin picks up his periscope again and starts scanning the valley. Things are quieter but the occasional explosion or burst of gunfire drifts in from the distance.

  Harbin: Take a sip of water, just sit a minute. Looks quiet, and we still have three more lines of mines and plenty of ammo. We’ll be fine.

  The expression on his face is not quite as convincing.

  DISSOLVE TO

  INT - DAY - Tajemnica’s bridge

  Helton, Quiritis, Bipasha, Cooper, Allonia, Lag. Everyone but Lag looks tense and worried. He looks patient.

  Lag: Lots of smoke that way, so our suspicions were right. But until we hear from them, we can’t know that way is clear, only that they brought down their own special slice of hell on the guys trying to shoot us down. Waiting and not knowing is always the hardest part.

  Allonia: (On verge of tears) But it’s been hours!

  Lag: And it may be hours more.

  Quiritis: We haven’t picked up much of anything, ours or theirs. I’d take that as a good sign. They didn’t call for help.

  Cooper: They wouldn’t. They are the help.

  Allonia starts to stifle a cry, then clenches her jaw, looking determined.

  Allonia: One more load, low and fast over that area. They’d not expect us to head for the smoke, and we can see what’s what. Maybe they got their radios damaged, and they can signal us visually.

  The rest of them look at her, their worry about her increasing.

  Allonia: When we get back, I’m going to pay Seymore a visit, no matter what we see on the ground.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Visit

  FADE IN

  INT - DAY - Aft cargo bay ramp

  Tajemnica is flying low, hugging the treetops, ramp partially lowered. Allonia, Lag, and two recruits are looking out as they streak over the hills and woods. The ground below becomes less distinct as swirls of smoke start to appear, then grow denser. The scene below them changes from idyllic sparse woodland to a swath of flaming carnage and roaring forest fire. The snaking road stretches out in either direction with scores of burning vehicles and small craters. Bodies are scattered all over, the scene of a devastating battle. A truck on fire erupts in a fireball as they pass, the sounds of gunfire hit their ears, and no undamaged trucks are seen.

  Lag whistles, softly, features set. Allonia looks shocked, the recruits somber.

  Lag: More like a battalion than a platoon. Hit hard. Deliver this load, then make that quick stop you wanted.

  CUT TO

  INT - DAY - Lag’s cabin on Tajemnica

  He’s on screen with Kat, talking hurriedly.

  Lag: At least a light battalion-

  Kat: A battalion!? Jesus!

  Lag: From what we could see all the vehicles got hit. We flew right over no hint of radar or tracking. Fighting was still active, and hundreds of guys moving around with a forest fire burning so no way to sort them out at speed. There may still be some operative stuff there. See what you can find out about other routes being cleared. No doubt they got hurt bad, but… (shakes head)

  Kat: On it. Out here.

  DISSOLVE TO

  EXT - DAY - Hastily dug fighting position

  The Plataeans and five recruits lie in a shallow depression, hastily dug into a slightly better foxhole, facing outward and occasionally shooting as needed. Blue wood smoke, black plastics smoke, white powder smoke, all swirl by intermingled. They are bloodied and bandaged, with damaged body armor and bayonets that show signs of recent use. The sounds of gunfire and a forest fire crackle in the background. They have few supplies. Around the rim Kaushik and the recruits are aiming and firing slowly and carefully, as best they can. Recruit Buck lies in a bloody mess next to Kaushik, magazine in his one good hand, ready to pass it to Kaushik when he needs it, only two full magazines next to him. Harbin looks at a wound on Kaminski’s side, and puts another bloody bandage over it to add to his collection.

  Harbin: You’ll last a while. Just another flesh wound. Can you shoot?

  Kaminski: (Though clenched teeth) Got no choice.

  Harbin: You know what I think?

  Kaminski looks at him grimly.

  Harbin: She’s going to give you hell for getting shot like that.

  In spite of the pain Kaminski grins weakly and gives a halfhearted chuckle. He hefts his rifle gingerly and rolls onto his good side, moving slowly to get back up into the fight.

  CUT TO

  EXT - DAY - Rooftop landing pad

  A four story building on the outskirts of town at the edge between the industrial district and more upscale urban building. The pad has three small fliers parked on the side of it. Tajemnica glides down, pads retracted, ramp down, and hovers above it near the roof door, where a husky guy in a dark suit and sunglasses stands with a snarl on his face.

  Guard1: (Yelling) Get that huge-ass thing out of here!

  Allonia and Helton hop off the ramp in no mood to be argued with. Allonia wears full high-tech synthetic combat armor, holstered pistol at her side o
n a belt laden with magazines, Helton only wears body armor, carrying a suppressed 6.5mm rifle slung across his chest, a few spare magazines here and there. On the ramp, Lag stands with a rifle casually under his arm, looking at the guard with a slight grim smile.

  Helton: Open the door. We have an appointment with Seymore.

  Allonia: And you are not going to announce it.

  Guard1 assesses the situation and his face goes from angry and demanding to professionally blank. He opens the door and stands aside.

  CUT TO

  INT - DAY - Outer office reception area

  A cute young lady sits behind a desk, as much decorative as functional. Three muscular, tough-looking men, fashionably dressed, lounge around the room. KnifeGuy cleans his fingernails with a vicious-looking knife. The door flies open violently, Allonia and Helton storm in. Seymore’s hired muscle are good. They react instantly, reaching to draw weapons, and KnifeGuy throws his blade expertly and fast. Allonia and Helton are prepared. Allonia dodges, the knife barely grazes her temple and sticks in the wall. She draws her pistol lightning fast while dodging, getting it in another’s face while he’s still mid-draw. Helton’s rifle is leveled at the third thug. KnifeGuy is empty-handed, and he freezes while starting to reach for another blade, realizing he’s not going to be fast enough.

  Helton: Nobody moves, no one dies.

  Allonia: (Without looking at the receptionist, glaring at the guys she’s covering with her pistol, tone cold and deadly) Hit the switch and open the door for us. Now.

  The receptionist understands the situation and controls herself well enough to reach for a button.

  Helton: NO. The button that opens the door. Anything but that happens (he shifts his aim to her) you die first. Then these three. Then Seymore.