The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

  Kat: Stateless. Bureaucratic malum prohibitum snafu on his home world cost him his citizenship. We gave him a provisional Plataean diplomatic status C2 to act as a courier a few months ago. He’s also been granted a Letter of Marque to use his starship as a conditional warship under certain circumstances, against certain targets. No citizenship, but legally he is technically a diplomat for civilian planetary law when couriering sensitive material, supported military contractor when in an authorized combat action, resident alien civilian for normal legal matters, civilian noncombatant for military law most of the time, and Universal Code of Material Justice - Stateless, in deep space. Unusual, but legally done.

  Lerner does not look very convinced that his position is OK. The others alternately frown, shrug it off, or nod in general understanding.

  Chin (Elderly Chinese man): What about the counter-fire? I’m still vague on that.

  Lag: (From the screen) Tajemnica has had anti-debris micro-lasers and other protective systems in the past. We have been using the onboard systems as training simulators. The pilot has a ground-attack background and apparently she made certain gunnery software and combat simulators were installed in case it ever got rearmed. The ship gave warning only when it realized there were inbound prohibited guided munitions, and tried to retarget them. After seeing they couldn’t all be safely retargeted, the gunnery software was accessed by the AI in self defense. Tajemnica went into the gun platforms via the access left wide open by the Kiv hacking. They left access open and obvious, apparently in order to be able to claim we were in violation first if the question arose.

  VanDoren (Youngish white guy): Why? Why would the Kiv take the risk?

  Lag: Intel is ambiguous, but best guess is that they had boxed themselves in. They have taken a couple of risky moves recently and lost each one. This was a quick way back into a winning position. If the strike was successful, a follow on with the other three in-range units would have made a big hole, and they’d be free to maneuver again. The recent loss of an air-defense battalion might have been the piece that made them this desperate.

  The members of the compliance monitor panel examine the diagram displayed before them, looking thoughtful.

  Kat: I know you’d like weeks to consider all the data here, because this isn’t a simple “idiot brought a gun to a knife duel, saw it, got the video, snipe his ass” case, but time is of the essence. The units in violation are moving, or will be moving very soon, and will likely seek to get mixed up with others that were not known to be involved in the near future.

  Korte (Middle aged East Indian man): Remedy?

  Lag: We are now loading ammo and gravity systems onto Tajemnica. We’d like to pick up some grav tanks and support in the next ninety minutes, then hit the violators over the next twelve hours, and another day for mop-up.

  Grewal: A civilian ship? With a diplomat as captain?

  Lag: Long story, but yes. He’s also a sort of contract privateer, as Kat pointed out, with conditional legal status. Other units are tied up and not easily up-teched to be effective, and normal grav-tank command and transport hardware are compromised. Might be a problem. I believe you have met Major Kraut?

  The assembled group makes knowing, sour faces, with a few nods.

  Kat: Captain Strom will be acting in his private Letter of Marque capacity on a violation-enforcement contract, not as a courier-diplomat. After all, the base was targeted in part because he was there, so he has a personal interest.

  Lag: With the grav-tanks and support aboard, I’m confident that it will work out. They may be civilians, but they do accomplish deliveries rather well. Compliance bond and the Plataean performance bonus will pay for them to fly the mission.

  The committee members look around at each other, and one at a time they nod, except Lerner, who shrugs her shoulders in abstention.

  Gupta: Granted. Thirty-six hours, starting now, to hit the offending units and the orbital platforms. Then everyone is back to contract levels.

  Lag and the Raptus Regaliter commander nod understanding. The screens go blank, and LT Kat turns to go. Suddenly one of the screens lights up again, and a very angry and flustered-looking Councilor Darch appears.

  Councilor Darch: I MUST protest! The Plataeans caused a violation and then attacked a Kiv battalion unprovoked from their ship! This outrage CANNOT be allowed to STAND!

  Gupta: Oh, really? You are lucky we happened to be together. Do tell us all about it.

  While he talks, he motions subtly with his hand to Kat, who is out of camera view to Darch, for her to leave.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Kraut

  FADE IN

  EXT - DAY - Expeditionary force parade ground

  A large parade ground and landing field. Mostly perfect grass, with numerous concrete landing pads and roads. Arrayed are twenty-six hulking, angular grav-tanks, four sets of six in desert camo paint, and two gaudy chromed tanks out in front. Each tank turret has a long heavy railgun barrel on one side, a long 120mm main gun center, a light railgun on the other side, and the stubby bump of a 15 megajoule laser on top. Raised up from the bustle in back is an array of missile launch tubes, a row of six quad-tube launchers, for display. Behind them are arranged another 20 grav APCs, small turrets sporting a set of lighter weapons, launchers, and antennas. In front of each is a three man crew, and in front of all of them all are about 120 men arranged in four platoons, with their leaders in front. In back are three large landing transports, each clearly large enough to carry the men and tanks with room to spare. They have many windows, and even more weapons and sensor bumps breaking up their graceful, smoothly rounded lines. They are multi-function transports, not assault landers. In front of the group on one of the immaculate white concrete pads stands Major Kraut, an arrogant-looking man in his 40s, wearing a gaudy uniform with lots of bangles and stripes, Hitler mustache, a malicious smile, and swagger stick, looking out over the arrayed troops. Next to him are five uniformed toadies, and one older guy not in uniform with a barely disguised disgusted look, with a balance-scale badge on his collar. Troops are at rigid attention, looks of passive boredom on their faces.

  Major Kraut: Ah, I love everything shined up and lined up for a proper inspection! They’ve been standing long enough. Let’s see what stupid shit these dolts and ancient hardware I’m saddled with managed to pull this time.

  A chime sounds from the tablet of one of the toadies. He develops a chagrined look, and Kraut looks at him with annoyance. It chimes again, louder, insistently. The toady glances down at it, and does a double-take. He clears his throat, hesitatingly.

  Toady1: (Sounding confused) Uhh… Sir? A ship is inbound. Headed right here, hot. ID says it’s a… What’s an ACTING Plataean warship? Not one of ours. Coming in… GOOD GOD! It’s coming WAY too fast!

  They shoot looks nervously about not knowing whether to run and hide. Kraut is angry.

  Kraut: What the HELL do they mean, interrupting me like this! Who’s commanding that scow! I’ll have his ASS for this!

  Toady 2: (Pointing) THERE!

  They look up, following his finger. Off in the distance, high but dropping and growing fast, is a gray dot streaming a contrail and smoke. It’s heading right for them.

  The troops stand at nervous attention, daring to dart eyes at the incoming problem. The toadies squawk and panic. Kraut becomes angrier and doesn’t seem to consider the danger, only the interruption to his greatness.

  Kraut: Shoot it down, SHOOT IT DOWN!

  Toady3: With what, sir? Everyone is on parade! And it’s OURS!

  Kraut: Someone get on the landing carriers and get the guns online, DAMMIT! MOVE!

  No one moves beyond glancing nervously about, not quite sure who he’s ordering to break ranks.

  Close-up of the officer cluster, standing frozen, looking up at their impending doom. A sonic boom hits, then a descending scream of air as it slows. The toadies all cringe back as there is a huge, grinding, crunching, dirt-plowing crash, and the officers are s
wept by cloud of dust. A piece of metal, similar to a hubcap, rolls by through the dust, ringing on the concrete, testament to another hard landing. They wave their hands, and gradually the dust clears.

  On the field before them is Tajemnica, front landing ramp down, dirt piled up around the corners where it plowed into the field, lying at odd angles with its ass up in the air with multiple landing gear failures, looking more like a derelict than a space ship. In front are a couple of dirty wheeled APCs topped with gun turrets pointing at jaunty angles. In front of each, two ranks of six troops in full modern combat armor are in ragged, uneven lines, as if for inspection having come in right from a battle. They are off to each side of the ramp a bit, leaving room for other vehicles to board or offload. They are all armed differently, no two appear to have the exact same collection of weaponry, and a couple are missing limbs and have obvious prosthetic replacements. Experienced pros, not just run-of-the-mill uniforms.

  Kraut looks at them incredulously.

  Lag, wearing full modern armor and helmet so he can’t be identified, walks up to Kraut, who looks at them with growing rage plain on his face. Lag, with exaggerated casualness, brushes some dust from his armor and looks over the arrayed troops as he approaches.

  Lag: (Briskly casual) Sorry ‘bout the landing field; in a bit of a hurry. We had some excitement playing tag with a SAM battery on the way over. Glad to see you have them all ready to go. We can start loading any time.

  Kraut: (Apoplectic, getting right up into Lag’s face) WHO THE FUCK’RE YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN LOAD?!

  Unperturbed, Lag hands Kraut an e-reader, who knocks it aside. The old lawyer with balance scale badge picks it up and starts scanning through it. Kraut glares at Lag, face to tinted armor visor.

  Lag: I am here to immediately take command of all available weapons and volunteers I can transport to battle-

  Kraut: WHOSE ORDERS AND WHO THE FUCK’RE YOU?!

  Lag: According to those orders, I’m the acting Col of the 9th Plataean Space Marine assault battalion. Which means, at the moment, I’m your immediate superior, Major.

  Kraut: (Looking at his lawyer) WHO THE FUCK IS THIS GUY?!

  Lawyer: (A slow smile spreading across his face) He’s right. These orders do let him take command of all garrison material, vehicles, volunteer troops, in full company increments, that he can provide transport for, if they are needed for immediate field combat deployment or violation enforcement action.

  Lag: The Kiv are in level breach, so we have about a day and a half to deal with the violators.

  Kraut: OVER MY DEAD BODY!

  Lag: (Conversationally) I’d really rather not have to arrange that (takes his helmet off).

  Kraut: YOU!?

  Lag: (Briskly) Glad to see you again, too. Like old times. Now, let’s get loaded, shall we?

  Kraut: (To formation) NOBODY MOVE! (Then, viciously, to lawyer with balance badge) until we get to the bottom of this!

  Lag: Oh, yeah. Did you know your security pass-codes are fairly predictable?

  He signals with his finger over his head in a circular motion.

  Lag: ROUND ‘EM UP!

  All the grav tanks and grav APCs in the main formation emit the whining of grav-drives powering up and rise, moving slowly forward between the ranks of soldiers. The crewmen jump out of the way.

  Kraut: STOP! FREEZE! GET BACK IN FORMATION!

  LAG: (Casually) Oh, can it, Major; the computers can’t hear you. Well, actually, they can, they just won’t pay you any attention.

  Kraut: You CAN’T take them all; you don’t have room! You couldn’t get more than half of them on board, and your orders are only for COMPANY strength units! (To tanks) GET BACK IN LINE!

  LAG: Watch.

  The tanks and APCs move slowly toward Tajemnica. As they get closer, Tajemnica seems to move in an anthropomorphic way, like a fighter shaking off a punch or a dog shaking off water after a swim. As it shakes dirt from the landing free and gets its many landing strut legs back under it, the two dozen large oblong octagonal armor plates shake loose and flutter out, then slide back from across pits arranged along its flanks and top. One of them has a deep and ragged crater in it; they didn’t manage to dodge every SAM. As the first tank approaches, it bounces on its grav field a couple of times, each time a bit higher, jumps up, catches, and swings into a lower flank position and locks into place. The hull plates slide partially back into place, covering part of the tanks, leaving the turret free. The top flank tanks have to bounce higher to settle into their spots. The top tanks bounce up and jump onto the nose above the lowered ramp, glide up and back into a position. Very quickly, all 24 of the tanks are attached.

  At the same time, the APCs line up and slide smoothly up the ramp into the relative dark of the cargo bay, now mostly clear of the hastily boarded wheeled units.

  Kraut and his toadies stare in disbelief. He looks back and sees his two chromed tanks haven’t moved. He smiles evilly.

  Kraut: You don’t have room for any more, so, you can’t take any!

  Lag: Still have room on the bow ramp. They’ll be last to load. Stern ramp is full. Tajemnica has a surprising amount of room. Too bad you can’t have one.

  Kraut: (Sputters more, red faced, looking like he’s on the verge of a stroke)

  Lag: (To Kraut) Thought so.

  Lag steps forward, past Kraut, to address the large troop formation

  Lag: Hardware I can requisition. Troops need to volunteer. We need to go commit some major gratuitous violence on four Kiv battalions that violated tech-level terms of combat by using prohibited munitions, causing casualties. We have lots of bad guys, and lots of ammo. Rules of engagement are to shoot anyone or anything that moves in the zone with whatever you’ve got. Or, shoot it just to make sure it doesn’t start to move. We have a 34-hour window. Combat pay, and bonuses for prompt completion. Everyone volunteering to come under my command for this mission at this time, take one step forward.

  As a group, the entire formation steps forward with the crash of boots, except Kraut’s toadies, and shouts a thunderous “HOOAH, SIR!” The lawyer looks at the troops, then Kraut. He hands the e-reader with orders to one of the toadies and steps over to Lag’s side. One of the platoon leaders marches briskly over and salutes Lag.

  Lt Saber: Permission to load, sir?

  Lag: (Returning salute) Make it happen. (Lag nods toward Allonia, now standing nearby in her shiny new high-tech armor, carrying a full sized battle rifle) Follow her; she’ll show you were to go and draw ammo and supplies to get ready.

  As LT Saber walks after Allonia he produces a cigar and sticks it in his mouth with a grin.

  Kraut: (Incredulous) LAG, WHAT’N’HELL is a breeder like that doing in ARMOR?

  Lag: (Deadpan) Careful. She’s a civilian. A deadly one. She doesn’t have to take your shit.

  Allonia stops and pivots about. She walks back to face Kraut while the guys around stare.

  Kraut: (With a snarl, leaning nose-to-nose) Who do you think you are?

  Allonia: (Sweetly) The person that has seen more action, killed more men, and saved more lives in the last two months than you have in the last twenty years. The one taking your tanks into battle while you stand here objecting.

  She does a sharp about-face and walks back toward Tajemnica with Lt Saber.

  The remaining three infantry platoon and four tank platoon leaders come up, and he points each one to one of the soldiers from Tajemnica. They start marching forward to go aboard.

  As they start to move, “The Warrior Song” provides a marching beat.

  FADE TO BLACK

  Counterattack

  FADE IN

  INT - DAY - Engineering

  Stenson and Alvarez stand at consoles monitoring progress. Status bars are shifting rapidly, mostly trending toward greens.

  Alvarez: Jesus, look at that! Never seen power flows that high on the ground.

  Stenson: Cross linking and synchronizing the power systems from the tanks. That shoul
d give us a serious boost.

  Alvarez: What about their railguns and lasers?

  Stenson: When we’re just flying, we get all the power. In combat they don’t need to fly, so they can use their power to increase rate of fire quite a bit, only heat limited, then feed the excess to us if they do heat-limit. Twenty-four tanks, each with a main railgun round every two seconds, every three from the 120mm, twenty per sec on the light railgun, God only knows how many from the lasers as they vary the power depending on target but figure on at least one per second…

  Alvarez: So with all that, why the gravity bombs on the aft ramp, and why the missiles?

  Stenson: Tactics aren’t really my specialty. The Colonel and First Sergeant usually just say “different tools for different jobs” or “more weapons are better than less.” Ask Harbin for the grenade story some time. I know he hates running out of ammo.

  Alvarez looks over the panel a bit, and a light down in a corner blinks a few times, then goes steady as he looks at it.

  Alvarez: (Puzzled) What does “Bubblegum status: ALL OUT” mean?

  CUT TO

  INT - DAY - Bridge

  Helton, Quiritis, Lag, Bipasha, Allonia

  Bipasha: Course unchanged, trying to look innocent by not doing anything.

  Lag: OK then, go with Plan A for the orbitals.

  Quiritis: Aye-Aye. Approaching drop point. Planetary velocity about nineteen thousand kph. Orbital relative nearly thirty-eight. Release and dive on calculated, Taj.

  Ship AI: (OC, normal brisk male voice) Aye-aye. Drop in four. Three. Two. One. Away.

  CUT TO

  EXT - DAY - Space near Tajemnica

  Tajemnica is in low orbit above the planet, moving fast. The two dozen grav tanks and their turrets, along with the shifted armor slabs, have changed its appearance considerably. Stark shadows are cast by the sun. The aft cargo ramp is down, and eight cubical crate-like objects, each about a meter on a side, are gently launched in rapid succession from a cradle attached to the ramp deck, small launching pistons extended behind them. They drift away, a few small spurts of attitude jets adjusting their course minutely as they rapidly drift away from Tajemnica on their inertia. The space near Tajemnica glows slightly, and it slowly pulls away and downward and accelerates, streaking back towards the scattered clouds in the atmosphere below. The space mines speed on their way, slowly dispersing, to greet the orbital platforms.