by J. N. Chaney
Lima left them to gather up a few others to help with the organization, leaving the two Marines alone for the moment. Time was fleeting, and Rev wanted to get the plan moving, but the two of them could only move as quickly as the citizens could react.
“So, are they going to power up the emitter?” Tomiko asked after viewing part of the recording.
“Could be. Or could be they’re just using the power for something else,” Rev said. “Besides, the O2 level here is already high enough. Twenty-one percent, right?”
“Yeah, but what do the tin-asses need? Remember Hank? It looked like he was gasping, not getting enough air. Maybe that’s what killed him.”
Hank was the nickname they’d given after-the-fact to the Centaur they’d discovered on Roher-104. Hank’s very existence was classified at the highest levels, and they shouldn’t mention it at all. But they were humans, and that was difficult. So, a few months ago, they’d started referring to it as Hank when speaking with each other. At least it was better than “alien,” or “that tin-ass we found” if anyone overheard them.
“That could have been Hank’s normal expression,” Rev said, not convinced.
“Yeah, or maybe I’m right. They’re Hankaforming the planet. I mean, it is an emitter station.”
“One that doesn’t work.” He paused a moment, thoughts bouncing around his brain housing group. “Maybe it’s a weapon. Those beanies are crystals of some sort, after all. A huge beamer? One big enough to knock down ships in orbit? They’ve got the power for sure.”
“Inside a building?”
Rev harrumphed, then said, “That ceiling isn’t going to stop a cannon shot.”
Whatever Tomiko was going to say in reply was cut off when they heard the front door open. Both Marines got up and moved to the wall on either side of the door into the kitchen. They may not be armed, but two trained augmented Marines were weapons there unto themselves.
They heard several sets of feet crossing the living room, heading their way. Both of them slipped into their basic ready position, hands ready to strike.
Lima poked her head in, saw them, and said, “Geez. It’s only me. You can get off attack mode.”
She turned to look behind her and said, “Come on in.”
Four others hesitantly followed her into the kitchen, but when they saw the Marines, they broke into relieved smiles, prompting Rev to wonder what Lima had told them. It was possible that they hadn’t trusted her, which meant quislings aside, there was more conflict brewing, and that could make things more difficult.
One of the four—a short, older man dressed in tattered, ratty workman overalls—had the biggest smile, his face almost cracking as he rushed to Tomiko and enveloped her in a hug.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, as Tomiko looked helplessly over the man’s shoulder at Rev.
She tentatively put her arms around the man, lightly hugging him back.
The man was crying now, and Rev could see the tears wetting Tomiko’s shirt. His teammate was not exactly OCD about human contact, but she wasn’t comfortable with it, so Rev took mercy on her and took the man’s arm, and then gently turned him away from Tomiko and toward him.
He extended a hand and said, “Corporal Reverent Pelletier, Union Marines. That’s Corporal Tomiko Reiser.”
“Oh, I’m Fydor LaMare,” the man said, wiping his eyes with his forearms, then taking Rev’s hand. “I’m the Thirty-first Cordon captain.”
Rev tried to keep the surprise off of his face. They had wards back at home, not cordons, though the two were essentially equivalent. But this crying man did not look the part, particularly compared to the manicured and controlled Betta Niocine, Rev’s own ward commissioner.
“This is Amicia Lin,” the man said, pointing to the slender woman standing next to him. “She’s the distribution manager for Tallerson.”
That piqued Rev’s interest. He didn’t know what Tallerson was, but a distribution manager might be of use.
LaMare introduced the other two as well. Elizabeth Rysth-Lorraine was a ballet dancer in the city troupe, and Nik Orleans owned two local restaurants. Rev had no idea why Lima had gathered this group of four. Lin, yes, that made sense. But Rysth-Lorraine and Orleans? A dancer and a restauranteur? Even LaMare? Sure, the man was a cordon captain, and Rev shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but still . . .
“Lima here said you needed our help, but she didn’t say why. What can we do?” LaMare asked.
Rev caught Tomiko’s eyes. She didn’t speak, but he could see the uncertainty in her as well.
He could say nothing, then discuss with Lima the type of people he wanted to see. But the clock was ticking, and his spending five hours in the emitter hadn’t helped. Lima seemed like a competent woman, so maybe he just had to trust her.
Tell them.
“Yes, we’re here as part of an advance party. A combined force is going to take back the planet, and we’re here to make sure as many citizens as possible are gotten out of the line of fire and evacuated to safety. But we need help to do that. We have to be ready in . . .”
“Just over twenty-two hours.”
There was only a brief moment of silence as Rev watched for their reaction.
“Told you, Fydor,” Rysth-Lorraine said with satisfaction.
“That you did, Liz.”
The cordon captain turned to Rev and said, “Liz thought that might be the case, and we’ve been thinking of something along those lines already. So, if we can sit down, I can tell you how we’re going to do this.”
Rev raised his eyebrows as he took that in. He and Tomiko were there to tell the civilians what to do, not the other way around. They needed cooperation, sure, but this was a military operation.
But the five civilians had already started to pull chairs around the battered dining table. Rev looked at Tomiko, who frowned and tilted her head to the table, indicating he should take a seat.
It won’t hurt to listen to them, but I’ve got to let them know that I’m in charge here. That’s the only way to make sure we save as many people as possible.
It was with more than a little bit of reluctance that he pulled up a chair and sat down.
Rev pressed the meat of his hands into his eyes. He was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.
“So, you see, Corporal, we really need the team leaders designated now,” Beth said. She looked over at Tomiko as if trying to get her support.
She didn’t get it.
“What Corporal Pelletier’s saying is that we can’t stage all of you in the organized teams before the invasion kicks off.”
“But we won’t have time later. We need to be ready, or people are going to be needlessly killed.”
People are going to die, Rev thought, but we are trying to save as many as we can.
“We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen,” said Tomiko.
Rev paused. “Are you sure she’s just a ballet dancer?”
Rev opened his eyes and leaned forward again. Fydor was looking at him with his cat-eating-a-canary grin. Rev had wondered why the cordon captain had brought a ballet dancer, but it was clear now. Elizabeth Rysth-Lorraine was a certified hardass, and she would not take no for an answer. Rev was sure she was there solely to pursue Fydor’s bidding.
And Fydor LaMare, the crying, hugging man who insisted that Tomiko and he called them by their first names? The guy was wicked sharp, a true politician.
Which put Rev and Tomiko in the weaker position.
What do you expect? We’re just two grunt corporals. This is so out of our league.
Rev wasn’t quite sure what he expected from them. He’d naively imagined that they would be so grateful that they would offer their assistance without question. But it had quickly become that they had thei
r own agenda . . . and a low opinion of the two Marines’ ability to organize anything. They wanted to implement their plan.
And on the one hand, maybe they were right. He and Tomiko weren’t load masters or any other loggie. They were infantry. They knew how to kill the enemy, but they had no experience in moving ten or fifteen thousand people.
On the other hand, Fydor, Beth, and the other two were forgetting that this wasn’t a Landing Day celebration. They’d be evacuating the civilians in the middle of a battle. And both he and Tomiko understood that. They’d been there on Roher-104 when shit broke down, and they never wanted to see that kind of carnage again.
No, I’m not going to let them screw this up.
Rev stood, placing his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward.
“Ms. Rysth-Lorraine,” he started, foregoing her more casual first name. “We don’t have the option of openly organizing. Do I have to remind you that operations security is paramount? We cannot let the Centaurs know that the counter-invasion is happening. If they are prepared, the entire landing is at risk, and who knows how the Centaurs will react? To all of you.”
Beth slightly blanched but gained control of her expression again as she stared up at him.
Amicia, who’d been mostly quiet, letting the others talk, said, “Maybe it’s too risky. We’re captives now, but we’re alive. I think we need to consider if we should go through with this plan.”
“We are going through with it, Amicia. The plan is already in motion,” Tomiko told her.
“But can’t you, like, contact the general or whoever? Call it off?”
“No. We can’t.”
Which wasn’t exactly true. They could break comms silence and put a halt to the operation, but the reason had to be something extraordinary, and quite frankly, the potential death of a large percentage of the population didn’t qualify. That had already been factored in.
Fydor reached out and patted Amicia’s hand. She still looked troubled, but she wasn’t going to argue now that he’d made his position clear.
Rev turned back to Beth. “We can’t let this get out. The more activity there is, the more chance that the Centaurs will notice what’s going on.” Then he went to his main concern. “And the more people who know about this, the greater the chance that someone will inform the tin-asses what’s about to happen.”
Beth bristled and asked, “So, you think we’ve got traitors?”
Rev leaned farther forward, and in a low voice, said, “We know you have traitors. Quislings and kapos, Ms. Rysth-Lorraine.”
For once, she almost broke, stammering until she could get out, “But we know who they are. We can keep them in the dark.”
“And if they have others who are not openly cooperating with the tin-asses? The Centaurs? It’s happened before, and you can bet you don’t know every freak with Centaur leanings.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak but evidently thought better of it.
Rev slowly looked at the four civilians, one after the other, then said, “Please do not forget that this is a military operation. We can’t do this alone. We need your help. But operational security is a must. All the planning that’s going to take place will take place in this kitchen. We can designate people for key billets, but that’s it. Those people won’t be brought in until the very last moment. Sixty minutes. That’s how much time we have from the start of the invasion until we’ve got people moving.”
“An awful lot of folks could get themselves killed in an hour, Corporal,” Fydor said.
“Then cut that time down.”
The cordon captain pursed his lips, but he finally nodded.
Shit. He still thinks he’s going to control this. We need to watch him.
Truth be told, Rev understood the man. He was the cordon captain for half of the people who needed to be evacuated. For Rev and Tomiko, those people were numbers. The Marines were dedicated to saving them, but they were still numbers—x-number of people to be moved, x-number of people to be protected.
For Fydor, they were people. Friends, families, constituents. Of course, he had a stronger emotional attachment. Punch had told him that Fydor had never served in uniform, and all the war-holovids in the galaxy couldn’t prepare a person for the gut-wrenching truth of battle.
The front door softly opened, but it was loud enough that six sets of eyes turned to look, nerves on edge, and Tomiko and Rev jumped up. A moment later, Lima came into the kitchen.
“Hell, don’t be so freaking jumpy. It’s just me.”
She handed Rev a small capsule. “It was there, just like you said it might be.”
Rev held it to his eye to unlock it, then twisted the top off and pulled the small note from inside. They were set up to operate alone, acting as independent teams, but things change, and without comms, they were relegated to physical drops at designated locations. What changes were anyone’s guess. It could be anything from Amicia’s desire to cancel the operation to leaving the civilians to fend for themselves and joining in the main effort.
“What does it say?” Tomiko asked.
“It’s from the lieutenant. He wants a meeting.”
5
“We got reps from each team?” Lieutenant Omestori asked as he came in and silently counted the assembled Marines. “Thirteen. That’s everyone.”
They’d been briefed that there could be a reason to meet before the assault, and without comms, that meant face-to-face. The message was passed through a dead-drop, the location previously designated. But for them to meet, it had to be something important. Just wandering around the city increased the chances of them being spotted.
Rev had left Tomiko behind to continue the planning, but he’d accepted the ever-helpful Lima’s guidance to get to the meeting place, a fabrication shop closer in to the city’s center. With his augments, he could find the place himself, but Lima had pointed out that he didn’t know the best route there, the one that would expose him the least. She was waiting in a small coffee shop across the street . . . even as captives of the Centaurs, some things continued on as normal.
So now, three of the platoon’s four teams had gathered with a rep from each two-person element.
“OK, as to why I needed to call you together. Things are . . . well, not quite as we were briefed.”
No shit.
“I need to get a better picture of what’s happening here and get that up to the colonel.”
Lieutenant Colonel Lynn “Bearmeat” Alomaha was the commander of the task force in the city. Rev didn’t know where she was or how to contact her, but it made sense that the lieutenant would.
“How many of you know about the kapos?”
Every Marine and Blue-Master Ting-a-ling, one of their Frisian augments, raised their hand.
The lieutenant nodded, then said, “I thought as much. And that interjects a new dynamic into our operation. We’re not only dealing with the tin-asses, but also traitors to humanity who we have to believe will actively oppose not only the invasion but our attempt to minimize civilian casualties. And it looks like the situation has already exposed our operation. Sergeant Krill?”
The Second Team member stood up and said, “We have two kapos captives, but in the process, another one got away.”
“And we have to assume that the woman is reporting it to whomever,” the lieutenant said, cutting the sergeant short.
“But, we’re all in civilian clothes,” Corporal Wesley “Bambam” Sinclair said. “Does that kapo know you were Marines?”
“Minnow” Krill looked embarrassed and half-mumbled, “They were part of our contact team. We told them what we’re doing.”
There was a low murmur around the table. The contact teams had been designated by OD and military Intel, and if three had been kapos, how many others might be across the planet?
Rev was suddenly glad that he and Tomiko had run into Lima.
“Should have zeroed the fucking traitor,” Bambam said.
Krill looked even more unco
mfortable.
“It doesn’t matter what could’ve or should’ve been done. It is what it is now. What we need to figure out is how that’s gonna affect our operation,” the lieutenant said. “Before we go on, has anyone else run into a problem with them?”
Rev slowly raised his hand.
“Corporal Pelletier.”
“We kinda . . . kinda killed one.”
There was a chorus of “ooh-rahs” that the gunny had to quiet with a withering glare.
The lieutenant looked exasperated and asked, “‘Kinda’ killed one? I don’t know how you can kinda kill someone. And you didn’t think that was important enough to tell us?”
“I was going to, sir. But I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
The lieutenant dismissed the comment with one hand as if brushing away a fly. “You couldn’t avoid it? What happened?”
“We got stopped, sir. Miko and me. The kapo was the cordon captain, all officious and shit, and he was going to call the next cordon captain to find out if we were legit.”
The lieutenant considered that for a moment and said, “I guess you had to make the decision on the spot, so I’m not going to second-guess you.”
“I didn’t make the decision. Neither did Miko, sir. A civilian did. She was talking to the kapo when he stopped us, and as soon as he said he was going to contact the other guy, she slit his throat.”
“No shit?” Bambam asked, amongst several other comments by the others.
“A civilian did it?” the lieutenant asked, waving the others to silence. “Where is she now?”
“Waiting outside, sir. We figured that she proved herself, and she was capable, so we made her our Point of Contact.”
“Good choice. And what fallout has there been?”
“Not much, sir. Not that we can tell.”
“A kapo’s killed, and no reaction from the Centaurs?”
“Like I said, sir. Nothing we can tell, at least. No retaliation.”
“I guess the tin-asses don’t appreciate their acolytes much,” the gunny said to scattered laughs.
