by Jay Allan
Even with the veterans he had on this mission, Anton heard a couple groans. They’d gone through the plan at least five times, but Lucius Anton wasn’t an officer to waste a few minutes that could be used to review things again. He’d have preferred to carefully set charges like Graves and Jahns were doing, but there was no way to sneak into the supply depot – it was too well guarded.
The plan lacked elegance. In fact, it was downright crude. They were hiding here, hoping for a few minutes of disruption when news of Marek’s attack on the camp filtered back. Then they were going to rush the place, pop in a bunch of sixty second charges, and run like hell.
Finally, an ear-splitting alarm began sounding…Marek was attacking. Anton waited thirty seconds before giving the order. “Mike, do it.”
Mike Vargus was the best shot they had; he could beat Anton nine times out of ten. Vargus stepped out into the street to get a clear view of the enemy position. Two quick bursts added to the sound of the whining alarm, and the two floodlights closest to the target area exploded in a burst of sparks.
“Let’s go, guys!” Anton raced forward, the others following, fanning out precisely as they had planned. It wasn’t dark, exactly, but without the floodlights it was a lot harder to see the camouflaged attackers. The unit they were rushing never even opened fire. They were distracted by the alarm and the loss of the lights. Anton and his people were on them before they could react, and they jumped over the barricade, coming face to face with the stunned federals.
Vargus’ knife flashed and one of the Feds fell back, clutching his slashed throat. He grabbed a second, his arms around his stunned victim’s neck like a vice, tightening, twisting until the man went limp with a loud crack. Anton took out the third, shoving his heavy blade through the shocked man’s ribs.
“Let’s go.” Anton was a little out of breath. His mind wandered for an instant, thinking to his days in the service. Old Colonel Jax would have scolded him for letting himself get out of shape. “Throw on my mark.”
Two of them stayed in the captured position, manning the auto-cannon to cover the area against any counter attack. Anton and three of the team went right and Vargus took the others to the left. They lined up twenty meters apart, each holding two timed charges. They would have had more control with remote detonation, but Anton was afraid their signal could be jammed, so they had sixty second timers on the bombs. That meant they had to throw them at the same time and haul ass out of there.
The next few seconds seemed like slow motion to Anton. He fired a small flare, the signal for everyone to toss their charges and run back to the rally point. An instant after he fired, maybe even just before – it was hard to tell – he heard the sound of the auto-cannon firing. He activated his first charge and threw it over the small fence, as far into the supply dump as he could. He was already turning as he did the same with the second device, and he was running before it left his hand.
He pulled his rifle around from his back, aiming it forward as he ran. The auto-cannon was shooting at a group of federal troops, maybe a squad, that had come around from farther down the perimeter. About half of them were down, the others starting to run. Anton took a couple shots himself as he ran past the auto-cannon. “Let’s go, boys!” He screamed at the two men in the emplacement, who were still firing and had shown no signs of stopping.
The federals were mostly running, but a few were still firing, and one of the team took a hit, falling forward into the street. It was James Lasken, a veteran of ten years’ Marine service. The fire had been very light, and he was hit by a random shot. Plain bad luck. Anton turned back and, leaning over and grabbing him, hoisted the wounded man on his shoulders with considerable difficulty.
He ran – walked, really, the weight of his trooper making running an impossibility. Fuck, he thought, as he struggled with the burden - I never appreciated my armor enough. He didn’t know how much time he had – he’d set his chronometer, but he couldn’t get his arm around to take a look. Another reason to miss his fighting suit – the AI would be counting down for him. But now he had to go by his own hunch.
He pushed as far as he could. The rally point was behind a heavy ‘plast wall about 200 meters from the dump. Anton was guessing at the time, but he knew he wasn’t going to make it. There was a stair leading down into the sub-level of the building next to him. It’s the best you’re going to do, he thought, as he ran down the steps, lying Lasken down and crouching low just as the explosions began.
“Come on, let’s move it!” Things were going better than Marek expected but, as a result, they were also getting out of control. He never expected his forces to break into the camp, but they did, and now they were herding a bunch of terrified civilians through the hole they’d blown in the wall. “Everybody move quickly to the rear.”
As shocked as he was that they’d broken through, he knew there was no way they could hold. He had been worried about extricating his troops from the position and getting back to the coast…how in the world was he going to get hundreds of prisoners out of here too? Without getting them all killed.
He was screaming for the captives to remain calm, to stop pushing through the small breach in the wall, but his efforts were to no avail. The people in the camp were frantic to get out, and it looked like a stampede would begin at any moment. Then the guard towers began firing.
The inside of the camp became a nightmare, with gunfire tearing into the panicked crowd. The mob surged toward the breach, and those at the front who weren’t able to get through quickly enough were crushed against the wall. Marek didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t enlarge the breach; there was no way to clear the prisoners far enough away so he could detonate a second charge – even if he could get somebody up here with one. Worse, discipline was breaking down among the troops. They weren’t running, but they were enraged at the murder of so many civilians, and they lost what discipline they had. Clusters of rebel soldiers were standing in the open, shooting wildly at the towers. Others were breaking ranks, looking through the panicked mob for family and friends. Marek had trained them as well as possible, but they were still townspeople and fishermen at heart.
He was vainly trying to impose some order, trying to prevent the entire operation from turning into a disaster. Then the calls started coming in on the comlink. Randy Jarvis on the left flank: “Major…” – Marek still went by his militia rank even though he commanded the entire army – “…we have enemy troops advancing. A lot of them.”
Jim Troup on the left: “I’ve got enemy troops heading your way, sir, regimental strength at least.
“Fuck,” Marek muttered under his breath. Jack Winton was standing a few meters away, up against the fence. He was mostly trying to help organize the escaping prisoners, but also looking inside, hoping against hope he’d see his missing daughter crawl through the breach. “Jack, I need your help. We’ve got to get everybody out of here. Now! We’ve got major enemy forces inbound.”
Winton turned to face Marek. “Got it, John.” He walked down the line of troops, focusing on the veterans, the ones most likely to respond, trying desperately to help bring some order to the pulsating mass of troops and civilians. In the dark, in the excitement and urgency of the moment he missed her. Maybe 25 meters away, screaming into the deafening roar of the crowd and waving her arms trying to get his attention, Jill Winton got swept away again, deeper into the mob, away from her father, away from rescue.
“Aaron, you need to withdraw now.” Marek was calling the officers in command of the other wings.
“We’re getting the better of this exchange, John. I think we can…”
“Aaron, just obey my orders!” Marek was pissed. He knew he shouldn’t have to explain himself, but he was a long way from Carson’s World and his hardcore veterans. “We have massive enemy reinforcements inbound. We need to get out before we’re trapped.” He paused, turning to take a look at Winton’s progress. “We’re in deep shit here, Aaron. I’m counting on you to get as many people ba
ck to the evac area as you can. We’ve got civilians streaming back. Get your people moving and take charge in the rear.”
“Got it, sir.” Then, after a brief pause: “You can count on me, John.”
He was pretty sure he’d gotten through to Davis. He’s a good man, Marek thought, as long as he controls his anger. For better or worse, he was in charge of the rear. “God, I wish I had Anton back there,” he muttered to himself. Then he dove into the throng to help get his people out of the trap.
Chapter 13
Landing Bay Alpha
AS Bunker Hill
Orbiting Columbia - Eta Cassiopeiae II
Cain embraced Jax in the landing bay. “God, it’s good to see you, you big oaf.” Cain was fairly tall and broadly built, but Jax was a giant towering over him. “It’s been too long, far too long.” They’d served together for years, but Cain hadn’t seen Jax since he’d left Carson’s World after the final battle there. They’d exchanged a few communications, but staying in touch across the lightyears wasn’t easy.
“Isn’t it insubordinate for a colonel to hug a general?” Jax was normally a fairly “by the book” Marine, far more so than Cain. But he and Erik went way back – they’d been the same rank at times, different at others, but that had never mattered between them. Besides, formalities seemed misplaced in the current situation. Their whole world was changing rapidly; both could feel it, though neither knew just what was happening yet.
Cain had tried to get to Arcadia to see Will Thompson, but he’d found it a lot more difficult than he’d expected. It was hard enough just getting off Atlantia. The planet had been as much a powderkeg as any of the colony worlds, and in the three weeks Erik and Sarah had been out on the Cape, things had gotten considerably worse.
New Federal edicts were met with mass protests, and soon the planet was paralyzed, commerce and transportation at a virtual standstill. There hadn’t been any violence yet when Erik and Sarah were finally able to get a shuttle to the orbital station, at least nothing serious. But he was sure it was only a matter of time.
Having finally gotten off Atlantia and aboard a ship bound for Arcadia, Cain figured the rest of the trip would be easy. But when they entered the Wolf 359 system, they found the planet Arcadia quarantined and blockaded by a naval squadron. Their ship was turned back, and even Cain’s insistence that he be allowed to land and go to the Academy was refused, despite his strenuous attempt to use his rank to put force behind the request. His efforts to contact the Academy or Will were unsuccessful; all communications in and out were blocked, subject to approval, Cain was told, of the military governor.
After leaving Wolf 359, their ship went to Armstrong. There they got General Holm’s message to come to Columbia, along with orders from Admiral Compton allowing them to commandeer a naval vessel to bring them there immediately. Cain wondered how Holm and Compton had found him, but as he was about to find out, they’d had a bit of help from an unlikely source.
“Darius!” Sarah Linden stepped off the shuttle, and Jax was the first person she saw, not surprising since he was 10 centimeters taller than anyone else in the bay. “She ran over and threw her arms around him. “You look great. I do good work, don’t I?” Jax had been seriously wounded in the fighting on Carson’s World, and Sarah had tended to him personally. The last time she’d seen him he’d been up and around, but still limping along on a cane.
“You are without question the best.” She almost disappeared as he wrapped his huge arms around her. “I will recommend you to all my friends who walk into enemy fire and get shot to pieces.” He looked over at Cain. “She’s a much better hugger than you, Erik.”
“Do you have a hug for me too?” General Elias Holm rounded the corner and walked into the bay. On the collar of his neatly-pressed uniform were four platinum stars, the last one the spoils of the victory on Carson’s World. He smiled as Sarah trotted over and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Good enough?” She looked up at him and grinned.
“Even better.” He smiled back at her then turned to face Erik. “Well, if it isn’t Brigadier General Erik Cain.” He walked over and extended his hand. “Why don’t you spare me one of those horrendous salutes and we’ll just shake hands.” Erik was a veteran Marine and a great leader, but his sloppy salutes were semi-legendary among those with whom he’d served.
Cain walked over and grasped Holm’s hand. “It’s good to see you, sir.” His voice was emotional – it had been three years since he’d seen Holm. The general had been more than a commander to Erik; he was a mentor, a friend, a father figure. Other than Sarah, Elias Holm had been the most influential person in Cain’s life.
“It’s good to see you too, Erik.” He put his hand on Cain’s arm as they shook warmly. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but right now Admiral Compton is waiting for us in the conference room.” He looked around, glancing briefly at each of them. “There is a lot going on, and we need to get you up to speed. So if you’ll all follow me.”
He turned and walked down the corridor, Jax, Cain, and Sarah following silently behind. None of them had ever been on one of the Yorktown Class behemoths, and they couldn’t help but look around in wonder. Erik had thought the battalion assault ships like the Pendragon were big, but the Bunker Hill was more than twice the length and six times the tonnage. She and the other Yorktown Class ships were the biggest vessels ever built by man, though there were rumors the Martian Confederation was working on something even larger.
They took a ship’s car to the admiral’s conference room, which was over a kilometer from the landing bay, and walked through a door flanked by two Marines in full dress uniform. The Marines serving as security on navy ships were part of the Corps, officially detached for naval service. It was considered a backwater posting within the Corps, but overall the system worked well, and the shipboard Marines had a strong record of service.
The conference room was huge, far larger than anything of the sort Cain had ever seen on a ship. Real estate was tight on a spaceship, but the Bunker Hill had been built to be a fleet flagship, and the designers managed to allocate enough space to give the admiral a good-sized briefing room.
“Welcome, everyone.” Admiral Terrance Compton had been seated at the far end of the table, but he stood up as his guests filtered in. There was man wearing finely tailored civilian clothing sitting next to Compton. He stood also, but remained silent while Compton greeted the new arrivals. “Please, let’s dispense with the formalities. We have a lot to discuss, and I would like to get started. Have a seat…all of you.” He motioned to several empty chairs on opposite sides of the table. There were trays set out with cups and pitchers full of water.
Compton sat, letting out a small sigh as he did. “I know you have come from considerable distances at my request, and I apologize for the lack of hospitality.” He scanned the room, his eyes pausing for an instant on each of them. “When our business is done, I would be honored if you would all dine with me and allow me to make amends.”
“That is appreciated, Terrance, but hardly necessary.” Holm sat in the seat to Compton’s right, with Jax next to him and Erik and Sarah opposite, sitting next to the mysterious civilian. “You and I have had some time to discuss things, but if it is satisfactory with you, I’d like to start at the beginning for the benefit of our new arrivals.” Jax had been there two days, but he hadn’t been in on any discussions yet, and Erik and Sarah had literally come right from their shuttle.
“Yes, I think that is a good idea.” His head slanted a bit, an unnecessary but subconscious movement toward the small microphone on his collar. “Joker, I want this room sealed. Beta-5 protocols.”
“Understood, Admiral Compton.” The non-descript voice of the AI was audible to all of them, as Compton had intended. “The room is now secure and will remain so until you command otherwise.”
Compton cleared his throat and paused, as if considering where to begin. “General Cain, Colonel Jax, Colonel Linden…I want to t
hank all of you for coming, especially since the request was a personal one and not official.”
Everyone present nodded, but they all remained silent, allowing Compton to continue. “First, I’d like to introduce Roderick Vance. Mr. Vance is a major industrialist in the Martian Confederation, and he has been sent here as a liaison of sorts.” He looked out at the confused expressions and hesitated. “I will explain exactly what he…”
“I will vouch for Mr. Vance.” Holm interrupted, his voice commanding. He was telling Jax and Erik to trust him and not raise any issues, and both of them understood.
Compton glanced at Jax and Cain and flashed a grateful look toward Holm. “As many of you are aware, there has been considerable friction between the central government of the Alliance and its colonies.” That is an understatement of considerable proportions, he thought. “Many things have happened over the last six months, things of which you are likely only partially aware.” His hands slid over the large ‘pad on the table in front of him. The viewscreens along the side walls of the room activated, showing video – a slideshow of different scenes.
“I am afraid that open rebellion had broken out on a number of Alliance colony worlds.” Compton hesitated, allowing everyone to look at the images on the monitors, scenes of protests, combat, burned out buildings. “Things on Columbia are quite bad. I have less information on other worlds, but everything I hear suggests the situations are similar on a number of other planets.”
“Arcadia is blockaded.” Cain blurted out what he was thinking. He’d never been accused of an excess of patience. “Sorry to interrupt, admiral. But I assumed you would know about that. There is a large naval task force enforcing the quarantine.”
“No apologies necessary, general. This is an informal meeting.” Then, addressing Cain’s point: “There is no authorized naval presence in the Wolf 359 system.” He looked right at Cain. “Are you sure they were navy ships and not just some security force?”
