An Attitude Adjustment (BattleMage Investigates Book 1)

by Taki Drake

  Several of the Marines started to pursue the retreating enemy but were called back by sharp orders from Lt. Marcos. The heat of battle would have drawn them into the woods, but advancing in disarray through concealment into unknown territory was a way that the lieutenant knew could turn his victory into defeat.

  It was time to consolidate their resources, time to evaluate their capabilities and plan the next steps. Several of the Marines were tasked with searching the bodies of the dead enemy. Carefully stripping items from each of the corpses, the Marines followed standard ImpMEC procedure by capturing video to their battle cam. Careful pairs of soldiers scouted outward in all directions from the fight location, ensuring the safety of their position and gathering information on the enemy.

  It was as if the enemy soldiers have never been there. The scouts could follow the trail of the retreating survivors for approximately a quarter mile. Once again, the trail completely disappeared in the middle of a rocky field. There was no sign of air support, no indication of any transportation method. The tracks and signs simply ceased to continue. The mystery of the enemy absence was getting deeper.

  Building a cairn over the stripped bodies of the fallen enemy was a matter of moments to the Marines in powered armor. Sgt. Dreyer had organized the consolidation and packing of as much of the equipment as they could carry reasonably. He had been quietly and tactfully pushing the lieutenant to return to base before further action.

  Although he knew that it was irritating his commanding officer, Ted could not shake the idea that they were missing something. That shadow of concern that had been in the back of his mind and present this whole time was getting worse instead of better. It was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch, a very low murmur warning him of exposure and risk, an intuitive part that said that their danger was not over.

  The platoon was finally ready to return to base. They had their dead, seven walking wounded, and many scavenged weapons and possessions for ImpMEC Intel to examine. Lt. Marcos was constantly smiling. He kept exclaiming over how well they had done and the value of what they had found and captured. He was effusive in his praise for the soldiers and genial to his noncoms.

  The platoon had started back toward base camp. The distance was such that they would be reaching the camp in the early evening. The lieutenant seemed to be oblivious to any possible danger now, instead basking in the glow of his victory.

  They had been underway for about a half hour, moving in good order and with scouts and point and sweep deployed. The quiet and efficient progress was abruptly interrupted when every communicator sounded an alert tone. It was one that none of them expected to hear on this planet, the strident triple tones of Battle Command alerts. The column instantly stopped. Lt. Marcos slapped his answer button and reported in, saying, “Lt. Marcos commanding Bravo Company, 3rd Platoon reporting.”

  A deep voice echoed in each Marines implant, announcing, “This is Capt. Bennett commanding the MDS Constance, en route to Einsville spaceport. Advise current status and deployment.”

  “Took fire at 0524-4703, six WIA. 32 enemy confirmed, 26 confirmed enemy casualties. Current disposition is not in contact, RTB.”

  “Well done 3rd Platoon. What is the deployment of your other squad?”

  Lt. Marcos visibly braced himself before answering, “Strategic Intel required both squads brought into battle, Sir. We are returning to the base which is being held by wounded soldiers.”

  There was a silent pause as the ship’s captain considered what he been told. After an extended silence, the Marines heard, “Just how many defenders were left on your base, Lieutenant?”

  “Two, Sir. However, the supply and logistics group is also on base and should be able to provide some basic defensive capability. In my opinion, Sir, the opportunity to engage the enemy and capture valuable intelligence and possibly captives, was worth the risk.”

  “I see, Lt. Marcos. If you have been successful in acquiring such information you are to be commended. Maintain your current position and wait for a shuttle from the ship. We will transport the items captured and any bodies directly to the ship.”

  “Yes, Sir. The platoon will maintain current position and establish camp. Lt. Marcos out.”

  The excited officer burst out with a flurry of commands. He apparently thought that this was a large career move for him, with a successful engagement with a previously unknown enemy and the captured enemy armor and weapons a sizable contribution to ImpMEC’s research. He even ordered several of the Marines to go back to the battle site and retrieve several of the bodies of the enemy dead so that they would be ready for pickup when the shuttle arrived.

  Sgt. Dreyer knew that he was pushing it, but the concern in the back of his head just wouldn’t let him rest. He tried to get the lieutenant’s attention turned to at least a minor reinforcement of the base, but in the flurry of self-congratulations and the haze of ambition, the officer was unresponsive. Pushing one more time for strengthening the base force, Sgt. Dreyer finally got a response although it was one that he hadn’t expected.

  “Obviously, the importance of what we have for ImpMEC is less important to you than a baseless concern for the un-threatened personnel that we left behind. So, Platoon Sergeant Dreyer, obviously you do not want to wait around for the shuttle nor do you want to be part of what I am sure will be an announcement of a job well done.

  “Therefore, I am ordering you to take four Marines and head back to ‘reinforce’ the base. I’m sure that your command capabilities are at least up to that. Worrying about something like this when all danger is past is not the sign of a good Marine, and your performance report will reflect that. I expect you gone in the next 15 minutes.” The lieutenant pointedly turned his back to his reprimanded noncom and continued delivering orders to the remaining corporals and sergeant.

  Left to follow the imperative of his intuition, Sgt. Ted Dreyer went looking for the four people that he would take with them. He was surprised when he instantly had volunteers. Two of the volunteers were some of the wounded Marines.

  One of them, an immense block of a man with a craggy face and cold eyes, informed the sergeant that he and his team member wanted to go back because their base medic was the best that they had ever encountered.

  His wounded companion, Jonas, smiled and said, “Alaric, you know that’s only half the story. The cook feeds you cookies when no one is looking, the medic got your sore shoulder to feel good again after three years of hurting, and leaving two wounded team members and a bunch of civilians undefended isn’t the way that you and I know the Marines to act.”

  Alaric shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably and refused to meet Ted’s eyes. Smiling slightly, the noncom agreed to both Alaric and Jonas’ inclusion and selected two more for his small group. They were quickly ready and set out, taking only minimal supplies from the camp but loading up the maximum ammunition.

  It was time to reinforce their base and relieve their support personnel.

  Returning to Base

  The small group under Sgt. Dreyer’s command made good time. They had traveled quickly for the first 4 miles when Sgt. Dreyer’s implant rang with the double short tone of a targeted communication, causing his eyebrows to rise in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear from Lt. Marcus, figuring he was not in the man’s good graces and that ignoring the small force would suit the Lieutenant better than acknowledging that he might be at fault.

  Expecting to hear the irritated tones of his commanding officer, Ted Dreyer was startled to hear an unknown voice, one that reflected many years of issuing orders. “This is Rear Adm. Forster, commanding Red Battle Group. Your progress toward the base camp has been detected. Please explain your orders and objectives.”

  “This is Platoon Sergeant Dreyer commanding a small group including two WIA, RTB to reinforce existing force.”

  There was a considering pause from the other side of the channel. When the voice came back, it sounded far less stern and somewhat amused, “Got on the wrong side
of the good Lt. Marcos, did you? Why did he assign you this duty?”

  Ted took a deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind, “I expressed my concern over the vulnerability of the base too many times, Sir. The lieutenant decided that I would be the right person to address that vulnerability.”

  The admiral replied, “Sometimes that is the price for opening your mouth, Marine.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m aware of that, but I believe it is the right thing to do, Sir.”

  Laughter sounded over the sergeant’s implant briefly before the admiral asked him another strange question. “How many men do you have with you and were they assigned or did they volunteer?”

  “Four, Sir and they volunteered. I picked these, but more than half the platoon volunteered, Sir.” The tense NCO could hear murmured discussion on the other end, but nothing was discernible to his straining ears.

  The senior officer once again addressed him, saying, “Interesting. Maintain your position for reinforcement by additional Marine units. They will join you within the next 10 minutes. Until countermanded, you will be reporting directly to me on this channel. Do you understand your orders, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir.”

  Alaric voiced the question that was evident on the faces of the team when he asked, “What the hell just happened, Sarge?”

  “Damned if I know, Marine. I guess we just wait.”

  It was only seven minutes later when the sharp whine of an approaching shuttle split the quiet. The craft did an aggressive landing, slamming toward the ground at high speed before firing its landing rockets. It landed without a bounce, the mark of an extremely experienced pilot.

  Without being ordered, the Marines on the ground had deployed, taking cover and with weapons at the ready. Just because a voice had said that they were friendly, didn’t mean that was true. Paranoia was a survival trait for Marine. Especially those that were older.

  The shuttle door crashed open, and the sight of the first figure through the opening settled any question in the sergeant’s mind. It was a soldier wearing the distinctive black and silver battle armor of the ImpMEC’s Elite Group. The practiced deployment to the left followed by the second soldier’s exit and positioning to the right told Dreyer’s group that they were in the presence of the best fighting men that ImpMEC had.

  Dreyer stood up and stepped into the clear, tapping his implant to announce himself. He was beyond astounded when a full platoon of the EG emerged from the shuttle. Approaching him at a fast walk was a warrior with a Major’s command patch. Ted was familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the EG, knowing that as a special force even small groups were commanded by senior officers. The major introduced himself, “Major Raymond Burns, commanding EG Alpha Company, 1st Platoon.”

  The astounded sergeant responded by introducing himself and his men. He was conscious of the fact that they were being examined carefully by the EG force. Burns and his men seem to have them on provisional acceptance, but there was another aspect that was in play and Dreyer and his men didn’t understand what it was.

  The evaluation continued as the group resumed its journey back to base. Dreyer and his men were allowed to take the lead as they approached the camp. The EG force was their backup, creating a surreal environment for the regular Marines. With only four Marines of his own to deploy, Sgt. Dreyer was using a staggered and extended line. It was not a typical Marine maneuver. However, with only four men it was a reasonable approach.

  Coming around the rise of a small hill, Dreyer saw the point man dropped to the ground and rolled to the side for cover. Instantaneously, the rest of his men did the same and Sgt. Dreyer moved cautiously toward the front. He could hear the EG force deploying behind them and the soft sound of someone advancing to come up even with him. It was the major, performing the same action that Dreyer was.

  Coming up to his point personnel, Dreyer slowly and carefully looked over the rise of the hill. It had a strategic view down on the final approach to the camp. When they had left, it had been a fairly narrow deserted pathway, wide enough for a land vehicle, but too narrow to allow two of them to pass each other. The scene that met his eyes was entirely different, so different that it took him few seconds to process what he was actually seeing.

  The road was buried under random piles of Centrax bodies. They lay in clusters and grotesque positions that often accompany violent death in a battle. There were obvious wounds from projectiles and a significant amount of burn damage.

  The stunned gaze of the noncom kept flickering across the large number of bodies, his mind too fragmented and incapable of counting the number of corpses. The only thing that kept pounding in his brain was that there were many times the number of enemy soldiers here that had been in the small force that had lured them from camp.

  Looking over at the major, Sgt. Dreyer asked, “Sir, I am not sure what to do. I was uncomfortable with leaving our base unsupported, but I don’t have the battle experience to order what we do next. Would you please take over?”

  “Sgt. Ted Dreyer, my orders are to support you but that you are in command. I can offer suggestions, but the decisions are yours.” With that statement, the major stood up and beckoned to several of his men to join them on the rise. When they had come up and looked over the hill, Ted could hear the sound of low whistles over his implant. Apparently, he was not the only one that had not expected this result.

  A short discussion to solidify approaches ensued with suggestions and opinions being offered by the EG force. They had come to a general agreement when Alaric let out a tremendous shout and tackled Sgt. Dreyer and Maj. Burns to the ground. Before either of the officers could react, the crackle of sniper fire was heard twice.

  Crouching in a defensive position, the major and noncom stared at the newly dead bodies of two Centrax. The corpses were sprawled less than 2 yards away from where the men had been discussing strategy. The enemy soldiers had hidden in the pile of bodies, waiting for the opportune moment to spring an ambush. Dreyer immediately told the major about the strange behavior of the other enemy soldiers and the destruction of the emblem on the chest of their powered armor.

  “That is very important, sergeant. I think you better inform the admiral.”

  Dreyer gaped in astonishment briefly before realizing he had been told to communicate directly with the admiral. Clicking his implant in the correct sequence, he was immediately connected to the admiral. Ted provided a succinct summary of the situation and the effective capture of the undamaged armor.

  The admiral included the Marine commander on the circuit and they briefly questioned both Sgt. Dreyer and Maj. Burns. It was evident that the two senior officers were very unhappy. When asked as to the relief forces plans, the astonished sergeant was at first frozen, unable to respond. As the silence stretched out for a couple of seconds, and he realized that there was no one going to rescue him and that he had senior officers waiting on his decision.

  Taking a deep breath and forcing his voice into a calm cadence, the sergeant informed the command group that they were going to continue to the base and attempt to relieve it. It surprised him to no end when his actions and plans were approved. Feeling like he had stepped into a fairytale, Dreyer saw no other reasonable pathway but to continue in the best way he could.

  Once the communication from the admiral had ended, Sgt. Dreyer immediately commed Lt. Marcos. He had half expected the senior Marine officer to stop him but there was no protest to his actions. Marcos answered abruptly and before the noncom could finish his report interrupted him to say that he did not have time for unimportant issues and that surely a senior platoon sergeant was capable of handling minor problems. Again, the sergeant attempted to provide his lieutenant with an update only to have the circuit abruptly terminated.

  Dreyer looked over at Burns, who shrugged and said, “At least you tried. And even more importantly, I heard you try.”

  The group continued to approach the camp, moving cautiously and carefully. Bodies were
everywhere. Once the initial shock passed, the Marines could start to tally the number of dead Centrax. There were thousands of them. The stacks of bodies and the scope of damage increased as they got closer to the base camp. When they reached the actual camp enclosure, the evidence of violence was overwhelming. The blended force of Marines, wounded, volunteers, and elite stood and stared around in mingled shock and amazement.

  Movement from the buildings caused instantaneous weapons positioning. At the sight of the logistics group and the walking wounded coming toward them the readied weapons were relaxed, and vigilant focus was redirected outwards toward the surrounding areas. Without conscious control or direction, Sgt. Dreyer and his relief party of four hurried over to the base defenders. Ted was astounded to see that they looked unharmed. His attention was drawn to Corda. Grabbing her by her upper arms, he gave her a little shake and said, “Are you all right?”

  She smiled at him and nodded before he realized what he had done. Blushing furiously, he released her arms and stepped back. He was not the only one who was expressing concern for a teammate.

  Alaric had Irene, the cook and medic, wrapped in a bear hug, murmuring incoherently to the top of her head. Jonas was huddled with the Marines that had been left with the camp, talking intensely and looking surprised. He was listening to the men’s commentary, and throwing astonished glances toward the logistics group, before staring at his Marine buddies.

  Sgt. Dreyer made a mental note to ask Jonas what was so surprising but in the happy chaos of reconnecting, following up on strange looks was not a high priority. Instead, he gratefully accepted the lessening of tension and the disappearance of the feeling of doom that had hung over him since they had abandoned the camp to its own defense.