by Brian Dorsey
He exhaled heavily before finishing his drink. Setting the empty glass on the table, he rose and meandered toward the exit in the rear of the bar. Stepping outside, he positioned himself against the wall and waited.
In a few seconds, one of the men stepped through the door into the alleyway.
Mack grabbed the man’s arm and a handful of his hair. He twisted his torso and slammed the man’s face against the brick wall with a grunt. He spun around as the first man fell, deflecting the pistol aimed at him by the second man and landing a powerful blow to his opponent’s jaw. As the man’s head snapped to the right, Mack crashed his boot into the man’s knee and drove him to the ground. Holding an arm extended, Mack grabbed the back of the man’s head and forced him to look upward. “Who sent—” He paused, realizing the man was too dazed to response. “Damn it,” he cursed. “I—”
He heard footsteps rushing toward him and spun to meet the threat.
***
Sierra, already airborne, drove her knee into the Marine’s face before he could react. As the Marine tumbled backwards against the wall, her feet hit the ground and she swung her right leg into his chest.
Mack let out a grunt as her boot impacted his chest but he wrapped his arms around her leg. Sierra felt his hold tighten and pushed her body into the air with her left leg, straddling his neck, and slammed her elbow into his temple. The man staggered and Sierra drew a knife from her vest, driving it downward toward his chest.
Just as the blade was about to penetrate his chest, the Marine released his hold on her right leg and blocked her attack. Stepping forward, he gripped her wrists tightly and threw her body forward over his shoulder. Still in the air, Sierra extended her legs and tightened her stomach and legs just before they hit the ground. Her feet impacted the ground and she instantly pushed back, kicking her right leg backward and crashing her foot into the Mack’s skull. He again released his grip and Sierra pushed herself to her feet, leaping toward the Marine again.
But he had recovered quickly and caught her mid-air.
She tightened her body as he slammed her against the wall.
Letting out a grunt, she shifted her body as he swung at her. Sensing the air from his punch as his arm flashed past her face, she wrapped her right arm under his and interlocked it with her left as she jumped onto his back. With her arms locked into place around his head and extended right arm, she swung her legs around his waist and overlapped them as she tightened her choke hold.
She felt him stagger but then rush backwards, slamming her against the wall again. Absorbing the blows as he repeatedly crashed her into the wall, she focused on her choke hold and he soon stumbled and fell to one knee.
Sierra unwrapped her legs from her opponent’s torso as he fell. She released the choke hold and grabbed his right wrist with both hands, extending his arm at a 45 degree angle from the ground. Letting out a growl, she shifted her weight and brought her left knee crashing into his shoulder blade as she jerked his arm backwards.
The Marine let out a grunt as his ligaments snapped.
Sierra shoved the Marine forward onto the ground and repositioned herself as he rose. As the man stood, she stepped in close, wrapping her arms around his waist and forcing his left arm behind his back. She lowered her shoulder to get low on his torso and pushed upward, lifting him into the air. Once he was off the ground, she rushed forward and slammed him into the wall with his arm pinned behind his back. With her shoulder pressing against his chest, she felt his left shoulder snap and pivoted to toss him to the ground again. Stepping away, she let the Marine—now with both shoulders shattered—stand.
Now she would talk.
“Where—”
The Marine rushed her, swinging his right leg flying toward her left side.
She braced herself and absorbed the blow with a grunt as she caught his leg and drove her right foot into the side of his left knee. The Marine’s knee buckled and he fell again.
When he hit the ground Sierra stomped down on the side of his right knee with her left foot. Pulling hard on his right foot, she fell backwards bending his lower leg toward her. Again, the alley exploded with the crunch of ligaments and tendons.
“Now,” she said, rising to her feet again. “Time to talk.”
“Who…what the fuck are you?” cursed Mack as he tried in vain to push himself off the ground.
“Interrogations don’t work that way,” replied Sierra. “You’re the one that will be answering the questions.”
“Then you might as well just kill me now,” grumbled Mack. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”
“Where are Martin and Stone?” she asked, ignoring his declaration.
“What?”
She could see the confusion painted across his face. “The Traitor and former Paladin Martin?” she said softly as she knelt beside his wrecked body. “Martin turned on her people and you were part of her team…so that makes you a traitor.”
“No,” he grumbled. “It can’t be.”
“No. It can’t be,” she replied, mimicking his denial. “Then why are you lying there all broken and about to die?”
“It has to be a mistake.”
“Don’t lie to me. Where are Stone and Martin?”
“They were working together?” he said, thinking aloud.
“You really don’t know anything, do you?”
“I’m a Marine. I follow orders and serve the Republic and the people.”
Sierra laughed. “You had no idea what she was up to? This Martin must be something,” said Sierra aloud. “I’m going to enjoy killing her.”
“You must let me speak to someone. This has to be a mistake.”
Sierra rose to her feet and drew her pistol.
“I’ve served my people honorably. I don’t deserve this.”
“You may have served your people,” replied Sierra as she leveled the pistol at Mack’s head. “But you have failed to understand two things. “First, I serve the ProConsul and she trumps the people …and we all deserve it.”
The blast from her pistol rolled down the alleyway.
“Come on out!” ordered Sierra and three of her men stepped from the shadows.
Sierra looked up from Mack’s body to her men. “He didn’t know anything.”
“What are your orders, Commander?” asked Lieutenant Tramble.
Sierra’s jaw clinched in frustration. She wanted so bad to literally sink her teeth into the famed warrior Emily Martin and the Traitor Stone. “We’ll report back to the ProConsul.”
“Yes, Commander,” replied the lieutenant.
“Do you have a question, Lieutenant?” she asked, seeing a quizzical look on his face.
“Yes, Commander…if I may?”
“Ask.”
“Why didn’t we just shoot him from the shadows or overpower him with numbers?”
“Oh that,” answered Sierra, her canines flashing against the light. “Where would the fun have been in that?”
Chapter 5
Stone looked at the orbital map behind Admiral Crow as he spoke, studying it intently while listening to the Admiral’s brief in the crowded staff room.
“Port Royal defenses consist of fifteen to twenty corvettes, cruisers, and frigates—mostly last generation that shouldn’t be too much of a problem for our assault force. The major threat will come from their attack craft and orbital defenses. Best estimates are that they possess up to 3000 fighters and attack craft.”
“What are the capabilities of these aircraft,” asked a commander from the crowd of Commanding Officers and Regimental Commanders.
“Ranging from ancient hulks up to some advanced models,” replied Crow. “Our biggest problem will be their orbital guns. We have confirmed reports that the Association has been scavenging main batteries from wrecks of ours and Humani capital ships throughout the Dark Zone. They have installed these as defense batteries across the moon.”
“Even if some are old…” asked a captain from the front row. “…fig
hters and attack craft in numbers that large can swarm a battleship or carrier and take it out. Especially if one of the untold number of Association spies has already warned them of the possibility of attack.”
“Yes,” added another captain. “How do we know we’re not already compromised?”
Admiral Crow swallowed hard. “We’ve taken all possible precautions…but that must be a contingency we are prepared for…”
A wave of murmurs passed over the group, unsettling Stone.
“We must get our fighters launched immediately after the assault jump and get them in position to keep their fighters clear of our big ships.”
“What are the expected casualties for the fleet?” asked Stone.
“Fifteen percent, Marshal Stone,” replied Crow. “And that does not include possible casualties inflicted on assault troops before they disembark my ships.”
Stone exhaled heavily. “General Vae?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Vae as he stood.
As Vae walked toward the center of the briefing room, the map behind him transitioned from an orbital map to a sectionalized topographical map of the Port Royal area.
“Our landing zones are designated as—”
“What are the casualty estimates for the assault forces?” interrupted Stone.
“Five percent before departure from the fleet and fifteen to twenty percent during the assault, Sir.”
Stone closed his eyes, doing the gruesome math. “So 3,000 fleet casualties and 12,000 from the assault force?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Vae and Crow in unison.
“15,000 infantry and half that in ship’s crew for thirteen Association Councilmen?”
Vae and Crow stood silent, understanding his question was rhetorical.
Stone glanced over to Martin and Orion, sitting just to his right. He let out another forced breath. “That will conclude the brief,” ordered Stone. “Everyone is dismissed except Admiral Crow, General Vae, Major Martin, and Flight Commander Orion.”
More murmurs.
“You heard the Marshal,” barked Vae. “Dismissed!”
“That big brain of yours isn’t overthinking things again is it, sir?” asked Martin, leaning forward from her chair as the room emptied.
“Probably,” he replied.
“Was there a problem with the brief, sir?” asked Vae.
“Yes,” answered Stone as he saw the last of the officers leaving the room. “I’m not going to lose 20,000 men for thirteen Port Royal assholes.”
“Sir,” interjected Admiral Crow. “Then how are we—”
“Is the mission to occupy Port Royal or to break the power of the Association?” asked Stone.
“Aren’t they one in the same?” asked Orion.
“They don’t have to be,” replied Stone. He stood and walked to the sectional map of Port Royal. He pointed toward the administration polis. “Do we need three battlegroups and two divisions to remove these people from power?”
“No, sir,” replied Martin, a smile coming to her face.
“What are you talking about, sir?” asked Vae.
“I need both you and Admiral Crow to reconvene this brief tomorrow and we will run through it exactly like we have. After the brief, direct your COs and Regimental Commanders to brief their divisional and company level officers.”
“But, sir,” replied Vae, concern showing on his face. “That might pose a significant security issue given the possible depths to which Association spies have infiltrated our ranks.”
“It might,” replied Stone. “So be sure to tell them secrecy is key.”
“You want the Association to find out?” asked Crow.
“I do.”
“But why—” Vae paused. “You will use the threat of a large-scale assault as a diversion.”
“They’ll be expecting a hammer and we’ll use a needle,” replied Stone.
“Or more like a hammer instead of a sledgehammer,” said Martin.
The group turned toward her.
“What,” she replied. “I’d rather be called a hammer than a needle.”
“So will we or won’t we be attacking Port Royal?” asked Admiral Crow.
“You’re planning on getting the old gang back together again, aren’t you?” asked Orion.
“Yes,” replied Stone. “If we can get the Association to think they know the day and time of the attack, they’ll most likely concentrate their forces and be looking outward instead of toward internal security. The Council, at least most of them, will probably meet in a central location for security. Under these conditions, a small tactical team can enter Port Royal and make a quick assault on the administration polis. If we are fast and lucky, we can take them out without a large number of casualties.”
“It will be risky,” replied Vae.” What if it fails?”
“Then we use the hamm—” He paused, glancing toward Martin. “…sledgehammer.”
“I like it,” said Martin.
“Who will be on the team?” asked Vae.
“We’ll need people who are familiar with the layout…Major Martin, Orion—”
“Katalya and Magnus,” added Orion. “And I guess we’ll take Rickover.”
“Consider Staff Sergeant Shara as volunteered,” added Martin.
“We will need more,” added Stone.
“Ki’etsenkos?” asked Orion.
“If we can get them,” replied Stone.
“Guess you’re talking to the Shirt-guys again,” said Martin with a chuckle.
“You know that’s not what they are called,” said Stone, his lips curled in a frown.
“I wasn’t laughing at that, sir.”
“Then what is it?”
“Just picturing you telling Ki’etsenko Skye you’re going on a real, old-fashion mission and she can’t.”
“Sir?” asked Vae. “You’re not going to risk yourself on this mission, are you?”
Martin laughed again. “Don’t worry, sir. You can tell her I’ve got your back.”
***
Stone stood outside the rehabilitation room, his hand poised over the activation pad.
He took a deep breath and activated the door.
As the door slid open, he saw Mori. She had an exoskeleton brace attached to her waist with hydro-bionic braces running the length of her newly-grown leg.
She took a labored breath.
“Good,” said a medical tech standing next to her.
Mori’s face grew red with pain and determination as she grimaced after taking another step. She exhaled forcefully and moved again.
She let out an audible moan.
Stone’s heart ached. Even though she was recovering quickly given the extent of her injuries, she still had some painful months ahead of her.
She looked up and saw Stone. “Wanna race?” she said, a forced smile coming to her face.
“I should,” replied Stone. “I’m pretty sure this would be my only chance at beating you.” He paused. “It’ll be no time until you’re 100 percent again.”
“I think I could beat—” Mori fell to the ground mid-step, letting out an ear-piercing cry.
Stone rushed forward as the tech knelt down to help her.
“I’m okay!” she grunted, shoving the tech’s arm away and raising her hand to Stone. “I can get up on my own.”
Stone’s body tightened, wanting to help, as he watched Mori slowly push herself off the floor.
Almost panting from the pain, Mori let out a grunt as she stood erect. “There…see.”
“She’s doing well, Marshal,” reported the tech to Stone. “At this rate we expect she should be walking on her own in a few weeks and back to full duty in three standard months.”
“Two,” replied Mori as she took two painful steps and let herself collapse onto a nearby medical chair. When her legs bent, she let out another groan. “Two and a half.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Stone as he pulled a nearby chair next to Mori and sat.
“The Port Royal mission—”
“As long as the date doesn’t move, I’ll be ready,” she interrupted.
“Well, there’s been changes,” replied Stone.
“What?” asked Mori, grimacing as she involuntarily shifted her leg.
“We should get you in your bed so you can rest, Ki’etsenko Ino’ka,” interjected the tech.
Mori’s head snapped toward the tech. “I’ll lie down when I’m ready.” She turned back toward Stone. “What changes?”
Stone paused, looking at the tech. He had almost forgotten he was there. “I’ll take care of her for now,” he said to the tech, politely hinting for him to leave.
“As you wish, Marshal,” replied the tech before exiting the room.
“Talk,” demanded Mori.
“It’s been decided that a special operations mission will be undertaken instead of a full scale assault.”
Mori’s eyes sparkled briefly but quickly grew pale. “When?”
“Six standard weeks.”
“That’s bullshit!” cursed Mori. “I should be leading such an attack…are the Shirt-Wearers aware?”
“They are.”
“Then who did they pick to lead it?”
“I’ll be leading the mission,” replied Stone.
“You…you’re a fucking Marshal.”
“Am I not capable?” huffed Stone.
“That’s not what I meant,” grumbled Mori. “I know you are…but why would they pick—” She paused, taking in a deep breath and nodding. “You volunteered.”
“Well, yes. I—”
“Let me guess, the mission was your idea?”
“It was,” he replied. “A special ops mission has the same, if not better, chance of success and could save the lives of thousands of our troops.”
“And it just has to be in six weeks.”
“We’re still acting as if the full scale assault is going to happen with the assumption that Association spies will get word. Going earlier gives us an advantage.”
“And keeps me out of the fight,” grumbled Mori.
“You know that’s not the reason,” replied Stone. “If I could have you there—”
“I know,” interrupted Mori. “It just sucks.”
