by B. V. Larson
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Legion Varus has wiped before, and we’ll wipe again. We’ve faced death, even perma-death, countless times—and we’re still here!”
My words had been meant to be supportive, but judging by the look on her face, I hadn’t cheered her up at all.
-15-
We found our hole in the upper canopy of the megaflora. Natasha showed me this on her tapper, which was still getting vid data from the lifter’s upper decks.
Down in the hold, the soldiers around me were in a grim mood, but if I had to wager, I’d say the mood among the officers upstairs had to be even worse.
This planet already looked like a bad one to me. I’d only visited five planets before, including Earth, but I’d never seen anything like what they were calling “megaflora.”
“Are those really trees?” I asked Natasha. “I mean—they’ve got to be a kilometer or two high and a couple hundred meters thick as well.”
“They’re not exactly trees,” she said, studying her screen. “They have spongy-looking pods on top. And look at the coloring, there’s almost as much purple as there is green.”
She was right. I could see purple, green and various shades of brown. The growths were definitely alien. No one would confuse them with Earthly trees. But their structure was still familiar. The lower portions were knotted and thick—clearly what we could call the roots. The center was dominated by a massive trunk in most cases. The upper regions were where things looked the most unusual. The roof of the forest, to use a familiar word, was tightly packed with stuff that looked more like a crown of broccoli than a treetop.
Of course, the imagery filtering to us on our tappers wasn’t perfect. It was choppy and fuzzy. The monstrous growths we were seeing didn’t even look real—they were just too big. The plants even had hazy clouds floating between the trunks like the tallest of Earth’s buildings.
“What I don’t get is how we managed to get through that canopy at all in the lifter,” I said. “I don’t see any holes in the forest roof other than the one we came in through.”
Natasha glanced at me. “There was a hole because we put it there. The burn marks and the size of the opening indicate we blasted it into existence with our broadsides. I’m almost certain of that.”
I nodded, getting the point. We’d blown a hole in the forest then dropped the lifter into it. It made sense, and it also put us close to our target area.
Shortly after gliding into the forest and finding a relatively open spot on the ground, the lifter landed. We were between two roots of a particularly massive growth. The roots were like folds in a mountain.
“We made it down alive, anyway,” I said.
Carlos clapped me on the shoulder, and he was grinning again.
“That was a good call, Vet,” he said. “I would have put my money on the drop-pod people, but I would have been wrong.”
“What?”
“I’m saying it was a good idea to come down with the lifter instead of the drop-pods.”
Blinking at him, I frowned. “I didn’t have anything to do with that decision, Specialist.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No? I figured you’d gone up to Gold Deck and offered Turov a freebie if she gave you your choice.”
I try not to smack Carlos around too much, but sometimes I can’t help myself. I clamped onto his neck with my gauntlet and gave him a shake. My fist thumped into his breastplate, but that didn’t even leave a scratch.
“Why are you such an ass, Carlos?” I demanded. “Aren’t you ever going to grow up?”
“They keep resetting me back to the day I joined up. That means I’m permanently immature—and it’s not my fault.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” I said. “I work for a living.”
“Whatever you say, Vet.”
I let him go and stood up. The lifter had cycled down the engines and the go-lights had flipped to green. The big ramp was opening up, and it was time to move out.
Fortunately, I wasn’t among the first squads to deploy. Graves’ entire unit was, in fact, slated to be the last to leave the lifter.
We didn’t waste any time checking our weapons, shouldering our rucks or staring at the exit. Sometimes the first few minutes on a new world were the worst of all.
“Look alive, people,” Graves said in our ears. “Don’t push, and don’t screw up. We don’t have any intel on this planet other than the confirmed fact that it’s hostile.”
“No shit,” Carlos muttered.
We watched tensely as the first platoons hustled off the lifter ahead of us. My heart pounded, and I watched Natasha as much as anything else. She was reading incoming data on the planet we’d just invaded.
“Breathable atmosphere,” she said. “But I’m getting a lot of biologicals in the air. Pollen, spores, traces of unknown pathogens.”
Experimentally, I lifted my legs and stomped my feet back down. “Gravity seems pretty close to Earth’s.”
“I’m reading about eighty-one percent of normal,” Natasha said. “That’s nice for sore feet.”
“Nice for giant tree-growths, too,” I said. “With lower gravitational pull, it has to be easier for these plants to get taller.”
She nodded in agreement.
Eventually, we were ordered to disembark. We gathered in a loose formation on the ground, taking up a flanking spot alongside one of the giant tree roots.
“I don’t hear anything—except for us.” Carlos said, messing with his audio inputs. “No birdsongs, no jungle-cat roars. Just silence.”
I listened, and I had to admit he was right. I’d been in plenty of forests in my time, and I’d never visited a quieter place.
Natasha prowled around reading instruments while Carlos pecked at the tree roots with his medical instruments. I didn’t stop either of them. I was hoping one of them might come up with something interesting.
“Listen up, people,” Graves said at last, gathering the unit. “We’ve landed just a kilometer north of the big hole we blasted in this forest. Our readings aren’t giving us any data on enemy positions, but those invaders up on Minotaur had to come from somewhere. Let’s spread out and search the region by squads. If you make any kind of contact, report in. Otherwise, come back to camp under the lifter within an hour’s time.”
Only one unit stayed with the lifter to protect it. The rest of us split up and began exploring the immediate vicinity. None of us were supposed to leave sight of the lifter, just in case.
Among the knot of officers in the middle of the defensive unit, I spotted Primus Winslade himself. I pointed him out to Carlos as we climbed on top of an over-sized root.
“Figures,” Carlos said, following my gaze. “Winslade isn’t going on patrol. He’ll sit back here and sip wine until we bump our noses into something. Then he’ll call for help, screaming.”
He was probably right, but I ignored Carlos’ complaints anyway. I watched as Winslade moved to talk to Graves and the other centurions. Something was up.
After a few minutes of huddling and talking in low voices, Graves overrode our channel and made an announcement.
“Platoon leaders, join me in the lifter,” he said.
Graves then followed Winslade up the ramp into the shadowy interior of the lifter. A half dozen other officers gathered behind him.
Carlos nudged me.
“What?” I demanded.
“You better get going,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Leeson’s still dead. Last time our platoon had a leader, it was you. That means you’re up, dummy.”
Squinting at him, I was too surprised to smack him one. For one thing, he was technically right. The way legion chain-of-command worked, if there wasn’t an adjunct handy, command was handed down to a veteran. Normally, the most senior veteran was given the honor, which would have been Harris. But Graves had specified me for the job back aboard the ship.
Legion soldiers died a lot. Because of this, we o
ften had holes in our ranks until people were revived. In the past, prior to revival systems, new commanders would have been sent out to the front, or units would fold into one another to form full strength formations. But with our revival technology in play, death was usually just an inconvenience. Lower level officers automatically moved up the chain to replace their superiors until the dead man returned to take over his job again—standard routine.
Shrugging, I walked toward the ramp. At the bottom of it, I felt a heavy gauntlet slam down on my shoulder. It didn’t hurt as my epaulets were over a centimeter thick, but it was irritating. I swung around with a frown.
Harris glared at me. “Just where the fuck do you think you’re going, McGill?” he demanded.
“Up this ramp. Graves just summoned the platoon leaders to a conference. Didn’t you hear?”
“I heard. I heard, all right. He was talking to me, you fool. I’m your senior by a decade. Don’t think for a second you’ve got the right to play this kind of game with me.”
“You’re right, Vet,” I said. “I don’t mean to play any games. Maybe we should clear this up with Graves right now.”
Turning, I stepped up the ramp again. Harris caught up to me with a growl and yanked on my arm.
You can ask anyone, and they’ll swear I’ve got a slow fuse. But this planet was hot and steamy. Too much heat always put me into a bad mood. I could feel the humidity coming right through my armor, making my skin prickle. It was like being inside a car in a jungle—sure, you might have air conditioning, but systems like that were never perfect. My body knew it was standing in a sweaty sauna. The little bit of cool air that was pissing on my skin in a half-dozen spots didn’t do all that much to relieve my discomfort.
The long and the short of it was that I just about punched Harris. He knew what I was thinking, too. He’d grabbed me once, and I’d taken that in stride—but both of us knew that grabbing me twice was too much.
He could tell I was on the verge of jumping him, so he dropped his hands from my arm. That was good for both of us. I took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“You’ve got something to add, Harris?”
“I sure as hell do. We’ll clear this up right here, right now. Call Graves.”
“You call him,” I shot back.
We stared each other down for a second. Harris liked to hide from officers. He tried to never be the man to bring them a problem. But I wasn’t going to be tricked into being the whiny guy with a question for the boss—not this time.
With a growl, Harris brought up his tapper and opened a channel to Graves. I was right there, so I overheard everything.
“Centurion, sir?” Harris said, his voice as perky as he could muster. “There’s a small misunderstanding, sir.”
“Specify, Harris. I’m busy.”
Harris cleared his throat. “Sir, McGill and I were wondering which of us should be attending the command meeting in the lifter as Adjunct Leeson’s replacement.”
Graves hesitated. “Yes…right,” he said. “I did put McGill in command, didn’t I?”
Harris frowned fiercely. I could tell he’d expected an immediate decision in his favor.
“Sir,” he said, “perhaps we could both attend, if that would be more convenient.”
“It wouldn’t be. It’s too crowded up here already. My orders stand. Send McGill. Graves out.”
Harris’ mouth hung open. He stared at his tapper in shock.
Right then, I felt bad. Sure, Harris and I had never been best buddies, but we’d fought to the death back-to-back more times than we’d killed one another. He was the senior man. I suddenly felt that I shouldn’t have pushed for this—that I should have backed down and let Harris have his day in the sun without me horning in.
“Vet,” I said. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to make a big deal of the situation. Why don’t you just go up there and tell him I’m helping an injured soldier on my squad?”
Harris eyed me. His jaw muscles were bulging, and his lips were squirming. I could tell he was upset and didn’t know how to react.
“That’s a nice gesture,” he said, “but the Centurion has given a command. I’m not like you, McGill. I follow orders. Get your ass up there and attend that meeting.”
Turning away, I left him there at the bottom of the ramp.
“I hope the whole damned lifter blows up and kills the lot of you!” Harris shouted after me as I disappeared into the dim interior.
I chuckled to myself as I made my way to the upper decks. Now that was the Harris I knew so well!
When I reached the conference chamber, it turned out I was the only noncom in the room. I barely made it inside before the hatch in the floor glided shut and locked. I frowned at that. Was this a secret meeting?
Winslade stood in front of the central tactical display. Lifters were equipped with a decent battle simulation computer, so they could operate as a headquarters for land or space-based forces in a pinch.
“I’m not going to soften this,” Winslade said. “We’ve got serious problems. Critical decisions must be made immediately.”
These dramatic words surprised me, so I decided it would be best to stay as invisible as possible. I stood in the very back, leaning up against the curving hull. I was so far back, the ship’s walls pressed against my helmet.
Looking around the room, I frowned. Hadn’t Graves said something about it being cramped up here? Well, it wasn’t. The chamber was designed to house all the officers in a full cohort. Lifters carried a thousand troops, and the officers were supposed to use the primary chamber of the upper decks as a meeting area.
The odd thing was the room was mostly empty. With only half the cohort with us, there was half the usual number of officers. I could have snagged a comfy chair, if I’d had the balls to.
Did that mean Graves had wanted me up here and decided to let Harris down easy with an excuse? Or was this just his way of slapping Harris around for complaining about his orders back when we were in the face of the enemy on Blue Deck?
I didn’t know the answer, so I tried to push these thoughts from my mind and listen closely to Winslade. He tended to be overly dramatic, but he seemed to be serious today.
“That’s right,” Winslade said. “I think we’ve lost the rest of the legion. Minotaur hasn’t blown up or lost orbit, but she’s dead as far as we can tell from the ground. There’s no response to any transmissions we’ve made requesting their status.”
That was a punch in the gut for me. I’d had no idea things were that bad. Sure, there’d been venting from the engine core…but all of them? Dead?
“Primus,” Graves asked, “is this speculation, or is it confirmed?”
Winslade eyed him. “Confirmed. Their computers acknowledge our requests, but nothing other than preprogrammed responses have come back. The Skrull crew must be dead as well. Only the AI remains active, and it’s of limited usefulness. What we have gotten from it amounts to statistical data showing onboard conditions. The engines are disabled, and the atmosphere aboard is deadly—where it exists at all. The regions that remained pressurized are toxic. The radiation levels are serious. Even in suits, any survivors must be in dire straits.”
Graves considered. “So, we’ve lost ninety percent of our force. What about the troops that came down via drop-pods?”
“Most of them made it. Better than sixty percent, in fact. They’ll be gathering into units and proceeding to our position over the next twenty hours.”
“Ninety-three percent of the legion lost,” Graves said, shaking his head. “I have only one more critical question, sir: Do we have a revival unit on this lifter?”
Winslade smiled. “We do. A single unit. So far, it’s automatically queued itself up with cohort losses and those of us who were confirmed dead during the drops. Now people, I need input. What’s our strategy?”
Right about then, despite the fact I was in a mild form of shock, I had to admire Winslade. He was arrogant. He was sometimes petty an
d always dramatic. But here he was again, doing the right thing. He knew Graves had five more decades of experience fighting in space than he did. He wanted to live, so he was asking for help. He was flat out admitting he needed it. That made it harder to hate the man.
Graves took in a deep breath. “Let’s talk about our revival strategy first. We should keep reviving our own people until we have firm knowledge of Minotaur’s state. We don’t want to duplicate personnel here on the surface if they’re not confirmed dead in space.”
Winslade nodded. “Agreed. How do we proceed tactically?”
Graves turned to the central display. A few others huddled up with him. All of them were centurions, so I hung back.
They talked for about half an hour. In the end, it was decided that we’d have to scout the enemy base. Supposedly, it had been annihilated by our broadsides, but that hadn’t been confirmed.
After we’d dealt with the enemy on the planet, we had to come up with a way to recapture Minotaur. Without that ship, we had no way to get back home.
But taking her back…that sounded like it was going to be a tall order.
-16-
Leeson popped out of the revival system and began to hassle me almost as soon as he was able to draw breath. He couldn’t do it very well as he kept having coughing fits.
“What’s this I hear from Harris about you usurping my platoon, McGill?” he demanded.
I looked him over speculatively. “Sir, you’re swaying a bit. Maybe you should catch your breath.”
“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head and going into another coughing spasm. “That’s how it starts. That’s how a man finds himself replaced. I’m not falling for that—especially after what you did to Harris.”
“Adjunct, all I did was follow Centurion Graves’ orders.”
“Yeah, right. Sure. You want me to believe you’re just some kind of country slap-dick, right? That there’s not a scheming thought in your mind? Forget it, McGill. I’m not falling for that one.”
“Your orders, sir?” I asked, suppressing a sigh.
“Just stay the hell out of my way. Those are your orders. No—hold on. I’ve got a better idea. I want you out on patrol. Deep patrol. See if you can find some of the stragglers from the drop pods. Barring that, maybe you can find yourself a sweet way to get killed.”
