by John Bowers
Men from the third and fourth waves flowed out of the airport into the residentials, where they encountered entrenched BC infantry. True to their reputation, the BC neither surrendered nor retreated, but fought to the death. It was dirty, discouraging work, but within two hours of the initial assault, the airport was in Federation hands.
Orbit of Beta Centauri
Onja Kvoorik stood on the hangar deck of Sadat and gulped a cold fruit juice as she waited for the armorers to reload her missile tubes and bomb racks. Langley sat slumped listlessly on a folding chair, tired beyond belief. They'd already flown six missions, pounding the ASC batteries, bombing the city beyond the Star Marine advance where they could see enemy armor massed and waiting. Of twenty-one ships in the squadron, six had been lost, and their day wasn't over.
Around the planet, other Federation squadrons had spent the afternoon tangling with scores of enemy fighters, keeping them tied up so they couldn't assist the defenders at Periscope Harbor. Losses had been heavy on both sides, with no decisive victories anywhere, but at least the Star Marines had received a break, whether they knew it or not. Over the target, three enemy squadrons had been engaged, and Onja had added four kills to her own personal score, running it to almost four hundred.
But the battle had just begun. As she swallowed the last of her fruit juice and tossed the container into a recycle bin, Onja slipped on her space helmet and climbed back into her gun turret. She knew instinctively that this battle was going to be one of the toughest she'd ever fought.
Citadel, New Angeles, Texiana, Sirius 1
Major Griffen walked into the interrogation room and stopped, taking in the situation at a glance. The Feddie bitch sat on the steel framework, bound to it by wrists and ankles, her body sagging with exhaustion, her hands and feet blue from lack of circulation. The wild red hair draped down over her head in damp strings, plastered to her pale white skin. Her eyes were swollen and red from lack of sleep, glittering in the bright light that formed a halo around her — a halo from hell. The beautiful woman he'd arrested six days earlier was gone; only this shell remained.
Two men were there; one was seated beside her, bent forward, glaring at her without sympathy, barking an occasional question in a harsh voice. The other watched from outside the light, smoking a cigarette. They no longer hoped to gain information — they were well aware she had no more to give, or was unable to give it. After six days of this, the intent now was to batter, to punish. Eventually, to kill.
Griffen stepped into the ring of light and the interrogator glanced up. Griffen motioned with his head and both men stood, following him out the door.
"I'm here to take custody of the prisoner," Griffen said bluntly. "The interrogation is over."
The man who'd been conducting the interrogation frowned. His name was Capt. Hagar.
"By whose authority?" he demanded.
Griffen produced the hardcopy of an order, handing it to Hagar.
"By authority of the President," he said.
Hagar scanned the document briefly and handed it back.
"Did the President clear this with General Davis?" he asked.
Griffen smiled at the irony of that question.
"Accordin' to law, I don't reckon he has to. He is the President."
"Yes, sir, but she's a Feddie spy."
"I suppose you want to kill her, eh, Hagar?" Hagar was well known among his own kind for the passion he brought to his work.
"Maybe not me, but somebody ought to. She's a goddamn —"
"President Adolph doesn't want her executed," Griffen said, cutting him off.
Hagar scowled in irritation.
"Just because her old man is the Feddie president? What difference does that make? We ought to make an example of her, show the bastards we ain't playin' around!"
Griffen merely shook his head.
"No more torture, no more rape. She looks half dead already. Get her cleaned up. I'm taking her with me."
Hagar exchanged glances with his partner, then shrugged.
"Yes, sir, Major. But if yew ask me, it's a mistake."
Griffen sneered. "I didn't ask you."
Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri
Star Marines poured into the Periscope Harbor airport in increasing numbers, their arrivals interspersed with fighter attacks that kept the enemy off balance and steadily reduced the number of ASC batteries.
The landing occurred in early afternoon, local time. As Beta Centauri dropped lower in the east, the airport area no longer fell under direct enemy fire. Federation landers continued to arrive and depart. Elements of 14th Division began to arrive, and by dark both divisions were on the ground. Losses were much heavier than anticipated, but the forward line extended twenty blocks from the airport.
At sunset the sky turned spectacular colors, making the war seem insignificant. For half an hour the atmosphere above the city churned and shifted in a kaleidoscope of color as Beta Centauri's dying rays impacted the atmosphere of the planet like a fireworks show. Rico Martinez squatted at the foot of a starcrete embankment and watched the show while he chewed unhurriedly on a ration pack. The light overhead was brilliant and spectacular, totally unlike any sunset he'd ever witnessed.
"What the fuck is goin' on, man?" Chavez looked thoroughly frightened as he gazed at the spectacular array of shifting colors in the sky. "They using some kind of weapon on us?"
"Relax," Gearloose told him. "It's the atmospherics here, that's all. Nothing to worry about. Like the Northern Lights at home."
"What northern lights?"
"You know, the Aurora Borealis."
"What the fuck you talkin' about?"
"Sure is pretty," Knee Grow observed.
Rico nodded quietly, still eating his dinner. Tired from the afternoon's fighting, he was nevertheless still keyed up. He hardly tasted the food he was eating, which was supposed to be nutritious but had never promised much in the way of flavor.
"This stuff tastes like shit!" Gearloose complained.
"Jus' like the shit it was made from," Knee Grow offered helpfully.
"You know what made me sick one time?" Texas said. "I was eatin' a bowl of shit and found a hair in it."
Maniac gagged.
"Goddammit, Texas!" He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, turned his head and spat a mouthful of rations on the ground. "Jesus goddamn Christ! It's hard enough to eat this slop without you saying that!"
Rico finished his ration pack and threw the empty away. The light show had dissipated, but the glow from the horizon now backlit the city along the harbor. Rico saw silhouettes of towering skytowers, ominous and forbidding, stark black sentinels that promised vicious battles to come. Each tall building represented a thousand ways to die, a complete world of traps and pitfalls. A division of BC could hide in each building, and any one of them was big enough to swallow 33rd Star Marines forever.
Rico saw hundreds of silhouettes.
As if to emphasize the beginning of night, a sudden chill breeze swept over them from the harbor. Rico turned up his collar and surveyed his squad briefly.
"Guys, we've been goddamned lucky up to now. We lost Rags, but that's all. Everybody keep alert, all right?"
They stared at him as if he were somehow smarter than they were, each man nakedly aware of his own personal mortality.
"It could be a long night. Just keep your heads down, don't do nothing stupid." He grinned and held up a thumb. "Semper fi, all right?"
"Fuckin' A!" Chavez said.
* * *
Capt. Connor passed down orders and Lt. Bauer repeated them. Second Squad moved forward with the rest of First Platoon, crawling out of the canal in the gathering darkness, and advanced toward a major highway that divided the residential sections of the city from the downtown areas. Two rifle companies from 31st Star Marines took up positions along the highway, poised to cross into the high-rise district as soon as the order was given. But that order wouldn't come until the last of the residentials was cleared of
the enemy, and Delta Company joined another battalion from 33rd Star Marines to handle that task.
"Division won't let the 31st cross that freeway until we have those residentials under control," Bauer's voice said over Rico's headset. "So they're waiting on us."
Rico scowled into the darkness. "Fuck!"
"How many blocks is it?" Jeff White asked at his elbow.
"I dunno. Until we hit the riverbank. Maybe two, three miles. Of nothin' but residentials."
"Day-um!"
"We're not the only ones. There's three line companies strung out abreast, but shit — no heavy weapons, no laser vests. God damn it, we're stretching our luck real thin."
"Hey, Lieutenant! What about some space power in that area before we move in? Soften it up a little."
"No can do, Martinez. The fighter people are already up to their eyes in dog shit. They got nothing to spare for close ground support."
"That's fucked!" Texas whined aloud. "What good are the fuckers to us, then?"
"I heard that, Graves!" Bauer replied over the headsets. "Maybe you didn't notice, but you were real lucky to get out of that airport alive this afternoon. The fighters made that happen, so don't go bitching when you don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about."
"Christ," Texas muttered, fumbling with his helmet mike. "How do you turn this thing off?"
"Okay, okay!" Rico said. "You guys lock and load. Just like we been doing all day, right? Preacher, take your team to the right and cover our flank."
He checked them all visually, one by one, making sure they were where he wanted them, that they had their weapons loaded, bandoleers of extra magazines, their IR contacts in place, and grenades where they could reach them. No laser weapons at all. One by one they nodded affirmation, none of them happy about being there, but ready nonetheless. Rico nodded, feeling jittery because being squad leader meant he had to remember things that others forgot. He panted for a second after he was sure.
"Okay, Lieutenant. Second Squad is ready."
* * *
They moved out under the flicker of enemy artillery, which was pounding the airport from across the city. There was no longer such a thing as true darkness in modern war, of course. Not since the advent of radar had the night been sufficient to hide an army, and a multitude of inventions since then had made the night ever more transparent. The simplest device was one that every soldier carried — the infrared contact lens. No modern soldier dared fight at night without them; an enemy's body heat would show up at a hundred yards even on the darkest night — and if you didn't see him first, he'd surely see you.
The residentials seemed endless. Street after street, block after block. Houses, apartments, sheds, garages. Corner markets, shopping centers, schools, hospitals. For the most part the Marines encountered little or no opposition; but here and there, like a nail in a pancake, BC units waited with lasers and machine guns. Firefights erupted sudden and vicious, and each defending unit had to be wiped out — the BC neither retreated nor surrendered. It was nerve-wracking, but the pace progressed more quickly than it seemed.
By three hours after local midnight, 33rd Star Marines were within sight of the river. Beyond the river lay a few scattered homes and then mountains. They should reach the river by daylight.
Orbit of Beta Centauri
Wade Palmer stood glued to the action reports as they poured in. His worst fears were not quite realized, but clearly it was much worse than the plan had anticipated. The Marines had gone in with less than what he considered minimum requirements, and to make matters worse, the enemy had known they were coming. No one could doubt that. He wondered what General Willard was thinking now.
Though he'd put in his required twelve hours, Wade couldn't convince himself to leave the Strat Center. He stayed there all night.
Chapter 54
Presidential Palace, New Birmingham, Missibama, Sirius 1
Consciousness came slowly to Regina Wells. The ceiling swam into view first, vague and indistinct, a waterfall of colors that melted together like a kaleidoscope. She was aware of the pain, in her head, in her body. Her joints throbbed, and she still felt stabbing sensations in her groin. Her stomach churned, and for long moments she thought she might puke.
Her vision cleared slowly. She was lying on a bed, the antique kind. With a mattress, and high headboards. She was on her back, naked. Her wrists were firmly clamped in restraints, her arms stretched to their limit. Her ankles were similarly shackled, and the only thing she could move was her head.
She moaned. The sound seemed to echo back upon her, and she wondered just where she was. The vaulted ceiling seemed high enough to accommodate orbital satellites. She could see no other furniture nearby.
A face appeared above her, blurry at first, more distinct as she focused. Her blood froze for a moment, until she realized it was a woman. The woman stood there, unmoving, gazing at her. She was tall, elegant. Her face seemed peculiar, almost familiar. Regina tried to focus better, but the sharpness wouldn't hold, and the face blurred repeatedly.
"Wh-who are you?" she managed, her voice gravelly and hoarse.
"You must be the Federation whore," the woman said in a quiet, almost throaty voice.
"What? Who said —"
"That's what they called you," the other woman said. "The Federation whore. Their exact words."
"I — I'm not … "
The woman smiled. Serenely, a little sadly. She was old, Regina realized. Her face bore the wrinkles of age; her hair was a striking silver. Well coiffed, obviously cared for. She was at least sixty, probably older. Yet something about her arrested Regina's attention. She had been — no, she was — extremely beautiful. Regina had never seen such beauty in a woman her age. The eyes remained clear as crystal, gorgeous in spite of the age lines. The lips had retained their fullness, the cheekbones were wide and aristocratic. Nothing about her sagged. She could have graced the cover of any holomag on Terra.
"You're not a whore," the woman said. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?"
Regina nodded slowly, so taken by the other woman that she temporarily forgot her own predicament.
"You're Vegan, aren't you?" she asked. The woman's accent was lilting, almost musical.
"They call me Queenie," the Vegan woman said.
"You're a slave?"
"They enslaved my body," Queenie said, still smiling that sad smile. "But never my spirit. When I die, it will be as a free Vegan."
"How — how long have you … ?"
"Thirty-six years, my dear."
She bent over suddenly, reached for the wrist restraints, and worked with them briefly. Regina's right arm was suddenly free, and a moment later her left. Queenie helped her sit up, then released her ankles as well.
"You don't have to lie there like that," the woman said kindly. "I know how that feels."
Regina rubbed circulation back into her wrists, then swung her legs slowly, painfully, over the side of the bed. She looked around, trying to keep her mind clear and not give in to despair.
"Where are we?"
"These are my quarters. They're quite nice, really. Elegant."
"You've been here all that time?"
"Most of it." Queenie sat down and looked around, then sighed quietly. "I've gotten used to it." She slid an arm over Regina's bare shoulders. "Hopefully you won't have to be here that long."
"I'm not sure I like the alternatives," Regina said ruefully. "At least they haven't killed you."
"No. Not yet, anyway."
"After thirty-six years, they aren't likely to. You must be very important to them."
Queenie's eyes lost their focus as she nodded.
"I was," she admitted quietly. "Once."
"Is Queenie your real name? It sounds like …"
Queenie smiled. "Like what?"
"Well, I — I was going to say … "
"Like something you would name a dog? Yes, dear, I quite agree. It isn't a very dignified name, is it?"
"The
n it isn't your real name?"
"No. Not exactly."
Regina was about to ask her more, but suddenly her stomach erupted and she began to heave. Queenie quickly helped her through a doorway into a toilet, and Regina made it in time to avoid vomiting on the floor. She had little in her stomach, but what she had came up, followed by several minutes of dry heaves. The elderly Vegan stayed with her throughout the ordeal, holding her hair back out of the way. Regina was grateful for the simple kindness.
Queenie helped her into a hot water shower then, and bathed her carefully, almost lovingly, all over. Regina was weaker than she'd realized, and the woman's hands were strong yet gentle. Once out of the shower, the redhead felt a hundred times more alive than she had before. She stretched out on the bed again, feeling the room spin briefly, and closed her eyes.
"Thank you," she murmured. "You must be an angel from God."
"Are you hungry?"
Regina shook her head. She was too weak to feel her hunger. At the moment she only wanted to sleep. The hot water had awakened aches she hadn't noticed before, and now they assailed her relentlessly. She didn't realize she'd dozed until Queenie gently shook her awake. She opened her eyes to the tantalizing smell of food. Just that suddenly, she was starving.
"Sit up, dear. You've got to eat something. I sent for some soup."
The woman helped her into a sitting position, piling pillows behind her shoulders. The effort left Regina gasping.
"Oh, god!" she moaned. "I just want to die!"
"Don't ever say that," Queenie said firmly. "Don't let them off that easily. Here, eat some of this."
She held a small tube to Regina's lips. Regina sucked it and a delicious soup spilled into her mouth. She swallowed, and sucked the tube harder, desperate for more.
"Not too quickly," the silver-haired lady said. "Take it slow. There's plenty."
Regina emptied the container and asked for more, but Queenie shook her head.
"You rest now. When you wake, there will be more. As much as you want. We don't want to overload your system too quickly."
Regina swallowed and blinked at her, tears forming in her eyes.
"Bless you," she whispered. The woman just smiled.
