by John Bowers
"Hey, Texas."
"Yeah?"
"Where in Texas you from? You never told me."
Texas was silent a moment, then Rico heard him chuckle.
"Jackson Hole."
Rico frowned, then turned to look at him.
"Jackson Hole is in Wyoming."
"Yeah. Prettiest place in the Rockies."
"How come all this bullshit about Texas, then?"
"I just like to fuck with people. Tell you the truth, I've never been to Texas in my life. But it's easy to do the accent, and I have a lot of fun with it."
"Shit, man, you had me believin' it."
They sat silent for a minute, feeling their hearts beat.
"You know what, Beaner? You shoulda got that medal. For pullin' the Fighter Queen outta the toilet. That was a class act, man."
Rico felt a flush of pleasure. But he shook his head.
"Naw, they were right. Any Star Marine'd done the same thing."
"Maybe, maybe not. Not everybody in the Corps has the balls."
"You'da done it," Rico pointed out.
"Yeah, I guess I would have. Only I'da fucked her first."
Rico laughed. "Yeah, right. With her laser pistol jammed down your throat? You'd have come out your ass!"
Texas laughed. "I gotta remember that one."
Presidential Palace, New Birmingham, Missibama, Sirius 1
It wasn't exactly "just like man and wife". For a man of his age, Adolph was surprisingly virile, every bit as lusty as Martin Vaughn. He wasn't intentionally rough with her, but Regina was still raw from several days of brutality, and she panted hard to keep from crying out. If Adolph noticed her distress, it didn't seem to bother him; perhaps he flattered himself that it was passion.
Adolph took some pains to make believe the event was completely consensual. When they first arrived at his apartment, he poured her a drink, and they sat chatting for over an hour. He was friendly and congenial, asking about her life, her background, her education. She told him about herself, but balked when his questions came too close to her father. He probably already knew more about Henry Wells than she did, but at least she wouldn't confirm anything he wasn't certain about — Wayne had told her that intel services tried hard to find more than one source for a bit of information, to make sure it was accurate.
By the time they got to the bedroom, Regina was glad she'd come. Not for the sex, because coerced consent was still rape — but because she'd learned something far more important than anything Adolph might have got from her. One wall of Adolph's sitting room was covered with framed holos of Adolph posing with various people. As they chatted, he sat with his back to the wall, and Regina had over an hour to inspect each holo from where she sat. One holo in particular leaped out at her; she recognized the man shaking Adolph's hand.
He was Mr. Lonely.
Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri
All the Star Marines' light armor had been destroyed. As the enemy counterattack pressed relentlessly forward, the beleaguered Federation troops dug in at the last possible defensive line they could find, massing their fire against BC infantry and Sirian hovertanks. All remaining heavy lasers were brought to bear and the onslaught was temporarily halted, but artillery and missiles continued to fall. The airport was now under heavy fire, but the Lincoln landers continued to drop out of the sky as the evacuation took on a last, desperate intensity. Rico couldn't tell how near the enemy was, but the increased volume of fire on the airport told him they were close. Maniac insisted they were on the airport property itself.
"Never had a hard-on like this!" he complained. "If I take a piss, I'll bleed to death!"
They were loading wounded aboard the landers now, filling them hull-to-hull with stretchers. As each lander was loaded, the pilots gunned the jets and began to roll, and Rico offered a silent prayer for each as it climbed into the night sky, toward the enemy guns. Fighters kept up a steady shriek as they covered the evacuation, diving toward the enemy batteries with missiles and bombs. But Rico couldn't tell if it was going to be enough; he had a fatalistic vision that they'd never get all the wounded out in time.
As for the uninjured and walking wounded, all that could be evacuated had already gone. Those who remained now were either working to load the wounded or trying to defend the airport from the pressure of Sirian armor. The entire situation had turned into a giant rout.
Rico dropped to a crouch to catch his breath as the last lander in the current wave began its takeoff run. Chavez knelt beside him, wiping sweat out of his eyes.
"Fuck, man! I never thought it would be like this, man!" he gasped. "This is the worst fuckin' battle I ever seen, man! This is worse than fuckin' Titan, man!"
"I dunno," Rico told him. "I didn't get to see much of Titan."
"I didn't, neither, man, but fuck! This has gotta be worse!"
Rico nodded. Losses had been heavy at Titan, but they'd at least won that battle. This one was a disaster.
He heard the thunder of jets and looked up. A string of ships was approaching, just shadows against the night sky, illuminated only by the flash of lasers and artillery.
"Okay," he said huskily, "here comes another bunch."
Wounded were already lined up alongside the runway, carried out by other Star Marines who'd been pressed into service. A bullet whined past a foot from Rico's head, but he hardly noticed. There was no time to duck every time a bullet went by.
His eyes narrowed as the first ship touched down and fired reverse thrust. Something was different about these ships … Then he recognized them. They weren't Lincoln landers at all — they were ResQMeds. Jesus! The situation must be worse than he thought if they were using these ships to finish the evacuation. ResQMeds were designed for orbital work, not this.
The airlock of the first ship popped open and three men jumped down. Rico turned and gave the order, and the Fearless Fourless began hauling stretchers aboard.
"Are you in command here?" a voice asked, and Rico turned. He saw a man about his own age, in Space Force uniform, an officer of some kind, from the boards on his shoulder.
"No, sir," he replied. "Not in command. But I'm in charge of these men."
"Close enough," Wade Palmer said. "Look, ignore my rank, okay? I just came to help out. Tell me what to do."
Rico nodded. "Yes, sir. Grab the end of that stretcher and start loading them aboard."
The officer turned to immediately, followed by two others who'd arrived with him. Together, the three began loading wounded. Rico turned to see where he was needed, but already the entrance to the airlock was crowded with men carrying stretchers, and he had to move out of their way. He glanced into the interior of the ResQMed, amazed at how secure and safe it looked. For one terrible moment he felt a deep despair that he hadn't left on the lander with the rest of Delta Company. But he shook it off.
Inside the medical ship, men were placing stretchers hull-to-hull, setting them down with motherly care to ease the suffering of the men lying on them. Rico caught a flash of feminine black hair, and realized the medical officer was directing his men as they placed their burdens down. A Chinese woman appeared briefly and showed the next pair of men where to go, then the interior sickbay was full, and another woman stepped forward to direct the next stretcher.
Rico's heart surged into his throat.
"Carla!"
The woman's head jerked up at the sound of her name, and her mouth dropped open. With a cry of disbelief, she brushed past two men carrying the next stretcher and leaped to the ground. An instant later she slammed into Rico's chest and flung her arms around his neck. Before he could say a word, her full red lips clamped onto his mouth as if she were sucking the life out of him.
Lasers flashed in the distance, artillery exploded near the field hospitals, and bullets ricocheted past the ResQMed, but in that magical instant Rico Martinez and Carla Ferracci stood alone in the universe, their hearts hammering with joy, tears misting their eyes. Rico couldn't believe it — the last
person he'd expected to see in Periscope Harbor was the woman in his arms, and the feel of her full body in his arms was like a drug. He felt an elation he hadn't known since his last leave home; the woman he loved was here. He could see her, smell her, taste her.
"Carla! My God, Carla!"
"Rico, I've been so worried!" she sobbed. "I heard all the reports and I didn't know if you were alive or dead!"
"I'm okay," he said. "But you've got to get out of here. This place is getting hotter every minute."
She glanced desperately toward her ship, realizing she had a duty there. But she couldn't bear to tear herself from the arms of the man she loved above all others.
"Come with us, Rico! There's room!"
"I can't, querida. I have to stay here and help. The wounded are coming faster every minute."
"Please, come with me! If you do, I swear to you I won't come back on the next run. You and me, Rico! We'll stop, right now, as soon as we get back to the carrier. We'll desert if we have to!"
He kissed her hungrily, squeezing her painfully with his fingers.
"I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry, but I've got to stay."
"Rico, this can't last much longer! Come with me!" Tears stained her cheeks as she begged him breathlessly.
He ducked as a shell exploded nearby, pulling her to her knees with him. Shrapnel whined overhead.
"Your ship is loaded," he said. "Get on board. I can't go with you yet, but I'll join you later. I promise. Now go!"
The sound of winding jets punctuated his words, and they heard a shout. Both looked up at the pilot's window, where Capt. Carson waved his hand urgently at Carla. The ship trembled under the thrust as he held the brakes.
Quickly, Rico kissed the beautiful Italian again, then shoved her toward the airlock. Two QuasarFighters screamed overhead, a hundred feet off the ground, their thunder drowning out the last words Carla uttered as Rico heaved her aboard. Louise Chin hit the airlock control and the door slid shut; Rico barely stepped back in time as the ResQMed began to roll. He had to duck as the wing swept over him.
* * *
Wade Palmer stared at the carnage around him with shock in his eyes. He'd never seen a battlefield before, and the sight was more horrible than anything he'd imagined. People hustled everywhere, oblivious to the singing metal that pierced the night. The sky was alive with flashes from cannon, laser, and missiles. Explosions crashed near and far, and he couldn't believe the volume of noise that assaulted his body like a solid wave.
And the smell — it was indescribable. Everything seemed to be burning, roiling clouds of flame-rouged smoke in every direction. The very air was poisonous with the fumes of anything that would burn. Added to that was the tangible smell of blood in great quantities, the sweetish stink of roasted flesh, the sickening pungency of gastric juices from abdominal wounds. And most astonishing of all was the casual manner in which those around him walked about, as if they might not be killed before they drew their next breath.
He saw a ResQMed explode two hundred yards down the runway, saw Star Marines diving out of it to get clear of the flames, still hanging on to the stretchers they'd been loading. The ship burned like a funeral pyre, and the last two people he saw escape the ship were in flames. One of them was a woman.
Wade gulped at the absolute horror he'd walked into, and wondered absently if Dianne Love had ever seen anything like this.
Swallowing repeatedly to control his apprehension, he turned and sought out the only familiar face in sight — the young Star Marine who'd put him to work when he first arrived.
"Excuse me — Corporal? What do I do now?"
The young Marine stared at him silently for a moment, then shrugged.
"Just wait. When the next one gets here, start loading. That's all we do now, sir. Just wait and keep loading."
"How long has it been like this?"
Rico looked around wearily.
"All my life, I think."
Orbit of Beta Centauri
Onja Kvoorik trembled with fatigue. She stood numbly a few feet from her QuasarFighter while the armorers rearmed and refueled it. Langley sat nearby sipping coffee.
She'd lost count of the missions she'd flown during the week. Sleep had been a rare commodity, and the missions had been harder because most of her military experience consisted of combat against other fighters. Until Alpha Centauri she'd never done ground support work, and Periscope Harbor was much worse than Alpha. Targets were difficult to hit because of the QF's incredible speed, and because the target area was so small.
Onja felt a sense of foreboding that bordered on despair. Clearly this battle was lost, for the withdrawal order had already been issued. She hated to give the Sirians an inch; even though she had no doubt they would assault Beta Centauri again, losing a single battle was still a bitter pill to swallow.
She dared not even consider the possibility that they might lose the war.
Major Madison strode across the vast hangar deck toward her, his expression grim. As he approached, other pilots and gunners from the 313 stood up and wandered over, meeting him in a group. Only seven crews remained.
"Okay, people," he said, "you can get some sleep. We've been ordered to stand down."
"What?" Onja's glacier-blue eyes were like lasers.
"We're down to thirty percent," he said. "The wing commander is putting us in reserve. He has fresh squadrons from Alpha 2. They're gonna finish the job."
"Major, some of those squadrons haven't been down there yet! They don't know the terrain. We can be a lot more effective."
Madison eyed her wearily.
"Captain, I appreciate your fervor, but we have orders. Anyway, I doubt if anyone but you wants to go back down there."
"Major —"
"Onja, no! The squadron is standing down. Give it up, will you?"
She glared at him unhappily for a moment.
"Aye-aye, sir," she said quietly. "Request permission to be temporarily detached to another squadron."
Madison shook his head.
"Maybe you'd better ask your pilot how he feels about it first," he said. "You aren't the only one involved here."
Onja looked at Langley with a guilty start. She hadn't considered his feelings at all. He returned her gaze wearily, his face haggard. After a few seconds, he turned to Madison.
"I've got a couple missions left in me," he said quietly.
Madison deflated. He'd hoped Langley would back him up.
"What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish?" he asked.
"I'm going to kill as many Sirians as I can," she said, "before they finish off the Star Marines. This thing will be over in a few hours, and I'm not sitting out while our men are dying down there."
Madison compressed his lips and thought for a minute.
"All right, then. You two have just volunteered to fly reconnaissance over Periscope Harbor. You'll operate as a single unit. Just make goddamned sure you don't fly in front of a legitimate squadron and kill somebody, all right?"
Onja's eyes softened just a little, and one corner of her mouth curved in what was almost a smile.
"Thank you, Major."
"One mission. Next time you come aboard, you're done. Got that?"
She saluted him.
"Yes, sir!"
Madison turned and walked away.
Chapter 59
Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri
Wade Palmer loaded wounded for the next hour, struggling frantically to get as many men as possible aboard each ship each time a string landed. He saw three ships shot down on approach to the airport, saw another stagger and crash after it departed, carrying the wounded he'd just loaded to a fiery death. For the first time since putting on the uniform he understood the true meaning of war, and appreciated the fragility of life as only a combat soldier can.
He watched the men around him, the grunts, working tirelessly to help the injured, taking little thought for their own safety. Most weren't educated men, but they wer
e dedicated, and with a sense of humility Wade realized for perhaps the first time that such men as these were the true heroes, the men who risked all and shed their blood to carry the war to the enemy.
He was especially impressed by the corporal who'd put him to work the minute he landed; during a short break between landers, they talked for a few minutes.
"How long have you been here?" Wade asked, brushing cinders off his face and wrinkling his nose at the stink in the air.
"Since it started. Came in the second wave."
"God! You must be worn out!"
"I could use a bath." Rico grinned.
"You been in the Star Marines long?"
"Eleven years. This is gonna be my last battle. I'm gettin' out."
"Don't blame you. Were you at Alpha Centauri?"
Rico just nodded, staring off into the distance.
Wade ran out of words then. Rico turned to look at him.
"What the hell are you doin' here, sir? You look like a shipboard officer."
Wade nodded.
"I am. I was sitting up there watching the sit-reps come in, and I got so depressed I wanted to come down here and see what I could do."
Rico frowned. "You volunteered to come here?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"And they let you?"
Wade shrugged. "I sorta talked them into it."
The young Marine shook his head in wonder.
"Well, Lieutenant," he said, "I tell you — I was at Titan, and that was fucked up. I was at Alpha Centauri, and that was a little better. But this one — Jesus! Whoever thought up this operation deserves a special place in hell with extra gasoline. This is the most fucked-up operation I ever hope to see."
Wade felt his face burn red, and was glad of the flickering light from the many fires. What would the Marine think if he knew that Wade had been one of the planners?
"I think you're right," he said lamely.
They heard QuasarFighters coming then and both stood up. Explosions two miles off the end of the runway erupted into brilliant red mushrooms as the fighters dumped bombs on an enemy position; three QF's streaked over the runway to clear a path, and then a ragged line of ships began dropping out of the sky. Some were ResQMeds.
