No one did. The corporal grinned, nodded, and sat down. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Good.” Stark raised his face shield again, relieved that he didn’t have to worry about fitting himself into another set of battle armor on short notice. “Now, let’s kick some butt.”
“In a gentle, nonlethal fashion?” Sergeant Rosinski asked.
“Hell, you can beat on ‘em all you want, ‘Ski. Just don’t shoot any of ‘em if they ain’t in armor.”
Everything looked deceptively quiet at Chamberlain Barracks. The mutineer barricades resembled the piles of furniture dumped in the hallways whenever the solid lunar rock floors in the living quarters were resealed. It was just past normal dinner hour, when everyone should be relaxing. Stark glanced back at his platoon and smiled with an odd degree of contentment for someone about to walk head-on toward fidgety mutineers packing rifles loaded with bullets that would kill. “You ready, Corporal Gomez?”
“Sí. Feel’s good, don’t it? All us together again.”
“Damn right. I wouldn’t want any other squad, any other platoon with me, not if I could choose from anywhere and anytime.” He felt a bit awkward after saying that, as if it were too much, but the truth behind it reassured him.
Stark checked the time, counting down the last seconds on his HUD. “Okay, everybody. Let’s go. By the numbers.” Gomez was right. It felt good, leading a small body of soldiers again, responsible for only a limited number of bodies in a limited area.
Stark unsealed his face shield, raising it fully so his face could be seen. Holding his rifle at loose port arms, he began walking toward the main entrance of the barracks. Above the door, an embossed image of a soldier, wearing a high-necked uniform adorned with stars on the collar, gazed severely downward, his big mustache seeming to droop in disapproval of the activity inside. So that’s Chamberlain. A general, I guess. Wonder what he did, and when he did it? I oughta find out, someday.
The mutineers manning the barricade had noticed Stark’s slow, casual progress. Rifles came up, aiming toward him. Twenty paces behind, the platoon followed, not in formation, not dispersed for combat, but ambling along in a non-threatening manner. At the other entrances, he knew, Conroy and Rosinski were doing the same thing.
“Halt!” The command sounded firm enough, but Stark kept coming. “Halt! We’ll shoot!”
Stark didn’t halt, continuing his steady, measured pace, but he began talking. “This is Sergeant Ethan Stark. You know who I am, and you know you can trust me. I don’t care what somebody else might have told you. I won’t lie to you. Put down your weapons and nothing has to happen.” Some of the rifle barrels wavered. “We’ve got plenty of real enemies out there. We don’t need to be fighting each other. If you guys have got grievances, you’ll get a hearing. I promise.”
“He’s lying!” The corporal apparently in charge of the barricade rounded on his troops. “You can’t trust him. He’s just out to be dictator, over our bodies! Our blood! How many of you have lost friends in one of Stark’s little wars?”
The weapons aimed at Stark drifted a little further, none directly aimed at him now. That’s it. Keep ‘em talking. I’ll just keep walking. Any second now they’ll notice the platoon behind me… “I don’t start wars, Corporal. I end them. I’m trying to end the one we’ve been fighting up here. I don’t see how fighting each other helps anyone but our enemies.” He was almost at the barricade, measuring the hesitation among the mutineers. A couple more steps—
“Nail him!” the corporal ordered, but his fellow soldiers hesitated, looking at each other. The corporal cursed at his troops, then leveled his rifle at Stark. Okay. Game over. Stark jumped forward and to the side, keeping just high enough to clear the barricade, his rifle swinging to line up on the corporal as Stark fired a short burst directly into his target. He pulled his face shield shut as he dropped on the far side of the barricade, landing on his shoulder and bringing the weapon to bear on the mutineers from the back.
The near-silence of a moment earlier shattered into a million harsh sounds as some of the mutineers tried to target Stark while others returned fire at the members of Stark’s platoon. The shock of rifle fire echoed from the walls, oddly disturbing to soldiers who’d grown used to combat in the airless silence of the Moon’s exterior. Flash-bang grenades exploded with disorienting light and concussion effects. Most of the mutineers simply broke and ran, some leaving their weapons. Amid the confusion, Stark lay flat where his jump had landed him, carefully targeting each mutineer firing a weapon. Bullets sparked off the wall near his head, throwing chips of rock out in tiny sprays, then the soldier responsible stiffened and fell as Stark’s own rounds caught him and froze his battle armor. Love those nanobots. His HUD screamed a warning, highlighting a mutineer fumbling with her weapon, and Stark dropped that one as well.
As quickly as it had erupted, the firefight ended, any remaining mobile mutineers dropping their weapons in surrender. “Anita! Detail a guard for these guys. Let’s go!” Stark ran down the hall, his armor’s microphones picking up the sounds of mutineers fleeing before him and the clatter of most of the platoon following in his wake. “Spread out when you hit intersecting corridors. Keep ‘em guessing.” He came up against a corner, breathing heavily, taking the barest moment to pull back his scan to see how the other platoons were doing. Rosinski’s was apparently stalled near the loading dock, but Conroy’s force was streaming into the barracks just like the platoon with Stark. That’s one damn good lieutenant. Shows what you can do if you train an officer up right.
Stark went around the corner, hunched over and moving fast. Shots spanged into the rock around him as he rolled to the far wall. Behind him, other soldiers followed, returning the fire. He felt a thrill of fear, knowing he was too exposed, but unable to fall back without drawing more attention. Been out of tactical ops too long. Gotten rusty. Didn’t think this one through. The only thing saving him was the apparent reluctance of the mutineers to risk being hit. They were keeping down and firing without aiming carefully.
“Sargento, you okay?”
“Yeah, Anita. But I ain’t happy. Is there anybody in position to get behind those mutineers?”
“Sí. Any second now.” A flurry of shots ahead of Stark, and then firing ceased as the small pocket of mutineers surrendered to the soldiers hitting them in the flank.
Stark surged back up despite the little voice in the back of his head insisting that he was being an idiot. Gotta get to Vic. If they’re gonna shoot anybody, it’ll be her. Another scan of the barracks as he ran down the hall along with a small group from Second Platoon. The symbols crawling through the 3-D representation of the barracks were frustratingly confusing. As Stark watched, a scattered patch of symbols tagged with First Platoon’s ID converged on the red symbology representing the mutineers that were keeping Third Platoon tied down on the loading dock. The red symbols fell away rapidly, some freezing in place and marked as incapacitated, others lost as they ran into halls and rooms where the individual sensors on the battle armor couldn’t spot them. “Corporal Gomez.”
“Sí, Sargento.”
“You’ve got some people close to the central comm relay for the barracks. If you take that, we can see anywhere in here again.”
“I’m on it.”
It was a very good thing to be able to trust someone so absolutely in combat. Stark put the comm relay out of his mind as he studied the diagram again, letting some of the other soldiers dash past him. Okay. Figure a big room so they can minimize the number of guards. A big room with only the two exits required by fire code. There were four possibilities, all briefing rooms. Stark headed for the nearest, watching for any surprises. He was alone now, the other soldiers from Second Platoon scattered in search of targets.
A pair of armored figures came around the corner. Everyone pointed weapons, but the tweaked IFF pronounced them members of First Platoon. “Sergeant Stark?”
“Yeah.” Even as Stark answered, his HUD bloomed w
ith new symbols as the barracks comm relay began forwarding data from every room to his battle armor. “You guys getting the full picture now, too?”
“Yessir. Hey, there’s a couple of those Fifth Batt guys one room down.”
“You take ‘em. I’m heading the other way.”
“No problem!” Stark left the others, heading down the hall with more confidence now that his HUD showed what must be most of the mutineers. I can’t assume somebody hasn’t worked some bypass on their room’s sensors. Soldiers did that, to cover up illicit activity, or just the presence of a visitor sharing legal but intimate activity. The briefing rooms all showed blank, not bypassed, but openly disabled. So they are being used to hold people. And those people got unhappy enough about that to knock out the sensors. I’ll bet that ticked off the ‘Enlisted Council.’
A briefing room far from Stark blossomed with detections, as some soldiers from Third Platoon burst in. “This place is full of privates,” one reported. “Unarmed, looks like.”
“Was the door locked from the outside?” Sergeant Rosinski demanded.
“That’s affirmative, Sarge.”
“ ‘Ski,” Stark broke in. “It looks like maybe a company worth of enlisted in there. Those’ll be some of the ones who didn’t go along with the mutiny, but keep an eye on them until we’re sure. There’s probably another company locked up in another one of the briefing rooms. You copy, Lieutenant Conroy?”
“I copy. Any sign of the senior enlisted?”
“I think I’m about to find some,” Stark replied, pausing outside the room he had been heading for. Inside, he could hear shouting, some of it amplified by battle armor and in the angry, panicked tones of a person who thought they were losing control of a situation.
Stark came through the door in a rush, sweeping the room with his rifle as he moved. In front of him, an armored figure hesitated, its IFF tagging it as a mutineer. Stark put a short burst into it, then pivoted to focus on where Vic Reynolds and a couple of other sergeants were struggling for the weapon of a second guard. “Get clear!” Stark bellowed over his outside speaker, and as the sergeants dropped away obediently Stark planted two rounds in the guard’s armored chest. The guard tried to bring his own weapon around, then fell.
Stark scanned the room again, carefully, but saw no other threats. “Vic? That the only other guard?”
She was staring at him with a mixture of shock and outrage. “You just shot them both? That casually? What the hell—?”
“I asked you if those were the only guards, soldier!”
Vic stopped speaking, then nodded. “Yes. Those were the only two.”
“Good.” Stark checked his HUD for any signs of other mutineers in the area, but the few red symbols still active were some distance away. He leaned over the second guard. “Don’t get all in an uproar, Vic. He ain’t hurt for real.” Unsealing the guard’s face shield, Stark revealed a sweating face with wide eyes. “Mind you, if this clown had killed anybody in here, I might’ve left him in his armor until he starved to death.”
Private Billings from Stark’s old squad came storming in, her weapon at the ready, then halted, sweeping the room. “You okay, Sarge?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Wow. Thanks. Corporal Gomez would’ve eaten me alive if anything’d happened to you.”
“What? Explain that.”
“Uh… well, Corporal Gomez told me to stick with you no matter what and make sure you didn’t get hurt. But I lost you during one of the firefights. You move awful fast for an old guy, Sarge.”
“Thanks a lot. You and Gomez oughta know I can take care of myself.”
“Okay, Sarge. Um, they’re doing a sweep through the rooms, so I guess I should—”
“Yeah. Go ahead. And, Billings?” She paused in mid-step. “Thanks. I mean it. See you around.”
“Sure thing, Sarge.” Billings headed out of the room, already back in combat mode as she reached the hall.
Vic was on one knee, examining both guards. “Their suits are disabled. What the hell kind of bullets are you using?”
“Something special we were putting together for some guests we’re expecting. They turned out to be handy for this little mess, as well.” He glared at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She flinched. “I’m very sorry, Ethan. I should have known you wouldn’t have done that, not unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“Yeah, you should have. Who’re the rest of you guys?” They seemed to be mostly sergeants, with a scattering of corporals.
One strode forward. “The senior enlisted from Fifth Battalion. Most of them, anyway. We owe you an apology, too, Stark. This never should’ve happened. We should’ve seen it coming, and we should’ve stopped it.”
“We’ll figure out how it happened later. You said you’re most of the senior enlisted? Where’s the others? The only guy I’ve talked to is a corporal named Hostler.”
“Hostler? Oh, man, wait’ll I get my hands on that sorry little sack of—”
“Lieutenant Conroy,” Stark called over the command circuit. “Anybody pick up Corporal Hostler yet?”
“Yes, Commander. One of Rosinski’s people caught him trying to sneak out of the barracks. He’s currently in Sergeant Yurivan’s custody.”
“Yurivan? How’d she get him so fast?”
“She came in with me, Commander. Showed up at the last minute and said she ought to walk along with me since she was from Fifth Battalion originally and probably knew the soldiers manning the barricade. It worked. We took the barricade without a shot. After that, things got hot, though.”
“So I saw. I think I’ve got all the loyal senior enlisted in here. Anybody else you pick up was probably in on the mutiny.” Stark scanned his Tactical display one more time, noting the lack of ongoing combat, then unsealed his own face shield and raised it so he could speak directly to the soldiers in the room with him. “You guys’ll have to wait to work over Hostler, I’m afraid. Sergeant Yurivan’s got him at the moment.”
“Stacey?” The Fifth Battalion sergeant grinned. “Oh, man. Hostler ain’t gonna enjoy that.” His smile faded. “But he ain’t behind this. Not enough brains and not enough guts. Nobody’s told us, but we figure at least some of the sergeants who ain’t in here with us were involved.”
“By any chance are any of these missing sergeants friends of a guy named Kalnick?”
“You got it. We wanta talk to them, too. Unless Stacey’s planning on working them over when she’s done with Hostler.”
“I’m sure she’s looking forward to it, but I’ll see what I can do. Speaking of which…” Lieutenant Conroy entered, along with four soldiers from First Platoon, escorting several sergeants. “Where’d you find these?”
“A couple were in battle armor. After we disabled it, we pried them out to bring them to you. The others were hiding in one of the conference rooms. I guess that was their headquarters.”
“Do tell.” Stark lowered his face shield long enough to check his HUD. “I read all rooms secure and no remaining resistance. You concur, Lieutenant?”
“Yessir.”
“Any casualties?”
“A couple wounded and four disabled by friendly fire. The mutineers mainly fired wildly, from what I saw.”
“Me, too.” Stark switched circuits. “Sergeant Shwartz, Chamberlain Barracks is secured. Send in the Military Police on standby to take custody of the building and our prisoners. Oh, yeah. Nobody’s hurt except a couple of our people who were wounded. Tell anybody and everybody that.” Another switch, to the command center. “Sergeant Tran. Broadcast to all locations that the mutiny has been ended, order has been restored, and none of the mutineers were injured.” Not seriously, anyway. Though I’m not taking bets on what might happen when these sergeants get their hands on some of those mutineers. “Get the word out.” He turned to Lieutenant Conroy. “Turn over the building to the MPs and put your company on liberty. Turn ‘em loose as fast as you can.”
“We’ll do a debrief later, Lieutenant. I need your soldiers out and about boasting how they took down these mutineers without hurting any of them.”
“Ah.” Conroy nodded. “I understand.” She moved away, passing on Stark’s orders to her platoon leaders.
Stark finally focused on the bedraggled sergeants who had been behind the mutiny. “Game over, ladies and gentlemen. You should’ve known better than to listen to Kalnick.” A couple of them jerked in involuntary reaction. “Yeah, we know he helped start this. Now you’re expecting to get the hell kicked out of you and then some firing squads, right?” Faces settled in lines of fear or determination, depending on the individual. “Well, I ain’t gonna give you the satisfaction. That’d make you martyrs, wouldn’t it? No, you’re going to be locked up. Anybody who sings about the people behind this gets better treatment. Anybody who doesn’t, gets forgotten in their cells for a while so I can deal with more important things. Forgotten by me, anyway. I’m sure Sergeant Yurivan will want some interviews to help you pass the time. Is that clear? Think about it.”
Stark began turning to face the other sergeants, then pivoted back. “Oh, one more thing. If even one of my people had been killed as a result of this nonsense I’d have personally torn you all apart.” A group of MPs entered, their leader saluting Stark. “Get these people out of my sight. Lock ‘em down tight.”
“Yessir. Uh, we’re going to need a list of the charges against each individual. That’s paperwork required by the stockade.”
“You’ll get one.” He faced the other Fifth Battalion sergeants, not trying to hide his regret. “I hope you’ll all understand that we’ve got to go through everybody in this barracks and make sure they weren’t involved in the mutiny. I don’t expect anyone in here to have problems proving that, but I have to keep you in the barracks until we’ve done the investigations. There’s a sweep going through now searching for any weapons or stragglers from the guys who fought us. After that, you guys can go back to your quarters. We’ll let you know when you can move about freely again. Any questions?”
Stark’s Crusade Page 13
