by Mark Barber
The assembled leaders certainly did not need to know why he had given orders to the Agility to scan the planet’s surface. If Embryo was indeed what the locals now called Markov’s Prize, as all the evidence suggested, then Owenne’s decade long search would be over.
“The ‘local rebels’ refer to themselves by the planet self-defense force’s original name: the Markov Alliance Army,” Zann continued. “This appears to be a rather political statement by their leader, Marshall Grynne, who is claiming that the Markov’s Prize government who surrendered to us were nothing more than collaborators and traitors. The MAA can muster perhaps a division of soldiers – not a significant threat in its own right - but if they enter battle with weapons and armor supplied by House Selestov, we could have a real problem. That would be aside from the fact we’re already locked in combat with the Ghar. The sooner we can locate and disable the remaining nanosphere shielding on this planet, the better.”
“That’s worst case,” Commander-in-Chief Hawess rested his hands over his somewhat corpulent belly as he sat back in his chair. “I can’t imagine the locals are particularly happy with the Ghar, either, so I’d imagine they’ll be just as happy if not more so to attack them. Remember, they may see us as invaders, but it’s the Ghar who have been massacring the civilian population, not us.”
“Probably best we assume the worst case,” Commander-in-Chief Diette tapped his chin pensively. “If I was in Grynne’s shoes, I’d probably be looking at attacking both invading forces. We may well find ourselves locked in a three way war with the Ghar and an alliance between the local military and Freeborn mercenaries. You said you had some int on the Ghar leader, JJ?”
“Yes, sir, a little,” Zann replied. “Intercepted communications have revealed that the Ghar assault is led by High Commander Drej.”
The image of Markov’s Prize in the center of the room was replaced by the snarling, scarred face of the Ghar commander in question. Owenne had heard of him before but quickly read everything C3 had on the creature to refresh his memory.
“12-38-19 Drej is a clone, like any other Ghar, but his batch was genetically modified to provide an improved stock of military leaders and strategists. Two of a later, improved batch - Karg and Fartok - you will all no doubt have heard of. Drej is less well known in the Concord but no less dangerous.”
“Karg,” Owenne interrupted, closing his eyes for a moment to think, “he was that odious little creature that led the Ghar on the Xilos campaign. Now if memory serves, and I believe it does, that batch of genetic reprobates had some rather interesting diversions. Karg, for example, is rather well known for his love of drink, fine foods, and collecting beautiful women from his enemies to be his slaves. Not very Ghar-like at all. Perhaps this Drej has some weaknesses of his own that we can exploit.”
“If he’s anything like his old friend Karg, perhaps we can entice him with women of our own, eh, Drop Captain Mosse?” A grey haired officer from force intelligence remarked.
Mosse looked up at the man from where she sat at the far end of the table.
“Don’t know about that,” she replied coolly, “I’m sure you scrub up okay, but there’s only so much we can do with a girl like you. Some old saying about polish and turds leaps to mind. But pop around later, me and the boys can try to doll you up a bit.”
A ripple of sniggers echoed around the conference room.
“Well, now that idea has been put in its rightful place, let’s have a think about a more effective military strategy,” Commander-in-Chief Diette failed to suppress his glee at Mosse’s comments. “We need a robust, long term plan. Now, the Ghar have stalled and right now the frontlines are relatively quiet. We believe they’re expecting reinforcements, but we also need to take full advantage of this lull in the action to get our people ready. The 12th Assault Force has the frontline covered at the moment and is holding this line you see on the map here across the Veneen Basin, nicely flanked by mountainous terrain which is completely impassible in a Ghar battlesuit. The 12th is fresh and at good strength. My 17th Assault Force is not as well placed. I’d like to keep them back for a while, get them rested, and get this trickle of academy replacements settled in and ready to fight for when things heat up again.”
“Agreed,” Hawess nodded, “my force can hold the front whilst we get your boys and girls sorted. My only concern is over what will happen if the MAA decide to join the party, and how easy it will be for them to get modern weapons and equipment seeing as our naval presence in the area is so limited. We’ll need a plan for that. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, I hear one of you boys took out ten Ghar troopers single handed.”
“Eleven, old boy,” Diette beamed. “Anything to add at this point, Ryen?”
“No, not from me, sir,” Tahl said quietly from his place next to Mosse.
“Well, that’s the 17th for you,” Diette continued proudly, “most of my soldiers can take out ten or eleven Ghar single handed. Let’s hope the 12th can keep up.”
“Yes, yes, very good,” Hawess raised one eyebrow and held up a hand to stop the excited chatter from around the table. “The MAA, and plans to stop them. Bring the map up again, let’s take a look.”
Owenne’s eyes searched the surface of the holographic projection of the planet. If he wanted to hide a research facility away from prying eyes, he wondered where he would have put it.
***
“Company! Stand at…ease!” Van Noor bellowed to the assembled strike troopers.
Rhona, along with the other three dozen assembled troopers, lifted her left knee to waist height and brought it down to the ground with a crash about a shoulder width apart from her right foot, simultaneously bringing her fists from their position against her thighs to overlap her palms at the small of her back. Beta Company had been assembled outside of the accommodation block at Firebase Alpha, where Van Noor had then lined them up in three ranks at attention in the late afternoon sunshine.
The senior strike leader took a step back as Mandarin Owenne turned to face the assembled soldiers, his thin form hidden beneath his thick coat and peaked cap despite the blistering heat.
“Chaps,” the mandarin began, his tone uneasy, “I’ll get the reprimand out of the way first. Forthwith, the practice of ‘Ghar Scutter Racing’ is to stop. Captured enemy vehicles are not there for your amusement, and the enemy is certainly not above booby trapping their own vehicles. So pack it in. Onto happier news, you’ve been at it here for over fifty days now. Longer, seeing as most of you came here straight from Prostock. I’m giving you three days leave. Don’t confuse this for a sign of weakness or sentimentality on my part. It’s simple man management. If I want you at peak efficiency, then I need to rest you. There are two hotels with rooms booked for you in New Wryland city center. Transport leaves here in two hours. Go and drink, exchange bodily fluids with the locals, whatever you want. Just stay out of trouble and be back here at 0800 three days from now. That’s all. Dismiss them, Senior.”
“Company! Attention!” Van Noor yelled. “Turning to right in threes, dismissed!”
Rhona’s eyes met Gant’s as the assembled company quickly split into squads in the excited buzz of conversation. She flashed him a broad grin and a wink, unable to suppress the excitement of the idea of drinking herself into oblivion and finding a dance floor.
“Two hours!” Qan beamed as he jogged over. “Two hours to get all prettied up and then hit the clubs! Can you believe that? Three days in a hotel in a city on the other side of the planet from the fighting?”
“This’ll be awesome!” Clythe planted his hands on Qan’s shoulders and jumped up in the air. “I can ditch this uniform for three days, sleep every day, and get annihilated every night!”
“I’ve already taken the liberty of checking the club scene in New Wryland,” Jemmel said as she wandered over to join them, a datapad in her hand. “There’s a place called ‘Voltz’ which seems to have the best reviews and ratings. I’ll pass that around to the rest of the company. Yo
u coming, Kat?”
“Hell yeah!” Rhona nodded. “I need to teach you boys how to dance properly!”
The positive atmosphere which surrounded the banter and jokes as the squad walked back to the accommodation block came as an immediate relief to Rhona. The tension and arguments of the past day seemed to finally be eroding. Three days out of uniform would be perfect, for everybody. Rhona headed straight to her room and shut the partition behind her. She put on some loud music and quickly discarded her barrack uniform before washing, wrapping a towel around herself, and then unpacking her arsenal of cosmetic goods from her kitbag, filling the top of her bunk with rows of options as they were decompressed after being removed from their storage. She was halfway through adding thin streaks of dark blue to her hair, after combing it back out to a little past shoulder length, when she heard a knock on the partition.
“Yeah?” She shouted, turning the music down.
The partition slid open and Jemmel walked in, shutting the door behind her. She was still dressed in her barrack uniform. The short woman looked Rhona up and down, frowning.
“Jeez, Kat, you look like you were drawn by a hormonal fourteen year old boy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m awesome. C’mon, Jem, get changed.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Jemmel replied, her tone betraying an unease which Rhona had never detected from her before.
“What’s the problem?”
“Help me look half-decent, would you?” Jemmel asked. “I know I’m not going to look like, well, you, but give me a fighting chance of looking okay. Without making it look like I’ve tried too hard. In fact, without making it look like I’ve tried at all.”
Rhona nodded as she finished her last blue streak and then turned to face the shorter woman.
“Girl, you came to the right place. Playin’ dress up is my thing. Now I know this is gonna get you all pissed off, but the first thing we’re doing is sorting your hair out. Or the lack of.”
“Don’t make me look like a sodding princess,” Jemmel tutted.
Rhona grabbed her hair brush and quickly cycled through the many options on the display screen, selecting a hair growth pattern that would suit Jemmel’s aggressive look.
“Just trust me, would you? You’re the veteran soldier, you know guns and killing and all that stuff. But now we’re talking about looking hot on a dance floor. You’re in my world now.”
***
“How does my ass look in these?” Qan said, emerging from his room in an uncomfortably tight looking pair of metallic silver leggings, “I mean, shiny is cool, but I don’t know if this is too much.”
“No, you look good,” Clythe nodded, his tone serious. “Stick a floral shirt with that and the girls know you mean business. You’re not there to mess around wearing that.”
“It’s not about the clothes,” Gant called from his room, “women aren’t that shallow. It’s about your hair. You guys would do better spending an hour on your hair. Like me.”
Sessetti glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Clythe emerge into the communal area, wearing similarly skin tight trousers made of thin, shiny thermally reactive material which changed colors and patterns with each step he took.
“Remember these?” He grinned broadly, nodding proudly, “Huh? Retro, right? Girls love retro! They’ll look at me in this and say ‘there’s a guy with a sense of humor. And a great ass.’ It’s the whole package. Just need a shirt to go with it.”
“Open top blouse,” Qan replied, “something loose and shiny. Show off the pecks. C’mon, guy, transport’s leaving in less than an hour!”
Sessetti finished tying his belt and walked out into the communal area, prepared for the abuse which would follow.
“What’s that?” Qan laughed. “We’ve going out to destroy some local girls, not to beat up an end of level bad guy.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Clythe added, “you look like something out of a bad sheng-fu movie.”
“It’s a kerempai gi,” Sessetti explained, “I’m off for a lesson.”
“Now?” Gant called from his room, “you ain’t got time, bro. Get changed quickly.”
“I’d already arranged the lesson before we knew we had tonight off,” Sessetti said, “I’m not cancelling now. I’ll catch you guys up later.”
The partition to Rhona’s room opened and Jemmel walked out. Her hair grown out to just past her ears, her feminine look effortlessly combined with a tomboyish appeal took Sessetti by surprise. She was dressed in black leggings and a crop top displaying her toned arms and abdomen to finish the look.
“Don’t look so surprised, guys,” she folded her arms, “I can look like a real girl, from time to time. Now, take a good look and let me enjoy being center of attention for two seconds until that bitch comes out and takes the spotlight for the rest of the night.”
As if on cue, Rhona walked casually out of her room. Wearing a miniscule dress of metallic black with matching knee boots, she had somehow managed to surpass her normal levels of beauty and transcend to a level Sessetti had never seen before. The room fell silent until Qan finally spoke.
“How drunk do I have to get you to nail you? I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
“You can’t say that, you prick!” Jemmel said in disgust.
“Don’t sweat it,” Rhona shrugged. “I know y’all thinking it, I can feel it through the shard. Besides, you don’t go out looking like this unless that’s what you want guys to think. Lian, what’s with the fancy dress? C’mon, boy, get ready.”
“He’s not coming with us,” Clythe said, “he’s going for a kerempai lesson.”
Rhona’s jaw dropped.
“Say what now?”
“I’m taking lessons from Strike Captain Tahl,” Sessetti explained, “I’ll catch you guys up later.”
“You’re doing what?” Rhona demanded, planting her clenched fists on her hips.
“Ease off him, Kat,” Jemmel said. “What’s the big deal? If I knew the boss was giving lessons then I’d probably go. Pretty cool opportunity to roll around the floor with him in all manner of chokes and locks.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rhona demanded.
“I mean he’s hot!” Jemmel said. “Or are you pretending you didn’t notice? It’s not just these guys who get to drool and say sexist stuff! What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that that’s our company commander you’re talking about!” Rhona snapped. “And you should show him some damn respect! And you, Sessetti, you shouldn’t be… taking up his time with kids’ beginner lessons! That guy was the Determinate champion!”
“We know, Kat,” Qan said, “we watched him kick three Ghar machines to death whilst you were lying in a desert, bleeding out.”
Before Rhona could respond again, a knock rapped against the communal area door. Clythe walked across and opened the door to admit Van Noor. The senior strike leader walked in, still wearing his barrack uniform.
“Evening gents, ladies,” the broad man smiled. “You ready to go?”
“Pretty much, Senior,” Qan answered. “You not coming?”
“I’ve got a ton of reports to write, on you bastards, mainly. No, maybe tomorrow night. But… I’m here with good news and bad news for you. Let’s do the good news first. Fire up your HV set, you guys have just had a message sent through from the home systems.”
Sessetti activated the holovision set, mindful of the time and how it was only a few minutes until Tahl was expecting him. Van Noor transmitted an access code across to him from the command shard, which Sessetti fed in to the HV box. Instantly a holographic projection of a familiar woman appeared in their midst.
“Hey, guys,” Rae smiled, “if you’re seeing this message then I’m dead, so I just wanted to say something to all of you. Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m back home now, I’m all okay, they managed to get me all regen’d up.”
Smiles lit up the faces of every member of Squad Wen. Clythe let out a ch
eer which was immediately silenced by Gant as he leant in closer to listen to the recording.
“The system decided I’ve done my time, so I’m afraid I’m not coming back. I’m back home with my parents and my brother. I’m missing you guys already and missing the fun we had, and how exciting every day was to be with you all.”
The last phrase Rae said resulted in confused and concerned glances being exchanged between the troopers.
“I don’t really remember much about the end,” Rae continued, “I guess you guys got me out of trouble, so thanks for taking care of me. I’ve been telling everybody back here about all of the fun times and how amazing it was to travel everywhere and see so many planets and civilizations, and how great an experience it was. I sometimes try to remember the fighting… and… I can’t… I remember all the great times we had!”
Sessetti watched with a mixture of happiness and relief to see Rae alive, but sympathy as her eyes would glaze over or change focus as her emotions were restrained every time any negative connotation of military life threatened to enter her mind. C3 had that all under control. Best to only send positive messages to the civilian shards back home.
“Well look, you guys’ll be busy and I don’t want to keep you. I’ll try my best to keep in touch, and I’ve sent you all my home address with this message. Please do come and visit me if you ever get the chance. I know this was only a tiny part of my life, but I’ll always remember it and always be thankful that I had my little second family for a little while. You guys take care! And make sure you visit!”
The message faded away. Clythe whooped excitedly, looking around at the other soldiers before his smile faded into confusion.
“What? That’s great news, right? She’s okay!”
“Sorry, Senior,” Jemmel turned to Van Noor, “did you say that was the good news or the bad news?”
“Your mate’s alive and well,” Van Noor said, “that should be good news. To anybody. She’s survived this and C3 has let her go home. For whatever reason, they decided that the brief bit of time she had with us was enough to positively affect her life and now she’s done. She’s one of the winners.”
