Runs In The Family

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “It sounds heavenly in a way, and the right place for our men and women in uniform to seek as sanctuary when they can’t get here.” Andrew gestured to the hostess for their wine. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve just met so many of them headed to war. It’s hard sometimes to think about.”

  Andrew nodded, but said nothing. After a long pause and several sips of wine, he squeezed her hand lightly. “We just try to do our best for them.”

  Tally nodded. Her voice was thick with emotion when she spoke, and she hated herself for the thoughts in her head. “They deserve that little piece of home.”

  “Of course they do.” Andrew looked out the window for a moment. “Ah, yes! We’re climbing up over the Pole right now. The aurora borealis should be visible any second.” Andrew dimmed the cabin lights and “String of Pearls” played softly from the speakers as the ethereal sheets of green and yellow rippled across the sky. “This is my favorite accessory.” Andrew grinned as he pushed a button on his console and the cabin disappeared slowly, the illusion perfectly removing the very chairs they remained belted to.

  Tally gasped and smiled. “Almost like flying.”

  “Technically, we are flying,” Andrew quipped, and she chuckled at his humor. So little had really changed. “I like to think of it as near-space-walking.”

  The curtains of energy pulsated to the music as Tally sipped the rich wine and felt a wide smile developing on her face. Andrew’s warm hand caressed her own. He’d wanted to share this with her. She’d wanted to share so much with him. A lifetime ago and yet today. Awash in the wonders of Earth, Tally fell into Andrew’s arms.

  They kissed slowly, as if searching each other’s desire. She could feel Andrew’s cheeks wet against her own. Her tears came to mingle with his and she hated herself for wondering if she were really, truly happy with Andrew, or if she was crying for the love she’d undoubtedly lost to the horrors of war.

  Alone with her thoughts in the shimmering aurora, Tallenaara fell asleep in Andrew’s arms.

  * * * * *

  Thirty-Seven

  Night fell as they’d assaulted the objective. The Greys didn’t put up much of a fight when Mairin’s vehicles shot over the hill and into the main position. A few hundred rounds of ammunition and then it was quiet. Rolling into the enemy position, what had been thousands of vehicles, avatars of Earthly tanks from history, sat burning slowly into the ground. Some showed the scars of battle damage, while others appeared to have melted in place. Looking around, Mairin saw no bodies, only burning and melted metal.

  “Alex, are you seeing this?” Mairin chinned her direct frequency. “What do you make of it?”

  Ulson came back a few seconds later. “No bodies at all. Their vehicles slagged the moment we gained the advantage. Who fights like this?”

  “Slagged?”

  “They look like slag piles, don’t they? They self-destruct. God, they smell, too.”

  Mairin blinked at the reality of it even as she wrinkled her nose to the stench of burning shit, the smell of the Greys molten slag piles. Who fights like this? “What’s our status?”

  Slammer Four had lost a repulsor, and One’s secondary machine gun was shot off by a Grey tank round before they slagged. Rumors flew over the intelligence nets that the regiment was vulnerable, and the Greys were pulled back and preparing a counterattack. Mairin put her vehicles into a defensive perimeter and sat down to wait. By the time the regiment arrived to replace Mairin’s five vehicles, a Grey counterattack was reported to be imminent. Mairin and her command were sent away from the position and told to guard the flank where they’d assaulted. In sheer boredom, she’d allowed Ulson to fetch the disabled Slammer Three. A little bribery to the regimental maintenance team and Three was at least moving now, albeit slowly.

  By the time Wolc’s star—a reddish-yellow monster some one hundred and thirty million miles away—rose in the sky, the entire regiment was so silent that Mairin suspected they’d collectively fallen asleep. If the Greys were to attack, it could be a slaughter. But they weren’t coming. At first light, Mairin stared at the slag piles where the thousands of Grey tanks once stood. They hadn’t retreated at all; they’d terminated themselves at the first sign of weakness. The retreat was their transport ship, or mother ship or whatever its tactical designation was, and Mairin wondered for a moment where they might be headed. Not your concern, she told herself silently.

  When she could see the horizon to the east, Mairin dismounted the tank and walked around her vehicles slowly. Meeting her weary soldiers gave her a pleasant, satisfied feeling. She asked them how they felt, when they’d eaten, if they’d been able to sleep. Soldierly things. She did so on autopilot, almost like someone else was talking. While not the truth, she knew that genuinely caring for her troops would earn her greater respect than anything else. A light breeze touched her face, clearing away the smoke for a moment and replacing it with the sweet smell of blooming flowers in the distance. She shook away visions of the clamshell cabin on Libretto, and breathed deeply. The stench of burning Grey vehicles returned strong enough that she almost covered her mouth with her sleeve.

  Staring back down the valley she’d attacked through, her eyes came to rest on a smoldering wreck. What could she do about that? She didn’t even know them, and they’d died under her command! Instead of walking back to her track, Mairin unslung her pulse rifle and held it at the ready, barrel down, and made her way down the hill.

  Walking felt different with the weight of her combat coveralls, helmet, and the reassuring heft of the pulse rifle, yet instead of clunking her way through the thick forest, there was a grace to her movement. Every impact of her feet nearly silent as she moved, her eyes up and alert to all of the sounds and movement around her as she crept down the hill towards Slammer Two. The breeze freshened, and she could smell the burning rubber and fluids from the tank. The Grey slagpiles were cold, dead, and stagnant. One moment breathing fire and moving like mosquitos, and the next unrecognizable and simply there.

  The putridness of the smell turned her stomach. Was this the smell of death? Mairin shook her head to clear the thought as she emerged from the treeline, now just four hundred meters away from the remains of Slammer Two. She stopped abruptly and knelt as her vision blurred a little. Light-headed, she placed a gloved hand on the soil to steady herself. Fingers on her throbbing temple, Mairin felt herself falling backwards into a sitting position.

  What have I done? Four men she’d barely met, and didn’t know their names, were dead because of her! She wasn’t a leader, much less a cavalryman! What am I doing here? The tears came, and she hated herself for letting them roll over her burning cheeks, but she did. For a minute or so, that’s all she did. Breathe, Mairin. Just breathe.

  Okay, she thought. You’re still alive and that counts for something. She blinked and nodded to herself. That’s right. Yes, I lost one vehicle, but five others survived, and we counterattacked a superior force and won. Don’t.... She sniffled and said it aloud. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mairin. There’s quite a bit of luck in what you did.”

  That’s a better way of thinking about this. You did good with what you had, but there’s a lot here that’s out of your control. Don’t ever forget that. Combat is about the random. Take it in and center yourself. This is the reality of your situation. Understand where you are, and doing the rest is easy. They were the coherent thoughts in the back of her addled mind, but she grabbed onto them with both hands and held on tight. The whispers guided her. Place the humane things into a compartment and seal it until later. For now, there was a mission, and there were people to take care of. That was what mattered. She looked at the smoldering tank and rose to her feet slowly. It’s also about doing your duty. There wasn’t anything that she could do. The simple fact of the matter was that she was the commander and needed to fully destroy the vehicle. There would be no recovery of remains. Standing orders were to destroy all equipment and remains wherever they lie. Helluva way to c
are for your brothers.

  She stayed upwind of the Slammer as she approached. Removing two thermite grenades, she carefully slid one down the relatively pristine gun barrel of the Slammer. She didn’t hear the grenade cook off inside the breech as she went to the rear deck of the tank and rigged a thermite grenade above the repulsor drive system. She pulled the grenade and dismounted quickly, jogging back a good hundred meters to watch the thermite take hold and begin melting the composite armor and components into an unrecognizable mass.

  The hum of an approaching vehicle floated on the wind. Over her shoulder, she confirmed it was a friendly tank and turned her attention back to the smoldering Slammer and its crew. The first time she heard her name, she ignored it. Her mourning was too important for the orders and regimentation of the Terran Defense Forces. When she heard her name screamed a second time, her stomach tightened and sweat stung the corners of her eyes.

  “Goddamn it, Captain! Get over here and report to me!”

  Mairin turned and walked toward the command track, shoulders back and head erect as she took her time. At the front left slope of the track she yelled, “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

  “Get your ass up here!” Coffey screamed. His tank began to shut down as he did, and she could hear his voice echoing through the trees.

  Mairin did as she was told, assuming the position of attention at the edge of the sloping turret. Coffey jumped up out of the commander’s hatch and stood on the front slope. Even with the extra twenty-four inches of height, he didn’t exactly tower over her. And she could smell alcohol permeating the air between them. “Sir?”

  “I told you to report to me!” Coffey screamed. Veins bulged on his neck and his eyes squinted.

  Mairin saluted. Sniper check, she thought and nearly laughed out loud. “Sir, Captain Shields reports to the regimental commander.”

  “Who the fuck ordered you into this valley?” Coffey snapped a precise salute and crossed his arms.

  Mairin swallowed. “No one did, sir. I attempted to gain the initiative.”

  “I don’t want you to gain the initiative, Shields! Do you read me? I told you to stay put! Be the goddamn reserve. You almost cost us the whole fucking battle!”

  Mairin felt her face getting warm. “Cost you the battle, sir? I think what we did here changed the outcome of the battle.”

  “For them!” Coffey sneered. “Your little grandstanding attempt may have gained the notice of the powers that be, but you disobeyed my orders! I’ll see to it that you’re out of this command by nightfall.”

  “Disobeyed your orders, sir? Just exactly how drunk are you?” Mairin asked and immediately bit her lip. “You cut me off, put me in a position where my troopers were exactly worthless with six of the best combat vehicles in our command. You cut me off from the Operations and Intelligence nets! I had to plead with the air wings for support because I couldn’t contact you! So don’t sit there, sir, and tell me that I disobeyed orders. You left my troopers out there to rot, and if it wasn’t for us, you’d still be in a goddamn line abreast formation getting your ass handed to you by a superior enemy force with better standoff weapons!” Mairin stopped, seeing that Coffey looked absolutely purple. You’ve done it now, Grandpa!

  Coffey looked out over the horizon and then back at Mairin. His eyes locked onto the combat action badge and airborne wings on her chest. “Oh fuck! You’re one of those imprints! No fucking wonder you think you’re Jane Wayne!” He grabbed the collar of her tunic and stopped. His gaze narrowed on her necklace. “The next time I see you, that shit better be gone. I will not have a herm-lover in this unit.”

  Mairin blinked. After what I said, he’s worried about that? What the hell am I going to do now? “Your orders, sir?”

  Coffey stepped back and looked at her. “This discussion stays between us. One word to a higher officer, Shields, and I will have you drummed out of this regiment within the hour. Do you understand?”

  Mairin nodded. “You realize this skirmish will be reviewed, sir.”

  “I’ll worry about that.” Coffey stepped into her face. The stench was enough that she was sure he’d fought most of the battle blind drunk. “You do anything like you did here, even if you win the whole fucking war, and I’ll kill you myself for insubordination. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly,” Mairin answered. Not to mention perfectly illegal. Mairin wished she’d engaged her neural recording, even if it was against TDF regulations. “Permission to rejoin my troopers, sir?”

  “Troopers? You think you’re the fucking cavalry or something?”

  Mairin met his gaze. “We’re the regimental cavalry troop, sir. I suggest you man us appropriately before the next battle.”

  Coffey snorted and then nodded. “I can make that work, Shields. Get the fuck off my tank.”

  What did I just do? Hell, what the fuck just happened? She climbed down the tank and glanced at the driver who smiled through a grimy face and goggles. He gave her a thumbs-up as the command track turned and headed back up the ridgeline at high speed. Oh God, she thought as cold sweat ran down her back. She knelt on the ground as nausea reared in her stomach and she vomited last night’s rations into the tall grass. She felt her chest hitch and let the sob come. She knew why she was crying, yet at the same time, she didn’t know why. Enormity crashed on her shoulders and she retched again. All of it was too much. Too much.

  Oh, God, oh, God, she thought and realized that on top of everything, she’d likely lost Tally. Scanning her neurals, there was nothing from Tally in the last week. Knowing that it was over brought a new sob, but she did not vomit. No, she would get control of it all. This, this was all she really had now. And she knew that she’d done well. She removed Tally’s necklace and laid it on the ground by Slammer Two. There was no way it would ever be the way it was again. I love you, Tally, but we’re not meant to be.

  It was probably for the best anyway. She’d likely be dead before her term of service would expire and where would that leave Tally? Alone and pining for a love she’d had and lost somewhere along the way. Maybe they’d meet again someday. Maybe Tally would be proud of her. Maybe Tally would remember her. Wiping her nose on the sleeve of her coveralls, Mairin looked at Slammer Two and set her jaw. This wouldn’t happen again. Any of it. Her troopers would have a fighting chance next time.

  But what about me?

  Next time, she’d know that love was fleeting. No, there would not be a next time. Her stomach felt a little better as she stood and saluted the burning remnants of Slammer Two. Goodbye, cariad. Mairin whispered it to the wind and felt a little better. You’re not a soldier until you’ve been heartbroken, she thought with a grimace. Welcome to the club, Mairin.

  “Shut up, Grandpa.” She spat into the dirt and turned to walk away. The sun punched through the low clouds and fog for a moment and warmed her face. She’d once hoped that she could honorably serve, but now knew that honorable service wasn’t enough. Leading her troops and keeping them safe from harm would have to be enough. That was all that mattered in this stupid war.

  Walking through the woodline, hearing the sounds of creatures in the trees and catching the occasional scent of pine as she ducked under limbs, Mairin realized even here and now, there were small things to celebrate. She was alive, as were most of her troopers. They’d fought a superior force and won, with effort and a little good luck. She saw a small purple flower and stopped to finger it softly. Cordite in her nostrils and blood on her hands, she stopped on the battlefield to smell the flowers and squashed the laugh that threatened to erupt from her tight throat.

  She thought of her troopers, and Tally, and whatever else awaited them. Maybe it would be like a flower on the battlefield—a singular spot of beautiful precision in a field of chaos and destruction.

  There’s always hope, she thought.

  * * * * *

  Thirty-Eight

  Six months later...

  The Greys advanced inside the Outer Rim, but the attack on Rayu-4 neve
r materialized. Losses at the Wolc, Radin, and Narrob colonies revealed obvious failures in the TDF strategic campaign. Though Mairin proved that simple tactics and smart maneuvering could be employed on a small scale, the TDF knew when the Greys left the field, they were still superior in force and capable of holding the TDF at bay. There was hope, though.

  Coordinated defensive strategies and dedicated close air support proved deadly. Now it was time to bring the Greys back to the fight. Drawing them in, to a time and place of the defenders choosing, dated to Sun Tzu and his predecessors. Historically, the tactic continued to work in human conflict throughout the twenty-first century. There was no indication that, against a superiorly numbered force like the Greys, the tactic would not work as advertised again.

  The idea of playing defense and then attacking struck Mairin as being stupid. The enemy was superior in numbers but seemingly slow to react to counteroffensive operations. Maneuver challenged the Greys as it had for anyone not raised in the Spartan army throughout history. Terrain, the plan itself, or some other unplanned for contingency slowed down the plan, she told herself. Be it a soldier, an element, a platoon, or a division there will always be a hole in the line. There would always be an opportunity for success, and because of that the probability for a counterattack at that precise point was statistically significant no matter how many times she ran the numbers. In the defense, there were too many things that could go wrong when trying to produce a counterattack, especially with poor leadership.

  Mairin studied the battle plan for the defense of the colony planet Ashland and looked at her four platoon leaders. She could smell the academy on the three new ones. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready to follow every order to completion without fully understanding it, she thought wryly. One will get lost, one will forget to shower and shave daily, and one will find every last nerve when it comes to asking “Why?” like a toddler. She looked across at Ulson and noticed for the hundredth time his change from boy to man. He’d “seen the elephant” so to speak, and in his calm, experienced eyes Mairin saw leadership. She felt a little surer of the forces at her fingertips, and fortunately for the lieutenants under her leadership, a little more patient.