Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4)

by Peter Grant

  “We saved you a sandwich,” Meriam said, indicating a plate on the sideboard. “We’ve got two days’ field rations for the march. That’s all.”

  “An’ the nearest resupply is three to four days away in Surush. We’re gonna be hungry by the time we get there. Are your groups ready?”

  “As ready as we’ll ever be. We got away from the city using different routes, so I guess we should use ’em to go back, too. That way, if one group’s spotted the others may still get through.”

  “Good idea. With any luck the Colonial Guard won’t be lookin’ behind ’em, so they won’t see us move. Let’s be on our way.” He picked up the sandwich, took a big bite, and slung his rifle over his shoulder with his free hand. Through the mouthful of food he mumbled, “We’ll rendezvous at Miller’s farm four nights from now. See you there.”

  June 24th 2850 GSC

  “Whaddaya mean, ya can’t get us any ration packs?” Bairam hissed angrily. “You gotta! There’s two, maybe three hundred fighters comin’ in today an’ tomorrow!”

  “Sorry,” the other said with a shrug. “You see those guys around the warehouse?”

  Bairam adjusted the magnification on his battle helmet’s visor and looked down from the hilltop at the spaceport below. “Yeah.”

  “They’re building techs. They condemned the structure yesterday, and they’re movin’ all the rations out of it. They’ve already locked out all civilian cargo-handlers, and they won’t let us back until they’ve repaired the damage and reinforced the structure. I can’t get at the ration packs, I tell you.”

  Bairam thought for a moment. “Where are they puttin’ the rations?”

  “Huh?”

  He rolled his eyes in frustration. “If they want to work on the building, they’ll have to put the stores inside it somewhere else. We might be able to get hold of some while they do that.”

  “Oh, I get it. They’ve been setting up a depot for the Marine engineers at the old Carsamba facility, four clicks down the road. They’re going to move them there until the repairs are complete.”

  “All right. Let’s plan to divert a transporter or two on the road. That’ll give us enough rations t’ get by while we figure out how to get more.”

  “Won’t that make them suspicious?”

  “Of what? A coupla missin’ cargoes? What’s your loss rate at the spaceport?”

  “Right now it’s running ten per cent or better, mostly because everything’s still so disorganized. It’s not that most of the missing stuff’s been stolen; it’s just that no-one knows where t’ find it.”

  “All right. Can you jigger the records to make it look like the missing transporter loads were never sent?”

  His contact frowned dubiously. “I can do it on our side, but that won’t square with the Marine depot’s records.”

  “That’s all right. Let’s cause as much confusion as possible. While they’re sortin’ it out, at least we’ll be able to eat.”

  “OK. I’ll set it up. Don’t start anything ’til I tell you it’s done, because I gotta cover my tracks.”

  “Make it fast. We’re hungry! You’ll find us at Hayri’s farm.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Beams of dawn sunlight slanted across the walls, lighting the stacks of containers with a warm orange glow. Already Carsamba Depot was bustling with activity. Dumpsters dropped the last detritus of its demolished buildings along the roads and paths between the stacks of containers and plastic shelters. The ‘borrowed’ bulldozer crushed them smaller and smoothed them out, followed by the roller to level the surface.

  “We have to return the heavy equipment this morning, Sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear pointed out as he stood with Steve on the flat roof of the three-story Administration building, nursing a mug of hot, steaming coffee in his hands as they watched the last elements of the depot come together. “The spaceport people are screaming they’re gonna bring charges if we don’t. They’re also askin’ all sorts of questions about a dozen rifles and ammo that went missing from the armory. They seem t’ think we had something t’ do with it.” He tried – unsuccessfully – to look like an innocent choirboy, and Steve had to laugh.

  “I guess we’d better humor them about the heavy equipment. As for the rifles, I reckon the armory techs we bribed with those packs of dried fruit and chocolate rations will cover for us. After all, if we’re found out, they will be too! Even if the spaceport makes a fuss, I don’t think Major Emory will be too hard-nosed about it. We’ve given him a working depot with its own hardstand for cargo shuttles, roads and paths that can stand up to heavy use and rainy weather – at least for a while – and a fully-operational vehicle maintenance section as well. Those Qianjin prisoners have really come through for us.”

  “They sure have! We’ll have to – uh-oh. Do you see what I see?” He pointed to a Marine assault shuttle that came into view from the direction of the city, low on the horizon, heading towards them. The faint rumble of its reaction thrusters grew louder.

  “I do – and it looks like it’s headed our way. Let’s go down to the hardstand.”

  By the time they reached the depot’s gate, the assault shuttle was already circling prior to landing. It touched down, bouncing lightly on its gel-filled tires, and the roar of its reaction thrusters died away. As they retracted into their housings, the rear ramp opened and the familiar figure of Major Emory strode down it. Steve and Kinnear braced to attention.

  Emory returned Steve’s salute. “Morning, Lieutenant.” He glanced around the hardstand, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “I must admit, I never expected you to make this much progress so quickly. A good-sized hardstand in front of the wall, hard-surfaced roads inside leading to and between the stacks of supplies, a fully functional administration center, a sick bay, mess and accommodation facilities… I asked to borrow one of Cybele’s officers and some spacers out of sheer desperation, because I couldn’t spare anyone for this job. I hadn’t expected much more than a heap of containers and supplies that we’d have to sort out later, but you’ve built a fully functional supply depot as well as, if not better than, we could have done ourselves.”

  Steve couldn’t help being pleased by such effusive praise. “Thank you, Sir. These Marine engineers were a big part of it, and also the Qianjin prisoners who’ve worked so hard alongside us. It took a team effort to do this.”

  “True, but you led the team. You know what happens when you do a big job well, don’t you?”

  Steve rolled his eyes. “They give you a bigger one, right, Sir?”

  “Right first time! Your ship’s heading back to Cassius to get another load of supplies, but Captain Davis asked Commander Doibro whether she could leave you behind to help us. She wasn’t happy about that, but she does have an Assistant Navigator and she’s qualified herself, so eventually she agreed. Until she gets back you’ll report to me and help us expand this depot.”

  “Oh! Er… OK, Sir, I guess.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t kill you from overwork – at least, not quite.” All three men grinned. “First off, there’s going to be a big expansion of this facility, starting today. The spaceport’s maintenance hangar was destroyed in the fighting, and a lot of their technicians were killed or injured. They’re going to send all their remaining parts and tools over here this morning, along with the few techs they’ve got left, then fly their cutters and cargo shuttles over here for routine overhauls. We’ll park them on the hardstand while the Qianjin engineer officers and techs work on them with the surviving techs from the spaceport.”

  “I think we can make that work, Sir. Gunny, you look worried?”

  “Where will we put the extra techs, Sir?”

  “We’ll put up another tent or two if necessary. We’ll also have to find out what they need in the way of shelter or storage for their tools, equipment and spares.”

  “Those’ll be in a couple of field containers,” Major Emory put in. “You can put them next to their work site, and secure them each night. Th
at’s not all you’ll need space for, unfortunately. One of the spaceport’s warehouses was damaged more than they realized during the fighting. It contains most of the ration packs for Eskishi’s armed forces and emergency services. They’ll have to remove all of them to get at the structure and repair it, but that’s going to take a couple of weeks, and they don’t have enough people to guard the rations in the open. Therefore, they’re going to send all of them over here. They’re palletized but not containerized. They want you to stack them under tarpaulins. The weather’s moderate at this time of year, so they should be OK until they can be returned to the warehouse.”

  Steve frowned. “I’ve seen that warehouse, Sir. It’s filled almost to overflowing. We won’t be able to fit that many pallets inside the walls because we don’t have the warehouse’s shelving systems. We’ll have to spread them out over a wider area rather than stacking them vertically. Since we’re going to have to accommodate the maintenance facility as well, that’ll mean putting most of them outside the walls, using part of the hardstand.”

  “That won’t affect the unloading and maintenance too much if we put them hard up against the wall, Sir,” Kinnear offered. “If the Marine Reaction Force has any extendable barriers left, we can run a line of them around the external stores to protect them from pilferage.”

  “Good idea,” Emory agreed. “The pallets and the hardstand will keep the rations off the ground, and the barrier will secure them.” He ran his eyes along the walls. “I’ll do some fast calculations over at the spaceport to see how much ground the ration pallets will cover, then send over the barrier containers. You still have the excavator and front-end loader on site?”

  “Yes, Sir, but we’re supposed to return them to the spaceport this morning. They’re threatening to bring charges against us if we don’t.”

  “I’ll have a word with them. You’ll need them to fill the barrier and make it ready. The spaceport will just have to do without them for another day or two.”

  Steve grinned. “They’re going to love us for that, Sir, but thanks. What about operators and equipment to unload and position the pallets?”

  “You’ll have to do all that, I’m afraid. I know your people have been overworked, but so far they’ve risen to the challenge. I’m sure they’ll do so once more. All right, I’ll leave you to make plans. I’m going to head for the spaceport and organize things from that end. I’ll have the barrier containers here within a couple of hours, and the first transports from the spaceport will arrive by noon. Be ready to unload them.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Boss, that spaceport foreman’s coming.”

  Bairam looked up from the map. “Thanks, Riza.” He stood, wincing as his sore feet and legs reminded him that he’d pushed them too far and too fast during the last three days. He moved towards the door of the barn, and as the visitor entered greeted him with, “What about those rations?”

  “Jeez, don’t you even give a guy time to catch his breath?”

  “Not today. We’re hungry, and there are a lot more hungry people on the way.”

  “We got a problem. The Marines are patrolling the road between the spaceport and their depot. I don’t think they suspect anything; it looks to be routine for them, the same as they’ve been doing all over Surush since they arrived. They pick a sector at random, patrol it heavily for a day or two, then move somewhere else. They’re trying to prevent problems by keeping troublemakers guessing. Trouble is, it’ll stop us diverting a couple of transporters in this direction.”

  “Damn them! If we’d only had to deal with the spaceport bureaucrats and the Colonial Guard, this would have been easy.” Bairam thought for a moment. “Are they patrolling their new depot at Carsamba as well?”

  “Not that I know of – just the road leading to it.”

  “Then that’s their weak point. I’ll send a team there this afternoon, when they’ve settled into the routine of offloading rations and won’t be expecting trouble. We’ll hit them as the transporters wait to unload, and drive off in a couple of them. By the time they launch hoversats to look for them, we’ll already be back here. They’ll never expect us to be hiding so close to the spaceport.”

  Alarm showed on the other’s face. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not. You’ll see.”

  “Well, count me out. I’ve got to get back to the spaceport before I’m missed. I can only get away with so many ‘maintenance calls’ or ‘supply runs’ before the boss gets suspicious.”

  “All right. Call me if anythin’ happens that I need to know about.”

  “You got it.”

  As the visitor turned away, Bairam drew his pulser from beneath his fatigue jacket and shot him in the back of the head. The foreman pitched forward onto his face without a sound.

  The sound of the shot brought all of his people to their feet. His second in command ran forward. “What the hell, Boss?”

  “He couldn’t do anything to help us anymore, and he was scared. I could smell it on him and hear it in his voice. If they suspected him and started asking awkward questions, he’d likely have betrayed us. I couldn’t afford that risk.”

  “But… Boss, if we start killing our own when they haven’t actually done anything…”

  “What about it? This is the end for us, Fikri. All we can do now is cause as much damage as possible before they finish us off; but we will go down fighting. I’m not going to let a weak link break our chain as long as there’s still a chance we can strangle the Governor with it!”

  The other knew better than to object further. “OK, Boss. What next?”

  “Get that body out of sight. We’ll bury it in the bush tonight, so hoversats and satellites won’t spot freshly disturbed earth and make their operators wonder what’s under it. I want you to take half a dozen of the boys, including a couple who can drive heavy vehicles, and head for the old Carsamba complex. It’s a depot for the Lancastrian forces now. The ration packs from the spaceport are being sent there. Get there by about fifteen. Hijack a couple of the loaded transporters, drive ’em through the bush beyond the complex to the old Hairun road, then circle back here with ’em.”

  “What about armed guards?”

  “From what this guy told me they don’t have any at Carsamba, so you should be able to get in and out fast and easy. So far the Marines haven’t fought us, and as long as we leave them alone that’ll likely continue, so try to avoid trouble with ’em. Still, we need those rations, so make sure you get ’em, Marines or not. If you have to kill a few, so be it. It’ll teach the rest of ’em to stay out of our way.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear bellowed, “Hold that transporter right there! We’ve got to clear the backlog before you let any more in.”

  The Marine engineer directing traffic at the edge of the hardstand called, “Aye aye, Gunnery Sergeant,” and held up a commanding hand. The driver of the approaching vehicle obediently braked to a stop, as did a second heavily-laden transporter in its wake.

  Kinnear turned back to the growing double row of pallets on the left side of the depot gates. They were separated by a transporter-width lane between the depot’s outer wall and the newly-erected row of hollow woven barriers. Two of the Qianjin spacers were filling the barrier bags with dirt dug from about a hundred meters beyond the wall, where untamed bush began. They grinned at him as they maneuvered excavator and front-end loader back and forth. He waved at them, then looked up at the Administration building just inside the wall. Senior Lieutenant Maxwell was standing on its roof, watching the activity outside. He lifted his hand as he noticed the Gunny looking at him, and Kinnear responded in kind.

  “We sure got lucky with that one,” he murmured to himself. “With smarts like his, he shoulda been a Marine. He’s wasted on the Spacer Corps.”

  He was jerked out of his train of thought by a shout of alarm from the Marine controlling incoming traffic. Following his pointing arm Kinnear saw half-a
-dozen armed men, dressed in a motley mixture of military fatigues and civilian clothing, running from the bushes towards the transporters. The leader pointed his rifle menacingly at the nearest Marine and yelled, “Stay outta this! We ain’t fighting you Marines – just Eskishi! If ya don’t interfere, ya won’t get hurt!”

  Kinnear spun on his heel, opening his mouth to bellow a warning – just in time to see his boss take a flying leap off the roof.

  ~ ~ ~

  Steve braced himself as he dropped ten meters from the roof to the ground. He mentally blessed his martial arts training as he rolled to break his fall, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in his left leg. He bounced to his feet, found he could still stand and move, and ignored the pulled muscle as he sprinted for the gatehouse. There were no sentries on duty – he didn’t have enough military personnel for that, and with the guaranteed, demonstrated cooperation of the Dragon Tong prisoners even the Gunny hadn’t considered them necessary – but he’d seen too much combat to take unnecessary chances. He’d ordered half a dozen rifles racked in the gatehouse, ready for use.

  He burst through the door. Rather than take time to fumble with its lock, he launched a roundhouse kick that smashed the wooden bar across the front of the makeshift rifle stand, where it blocked the weapons’ pistol grips and prevented their withdrawal. He seized two rifles, glanced swiftly at their ammunition chargers and power packs and cycled their actions to chamber a round, then spun on his heel, racing back through the door and out of the gates.

  He saw in a single flashing glance that the armed men had almost reached the two waiting transporters. “Here, Sir!” Kinnear called as he ran towards him. Steve tossed him a rifle, then brought his own weapon to his shoulder. Shouts came from the intruders as they saw him, but by then he was already acquiring a flash sight picture on the man who’d shouted at the Gunnery Sergeant. By taking the initiative, he’d identified himself as the probable leader of the group. Steve steadied himself and squeezed the trigger button.

  The rifle’s electromagnetic mechanism discharged a flash of power through the coils of the firing rail, accelerating a metal bead to hypersonic speed. It left the muzzle with a loud crack! as it broke the sound barrier. The insurgent was still raising his own rifle when the bead struck his chest. He grimaced in sudden agony as he jerked, then toppled forward, releasing his weapon as he fell.