Though the Stars Fall (United Humanity Marine Corps Book 1)

by Bill Roberts

  The air is now filled with red dust from all of the rocks we have pulverized with our hypersonic rounds, but my sensors cut through it nicely. I clearly see that we have destroyed the plywood targets. The rounds from our main gun had impacted with such force they had actually left small craters where the targets used to be. “Six, Three One, tank platoon destroyed, we are on the move to your location now.” After I send that message I open a private channel to Lance and continue: “On jump jets, follow me.” Without waiting for a response from Langsdorf or Lance I hammer down on the foot pedals that control the jump jets. I feel a satisfying kick in the pants as the Kodiak ascends rapidly while I stand hard on the pedals. I cannot let the rest of the Kodiaks get too far ahead. I use the joysticks to translate in to forward motion as the vistas of Twentyine Palms spread out around me. Ahead of me I can see the other Kodiaks firing madly as they descend. My tactical display shows red icons disappearing rapidly as they smash the plywood and tank hulks on the second objective.

  My Kodiak alights gently on the ground just to the right of the rest of the Kodiaks. I check the clock in my display. Fifteen minutes since we began. Fifteen minutes and we have already covered eight kilometers and smashed a battalion’s worth of enemy ‘troops.’ Many years ago I had run a similar exercise with my tank company in this exact location. It took us an hour to do what we have just done.

  Langsdorf begins spitting out new orders. I pay enough attention to follow what he says but the rest of my mind thinks of the Synti. I have no idea how capable they are, but the ease with which we are smashing our way through the rocky, red hills of the Rainbow gives me hope. If they give us time to build an army of these things, they will be in a world of hurt. Part of it is the awesome technology of the Watchers. These Kodiaks are the most powerful war machines I can imagine. But as I watch the friendly icons on the map and listen to the crisp and fluid conversations on the TACNET I reflect that this is only part of it. The bottom line is that we humans can be very, very good at this. We have fought amongst ourselves for so long and so ruthlessly, that we have elevated warfighting into an art form. I am pretty sure, no matter who they are, the Synti are going to be really sorry they ever picked a fight with us.

  I have never been in a place with so many truly powerful people. I sit in an air conditioned tent set up to act as a briefing room. At the front of the tent one of the new three dimensional displays runs through the exercise we have just completed. In the front row of metal folding chairs facing the display, the President and the Joint Chiefs watch Langsdorf, the exercise control group commander, and the Army colonel in charge of the Mobile Combat Suit program explain what we did and just how effective the new weapons have been.

  Lance and I have seats a few rows back. I shift uncomfortably on my folding chair. Every member of the exercise sits or stands in here. I think Langsdorf is trying to reward us for all of our efforts. I appreciate that. I have never been in the same room as the President before. I had not voted for this one, but that is immaterial. It is still pretty cool to be in the same room with the most powerful person in the world. The review of the exercise is not taking long. The rest of the fight had gone the same way as the beginning. We cleared out a couple more strongpoints and dealt with another half-dozen surprise attacks. It only took forty-five minutes from start to finish. The speed and lethality demonstrated in the exercise cannot be overstated. From a tactical point of view, every army in the world has just become completely, hopelessly, obsolete.

  The recording reaches the end and goes blank. Langsdorf faces the room and asks: “Questions, Gentlemen?”

  I wonder if one of the Joint Chiefs would ask anything or would they all just defer to the President. I hope they do ask questions. It would be a good sign. I smile with satisfaction as the Chief of Staff for the Army asks: “It seemed like the Mobile Combat Suits had trouble keeping up with the Kodiaks.”

  Langsdorf and the Army Colonel share a quick look before the latter answers: “Sir we can keep up, but it requires constant use of the jump jets on the Mobile Combat Suits. We largely feel this is not a problem. While constant use of the jump jets slightly increases our profile we feel it is offset by how difficult a target a bunch of randomly jumping MCS’s presents. For this exercise, since the enemy was predominantly heavy armor, we let the Kodiaks gain a sizeable lead to develop the situation. Each MCS carries two anti-armor missiles, but we prefer to let the Kodiaks deal with enemy armor whenever possible. However, if you noticed in the last engagement we used our anti-armor missiles to demonstrate how MCS’s deal with the armor threat.”

  Langsdorf smoothly follows that answer with: “I also pushed the Kodiaks hard. I was looking to demonstrate the speed and shock effect of these machines as much as possible.”

  The Army Chief of Staff nods apparently satisfied with the answer. The Chief of Naval Operations asks the next question: “I know I’m just a boat driver, so I won’t get into questions like that. However, I am curious as to how difficult it is to pilot a Kodiak or Cougar and what the training timeline to do so looks like.”

  “Sir, over the last six months we have modified the controls on these systems to make them far simpler to pilot,” Langsdorf quickly replies. “Our training experiences demonstrate that it takes about three months to achieve a basic proficiency and about six months to reach the level of performance you saw today.” He points at Lance and me and continues: “Majors Benson and Morris stand up please.” We stand. “These two officers joined us only six months ago. They made up our right flank for the attack and as you saw they dealt with the most complex threats out there. I think their performance demonstrates the validity of my assessment. Furthermore, they are tankers. This also demonstrates that pilot experience is neither necessary nor very important in learning how to use these combat systems.”

  I start to sit back down, but before I can do so the Commandant of the Marine Corps asks: “Major Morris, what is your assessment?”

  Wow are we off program here. Well nothing for it: “Sir, personally I think Colonel Langsdorf is probably a little conservative in his assessment. If we really had too we could turn out combat ready pilots in about four months. They would be four intense months, but Marines are used to that sort of thing. Furthermore, I would just like to amplify the importance of aviation experience being unnecessary. I have never flown an aircraft.” Fuck it. Humor should always be appropriate. “Considering how bad ass the Kodiak is, I think being a fighter pilot just became lame anyway.”

  There is a moment of silence greeting my last comment. I force my face into a smiling confidence and await my doom. If none of these people had a sense of humor we are probably screwed anyway. Suddenly the President bursts out laughing. He looks over at the Commandant and says: “General, it is good to see the courage of your Marines is not overstated.” He turns to me. “Thank you for your insight Major Morris.” With that he turns back to the front.

  I sit down trying to hide my relief. Lance leans over and whispers: “You are the craziest person I have ever met.” He then holds his fist out to me and I bump it. I always thought Franklin Roosevelt was right when he said: The overwhelming majority of Americans are possessed of two great qualities: a sense of humor and a sense of proportion. Good to see the current President living up to the former President’s wisdom.

  I see Langsdorf trying to fight down a smile. Well, I hope that is what he is doing. I prefer to think that the slight scowl on his face is not some sort of harsh judgment of my audacity. He asks somewhat stiffly: “Any other questions gentlemen?”

  This time the President answers: “I believe that is enough about the exercise. It was very impressive and I commend all of you. If we could take a quick break and clear the tent. I need to talk alone with the Joint Chiefs and the program managers.”

  Langsdorf barks: “Attention on deck!” And the tent except for the President comes to its feet. The President nods with gravitas and most of us start for the
exit.

  Once outside of the tent I work my way through the gaggle of Presidential and Joint Chiefs of Staff Aides milling about outside. I head down the hill for the pair of tents the Wonderland crew is using for offices while out here on exercise. They lie about two hundred meters from the briefing tent. As I do so Lance says: “Ten bucks Langsdorf chews your ass for that little display of bravado.” Thanks buddy.

  Chief Warrant Officer Mike Malloy joins us and says: “Sir, you are without a doubt, the craziest officer I have ever worked with. That was awesome.”

  “Thanks Chief,” I reply. Take notes Lance.

  “Of course Langsdorf is probably gonna have your ass, but that was so worth it.” Damn it Malloy, why did you have to go and say that?

  I scowl. I really hope they are wrong. I do not care about getting yelled at, but I really did not want to disappoint Langsdorf. Or make life any harder for him than it already is. Lance looks at Malloy and says: “Chief, did I ever tell you about the time Morris called out the Commanding General of First Marine Division, back in the good ol’ days of Operation Iraqi Freedom?” Oh great. I had forgotten all about that.

  I do my best to ignore the story as we head for the tent. I had gotten into a bit of trouble for that. General Mattis was not known for his leniency. However, at the time I had truly believed in what I was saying. To this day I still think I was right and he was wrong. Fortunately, while he did chew my ass, hard, he did recognize that I was just trying to look out for my Marines and nothing official ever made it in to my record book.

  I enter the tent and head over to my field desk. I sit down in a folding metal chair and prop up my feet on the scarred wooden desk. I am glad the tent is air conditioned. I am even gladder the air conditioner is not one of the old worthless ones, but a new Watcher model that has made the tent chilly despite the triple digit temperatures outside. No telling how long Langsdorf is going to be, might as well get comfortable. I open my desk and find the battered copy of Sherlock Holmes stories I have been reading to pass the time. Unfortunately before I have time to open it Lieutenant Colonel Harkins enters the tent and yells: “Major Morris front and center!”

  Great. I would just ignore him, but he is still senior to me so I have to at least to pretend to follow military protocol. I get up and walk over to where he stands in the middle of the tent. As I do so I notice just about every pilot is here and is staring at us both. Nobody seems to bother with pretending to hide their curiosity. I stand in front of Harkins and say politely: “Sir, how may I be of assistance?”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Without waiting for an answer Harkins continues: “That was, without a doubt, the most unprofessional thing I have ever seen. You do realize what professionalism is right? I have never in all of my years …”

  I stop listening to the diatribe and instead concentrate on the interesting shade of red Harkins face has become. There is sort of a hint of purple in it, and one of the veins on his forehead looks like it is about to pop out of his skin. Unfortunately, since he is full of nanites, I have little hope that his anger will lead to a heart attack. Too bad, the world would really be a better place without this self-important jackass running around in it.

  Apparently my expression gives me away. Harkins stops mid rant and yells: “ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!?!”

  While I may have conducted myself with a tiny bit of excess in the debrief, I really do not care what Harkins thinks. The only person that matters is Langsdorf. If Langsdorf wants to chew my ass I would take it and apologize profusely. But from this guy? No way. So I respond with a: “Uh, Yes. Sir?”

  I never consciously set out to ruin Harkins. I only ever cared about minimizing him. Well conscious of it or not, I now succeed. In front of God and everybody he breaks and cold-cocks me. He catches me completely flatfooted. My face explodes in pain as I crash to the floor of the tent. While I try and gather my wits he jumps on top of me and punches me a couple more times before the Air Force guys, Ramirez and Thurgood, drag him off of me.

  Lance helps me up as the cobwebs clear. By the time I gain my feet I am greeted with a rather sad tableau. Harkins stands between Ramirez and Thurgood with a look of shock and dismay etched on his face. Ramirez is haranguing him about how much of an ass he is and how he looks forward to getting him relieved for striking a subordinate. Harkins gone. My heart sings at the prospect. But something about the look on his face stops me short. His expression forces me to think about this from his point of view. So, for the first time I honestly try to think about this from Harkins point of view. I think about how, before my arrival at Heavy Combat Systems, Harkins had been used to being important and, if not personally, professionally respected. He had flown combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had, in his own narrow way, been sure of his place in this world. Then along comes this arrogant pain in the ass who subtly belittles and diminishes him. Then, when he finally has something on him, when he finally has the chance to lay into the twerp who wrecked it all for him, the arrogant pain in the ass pushes him to commit a career ending move.

  Something deep inside me cringes at this. I really have never given the guy a chance. I have never tried to convince him to work with me. I must be a better man than that. So I calmly say: “I’m sorry.” Silence fills the tent as I look over at Harkins. “I have fought against you ever since I got here. In my mind, I had a good reason, but that doesn’t excuse how I went about it. I was wrong to treat you the way I have. I am willing to bury the hatchet right here and now. Are you? Do you want to keep fighting me, or are you going to forget the last six months and start working with me? This is important and we need you. In case you haven’t realized it yet, there is a hell of a lot more going on around here than new weapons and medicine.” Dangerous ground here, but with the Synti coming we cannot afford to keep working at odds.

  I can hear Lance suck in a breath of surprise next to me. Sometimes secrets defeat their purpose. No matter how this goes first thing I am going to do when I talk to Langsdorf next is get him to bring everybody in. All the way in. I see a dawning realization on Harkins face. I can almost hear the gears turning. I imagine he had thought about it. But in his world orders are orders and you do not waste a lot of time worrying about the things you are not told. He will never have a good imagination, but he is no fool. I see the pieces click into place. He says: “You probably weren’t supposed to say that Shawn.” This is the first time he has ever called me anything other than Major Morris. Harkins cocks his head and looks at me with real interest. For the second time today he surprises me: “I always thought you were just sure of yourself because of Langsdorf. But it never was about that was it?” He pauses and smiles, an honest to God genuine smile. “I’m sorry too. Not that I punched you. You were being a conceited idiot and you deserved it. However, I have been too worried about my career and not nearly worried enough about what we are doing.” He chuckles ruefully then looks around at everyone. “You are right. There is definitely something big going on around here. Something huge. And whatever it is it is much bigger than some petty dispute. So yeah, I’m with you.” He walks over to me and extends his hand. I grab it firmly and he says: “Just don’t expect us to be friends.” That comment would have worried me, but I sense humor lurking deep within it. It matches well the smile on his face.

  I smile back and reply: “Don’t worry Sir. I don’t expect miracles.” I look around the room and announce. “As far as I am concerned Colonel Harkins and I were having a friendly disagreement that just happened to include fisticuffs. Anybody got a problem with that?”

  The room fills with shaking heads. Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez smiles and says: “If I knew you were gonna be so reasonable I would have punched you myself. I can’t believe you just called fighter pilots lame in front of the President.”

  “Don’t worry, Sir. You aren’t lame at all, you were smart enough to ditch the fighter plane for a Kodiak,” I reply.

 
Ramirez shoots back: “I had no idea tankers were so arrogant.”

  Surprising me again Harkins says: “We got to stop thinking like that. Are you all forgetting what we did today? We smoke-checked this little exercise. We didn’t do that because we are fighter pilots, or tankers. We did that because we are all Kodiak drivers. From this moment on we stop being pilots and tankers. We stop being gunship pilots and fighter pilots. We finish what we started two and a half years ago. We become a team of Kodiak drivers.” He looks at me and continues: “That’s what Shawn has been working towards the whole time. Sorry I didn’t recognize that in the first place.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Dvoracek speaks up: “I know this is going to sound stupid, but what exactly is going on around here? What do you mean there is more than weapons development going on?”

  Lance gives me a sharp look before looking at Dvoracek and saying: “We can’t tell you. But I will say that it is huge and we don’t have time to waste.”

  One of the Navy pilots speaks: “I’m with Dvoracek. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  As he makes this statement Langsdorf enters the tent. He takes a quick look around at the tense looking scene. After the quick survey he spends a bit more time examining my face. I imagine I am sporting some nasty looking bruises and my left eye feels like it is trying to swell shut. He says: “Why wasn’t I invited to the Shawn Morris ass-kicking contest?”