by CN Stoesen
Most of her men were puzzled. However, several caught on and were smiling and some even cheered. That relieved Duncan. If no one reacted, they would have blown their cover on the closed circuit cameras around the base. As it was, they just looked sullen. Again, not too terribly bad.
They reached a dingy office. The civilian held the door open for them and the platoon filed in. He closed it behind them. Waiting for them were two women with tablets and a wand. They proceeded to scan each member of Duncan's unit. When the suited man sealed the door behind them, he pushed a button hidden in the wall. A light hum could be heard in the room.
"I've turned on a jamming device that projects generic office noise out. The room is secure."
He looked to the ladies who finished their scans. They gave him a positive hand gesture showing that the platoon had no listening devices among them. The women then went to their desks and began to work.
"The ladies are preparing your travel documents. Please go to their desks so they can get each of you set up with a valid ID for the station and movement beyond. My name is Lieutenant Commander James Rothfuss, New Glasgow Navy. Outside of this secure room, never use my rank or name. Loose lips cost lives out here. My predecessor is a case in point."
He gave a stern look to each man. For the first time, he appeared as if he were an officer and not a public relations dork. The platoon responded out of military habit with a barked "Yes, sir."
"Sergeant Duncan, please follow me."
He opened a back door to the office and entered. The room had four chairs and a holotable in the center. The lieutenant commander activated the holotable. A representation of the New Glasgow system appeared above it. Their current position in the asteroid belt was marked with a blue halo around it. Small red specks floated throughout the display as well. These were the positions of known FUP warships in the system.
Duncan examined everything and nodded to herself as she took it in.
Rothfuss began his briefing, "Sergeant, we need your troops."
He stumbled on the word troops as what he wanted to say was marines.
"They need to board our Q-Ship, the Saint Mary of Valencia. Our intention is to use her to lure in FUP patrol craft. When they dock with her, your teams will counter board the enemy vessels. When we get you to the base, your troops will be equipped with vacuum suits and light power armor. For the last few years, the Union Navy has been inspecting vessels in system with only naval personnel. We haven't seen any of their marines in that time. The first ship we expect to take by surprise. We have recordings of normal transmissions to their fleet command during an inspection. What we hope to do is jam them during the operation and send out the recording to keep the action hidden. A few hours after taking the enemy vessel, we will declare an emergency and take her transponders off-line, effectively making the ship disappear."
Duncan nodded along with the explanation.
"We will provide you with standard schematics of FUP vessels we have obtained. Use these to orient yourselves while boarding. It's critical to take the bridge and engine rooms rapidly. It is my intention to capture two of their fast patrol ships this way. We will divide your platoon between them and the Q-Ship to expand our raids as much as possible."
Now Duncan was uncomfortable. "You intend to divide my platoon? You want to take away my command?"
"Yes and no. We can cover far more area that way. A fast patrol ship doesn't have more than a twenty-five member crew. They only have light arms that can't penetrate your powered armor. That should give you a huge firepower advantage."
"I see," said Duncan dubiously. "What will I be doing while my squads are deployed, sir?"
Inwardly, she knew she was being marginalized here. She was losing her command. It was starting to piss her off.
Rothfuss gave her a lopsided grin. "I've read your jacket. Honestly, I don't understand why you are only a sergeant. You should have been promoted a while back. The intent will be for you to lead the first boarding party. I want you to make recommendations for a training program on how to do it better. You will then be provided with a marine manual for your planning.
"Our intention is to promote you to the rank of captain of marines. We have about one hundred recruits waiting for training. They are raw and most have no military experience at all. You will train these men and women and lead them."
Duncan stared wide eyed in disbelief. "Holy crap!"
Her face blushed when she realized what she had blurted out. In short order she had risen from a squad leader to company commander. Sure it was in the marines, but the speed of her advancement startled her. True enough, she spent years, war years at that, as a squad leader. There was a rumor that someone was holding her back, but this was overwhelming.
"I've spoken to your Lieutenant McCloud about this at length. He is in full agreement you are more than ready for this challenge. The difference will be that this isn't the urban combat you are used to. Instead, you'll be in a highly volatile environment. Punch a hole in the wrong wall and you can have explosive decompression. While your light armor may serve as a space suit, anyone else without a vac suit will be dead. Please take that into consideration. We have set up a training facility for you to prepare troops. You will have a month on base before your first operation."
Rothfuss handed her a tablet. It had a navy blue case with a marine captain's insignia on it. She would have equal rank now to the lieutenant commander she was speaking with.
She activated the tablet, and it responded to her thumbprint. It identified her as Captain Duncan, NGMC.
"Just so you know, the last of the original NGMC died a month ago in a raid on sector seventeen. They sent the initial survivors of the militia marines to fight on the planet surface. There are few pre-war soldiers, sailors and marines left. You are one of those. As of now, the weight of the fight has been on the militia's shoulders. What we hope to accomplish up here, is to cause enough problems for the FUP for them to seek a negotiated settlement. The war has already dragged on and is very unpopular within the Federation Congress. Third party reports of war crimes haven't helped their public relations. There are three other planets in open revolt and there are the frontiers for them to guard. We think we can raise the cost of the invasion enough, to force them to negotiate. We are at a point where we may be able to ask for full membership within the FUP."
Using the computer, Rothfuss registered Duncan as a senior grade miner with zero gravity ratings. He established her credentials to move around the base as a civilian mining contractor and booked her transportation to the asteroid mining facility 7412, known by the miners as AEON.
When she asked about the acronym, Rothfuss smiled, "The marines called it that. It stands for Ass End of Nowhere. If you want to make a secret base where better to put one?"
He provided her a cover for her tablet to disguise it as a clunky larger and older civilian model that wouldn't attract attention. She returned to her platoon. Once processed by the efficient staff, the inter-system shuttle would be ready to take them to AEON in the morning.
Chapter 11
The tribunal met aboard the FUP Ship Tyrannus, the flagship of Union Naval forces in the area. They grilled him for four hours straight on his capture, what he attempted to do to evade and what he felt he should have done differently.
He was sweating and exhausted. He didn't even see the faces of the tribunal members as all the light was shining in his face. They dismissed him for their verdict and an FUP marine walked him out of the room.
They placed him back in his holding cell. He managed a peak at the marines chronometer and realized that they probably just dismissed him for dinner. The thought of food made his stomach growl. He had to laugh. His treatment at the hands of the enemy was far better than the reception he had here at fleet.
For better or worse, he would learn his fate. He had known other pilots who had lost their mechs. It was a major problem to lose such expensive gear to what was a technologically inferior opponent. He didn'
t even hope for an acquittal any more. He wanted it to be over with and decided. The outcome mattered no more. He only wanted to end the waiting.
A slot opened in his cell and a tray of food slid into it. It was standard ship rations, nothing too horrible or wonderful. That had to be a good sign at least.
After his meal, he leaned back against the wall and sighed. He thought about his future. He wanted to be a career officer. As a battalion commander, he was doing a good job until his capture. This would probably spell the end of his career. He didn't know what to do after the military. He had no other skills at his disposal.
A knock came on the door before it slid open. The same marine was waiting for him. They walked back into the tribunal room. The whole place was lit this time and not just his chair. The three members sat on a dais above the him.
"Major Renee Dietler, you have been found not guilty by this tribunal. You will be reassigned to a new unit upon return to fleet headquarters. Thank you for your service and sacrifices you have made for the Federation and its order. You are dismissed."
In his years of service, he had never heard of an acquittal. Sure there were officers that were given a light sentence and returned to duty but never an acquittal. Before he could say a word, the tribunal stood and left.
The marine smiled at Renee and congratulated him. An hour later he found himself in his Regimental ready room aboard the troop transport FUP Ship Poseidon. It was normal not to allow a commander to return to his unit after a combat injury. Another leader had been appointed in his absence and the service viewed it as unfair to take away that officer's promotion just because the previous one came back. Replaced commanders went into a pool of officers to be deployed as needed or assigned to newly created units. It seems that he was to join a battalion of new recruits.
Two of the other battalion commanders and the regimental staff officer were standing with him. They were preparing to go to the officer's club. Antonio Sanchez, the embedded reporter for the FUP Naval News Service stepped in and asked if he could join them. All the officers had met with and been interviewed by Antonio before and he was well liked. He was welcomed to the group, and they moved on to the club.
The meal was good, and the company was better. The other officers expressed their happiness that he was acquitted and that he didn't fare worse. Major Dietler learned that his next posting would be to a hospital ship out of system for rehabilitation before being sent back to duty. He explained all of this and the other officers wished him well. Soon commitments pulled his old friends and colleagues away and left Dietler and Sanchez alone.
Sanchez placed a small device on the table and turned it on. He leaned in with a concerned look.
"How are you really doing, my old friend? Being captured by those barbarians, surely it was a trying ordeal."
Sanchez had a heavy accent common to his home planet of Catalan. His complexion was swarthy and his black hair and mustache were impeccably trimmed.
"You know, they followed all the rules. I was treated fairly. Given prompt medical attention to the degree that they could offer it and they didn't try to extract any military secrets from me. Instead, I was given a tour of the hospital and shown the obligatory images of the horrors that our war has inflicted on their planet. But it wasn't even a hard sell. Just more of a here it is thing."
"Would you be willing to tell me what happened?"
"I'd love to Antonio but my capture is listed under a classified heading and I'm not allowed to speak about it. Otherwise I would be happy to."
"Look, I'm asking off the record." Sanchez made a show of pushing a button on the device he placed on the table. "I've turned off my recorder."
He placed another device on the table, "This will jam any listening devices around. I won't take notes or name names. I just want to know what happened."
"Promise me that you won't publish this until long after I'm gone."
"Deal."
Dietler looked around to make sure no one was listening and leaned in, "What have you been told?"
Sanchez smiled as he knew he had the man hooked. He spread his hands with a shrug.
"Not much. At first, we were told that you were killed in action. We were given official photos of your downed mech. It was burned out. We were informed that your mech took multiple missile hits. But then it was later revealed that you were captured as you weren't among the bodies recovered from your vehicle. Then they went silent on you. When the report came from Doctor's Without Boundaries, we knew you were alive but injured and that they were taking care of you. There was no official statement after that. When you were returned, there were rumors that you betrayed the FUP to the rebels. I assumed that was nonsense. Then you arrived and were ushered to a cell and they began your Court Martial. We didn't know what to think."
The major nodded. It was as he thought.
"I was captured almost as soon as I bailed out of my mech. It wasn't taken down by missiles or rockets. Have you heard of inferno rounds?"
Sanchez leaned back and frowned, "No, I'm not familiar with them."
Dietler nodded, "I figured not. The militia of New Glasgow made a round for their rifles that is basically and armor penetrating incendiary device. Upon discharge, a chemical reaction is started. When it impacts on a surface, the small shaped warhead burrows into the armor and begins to set everything alight that it touches. The armor itself doesn't burn. But wiring, people, seats, computer boards and the like do burn. If they can score good hits on the joints of the mechs, they can bring us down. My attacker scored hits on the crew compartment. She killed my pilot outright. Another round took the head off of my gunner."
"Wait, it was just one person that took out your mech?"
He nodded, "Yes, my unit was commanded to sweep the area. The infantry that was to support us was late in making the rendezvous. We received orders from division command to proceed without them. We split up the battalion as per our instructions. My mech and three others were to be the reserves. Two of those mechs broke down. Leaving my walker and one other in reserve. Of the four companies in my battalion, three were engaged by units of the New Glasgow Militia. The fourth company was pulled to support them. We moved forward to shore up the exposed flank. The other mech with me fell into a sinkhole that opened up in the street. It seems that there was a subway line that the roof was weakened from artillery. He plunged halfway into the hollow below. He called for extraction as he was immobile. I moved forward to protect the downed walker. That is when one of their guys popped up and took out my mech. In bailing out from the burning wreck, I broke my ankle."
"That explains much. That battle cost the battalion three mechs damage and two that were total losses including yours. No one had an explanation for why you were by yourself when yours was lost."
"You know the worst part?" Dietler asked. "The sergeant that captured me basically told me that I was a lousy mech driver for getting too far ahead of my covering infantry. That hurt the worst. It was out of my control. You don't say no to the division commander."
Sanchez patted his shoulder. "No worries. You were acquitted. That means they understand. Do you know how many troops have been acquitted since this little war has started? Three. Only three. That makes you special, major."
That announcement surprised Dietler. He didn't know that. The two continued to drink until Dietler decided that he had best get back to his guest quarters. He picked up his cane and hobbled out of the club.
Sanchez smiled. He pulled out his tablet and inserted a chip to the side of it. A new screen opened. He began typing frantically on the screen. An hour later, he hit send. He popped out the chip and hid it under his watch. He kept grinning as he finished his drink and walked out of the officer's club.
Chapter 12
Duncan held up her armored fist commanding the marines behind her to halt. Her team comprised Gordo and Jenkins. She used the camera on her weapon to peer around the corner. There were four hostiles behind a hastily erected barricade.
&nb
sp; She relayed the information to her three-man team through hand gestures. Duncan pointed to Gordo and then made a shooting motion with her left hand. Then pointed to herself making a fist and dramatically opened it with wiggling fingers. Lastly, at Jenkins, she took her index and middle finger to make a running motion. Both men nodded their heads. She held up three fingers then brought down one finger at a time.
When the last finger closed, Gordo rolled out into the hallway firing his heavy gun. It flashed brightly in the confined space.
Putting her hands back on her weapon, Duncan triggered a grenade down the hallway. It was a perfect shot that exploded over its target. The explosive boomed like a thunderclap.
Blinded by the explosion, Gordo dropped flat to the ground. He ceased fire. Jenkins ran around the corner with his rifle shouldered and snapped off a few rounds at anything that moved. Duncan rolled out and followed Jenkins to help him. They took cover on the opposite side of the barricade.
Soon Gordo joined them. They rolled over the barricade and flattened themselves against a bulkhead. Jenkins dropped his rifle, and it swung from his neck by the sling. He withdrew an explosive charge and unrolled it into an 'x' shape onto the door to the bridge. He turned away from the door and depressed the trigger. With a bright flash, the door blew open and the three-man team rushed inside with weapons blazing. A loud buzzer sounded and the team ceased fire. Duncan reached a hand out and helped the sailor stand she had just 'killed.'
He nodded his thanks and moved to one side of the simulated bridge. The 'dead' crewmen from the hallway joined them. The midshipman in the captain's chair was fuming. He pointed at Duncan and screamed shrilly.
"She cheated! That was the only way she could've taken the whole crew like that. There is no possible way. I've won this defense simulation ten times without a single loss. She'd to have cheated. Her crew wasn't using fleet communications. They had to have a civilian or ground circuit to communicate."