Gestapo Mars

by Victor Gischler

  * * *

  “I’m going to go over the plan,” Ensign Poppins told the boarding parties in the hold of the shuttle. “But first I want Sergeant Kolostomy to do a weapons check and brief you on any of the equipment you might not be familiar with. Sergeant?”

  All eyes shifted to the mahogany-faced man with the crew flattop. The expression on his face said he’d just sucked a lemon full of broken glass. “You’re probably wondering how you useless bags of crap are going to execute this bullshit plan and come out alive on the other side.”

  Poppins held up a finger, and Kolostomy shot eye daggers at her.

  “Actually, Sergeant,” Poppins said. “A number of the people here are junior officers, and technically your superiors.”

  The sergeant grinned, teeth like buttery piano keys. “Yes, ma’am. That’s absolutely true, ma’am. If you like, we can review etiquette and practice saluting each other, instead of going over the information that might keep these people from getting ass-raped by giant wads of snot before being flushed out an airlock. Ma’am.”

  Poppins cleared her throat.

  “I… uh… carry on, Sergeant.”

  Kolostomy glared back at the rest of us. “I am Master Sergeant Hamfast F. Kolostomy. The F stands for Fuck You.”

  He turned to the nearest trooper, an ensign who looked like he was twelve.

  “What’s that F stand for?” he asked, turning away.

  “Fuck You, Sergeant.”

  Kolostomy wheeled on him. “What the fuck did you just say to me, you sassy-mouthed turd?”

  The kid went pale. “But… you said…”

  “Drop to the deck and give me a million,” Kolostomy bellowed.

  The kid went down and began doing pushups as fast as he could.

  Kolostomy turned back to the rest of us. “In the last forty-eight years, I’ve fought eleven wars for the Reich. I’ve had every major organ replaced and have been shot and stabbed and burned with every weapon invented by people or aliens, so when I tell you that you’re going to live through this, you had better by God believe me. Is that clear?”

  The assembled troops muttered among themselves, as if trying to reach a consensus if the sergeant’s claim was clear or not.

  “I asked if that was clear, you maggots,” Kolostomy bellowed.

  “CLEAR, SERGEANT!”

  “Here’s the secret,” Kolostomy said. “This is the nifty little trick that will keep you alive. You won’t even have to write it down. It’s so simple that even you brainless tenderfoot useless jackwads will be able to remember.”

  They all waited breathlessly.

  I was curious myself.

  “I hereby absolutely forbid you stupid dipshits to die,” Kolostomy said, “and you dumb fuckers can consider that an order. The corpse of anyone who disobeys this order will be court-martialed, and I will personally come find your sorry asses in the afterlife, gouge out your eyes with my thumbs, and fuck the empty eye sockets. Is that what you want? To stagger around the afterlife blind and eye-fucked?”

  No muttering this time—clearly nobody was eager for such a thing to happen.

  “I asked if that’s what you wanted,” Kolostomy shouted.

  “NO, SERGEANT!”

  The kid doing the pushups had slowed considerably. Kolostomy kicked him in the ass. “Get the hell up. You can give me the rest later.” To all of us he said, “Now how many of you have never worn this kind of armor before?”

  Almost every hand went up.

  “Son of a bitch, I’ve seen more intelligent kernels of corn in my shit. Listen up.” He went on to explain the basics, stuff I already knew. The armor would stop most small-arms fire and a number of laser and other energy blasts before overloading. Still, it was a good idea to avoid getting shot at all. He went over the weapons, the exploding tips for the ammo, and the laser cutlasses.

  “Just look sharp, and stay together,” he concluded, sounding almost human now. “We all watch each other’s backs and get our jobs done, we’ll be just fine.” He indicated Poppins with a nod. “All yours, Ensign.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Poppins fixed us with a hard stare, or at least she did her best. After the storm of Sergeant Kolostomy, Poppins’s attempt at a tough expression just made her look gassy.

  “This is the sector of space we’re approaching now.” She gestured at a 2-D monitor affixed to the bulkhead next to her. “There’s a small moon next to a gas giant, and on that moon is a Coriandon supply routing station. In other words, supplies come from the home world to this moon, and are then diverted via freighter to wherever the supplies are needed. Our objective is to commandeer one of these freighters, and then overload the engine in order to collapse a wormhole. The admiral will be coordinating our run at the wormhole. For now, we’re just focusing on getting the freighter.”

  A hand went up.

  Poppins said, “Yes, Weinstein?”

  “The Coriandon supply line will surely be guarded,” Weinstein said. “I notice we have a zip ship along as an escort. Is that going to be enough to cover our assault?”

  “The zip ship isn’t along to provide cover,” Poppins said. “We’ll get to that in a minute. This entire operation depends on precise timing.”

  Poppins had already explained this to me, and I wasn’t optimistic. I watched the faces of the others for reactions as she unveiled her scheme.

  “The Coriandons have two battle fleets that they intend to send through two different wormholes to attack Mars. One of the wormholes is too far away for us to do a damn thing about it. But the closer wormhole, the one in this sector of space, well, that’s a different story. They’re sending almost every ship they have in this sector to that one.” She made a big circular motion with one hand, indicating the area on the monitor.

  “That means they’re leaving only an undersized battle group in the territory behind them to respond to threats. The Coriandons are counting on a small handful of gunboats to patrol the entire area. They’re spread thin. Very thin.”

  “They don’t feel it’s much of a risk,” I said. “The admiral told me he’s been fairly successful at playing hide-and-seek with the Coriandons. They don’t even know we have a fleet in the area.”

  “He’s right,” Poppins said. “As far as the aliens know, all Reich fighting ships have withdrawn to defend Mars. That’s one of the reasons we’re moving so fast. At the moment we have surprise on our side, but who knows how long it will last.”

  “Not long, if the supply station radioes they’re being attacked.” This comment from the kid who’d been doing the pushups. “That’ll bring the gunboats down on our heads pretty fast.”

  “And that’s why we have a zip ship tagging along after us,” Poppins said. “At the last second before our assault, the zip ship will put a couple of missiles into their communications relay buoy. Eventually they’ll realize they’re no longer getting a signal, but by then we’ll have done our job.”

  She swiped the monitor screen, and the display became a schematic of a Coriandon cargo freighter. It wasn’t what you’d call a pretty vessel. The whole thing was basically a box the length of a couple football fields, with an enormous engine attached to the rear end and a dome up front for the bridge.

  “About thirty years ago, the Reich captured a Coriandon freighter that drifted across the line into our territory,” Poppins said. “Intelligence suggests it’s doubtful the design has changed much, since it’s a simple ship for a simple purpose, and all of their innovation goes into their warships.”

  She tapped the screen, and the display zoomed in on a topside hatch located at the center of the ship.

  “The shuttle will land over this hatch. We’ll lock with it, and a small charge should be enough to blast our way in.” She changed the display again to show us a wide corridor within the ship. “This is the main corridor that runs the entire length of the vessel. This is where our teams split. Sergeant Kolostomy’s team will head forward to take the bridge. Agent Sloan will lead me a
nd my team aft to the engine room, where I’ll rig the engines to blow.” She nodded to me. “Agent Sloan?”

  “We’re not expecting combat troops,” I said. “If we’re lucky, we might even catch them as they’re rotating crews, so maybe there won’t be so many on board. But I never count on luck, and combat troops or not, the bastards will find some weapons quickly enough once they realize they’ve been boarded. The plan is the same for the engine room boarding party as it is for the bridge boarding party. There is only one door in and out of each area. Seal the door and hold it. The blobby sons of bitches will only be able to get at you one at a time, and they’ll lose enthusiasm after you scatter a few with exploding ammo.” I turned to Kolostomy. “Sergeant, you have the most combat experience of anyone here. Anything to add?”

  “You’ve got to move fast, fast, fast,” he said. “Don’t let the enemy get set. Don’t give them time to react. You see one of the slimy bastards, you shoot. Don’t wait to see if he’s pushing a broom or loading a pulse rifle. Just shoot and keep shooting until the problem goes away. There’s no prize for the trooper who comes back with the most ammunition.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “Ensign Poppins, it’s your show. Any final words?”

  “Do your jobs,” she said. “Remember the plan. Stick to it, you’ll be fine.” She glanced at the computer screen. “Okay, we’re almost there. One final equipment check while we’ve got the time.”

  As the teams began to check each other’s gear, they murmured to one another. They were nervous. No—they were afraid, but checking the gear gave them something to focus on.

  The crowed parted as Sergeant Kolostomy came through. He planted himself in front of me and tapped the portion of my helmet that covered my left ear. “Just a heads-up. The universal translator is channel six, in case you want to talk to the snot wads.”

  “Is that something I’d want to do?”

  “The hell if I know,” Kolostomy said. “Just keep in mind the thing can’t translate idioms for shit.” He turned and went back to abusing his troops.

  I had a feeling, palpable and real. It was the most sure I’d been about anything since being taken out of stasis back on Earth.

  I was going to die.

  Evidently I wasn’t the only one feeling pessimistic. I spotted Poppins off alone in a corner, facing away from everyone else. I went to her. She was breathing in deeply, exhaling loudly. She did this over and over again, taking deep breaths and letting them out.

  “Hey.”

  She turned to face me, eyes wide, knowing she’d been caught.

  “I… I’m just…”

  “Terrified,” I said.

  She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

  “Everything you said was right. Everything Sergeant Kolostomy said was right. But none of it means this is going to work. You’d be insane not to be scared.”

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or not,” she said.

  “Then don’t feel better,” I told her. “Where’s it written you’re allowed to feel better?”

  “Nowhere, I guess.”

  “That’s right. It’s a shitty situation. If you didn’t feel like shit when faced with a shitty situation, then that just makes you a dumbass. Not brave.”

  She swallowed hard, tried to smile, failed, then nodded.

  “Now listen,” I said. “It’s just us talking now. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but you never said how we were going to get out once we’d completed the mission.”

  She shook her head, looked confused. “What?”

  “Once we’ve set the engines to detonate,” I said. “What’s the plan to get back to the shuttle and escape?”

  She shook her head, still confused. “Plan? There’s no plan. We need to stay on board and make sure it blows at the exact moment. It’s a one-way trip. The admiral didn’t tell you?”

  And then I felt like shit.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Two seconds after the zip ship had destroyed the communications buoy, we blew the topside maintenance hatch on the Coriandon freighter.

  We dropped down into the ship’s main thruway and landed in fighting crouches, guns up and ready to kill anything that looked like a green blob. Sergeant Kolostomy took his troops and sprinted for the bridge. Poppins and I took the remaining three troopers with us and headed aft. We didn’t waste breath on good lucks or goodbyes. We all took Kolostomy’s advice to heart.

  Keep moving. Fast.

  A Coriandon stepped out of a side corridor and didn’t even have time to look surprised. One of the troopers next to me fired a burst of three, right into the globby bastard’s midsection. There was a fraction of a delay before the explosive tips detonated. Green goo splattered in every direction and covered the walls and ceiling of the corridor.

  A hatch opened, and another alien emerged to see what all the racket was about. The other two troopers peppered him with gunfire, and he exploded all over us. I wiped green glop off my face and kept running.

  Still no alarms. We’d caught them flat-footed.

  Although they didn’t have feet.

  Whatever.

  We stormed the engine room. About ten of the aliens turned slowly to see what all the fuss was about. They blinked at us, still unaware their ship had been boarded, no idea who we could be or what we might be doing there, although in that split second when we all raised our weapons to fire, it may have occurred to them something had gone very, very wrong.

  All five of us blazed away with our weapons, blobs screaming fear in their gurgle language and exploding, until finally there was nothing left but an ankle-deep layer of green slime. We moved in, weapons up in case one of them was hiding somewhere, all of us trying to keep our footing in the slippery goo.

  “The engine controls are over here,” Poppins said. “Cover me while I orient myself.”

  “Here’s how we’re going to do it,” I told the troopers. “I want one of you down behind this control console to watch the door straight on. One of you find cover left, the other cover right. Any of the snot wads coming through that door gets a nice three-way crossfire, right in the face.”

  They saluted and took their positions.

  I keyed the mic in my helmet.

  “You there, Kolostomy?”

  “We just secured the bridge,” the sergeant’s voice crackled in my ear.

  “How fast can you get this ship in the air?” I asked.

  “Fast.”

  “Do it. We don’t want to give these jokers time to board any additional asset they might have hanging about.”

  “Roger that.”

  Two seconds later I felt a vibration through my boots. The ship shuddered, and we were away.

  It had all been way too easy. Somewhere there was a gelatinous green sergeant cursing a blue streak at his green troops, and telling them how they were going to take their freighter back.

  “How are we doing over there, Poppins?”

  “Got it figured out,” she said. “I can overload the engines, no problem. It’s only the timing that’s tricky. We need to blow them right as we’re entering the wormhole.”

  I moved to stand right next to her, pitched my voice low so the troopers couldn’t hear.

  “So what about getting out of here, once you set the thing to blow.” I wasn’t going to die that easy.

  Poppins shook her head. “It’s no good, Sloan. We’ve got to hold the engine room, or the Coriandon engineers will just come in and dial back the overload. Then the whole trip is for nothing, and we’re all screwed.”

  “I’m not saying we do anything to endanger the mission,” I replied, “but there must be a point of no return.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The engines,” I said. “Can they get so hot that the Coriandons can’t back them down again?”

  She thought about that for a second.

  “Yeah…”

  “Then there’s got to be some time between the point of n
o return, and the actual explosion, right? It’s a chance for us to get back to the shuttle.”

  “There’s no way to accurately predict—”

  “Fuck that,” I said. “Come on, Poppins. You know your stuff. This is your show. I’ll take your best guess any day of the week.”

  “It could be anything,” she said. “Ninety seconds if we’re lucky, but maybe five seconds.”

  “So let’s get lucky.”

  She chewed her lip, thinking about it. She keyed her helmet mic.

  “Sergeant Kolostomy?”

  “Here, ma’am.”

  “I’m amending the plan,” she said. “Listen up.”

  * * *

  I caught the trooper looking back at us. It was the kid Kolostomy had made do the pushups.

  “Eyes front, trooper,” I said.

  He snapped his head back around to watch the engine room doorway.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  I eased up next to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Porkins, sir.”

  Poor bastard.

  “We’ve got things covered back here, Porkins,” I told him. “You just watch that door, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stay cool. Things are going our way.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  I went back to Poppins. She was nodding, finishing up a conversation with Ashcroft. “Yes, sir. I’ll let everyone know. Thank you, sir.”

  She turned to me, her expression grave. “The fleet is moving into position. They’re going to drop out of translight as close to the wormhole as possible, and make a beeline for it. We form up behind them so we can go through last and blow the engines.”

  “What about the Coriandon fleet?”

  “They’re parked and waiting,” Poppins said. “Ashcroft thinks that by the time they can respond, he’ll already have his ships through the wormhole. Everything depends on speed and timing. I’ve already relayed the information to Kolostomy’s team on the bridge. They’re guiding us in. The only thing we need to worry about is timing the engine overload. We just need to sit tight until it’s time.”

  That’s when Porkins’s head exploded.

  My theory was that he’d taken his eyes off the door again. Otherwise he’d have seen them first, and could have started shooting. Not that it mattered now.