Decker's War Omnibus 1

by Eric Thomson

  Since he had no idea what to respond, Decker bowed again. When he raised his head, the orc was gone.

  With the Swordmaster’s words still ringing in his ears, he left the building and returned to his barracks. The camp lay silent under a thick cloud blanket that threatened more rain before the night was out. Even the mess hall was dark, where on a typical Marine base, it would have been hopping until late in the evening.

  Most of the headquarters staff was already sleeping but a few, Daran and Cyone included, were reading. They looked up briefly as Zack entered, then returned to their pads. He smiled tightly at Cyone’s quizzical look; the bruises on his body would speak for themselves.

  Though Daran seemed uninterested, she must have known about the challenge and by tomorrow she’d know the Swordmaster had declared it a tie, leaving the matter unresolved as far as Norik was concerned.

  Decker mentally shrugged. As long as the motherless bastard adopted the TTPs as laid out, he couldn’t care less about the commander of First Company. Everything else was Daran’s problem.

  Eight

  He woke the next morning feeling melancholic for the first time since arriving and remembered the debt he’d vowed to collect. The searching gaze he got from Cyone during breakfast added to his inner misery, and he wondered what had triggered this change in his mood.

  Norik nodded curtly as he sat down at the next table.

  “Decker.”

  “And a good morning to you as well,” Zack forced himself to smile.

  “He looks a lot less bruised than you do,” Cyone whispered. “I thought you said it ended in a tie.”

  “So the Swordmaster decreed. He also said the only blow that counts is the final one.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Seen.” A small smile appeared on her bloodless lips. “If you’re quite done emptying out the food stores, we might get to work.”

  “We might as well.” He pushed himself up with a sigh. “I still want to review the translation of the field logistics manual. Considering the mistakes they made with the infantry TTPs, I’d rather not have the Danjori version specify something utterly bizarre. How is it that the Atabek never bothered to hire a military specialist to help him upgrade his organization and methods?”

  Cyone shrugged.

  “no one around here could do what you did and hiring an advisor from the Commonwealth is an obvious non-starter. I think there’s even a law against it back home. A lot of the surrounding systems are like the technobarb kingdoms we all love to hate.”

  “Even Nelva?”

  “Especially them. You’d think a human colony wouldn’t regress so much in a few hundred years, but they seemed to have managed it quite well.”

  “Kid in the training barracks told me they’d been there for a couple of thousand years.”

  “Bull.”

  “That’s what I said. It’s got to be tough for them, though. A lost colony, too far from the rest of us for regular contact and obviously prime culling grounds for silahdar force generation.”

  “Maybe living as a slave soldier for the Atabek beats whatever life they might have had at home.” Cyone shrugged dismissively. “They certainly produce interesting specimens. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were a high gravity place. A lot of them are almost your size, and you’re kind of big for an average human.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Decker chuckled.

  She elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Head out of the gutter, buddy.”

  “Only if yours gets out of it first.” He winked at her.

  *

  The barracks in their corner of the camp began to fill up as the first drafts of silahdar from other units arrived over the following days. Decker and Cyone were kept busy on the logistics end of things, the former finally equipped with a pair of competent clerks of his own to run the battalion office.

  His descent into melancholy hadn’t reoccurred amidst the bustle of activity, and he’d put the incident out of his mind. He still got the occasional dirty look from Norik, but the company commander was too busy integrating new arrivals to pursue his vendetta.

  The night before the arrival of the new silahdars from basic training, Decker was in the armory, helping Cyone wrap up some paperwork. The Atabek might have been running a slave army, but the bureaucratic nonsense wasn’t all that different from what he’d seen in the Corps.

  “The records show we’re short one carbine, chemical propellant, ten millimeters.” He pointed at the screen.

  “Let me see.” Cyone leaned over the seated ex-Marine, pressing against his back.

  The sudden contact and tickling of her earthy scent in his nostrils caused a reaction that shouldn’t have been unexpected, but it was. He’d been working side by side with Lora Cyone for weeks and had grown comfortable in her presence. They might have exchanged sexually charged banter from time to time, but he’d not seriously considered anything intimate.

  She wasn’t his usual type, but he felt an unexpectedly strong attraction he couldn’t fight. Turning his head towards her, he brushed against her cheek and reveled in a sensation he hadn’t enjoyed for a long time.

  Rather than withdraw, Lora leaned in. Their lips met and then, as Zack stood to gather her in his arms, so did their tongues. He might have felt hungry for her, but she seemed to be thoroughly famished. They shed their uniforms and cleared off the metal desk as the urgency overwhelmed them. As far as comfort went, it wasn’t much, but at that moment, neither cared.

  *

  “So what do people who don't have access to a nice private room like the armory do when they want to screw?” Decker asked as they lay together afterward, Lora running her hand over his scarred chest.

  “There are a few places around the base where you can catch a few minutes of privacy.”

  “A few minutes?” Decker chuckled. “I pity them.”

  She playfully slapped him.

  “Bragging again, Zack? I'll agree that you're a bigger boy than most, though.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now? We get dressed, go back to the barracks, shower and get in bed - our separate beds.”

  “No. I mean are we still just friends, or are we headed for something more?”

  A frown creased her forehead.

  “Does it matter? Neither of us is going anywhere until we're posted to separate units and when that happens, it won't matter what we were doing beforehand because it won't occur afterward. Enjoy it, Zack. This place is no different than the Corps in many respects. Shit will happen when it happens.”

  But Decker was thinking about the women he'd fallen for over the years. Three were dead now, one in his arms from a Sécurité Spéciale assassin, the assassin herself and the third left to die on a wrecked freighter by the reivers who seized him. He didn't want to get close to another if he was going to see her die as well.

  “Let me guess,” she said, correctly interpreting the emotions chasing each other across his face, even though Zack tried to conceal his thoughts. “You don't want to get too close. Casual sex is fine, but anything more will mean loss, and you've had enough of that.”

  “Got it in one,” he grunted. After a few moments of contemplation, he told her his story, letting it all out as she listened, enthralled.

  “You've led a tough life, Mister Decker,” Cyone said when he fell silent. “I can see where you want to stay buddies with me and no more. Can't say I blame you. Can't promise I won't fall for you either, but if that happens, I'll keep it to myself. In the meantime, we have what fun we can. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She reached down to grab him, a quiet chuckle in her voice.

  “I guess we should shake on it.”

  Zack reached over to cup her buttock and gave it a squeeze.

  “There. All done. “

  When she didn't let go, he said, “Don't start something you're not going to finish.”

  “I don't intend to.”

  Mala Daran gave them strange looks when they g
ot back to the barracks. She was the only one still awake and reading. They trooped off to the showers silently and afterward, slipped into bed separately. Daran’s reading light clicked off soon after Decker had turned on his side, eyes closed as he let himself drift off, a contented smile on his face. His last thought was about the annoyance of having his commanding officer bunk with the rest of the staff. It made keeping things quiet a little more difficult.

  A few days later, as Zack was by his office window, watching a platoon of silahdar jog by in full fighting order, the battalion’s deputy commander walked in, closed the door and went to stand beside him.

  “How’s it going, Decker?”

  “One still hanging lower than the other.” He looked suspiciously at Resson. “Busy man like you doesn’t take a time-out with the adjutant for no reason.”

  “I’ve come to bring a word to the wise. You and Cyone playing hide the salami out of sight, no problem. In fact, I might be just a bit envious, even if she isn’t my cup of tea. But you got to be more discreet. The Boss Lady’s noticed, and she’s none too happy.”

  Before Zack could open his mouth and say something foolish, Resson raised his hand.

  “Nelvans can be pretty uptight about sex compared to us Commonwealthers, some more so than others. What I’m saying is don’t advertise by the two of you coming into the barracks together, late in the evening, smelling of Eau de Rut. That way you’re not waving it in Daran’s face. Stagger your arrival out a little, maybe wait until you two don’t have that freshly-fucked look on your faces. You know, give everyone the pretense that you’ve actually been working late, not screwing each other’s brains out.”

  “Got it, XO.”

  Resson clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You’re a good man, Decker. It would be a shame if you pissed her off enough to be sent down. Seeing as how we’re going to fight someone else’s war soon enough, I’d rather have a bona fide Marine on my team, you know, to increase our chances of beating the other side.”

  He turned on his heels and headed for the door. Stopping, hand on the latch, he said, “You’ll be letting Lora know?”

  “For sure. Right after we play a game of you know what.”

  The deputy commander laughed and made an obscene gesture, then he left Decker to his thoughts.

  *

  “Truth for truth,” Cyone said, half draped over Zack’s body as they lay on a tarpaulin at the back of the weapons shop. “I was in the Corps, did twenty-five years and yeah, I did the master gunner’s course when you were probably still a lance-corporal. Cavalry was my basic branch, in the 12th Regiment. They gave me my warrant after I finished the gunner’s school. I had one disagreement too many with my superiors and requested a transfer. When the Corps turned it down, I cashed out and applied to the Avalon Military Corporation. They jumped at the chance to get a qualified master gunner.”

  “Unfortunately,” she continued after a slight pause, “they weren’t as good when it came to vetting contract offers. My company group was sent deep into the Coalsack and didn’t come out again. Those of us who survived the massacre were captured and sold off. I ended up here when the slavers advertised my credentials. Going on fifteen years now.”

  “No escape, eh?”

  “Not a chance. The Nelvans seem to like the lifestyle, and they’ll make sure a body doesn’t go AWOL from the Kashdushiya – they actually like putting people in the juluk pit, the sadistic bastards. But you get used to it. Running an armory here or in the Corps isn’t much different. I have no one back home waiting for me, and I doubt Avalon would take me back. That mission was such a fuck-up I’m sure they’d rather it remained buried forever so the shareholders don’t find out what idiots they appointed to the executive suite.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Zack snorted derisively. “Good non-coms get screwed over and end up fighting for no money.”

  “By the way,” he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at her, “the XO gave me his best Uncle Jase speech. It seems the Boss Lady’s not too happy about us showing up in barracks smelling of each other and looking happier than the rest.”

  Cyone grunted.

  “Jealous, more like. I’ve seen the way she sometimes looks at you. I’ll bet the only reason she’s not eaten you up yet is that she figures she can’t afford to be seen playing with a subordinate, which is common sense. But I get the message. Resson’s good people and he wouldn’t have warned you if it wasn’t for real. A quick sponge bath in the armory washroom is probably a good idea from now on, and if my inner clock is right, we should shove off. I get first dibs.”

  When Zack got to the barracks, both Cyone and Daran were tucked in and ostensibly sleeping. The wipe down hadn’t done much to remove Lora’s scent, but he slipped into bed anyways, smiling to himself. After the morning run, he’d smell only like good, honest Zack Decker, erstwhile command-sergeant, 902nd Pathfinder Squadron.

  *

  “Sanjaqui.”

  Mala Daran nodded pleasantly at Zack as she joined him on the low hill overlooking the training ground. Both were in full silahdar fighting order, and Decker felt more like a historical re-enactor than a twenty-sixth-century soldier. It was probably good enough for the technobarb kingdoms who bought the services of slave soldiers, but he'd rather be wearing solid Pathfinder scout armor.

  “Commander.”

  He displayed his most charming Decker grin, mainly to acknowledge the thawing in her manner since he and Cyone had become more discreet.

  “How's Second Company doing?”

  “They still look like a herd of veerats humping ant hills, but at least they're not scoring own goals every few seconds.” The Danjori vernacular had come to him more quickly than he expected and his comment drew a brief smile.

  “We have a few weeks left before the Atabek wishes to see a full-fledged battalion demonstration. I hope Second Company's tendencies will have morphed into something more useful.”

  “If you think they're bad, you haven't seen Third Company yet.” He grimaced. “They haven't graduated to humping ant hills yet. I think their cadre can't wrap their heads around the new TTPs.”

  “Perhaps they need some encouragement,” she mused. Zack felt a chill run down his spine at her tone. A brief vision of the company commander, a pleasant Nelvan, staked down and overrun by bugs flashed in front of his eyes. He wouldn’t ever wish that on her or on anyone else. Not after what he’d been through.

  “They're the most recently formed,” he replied. “Give them another two weeks or so and they'll be as good as that lot below.”

  “And them?” She nodded at the skirmishers crossing the training field.

  “They'll be up to First Company's standard. Krait's no dummy.”

  “Some disagree with your assessment of Second Company’s balukbashi.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Norik thinks he's the only one who knows how to maneuver his unit. We have a saying back where your ancestors came from, ‘pride goes before the fall.’ I'd keep my eye on the lad once we're in operations. He might be your biggest liability.”

  Daran scoffed at the idea.

  “Just because he almost beat you in the challenge doesn't make him a bad commander.”

  “No,” Decker agreed, “only an overconfident one. The Swordmaster stopped the fight because I was about to break his neck.”

  “That's not what Norik said.”

  “Then with all due respect, commander, you've made my point.”

  “How would that be?”

  “Norik boasted to you.”

  Daran seemed at a loss for words and averted her eyes. He could see her jaw working as she processed the thought and after a while she looked up at him again.

  “Some days I wonder whether you're still a feral ex-Marine, my sanjaqui.”

  He shrugged as if it didn't matter.

  “My work here speaks for itself. That bunch down there couldn't find its collective ass with both hands two weeks ago. Now, they're capab
le of giving most armies a deadly dose of silahdar love.”

  She nodded thoughtfully.

  “Point well taken. I shall keep an eye on Norik.”

  “Then pay particular attention to his company's martial arts sessions. There's a reason his troops have twice as many training injuries as the rest of the Fifth Orta. You'll no doubt have observed that fact after reading my daily reports.”

  When she didn't respond, he knew that she had noticed and had so far failed to make the connection. It was a small thing, but lump it in with the other little things Decker had been tracking and it all added up to Daran's lack of experience at commanding such a large unit.

  He could produce the best training plans, organizational designs, and tables of equipment, but if the battalion commander wasn't up to the job, she could get them in trouble pretty quickly when the plasma began to fly. Not for the first time, he wondered how she'd gotten the assignment to form the first unit based on Marine light infantry lines.

  Her reaction to his and Lora's relationship wasn't exactly designed to inspire confidence either, cultural differences notwithstanding. Jealousy in a senior officer was a dangerous thing for everyone under her command.

  “Keep me apprised of progress,” she finally said before turning to leave.

  “As you wish.”

  Decker quickly bowed at the neck to acknowledge the order. He watched her climb aboard her skimmer, take off and vanish behind the tree line.

  Turning back to the mock battle below him, he made a few notations on his pad. The after action review was going to be rough for Krait, but the bugger would learn from it, which was more than he could say for Norik. The commander of First Company was good, but he reminded Zack of the man who’d cost him his career: too eager for promotion, even at the expense of his troops. Nelvans or Commonwealthers, ambition remained an all too human trait, and it all too often meant that ordinary soldiers paid the price.

  Nine

  “My evaluation is ready.” Zack stood at attention inside the doorway, filling the frame with his solid bulk. Daran and Resson looked up from the map spread over the table in the battalion commander’s office.