by Rick Shelley
“Sorry about the rough treatment,” the second man whispered. “We had to do this quietly.”
Reggie moved his head gingerly from side to side, as if to assure himself that his neck had not been broken. At first, he felt no reaction to what the men had said. His fading terror insisted on precedence. Only as the adrenaline rush started to ebb could he comprehend what they had said: Royal Marines.
“You gave me a turn,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, grating. Reggie cleared his throat, then swallowed. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
The Marines looked at each other. Reggie couldn’t even guess what their expressions might be under those faceplates. Then one of them turned back toward Reggie. This time he raised his visor before he spoke.
“My name’s Tory Kepner. There are still a lot of Feddies about. You folks haven’t been very careful. That fire’s a beacon, and a company of us—or Feddies—could have walked in on you without being seen or heard. Sorry, you’re just not very good at this.”
“I never thought I’d have to be, until those bastards came here.” Reggie’s voice came up a little, enough to make Kepner hold up a hand to shush him.
“Ease off, mate. Let’s not tell the bastards that we’re talking about them.”
Reggie managed a thin smile. “The fight’s not over then, is it?”
“Not by a long shot,” Tory said. “Look, we need to talk with you, but first things first. I’ve got more of my lads spread out around your camp. I need to set up a few details. First off, how many of you are there here?”
Reggie hardly hesitated at all. New caution made him reluctant to reveal vital information, even to allies, but these men could find out for themselves easily enough. He told them, the names of the families, and the number of adults and children.
“We thought there might be more folks hanging close to town,” the second Marine, Alfie Edwards, said.
“Most of the people from our neighborhood went farther east,” Reggie said. “We only stayed this close because we had a woman ready to give birth. And there are several hundred more people a few miles off to the south. Most of those are from South York. They might be no more than four or five miles from here. The ones who went on east, I don’t have any idea how far away they might be by now, or how many might be together.”
“Time enough to worry about that later,” Tory said. “Right now, I’ve got to get my lads situated before dawn.”
“Just a second. You mean you’re going to come in here with us?” Reggie asked.
“We’ll be around you, but not right in your laps, I think.
Keep your camp as is. We’ll stay out in the trees around you.”
“But if there’s any fighting here …”
“Any fighting will be farther off. The whole point is that the Feddies don’t know that we’re out here, away from the rest of our chaps. Any fighting will be where we choose it to be, if the Feddies try to get cute and close in on the rest of our mates.”
“I’m still not so sure about this.” Reggie frowned. “We’ve got women and children here.”
“We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe,” Tory promised. “If things do get to looking dicey, we’ll move away, but I doubt that things will come to that. Listen, I’ve a wife and son of my own. I know how you feel, but, frankly, you’re worrying at the wrong straw.”
Reggie hesitated a moment longer, then let out a long breath and nodded. “Maybe I can quit worrying about somebody sneaking up on me, at least. Fat lot of good it did to keep watch.”
“We’re professionals. We spend a lot of time training for what we do.”
Tory got his people situated around the camp and set his half-and-half watches: half stayed on watch while the other half slept. Everyone got in a quick meal, the Marines sharing their field rations with the three families of refugees. Once the I&R men moved out to their positions, they virtually disappeared from the sight of the civilians, even though they did not move too far from the camp. During the meal, and for a short time afterward, Tory questioned the civilians, trying to learn everything he could about their experiences since the invasion, and anything they could tell him about Federation operations.
“Once we get a chance to get back to the rest of our blokes, and get some sort of organization working, we’ll have a medical orderly check out you and the infant,” Tory promised Anna. “Seems you’re both doing right well for the circumstances.”
• • •
“I wish I could go out and fight with them,” Al Bailey told his parents and the others after Tory Kepner left to take his place in the perimeter. All thirteen civilians were crowded into the center shelter. That could not last. It was impossibly crowded, but they had to talk before they separated.
“Don’t even think about it,” Reggie said. “They’re so good you wouldn’t believe it.” It did rankle that they had caught him so easily, that he had not even suspected that there was anyone around before he was gripped from behind and found himself helpless.
“I’m worried,” Ida said. “All of those Marines around us. They still might draw trouble. We could get caught in the middle of something horrible.”
“If trouble comes, I’d rather have thirty Royal Marines around than have to deal with it just by ourselves,” Eric said. “Besides, this is our contact with the outside. Proof that there’s someone here to help us.”
Ted Brix held his wife’s hand tightly. Marines close or far away, he was still frightened. But he had learned to try to conceal his constant fear. He did not think that he was especially successful with that deceit though. He had never managed to fool himself.
Lorna looked only briefly at her husband. She was frightened as well, but not nearly so patently as Ted. Keeping Helene from being totally terrified every waking and sleeping minute had been her mother’s primary concern these past weeks. The girl had nightmares. At least she no longer woke up screaming in the night, not since they had been allowed to join these other families.
“These shelters will offer some protection if there is fighting nearby,” Lorna said softly. They had all taken to speaking in little more than whispers since the Marines had come to surround them. “I mean, it would take explosives to bring them down, and those Marine chaps aren’t likely to let Feddies get close enough for that.”
“I’m more concerned about how long this, ah, situation might continue,” Eric said. “If it wasn’t for the Marines, and the Feddies as well, we’d go out hunting this morning.
We’ve still got meat enough to last through today, but …”
“With all that fighting yesterday, we’d likely have to go too far to find game anyway,” Reggie said, dismissing that worry. “If we can’t go back into town soon, I’m afraid we’ll have to move our camp anyway—unless the Marines have enough provisions to keep us going.”
“One day at a time,” Ida urged. “There are Commonwealth people here now. They won’t let us starve.” I hope, she thought.
Captain McAuliffe forced himself to eat a meal pack. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. His stomach had been growling for hours. He had even dreamed of food, during the brief intervals when he had managed to doze. But despite his hunger, he had no appetite. The field rations tasted like soggy cardboard, with no taste at all, difficult to swallow. But it was fuel. He sat in the bottom of the gully and ate methodically. He could at least show his men that he was not off his feed.
The Feddies showed no signs of coming out of their defensive perimeter. The few pickets who had been left to harass the Commonwealth Marines had pulled back before dawn. McAuliffe had sent a platoon from Delta company to take out those Feddies and found them missing.
News from the fleet remained spotty, and not at all reassuring. The opposing battle groups were still playing their game of hide-and-seek, ducking in and out of Q-space, staying around no longer than they had to in order to keep the other side from doing anything decisive.
We need to do something on the ground to break the stalemate, McAu
liffe told himself. He had slept poorly, waking—or so it seemed—every ten minutes. There had been good reasons for some of those interruptions. The reports from the I&R platoon had been vital, and the news from Delta’s platoon, the one looking for the Feddie pickets.
They evidently don’t want to attack us, and we ‘re not all that keen on attacking them until we can get air cover or more men on the scene. McAuliffe finished his food and set the empty carton aside. Neither side wanted to take the risksof attacking good defensive positions without some compelling edge.
What would make me leave a good defensive position? He thought through as many possibilities as he could come up with quickly. The basic answer was obvious. If my defensive position suddenly looked less safe than the alternatives. So how can I make the Feddies come out in the open?
There were ways that might work—if not an infinite number, still more than any competent commander should need to choose from. But most of those possibilities relied on resources that were not available to McAuliffe. None of the regiment’s heavy guns were on the ground. The small stock of antiaircraft missiles would be unlikely to suffice, and expending them would leave the companies vulnerable to air attack. The chances of getting Spacehawks in to attack the buildings and the breastworks the Feddies had erected seemed almost as remote as the fleet in Q-space. Almost, but not quite. It would take quite a bit of arguing to convince CIC to provide them.
An hour later David Spencer was ordered to the command post. When he arrived, he found Captain Asa Ewing of Delta Company and his lead sergeant, Bandar Jawad, already with McAuliffe. Ewing and Jawad had come over to First Battalion from Fourth sixteen months earlier, while the regiment was being rebuilt after a costly campaign on the frontier world of Buchanan.
“You wanted me, sir?” David asked.
“Actually, Bandar wants you,” McAuliffe said. “Sit down.”
Spencer sat on the ledge that had been hacked out of the side of the gully.
“Normally, what we’re doing would belong to the I&R lads, but they’re already out, and I don’t want to use them for anything but what they’re already assigned to do,” McAuliffe said, obviously for Spencer’s benefit. “I asked Captain Ewing to cut loose two platoons for a special operation. He decided that Jawad should command that operation, and
Bandar asked for you to come along—ah, as a sort of technical advisor.”
“Your kind of ropey-do, David,” Bandar said with a nod.
“What do you have in mind, sir?” Spencer asked, concentrating on McAuliffe yet.
“We’re going to get a quick in-and-out by a pair of Spacehawks. They’re going to target our group of Feddies, try to make things too hot for them to stay in that redoubt they’ve fashioned. I want to add to the confusion from the ground as well, do what we can to cut down their numbers without dragging all three companies out of our positions here.”
“So you want sixty blokes to make the Feddies think we’re the whole lot?”
“More or less,” McAuliffe admitted. “If the bird-boys do their job smartly, the Feddies should be too damn busy for head counts. Make sure they can’t regroup easily. You and the bird-boys get them reeling, I’ll cut loose reinforcements to help finish the job, but I’ll be relying on reports from you and Bandar. It will be a sticky place for mistakes.”
David finally looked at Bandar, stared at him for a moment. The two nodded and smiled. They had known each other through most of their careers in the Royal Marines. Bandar had several years time-in-grade over David—seniority as a company lead sergeant.
“We’ll give it a proper go, sir,” Spencer said when he looked at the captain again. “When does the Navy strike up the band for us?”
“You’ve got forty-seven minutes to get into position. Now, here’s what I want you to do …”
“You’ve been out of I&R so long, I thought you might like a taste of old times,” Bandar said as he and David followed Captain Ewing back to Delta.
David snorted. “I’ve had more than a taste of old times here, but since you obviously think you need a specialist to keep your knickers out of the fire, glad to oblige.”
“We’re not so bad as all that. About half the squad leaders in first and second platoon have been through the two-weekI&R familiarization course. They know the basics.”
“Two weeks is just enough time for them to recognize what mistakes they’ve just made while they’re getting the chop.”
The two platoons chosen already knew that they were going out. The platoon sergeants, squad and assistant squad leaders gathered around Bandar and David to hear what few details they had for the operation.
“We’re going to play it by ear,” Jawad said. “What we do depends on how successful the lads in the birds are, and how the Feddies respond to that. Lead Sergeant Spencer here has bags of experience at this kind of go.”
“We want to make the Feddies think we’re all three companies. That means we expend a lot of ammunition, and we don’t let them see enough of us to get an accurate count. That means keep your flaming heads down and stay off the radio except when it’s absolutely necessary. It means fire and maneuver, and it means being ready to take advantage of any break that comes our way,” David said. “We raise what hell we can and try to confuse the devil out of them so that we can fry the whole lot, or serve ‘em up for the rest of our lads to finish them off.”
“Do we tie them up in pretty bows?” one of the assistant squad leaders asked, earning a hearty laugh from his comrades.
“The admiral forgot to send the ribbon down for that,” David said before Bandar could reprimand the wag. “Besides, I haven’t the time to teach you lot how to tie a pretty bow.”
Bandar growled, then said, “The closest any of this lot is likely to come to a pretty bow is the hangman’s noose. Now, we’ve got no more time to waste. We have a right piece of ground to cover before the birds make their run.”
Jawad traveled with first platoon, Spencer with second. By the time they reached their positions, the two platoons were spread across a five-hundred-yard front, curving slightly around the Federation perimeter, and two hundred yards out from the walls. If they got any closer, line Marineswould be too apt to give themselves away. They settled in, excavating shallow trenches behind tree trunks or bushes. The line stretched from the wild growth into the more parklike area of trees.
“We got here just in time,” Bandar said over a private link to David. “Captain Ewing says the birds are on their way down now.”
“Good enough,” David replied. “I hate long waits.”
20
The animal rose so close, and moved so quickly, that Patrick Baker nearly fired from pure reflex, from fear. He pushed over on his side and brought his rifle up before he realized that it was only some small antelope or deer, not more than two feet tall. Baker slumped forward and closed his eyes. His heart was pounding so riotously that he thought it must be audible to the men on either side of him. While the animal bounded off toward the camp of the civilians, Baker could do nothing but clutch at his chest and try to get his heart rate back down. He kept his eyes closed for more than a minute. The thick feeling in his throat might have been his heart. He felt himself shaking.
“Keep your eyes front!” Tory Kepner slapped the side of Baker’s helmet. With Patrick’s visor down, Tory couldn’t see that his eyes had even been closed. “It was just a deer. Don’t fall apart. Look for what startled it.”
Baker was just starting to roll back into his proper position when there was a single shot behind him, and he jumped so spastically that he might have been the target.
Tory didn’t say anything about that reaction. He just got up and scurried toward the camp in the center of the I&R perimeter. He had recognized the sound of a shotgun, and had a good idea what had happened—confirmed as soon as he got to the clearing. Reggie Bailey was standing over the dead deer. He looked at the Marine with a sheepish expression on his face.
“Sorry. I got carried away. I saw
meat and didn’t think about the noise until I heard the shot. We were worried that having you around would drive the game away.”
It wasn’t so much what Reggie said that calmed Tory, but just the time he took saying it. “Okay, maybe no harm done, except to our nerves. We’re far enough away from the Feddies that maybe they didn’t even hear it. Just … no more, please?”
“I’ll try to remember.” Reggie felt very foolish. “It’s just that the sight of dinner popping straight into camp …”
“Maybe I should have told you this already, but things should be popping over that way in a few minutes. We’ve got a couple of aircraft coming in to attack the Feddies, then our blokes will try to finish them off. It’s going to get noisy, and we’ll have to be ready for anything that might happen.”
Reggie’s expression turned worried. In the shelter doorways, several of the others mirrored that look. They had peeked out to see what the shooting was about, and had stayed to listen to Kepner.
“You think the fighting might come this way?” Reggie asked.
“Probably not, but I can’t guarantee that it won’t,” Tory said. “If the Feddies start in this direction, we’ll be off out to turn them back toward the rest of our lot. That’s why we’re here. But, for now …” He stopped and raised a hand to keep any of the others from speaking while he listened to Alfie on the radio. Alfie’s report took only a few seconds.
“There are civilians coming in from the south, maybe a half dozen, all men,” Tory said.
“Must be from that South York lot,” Reggie said. “If they heard any of the shooting yesterday, they might well have sent a few men up to check it out.”
“My lads have them now. We’ll know soon enough.” After just a few more seconds, and another quick report from Alfie, Tory nodded. “You had it right, Mr. Bailey. At least, that’s who they say they are. Will you be able to identify them?”
“There were only the two we talked with I could be sure of, but if they’re Coventrians, what difference does it make? I doubt any of those Feddie blokes could mask their accents and pass for locals.”
