Invasion of Kzarch (5 page)

Chapter Four

“…and so we’ve spent the last few hours hiking to get here,” the lieutenant finished. The man sitting at the large, map-filled table stared at him, and not in a particularly friendly way.

“I see,” the man said heavily. “And now you’re here, what exactly do you plan on doing?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to give me some insight on the situation here, sir. The information we currently have is not particularly up-to-date.”

“Hmph. Well, I suppose I can do that, at least.” He waved his hand a chair, advising, “Take a seat, Lieutenant, as long as you’re sure you won‘t break it. It can’t be comfortable to be standing around in… in that
thing
.”

Frank gave a small polite laugh, and took a chair, as instructed.

Before he could say anything, the other man morosely continued.

“Starting from the beginning, as it were, I was informed by my uncle that a pirate ship had been seen hiding itself on the planet. I am General Juan Gawain Val’gor, and my uncle is -
was
- the planetary governor, Ferdinand Winston Val’gor,” he clarified, then continued.

“I am in charge of the planet’s defenses. Such as they are,” he added, with an undertone of bitterness.

“At any rate, I had used our three gunboats, and whatever else I could get my hands on, to scout the location we thought the pirates had landed at, in the hope we might be able to catch them before they could do anything.”

“What happened? Did they ambush you?”

“No,” Juan snorted. “In fact, I’m not sure they even cared about us in the slightest. At any rate, we didn’t find the ship where we had thought it landed. I suppose it had crept away, hiding itself under a sensor-cloak.”

“That
would
be common pirate procedure,” Frank agreed.

“In any case, nothing happened for the next week or so. I kept sweeping the planet for the pirates, but… My gunboats were junk, and their sensors were worse.”

“So, we had no idea where they were. Then, six days after they landed, they attacked. From these very mountains, as it turned out.” The irony and disgust in his voice was obvious.

“They knew exactly where my gunboats were, and all the other, few, defenses Kzarch had. And so their very first action was to wipe out them all.”

Though he said nothing, Frank privately sympathized with the older man. To have all his forces wiped out, without accomplishing anything? Without being able to defend his own planet?

He could well imagine how he would feel in a similar situation.

Juan gave a forced shrug.

“After they removed any possible opposition we could mount, as little as it would no doubt been, they proceeded to the governor’s mansion, the center of the planet’s government. They seized it without much trouble, and killed everyone there. Including my uncle the governor.” The guerrilla leader stared broodingly at the table for several moments.

“Once they had accomplished that, they settled themselves in, and began broadcasting their demands that the planet submit to them. And when people didn’t comply fast enough, they killed them. I believe you said you visited High Cliff? Then you know more or less what they did.”

“I, fortunately, hadn’t been in the mansion, when it had been attacked,” Juan continued, backtracking a bit, “-but instead in Newholm. After I realized what had happened; the attack having been so quick that no-one knew much about it until afterwards, I gathered what people I could, what remained of the Kzarch’s military forces, and struck for the mountains.”

“We’ve been here for about the last month, doing what we can. Striking back using guerrilla tactics, spying on the pirates, and so on. Although the pirates have done their best to wipe us out, we’ve been holding on and have had some successes.” The last part was said almost defensively.

“I see, sir. May I ask what you’ve found out about the pirates, their forces composition, leaders, aim?”

Juan snorted.

“Their
aim
seems obvious enough!”

“What is it, then?” The guerrilla stared at him in disbelief.

“Why, to take over the planet, of course!” he finally managed to sputter out.

Although he shouldn’t have been, Frank was actually surprised… that the general believed that.

“Sir, I
highly
doubt it,” he began. “Pirates aren’t- They’re
not
usually would-be conquers. They get into the business for
profit
, not power. Even if this bunch had delusions of grandeur, they
must
know that attempting to conquer a United Federation planet,” Frank managed to keep himself from adding, through a considerable effort of will,
no matter how unimportant
. “-
will
provoke a military response. In fact, that’s why we’re here,” he added, not quite accurately.

“At any rate, if they had wanted to conquer a planet, they would have gone after an independent one. One without the capability to sufficiently defend themselves,
or
to summon help.”

The guerrilla general gave an irritable shrug.

“Then what
are
they here for?”

“That was one of my questions, sir,” Lieutenant Harsmith reminded him. “Along with what their forces’ composition is, and who their leaders are.”

The subtle rebuke drew a frown from General Juan, but he answered, “Very well. Their forces, as far as I’m aware, consist of three spaceships, which they currently have landed near the governor’s mansion, at an air field there. They have als-”

“The ships are designed to land?” Frank interrupted, surprised. It was quite uncommon for spaceships to include landing on a planet as part of their basic duties and design.

“Eh? No, I don’t think so.”

“So then why…?”

“Maybe they just wanted to all be on the planet,” the general suggested, “-or perhaps, they didn’t want to be detected by any passing ship, as they would have been if they remained in space.”

“Well,
maybe
,” frowned the lieutenant. “And what classes are their three ships?”

“Two frigates, and a cruiser.” Frank pursed his lips. The frigates were quite common as pirate ships, and even cruisers weren’t unknown. But to have a pirate group, and indeed, pirates didn’t usually
form
groups, contain two of the former and one of the later?… These were hardly run-of-the-mill pirates.

“I see. And their other forces?”

“Twelve Blastfire gunboats. Somewhere around twenty or so attack shuttles. A few airships. And about three thousand or so pirates.”

“Eleven Blastfires, actually,” the lieutenant corrected. “We destroyed one as we approached the planet.”

“Ah?” The guerrilla general suddenly sat straight. “You have the capability to destroy gunboats?”

“Yes, general. My h-squad, which carries heavy weaponry, can take one out, especially if they catch one by itself. Further, the combined fire of my platoon’s wegs and certainly their exby rifles would take one down.”

“Really? Excellent!” The guerrilla general, having been at the wrong end of a weapons imbalance for the last month, was quite pleased.

“I don’t suppose you could let some of my soldiers…?”

“I’m afraid not, general. We only really have enough weapons for ourselves.” That wasn’t quite true… But regulations strictly forbade the handing out of weapons to anyone other than those approved of by high command. It didn’t really matter much, however. Battlesuit weaponry was only really usable with a battlesuit. “…Plus your troops wouldn’t be able to handle battlesuit weaponry anyway.” The general frowned again, then shrugged.

Before he could say anything more, the lieutenant asked, “And what about their leaders? Or any information on the pirates themselves, like what they call themselves?”

“Well, they don’t really have a name for their group, as far as we know. But we
do
have a name for their leader. Bloody Jack.”

“
Bloody
Jack?”

“That’s what he calls himself. No last name, either.”

The lieutenant thought for a moment, then gave a mental shrug. He had never heard of the pirate before, but maybe one of his Marines had.

“Okay. Anything else?”

The general shrugged.

“Not that I can think of…” he said, grudgingly.

“Then I-”

A man burst through the door.

“General! Sm’ithers team’s been killed!”

“What happened?” he snapped, rising slightly.

“They were coming back from their mission, sir! Then one of the patrolling gunboats noticed ‘em… It fired a missile, sir, and wiped ‘em all out!” The man was almost crying in rage.

Juan himself was near shaking in fury. For the next several minutes, he treated Frank to a long and fierce monologue on the evil of the pirates, and what he’d like to do with them. It took a bit of time before the lieutenant could manage to extract himself.

***

“…And then someone broke in, and said one of the guerrilla squads had been wiped out. I didn’t get anything else useful from him after that. So, what do you think?”

Keeping quiet, McKain thought for a minute.

“…It’s not much more than we already knew,” he finally said, slowly.

“Yeah… Though we do know now what sort of forces the pirates have, and that the pirate captain’s name is Bloody Jack. I wanted to ask you about that. Have you heard of him? Or any of the Marines, perhaps?”

“Actually… One second.” Folding his helmet visor down, McKain spent a few minutes checking something.

“Right. On the current wanted roster there’s a bit of info on him. Bloody Jack -no last name. Head of a group of pirates, on the larger side. No real solid information on them, though. Generally focuses on looting cargo ships. Has been operating for about six or so years. Fairly dangerous; both the crew and he himself. Likes to use a fire-pistol.” The lieutenant had to blink at that. A fire pistol? That was rather odd…

“Is noted for being particularly good at executing operations; he rarely fails to get the target he has his eye on. A good planner, obviously. Nasty; prefers to kill witnesses where practical. Not a scorch the earth type, though.”

“Huh. He sounds like a handful.”

McKain snorted.

“Gift for understatement you got there.”

Harrumphing a chuckle, Frank asked, “Is that it? Does it at least mention what he looks like?”

“Not exactly. There are a lot of differing descriptions. Still, what few pictures and videos I have of him seem to indicate he’s nothing more than average height. Dark hair. Not much else.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him?”

The sergeant hesitated.

“…
Maybe
, sir.”

Frank almost sighed, but caught himself. The situation was only getting better by the minute…

“All right. Share all you got with everyone- and send a copy to me as well. I might as well take a look at the base data.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell everyone to be on their guard. We don’t really know that much about these guerrillas; and there’s no guarantee that the pirates won’t pop up at any moment. And on that issue, try to find out from the guerrillas what their defenses and camouflage are like, and whether they think the pirates can and/or
will
find them.”

“Yes, sir!”

The sergeant saluted and strode away. Still considering the situation, Frank slowly walked on, bending his mind to the problem of figuring out what to do next.

Chapter Five

“Well?” General Juan’s tone was almost sarcastic.

“I’m sorry, sir, but as I said, I needed to consult with my sergeants first.” The lieutenant’s voice was slightly wooden.

“And?”

“They agreed.” Frank left out the part where they did so only under protest.

“Excellent!” The general was now genuinely enthusiastic. “I’ll start organizing the teams immediately! Of course, I’ll leave the selection of your Marines to you.” That last bit came out a trifle condescendingly.

Brushing it off, the lieutenant simply said, “Yes, sir.”

Once the Marines had settled in, the guerrilla general had wanted them to immediately start helping him regain control of the planet. The lieutenant hadn’t been adverse to that, but then the question had arisen on how and what to do.

His Marines had favored using small teams of Marines to launch quick, in-and-out attacks, while the general had insisted on his troops taking part. And it had been further complicated by his insistence that at least one Marine accompany his troops, in order to provide them with the benefits of a battlesuit’s firepower.

But there the sergeants had balked. A squad of battlesuit armored Marines could take on most things, but a single battlesuited Marine was in a far worse position.

While the lieutenant had understood that, he felt that they had to try to accommodate the general’s wishes as well. Further, he honestly doubted how effective a platoon of Marine were going to be by themselves, especially if, as was likely, some squads got caught. If they sent only a Marine or two with a squad of guerrillas, he’d only lose a fairly small portion of his force, if he lost a
squad
of Marines, he’d lose a sixth.

While his sergeants hadn’t appreciated having that fact point out to them, with all the overtones of callousness it carried, they nonetheless had to admit it was a fair point. And McKain had also supported him, which had finally gotten them to agree to it.

Of course, Frank could’ve simply ordered them to do it, without discussing it with them, but as any real commander knew, the trick wasn’t in giving orders, but in making sure that the people carrying out the orders got it done.

Not that they had to be happy about it, though.

Coming back to the present, Frank gestured at the map the general had laid out on the table in front of him.

“Sir, if I may ask, why… Why do you have several squads heading nowhere in particular?”

General Juan grunted.

“Misdirection. If they manage to detect any of the squads, they may chance on one of those. They’ll try to follow them, of course, but the squads’ll keep under enough cover to avoid anything more than an occasional hint to their location. And since they aren’t heading anywhere in particular, I don’t have to worry about them getting caught when they attack something.”

Frank didn’t really get the idea, feeling it seemed redundant at best. Still, he doubt it would hurt either.

“All right. So, your current plan calls for twenty-seven simultaneous missions?” The lieutenant couldn’t keep his tone from sounding dubious.

“Yes. I want the pirates stretched as thin as they can get.”

“Well, I can understand that. But with that many things happening at once… I’m, ah, worried we might get caught out by something, or simply be overwhelmed if the situation breaks down.”

The general shrugged.

“We’ve got small, not particularly well armed groups. Except for your Marines,” he added sourly. “There isn’t much we can do unless we’re willing to take risks. This is just one of them. I’d’ve thought you’d understand that, lieutenant.” The last sentence came out sharply.

Frank stiffened, although it was hardly noticeable in the battlesuit he was wearing.

Then he said carefully, “I do, sir. However, I feel it is my job to make sure every possible problem is examined. Just in case.”

“Hmph.” The general turned away without saying anything further.

Keeping quiet himself, Frank examined the map, while mentally cursing himself. He really should’ve thought before speaking. Though he hadn’t meant it that way, he had ended up sounding overcautious. Of course he
was
rather inexperienced at these sort of things, having only been in the UFM for three years now, and an officer for less than one; so it wasn’t surprising that he’d tend to the cautious side when planning for combat.

But he had had it drilled into him, many times, both in training and in discussions, the old aphorism, ‘he who cannot risk, will not win.’

Pushing his embarrassment to the side of his mind, the lieutenant studied the map, as he considered the plan the general had cooked up. It involved separate attacks, and multiple objectives… which in most military circles would be considered a Bad Idea.

On the other hand, the general had made sure that none of the objectives really depended on each other, and had told Frank that each team had been told to keep completely silent about its mission, so even if a squad got captured, the others could still accomplish their jobs without worrying the captured team would betray them.

The general definitely understands the concept of operational security!
Frank thought, with a mental chuckle, still carefully considering the map.

“Sir,” he said finally, “I think… I’d like to go along, with one of the teams, sir,” he said more formally.

“What?” The general blinked. Then he said, much faster and more emphatically, “
What?!
Absolutely out of the question!”

“Why-”

“You’re the commander of the UFM forces!” Juan snapped. “You
cannot
allow yourself to be put in a dangerous situation without reason!”

“I’m hardly
that
important,” Frank said, suppressing a smile. “Besides, over half my platoon is going to joining your teams. I think my place is with them.”

The general waved his hand in vigorous disagreement.

“But a half of your platoon is
here
! Obviously, you have an obligation to stay where the majority of your platoon is!”

There were several obvious flaws in the general’s argument, but Frank decided to avoid mentioning them.

“I get your point, sir. But still, I think I need to go.”

Over the next minute, General Juan continued to try to dissuade him, but Lieutenant Harsmith held firm.

Finally giving up in disgust, the guerrilla general said, “Fine! Put yourself in front of a bullet; why not?
Which
?” he snapped.

“Sir? Oh. Well, I was thinking of the one that was going on the munitions center strike.”

“
That
one?” The general frowned. “That’s one of the most problematic.”

“Yes, sir. That’s one of the reasons I want to go. In order to be on the spot if something goes wrong.”

Juan eyed the lieutenant.

“Oh, all right,” he finally grunted. “I’ll tell Captain Fil’dwis you’re coming along.”

***

“Captain Fildwis?”

“That’s Captain
Fil
’dwis, actually.” He gave Frank a look-over, as the lieutenant did the same to him. The captain was a trim, tall man, with a rather firm look in the eye. The lieutenant hoped they’d be able to work well together, but he had his doubts, if for no other reason than the other’s rank, which, to Frank’s Marine mindset, was absolutely ridiculous, considering the meager number of troops Fil’dwis had under his command.

There was always rank inflation in militia/planetary-armies, the officers desiring higher rank than what they could actually get. And since the armies usually weren’t too professional and practical minded, there were always ludicrous ranks being awarded, often to the point of insanity. Some militaries would even have ‘generals’ commanding ‘armies’ that were little more than platoons!

Indeed, the captain’s ‘team’ was only the size of two squads worth. Not counting the two Marines and the lieutenant of course. One of the Marines was Sergeant Javer, who had been assigned to the team on the basis that his experience in sneaking and scouting would come in handy, on a mission that was suspected of being likely to turn problematic.

“Well, come along,” the captain finally grunted, “You might as well come and meet my team.”

His ‘team’ as it turned out, looked pretty experienced. Of course, they had spent the last month or so running missions, so it wasn’t surprising. Still, Frank got the feeling the general had assigned one of his best teams to the mission; which, the lieutenant had to admit, was somewhat a comfort.

“Where’s the sergeant?” the captain demanded.

“She said she needed t’go, captain,” one of the team members responded, busy cleaning his weapon.

“One second, ah, lieutenant,” the captain said, searching. “She’ll probably be b- Ah! Sergeant!”

“Sir?” A small woman appeared, weaving around a group of guerrillas. Though other adjectives could be searched for, in honest truth, the best way to describe her was mousy.

“This is Lieutenant Harsmith, of the United Federations Marines. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Ashley Dri’ver.”

“Sir!” She managed to pull herself into a close parody of a formal salute. Frank nodded at her, while wondering why the obviously competent captain had her as a second-in-command.

“Sergeant.”

“Lieutenant, may I ask when your men are coming?” the captain broke in.

“Momentarily. I’m not actually sure what’s holding them. My platoon sergeant said he wanted a word with them, but that shouldn’t have taken too long.”

“Ah? Well, I’m going to get my team ready. Sergeant! Get ‘em moving!”

As the guerrilla team started pulling itself together, Frank scanned around the large open room, where various units were getting ready. Although he saw several Marines, none of them were the ones that had been assigned to Captain Fil’dwis’s team.

Finally, Sergeant Javer and the other Marine appeared.

“Javer! Over here!” the lieutenant called, his voice a trifle impatient. It was hardly proper for professional troops to be ready only after the amateur ones.

“Reporting, sir!” the Marine said, saluting, Javer simply offering a vague wave.

“Good. We’re moving out-” He checked his battlesuit’s clock. “-in four minutes. Captain Fil’dwis,” he gestured at him. “-is in general command. You should have been given the information for the mission already. Any questions?”

“No, sir.” the two chorused

“Good. By the way, what did Sergeant McKain want?” He was slightly curious.

The two Marines looked uncomfortable.

“Nothing… much,” said Javer, finally. “Just to be careful.” Frank eyed the both of them suspiciously, then let the matter drop.

Sergeant Javer, behind his wooden face, was quite glad of that. Actually, the platoon sergeant had spent a several minutes ordering them to take particular care of the lieutenant; and to make sure he got back alive, and
intact.
But Lieutenant Harsmith would hardly have been happy to hear that.

The team got on the move then, heading out of the room, then the base. They were in for quite a walk…

***

Several hours later, the team had reached their destination. Or nearly.

In front of them was a well protected compound, a short way out of the city of Newholm, and not all that far from the governor’s mansion. Which, altogether, meant that they could be detected at any moment.

Working his battlesuit’s sensors, Frank tried to find out what he could from the compound.

He didn’t get much.

“Javer?”

“ECM, sir.” he unnecessarily reported. “Good enough to mess up our sensors.”

“Shit. Well, at least it looks like we’ve managed to get here undetected. Captain?”

“One second.” the captain grunted, still studying the munitions dump. After several seconds, he made a gesture at his second.

“Move ‘em now, sergeant.”

With quick, yet surprisingly harsh orders from the mousy sergeant, the attack team was on the move.

They covered the field in front of the compound without too much trouble, although they had to go slowly. Most of them kept anxiously glancing around, expecting to be discovered at any minute.

“Roger, Jack, over the wall!” Sergeant Dri’ver gestured at the wall in front of them. “Jasey, Hall, help ‘em up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Frank told her, “My sergeant will be able to get us over.”  And indeed, a second later Javer jumped the eight-foot wall. A moment, and then a rope was thrown back over the wall.

Immediately, the guerrillas started going over the wall, with a practiced smoothness. Frank and the other Marine simply jumped right over it, taking flanking positions to guard the arriving guerrillas.

Javer had already handed the rope to some of the incoming troops, and was now reconnoitering forward, moving with the odd, stealthy quickness of a professional scout.