Virtues of War (34 page)

The sounds of the heavy suppressing fire grew steadily louder, and soon they could see the tufts of dirt being torn up by the slugs. Helmet comms told them Lahko’s diversionary fire was working, and that the northern APR was turning more of its attention to the grenade attacks raining down on it. She waited for a break in the radio traffic to jump in and inform the trapped troopers that she was coming.

She stopped short of the end of the building. Quantum-flux revealed several figures inside, quickly assembling a device with long tubes. The image wasn’t clear. She snapped back to regular vision, gesturing to Sakiyama.

I see. Four. There. Take.

They hustled back, then loosed two rounds at the wall. It exploded inward. They charged forward, rifles firing even before they reached the hazy opening.

The inside of the building was choked with debris. There were vague movements through the smoke, and she fired repeatedly. Dozens of miniature explosions created a thunder that overwhelmed the cries of shock and pain.

One man stumbled to his knees in front of her. Quick shot to the chest. There were flashes and cracks of gunfire, and she felt tiny thuds against her torso. Three shots at the flashes. Two booms and the sickening squelch of human impact.

Then she was at the device with the tubes. She pulled off a Cerberan who was slumped over it, bleeding heavily. The device was silver and sickeningly familiar. It was the same missile tubes she’d seen aboard the merchant vessel
Astrid
. The missiles themselves were half-loaded into the tubes, and pointed through the window directly at the pinned-down troopers.

Her jaw clenched. She looked down at the bleeding Cerberan, gasping desperately and trying to raise his hand to stem the flow of blood coming from multiple wounds. But his gaze met hers defiantly.

She shot him in the head.

The missile launcher was activated. Ten more seconds to finish loading and all twenty troopers outside would have been splattered against the wall. That was why the APRs hadn’t advanced. All they’d had to do was keep the troopers from escaping while their Cerberan allies lined up the killing shot.

With Sakiyama covering the room, she looked over the control system. It was absurdly easy to use. It had to be, she supposed, if it was intended for illiterate warlord minions. The system was already locked onto the trapped troopers. She peered through the window and saw the northern APR focusing its fire north toward Lahko, but still dedicating one cannon to suppressing fire.

Turning back, she struggled to lift the last of the missiles into their tubes, swung the device to point at the APR, assigned the new target, and pressed the FIRE ALL button.

She clutched at the side of her helmet and ducked down as the missiles launched through the window with a deafening roar and blinding light. There was an immediate detonation outside. Staggering on all fours for a moment, she grabbed her rifle and rose to a crouch to peek through the shattered window.

The APR was a smashed, smoking wreck.

She motioned for Sakiyama to follow her back through their original hole in the wall. She rounded the corner and waved frantically to the troopers.

“Building fourteen,” she said over the comms. “You’re clear—on me!” Without hesitation the two squads dashed across the open space between buildings. Katja led them back along the deserted avenue.

“Sierra-Two, Alpha-One, building fourteen clear. We are headed for the RV.”

W
ith a force of twenty or more at her back, Katja moved with confidence. Any movement from the buildings—real or perceived—drew fire from her troopers, and a trail of debris littered their passage on both sides. They skirted the open space of the central square and the smoldering remains of the drop ship.

Lahko and the rest of Second Platoon were already at the rendezvous, the lieutenant barking orders as his troopers kicked in the doors of building eleven—a set of three family residences—and set up for their defense. He assigned Katja’s group to guard their flanks, and she gave quick orders to split her troopers into covering pairs.

There was a volley of fire behind her as Lahko’s troopers fired on the advancing APRs, taking down one APR at a time. The machines were brutes, designed to inspire fear in their human opponents, but even they couldn’t withstand a focused, coordinated attack by disciplined troopers. Without the fear, they just became huge, lumbering targets.

A second volley exploded forth just as Katja heard a scratchy voice on the Drop Command circuit.

“Papa-Two, Papa-Two, this is Drop Command. Over.”

“This is Papa-Two,” Katja replied immediately, using the general call sign for the entire platoon. “We are under heavy fire from Alpha-Papa-Romeos. Our drop ship is broken—request immediate fire support and pickup.”

“This is Drop Command—roger. We are under attack and repositioning. No bombardment available. Strike support is engaged in neutralizing hostile aircraft. Two drop ships are en route your position. Fifth Platoon will cover your withdrawal. Over.”

“This is Papa-Two, roger. We will hold position and await retrieval.”

A third volley launched forth behind Katja, followed by a series of explosions. Then cheering.

She turned in surprise, and saw Lahko emerge from the blasted building, smiling triumphantly. “Got the bastards!”

She nodded. “Good work. Your flank is clear.”

He clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Good stuff,” he said. “Thanks, Big K.”

“No worries.”

He patted her shoulder again. “I mean it. Thanks.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Welcome to the shit, Lieutenant.”

He laughed awkwardly. She could sense his unease, even without seeing his eyes. But, to his credit, he didn’t slip in his role as platoon leader.

“Second Platoon, listen up!” he said over the comms. “We’ve neutralized the immediate threat, but we are still in hostile territory. And we have a mission to complete. Drop ships are en route for pickup. Before then we will search building ten for evidence to take back. And we’ll gather our dead.”

He gave specific orders to each of his five squads. Alpha Team was tasked to search building ten. Katja was relieved to see all four of her troopers muster on her. They doubled it down the main avenue again, past the burning drop ship and five dead APRs. The buildings were smashed and battered, the air thick with smoke and dust.

At the Astral College Katja had studied several ground engagements from the Dog Watch, and this was exactly what Sirius in those days had looked like. Every world a war zone, every town a battlefield.

Looking at the destruction now, all she felt was anger. Anger at these stupid people for throwing their lives away in pointless wars. Anger at the Centauris for encouraging and arming them. Anger that a lunatic like Thapa was allowed to thrive in this environment, and destroy any hope for peace. And perhaps most of all, anger that she hadn’t recognized him for what he was the first time they’d met, and shot him dead then.

She couldn’t wait to be off this fucked-up planet.

Comms indicated the approach of the new drop ships. She and her troopers were just wading into the wreckage of building ten when the ships touched down outside. The first one opened its doors and disgorged the troopers of Fifth Platoon, who immediately spread out in a textbook covering pattern. Sublieutenant Wei was close behind, no doubt eager for his first taste of action. The second ship was empty, except for a medical team who immediately began helping to load the casualties on board.

Katja turned to the innards of building ten, and her mission.

The building had been designed as a storage garage for large Cerberan farming equipment, but it quickly became apparent that it had been altered some time ago. Centauri maintenance equipment lined the high walls. An APR lay in its component parts next to an assembly station. The black curtain that had obscured all this from view still hung, and Katja quickly tested her quantum-flux against it. It was opaque, and a quick glance around the garage revealed that the entire building was somehow clouded with the same obscuring quality.

This wasn’t an accidental weapons depot. Centauria had invested serious time and resources here.

“Alpha-One, Alpha-Two!”

Katja looked over at Chang, and noted with interest that he and Sakiyama were holding a man between them. He looked to be of European descent, dressed in simple, light gray coveralls.

She strode over. “Who’s this?”

“We found him hiding in this floor compartment,” Chang said, gesturing. “He hasn’t said much, though.”

Katja produced her DNA-testing device and rammed it against his neck. He winced. After a moment she examined the readout, and smiled.

“Alpha-Two, load this Centauri prisoner onto the drop ship.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Katja snapped a few still shots of the converted garage. Alayan and Cohen reported moments later that there were no other hidden compartments.

“We got what we came for,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

As she emerged into the bright sunlight again, Katja listened on her circuit to a report of the aerial battle to the south. More strike fighters had been deployed to join the fray, and Drop Command was itching for the troopers to get off the ground. She glanced upward, but couldn’t see any flashes that revealed the orbital battle.

Lahko began gathering his platoon into the new drop ship. Katja ordered her team to board as well. She passed Sublieutenant Wei.

“Good to see you, Hu,” she said. “First time in the dirt?”

He looked around, eager for a target to shoot, for a story to take home to his buddies from strike training.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry we missed the action.”

She bit down a retort. She would have felt the same when she was a subbie.

His head rose slightly, and she realized he was looking past her. “Is that one of ours?”

Katja turned to look. It took her a moment to realize that he was looking in the air, and she saw a dark shape approaching low over the greenhouses.

She sprang into action.

“Take cover!” she shouted. “Air attack!”

Flashes lit up the wings of the enemy craft as it bore down on the gathering platoons. Katja threw herself into the shelter of building ten as twin lines of slugs came slamming down into the compound. The turrets of the drop ships blazed to life in response.

Sublieutenant Wei stood frozen in place. Then, to her horror, he raised his rifle and started firing at the plane. A single slug punched through his body armor and knocked him flying backward. As the enemy shot past, his body hit the ground in a bloody heap.

Katja scanned the sky for a second attack. Seeing it was clear, she ran for the safety of her drop ship. It was fully loaded, and ready for liftoff. Fifth Platoon, however, were still spread out in a protective circle and fully exposed to another strafing run.

“Sierra-Two, Alpha-One—lift off. I’m going with Papa-Five.”

Without even waiting for Lahko’s response, she crouched down by Wei’s body, tore off his helmet, tore off her own, and slammed his down on her head.

“All units, Sierra-Five,” she said over Fifth Platoon’s unique circuit. “Withdraw! Withdraw!”

She grabbed Wei by the shoulders and dragged him up the ramp. Troopers came running and helped her lift his body in.

Ignoring the startled expressions, she surveyed the rapidly filling aft compartment. She noticed one of the sergeants and grabbed his arm. “Wei’s dead. I’m Lieutenant Emmes, taking command. Tell me when everyone’s on board.”

To his credit, the sergeant accepted her words with little more than a moment’s pause. “Yes, ma’am.”

She reached the cockpit and strapped in. Through the windows she saw Lahko’s drop ship lift off.

Both platoon sergeants came forward and took their seats on either side of her. The one she’d spoken to reported, “Fifth Platoon aboard. All personnel, plus four supers.”

As the drop ship pushed up into the sky, she looked over at the sergeant. “Four supernumeraries?”

He nodded. “Chang, Sakiyama, Alayan, Cohen. Are they with us?”

She smiled. “They’re with me.”

Her smile hardened to a grimace as the drop ship jinked right. Her stomach hit her throat and she bit down hard as the ship rolled left and dove. Through the windows she saw a not-too-distant explosion.

“We’re under fire!” one of the pilots said.

Another explosion shook her seat. Shockwave only.

“Drop Command,” she said over the comms. “This is Papa-Five, airborne. We are under fire.”

“Drop Command, roger.”
The voice at the other end of the radio was no longer calm. Katja went cold. The orbital battle must not have been going well.

One pilot was shouting instructions. Both struggled with their controls. Through the windows, Katja could see a forest of explosions in the air all around them. Anti-aircraft flak. Primitive, but damned effective. Fill the sky with explosions and sooner or later your target flies into one of them.

“All units, Alpha-One,” she said on the platoon freq. “We are withdrawing under heavy ground fire.
Normandy
is under attack. Stand by for a rough ride.”

It was hard to tell if they were climbing. The drop ship was jinking left and right, and seemed to be diving under explosions a lot. Shockwaves rocked them every few seconds.

A deafening crack assaulted her ears as her seat slammed up into her body. She grunted and shut her eyes at the pain. Her head swam as she was thrown to the left.

She dimly heard one of the pilots screaming.

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Papa-Five hit! We’re going down! We’re going down!”

She was jolted suddenly, and felt her mind clear. She looked back over her shoulder and saw a huge buckle in the port-side hull. The sergeant next to her was slumped back in his seat. Both pilots were fighting their controls. Through the window, she could see the familiar, hated red of the Cerberan surface getting closer and closer.

“All units,” she shouted into the comms. “Stand by for emergency landing in hostile territory!”