Salvation: The Globur Incursion Book 7, page 14
“Are you kidding?” Brown finally burst out. “This can’t, can not be fucking serious! A defensive posture? I was defending my engineering space when I lost this!” Brown exclaimed, slapping his artificial leg.
“It gets worse,” Simmons said flatly. “The Senate has been receiving these confidential reports from Senator Alexander, and they are concerned. The reports stress that we are keeping secrets and that the Fleet is only loyal to the Fleet, not the empire.”
“That is ridiculous!” Brown stormed, his face growing red. “We take an oath to the empire. We have sacrificed -”
“I know, Marvin,” Simmons replied calmly, having anticipated the reaction. “That is why I didn’t tell you what’s happening now, right up front.”
“What is happening now?” Brown asked, wrestling his anger down.
Simmons downed the last of his scotch. “The Senate has given additional powers to the Alexander’s delegation. They can go anywhere and see anything—at this facility. I have them shadowed, of course. They don’t like it and accuse me of interfering with Senate business. It is true we are keeping secrets. We aren’t allowed to disclose what is actually going on with the Globur on the rim, but that is the Senate’s secret we keep for them.” Simmons shook his head. “Talk about right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing,” he muttered. “Anyway, the Senate wants to get to the bottom of what they call a ‘loyalty misalignment.’ There’s already talk of having oversight on all Fleet facilities—sound familiar? The senator’s delegation has begun selecting people, seemingly at random, for a review. They review everything about that person and then interview – interrogate - them. The outcome is a loyalty rating for that person. There have been cases where they have simply detained people.”
Brown grunted in disgust. “Sounds like an inquisition.”
“Indeed,” Simmons agreed. “Right now, it’s only happening here, but Senator Alexander likes to talk. He talks about every Fleet facility having a loyalty rating so the Senate can judge their reliability and what is needed to keep the loyalty rating to the empire high.”
“Now there is a Fleet task force in orbit,” Brown put the pieces together. “The senator will want to try and extend his powers to everything here. Including my task force.”
Simmons sighed. “That’s the problem. Until now, ships have been sacrosanct. I cannot refuse a reasonable request from a senator, given the mandate on this base. Technically you are not under my command, but the senator would argue that you are, at least while you are here at this base. You may run into serious problems if you lock horns with the senator. He will eviscerate you—it is a golden opportunity for the Senate. You have already been vilified by the PFP. You are the perfect target.”
“You have a plan,” stated Brown flatly.
“Indeed I do, Marvin, indeed I do.” Simmons smiled. “That leg wound looks nasty. I suggest that you get to medical and get into a tank to get the healing process underway. But,” Simmons held up a finger, “before you go, you need to give some instructions to your task force.”
Brown chuckled. “With me in a tank, those instructions will stand until I rescind them, or Vice Admiral Stukov countermands them. No senator can interact below the flag level.”
“Yes. You wouldn’t want to interfere with a Senate operation, but your ships must be secured. Perhaps there still may be aliens on the ships? In the heavily damaged sections? It can be hard to fully clear them. We have seen that before. If those Globur were able to betray the location of Gateway, that would be catastrophic.”
Brown’s forehead creased in concern. “What about repairs? My ships need repairs. Wallachia is bound for radical upgrades.”
Simmons smiled widely. “I have taken care of that. The shipyard has grown so large, we have room to give it a unit designation separate from Gateway. The shipyard should be its own unit within the Fleet. Stukov agreed. So we stood up the new unit, apart from Gateway. So, the Senate delegation has no business there. Don’t you love bureaucracy? Besides, I’m sure that you would assign Marines to keep the workers safe…and everyone else out?”
“Why yes,” agreed Brown. “That makes perfect bureaucratic sense. It pains me to think that I will have to put this all on Captain Kallow’s shoulders. However, he is an entirely trustworthy and capable officer. What about when I get out of the tank? What then?”
Simmons shook his head. “Not sure about that yet. We need time to really see what these bastards are up to. You can legitimately claim they have no jurisdiction over your task force, but that will be a hell of a fight. Given your notoriety, things will turn ugly fast. Removing you from the equation for now and keeping your ships out of this is our best play. For now. The alternative…”
“Is having political officers aboard my ships. And loyalty tests. My people have been through enough,” Brown said bitterly. “I won’t allow this to happen. We came here for repairs and to mourn our dead, not to load up on some twisted ideology. The ramifications here are terrifying.”
“I need you to get to the medbay,” Simmons said pointedly. “I have already received seven demands via link to see the senator immediately. His quarters are not far, but the fat bastard would never lower himself to come to me. I will have the doctor play up the seriousness of your wounds, and he will get you in a tank right away—after you talk to Captain Kallow.”
Simmons rose from his chair. “When you wake up, Marvin, we will have a plan. You aren’t running from the fight. You’re buying us time, helping us shore up a redoubt. We will keep these bastards off your ships and away from your crew. Unfortunately, that means no shore leave, but I am sure your crew will understand. Fleet headquarters understands what is at stake here.”
Brown stood up and offered his hand. Simmons shook it. “I still hate to sit this out, but you’re right. It’s the smart play.” Brown sighed. “I am sick to death of the PFP lies and propaganda. We need to expose them for the extremist zealots that they are.”
Brown stood and downed the last of his scotch. “Keep my task force safe.”
“You have my word on that, Marvin,” Simmons replied. “Now, time is short. Thank you for agreeing to help.”
“There is not much choice,” Brown shot back as he headed for the hatch. “I took an oath.”
Chapter 16
The flash and incandescent trail of projectiles was quickly followed by the distinct crackling boom of orbital kinetic strikes. Sanderson watched as the entire division moved forward. The plan to take the spaceport was one Marines liked. It fit their new creed - speed and violence. Marine suits were fast, and command of orbital space meant the Globur could not even organize their shuttles to land on the Marine flanks. In addition, Marine umbrellas were all active, and the marines carried hammys for close range engagements of air targets. Or anything else that needed a hypervelocity missile.
The companies advanced and left open lanes between them. The Khanians, led by their governor, ripped past in grav cars, each with a driver and a gunner. Marines could have ridden in them as well for the extra boost of speed. They all knew that the cars made an excellent target, so no one had been enthusiastic. This was the first deployment of the ground combat vehicles against the Globur, and no one really knew what a hit would do to them or how the Globur would react to them.
Pilots manipulated the cars’ antigrav fields to let them fly along at whatever altitude they wanted. They could also manipulate the field to create traction to stop the car from sliding.
As planned, the Khanians rushed forward to secure the warehouses full of people before moving ahead to secure the spaceport. When they had secured the spaceport, the other two brigades of Marines could land. Once reinforced the division could start thinking about securing the rest of the city and turning their attention to the largest enemy concentration, which appeared to be on the north side of the river around the governor’s palace.
The patrols sent out had identified some additional warehouses but had not encountered any Globur. That was an ominous sign. Sanderson had expected they would be under relentless attack instead of being left to try and probe their way through an empty city. The Globur had taken grievous losses both after the Marines had destroyed their initial force and when they were caught on the plain by the orbital strikes soon after that. The heavy Globur casualties on the outskirts of Ulaan must be thinning their numbers. At least everyone hoped so.
Clouds of debris mushroomed up from the ground far ahead, like clusters of toadstools, as the kinetic strikes destroyed the buildings around the identified warehouses. The noise from all the strikes arrived and washed out the audio pickups on Sanderson’s suit, giving him enough warning. “Ground,” he ordered over the company channel, and all the Marines slid behind a building or knelt and drove their free hand into the ground while they dug in their toes. The blast waves hit like a rolling surf.
The strikes had been precise using a lower yield and causing milder shock waves. The strikes were intended to leave the warehouses containing the humans standing, but they still kicked up a lot of dirt and dust. The blast waves passed quickly, and James ordered the company to keep moving towards their objective.
Their primary objective was the spaceport, but they had secondaries along the way. The first warehouse that Sanderson’s patrol had discovered was theirs to secure. It had taken hours to reach it on patrol, much less than that now stealth was less important than speed. The entire Marine division flowed along streets, alert for the enemy as the grav cars sped ahead.
Sanderson could already hear the staccato crack of heavy laser bolts as the forward elements in the grav cars engaged the Globur that had survived the orbital strikes. No one had encountered any significant resistance so far, but every street looked like an ambush. The Marines would have difficulty using direct-fire weapons to support any formation pinned down on a street or the boulevard. They raced past the empty buildings as the noise from the heavy lasers mounted on the grav cars got closer.
The local jamming was still up, so contact with the forward elements would be sporadic. The jamming had let up some and comms were better, the Marines still relied on line-of-sight comms among themselves.
Sanderson’s AI picked up some grav cars ahead, racing onto a side street with their lasers spitting fire at targets lost in the haze ahead. The dust in the air from the orbital strikes played havoc with visibility. His other scanners gave him a limited picture, but the grav cars had definitely been heading to their secondary objective.
James pushed a map to all of the company showing the approach to the warehouse. They would come in from three sides, converging on the warehouse. Sanderson stayed with first platoon as they made their approach. Two grav cars shot out into the street. “It’s all clear for you Marines,” came over the comm as they raced by.
One of the grav cars was smeared in the purple ochre of Globur guts all down one side and definitely looked worse for wear. They both swerved around the corner and were gone. Alpha Company arrived at the warehouse. The buildings around it had been flattened. The warehouse had taken only minor damage. Several large Globur carcasses lay around the warehouse. They had apparently been lying in shallow dugouts covered by earth and had risen out of them to find themselves hammered by the heavy lasers of the grav cars. One of the grav cars was still there, a smoking wreck that had rammed into a building after smearing one of the large Globur across the ground. There were no life signs from the vehicle.
The Marines quickly skirted around the warehouse, and Sanderson met James at the main entrance. Two Marines waited by the door. James gave the signal, and the door slid open.
The Marines stood rooted to the spot. The entire opening was filled with a rose-colored gelatinous mass. It did not flow out but held its shape, like a malignant jelly mold. The mass was translucent, and shapes could clearly be seen deep inside.
“Lights!” James ordered, and everyone hit their suit lights, shining them into the mass. Humanoid shapes were densely packed inside. Sanderson stepped up and pushed his hand against what appeared to be an orifice on the translucent wall. He was shocked when the gel flowed over his hand and started to undulate to pull his arm further inside. He dug in his boots and braced himself, but still it dragged him forward.
Two Marines grabbed onto his suit and pulled him out with a loud slurping noise. “Damn, Skipper, I think it likes me!” Sanderson growled.
“I guess we know how people get into the stuff,” James deadpanned.
“Yeah, but how do we get them out?” Sanderson thought aloud.
“This is a secondary objective,” James said as she surveyed the area. “Good fields of fire. Third platoon! Get on the roof. Keep the site secure. You might be able to raise us on satellite comms when we are at the spaceport. If you get heavy contact, withdraw to the spaceport.”
Third platoon used their jump jets and grav fields to hop up the 50 feet to the facility roof. The heavy lasers would be set up on three of the four corners of the roof. With the buildings around leveled, there was a clear field of fire for over 300 meters. Point-blank range for laser bolts. The platoon also carried hammys, which had proven useful at taking out Globur beam sleds or the large Globur themselves.
It just depended on how badly the Globur wanted the warehouse back. Judging from the limbs sticking out of the building rubble, the site had been heavily guarded.
The second salvo of kinetic strikes went in around the other warehouses, and the jamming was stepped down again. Sanderson and Alpha Company moved out towards their objective. So far, resistance had been light. Some of the other companies had encountered pockets of Globur, but nothing serious.
They had only just begun to settle into the rhythm of their run for the spaceport when James called a halt. Sanderson moved to her position, and he could see why. According to the scanners, there were a small number of Globur in one of the buildings ahead.
“Looks like a dozen or so,” James said over the comm. “Damned if I know what they are doing.”
Sanderson stepped up the power on his scanners, switching to a higher-power active mode so he could get a better indication. He scanned the ground between them and the building, remembering the trench that had opened up in the previous attack. “Looks like maybe some survivors from the orbital strike, Skipper. I don’t see any trenches. I don’t think so few would be a trap.”
“The colonel wants prisoners,” James said with resignation.
“Hey, Skipper, I know—but really?” Sanderson shot back while spreading his armored hands wide. “We storm in there, and we could take some casualties. Besides, how do you take a Globur prisoner?”
“You do it with great difficulty, Sanderson. I thought you knew that,” James shot back.
“Maybe we wound them first, right?” Sanderson quipped. “Skipper, they might die later, but we could probably bag a few, right? We go in hard. Maybe a couple survive.”
“Worth a shot,” agreed James. “No hero shit.”
“No hero shit, Skipper. I promise,” Sanderson said solemnly.
“Let’s get it done,” James ordered.
“Engers,” Sanderson barked at his second platoon sergeant. “Pull a squad. We are going hunting.”
Alpha Company paused and then began to take up positions to cover Sanderson’s squad. James positioned them to ensure they would not be taken by surprise from any side, including underground.
Engers acknowledged over the com and was there in less than a minute with a squad in tow. He pinged Sanderson on a private channel. “What are we up to this time, Sanderson?” Engers asked, sounding like he would hate the answer.
“We have been selected for a mission of highest importance,” Sanderson started.
“Yeah, and I’m on a picnic.” Engers sighed. “What kind of shit are we into this time?”
“Colonel wants prisoners,” Sanderson explained. “Small group of Globur in that building. We might get lucky.”
“Sounds like a shit assignment,” Engers said aloofly.
“It is,” Sanderson agreed. “That’s why I called you. All the people good at this are busy. Don’t get too upset. We go in hard. Maybe we get a survivor or two, right?”
“Starting to sound like a plan,” Engers replied. “Grenades, bolts, and blades?”
“In that order,” replied Sanderson. “Standard sweep and clear.”
Sanderson tagged the squad and brought them into the channel. “Alright, Marines. We are going to take out that little nest of Globur. After we shoot some grenades in there and spray the room, there might be some wounded Globur left over. Be alert because we want some prisoners. Yes, you heard me right! We don’t often see them in such small groups, so this is our chance. Do not take any risks. They tend to thrash around a bit when they’re wounded. So use your blades if you have to and take off the limb. We need to get at least one alive. Understand?”
A chorus of affirmative and colorful language flowed. “Do not take any unnecessary risks,” Sanderson stressed. “No prisoners, no problem. This is an opportunity, and we need to try. But I do not want a single casualty. If we can bag a wounded Globur, we need to try. Easier to bag if they have no arms. Let’s move.”
The Marines followed Sanderson as he led the way to the entrance for the building. They could see much of the area from their vantage point. Sanderson took the squad in further down the street so they would not be seen by the Globur, currently on the second floor, near the end of the building. The Marines were inside quickly and carefully ascended the emergency stairs at the end of the building furthest away from the Globur. Twelve Marines in two-ton suits tended to make the floor shake a bit.
The second floor was a long hallway to the midpoint of the building where the lifts were located, and then another long hallway with the Globur located near the end on the right. The squad ghostwalked down the corridor, staying as silent as possible.
They approached the door. It was obvious which one. It was bent and clawed. The Marines lined up on either side of the door with their assault rifles ready. The two lead Marines waited for the signal.
