Echoes of War Box Set, page 99
part #1 of Echoes of War Series
“Uh, I’m back at the FOB, Colonel. About to head back toward the front.”
“Who gave you authorization to leave your team?”
“I was carrying a wounded man back, sir. He was going to die without medical attention.”
“You yellow-bellied coward!” Calvin shouted, causing pain in Kenneth’s eardrum. “Get your ass back to the fight, or I’ll see you court-martialed myself.”
“Sir…”
“Shut up and move!”
At that moment, the events of the last hour caught up with Kenneth. He sank to his knees, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. What if Demood is right? What if I am a coward? What if I’m running away from the fight and trying to make myself feel better? he considered, dark thoughts cascading through his mind like driving rain.
Alone, vulnerable, he remembered back to his own experiences in boot camp and in particular, one drill instructor who was relentless, even when Kenneth had expended everything he had. “Don’t you dare think about quitting!” he would say. “You don’t quit! Whenever you quit at anything, you build on a muscle within your mind that allows you to quit. Never do it! Once you do, you’ll quit at everything, whenever the going gets tough.”
That drill instructor’s attitude and determination had helped him get through boot camp and shaped his character for the rest of his life up until now. I can’t quit. I can’t leave my friends, no matter what Demood says, Kenneth thought as he forced himself to his feet and took off at a jog down the passageway, back toward the fight.
35
The scene outside of the control room for Unity Station was one of slightly controlled chaos. TCMC forces had pushed up to form a pincer around the single point of entry to their objective, while what was left of the station’s security contingent and the League Marines staged a last stubborn stand. Bullets whizzed around Calvin as he stood behind the first line of Marines. Damn, that was close, he thought as his HUD warned him of a round traveling within an inch of his helmet.
“Where’s that heavy gauss machine gun, Master Guns?” Calvin shouted into his commlink, directed toward his senior enlisted Marine, Reuben Menahem.
“One damn minute, Colonel!”
“Well, hurry it up. We’re getting creamed up here!” Calvin shouted back as another Marine in front of him collapsed, the victim of repeated League shots to his center mass. “Corpsman!”
“Press them, Marines! Keep firing!” Calvin yelled, bringing up his battle rifle and sighting down on the nearest Leaguer he could see with the advanced optics. Squeezing the trigger, he was rewarded with the enemy pitching backward, the man’s rifle falling away. Once on the deck, he didn’t move.
“Colonel, perhaps we should think about pulling back to dress our lines and bring up additional heavy weapons?” Menahem asked through the commlink.
“You want to retreat, Master Guns?” Calvin replied, surprised that it was even suggested.
“If you want to call it that, sir.”
“Retreat? Hell, Master Guns, we just got here!”
“Yes, sir!”
While Calvin waited for Menahem and the heavy weapons to arrive, he and the rest of the Marines engaged the enemy. League troops fell like bowling pins while more of his troops than he’d care to admit were wounded or killed by hostile fire. As both forces thinned out, rough barricades were erected, at times out of bodies of the fallen, behind which both sides hunkered down and attempted to suppress one other. It was a blood bath for all involved; no quarter was asked nor given.
Finally, Menahem and the two other Marines that carried the heavy gauss machine gun rounded the corner; to Calvin’s relief, it was already loaded and they were pushing it into the field of fire.
“Marines, flatten!” Calvin shouted into his commlink, directed at both sides of his assault force. Instantly, the TCMC force pressed down onto the deck, leaving a clear firing lane.
Menahem held down the firing studs on the massive gun, holding on as it sent giant slugs down the corridor. A cousin of the ship-mounted magnetic cannon, it fired far faster and used electromagnetism to propel projectiles down its barrel. The resulting carnage was like a hot knife going through butter; Leaguers were cut down right and left as the barrage continued.
There’s a point at which every man and woman can’t take any more hell. Calvin momentarily pitied the League force as they tried in vain to return fire, only to be slaughtered all the more the instant someone raised their head above whatever makeshift cover they had access to. With no more targets, Menahem let go of the firing studs, and the passageway was suddenly quiet.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” a panicked voice from the League side yelled. “Please, allow us to surrender.”
“Any tricks, we’ll kill you all,” Calvin replied, a hard edge to his voice. “Any at all. Are we clear?”
“We’re clear, Terran.”
“Toss all your weapons out in the open, then put your hands over your heads and walk out, single file.”
All at once, dozens of League rifles and sidearms were flung away; they landed all over the corridor. They’ve lost the will to fight. The first Leaguer stood up with his hands behind his head and walked toward their lines. Calvin immediately knew they’d won. It took a while for all of the prisoners to be herded toward the rear, where a security detail kept watch on them. Finally, he stood before the reinforced doors to the control room. “This cost us way too damn much.”
“Yeah, but it's ours, and we’re not leaving,” Menahem replied, stepping up next to him. “You got some friends that just arrived,” he continued, pointing to a group of people in combat armor, led by Lieutenant Taylor.
“Late to the party, Lieutenant?” Calvin needled.
“Better late than never, sir,” Taylor cheerfully replied.
“How’d you guys do?”
“Lost some friends. Leaguers lost more,” Taylor said, his face set in a hard look. “We ready to blow this door, kill these assholes, and go home?”
Calvin smirked and laughed. “You hear that, Master Guns? This soft fleet officer has some fight in him. I like it. Damn straight, skippy. I want this door rigged to blow five minutes ago.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Menahem answered, and directed the breach team forward. They placed explosive charges around the edges of the sealed door, linking them together with a remote detonator, which was handed to Menahem, who in turn passed it to Calvin. “Thinking you’d like the honors, sir.”
“Clear the area!” Calvin shouted as everyone took cover a safe distance away. “Fire in the hole!”
A monstrous explosion shook Calvin’s power armor, and the blast wave knocked over anyone who was standing nearby and not accustomed to such combat. As the smoke cleared, he could see where the door once stood, there was now a gaping hole. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the plan. We’ll volley pulse grenades into that room, charge through, and fire at will on anything that resists. Any questions?”
“Which one’s Will?” someone shouted.
“Anyone wearing a League uniform, smartass!”
“Hoorah!” various Marines shouted out.
“Pulse grenades, over,” Calvin screamed at the top of his lungs; Marines tossed half a dozen of the personnel suppression devices through the opening while enemy fire poured out, smacking the walls with ricochets. The second the pulse grenades went off, they charged into the control room. Calvin was the sixth man in, and Taylor was close behind. Stunned League security personnel tried to get their weapons up and were cut down by precise fire from the Terrans.
Calvin personally dispatched two League officers that drew sidearms on him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taylor shoot another one in the chest when he tried to pull a knife. It took a few minutes, but in short order, any armed personnel were killed or wounded, and everyone else surrendered. As more Terran Coalition troops poured into the control center, he allowed himself to relax for a moment; victory was achieved.
Amir absent-mindedly checked his oxygen readout for what had to be the five hundredth time; it still showed above fifty-percent reserves and hadn’t changed since he’d verified it last, about thirty seconds ago. This waiting is worse than death. Almost serene, he had a view few others would ever get of an epic battle between large opposing fleets; even with the limited optic range of his HUD, he’d been watching allied and League ships go at it for the last two hours. As the battle had moved away from his location, it had become safe enough for the fleet to send in search and rescue craft, escorted by limited amounts of fighters. Still linked into the CDF’s tactical network, he’d followed the performance of his squadrons and was pleased they’d, for the most part, achieved superiority in local space except for around Unity itself.
“This is SAR bird nineteen to Colonel Amir, come in,” a new voice said from within his helmet.
“SAR nineteen, this is Colonel Amir.”
“We’ve got a clear signal from you, and all pilots we can get to in this area have been picked up, per your orders, sir. Any objection to going home?”
“None at all,” Amir said. Insisting they get the rest of the pilots first was the hardest order I’ve ever given. Out here, alone and exposed to the vacuum of space is the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes, Colonel. Hang tight.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Amir deadpanned in return.
The first indication that something was wrong was the flare of an engine from an icon marked on his HUD as a disabled League fighter. It zoomed off, Amir unable to track its movements against the blackness of space.
“This is SAR nineteen declaring an emergency! We’ve got a hostile heading straight for us. Request any friendly fighters to engage!” Allah protect them. “Colonel, we may have to double back for you,” the voice continued.
“Take whatever action you deem as necessary.”
“SAR nineteen, this is Black Cat One. I read you loud and clear. ETA in three minutes at max burn. Come to heading 067, and you’ll be aiming right at me.”
Amir instantly recognized the voice of Major Richard Hume, his XO. “Major, do not deviate from mission to assist. Capture of the station remains the utmost priority.”
“Colonel, I’m coming alone. Would you quit being so stubborn? I’m trying to save your life.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Amir said. “I don’t want the death of another friend on my conscience.”
“I didn’t realize we were friends, yet,” Hume replied cheerfully. “Hang in there. After the day we’ve had, one League fighter isn’t getting between you and rescue if I have anything to do with it.”
“Thank you.” Amir floated and waited, his mind drifting to his wife and children; wondering if he would ever see them again, he prayed to Allah for deliverance. About the time he finished his prayer, there was a small, bright explosion.
“Major, are you okay?” Amir asked on the commlink, fearing the worst.
“I’m fine, sir. Splash one bandit! SAR nineteen, I’ll fly cover as you recover the Colonel,” Hume answered after a pause that caused Amir’s heart to skip a few beats.
Realizing that today was not the day he was to die left Amir unsettled as he looked out into space; the pleadings of his wife to retire and return to her and their children were at the forefront of his thoughts. Perhaps it’s time to hang up my wings, he pondered as the Jolly Green swooped into view.
The Marines and what was left of Captain Singh’s commandos lined the League prisoners up, hands on top of their heads, with super dense polymer flex-cuffs on each one’s wrist to ensure they were immobilized. Calvin stepped forward, looking down at the rough-looking lot, and cleared his throat. “Who’s the ranking officer here?”
A middle-aged woman with striking features and olive skin spoke up. “Fleet Captain Astrid Monet, League Navy. Serial Number 3613695AF3.”
Calvin strode over to her and nodded to the Marine guard behind her, who roughly lifted her to her feet. “Captain Monet,” he began with mock politeness, “I am Colonel Calvin Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps, at your service.”
Astrid looked at Calvin, her eyes flashing hatred. “Then get off my station with your fanatical horde.”
Calvin laughed. “No can do. You see, we’re kicking your rear ends all the way back to Earth. This is just a waypoint. Where’s Admiral Seville?”
“Fleet Captain Astrid Monet, League Navy. Serial Number 3613695AF3.”
“Think you’re going to get away with that?” Calvin asked her in a haughty tone.
“I know all about your Terran Coalition rules. You can’t force me to answer you,” Astrid replied smugly.
“Is that a fact?”
“It’s well known the Terran Coalition doesn’t like to get its hands dirty.”
Calvin smoothly pulled out the sidearm that rested on his leg, racking the action as he raised the weapon, and put it up against Astrid’s temple. “Care to tell me again I won’t get my hands dirty, Captain?”
Astrid laughed in his face. “You’re bluffing.”
“Give me the security codes to this station.”
“No.”
“Do it, or I’ll blow your brains out, right here, right now.”
“If you do, it will accomplish nothing. You won’t have the code.”
“I’m sure one of your officers will give it up after seeing your brains sloshing around on the floor,” Calvin replied, his voice hard and his eyes narrow.
“I’m the only one left alive in this room with the entire access code, Colonel. The League takes security precautions very seriously… you killed my executive officer and our morale officer during the assault on this control center,” Astrid fired back, showing absolutely no fear at the gun pressed against her head.
Calvin jerked up the gun as Astrid smirked. The fleet is in trouble. It doesn’t do any good if I can’t turn this station’s weapons against the enemy ships out there. All the sacrifice of my Marines will be for nothing. Screw that and screw these Leaguers. Looking at the line of League officers, he picked out the one with the next highest rank, a lieutenant commander. “Well, Captain, if your life is of no value, perhaps your officers are.” Setting the gun to the forehead of the man, who started to shake, he glanced back to Astrid. “Give me the code, or he dies.”
“You’re still bluffing, Colonel,” came Astrid’s tight-lipped response.
Without hesitation, Calvin lowered the pistol, aimed at the Leaguer’s right knee, and pulled the trigger. The report of the weapon firing was like a thunderclap in the confines of the control room. A split second later, he fired into the left knee. The man collapsed, screaming in agony. He turned to stare at Astrid, whose face had turned ashen, her mouth agape. “That look like a bluff to you, Captain?”
“You’re a butcher,” Astrid stammered.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about who’s a butcher, you sorry sack of shit! You Leaguers have been killing us for nearly thirty years. You invade our planets, massacre men, women, and children. You’ve killed thousands of the men and women under my command. Screw you, and screw your precious League!” Calvin put the pistol the forehead of the man as he writhed on the deck. “Code, now!”
“Never!” Astrid shouted. “I don’t care what you do, I’ll never give up the code and let you destroy our fleet. That’s bigger than any of us. Do your worst, Coalition!”
Calvin’s finger rested on the trigger, hesitating. Something deep within him wouldn’t let him squeeze, as much as he wanted to. He adjusted his aim to the right and fired a round an inch from the Leaguer’s head that pinged off the deck plate. “Next shot goes in his brain, Captain Monet. You got the balls to watch me kill him, then your entire crew? You’ll be the last one here, and I’ll kill you too.”
A tear ran down Astrid’s cheek. “We serve the League. I will not give you the code. Kill us all. It doesn’t matter.”
Menahem forced his way over to Calvin and whispered loudly in his ear, “Colonel, what the hell are you doing? You can’t torture prisoners of war or threaten to kill them!”
Calvin stared at Menahem with a look of pure hatred. “I’ll do anything I damn well please with these scum, Master Guns. Stand aside.”
“I can’t allow this, sir. Aside from the fact it’s against the law, it’s wrong, sir! We’re better than this.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Master Guns,” Calvin said after a moment. “Where're the environmental controls for the life support on this tub?” The only way to get through to them is to threaten to kill them all.
Taylor pointed to a group of consoles and displays. “Here, sir.”
“Excellent, Lieutenant. Isolate the decks the League controls and vent the atmosphere in them into space.”
“No!” Astrid shouted. “There are twenty thousand people on this station, some of them are civilians!”
“Should have thought of that, Captain,” Calvin replied as he walked to the console that Taylor was standing over. “Lieutenant, let’s purge this station.”
Taylor didn’t move. “Sir, we can’t kill twenty thousand people without at least offering them surrender as an option.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do, Lieutenant,” Calvin snarled.
“With respect, sir, no, I won’t,” Taylor answered, pulling himself up just a little bit taller. “You’re giving illegal orders. Under the UCMJ, I have no obligation to comply.”
Calvin pushed Taylor to the side and sat down at the console. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” He began to tinker with the controls, determining how to expose each deck to the vacuum of space. “Last chance, Captain. Order your people to surrender, give me the access code, and you all get to go home someday.”
Astrid didn’t reply; she merely stared at him, her face a mask of blinding rage.
Menahem had walked up behind Calvin and began to speak. “Colonel, you can’t do this, sir. I won’t allow you.”
“You won’t allow me?” Calvin stood up and violently shoved Menahem away. “I’m the one giving orders here, Master Guns. If you can’t obey them, surrender your weapon and go stand with the enemy!”
