Revolt on Alpha 2 (Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal Book 8) Read online

  They reached the target building, a reinforced bunker, and took the steps down inside. The entrance was protected by sandbags, stacked in an L shape to prevent shrapnel from penetrating inside. As Nick entered, he realized it was a communications center. The walls were lined with computers and holographic displays. A Master Sergeant seemed to be in charge, and he turned to face Nick.

  “Private Walker?”

  “Yes, Master Sergeant.”

  The sergeant pointed to an empty chair in front of a holo display.

  “Take a seat. You have a message.”

  “I do?” Nick was astonished. He hadn’t been on the planet twelve hours and he already had a message?

  “Sit. Put on the hood and speak your name.”

  Bewildered, Nick did as ordered. The hood was actually a VR headset; when he slipped it on, it blotted out the entire room and he found himself staring at a VR image with the Federation logo displayed.

  “Private Nick Walker,” he said. The image flickered, then vanished, and he was looking at a woman who sat facing him. It took him about two seconds to register her identity, and his astonishment quickly morphed into apprehension.

  “Nick?”

  “Gloria? What the hell! Where are you?”

  “I’m at home. Where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you that. You know the rules.”

  “I don’t mean your exact location. You’re on Alpha Centauri, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t reply. It wasn’t exactly classified information, but they had been admonished not to talk about it.

  “What’s up? Why are you calling?”

  Gloria Walker, Nick’s younger sister, glanced off to the side and then looked directly at him again. Her image was slightly grainy, as subspace calls usually were, but he could see her clearly enough. Her dark, pretty face showed strain and he could tell she’d been crying.

  “Nick, can you come home?”

  “What? No, of course not! You know better than to ask me that. What’s the big emergency?”

  She chewed her lip for a second, then told him.

  “Daddy had a stroke.”

  Nick’s apprehension turned to cold fear. He felt suddenly weak. It took him a second to find his voice.

  “When?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Two days! And you’re just now calling me?”

  “Nick, it took me that long to get permission. I’ve spent the last twenty hours begging the military to put this call through. I finally found a chaplain who got it approved.”

  Nick’s heart pounded, not with anger at his sister, but fear for his father. He suddenly regretted his outburst.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I understand. What about the old man? How bad is he?”

  “He’s in intensive care. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

  Nick stared at her, feeling his face turn numb. He had so many questions, but he knew that subspace calls were timed and he couldn’t waste the minutes. Gloria’s eyes were filled with a combination of hope and dread as she gazed at him.

  “He wants to see you, Nick.”

  “You mean he can talk?”

  “No, but Mom and I were there when he first woke up. He was glad to see us, but he kept looking around the room, like someone was missing. He was looking for you.”

  Nick felt his eyes sting as tears threatened him. He sucked a deep breath to avoid them.

  “Sis, even if I left right now, it would take me four days just to get to Terra, and another day to get home. Does he even have that much time?”

  “I don’t know. But can’t you try?”

  “No, I don’t see how. I just got here. They’re not going to ship me back any time soon.”

  “Can’t they make an exception for this? What about passionate leave?”

  “You mean compassionate leave—and no, they won’t. Even if they would…” He didn’t finish the thought.

  “Nick…” Her eyes filled up. “I know you love him, and you know he loves you. You’ve both been at odds for so long…this could be your last chance to ever speak to him.”

  Nick lost the battle…tears overflowed his eyes and slid down his cheeks. He clenched his jaw to hold the line, but for a moment he couldn’t speak.

  “You can at least ask, can’t you?”

  He cleared his throat and nodded. Tried to speak and failed, cleared his throat again.

  “Yeah, I can ask. But it won’t do any good.”

  “Talk to your chaplain. Chaplains seem to have a lot of influence in the Star Marines.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He cleared his throat again.

  “Whether I can come home or not, send me a video. Tell me everything that happened. We’re just about out of time here, and I need details.”

  “I’ve already done that. You should have it in a day or two.”

  “Okay. Gloria, I’ve got to go. Kiss the old man for me, will you? Tell him I’ll try to get home.”

  Tears streaked her own cheeks as she smiled.

  “I will. That will cheer him up.”

  Nick saw the timer in the lower corner of his VR display, with only seconds to go.

  “Gotta go, Sis. Love you. Love Mom, too.”

  Before she could reply, the call terminated. The Federation logo flashed up again.

  Nick sat there a moment, then removed the headset. With his head lowered, he wiped his eyes and then got to his feet. The same Master Sergeant was waiting a few feet away.

  “Everything okay at home, Private?”

  Nick blinked at him and tried to smile.

  “Yes, Master Sergeant, thank you. Everything is fine.”

  The Master Sergeant peered at him with narrowed eyes.

  “Didn’t sound like it. I heard you talking about compassionate leave. Do you need to speak to the chaplain?”

  Nick bit his lip for a brief second, then shook his head.

  “Not necessary, Master Sergeant. Thank you, but everything is fine.”

  Chapter 3

  In a nearby command bunker, Lt. Col. Dietrich, Capt. Seals, and the other company commanders of 2nd Battalion conferred with two Fed Infantry officers as they planned to move the battalion to Firebase Papa. Their executive officers were also present.

  “The terrain between here and Papa is basically no-man’s land,” the Infantry commander told them. His name was Maj. Dumas. “The Freaks have been pretty cautious lately, however—we haven’t seen much of them inside the city limits. They sit back and plaster us with heavy arty from time to time, and they seem to enjoy shelling the civilian neighborhoods.

  “However, they have to know by now that your people have landed, and if we try to move a battalion-sized force in their direction, they’re surely going to take advantage of that. I’ve put out some fire teams in the neighborhoods to keep them guessing, but we’ll need more than that.”

  “What do you recommend?” Dietrich asked.

  “You could march your men toward Papa, but that would leave them exposed, not only to artillery, but also snipers. And it’s entirely possible they’ve laid some minefields that we don’t know about. So my suggestion is to move one company at a time on hoversleds. We’ll send HVAs in advance, on point and on the flanks, to engage any enemy troops in the area and also to watch for artillery flashes.”

  He made a wry face.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t identified all their positions yet—and every time we do find one, they move it.

  “In the event that they open up on the infantry sleds, our HVAs will engage and keep them busy until our own guns can take them out.”

  “Sounds pretty risky,” Lt. Oehlschlaeger mused.

  “Yes, it is, but this is a city under siege, and every move we make is risky. We’ll send the gunsleds five minutes ahead, then maybe three or four decoy HVIs right behind them. If the Freaks try to shoot them down—and I think they will—we can put fire on them before any of your men are at risk.”

  “What
about your men?” Dietrich asked. “The HVI pilots?”

  Dumas grinned. “We’ve rigged some of the sleds for remote control. They will be unmanned.”

  Dietrich nodded, then made eye contact with his commanders, who also appeared to like the idea.

  “Very well, Major. I think that will work for us. Thank you.”

  *

  By the time the brass had concluded their meeting, the men of Echo Company had retrieved their gear from the armory. After each man collected his personal pack he was issued six spare magazines, four canister grenades, two concussion grenades, four fragmentation grenades, and one plasma grenade. Most carried a Colt .291 calibre assault rifle with full-auto or single shot capability; Pfc. Clarence “CC” Clark and his assistant, Pvt. Wayne Juhl, also carried one I.G. Krupp .29 cal machine gun, known as a Squad Assault Weapon (SAW).

  In spite of the artillery danger, sixteen infantry sleds were lined up in the lee of the northern perimeter, each with a seating capacity of fifteen men plus a two-man crew. Two hundred men who had never been in combat milled about, waiting for orders. Some were quiet and introspective, others chattered like so many primates—everyone was nervous. Nick had often wondered how he would do when the big moment finally came; he’d been through the toughest training the Star Marines had to offer, but a man could train all his life and never be fully prepared for the real thing.

  Until an hour ago, he had it under control. Then his sister called, and his mental preparation took a nose dive. The last thing he needed at this particular moment was to be worrying about his family back home, but his dad might be dying and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. When his turn came, he climbed into the sled and slumped down on a seat, his jaw clenched, eyes closed, breathing evenly and trying to concentrate on the moment at hand.

  Kopshevar dropped down next to him, wiping his hands on his pants leg. He was the only man in the unit Nick had trained with. They had survived boot camp together and, if Nick could call anyone a best friend, it was probably Kopycat. A third man settled on his right, and even with his eyes closed, Nick knew it was Rudy Aquino.

  “Hey, Nick—are you scared?”

  Nick opened his eyes and looked at him. He shook his head.

  “No, I’m not scared.”

  “You’re not? Man! How do you do that? I’m jittery as hell.”

  Nick shook his head again.

  “I’m not scared. I’m fucking terrified.”

  Rudy burst into laughter, not because it was funny, but because he needed the relief. Other men were talking as well. Pfc. Kit Carlson settled onto the seat across from Nick, his handsome face beaming as if they were on their way to a ballgame. In a loud, clear voice, he asked the question of the day.

  “Walker.”

  Nick glanced up at him.

  “Tell me the truth, Walker, and don’t lie…have you ever tasted a sweeter dick than mine?”

  Half the sled burst into manic laughter. Nick grinned and shook his head.

  “Kit, yours is still the best. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

  Loading was fairly quick, but once the sleds were loaded, they didn’t move. Muttering began right away.

  “What the fuck, man! We’re sitting ducks out here in this compound. If the Freaks open up with the heavy shit…”

  “Hey! Be careful with that plasma grenade. You pop that thing and you’ll wipe out the entire company.”

  “Why the fuck they load us down with all this shit, anyway? We’re just moving five miles.”

  “Fucking military! Hurry up and wait. I thought it would be different in combat.”

  “We’re not in combat yet, dipshit.”

  “Shut it down, Private! Bitching doesn’t help anybody.”

  “Not bitching, Sergeant, just exercising a little free speech.”

  The compound vibrated with the sound of heavy lifters and Nick saw three gunsleds lifting off, then three more, and a moment later, three more. Nine gunsleds cleared the walls and surged forward in the direction of Firebase Papa. One minute later, four infantry sleds—designated HVI for Hover Vehicle, Infantry—lifted off and followed. Nick frowned as he watched them—no one appeared to be on board.

  “What the hell is that about?” someone asked.

  No one who heard the question knew the answer, but in less than a minute the thirteen sleds had disappeared to the west. Four minutes later, the sixteen loaded HVIs began to wind up.

  As nerved-up as he was, Nick was relieved. Action was always better than idleness, and he just wanted to get moving. According to their briefing, the trip to Papa shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes, after which they would probably hole up again and wait for further orders. But at least they were doing something.

  As they cleared the western wall of Firebase Oscar, a morning breeze met them. Nick hadn’t realized he was sweating until he felt the cool air, and it was delicious. They couldn’t see much; the gunwales were too high to look out without standing up, and everyone was wearing a lap belt for safety. Not that it mattered—they weren’t looking for a fight just yet.

  Up ahead, the gunsleds formed into three Vs and spread out looking for trouble. The four decoys flew in a straight line at fifty feet, clearly visible to anyone on the ground. And bringing up the rear, the sixteen loaded sleds, separated by fifty yards, constantly shifted up and down, right and left; if they encountered ground fire, their shifting patterns would make enemy targeting more difficult.

  They almost made it.

  Seven minutes after leaving Oscar, the sleds banked five degrees to the right as they lined up with their destination. Gunsleds swirled around to their left and right, looking for enemy contacts, but so far hadn’t seen anything. Then Nick felt, more than heard, bullets bouncing off the armored hull. It was just a faint vibration, accompanied by a tick-tick-tick sound. He had no idea where it was coming from or how many guns were firing, until he saw smoke tracers overshoot the gunwales from the port quarter.

  “Heads down!” DuBose yelled, and everyone ducked. No one was hit, but it was a sobering reminder of where they were and what they were facing. Nick saw two gunsleds off to his left rising above the gunwale and saw laser fire spitting toward the ground. After a moment the ground fire stopped…

  Until they reached the firebase. Just as the first two sleds cleared the eastern wall of Firebase Papa, artillery rounds began dropping like hailstones. Nick heard the explosions but couldn’t see a thing—but his sled banked hard right and aborted its approach. The following sleds did the same, and began weaving in a rapid figure-eight pattern to confuse the rebel gunners. Only two sleds actually landed in the Papa compound and the Star Marines leaped for safety, racing for cover as Fed Infantry shouted encouragement and waved frantically toward a waiting bunker.

  Nick and his squad were unaware of what was happening on the ground; they clung to their panic bars and prayed the artillery would be unable to hit the weaving column. He didn’t realize he was sweating again until he felt it drip off his nose. He glanced at the men around him and found every face taut with suspense—how the hell were they going to get into the firebase?

  The answer came from the city behind them. Alerted by the gunsleds, two batteries of 205mm Howitzers opened up and began pounding the rebel gun position. After only two salvoes, the enemy guns fell silent, and moments after that, the remaining fourteen sleds swept around Firebase Papa and landed from the west.

  The first thing Nick saw as he rolled over the side was a burning hoversled in the center of the compound just twenty yards away. He couldn’t see over the sides to determine if anyone was aboard, but did see a blood smear on the outer gunwale. He didn’t hang around to ask questions, as men were shouting at him to hurry. Along with the rest of his squad, he raced for a bunker near the outer wall. Everyone arrived at the same time, creating a bottleneck as they scrambled down the steps. Even with no shells falling at the moment, he felt a sense of panic until he actually got inside.

  Th
e bunker, designed to sleep about thirty men, was crowded. Not only Nick’s squad, but two or three others had packed inside. Added to the dozen Fed Infantry who lived there, the place looked like a sardine convention.

  “‘Bout time you guys showed up,” an infantryman told them.

  “Yeah? When were you expecting us?”

  “Last year.”

  If one infantryman seemed bitter, others were glad to see them. Nick’s hand got pumped by three or four men who seemed genuinely relieved the Star Marines had landed.

  “Good luck to you guys,” one of them said. “This place is a real shithole.”

  “How long have you been here?” Nick asked him.

  “Here at Papa? Only about a month. Before that we were out on the prairie trying to stop the rebel wave.” The soldier shook his head. “They don’t look like much, but they’re fucking fanatics. To them, this is some kind of holy war, like the Crusades or some shit. And you ought to see what they do to civilians.”

  “Civilians!” Nick frowned. “I thought these were supposed to be religious people.”

  “Oh, they are, and that’s the problem. If you accept their point of view, you’re okay, but if you don’t buy into it, they can get real nasty.”

  Nick grimaced. He had his own issues with religion; he believed in personal and religious freedom, but had a problem with anyone who tried to force their beliefs onto others.

  “Anything you can tell us about their tactics?”

  “Yeah. They love artillery. Their personal weapons aren’t as good as ours, but their artillery is every bit as good, and they have a lot more of it. When you’re out in the field, watch for snipers. Most of their rifles are obsolete, but they’re excellent shots just the same. And…they like to fight at night.”

  “Yeah?”

  The soldier nodded. “Don’t count on getting any sleep when you’re out there. They know the terrain and they sneak around like jungle cats. You can’t see them and you won’t hear them coming, then suddenly they’re inside your position raising hell. The worst part is, as soon as you get your good stuff into action, they disappear.” He waved a hand with a cynical scowl. “Just fucking fade away like smoke. When daylight comes, all you find are whatever bodies you managed to kill.”