Homeworld: A Military Science Fiction Novel (19 page)

Flint slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked to stand over the girl lying in a growing pool of her own blood coming from where the shrapnel of Morrison’s bullet and her own armor had penetrated her thigh. “Gregory, get over her and fix this one. We can’t have her bleeding out on us. At least not like this.”

“Frag you!” The girl spat him.

Flint jerked his pistol from his holster and slapped her across the face with the slide. She collapsed, unconscious, a large bruise already forming on her cheek. “Have at this one if you want, boys, the other one is mine.”

There were grumbles of complaints among his men but no one challenged him. The injured girl disappeared from his sight as they closed in on her, leaving him alone with the other one.

She stared up at him with horror-filled eyes.

“You’re not soldiers, you’re monsters,” she told him.

Flint laughed. “It doesn’t matter to me what you think, girl. We’re the guys with the guns at the moment, and since you killed a few of my men, you owe me a pound of flesh. Now if you would be a dear, why don’t you save me the effort, and take off those pants?”

The girl didn’t move. She stayed on her knees and didn't budge, daring him to try to take them off her.

Flint’s eyes moved over the subtle curves of her body. He figured she couldn’t be more than eighteen years old, and looked to be a mixture of firm and soft in all the right places. Flint slid his rifle off his shoulder, set it aside, keeping his pistol aimed at her, and took a step forward. “Now, I want you to listen to me. I won’t ask you again,” he warned her.

The com in his helmet crackled to life. Drake’s icy voice came over it. “Flint, stand down.”

“Drake?” Flint asked with a smile. “Where the hell are you, old man? It’s fun time over here. We caught ourselves a couple of feisty young split tails.” Flint kept the girl covered, ready to kill her in an instant if she tired anything while he talked.

“I’m close enough to see what your dogs are about to do to the other girl. Order them away from her now, or I promise you’ll be the first to regret it.”

Flint snorted. “Was that supposed to be a threat, Drake? Apparently, you are having a problem remembering just who’s in command here.”

“Ask me if I give a shit. You have five seconds to stop what you are doing. Drake out.”

Flint felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realized Drake was serious. “Hey, Drake, man, what’s the deal? The boys are just having some fun. It ain’t nothing but a thing man. It's nothing personal, man.”

Morrison was grunting and sweating away between the injured girl’s legs, not caring at all that the blood from her pressure wrapped thigh was slicking his uniform. He was just beginning to climax when his head exploded in a pink spray of brain matter and bone fragments. His body fell onto the girl as the others leapt into action, whirling about and searching for where the shot had come from.

Flint swallowed hard. “Drake, you really don’t want to do this,” he whispered anxiously over the com, and then screamed, “Come on, man, you're one of us!”

Flint scanned the rooftops and glanced around all the windows in the surrounding buildings where the shot could have come from.

Suddenly, a smoke grenade came flying into their midst from such a high arc, nobody had seen which direction it had come from.

As the area filled with green smoke, no one was expecting Drake to come barreling into the midst of them, but he did, a combat knife in each hand. Drake moved so fast through the smoke, he seemed to be nothing more than a blur of motion. The blade in his right hand slit one soldier’s throat and the other blade was rammed home into another’s groin before being jerked upwards, temporarily lifting the man from his feet before falling to the ground, the blade firmly lodged in his pelvis.

Drake spun, throwing a knife into a third man’s forehead, laying him flat. Flint raised his rifle at Drake, but in the commotion, he forgot about the girl. She shot up from her knees and jumped onto his back, knocking the weapon from his hands. Reaching up around his head, she grabbed him by the jaw with both hands and wrenched backwards with all her might. The last thing Flint heard was the sound of his own neck breaking.

Relieved of Command

Admiral Watkins stabbed a finger at the holographic map which floated over the top of the table, he and Captain Burman stood around in the admiral’s ready room of the Harrington. “Captain, would you please explain to me what this is?” The admiral demanded. “Why are so many of our ground troops committed there?”

“Sir, that is Alpha Base. It is the central headquarters for the Earth Republic Armed Forces,” Captain Burman stated clearly and calmly as he stood at attention. He did not like the fact that Admiral Watkins had ordered him to his ready room. It did not bode well for him.

“I see, Captain. Tell me if it is so important, why is it not under our control?” Watkins met Burman’s eyes, making it clear with his withering gaze that there was no excuse for such a failure.

“Again, sir, it’s the main concentration of Earth’s planet side forces. Our men are experiencing extremely heavy resistance there, far beyond what they’ve encountered anywhere else. The complex itself is a hardened installation with multiple tiers of defenses.

Sir, I believe whoever was left in charge of the Republic’s military after their President’s death is bunkered in there and actively leading the resistance our forces are encountering. Present intel suggests it is Admiral Clarkson himself who is directing the defense.”

“Admiral Clarkson,” Watkins repeated the name aloud. As if the name left a bad taste in his mouth.

Captain Burman nodded his head grimly. “Yes, sir. According to our file on him, he is one of the Earth Republic’s very best tacticians. Sir, he may be from the Republic fleet, but apparently he knows a thing or two about how to command ground troops as well.”

“I don’t care what he knows,” Watkins snapped, spittle flying from his lips. “I want that installation under our control within the hour, Captain. And I want this Admiral Clarkson taken alive. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, within the hour?” Burman balked. “The men are doing the best they can, but with all due respect, I do not think that expecting them to take the installation in one hour is realistic. Alpha Base is heavily stocked piled and the troops defending it are some of the Republic’s most battle hardened veterans.”

Admiral Watkins regained control of his rage and his voice icy calm. “I understand that, Captain. However, we need to crush this Alpha Base as quickly as possible. We cannot have so many of our ground forces concentrated in one location. It may allow for other installations around the planet to regroup and then become a larger threat. The forces currently engaged at this ‘Alpha Base’ need to be on the move doing as much damage to Earth’s entire infrastructure as they cannot get themselves bogged down in an extended siege.” Watkins paused.

He moved closer to Captain Burman and placed a hand on his shoulder, staring him in the eyes he leaned in close so not even the aide present could hear. “I want that fragging base and I want that base within the hour. Do I make myself clear? Take that base, Captain.”

Captain Burman nodded his head slowly. He now knew that the future of his career was dependent on meeting the admiral’s unrealistic expectations. “Yes sir.”

“Now,” Watkins said, snapping his fingers as his aide stepped forward with a cup of steaming tea that she handed to him. Admiral Watkins took a sip before he continued. “Has there been any sign of the remnants of the Earth Republic Fleet returning from the frontier to engage us?

“No, Sir, but we’re ready for them when they do arrive, sir. As of now, all of our ships remain on standby for battle stations. Their drives and weapons are hot.”

“Good,” Watkins smiled and sat in his comfortable looking chair and was silent for a few moments as he sipped at his tea. He then glanced at the captain, feigning surprise that he was still there. “Captain Burman, I do believe I gave you orders. May I inquire as to why you are still standing here? I believe you have a base to take, do you not?”

“Admiral Watkins, sir, am I to understand that you want me to leave the Harrington and take personal charge of the assault on Alpha Base?” Captain Watkins asked, disbelief filling his voice.

“I do believe I gave you a time table to do it in as well, Captain? If the men need the proper leadership and motivation, then I am willing to take direct command of the Harrington while you see that my orders are followed out to the letter.”

Admiral Watkins smiled his pencil thin smile. “You are relieved of your duties here, Captain Burman. You are also placed in direct command of the forces currently engaged at ‘Alpha Base’. You may resume your duties here once that mission has been accomplished.”

“Until such time as the installation has been completely pacified, I do not want to see you. Further, to ensure that I am being perfectly clear, I want Admiral Clarkson taken alive.” Admiral Watkins took a sip of his tea before asking, “Are your orders understood, Captain Burman?”

Captain Burman came to attention and saluted “Sir, they are indeed. May I have your permission to withdraw so that I can carry out those orders?” Admiral Watkins failed to return the salute but rather waved a dismissive hand as he returned his attention to the holographic map

Captain Burman spun on his heels, heading for the door. Watkins watched him go and took another sip of his tea. All things considered, Alpha Base didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. The Earth as whole was pretty much his. However, if this Clarkson could cause his men so much trouble when the planet was clearly already defeated, then the man needed to be dealt with promptly before Clarkson figured out a way to bring the fight to them and actually become a threat.

Justice

As the knife Drake had thrown buried itself to the hilt in Morrison’s throat, sending his blood spraying into the air, Drake’s pistols had already cleared their holsters. He put a round into dead center mass of the chest of the closest of his Coalition comrades. The man staggered backwards as a second round caught him in the chin, knocking him from his feet. Drake spun on his heels, carefully selecting his shots and firing on the remainder of the others as he turned.

A round impacted with one soldiers jaw, leaving a trail of flying teeth and blood as it exited the other side of his face. Another caught a soldier directly between his eyes, dropping him instantly to his back.

Drake ducked and weaved, fluidly dodging the return fire of the dying men around him. He knew the music of this symphony and he danced well to it. He finished the last of them with a double shot that tore into the man’s stomach and gutted him in spite his body armor. His intestines spewed forth from a jagged hole in the layers of carbon fiber and Kevlar that was supposed to protect him.

Drake watched with an icy gaze as the man fell to his knees, clutching at the open wound, desperately trying to hold back the tide of damaged innards.

Looking up from his knees into the sun, the injured man saw the silhouette of a man step before him.

Drake raised his leg and placed his foot on the shoulder of the mortally wounded soldier as he placed the muzzle of his pistol against his sweaty forehead.

"Come on, Drake, have mercy on me, man," he pleaded in a voice filled with pain as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Drake tilted his head to the right slowly, then tilted it back to his left, glaring at him like an animal sizing up his prey.

Squeezing the trigger, Drake watched as the man’s face imploded from the impact of the heavy bullet, forcing the back of his head to explode outwards in a pink and gray mist on the sidewalk behind him.

"This is mercy," Drake said as he nudged the man’s body over to the ground with his foot.

Turning around, Drake removed the magazines from his pistols and slid them into a drop pouch on his hip. Grabbing a pair of fresh magazines, he deftly inserted them into the weapons before placing them back in their holsters.

Looking around at the carnage surrounding him, Drake paused for a moment, and then looked around for the girl.

Standing to the side, the girl’s mouth was hanging open and her gaze held a mixture of awe and absolute fear.

“Are you going to make it?” he asked her as he walked around the soldiers, retrieving his knives from their bodies, cleaning the blades off on their uniforms as he moved.

Dinah nodded, apparently stunned not only to see a Coalition soldier turn on his own, but to have disposed of so many of his fellow soldiers so quickly and efficiently.

“You can call me, Drake,” he said. “Go check on your friend and get her ready to travel. We need to get moving as soon as possible.”

“Why?” Dinah asked.

Drake glanced around the corpses on the pavement. “Why? Because there is only so much killing a man can do in his lifetime, and I have reached my limit. And because this is something I should done a long time ago. These animals were not soldiers; they were killers, rapists and thugs not worthy of wearing the uniform of a professional soldier.” he said as he ripped the Coalition’s insignias from his uniform. “Now move, soldier.”

He watched her run to where Abigail lay on the ground, her clothes torn from her body. Dinah fell to her knees and checked her as quickly as she could.

“She’s bad,” Dinah said. “We’re going to have to carry her...assuming you’re planning on sticking around?”

“Where else am I gonna go?” Drake shrugged, moving over to Morrison’s body and removing his armor, then taking off his fatigues, leaving the corpse naked and bloody on the street. “Here,” he said, tossing the garments to where Dinah was working.

Then he walked over to the man whose life he had saved countless times. It was clear that his neck was broken and Drake couldn’t help smiling at the exuberance of youth. “Wish I could have done it myself,” Drake said coldly as he spat in Flint’s face, then rolled him over and yanked off the dead man’s pack. Carrying it over to the girls, he started sifting through the contents, taking extra ammo a carton of smokes and smiling when he came across the med kit.

Looking at the patch job that Dinah was trying to do made it clear she was doing her best to tend her comrade’s wounds. It was also apparent that she had no more than basic field first aid training. Kneeling down next to the naked girl, he asked Dinah, “Haven’t done this much before, have you? Step back. I think I have a bit more experience.”

Dinah complied as Drake began to work on the wound. First, he injected something into Abigail’s neck and then he began probing with long thin tweezers in the holes of the skin that the fragments had left, removing bits of lead and armor with each probe. Then spraying antiseptic on the wounds, he deftly stitched the larger holes closed and wrapped the wound.

Drakes’ HUD on his helmet told him that there were no more Coalition forces in the immediate area, so he removed the dressing from Abigail’s arm and tended to that as well. He was no doctor but he’d done this often enough that he could probably remove an appendix if need be. Again, when he was done, he sprayed the wound with antiseptic and wrapped it carefully.

He looked up at Dinah, who had retrieved her rifle and sidearm as well as extra ammunition, and was keeping watch as he tended to her fallen comrade. “Now it’s your turn, kid. Let’s have a look at that head wound. Come sit down over here,” he pointed in front of him. His tone of voice would brook no argument.

“What about other soldiers in the area?” Dinah asked as she walked over to where she had been directed and she sat down.

Drake tapped the side of his helmet and pointed at the monocle-like lens covering his left eye. “Don’t worry, kid, I’m keeping watch,” he said as he removed her helmet and began unwrapping the field dressing to see what he was working on.

“You can quit calling me girl and kid, if you don’t mind. I’m Dinah, Dinah Ridge and this,” she pointed to her friend, “is Abigail Rain.”

“Please to fraggin meet you, Ridge, now hold still. I’m going to apply a local anesthetic,” Drake said as he did exactly that. Then he sprayed antiseptic into the wound and began to stitch it up.

“Hell, I could always get work as a tailor when this is all over,” he thought to himself as he finished up.

“There, all done,” he said, as he applied a small adhesive bandage to Dinah’s wound. It will leave a scar but don’t worry because guys dig scars.

Now help me get your friend dressed and on her feet. Together, they clothed the limp body of Abigail in Morrison’s old fatigues, but not before Drake ripped of the Coalition insignia and name badge.

“Go get her armor,” he ordered, pointing to where it lay in a heap a few feet away. After Dinah had done so, they strapped it back on her. “It will offer more protection than nothing,” Drake said as he gently strapped her helmet back on and then slid her side arm back into her holster.

“You were right. We’ll have to carry her for now,” Drake said. “With that injection I gave her, she’ll be out for awhile.”

Dinah moved over and helped Drake get Abigail lifted to where they could support her weight between them.

“I never thought I would be saying this to a Coalition solider, but...thank you,” Dinah said. The sincerity in her expression left Drake silent. He didn’t have a clue how to respond. That part of him had withered long ago but he nodded.

“Come on then,” he motioned to the south. “Let’s get moving before more of the Coalition’s dogs show up.”

“Any idea where we should go?” Dinah asked.

“The com traffic I’ve overheard suggests there’s a sizable military installation that’s under siege. I figure we’ll head there. Best to get you two back with your own,” Drake said, reaching into his pocket for a smoke. He offered the pack to Dinah. She shook her head.

“No thanks. Those things are disgusting. I hear they’ll kill you too,” Dinah said as she shook her head negatively.

“Nah. They won’t kill you, at least they haven't yet,” Drake chuckled, savoring how good it felt to laugh. “We’re the ones who are going to be doing the killing. Getting into that base ain’t gonna be easy, Ridge. Are you up to it?”

In answer, Dinah just looked at him with steel in her eyes and nodded.