Into the Black: Odyssey One (60 page)

“Remarkable,” Rame said, looking closer. “And it was as bad you say?”

“Right to the bone. Cut two tendons clean,” Sean nodded. “In fact, if the armor’s artificial muscles hadn’t taken up the slack for me, the bastard would have been able to finish me off, easy.”

“Most impressive,” Rame said, shaking his head. “A wound like that would have lain you up for months at home. Perhaps ended your military career.”

“Would that have been such a bad thing?”

Rame and Bermont stiffened at the new voice, turning to see a woman in green coverall type clothing approaching.

“Yes Doc,” Bermont replied. “It would be. I like my job.”

The woman sniffed slightly, and then shook her head with a hint of disgust in her features.

“Doctor Rame, this is Doctor Brianne,” Sean spoke up smoothly, a hint of tolerant amusement in his voice. “She’s the sawbones that patched me up.”

Rame wasn’t certain what ‘sawbones’ translated into, but the look the woman shot Sean Bermont made it quite clear that it wasn’t complimentary. He placed a careful ‘bedside manner’ smile on his face and greeted the doctor as much to distract her from Sean, than anything else.

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor,” he said. “I’m the Chief Medical Officer of the Odyssey.”

Doctor Brianne cast him a begrudging look nodding more or less politely. “So you are the one who normally…, what was the phrase? ‘Patches them up’?”

Rame smiled, “unfortunately, yes.”

Brianne was about to say something else, but an odd rhythmic thumping caused all three of them to pause and look around. Bermont was the first to recognize it and he grinned when he saw the first smoke black figure approach from over a rolling hill.

“Relax,” he grinned. “It’s just the Colonel and the others. Looks like we’re just about done, here.”

Rame watched the approach of the two ranks of soldiers with interest, not normally in a position to see the powered armor, they wore in action.

The Powered Field Armor had been introduced towards the end of the Block Wars and in his post onboard a hospital ship, Rame generally only saw units that had been shot to hell and back. The operational armor was a good deal more impressive he supposed, though as a doctor, he’d often been grateful for the basic lifesaving systems built into each suit.

In this case, the two ranks of soldiers looked like they’d been through the fire, literally. The Orbital insertion had burned the surface off their armor, resulting in a patchwork of smoke grey colors and the coal black of the base armor. The end result was something similar to what was once considered a dark urban camouflage, though with a more random set of patterns.

His eyes shifted to the Cee Emm packs that floated along between the ranks and Rame stared in shock as he realized that each of the packs was hauling what had to be one of the enemy foot soldiers along with it.

His assumption was confirmed when the two ranks were called to a halt by Colonel Brinks and the packs unceremoniously dropped their cargo to the ground with a thud.

“Good Lord.”

“Doctor?” Colonel Brinks stepped up, his helm visor shifting to a ‘clear’ mode as he looked at the doctor. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s checking out the local med techs, Sir,” Bermont offered. “How’d things go?”

“We got it cleaned up, Lieutenant,” Brinks said. “But the locals are going to have to get some seismic sensors scattered around here, so they can make sure there’s nothing left digging under their feet.”

“I’ll have a report filed with the Captain, in twenty minutes,” one of the other soldiers spoke up, his black helm preventing Rame from identifying him.

“You do that, Savoy,” Brinks said. “And while you’re at it, recommend that the locals get some birds in the air with some real down-looking capabilities. The heat difference will let them spot any on the surface.”

“Got it, Boss,” Savoy replied.

“This is the…, enemy, is it?” Rame asked, staring at the corpse of an unnaturally large insect looking thing.

“Damn right,” another of the soldiers said with an obvious grin in his voice. “This is one of the trophies of our Bug Hunt.”

“God dammit, Deac!” Another growled, “I told you too can that sci-fi shit! I’m sick of you talking like we’re in some damned movie!”

“Come on, Sarge!” The soldier named Deacon whined. “Think about it… We’re on another planet, fighting giant spider things, in powered armor… Christ Sarge, that’s like every sci-fi cliché ever written!”

Low chuckles passed through the group, as well as a couple groans from soldiers, who’d been listening to similar bickering for too long.

“He’s got you there, Sarge.”

“I don’t give a shit!”

“You know… Mr. Deacon, is it?” Rame spoke up idly as he walked around one of the bodies.

“Yeah?”

“One must wonder…”

Everyone shifted, looking at each other as the Doctor kneeled down and examined the body closer.

“What’s that Doc?” Deacon asked, curious.

“Well, if we are living a science fiction scenario…,” Rame said, standing up. “What will the science fiction writers write about now?”

“Uh. . . . ,” Deacon just stared for a moment.

“Westerns?” Someone else asked, his voice a little hopeful.

“Sacrilege!” Deacon yelled, his voice booming over the speakers of his armor.

Some of the men groaned, but Rame mostly just ignored the comment, as he continued examining the body.

“I can’t believe that I’m associated with these people,” Colonel Brinks muttered under his breath, but only after he made sure that his comments weren’t going out on any frequencies.

*****

Eric Weston and Rael Tanner were still talking through some details when some of the soldiers, Eric had brought with him stepped forward.

“What is it, Evans?” Eric asked, barely glancing over.

“The Colonel reports that the alien ground forces appear to be mopped up, though he advises that the locals place a seismic network around and a decent CAP to keep an eye out for strays. Lieutenant Savoy will be filing a report shortly.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” Eric said, and the young man stepped back.

“What is… CAP?”

“A Combat Air Patrol or I suspect in this case anything that can fly with sensors that can read heat,” Eric said, thinking about the reports already filed. “Those two things should give you a decent warning, if they missed any of the drones.”

“I will forward the recommendations to Nero,” Tanner promised. “It will be his responsibility to organize such defences.”

Weston nodded, “he’ll probably have to devise new weapons, as well. The reports concerning the effectiveness of your laser rifles against the drones weren’t promising.”

“Indeed not,” Tanner grimaced. “Nero has been gnashing his teeth over that very thing for some time. I believe that he even admires your own weapons, though I should not be surprised.”

“Pardon?”

“Nero is from a Colony that purposely maintains its rough wilderness status. As such, survival for him is a slightly more…, hands on approach than most of my people,” Tanner permitted himself a slight smile. “It is why he was asked to join the Army.”

Weston nodded, still trying to get a full picture painted of the culture he was dealing with. “I see.”

Tanner smiled again, “I doubt that you do. Not completely, at least.”

“Touché,” Weston smiled, raising his glass in salute. “But I do believe that I’m at least getting a general idea.”

“Perhaps, Captain. Perhaps.”

Chapter 39

The shipboard repairs took two days just to reach the minimum levels, before engineering was willing to certify the ship as ‘Transition Ready’, which Eric had used to the best of his ability while dealing the citizens of the world they were in Orbit of.

While Rael Tanner seemed a rather sensible type and the big behemoth of a man in charge of the ground forces was also, the politicos were pretty much what one might expect from experience on Earth. Oh, they were a little different in motivation perhaps or at least in experience, but they still impeded the progress of pretty much anything they touched like old hands.

The former UN Council would have been proud.

Of course, it was perhaps a lot to expect for them to make decisions on a forty-eight hour window, but that was all that Eric was willing to give them. Either they give him a diplomat to take home, or he and the Odyssey were weighing anchor without them.

They’d mucked around in someone else’s war long enough, by far.

So it was perhaps no surprise that Eric’s mood was dark as the deadline approached and the planet council still hadn’t contacted the Odyssey.

“Ensign Lamont, how are the repairs coming?”

“The crew is welding new armor segments into place over the habitat breach now, Captain,” she informed him. “They’ve also taken the time to rip up the flight deck and Corrin says that they’ll have it ready, by the deadline.”

He nodded, “I’m sure they will. O2?”

“The shipments from the surface had replenished our supply,” she told him. “As you ordered, we analysed each tank and it’s sterile and pure.”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Eric fell silent, knowing that he had just been marking time, anyway. He didn’t need to micro-manage his people and he knew it, but he was letting the situation on the planet get to him. He needed some sort of connection with these people when he went home, something the brass could effectively see and touch.

Something more than just data banks.

Or, at least, he really wanted it.

An actual person, preferably people in all truth, would make his reports at lot more believable to the brass. Eric wasn’t worried about being disbelieved, of course, at least not precisely. More, he was worried about his account being given a low priority, comparatively speaking.

So far, by his account, the alien species had committed no less than nine ships to this war of theirs. Along with Milla’s account the number started climbing, even if you assumed that many of the ship’s the Odyssey had destroyed were the ones that wrecked the original fleet the colonials had amassed.

In return, they’d eliminated the planetary populations of a minimum of two star systems, which was a massive breach of all accepted rules of warfare by Earth standards. While Civilian casualties were sometimes unavoidable, they were not to be actively pursued. Of course, the term ‘Rules of Warfare’ was one of the oldest oxy-morons in recorded history, but even so, this was a major change from any conflict that Eric had experience in, even though study.

In some ways, the closest example he could think of was World War Two. On both sides, the militaries involved sought out civilian targets and destroyed them with no quarter given. The German forces actions under the command of the SS and the Nazi party were well documented and the American attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were equally horrific, if somewhat faster.

The Block Wars had never quite reached that level, probably because any attack on a civilian location with modern weapons was largely a waste of modern weapons. A HVM rocket fired from an Archangel could tear a city to shreds, in its terminal approach the shockwave alone could kill hundreds.

Combine that fact with the pervasive and persistent use of cameras and the impact they had on world opinion, and even the most hard core militants on either side weren’t stupid enough to do something that might galvanize neutral countries into taking sides.

However the attacks on the colonial worlds were something different or at least that’s what he felt in his gut. It was true that they were at least possibly similar to the American strikes on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, intended as proof of ability and will more than intent to destroy. However, that thought didn’t sit right with him, and Eric didn’t believe it to be the case.

If that was their intent, then they should have skirted this system with overwhelming force and demanded the colonials surrender. They certainly should never have committed a total of eight ships in an attempt to reach the planet with their drones.

That left option two, but the sort of racial genocide that the other side of the World War II coin showed wasn’t quite what he was reading from the alien attacks either. Why destroy all life in that case? Why turn a world into a wasteland?

No, Eric was certain that there was more to the scenario than he knew. More, certainly than he was being told by the colonials, but probably more than even they knew.

There was something new here.

He could feel it.

“Captain?”

Eric shook off the line of thought, glancing over to where Commander Roberts was looking at him, “yes Commander?”

“A call for you, Sir. Admiral Tanner.”

Eric nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”

He turned back to his controls, accessing the comm channel he knew that Tanner would be calling on. They’d reclaimed the armor from Milla, but Eric had left a portable terminal with a two way holo projector in the Admiral’s keeping. It wasn’t rated for combat, but it was top of the line in civilian communications and provided a nice two-way image.

“Good day, Admiral,” Eric smiled at the image of the smaller man.

“Good day to you, Captain,” Tanner replied gravely. “I understand that you still intend to leave Orbit this day?”

“I’m afraid so, Admiral,” Eric replied firmly. “I understand that your people need to consider what to do, given the situation, but I can’t risk sitting the Odyssey in a war zone for any longer.”

“I understand,” the Admiral replied evenly. “And happily, I have managed to cut through some of the process in order to supply you with the… diplomat you requested.”

Eric sighed, sitting back, and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Admiral. I had hoped you would.”

Tanner smiled himself, tilting his head slightly. “My people are sometimes slow to move, but even we can tell when perhaps speed is a virtue. In this case, I convinced them that it may be so.”

Eric nodded.

“I must admit, however, that your particular restrictions in this matter have made things more difficult,” Tanner went on.

“I expected as much,” Weston replied, “However there was no real choice there, Admiral. Until we have some sort of official relationship, I can’t tell you or any of your people the location of our home system… They’ll have to come with us.”