Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell (11 page)

A quick scan of the first paragraph was sufficient to confirm that the file was what he had hoped for, and a few quick key strokes were sufficient to send a copy to himself. The message would show up if the computer's owner were to check—but that was a chance that the Hudathan was willing to take.

Seconds later, his eyes on the clipboard, Kuga-Ka was walking down the corridor when Major Tik Matala, the battalion's Executive Officer returned. He saw the noncom, but wasn't aware that the Hudathan had been in the wardroom, and had no reason to be concerned. There weren't any Ramanthians on the ship, and it was isolated in hyperspace, which meant that the battalion's security was intact.

 

Clouds could be seen high in the searingly blue sky, the hillside in front of them was covered with loose rock, and what looked like a well-packed trail beckoned. But trails are the perfect place to lay mines, so even though it meant more work for Haaby, Santana ordered the T-2 to climb up through the loose scree. Even though the harness served to hold the platoon leader in place, the motion of the T-2's body still threw the human back and forth, forcing him to hang on. Th
ere were moments when the loose rock threatened to send both of them tumbling down the slope, something that would not only be hard on Haaby, but worse for the bio bod should the cyborg roll over on top of him.

Then, after ten minutes of hard climbing, they neared the top of the rise. Santana ordered the T-2 to stop just short of the crest rather than expose herself on the skyline. Anyone watching from the opposite direction would see nothing more than a tiny irregularity on the horizon.

A single glance at the heads-up display (HUD) projected on the inside surface of the platoon leader's visor was sufficient to verify that the other members of the first squad were in position. Private Su Theek, and a T-2 named Private Hooly Lukk, were about a hundred yards off to the left, while Private Lynn Cho, and a borg named Fas Nulla were stationed an equal distance to the rear. Their job was to guard the back door in case the enemy attempted to sweep in behind the squad and cut it off.

Confident that his troops were properly positioned, Santana let his weight rest on the harness, raised his electrobinoculars, and scanned the valley ahead. Targeting information scrolled down the side of the viewfinder as he panned from left to right. With the exception of clumps of trees, all of which looked too similar to be real, the terrain was open and inviting.
Too
inviting.

The squad's mission was to scout ahead, locate the enemy, and warn the quads that were theoretically following behind. That meant Santana had to keep going, keep covering new ground, lest the huge cyborgs overtake him and bring the assault to a stop.

But there were times when a platoon or squad leader had to ignore such pressures and make sure of the terrain in front of him or her. The key was to understand which situation was which. The sky shivered, turned an unlikely shade of green, and snapped back to blue. Santana keyed his mike. “Blue Six to Blue Five. Over.”

“This is Five,” Theek replied. “Over.”

“See anything suspicious? Over.”

“No sir. Over.”

Santana took another look, and was just about to order Haaby upslope, when a cluster of boulders slid sideways. Not far, but given the fact that boulders are supposed to be inert, they weren't supposed to move at all. “Did you see that group of boulders shift left? Over.”

“Sir! Yes sir,” Theek replied excitedly. “I think those other rock formations are fake, too! Ground effect vehicles is my guess—waiting in ambush. Over.”

“Well, let's find out,” Santana replied, and put in a call for air support. The voice arrived before the fly-form did. “Red Six to Blue Six . . . Did someone find something for us to shoot at? Over.”

“Welcome to the party, Red Six . . . We have a targeting laser on what may or may not be a ground effect vehicle approximately two thousand yards forward of our position. Over.”

“Roger that,” the airborne cyborg answered cheerfully. “Tally ho! Over.”

And with that three heavily armed fly-forms came out of the sun just as a volley of surface-to-air (SAM) missiles flashed up to meet them. A combination of chaff and electronic countermeasures (ECM) proved sufficient to neutralize the threat as one SAM detonated harmlessly and the rest took off in pursuit of phantom targets.

The fly-forms pulled up, dumped multiple sticks of bombs on the target, and accelerated away. Explosions marched along the bottom of the valley, tossed half a dozen limpet-shaped ground effect vehicles up into the air, and left a line of blackened craters in their wake. A mixture of rock, dirt, and scrap metal was still raining down from the sky when the words “Mission Complete” flashed in front of those taking part in the training scenario.

“All right,” the platoon leader said, as he started to remove the leads that connected him to the virtual reality (VR) training system, “good job. The system will provide each of us with personal feedback. Study it and log some solo hours if you scored anything less than 90 percent.

“We're going to link up with the second squad during the next session, so you might want to review the company's call
signs. Things start to get complicated with six T-2s plus a whole bunch of quads to keep track of. Any questions?”

There weren't any, so Santana removed the VR helmet and nodded to both Theek and Cho. Like their platoon leader, the other legionnaires were strapped onto blocky constructs that provided the same kind of kinesthetic feedback that riding a real T-2 did.

As for the cyborgs, they had taken part in the exercise from the racks where their brain boxes were temporarily housed, and were now free to use the same system for recreational purposes.

It wasn't perfect, but the system helped compensate for the fact that there hadn't been any opportunity for training on Adobe, and Santana was grateful. The platoon leader unhooked himself, followed the other two bio bods out into the hall, and decided to return to the compartment he shared with the ship's third officer. The court of inquiry was a mere thirteen hours away—and he wanted to be ready.

Video blossomed as one of the bio bods inserted Kitamoto's brain box into the back of a war form's head and the T-2's systems came on-line. The onboard computer took what the cyborg could “see” via its eye cams, combined that with data provided by infrared sensors, and sent the result to the technician's brain.

Like the other cybernetic tech heads, Kitamoto had been through basic training but wasn't expected to fight. So, because the vast majority of her time was spent in spider forms, the big bulky T-2 felt exceedingly awkward as she backed the machine out of its retaining clamps, managed a poorly executed turn, and marched the body out of the transit container.

The check ride called for her to walk to the far end of the hold and back, run diagnostics on all the onboard systems, and put the T-2 away. The quads were too large for such a stroll, which meant that all the techs could do was start them up, and run a full battery of tests. Not a step listed in the manuals—but something Captain Calvo insisted on.

Kitamoto clumped her way down the corridor between the cargo modules, stopped in front of the bulkhead, and did a clumsy about-face. Meanwhile, all of the navigation, com, and targeting systems tested green. “This unit looks good,” the technician reported via short-range radio. “Put it down as good to go.”

Calvo said, “Good work,” ran her stylus down her hand comp's touch-sensitive screen, and tapped a serial number. The officer didn't know Corporal Haaby—but assumed the trooper would be pleased.

The ship's wardroom was the largest space available other than one of the ship's holds, and it was packed with people. There was a loud buzz of conversation as those present discussed Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka, the charges brought against him, and what they knew about the case. Heads turned, and all conversation ceased as Colonel Kobbi brought the ceremonial gavel down with a loud
bang.

“Okay, people,” the battalion commander said, “let's get this thing under way. Let the official record show that a military court of inquiry was held on this date, at this time, aboard the navy vessel
Spirit of Natu
for the purpose of reviewing charges brought against Gunnery Sergeant Hreemo Kuga-Ka, in order to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to justify court-martial proceedings, or lacking such evidence, whether the charges should be dropped.

“Because this court of inquiry is taking place during a
time of war, and Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka does not have benefit of qualified counsel, the findings of this court will be considered provisional and subject to review when conditions allow. Are there any questions? No? Then I will ask Major Matala to read the charges.”

Santana, who was seated in the front row, looked at Kuga-Ka as the XO started to read. The noncom's face wasn't just blank, it was
professionally
blank, as it would be on parade. Owing to the almost paranoid distrust that Hudathans had for each other, never mind other beings, the noncom had been allowed to place the back of his chair against a steel bulkhead. His uniform was impeccable, his posture was upright, and he looked every inch a noncommissioned officer.

“. . . And,” Matala continued, “having removed Corporal Haaby's brain box from her war form, it is further alleged that said noncom substituted a fake box to try to conceal the abduction.

“Having abused the corporal and other subordinates in the past, and fearful that she might talk, it is further alleged that the goal of the abduction was to murder Corporal Haaby and thereby silence her.”

Matala looked up from his comp. Kobbi nodded and consulted the list in front of him. “The first witness is Corporal Haaby. She is present in the room, but since her war form is not presently available, she and other cyborgs from Alpha company will testify via electronic hookup.”

Like many in the room, Santana turned to look at a life-support cart loaded with five olive drab boxes. Cables and hoses connected each brain box to the equipment on the cart, which was plugged into a jack panel mounted on the bulkhead. A tech sat next to the cart, where she could monitor a bank of readouts.

“Corporal,” Kobbi said, “can you hear the proceedings?”

“Yes sir,” the cyborg said. “and I can see via the camera mounted in the back of the room.”

“Excellent,” Kobbi replied. “You may swear the witness in and proceed with her testimony.”

Kuga-Ka was well aware of the ways in which he had abused not only Haaby, but the other cyberfreaks as well, so he saw very little reason to listen to their whining. Instead, the Hudathan took advantage of the time to consider the cards that remained in his hand and how he could best play them. The first was Captain Gaphy. He could ruin the company commander—and the skeletal slope knew it. But, rather than simply rat him out, Kuga-Ka planned to use the officer one last time.

Beyond that, the Hudathan had his toadies to call upon. Neither had been charged—and both remained at liberty. Lance Corporal Sawicki was a lazy sort, but wonderfully malleable, and a good hand with explosives. Private Knifethrow was a bit more ambitious and could be relied on to take the initiative from time to time.

Both legionnaires were far more devoted to him than the Legion and could be counted upon when the time came. Kobbi interrupted his thoughts. “Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka? Would you like to question the witness?”

The Hudathan realized that the question had been asked before and that his answer had been “no.” He looked defiant. “The box heads are lying, sir. They're lazy, incompetent, and stupid. This is their way of getting back at me for forcing them to perform their duties.”

Kobbi raised an eyebrow, looked at Captain Gaphy, and back to the Hudathan. The more the jacker heard from Kuga-Ka the more he wondered about all the glowing evaluations that the company commander had submitted. His voice was cold as ice. “Perhaps you misunderstood, Sergeant. I asked if you wanted to question the last witness. If your statement was intended to summarize your defense, please hold it for the end of the proceedings. In the meantime,
further use of derogatory language regarding your fellow legionnaires will result in disciplinary action. Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“All right. Major? Who's next?”

Santana took the necessary oath, delivered a detailed chronology of what had occurred, and was followed by testimony from Fareye and Dietrich.

Dietrich had just completed his statement, and was looking forward to an escape from officer-held territory, when Kobbi pounced on him. “So, Sergeant, you say that Private Fareye directed you to the maint
enance shed where Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka was found to be in possession of Corporal Haaby's brain box. Why were you involved in this matter to begin with?”

It felt hot in the room. Dietrich wanted to wipe the thin sheen of perspiration off his forehead but managed to resist the temptation to do so. “As I stated earlier, sir, Private Fareye and I saw the gunnery sergeant leave Lieutenant Santana's squat under suspicious circumstances. We were concerned for the lieutenant's safety.”

Kobbi raised both eyebrows. “Are you and Private Fareye members of Lieutenant Santana's platoon?”