The Battle for the Ringed Planet (27 page)

Glancing at her frayed stained green blouse, torn pants, and dirty webbing, Neil stood up and stepped around the fold out table, “Don’t worry about tonight, Kat will take you to the QM to get you some clothes, fatigues I’m afraid, then the abolition area to clean up. Tomorrow, after a hot breakfast, you and I will have a little talk. We would have sent you to the fleet right away, but they have other things to worry about.”

Returning his long stare, Siiri was not really looking forward to questioning, but she did like watching the handsome officer.

--

In the evening it began to rain, making things miserable, especially after a long wait for the illuminating flashes and pounding thunder of artillery to ease off. The marine patrol drew near the southern perimeter of the military enclosure, and Torian, without his Con, could not make out where the defenses were located. After Lance Corporal Greene spoke for a moment, a section of the forest opened revealing a path through a six meter electrified razor wire fence and metal plates. Shields not only provided an energy barrier for protection, but also made the barriers appear exactly like the surrounding foliage.

One by one, the marines entered through the gap in the defenses next to a heavy gun emplacement and the body of a roasted deer fooled by the trickery of the shields stuck in the razor wire, “Mmm, burnt venison tonight.” Corporal Wilder chuckled.

Once inside, the shield closed up and Torian observed the dark recently erected buildings next to the airfield and a few others in the distance. A few marines darted around between the buildings now that the artillery barrage was over, carrying supplies and two of them hauling a stretcher with a wounded soldier.

“Wilder!” Sergeant Keith grabbed the marine’s shoulder, “Take these two to the Orderly Room. The rest of you, let’s get to debriefing!”

The Marine Expeditionary Unit consisted of two infantry battalions, the 2
^nd
Battalion, 2
^nd
Confederation Marines, known as the Warlords from the United States on Earth, and the 1st Battalion, 8th Confederation Marines, called the Dragons, from the colonized planet Jiangxi, both supported by an artillery battery, a tank squadron, a tactical air space squadron of Spacemasters, engineers and logistic support. Within the battle fleet was a Planetary Assault Cruiser, the C.S.S. Juno. Most of the marines reside in the interplanetary assault ship when in space, but elements were spread out in the other ships for security.

The marine corporal led May and Torian through the drizzle to a prefab hut of steel with a flat panel display showing ‘16
^th
Marine Expeditionary Unit Orderly Room’. The dim room was small with a counter and holo displays and a young clerk playing a space fighter game. Torian suddenly felt overwhelmed with exhaustion, so much so he had to sit down in one of the chairs near a small table and May, who was worse off, put her hand on his shoulder for support.

“You should sit,” he glanced up at the towering marine.

“If I do I won’t be able to get up.”

The clerk poked his head up, sighing at the interruption of his game, “It’s late.”

Wilder, however, was having none of it, “Do I look like I give a damn?” Torian half grinned as the hardened marine corporal ranted at the clerk, “Go wake up your sergeant, these two are special cases.”

“Story of my life …” May muttered and Torian smiled.

“I’m awake, Corporal!” came a growl from the back room and a burly man with a thick midriff and a mess of chevrons, up and down, on his rank patch, strode out to the counter, “What’s so important that you need to harass my clerk?”

Ignoring the sergeant, Wilder slapped Torian on the shoulder, “Good luck!” Then to May, “Watch your head.” He winked at her than headed for the door.

“Corporal! Where do you think you’re going?” the sergeant bellowed, but Wilder pushed open the door with one hand and flipped the bird as a parting gesture with the other. That really made the administration sergeant boil when he glared at Torian and May.

Opening a holo display he barked at May, “You first!”

“Private May Xiong, 1st Battalion, 8th Marines,” she stepped forward at attention and Torian got to his feet.

“She’s been injured …”

“Shut up!” He barked and began manipulation screens while his clerk brought up her profile on his own virtual display, “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I survived the crash …”

“Now I have a lot of screen work to do!”

“Wait til you get to me!” Torian offered a friendly smile and got a seething stare from the busy administrator. The young freckle faced clerk scanned May with his Con.

“Go see the doc at the infirmary, you know where that is?” the sergeant sighed.

“Where all the pretty nurses are?” May replied.

“Across the compound. Go!”

May nodded quickly, then stopped before Torian, “Be seeing you Space Jockey.” She put one arm around him in a hug.

“Yeah…take it easy.” Torian smiled warmly and she strode out the room.

The sergeant shot him an annoyed look and Torian shrugged speaking amicably, “Got any Hawkeyes down here?”

Then the sergeant began to laugh, but not in a friendly way, “Space Jockey, huh. Shot down?”

“You could say that, sergeant.”

He brought up Torian’s profile, “Report to the engineers admin room, two down from the infirmary.”

“Engineers?”

The portly sergeant nodded with a wicked grin as he touched several screens producing the orders, “No flights to fleet for the next couple of days, so shoring trenches for you until then. Enjoy.”

--

Kat Martine showed Siiri to the officer’s washing area, where showers had just been erected. The black marine, almost the same height as the flaxen haired girl, was quiet, scowling most of the time. Her answers to Siiri’s questions were short and gruff and while the civilian girl showered in the open, embarrassed, the other girl just folded her arms waiting. Her old hand made clothes were taken away earlier at the Quarter Masters where she received combat clothing, including underwear, which she had seen May wearing before.

“Um, they only gave me a round necked shirt for underneath; do they have one of those sport tops that I saw other female soldiers wearing?”

Glancing at the blonde girl’s chest Kat retorted, “You don’t need a sports bra, now hurry up.” Siiri burned in humiliation as she quickly pulled on the under shirt and then buttoned up the fatigue tunic. Before she could finish tying her oversized boots the lieutenant began to walk way.

“Wait …” Siiri called trailing the other woman almost tripping. Kat carried the blonde girl’s gear, including a sleeping bag and a coat.

They walked across the dark compound, dimly illuminated only by lights on the various buildings, with gusts of wind sending streams of wetness in their faces. The officer’s quarters were above ground but not without trap doors to the metal tunnels below in case of attack.

“What is an officer?” Siiri finally built up the courage to ask.

As Kat opened the door to the female quarters she sighed, “They are the leadership cadre.” Rows of beds lined the metal room on either side occupied by several sleeping forms, “There are two divisions in the military, and the more educated, intelligent, and important people are the officers. The rest follow, and need to be given direction.”

“And that’s you?” Siiri thought about Torian and wondered where he stood.

“See?” She showed the blonde girl her single bar symbol on her fatigue tunic. “Bars, leaves, and eagles, listen to those people.” Siiri remembered the eagle on Colonel Trilling, the bars on Mark and the leaves on Neil’s uniform. All of it was swimming by and her head was spinning. 

Then she remembered seeing a gold symbol on Torian’s flight suit arm, “What about two crooked lines and a star in the middle?”

Rolling her eyes, Kat snorted, “That’s a very low fleet rank. Listen, I beat out thousands of applicants for my spot at West Point, and I graduated fifth in my class, and I get to baby sit you. Now here’s your bed and your sleeping bag.” She threw the stuff down on the plain mattress, “We get up early, so get some sleep.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she set up her sleeping bag, stripped to her underwear, and crawled under the covers. Despite her exhaustion, her mind was racing and slumber was elusive. Siiri missed Torian terribly and longed for his easy smile and confidence. Wanting him close, remembering his smell and the warmth of his body next to hers the night before, she thought about reaching out and whispering to him, where ever he was, hopefully safe in the base camp. Then she worried about discovery. They had all sorts of instruments and technology in this strange place. Before sleep finally overcame, the last thing she saw was his handsome face.     

Chapter 20: Engineers

  The compound was a small collection of prefabricated metal buildings in two rows with underground bunkers and tunnels connecting front line trenches and gun emplacements. In one corner was an array of heavy guns and in another a half-completed garage for the engineers and armored hover vehicles, including some colossal tanks. Anti-aircraft guns guarded the Spacemasters, parked at the rear, and force shield towers were everywhere. Siiri had just finished a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs that looked no different and tasted the same as the real thing in a corner of the mess hall reserved for the officer cadre.

The sun brightly flashed over the trees shooting streaks of morning light over the compound as marines walked in an orderly fashion in groups carrying equipment or weapons readying for the days activities, including a trio of armored infantry fighting vehicles, evoking memories of her and Torian’s encounter with the downed female pilot in what seemed like eons ago. Siiri could easily distinguish the Dragon marines from the others by their height and tanned skin and different eyes. She craned her neck hoping for a glimpse of May but was disappointed. Of course, every tall brown haired handsome fit male could have been Torian, but there were so many smiling back at her.

“Stop gawking at the men, you’re acting like a school girl!” Kat grumbled checking her Con.

“I’m not! I’m looking for my friends.” The ash blonde haired girl, clean and pretty, shaded her face from the sun. Kat had commanded her put her hair up like the other marine women and she had tried to resist, but the black officer insisted in a menacing way.

“Where are they all going?” She watched a company of Dragons congregating near the armored vehicles.

The marine, with her hair in a tight bun glanced where Siiri was watching, “Patrolling the forest west of the city, a recon by force, it’s going to get heated pretty quick, so enjoy the outside while you can.” She pointed, “Come on. Let’s get to the command post.” Siiri followed reluctantly, hoping May was not part of that group.

--

The fresh fatigues issued the night before, now caked in dirt, still felt better as Torian grunted while hefting the heavy steel panel with a shorn headed gorilla of a man in the muddy, freshly excavated trench. They had to lift the hunk of metal so that it fit into the slots of another to link them together reinforcing the tunnel wall against a cave in. Back breaking work, after a night in a sleeping bag on the floor of the engineer garage and a quick early breakfast, Torian clenched his teeth lifting another panel. Artillery had broken through some of the shields on the first day leaving numerous craters where they were building a communication tunnel between the Dragon and Warlord trenches.

The large man with no neck helping Torian with the panel was Private First Class Clive Stewart, with a thick London, England accent. Shorter, thinner Private Nick Grimes fired off another wise crack causing some light chuckling as he and tall coffee skinned Andy Norwood hauled another heavy panel.

“So who did ya piss off to get this detail, fleet?” Nick groaned, staggering slightly under the weight of another panel.

“Dunno, lost count.” Torian squeezed against the tunnel wall as a grav sled loaded with dirt passed them by pushed by another engineer in dirty fatigues, while another sled, empty, passed over the other near the top of the tunnel. In the front an excavator floating half a meter above the ground churned through the dirt spraying muddy contents behind onto a another sled. The operator, a surprisingly petite dark haired woman named Callie, barked at the other engineers over the hum of the engine, lying prone on top of the machine. Loose dirt that fell by the side was shoveled onto the sled behind the excavator.

The shoulder flashes of the engineers depicted a four leaf clover for the 7
^th
Combat Engineer Battalion, called the Lucky Ones, because Lucky 7`s was already taken by an infantry battalion. When he had arrived at night, most had been sleeping so introductions were skipped. In the morning his black rank symbol of a Specialist First Class on the chest of his green, brown, and black camouflaged fatigues distinguished him right away and invited salvos of ridicule from the hardened veterans. Torian, however, was used to being the new guy and shot back with the ripostes and parries of a seasoned pro. His easygoing nature and lack of complaints helped him gain acceptance quickly. No one was in the mood for deep conversation early in the morning being the first at breakfast, but as the morning wore on everyone opened up. And being a Hawkeye crew member, the eyes and ears of the fleet, as opposed to a cocky Starhawk pilot, made him a savant of fleet knowledge for the unending questions from the curious sappers.

“So, you crash land on this haunted piece of real estate?” Nick Grimes and Andy Norwood rolled out a plasteel mat on the ground while Torian and Clive hefted a ceiling cross beam and locked it into the panels on either side of the tunnel.

“Yeah.” he tried to be vague, “Lost thrusters over the city.”

“Saw a Spacemaster full of Dragons go down.” Andy shook his head, scrapping some dirt away from the base of a panel with a shovel, “Did your pilot make it?”

Torian glanced away, “No.”