The Landfall Campaign (The Nameless War) (40 page)


Still, you never know. How are you doing with that doctor?

she asked, changing the subject.


He got moved to one of the forward dressing stations,

Leah replied, her voice still sounding distracted.

Inside the privacy of her own skull Alice said something rude. She’d managed to get Leah a porter

s position in the field hospital in the hope of her coming to the attention of someone. A somewhat elderly Indian doctor had started to show an interest in her and for the last week, Alice had been hoping her friend was receiving the help she badly needed.

Alice’s doctorate was in languages rather than medicine or any kind of psychology, but she could see that her friend was suffering from some kind of mental illness, probably post-traumatic stress.

When the war finally reached Douglas Base, Alice hadn’t been on the ground. Her transport plane had however been close enough for her to see the twin pillars of fire as the two missiles raced skyward. The transport had been forced to orbit the base for an hour while they waited for the runway to be cleared.

Leah on the other hand, was part of a work party that was drafted in to help the victims of the launch. She’d never spoken about exactly what she’d seen but Alice had got the details from others: bodies incinerated to the point where species, let alone identity, was impossible to determine; people burnt horribly and screaming in pain; and the overwhelming smell of charred meat.

Alice didn’t think her friend had led a particularly sheltered life, but something like that, was too far removed from any previous frame of reference to process. Some of the marines in the company to which Alice was attached had also been involved in the clear-up and she was aware that several of them had since given up eating meat.

When it came to treating bullet holes, broken bones or, yes, even burnt flesh, the level of medical care at Douglas was second to none. But the afflictions of the mind were a different matter. While the civilians from the national colonies and the serving soldiers had large social groupings to offer support, Battle Fleet civilian contractors like Leah and Alice had no comparable group. Leah was now the last of the old
Harbinger
crowd that Alice saw, and even that took a bit of effort. With the final retreat to the shelters her posting had changed yet again. She was now a member of the medical corps, albeit with no medical training beyond basic first aid. Her exact role was as a stretcher-bearer.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to her that such a position even existed. It sounded so twentieth century. But it made sense when she thought about it. The rings of trenches around the perimeter of Douglas were now completed. The trees within the trench line had been allowed to remain, but downhill a three hundred metre wide band had been cleared of all cover. A killing zone the soldiers had called it. Between the trenches and the trees there was no way any vehicle could reach the forward positions. So using stretcher-bearers was the only way to get someone from the outer ring of trenches to the dressing station on the support line or beyond. While the current uneasy peace prevailed, there weren’t many customers for Alice. Captain Fuentes, the medical officer to whom Alice now answered, might have been a bit dour but he allowed her to take a lunch break long enough to travel into the centre of the base to meet Leah.


Enough about me,

Alice said firmly.

How are things going in the field hospital?


It

s sprained ankles mostly, oh

and a few cases of trench foot. When they cut the boots off, it’s
…”


Something that I am not discussing before my lunch,

Alice cut her off as she picked up a plastic food tray and passed one over. They were finally into the mess tent and foodie smells beckoned to Alice. It was noisy as rows and rows of soldiers ate and talked. Leah shrank back toward Alice and away from the hubbub. Alice put a comforting arm around her shoulders.


It’s all right, nothing to worry about here,

she told her.

Nothing to worry about.

If I crack, will there be someone looking out for me?
she thought to herself as she comforted Leah.

The wail of the siren that started just as she finished speaking made her a liar. Every single person in the mess tent froze. The only sound was the continuing wail. Then the people started moving. The line behind Leah and Alice disintegrated. Plastic trays were abandoned as people flowed out through the tent flap. As she turned to follow the crowd, Alice found her mind recording odd snapshots. The fear on some faces, resignation on many, excitement on a few and those men and woman in uniform who paused to take a very deliberate last mouthful of food before they to hurried away. Automatically Alice started to move as well but was brought up short. Leah clung to her like a lost child. Her friend’s face had gone chalky white.


Leah, we’ve got to go!


No, no, no!

Leah sobbed as Alice physically dragged her out of the mess tent.

The muddy expanse outside was a hive of activity as humanity in all its forms hurried back and forth. That was of no interest to Alice. Instead her eyes searched for and found the four missile defence silos, all around which the ground was still scorched. They were three kilometres away, but she could still see clearly the concrete caps sliding open. Leah also looked towards the silos and when she saw them open, vomited helplessly over herself.

Alice desperately tried to calm her hysterical friend but time was against her. Fifty metres away she could see people piling into the truck that had brought her from the perimeter.


Please Leah, I have to go, please don’t cry, it’ll be okay,

she pleaded with her. The truck’s engine started up and with a desperate heave Alice managed to extract her arm from Leah’s grip. Her friend didn’t chase after her but instead flopped down in the mud weeping. Her heart knotted with guilt, Alice nonetheless had no choice but to sprint away from her and after the truck. The vehicle started to move just as she reached it and Alice jumped desperately for the tailgate. Someone grabbed hold of her arm, while another impersonal hand closed around her leg and between them dragged her onto the truck. Looking back, she saw a small figure slumped in the mud, then the truck turned into a corridor of tents and Leah was lost from view.

___________________________

 


Report!

Eulenburg demanded as he hurried into Four C. The raucous alarm cut out as he crossed the command centre’s threshold and the computer detected his arrival.


An enemy fleet just made real space re-entry twenty thousand kilometres beyond the Blue Line,

the duty officer answered promptly.


Do we have a composition yet?

Eulenburg asked as he tried to get his earpiece into place while he made his way to the command booth.


Exact composition no. Right now I can tell you that there are seventy-five ships on approach. Twenty of those are escorts. Beyond that the computer

s working on it.

Eulenburg was on the steps when the officer replied. Seventy-five! He nearly tripped over. It was definitely no feint this time.


Time?

he asked quietly when he reached the booth.


On their current track and acceleration

six and a half hours until they achieve orbit. A second detachment, seven ships, is heading for the moon. Looks like we’re going to lose our lunar tracking station.


Yes. Send it the command codes to detonate its reactor if any enemy vessel closes to within five-thousand kilometres.

 

There wasn’t much left of Landfall’s pre-war detection grid. Some of the satellites had got too close to the Nameless’s jammers and their trigger-happy escorts. Others had burned through their propellant while shifting orbit around those same escorts, forcing Eulenburg to order them to be de-orbited, rather than leave technology floating around to be picked up. The lunar tracking station was the best of what was left but soon it was going to be just the newest crater on Landfall

s moon.

While it remained however, it helped give Eulenburg a force composition. Twenty escorts in the vanguard and on the flanks, followed by eight cruisers, three capital ships, two bombards, thirty-nine transports and two unknowns. The composition certainly cleared up the questions regarding the Nameless’s intentions. It was about the only thing that was clear.

 


Governor Reynolds, I want you to understand that this discussion is going to be of primarily a military nature. Your lack of a military background limits how much you can seriously contribute to the discussion. Therefore you are being invited into these discussions as an observer and witness.

Eulenburg addressed Reynolds in an uncompromising tone as the two of them walked towards the communications suite.

Given that the time is limited, I want to keep this meeting as short as possible, so I expect contributions from you to be kept to a minimum.


I’m not sure I like your tone Admiral.

Reynolds snapped back.


It is not my intention to be offensive Governor, but equally I do not wish there to be any possible room for misunderstanding.


I would imagine the American and Chinese Governors aren’t being told to keep quiet by their military heads,

Reynolds replied coldly.

I must remember at some point to offer Xiaochuan and Arlidge my sympathy on that point,
Eulenburg thought to himself before making a carefully diplomatic reply.


Those bases are the sovereign property of the USA and China. Their commanders operate on a chain of command that goes back to their governments on Earth, through their respective governors. This base is a Battle Fleet installation Governor, meaning that those same conditions do not hold sway here.

The Governor visibly huffed and Eulenburg decided to say no more.

The connection to the other shelters had been made and Xiaochuan and Arlidge were already waiting, as were Yuen Ziyi and Oscar Barton, the Chinese and American Governors. Modern hologram technology was so good that usually it was difficult to distinguish between those actually there and those whose presence was merely electronic. Not this time though. The signals from Anshan and Endeavour were now being transmitted via lasers through their few surviving communication satellites. This was a torturous method that avoided interference from the jammers but introduced plenty of signal degradation of its own. The image of the two Chinese was intermittently broken by black and white interference lines, while the Americans seemed to be having definite signal lag problems.


I think this is likely to be the last time we communicate like this for a while,

Arlidge said as Eulenburg and Reynolds took their seats.


That is the truth,

Xiaochuan replied,

although its loss does not greatly worry me. I have a great many things to worry about so I cannot afford to waste my worrying time on the trivial and the unavoidable.

Eulenburg and Arlidge both smiled at the truth of his statement.


Yes, yes, can we please get to the matter at hand? We have an Armada bearing down on us and not much time,

snapped the American Governor, Barton. He wasn’t panicking, yet, but was clearly very anxious.


Of course Governor Barton,

Eulenburg replied diplomatically before turning to his military opposites.

Gentlemen, if I may ask frankly, how ready are your defences?


As strong as we can make them, which isn’t anywhere near as strong as I’d like,

Arlidge replied.


The same could be said here,

Xiaochuan added.


Wherever they land, we’re going to give them a hell of a fight,

Arlidge said thumping the table at his end for emphasis.


Unquestionably true General, but regrettably

hell of a fight’ is not the same as stopping them.


What are you saying General?

Barton demanded.

That the Nameless are going to roll over us!

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