Gray Panthers: Dixie (23 page)

Forward edge of the battle area in New Richmond, planet Dixie

17 November 2128

Lieutenant Wright and Staff Sergeant Coyle sat quietly looking out the second-floor window of an office building. The view covered a large area. The few remaining drones weren’t finding anything ahead of their unit. Faeries were coming up empty as well. Coyle was relieved, but he imagined the enemy coming up from under the building. He hadn’t slept since returning to the front from the medical station.

“Looks like we need your special abilities, Staff Sergeant Coyle.” Wright pointed to a wobbler that had walked up a side street and was scratching at the ground-floor door to get in.

Since the GP medics had treated Coyle with nanites, the wobblers weren’t interested in him, nor would they attack him.

“Go ahead and put that thing into the building and lock it in an office until someone comes along with a stick to cure it,” the lieutenant directed. Coyle acknowledged his order as he watched the wobbler, a slim young woman wearing a sweater covered in dried blood. Her eyes seemed huge, since they were all white. Coyle forced himself away from the window and headed for the front door.

“Hey, Staff Sergeant Coyle, your date’s here.” The troops at the first-floor window laughed—until they saw he was opening the door. “Shit! Don’t let that thing in here.” They cringed as Coyle grabbed the wobbler by the back of the neck. He half-carried it to an office and slammed the door shut.

“There you go, guys. I think she’s accepting office appointments.” Coyle returned to the stairs, complimenting himself on his wit.

“Our guest has been tucked in, Lieutenant.” Fatigued, Coyle dropped down next to the window.

“How long since you slept?” Wright looked into Coyle’s blood-shot eyes and waited for an answer.

“Well, sir, it’s—we have movement, sir. Let’s get back away from the win—” The glass exploded as a projectile smashed through the window and continued straight through the lieutenant’s head, splattering Coyle and the walls with gore. Coyle began screaming and curled up in a ball. The troops came running and couldn’t stop his screaming. One of them ran for a medic.

“Sergeant, can you hear me? Sergeant?” the medic asked as he surveyed Coyle’s condition. “He’s checked out.” He slid a small air gun against Coyle’s neck and injected a tranquilizer. The last thing Coyle saw was the medic’s head exploding as the same Red Coat sniper fired again through the second-story window.

“Got the bastard! Can’t believe he shot from the same place again,” Corporal Jacobs shouted. When no one replied, he crawled away from the first-floor window and made his way to the second floor. The sergeant was out cold and the medic was headless, covered in his own gore. Chavez was just staring in shock.

“Come on, buddy. Come back to me,” Jacobs said as he slapped Chavez hard across the face.

“Fuck you, bitch. Why did you—damn! This ain’t real, man. I didn’t sign up for this shit.” Chavez, soaked with his own sweat, was clearly agitated.

“Chavez, grab the Sarge and get downstairs. It’s not healthy up here.” Jacobs watched as Chavez hoisted Coyle over his shoulder and left the room. Then he located and disabled Coyle’s beamer and the lieutenant’s so the enemy couldn’t use them. Crawling toward the door, he noticed that his hands were sticky. He looked down and saw they that were coated in blood, as were his legs.
Damn. It’s going to be a long day.
He found his way back down to the first floor and waited for another medic with transport to pick up Coyle and the bodies. The first streaks of sunlight were just starting to stream through the windows.

Arizona Space Ship Beater, in Libra Alliance space

17 November 2128

Johnson was having another torturous night. The ghosts of Nakhl Taghi, from thirty years prior, once again visited him. They had come back to him every night since he’d destroyed the refinery at the gas giant.

On a sweep of the Iranian coast, Johnson had commanded a squadron of boats. After receiving fire from the shore, they had returned fire. A fuel storage facility had caught fire and spread to the city. The crews of the boats watched helplessly as civilians jumped into the water to escape the firestorm, only to be incinerated when the fuels leaking into the water ignited. The fire’s glow in the night sky could be seen for miles for a week.

“Check fire! Check—” Johnson bolted upright in his bunk, soaked. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t drink from the glass of water by his bunk. Concentrating hard, he was able to dress. The alarm on his console went off as he finished tying his boot. Splashing some water on his face, he headed for the flight deck to begin his shift.

Short Blade was at the helm when Johnson got there.
The commander looks sick,
Short Blade thought, noticing the stubble on the captain’s chin and the lines under his eyes. “Good morning, Captain,” SB said, turning his attention back to his console. Johnson ignored the greeting as he sat and reviewed all reports from when he went off duty.

“Captain, we are half an hour out from planet Tak,” Lieutenant Horton beamed.

“Get me a mug of coffee, black. When you get it back to me, we will go to condition black.” Horton looked like he’d been kicked as he went for the coffee. Johnson began to pull the small box out of his pocket but then pushed it back in as Commander Poland entered the flight deck.

“Shouldn’t be long now, sir,” Poland said, seeming overly cheerful.

“It should be an interesting day, Commander.” Johnson felt like he had a mouthful of dirty cotton mixed with a hangover.

“Captain, here’s your coffee.” Horton returned to his console.

“Thank you, Chester. Go ahead and make the announcement that we’re dropping out of FTL space. Set ship for condition black.”

As the ship entered normal space, all positions were manned and ready for combat. Ahead of them was nothing but empty space.

“How are we looking on the sensors, Lieutenant Horton?” Johnson sipped his coffee, relieved that they hadn’t dropped into the middle of an enemy fleet.

“At the furthest extent of our passive scans there’s a large target at heading two hundred fifty degrees. I’ll need to go active to determine any more information.”

“Denied. Maintain stations. We’re going to jump to the target. If it’s a warship, we’ll fire a volley and jump out again. If the target is a cargo ship, we’ll take it. Ship’s condition is now red. Prepare to jump. Jump.” The Beater came out of the FTL jump less than ten miles from the target.

“Beater, what do you know about this ship?”

“The ship is an obsolete automated cargo ship used for bulk transport by industries from the Tak home world.”

“Captain Young, launch as soon as you can to board and capture that cargo ship. All information on the ship will be transmitted to your shuttle’s AI.”

“Copy, sir. We’re suiting up, in case we find ourselves in a vacuum.” Young watched as his people excitedly donned their gear, ready for their first boarding.

“It’s your show, marine. Good luck.” Johnson was disappointed at the slim prospect of the ancient cargo ship having any value.

“Cargo appears to be raw pullzerite. Not a valuable commodity. It’s used in the manufacture of projectile munitions. It can be unstable. I assume that’s why it’s loaded on board an automated ship,” Beater announced.

“Beater, Major Rogers. Departing with party of ten.” The excitement in the shuttle was contagious. The marines were going to perform the oldest traditional mission of the Corps.

“Major Rogers, Beater. Be advised, the cargo ship should not have a crew. Be careful of surprises. Beater out.”

Several of the monitors in front of Johnson showed the shuttle approaching the ship, while others showed different views of the ship.

“Beater, what does pullzerite need to be ignited?” Johnson asked.

“Sir, an exposed electrical flash, fire, or weapons’ fire.”

“Pass that information to the boarding team before they cut a door open or do something else that will blow them up.”

“Message has been transmitted to all marines, sir.”

“Can we make a proximity bomb so that when the Takians come, we blow up their ship as well as the cargo ship?” Johnson perked up at his own suggestion.

“Sir, we can modify their sensors so that when they receive docking instructions the internal life-support will heat up the cargo holds above freezing. It will be one huge bomb. I can open a session with the ship’s computer and program it now, if you want.”

“Let’s wait until we have our people off the ship first.” Johnson resisted the urge to recall the marines so he could set the bomb now.

“Beater, we are boarding the cargo ship now. There’s minimal atmosphere, and the temperature is minus forty. Guess they like ice cream. Young out.”

Young looked at his people and warned them to check with Major Rogers if they had any questions about touching anything. “Guess they’re saving on the electric bill. Everyone in pairs, and keep your comms open. Remember where we parked. Ten minutes and we’re out of here, unless we find something.”

The passageways were wide and high. The different bulkheads were either a shade of red or pink.

Sergeant Levitow opened a hatchway and looked down into a main hold. The cargo that had been dumped into the hold reached up to the second floor.

“This is Levitow. Found the main hold. Looks like they filled up the hold with shucked corn kernels.”

“This is Major Roberts. The cargo you are describing is pullzerite. Very combustible and unstable. Avoid contact with the substance.”

“Good job, Levitow. Now get the hell out of there,” Young ordered. “Anyone else finds the same thing, leave it alone.”
What the hell other surprises are we going to find?
Young wondered. His suit was chafing him and he felt claustrophobic. The lights on his helmet seemed to be casting extra shadows.

“Ramirez, check my air hose. I think I may have a problem.” Young started to break out in a sweat at the thought of suffocating to death on an alien ship.

“Gotcha, Skipper. Your beamer sling was pinching your hose.” Ramirez repositioned the hose from under the sling. “How’s that?”

“Thanks, Ramirez. That’s better.” The air seemed fresher already, and Young felt more focused.

Young was relieved that everyone had made it back to the rally point. “Anybody see anything on this tub?” he asked. No one had anything to report, so they boarded their shuttle.

“Okay, Beater. Our people are off that mobile bomb. Set it to go off when the hatchway to the ship is opened,” Johnson instructed.

“Environmental sensor on the ship has been programmed to raise the heat to three hundred degrees in the main hold once the hatch is opened.”

“Good job, Beater. Looks like our job is done. Let’s proceed at full impulse toward Tak, nice and normal so we don’t startle the neighbors.” Johnson was pleased that everything had gone well, though he began to worry about the next contact. Slipping a pill from his box, he washed it down with a swig of coffee.

Forward edge of battle area in New Richmond, planet Dixie

18 November 2128

Survivors from the botched air assault had been reconstituted into new squads. Master Sergeant McGuire was pulling guard, watching a small park across the street while her new squad slept in the library behind her. She was feeling maternal, and she didn’t want to lose any more of her kids.

“Master Sergeant McGuire, I can’t sleep. Want me to take over watch?” McGuire glanced up to see her charge. The woman had been in her sixties before getting the nanite treatment and looked like she barely made the height requirement for the Gray Panthers.

“Thanks, sweetie. Concentrate on the houses bordering the park directly across from us. I’m guessing two hours till sunup. Wake me if I’m not up. Be sure to stay back from the window while you keep watch. Sorry if I insulted your intelligence. I’ve just lost too many already and don’t want to take any chances at this stage of the game.”

“I understand, Master Sergeant. In my last life I was a first sergeant.”

“And here we are in our new world at squad level. Guess we could always try to enlist in the Army.” McGuire looked at her troop to measure her response.

“I’ll stick to the GP’s until I lose confidence in them. It’s been stretched, but these things have a way of snapping back.”

McGuire found a corner in the children’s section and settled in. She thought about the day ahead and how there was no way she would be able to sleep. A tugging at her shoulder brought her to wakefulness, slowly. There was activity in every section of the library. Troops were eating and checking their gear. A line had formed at the two bathrooms.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” McGuire felt like she had been drugged and was just starting to come out of it.

“Ma’am, you wanted up at sunrise. Everyone else woke earlier and started going about their business. I’m surprised you slept through it.”

“All right, folks. Twenty minutes, then we head out.” McGuire was starting to pull it together when a troop brought a cup of coffee for her.

“Here, Master Sergeant. The librarian’s office had a coffeemaker. Everyone else has had some already.” McGuire took the coffee and for the first time felt it would be a good day as she sipped at the burning liquid. The warmth of the coffee filled her with optimism.

She opened the front door of the library and scanned the area around the building as the morning’s cool, fresh air improved her attitude even more.

“Okay. Here’s the plan. In teams of three we will check out each house across the street. We will only do the houses from one corner to the other. No crossing any streets without my permission. If the shit hits the fan, we fall back to the library. No souvenirs from the houses, and be careful of any wobblers that might be locked inside. Try not to break any doors or windows. We all come back alive. Now let’s move out!”

Walking through the park toward the houses, McGuire looked down the street to the left and right and noticed other units moving toward their objectives.