Old Man's War Boxed Set 1 (28 page)

And you
—she said, turning to me and pointing to the tower.
Climb up there and tell me what we’ve got
.

I glanced up at the tower, which was your typical radio tower: About 150 meters high and not much of anything besides the metal scaffolding holding up whatever it was at the top. It was the most impressive thing about the Rraey so far. The tower hadn’t been here when the Rraey had arrived, so they must have put it up almost instantly. It was just a radio tower, but on the other hand, you try putting up a radio tower in a day and see how you do. The tower had spikes forming a ladder leading up toward the top; Rraey physiology and height were close enough to humans that I could use it. Up I went.

At the top was some dangerous wind and a car-size bundle of antennae and instrumentation. I scanned it with Asshole, who compared the visual image with its library of Rraey technology. It was all Rraey, all the time. Whatever information was being piped down from the satellites was being processed down at the command center. I hoped they managed to take the command center without accidentally blowing the stuff up.

I passed along the information to Jane. She informed me that the sooner I got down from the tower, the better chance I had of not getting crushed by debris. I didn’t need further convincing. As I got down, rockets launched over my head directly into the instrument package at the top of the tower. The force of the blast caused the tower’s stabilizing cables to snap with a metallic
tang
that promised beheading power to any who might have been in their path. The entire tower swayed. Jane ordered the tower base struck; the rockets tore into the metal beams. The tower twisted and collapsed, groaning all the way down.

From the command center area, the sounds of combat had stopped and there was sporadic cheering; whatever Rraey there were, were now gone. I had Asshole bring up my internal chronometer. It had not been quite ninety minutes since we hurled ourselves out of the
Sparrowhawk
.

“They had no idea we were coming,” I said to Jane, and was suddenly surprised at the sound of my own voice.

Jane looked at me, nodded, and then looked over to the tower. “They didn’t. That was the good news. The bad news is, now they know we’re here. This was the easy part. The hard part is coming up.”

She turned and started shooting commands to her platoon. We were expecting a counterattack. A big one.

“Do you want to be human again?” Jane asked me. It was the evening before our landing. We were in the mess area, picking at food.

“Again?” I said, smiling.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Back into a real human body. No artificial additives.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve only got eight-some-odd years left to go. Assuming I’m still alive, I’ll retire and colonize.”

“It means going back to being weak and slow,” Jane said, with usual Special Forces tact.

“It’s not
that
bad,” I said. “And there are other compensations. Children, for example. Or the ability to meet others and not have to subsequently kill them because they are the alien enemies of the colonies.”

“You’ll get old again and die,” Jane said.

“I suppose I will,” I said. “That’s what humans do. This”—I held up a green arm—“isn’t the usual thing, you know. And as far as dying goes, in any given year of CDF life, I’m far more likely to die than if I were a colonist. Actuarially speaking, being an unmodified human colonist is the way to go.”

“You’re not dead yet,” Jane said.

“People seem to be looking out for me,” I said. “What about you? Any plans to retire and colonize?”

“Special Forces don’t retire,” Jane said.

“You mean you’re not allowed?” I asked.

“No, we’re allowed,” Jane said. “Our term of service is ten years, just like yours, although with us there’s no possibility of our term lasting any less than the full ten years. We just don’t retire, is all.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“We don’t have any experience being anything else than what we are,” Jane said. “We’re born, we fight, that’s what we do. We’re good at what we do.”

“Don’t you ever want to stop fighting?” I asked.

“Why?” Jane asked.

“Well, for one thing, it dramatically cuts down your chances of violent death,” I said. “For another thing, it’d give you a chance to live those lives you all dream about. You know, the pasts you make up for yourselves. Us normal CDF get to have that life before we go into the service. You could have it afterward.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” Jane said.

“Welcome to the human race,” I said. “So you’re saying no Special Forces people leave the service? Ever?”

“I’ve known one or two,” Jane admitted. “But only a couple.”

“What happened to them?” I asked. “Where did they go?”

“I’m not really sure,” Jane said, vaguely. Then, “Tomorrow I want you to stick by me.”

“I understand,” I said.

“You’re still too slow,” Jane said. “I don’t want you to interfere with my other people.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said. “I realize that wasn’t very tactful. But you’ve led soldiers. You know what my concern is. I’m willing to assume the risks involved in having you around. Others shouldn’t have to.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not offended. And don’t worry. I’ll carry my own weight. I plan to retire, you know. I have to stay alive a little bit longer to do that.”

“Good that you have motivations,” Jane said.

“I agree,” I said. “You should think about retiring yourself. As you say, it’s good to have a motivation to stay alive.”

“I don’t want to be dead,” Jane said. “It’s motivation enough.”

“Well,” I said, “if you ever change your mind, I’ll send you a postcard from wherever I retire. Come join me. We can live on a farm. Plant some chickens. Raise some corn.”

Jane snorted. “You can’t be serious,” she said.

“Actually, I am,” I said, and I realized that I was.

Jane was silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t like farming.”

“How would you know?” I said. “You’ve never done it.”

“Did Kathy like to farm?” Jane said.

“Not in the least,” I said. “She barely had the tolerance to keep a garden going.”

“Well, there you have it, then,” Jane said. “Precedent is working against me.”

“Give it some thought, anyway,” I said.

“Maybe I will,” Jane said.

Where the hell did I put that ammo clip
—Jane sent, and then the rockets hit. I threw myself down to the ground as rock from Jane’s position on the outcropping showered around me. I looked up and saw Jane’s hand, twitching. I started up toward her, but was held back by a spray of fire. I wheeled backward and got back behind the rock where I had been positioned.

I looked down at the team of Rraey that had blindsided us; two of them were moving slowly up the hill toward us, while a third was helping a final one load another rocket. I had no doubts where that one was headed. I flipped a grenade toward the two advancing Rraey and heard them scrambling for cover. When it went off I ignored them and took a shot at the Rraey with the rocket. It went down with a thud and triggered its rocket with an expiring twitch; the blast scorched the face of its companion Rraey, who screamed and flailed about, clutching at its eyeband. I shot it in the head. The rocket arced up and away, far from me. I didn’t bother to wait to see where it landed.

The two Rraey who had been advancing on my position started to scramble back up; I launched another grenade in their general direction to keep them busy and headed to Jane. The grenade landed directly at the feet of one of the Rraey and proceeded to take those feet off; the second Rraey dove back to the ground. I launched a second grenade at that one. He didn’t avoid that one fast enough.

I kneeled over Jane, who was still twitching, and saw the chunk of rock that had penetrated the side of her head. SmartBlood was rapidly clotting, but small spurts were leaking out at the edges. I spoke to Jane, but she didn’t respond. I accessed her BrainPal, to erratic emotional blips of shock and pain. Her eyes scanned sightlessly. She was going to die. I clutched her hand and tried to calm the sickening rush of vertigo and déjà vu.

The counterattack had begun at dawn, not long after we took the tracking station, and it had been more than heavy; it had been ferocious. The Rraey, realizing their protection had been ripped away, had struck back hard to reclaim the tracking station. Their attack was haphazard, belying the lack of time and planning, but it was relentless. Troopship after troopship floated over the horizon, bringing more Rraey into combat.

The Special Forces soldiers used their special blend of tactics and insanity to greet the first of these troopships with teams racing to meet the ships as they landed, firing rockets and grenades into the troop bays the moment the landing doors opened. The Rraey finally added air support and troops began landing without being blown up the moment they touched down. While the bulk of our forces were defending the command center and the Consu technological prize it hid, our platoon had been roaming the periphery, harassing the Rraey and making their forward progress that much more difficult. It’s why Jane and I were on the outcropping of rock, several hundred meters from the command center.

Directly below our position, another team of Rraey were beginning to pick their way toward us. It was time to move. I launched two rockets at the Rraey to stall them, then bent down and grabbed Jane in a fireman’s carry. Jane moaned, but I couldn’t worry about that. I spotted a boulder Jane and I had used on our way out and launched myself toward it. Behind me, the Rraey took aim. Shots whipped by; shattered rock cut at my face. I made it behind the boulder, set Jane down, pumped a grenade in the Rraey’s direction. As it went off, I ran out from behind the boulder and leaped at their position, covering much of the distance in two long strides. The Rraey squawked; they didn’t quite know what to do with the human launching itself directly at them. I switched my Empee to automatic fire and got them at close range before they could get themselves organized. I hurried back to Jane and accessed her BrainPal. Still there. Still alive.

The next leg of our journey was going to be difficult; about a hundred meters of open ground lay between me and where I wanted to be, a small maintenance garage. Rraey infantry lines bordered the field; a Rraey aircraft was heading in the general direction I wanted to go, looking for humans to shoot. I accessed Asshole to locate the positions of Jane’s people and found three near me: two on my side of the field, thirty meters away, and another on the other side. I gave them the order to cover me, grabbed Jane again and sprinted toward the shed.

The air erupted in gunfire. Turf jumped up at me as shots buried themselves into the ground where my feet had been or would be. I was hit with a glancing blow to my left hip; my lower half torqued as pain flashed through my side. That was going to leave a bruise. I managed to keep my footing and kept running. Behind me I could hear the crumpled thump of rockets impacting on Rraey positions. The cavalry had arrived.

The Rraey airship turned to get a shot at me, then swerved to avoid the rocket launched at it from one of our soldiers. It accomplished this, but wasn’t so lucky at avoiding the other two rockets bearing down on it from the other direction. The first crashed into its engine; the second into the windshield. The aircraft dipped and listed, but remained aloft long enough to get kissed by a final rocket that lodged itself in the shattered windshield and erupted into the cockpit. The aircraft collapsed into the ground with a shuddering rumble as I made it to the shed. Behind me, the Rraey who had been targeting me turned their attention to Jane’s people, who were causing them far more damage than I was. I tore open the door to the shed and slid myself and Jane into the recessed repair bay inside.

In the relative calm I reassessed Jane’s vitals. The wound in her head was completely caked over with SmartBlood; it was impossible to see how much damage there was or how deep the rock fragments went into her brain. Her pulse was strong but her breathing was shallow and erratic. This is where the extra oxygen-carrying capacity of SmartBlood was going to come in handy. I was no longer certain she was going to die, but I didn’t know what I could do to keep her alive on my own.

I accessed Asshole for options, and one was produced: the command center had housed a small infirmary. Its accommodations were modest but featured a portable stasis chamber. It would keep Jane stable until she could make it onto one of the ships and back to Phoenix for medical attention. I recalled how Jane and the crew of the
Sparrowhawk
stuffed me into a stasis chamber after my first trip to Coral. It was time to return the favor.

A series of bullets whined through a window above me; someone had remembered I was there. Time to move again. I plotted my next sprint, to a Rraey-built trench fifty meters in front of me, now occupied by Special Forces. I let them know I was coming; they obligingly laid down suppressing fire as I ran brokenly toward them. With that I was behind Special Forces lines again. The remainder of the trip to the command center proceeded with minimal drama.

I arrived just in time for the Rraey to begin lobbing shells at the command center. They were no longer interested in taking back their tracking station; now they were intent on destroying it. I looked up at the sky. Even through the brightness of the morning sky, sparkling flashes of light glistened through the blue. The Colonial fleet had arrived.

The Rraey weren’t going to take very long to demolish the command center, taking the Consu technology with it. I didn’t have very much time. I ducked into the building and ran for the infirmary as everyone else was streaming out.

There was something big and complicated in the command center infirmary. It was the Consu tracking system. God only knows why the Rraey decided to house it there. But they did. As a result, the infirmary was the one room in the entire command center that wasn’t all shot up; Special Forces were under orders to take the tracking system in one piece. Our boys and girls attacked the Rraey in this room with flash grenades and knives. The Rraey were still there, stab wounds and all, splayed out on the floor.