Stars & Empire: 10 Galactic Tales Read online

  So now I was heading for a briefing on this new campaign. After we took the station at Gliese 250, my company rejoined the battalion for twin assaults on Dina and Albera, two moons circling a gas giant in orbit around Zeta Leporis II. Fruits of our victory in Gliese, from which they were a single transit, the twin moons were major mining colonies of crucial importance to the Caliphate’s war effort.

  The battalion attacked Dina first, then we regrouped and reinforced before hitting Albera two weeks later. Without controlling Gliese 250, the enemy had a very circuitous route through CAC territory to reach the Zeta Leporis system, so it would be difficult for them to mount a counterassault any time soon. Both battles were tough, close quarters affairs fought mostly underground. The colonies were solely engaged in mining the rare ores that were plentiful in the crust of the two moons, and all of the habitable areas were located well below the surface where they were shielded from the massive radiation produced by Zeta Leporis I.

  It wasn’t unlike the battle on the station, but there was no single installation we could grab and compel a surrender, so we had to fight it out chamber by chamber. The moons produced vital war materials, and they were garrisoned by regulars, not second rate security forces like the station. We had quite a fight on our hands.

  Halfway through the battle on Albera, I ended up as acting battalion exec when Major Warrick went down in a firefight. She wasn’t badly wounded, but her armor was scragged, so she was out of the action. Captain Torrance had been acting executive officer, so he moved up to take command of the operation. He bumped me up to exec even though half the other captains had more seniority.

  The toughest part of the fight was right near the end on Albera. The enemy had back held a tac-group of Janissaries we didn’t even know was there. Roughly equivalent to a reinforced company of ours, they were completely fresh, and they hit us when we were tired and low on supplies. Eventually I took the battalion reserve and we found a way through the tunnels around to the other side. Once we hit them in the front and rear simultaneously their position became untenable, but they still fought on. Janissaries almost never surrender, and we had to wipe them out. It cost us.

  Despite the serious losses, the victories were complete, and with Gliese and Zeta Leporis we had taken two vital Caliphate systems in less than four months. They’d have to try to take both of them back, which at least would keep them too busy to attack any more of our worlds for a while. I suspect that was the major reason we attacked the moons. I seriously doubted we’d be able to mount a credible defense of both systems, and since our only access to Zeta Leporis was through Gliese, it was an easy choice which one to try to hold. Our prospects were improving, but we were still playing catch up, and we were short on resources across the board. When we pulled back to Gliese 250 to refit and regroup it was immediately obvious we were going to make a play to hang onto the system and its massive space station. The place was swarming with naval units—the biggest fleet I’d seen since Achilles. The station itself was a beehive of construction work, and it was now surrounded by a ring of defensive satellites and weapon platforms.

  When we returned from Zeta Leporis we looped around the orange Gliese primary and decelerated at full power. It made for an uncomfortable ride, getting slammed into our accel/decel couches the whole time, but it got us docked quickly. We all needed some rest, and while the station wasn’t the ideal place for leave, it was still a chance to rest and recuperate with no one shooting at us. Unless the enemy attacked while we were there, of course.

  The station, renamed Tarawa, was amazingly organized considering it had only been four months since we’d taken it, and we had billets assigned when we arrived. I dismissed the company and headed to my assigned quarters, planning on an extended period of sleeping without being crushed to death by 6G deceleration.

  My quarters were quite large and comfortable; I was really coming up in the world. Rank does indeed have its privileges, and frankly I was starting to enjoy some of them. I flopped on the bunk and was just about to order the AI to turn off the lights when the door buzzer sounded.

  “Open,” I barked at the AI. I wasn’t really in the mood for visitors right now. All I really wanted to do was sleep.

  “So look how far my resourceful sergeant has gone.” The voice was familiar and the voice cheerful.

  I jumped up. Standing there in my doorway was Elias Holm. No longer Colonel Holm, as evidenced by the single polished platinum star on each collar. I stood at rigid attention and gave him my best salute. “General Holm, sir! I am very glad to see you sir. I believe I am greatly in your debt … in more ways than one.

  He smiled warmly. “Please, please. No standing at attention. You’re making me tired just looking at you. At ease.” He looked the same, more or less. Maybe a little more gray in his hair or another line on his face. I realized with a start that between the hospital, the Academy, and my campaigns since, it had been well over three years since I’d last seen him on Columbia.

  He motioned for me to take a seat. “Let’s sit and relax. We can catch up a bit. I brought us a little refreshment.” He held up a small bottle of caramel-colored liquid. “Cognac, straight from Earth, imported direct from Europa Federalis. Got it as a gift.” I guessed that that little bottle would have cost a month’s pay. To be honest, I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I wasn’t going to turn down the general. Besides, he brought the good stuff. If ever there was a time …

  I hadn’t really checked out my quarters at all, but I asked the AI for glasses, and a small cabinet in the wall opened. Inside were a dozen glasses of various sizes. I took two that looked suitable and brought them over to the table. The general popped open the bottle and poured.

  “Erik,” he said, “I am very proud of what you have accomplished. I had a strong feeling about you on Columbia, and your performance there and since has reinforced it. You’ve done solid soldiering, my boy.”

  I found praise hard to handle sometimes, but this was the one person in all of human space I most wanted to please. Ok, he was probably number two, but I respected the hell out of General Holm, and it meant a lot to hear all of this. “Thank you, sir. I’ve tried to do my best, though I must confess I sometimes feel out of my league and just lucky when things work out.”

  He snorted. “Erik, let me tell you a little secret as part of your initiation to the brotherhood of command. We all feel that way. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be worth a damn as a commander. But you’ve dealt with it all, and you’ve risen to meet every challenge thrown at you.” He raised his glass. “To the Corps. And to our brothers and sisters who are no longer here.”

  I grabbed my glass and clinked it against his. “To our lost brothers and sisters.” I took a sip and felt the heat of the cognac sliding down my throat.

  “I brought you something, Erik. It’s not 100% by the book, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt anything for me to bring these.” He slid a small box across the table. I picked it up and opened it. Inside there were two small round platinum circlets. A major’s insignia.

  I was speechless for a few seconds, and then I managed to stammer out a few words. “I’m not ready. It’s too soon.”

  “Look Erik, you’re ready. I have total confidence in you, and I want you to lead one of the battalions in my new offensive. I know you’ve come up quickly. The fastest in Corps history, in fact. Though I don’t suppose that helps your confidence any.” He let out a little chuckle. “But you know better than anyone how many losses we’ve suffered. We just don’t have the extra years to waste. We’re desperately short of capable command personnel, and it’s all the more crucial since so many of the troops are green. So accept your promotion stoically, because we both know that when the time comes you’ll do what needs to be done.”

  He grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses. “Have another drink, because the promotion isn’t all. You’re being decorated again. Twice. Once for taking this station and again for the moons campaign. And you’re getting the platinum star
cluster for that stunt you pulled in the corridor here.”

  He paused to let that sink in. I just sat there silent, dumbstruck. “It reminded me of your adventures on Columbia. I noticed back then that all your troops were in heavy cover, but you were standing out in the open. You ate a nuke for that one. I’m sure you remember. Those were magnificent displays of valor. I salute you.” He raised his glass and drained it. “But that’s the end of it. I don’t want to see you pull anything like that under my command. I need you as a commander, not a fallen hero.”

  I started to argue. “But general, the situation was…”

  He held up a hand and stopped me. “Erik, you are one of the most intelligent soldiers I’ve ever seen. Think about it. You know I’m right. You indulged yourself on the station. You assuaged your guilt over the men and women who’ve died under your command by taking on the most dangerous task yourself. Believe me, I understand it. I would have wanted to do it too. But in the end, you made yourself feel better and jeopardized the mission to do it. You were in command of the whole operation, not just taking out one gun. In another place or another time things might have been different, but at that moment, on this station, your life was more important than that of anyone else. You could have sent a private or corporal down that corridor, and if he or she got killed you could have sent another. But you had no right to go yourself.”

  He paused very briefly and continued, “Erik, this is what we do. We’re professionals, all of us. Making these kinds of decisions, it’s our job. Your troops understand this, but you need to as well. Don’t think that we don’t all feel the same way. The ghosts talk to me too, so I know exactly how you feel. But you need to deal with it, because it’s only going to get worse. You’re one of the most promising young officers I’ve ever seen, and you’ve come along at a time when we desperately need good commanders. You’re going to be leading many more troops, Erik, and a lot of them are going to die. You need to be ready, and you can’t feel you need to throw away your life to atone for some imagined sins.”

  We were both silent for a good while after that. I nursed my drink and thought about his words. He was right, I knew he was right. But it wasn’t easy. It was one thing to ask men and women to follow you into danger, but quite another to say, you and you, go into that death trap while I stay here. He was also right that I’d have to get past it if I was going to be an effective officer. They tried to cover this whole topic at the Academy too, but you really couldn’t understand it fully until you’d lived it.

  The general was silent. He knew I needed a minute to think, and he gave it to me. He took the bottle and filled our glasses and then sat quietly, staring at his cognac but not drinking.

  Finally I broke the silence. “I know you’re right, general. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your taking the time to talk this through with me. I’m having a hard time dealing with the losses. We were lucky and had light casualties here, but then the moons campaign was another bloodbath. Not as rough as Achilles or Columbia, but bad enough. Lots of empty seats on the shuttle coming back. I want to thank you for handling this privately and not through disciplinary channels. And for all the other ways you’ve helped my career.”

  He laughed softly. “Erik, this isn’t disciplinary at all, private or otherwise. You are one of the best Marines I’ve ever seen. Consider it help with your continuing education and development. Maybe I’d like to see you sidestep some of the things I learned the hard way. You’re less of a drinker than I am,”—he looked at my full glass and laughed again—“but I was less of a drinker myself a few thousand ghosts ago.” He drained his glass. “But look at it this way. You’ve created one hell of a blood and guts reputation for yourself. I think your troops would raise you up on their shields and declare you emperor!”

  We both laughed, and having gotten past the “official business,” we sat for a long while and talked about all sorts of things delightfully devoid of military significance. We even crossed the boundaries somewhat and discussed a bit of our pre-corps pasts, but that was the cognac talking.

  I learned a lot about the general that day, not the least of which is that he can drink me under the table. We polished off that very expensive bottle, which left him still in decent shape and me barely able to stand. He helped me over to my bunk and pulled off my boots. On his way out he ordered the AI to shut off the lights. That was the night I got tucked in by the Marine corps’ biggest hero.

  So now I was here, reviewing the battalion I would be commanding, shiny new major’s pips on my collar. It was a new unit, and most of the privates were fresh out of training. But the general had arranged for my old company to be transferred to my new command, so I had some familiar faces. He’d also given me authority to issue battlefield promotions to non-com positions, so I was able to take a lot of my veteran privates and make them team and squad leaders. I had a couple I wanted to send to the Academy, and the general approved them all, effective after the campaign. He didn’t want to lose any experienced personnel from the mission, and I agreed completely.

  I spent three days reorganizing the battalion. I tried to get an experienced private in every fire team, but I just didn’t have enough. So I made sure each squad had at least one and that any team without one had a very experienced non-com in charge. I couldn’t commission new lieutenants, but I could put a few veteran sergeants in command of platoons. I ran it by the general, and he told me to do whatever I thought was best. He also approved my request to bump Frost and Sanchez to captain and give each a company. Sanchez took a hit on Dina, but he’d be back to duty before we shipped out. By the time I finished rearranging things I was pretty happy with the results. I would have loved another experienced officer or two, but you work with what you’ve got.

  A week before we were set to ship out I got one more surprise, courtesy of General Holm. I had just finished a final briefing with my platoon commanders and was heading out to the dining hall, when a familiar figure turned the corner and said, “Well if it isn’t Major Erik Cain, the war hero.”

  I couldn’t restrain my shocked smile. “Captain Darius Jax! How have you been, old friend?” I walked up to him intending to shake his hand, but somehow it turned into a big bear hug.

  He flashed me a broad smile. “Tried to get myself killed on Alpha Leonis IV, but otherwise pretty fair. Of course, who can keep up with the legendary Major Erik Cain?”

  “That will be quite enough of that, thank you. Come on, let’s head down to the officers’ club and get some dinner. We’ve got some serious catching up to do.”

  We hopped on the lift down to the club and worked our way through a couple of dinosaur-sized steaks as we took turns recounting the events of the past three years. Jax had been badly wounded during the Alpha Leonis campaign and got the pleasure of regenerating an arm, which gave us something to commiserate about. When he mentioned he was at Armstrong I thought he might have met Sarah, but the medical center was enormous, and their paths hadn’t crossed.

  The best news, as far as I was concerned, was that Jax was assigned to my battalion. The general, who had been impressed with both of us on Columbia, had apparently been mentoring his career as he had mine, and he arranged to have Jax transferred to serve under me. His captain’s bars were shiny and new, but I decided right on the spot to make him my battalion executive officer. He had never commanded a company in the field, so putting him a heartbeat away from battalion command was unorthodox to say the least, but I knew Jax, and I knew that he could handle it. I knew I could trust him.

  After expressing the obligatory concerns about his readiness for the position, he accepted. We shook on it, and business concluded we spent a long night talking and reminiscing. Jax and I had fought together in Achilles and on Columbia, two back-to-back bloodbaths, and each of us had been able to count on the other. It created a real kinship between us that was hard to explain but very real nonetheless. I have always been a loner, and Jax was close to the only person I would have called a friend. My pers
onal relationships were few. Sarah, of course. And the general, who was rapidly becoming like a father to me.

  Getting back to business, I felt a lot better about the battalion. With Jax, Frost, and Sanchez as three of my captains, and my veteran NCOs from the old company spread around as platoon execs and section leaders, I figured we’d be able to manage just fine, even with the high proportion of green troopers.

  The campaign itself was a significant undertaking. The brigade was going to assault three systems, one after the other, only the second time a strike force had been given multiple targets. We’d be reinforced and resupplied between attacks, but we were going to hit all three in rapid succession, with very little time between to rest and refit.

  As the war grew in scope, central command was planning more in terms of this type of sustained, multi-planet campaign. We had just completed the first one—the attacks on Dina and Albera, but they were two moons of the same planet. This was much vaster in scope, with almost ten times as many troops and three enemy worlds in different systems.

  The entire campaign represented something of a doubling down on holding Gliese 250. We were attacking a group of systems known as “The Tail,” a chain of three stars with no lateral warp gates at all, just one in and one out until the last system, which had only the one. The entire thing was a dead end, with no discovered route in or out except through Gliese. That made the systems easy for us to defend once we took them. As long as we held Gliese, the worlds of the Tail would be safe from attack. Of course, if we lost Gliese and didn’t take it right back, the systems and any forces deployed down that dead end were cut off and as good as lost. They’d fight, of course, but trapped with no hope of resupply or reinforcement they’d stand no chance. If the enemy took Gliese back while we were still in the middle of the campaign, we’d have a disaster on our hands as bad as Achilles.