Invasion of Kzarch (25 page)

The moment after the general and the lieutenant entered, once everyone noticed them, the entire bar rang with cheers, many of the inebriated clientele coming up and slapping the two on the back.

Almost knocked over twice, Frank finally made his way to a side-table, where he waited for the general, who was finding it much harder to break away.

He finally managed it, nearly five minutes later, shoving off the last two cheering drunks, then lunging for the other chair at the table.

“Hard work dealing with your fans, isn’t it?” Frank observed.

Tom grimaced, and gestured to a waiter to bring a mug over.

“A beer, please! You want one?”

“No, the doctors said absolutely
no
alcohol.” This time it was Frank’s turn to grimace.

Laughing, Tom gestured again to the waiter, and called, “And one
non-alcoholic
beer for the lieutenant!”

“Hey! I don’t want that bilge!”

“You’ll have it and like it,” General Fil’dwis replied equitably. “You said I owed you a beer. Well, you’re going to get one! And
drink
it, and
like
it!”

“You- you-!” Frank couldn’t find the words to express his disgust of the other’s underhanded trickery.

“Just you wait!” he threatened finally, leaving unsaid, what, exactly, the other should wait for.

“Yeah, sure,” Tom snorted, taking the beer the waiter brought over, and swallowing a deep draft from it. On the other side of the table, Frank looked dubiously at the non-alcoholic beer that had placed in front of him.

Giving a small shrug, he tasted it. Well, at least it was wet.

“Actually,” Tom said, wiping his mouth, and taking another, smaller, swig. “It’s getting a bit out of hand.”

“What is?”

“My ‘fans’.” The general grimaced.

“What about them?”

“It’s… Well, it’s ridiculous!”

“What is?” Frank asked again, getting more and more mystified.

“That I have any!”

“Oh. Well, you can’t blame people for liking a successful general. Especially one who freed the planet.”

“
Please
. I get enough of that from the brownnosers.”

“Still true.”

“Not really. General Val’gor may have been a traitor in the end, but for most of the war, he did a good job of running things. I only picked things up at the finish, after things were already coming to a head.”

“But he
was
a traitor. No-one is going to want to idolize
him
.
You
, on the other hand, brought the war to a successful conclusion.”

“That was more due to you than me.”

Shrugging, Frank pointed out, “No, it wasn’t.
You
led the forces that defeated the pirates, I was only one of the units under your command. And killing Bloody Jack was just a coincidence. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“You’re one of
theirs
. I’m not.”

Frank’s logic was hard to argue with, so instead, the general just grimaced and took another swig of beer.

“Well, I just wish they’d leave me alone,” he said peevishly.

“Good luck,” said Frank, drinking with a scowl at the taste. “From what I heard, they’ve pretty much deified you.”

“Ugh!” General Fil’dwis actually shuddered. Finishing off his mug, he waved for a re-fill.

“Maybe after some time passes they’ll give it up,” Tom said optimistically.

“Don’t bet on it. Based on the rumors I’ve been hearing, you’re going to end up the next governor.”

The general had just taken a mouthful of beer, so when he heard that, his spit-take was quite impressive.

“Hey!” Frank said in protest.

“Wh-
what
!?”

“Someone throw me a towel!” the lieutenant ordered. Seconds later, the aforementioned cleaning cloth appeared. As Tom spluttered, Frank wiped himself off.

“b-But! They- They
can’t
!” the general finally managed to wail out.

“Oh? Why not?”

“I’ve got a business to run! I don’t
want
to be governor!”

“You know, I’m not sure that’s going to matter,” Frank observed.

“I’m not even a member of the First Family!”

Scratching his head, Frank tried to remember what little he knew of Kzarch’s politics and history.

“Based on the support you seem to be getting, I think you’ll be able to swing it. What few of the First Family that have survived the pirates’… occupation, aren’t going to be able to match your popularity; and with public feeling solidly behind you being governor… Besides, I imagine once the United Federation’s officials get here, they’re not going to be too impressed with any attempts by the, ah, ‘First Family’, to manipulate things.”

“But I don’t
want to be governor
!”

“I think you’re going to be surprised at how little your people are going to care,” the lieutenant laughed. Since he wasn’t in the hot seat, Frank was able to be quite amused about it all.

“Oh, shut up!” the general snapped.

“Relax,” Frank advised. “It may not come to it, in the end.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping,” Tom muttered.

Then, more forcefully, “Anyway, I have my
own
business to take care of. I’ve
got
to get back to it; even though the wars been over for weeks, I haven’t been able to sort it out yet.”

“Back to civilian life for you, eh?”

“Once everything’s sorted out, yes. I’ve
got
to start getting it back into shape, it’s become a mess in my absence.”

For few seconds, neither of them said anything. Then Tom raised his mug.

“To the future… and absent friends.”

“Future… and friends.” Tom echoed, raising his mug, thinking about the losses his platoon had sustained. The forty-eight Marines that had died under his command… Marv, back in the beginning… Sergeant Abe… Sergeant Javer… And Platoon Sergeant McKain.

“To absent friends,” he said again, and drank.

Chapter Eighteen

Frank took one last glance at Kzarch, then turned forward, looking ahead at the approaching troopship, now only a small dot in the shuttle’s viewscreen, but which was steadily getting larger.

A
real
troopship this time, not a merchant stand-in. But then, a full company or two of Marines simply weren’t going to fit well in a merchant ship. Frank would’ve been jealous at the accommodations his reinforcements had managed to score, but that was simply the way of things in the service.

At least they’d have plenty of room on the way back.

While the troopship, not a particularly large one in comparison to some, had been fairly stuffed when it had arrived, a Marine platoon was being left on Kzarch for a bit. It was there to keep an eye on things and provide what help it could, until the United Federation’s disaster relief crew and officials could arrive. Considering how hard the planet had been hit; several million people having died during the pirates’ occupation, there was no question that the United Federation’s government would be taking a serious interest in making sure the outworld planet got back on its feet.

And also, more quietly, to make sure that the planet’s new government wouldn’t get corrupted like the previous one.

In any case, the removal of a full platoon from the troop ship’s berths wasn’t going to be matched by Frank’s incoming one; which currently consisted of only fourteen people.

Taking leave of the planet, had been, for Frank, not something that was particularly hard to do. Too many dead for him to want to stay. Too many ghosts to haunt him.

Still, he’d miss Tom. Their parting had been brisk and non-dramatic, but both knew they’d probably never see each other again. But such was the way of things in the Marines. Meet people, make friends with ‘em, then leave them behind after you got reassigned.

Frank’s musings were interrupted by a soft but carrying
ding!
as the shuttle announced it had made contact with the troopship.

Standing up, Frank checked to make sure his ‘platoon’ was ready. It wasn’t. Impatiently waiting the two minutes it took for things to be sorted out, the lieutenant then led his people to the airlock. They were the only ones on the shuttle, the other Marines, aside from the platoon that was being left behind, having already been shuttled up. Major Jameson hadn’t wanted his troops running around causing trouble, so he had gotten them back up as soon as he could. Frank’s platoon, though, had stuck around a bit longer, to sort themselves out and have some rest before they left.

The airlock opened, and Frank strode across, the pitifully few remnants of his platoon marching in formation behind him.

“A-
TENNN
-
HUT
!”

Two long, multi-rowed lines of Marines snapped to attention, as the lieutenant and his platoon entered.

Over the ship’s intercom, the ‘Marines Battle Hymn’ began playing.

“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Harsmith, Sergeant…” At the head and center between the two lines, Major James read off each of the Marines remaining alive from the platoon from one of two papers he was holding.

He soon reached the end, but didn’t stop. Instead, he switched lists.

“And in here in spirit, Platoon Sergeant McKain, Sergeant Javer, Sergeant Von Hervitz, Sergeant…”

Frank’s eyes blurred as he heard the long list of his platoon’s dead. Despite that, he came to a rest at precisely three feet from the major, and brought himself to attention. Behind him, his platoon did the same.

“…and Marine Vill.” The major shifted the lists under his arm, and sharply saluted.

“Welcome aboard! Your presence honors us, and the battles you fought bring honor to both you and your dead. May what you and they have accomplished never be forgotten.”

Frank returned the salute, as he completed the ritual; that of a badly wounded unit which had yet somehow managed to succeed in its mission, against all odds.

“It’s good to be here, sir… We’ve made it home.” he finished simply.

The End

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