Opening Moves (66 page)

“Llyr, ask them to come alongside and begin the transfer immediately. I'll get the shuttle fueled up for our parts run in the meantime.” Tarek began to head out of the cockpit. “And Rául, keep an eye on that human flotilla, 'kay?”

“
Hey, skipper,” Rául said in alarm. “That cruiser has just launched a couple of dropships. They're making a hard burn towards the planet.”

“
Well, that means we'll probably run into some familiar faces when we're back down there,” Tarek shrugged. “All right people, we won't be gone for more than a day. Keep things running up here and keep us up to date. We'll be going home soon.”

U.V.S. JOHNSTON, North American Union Navy Cruiser

Tanith, Independent Star System, Pact of Ten Suns.

A few minutes earlier.

Samantha paused for a while as she checked the sharpness on her combat knife to listen to what the LT was telling Alpha Platoon. Tanith was, relatively speaking, close to the war, but all she knew from the newsfeeds had been sensational crap that hadn't been exactly revealing or heavy on the facts. All she and her little part of the 1020
th
knew was that the Ashani were skilled and merciless, and it was smart to stay out of their way.

“
Which means,” Lieutenant Jones continued, “we'll be going planet side, and you ladies and gents will get a nice chance to stretch your legs and feel your actual weight on your feet again.”

There were a few jaunty cheers.

“Hold your horses, people,” Jones grinned wryly. “This is a humanitarian mission. Our job is to secure the landing sites and make the evacuations a safe and orderly affair. That means you'll dress casually and leave your Sunday's best up here with Momma JOHNSTON.”

That earned him a few – stifled – groans. Dressing casually was the standard jargon for using basic infantry equipment, and in the case of Alpha Platoon that meant they'd have to leave their combat suits and all their heavy weapons behind. For a team like theirs that was the equivalent of going out dressed only in your undies.

“So, full planetary gear including rebreathers and rations. Nothing heavier than your carbines, people!” Jones ordered. “We're here to help, not to cause further disruptions, and the local authorities won't be too happy if some aliens armed to their teeth clog their streets. And reputable sources have told me there's a delicacy being sold down there that looks like giant strawberries. Do
not
eat them! They're lethally poisonous, people. Keep to your standard rations unless a trustworthy expat vouches for something. So, full packs and sacks. Get ready, people.”

Sammy hauled on her full combat harness with its multitude of pouches and loops, and over that pulled on his rebreather. It was a detachable part of her backpack that could be plugged into her helmet's standard air filtration system, allowing her infantry armor to become something space-worthy. Well, almost. It'd help her survive in toxic, low pressure or high pressure environments for quite some time.

“Sarge, what camo pattern's the order of the day?” Private Emily 'Smiley' Saunders piped up.

“
Urban camouflage, soldier!” Masters barked back. “You're going to land next to the largest city on the planet, so I expect you to look the part.”

Standard body armor was partially mimetic and could 'store' a number of different camouflage patterns, making it highly adaptable to a wide variety of situations while sparing the users the need to constantly change and modify their gear. Most of the soldiers in Alpha Platoon were old hands, the veterans of two dozen war games and half as many 'hot' operations against separatists and terrorists, and they all had managed to personalize their gear to some degree.

For Samantha Lee that had meant painting the smiling head of Mickey Mouse on her armor's right pauldron. Grunt had, predictably, chosen a playboy bunny, while Tucker had a staunch looking bulldog. There were regulations in place against that sort of artwork on official equipment, but they were rather ambiguous, ultimately leaving the decision on the subject to local commanders.

Lt. Jones himself had adorned his armor with the seal of Rhode Island from where he originally hailed. He waited for the last man to strap on his helmet, then placed his own firmly on his head. “All right, Alpha. Lead the way.”

Sergeant Masters was the first out. “Move to the shuttle bay! On the double!”

The first few minutes of moving around in full body armor always made Sammy feel like a klutz. She banged and bumped her way down the corridors of the ship, breathing cool air through her helmet. Somewhere out there the biggest war in known history was being fought. With a sudden chill running down her spine, Samantha had a premonition of being trapped on Tanith in the middle of a full scale landing. It was not a happy thought.

Despite being designed to carry troops in full exocombat suits, the dropship felt distinctly cramped.

“
Get in your crash seats, ladies.” Jones was the last aboard. “Strap yourselves in good and tight. Captain Beaufort has decided we should treat this like an exercise! We will therefore be practicing a full combat drop.”

The platoon groaned like one man. No one was looking forward to one of those.

“I knew you'd like it.” Jones grinned. “Sergeants, check your squads' restraints. We don't want anyone escaping while we're dropping at ten gravities and more.”

Despite all the compensators the navy had managed to pack into the assault crafts, a combat drop was a very intense experience. In order to get the dropship from orbit to ground as quickly as possible the craft did not simply glide down from orbit. Rather, it dropped its nose to the ground and burned its main engines, physically racing for the surface, pulling up at the last possible moment and leveling off in the low atmosphere, sometimes at less than a kilometer above ground. There was a saying that every drop left you a few inches shorter, and that the first experiments with orbital insertions had caused the unfortunate crews to break every bone in their bodies. Lee didn't really believe those stories. Simple fact of the matter was that the forces valued the airborne soldiers too much to play with fire like that. This would be her fifth high speed drop, and while she didn't relish the experience it at least would be over quickly.

Masters tugged on her restraints, then took the seat opposite. By now they all wore their helmets and Sammy only identified them by their height and by the name tags on their uniforms. Once again she was close to the cockpit with a reasonable view outside, though for the drop itself she wouldn't have anything to focus on. Jones took the seat beside her and nearest the cockpit and nodded to the flight crew, who went into final pre-launch checks.

Before them the cruiser's hangar bay opened up, presenting them with the distant image of a blue orb against the light of an amber sun. The dropship shuddered as the magnetic clamps holding it withdrew. Then they were on their way. Their ride boasted little in the way of ship-to-ship firepower aside from four tubes of anti-ship missiles. The dropship's main punch lay in its short range missile pods and twenty-five millimeter railguns optimized for ground support missions. Behind them the cruiser and its company continued to decelerate.

“ETA in thirty,” the pilot let them know as they began their journey to Tanith.

Samantha chose to pass the time the way every halfway experienced soldier would have done: dozing. In her line of work you never knew how much sleep you would get or when you'd get it, so you took what you could when you could. She closed her eyes, and soon the soft buzz of the craft around her reminded her of the ocean's waves of the Pacific northwest where she had grown up and –

A mighty bump shook the craft, pulling Sammy from her all too short slumber.

“
Two minutes until we dive,” the pilot informed them from the comfort of his seat. “I hope you haven't had lunch.”

She looked past him. The blue orb of Tanith now filled her whole field of view. Dozens and dozens of black dots moved in the distance between the planet and the dropship. Starships and orbitals, Samantha thought.

“We're cleared to enter the atmosphere. Droppers two to four will follow in our wake.”

Squinting her eyes to read the sensor displays of the craft Samantha's helmet automatically recognized the motion and zoomed in. Only now did she realize theirs wasn't the only small craft converging on their landing zone. Apparently JOHNSTON had deployed all her fast landing crafts.

A low vibration began to run through the dropship. The pilot looked back over his shoulder with a broad, maniacal grin plastered over his face.

“
All right ladies, we're about to enter the atmosphere. Strap yourselves in tight, hold hands with your neighbors and keep the pee inside your pants!” He looked forward again, one hand casually rubbing the back of his neck while the other gently nudged the assault lander's controls to the left. “And here... we... go!”

Back in the ship, pumps gurgled reaction mass past the reactors and out into the thrusters. The dropship bucked like a wild horse and shot towards the planet, the acceleration pushing everybody aboard back into their seats. Before them the planet's surface was rushing closer.

Synthesized metal music began to blare through the compartment as a choir of Rasenni voices growled unintelligible lyrics to the tune of alien and slightly off-key instruments, to the hoots and howls of the two people in the cockpit.

“
Express elevator to hell, baby!” the pilot yelled, laughing. “Going down!”

And down they did go. The whole craft moaned like a tormented animal as it bore through ever thicker layers of atmosphere at five kilometers per second, its nose glowing almost white from the thermal friction.

Lee was quite sure her heart would have exploded had she kept her eyes open to face the ground rushing up to her. She pressed her lids shut and frantically tried to keep her breathing level and controlled. A hot combat drop went against all human instincts of self-preservation, regardless of how often they had been told that the technology and the maneuvers had been done a thousand times before. The fact remained that they were stuck in a small metal box falling at speeds that would leave nothing of them but bits of chunky salsa if they ever hit the ground. She wasn't very religious, but these were the kind of moments where even she found small prayers to be the appropriate course of action. Gripping the restraints that held her in place, she suddenly felt like she had been kicked in the belly by a mule, and only her iron self-control kept the bland lunch that had been served earlier in her stomach. Even the lieutenant seated next to her let go of a sickly groan.

She forced her eyes open again. Lieutenant Jones was looking annoyed, clearly visible even through his closed visor. As her senses returned Lee became aware of clouds outside the cockpit and a deep blue sky. In the distance, the towers of a huge city spanned the whole horizon, and below them fields of grain and lilac grass covered seemingly infinite rolling hills. It was a hugely welcome sight.

“Listen up,” Jones croaked, then cleared his throat and spoke clearer, his voice carried from helmet to helmet. “We'll be putting down on the edge of a refugee camp near that power station up north.” He pointed to a vast concrete rectangle accompanied by a cooling tower. “There's everything that breathes in that camp, so keep your weapons cool and your smiles warm. Deploy by the numbers, secure a perimeter around the shuttle and get a snap shot of the land. But do it
quietly
. Most people down there have seen some bad stuff going down. The last thing they – and we! – need is an incident. The Tanithans have put us in contact with the spokesperson for the human refugees down there. Whoever that is, we'll meet them down there. The rest of the droppers got medical supplies, basic goo and a 3D food printer stored. Once first squad sets up the command post we'll start handing out supplies. Any questions?”

There was no response. It all seemed nice and simple and fitted well with their training.

“This is the real deal, people,” Jones sternly reminded them. “Be polite and obey the local laws, but be on your guard. Things might get ugly once it transpires we're only pulling our people out of the line of fire and are leaving everybody else behind. Word from the top is that you'll let no alien on any of our ships as long as there's still a single human on this planet who could use that spot. So keep it tight!”

The dropship stopped, hovering in place and began to sink, rapidly at first, then slower and more controlled until it touched ground with a pneumatic hiss atop a low round hill.

“All right, straps off!”

The Lieutenant led by example as he took off his seat restraints and grabbed onto handles overhead. The rest of Alpha Platoon did the same thing, checked their equipment and their uniform seals, then powered up their combat sensors

“Remember your training,” Jones emphasized one last time. “Watch for trouble, and watch out for your squad mates.”

Before the engines had even powered down, the ramp at the back of the dropship dropped open and Samantha and the rest of her platoon raced outside, two at a time. Behind them the other three dropships sat down with howling engines. The platoon split up to cover the whole landing zone, securing a perimeter in a loose circle.