The Battle for the Ringed Planet (12 page)

“Done.”

“Out there we’ll need to cover each other’s back. Marines wear armor that can resist the plasma, especially their helmets.”

“And they have plasma rifles?”

“Yeah, assault rifles, fully automatic, 500 bolts a minute with a thousand round magazines, or a backpack with a feeder. But …” he pointed to his Con, “our technology is better. We’ll stay clear of the Callisto crash site.”

Keeping low with his pistol in one hand and his Con in the other, Torian slowly led them the long way around the woods. Close behind, Siiri crouched with both hands on her pistol peering around nervously.

Everything was deadly quiet; no bird noises, no animal movements, even the wind had died down and the tree branches that hung over their heads were still. There were no more explosions or sounds of battle. Suddenly Siiri touched Torian’s shoulder and pointed into the clear blue morning sky. Almost a dozen bright lights were visible and looked like a long slow line of stars in daylight.

“Battle cruisers. Hopefully ours, trying to secure orbit and space superiority.” He paused as the last three stars broke formation and began to move across the sky. “They’re after something.”

Then his Con beeped in his earpiece and he turned and pushed Siiri to the ground, “Fighters!”

“Oh no!” she remembered when Brant and the others were killed and cringed. Then Torian relaxed his hand on her back and stood up.

“Torian?” she peered up at him as he watched the sky.

“Ours! Starhawks, come see. They have their ground targets.”

She stood up, looked up into the distant sky above the treetops, spotted four sleek dark grey and light blue space fighters with needle-like noses, and swept back wings that mounted huge plasma cannons on each end. They were targeting objects on the ground and flashes of light and thundering vibrations rocked the earth below them. Suddenly the wing of one Starhawk caught fire and began to smoke, but it managed to remain in formation.

“They hit one!” Siiri pointed.

“Yeah, but I think he’ll make it.” They watched as two of the Starhawks peeled away and Torian checked his Con, “Solvairs, but only two. Looks like a dog fight.”

“Wow, they are amazing watch.”

“As long as you’re not on the receiving end … I always wanted to be a Starhawk pilot.”

A Solvair with a Starhawk on its tail caught fire, while the other began to climb away. “Their fighters can climb faster than Starhawks in an atmosphere, but they aren’t as maneuverable. So they swoop down, try their luck then climb back out.”

“Looks like that Solvair ran out of luck,” she commented as their eyes followed the trail of smoke from the stricken enemy fighter as it plummeted, then impacted on the ground and exploded.

Turning to the tall man in the navy blue flight suit beside her, Siiri remarked, “Why didn’t you become a Starhawk pilot? Didn’t you have a choice?”

“No …” then he paused, collecting his thoughts, “Selunia and Kanata have about the same gravity, a little heavier than earth, our bones are stronger and heavier than the average. Most recruits from my planet become marines, and they say Kanata marines are among the toughest.”

“I think you are pretty tough. I mean it was a brave thing to face the hunters in my village.”

Looking away slightly embarrassed, “I don’t know about that … everyone in my recruiting class became marines, and got a nice easy assignment on an a practically all ocean planet guarding the fresh water supply, relaxing on imported sandy beaches.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I started training as a marine, but my dad wanted me to have a trade before I got a farm, a wife, too,” he grinned. “So I enrolled in the polytechnical college for a year studying robotics, since we have a lot of automated systems on the farm. My technology score was the highest in my recruit class, so when there was a shortage of LRRS specialists, they pulled me out of the mud and here I am.”

“Lucky for me.”

Gazing warmly at the lovely girl, “Yeah, I guess.”

Torian and Siiri crept through the woods for most of the morning all the while keeping their eyes on the sky as he scanned with his Con. The day was hot and they drank water in the metal bottles from their utility belts. After taking a drink, Siiri pointed to the sky again. In the distance, five bright moving stars were visible, lined up against three other stars.

“Another battle …” Torian commented as the stars remained relatively stable, “Probably launching fighters and trying to blast the hell out of each other.”

Siiri shaded her eyes with her hand and watched in awe, her mouth slightly open. Suddenly, one of the stars in the line of five flashed brightly, turned red then slowly began to dim into darkness.

“What happened?”

Grimly, Torian replied, “One less cruiser.”

“Is it going to crash here?”

“I think it blew right up, and debris will burn up in the atmosphere.”

“Another one!” she exclaimed as a second star in the group of five flashed, and then disappeared as the remaining three began to speed away.

“I hope that victory was ours.” Torian mused as he watched the sky intently, “I remember once we watched a battle and a dying cruiser ignited the whole night sky. Some dense marines cheered without realizing it was ours.”

“How many cruisers are up there?”

“Could be a couple of dozen. It is hard to tell because the fleets are probably playing cat and mouse between the moons and planets. Each fleet probably doesn’t know the size of the other, and are afraid to commit all their assets.” He paused briefly, and then continued, “But one thing is odd.”

“What’s that?”

“Normally you don’t land troops unless you secure orbit, both sides must really want Kaarina.”

“Is it because of Jarlan’s experiments or someone like me who hears the voices?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

The two lone figures made their way slowly through thick brush and followed narrow animal trails as they moved around and away from the Callisto crash site. Staying under the protection of the forest canopy, they followed the Norstrom River that ran north and south blanketed on either side by a belt of thick woods.

The bright sun hung high in the sky between two moons, one huge and green, and the other orange almost the same size. The fighting had died down and they had not seen any Starhawks, Solvairs or bright stars in the day sky for some time, nor had they heard any more explosions.

Torian slapped an insect away from his neck, “Damn ecologists! You would think they would have left out the bugs when building a new world!” A fallen log made a good bench for a resting place to eat lunch.

As Siiri and Torian sat down, then began to share the thermos of soup and munch on lamb sandwiches, she peered over at the soldier sitting casually on the log, “How are they?”

“I say your mom is a better cook than mine. And if we ever get to my home, you never heard me say that!” Siiri grinned as she finished her last bite and swallowed some water from the silver water bottle.

“Do you like music?” he asked offhandedly.

“A little. There are many songs in the holo computers, but we can only listen to them at school because most of the players are broken. Brant had a portable player his dad had found.” She made a slight grimace, “One of the better memories I have of us together.”

“Here…” he showed her his Con, “Watch.” He flicked a few virtual controls and a holo appeared.

“What is it?”

“It’s one of the Gold Sea City’s top 40, but my recruit intake sort of adopted it as our song, ‘Blood and Titanium’.” The holo showed marching marines and flashbacks to smiling faces, men and women, on firing ranges and on obstacles courses, and then a few battle scenes. A female voice sang the lyrics to an intoxicating melody.

--

“We are plasma, blood and guts, made of titanium!

Heroes of war, worlds away, we will be victorious …

Fighting cartels, slavers, and the dreaded Imperium!

Marines in line, may all the battles be glorious!

Cold dark, lonely worlds, yet by His Grace …

We will forever reign in the deep of space.”

--

Siiri nodded her head to the beat “That music kind of gets me excited. I like the rhythm. Do you have others?”

Grinning Torian nodded, “Lots. You need to get caught up. Here, pick what you want.” He showed her the menu giving her the Con.

While she listened, Torian reached into his backpack and pulled out a small T-shaped object with a silver blade, “Feel that face!” he groaned, rubbing his day’s growth of stubble.

“I like it,” she felt his cheek.

“Sky Demons have to be clean shaven,” he began to run the small T-shaped object down his face and it made a slight vibrating noise. After a couple moments, the noise stopped and he felt his skin, “There, much better.”

“You missed a spot… here, let me …” she reached for the shaver and gently stroked under his ear, “Got it.” Then she brushed her hand along his cheek again.

Torian picked up the Con, brought up a holo of his face, and nodded, “Much better.” Then he ran his fingers through his far from regulation length hair and added, “But I’m not cutting my hair this close to the end of my tour.” He gathered his pack, “Let’s get going.”

After another hour slugging through the foliage, they finally reached the outskirts of the city and noted pillars of smoke rising from multiple locations. Torian crouched and studied his Con while Siiri knelt close.

“What’s happening in the city?” she glanced around apprehensively.

“Looks like crash sites and a little artillery action.” Then he pointed to a series of white contrails in the sky across the city, “Spacemasters, deploying marines to the south, ours.”

“So that’s good?”

“Aye, by now probably ground troops on both sides of the city. They’ll be firing ordinance at each other.”

“Then we have to get underground.” Siiri stated flatly, peering at Torian busily examining something on his Con.

“We have another problem.” He pointed towards the river east, “in that direction.” He showed her his Con.

“I don’t see it.”

“There,” he indicated on the holo screen.

“What is it?”

“Downed pilot and dying unless we get to her.”

Chapter 9: Fire Fight

Cautiously with pistol drawn, Torian moved silently towards the injured pilot while Siiri shadowed. They both spied a dangling form hanging from the middle branch of a giant oak tree. About one hundred meters away was the burning wreck of an unrecognizable star fighter. The pilot hung upside down caught up in her parachute harness.

“Won’t they send a rescuer from your fleet?”

Torian holstered his pistol and stared up at the motionless figure in a dark grey combat environmental suit, “No, not for her.” He lowered his pack and walked up to the large tree trunk “I’m going to climb up and lower her down. Stand underneath to help guide her to the ground. She has a fractured pelvis and won’t live long hanging in that position.”

Securing his Con, he unsnapped his utility belt, but not before drawing his survival knife and sticking it into the tree. Then he pulled himself up from a low branch, retrieved the knife, and climbed up higher where the pilot was suspended.

“You climb pretty well.”

“We had trees like this at home, and my brother and I built a tree house in one of them.” He shimmied along the thick branch until he sat next to the tangled mass of harness straps.

The pilot’s legs had bent in an unnatural position away from her body, “If we can keep her alive and someone comes for her, she’ll be weeks in medical.” He began cutting.

Siiri had put her pack down, undid her utility belt and stood waiting underneath the tree, “She has a patch sort of like yours with a picture of a starship.”

“The ‘Alesia’, an old Centurion class heavy cruiser, I saw it once up close.” He became solemn as he cut through parachute harness and the pilot began to slip downward until Siiri held her helmet and shoulders. He climbed back down, jumping the rest of the way, and then sliced the last of the harness. They both gently laid the wounded woman on the ground. She stirred a little, moaning under the heavy armored helmet.

Tenderly easing the dark grey helmet, with a cracked visor, off the injured pilot, Torian was startled when long strands of braided sandy colored hair fell around a young pretty face. The corner of her mouth leaked a little blood as the wiry young man pulled out his Con.

“She’s so young…” Siiri whispered.

“She looks like my sister…” Torian examined the reading, “Only 17 earth years, they’re starting them earlier.”

“And so beautiful …” the blonde girl touched the pilot’s face.

The lanky soldier undid the pilot’s utility belt and took away her grey colored weapon, “Her pistol is different, longer.” Siiri commented.

“Help me get her belt off,” and when they pulled it out from under her Torian opened the red and white medical kit from his backpack, pulled out a white hypo syringe with a push button on one end, and put it against her neck, “Painkiller, or if she wakes she’ll probably die of shock.”

Then Siiri stared at the chocolate haired young man and gasped, “She’s the enemy!”

“Aye.” Torian snapped his utility belt back on and pulled out his Con checking the perimeter. 

“But she looks so innocent! She could be a girl from Grondalle!”

“On the outside, but she’s had engineering,” tugging her dog tags free he read the silver plates, “Anna Severus, from the Imperium.”

“What exactly is the Imperium?”

“It’s a collection of colony worlds that loosely follow some of the old earth empires. They revere their Emperor as a god, and use genetically engineered shock troops or mutants, as some would call them. Slavery, arena fighting, illegal annexation of free worlds is some of what they practice. The Imperium also has the largest shipyards in the outer worlds, and some of the toughest soldiers.”

“I thought you killed the enemy on sight, like you told me in the Hawkeye?”

The tall young man shrugged, “That was just for show.”

“Really …” the blonde haired girl sighed fastening her utility belt, and then frostily, “I’ll bet you enjoyed it.”