The Stars Came Back (64 page)

Lag: Listen up! They
will
try to mess with your heads. Eventually they will get one of our bugles and blow some shit on it trying to get you to make a mistake. If it doesn’t sound nice and sharp like you normally hear, it’s not us, and your best bet is to keep doing what you are doing and wait for a real command so you can go
as a unit
and take it away from them. We might lose them all; that’s why we also practice with voice commands. On the field, confusion will be high. You can’t go too far wrong by standing in the shield wall killing whatever is in front of you. If they do something unexpected, kill what’s in front of you or just a bit to one side, free your weapon, and get ready for the next one.

He points to a young man in the second rank.

Lag: You! What do you do if you see an old man in a loincloth charging at you with a knife?

Recruit
1: Kill him, free my weapon, get ready for the next one!

Lag: Good! If you see an eight-foot-tall guy, looking like a Greek god, swinging a huge ax?

Recruit2: (Vigorously) Kill him, free my weapon, look for the next one!

Harbin: What if one of them is holding a knife to the throat of an old lady and look like they are threatening to kill her if you don’t stop?

There is an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then a guy from the front rank speaks up.

Recruit3: You kill him, free your weapon, and look for the next one.

Lag: Almost. The next one is the supposed hostage. It’s a ruse. Kill them both.

Harbin: You! (
Pointing to another) What if it’s a beautiful young woman, stark naked with no weapons and really
big
tits, screaming “SAVE ME!”?

There is some scattered nervous laughter, the recruit’s eyes
show surprise, and he stutters for a moment.

Lag: Kill her, free your weapon, get ready for the next one.

Those that had taken their helmets off look uncertain.

Lag: That hot babe or little old lady “hostage” pretends to stumble, picks up a blade from the ground, opens your femoral artery. You are
just as dead
as if a ten feet tall troll with a war-club mashed you into mush! These are FANATICS! The field of battle is far from a city, on a messed up planet, so the ONLY people there other than us are
there FOR him
! Any of them gets a hand on you, ties you up, it creates an opening for one of them WITH a weapon. They will exploit your care for your fellow humans against you! First they’ll send their strongest young men. When those die on your spear, they’ll change it up trying to mess with your mind, send old men, cripples, naked young women. Life in this world means nothing to them, he only talks about the afterlife! That’s why he recruits the weak: claiming their reward is in the afterlife so he can manipulate them. He uses their fanaticism to make them think of us as decadent and soft, because to them mere flesh and breathing means nothing. Some in front of you might be mental cases, some smart attackers, some able-bodied, some crippled, maybe even prisoners, but you can’t afford the luxury of sorting them out. They will outnumber us twenty-to-one, thirty-to-one, maybe fifty-to-one. NO MATTER WHAT or WHO is in front of you… Kill them. Free your blade. Be ready for the next one. If you are not on the front line, make sure the bodies on the ground are
dead
bodies, no fakers who can lay there, take a fallen blade, and hamstring you with it. The hobnails on your boots are there to use! They will have no mercy, not even any humanity as we know it. If he wins, no matter how many he loses in the process, then humanity loses, because more fanatics will flock to the banner of his twisted message, and the carnage will spread further off-world. They MUST be destroyed IN DETAIL, to the last man and woman, there, on
that
field. We will ask for a surrender, but do not expect it.
Murum aries attigit.
Not nice, but necessary.

The recruits are still tired and sweaty but no longer breathing
hard. Their faces have taken on a serious, somber look. Some of them are looking down, or uncertainly at each other.

Lag:
You
are here because they think nothing of killing
your
wives, or sisters, or family if they do not convert to their sect or submit as second-class people to their law. He is the one that targets women and children. He is the one that finally offered, after thousands of suicide bombings and assassinations, to stand and fight.
That
is their message: convert, submit, or die. We here simply treating them to the same standard. Leave us alone, or die. No better. No worse. You can pray for forgiveness after you live through it, if you think you need to. Now, helms on, shields up, and let’s try that maneuver again!

They all
get their gear back in place, amid a collective tired groan. Harbin and Lag put their helms on and head for the line, too.

FADE TO BLACK

News

FADE IN

EXT - NIGHT - Deep Space

Th
ree ships hang in the darkness, a supply ship snuggled between
Tajemnica
and
Borealis
, with a backdrop of stars and the blazing Milky Way.

CUT TO

INT - NIGHT -
Tajemnica
cargo hold

A bucket
brigade of young men are tossing boxes and bags of food along the passageway from the center airlock, along the cargo bay, and into a C-Deck storage area or upstairs to the galley area. As they come in the side passageway, Kwon points one way or another for it to be tossed as the “corner man” catches it and holds the label for him to read and point. It’s moving right along. Off to the side, absently watching process, Lag, Helton and Ahmed (slender, 20s, mustache, dark-skinned, modern light armor, armed) stand talking.

Ahmed: You would not
believe
the shit storm kicking up out there! All the pols were trying to ignore this asshole, just wishing he and his challenge would go away, then you disappear with a starliner, the 13th Shields appears on New Texas recruiting an army, then you all vanish again! Everyone’s in full freak-out. Pols talking out all five sides of their mouth trying to cover their asses every time a news story flashes a rumor, no one is buying any of it, bookies are laying odds so many different ways you can place bets on how people are betting people will bet. No one knows who is paying you, and pointing fingers every which way. The Prime Minister of New Spain got deposed over it for some reason.

Lag: (
Incredulous)
New Spain
? Bizarre. Never worked for
or
against him.

Ahmed: I know. A few planets are loading up liners with volunteers and shipping their dregs over to dump them, making them
your problem, and one liner got hijacked by his supporters and is headed that way to join in the fight, but the word is they had no armor or weapons. Reports are a carrier fleet is headed that way, but nobody really
knows
anything. All sorts of wild shit about this ship and how you left Tau Piper with the
Borealis
and your crew being genetically engineered. People all over are waking up and wondering what the Hell’s happening?! I tell you, the chaos out there is just… beautiful!

Helton: Never let it be said you live a boring life, Colonel.

Lag: Likewise. If a bunch more untrained riffraff get dropped, don’t think it really changes anything. A carrier fleet, though…

Ahmed: I don’t know what your plans are, but it’s looking more and more like whatever you have is all there
will be. The pols don’t want their citizens involved to avoid blow-back if you fail.

Lag: Not surprising. There were a hundred city-states in Greece, but only Plataea sent anyone to help Athens
fight the Persians at Marathon. No one wanted to piss off Darius and his gigantic army. In fact, that’s
why
the name was chosen when the planet was founded. Not having to deal with a bunch of supposedly helpful amateurs actually simplifies some things. An army of properly trained allies would be a different matter.

Ahmed: So what
is
your plan?

Lag: Win.

Ahmed: (Humorously sarcastic) No shit?

Lag: Still working out the details. Frontal assault always has its appeal.
A fleet to fight through might complicate things, though.

Ahmed: Especially if there’s a flock of civvy ships in the area.
Should pick up a compliance monitor to check your stuff, too, before you land.

Lag: Grab a couple of them, then get back here with any new information you can
confirm
. Two or three for the
Borealis
, one for here. If we can check in transit then hit the system hot, it’ll make life easier. Just remember to grab those that know the contract is only for what goes on once we hit the ground, not getting there.

Ahmed: Can do. Anything else, other than move more food in a day than most people order in a week? How
are you doing that, anyway? You’ve loaded supplies twice in less than a day, local time.

Helton: (
Deadpan) Our army of genetically engineered mountain trolls are hungry. Really hungry.

Ahmed looks at Helton
, not sure if he’s joking. Lag bursts out laughing and claps him on the shoulder, tears almost rolling from his eyes.

Lag: No, no, no. No trolls. Just a useful confluence of swirls, Sokolov drive tweaks, and piggy-backing the
Borealis
that give us much greater than normal time dilation than we’d normally get when flying loops. It’ll be going away soon. Just making the most of it while it lasts. Ask the pilot if you want details.

Ahmed looks relieved and laughs at himself a bit too.

Ahmed: Should have guessed. Is she the one with, uh…

He moves his hands indicating nice curves and large breasts.

Helton: (Deadpan) No, that’s Allonia, my wife.

Ahmed: Oh, I’m, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to, ah, I mean-

Helton: (Still serious) The
pilot
. Tall. Slender. Short blond hair.

Ahmed: Oh,
her
. She’s cute, too.

Lag: (
Smiling) His fiancée.

Ahmed looks at them, trying to see if they are joking again, or serious, not sure what to say, looking confused.

Helton: (Deadpan) It’s good to be the captain…

Lag: (
Chuckling) Never mind that. Keep gathering intel so we can start finalizing our plans. Fighting through a fleet just to land might change things. Oh, one other thing. (Seriously) Make sure you take the DNA deposits so they can be shipped back to New Texas for the young men that don’t make it. Some of them will be comforted to know they are not the end of their biological line.

Ahmed nods sob
erly in understanding.

Faith

DISSOLVE TO

INT - NIGHT - Helton’s cabin

He sits at his desk going over snippets of text from the book. Wall screens have more
excerpts. The lighting is dim, his Romanesque armor hangs on a hook on one wall with his pistol belt next to it. The door is open. Bipasha steps up to it, looking tired, and raps it with her knuckle. Helton looks up, nods to her to come in.

Helton: Late… What’s up?

Bipasha comes in, and sits down, doesn’t say anything right away. She looks over the book he’s working on, glances around the room a bit while nervously working her hands.

Helton: Worried about them?

Bipasha nods, not looking at him.

Helton: They’re tough, and getting tougher every day, if that’s possible for your uncle.
And the good Sergeant is smart; if any of them can make it back, it’ll be those two. Talked to Allonia?

Bipasha: She’s worried, too.

Helton: Don’t blame her. Dorek is tough, too. They’ve all been through Hell together already. Kicked its ass pretty hard, as I recall.

Bipasha: Do you believe in hell?

Helton leans back and thinks a bit.

Helton: Heard
a lot of people talk about what they think God says. Heaven. Hell. Sin. Redemption. Much of it doesn’t agree with what other people think God says… I don’t know… A lot of evil has been done in “His” name. A lot of
good
, too. The guy we are going to fight says he’s all but on a first-name basis with the Big Guy, but I don’t think it’s God he’s hearing. If God ever talks to me
personally
, I’ll be sure to listen closely. Until then… I don’t find a lot of solace in preachifying, even if I think there’s a lot of stuff out there in the universe I don’t understand. I’d like to think there are rewards and punishments to balance accounts after you die; life in this world would make more sense.

Bipasha
thinks his words over a minute.