War To The Knife (22 page)

“As soon as all our attacks are under way across the city, we’ll destroy the computer center and set up booby-traps for enemy responders. We’ll then try to make our way out of the city in small groups, using captured vehicles and if necessary hiding in the wreckage of Banka that the Bactrians haven’t cleared yet. That’s going to be difficult, because we’re right in the heart of their defenses and they’ll be sending in troops from their outer perimeter to assist those under fire inside the city. Frankly, I don’t think most of us will make it out, but we’ll sell our lives dearly and take as many Bactrians with us as we can. Even if we die, we’ll hurt the enemy worse than he’s ever been hurt before – and he’ll still have to answer to the United Planets. Killing us will be a Pyrrhic victory.”

He paused for a moment as he looked around the gathering, gathering his thoughts. “This is probably our last stand as an organized Resistance. We stand foursquare in the tradition of Horatius and his companions at the Sublicius Bridge; of Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae; of Roland and his companions at Roncevaux Pass; of Travis, Bowie, Crockett and the volunteers at the Alamo; of the Jewish resisters in the Warsaw Ghetto who freely chose to fight, even knowing they had no chance of survival, rather than meekly submit to genocide. We stand with the thousands upon thousands of others throughout history who’ve followed the example of such heroes. There must have been far, far more of them than the few whose names are known – and they’re all here in spirit with us tonight.

“I couldn’t ask for better friends and comrades than you. That’s what we all are to each other – friends and comrades, not just fellow soldiers. We’ve lived together as best we can while so many of our comrades died around us. Now it’s time for us to honor their memory in our last fight.

“I’m going to run through our briefing for the last time in one hour from now. Until then you’re free to prepare yourselves in your own way for what lies ahead.” He took the Bible from his pocket and held it up. “I’m going to be doing that according to my Christian tradition. Those of you who share it are welcome to join me, as well as any others who are interested.” He indicated the store-room he was using as his office and bedroom.

“No matter what your faith or philosophy, remember the ancient words of Judas Maccabeus: ‘Arm yourselves, and be ye men of valor, and be in readiness for the conflict; for it is better for us to perish in battle than to look upon the outrage of our nation and our altar.’ That’s the way I see it, too.”

~ ~ ~

CARISTO

Dave laid down the pointer he’d been using to indicate important features of the garrison layout. “Sergeant Dixon will jigger their security systems for us one last time, so there should be no alarm as we penetrate. The critical thing is that we’ve got to assault every building simultaneously and take out everybody at once, before anyone has a chance to sound the alarm or radio their headquarters. If any warning gets out this entire operation will be over before it’s begun, and we’ll all be screwed. That’s why it’s even more important than usual to make sure that none of the enemy survives. Put them down fast, hard and permanently. Make sure they’re dead, so we don’t have to worry about what they’re doing when our backs are turned.”

He looked around the room. “As soon as you call your area clear, summon the corpsman to treat any friendly casualties, then double-check the enemy to make sure they’re all dead. Your senior NCO’s and myself will verify that there’s no further threat, then we’ll tell you to move to your assigned positions to prepare the assault shuttles. The pilots and Weapons System Operators are in charge of that. They’re the experts, so don’t try to anticipate or second-guess them! We’ve got to get the garrison’s two birds ready as quickly as possible, but they should already be fully fueled, so that’ll help. Our other three shuttles will be flying in. We need to get these shuttles out of the hangar by the time they arrive, so we can take the new arrivals inside to refuel, rearm and prepare them in their turn. We’ve got to finish that job for all the shuttles by not later than zero-three-thirty. At that point the support team will return to their homes and prepare for whatever may follow our attack – including a disappearing act with their families if necessary – and the shuttles will depart for Banka. After they’ve gone I’ll give the final briefing to the orbital team. Any questions?”

A soldier raised his hand. “Sir, what about the people in town? Won’t some of them call in an alarm when they hear the shooting?”

“Perhaps, but they’ll have to call it in through the garrison. All the comm lines and circuits go there – they were re-routed that way when the Bactrians built it. Sergeant Dixon will shut down all external circuits so they can’t call through to any other center. He’ll tell them everything’s under control, it’s just an exercise, and they can go back to sleep.”

“But, Sir, what about when assault shuttles start flying low over their heads?”

“All part of the exercise, of course.”

“Oh. OK… I guess, Sir.”

“If they complain, we can always invite them to come down to the garrison and do so in person. That should shut them up.” The troops laughed. They all knew that complaining about such frivolities to a Bactrian garrison was likely to land the complainant in very hot water.

“Any further questions?” No-one raised a hand. “All right, people. You’re free for the next hour. We’ll reassemble here at ten to kit up and check each other. We hit the garrison just after midnight.”

Dave looked at each soldier as he spoke slowly and carefully. “We know this is probably our last mission as an organized Resistance. I advise you to prepare yourselves for that in whatever way suits you. As Shakespeare put it, ‘Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood’. I’ve already warned the other half of the team, those coming in on the shuttles, to do the same before leaving base.

“I want to leave you with a thought from Marek Edelman, the last commander of the Jewish resistance fighters against the Nazis in the Warsaw Ghetto during Old Home Earth’s Second Global War. You know we’ve taken inspiration from their fight because we face a similar enemy in the Bactrians, who are determined to exterminate us or reduce us to the status of slaves. Edelman said many years after the war that it was easier to die fighting than in a gas chamber. It’s going to be easier for us to die fighting the Bactrians than it will for our fellow Laredans, the men, women and children being worked to death right now in Bactrian slave labor camps. We mustn’t feel that we’re heroes and they’re just poor saps who wouldn’t fight or couldn’t get out of the way in time. Their deaths will take longer and be harder than ours. We’re fighting, and a lot of us have died and will die, so that
their
sacrifice,
their
suffering, will be known and remembered. Let’s not fail them.”

As the troops filed out, some silent, others talking among themselves in low voices, Sergeant-Major Deacon came over to Dave with two soldiers. “Can I have a word, please, Sir?”

“Sure, Sergeant-Major, what is it?”

“Sir, General Allred spoke with me and a couple of others before we left the base. He told us that above all else, we’re to ensure your safety during the assault on the garrison. He asked me to make sure you didn’t join in the fighting yourself, but stayed back until the danger was past. I know in space we’ll all take our chances, Sir, but we can’t afford to lose you up front. Will you please stay out of the line of fire until then?”

“He said something similar to me, Sergeant-Major. It just goes against the grain to ask my soldiers to expose themselves to risks when I don’t.”

“That’s why they give you that exalted title and pay you so much, Sir.” The other two sniggered, although Dave was in no mood to be amused. “Seriously, Sir… please? I don’t want to have to tell Sergeant Hein and Corporal Bujold to sit on your chest and hold you down while the rest of us take care of business.”

“Don’t worry, Sergeant-Major, I’ll be good. You’re a bunch of spoilsports, you know that?”

“That’s a senior NCO’s job, Sir. Didn’t I teach you that during basic training?”

He heard a soft laugh from behind him. Tamsin said, “You certainly taught me! I don’t think I forgave you for years!”

The Sergeant-Major tried without much success to look hurt. “After all I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get?”

“What do you expect, a kiss? Those I save for my Captain.”

“Huh! Well, they do say rank has its privileges.”

“You bet it does – and right now I’m going to spend our last hour of peace and quiet with him, so the three of you can run along and leave us alone.”

The three broke into broad smiles. “Have fun, Sir,” Hein said as he turned away with the others.

Tamsin put her arm around Dave. “That was well done, lover,” she murmured. “You said what needed to be said.”

“Thanks.”

“And having said everything, there’s one thing more. If this is going to be our last hurrah, I want us to go out with a bang – in more ways than one.”

“Is this one of those privileges of rank the Sergeant-Major was talking about?”

“Rank, hell! It’s a privilege of lovers!”

He laughed. “Well, whatever it is, you don’t hear me complaining.”

March 31st 2850 GSC, 00:00

CARISTO: ON THE HILLSIDE ABOVE THE GARRISON

Dave pulled the command headset over his eyes, and blinked at the sudden visual overload. A schematic of the garrison buildings was laid out before him, transmitted from the sensors of the hoversat they’d launched to fly directly overhead. Icons showed the position of each member of the attacking unit, and each building was labeled with its purpose, size, and the number of people it was supposed to contain.

“Damn, this is a useful little toy!” he whispered to Sergeant Hein beside him. “I wish I’d had it available for some previous operations. Now I understand why some of our ambushes failed, if the Bactrians were using this sort of thing against us.”

“Is everyone safely tucked up in bed, Sir?” Hein asked. The NCO and Corporal Bujold had stuck to him like glue during the approach, and accompanied him to the overwatch position without bothering to ask for permission or approval. Dave knew they were quite prepared to ‘sit on his chest’, as the Sergeant-Major had put it, and make him behave if they had to.

“Everyone except those in the guardroom and whoever’s in the Captain’s office – its light is on, but with the blinds closed I can’t see who’s inside. Let me check the outlying areas.” Dave expanded the area of surveillance. The hoversat’s sensors scanned the entire area within the fence surrounding the base, but showed no sources of body heat or movement. “Looks like nobody’s out and about,” he confirmed.

Hein observed, “Now that their Captain’s gone, taking the best troops with him – not that that’s saying much, mind you – most of the others are probably drunk.”

“Let’s hope so,” Corporal Bujold whispered from Dave’s far side. “In a way I guess they’re lucky. Hangovers usually make me feel as if I want to die. They’re going to experience the reality before the feeling can set in!” Dave and Hein snorted in subdued amusement.

As the time display in the headset ticked down the minutes, Dave watched the icons representing his assault team. They’d spread out to their assigned positions smoothly and silently. He knew that Sergeant-Major Deacon would initiate the attack on schedule, and all he had to do was sit back and watch; but he couldn’t help feeling – irrationally, he knew – as if he were somehow letting his people down by not being there with them.

~ ~ ~

TAPURIA: COMMAND BUNKER

Lieutenant Yazata replaced the comm handset with a grimace of distaste as she turned to the Major in command of the evening watch. “Caristo has nothing to report, Sir.”

“Very well. You seem unhappy about something?”

“I think the Sergeant-Major to whom I spoke had been drinking, Sir.”

He shrugged. “Hardly surprising in a punishment posting like that. Caristo was the last one, right?”

“Yes, Sir. None of our outlying garrisons have seen any sign of increased rebel activity.”

“Good.” The man’s voice was brusque. She knew he resented her running the Military Governor’s errands, thereby denying him the opportunity to report directly to his boss and be noticed, but he had the good sense to keep his feelings under control. “Does the General want us to obtain further updates during the night?”

“No, Sir. This was just a precautionary check. The General wanted to be sure there was no rebel activity that might indicate an attack. He still thinks they might try something to take attention away from tomorrow morning’s parade.”

The Watch Commander shrugged as he glanced around the Operations Center. “They can’t have more than a couple of hundred people left, scattered all over the continent. We’ve captured or destroyed most of their heavy weapons. What sort of credible attack could they possibly mount?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” she said neutrally. “I’ll tell the General all’s well.”

She found her boss rising from his desk as he switched off his terminal display. “All’s quiet, Sir. No sign of rebel activity.”

“Thank you for checking.” He stretched, a bone-creaking release of the day’s tension. “I’ll be glad when this is all over. I wonder how the Satrap is enjoying his new palace?”

She smiled. They’d both watched the feed from the sensors installed throughout the building to guard against rebel infiltrators. They had shown the Satrap and the Crown Prince enjoying an opulent meal.

“I wonder if we could conscript the Satrap’s cooks for duty with your Headquarters, Sir?” she asked mischievously.

He snorted with amusement. “Do please make sure you don’t repeat that where the Satrap can hear it. I’d hate to lose the services of so efficient an officer due to a charge of
lèse-majesté.”
He winked at her.

She solemnly returned it. “Does the General require any further assistance?”

“No, I think I’ll try to get a few hours’ sleep before the big day. I suggest you do the same.”