Corpsman (5 page)

WYXY

Chapter 5

“We don’t know what we’re going to get.  It could be all 500 hundred, or it could be none,” Chief Sou told the gathered corpsmen. 

Liege blanched at the thought.  Over 500 Wyxy civilians were being held hostage by the SevRevs, and if “none” needed medical care, that would probably mean they’d been killed by the religious fanatics, as was usually the case.

“Don’t join your team until you’re released by your commanders.  Fox, that might not be for a while for you.  But Golf and Weapons, join your team as soon as you can.”

Echo and Hotel were in blocking positions on the other side of the Rose Garden Farmers Market, and HM1 Knight had another triage team ready to go for any civilians who managed to escape to that side.  But the bulk of the civilians, however many that might be, were expected to come their way.  Golf was the support element for the assault, so the Golf and the three Weapons Company corpsmen might not have their own Marines to treat; as soon as they were free, they would augment the five H & S corpsmen and Doctor X‘anto and provide the bulk of the triage for the aid station.

“OK, back to your Marines,” Chief ordered.

HM2 Gnish, Second Platoon’s senior corpsman, jerked his head in a follow-me motion, and Liege and Nica—HM Veronica Lester-Mrchenigian, Second Squad’s corpsman—followed him back to where the platoon was in position.  A newsie in a bright red fiesta top, tight “butt lifters,” and an ancient helmet that was canted half off her head, with her camcorder operator in tow, saw them and rushed over.

“Justina Gunnersen, VDV Universal,” she said, introducing herself.  “So, are you here to rescue the civilians?”

No, we’re here to shop for tomatoes,
Liege thought. 
Can’t you tell by our snazzy uniforms and weapons?

“Sorry, ma’am.  We’ve got to get into position,” Doc Gnish said, trying to brush by her.

The woman executed a deft little sidestep, blocking his way.

“Can you tell me your battle plans?” she persisted.

“You’ll have to ask the PAO
[6]
about anything like that,” Gnish said, trying to push around her again while Liege and Nica split off, abandoning him to face the newsie alone.

There had to be over a hundred newsies on the scene.  Most had little or no armor protection.  Liege thought that with the Marines in full battle rattle, and with the Farmer’s Market only 600 meters away, they would have taken the hint, but there seemed to almost be a holiday air as various newsies jockeyed for interviews.

This entire operation was a huge dog-and-pony show.  Oh, the mission was righteous.  The SevRevs were truly evil incarnate, and the Wyxy hostages were in grave danger.  But the SevRevs loved publicity, and by the time the battalion had been diverted to conduct the rescue mission, pretty much every major news organization in human space and more than a few minor ones had made it to the planet. 

Even the location of the assembly area had been selected with a nod to the newsies.  At only 600 meters from the market and lacking cover, it broke most rules of offensive operations.  This might be Liege’s first land battle, but even an E3 corpsman knew better than that.

Liege spotted Sergeant Vinter and took her place by the squad leader.  They hadn’t prepared improved positions; the entire squad was on the open ground at the edge of the assembly area.

“Chief says that—”

“I got the message.  I’ll release you as soon as I can,” the sergeant said, interrupting her.

Liege nodded and looked out over Fox Company, which was going to lead the assault.  A tiny drone flew down low, hovering a meter away from her.  She wanted to swat it away like she would a mosquito, but she tried to look serious, not knowing to where her image might be transmitted.  Vinter, on the other hand, ripped out a huge burp, and the drone immediately took off for more civilized pastures.

A Wasp overflew the assembly area and buzzed the market.  All the newsies and drones turned to capture the scene.  A Wasp was a deadly looking fighter, but Liege knew it was just for show.  No one expected the SevRevs to simply give up, and being buzzed by a Wasp was not going to change that.

The rest of the battalion headquarters moved into position.  Liege knew the assault would kick off soon.

The small PsyOps team took center stage a 100 meters from Liege and Sergeant Vinter. 

Speaking through a small, but incredibly powerful directional speaker, one team member said, “Inside the market; we are the United Federation Marines.  You are trapped where you are.  If you want to live, release the hostages.  If you comply, you will not be harmed.

“If you do not release the hostages and resist us, you are inviting a certain destruction.  It is up to you.  Surrender and live or resist and die.”

It might have been nice drama, but no one thought it would have any effect.  The SevRevs welcomed the End of Days, and none of them expected to survive the upcoming fight.  The announcement was more for the newsies and public consumption.

With the platoon in position, Staff Sergeant Abdálle shouted out, “Check your curtains!”

Liege toggled the deployment switch and was rewarded with a little puff of mist that seemed to disappear.  The slowly blinking green light on her display let her know her curtain was employed.

The SevRevs had used super biologicals on Janson to kill Confederation troops, so each Marine and sailor had been outfitted for full NBC
[7]
protection.  The curtains wouldn’t do much against projectiles, but they would protect from chemical or biological attacks.

In front of Golf’s line, Fox started crossing the LOD.
[8]
  The assault was on.

Liege glanced back at the Alpha command. 

The CO was moving away from a reporter and her camcorderman, trying to ignore the two as she went about monitoring Fox.  A big Marine was trying to pull back the reporter, but the woman was nimble, dodging the Marine and pressing the CO.

Five meters to her right, Korf said “I wouldn’t be doing that,” as he watched the same thing.

Next to him, Tamara tried but failed to smother a laugh. 

“Eyes front, you two.  To your sector,” Sergeant Vinter chastised them.

Liege snapped her eyes back to her sector as well.  Fox was moving out over open ground, and the lead elements were close to half-way to the market.  Liege checked her settings and confirmed the sights were set for 600 meters.

The M99 had an effective range of 900 meters, but for Liege, 600 meters was pushing it.  Marksmanship was not her strongest suit.

Liege kept expecting fire to reach out from the market, but a sudden snap from her right made her jump.  One of the snipers, who had taken position on top of a public toilet, had just fired and was cycling in another round.  She fired once more before answering fire reached out from the market.

Despite herself, Liege ducked lower, hugging the dirt.  It was the Fox Marines, though, who reacted.  They immediately moved into a bounding overwatch, pouring fire into the market as they rushed forward.

To her right, the sniper continued to fire, her shots coming unbelievably quickly.  Liege couldn’t tell if either the sniper or the Fox Marines were killing SevRevs, but the volume going out was impressive.

Just as the lead elements from Fox approached the market, the entire building exploded in a huge fireball.  A shockwave rolled over Liege a moment later.

“
Filha da puta
!” she exclaimed, rising up on her elbows to get a better look.

The closest Fox Marines had been knocked to the ground, but most looked to be struggling to stand back up.  In front of them, an immense column of dense black smoke billowed high into the air.

Liege had never seen anything like this in her life, and her mouth hung open.  She could imagine what had just happened to the hostages, and it made her sick to her stomach.

To her huge surprise, figures foundered out of the ruined market, stumbling towards the Fox Marines.

“We’ve got people coming out,” Sergeant Vinter shouted.  “Get ready.”

As the support element, one of Golf’s missions was to assist with the hostages.  Third Platoon would create a corridor into which the hostages would be funneled, First Platoon would be the handling teams, and Second Platoon would provide immediate security.

“Remember, these are friendlies, but be on the alert,” Sergeant Vinter reminded them.

Liege was assigned to the Green triage team, which would be back at the assembly area and conduct the initial assessment.  Blue, with more of the senior corpsmen, would conduct the secondary assessment and start treatment, and Purple, made of Fox corpsmen, would go into the burning mess and do on-the-spot triage and life-saving measures.

For the moment, though, Liege was still a member of the squad.  She took her place beside Sergeant Vinter, her M99 at the ready.

Within a few minutes, the first two hostages stumbled past, looking dirty and bedraggled.  These were followed by more, and most of them showed signs of injury.  Many needed help to walk.

These were the lucky ones.  Others had collapsed along the way, unable to move, and even more would still be inside the market—hopefully alive.  The corpsman in her wanted to rush to their aid, but she was supposed to remain with her squad.  A SevRev could be hiding among the hostages, and if he attacked the Marines, she had to be ready to act.

“Doc!” Wythe called out.

Liege looked over to where Jessie was helping a man lower an injured woman to the ground.  She hesitated for only a moment before slinging her weapon and rushing over to them.

The woman was badly burned and in shock, her breathing rapid and shallow.  It was hard to tell with all the soot and tattered clothing, but it looked like she had third-degree burns over 20% of her body.  She should make it, but she was in bad shape for the time being.  Liege pulled out her injector, dialing in a Series 1.  A skin injector wasn’t going to work here, so she deployed the needle.  Next, she knew she needed to get fluids into her.

Liege was supposed to be conducting triage, not treating patients.  There still could be others who were hurt worse and needed treatment quicker.  But there looked to be only 50 or so hostages who had gotten out of the market, and there were more than enough corpsmen to handle that few.

Wythe helped the other man to his feet and asked, “Are you hurt, too?  Are you OK?”

“I’ve got information, sir.  I need to talk to your commander.  Lives are at stake!” the man said, his voice fraught with stress.

“Corporal Wheng!” Wythe called out.  “This guy says he needs to talk to the commander.”

The corporal was taking a small child from the arms of her mother, pointing out the way to the initial collection point. 

He barely gave Wythe a glance over the crying toddler, but he said, “Take him, then,” as he nodded to where the battalion commanding officer was standing with her staff.

Liege took out the saline.  Over the centuries, there hadn’t been much improvement on how to manage an IV.  Liege held the rectangular package with one hand, thumbing the catch.  The packet flipped open, a long tube falling free.  With her right hand, she held the needle to the woman’s forearm, right over the cephalic vein.  Three quick presses activated the snake, and within moments, the needle wormed its way into the vein, and the saline began to flow.

She pulled out her field stand, extended it, and hung the pack, letting gravity power the flow of the saline.

“What the fuck?” Jessie Wythe shouted.

Liege looked up to see Tamara tackling the man who had helped bring up the woman. Jessie was knocked back, and as all three of them hit the ground, Tamara was grabbing at the man’s hand.

“Veal!  What the hell?” Wythe shouted, rolling away from her.  “Are you bat-shit crazy?”

Tamara was big, but the man was at least 25 kg heavier than her, and he looked like a bull.  He was jerking his arm, shaking Tamara as he rained punch after punch on her head with his free hand.

Liege took several steps toward them, her mind trying to make sense out of what she was seeing.  All she knew was that someone was beating up her friend.

She started into a run, leaving the wounded woman behind, when the man’s head jerked and blood poured out of the side of his head, drenching Tamara.  Tamara still held onto the man when Sergeant Priest, the company police sergeant, leveled his old Piedmaster and blew away the hostage’s neck and half of his face.

“Don’t let go, Marine!” a voice called out.

Priest, Wythe, and Korf, were kneeling around Tamara, reaching out to keep her hands closed around the hostage’s—although it was pretty clear now he hadn’t been a hostage but was a SevRev—hand.

“We’ve got it now,” the first sergeant said, standing over her.  “Keep holding it, and we’ll get someone here to disarm this guy.”

Liege stepped up, giving Tamara the once over, but the blood covering her didn’t seem to be hers.

“Hey, Korf, can you get off me?” Tamara asked weakly.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” the PFC said, moving his knee from out of her side.

“Just don’t let go.  I’m a little woozy, I think.”