First Command (20 page)

“About as well as can be expected sir. A few problems mostly, cultural.”

“Really, such as?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, we had a few issues with discipline. Officers were filching their men’s pay and such. A couple of selective hangings, and we sewed that right up,” replied the Major.

Jonathan nodded wiping his brow in the heat, “Is it always so hot here Major?”

Fortis grinned, “This sir… this is actually the coolest part of the day. We are at about 88 degrees Fahrenheit. It’ll slide to 103 or 105 by late afternoon.”

“Great god man!” Krishna said, his black face soaked with sweat. “How can men live in such a climate?”

Fortis grinned again his ridiculous mustache twitching. “Oh this isn't so bad, down at the equatorial islands it’s 130 degrees in the heat of the day. Our men down there have cooling units installed in their suits.”

Jonathan wished he had a cooling unit in his Marine fatigues. The locals didn't seem to mind the heat. The Spaceport was abuzz with activity. The local workmen labored in broad brim straw hats, and light cotton clothes. The natives had a funny look about them, mostly blond haired and blued eyed with a scattering of light brown and red hair here and there, but their skin was exclusively swarthy. Most of them were a shade between Jonathan and Krishna.

“Genies the lot,” Fortis said hawking a wad of tobacco onto the dirt road. “Their ancestors were a fair bunch, but a hothouse world like this that kind of skin complexion is an invitation to sunburn and melanoma. So the first couple of generations got their genes spliced and diced, and now we have toast colored Vikings.”
“Interesting Major, but what the bloody hell is a Viking?” Jonathan asked.

Fortis just grinned an impish grin, “Been here twelve years sir, and I have no bloody idea. The locals are nuts for um though. Claim they descended from um.”

“I told you sir,” Master Sergeant Jablan piped in. “Ancient Earth culture from 900 AD on the old calendar.”

“Forgive the Sergeant,” Fortis said. “He’s a nut for old earth history and the like. He is our resident bookworm. Useful though, best driver in the outfit.”

Jablan demonstrated his driving skills by swerving around a broken down lorry then back onto the correct side of the road before another lorry flattened the squad car. The whole time leaning on the horn and shouting in a very angry throaty language Jonathan didn't understand.

“See what I mean,” Fortis said.

It was less than ten minutes from the landing pad to the docks as the fletcher flew, but with the traffic they encountered it took more like twenty. The sea docks were just as busy, if not more so, than the spaceport. Jonathan counted sixteen steam powered ferries loading and offloading various cargos, and crowds of people, mostly Spacers returning from shore leave, or dockworkers arriving for their shifts. A Solarian Customs and Rescue Service cutter sat tied to the dock, its repulsors keeping it 3 feet above the water. Steam and vapor fizzled and rose as waves broke too close to the repulsor’s nodes. Sunlight glittered off her slug guns and plasma cannon mounts. The name
Gloria
stood out in blood red letters on her forward hull. Jonathan and the party dismounted their vehicles, and made their way up the gangplank where the CRS Chief Petty Officer in charge of
Gloria
and her 8-man crew greeted them cordially.

Major Fortis pointed toward downtown Haggerdam, and explained, “We’ll be taking the cutter across the bay. Normally we use the ferries or some of our water craft, but since we are on a schedule
Gloria
will do.”

“Efficient thinking Major. I commend it,” Jonathan said popping another Oxitanie pill into his mouth. He really should lay off the things. This was his third since they landed, but the clear blue sky was causing him continued anxiety. No matter how well he rationalized it, a small part of his brain cried out with anxiety every time he looked up. The feeling was similar to what a normal person would experience standing very close to a ledge with a very long drop.
Gloria’s
turbines whirred as she slowly glided away from the pier. Baker and his Marines, along with Major Fortis and the Sergeant, settled at the stern. The crossing, according to the Major, wasn’t going to take more than ten minutes. Sergeant Japlan said it was really more like fifteen. Jonathan positioned himself on the bow, close to the forward tri-barrel auto cannon, as there was no room at the stern with a squad of Marines. He was also well away from Lieutenant Chan amid ship, who was turning somewhat green again as the cutter was buffeted by the crosswind. Looking over the side into the murky depth of the deep harbor, Jonathan felt his anxiety ebbing. Here at sea with the empty blackness beneath him and the open sky above him was very much like being in space when the endless void surrounded him.
“It’s quite beautiful isn’t it?”

Jonathan turned to see Lt. Krishna standing next to him grinning ear to ear.

“Reminds me of home,” Krishna continued.

“Ah yes,” Jonathan said. Making conversation was easing his anxiety somewhat, “Varuna isn’t it?”

Krishna grin widen somewhat, “I don’t suppose your travels took you out that far sir?”

“No,” Jonathan replied. “Even under Republic protection there was too much raider activity for a small merchantman. Then my previous deployments have all been well away from that quiet corner of the Republic.”

“Quiet indeed,” Krishna replied. “Most folks back home are still using oxen and horses. Even the biggest cities are built out of brick, and only have a few electric cars.”

Jonathan nodded. Krishna’s home world was about the size of old earth or Solaria, but maybe a few million square miles bigger. It had been settled at roughly the same time as Solaria by a colonial expedition from the Indian-subcontinent. The colonists hadn’t really bothered to prepare, or bring much more than the simplest tools. They had gone looking for a simpler life, a way to get back to the soil. When the Republic had reestablish contact, they were divided into a dozen petty nation states fighting each other with flintlocks. These days Varuna was an idyllic world with a booming nature tourism industry, and a steady stream of volunteers for the Republic's military.

“I imagine that Levelflats and Overwatch were quite a change?” Jonathan asked.

“It was indeed sir, but compared to being back home waiting for my folks to arrange a match, and walking behind the ass end of an ox for the rest of my days. I’ll take the navy any day.”

“You know Krishna after this tour is done you really ought to look into a posting at the Admiralty. I have found your analytical work impressive.”

Krishna brightened noticeably at that, “Thank you sir. I was afraid you’d pay it no... never mind.”

He stopped short of what he was going to say because it wasn’t a junior officer’s place, but Jonathan knew what he was thinking. Krishna, or at least a part of him, had believed that his Captain might not heed his input because his XO had so thoroughly belittled that input in front of the entire ship. Jonathan and Krishna shared a few more thoughts on mundane things such as the sight of how Haggerdam’s rapidly approaching low slung colorful buildings compared to Levelflat’s mega towers, and low lying industrial parks. All the while, Jonathan was mulling over a way to tactfully deal with his XO when he got back to the ship. 

Gloria
settled into its slip with ease, and the crowd containing Jonathan and his officers, Lt. Baker and his Marines, and Major Fortis with his Sergeant still in tow tramped down the gang blank to a waiting motorcade of vehicles. It had two armored six wheelers with the dual flags of Solaria and New Helsinki on their hoods, and three squad cars, two of which had ample room for the Marines.  A New Helsinki Provisional Police ground car led the contingent of vehicles with sirens and all. Major Fortis climbed aboard the front six-wheeler, and Jonathan followed after him with Krishna and Chan in tow. The six-wheeler was basically a big, ugly armored box. Interior troops used them for urban patrols in hostile neighborhoods, as well as light APC in rural environments. They were mine-resistant, flipping over rather than blowing up, and mostly bulletproof, but were not recommended against armored piercing rounds, energy weapons or rocket propelled grenades. The passenger section of a six wheeler usually seated eight comfortably, but this one had been retro fitted to hold six. Jonathan was surprised to see sitting in the far left backward facing seat a grey-eyed, dusty brown haired man who looked anywhere to be between thirty and fifty. He was wearing the black and grey trim of the Office of Military Intelligence uniform and the double diamonds of a Major. OMI, despite its name, was not part of any service branch, but an independent agency. Still, its members used Army insignia and rank, though how much that corresponded to their actual job and duties was questionable. The Major saluted, and Jonathan and his officers returned it as they sat. 

“Welcome to New Helsinki lady and gentleman. Major Antony Garrett, Office of Military Intelligence, Special Branch.” He stuck out his hand for Jonathan and his officers to each shake in turn.

“I hope the ride from orbit wasn’t too unpleasant?” The OMI man said. His voice was very flat, lacking in real interest in the question. “Uh, acceptable Major,” Jonathan replied. “Bit of a mishap with a coolant valve so my undress was a complete wreck, any chance I’ll be able to procure a spare before we meet the governor?”

Garrett smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, nor was it menacing, it was just fake. “Yes,” He replied matter-of-factly. Without missing a beat, Garrett continued, “You’ll not be meeting just the governor. You will also be meeting Brigadier Treos, commander of the Interior Troops, only one of the CRS Captains will be present I’m afraid. Captain Hun as he is the senior CRS officer in system, Commander Tao CO of the 95th Naval Engineering Brigade, Field Marshal Hacken, head of the New Helsinki Auxiliary Defense Force, and General Torgeir Chief of the New Helsinki Provisional Police. Also, the Prime Minister, but he’s unimportant.”

“Quite the gathering,” Jonathan said. “Nice of Governor Curtis to commemorate our arrival with this conference.”

Garrett shook his head,  “This conference has been planned for weeks, since before you left Solaria, and we delayed it until your arrival. The GG wants to reassess our position in light of the rising frequency and lethality of New Helsinki Liberation Front attacks.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud explosion.   

The convoy had been proceeding down a side route avoiding main avenues due to the heavy mid day traffic, which on New Helsinki meant lorries, jitteys, and a plethora of scooters. The side roads were slightly less crowded if haphazard, and crooked which added a layer of security for any convoy as it was easy to divert at any time. However, the New Helsinkian Liberation Front had been forewarned of the convoy’s intended route the result of a loose-lipped Provisional Police Major who had a housekeeper who was a NHLF plant. The lead car in the convoy had been equipped with ground penetrating scanner to detect buried mines. However, the IED rather than being a cobbled together device made out of rusty scrap metal and surplus Dominion explosives, was a high grade Plasma Stealth Mine manufactured in New Madrid, formerly standard issue of the now defunct Terran Federal Union Army. The mine incinerated the front half of the Provisional Police ground car, and blew the back half into the six-wheeler Jonathan and his colleagues were riding in. The six- wheeler was a sturdy vehicle, but a half-ton of twisted wreckage and the plasma fireball crushed and incinerated the driver’s compartment. The passenger section despite being rattled heavily, survived. Jonathan and his colleagues were fortunately strapped into the crash webbing. So despite having their spines wrenched and teeth rattled, survived the initial impact unscathed. At which point, the Insurgents opened fire, while simultaneously blocking the convoys escape route with a 4x4 truck loaded with stone slabs.  Still dazed and seeing spots from the impact, Jonathan felt for his crash-webbing buckle, released himself, and was yanked to the floor by Major Garrett. He then unbuckled Lt. Krishna, Chan, and Major Fortis, and pulled them to the floor as well. Crushed under his comrades’ collective weight, Jonathan did his best to try to stay calm and breathe even as his heart hammered into his ears and his chest struggled to expand under the crushing weight. Above his head, fifty caliber rounds stitched through the cab. The insurgents numbering about fifty fighters had planned to wipe the motorcade out. To do so, they’d brought explosives, rocket launchers, two fifty-caliber machine guns, and surplus Terran Federal MK-77 Assault rifles with grenade launchers. The insurgents had known the motorcade contained a Solarian VIP. They hadn't expected it to also contain an entire squads worth of heavily armed Solarian Marines. As the front car blew, and the 4x4 rolled out of the side street to block the escape, Baker and his men where already reacting. They leapt from the squad cars even before they’d come to a dead stop. The insurgents had two fifty-caliber machine guns both mounted in a nest overlooking the front of the convoy and their primary target was the six-wheelers. For the rear of the convoy, they had positioned thirty men armed with RPGs and .7 calibers MK-77s. The Marines were toting .50 caliber assault rifles, weapons designed to take on armored cars and enemy soldiers in full combat armor. The Marines opened fire as their targets presented themselves; automated software in their combat armor helped them to target the most dangerous hostile threats first. The insurgent RPG squad of six men was blown to pieces as soon as they broke cover. Grenades incinerated the machine gun nest, which had targeted each six-wheeler, before they could re-target the Marines. It was not a flawless response however, PFC Colbert broke his ankle when he dismounted his still moving squad car awkwardly, and two other Marines were cut down by Insurgent fire. One was wounded, and one dead. Despite being heavily armored, they were far from invulnerable to military grade battle rifles. Caught off guard by the ferocity of the response, however, the Insurgents sought to withdraw further up the street giving Baker and his Marines and the remaining Helsinki Provisional Policemen a chance to get to cover, and pull their comrades from the damaged and burning six-wheelers. The door to the vehicle Jonathan was in was badly jammed.   With the butt of a gun, Jonathan was able to crack it open. The Marines, whose artificial muscle enhancements allowed them to lift 400 pounds like it was nothing, lifted the door and yanked everyone out. They all hustled behind the six-wheeler, which despite being damaged, was still the safest place they could be. Jonathan, the last to be pulled out, tripped as he rushed behind the six-wheeler and smashed his face into the pavement giving himself a nasty gash just above the eye and a cut-up cheek.
Lt. Krishna pulled him to his feet and yanked him behind the six-wheeler with the rest. Still dazed Jonathan managed to find his voice, “Mr. Baker?”
“Aye sir,” Baker said kneeling next to the Captain.