Homeworld: A Military Science Fiction Novel (4 page)

With the heavy fighting over, and all enemy armor having been eliminated, he and his driver, Crowe, remained inside Flame Slinger waiting for HQ to transmit the rendezvous coordinates. As soon as they had them, they could evac off this hellhole in the belly of the transport ship that would take them back to the cool, comfort of the carrier ship in orbit.

Michael unscrewed the top of his canteen and took a slug of the cool water it contained, allowing some of it to trickle out the sides of his mouth and down his neck. This planet, like many others, was too blasted hot for his liking, and it never failed to amaze him that Earth Republic colonies never bothered to establish weather control grids like their Coalition counterparts. They had the tech to do so, even if it was a far less advanced version of it.

Personally, he blamed it on the Earther attitude towards progress in general. While Earthers had no problem terraforming a world to make it more like the home world, their ambition stopped there. The idiots apparently liked a world to have a more natural feel to it instead of turning it into the gleaming beacons of technology and industry that the Coalition was inclined to. The Earthers had some sanctimonious claptrap about leaving a planet as untouched and unique as possible while still maintaining the conditions necessary for life to survive. Michael wondered who in their right mind would want to colonize this rock willingly.

“Well,” he mused to himself looking down at the destroyed city, “I suppose they don’t have to worry about the heat now.”

Climbing out of the top hatch, he looked around and saw the Knight and the Monger sitting nearby. Like the Flame Slinger, they had their fusion engines powered down. Resting like a pair of beached killer whales in the dirt, he could not help but still marvel at the power he knew they held inside their armored hulls.

Shannon and Herc from the Knight stood between the two behemoths, talking with Rachel, the platoon's C.O., from the Monger. Looking around, he found no sign of Melzer, so Michael guessed the man was waiting on HQ inside the Monger much like Crowe was doing inside of their own tank.

Even though this battle was over, Crowe recognized that didn't mean things were always safe. He believed that if a pack of hostiles showed up, having a tank's armor between you and them was a very good thing. Michael did not feel the same way himself, but respected Crowe enough to allow him to stay inside the tank as much as he wanted as long as he didn’t start putting up curtains and wallpaper.

Michael doubted that such a sneak attack would happen today, but no one never really knew for sure. Besides, the main fleet had hammered this planet hard from orbit with a Kinetic Impact Assault before they had even hit the planets surface. Michael reminisced that there was nothing like a good old orbital bombardment to make a tanker’s life easier.

Combined with having been an unexpected attack this far inside Earth Republic space, the level of organized resistance they had encountered had been nothing but a bad joke. From the first kinetic strike to deployment of the ground forces to pacification had taken no more than a few hours.

Once the ground war started, the main fleet had actually moved on towards Earth fully confident that the forces they left behind would get the job done and the few ships that remained in orbit could take them to their next battle.

"Hey, Michael!" Herc called out to him. "Get over here! Shannon was just saying that Darian females are the best lay in the galaxy again. You really need to set him straight, buddy!"

Michael sighed and walked over to join them. Though, in general, he was well liked by those he served with, none of them ever failed to remind him about his start as an Executive Officer’s guard on Dar before he volunteered to join the Tankers.

Rachel and Shannon greeted him with a shared look of sympathy. Michael knew better than to ignore Herc's lewd challenge and took it in stride.

Herc was a big man, almost too big for the tanks, but he was a hell of a soldier and a crusty veteran too. Only God knew how many combat drops the man had survived. Michael knew it was best just to go along with whatever he wanted and humor him, than it was to get him angry with you.

Michael had no idea what Shannon or Rachel might have said to get Herc started but he was sure it had not taken much. Herc really only ever talked about two things: combat and sex. On more than one occasion, Herc had even bragged about sex during combat. Michael couldn’t help but grin as he thought that there had to be a regulation against that somewhere.

"Just because they're cats doesn't make them any better than human women," Michael said to Herc. "Besides, who wants a mouthful of all those shedding hairs on their tongue?"

The big man laughed and slammed a fist into Michael's shoulder. It hurt like hell, but Michael managed not to let it show too much. He rubbed at the bruise forming underneath the cloth of his uniform as Herc continued to smile.

"Good point there, man, but still it might be worth it eh? I don't know about you, but that rough tongue of theirs might be kind of interesting, if you know what I mean. Oh, and think of all things those girls could do with their tails.”

Unlike Darian males, the females of the race sported tails nearly identical in appearance to those of Earth felines, except for the fact that their tails were more like an extra limb than a means to maintain their balance. They were much stronger and better controlled than an Earth cat's. Michael suppressed a shudder at some of the images that leaped into his mind, feigning a good-natured smile before changing the subject.

"Where do you think we're headed next?" he asked Rachel.

Technically, she was in command of the platoon since Hudson and the Behemoth had bought it during their move on New Antrim's spaceport. A guided anti-tank missile had somehow slipped past the Behemoth's A.I. controlled countermeasures and turned her to nothing more than a pile of molten slag.

"Well, it's either going to be Mars or Earth," she answered. "It will all depend on how fast we catch up to the main fleet once our carrier is back in Null Space."

"This is all insane," Shannon said. "After five bloody years of war with the Earthers, and now it's potentially going to end in the next month."

"That's cause the brass finally got brave enough to make a real move." Herc spat on the ground, wiping his mouth with the backside of his hand. "We should have tried this years ago. Hell, I told them to give me a tank and point me at Earth, but nobody ever listened to me."

"Just like right now," Rachel laughed. "Look, we couldn't have done it until now. Our advantage over the Earthers has always been our manufacturing capability. When the war started, we had a standing fleet to match theirs and while it would have been enough to hurt them and hold our own, that was it. It would have been nothing but one hell of a stalemate. As the war progressed, we were able to build a second fleet just for this push towards earth while their fleet dwindled. Truth of the matter is, if the brass had tried this operation right from the start, we'd all be dead and our surviving tanks would be sporting Earth Republic colors."

Michael stared at Rachel, impressed. "When did you become such a scholar?"

"Doesn't take much to figure out the obvious," Rachel beamed at him. "Still, all said and done, it's going to be one hell of fight though. You and I both know that Earth won't surrender easily."

"Frag that!" Herc roared. "Those buggers will never know what hit them."

Rachel punched him playfully in the chest. "We should just have you stand on the lead tank; maybe they would just throw down their weapons and surrender?"

"Yeah, I can see it now, Earthers running away, screaming my name in terror. Oh shit, it's Herc!" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth, magnifying his already bellowing voice.

The little group's conversation ended abruptly as a squad of infantry crested the hill above and about 100 yards from the tanks. By the color of their black uniforms, Michael realized they were friendlies. Even then, only the fact that they were not shooting him full of holes did he finally take his hand off his holstered sidearm that he was just now realizing he had grabbed for.

"Oh crap," Shannon whispered as she squinted at the squad started down the hill towards them. "Do you know who that guy is next to their C.O.?"

Michael shook his head in the negative. His eyes were not as good as hers were but they were good enough to watch hers go wide as he swallowed involuntarily. Herc actually took an involuntary step backwards while pure awe etched itself plainly across his face. Michael was now truly intrigued and squinted up the hill at the battle worn troops trudging down the hill towards them.

"Unless I am sadly mistaken, he's Danny fragging Drake, man," Shannon said in a hushed voice thick with awe and more than just a hint of fear.

Michael struggled to remember where he had heard that name before and was about to ask who it was, when his addled mind, at seeing his mate’s reactions, forced to the surface the information he needed. Drake was a legend, rumored to be the most lethal soldier the Coalition had ever produced. The man's record made Herc's look as if it belonged to a schoolgirl on holiday in the south of France.

Drake had been a "Rapier Commando,” the best Special Ops force that the Coalition had, until his lone wolf mentality and simple burn out got him demoted and busted all the way back being a simple infantry grunt again. No one was quite sure why he was demoted but the stories about the man were almost too much for Michael to believe.

One story claimed Drake had taken out an entire Earther warship by himself after boarding it. Another told of how he'd stood his ground when his unit had broken under a charge by superior forces on Callon, and that he had single-handedly held the line until they regrouped and got their asses back in the trench to finish the job. After the battle, Drake was said to have climbed the flagpole in order to restore the Coalition flag over the capital.

Many soldiers swore he was a Gener experiment loaned to the Coalition; others said he was nothing more than a sociopath. One thing was for sure. Michael admitted to himself, the man looked like a killer. Not the disciplined look of a professional soldier, but the grim pale empty gaze of an outright killer. His tired gaze passed over Michael and his fellow tankers and it was one that clearly said he had nothing against them but he would have no problem killing them if they needed killing. He watched as Drake moved with the grace of a Darian warrior as the squad closed in on them.

"I'm Sergeant Flint," the gore and dirt covered squad leader introduced himself. His uniform showed a ragged gash in the right sleeve which had been mostly covered by a blood seeping pressure bandage. "Who is in command here?"

"That'd be me," Rachel answered, stepping forward. Having quickly regained her composure, she crisply asked, "How may I help you, Sergeant?"

"The boys and me have been attached to your unit, ma'am. We're just reporting in. Seems the brass thinks you'll need our services for whatever it is they have planned on Mars."

Drake stood off to the side, maintaining watch around their area, his finger never far from the safety of his weapon. Michael watched him, careful to not let himself get caught looking at him, when the realization hit him, "If they are going to embed Drake and these guys with his tankers, then one thing was certain, they were totally fragged!"

Farewell

Just before she stepped onto the beat up old transit that would take her to the base where she would undergo her Initial Training, Dinah's final goodbye to her mother, in spite of years of preparation for this very moment, was a tearful one.

The shoulder of her crisp new ocean blue conscript uniform was now damp from her mother's tears and despite her best efforts, she had not been able to hold back a few tears of her own either. She was leaving one world for another by stepping onto the transit and she did not know what awaited her on the other side, but she was prepared to do her duty to the Earth Republic and the people she loved.

Aside from the silent and slim driver, four other new recruits, three of which were boys, occupied the transit. The last was a girl whose hair was as silver as Dinah's own was red. They all seemed nervous and withdrawn, so much so, that the boys didn't even give her the lustful stares she was accustomed to from boys their age. Instead, the boys sat near the front of the transit, quietly speaking to each other, while the silver haired girl sat alone towards the rear, staring out the smudged window.

Dinah carried her small bag of personal belongings along the length of the transit to where the silver haired girl sat and plopped into the worn seat with the padding sticking out of one corner next to her without bothering to ask if it was okay.

The silver haired, pale-skinned girl turned and watched her intently but said nothing as Dinah settled in for the ride.

Dinah flashed the girl a smile. "Hey," she nodded, "I am Dinah Ridge. I guess you signed up to be in the infantry too, huh?"

"If by signed up, you mean conscripted, then yeah, just like you." The girl's tone when she said the word “conscripted” had an edge to it that warned off further conversation on the topic, but Dinah wasn't about to give up. She was just that type of person. She wanted to know those around her.

"I didn't catch your name."

"Abigail. Abigail Rain. Not that it really matters. Odds are pretty fragging good that we will both be dead within the month."

Dinah cocked her head, slightly shocked by the defeat in Abigail’s voice. "Wow, really? That's a pretty negative outlook you've got there."

"You, uh, you didn't catch the news this morning, did you?" Abigail asked, staring intently once again at Dinah.

"Well, no. . . I was saying goodbye to my mom. I didn't really have the time to watch any news."

"Good for you," Abigail said as she shifted in her seat and stared out the window next to her at the blur of buildings as they sped by.

"Why?" Dinah asked her, "Has something big happened?" By Abigail’s tone and body language, she already knew the answer but she had to know what had happened.

Without bothering to so much as glance back at her, Abigail answered, "The Coalition is making a run for Earth itself. The reports they are giving the public is that they are twelve jumps out and that there is no reason for undue concern. If you read between the lines, it's clear that Earth Command doesn't have much hope of stopping them from making it to Mars and then,” Abigail gestured out the window before continuing, “here. Most people are too dumb to realize the imminent threat, so there's no panic yet. Trust me though; it'll come once folks start to put two and two together when they see how Earth Command is responding to this incursion. Not all the pro Republic talking head propaganda on all the vids on the entire planet will be able to convince them otherwise when a Coalition armada is in high orbit over their heads."

Abigail’s softly spoken monotone words slammed into Dinah’s gut like a sledgehammer. Breathless, she deflated into her seat as she wondered what would happen to raw untrained recruits like her and the other four on the transit, if the Coalition troops landed on Earth soil.

There was no way the Earth Forces could allow them to sit things out, training or no. They would likely have weapons shoved into their hands, told which end was the dangerous end, and sent out to die as nothing more than so much cannon fodder ahead of the more experienced troops stationed on Earth.

Dinah was surprised by the fact that she was mentally ready to fight. She wasn't a coward but she knew well from her advanced military history and tactics classes in elementary training school that the chances of newbies like herself surviving such a call to arms were slim to none.

Well, at least she already knew which end of the rifle was the dangerous end. Her marksmanship scores were just this side of sniper ability and that was in her high school gym’s state of the art moving target facility where she had an instructor that would always make the test extra hard just for her.

Capiletti was his name, a stout Sicilian brick of a man with a ragged purple scar that ran down his right forearm. He had served his compulsory tour and then volunteered for two more before turning to education and would often take her aside and give her an extra trick or two he had learned during his deployment. His words of advice and extra teaching had put those small shiny gold trophies on the shelf of the world that she had just left behind.

As Dinah stared at the back of the driver’s head who was probably taking her to the edge of the abyss, she said a silent prayer that the Earth Republic Fleet would be able to hold out and maybe even stop the Coalition.

That small prayer was quickly followed by one for herself and her family, many of whom had already died either in service to the Fleet or the Infantry, but she figured they needed a prayer as much as the ones still drawing breath.

Sitting a little straighter in her seat, Dinah looked out the window as the transit continued to hover above the roadway in absolute silence. Due to resource rationing there were only a few other older model transports on the road so they would arrive at the unknown that much faster.

Dinah hoped she was ready, but deep inside, she admitted that she wasn’t, not even close.