Old Man's War Boxed Set 1 (16 page)

“Pedro Viveros, that’s right,” I said. “And not just him—his wife, his brother, his brother’s wife and most of their families were murdered in the military coup. Only one of Pedro’s daughters survived. Her nanny stuffed her down a laundry chute while the soldiers went through the presidential palace, looking for family members. The nanny was raped before they slit her throat, incidentally.”

Bender turned a greenish shade of gray. “She can’t be the daughter,” he said.

“She is,” I said. “And you know what, when the coup was put down and the soldiers who killed her family were put on trial, their excuse was that they were just following orders. So regardless of whether your
point
there was well made or not, you made it to just about the last person in the universe to whom you ought to lecture on the banality of evil. She knows
all
about it. It slaughtered her family while she lay in a basement laundry cart, bleeding and trying not to cry.”

“God, I’m sorry, of course,” Bender said. “I wouldn’t have said anything. But I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t, Bender,” I said. “And that was Viveros’ point. Out here, you
don’t
know. You don’t know anything.”

“Listen up,” Viveros said on the way down to the surface. “Our job is strictly to smash and dash. We’re landing near the center of their government operations—blast buildings and structures but avoid shooting live targets unless CDF soldiers are targeted first. We’ve already kicked these people in the balls, now we’re just pissing on them while they’re down. Be fast, do damage and get back. Are we clear?”

The operation had been a cakewalk up to that point; the Whaidians had been utterly unprepared for the sudden and instantaneous arrival of two dozen CDF battleships in their home space. The CDF had opened up a diversionary offensive in the Earnhardt system several days before to lure Whaidian ships there to support the battle, so there was almost nobody to defend the home fort, and those that were, were blasted out of the sky in short, surprised order.

Our destroyers also made quick work of the Whaidians’ major spaceport, shattering the kilometers-long structure at critical junctures, which allowed the port’s own centripetal forces to tear it apart (no need to waste more ammo than necessary). No skip pods were detected as launched to alert Whaidian forces in the Earnhardt system to our attack, so they wouldn’t know they were duped until it was too late. If any of the Whaidian forces survived the battle there, they would return home to find nowhere to dock or repair. Our forces would be long gone when they arrived.

With the local space cleared of threats, the CDF leisurely targeted industrial centers, military bases, mines, refineries, desalination plants, dams, solar arrays, harbors, space launch facilities, major highways and any other target that would require the Whaidians to rebuild it before rebuilding their interstellar capabilities. After six hours of solid, unremitting pummeling, the Whaidians had been effectively pushed back to the days of internal combustion engines, and would be likely to stay there for a while.

The CDF avoided a wide-scale random bombing of major cities, since wanton civilian death was not the goal. CDF intelligence suspected major casualties downstream of the destroyed dams, but that really couldn’t be helped. There would have been no way for the Whaidians to stop the CDF from cratering the major cities, but the thinking was the Whaidians would have enough problems with the disease, famine and the political and social unrest that inevitably comes as a result of having your industrial and technological base yanked out from under you. Therefore, actively going after the civilian population was seen as inhumane and (equally as important to the CDF brass) an inefficient use of resources. Aside from the capital city, which was targeted strictly as an exercise in psychological warfare, no ground attacks were even considered.

Not that the Whaidians in the capital seemed to appreciate that. Projectiles and beams were bouncing off our troop transports even as we landed. It sounded like hail and frying eggs on the hull.

“Two by two,” Viveros said, pairing up the squad. “No one goes off on their own. Refer to your maps and don’t get trapped. Perry, you got Bender watch. Try to keep him from signing any peace treaties, if you please. And as an added bonus, you two are first out the door. Get high and deal with snipers.”

“Bender.” I motioned him over. “Set your Empee for rockets and follow me. Camo on. BrainPal chatter only.” The transport ramp went down and Bender and I sprinted out the door. Directly in front of me at forty meters was an abstract sculpture of some description; I nailed it as Bender and I ran. Never much liked abstract art.

I was heading for a large building northwest of our landing position; behind the glass in its lobby I could see several Whaidians with long objects in their paws. I launched a couple of missiles in their direction. The missiles would impact on the glass; they probably wouldn’t kill the Whaidians inside, but they’d distract them long enough for Bender and I to disappear. I messaged Bender to blow out a window on the building’s second floor; he did, and we launched ourselves at it, landing in what looked like a suite of office cubicles. Hey, even aliens have got to work. No live Whaidians to speak of, however. I imagine most of them had stayed home from work that day. Well, who could blame them.

Bender and I found a rampway that spiraled upward. No Whaidians followed us up from the lobby. I suspected they were so busy with other CDF soldiers that they forgot all about us. The rampway terminated at the roof; I stopped Bender just before we rose into view and crept up slowly to see three Whaidians sniping down the side of the building. I plugged two and Bender got the other one.

What now
—sent Bender.

Come with me
—I sent.

Your average Whaidian looks rather like a cross between a black bear and a large, angry flying squirrel; the Whaidians we shot looked like large angry flying bear-squirrels with rifles and the backs of their heads blown out. We crab-walked as quickly as possible to the edge of the roof. I motioned to Bender to go to one of the dead snipers; I took the one next to him.

Get under it
—I sent.

What?
—Bender sent back.

I motioned to other roofs.
Other Whaidians on other roofs
—I sent.
Camouflage while I take them out
—

What do I do?
—Bender sent.

Watch the roof entrance and don’t let them do to us what we did to them
—I sent.

Bender grimaced and got under his dead Whaidian. I did the same and immediately regretted it. I don’t know what a live Whaidian smells like but a dead one smells positively fucking rank. Bender shifted and aimed at the door; I sent to Viveros, gave her an overhead view through the BrainPal, and then started doing damage to other rooftop snipers.

I got six on four different roofs before they began to figure out what was going on. Finally I saw one train its weapon onto my roof; I gave it a love tap in the brain with my rifle and sent to Bender to ditch his corpse and clear the roof. We made it off a few seconds before the rockets hit.

On the way down we ran into the Whaidians I was expecting on our way up. The question of who was more surprised, us or them, was answered when Bender and I opened fire first and wheeled back to the closest building level. I pumped a few grenades down the ramp to give the Whaidians something to think about while Bender and I ran.

“What the hell do we do now?” Bender yelled at me as we ran through the building level.

BrainPal, you asshole
—I sent, and turned a corner.
You’ll give us away
—I went to a glass wall and looked out. We were at least thirty meters up, too far to jump even with our enhanced bodies.

Here they come
—Bender sent. From behind us came the sound of what I suspected were some very angry Whaidians.

Hide
—I sent to Bender, trained my Empee at the glass wall closest to me, and fired. The glass shattered but didn’t break. I grabbed what I would guess was a Whaidian chair and threw it out the window. Then I ducked into the cubicle next to Bender.

What the hell
—Bender sent.
Now they’re coming right for us
—

Wait
—I sent.
Stay down. Be ready to fire when I tell you. Automatic
—

Four Whaidians turned the corner and carefully made their way toward the shattered wall pane. I heard them gargling to each other; I turned on the translation circuit.

“—went out the hole in the wall,” one was saying to another as they approached the wall.

“Impossible,” another said. “It is too far down. They would die.”

“I have seen them leap great distances,” the first said. “Perhaps they would survive.”

“Even those [untranslatable] cannot fall 130 deg [unit of measurement] and live,” said the third, coming up on the first two. “Those [untranslatable] eaters of [untranslatable] are still here somewhere.”

“Did you see [untranslatable—probability personal name] on the ramp? Those [untranslatable] tore [it] apart with their grenades,” said the fourth.

“We came up the same ramp as you,” said the third. “Of course we saw [it]. Now quiet yourselves and search this area. If they are here, we will exact revenge on the [untranslatable] and celebrate it in service.” The fourth closed the gap between him and the third Whaidian, and reached out a great paw to it, as if in commiseration. All four were now conveniently standing in front of the gaping hole in the wall.

Now
—I sent to Bender and opened fire. The Whaidians jerked like marionettes for a few seconds and then fell as the force of the bullet impacts pushed them back into the wall that wasn’t there anymore. Bender and I waited a few seconds, then snuck back to the ramp. It was unoccupied except for the remains of [untranslatable—probability personal name], which smelled even worse than his dead sniper compatriots up on the roof. So far, the entire experience of the Whaid homeworld had been a real nasal treat, I had to say. We headed back down to the second floor and headed out the same way we had come in, passing by the four Whaidians whom we had helped out the window.

“This isn’t really what I expected,” Bender said, gawking at the remains of the Whaidians as he passed.

“What did you expect?” I asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” he replied.

“Well, then, how can it not be what you expected,” I said, and switched my BrainPal to speak to Viveros.
We’re down
—I sent.

Come over here
—Viveros sent and sent her location information.
And bring Bender. You’re not going to believe this
—And as she said it, I heard it over the random fire and grenade booms: a low, guttural chant, echoing through the buildings of the government center.

“This is what I told you about,” Bender declared, almost joyously, as we cleared the final corner and began our descent into the natural amphitheater. In it, hundreds of Whaidians had assembled, chanting and swaying and waving clubs. Around it, dozens of CDF troops had staked out positions. If they opened fire, it would be a turkey shoot. I switched on my translation circuit again but came up with nothing; either the chants meant nothing or they were using a dialect of Whaidian speech that Colonial linguists hadn’t figured out.

I spotted Viveros and went to her. “What’s going on?” I shouted to her, over the din.

“You tell me, Perry,” she shouted back. “I’m just a spectator here.” She nodded over to her left, where Lieutenant Keyes was conferring with other officers. “They’re trying to figure out what we should do.”

“Why hasn’t anyone fired?” Bender asked.

“Because they haven’t fired on us,” Viveros said. “Our orders were not to fire on civilians unless necessary. They appear to be civilians. They’re all carrying clubs but they haven’t threatened us with them; they just wave them around while they chant. Therefore, it’s not necessary to kill them. I’d think you’d be happy with that, Bender.”

“I
am
happy about that,” Bender said, and pointed, clearly entranced. “Look, the one that’s leading the congregation. He’s the Feuy, a religious leader. He’s a Whaidian of great stature. He probably wrote the chant they’re singing right now. Does anyone have a translation?”

“No,” Viveros said. “They’re not using a language we know. We have no idea what they’re saying.”

Bender stepped forward. “It’s a prayer for peace,” he said. “It has to be. They must know what we’ve done to their planet. They can see what we’re doing to their city. Any people to whom this has been done must be crying for it to cease.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit,” Viveros snapped. “You have no fucking clue what they’re chanting about. They could be chanting about how they’re going to rip off our heads and piss down our necks. They could be chanting for their dead. They could be singing their goddamn grocery list.
We
don’t know.
You
don’t know.”

“You’re wrong,” Bender said. “For five decades I was on the front lines of the battle for peace on Earth. I
know
when a people are ready for peace. I know when they’re reaching out.” He pointed to the chanting Whaidians. “These people are ready, Viveros. I can
feel
it. And I’m going to prove it to you.” Bender set down his Empee and started toward the amphitheater.