Retreat Hell (18 page)

The soldiers moved from room to room, advancing up the stairs and making their way through a network of offices.  They saw no sign of the enemy until they reached the third floor, when another shot ran out.  Thomas saw the enemy sniper and fired back, hitting the sniper in the head.  He felt an odd moment of tired satisfaction as he stepped forward, examining the body from a distance.  There had been insurgents in the past who had booby-trapped their own bodies, just to try to kill another soldier.

Just a kid
, he thought.  The insurgent had been young – around sixteen, if he was any judge – before his death.  He wondered, absently, if the youngster had been an ideologue or someone who had been lured into the insurgency through a desire for fame or simple poverty, then pushed the thought aside.  All that mattered, right now, was that he was dead.

They swept through the rest of the complex, then moved on to the next one.  Two more snipers greeted them, one managing to wound a soldier before being killed by a grenade hurled by the soldier’s comrade.  The other stumbled and fell down a flight of stairs while trying to escape, breaking his neck when he hit the bottom.  Thomas noted the body’s position and pressed on.  There would be time to sweep the battlefield later.

He paused outside the complex, checking the location of the other soldiers.  They were, to all intents and purposes, advancing on a wide front, something that spread his forces very thin.  He linked into the command datanet and checked on the shuttles, but he needed a reserve now.  If one force ran into trouble, he didn't have much in place to provide immediate support.  But he also needed to push the enemy as far back from the spaceport as possible.

“Bring in the additional shuttles as soon as possible,” he ordered.  He’d just have to designate one of the new units as the reserve – and hope they arrived before something went spectacularly wrong.  “And request additional fire support ASAP.”

We should have planned for a hostile landing
, he thought, as he straightened up and began to issue the next set of orders. 
Right now, we don't have enough men to secure the buildings we clear
.

He heard the sound of shuttles flying overhead and allowed himself to relax, slightly.  They’d passed through the danger zone, thankfully.  Now, all they had to do was keep pushing the enemy back and clearing buildings.  And then they could hand the region over to the locals.

***

“Rifleman Stewart is requesting additional support,” Michael reported.

“Send him whatever he needs,” Jasmine ordered.  Her conversation with the planet’s defenders was distracting her from monitoring the battle, but she knew better than to override the person on the ground without good reason.  “Keep me informed.”

She looked back at the display, trying to understand the tactics the enemy were using.  None of them quite made sense, apart from the first attack.  If she’d been facing the CEF, she would have rigged half the buildings surrounding the spaceport with IEDs, just to make life difficult for the advancing soldiers.  Even a handful of IEDs would have slowed her forces down long enough to allow the rebels to make their escape.  Instead, they seemed to have deployed a handful of rebels merely to take a shot or two at her men before being killed.  It didn't quite make sense.

The enemy CO was a Marine, one with considerable experience.  He knew what he would be facing and how best to counter it.  So why wasn't he doing it?  Jasmine had wondered, unwilling to accept that a Marine might be involved, if he was a faker, but Colonel Stalker had assured her that he was quite real.  And that meant ... ?

And that means there’s something I’m not seeing
, she thought. 
A missing piece of the puzzle.  But what am I missing
?

If this wasn't bad enough, the social scientists who were more aware of the political realities on Earth (not on the planet being ‘assisted’) proved adept at ensuring that local powers connected with their political masters were backed by the Empire’s military, regardless of their local level of influence.

-
Professor Leo Caesius. 
War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.

In the end, they made it out just in time.

The one great advantage insurgents possessed was the ability to look just like civilians.  Thousands of civilians had started to flee the area around the spaceport as soon as the shooting started; it had been simple enough to join them, even as the security forces were setting up roadblocks and cordons.  It would be a while yet, Pete judged, before they were ready to start trying to detain everyone who wanted to leave the area.  By the time they started, most of his people would be out and making their way back towards the Zone.

He looked back towards the spaceport as they headed northwards.  Great plumes of smoke were rising up, while he could still hear the sound of shooting in the distance.  It would take the newcomers some time to realise, he calculated, that most of the insurgents had broken contact completely.  The only defenders of the area now were criminals, trying to keep the newcomers out of their territory.  Given the nature of the defenders, Pete found it hard to care how many of them were killed by the advancing soldiers.

Another shuttle dropped down from high orbit, launching flares to distract incoming missiles ... if any missiles had been launched.  Pete had only a handful, after all, despite his sources of off-world weapons.  He’d made the decision not to risk more than a handful of them, no matter the prize.  The security forces could not be allowed to deploy helicopters and CAS aircraft without hindrance or the insurgents would operate at a heavy disadvantage.  But as long as they believed the rebels had antiaircraft weapons ...

He turned and joined the others, trying hard to look like a fleeing civilian.  The engagement, as far as he was concerned, was over.  Now, all he had to do was make it back to safety and then he could start planning the next operation.

***

The building looked harmless.  Thomas eyed it tiredly as the soldiers surrounded it, then led the charge at the front door.  It exploded inwards, allowing them to pour into the building and stare in surprise.  Outside, the building looked worn down and shabby.  Inside ... it looked surprisingly luxurious.  The floors were carpeted, the walls were decorated with paintings ... each one erotic enough to make him look away, embarrassed.  Some of the positions they depicted were impossible for anyone other than a trained athlete.

He heard a whimper from behind an adjourning door and kicked it open, weapon at the ready.  Inside, there were seven girls, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty-five, all as naked as the day they were born.  The door had been locked, he realised dully, and – judging from the marks on their wrists – the girls spent a lot of time restrained.  Two of them bore the signs of a beating too.  They cowered back from him and his men, gibbering slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, knowing they wouldn't believe him.  “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Gently, he urged the girls outside as the soldiers searched the rest of the brothel.  Upstairs, they found a handful of tiny rooms, each one holding a bed and a bucket of warm water.  It was clear, Thomas decided, that the brothel was very low-market, probably only charging a handful of coins for its services.  Compared to the legalised brothels on Avalon, it was filthy as hell and probably a breeding ground for disease.  Chances were, he guessed, that none of the girls were there willingly.  He’d seen the signs before, on a dozen worlds.

“Get them to the aid station,” he ordered.  Now the shuttles were landing in force, one of the spaceport barracks had been turned into a medical centre.  Wounded soldiers, a handful of POWs and a number of civilians who’d been caught up in the fighting had already been sent there.  “And see if they can be interviewed, later.”

He sighed, inwardly, as he led the way out of the brothel and back onto the streets.  The sound of shooting was dying away; a quick check showed that resistance had fallen to almost nothing.  Instead of encountering enemy fighters, the advancing soldiers were discovering small pockets of civilians, cowering in their homes as if they expected to be shot upon discovery.  The advancing soldiers reassured them as best as they could, searched briefly for weapons, then left them behind.  There was no point in trying to detain them, not now.

Shaking his head, he checked his HUD again.  The local security forces were responding in force now, their roadblocks firmly in place.  Unlike the CEF’s soldiers, they had the manpower to detain everyone who tried to leave.  Still, Thomas suspected they were too late to catch anyone important.  The enemy seemed to have melted away completely.

And the more we spread out our forces
, he thought,
the greater the chance someone will get behind us
.

He checked the spaceport security arrangements, then resumed the advance.  It wouldn't be long, he told himself, before they reached the local forces.  At that point, they could return to the spaceport and get some rest while the higher-ups sorted out their next move.

***

“They’re searching the buildings!  They’re searching
all
the buildings!”

Gudrun cursed her own mistake as she heard the cry.  If she’d kept moving ... but no, the streets weren't safe for a young woman at the best of times, not here.  There were horror stories about what happened to young girls who were captured by criminals, particularly ones who had a connection to the movement.  She’d decided that hiding in a house owned by a sympathiser would be a smarter move than trying to make it out of the city. 

But now it had blown up in her face.  She hesitated, caught between two equally unpalatable alternatives.  If the building was searched by the newcomers, chances were they wouldn't have access to the security database that listed known and suspected members of the insurgency and their relatives.  But if it was the security forces that searched the building, they’d have access ... and they might demand to see her papers.  Or, for that matter, they might insist on knowing why she wasn’t on the lease.  Legally, anyone who lived in a rented house had to be listed ... and she, obviously, wouldn't be there. 

And she might be betrayed by her host.  Even if he didn't want to betray her, or wasn't tempted by the reward money, his family were at risk.  Would he keep his silence if his five-year-old daughter was threatened?  How could she blame him if he talked?  She thought, briefly, about the pistol she’d concealed in her pocket, then dismissed the thought.  It wasn't in her to kill a man and his family just because they
might
betray her.  Besides, even if he kept his mouth shut, she might still be uncovered.  She was too old to be his daughter, after all. 

“I’ll leave,” she decided.  Maybe she could keep her head down and escape unnoticed.  “As long as you say nothing, you won’t be harmed.”

She considered, briefly, dumping the pistol, but shook her head.  Despite her two weeks in the training camp, she was a slight girl, unable to fight off someone who really wanted to beat her down.  It was better to have the weapon and not need it than need it and not have it.  She nodded to her host, then headed through the door.  Behind her, she thought she heard him heave a sigh of relief.

Outside, she could smell burning in the air as she made her way down the alleyway, slipping past a handful of sleeping bums.  None of them so much as twitched at her passing, perhaps because they were trying to remain unnoticed ... or perhaps because they had spent too much of their time drowning their sorrows in cheap alcohol.  The government taxed it – the government taxed everything these days – but the bums still bought it from bootleg dealers who didn't bother to pay.  There were times when Gudrun wondered if the government quietly
allowed
the alcohol to be distributed, believing it helped keep people quiet.  The hell of it was that they were probably right.

“Halt!”

Gudrun almost jumped out of her skin, then spun around to see three men standing in the crossroads pointing weapons at her.  They wore grey urban camouflage uniforms, she realised, but not the same design as those worn by the security forces.  The off-worlders, she decided, as she kept herself very still.  It was possible she might be able to bluff her way out of trouble.

“I’m just trying to get home,” she stammered.  It dawned on her, suddenly, that she might be in far worse danger than she’d realised.  Some security force units had been reported to commit rapes, particularly when deployed to restive parts of the planet.  Would the off-worlders be any better?  “I ...”

“Stay still,” one of the men ordered.  He stepped forward and frisked her with brutal efficiency.  Gudrun felt her entire body tense as he found the pistol and removed it from her pocket, then aimed a kick at his knee.  He dodged it effortlessly, then pushed her roughly to the ground.  “Who are you, I wonder?”

Gudrun gasped in pain as her hands were pulled behind her back and secured firmly with a plastic tie.  She felt him search her again, more thoroughly, then haul her to her feet and press her against a wall.  His comrade said something she barely heard through the sudden roaring in her ears, the dull awareness that she was about to vanish into the system.  She’d been caught with a weapon ... she should have dumped it, despite the risk.  They'd know she wasn't an ordinary citizen now.

She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

***

Thomas looked up in some surprise as the prisoner was pushed into his presence.  She was a young blonde girl, around twenty years old, wearing what looked like a shapeless shirt and a pair of loose trousers.  The bitter resignation on her face made his heart twinge, before he reminded himself that the female of the species could be far deadlier than the male.  Besides, he'd known enough female Marines to know that women were far from helpless.

“She was carrying a weapon, sir,” the soldier who'd caught her said.  “Personal weapons are illegal here.”

“Good thinking,” Thomas said.  It struck him as strange – Avalon had almost no controls on who could own a weapon at all – but the soldier was right.  Someone carrying a weapon in a war zone was almost certainly an insurgent.  “Escort her back to the spaceport, then secure her with the other POWs.  And then report to the duty officer there.”

He watched them go, making a mental note to ensure that the suspected insurgent was fast-tracked for interrogation.  She might well know something that could be used against her former allies ... and even if she didn't, she could be probed for insight.  And if she wasn’t an insurgent, as unlikely as that seemed, her innocence would be proven in short order.

Sighing, he turned to follow his soldiers as they advanced towards the roadblock.  Meeting another friendly force in the midst of a combat zone wasn't easy, even when both forces had trained together.  Thomas had watched enough renditions of friendly fire incidents to know that it was alarmingly easy to kill someone on the same side, completely accidentally.  This time, one force had never met the other before.

“Tell them we’re coming,” he said.  “And hurry.”

***

Jasmine allowed herself a moment of relief as she watched, from high overhead, as both forces linked up.  The locals hadn't started shooting at her people, thankfully, and there hadn't been any incidents that might have produced bad feelings on both sides.  And the enemy seemed to have just faded away.  The only contacts for over half an hour had been criminals or people defending their homes, not insurgents. 

She looked over at Michael, who looked nervous.  “How many prisoners did we take?”

“Twelve, nine of whom are believed to be confirmed insurgents,” Michael reported.  “The other three are uncertain, but were caught in position to observe our advance.”

“I see,” Jasmine said. 

She sighed, inwardly.  They’d been meant to spend some time arguing out the Rules of Engagement for operations on Thule.  The Commonwealth’s might be different from the locals, after all, and there would be diplomatic incidents if her forces accidentally broke local ROE.  Not to mention, she knew, the problems caused by detaining local civilians who turned out to be completely innocent.  Everything had been much simpler on Avalon – or even Lakshmibai.  There, they’d been free to take whatever precautions they liked without fear of setting off a diplomatic nightmare.

“Keep the prisoners under guard for now,” she ordered, finally.  They’d have to sort out how to handle them with the locals.  “Make sure they don't see anything useful, just in case we have to let them go.”

“Understood, Brigadier,” Michael said.

Jasmine nodded.  “Keep funnelling down our forces to the spaceport,” she added.  “I want the tanks deployed to provide extra firepower, if necessary.”

She looked back at the display.  Her forces were filtering their way back to the spaceport, while the local security forces were taking over their role on the streets.  It looked as though everything had been wrapped up, but she knew it was an illusion.  The insurgents had broken contact and escaped, almost without more than a handful of losses.  It was impossible to escape the feeling that the war had barely begun.