The Desert of Stars (The Human Reach) (34 page)

“You know I’m here to manipulate you into doing what the
general wants, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m glad to see you all the same,” he said.
“Reminds me there are more worlds than this one, I guess. This wasn’t how we
expected it to turn out, was it? I was supposed to sit in a hole and watch
football for eight years, and you were going to be charming the clothes off
colonials who hang out near the spaceports.”

Neil grinned and shook his head.
Same old Rand.
“In
retrospect, given our personality types, maybe we should have switched jobs.”

Rand said, “You’re not kidding. You know how hard it is to
get laid while leading a guerrilla war? You’d think it would be attractive, but
I’ve been in a drought longer than yours was back at school. You turned that
around, I hope?”

“She’s up in orbit right now.”

“On your ship?”

Neil nodded.

Rand said, “I’m not sure I could handle something with
another person on the front lines, to tell the truth. How do you live with the
… fear?”

“Being afraid sometimes beats being alone all the time, I
guess.”

Rand looked thoughtful. “So. How are you going to manipulate
me into doing what the general wants?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Neil said. “What would work best on
you?”

Rand snorted. After a long moment, he said, “I’m in the
right, here, aren’t I, Neil? My people have been on the run for two years,
watching friends vanish or get killed. They deserve to be pulled back, and
Grogan can win his battles without us.”

Agree with him and I sound manipulative; disagree and I
lose him.
“Rand, I really don’t know. You’re right; in a just world you guys
would be sent to the rear. But Grogan seems to think that your help will
ultimately save more lives than it risks.”

Rand was silent for a while. “Damn,” he said, finally.
“Worlds other than this one, and people other than mine. I’ll … I’ll talk to
the general.”

“That’s good, because he said he’s sending me out,
regardless of what you did,” Neil said. “And I’d prefer we go together.”

Rand looked shocked. “He’s sending out a Space Force intel
weenie on a ground assault? No offense, but what the fuck for?”

Neil said, “Allegedly to call in all the orbital strikes
that we can’t call in because of the defenses ringing Sycamore. In truth, I’m
not sure, but I think it was meant to be a message to you.”

Rand shook his head. “Not a message. If it was a threat,
he’d have made it to me, and relented if I did what he wanted. Because he
ordered you … it’s retribution. He’s teaching me a lesson by putting you in the
line of fire. Guy deserves a bullet to his brain, if you ask me.”

Neil wondered if he was joking.

Rev Grogan’s head was bullet-free when he briefed them
four days later.

“The purpose of this raid is to free several high-level
military and civilian officials who have been held at Sycamore since the
initial Chinese attack and our first attempt to retake it,” he said. Relevant
mugshots appeared on everyone’s handheld. “We have information the Chinese are
planning to move them to Fengsheng continent via submarine before our forces
get close. The prisoners include Territorial Governor Solomon Rivera, Major
General Hyram Chalk of the Army National Guard, Chief Terraforming Officer Selena
Jimenez, and Lynnette Pallas, CFO of the Pallas Mining Company. “Governor
Rivera is of particular importance; he is a friend of the c-in-c, who has taken
a personal interest in his recovery. We also think several high-level Space
Force officers from the
Eagle
task force may be here.”

“Why didn’t they move them off-planet already?” asked a
Ranger captain. “They’ve had plenty of time.”

“They’ve used several of them in propaganda pieces here on
the planet aimed at getting civilians and guerrilla forces to surrender, so
we’re assuming that’s why they’ve kept them around,” Grogan said. “Lately, the
government and military personnel have been interrogated to learn our strategy
for retaking the continent. They are being kept in the Goodnight Hotel on the
city’s northeastern side, along the spaceport road and not far from the POW
detention camp.”

“What about the rest of the POWs?” Rand asked.

Grogan stared at the back of the room. “We don’t have the
resources to free them at this time. Unlike the VIPs, China can’t move them, so
we’ll liberate them when the main body of our forces reaches the city.”

They traveled in ad hoc platoons, each with one squad of Rand’s
guerillas and two of Grogan’s Green Berets and Rangers. They moved on separate
paths through the mountains to a rally point several kilometers from Sycamore’s
eastern edge.

Formations of thirty soldiers tromping through the
wilderness in powered armor aren’t terribly stealthy, but the PLA’s attention
was focused on the main American forces to its south and east. Silva’s unit
shot down a curious drone, but no follow-up attack came; the Chinese, Neil
figured, either didn’t have the resources to investigate further, or they must
have written off the encounter as a sideshow.

He and Rand traveled with Grogan’s group until they reached
the rally point, where Grogan and his staff set up a command post, and a heavy
weapons platoon emplaced mortars and point-defense lasers. At nightfall, everyone
else, some 300 Green Berets, Rangers and guerrillas, under the command of a
linebacker-sized Ranger lieutenant colonel named Hellastrae, moved toward the
city.

As they grew close, some of the troopers threw small
reconnaissance drones into the air, stopping only watch them take flight under
their own power. Once aloft, they confirmed what the microsatellites were
observing: They had indeed achieved a measure of surprise; the Chinese heavy
infantry battalion defending the city was off to the south, but it was starting
to move in their direction. For now, only the Chinese MPs and some other
scattered forces were inside the city itself.

The drones also saw a now-familiar pattern of small
launchers spaced out in an open field – a large Stoat launch site, situated on some
sports fields south of the city, with hundreds of rockets pointed skyward.

“Mission’s changed,” General Grogan transmitted when they
were five klicks from the edge of the city. “Army forces south of Sycamore have
achieved a breakthrough along the main axis of attack and need orbital strikes
to support it, but they are coming in range of the city’s anti-spacecraft
defenses. New primary target is that missile launch site. Lieutenant Colonel
Hellastrae will take his troops and destroy it. Captain Castillo, your unit
will continue with the mission to free the prisoners.”

“Folks, let’s gather,” Hellastrae transmitted to the
officers, including Neil. Several officers griped about splitting their forces,
leaving them with insufficient firepower to do either job well. The colonel
silently counted to sixty, in accordance with his long-held, private theory
that allowing his subordinates one minute of complaining allowed them to
identify key problems while also achieving a useful measure of catharsis. Any
more than that, though, was just bitching.

He laid out his plan to attack the Stoats, and dismissed his
officers to brief their units. As Rand and Neil turned to leave, Hellastrae
said, “Castillo, Mercer, a word.”

“Sir?” they responded in unison.

“Castillo, I’m not going to micromanage your part of the op,
as much as Grogan wants me to. It’s your show; try to stick to the original
plan, get those VIPs out and exfil without looking back.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mercer, you can stay close to me, if you like. Not sure why
Grogan insisted you come along; we’ve got our own guys to call in the
ortillery. But you’ll be as safe with me as you will anywhere.”

Neil looked around. His M7 carbine felt heavy and clumsy in
his hands, while the other soldiers carried theirs like they were an extension
of their bodies.

He decided he liked Hellastrae. “If it’s all the same to
you, sir, I’d prefer to stay with Captain Castillo.”

The big Ranger nodded. “Suit yourself. See you all back at
the rally point.”

Sergeant Aguirre, scouting ahead, transmitted he could
see the outer wall of the internment camp. Everyone stopped.

“Dragoon units dismount and stash your suits,” Rand
whispered, and the command was passed around the company. “Snipers take up
positions on the hillside, below the top.”

He found Staff Sergeant Ruiz, who looked utterly comfortable
in the new Paladin suit Grogan’s troops had supplied. “You and the other
Paladins stay here until we call for you.”

Ruiz nodded. While dragoons were made to haul troops around,
Paladins were meant to be worn in combat, but they were noisy, hot and had
enough metal that radar might pick them up. Ruiz and the five other Paladin
drivers would wait, as would two medics in Hospitaller suits.

The rest moved downhill toward the city.

They were less than one hundred meters from the wall when
a drone gunship found them.

Its missile came in from behind and to the left. It was a
small one, but launched from where no one was looking. It roared in and
exploded, killing one of Rand’s troopers and badly wounding four others.

Another one lost,
Rand thought.

“Maldonado!” he transmitted to the head of his weapons team.
“Sir!”

“Need a big hole in the wall.”

Sergeant Maldonado’s response was three bright orange
explosions.

“Big enough, sir?”

Rand flipped his handheld to transmit to the entire company.
“Everyone, through the breach. Ruiz, join us.”

Aguirre said, “Sir, that’s the civilian internment camp. We’re
still several klicks from the VIP prison.”

“Got to get to the prison somehow,” Rand said. The civilian
camp was quiet: It was night both in the sky and on the camp’s internal clock,
so the curfew kept the streets mostly empty. Rand pointed at a broad
north-south avenue a few blocks inside the camp’s eastern wall. “We’ll move
along that road and blow through the north gate, and then we’ll be near the
hotel.”

“Even if we have to fight the Hans along the way?” Neil
asked.

“Better than in the open,” Rand said. He switched on his
comm and described the route. “First Platoon will guard the breach and take
care of the wounded. Second Platoon will leave fireteams along our route. Command
Element, Third Platoon and Paladin section will exfil the prisoners.”

General Xie had a shivering HVAC tech working in the
operations center when Shen Liang entered.
In the middle of an attack,
Shen
thought.
This is insane.

“What is arrayed against us, Lieutenant Colonel?” Xie asked.

“Several companies, General, possibly a full battalion, most
likely consisting of their special operating forces and perhaps some of the surviving
guerrillas. We just learned they have split into two groups, the larger of
which is moving toward our anti-space defenses south of the city. The smaller is
moving into the civilian internment camp. They are well-equipped, General, and
supported by mortars and anti-aircraft lasers. We haven’t been able to get a
ground-attack drone above fifty meters without it being shot down.”

A drop of sweat fell from the general’s forehead. “I have
ordered our forces to protect the anti-space defenses. If the enemy can bombard
our positions here, we are lost! What is the objective of the second group?”

“We don’t know,” Shen admitted.
Although if you had
managed to secure funding for a proper security system within the internment
camp, I might have had better answers.
“They are moving in small groups,
and they may be trying to hide among the civilians, or moving toward another
objective.”

Xie’s eyes narrowed. “They are going for their leaders.”

“General?”

“You should pay more attention to political matters,
Lieutenant Colonel, as they can influence military ones. Governor Rivera is a
political ally and friend of their President. They are going to rescue him
before we can move him to Fengsheng. I will send our MP quick-response team
into the camp. We are desperately short on fighting men and officers to lead
them, so you will take the operations center security unit and reinforce the
guards at the Goodnight Hotel. I will send a reserve infantry platoon to meet
you en route. You will remove the prisoners and escort them to the port. One of
our submarines will be there in four hours to take them on board.”

“Yes, General.” He went to his desk for his combat gear and
found his gaze lingering on the photograph of his wife and daughters.
You’re
wasting time,
he chided himself. The old bullet wound in his shoulder hurt for
the first time in months.

Rand’s platoon moved out of the tent city and into the
part of the camp that contained actual buildings, erected before the war.
Fearful of an ambush, they sprinted across an intersection, but no one shot at
them.

Neil was out of breath, coughing, as they took cover in the
outdoor corridors of an abandoned apartment complex.

“Haven’t seen many of the locals on the street,” Rand
commented. “Guess they’re being smart and laying low.”

“Rand, go ahead and leave me here,” Neil said. “I’ve been in
space too long, and the gravity’s getting to me. I’m slowing you down. I’ll
work my way back to First Platoon.”

Rand shook his head. “Nope. Best way to get back at Grogan
is for you to survive the mission, and that means you’re staying with me. I
might remind you I outrank you now.”

Neil snorted and rolled his eyes. “Like that’ll stand.”

Rand grinned back and activated his comm. “Third Platoon,
that’s enough rest. Let’s go.”

They dashed the last three blocks to the northern wall of the
internment camp and blew open a wide and undefended vehicle gate before
crossing into an industrial park of low, gray warehouses. The Goodnight Hotel
was just beyond.