Authors: Bennett R. Coles
Unfortunately, all she had was her wits.
“Tango-One, Tango-Two,” she said, “this is Sierra-Five—stock check!”
“Tango-One.”
“Tango-Two.”
Her sergeants switched to sub-platoon freqs, designated to minimize chatter on the main channel. They spoke to their squad leaders, who in turn took stock of casualties, weapons, and ammo within their five-trooper squads. The entire reporting process took less than fifteen seconds.
Of fifty-seven troopers who had started the day, twenty-two were still in the fight. Fifteen more were alive, but no good for combat. There was one cannon left with about seventy rounds remaining. Each trooper had on average about three hundred rounds and five grenades. If a serious head-to-head fight began, Katja figured it would last about five minutes.
As it was, taking the occasional potshot from the rocks and slowly getting picked off by the Cerberans, they could be stuck here all day. Until every one of them was dead.
She tried to hail Drop Command. It was her new nervous habit.
No response.
She lifted the spare helmet again for a quick look. APRs above and below, with a hundred or two Cerberan warriors lining up for their next assault. Two aircraft still circling.
And one man moving up the slope, just past the line of APRs. He was armed, but his rifle was slung over his back. He held some sort of speaking device in his hand, and gestured.
All firing stopped.
Sakiyama looked at her questioningly. She tapped the helmet in her hand. He made his own connection and watched along with her.
The man on the slope spoke, his voice hugely amplified by the device in his hand.
“Criminals of Terra. You are surrounded and outnumbered. We, the people of Free Lhasa, are peace-loving and wish no more bloodshed. We will give you this chance to surrender. After that, you will die.”
Sakiyama suddenly raised his head. “Fuck you, dog-man!”
From among the rocks, other troopers hurled similar responses.
Katja smiled grimly. She welcomed another Cerberan assault on their position. If she was going down, then a few hundred Cerberans were going with her.
The man on the slope continued. “Your courage is admirable, but there is something you do not know. Let me show you our other weapon.”
Katja tensed. A new sound filled the air—like the mortars, but much deeper in pitch. It grew louder and louder, and ended abruptly with the roar of an explosion barely two hundred meters west. Columns of fire leapt into the air, throwing tons of hillside with them.
Katja fell to all fours on the shaking ground as the blast wave hit her, then watched in horror as the masses of rock and dirt crashed down across the landscape. Her troopers were barely out of the splash zone.
In fact, they were
precisely
out of it. This was accuracy she had only ever seen in highly regulated war games back home. A new fear twisted her insides.
“We have perfected the use of this weapon,” the voice continued. “We will not hesitate to use it against you. You have one chance to surrender. The next volley has already been targeted on your position.”
The voice was so calm and rational—so unlike the terrorist lunatics she’d come to expect. Perhaps she wouldn’t be signing their death warrants by surrendering. She certainly was by staying put.
No one shouted out any more catcalls, she noticed. Sakiyama was staring at her. The rest of the platoon was waiting for her instructions. She sighed.
So much for her first wartime command. Her father was going to be very displeased with her.
“All units, this is Sierra-Five… This is Lieutenant Emmes. Gather the wounded. We all move down the hill together, rifles slung over our backs. Make no sudden movements. This is not a trick. We are surrendering.” She paused, and then added, “I will not throw our lives away. Sergeant Rao, over.”
“This is Sergeant Rao, roger
.
Fifth Platoon, gather the wounded and prepare to disengage.”
For a long moment, no one moved. She was afraid to stand up and expose herself to fire, and suddenly realized that everyone else felt the same. Another opportunity to lead by example.
She stood up straight, her eyes just barely clearing the top of the boulder. Sakiyama’s eyes followed her. A line of APRs and two hundred Cerberans also watched her. After slinging her rifle over her back, she hauled herself up the rocks so that she was standing on the boulder, an easy target.
“Do you surrender?” the man with the amplified voice asked.
Her hands were shaking slightly, her gut tensed for the bullets she feared would rip through her at any moment. Her left side was burning from what she suspected were broken ribs, and painful shivers rippled up her body. But still she reached up, unhooked her helmet and lifted it off her head. The breeze was cool against her sweat-plastered hair.
“We surrender!” Her voice sounded frightened and girlish, even to her own ears.
Sakiyama stood up below her position and removed his helmet. Chang and his fire team did the same. Rao followed suit, and so did other troopers scattered around the rocks.
A huge cheer erupted from the Cerberans massed behind the impassive APRs. The machines seemed to recognize the moment in their own way by lifting the barrels of their guns to point them skyward.
It took several minutes to figure out how to carry the worst of the wounded, and many more for the troopers to actually make their way down the rocky slope. Katja was careful to give the bodies of the fallen Cerberans a wide berth, all the while watching for any sudden movements from the enemy. The human fighters milled about and talked among themselves, but did not make any threatening gestures.
The APRs stood immobile.
By the time Katja reached the APR line, Sirius had risen over the eastern horizon and the entire landscape was awash in the brilliant pink light of a Cerberan morning. The man with the voice stood with a small group of men slightly apart from the others, watching her intently.
He stepped forward to greet her. “I am Major Xu.”
He was not much taller than Katja, and his dark, sinewy features made him otherwise unremarkable. Remembering her POW etiquette, Katja saluted him.
“Lieutenant Emmes,” she said. “Service number Charlie-eight-two-three-three-zero-eight-eight-six.”
He did not look impressed, but he did return her salute. “Your men will put down their weapons and helmets. They will remove all ammunition and tactical devices.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Then, “Some of my troopers require medical attention.”
“When the medics have finished tending our own soldiers, they will consider looking at yours.” Then he peered at her grimly. “I have already given you orders.”
She slowly lifted her rifle off her shoulder and with great exaggeration placed it on the ground between them. As her troopers began to follow her lead, she unclipped her remaining spare ammo, unstrapped her forearm console, and placed it all in her helmet, which she set on the ground.
She heard the quiet rush of fusion engines overhead, and saw a Cerberan dhow descending to land on the clear ground behind the APR line. Hardly a military vessel, it bore across its ovoid surface scars from decades of surface-to-orbit travel. A cargo door hissed open and several more Cerberans emerged.
Major Xu watched her, his expression impassive. She wondered if it bothered him that his enemies had been commanded by a woman. At least he’d have the satisfaction of having bested her. All around him, Cerberan soldiers were talking—most likely about her. More than a few laughs erupted.
Angry shouting suddenly silenced all merriment. Katja stepped forward to look, being careful not to appear aggressive. She saw three Cerberan rifles pointed at Alayan and Chang.
“Major,” she said, “let me sort this out.”
He nodded.
She moved out into the line of clear ground between her troopers and the enemy soldiers. Agitation was spreading through the ranks on both sides, she could see, and she stepped it up to a jog.
“What’s going on here?”
Rifles snapped over at her. They seemed to forget that she was still in full armor, and she stared them down with her best glare.
“Ma’am,” Chang said, “these guys seemed to think that Trooper Alayan was here for their pleasure. She disagreed.”
Alayan was still in a fighting stance, her large brown eyes burning with anger. Katja could see how her smooth, Bedouin features might catch the eye of the locals, especially now that she was a prisoner. The three soldiers with their rifles up looked furious, and one was sporting a fat, bloody lip. The rest just looked amused.
“Troopers,” she said, “take two steps back.”
They did so. Even the small amount of extra space seemed to ease the tension.
Rifles lowered.
She heard a crunching in the rocky surface, turned, and saw Major Xu walking up behind her.
“Major, I respectfully ask that you make certain your soldiers understand the correct treatment of prisoners,” she said. “We are unarmed now, and at your mercy.”
“Yes, you are,” he replied. “I will ensure that you are not harmed so long as you are here, but once you leave, I have nothing to say about it.” His English was surprisingly good for a native, but she wasn’t sure she caught his entire meaning.
“Once we leave. Are we going somewhere?”
He pointed at the orbital dhow sitting on the ground beyond the soldiers. “You are being taken to Free Lhasa, to answer for Terra’s crimes. I doubt very much you will have any assurances then.”
Four Cerberans walked up the line behind Xu. Two of them were dressed in filthy coveralls and two were in white lab coats. One of them was well dressed under the lab coat—sensible, good quality shirt and trousers—and he was limping noticeably.
“Gather your soldiers into an orderly grouping,” Major Xu said. “You will be handcuffed and loaded onto that ship.”
Katja glanced at Chang. “Three ranks. Help the wounded.”
He turned and gave quiet orders, and the troopers formed up in a grouping. She took the moment to study the four newcomers. Or tried to, except the one with the limp hobbled right up to her, his dark, twisted face only too familiar.
“Hello again, whore,” Thapa said.
T
hapa’s hand lashed out, smacking Katja so hard she staggered backward.
“Finally you show your face,” he said. “I see now why you are so stupid—you are too young.”
Katja couldn’t hide her shock.
Thapa turned to Major Xu.
“Major, your victory here today is a victory for Free Lhasa. At last we have captured the criminals who have twice struck from the sky to murder and pillage my home.” He pointed a finger in Katja’s face. “This is the woman—the actual villain—who beat and killed my family.”
Xu looked sharply at her. “This is the actual soldier?”
“I know her too well. She is the one who gave me this limp.”
One of the Cerberans with the filthy coveralls stepped in front of her. “Let her be saved for the public. Keep your honorable reputation, Major.”
Rough hands grabbed her arms and twisted them back behind her. The sharp click accompanied the tight grip of manacles. She was forced to start walking just as the force of the blow began to clear from her head.
Thapa took pace beside her as she and the rest of the platoon were marched toward the waiting dhow.
“Your arrogance is your undoing, whore,” he said. “You should never have come back. Do you think we are a simple people? Do you think you can frighten us with your bombs from above? We are Free Lhasa, and we will never bend the knee again.”
They reached the ramp and slowly climbed up. The interior of the dhow was poorly lit and all the bulkheads in the main cargo area were blackened and sooty. The troopers were made to sit in a circle, facing inward at the wounded who were laid straight on the filthy deck.
Katja saw three soldiers come on board with them, weapons trained casually at her troopers. Thapa and his lab-coated companion remained at the cargo door opening. Thapa turned and began speaking to the Cerberan troops outside. He used the local dialect, and his words were lost on her, but she could guess their meaning. This new megalomania was quite a change from the sullen, frightened farmer she’d first met.
The other two Cerberans in the dhow—Katja speculated that they were the pilots—left the cargo hold and disappeared into the unseen forward compartment. Moments later the soft hum of the engines trembled through the decks.
She heard cheering from the Cerberan soldiers outside, and the sound made her jaw clench. Suddenly she regretted her decision to surrender. It may have saved the lives of her troopers, but the gall at having lost to these savages was almost too much.
Thapa and his companion stepped back from the opening as the cargo door began to close. One of the pilots reemerged from the forward compartment. He had donned a long, thick coat over his coveralls and was carrying several more on one arm.
The pilot handed the coats over to the three soldiers and to Thapa and his companion, explaining quite loudly in English that things were going to get cold as they gained altitude. He had the look of a middle-aged man by Terran standards, which on Cerberus probably meant he was younger than Katja. He had a simple, humble manner about him, and seemed quite in awe of the soldiers.
He treated Thapa like a VIP.
But when he looked over at Katja she saw, just for a second, a calculating glint in his eye. The way he assessed the cargo space with three quick glances reminded Katja of the way Commander Vici sized up tactical situations during exercises back home.
Thapa knelt down beside where she sat cross-legged, arms still bound behind her. “Are you ready to be humiliated, whore?”
She said nothing, but could feel her cheeks burning.
“Your soldiers will be dragged through the streets,” he continued, “but I’m going to make sure there’s a special fate reserved for you. The Whore of Terra, I think.” His callused fingers slid roughly through her matted hair. “As repulsive as I find you personally, I’m sure our brave soldiers will find you delicious.”