He had 83 men and women, plus the six he’d sent with Anton. They were here to secure and load the militia’s weapons, not to attack the Feds. But they were ready to fight if necessary. The 15 or so veterans present knew what that meant; the others would get an education quickly if shooting started. They were good men and women, sturdy colonists and his friends and neighbors, but Marek had no idea how most of them would react under fire.
He had called out his militia battalion, but he couldn’t use the normal communications channels without alerting the Planetary Advisor, so he’d sent messengers. It was a slow way to get out the word, and it would be at least two days before they could muster the unit, or at least a good chunk of it. By then the Feds would have confiscated the weapons in the armory and Marek’s troopers would be throwing rocks.
“John, the transports are almost fully loaded.” Jack Winton was older than most of those present, but he could keep up with any of them. He was tall and still muscular; he had at least 15 kilos on Marek. He owned a major transport firm, with a large fleet of vehicles moving shipments all over Columbia. Winton was a veteran, but not a Marine. He’d been a naval officer early in the Second Frontier War, head of engineering on a heavy cruiser. He and the rest of the crew had come close to spending eternity on a ghost ship, zooming into deep space at high velocity with the com and engines knocked out. They managed to get communications back online and send a distress call out before they were too far into deep space. They were rescued by two fast attack ships that matched vector and velocity and docked with their crippled vessel. Ending up on a ghost ship was the deepest fear of the veteran spacer, and the prospect of spending eternity frozen solid at his post as the ship careened into deepest space proved to be the last straw. He retired soon after, settling on Columbia and fixing up a broken down transport he bought with his retirement bonus. Now he had a successful business and dozens of vehicles moving all sorts of freight.
“Great, Jack. I want them out of here in fifteen minutes, fully loaded or not.” Marek had been facing away, but he turned to look at Winton as he spoke. “At least we’ll know we got something out.” Not enough, though, he thought. Winton had only had three transports close enough to get here on short notice. He had more inbound, but it would be another hour, maybe more, before they arrived. “Make sure those loads are balanced. No sense taking guns and no ammunition. We can’t rely on getting more trucks out.”
Winton nodded. “Got it, John. Each transport has a mix. Even if only one gets through it will be useful.”
“Ok, let me know when your other transports are fifteen minutes out.” He was going to add a few extra comments, but his com unit buzzed. “Marek here.”
“John, it’s Lucius.” Anton’s voice was distant, tinny. The militia communicators weren’t military grade, not by Marine standards at least. “I’ve got Feds inbound to your location, loaded up on light transports. Company strength at least, and fully armed.” There was a brief pause, then: “ETA your location ten minutes.”
“Acknowledged.” He turned to Winton. “Now, Jack. Get your trucks moving now, whatever is loaded.” Winton nodded and headed toward the loading area at a run. “Lucius, get back here ASAP.”
There was a brief pause. “John, I think we can do more good out here. If we hit them before they get to the armory we can make them deploy. They won’t know what’s out here; we’d probably hold up the whole crew.”
Marek smiled to himself. This was what he’d expect from Anton, and tactically the veteran sergeant was right. But the situation wasn’t that simple. “Negative, Lucius.” Marek paused, formulating how he wanted to say what he was thinking. “First, you’ve got a few factory workers and fishermen with you, not a crack squad. If you start something out there alone, you’ll just get them all killed…and yourself too. And I can’t lose you, not this early in whatever we’re starting here.”
“I know, John, but I was thinking we could just…”
Marek interrupted his friend. “There’s more to it, Lucius.” He hesitated until he was sure Anton had stopped talking. “They haven’t fired on us. You’re talking about ambushing a group of Feds who haven’t done anything yet. We can’t be the ones who start this; it has to be them.”
There were a few seconds of silence as Anton realized Marek was right. “I understand, John. We’ll be back in a flash.”
“Thanks, big man. I need you here.” Anton had only considered the tactical situation, but Marek was looking at the political dimension as well. He knew Alliance Gov would lie and propagandize however they thought was useful, but he didn’t need to give them ammo. Besides, he thought, it would just be wrong. He didn’t doubt it would come to violence, but it hadn’t yet. The colonists didn’t want to fight Alliance Gov; they didn’t want to shoot people from Earth. They just wanted to be left alone. “That’s the difference between us and them,” Marek muttered softly to himself.
He reached up and worked the controls of his headset. The minute they’d arrived he had militia comlinks issued to everyone. Good communication was important to a well-drilled unit of veterans; for a hastily organized bunch of amateurs it was essential. The militia equipment wasn’t what he was used to as far as range and ease of use – and it certainly didn’t come with a suit AI to help manage it all – but it was what they had.
“Attention all personnel.” He paused a few seconds. They’d hastily programmed their network, and Marek’s com was set as the lead unit. His systemwide broadcasts came through on every headset regardless of any other communications going on, and he wanted to give everyone time to focus on what he was going to say. “We have Federal Police inbound, close to 100.” It was more like 150, according to Anton’s reports, but Marek didn’t want to scare his rookie soldiers too badly.
“We have a strong position and ample warning. We are well prepared to defend ourselves if that is necessary.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I said, ‘if necessary.’ I want everyone to be clear on this.” He paused again. Make this point firmly, he thought. “We will not back down, but we are not looking to start a fight. No one fires until I give the word.” He stressed the next part. “No matter what.”
He had experience commanding troops in battle, and the force he had here was not enormously larger in scale from the platoon he’d led on Epsilon Eridani IV. But it was different in every other respect. He had to command them firmly or they would keep thinking of themselves as his friends and neighbors and not their commanding officer…and that could get them all killed. Of course, the problem was he wasn’t their commander, at least not officially. They had no real organizational structure, no ranks, no formal sub-units. Some of those present were from his militia battalion, but the rest were pure civilians. We’re going to have to do something about all of this he thought…assuming we survive tonight.
“I want everyone to stay in their positions. Stay focused and just do the job.” He softened his voice, more the sympathetic friend now than the ramrod commander. “I know you’re all scared. There is no shame in that. I’ve been scared every time I’ve been in battle, but you need to control it, deal with it. If you keep your cool and stay focused, you’ll come through just fine.”
He hoped he was telling them what they needed. He’d never commanded anything but veterans and well-trained professionals before. He remembered what his first drop was like, and how much he’d depended on his squad and platoon commanders to pull him through the fear and doubt…and that was after he’d had six years of training. This war was going to be different, very different.
“You are my friends, my neighbors. When I fought before, the Marines at my side were my brothers and sisters, but the battlefields were worlds we’d never seen, places on a map.” He took a deep breath. “This is our home. What we do now will determine what type of place it will be, not just for us, but for generations not yet born.” His volume was increasing, his voice thick with emotion. “They faced such a test on Earth long ago, and they failed, bequeathing to their children a life of tyranny and destitution.” He paused again then shouted, “We will not fail!”