“I’d guess that this isn’t too surprising but you’re getting orders to hold up. The reclamation program has about reached its point of futility. Every planet that’s been taken in the last two years has been reduced to full ornadar or darned near. The Posleen are extinguishing themselves without our help.”
Mike grimaced on that. It wasn’t exactly a surprise but he also thought there was far more to it. Tam was actually his junior in the service despite having a higher rank. That was mostly because Mike had refused to stick closer to the centers of power but also because Wesley, while trustworthy, was much more the political animal than the 11th Corps commander. If Wesley was being this terse it meant there was more to it. But without being back on earth, nearly a year by any ship available, Mike wasn’t going to find out what.
“The other problem is that we’re just getting too spread out. By trans-net you’re going to be getting this six months from when I send it. There’s no way to coordinate with those sorts of lags. For all I know you could have been wiped out. And we’re having trouble with commo on the entire periphery of the reclaimed zone. Hell, I’m looking at a report that an Indowy colony has lost contact and that’s nearly a year old. God only knows what’s really happening.
“So for good or ill, hold up. The same message is going to Admiral Suronto. I’m not sure if this is permanent or not. And for now you’re not being recalled. I know it’s not the best thing in the world to be left hanging out there in limbo. But for now that’s how it’s got to be. See if there’s a world nearby that’s not too screwed up and set up for rest and refit. When they told me to order a stand-down in place I pointed out that there had to be a minimum time-frame on that. So you’ve got at least six weeks ‘off’ if you will. You can use the Corps as you wish, just don’t go a-hunting anymore until you get further word. The official orders covering this are attached but I figured you’d like some context.
“Take care. Tam.”
The recording winked out and Mike opened up the orders. They were essentially the same. 11th Corps was to perform an “in place stand-down” of at least six week’s duration. Further orders to come.
There had been rumors for years that the ACS was to be decommissioned. The suits were terribly expensive, their only benefit that they made the wearers extremely survivable in even the worst combat. The recent battle in the redoubt would have eliminated multiple corps of light infantry and taken much more time. So Mike suspected that this “temporary stand-down” was the death knell for the Corps.
The reality, though, was that the battle at the redoubt had been the first real combat the Corps had faced in nearly a decade. The Posleen, at least in this region, had been reduced to scattered savages, easy enough to mop up even for light units.
The Posleen ornadar “Blight” stretched for hundreds of light-years inward along the Orion Arm from Earth. Due to the nature of both Indowy and Posleen hyper-drive systems, it was difficult to impossible to reach the other galactic arms. So the Posleen had been trapped on this relatively narrow band of stars. And as the stars drew inwards toward the galactic core there were fewer and fewer useable planets. For all Mike knew, they might have reached the end of the Posleen Blight. In which case, his job was finished.
He had no interest in continuing a military career just for the career. All he cared about was wiping out the Posleen. Being in a desk job in Fredericksburg would be very close to a nightmare.
God knew he had enough money to retire. Daily estimated “prize” shares were posted on the milnet and just this one planet would set him up in comfort for the rest of his life. And that didn’t count the… dozens, hundreds of other planets he’d participated in retaking, from regimental commander all the way to corps. Hell, he could buy one of them with plenty left over.
But that was for later to think about. Right now he had to figure out somewhere to “refit” his unit.
This planet wasn’t so bad. The air was at least breathable, despite the beginnings of ornadar and the Fleet bombardment. Fleet had mostly used kinetic weapons and even the Posleen had only seemed to drop a few nukes. Radiation levels were nominal. Every inch was pretty well scorched, but…
Or was it? He’d have to look at detail scans. Maybe there was somewhere to settle.
Hell, maybe he’d buy this planet.
He had to chuckle. Call it Mikey’s World.
“Intel. I’ve got a tasking… ”
“This whole range is, essentially, clean, sir.”
The lieutenant from G-2 was a consummate intel geek, right down to the bobbing adam’s apple. His first name was unfortunate given his looks. Mike had learned to both love and hate his intel geeks. When they were right they were awesome. Far too often, though, they missed some tiny yet vital bit of information that led to a colossal fuck-up.
Mike looked around at the valley and wondered how in the hell it could have avoided being pasted. When Fleet and Fleet Strike got together on orbital taskings, the intel sections of both units went over the satellite data carefully. AIDs carefully sorted the data and pointed out major and minor Posleen positions and infrastructure.
The valley was a good thirty miles across, a couple of hundred miles long and bowl-shaped from glaciation. It looked somewhat like the Hudson Valley on earth if you excepted that most of the vegetation was fern-like. However, there were even some trees that looked a hell of a lot like hickory and pine. Pretty.
Which begged the question why the Posleen, who usually ravaged any area like this, hadn’t filled it with their towns and cities devoted to worshipping God-kings.
“This valley is close to the center of this range, sir,” Lt. Burkett said. “And we noted it on our tasking views. There were major queries about it on my level. But there was no trace of Posleen, or any other, civilization in the area.”
“You’ll understand, Lieutenant, if I find that hard to believe,” Mike replied.
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant replied. “But since we took most of the planet we’ve sent in some Banshee flights. Not only did they not take fire but they saw no evidence of Posleen in the area. Sir.”
“Well, it sure fits the requirement,” Mike said, looking around. Doing even a three-sixty view was simple enough in a suit if hard to get used to at first. By looking to the side the view was slewed. If you kept your eyes off-center for a moment it continued to slew, all the way around if you wished. Mike off-set his eyes just far enough to slew slowly. Something was bugging the hell of him.
“Shelly. Any threat sources you can detect.”
“Negative,” his AID replied. “No energy emissions beyond friendly. No Posleen heat signatures. No major heat signatures at all in the immediate area. There are a few on the nearby ridge that I’ve tentatively classed as some sort of herbivore from movements.”
“Check for human,” Mike said. “Other than friendly.”
“Query,” the AID replied. “Only friendly humans on this planet.”
“Check,” Mike said.
“Negative for human heat signatures,” the AID replied. “Query. Human normal scent signature detected. Chemical analysis determines not of any registered friendly DNA. At least seven separate chemistries detected. General, that does not compute as the SF computers would say. This is a ‘what the fuck’ moment.”
“Slew to wind direction,” Mike said. “Remove heat signature filter.”
The view slewed to over his right shoulder. With every heat signature revealed, he could see several small points on the shoulder of the ridge they’d landed on.
“Shelly. Query. Heat points.” He used his eyes to focus on one of the signatures.