The Kel-Morians knew where the improvised airstrip was, of course, but there was no reason to make the war easy for them, so, with the exception of handheld lamps and the spill of light that came from inside the Kel-Morian dropship, the entire area was blacked out. However, out beyond the area that was under the direct control of the military, some of the local citizens were making no effort to comply with the blackout, and the marines lacked sufficient personnel to chase them down.
“All right,” Tychus said as his team assembled next to the ship. “Pair off and check each other’s gear. Wasser, you’re with me.”
Corporal Wasser, better known to the rest of the squad as “the troll,” was short but extremely powerful. So strong, in fact, that it was necessary for Tychus to actually exert himself to beat Wasser at arm wrestling.
But Wasser’s real claim to fame was his relationship with Captain Jack, which some likened to the bond between a man and his dog. Tychus knew that if Wasser was present, Captain Jack wouldn’t be far away, and that proved to be the case as the squad members completed their checks and trooped into the cargo bay. Captain Jack, now Overseer Jack, according to the Kel-Morian insignias on his clothing, was chatting with the pilot. Once the squad was aboard and properly strapped in, he came back to sit with them.
“Lock and load,” the officer said, as the engines ran up and the Kel-Morian dropship wobbled into the air. “We’ll be over the target in about five minutes.”
The trip was so short there wouldn’t have been any reason to use a transport if it hadn’t been for the deception involved. But Tychus was glad of it, because the faster they could complete the mission and return, the sooner he could check on Operation Early Retirement. Calvin was supposed to send two trucks in at 0300 and Tychus wanted to be present.
Both of the ship’s side doors had been removed to make way for an automatic weapon on one side and a rotary rocket launcher on the other, both of which were manned by helmeted crewmen. The slipstream blew cold air and rain in through the doors, but Tychus was glad of the openings nonetheless, because they allowed him to catch an occasional glimpse of the countryside whenever a bolt of lightning crackled across the sky.
As the ship flew north he saw clusters of lights and knew he was looking at homes that should have been blacked out. And that raised an interesting question… . Since he could see them—did that mean they could see the ship? And would they recognize it as a Kel-Morian aircraft if they did?
The fact that the dropship was flying low, only a couple of hundred feet off of the ground, seemed to suggest that it would be identifiable during a lightning flash. Tychus felt something cold trickle into his bloodstream. Did Captain Jack want people to spot the Kel-Morian aircraft? And if so, why?
There was no way to know as the ship banked and circled to port. That revealed a brightly lit house. The house, or so Tychus assumed.
Captain Jack was communicating with the pilot via his helmet comm, and while Tychus couldn’t hear what was said, he saw the officer’s lips move. Tychus wondered why he had been cut out of the conversation. Normally, as Captain Jack’s number two, Tychus would have been privy to all the interactions on the command channel. So was this an anomaly? Or was the officer hiding something? There was no way to know as the transport lost even more altitude and the circle tightened.
Tychus, who was seated opposite the opening on the port side, caught a glimpse of a large house, outbuildings, and a landing pad with civilians running every which way. Then he saw the strings of lights and realized that a party was under way. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as spikes began to rattle against the fuselage. “That’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Captain Jack said grimly, his voice flooding all of their helmets. “Let the bastards have it.”
The rocket launcher was on the starboard side of the dropship and therefore pointed upwards. But the gauss cannon was operational and it sent streams of red tracers down to explore the estate below. Men, women, and children were tossed about like rag dolls as the supersonic spikes found them. Empty casings flew through the air, bounced off the deck, and rolled away.
But the battle wasn’t one-sided. The door gunner’s head jerked as a spike smashed through his visor, scrambled his brains, and blew a gout of goo out through the back of his helmet. As he fell a marine stepped in to take his place.
Tychus was out of his seat by then and hurried to confront Captain Jack. “I suggest that you tell the pilot to land this thing now, sir! The transport makes an easy target.”
“Soon,” the officer agreed grimly, as a shoulder-launched rocket exploded against the hull. “Let’s make sure everyone in the area sees the markings on the ship first.”
Now Tychus understood the real reason for using the Kel-Morian dropship and the disguises. The Confederate civilians weren’t collaborators, they were something else, dissidents perhaps. People the government planned to eliminate. And having seen the ship’s markings, witnesses would report the attack as a Kel-Morian raid! Thereby reinforcing all of the Confederacy’s propaganda about enemy atrocities.
And the plan would probably work unless Captain Jack got them all killed, which appeared to be increasingly likely as more enemy fire hit the hull, and holed it. A marine screamed as a piece of shrapnel took his leg off just below the knee and a corpsman rushed to his side. “Put it down, sir! Put it down now,” Tychus insisted as he stared into Captain Jack’s stony eyes.
“You’re a coward, Findlay,” the officer replied tersely as a bullet came in through the open door, hit metal and ricocheted past his head. “And I’ll have you up on charges the minute we return to base.”
Enraged, Tychus lifted his weapon and smashed Captain Jack in the side of the head. The officer was wearing a helmet, but the rifle butt hit so hard it broke through the protective shell, and delivered a blow to the company commander’s skull. The ship dropped ten feet, then recovered as the pilot fed more power to the retros. Tychus stumbled back.
Captain Jack’s unconscious body was still falling to the floor as Wasser uttered a roar of outrage. He jumped onto Tychus’s back and called for reinforcements. Tychus managed to drop the marine who came straight at him, but when two more tackled his legs, he went down. Wasser wrapped two hands around Tychus’s throat and cut off his air supply. Tychus felt the ship vibrate as the pilot maxed the retros, wondered how he could have been so stupid, and fell into a black hole.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Of the thousands of new soldiers recruited into the Confederate armed services over the past few months, there have been several dozen complaints filed with the Bureau of Personnel regarding illegal drafting. The bureau claims that these allegations of unsanctioned conscription are unfounded and based on ‘the typical panic and unrest found in civilian populations during wartime.’ Out of respect to our audience, UNN has chosen to drop this investigation until tensions dissipate to peacetime levels.”
THE PLANET TARSONIS, THE CONFEDERACY OF MAN
The unconscious boy lay on the cot with his eyes closed and his arms hanging down to the floor as Camy rifled through his pockets and two men looked on. The wallet was right where she expected it to be, inside the still morphing jacket in a self-sealing pocket.