When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) Page 16

  Dax ordered his men to lead the movement back to the rally point. All of the squad’s equipment had been laid out under guard for their return several hundred meters away. The squad slowly pushed through the canyon, careful to check for a counterattack. The ambush had gone off without a hitch, but that amount of noise never went unnoticed. Even with Delta operating at half strength, they had plenty of warm bodies to send on an investigation.

  The two team leaders walked close to Josh on their return, brainstorming ideas for their next move. The squad paused when an enormous explosion shook the ground. Josh looked over the top of the canyon wall and saw a pillar of smoke rising far to the East. Plan C had been a last resort the XO had established after a night raid nearly crippled the company. Mines, mortars and grenades were strung all around the camp, all facing in. Should the unit fall, any enemy caught inside the base would be killed when the failsafe trigger activated.

  “So what’s the plan, boss?”Dax asked.

  Josh let out a breath he’d been holding. He looked at his friend, past the bulky composite armor and into the eyes of a young soldier who didn’t know what came next. Alex made a less imposing figure in her scout kit, the lighter ceramic plates framing her small body. Both were lost and looking for guidance. As the squad arrived at the rally point, he shoulder his pack and adjusted the straps to make the load more bearable.

  “We have three more days,”he said.“In less than a week, this operation is over, and we’re back at Camp Noble hoping the boredom doesn’t kill us. We’ve survived this long by avoiding the big risks. Now it’s time to go big.”

  Dax spoke up.“Delta’s gonna know we’re coming when their section doesn’t report.”

  Josh smiled.“Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

  * * * * *

  The observation platform Seraph Three floated over the battlefield. Powered by seven gravitational disruptors, the disk housed a hundred cameras that monitored and recorded every event in its designated piece of sky. The dozen technicians aboard ensured that no moment went by without significant analysis. It was an exhausting effort that paid off with refined training techniques for the soldiers, and a stronger military in combat.

  Aside from the myriad of generals and politicians aboard the craft, several contractors and civilian engineers watched the spectacle. In the last decade, watching the games had led to astounding developments in body armor and weaponry. Andrew Manton, the CEO of Manton Industry, stood front and center at the bay window. He drank scotch from his personal reserve while chatting with several prominent generals. His aide, a sultry olive-skinned woman, stood nearby to take down any notes her boss thought up.

  The atmosphere on Seraph Threewas less professional and more casual. A wet bar in the center of the platform served a modest selection of alcohol, while several television screens displayed the action as seen from the other observation crafts. The presence of the politicians and civilians put the career military men in a friendly state of mind. They gossiped, joked about matters of security, and made gentlemen’s agreements regarding the next weapons development projects.

  Across the room, seated on one of the plush couches near the bar, Sasha Otravlyatovich rested his eyes. Hours of watching the battles unfold left him weary, but he couldn’t allow even the briefest respite. The scar that ran from his left brow down to his cheek pained him, and the glass of vodka in his hands did little to help. He’d been to a wargame before, years ago, but nothing like this. Back then, you had to walk the dirt with the soldiers, often missing key moments in the fight while hiding from enemy fire. It was a gritty, often terrifying experience, but invaluable in the training and selection of top soldiers. This immense battlefield presented an unmatched opportunity to hone the skills of the Terran Army’s finest. It was last place he’d expected to be invited.

  Markov Ivanovich sat nearby, smoking a disgusting brown cigarette. How he could stomach them, as a doctor, Sasha would never understand. The elder Martian—no amount of political bullshit would make him accept Terran—scratched at his mustache and watched the young physician with mild interest. Markov was light-skinned and attractive, with jet black hair and amber eyes. To have achieved a doctorate at such an age had left him understandably arrogant. Sasha found his both intriguing and off-putting. Men like that created problems, and Sasha always seemed to find himself at the epicenter. It seemed he was looking for another war to fight. Sasha downed a shot of ice-cold vodka and grimaced.

  “The sergeant from Alpha is certainly worth a look,”Sasha said. He had no idea what Markov was looking for, just that he was there to see...something.

  The young doctor shook his head, never taking his eyes of the monitor.

  Sasha rolled his eyes and poured another shot.“Or just ignore me, that is also good.”

  “Always so sour,”a voice said from behind. Sasha turned slowly, feeling his blood temperature rise.“I would think a change of scenery might ease that temper of yours, Sasha. Although this moon is the same color as the last one you were on, right?”

  The old soldier sneered. Brent Kerrigan, a diplomat from Mars, grinned in response. He played with his expensive silver tie as he talked, showing off the clothing that ill-gotten cash could buy. His jacket was neatly pressed and tailored to fit. His teeth were perfect, a fact he displayed as often as possible. It was possible the shimmering crimson suit cost more than the platform in which they sat.

  “Kerrigan,”Sasha said.“I expected Jonah to send someone to watch the games, but how he managed to remove you from his ass in time eludes me.”

  “Manners, Sasha,”Markov said, joining the conversation. His own crumpled jacket and slacks looked all the more frumpish compared to the diplomat’s attire.“Brent is a guest of Counsellor Fogwell. We must be respectful, no matter how poor the politician’s taste.”He stood and offered a hand.“Dr. Ivanovich. We’ve met before.”

  Brent took the hand and shook hard.“The Red Hammer remembers those who show respect, doctor.”

  Markov squeezed Kerrigan’s hand tight.“And they forget the places they are no longer welcome.”

  “I’m surprised you passed through security,”Sasha said.“The Travelers Administration must be relaxing its standards.”

  Brent’s smile showed a crack.“And I’m impressed they’d let an alcoholic traitor show his face in a civilized system. Especially a face like that.”

  He was up and moving before Brent had a chance to react. Sasha grabbed the man by his lapel and slammed him into the glass window. The young man recoiled as the Martian leaned in closer, his scarred face inches away.

  “Maybe you forget I earned this mark serving your master, you ungrateful dog,”he spat.“Jonah forgets who trained him in starting a revolution. He wants to keep fighting because it’s the only thing he has anymore, and he doesn’t care who he has to kill to do it.”

  “Jonah just wants what you fought for. Even if all you retired warhawks gave up the chase, he never did.”

  “No,”Sasha said, his grip tightening.“He wants blood. We wanted freedom. And we earned it.”

  Brent struggled against the surprisingly strong older man.“You lost.”

  “And you’re the ones to set things right?”

  A security guard walked over, placing his hand on Sasha’s shoulder.“Is there a problem here?”

  Sasha released Brent’s jacket, letting the smaller man down to the ground. He took a step back, his face still red.“There will come a day when your sins catch up to you, Kerrigan. And I will be there.”

  Brent smoothed out his clothes and flashed his signature smile.“I’m looking forward to it, Sasha. I’ll let Jonah know you send your regards.”He walked away toward the Counsellor, who had missed the entire ordeal. The guard walked back to his post.

  Markov walked over to his companion, dropping his cigarette in a nearby plant pot.“Are you all right?”

  Sasha rubbed at his graying hair.“Just a veterans reunion.”

  “Wouldn’t he have been a child du
ring the rebellion?”

  The older man nodded.“But he thinks of himself as a revolutionary. They all do. That’s why they are so dangerous. They think the way I once did. That society hates us.”

  “Not everyone,“Markov said.“Just you.”He patted his new friend on the back.“I bring you along to watch the fighting down there, and all you do is start fights up here.”

  “He started that one.”He followed the doctor back to the couches and sat down.“Besides, I don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

  “Not looking.”Markov leaned over and handed Sasha his tablet. On the screen, a young soldier ordered his squad to move toward the enemy base. The powerful camera zoomed closer, until the name RANTZcould be seen stenciled on the back of his armor.“Found.”

  - IV -

  November 21, 2236

  Jerry arched his back and grimaced. His doctor recommended he get at least an hour of exercise a day to stretch out his compressed spine. The problem wasn’t his motivation; he always felt better after taking the time to work out. The main obstacle was a job that required he sit at a desk for sixteen hours and yell at people over the phone. Add to that a forty-minute commute from his house in morning traffic and you had a recipe for chronic back pain.

  Mara walked over. Jerry found it interesting that the alien was only a little shorter than an average human. His interaction with the Grays had been limited—he winced at the slur; it wasn’t politically correct to use the term. The Historian moved with grace and poise, and Jerry found it strange that he could use the word“seductive”without feeling any revulsion. In what might have to have been the dumbest question asked at that early-morning press conference on the 14th of October, a reporter had asked how anatomically compatible the Nangolani were with human physiology. The answer had surprised many in the room, namely that humans and the aliens shared many physical similarities. No one wanted to contemplate what questions would follow.

  “Are you injured?”Mara asked.

  “I need a new back.”

  “Oh,”she said, dark eyes wide open.“Do you have that technology?”

  Jerry couldn’t help but smile. In the few weeks he’d dealt with the new species, he’d learned that they were exceptionally observant, but often confused human idioms. They understood sarcasm, but subtler quirks escaped them.

  “I’m fine, just a little stiff.”

  The alien frowned.“Do you need assistance? I have studied human bone structure, I’m certain I could relieve whatever issue is hurting you.”

  He held up a hand.“That’s all right. I’ll live.”He sat down on a bench against the wall, letting out his breath as a hiss.“It’s remarkable, you know.”

  “What is that?”

  Jerry gestured at her.“That you’re human-shaped.”

  Mara’s eyes widened.“How do you know that you are not Nangolani-shaped?”

  He stared slack-jawed.“Did you just tell a joke?”

  “I hoped you would like that.”She seemed proud to have stunned the Chief of Staff.“In truth, this form is fairly common in our galaxy. There are other paths of evolution, to be sure, but two arms and two legs seems to be quite an efficient design.”

  Jerry marveled at the alien a moment longer.“How do you think it’s going in there?”

  Mara sat down beside him, resting her hands on her lap. She blinked, thinking hard.“I’m not sure I understand? Are you worried they won’t know where to start?”

  “You studied our language for how long?”She looked hurt at the remark.“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She sighed.“No, you’re right. I spent years learning the nuances of different human languages. English, Mandarin, Arabic, Spanish...but knowing the grammatical structure of a sentence is not the same as knowing a language. There is so much that happens between the words. You call it‘subtext.’It’s...difficult to follow.”

  “You’re right.”

  “It’s so frustrating for me. I thought I was prepared to come in and create the bridge our two civilizations would need. Instead I’m causing unnecessary delays while we figure out what each other are saying.”She rested her head in her hands.“I feel like I’m failing as a diplomat.”

  Jerry went to put his arm around her, but stopped. He still had no idea where the comfort zone started with the aliens.“You were trained as a historian, not a politician.”

  “In my culture, a historian is an ambassador. We are sent to other planets to spread the knowledge of Nangol. To impart on all who will listen the discoveries of our science, the wonders of our art, even the joys of our spiritual beliefs. I have gone to a dozen worlds, spoken in a hundred languages and convinced heads of state and dictators alike to understand what our race can offer in a peaceful alliance. But here, with a culture I understand and a language with which I excel, I am impotent.”

  Jerry couldn’t help but feel for the poor girl. It couldn’t be easy, knowing that her race was as reliant on the humans as they were on hers. He had been in her shoes before, negotiating the final days of the Martian Conflict. And that had been a simple matter, just a few billion miners and scientists in a full-scale galactic rebellion.

  “Your people don’t often speak of religion,”Jerry said.

  Mara smiled, relieved to have a new subject to discuss.“There are a few on our world, mostly variations of the Ambra Dowan.”She saw the confusion on Jerry’s face.“It means‘Guiding Light,’and it was taught to us by her Grace, Darna Wo. She wrote a journal in her time describing the building of our world, of giving life to the various creatures and teaching my ancestors how to thrive. Some worship her as a god, others as a prophet. We call her World Maker and Star Child. She guides us in leading a good life, and carries us away to JohGal when we die.”

  Jerry felt breathless.“Mara, I’m at a loss. Do you know much about about humanity’s different beliefs?”

  She nodded.“It is what helped me draw my conclusion that your species would come to our aid. Most of your morality and compassion stems from a religious root. Even the non-believers follow laws that began as dictations from one deity or another.”Suddenly her eyes dropped to the ground.“I know all of this, but it hasn’t helped me reach your High Chancellor. He still sees my people as outsiders, as troublemakers.”

  “Alexander—excuse me, High Chancellor Burton—is a patient man. He’s hurting now because his citizens are dying. We’ve never seen destruction on this scale before. Enter into this the shock of discovering a new species, and a sentient one at that. Do you know how long we’ve been searching the stars for answers?”She shook her head.“If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s the fact that we want this to work. More than anything in the universe, we want to meet new friends. It’s part of our society, what took us from separate nations in a constant state of war to entire planets governed under one house.”In a constant state of war, he didn’t add. Jerry leaned in closer.“Besides, we’ve only been in there for nine hours. No good negotiation finishes the first day.”

  Mara laughed, a musical sound of rapidly changing tones. Jerry joined in, more happy than he could say that aliens had a sense of humor. He stood and walked over to the meeting room. He held the door open while she walked in, and she gave him a small smile.

  - V -

  Delta had built their patrol base in the perfect location. Hidden from view on three sides and nearly inaccessible from the fourth, the small plateau allowed observers to spot incoming enemy from kilometers away, and made an easy attack impossible. The rear spanned a sheer cliff face, and only one guard post had been set up to watch the ground below. All the other entrances were manned by heavy-machine-gun teams, each rotated throughout the day to ensure the crews were awake and ready.

  The ambush hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the CO had brought the camp up to fifty percent strength. For every soldier who slept, ate or went to the latrine, another had to be up in position with their rifle ready. Every infantryman moved with a purpose, the tension building with each passing hour.
Only four days remained until the siren would sound, signaling the end of the exercise. Delta had to at least eliminate Charlie if they wanted a fair standing in the leader board. Alpha was the clear victor, having taken the abandoned fort from Bravo and decimated the other units with constant raids. Still, second place would earn promotion points for the officers and earn the enlisted men some much needed time off to spend with families. They’d had zero contact outside the moon for months.

  Sitting in his post, watching the light fade, Corporal Hernandez struggled to stay awake. Months of intense combat, combined with a constant lack of sleep, had drained him of any motivation. After mouthing off to one of the lieutenants, he’d earned a permanent post watching the cliffs. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Private Murphy was still in the stockades after he’d been caught toying with some of the POWs. Still, staring out at vast nothingness for 12 hours a day didn’t make the time pass any faster. He told himself to tough it out, to let the rest of the week run by so he could go back to the barracks and shower off the months of suck.

  At the base of the sixty-foot cliff, something glinted in the rocks. He barely noticed. The sun burnt so many of the stones into glass that spotting a reflection wasn’t a sign for worry. The other moons of New Eden often reflected light onto Kronos for hours after sunset. Besides, intel still had Alpha holed up in their fort while Charlie attempted to nip at their heels. The game was almost in the bag. He daydreamed about his girlfriend back in Buenos Ares, how she would be waiting for him in their bed when he took his leave.

  Something shifted in the sands below. Juan leaned over the railing of the tower, peering through his scope. He couldn’t make out any shapes. All he saw was the orange sand below. From the middle of a small outcropping of rocks came a flash of yellow. Before he could react, the round smacked his visor just over his right eye. Immediately, electrical charges activated in his suit, bringing him down without a sound. The echo from the shot died out quickly, unheard in the camp. As a mild sedative made its way into Hernandez’s body, he smiled. For him, at least, the games were over.