What Price Honour By Mark E. Cooper

Copyright©2004 by Mark E. Cooper

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Planet Thurston, Border Zone, Year 3769

Gunnery Sergeant Gina Fuentez slapped a hand to her cheek. With a muttered curse, she pulled it away to reveal a mosquito the size of a heavy cruiser splattered over her palm, still oozing the blood it had just hijacked... if it was a mosquito. Insects were about the only things on this cursed planet she did recognise, but the size and shape of the thing was only vaguely familiar.

Earth was far away, and hence familiar sights such as insects and trees on this world gave only a skewed impression of a jungle on Earth. The sun was like, yet unlike Sol. It was almost but not quite the right size in the sky, and it was almost but not quite the right colour. The sickly orangey yellow of this sun was filtering through the thick canopy of the jungle heating the undergrowth and her Marines almost beyond endurance. The operative word here was almost. The Alliance Marines, of which she was a fifteen year veteran, were the best at what they did. A little heat and sweat wouldn’t affect their performance one way or the other.

Gina glanced aside to check her people. All were well concealed and keeping low. Her squad had ten of the best people she had ever met and that included Major Stein back at base. They were her friends, her people, and the Corps was her home. She had no other home or family, but that didn’t matter as long as she had the Corps. She wiped the sweat from her face through her open visor then slapped it shut. Sweating was preferable to being bitten to death. Her helmet systems reactivated the moment her silvered visor clicked shut, and she focused upon what the head up display was telling her.

Not a hell of a lot.

Gina tongued a control and scrolled through the menu. She selected communications and browsed the channels that were accessible to her. None of her squad was on the air—as it should be. She flicked from channel to channel hoping to get lucky and hear the rebels. Back at base, they often listened to the so-called Freedom Movement’s propaganda. It was always good for a laugh, but today they were silent, which in itself was unusual.

Gina activated her comm. “Eagle One to all Eagles, status check.”

“Eagle Two copies. No joy, repeat nothing in sight.”

“Eagle Three copies, no joy.”

“Eagle Four no joy.”

“Eagle Five...”

Gina acknowledged reports from all of her people. As had been the case previously they had seen nothing. Every half hour she repeated the routine until Eagle Three suddenly broke it.

“Eagle Three, Eagle One. I have movement directly ahead. I make it two-point-three klicks and moving fast.”

Gina didn’t even think of checking her own sensors. If one of her people said there was something coming, then there was. “Eagle One, Eagle Three. Can you identify?”

“Negative, repeat negative visual,” Corporal Grace Wingate said. “It reads as Human in size,” she added helpfully.

“Eagle One copies, keep your eye on it.”

“Eagle Three copies.”

Gina switched channels and contacted base. “Eagle One, Red One.”

“Red One, Eagle One. Go,” the quiet voice of Lieutenant Strong came back instantly.

“Am observing movement two klicks east of my position—advise over.”

“Acknowledged Eagle One, that’s our boy. Take no chances—repeat no chances. Red One clear.”

“Aye, aye sir. Eagle One clear.”

So, this was it. They had been briefed to expect a recovery operation but they hadn’t been given a precise time, which in this case meant someone was working under cover and now needed extraction fast. Gina had no idea who this man was, but that didn’t matter. Her job was to see to it that he reached base in one piece, and the bad guys didn’t. She watched him on her sensors. He was moving damn fast, totally ignoring the danger of detection, which said to her he had already been detected—more, it meant he was being pursued.

“Eagle One to all Eagles. This is our boy. Eagles Three, Four, and Five—hold position. I want the rest of you to pull in as he passes. Watch for pursuit and nail them.”

“Eagle Three copies.”

“...Four copies.”

“Five copies.”

Quiet acknowledgements came over the comm as Gina watched the man jump a fallen tree ahead of her. She blinked in astonishment as he flew through the air totally ignoring gravity. He landed hard and rolled to his feet, and that was when she saw the wound. One arm ended in a bloody and broken stump just below the elbow. To keep going with a wound like that, he had to be running on adrenalin alone. One last leap had him skidding to a halt and rolling into her dugout. He was wearing civilian clothing with no devices or sensors on his person. How the hell had he known where she was?

“The name’s Eric,” he said conversationally. “I suggest we get the hell out of here, Sergeant.”

Gina blinked. He wasn’t even breathing hard! “Your arm,” she said reaching for her medikit.

Eric slapped his good hand onto hers in a blur of speed, but his grip was exceedingly gentle as if he were afraid of breaking her. “I’m fine. The bots have taken care of it.” He studied the trees for a long moment and nodded in satisfaction. “Good, your people are moving back. Call the last three in and let’s go before...” he snarled a curse. “Too late.”

Gina’s eyes focussed upon the sensor data displayed on her HUD. There was a wall of light codes approaching. Just as she was about to give the order to open fire, Grace opened up. The heavy railgun thudded repeatedly and was joined by the lesser stuttering of outgoing pulser fire from Eagles Four and Five.

“Eagle One, to all Eagles. Fall back in pairs and give them covering fire!”

Gina couldn’t see the enemy visually yet, but she added her weight to that of her people. A storm of pulser fire went out shredding foliage and anything hidden within it. Her magazine ran dry and she slapped another in place with economical motions barely halting her fire. When she ran dry again, she slapped another in place.

Pags and Pike pulled back leaving Grace to hold the line, and then set up covering fire for her. Grace gave the jungle another burst before diving passed them and reciprocating in kind. Gina grinned and watched the three leapfrogging back. The manoeuvre was perfectly executed.

Gina ducked as the rebels sought and found her position. She hugged the dirt as they saturated the air above her with lethal rain. Something tugged at her sleeve, and she hissed expecting pain, but to her surprise it didn’t hurt. She glanced aside and found the sleeve of her uniform flapping free as if cut with a knife. It had been a near miss—a very near miss.

Grace was hosing the jungle on full auto now as the enemy came into sight. Trees were turned to toothpicks and roman candles as a railgun designed to take out armoured vehicles literally wiped the jungle ahead of her clean. Suddenly a thunderous explosion shook the air, and Grace vanished in an eye-searing ball of light.

Heavy grenade launcher!

Gina had no time to grieve for her oldest friend, nor for the AAR, which was her only heavy weapon. The rebels walked their fire along her position and away. Instantly, she propped herself on her elbows and switched to full auto in an effort to suppress the rebel’s increased fire. Her people were still too far forward to concentrate their effort, but they were having an effect. The enemy was withering under the storm of pulser bolts, but her rifle was heating dangerously. Gina switched to semi-automatic and picked her targets with care. The rebels were wearing armour, but a three round burst from an M18-AP pulser took care of it. With relief, she watched the enemy go to ground. Outgoing fire slowed to a trickle as her people changed to single shot. Gina was proud of their discipline, but as their fire died away, the enemy opened up all at once and it was her Marines’ turn to hug the dirt.

Gina tongued a control in her helmet and zoomed her optics trying to see where the grenade launcher was, but although these people were amateurs, they still knew to keep their ace well back. Her software package had located some of the rebels by backtracking pulser blasts—the locations were painted red on her HUD, but the grenade launcher was another matter entirely. The MkIV tactical helmet was proven technology, but grenades could not be tracked in flight, which meant the software had nothing to work with. Gina couldn’t see the launcher, but she did see something else. Among the pulsers in enemy hands, there were old style slug throwers as well. She was glad to see these bastards had supply problems, but it didn’t help her situation. A well-handled slug thrower would kill her just as dead as a modern pulser. Her flapping sleeve testified to that.

Gina ducked as the enemy turned their attention back to her position and she tried to pull Eric down with her. He snarled something at her and pulled a pistol from inside his clothing. On one knee, entirely exposed to the enemy he fired his own slug thrower and killed his target, and then again and again. His fire was unerring. Every shot found its target, and that target died.

“Eagle One, Red One!” Gina screamed over the din, whatever the gun was it was louder than her rifle!

“Red One, Eagle One. Go,” snapped the reply.

“We’re under heavy fire!” She shouted as the grenade launcher dropped one nearby and the ground erupted. “Completely on the defensive! I’m pulling back—request air support!”

“Negative Eagle One. Ground cover is too extensive.”

“Not anymore sir! Grace cleared a large section before she bought it! Drop it in the centre and you’ll nail most of them!”

“Red One copies, it’s on the way.”

“Eagle One clear!” Gina yelled and opened fire again.

“I’m hit!” A voice screamed from nearby.

“...God! Oh God...” bubbled another over the comm.

Gina closed her eyes as Corporal ‘ Pags ’ Paglino sobbed into his mike and died. Pags was... had been a good man. All of her people were. She had screwed up! Recovery operation or no recovery operation, she should have brought the heavy stuff!

“Eagle Nine, Eagle One.”

“What is it Frankowski?” Gina said firing at what her HUD insisted was a rebel sniper in the trees. Her display flashed a good kill, and the red icon faded from her display.

“You saw Grace?”

“Yeah,” she shouted as the grenade launcher took out a tree nearby. Jesus! “We’re pulling back!”

“No shit! Pags is dead, and Pike’s hurt bad. I’m bringing him in!”

“Eagle One to all Eagles: we’re pulling back! Marines, we are leaving!”

Gina fired an unaimed burst into the trees and scrambled out of her hollow. Keeping low, she crawled into the undergrowth but then cursed when she realised Eric hadn’t followed her. She looked back over her shoulder and watched him firing into the enemy like some goddamn mindless sentry gun on auto.

“Let’s go!”

Eric nodded and threw his now empty weapon away.

Gina handed him her sidearm as they crawled over the edge of the riverbank. She looked back over the ledge and saw some of the enemy moving carefully into the clearing. She picked off those she could and with relief saw Frankowski drag Pike over the edge to safety.

Frankowski pulled out his medikit and pumped a dose of Phenazocine into Pike before carefully cutting away the burned remains of his uniform. Pulser wounds were nasty and damn painful. The Phenazocine was a strong pain suppresser. It was stronger than Pike’s bots could produce on such short notice. His face relaxed and his breathing eased as the shot took effect.

“You’re gonna be okay buddy,” Frankowski said applying a battlefield dressing to the hideous wound in his friend’s side. The self-sealing sterile bandage adhered to his skin keeping infection away. “How’s that?”

“I feel like shit...” Pike panted clutching at the loose soil as the pain in his side surged up one last time before being defeated by a mixture of drug and nanobot activity. “Gimme a weapon... where’s my frigging rifle?”

Frankowski ignored the question to scramble back up the bank to add his fire to the defence. He glanced in Gina’s direction, “He’s hurt bad.”

“He’ll make it.” Gina selected squad wide on her comm. “Save your ammo—single shot only!”

Gina ignored Eric fumbling one handed at her waist. He was going after the ammo for her pistol. She didn’t have much, and in a quiet moment ordered the others to dump theirs for him to use. Eric thanked her calmly and began taking out the bad guys with unerring accuracy, even when they were under cover. She still didn’t know how he could keep going with only one arm. He said his bots were taking care of it, but still!

Nanobots were a fact of life for everyone, even more so in the military, but although they should keep him alive, fighting should be beyond him. Nanotech could do amazing things, but a body could only take so much. Using nanotech to boost a body’s natural processes was dangerous in the extreme. She could tell Eric was boosted to the max by the look in his eyes. He was glaring into the jungle unblinking as if in a trance. His movements were so rapid they almost seemed to blur in her vision. Gina blinked trying to clear the sweat from her eyes. She couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was. No one moved like that, boosted or not.

Dirt kicked up in front of her and Gina ducked. A moment later, she popped back up and fired an unaimed burst in the direction of the rebels. Eric’s head turned like a laser turret tracking targets. He fired at a careless rebel while glaring at another section of trees on his other side. The rebel was blasted back, and Eric’s pistol moved to the seemingly innocent trees. He fired again and moved on without pause. Glare to the left, fire to the right. Glare straight ahead, fire to the left. Glare, fire, glare, fire... Gina shivered. There was something not right about him.

“Falcon Leader, Eagle One.”

“Eagle One, Falcon Leader. What’ve you got for me?” Gina replied before firing again.

“Three birds fully loaded. Where do you want it?”

“Dump it all on the clearing!”

“Roger Eagle One. Keep your heads down!”

“Eagle One clear!”

Gina looked around and found seven Marines and one civilian hiding behind the bluff. If Eric was a civilian she’d eat her rifle, but he looked like one. There wasn’t much cover but it was all they had. It would have to do.

“Everyone down!” Gina shouted as the jungle erupted in death and fire.

The three FB-160 fighter-bombers screamed in low and deployed their munitions. The FB-160, unlike carrier based aerospace fighters like the SPAF-18 Nighthawk, was a ground based fighter-bomber designed for close orbit air support (COAS) missions just like this. It was a perfect match for the mission of supporting a small squad of Marines under siege. Three flechette dispensing bombs weighing thirty kilograms each disengaged from each fighter and detonated as one at a preselected height above the clearing. The compression wave killed everyone in the clearing, and the razor sharp flechettes minced the remains finishing the job. The bombers however, weren’t ready to leave just yet.

“Falcon Leader to all chicks. Second pass on my mark... mark.”

The FB-160’s banked sharply and climbed. At three thousand metres, the pilots pushed over into a dive and fired their Hornet-AG missiles... a full spread. The jungle erupted again as eighteen warheads ploughed into the ground and then detonated.

“Jesus Christ! ” Frankowski shouted as he tried to bury himself into the riverbank. “Are they nuts?”

Gina could only cover her head as the world went mad. Flyboys were all crazy, but this was pushing it! Talk about overkill!

“Falcon Leader, Eagle One.”

The explosions died away to be replaced by the crashing of falling trees and the crackle of burning undergrowth. Gina wiped mud and leaves from her visor and blinked at her surroundings. She could hardly believe what she saw. For almost a klick ahead of her, nothing stood above ground level. Fires were burning all over, and where huge majestic trees once stood; now all that remained were piles of broken kindling surrounding a deep crater.

The fighters screamed by overhead. “Falcon Leader, Eagle One,” The call came again.

“Eagle One, Falcon Leader. You sure know how to trash a party!” Gina said crawling to the edge of the huge smoking crater.

“Navy training, Eagle One,” the voice said with a chuckle before hardening again. “Falcon Leader clear.”

“Always knew flyboys were nuts, but this is ridiculous!” Westfield said in awe.

Gina nodded in agreement. “Sensors up!” She ordered rebooting her own software.

“No hostiles,” Frankowski reported first and the others concurred.

“I have one,” Eric said pointing to his right.

Gina didn’t know how he knew that. He was a civy. More than that, he didn’t have Marine armour or tactical helmet with its sensor package. Strange or not, there was something about Eric that said she would be wise to heed him.

“Frankowski, Westfield, go check it out. The rest of you cover them.”

“Aye, aye,” her people chorused and moved out.

Eric stood to follow.

“Not you!”

He shrugged. “As you wish.”

As she wished? Damn right it was! “Who are you? What are you?”

Eric smiled. “I think you already know, Sergeant, or perhaps you’re only now beginning to guess.”

Gina glanced at Eric’s stump. Now she had time she noticed something odd. It excited her at the same time as it appalled her. The bone wasn’t shattered or even split. Instead, it was bent and twisted at the end like metal. She knew why that was.

“A Viper?” She whispered reverently.

Eric smiled again. “I think it’s time you called in—don’t you?”

“What rank?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

“I am Captain Eric Penleigh, Special Assault Group, 501st infantry,” he said and laughed at her dumbfounded expression. “Don’t bother to salute.”

Gina nodded slowly. Of course he was 501st, all Vipers were. To meet one was rare, especially when you remembered the Alliance consisted of more than two hundred member worlds, a total that didn’t include those in the Border Zone like Thurston. Who knew how many Human settled worlds there were altogether? She certainly didn’t! They had a great many worlds to cover.

“Don’t make a fuss, Sergeant, and that is an order. I’m supposed to be Eric the terrorist while on this God forsaken planet. If you want to tell your people something, tell them I’m a police informer who needs protection.”

“Aye, aye sir,” Gina said and almost saluted but she managed to restrain herself.

“And watch the sirs,” Eric added before walking away.

“Is there likely to be more of this?”

Eric looked back over his shoulder. “Probably,” he said and went to join her people.

Gina made her way to where Pike lay. She sat beside him and keyed his wristcomp to display a readout on his medical condition. It was in the red. She watched as his bots reported back that his condition was critical but stable. Reassured somewhat, she contacted base.

“Eagle One, Red One.”

“It’s about damn time!” Major Stein snarled. “Report Eagle One.”

“Sorry for the delay, Gold One. Something came up.” Gina wondered what had happened to Strong. “I have two dead and one seriously wounded,” she said patting Pike on the knee. He smiled weakly back at her. “We have the package and—” she broke off at a warning beep in her headset. “Wait one.” She changed channels. “What have we got?”

“We found a live one, Gunny,” Frankowski said. “Our civy wants to take him in. I say we cap him for what he did to Gracey.”

“Copy that.” Gina wanted the bastard dead, but Eric was no civy. “Bring him in alive. I want to ask him where his bastard friends are.”

“Aye, aye. Eagle Nine clear,” Frankowski said in resignation.

“Eagle One, Gold One.”

“Gold One, Eagle One. Go.”

“We have the package and one prisoner, sir. Request extraction co-ordinates.”

“Gold One copies. Co-ordinates follow—”

Gina tapped the figures into her wristcomp and pressed save. “Eagle One clear.”

Frankowski prodded the prisoner forward and made him sit before her in the mud. Gina glanced at her Marines then at the prisoner, she pointed her rifle casually at him and asked her question. She badly wanted to pull the trigger, but one look at Eric told her he wouldn’t allow it.

“I ain’t talking to you bastids!” The prisoner spat before Gina could say another word.

Gina grinned. Frankowski raised his pulser and pressed it against the man’s right knee. The terrorist closed his eyes and sweated. Gina was impressed. He hadn’t uttered a single word of protest.

“Gunny?”

Gina glanced at Eric who was watching her intently. “Not yet... maybe later.”

Frankowski nodded and lowered his weapon.

Gina knew that there was nothing left of Grace to recover, but maybe Pags?

“Any sign of Pags?”

“He was near me,” Pike panted.

Pike had been near the centre when he was hit. Nothing had survived. Gina said a silent prayer for her two friends then turned back to business. She had other friends that needed her. She downloaded the evac coordinates to their wristcomps and then detailed off her people.

“Frankowski and Westfield can look after our friend here. Cole, you take point. Ridley and Gleeson, you two carry Pike in the centre. Hollings, you’re rear guard—keep your eyes open for any more of this guy’s friends.”

PFC Liz Hollings nodded and raised her weapon eagerly. Pags had been her best friend and she wanted payback.

“And me?” Eric said.

Gina looked at him for a long considering moment. Vipers were lethal to anything that moved, but her people didn’t know what he was and he wanted it kept that way.

“In the centre with Pike. You’re wounded.”

Eric nodded.

“Let’s move Marines!” Gina ordered and Cole set a fast pace into the jungle.

*    *    *