No Surrender Read online

  The north side of the defensive wall was on fire, and Legion issue tracers were slicing the night into an assortment of geometric shapes. From what Smith could see, it appeared that the bandits were so intent on looting the village they were unaware of the Humans who were following them. The choice was his. According to the orders Smith had been given he could "...take any actions necessary to apprehend or kill the bandits responsible for Private Laraby's death."

  So, if Smith wanted to, he could go down and kick some ass. He wasn't required to do so, however, since the Legion had a long tradition of allowing the indigs to kill each other. But in his mind, Smith reported to an authority higher than the Legion. Psalm 82:3 read: "Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.” And it didn't take a genius to see that the village of Crooked Creek was oppressed. Smith chinned his mike. "Alpha-Nine to Alpha-One. You saw the video. If we hurry, we can attack the bandits while they're focused on the village. Over."

  ***

  Lieutenant Josy was anything but surprised. In addition to leading the 1st platoon, she was the Deacon's XO and accustomed to his ways. No one knew why he had given up civilian life for an organization staffed by adventurers, misfits, and criminals. A self imposed punishment perhaps? A fall from grace? That was her theory. As for the name, well, it seemed as though half the people in the Legion were named "Smith," and running from something. "Roger that, Nine.” Then, over the company push, "This is One. Put it in gear, people. The fur -alls are shooting at each other on the far side of the ridge and Nine wants to party. Over."

  ***

  Smith heard a flurry of affirmative clicks as Josy and her T-2 began to pick up speed. Then it was time to hang on as Chang followed suit. It took ten minutes to reach the top of the ridge and start down the other side. Half of the log palisade was on fire by then. And that meant things weren't going well for the villagers. "Nine to Zero-Two... Enter the village, let the villagers know that we're going to attack the bandits from the west, and tell them not to fire on us. Over.” Having received an acknowledgement, Smith switched to the company push. "This is Nine. Do not, I repeat do not fire on the village without an order from me. One will take us in. Over."

  The last order made it clear that Josy would lead the attack. That would not only signal his faith in her, but give him an opportunity to see how the officer handled herself.

  There was a mad scramble to get down the hillside quickly, and Smith was forced to hang onto the grab bar in front of him as Chang took the slope in a series of gigantic leaps. Once they were on level ground, Josy ordered the 1st squad to circle around to the east where it could stop the bandits if they attempted to run. She led the rest of the platoon in with guns blazing.

  There was a lot of confusion so it was difficult to tell how many bandits there were—but two dozen seemed like a pretty good estimate. They were mounted on the enormous six-legged animals the Naa called dooths and, as was their habit, the warriors were circling the beleaguered village while they fired into it. A strategy that made them hard to hit but opened them to friendly fire.

  Every now and then one of the bandits would ride his dooth in through one of the fiery gaps. But, as far as Smith could tell, none of them ever came out. A sure indication that the villagers had been able to hold the inner compound.

  Had the legionnaires been part of an infantry regiment, a different approach would have been in order. But, thanks to their mobility, the two person cavalry units could run their opponents down. Smith felt Chang surge forward firing both arm-mounted weapons at once. The energy cannon was lethal but lacked the punch that a .50 caliber machine gun round could deliver.

  A dooth-mounted rider appeared up ahead and both went down in a welter of blood as Chang's fire converged on them. Then they were past the bodies and Smith heard himself utter a whoop of joy. That was followed by a surge of guilt; for to enjoy war, to enjoy killing, was a sin.

  Thus chastened, Smith monitored the company push as Josy's platoon made short work of the bandits who were circling the village. Three of the brigands tried to escape, ran into the 1st squad, and were cut to pieces.

  For their part, the legionnaires suffered only three casualties, none of which were serious enough to require a dust off. It had been a successful action and Smith told Josy that over the platoon push so everyone could hear.

  Then he freed himself from the harness and dropped to the ground. It had begun to snow, and flakes whirled around the officer as he made his way over to a still-smoldering gap in the palisade. Most of the fires had been extinguished by then, and a cloud of steam billowed into the air as one of the villagers threw a bucket of water onto a glowing timber. Smith kept his weapon pointed at the sky as he stepped through the opening and into the open area beyond.

  That was when the drone appeared. It was keeping company with a Naa warrior. Like all of his kind, the indig was humanoid, had a slender frame, and was covered by a coat of short fur. Though similar to a Human's the Naa's face had a slightly feline cast to it. Smith noticed that the local was armed with a Naa made rifle and wore a cross belt to which three sheaths were attached. Two were empty. "I am called Strongarm Knifethrow," the Naa said. A slight overlap could be heard as the drone made the necessary translation.

  Smith reached up to remove his helmet which he tucked under his left arm. "My name is Captain Smith. Your people fought bravely."

  What Smith saw in the Naa's eyes required no translation. The sadness was clear to see. "What you say is true--and I thank you for it. But we are a small village and many lives were lost."

  "The gods have them," Smith said. "They shall feast tonight."

  Knifethrow looked at the Human. "You know of the gods?"

  "I read about them," Smith replied.

  "And you believe?"

  "I believe in one god but he has reason to deny me."

  "The gods are fickle," Knifethrow observed. "Your god will change his mind."

  "I hope so," Smith replied. There was a pause. Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke again. "Except for those items which belong to us, the rest of the bandits' belongings will be left with you. That includes the surviving animals."

  The items in question wouldn't make up for lives lost. But the loot would help the village to rebuild. Knifethrow offered Smith the forearm-to-forearm grip that was reserved for adult warriors. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," Smith replied. And the conversation was over.

  The newly fallen snow made a crunching sound as the legionnaire worked his way back to the point where Chang was waiting. Josy was present, as well. Her visor was open to reveal straight cut black bangs, even features, and a nose stud. "I have a present for you," she said, and gave Smith the helmet. The name LARABY was stenciled across the front of it. Smith felt for the power button and pushed. Then he turned to look at the village. The sun had broken company with the eastern horizon, and a cold gray light suffused the scene. A female was crying and a shot rang out as someone put a wounded dooth out of its misery. "Vengeance is mine saith the Lord," Smith said. "But where the hell was he?"

  Josy looked up into Smith's tortured face. "If there is a god," she said, "maybe he was here. Maybe that's why most of the villagers are alive."

  But Smith's eyes were on something far away, and she knew he wasn't listening. Her gaze shifted to Chang. He shook his enormous head. There was no way to reach the Deacon. Not when he was in one of his moods.

  Once the legionnaires were ready, they turned west and began the long trip back to Fort Camerone. The snow was falling faster now, and it laid a white shroud over the land. Another two-hour-and-forty-minute day had begun.

  ***

  It took eleven local days to complete the journey to Fort Camerone. It had been rebuilt after being destroyed years earlier. And now that it was home to the government in exile, work was underway to expand the complex. The area, formerly referred to as Naa Town, had been razed to make room for what was commonly called "the new fort�
�� . To support the larger structure, a spaceport was being built off to the west, and a training complex was under construction, as well.

  So, as Smith and his legionnaires neared the fort, they passed between multiple check points, were tracked by eyes in the sky, and repeatedly asked to identify themselves. A process that made Smith increasingly grumpy. Finally, having answered the same question a dozen times, he lost his temper. "Who the hell do you think we are? How many T-2s do the Naa have?”

  That earned him some sharp words from a faceless major who took the opportunity to remind Smith that assumptions can get people killed. So Smith was already in a bad mood as the platoon entered the fort. A ramp led down into the subbasement where the cyborgs were quartered. The corridors were large enough to let two twenty-five ton quads pass each other. Side passageways led to the bays assigned to individual units.

  The rest of the company was there, which meant that the 1st platoon had to endure a barrage of friendly insults as they entered the area. Then it was time to unload weapons, hose the cyborgs down, and run tech checks on each one. Once the work was done the bio bods were allowed to get some chow, take showers, and log some rack time. All except for Smith and Josy, who were slated to appear in front of Battalion Commander Colonel Leo Price at 1400 hours. And, since it was already 1330 when the message arrived, they had thirty minutes in which to make the hike. Not enough time to eat or take a shower.

  "It was a mistake to get into that major's face," Josy said, as they got off a lift. "I'll bet he was on the horn to Price a minute later."

  Smith scowled. "Fuck him."

  Josy gave him sideways glance. "You told me that the use of profanity is a sin."

  "The major is an asshole," Smith responded darkly. "God knows that. So he'll forgive me."

  Josy laughed as a door slid open allowing them to enter battalion headquarters. A large desk blocked the way--and a no nonsense sergeant was seated behind it. "Good afternoon, Captain... What can I do for you?"

  "My name's Smith, and this is Lieutenant Josy. We're here to see the Colonel."

  The sergeant's eyes flicked to a screen and back again. "Yes, sir. Unfortunately, the Colonel is running late. Please take a seat. I'll let you know as soon as he's available."

  So, in spite of the fact that they were tired, hungry, and dirty, the officers had no choice but to sit and wait. It was 1433 by the time a general left the colonel's office and the sergeant looked their way. "The Colonel is free now... You can go in."

  Josy followed Smith as he circled the reception desk and made his way back to an open door. A knock block was mounted on the wall, and Smith was about to make use of it, when Price looked up from his terminal. The colonel's head was shaved, his skin was brown, and his eyes were a brilliant green. "No need for that, Captain... Come in and take a load off."

  ***

  Once they were seated Price inquired about the mission. While Smith spoke Josy took a look around. There were pictures on the walls. Price on a T-2, Price in front of a quad, and Price with General Booly. And there were knickknacks too. Josy was taking inventory when she heard her name. "Congratulations Lieutenant Josy," Price said. "It sounds like you led a very successful patrol."

  That was when Josy realized that Smith had given her credit for defeating the bandits. She was about to object when Price cut her off. "That's why I sent for the two of you... The Naa aren't the only ones who have to deal with bandits. We have some of our own. But, before I get into the specifics, some background information will be helpful.

  "As you know, the bugs have control of Earth and we're getting our asses kicked on planets like Gamma-014. So we need help. First from the Clone Hegemony, which owns 014, and then from the Hudathans if we can get it. They believe that all races represent an existential threat to them. But, if we can convince them that the Ramanthians are the greatest threat, then we would have some very effective allies. With that in mind we have cut back on the number of missions into Hudathan held space--and some very high level government officials are trying to bring them around."

  ***

  "That would be wonderful," Smith said sincerely.

  "Yes, it would," Price agreed as he stood. "So keep that in mind during the meeting."

  Smith was about to say, "What meeting," when the colonel turned to a side door. Having sensed his presence it opened onto a conference room. Price led the way. As Smith entered he was surprised to see that a robot was standing on one side of the room--and a Hudathan was perched on a corner of the table. The reason for that was obvious. The alien was so large that he couldn't sit in one of the chairs. "War Commander Tola-Sa, please allow me to introduce Captain Smith, and Lieutenant Josy. They're the officers I told you about."

  Smith had seen pictures of Hudathans, and knew they were large, but didn't realize how large until coming face to face with one. Tola-Sa was about seven feet tall with broad shoulders and thick arms. A bony ridge ran front to back along the top of a hairless head, dark eyes stared out from under craggy brows, and his frog-like mouth looked hard and uncompromising. A translator was clipped to the cross belts that the Hudathan wore and, when he spoke, some overlap could be heard. "It's a pleasure to meet you Captain... And you as well Lieutenant. The colonel tells me that you specialize in killing criminals."

  It was true that Smith's company had successfully tracked down a number of bandits. But he hadn't considered it to be a specialty. Nor had he set out to kill them. Far from it. According to James 2:13, "Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful."

  But it was also true that, in spite of his best intentions, most of the bandits that Smith went after wound up dead. So he wasn't sure what to say. "We do our best, sir."

  Price nodded indulgently. "By now you understand where this is going. The War Commander and I want you to find a criminal, a Human criminal who, until very recently, wore the same uniform that you do. A captain named Damien Chozick."

  Smith frowned. "A captain? What did he do?"

  "That's why Orson is here," Price replied. "It was attached to Chozick's command when the crimes were committed, and can provide you with a firsthand account of everything that took place."

  Price turned to the robot. "Start your report just prior to landing on moon HE24-6743."

  As Smith looked at the android, he noticed that a section of its face was bright with new metal. A repair, perhaps? Smith thought so as Price ordered the lights to dim and Orson launched into its report. Though tied together with some flat, unemotional comments, most of the narrative consisted of holographic POV video shots with accompanying audio. The images were suspended over the middle of the conference room table. And, as Smith watched, he saw the landing, the Hudathan skeleton, and Chozick ordering a subordinate to place the hafnium on the Mohawk. The final shot showed the renegade drawing his pistol and pointing it at the camera, which ,was to say, Orson. That was followed by a spark and sudden darkness.

  "That's right," Price said. "Chozick assumed that a bullet in the head would destroy Orson's CPU. But he was wrong. Orson's CPU is located in its chest! So it played dead, waited for the ship to lift, and went looking for another way home. The journey took the better part of three months. And, if Orson were Human, we'd be hanging medals on him."

  Smith looked from Price to Tola-Sa and back again. "So, given the War Commander's presence here, it's my guess that you want us to find the remains."

  "Yes," Price said emphatically. "And the hafnium if you can. Both belong to our Hudathan friends. But recovering the reliquary is the most important of the two. The theft of Ho-La's remains by a human military unit would end any chance of an alliance. And once you catch up with the renegades I want you to kill them. All of them. They are currently missing in action. Let's keep it that way."

  Smith frowned. "We'll do our best, sir. But I won't promise to kill Chozick and his legionnaires. Not if they surrender. It wouldn't be right."

  ***

  Price opened his mouth as if to speak a
nd closed it again. Judging from the expression on his face, he was angry. Very angry. Seconds passed as he stared at Smith. Josy figured that a lightning bolt was about to fall--never mind the fact that the order was illegal. But maybe Price considered that, because, when he spoke, the tone was surprisingly conciliatory. "Alright, Captain... If Chozick or any of his legionnaires surrender you can bring them here."

  Smith nodded. "Yes, sir. So, where are they?"

  Price looked at Tola-Sa and back again. "We have no idea."

  Chapter Three

  All warfare is based on deception.

  Sun Tzu

  The Art Of War

  Standard year circa 500 B.C.

  The space station Orb 1, in orbit around the planet Long Jump

  As Chozick began to circle "B" deck, the holographic image of a woman appeared in front of him. "Hi, honey," the simulacrum said. "I'm horny, how about you?"

  The image shattered as Chozick stepped through it. This was what? His twentieth visit to the hab? Something like that. But the almost overwhelming assault on his senses still came as a shock. Disembodied voices whispered marketing slogans into his ears, zip ads roamed the surrounding bulkheads, and a whiff of exotic perfume found his nostrils. "It's called Galaxy," a floating pitch ball told him. "And it will change your life."

  All of that and more was part of the daily routine on Orb 1, the last stop before ships set out for the rim worlds beyond, and a hub for every sort of business deal imaginable. And every sort of pleasure as well. The latter being of major importance to Chozick's renegades who, if they became restive, might rebel. But things had gone well so far.

  After departing moon HE24-6743 Chozick and his legionnaires forced the swabbies to enter hyperspace and set a course for Long Jump. And it was a long jump. The better part of three weeks had elapsed as a series of leaps carried them ever closer to their destination.

  The ex-legionnaires gambled, got into fights, and had to be pacified from time to time. But Chozick knew he was riding the proverbial tiger--and was careful to rule with a light hand. Because he had plans, big plans, and would need some cannon fodder to make them work.