No Surrender Page 6

  But Smith had what he thought was a better idea. Rather than a detachment of legs, he'd take seventy of the bio bods presently serving in Colonel Price's cavalry battalion. They knew what T-2s could and couldn't do. Plus they could help with maintenance. Then, as an insurance policy, he would give every squad a rocket launcher. That would give them a chance if they had to confront a T-2.

  Finally there was the matter of zappers. Meaning the pistol shaped devices issued to cavalry officers in case one of their borgs went bonkers. That didn't happen very often. But, when it did, a zapper could bring even the largest cyborg to its knees by disrupting its electrical systems.

  Of course, anything that can be activated can be deactivated, given the right knowhow. Which raised an interesting question. Would Chozick want to keep the zapper option in place? Maybe, although, if he did, a single zapper armed bio bod could disable all of his cyborgs in a matter of seconds.

  And what about the cyborgs themselves? Would they allow Chozick to retain that kind of power over them? No, Smith didn't think so. They were renegades after all -- and would want their freedom. So it was safe to assume that the deserters would be invulnerable to zappers.

  Then there was the opposite possibility to think about. What if Chozick or one of his bio bods was to fire a zapper at Smith's T-2s? That would be disastrous. So Smith had no choice but to deactivate the submission systems in the borgs that were slated to accompany them. A risk? Yes, half of them were murderers, after all. It was a chance he'd have to take.

  The possibility of T-2 versus T-2 combat wasn't covered in any of the training manuals so there was nothing to go on. All Smith could do was divide his newly reconfigured company into halves, provide all personnel with training weapons, and turn them over to lieutenants Tran and Noll. A satellite and a computer would be used to score the battle.

  The setting was the euphemistically named "Happy Valley" located just east of the fort and west of the famed High Hump Hill. A spot often used for training exercises and littered with weather worn trenches, icy mortar pits, and crumbling earth-walls. And, as was often the case on Algeron, it was snowing. Each platoon had a flag and orders to: A. defend it, and B. capture the other teams' ensign. All while Smith watched them from a point halfway up High Hump Hill.

  The differences between the two officers quickly became apparent in the way they dealt with the situation. Noll fortified an area at the south end of the "field" and assigned one T-2 and a third of his bio bods to protect it. Then he sent a T-2 and sixteen legionnaires up the left side of the battlefield as a feint. The idea was to draw some of Tran's forces away from his flag and open it to an attack from Noll and the rest of his platoon. A force that included the remaining cyborgs.

  It was a reasonable plan in Smith's opinion, one that would probably be successful against most opponents, but not Tran. She was a free thinker and Smith watched admiringly as the junior officer sent a token force to deal with what she had correctly identified as a feint. Then she ran the rest of her platoon straight at Noll's base bringing her flag with her! An unusual strategy that took Noll's platoon by surprise. And, spread out as they were, left them unable to stop the invaders. Their flag fell soon thereafter.

  Once the exercise was over Smith knew a lot more about two of his three platoon leaders. But what about the T-2s? While watching them Smith had been reminded of a football game in which Tran's cyborgs functioned as guards. That was instructive. And as night fell, they went at it again. And again. Until all of them were exhausted.

  Then it was time to eat, sleep, shower and start again. And with each passing day the legionnaires got better. But after forty eight hours of additional training it was time to stop and prepare for the lift off. That involved repairing gear, performing maintenance on the cyborgs, and dealing with minor medical issues.

  Finally the day of departure arrived, and Smith was looking forward to a hassle free lift. But when he arrived at the spaceport, it was to find that War Commander Tola-Sa and twelve Hudathan marines were waiting for him. All wore full kit, including armor and back swords. Packs were stacked; ready for loading. Price came forward at that point, and Smith turned to confront him. "What's going on here?"

  There was no, "Good morning, sir," but if Price noticed, he chose to ignore it. "Sorry, Smith ... but War Commander Tola-Sa received a last minute directive from his superiors. They insist that Hudathan troops take part in the mission. It's a matter of honor."

  Smith wanted to tell Price and Tola-Sa why the last minute decision was a bad idea ... Including the fact that the Humans and Hudathans would need translators in order to communicate, hadn't trained together, and had no reason to trust each other. But he could see the look in Price's eyes and knew what the officer would say if he objected: The Confederacy was losing the war -- and new allies could make an important difference. So he swallowed his concerns and gave Price the answer he wanted to hear. "Sir, yes, sir. And the chain of command?"

  Price looked relieved. "You'll be in command."

  Smith looked at Tola-Sa who nodded.

  "There's one more thing," Price interjected. "I'm sending Orson along. It will document the mission and, who knows: Orson has a number of different capabilities and one or more of them might come in handy."

  The truth was that Smith didn't care if Orson came along or not. He had other things on his mind. "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Lieutenant Josy and the Chicago are waiting for you in orbit. The Chicago belongs to a commercial shipping line and looks the part. Nobody will connect her with the military. That's the good news."

  Smith frowned. "And the bad news?"

  "The Chicago is lightly armed. If you try to go toe to toe with the Mohawk , you'll lose."

  Smith wanted to swear. "I see ... Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

  "Nope," Price said comfortably. "Have a nice trip."

  Chapter Five

  The troops should be exercised frequently, cavalry as well as infantry, and the general should often be present to praise some, to criticize others, and to see with his own eyes that orders ... are observed exactly.

  Frederick the Great

  Instructions for His Generals

  Standard year 1747

  Aboard the freighter Chicago

  The Chicago was a freighter, so the ship had very few cabins. Not that it mattered, because Smith insisted that everyone, officers included, live together in the hold. The purpose being to force integration between the legionnaires and the Hudathans. Translators helped solve the language problem -- but creating a sense of mutual respect was a more difficult task.

  So once the Chicago entered hyperspace, Smith sought out Tola-Sa in order to explain his concerns. And the other officer was quite supportive. "I agree," Tola-Sa said. "A great deal is riding on this. A lack of cooperation could be disastrous."

  Given how fiercely independent the Hudathans were Smith was both surprised and gratified by Tola-Sa's response. But, when he took a moment to think about it, Smith came to an important realization. Tola-Sa was in a difficult situation. Tola-Sa was in the position of reporting to someone two levels lower than he was. And, worse yet, he and his troops were on a ship packed with aliens. A situation almost certain to trigger the xenophobia that the Hudathans were famous for. Not to mention the fact that, if things went poorly, it was quite possible that Tola-Sa's superiors would hold him responsible for the mission's failure.

  So Smith worked with Tola-Sa to devise a variety of exercises designed to create some unity within the short period of time available. The first step was to integrate the company to the extent possible by seeding Hudathans in at the squad level. Next, he designated two of them as noncoms, with authority over Humans.

  Then Smith and Tola-Sa devised a series of exercises that put squad against squad. And it wasn't long before Humans discovered that it was impossible to beat the Hudathans at arm wrestling, unless you were a T-2, in which case the situation was reversed.

  "You've got them working togethe
r," Josy commented, as she appeared at his side. "That's no small accomplishment.” Tug of war was a favorite among the troops and they were about to begin another contest.

  Smith looked at her then back to the impending battle. The cable was taut, and it was interesting to note how both sides were using Hudathans and T-2s to anchor their ends of the rope. "All of us are God's creatures," he said. "So we have similar needs. And we're inherently good."

  Josy looked up at him. "Even the Ramanthians?"

  "Even them," Smith said soberly.

  Josy thought about that for a moment. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "But that's bullshit.” Then she walked away.

  ***

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

  Chozick hadn't visited the space station since landing in the town of Sunrise weeks earlier. There was too much to do. There was a town to take control of, a copper mine to learn about, and fifty-seven mercenaries to get acquainted with. All of which required a great deal of time and effort. That meant his plan to sell the skeleton back to the Hudathans had been relegated to a back burner. So the message from Handra came as a welcome surprise. After months of waiting the Hudathans were going to send an emissary to Orb 1.

  The Mohawk had been repaired, but rather than employ the ship for such a short trip, Chozick made use of the DE's shuttle instead. And he made a point out of arriving on the space station a day early for some R and R. Ember was there to meet him. The ex-lieutenant was Chozick's business representative on the space station. An occupation he was well suited for, so long as he received a sufficient amount of direction.

  The two men left the docking ring for B deck, where Chozick hoped to get a good meal. Ember was something of an expert on the station's eateries by then, and suggested a place called the Taj. Once the two men had been shown to a booth and ordered drinks, it was time to catch up. Chozick provided a summary of everything that had been accomplished on the ground, and Ember talked about his adventures on the station, most of which involved women.

  There was a pause while the second round of drinks arrived. After the waiter left, the narrative continued. "And speaking of women ... Did you know Lieutenant Josy?"

  Chozick shook his head. "Nope. I never met her."

  "Well," Ember said, "I spent a night with her once -- and it was very enjoyable. Anyway, imagine my surprise when I passed her in the main corridor earlier today."

  Chozick felt a mild sense of alarm. "The Legion has troops on Orb 1?"

  Ember shook his head. "Not that I know of ... She was in civvies. On vacation, most likely -- or maybe she went over the hill. There was a man with her. A tall guy with black hair, a gaunt face, and stooped shoulders."

  "Did she recognize you?"

  "Nah, she was too busy schmoozing the tall guy."

  Chozick's mind was racing by then. Ember was an idiot ... But no news there. Was Josy's presence on the station a coincidence? It was a big galaxy, after all. But the timing could only be described as strange. First, the message from the Hudathans, now this. It shouldn't matter though... The Confederacy was at war with the Hudathans. Yet there was something about the situation that didn't feel right. Chozick forced himself to remain calm. He sipped his drink. "Tell me something, Rex ... How are we doing where parts are concerned? When was the last time you received a shipment from Orko?"

  "It's overdue," Ember admitted. "But don't worry -- I'm on it."

  But Chozick was worried. The fact that Orko hadn't sent any parts could mean nothing or everything. What if the idiot had been caught somehow? And spilled his guts? Worse yet what if the brass knew about his attempts to ransom the skeleton? The meeting scheduled for the next day could be a trick. A way to get him alone where he'd be vulnerable.

  Chozick stood, his leg struck the table, and a drink spilled. "Pay the bill. We're leaving."

  ***

  Smith felt nervous as he, Josy, and Tola-Sa made their way through crowded corridors. And for good reason. A lot was riding on the upcoming meeting. If Chozick showed up, and if they could grab him, it might be possible to avoid a battle. Or, if they had to fight, it would be easier to win.

  Smith was in civilian clothes as was Josy. Tola-Sa was dressed in a hood, voluminous cloak, and boots. His size caused him to stand out, but not as much as one might expect, since all manner of exotic beings walked the halls of Orb 1.

  A short trip down a side corridor took them to a plain door and a sign that read, NOOL HANDRA, SHIPPING BROKER. Once inside they were greeted by a diminutive Thrakie who was wearing too much makeup. She sent them back to a door which slid out of the way. They entered a dimly lit room and Smith was about to speak, when six men attacked. They were dressed in black and had been waiting in the shadows.

  It was a small space, so there was very little room in which to maneuver. Smith felt a burning sensation as an energy bolt slicked across his cheek, heard a thud as Tola-Sa punched a man in the face, and realized that Chozick wasn't going to show up.

  But there was no time to pursue that line of thought as one of the hired thugs wrapped his fingers around Josy's throat and she head butted him. Blood was pouring out of his nose as the man reeled backwards and Smith kicked him in the groin. The spacer fell, clutching his privates and suffered even more when Tola-Sa accidentally stepped on his head.

  The Hudathan was having a good time until a Human stabbed him in the right arm. Tola-Sa uttered a grunt of rage, took hold of the handle, and jerked the blade free. Then having secured a grip on his opponent's throat, Tola-Sa drove the knife down through the top of the Human's skull. The body joined others on the floor.

  Meanwhile Smith had an arm around another man's throat. Josy kicked the thug in the knee and kicked it again as Smith let go. "That's enough," Smith said as the man began to whimper. "Mercy is a virtue."

  "Mercy is stupid," Josy said, while allowing herself one last kick. She looked for another opponent but the battle was over. Bodies, most of which were dead, littered the floor. Smith was still in the process of learning to interpret Hudathan facial expressions but was pretty sure that Tola-Sa looked happy.

  "The door is locked," Josy said, as she tried it for a second time.

  "I have the key," Tola-Sa assured her, as a gigantic boot hit the door.

  It crumpled and gave way when Smith pushed on it. He was ready to grab the Thraki who had been sitting at the front desk but she was gone. "Come on," he said. "Let's find citizen Handra. There's an excellent chance that he knows where Chozick is.”

  Smith turned to Josy. "Contact the ship. Tell Lieutenant Noll to place the entire company on high alert -- and send two cyborgs out to join us. We might need some additional muscle. Once they show up on the security monitors the cops will freak out, so we might as well contact them now."

  To their credit, the station's security beings responded quickly. They took one look at the room full of bodies and were about to arrest everyone in sight when the T-2s arrived. That, plus Smith's threat to declare martial law, left the police officers with no choice but to cooperate. And with their assistance, Smith found Handra and his daughter in a short period of time. There weren't that many places to hide so they had taken refuge in the suite of rooms which Handra maintained on C deck.

  Having cornered the Thraki, Smith suggested that Tola-Sa handle the interrogation. That prospect was enough to scare the hell out of Handra who hurried to spill his guts. Chozick was on Long Jump in a town called Sunrise. Plan A had ended in failure. It was time to try Plan B.

  ***

  Aboard the freighter Chicago

  The Chicago shook violently as the ship continued its descent through Long Jump's atmosphere. Only eight hours had passed since the battle on the space station and Smith was worried. Based on information supplied by Citizen Handra they had been able to locate Lieutenant Ember. Like Handra, he broke after spending a few minutes with Tola-Sa and told them all about Sunrise, the mine, and the additional troops Chozick had.

  Smith's thoughts were
interrupted as the Captain's voice came over the intercom. "Okay, everybody ... Hang onto your panties. It looks like they spotted us. Evasive maneuvers will begin now.”

  The bottom of Smith's stomach seemed to disappear as the Chicago fell like a stone. Then the freighter was underway again and seemingly headed straight up. Gee forces pushed the legionnaire down into his seat and someone threw up as loose items hit the deck. That was followed by what felt like an extreme roller coaster ride.

  But the evasive maneuvers didn't work. Something hit the Chicago and hit it hard. Alarms began to hoot and howl. Smith uttered a silent prayer. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me ..."

  The prayer wasn't enough. "We're going in!" the Captain shouted over the intercom. "Hang on!"

  Suddenly the ship rolled and Smith found himself hanging upside down in his harness. Then the freighter flipped right side up again and hit hard. Intermittent screeching sounds were heard as the Chicago hit the ground and skipped like a stone on a pond. It landed one more time and coasted to a stop.

  Every second would count, and Smith knew it as he hit the harness release. "This is Nine," he said, chinning the mike. "They will attack from the air ... Every cyborg who can will exit the ship and form an AA network. Fire when ready.

  "Able bodied bio bods will follow the borgs and seek cover. Leave the wounded on the ship. That's an order. Over."

  It was cold and Smith knew there was a very real chance that people would die as a result of his order. But the Chicago was a sitting duck. And if it were destroyed everyone would die. The wounded and the medics alike. And if Smith lost the medics, then other causalities would die later on. He was playing God and hated it. Daylight flooded the hold as both the port and starboard hatches opened. Having positioned herself next to the starboard hatch, Josy yelled, "Go! Go! Go!"