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| See below for photo credits. |
When the initial Unfriendly landing began, all the
small contingent in Deneb City could do was to withdraw. Their other options
were to fight and be overwhelmed, or simply surrender.
No one had been able to think of a
fourth option.
With only six hundred Confederation troops on the
whole planet, their number one priority was to preserve their force and to
maintain a presence.
Their command post in the small town of Roussef had
been selected in some haste. Dona was pleased to see that they hadn’t taken the
biggest hotel in the middle of town. That would have been a little too easy.
Not just for them but for the enemy. City Hall, the police station, any
substantial building, were pretty obvious targets and the Unfriendlies would
have all the usual strike weapons.
Sooner or later, those would be attempted—
Before then, all of the most obvious targets would
have to be cleared of military and civil populations.
The small cavalcade arrived in front of a large,
industrial warehouse on the outskirts of the town.
The big truck doors along one side were open and the
vehicles drove straight in. All the machines, grinders, cutters, jigs and other
industrial equipment had been uprooted and jammed together in the far end of
the building. It looked to have been a pretty big welding and fabrication shop,
an impression reinforced by racks of angle-iron, channel-section steel and the
low stacks of steel plate laying on squared baulks of timber on the ground
outside.
Their business was the manufacture of steel trusses and pre-fabricated
buildings by the look of some unfinished work hastily cleared into the
outdoors.
Pulling up in front of the heavily sandbagged office
section of the facility, everyone got out and headed up a half-flight of steps
into a large, well-lit room full of computer screens, people wearing headsets,
and the backup display units of defensive systems. All the exterior windows had
been blacked out for night-time operations. Interior windows looked out onto
the shop floor, dimly lit by the yellow orbs of the overhead fixtures. There
were curtains for those windows as well, as people and vehicles would be coming
and going by night. The sandbagging was internal, so as not to give anything
away to air or space-borne observation.
She would have speak to people about blackout operations.
Just one more thing, or rather, one of many things, as there were going to be
problems with infrared and radio traffic as well.
Even laser wasn’t one-hundred
percent secure. When the enemy got closer, sonic detection might play a role.
The thing there was that the enemy had to attack, while the Confederation would
most likely sit tight, keep quiet and prepare to defend. It was a case of
reading the enemy’s mind, a tough thing in any operation of any size at all.
“Come this way please.”
On the other side of the room was a series of smaller
offices and conference rooms, where presumably, the Major would be found. The
lieutenant had the com unit up to her ear and led the way to a door near the
end of the row.
There were three or four officers and troopers in the
room. The one behind the desk stood up.
The lieutenant made the introductions.
“Major Taylin, This is Lieutenant-Colonel Graham and
Captain Aaron. Unless you need me for something else—”
“No, that’s fine, Lieutenant. Welcome ladies, and
gentlemen, and congratulations.”
“Thank you, Major. Or Colonel, as soon as you’re on
your way. Congratulations on your own reassignment. Our condolences regarding
Colonel Race, incidentally.” The former commander had died of a sudden heart
attack.
Her brief said that his people had liked him and she
sort of had to accept that at face value.
For the sake of military propriety, Taylin’s promotion
would take effect as soon as he cleared ground.
 |
| Courtesy the Confederation Department of Defense. |
This simplified the present relationship.
“What’s the situation? I understand the pilots want to
take off within the hour—”
“Thank you. A lot of our people are new, but I’ve made
a few friends here. I will miss them.” The major paused, standing in front of a
genuine paper map, several sheets pieced together on the otherwise featureless
rear wall of the room. “There’s a fair bit of information, so let’s get
started.”
In his early forties, making colonel might have been a
bit of a relief in a career that hadn’t been going too far too fast. Not until
his commanding officer died, and then the Unfriendlies came down. At which
point he’d handled the situation with few losses and keeping the force’s
capabilities sharp and relevant. All of a sudden he had a lot more seniority
than people like Graham, and he had been needed elsewhere. This might have
explained his rapid departure from a mission he presumably knew well enough.
“As for the situation. Nothing much has changed since
our last report. We’ve concentrated our force here, with small detachments in
surrounding villages. We’re keeping an eye on the sky and the road network. The
most important detachment is about seventy kilometres southeast of here, in
Walzbruch.” Founded by Poles, the town was a support centre for the mining of
heavy metals, with the several active mines in the area a strategic resource in
this sector of the galaxy.
Right out of the book, in other words, and sometimes
that was a good thing.
“We’ve got two platoons down there, providing security
and making sure our civilian friends carry out the demolitions properly, which
they have agreed to do.” There weren’t a whole lot of qualified people
available, civil or military, and there was plenty of work to be done.
The door opened and a lance-corporal stuck her head
in. On seeing the new faces, she entered fully and saluted.
“Sir? Your bags are all packed. We’re pretty sure we
haven’t missed anything.” She eyed a small stack of boxes just inside the
doorway. “We’ll start loading that now, sir, if that’s all right.”
“Carry on, thank you.” The Major would be taking the
Colonel’s body and personal effects along, as well as a few troopers whose
contracts had expired.
Some people had chosen not to re-up and that was their
option, especially so as transport was available to get off-planet. The cut in
pay from combat status to available
status might have been worth it to them, for any number of reasons. Some people
specialized in security and police duties. They tended to live longer and even
have families—sometimes. Some had never envisaged anything other than a short
term contract—the old five years and then out sort of thing. A five-year hitch
and then an honourable discharge qualified a person for the minimum of
pensions—little better than subsistence, but people had signed on for less.
They could have contributed the max out of pay and thought it was time to go—
With the Confederation’s mandatory savings program and
the honourable discharge bonus, it represented a small grub-stake for their new
civilian life.
They didn’t always have to have a reason.
The corporal spoke into her unit. More troopers
appeared to do the actual lifting. They each grabbed a box and headed out
again. Presumably, the Colonel was all boxed-up and around there
somewhere—probably down at the food-processing plant.
That would be the biggest meat-locker in town.
Her own com-unit buzzed. The others would wait.
“Yes?”
“Chan here. We’re just clearing the last of the
crates. The vehicles are all out, no problems in start-up. They’re green for
go. The pilots are inquiring after our passengers.”
“Roger that. They’re on their way.”
She looked at the others in the room.
“Well. Goodbye and good luck, Major. As for the rest
of you, briefing in fifteen minutes. All senior officers down to sergeants.
Carry on.”
With a slight air of sadness, the Major indicated a
seat behind the desk, which was now hers and hers alone.
That’s why they called it the hot-seat.
“We’ve got a bit of time here, Colonel, so let’s go
over a few more things.”
“Yes. Thank you. Major. Take all the time you need.
The ship’s not going anywhere without you.”
***
With such a small force, those officers on scene all
fit into a moderately-sized conference room.
The commanders of remote detachments were watching and
listening from their own positions via tight-beam laser, bounced back and forth
from a satellite above.
With their bright and eager faces on the screens
bolted high up on the walls all around the perimeter, it was a chance to get to
know each other as much as anything else.
Colonel Graham had begun the briefing by letting the
officers on the ground explain the situation.
Lieutenant Wheeler was up first. Her specialty was
administration and organization according to Dona’s notes.
The biggest screen displayed a map, a rectangular
section snipped from a radius of about three hundred kilometres.
“Okay. We’ve sent detachments here, here and here. In
order to provide adequate security here in Roussef, we’ve already committed a
sizable proportion of our force. We have no choice but to keep Deneb City and
the spaceport under observation. That’s a very small force. Before his
unfortunate passing, the colonel decided to make sure the some of the major
mine equipment is destroyed. He lived just long enough to see the Unfriendlies
come down…we believe he had been ailing for some time, but his medical records
are none of my business—that’s for sure. That’s Highway Three that I am
referring to, and don’t ask us about the numbering system. That’s actually a
bit further up the road from Walzbruch. There are a couple of big operations
and a handful of smaller operators. However, even though it’s the long way
around, a strong detachment at the road junction prevents surprise attack. It’s
a base for farther patrols. It provides security for the locals and might even
be the basis of our own counterattack. The enemy has to take any mobile force with access to almost
any good road fairly seriously. At least until they determine its strength and
composition. They will have little choice but to provide a blocking force…the
mines are a strategic target. Essentially, if they can beat us, it’s winner
take-all. Surveys indicate the system is resource-rich by comparative
standards. Arable land has always
been precious. Anyways. Moving on. With only one direct main road between here
and Deneb City, it implies the threat of an outflanking maneuver.” This was
true for combatants on either side…
There were exactly three paved roads on Deneb, not
counting those within city or town limits.
Everything else was improved dirt and gravel, clay
roads or simple tracks through the bush.
Some of those tracks, still visible from space or
airborne observation, had been used exactly once. Some tracks dated from the
early days of colonization, and some had probably been made yesterday.
Satellite maps were updated hourly.
Graham nodded.
“I don’t have a problem with any of that. What’s with
this place here—” She highlighted it with a touch of her stylus.
The village was about forty-five kilometres north of
Roussef. The first part of the road, numbered one-twelve, was paved, then it
turned to ‘improved gravel’, whatever that meant.
The creeks and ravines were
bridged. A thin straggle of settlement followed much of its length, leading out
of Roussef and closer to Ryanville with a barren, unpopulated stretch roughly
halfway between them.
“Ryanville was one of the early settlements. There’s
good hydro-power there and the original lumber-mill is still in existence,
although it’s small. Half the buildings of any size on Deneb use Ryanville wood
products, studs, plywood, sub-flooring and the like.” They had a fleet of
trucks.
Some products went by air to outlying settlements, and
didn’t come cheap.
“Go on.”
“It’s a hunting and fishing community. There’s some
tourism. People make a living from it. It’s the centre of its own little
network of roads, petering out into what is essentially a temperate rain forest
up there. The median elevation is a good thousand metres higher and that makes
a big difference in terms of both rain and snowfall.” According to Lieutenant
Wheeler, the Terran population was about thirty-six hundred, with another few
thousand dispersed over a few hundred square kilometres.
Nothing uncommon for a pioneering world. The whole
planet had a population of less than a million, possibly a billion natives on
top of that. No one had ever done a real census.
“It’s late summer now and probably the nicest weather
we see all year. Spring is wet and windy, summer is insufferably hot even at
this elevation. Winter is as cold as hell. Late summer and early autumn can be
glorious. It isn’t always, or so we have been told. The orbit is slightly
eccentric, with multi-year cycles in terms of apogee and perihelion. None of us
have been on-planet for more than a year, a year and a half in some cases. But
when fall really rolls around, there is absolutely no doubt that winter is
coming.”
The skies would grow grey and dark and the rains would
come. After the rain, the mud, and then the big freeze-up.
This was hard on morale. Soldiers were nothing if not
people.
Graham knew the bulk of them were on three and
five-year contracts and that it had been a relatively happy command.
“Right.”
“The thing is, they also have an airport. Several
light aircraft, a handful of helicopters. Some small robotic cargo craft. We
felt that it was best to secure these assets and provide security up there as
well. It’s also close to the biggest village of one of the major tribes. There
are three or four actual towns up there. Nations, really. The native peoples
are pretty settled, and although it’s very much a subsistence economy, they’re
fairly prosperous as such things go. They don’t have to work too hard.
Producing a surplus of sorts allows them the luxury of warfare and religion. In
relative terms, a highly-advanced culture. They use iron and copper and basic
chemistry, without really understanding it. They’ve got some interesting toys,
without actually having invented gunpowder or the steam engine. When colonists
arrived, there wasn’t a single stone building on the planet. They say that has
changed due to imitation. It’s like they’d never even thought of it before.
Some sort of accident of cultural evolution, but there are one or two odd gaps
that aren’t accounted for by religious beliefs, for example. They like us for
some reason which no one can explain. They also appreciate firmness and directness
as opposed to double-talk and subterfuge. Before we got here, they were dealing
with strictly commercial enterprises…no comment on that one. I just don’t have
any real facts. The natives feel hard done by in certain cases, big dams,
open-pit mines and the like, which they may not have properly understood at the
time of the original treaty negotiations. They may have understood the
concepts, it was the scale that
shocked them. We can’t assume anything about the natives, except that they are
presently tolerating us as the political and economic situation currently
stands.”
“Very well. What about some of these other units.”
“Ah, yes, Colonel. We have observation posts set up
along any passable road. The locals can’t help but be aware of them—a vehicle
that is clearly military pulls up and starts cutting brush for camouflage,
well. We’re going to leave tracks going off the road, and depending how wet it
is, and how deep the ruts are, it’s not that easy to conceal. It sticks out
like a sore thumb. They know their own backyard and their own neighbourhood.
The roads are traveled pretty frequently. The distances are too far and no one
really walks anywhere on this planet.
Not Terrans, anyways. The teams do a bit of public relations and pick up
whatever intelligence they can. We’ve been pushing those forward incrementally,
and even in the real bush, up in the hills between here and Deneb City, we have
a perimeter, a light one, out as far as forty kilometres in the southwest.
That’s a hundred and fifty kilometres northwest of Deneb City.”
The thinking
there was that the troops could be pulled back fairly quickly, and that the
enemy was unlikely to try an overland penetration.
Not on foot, anyways.
Dona studied the map. There were all kinds of marked
tracks, the records of the planetary positioning systems going back forty or
fifty years.
Ninety percent of the planet’s population lived on
small, scattered farmsteads. With very little in the way of social services,
they were a pretty self-reliant bunch. This accounted for the spider-web of bad
roads and the ubiquitous all-terrain vehicles. When people got hungry, they
loaded up the gun, climbed into the vehicle, and went off looking for meat.
“They’ve been living by their wits for a very long
time.” With help so far away in any emergency, it didn’t pay to be too stupid
on Deneb, not for those outside of established settlements.
They saw everything that moved, and heard, or heard about, every damned little thing that
happened.
Graham studied the main map, zooming in to examine
villages, hamlets, crossroads, dead-end roads and tracks, swamps…hills, rivers
and terrain in general. Tiny black squares indicated houses, shacks, cabins,
barns…dotted lines for tracks through bush and swamp. A thin black line for a
serviced road, two black lines and a bit of grey for pavement. Bridges,
cuttings, lakes, rivers and dams, it was all there. The terrain reminded her of
somewhere…Appalachia, she decided.
Lots of long, narrow ridges interspersed with even
narrower valleys, due to the soft limestone bedrock and numberless torrential
streams running through them. To the south lay the Great Desert, and to the
north, some real lake and glacier country.
“How…how were all these little farmsteads,
ah…initiated.’
“The people were literally dropped off by air, with a
pile of supplies, tools and equipment.”
“Oh, my, God.”
“Yes. It’s surprising that they survived at all. Some
of them were organized groups, and some of them, a lot of them, were one family
or even just one person.”
Wow.
“Very well. Tell me about your weapons and equipment.”
The young Lieutenant looked around.
“Perhaps Lieutenant Tanguy would address this
question.”
“Right.” A burly young woman in forest-pattern
fatigues, Jerri Tanguy stepped forward as Lieutenant Wheeler moved aside.
She took a breath and a certain stance, then began.
“Okay. We have three teams in Deneb City. Two teams
with Barker anti-materiel weapons are southeast and southwest of the spaceport,
which is ten kilometres south of town. It’s open, flat country although there
is some light terrain-change.” Those were teams of six. “We have another team
on high ground watching the highway.”
With the latest scopes, plus remote sensors left in
place, they could see everything that moved.
Team Three in the city itself were dispersed over
three locations, in tall buildings with a view over the main drag and the city
centre complex of buildings. Teams of two. They slept in rotation, with someone
always on duty.
Graham studied the map.
“They have four Panthers, which are four-wheel drive
utility vehicles. They’re hidden in good cover, within the security screen of
each post. They’re good for about three-quarters of a metric ton and have
seating for five or six. They’re lightly-armed with automatic weapons. All
teams have one chemical mortar, one shoulder-fired anti-aircraft tube and an
assortment of personal weapons. Upon their own suggestion, they took a handful
of mines, grenades, and remote sensor pickups. They have deployed enough of
those to cover their own lines of retreat. Hopefully.” If the shortest line of
retreat was blocked, they could simply go to ground in broken country, or
abandon the vehicles and evade on foot. “They can give any pursuer a rough
time, that’s for sure.”
If necessary, they would seize civilian vehicles, leaving
an official receipt.
Graham nodded. Panthers were pretty common. In
addition to having used them once or twice, she’d taken the time to look them
up. Powered by fuel cells and electric motors, they could climb a
seventy-degree slope if the ground was right. They were fast, reliable, easy to
fix and anyone with legs and arms could drive them. Park them in the sun, and
they would recharge in about three statute hours under local planetary
conditions.
She had about a million questions.
“Do we have autumn camouflage?”
“Uh, yes, Colonel. That’s a lot of pinks and greys and
browns. We have good winter stuff too—proper snow-suits, insulated boots,
helmet-covers, you name it. Lubricants, self-heating rations, everything we
need.”
“Okay. Now, what about Walzbruch.”
“We sent two platoons of B Company. There were a few
civilian police and a squad there already. They have a small militia
detachment—weekend soldiers, some of them have some training. A few came up
from Deneb City as well, and they’re quartered in the gymnasium of a local high
school. For the most part, it’s a bit of a beer-drinking club. They have boots
and uniforms and some light weapons. They drill on Thursday nights, do light
maneuvers on weekends, and have a big role in the Independence Day parades. A
couple of antique armored cars—those are the guys from Deneb City. They
buggered off about the same time we did. Ah. Back to our own troops. They’re
all equipped in similar fashion, Confederation-standard infantry rig. We also
have trailered anti-air and anti-missile defense systems with the attendant
radar and infrared detection systems.” They had to be able to defend
themselves, and at the same time, the equipment was not expendable. “They’re
hidden in the hills overlooking Deneb City. With luck, we can get some people
back there. They might be able to withdraw on back roads.”
They had the bare minimum and not much more. A few
extra clips per trooper was the best they could do.
“What about the civilian police?”
“They’re on our side. As far as we know. They’re
private, corporate police, mostly responsible for site security,
anti-pilfering, things like that.” They had agreed to the necessity of
destroying some of the plant equipment and were cooperating. “Every company has
their own force, with the biggest company, TiCor,
sort of taking leadership.” Tanguy took a breath. “It’s a civil government.
When my little group landed a few months ago, about forty of us, the civilian
police, private and public, met us at the airport and welcomed us with every
appearance of sincerity.”
“Hmn.”
Walzbruch was very much a company town, Deneb City not
much better. Roussef had a good mix of light industry, with no really big
player to dominate the market or politically.
“And their vehicles?” Dona meant the Confederation troops.
“Half a dozen Panthers, six-by-six trucks and the
heavy transporters of the Mongoose missile systems.” All vehicles had
self-driving capability, with autonomous defense systems…food for thought
there. “We’ve got some Pumas, which are basically good for half a ton and
three, four people.”
The Mongoose could be used for air defence, but it was
more suitable for surface-to-surface work. The warhead was big, far more than
that required for air defence. It was also high-explosive, not so much the
ball-bearings or chains of metal mesh thrown by air-to-air missiles.
“What else.”
“Light arms, Barkers, machine guns and three light
anti-tank tubes. Those are mounted on Panthers.” The small arms were equipped
with grenade launchers and a good number had night-scopes. “The tubes have been
dismounted, and set up in good ambush positions.”
A guard rotated through the missile positions, all of
them qualified to lay and fire the system, and it would be set on auto in the
event of a withdrawal. Heaven help anyone that came along after that…innocent
or guilty.
Two platoons and a few already stationed there. That
would be about fifty people, armed with the latest in VR combat technology. The
local cops and maybe a few more militia.
The VR sets had all the latest anti-detection,
anti-glint technology. The great thing about Panthers was the ability to
bolt-on any light weapon system in a matter of minutes.
The thing to do was to leave them in place until the
enemy made a move…
Wheeler was talking about the anti-tank capability of
the Barker.
“It’s a nice scope, the eye-piece is really soft
rubber and it keeps the light out—and in, when you really need it at night.”
“I see. Who’s in command down there and what are they
reporting?”
“That’s Lieutenant Sallet. Sergant Kawaii is in charge
of the second platoon. The original squad has been re-absorbed. First Platoon.
Basically, we’re just talking to the people. Travelers and anyone coming up
from the big city are saying that the Unfriendlies have taken over in Deneb
City, using main government buildings, the police station, et cetera. The enemy
is digging in, mostly in defence of the spaceport, although they’ve sited some
artillery pieces to command the approaches.” All they could do was to check
civilian ID and backstories insofar as that was available on a pioneering
planet without much social-media infrastructure.
The civilians were not happy
with the presence of the Unfriendlies, but in no real position to resist.
So far, no one really suspicious had come up the road.
The situation could be described as fluid.
Dona studied the icons on the main map screen. A
battery here, a command post there…the main road between the port and the city.
“Colonel.”
“Yes?”
A trooper stood up from his desk, holding onto
something as he was blind to the real world in his headset.
“They’re coming, Colonel.”
(End
of Part Four.)
Photo 1:
Photo 2: The Confederation Department of Defense.
Photo 3:
Photo 4:
Photo 5: The Confederation Public Communications Office.
Photo 6: Members of Team Three on operations on Deneb 7-a. CPCO.
Photo 7: Lieutenant-Colonel Dona Graham. CPCO.
Photo 8:
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