On Point Read online

  At the stairs, I stepped up with my left leg and dragged my right after it. As I hobbled up the risers, I began to worry. If I took longer than five minutes and the Marines didn’t wait for the shooting to start, I’d be on the staircase when they attacked.

  A Troop’s head hung over the railing for two seconds then disappeared. After the third peek, it became obvious the lookout was nervous. And why not? They didn’t know the size of the Marine unit that took out three of their comrades. It made me happy for a moment before I realized they may have over compensated.

  I reached the landing and moved around it keeping my back to the bulkhead. Thankfully, the lookout never gazed in my direction. His eyes were focused on the bottom of the staircase.

  In addition to the watcher, nine Troops and two Constabulary officers stood spread out across the top of the stairs. There was no room for me to squeeze by undetected.

  ***

  I stood two steps down facing a line of big muscles and kinetic rifles. They say intrinsically knowing the time was a sign of intelligence. It doesn’t describe me as I had no idea of how much time had passed since I left the Marines.

  Then, Tsubasa had a dizzy spell. How did I know? There was a soft click from below as his rifle’s stock tapped the wall of the corridor.

  The Troop on sentry duty jerked upright and stepped away from the railing. His officer tossed both arms in the air out of frustration. She pointed at another Troop and motioned for him to take the frightened lookout’s place.

  You always gave the dirt jobs to the foul-ups. Putting your face over a rail knowing an enemy force was moving towards you certainly qualified as a dirty job. I was grateful to the undisciplined Troop.

  The replacement lookout stepped back leaving an opening in their formation. Two steps up and I slid into the gap. Undetected, I emerged behind their picket line and headed for cover.

  I limped to the intersecting corridor as fast as my stiff leg allowed. Four steps around the corner, I glanced around to be sure I was alone. Stripping off the Knight’s doublet let me pull out the rifle. After stuffing the trousers and hooded doublet into the holder, I eased back to the corner and clicked off the safety.

  ***

  Every successful attack required a strategy. The obstacle was the removal of ten Troops with rifles and two Constabulary officers with pistols. I studied the broad backs and the normal sized ones and tried to think of an attack plan. My objective was to clear enough of them so Meinard and Tsubasa could engage without getting butchered on the steps.

  Do I start with the officers and take out the command? But, that would leave ten rifles aimed downward targeting the Marines. Do I start with the middle Troops? The ones on the ends could use the stair posts as cover. At least those who didn’t turn around and come after me. Despite my mental gymnastics, I didn’t have a plan.

  Then, the time for planning ended as kinetic rounds pinged off the ceiling. The five minutes were up. Meinard and Tsubasa had begun their assault up the stairs.

  I triggered a sonic grenade and sent it into the back of a Troop. He toppled out of sight. Jacking in another, I sighted on the next Troop. His back exploded and he tumbled down the stairs joining his squad mate.

  Switching to the forty-five kinetic rounds, I shot another Troop in the back of his neck. He was a big one and I didn’t know if it killed him. It certainly put him out of this fight.

  One of the Constabulary officers spun around and fired at me. I wanted to pull back to safety, I really did. But, there were two brave Marines charging up a staircase into the fire from eight rifles. I didn’t pull back. But I’m not crazy so I didn’t simply stand there trading rounds.

  I dropped flat and from the deck, cut the officer’s legs from under her. Shifting quickly, I shot another Troop in the lower back. His armor absorbed the first two rounds. The last two ripped through the weakened armor and into his spine. He fell sideways and spoiled the aim of the Troop next to him.

  Suddenly, there were four rifles and a pistol targeting me. On a good note, that left only three Troops blocking the stairs. The bad was obvious. I was exposed in the hallway.

  ***

  I pushed back and jumped to my feet. Running to the nearest hatch, I pushed through, leaned my back against the wall, and inhaled deeply. Jacking in a grenade, I spun back to the hatchway. I shoved my muzzle through and triggered a burst to slow them down. The hatch pinged with incoming and I pulled back. Squatting down, I leaned the rifle and my face out of the hatch.

  The Constabulary officer was standing in the intersection to the rear of the advancing Troops. She seemed confused as her head pivoted from the staircase to the corridor. With the Marines advancing and me partially barricaded, the Constabulary officer needed to consolidate her units and concentrate on the biggest menace. Her problem, she didn’t know which direction was the primary threat.

  I relieved her of having to make the decision. The grenade at this range flew directly to her chest.

  Troops were pack creatures. I’ve witnessed them become confused when their leader was taken out. Until now, it had been in warships. I watched as the four Troops facing me glanced at one another to see who was in charge. It took a second for one to point at me with his rifle indicating their target and that he had assumed the leadership position. A single second. Enough time for me to stitch the new leader across his knees and thighs. He crumpled and the three remaining Troops stopped.

  Before another Alpha could proclaim the title, I shot another Troop. Then the last two stumbled forwards, faltered and fell to the deck.

  “Friendly coming in,” shouted Meinard.

  “Come!” I replied while standing and stepping through the hatchway.

  ***

  The Lance Corporal stepped around the corner with his rifle cradled in his right arm like a big game hunter. Looking at the large bodies of the dead and wounded Troops on the deck, it was a justifiable analogy. In Meinard’s left hand was a Constabulary pistol.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “There was this dead officer at the stairs,” he explained. “She was a mess and didn’t need the hand cannon. So, I took it. It shoots nice.”

  The last he proclaimed while pointing at the two wounded Troops with the barrel of the pistol.

  “I can see that,” I said. “Aren’t we missing someone?”

  “Tsubasa is watching the stairs,” Meinard said loudly. Then he took five steps forward and whispered, “He’s not doing well, Lieutenant. I told him to wait for the signal but he started up the stairs before I could stop him.”

  “I heard his rifle’s stock hit the bulkhead,” I informed Meinard.

  “Because he stumbled. But he didn’t act dizzy,” explained Meinard. “I don’t think he can see. At least out of his right eye.”

  “How about you? How is the hand?” I asked.

  “It hurts but the thing that chews my butt,” he growled. “My rifle is empty and I can’t reload.”

  I reached out and pulled a charged magazine from his vest. Without taking the rifle from the crook of his arm, I removed the expended one and inserted a fresh magazine.

  “Thank you, Sir,” he said as he walked to the wounded Troops.

  He pulled the trigger and didn’t stop until the pistol pinged empty.

  “The Marine sector is down this corridor,” Meinard said as he tossed the pistol to the deck. “We’ve got this side barricaded. Once we’re close, we’ll call for them to make a hole.”

  “Private First Class Tsubasa! We are moving,” I called out.

  “On the way, Lieutenant,” he answered.

  He attempted to hide it but Tsubasa was a little slow in dropping his arm. I could tell the Marine used the bulkhead to feel for the corner. Once at the intersection, he squared the corner and marched towards me.

  “Lance Corporal Meinard take point. It’s your show from here,” I said as the PFC neared me. “Tsubasa. I’m a little banged up from the assault. Stay near me in case I need help.”


  “Sure thing, Lieutenant,” Tsubasa said. “And nice job getting behind the Constabulary.”

  “Meinard, lead us out,” I ordered while leaning on Tsubasa’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “No problem Lieutenant, lean on me. You’ll be fine,” the blind Marine assured me.

  “Moving,” announced Meinard with a nod of approval.

  We marched down the corridor towards the Marine sector.

  Chapter 5

  A squad of Marines came through the hole. Three stopped in front of us with their weapons leveled at our chests. The rest of the squad flowed past us and took up positions watching the corridor.

  “Relax, Sergeant,” Meinard said letting his rifle hang from the sling. Then he lifted his face shield. “Lance Corporal Meinard, Private First Class Tsubasa and Senior Lieutenant Piran reporting in. He’s Navy, but a good man in a fight.”

  The NCO studied us as if he could judge our allegiance by appearance. I helped him by displaying my officer’s tab.

  “Where are the rest of Nahia’s squads,” he demanded.

  He was keyed up. I couldn’t tell if it was his natural demeanor or if something else was bothering him.

  “I assume you are asking Lance Corporal Meinard,” I sneered. “Because if you are addressing me, a Sir is required. Sergeant.”

  “Lieutenant, we’ve had a lot of infiltrators,” he replied. “I’ve lost a lot of good Marines by not being suspicious.”

  “Then, let me help you,” I said. “Your supply drop has been compromised. Corporal Nahia’s unit was ambushed by a heavy unit of Constabulary Troops. Meinard, Tsubasa and I have just fought our way across an enemy sector to deliver Nahia’s message. Both Meinard and Tsubasa require medical attention. And, I’m hungry.”

  “Sir, I’m not sure…” he began when a voice called from the hole in the barricade.

  “Why is the barricade open?” demanded the voice.

  A moment later, Sergeant Bima came strutting between the metal boxes. He stopped and with his hard gaze, eyeballed the situation. Finally, he settled on me.

  “Lieutenant Piran. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in a proper Navy uniform,” he said. “Are you undercover, again?”

  “No Sergeant. But, it’s a sneak and peek mission,” I replied. “So, no uniform this time either.”

  Bima studied the Sergeant in charge of the barricade and the man’s posture. There was tension between the two NCOs.

  “Lance Corporal Meinard. Tell me what Lieutenant Piran has done since you met him,” demanded Bima.

  The Lance Corporal shifted his eyes and shuffled a foot. He obviously wasn’t sure what Bima expected. When he settled on me, I smiled and nodded to encourage him.

  “Lieutenant Piran hooked and removed a Constabulary machine-gun during a firefight. Led us in assaulting a staircase,” reported Meinard. “Got behind the blockade on the second staircase and helped Tsubasa and me along the way. Is there something I missed?”

  Bima’s face didn’t change expression as he glared at the Sergeant in charge of the blockade. Something unspoken passed between the NCOs.

  “In my experience and from the stories told by my Marines,” Bima replied. “I am not surprised. Sergeant, pull in the squad and seal that barricade. You three on me.”

  Bima did a parade ground worthy about-face and marched between the metal boxes. I rested a hand on Tsubasa’s shoulder and we followed with Meinard bringing up the rear.

  On the far side, we circled around a heavy weapon emplacement and climbed into a four-wheeled vehicle. Meinard helped Tsubasa into a rear seat before walking around and climbing in on the other side.

  “Nahia needs reinforcements,” I said as I slid into the passenger side.

  “And mules,” Tsubasa added. “Lots of supplies to move.”

  “Let’s get you to the CP and these Marines to medical,” Bima stated. “We’ll discuss the Corporal’s needs there with our Captain.”

  As the electronic cart pulled away, I looked at Bima. On my last trip to Construction station, I’d been impressed by the Sergeant. As the Sergeant of the Guard, he’s been by the book but concerned about the Marines under his care. Later as the leader of a quick reaction force, the short in statue but tough as nails Marine, had regretted the early withdrawal of a rebel force. He wanted his Marines to take a bite out of them. In one situation he wore an immaculate dress blue uniform. In the other, his battle utilities were starched and pressed. Now, the starch in the utilities was faded, but the starch in the man was still present.

  The cart stopped in front of a cargo left. Bima climbed out and marched to the control panel. Before the large doors finished opening, the Sergeant climbed back into the vehicle and drove us into the lift.

  ***

  “Who are you?” demanded the Marine Corps’ Captain.

  I couldn’t begrudge the anger from the Marine officer. He was propped up on a cot located in the communication’s center. One of his legs shook with nervous energy. The other leg couldn’t respond to the tension. It was heavily bandaged at mid thigh. His lower leg was missing.

  “Senior Lieutenant Phalen Oscar Piran, Galactic Council Navy, Captain,” I reported while flashing my officer’s tab. “Sergeant Bima is at sickbay with Lance Corporal Meinard and PFC Tsubasa. He said he’d be along shortly.”

  “Captain Kamari Djamila. And Lieutenant, you are dressed in Constabulary collaborator colors,” he said while sliding a pistol out of its holster. “New question. What are you doing here?”

  The nervous leg didn’t affect his aim. The pistol was steady and pointed directly at my chest.

  “Captain Djamila, easy there. The Navy sent me to gather intelligence on the strength and disbursement of your Marines,” I said, then realized what it sounded like.

  I can be dense. The information was just as valuable to the Constabulary as it was to Naval Command. For different reasons but, the information I requested combined with the gray suit weren’t helpful in convincing the Captain of my good intentions.

  “Back up and sit in that chair,” he directed with the muzzle of the weapon. “Slowly.”

  I held my hands out and stepped back until my legs touched the chair. Easing down, I waved my arms indicating a request to lower them.

  “Lace your fingers together and place them between your knees,” Djamila instructed.

  Captain Djamila had experience in dealing with prisoners. As the company commander of Marines Guard Echo Company on Construction station, it would be a necessity. At lease I wasn’t on my knees with my fingers laced behind my neck.

  “So, you want to know the strength of my Company and the positions of my Marines?” he sneered. “Maybe I can supply you with a list of our wounded. And, the level of our supplies to boot?”

  Sarcasm was for idiots. Irony, on the other hand, was a different matter.

  “Yes Captain, that’s exactly the information I require,” I replied with a smile.

  Take that Captain Sarcastic, I thought. I was losing patience with this part of my mission. Plus, I was hungry and bone weary from the flight in, the march across the station, and the combat.

  My eyes closed and I let my head lull and my shoulder slump. The Captain didn’t know I was a former enlisted Marine, and Marines can sleep anywhere in any position.

  “We’re having a conversation, Piran,” the Captain demanded. “Look at me.”

  Lifting my head, I stared at him for a second before answering, “No Djamila. You’re making stupid statements at me. In no way is this a conversation. If you wanted a conversation, instead of accusing me of being a Constabulary spy, you’d ask about the activities of the Galactic Council Navy and the Marine Corps.”

  Then I glanced around the communication’s center. There were no radio personnel, guards, or office POGs. Even at the entrance, when Bima dropped me off, there had been only one Marine sentry.

  “Captain Djamila. Just how bad is the situation here?” I asked softly.

  “I thought we settled th
at,” he replied.

  “No. What we settled was you don’t trust me,” I said closing my eyes and dropping my chin. “Wake me when Sergeant Bima gets here.”

  ***

  “Oh my god, Captain, did you shoot him?” a voice cried from the doorway.

  I recognized Bima’s voice but not the panicked tone. It was odd coming from the usually stoic Sergeant. Just because I was feeling ornery, I played dead and remained slumped over in the chair.

  “Of course not, Sergeant,” Djamila assured him. “Although with his attitude, I should have. Can you vouch for this man?”

  “From past experience, I can assure you, Lieutenant Piran is one of us,” Bima stated. “And more recently, from Meinard and Tsubasa. They claim this Navy officer saved a lot of Marines’ lives by taking out a Constabulary machine-gun. Overall Sir, I’d say the Lieutenant is legitimate.”

  “Piran. Do you want to quit pretending that you’re asleep?” asked Djamila. “And join us in an info dump?”

  “No,” I replied. “Not until I put something into my stomach. And don’t suggest an energy bar.”

  ***

  “Tell me about the invasion of Construction station,” I suggested before shoving another spoonful of beef stew into my mouth. And added as I chewed, “Navy command doesn’t have any information. The Constabulary started the radio blackout and communications suppression as soon as their Carrier entered orbit.”

  “What’s a Carrier?” asked Djamila.

  The Galactic Council Navy didn’t have Carriers. Fighting pirates and the occasional rebel force didn’t require a massive number of warships brought to the battle.

  “A specialized ship for ferrying Fighters and Patrol Boats,” I explained. “A Carrier can bring a lot of assets to a space engagement. However, as far as the Navy knows, it doesn’t have significant ground forces. That’s why command was surprised when the Constabulary took Construction station so quickly and easily.”