A Loss of Innocence, Part 5

“’Corporal,’ eh?” O’Leary said as she trotted beside me.  I could see her smile.  “Don’t screw it up, all right?”

I smiled back.  “I’ll try not to,” I said.  I glanced down at the tablet strapped to my forearm.  The next strong point was another hundred meters down the corridor.  As the curve of the station brought the intersection in sight, Johnson slowed and held a closed fist up in the air.  I rushed up beside him.  “What do you see?” I whispered.

Using a small mirror to peer past the last bit of the curve, we could see three Rak’Lan going carefully over our dead soldiers, methodically removing their web belts, harnesses, and weaponry.  They were unarmored.  “Do you think our people are dead or unconscious?” Johnson asked quietly. 

I shrugged.  I was in a quandary.  We had surprise on our side, which meant that we could round the corner, guns blazing, and take down the Rak’Lan.  However, we ran the risk of hurting our own people if we did so.  Grenades were definitely out.  “Those aren’t like the ones that attacked us earlier.  You think they’re scientist types?”

Johnson grinned at me.  “You’re the Corporal now.  Who knows?”

“Nice,” I replied.  I turned behind me and motioned O’Leary and Rosenberg forward.  Each of them took a moment to orient themselves with the Rak’Lan positions.  “Let’s do this quietly,” I said.  “We can’t see the cross corridor.  There could be a whole platoon stationed down there for cover.”  I slung my assault rifle and drew my sidearm.  Issued to us for this particular mission, it was a silenced pistol with a two-stage projectile.  The forty caliber slug was designed to impact against body armor (tested against Kevlar on Earth), then send a finger of hot gas and curare through, burning whatever was inside, then embalming it on the spot.  There was no telling if it would work on Rak’Lan armor, but for unarmored aliens, it should do the trick nicely.  The only sound it would make would be the clattering of the slide as the cartridge was ejected.

I keyed my radio.  “Dunkel, this is Collins.  First section’s real estate is occupied by three unarmored hostiles.  I am retaking the strong point.”

“Copy that, Collins. Good hunting.”

I nodded at Johnson, who slung his assault rifle and drew his own sidearm.  “The shot is going to be about forty meters.  Can you double-tap a target from that range?”  I pulled the slide back on my pistol as quietly as I could.

He nodded.  “San Francisco,” he said. 

“Hu-ah,” was the answer from behind us from O’Leary and Rosenberg.

“All right, boys and girls.  Covering positions from behind while Johnson and I step around the corner and take these bastards down.  Questions?”  They shook their heads and readied their weapons.

Johnson and I stepped around the curve in the corridor.  My pistol snapped up to the first target as I moved forward, and I put two rounds in the rightmost Rak’Lan, one center of mass, the other low in the head, just below where the nose would be.  I turned to the middle target, and the bullets from Johnson and I hit center of mass near simultaneously.  The Rak’Lan staggered as both of us fired rounds at the large head.  For a moment, it seemed almost like slow-motion as a mist of blood and tissue exploded out of the back of the Rak’Lan’s head.  It collapsed, it hands spasmodically clutching a marine web belt. 

Hurriedly, we holstered our pistols and brought our assault rifles to bear.   There was no movement from the cross corridor.  I gestured to Johnson, who moved forward.  I moved down the opposite wall.  Rosenberg and O’Leary followed at a cautious distance, ready to back us up with covering fire if necessary.  Both of us pulled mirrors from a sleeve pocket and checked our respective corridors while we covered each other. 

“Clear,” Johnson said.

“Clear,” I said.  I motioned to the other two.  “Take up position here.   O’Leary, check the casualties.  If you need ammo or grenades, grab it now.”  I keyed the comm.  “Dunkel, this is Collins.  I have retaken the strong point and deployed my squad.  Awaiting instructions.”

“Can you reach the LT, Collins?”

“Let me try, ma’am.”   I switched to the command frequency.  “LT, this is Collins, second section.  Do you copy?”  There was a brief hiss of static. “What was that, LT?  I couldn’t make it out.”  Another hiss of static answered me.  I switched frequencies back to the section.  “Dunkel, Collins.  I think that my transmission may be getting through, at least as static, but all I’m getting is noise in return.”

“Roger that, Collins.  Hold position until the LT returns.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  I turned to everyone else.  “You heard Dunkel.  We’ll each take a corridor and keep watch.  We’ll rotate every ten minutes to keep ourselves fresh.”

O’Leary handed me a spare magazine for my sidearm as well as two clips for my assault rifle.  She grinned sheepishly as she clipped three more grenades to her webbing.  She rapped my helmet with her knuckles before she took her position.  I couldn’t help but smile.

We settled in, each of us covering our own section of corridor.  Just to be safe, I had deployed Rosenberg to look back the way we came.  Just because there was not a readily apparent door or hatchway didn’t mean that there wasn’t one.  I didn’t want to be taken by surprise in the rear.  After ten minutes, we rotated counter-clockwise one position.  I exchanged an update with Dunkel.  All was quiet on her end as well.

The waiting was beginning to take its toll on my people.  I could see it in the way they were nervously shifting their weight back and forth.  When they thought I wasn’t watching, they were exchanging glances back and forth.  Johnson was obsessively checking that his magazine was seated firmly in his assault rifle.

How smart were the Rak’Lan?  Did they have the troops to sweep us out of the station?  Were they running a giant experiment on the impudent humans?  Did we truly have overwhelming force?  Did they turn turtle and use the bulk of their troops to protect essential systems?  Was our force disposition even applicable, since all it had ever been tested against was a human enemy?

The doubt began to gnaw at each of us, more so, since we were out on the sharp end, away from the strength of the rest of our squad.  Each of us knew that we had to hold the way open for the bulk of our platoon to have a valid avenue of retreat to the assault boat, but at the same time, we were expendable.  Our job was to make sure that the way stayed open, no matter what it took.  The two marines lying on the deck behind me gave mute testimony to cost of our job.

I began to long for anything to happen—an attack, contact with the LT, just something.  Sweat began to pour down my face.  I felt the burn of reflux in my throat.  It felt as though my sphincters had completely constricted.  The oppressiveness of the corridor, the dim lighting, it was all too much.  My mind started to spiral out of control.  Panic began to rise within me.

I glanced at my tablet.  Another ten minutes had passed.  It was time to rotate assignments again.

More to calm myself than to do anything for my small command, I began to talk.  “I know that you guys are feeling the same thing I am.”  My eyes continued their relentless scanning.  “We’re all scared. We’re millions of miles from home.”  I gulped bile at the back of my throat.  “We come from different backgrounds…from the streets, from the suburbs, orphanages.  But we’re here, today, for one purpose.”  Was my voice really that firm?  How did it not quaver in fear?  “We are finally taking the war to the enemy.  No longer are we standing shoulder to shoulder in fear, barely controlling the space beyond Earth orbit.”  I shifted my weight.  “This is a day that will live forever in the history of our race.  This is the day when men and women from our planet will grasp our destiny firmly and draw a line in the sand.  This far and no further!”  My voice began to grow excited.  “We may live or we may die today, but our actions will achieve glory for our race that will far outlast our lives.  This is the day when we show that mankind is the rightful owner of this portion of the galaxy.  This is when we finally have justice for what was done to Shanghai and San Francisco.  This is a day of reckoning.” 

I looked behind me.  “We will hold this corridor, because that is our job.  We were chosen to be the point.  We are the sharp end that will be shoved deep within our enemies’ vital organs.  We cannot fail, but because the lives of billions depend on us.”

It was then that I realized my comm was still on, broadcasting my words to the entire section.  A chorus of “Hu-ah!” greeted me over the comms as the collective voices of men and women released their tension in common purpose.  Esprit de corps filled all of us, as I witnessed the magic my words had wrought.  I had spoken them to ease my own anxiety and fear, and they had tied us together in brotherhood in a way that could never have been achieved in a squad bay or a briefing room. 

I felt invincible.

As the clamor died down, I heard Dunkel add her own bit.  “All right you bastards,” she said over the comm, no longer hiding her southern drawl.  “Do your worst.”