To conserve on weight, the KMs weren’t wearing hardskins, and they began to scream as they ran in circles. Zander put them out of their misery with a series of well-placed grenades as Harnack stared in wonder. “Did I do that? Holy crap, I’m in love.”
Meanwhile, as Kydd and Ward turned to help their buddies defend against the new threat, Tychus was pulling a door open and jerking the driver out of a truck. He was a civilian, and a terrified one at that, which offered support to the theory that somebody was not only stealing weapons but colluding with the enemy to do so!
Raynor had taken possession of the other truck by then even as the firefight grew more intense. So he slid behind the controls and sounded the air horn, in hopes that the rest of the squad would take notice. They did, and Kydd and Zander rushed to board Raynor’s vehicle, while Harnack and Ward piled into the one that Tychus was driving.
Then, as spikes shattered the windscreen and perforated the front hood, Raynor pulled away. He had a sick feeling that they weren’t going to make it. But then, suddenly, all the firing stopped. It seemed choreographed, as if someone wanted the trucks to escape. Someone who didn’t know they had been taken over.
Raynor thought it best to find a safe place to park it before rejoining the battle, but Tychus clearly had other ideas as he passed on the left, and his voice sounded over the truck’s radio. “This is Echo-Six to base command… . The enemy looted the armory and my squad and I are giving chase. Over.”
That was a partial truth at best, but Raynor never got a chance to complain, as a second voice was heard. “This is Hotel-One to Echo-Six… . Break it off… . I repeat, break it off and report to rally point seven. That’s an order. Over.”
Then came Tychus’s reply. “You’re breaking up, Hotel-One. Repeat, breaking up. Will try again in five. Over.”
At that point Raynor realized that he and his fellow squad members had been hijacked by their new sergeant and were being drawn into a dangerous combination of criminal activity and dereliction of duty. That went against everything he had been taught to believe in, and that made him feel guilty, not to mention scared.
On the other hand, there was no question about what he had seen with his own eyes. Confederate marines had been loading the trucks before the attack started. So it appeared as though at least some of the good guys weren’t all that good. And how could they get away with something like that unless somebody higher up was in on it? Truth was, it was hard to tell what was right and wrong anymore.
Suddenly Raynor could hear his father’s voice ringing in his ears. “We keep working and they keep taking… . It just ain’t right.”
And it wasn’t right. So, Raynor decided, if I can take something back, and pass it to my family, at least something good will come of this. The battle faded behind them as the trucks passed through a shattered gate. Fifteen minutes later the two-vehicle convoy entered the already devastated suburbs of Whitford. The night was black, the headlights were white, and the highway was gray.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I used to light fires as a kid. A lot of fires. My folks were always giving me grief about it. They just didn’t understand. It wasn’t pyromania: it was a career move.”
FORT HOWE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
Two days had passed since the Kel-Morian rippers had launched their surprise attack on Fort Howe, and as a jitney carried Tychus toward the command center, there was plenty of activity to be seen. Dozens of SCVs were hard at work repairing half-slagged defenses, filling craters, and clearing away debris. Civilian crews had been brought in to help, but there was still plenty left to accomplish.
The jitney Tychus was riding in was forced to detour around the burned-out wreckage of a Kel-Morian aircraft before continuing on its way. The battle had been far from one-sided, however. More than a hundred of Fort Howe’s marines were wounded or killed, and it was very likely that the base would have been overrun had it not been for some very good luck. The rippers’ commanding officer was killed early on in the battle, a squadron of Avengers arrived quickly enough to destroy three Kel-Morian transports, and half a squad of enemy soldiers was wiped out when a marine ran over them with a truck.
Meanwhile, miles to the east, the Thundering Third had broken through the Snakeback Mountains and pushed a contingent of Kel-Morian regulars back into the disputed zone. A victory for which Vanderspool was given credit despite the fact that Fort Howe had nearly been lost. It was a glaring miscarriage of justice that Raynor was still struggling to accept—and Tychus regarded with his usual cynicism. Vanderspool was a player, and a successful one, so what else was new? If it hadn’t been Vanderspool it would have been some other officer.
The question is, Tychus thought, why does the sonofabitch want to talk to me? He doesn’t know that we took the truck, not for sure anyway, because he would have sent the MPs after us if he did.
The jitney arrived in front of the command center, and Tychus jumped off as a couple of other people got on. He was dressed for the occasion this time, in crisp cammies and glossy boots. Rather than lug a rifle around, Tychus was armed with a pistol in a shoulder holster.
In the wake of the surprise attack two marines were posted outside the building. They demanded that Tychus submit to an identity scan, and like the clerk Tychus had dealt with on the day he arrived, the guards were too polite. Where are these people coming from? the noncom wondered. There was something strange about them.
Tychus went upstairs and entered the waiting room outside of Vanderspool’s office. The same red-haired corporal he had met before was on duty and instructed him to sit down. It was a longer wait this time because Vanderspool was being interviewed by a UNN reporter, so rather than let the opportunity go to waste, Tychus spent the next five minutes mentally undressing the corporal one item of clothing at a time. She was down to a pair of panties and her combat boots by the time the journalist left the office. “You can go in now,” she said brightly, and smiled.
Tychus thanked her, made his way over to the door, and knocked. Then, having heard the word “Come!” he took three paces forward and announced himself. “Sergeant Findlay reporting as ordered, sir!”
***
Vanderspool looked up from his calendar as a pressed and polished Tychus Findlay entered the room. I’ll be damned, he thought, the guy looks like he just stepped out of a recruiting poster.
Vanderspool had mixed feelings about his newly appointed sergeant. During the Kel-Morians’ sneak attack—the magnitude of which came as an unpleasant surprise to Vanderspool, who was expecting a simple raid—Findlay had led his squad to the armory with plans to defend it. Upon seeing that the facility was being looted, he and his men had not only given chase, but had actually recovered one of the trucks. Having it returned to Confederate hands didn’t help Vanderspool or his Kel-Morian partner financially, of course, but it did make him look like a hero. And for that, he was rewarded handsomely, with the honor of being named full colonel, a title he’d schemed long and hard to attain.
The missing truck was still nowhere to be found, however, which was very costly for both parties. At an emergency meeting the next day, his KM partner, Aaron Pax, was furious, accusing Vanderspool of double-crossing him by stealing the truck for himself. Vanderspool convinced him otherwise, promised he’d get to the bottom of it, and countered with his own questions about the attack. Why had things gone down the way they had, with so many extra men and firepower? All their other schemes had worked like clockwork, but this one was a total disaster. His partner claimed ignorance, but the colonel was not so sure.