UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XXIV - PLANET EARTH

The general stood and removed his web belt from the back of the chair. "All right, you heard the traitorous bastard, put everything on the street. Let's meet the scumbags head on, kill every last one of the sonofbitches, and bụry them deep".

General Sucre Darren, the academy's commandant and one of the most respected officers in the Legion, stepped forward. She had doubts about Page, about the manner in which he had ignored a multiple of danger signs and seemed blind to his own culpability. She had tried to broach the subject once, to warn him of what was brewing, but he had dismissed her out of hand. "Stick to the academy, General. I'll handle the rest".

But it was too late for recriminations, meaningful ones anyway, and there were others to consider. "What about the cadets, sir? Shall I evacuate them?"

"Hell, no", Page replied carelessly. "They are soldiers, aren't they? Let them fight. Should be over soon. The experience will do them good".

Sucre started to object, started to point out that many of her charges were little more than children, but saw it would do no good. She came to attention. "Sir! Yes, sir!"

The entire staff departed after that, each heading for what remained of their commands, determined to turn the tide.

Page waited till the last one had left, pulled a picture out of a desk drawer, and stared at it for a moment. Then, having shoved the photo into his pocket, he left the office.

* * *

Though honed by training received in the Legion, many of the skills possessed by Goodear's troops had been learned during their youths on Elgiron, and made even more effective by their acute sense of smell and the heat-sensitive pads located on the bottoms of their feet.

Having failed to compete with them as a child, Marco knew better than to try now, but did manage to integrate himself into their unit, an accomplishment that earned their instant respect.

Goodear's troops had been broken down into squads. Marco led one, with the objective of taking the Operations Center, while other groups went after the armory, the motor pool, and key positions throughout the fort. Hopefully, providing that all went well, they would strike at the save time.

The Ṅaa moved forward in a series of well-coordinated spurts. A point man went first, followed by the squad, Marco, and a two-person "drag team" that spent most of their time walking backwards.

The legionnaires padded down a flight of stairs and entered a hall. A row of lights marched the length of the ceiling. First Sergeant Neverlaugh used a heavily silenced pistol to shoot them out. Plastic tinkled to the floor, and darkness claimed the passageway.

Marco wished the Legionnaire had left at least one of the lights to see by, but had no intention of admitting that, and used a hand to follow the wall. The concrete was cold and smooth. Like a basement, or the wall of a tomb.

* * *

Everything within Veil Bashu's Situation Room seemed suspended in time. Most of the duty staff, some eight people in all, stood with hands on heads.

First Sergeant Hailey Muller, backed by Corporal Aturo Bonsky and a squad from D Company 2nd REP, had them covered. The noncom was a big man, so big that the submachine g*n looked more like a toy than an actual weapon.

Captain Simon Olmsted III stood to one side, tried to focus his eyes, but couldn't quite make it. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Muller was in charge.

Sergeant Sean Skog lay where he had fallen, a bullet through his heart. Sergeant Fo knelt beside him, hands still b****y from his wound, hatred burning in her eyes. "You'll pay for this, Bonsky. And I'll pull the trigger".

"You're next, b***h", the diminutive corporal said, blood suffusing his face. "Eat this!"

The order left Bonsky's brain but never made it to his finger. A rifle butt struck the back of the head, and he dropped like a rock. Muller eyed his captives. "I'll decide who dies around here".

The noncom pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and motioned to Fo. "Come here. Transmit this code on this frequency. And don't get fancy. We can shoot you and still have plenty of techs left over".

Fo, who hadn't liked the 2nd REP ever since a bar fight on El Six, liked them even less now. She had little choice, though... And did as she was told. It took thirty seconds to send the message, and even less time to receive a string of letters and numbers in response. She read them aloud.

Muller nodded and looked around the room. "Good. You don't realize it yet, but you did yourself a big favor. The Legion is safe now. Let me know if you'd like to join".

* * *

Muller's two-man security detail was still probing the sudden darkness, still pondering what to do, when the Naa killed them. Were the deaths necessary? Or prompted by what they had done to Knifebuilder? Marco suspected it was the latter... But was in no mood to debate the matter.

The door opened with ease. A pair of shadows slipped through the gap. The officer followed. Muller's offer hung over the room. "So, who's with us?"

Marco cleared his throat. "How about us, Sergeant? Can we join?"

Heads swiveled as Muller brought his weapon up. He was fat too slow. A hole appeared at the center of his forehead, his eyes crossed, and he toppled over backwards. His squad stirred, saw the weapons pointed their way, and froze.

A Naa slid forward. One by one the mutineers were relieved of their weapons and ordered to kneel.

Olmsted tried to muster some sort of defense, saw Marco's expression, and went to his knees.

Neverlaugh touched his ear plug and turned to Marco. "The lieutenant took the armory, sir, the motor pool is secure, and eighty percent of the perimeter is under control. Should have the rest shortly".

"Casualties?"

"Yes, sir. Six dead... Ten wounded. Both sides".

Marco nodded and wondered how high the total butcher's bill would be. "Thank you, Sergeant".

The officer looked around the room. It was a critical moment, and he knew it. Some of the men and women around him, there was no way to know how many, would have accepted Muller's offer. How should they be treated? With suspicion? Or trust? The decision was based more on gut instinct than logic. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get back to work".

Fo nodded and looked around. "You heard the colonel. The break's over. Zyle, check to see what EARTHSEC has to say. Tram, scan the civilian stuff, and Mike, give me a hand. Skog was one of ours, and I wouldn't want one of those bastards to touch him".

Marco smiled grimly. How many of "those" were there, anyway? Just a few? Or enough to take the planet? Only time would tell.