UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XLII - INDEPENDENT EARTH

Luton hadn't met Beason, but Lo was one of the best. He didn't envy her assignment, however. Marco would have plenty of warnings, and his troops would be ready.

The visor came to life; Luton found himself flying a transport and listening to a dirty joke. It was dark beyond the glow of the instrument panel. His chair shuddered slightly as the aircraft hit some chop. The combat team was thirty minutes out and closing fast.

The punch line arrived. Luton laughed, and his worries melted away. This was his, this made sense, this was pure.

* * *

The sun had yet to rise over the Gulf of Eden, but a long, pink line marked the horizon, and the direction from which the attack would come. Straight out of the sun, an old trick that wouldn't provide much of an advantage but was still worth a try.

The view is the north looked across the avenue Jalingo Cue to more blue water. The Balge de la Fiesta curved to the south.

Marco, who usually began his day with a stroll along the battlements, was careful to do so now. He could feel the legionnaires watching, gaging the set of his shoulders, passing the word to their friends: "You should have seen him! Like a pimp on a stroll... Not jumpy like some I could mention".

Marco paused for a moment. The morning sir carried a hint of brine, not to mention Bajoti's ever present stench. Most of the city had been evacuated the better part of a week before. Captain Cara had taken charge of that and had done an excellent job. The mayor of Bajoti was an elderly man named Makoje. He liked to talk and made an interesting contrast to the quiet, nearly morose legionnaires. Not that it mattered. The civilians were as safe as Marco could make them, and that was the important thing.

Marco allowed his arms to rest on the top of the wall. The days were longer, but Bajoti was not that different from the village where he had been born and his parents still lived. They had appeared to him in a dream the night before. His mother spoke slowly, as of trying to communicate from a long way off, but it didn't work. The words were impossible to understand.

Still, there was no mistaking the love in her eyes, or the way that his father waved. The whole thing left Marco feeling strange, as if part of him were missing. He pushed the emotion away.

He heard a football and turned. Captain Lucy nodded as she topped the stairs. The full combat rig made her look larger than she really was. In spite of the fact that Major Daniell has emerged from the mutiny unscathed, he wasn't very effective, and the operations officer had taken up the slack. Marco smiled. "Good morning, Captain. Should be a nice day".

Lucy smiled cynically. "If you say so, sir. Personally, I kind of doubt it".

Marco laughed. "The mutineers will get their licks in, no doubt about that, but the fort will stand. Those transports can carry two, maybe three companies of troops, along with some Trooper IIs or IIIs. Not nearly enough to get the job done. They know it, and we know it".

Lucy agreed. She nodded. "Sir. Yes, sir".

Marco glanced around. The nearest legionnaire was twenty feet away. "Which isn't to say that I wouldn't mind some help. How about the Navy? Any sign of air cover?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, sir. It seems like some of the vessels were taken and some weren't. Their entire chain of command is screwed up. And, just to make things worse, new ships arrive every day. Some remain loyal, some go over, and some run like hell. Two different captains claim to be in charge. Neither has agreed to help".

"Okay", Marco acknowledged, "stay on it. The SAMs will nail some of the bastards but not all of them".

A voice spoke through their earplugs. It belonged to sergeant Fo. She was tensed. The battle had already begun, so far as she and her staff were concerned. They could see the bastards on radar, hear the ECM, and smell their own sweat. The Situation Room was sealed against everything imaginable, including the fort's own hyper efficient air conditioning system. Enjoyable during normal times, but a potential pipeline for chemical and biological agents.

"We have bandits three-three... fifteen minutes and closing. Two-one, repeat two-one fast movers. One-five on the deck, elevation four hundred feet, with six on top. Over".

Marco looked toward the east, gestured to the nearest sentry, and followed them down. "Roger that. Pass the word. Fire when the SAMs lock".

This is the moment, Marco thought to himself. This is the moment the rebel cadre would strike if any of them had survived. But nothing happened, nothing that wasn't supposed to happen, which was fine with Marco.

The initial part of Marco's plan was simple: launch his SAMs, destroy as many aircraft as he could, and go to ground.

In spite of its somewhat anachronistic appearance, Fort Bashu had been designed to withstand a full-scale orbital bombardment by the alien Midvalian. That being the case, the structure had a theoretical rating of T-1, which meant the center of the complex could withstand a direct hit from a tactical nuke.

Of course the mutineers wouldn't be dropping any nukes, not yet anyway, but Marco and his troops could expect to be on the receiving end of thousand-pound laser-guided smart bombs, air to surface missiles, and subsurface torpedoes. None of which would be any fun.

The klaxon went off as Marco checked one more time. "one-One to One-Three. Anything from on high? Over".

Lucy checked the last legionnaire through the northernmost door. "Negative, One-One. Over".

Marco swore off-mike, heard SAMs roar into the air, and saw contrails arc across the sky. The launchers were up to fifty miles away, all linked by radio and subterranean cable.

The officer knew that the devices had lowered themselves into their underground bays by now. Once the were below the surface, blastproof doors would protect them from attack, and, given the fact that their robotic radars were not only small but airborne, they would be difficult if not impossible to target and hit.

"Sir! Over here!"