Trial by Ice (A Star Too Far Book 1) Read online

  “Who, who are you? What do you want? Saul, come here.” The old man spoke with force.

  “My name is Midshipman William Grace, of the United Colonies. This is Dr. Vitomir Kovac and Warrant Officer Sebastien Villeneuve, of the UC Marines.”

  The man opened his thin lips as if to speak. He blinked and sat down hard. “Oh my.” He tapped his fingers on his trousers.

  William smiled. “We’re in need of food and water. Can the rest of my crew come down?”

  The old man nodded. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth still slightly open. He seemed to be thinking. Heavily. With a slight nod he snapped out of it and stood back up.

  “I’m David. This is my grandson, Saul. I can give you what you seek, but then you must leave.”

  William turned to Vito. “Wave the rest down.”

  Vito nodded and walked back outside.

  “We’re not a danger, sir,” William said. He wasn’t sure how much to divulge about his situation. He imagined the man couldn’t quite figure out how he came to be on this planet.

  David looked William in the eye and held his gaze. “No, you’re not, but if you’re here when they arrive, they’ll shoot me.” He looked down at Saul. “And him, too.”

  “Who are ‘they’?” Sebastien said.

  David looked between the two men.

  “Where are you from? What do you want?” David asked.

  William glanced at Sebastien. The Marine was impassive and looked bored. Sebastien returned the glance and walked back outside.

  “We’re from Terra, Earth. We came here on a mission to get this planet to sign the Covenant and put a halt to an illegal refining operation.”

  David looked confused. “How? What? But you look half dead!”

  “Yes, we’ve been working to only look half dead.”

  Vito walked back into the dim room.

  “Mr. Grace, the men are waiting outside,” Vito said.

  “Dr. Kovacs, take a moment to explain our mission to David.” William turned to David. “My men are starving. We have little to trade, but we’d like one of your sheep.”

  David nodded slowly and directed Saul outside to help. “Go. I’ll not let hungry men stand at my doorstep.”

  William stepped outside to find the Marines and soldiers spread out around the small compound. The Naval staff stood near the bundles of sticks eying up the sheep.

  “Tero, Xan, give this young man a hand. He’s going to help you pick out dinner,” William said, smiling.

  Crow walked up to William with his rifle cradled in his arm. “Not much here, Grace, a bit of shelter, whoever lived here didn’t stay long.”

  “I noticed.” William pointed to the road. “Can we get someone to go down that road a bit? I’d like a bit of warning if anyone comes.”

  “Already on it. Kerry and Corporal Leduc are going to head out as soon as they drink their fill.”

  “Water?”

  Crow nodded. “There’s a well a block down. And sir, there’s other people here—kids, women.”

  William nodded. He had expected as much. He walked down to where Crow had pointed to get a drink. How was he supposed to get off without incurring civilian casualties? He needed to know what they were up against. Hun, Sa’ami, Outlaws, Pirates, Jumpers… He’d let Vito do some talking.

  * * *

  Sebastien walked back onto the street and nearly bowled over the small child Saul. He looked down at the child and saw curious eyes staring back up to him. He glanced down and started walking.

  The town was silent but beginning to stir. Worn trails edged around the corners of buildings where the grass was tramped to mud. A pile of sheared wool rested beneath a cracked roof. Buckets were stacked near an old well.

  The boy followed the augment through the town. Sebastien would normally toss a ration bar and divert the child away. This time he had nothing. “What do you want?”

  Saul looked to the ground and shook his head.

  Sebastien waited a moment longer and walked around towards the sheep corral. He turned back to Saul. The boy looked down again. A recollection of a moment past flashed through Sebastien. He recalled his dreams and stopped. “Come here.”

  The boy shook his head slowly. He looked small in his wool.

  Sebastien knelt down slowly before the boy and held out a hand.

  Saul took it with his cold gritty finger. He looked up at Sebastien and bounced himself against the augment’s leg.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Sebastien said.

  The crew saw a most peculiar sight as the augmented Marine walked in silence through the crumbling town with a small child holding his hand.

  * * *

  Several of the women came forward and stuffed a rough stone oven with a few bundles of sticks. It lit quickly and raged briefly before finally dying down. The sheep was laid onto a large stoneware slab and stuffed into the oven.

  The small town slowly began to perk up as children and women poked out from the ruins. The smell of woodsmoke rolled over the town, mixed with the tang of burning fat. The crew stayed in position around the town, but all eyes were on the roasting sheep.

  “Meat. Real meat. I haven’t had real meat in years,” Vito said as he eyed the roasting sheep.

  “I was ready to eat it raw, so this is an improvement,” William replied. “What did you learn, Mr. Diplomat?”

  “He’s just a shepherd, says that men came a year ago, brought gifts, medicine, nanites, and just asked to set up a refinery. Then they needed more people, so anyone who could work was rustled into the town near the refinery. Now everyone outside works to feed those running the refinery. Seems they have kindly hijacked the system and forced out the old council.”

  William scratched his chin. “Did you see his hands?”

  Vito turned from the sheep and looked at William. “His hands? Well, no, I don’t think I did.”

  “No calluses, and his fingernails were clean.” William leaned forward and pulled a slender shoot of roasted meat and popped it into his mouth.

  “Clean?” Vito looked back to the building. His face wore a curious look as he paced back and forth.

  The smell of the roast teased the starving men. Even Sebastien was eying the oven. A pear-faced young woman stood guard near the entrance after seeing William “sampling” the roast.

  William wondered how the women and children must see them. They were unshaven, dirty, stunk, and carried weapons. On top of that, once they learned he was going to shake things up a bit, well, it might not be pretty.

  Vito emerged once more. “He wants to talk to you. Seems he was on a council before.”

  William nodded at the smoking oven. “Save me some.”

  “Just the bones!”

  William found David standing in the corner near two rough hewn chairs. He beckoned for William to sit. “Your Dr. Kovac told me of the Covenant.” He licked his lips and paused a moment. “It seems preferable to be seen as equals instead of being exploited.”

  “Is that how you see yourselves?” William asked carefully.

  David’s eyes pleaded. “You don’t know how it is to watch your wife die in childbirth because you have no antibiotics, or to watch your second wife die to the same thing. Or watch children curl up and cry when the harvest is bad. All we have are stories of what the world once was: dreams. Someone comes and offers us medicine in exchange for working in a refinery…”

  “And what of your children? Born into toil and slavery?”

  David sighed and put his head down. He looked like the tired old man they had seen before. “They come twice a month to get the sheep. They will be here tomorrow midday to get them.”

  William watched as David tore the words out. “Why are you telling me?”

  “I wasn’t going to. I’d make you leave, tell them once you were gone and let them hunt you.”

  “Instead you risk your family and countrymen. Why?” A chill ran over him.

  “I’ll not be the man who damns my children to a lif
e of servitude. We were proud men once.”

  “We’ll see no harm comes. Now, how many are there?”

  * * *

  William left David with his conscience and found Crow eating. “Did you save me any, Sergeant?”

  Crow handed William a tallowy piece of hot mutton without saying a word. He was too busy eating.

  “Sergeant, we’re going to engage a target in the morning.” William took an amazing bite. Now he knew why Crow hadn’t spoke.

  “Sir?” Crow asked with a mouthful of shredded meat.

  “Get Selim and Sebastien. We’ve some planning to do.”

  The briefing waited for a few delicious minutes while the men ate. Mutton, normally not a treat, was the finest feast any of them could imagine. For a few, it was the first real meat they had ever tasted. The salted rye porridge they ate with it didn’t garner the same praise.

  * * *

  “It sounds like a company-size force of mercenaries or contractors came in a year ago. Started out plying them with nanites, medicines, tablets, and the people ran the stamp mills and the low level refineries. They’ll be here tomorrow with a truck to get the sheep,” William said.

  “How many?” Crow asked.

  “Normally three, but on occasion six.”

  “Weapons?” Selim said as he picked his teeth.

  “Small arms, sounds like assault rifles, no body armor.”

  “Drones?” Sebastien asked.

  “He didn’t know, I think this is a milk run for them.”

  “Did he mention anything about the VTOL or if they heard of a ship crashing?” Selim asked.

  “He hasn’t heard a peep. Here’s the catch. We can’t let these people be the target of a reprisal. There was no opposition when the mercs came in, there’s been zero violence from either side. If we’re going to change that, we need to make this count.” William looked at each of the men around him. “We hit them, kill them, make it look like it happened away from this town and move fast.”

  “Where?” Crow asked.

  “The capital, Redmond. That’s where the elevator and the refinery are. We run the truck into the town and hide out. There’s nothing in the countryside, we’d have nowhere to run. But the capital is about forty thousand people with refineries everywhere. We can strike from there.”

  “Why’d he tell us all of this?” Sebastien asked.

  “He used to be a politician of sorts, a councilor or some such.”

  “What’s he get out of this?” Selim asked.

  “The future of his world, or his own political station. Either way it works to our advantage right now. I think he’s looked at who’s the big dog—it was the Mercenaries, and eventually it’ll be the UC. I’m going to leave the tactical details to you gentlemen. Let me know how I can help.” The only thing nagging him was who were the Mercs working for?

  William sat back and watched as the Marine took the lead with the soldiers adding in some details. In a few short minutes the plan of attack was laid. It would be a simple ambush, a crossfire of deadly efficiency. The main goal was to eliminate the opposing force before any word got out.

  The naval personnel were to be behind each of the professionals. They would provide a bit of extra cover fire. Xinhu wanted the Beretta. He reluctantly relented when he was told they wanted to save the truck. The orders went out and the guard was to be set at sunrise.

  The sheep was devoured down to a bony white sheen. The rye porridge, not so much.

  * * *

  William awoke in the shelter of an old windowless building. The morning crawled as he awaited the arrival of the truck. The thin road was watched by every eye except the civilians, who were kept with the old man. William sat with Tik and Von Hess on the edge of the north flank. His knee was still healing, he was “in reserve”.

  The road led to a circular drive near the corral. The Marines were stationed nearby with the soldiers at a ninety degree angle. This would provide a flanking shot. The goal was to catch them as they dismounted without damaging the truck.

  Shortly before noon, the slightest hum of an electric motor came over the hill. William felt his chest tighten and his stomach rumble. This was different from anything he had ever felt in the Navy. This was close, visceral, intense, and it hadn’t even begun.

  Over the hill came a truck with paneling on the rear. It had a small cab with a sheet of corrugated metal for a roof. It looked painfully old and was streaked with rust. Inside sat three men shoulder-to-shoulder in gray uniforms. Three slender rifles were perched in the window behind them.

  William tensed as he watched them bumble down the hill. This was it! He stole a quick glance at Tik and Von Hess, who both looked relaxed as they sat with rifles held close.

  A second louder whine chattered over the sound of the first. A small armored vehicle followed behind. It was a black stubby thing with wheel covers and a set of racking for drones. A single autocannon turret rose like a blister on the roof. It lacked any semblance of grace, a creature of pure violence.

  “Shit,” William said, as he grabbed the stubby Beretta.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Firefight

  The truck pulled slowly into the circle drive. The sheep bleated and stirred. The APC stopped at a quartering angle on the road.

  William lugged the heavy launcher until he was crouched behind a cracked concrete wall. His heart was pounding, not from the exertion, but from the adrenaline. He held the only weapon that could touch the APC. Now he had to wait for everyone else to fire.

  The high backed cattle truck lurched to a stop in a ragged creaking bounce. A man stepped out and looked about the corral. He spoke to the others and everyone stepped out. The driver sauntered to the bumper and slapped a single nanite patch onto his arm. A look of serenity flowed across his face.

  Sebastien sent the first round. It shattered into the throat of the driver in a single, simple, dark hole. The man slouched forward and crumpled onto his knees as if in prayer.

  Projectiles cascaded down from both angles of the ambush and knocked the two men to the ground. The sheer volume of impacting bullets caused each man to dance raggedly on the way down. They were dead before they even fell, let alone hit the ground.

  William popped around the corner and mounted the Beretta onto his shoulder. A pair of simple sights needed only the general direction of the target. The three rounds inside the multi-point launcher would do the rest. One would arch over the top of the target and slam down, while the other two would flank it.

  The autocannon swung and pointed its deadly tip at the concrete buildings and fired. The rapid thump-thump rang across the hills. Rounds shattered into the aged concrete spraying dust and aggregate everywhere. The sheep were caught in the fire and either ran or dropped in agony.

  The Marines and soldiers focused the small arms fire onto the APC, but it did nothing. It didn’t move, it didn’t dodge, it just continued to fire. From the peak of the vehicle came a series of pops and the drones were out.

  “Shoot it!” Crow yelled across the yard. He laid back into his position and pumped round after round towards the sleek beast.

  William aligned the sighting tubes onto the target just as the drones exited. The APC noticed the launcher and the turret swung towards William. He pulled the trigger hard.

  Nothing happened.

  Then the autocannon opened fire.

  Maybe it was the salt water, maybe it was the sand, maybe it was just a factory defect. But whatever it was William dove down with the Beretta on his shoulder and was peppered with concrete shards. The sound of the cracking walls was deafening.

  The drones settled in and swooped down from the APC. Had they been full military issue drones the battle would have been done. The unarmored unsupported crew would have fallen. But these drones were razor drones, a weapon of terror. Each drone was a set of cascading blades that would set upon unarmed targets and savage them.

  William lay on the ground while the concrete peppered down on top of him. He open
ed his eyes to look down the street. Von Hess held out a pistol and fired at an unseen target. A sudden burst of smoke appeared above the roofless structure and a shower of steel rained down.

  This would not do. They had nowhere to run, no way to get close enough to toss grenades and, in a short while, no ammunition. Already around him the rate of fire had almost ceased. His hands slapped every joint and piece on the supposedly failproof launcher. A sharp click issued from inside.

  The autocannon continued to pepper projectiles near William. The wall was slowly disintegrating above him. The only thing that was saving his life was the fact that concrete is at its hardest after one hundred years, this was nearly eighty years-old. The rounds were beginning to penetrate.

  William crawled forward through the broken shards of concrete. The Beretta was cradled in one arm as he felt for the corner with his other. The air tasted chalky and gritty.

  One second, maybe, was all he had. His fingers felt open space and he took a deep breath. The Beretta snapped up to his shoulder. He sprinted forward, faster than the turret could track, or so he hoped. The blister turret paused and began to swing those scant few degrees.

  He stopped in the midst of the green grass and hammered the trigger once more. He was rewarded with a hiss and a delayed blast as each of the rockets fired. The first arched almost straight vertical while the other two went out sideways. He could see the autocannon stop and pause with the darkness of the barrel firmly on him. Then the rockets landed.

  The hull of the APC buckled outwards as each of the rockets burst. Only three tiny holes, no larger than a man’s finger, betrayed any wound at all. The autocannon fell silent. A sooty black smoke emerged as it burned.

  William rose slowly, smiling. He released his grip and dropped the empty launcher onto the ground. Amazing, he thought, I didn’t get shot. He could feel the bile rising in his throat followed by an urge to get sick. The adrenaline was ebbing.

  Screams sounded from across the town. William turned and ran, drawing his sidearm. The Marines and soldiers sprinted before him and ran towards the civilians. He limped as the fibers in his leg screamed at him.