Sergeant Major Jason Lundsford sat back in his chair with his flesh and blood arm draped over his eyes at 3am in the morning. Being the only senior non-comissioned officer in the Defector Division, as he called it, meant he had to pull a senior staff-duty twice a month. Snorting with bitter contempt, he figured it was just one more thing to add to the pile of shit that was his life. He dropped his arm and scanned the computer display in front of him, not seeing the information that was there as he lamented, again, the events that had led him here.
He'd been one of two survivors in his company on Ganymeade. Excepting those that were killed outright, the others'd all been listed as MIA, since there was no indication of what had happened to them. Jason had been promoted to fill the vacancy of senior NCO's, which was a slap in the face as far as he was concerned. Then... Then he's been made Division Sergeant Major of an entire unit filled with defectors. The thought of being associated with turncoats was worse than simply having to associate with the enemy. OF course, Jason's inherent honesty compelled him to admit that he'd never seen soldiers so driven to succeed. They'd assimilated into the ISA Marine Corps culture, earning their System, Starship and Rifle badges in record time. They'd also cut the training time in their suits down by nearly 30%, scoring as well as or better than any other small unit, and better over all as a division. Discipline problems were nonexistant. They policed themselves. Their commanding officer, a Full Bird Colonel by the name of David Yamada, had dealt with the last discipline issue by quietly saying a few words. Jason had no idea what it was that was said, but the man had tears in his eyes, and was due to put on sergeant's stripes within a few days.
No doubt about it, this was one hell of a lot to deal with.
Jason's thought were interrupted by a young corporal clearing his throat, "Excuse me, Sergeant Major. We have an issue."
Jason turned to the man and, in less than an inviting tone, asked, "What issue?"
"Sir, Geology has reported a mass temperature spike in Central America. They postulate that the super caldera that has been brewing there for centuries is about to erupt. They think it's a result of the bombings."
Jason tried to remind himself that this man had nothing to do with his former service's wide-spread nuclear attacks on the Earth, "Ok. What's the big deal?"
"They say that it's going to erupt with the force of another 100 nuke strikes, Sergeant Major. Local service in the area have never been very well developed and weather would be hampering them in any case. We have received a request for assistance from the regional governement... What there is left of it."
"So, why are we getting the request. Orbital Weapons Platform Olympus is responsible for this sort of thing. Send the information to them."
"We did. They said they don't have the units available."
Jason brought up the report and the local conditions, as well as the local population estimates, "Damn."
"What can we do, Sergeant Major?"
The unit was still restricted to the training area on Lunar Base, but they had been issued their full allotment of equipment. Jason wrestled with the legalities for a moment before saying, "Fuck it. Corporal, stand by for a moment." Jason dialed a number, and was shortly answered by a sleepy voice.
"Colonel Yamata, Sir."
"Colonel this is Sergeant Major Lundsford. We have a developing situation, and I think you need to be aware of it."
Jason explained the problem. Yamata only interrupted to clarify once or twice. Finally, he said, "Get the division moving, full armor, no weapons. Full mobilization in one hour. The last dropship had better be off the deck 15 minutes after that."
"Aye, sir. Corporal, get it started."
An hour later, Jason was standing at the foot of a boarding ramp, his dropship's engines howling at standby. All the others were buttoned up and ready to go. Yamata entered the vast hangar at a run, signalling for the ships to take off. 70 dropships bearing 96 companies of Marines lifted off and angled for the magnetic containment field at the mouth of the hangar. The 71st lifted a few inches off the deck and began sliding forward as Dread hopped onto the ramp. Yamata leapt for the shuttle and never missed his stride as he headed for his seat. The ramp cycled closed and the ship accelerated, heading for its position inthe lead of the formation.
"Pilot," Yamada said. "Status."
"Clear skies, so far, Sir. We haven't even received a RTB order yet. We're tied in to the meteorology and geology monitoring stations in the region, and can get full updates. The request to the local government for population concentrations by Sergeant Major Lundsford is coming in sporadically. They say a census has never been completely done in the region, sir."
"Wonderful. What's the plan of approach?"
"We're going full thrust right now, sir, and we'll be initiating a one orbit decell in about 25 minutes."
"Why not just go straight in?" Lundsford asked.
"It's actually faster to decell that way than it is to do so enroute, Sergeant Major. It'll save time and fuel, that I'm thinking we're going to need."
"Understood. Colonel? How do you want to handle the deployments?"
"Without a good census report, we'll have to do it the hard way. Have the ships use heat, mag-res, search-lights, anything they can think of to find concentrations of people. Civilians are the priority, here. Understood?"
The words sank in, and the Marines all listening in on the channel understood all to well that the Colonel was willing to sacrifice himself along with his men to get as many civilians out as possible. Lundsford looked at the officer oddly, but nodded in a greement with the order. They spent the last of the flight prior to reentry in consultation, laying out search grids for the ships. The dropships began to buck with reentry stresses, and the pilots alerted their passengers to secure for turbulence. There were dozens of storms ranging from moderate to severe on the flight line, and no clear line of approach to the target area through them. The buffetting became severe enough that even with the restraints on, the Marines were being bounced in their seats, teeth chattering and vision shaking so much that they couldn't focus.
Over the comm, Jason heard the pilot grate out, "3-1-7 is down." A few minutes later as the turbulence lessened enough to allow speech, the pilot said again, "3-1-7 is down. Failure in their flight controls. 4-4-1 is showing engine damage, and is diverting to MCAS 29 Palms. Loss of comms signal on 3-2-2 and 1-1-4. Lidar returns still show them on course. ETA 3 minutes. Standby for retro braking. 3, 2, 1."
The dropship jolted forward as powerful thrusters and large air brakes went into action. The bucking became indescribable hell until the thruster shut off and the air brakes retracted half way back into the ship's hull. "On approach. Nominal profile. Stand by for banking maneuver and decelleration."
The shuttles all began flying giant S-curves to bleed velocity. On the second series, they also fully deployed their air brakes again. This time the ride was much gentler as the shuttles were now subsonic. Per the quick plan developed in transit, they all began angling for population centers. They avoided the large cities, since they already had their own evacuation plans in progress, and focused on the smaller towns and villages. Before long it became obvious that the shuttles, with all of their speed, could not pick up and drop off their refugees fast enough. Status reports were broadcast on open channels, and commands to cease operations were pointedly ignored.
Eventually, a single light cruiser captain called the shuttles and arranged a mid-air rendevous. With her volunteering her ship to assist, the dam of hesitation collapsed and other small ships began descending into the planet's atmosphere. Soon, the dropships were able to orbit in a race track pattern and meet one of the larger ships as it cut the chord of the circle. The shuttles would tranfer their passengers and head back for more as the ships themselves pulled for orbit. Destroyers, light cruisers, and even a few battlecruisers made the run to pick up the Marine's refugees.
On the ground, Lundsford was a half block away, supervising the last shuttle of civilians in one town, when his helmet sensors detected a trembling in the ground accompanied by a growing roar. He turned in place, and saw what was coming for them all, "Landslide! Shuttle, go! Now!"
The pilot rammed the hover throttles to max power and lifter clear of the village. Jason saw a child fall out of the still open ramp of the overloaded ship. Cursing, he sprinted in that direction, calling for an empty shuttle to return for the child. He scooped her up at a full run, and looked down into wide, frightened eyes, full of tears. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the first houses disappear under the onslaught of mud and trees and rock. His calls became more frantic, as he pushed his armor for all it was worth, overriding the safeties and allowing the suit's emergency speed to shred the muscles and tendons in his lower body. Pushing 60 miles an hour, but running nearly perpendicular to the mudslide, the Marine screamed in agony his suit pumped anesthetic into his body, blocking the pain, and he pushed the suit still faster.
Suddenly, a shuttle dropped down out of the clouds, its ramp down and already in hover mode. Jason judged the distance and steered the suit to jump onto a van, and then onto a roof of a house. With all the power he could get out of the legs, he leapt for the outstretched hand of the Marine on the boarding ramp. Their hands missed, but Lundsford managed to grasp the ramp's lip. He swung under the deck, bouncing off the armored surface and nearly losing his grip. Swinging back out from under the ramp, he saw the Marine knealing there was the Colonel.
At first, Yamata hadn't realized exactly what it was Lundsford had in his arm. The Sergeant Major's shout of fear and panic told him to grab her. As he saw Jason swing back out from the ramp, he saw the little girl, and he saw the terror in Jason's eyes that he was going to fall with her still in his arms. Jason strained to lift himself higher as Yamata reached for the girl. The Colonel managed to get a hand on her arm, not realizing that his power assisted hand broke her arm. He tossed her to the boat's crewchief and dove after Lundsford as the man's hand slipped from the ramp. Yamata managed get his hands on Jason's outstretched one, and pulled the man up into a bear hug.
It took a moment, as the two men watched the mudslide wipe out the town below them, before Jason realized that he wasn't falling. He opened his eyes and looked straight into the eyes of his CO. Both men, in that moment took the measure of the other, and knew that they were in the company of a brother. Jason couldn't hear anything Yamata was saying but he did manage to smile before he passed out.
Home 
Search 
Register 
Log in 
