Son of Justice (25 page)

Although Free had been assigned to Second Platoon, Eli had made that placement only as an interim measure. It wasn’t meant to be permanent, and the Telgoran’s lack of armor caused a problem for the company. Eli’s initial thought was to leave him on the ship, but Twigg and Benson had convinced him the tall, thin warrior was capable of holding his own, even without the armor, should they find themselves in a fight. As a compromise, Free was directed to join Eli and the rest of the command team in their vehicle. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to do, at least until they settled on how he should be permanently integrated into the company structure. For now, Eli would keep an eye on the young Telgoran and see how he handled himself once they landed planet-side.

At the ten-minute mark, Eli activated his comms and spoke to the soldiers seated in the carriers.

“Alpha Company, this is Captain Justice,” he began. He had observed his father do this exact thing on numerous occasions and tried to channel the calm, commanding presence that seemed to come so easy to the older Justice.

“I don’t have to remind you, but over the past month we’ve drilled on this more times than any of us care to count. I’m confident that every one of you knows what to do when we land on the planet and these doors open. Follow your directives and know your role. If the shout hits the air, and things get crazy, remember this. Lean on your training. Rely on your equipment. Trust your fellow rangers. That combination will help you navigate the loudest shout storm more effectively than you can imagine.”

Eli paused to gather his thoughts. Delivering a message to those he was about to lead into the unknown was difficult—much more difficult than it had ever seemed coming from his father. The weight of responsibility for their well-being was on his shoulders, and he was feeling it, in its entirety, for the first time. The sensation was crushing, and he wondered how his father managed. In what seemed like the longest second of his life—in all of eternity—he considered the burden his father carried. As the supreme military commander of the Alliance forces, he was responsible for the survival of several races and civilizations. In comparison, the weight he felt for a company of armor-clad troops seemed insignificant. It was a stark realization. How could the man he called “Dad” have carried such a heavy load, for such a long time? It seemed impossible. For the first time in his relatively short life, Eli could imagine how terrible and consuming his father’s existence might be.

Control what you can control. Focus on the mission.

“Okay. We’re under ten minutes, so do a final weapons and systems check before we depart the daughter-ship. I want all helmets on at the five-minute warning, so scratch your nose and rub your eyes while you still can. And one more thing . . .” He paused for just a moment. “Let’s show the Minnies in B Company how it’s done!”

He heard several gleeful shouts over the comm net and looked across to see Tenney give him a thumb’s up. Twigg, seated next to the lieutenant, seemed less than pleased.

“No offense, Twigg,” Eli offered to the Minith warrior with a shrug and a smile. “Are you ready for this?”

The scowl was quickly replaced with the Minith version of a grin.

“I’ve been ready for this for the past twelve years,” Twigg growled. The sudden twitch-twitch of his overlarge ears confirmed his excitement. Even with the PEACE armor as an equalizer, Eli was glad the green giant was on their side.

* * *

The Rhino-3 communication station was perched on the highest tip of an elongated ridge of empty, mountainous terrain, near the equator of the relatively small planet. A giant array of equipment was placed at the apex, and included an assortment of long-range radars, antenna, and deep space penetrators. A small, green building that housed a ten-person monitoring team sat just below the array. The barracks, mess hall, and other buildings that made up the remainder of the outpost spread out below the comm station, along the eastern slope of the rocky, snow- and ice-covered mountain. Small, roundish shrubs that the soldiers had christened ‘ewe-bushes’ dotted the mountainside like a well-scattered shepherd’s flock as far as the eye could see. Small, isolated and barren by any race’s standards, the facility was an important site for the Alliance.

As important as it was, though, it was just as hated by those who were stationed there. The small, yellow star that the planet circled every thirty hours provided just enough light to make each day a dreary, seemingly overcast existence. Though not as cold as the dark side of Telgora—few habitable planets were—the temps rarely got above freezing. It wasn’t on the top destinations list for members of the Alliance Defense Forces. Instead, it was a place to be avoided, if possible. The only positive—other than the positive of serving the Shiale Alliance—was that postings to the outpost were relatively short, at just under twelve months, and were usually followed up by a posting of choice.

Using his suit’s enhanced optics lens, Eli scanned the station from the company’s placement six kilometers away. Located farther north on same mountain ridge, the summit they occupied was a near-twin of the one where Rhino-3 sat. The spot provided an ideal location for observation and planning. Their landing had gone smoothly, with all thirteen carriers settling onto the mountainside without issue. The company was now settled into a circular, defensive position around the carriers while deciding on their next move. A half-dozen carrier jet escorts circled far above, out of sight, but within striking range should their support be needed.

After thirty minutes of seeing no movement in or around the comm station, Eli had seen enough.

“I think it’s safe to say no one’s home,” he announced to Tenney and Twigg, who lay prone on either side of him. Their eyes were also trained on the distant mountain top. “Would you agree?”

“Yes,” both agreed.

“Okay then,” he continued, this time on the command frequency so his platoon leaders and sergeants could hear. “Lieutenant Benson, get Second Platoon ready to move out. Lieutenant Johnson, get First Platoon loaded up onto your carriers in case the shout hits the air and second needs backup. Third Platoon will remain on the defensive perimeter here, around the carriers.”

Choruses of “yes, sir” rang through the net. Moments later, the platoons began moving into their respective positions as the orders were relayed through the company. Eli monitored the various platoon and company nets for chatter and was glad to hear it was kept to a minimum. His troops were doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing: executing their duties with no complaints, no unnecessary questions, and no grab-ass.

“Yo, Eli,” Lieutenant Tenney called out to him on a direct frequency.

“What’s up, Tenney?” he asked, anxious to be off now that everyone was in place.

“I, um . . . just wanted to tell you to take care of yourself,” she muttered. Her typical confident nature was absent from her words and he immediately noticed the change. “Some of us like having you around, and would be very upset if anything happened to you.”

Eli double checked the frequency, noted with relief that it was indeed a person-to-person connection. No one could hear them. He closed the ten meters that separated them and looked into her helmet, found her eyes. They shared a look that made his insides flutter.

He had been avoiding her for weeks, afraid of the feelings that had been growing for her. His emotions often surprised him at the most awkward moments: during planning meetings, at the chow hall, once at a meeting with his executive team and Colonel Conway. All of that would have been okay, except that he often felt a strong element of reciprocation. The way she looked at him, the way she spoke with him when no one else was in the room; the time she reached for his hand under the dinner table and squeezed. The colonel’s warning about fraternization was rarely far from his mind.

“I’ll be careful, Adrienne,” he told her softly. “Besides, you’ve got my back, right?”

“Always.”

Eli tilted his head inside his helmet and returned her warm smile before turning back to the rest of their unit. Five minutes later, he was following Benson near the head of Second Platoon’s line of armored soldiers, as they prepared to move toward the station.

Because he was without armor, Twigg was positioned near the rear of the column. As the company executive officer, Tenney remained behind with the two reserve platoons. Free had asked to join the unit moving toward the station, but Eli declined. He wasn’t armored and his training was minimal. The Telgoran wasn’t happy, but complied without complaint.

“Engage auto-spacing and move out at triple speed forward on my mark,” Benson gave the preparatory command. Eli observed as his friend waited the requisite three seconds for any of his troops to activate a red light, which would signal they weren’t yet ready to move out. When no reds appeared, the lieutenant gave the command to execute the order. “Go!”

As one, the line moved forward at a pace that quickly would have resembled their unarmored sprinting speed. In their PEACE suits, it was half what they could manage, if needed. Most importantly, it was a pace that Twigg could maintain over this distance and terrain without too much difficulty. Additionally, each suit was programmed to remain precisely ten meters behind the soldier he or she followed. The entire movement—one moment standing still, the next near-sprinting at perfect spacing—would have been impossible without the suits. Eli briefly checked Twigg’s status on the suit’s heads-up display and saw the Minith sergeant keeping pace, as expected.

At two kilometers out from the station, Benson slowed the column to “standard speed.” At a kilometer, he slowed to a half-standard march, then stopped the unit fully when they were a hundred meters from the objective. When the unit halted, Eli scanned the buildings again. He still saw no sign of movement. He spotted two carriers on the near side of the comm center, and read their markings. They were the carriers the mothership had been sent out to investigate weeks earlier. The vehicles appeared undamaged, but there was no sign of their previous occupants. They had seemingly disappeared—like everyone else who had been stationed here. It was eerie.

“Lieutenant Tenney,” he radioed to his XO. “Anything?”

“No, Captain. Still no sign of movement.”

“Okay, keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything,” he stated, before realizing the absolute inanity of the comment. They both knew she’d be watching intently and would send word at the first sign of trouble. He winced and silently hoped she’d let it pass.

“No problem. I’ll put the slop sandwich down and postpone my shower,” came the matter-of-fact reply.
Nope, not gonna let it pass.

“Sorry, Tenney,” he apologized. “Nerves.”

“No problem,” she repeated, this time with a slight chuckle. “It was such a tasty sandwich too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he acknowledged, grateful he wasn’t broadcasting to the entire company. He quickly switched to the Second Platoon frequency. “Okay, Benson, move your teams out. Start with the comms building, and work your way down the slope.”

“Yes, sir,” the new lieutenant replied. He then turned his attention to the job at hand and began issuing orders to his platoon. “Sergeant Ellison, I’ll take first squad and investigate the building. You and second squad deploy to the left down the slope in a covering line. Third squad, move up the slope to the right. Fourth squad, you stay here with the CO and watch our rear. Any questions? No? Okay, second and third, move out.”

It took only moments for the two squads to position themselves as they had been instructed. When they were in place, Benson took first squad and moved slowly toward the station. Their weapons were up and ready for contact.

“Keep your heads up and your eyes open.” Eli couldn’t help offering a precautionary reminder. As with Tenney, just minutes earlier, the words weren’t needed, but he felt better for saying them. “We don’t know what happened here, so be alert for anything out of the ordinary.”

He received a simple “affirmative” and a casual wave of an armor-gloved hand from Benson.

As the eleven warriors moved toward the comm building, a tight, hot knot of anxiety settled into Eli’s stomach. This was his first venture at sending men into a potentially dangerous situation, and he struggled against a nearly irresistible urge to rush forward and join them—to be the first one across the threshold and into the building. He knew his place was
here
, managing the overall strategy of the mission, but he wanted nothing more than to be
there
, accomplishing the immediate task at hand. He took a deep breath, tried to settle his emotions, and forced himself to observe.

When the squad reached the small, green building, Benson halted the unit for a moment before sending two soldiers around to the right of the building and two more to the left. Within seconds, all four had returned, shaking their heads. Nothing out of the ordinary to report.

Next, Benson pointed to the four troopers and indicated they should take up positions on either side of the building’s only doorway. He put the other six in defensive positions at the corners and to the front of the building. When everyone was in place, he moved to the doorway and, standing to the side, gripped the handle. He gave a nod to the four with him, turned the handle, and pushed the door inward.

As soon as the door cracked open, a beautiful, blinding white light burst outward.

The light was accompanied by a high-pitched, deafening whistle that sliced the air like a scalpel.

Eli clasped his hands to his ears, but found only helmet, and shafts of pain pierced his eardrums, unabated.

For the briefest of moments—before the agony became too intense, and he forgot himself completely—Eli felt an overwhelming desire to move toward the light, and his right foot lifted to take the first step.

Eli awoke to a severe pounding noise, and only realized after several moments that the reverberations originated in his own head. Each dissonant thrum was accompanied by agonizing throbs that sent nails through his temple and slammed like a hammer into his upper back and neck. He groaned and tried to sit up, but immediately fell back in defeat. He raised a hand to his head and found that his helmet had been removed at some point. He cracked open an eye and found himself looking up at the familiar, gridded pattern that he had come to know so well: the bottom of a top bunk.