[GZG Fiction] Stepping Up

The next couple of days were fairly mundane in comparison to the solid
action of the weeks before. The 2/34 held its breath as it waited for
the fall out of its colossal effort. No section was untouched and as a
whole the 2/34 had taken over 60 percent causalties. The 500 strong
force was never going to be the hammer that smote the Krak from Mars,
but they had played their role well and the allied human forces were now
firmly within the bounds of the last Krak strong hold on Mars.

The squad I had been riding with for many months now was in a bad way
though. It had been pretty badly cut up in the final assault on what had
turned out to be the Kraks northern command HQ. It had only be a small
command group by Krak standards, but it had been a lot larger than
anticipated by our spooks. Krak outposts typically had a dispersed
network of nodal commands, each with their own purple priestling to keep
them from going feral and eating each other or whatever they did when
those blood rages took them. Initially hearing how they would tear out
of cover like some rampaging behemoth, ignoring wounds and slaying all
in their path had made them sound like terrible monsters. Now it seemed
like their biggest weakness. Kill their priests, their controllers, and
they were rabid animals you could pick off with care and fewer
casualties than the earlier massacres had suggested. Their tactics,
strategies and even their reason for doggedly attacking human space were
still beyond my comprehension, but they were no longer the stuff of
childhood nightmares. Dont misunderstand me, the Krak are still
ferocious fighters that are a scary sight to behold on the battlefield,
but their ability to inspire almost irrational fear in me is gone.

I had certainly been afraid during the assault on the outpost. My heart
had pounded until it was fit to burst when I picked up Graces rifle. If
Id known at the time that we were neutralising the main command post of
that entire section of the Krak front line defences I think my bodily
functions would have done something highly inappropriate. Nevertheless,
training, determination and the courageous skill of the OU squad I was
with had seen us through. It had been at a terrible cost form my
perspective though. Four of the nine were dead and two more were out of
action for at least a month.

While it is typical to leave grieving until the fighting is done, such a
monumental toll was a truly ghastly blow and Iron George chose to
acknowledge it immediately rather than let the emotional ripples
potentially cripple what remained of his fighting force. Accordingly he
drew us together on a stretch of clear ground between our new camp and
the rock of the crater wall the morning after the attack on the Krak
outposts. He climbed on the nose of one of the transports and stood
effectively in silhouette against the butterscotch sky, the pale sun
behind him.

After a moments pause he looked down to a flexisheet in his hand and
began to read, his forceful voice coming through the ear buds, but also
carrying directly. across the eerily still morning.

It was a rough and tough country. At halts it was useless trying to sit
on the ground, which meant that everything from smokos to eating was
usually carried out at the stand. The enemy were exceedingly nasty
customers, each had a range of weapons which chilled the blood. They
lurked in the enveloping darkness, stalking with great stealth and
patience.  He raised his head, again, before continuing.

Private Tom Gunning was the first to admit that he had no understanding
of the world or the foes he would find when he stepped off the troop
ship. What he did have was a deep sense of doing what was right and the
paramount importance of helping a mate. Each of you has your own reasons
from signing on, but I know every one of you does what you do because
you would not let your mates down. When you pulled on the slouch hat you
joined a tradition that stretches back over 300 years to Private
Gunnings decision to serve in the Sudan.

They were no more immune to death then than we are now. The ground we
stand on now is not awfully different to that which holds the dead from
that war or the body of Trooper Victor Jones. Jones was remembered by
his mates and his family, even a hundred years after his death, not
because he was the first Australian to fall in the Boer War, but because
he was a friendly bloke who always did right by his mates. In this hour
it is our turn to fall, but also our turn to honour our mates and make
sure that when they fell for us they did not fall for nought. While Krak
still walk in human lands there is no time for tears. However
intractable the situation may seem, we cannot resign ourselves to
failure. It will not be easy, but we cannot imagine we will fail. We
must reach for the light on the hill. We must reach past our limitations
and continue, not only for our fallen, or for our mates still around us,
but for their families and for all humanity.

I played Baxters speech back four times that day and two the next
morning trying to capture the scintillation of it. How it riveted the
attention and fired the spirit. The recording was but a pale spectre of
the moment and each set of words I tried seemed still paler phantom. In
the end I gave up and moved back to more banal routines.

It couldnt be too long before wed be on the move so I decided to finally
strip and have a really good look at the armour plates for my back. The
transport was the safest place for that. I didnt want to be caught half
shell if the Krak started dropping missiles or mortars on us.

The transport wasnt exactly roomy, but it was big enough to act as the
squads home. I climbed up to find Nic stretched out on the benches down
one side, snoring, some trashy holo novel looping inanely in the tube
projector still resting in his slack hand.

I sat down on the opposite bench and deactivated the clasps up the sides
of the plates. Once they had relaxed I pulled the now quasi-rubbery
pullover up over my head. The transport was warm compared to the brutal
Martian chill outside and I knew I was fairly safe inside the armoured
belly of the transport. I still felt strangely exposed though, Id been
living inside these same clothes for weeks. Wed managed the odd shower
and swap out of our thermals, but we hadnt done real laundry in months.
I only travelled with two sets, any more and I wouldnt have room in my
meagre kit allowance for my cameras and other gear. So changing clothes
had boiled down to just swapping the top or leggings for the other
slightly less dirty set. Both sets were now pretty filthy and I was
looking forward to having a real bath. Getting really clean, not just
wiped down.

I held the pullover forward over my knees looking at the grooves, cracks
and imperfections. Id been pretty close to taking a serious hit. That
thought was a little unsettling, but nowhere near as grating as hearing
the holo novel reset its music loop again. I got up, stepped over to Nic
and hit the kill button on the side of the projector plate. Nic stirred,
snuffled, but settled back to a snore.

I sat back down and started digging in my duffel for my tub of PAP. I
thought I might even have to go on a scrounge for some extra, though I
guessed it would be in pretty high demand about now.

Suddenly the back hatch started to cycle. I grabbed a deep breath and
held it, but kept at what I was doing, looking up only as the hatch
split open. Cathy climbed in, surrounded by a dancing swirl of fine
dust, which got in everywhere, and a stiff blast of frigid air.

Geesh. The cold had sucked my breath form me, sitting there topless by
Martian standards.

As the hatch cycled close behind her, Cathy chuckled, Didnt know you
were shy Jock. She said taking a berth beside me and pulling her duffle
out to sit between her feet.

Not shy, just still a tropical beach bum at heart.

I would have thought youd have had enough sand.

Ahh but not the sun, surf and cocktails. I responded with a smile.

We both fell into silence, working over our kit.

I heard a quiet beep and looked to Cathy to see what was up. She was
nodding as someone spoke to her through the bud in her ear.

Copy. Over. She started dropping her things back in her duffel. The
Colonel wants to see us ASAP. She stood and stepped across the small
space to poke Nic in the ribs. Up you get sleeping beauty.

I only wake for a kiss.

Then youll be fighting in your pjs.

You could send in Rurik. I offered with a grin.

Oh no Im awake! Nic said shooting straight up, hands up in surrender 
luckily as they meant he caught himself just in time to avoid banging
his head on the roof of the transport. He gave one long stretch and
immediately reached for his rifle. Where to?

Iron George. Cathy responded, tucking extra clips for her rifle into a
pouch in the small of her back.

Nic grabbed extra ammunition too, while I finished seating my upper body
armour and hit the clasp seals down either side. Cathy was first out,
dropping down and going around to the front of the vehicle to collect
Rurik.

Nic and I didnt have to wait long, before we all headed off together

Vhat you zink ve gayt?

I shrugged. I knew wed get mixed in with other teams. Every squad had
spots to fill. I wasnt even officially a member of the team, just an
embed along for the ride. Heaven only knew what that meant, whether
theyd keep me with Cathy or Rurik or sit me in some other squad
altogether. If truth be told, my worst fear was that they would send me
somewhere else. I had never spent so long with one group before. As a
non-aligned freelance Id typically bounced slot to slot without too much
concern. This time was different however, it was my longest single
assignment and Id grown comfortable with my fit in the 2/34. I knew I
wasnt really one of them, but I felt like I was, even if they only kept
around for a laugh. I really didnt want to go anywhere else. I didnt
want to dwell on that potentiality so I buried the thought and followed
Nic and Cathy quietly through camp. Rurik must have sensed my mood, as
he remained silent too.

Russ Wilcox intercepted us just as we reached the complex of tents that
made up Iron Georges HQ. I noticed he now had Captains pips.

Sorry hes been caught up on jibbers by the brass. Ive got your
assignments here Russ said, holding up a flexisheet, ghostly lines of
writing dancing across it. All except you Jock, he wants to see you in
person. You can grab a seat in there he said indicating the nearest
tent.

I nodded to the group and gave a quiet Be seein ya then before
unfastening the tent flap and slipping inside. It was still and dim
inside, with deactivated map boards lining three walls. A couple of
chairs sat by a table in the far corner. A thin coating of rust coloured
dust covered everything. I looked around for a few minutes and then went
over and pulled out a seat. I didnt have much to occupy me so I started
charging my batteries and fiddling with my camera gear.

The tent flap unzipped. It wasnt the Colonels shaved head that greeted
me though, but Cathys.

You got a sec? she asked quickly glancing about to make sure I was free
or alone.

I think so

Come out here a sec.

I stepped back outside, pulling the flap closed behind me.

I thought you might like to know they were pretty impressed with the
effort the other day. We all got a mention in the logs.

Well you deserved it, bloody hell that was tough.

You included dunderhead.

Oh!

Da, oh! Rurik rumbled grinning.

Actually, I wanted to say goodbye. They're sending me back to San Juan.
Theyve got a platoon of newbs they need whipped into shape.

Thats our Cathy, the cherry picker. Nic commented quietly, smiling.

And you? I looked to Nic.

Got my own section. Full corporal now. He said rolling his shoulder
forward so I could see the extra stripe.

Nice going.

I turned to Keoni.

Heavy weapons. Im da man! he said with an easy grin and nodding head.

Lastly I caught Ruriks eye. He seem to grow, his chest puffing out.

Polkvnik driverah!

My confusion must have shown as Nic chuckled and explained Hell be
chauffeuring the Colonel about.

Wow! Nice. I was genuinely glad for them all, but it increased my
trepidation concerning my own position. There was no clear spot for me.
Best be getting back I guess. I said lamely, throwing a brief glance at
the tent. Strangely for me I was at a loss for words. This seemed
difficult, awkward.

Keep you head down, hey? Nic said leaning over to clap me on the
shoulder.

You too. I said as Cathy gave me a quick, companionable squeeze. Keoni
head butted me and Rurik folded me into a bear hug.

Pa-ka ZajchOnok

Did you just call me a little bunny? I asked incredulously.

Nyet. Da. Maybe. It is harreh not boonny. You trranslator get good, pity
you not never know any culchah! He said slapping me hard on the back. I
could only smile, shaking my head and giving them a small wave as they
moved off and I returned to the tent.

It was quite some time before the Colonel was ready to see me, but it
gave me time to have all my kit sorted and squared away again.

When I was finally shown into his make shift office he stood up from
behind the desk to shake my hand, before indicating I should take a
seat.

First off I wanted to say you did a good job the other day. In fact the
whole time youve been here.

Thank you.

I know you embed types usually bounce around more than whores in a hot
blanket, so Ive got a new position for you. With the 3/7.

Sir?!

He scratched a brow and then fixed me with a firm look.

Ive been watching you Jock. Youve made a place for yourself here. Earned
some real respect. So right now you must be feeling disappointed that
Ive decided you should move on.

Yes. Isnt there- Actually I was gutted.

Let me explain son. I knew youd seen combat before you got here. That
youd acquitted yourself well. I never would have let you within a bulls
roar otherwise. Were on the final run home now Jock. Im not saying the
Krak will be a walk over, but now were big news. Every corporate baron
worth his salt is trying to get his polished teeth glamour anchors in
with us now. Not just with the 2/34, but all over. None of them have an
ounce of the experience you have. The 3/7 is going to be at the pointy
end of a lot of whats coming. Getting in ahead and loosening things up
for the rest of us. Theyre unit history is effectively unbroken for 155
years. They do a lot of classified ops so its not always widely known,
but its there for those who need to know. They lost their unit reporter
last week. So there is a slot up for grabs.

But Ive never done basic. Well embed basic but not full on military
stuff.

Jock do you think it gets more full on than what youve seen with us? If
you had been enlisted youd have a chest full of gongs now, plus a couple
of unit citations. Oh you do the odd stupid thing still, but you do
combat zombie stupid not oh Ive got a hangnail, whats my hair look like?
stupid. And before you look all horrified and ask if you were ever like
that. You werent. I wouldnt have let you off the bird that first day
otherwise. Theres a few others with as much time in country as you Jock,
some even as fit as you. None of the others are as damn lucky as you. Id
take it as a personal favour if youd take the position. Their Colonel
was a Duntroon classmate of mine. Old friend, bit rough around the
edges, but solid. Ive recommended you to him and he agrees you fit the
bill. If you want it, its yours.

Ah I dont know what to say.

How about Yes sir. Thank you sir!? he said with a grin.

Yes sir, thank you sir. I said rising as he did. He offered me his hand.
I shook it and turned to leave.

The 3/7 is down on the coast. Theres a supply convoy heading down there
in an hour. I said you meet them by the Q-depot.

Thanks.

My time with the 2/34 was really done, but I had a new adventure ahead
of me.