Noble Lies

by Gary Inbinder

Prologue, part 1
Chapter 1, part 1; part 2
appear in this issue.

Prologue

part 2 of 2

Staring at Luddy and Slim with tired, bloodshot eyes, the medic muttered, “I’m sorry, sergeant-major. He looks real bad; I’ll do what I can.”

Ludwig glared at the medic, and growled, “He’s our commander, you dumb son-of-a bitch.” Luddy shoved the medic aside, and carried Slim to the operating tent.

The frightened orderly shouted, “You can’t go into the surgery, sergeant-major.”

Ludwig ignored the medic, and carried Slim into the tent, walking to a table where the chief surgeon was finishing an operation. The blood-splattered, sweat-soaked surgeon looked up, and shouted through his mask, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bringing that man in here?”

Ludwig cradled Slim in his arms, stared directly at the surgeon, and replied, “This is Captain Slim, sir; top priority. I’m not leaving this tent until you take a look at him.”

The chief-surgeon muttered at Ludwig, “I could have you court-martialed for this,” and then turned to his assistant. “Finish up here, while I take a look at the captain.” Turning back to Ludwig, the surgeon added, “Follow me, sergeant-major.”

The chief-surgeon led Ludwig to an examining table. Following the surgeon’s instructions, Ludwig laid his captain down on the table, and then watched anxiously as the doctor performed his examination. After a few moments, the surgeon shook his head, pulled down his mask and faced Ludwig with a grim, but sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry, sergeant-major, under these circumstances there’s not much we can do for him, but we’ll do our best. In the meantime, whoever is senior will need to command the company.”

Slim moaned. Ludwig placed his hand gently on his captain’s shoulder, lowered his head and whispered, “It’s alright, sir. The Docs will take good care of you, and I swear we’ll fight our way back to the battalion.”

Slowly, Slim raised his left arm and grasped Luddy by the sleeve. Staring at Ludwig with his remaining eye, Slim tried to talk through the mangled, toothless hole that once was a mouth. “Luddy,” he gasped, “save the fittest... leave the weak for dead.”

Ludwig held Slim’s hand, as he answered, “No, sir. We’re all getting out of here, and then it’s payback time.” Looking up at the surgeon, Luddy added, “Then, you can have me shot for disobeying orders.”

The surgeon smiled. “Get back to your comrades, sergeant-major. I’ll take care of your captain.”

Ludwig turned to Slim, who now lay unconscious on the gory table, looked back at the surgeon and said, “Thank you, sir.” Then, he got up and left the operating tent. Luddy walked past dozens of wounded and dying Guardsmen as he returned to the line. The groans and cries of his comrades resounding in his ears, Ludwig thought, I’m damned if I’ll leave one of them in this Algolian hellhole.

After two days of desperate fighting, they’d taken heavy casualties. Ammunition, food, water and medical supplies were low, Slim severely wounded, and the rest of the platoon leaders were dead, leaving Ludwig in command. The company was down to no more than sixty percent combat strength; the men were exhausted.

In the early morning hours of the third day, Ludwig made a command decision. Ludwig, and a combat ‘droid, scouted the northern perimeter, where the river flowed downhill through a steep ravine, probing what they believed to be a weak point in the enemy’s line.

Wearing camouflage and under heavy cloud cover, Ludwig and the android moved silently up the incline, through the forest fringing the ridge of the gully; below them, to the right, the stream plashed noisily over its stony bed.

About three clicks north of their base, they caught a prize: an isolated, and very scared, young enemy picket. Ludwig gave the terrified Algolian a choice: torture, or talk. The enemy soldier, a boy of about sixteen, chose wisely: he talked until they told him to shut up. As Ludwig suspected, the Algolians had spread themselves very thin in this sector; the company could break through, and the boy would act as a guide.

Ludwig began moving the company before dawn, behind a screen of smoke and fire. He took advantage of a change in the weather and the dry, northerly winds, using mortars to lob incendiary shells into parched thickets. The shells started a diversionary blaze, spreading over the plain into the forest to the south.

The company pulled out and, true to his word, Ludwig made the strong help the weak. Ludwig set the example, carrying his semi-conscious captain most of the way. The only ones left behind were those already dead.

Ludwig bore the burden of his one hundred and seventy pound captain for almost five clicks without complaint, even when scrambling up a steep incline through thick, razor wire brush. His arms scraped and bleeding, muscles aching and sore, throat dry and scratchy as sandpaper and his legs as heavy as lead weights, Ludwig set the pace for his men without slowing a step, or stopping for a moment’s rest. When he stumbled, he muttered, “Sorry, sir,” and then kept pushing on.

Slim, who when conscious suffered terrible pain — the Docs were out of “happy juice” — replied “I’m okay, sergeant major,” and then lapsed into silence without allowing himself so much as a quiet groan.

Bec Rogers walked directly behind Ludwig and Slim, occasionally glancing at them through her dark brown robotic eyes. Becky hadn’t been bad looking before she met the business end of an Algolian phosphor bomb. The military Docs who patched her up with circuitry, nano-computers and robotic parts thought more in terms of combat effectiveness than esthetics. But, if they left a “soft-spot,” it was there for Ludwig.

As they neared the crest of a steep ridge, Becky came up next to Ludwig, and said, “Let me take over for a bit, sergeant major; you need a breather.”

Ludwig glared at Becky, and growled, “Get back to your unit, sergeant.”

Bec fell back, turned toward some stragglers, and barked, “Get the lead out of your ass.” Looking back at Ludwig and Slim, she thought, If ‘bots could cry, I think my eyes would be getting wet. She kept following closely behind Luddy and the captain, and it was only when they reached the crest of the hill and spotted Charlie Company’s pickets about one-half click to the northwest that Ludwig allowed Becky to carry Slim.

After linking up with Charlie Company, Ludwig went to battalion headquarters. He provided valuable intelligence gained from the Algolian prisoner. Together with the battalion commander, Ludwig led the spearhead of a coordinated Division strength counter-attack that penetrated the Algolian lines, enveloped and decimated a large, enemy force. Now in command of Delta Company, Ludwig had the job of mopping up what was left of the Algolian army.

The camp in the small depression below the ridge contained the remainder of an elite battalion. The counter-attack had reduced the Algolians, once a dangerous fighting force, to a demoralized half-strength unit on the run.

After replacing his binoculars in their case, Ludwig glanced behind him at fiery Algol rising above the shadowy tree line. As the purple sky turned crimson, the Republican Guard opened fire. Blasters blazed ruby-red, their tracer beams boring into tent canvas, slicing the occupants like hot knives through butter.

Mortars fired along the ridgeline with a resounding pa-poom, their muzzles spitting platinum-orange flames. Shells chugged and whined through the still morning air, striking and vaporizing targets with dazzling electric blue light bursts.

Those Algolians not killed in their sleep began running like bedbugs, grabbing their weapons in a futile attempt at defense. Blinded by the rays of the rising star, the Algolians fell like flies, swatted by the Guard’s relentless barrage.

Recalling the charred and mutilated remains of comrades captured by the Algolian battalion below, Ludwig leveled his scoped sniper’s blaster and calmly picked off anyone who appeared to be giving orders, zapping three officers with clean head shots in less than sixty seconds.

The battle lasted little more than five minutes; shouts of “cease fire” echoed along the hill crest, followed by the sporadic popping of small arms fire, and then, silence punctuated by the intermittent groans of the wounded.

Becky led a ranger platoon into the valley, to check the body count and pick up survivors for interrogation. Cautiously walking through the corpse-strewn field and campsite, cyborg rangers using their robotically enhanced perception detected the slightest twitching sign of life. Out of almost three hundred Algolians in the camp, twelve survived. The rangers took four prisoners for intelligence, shooting the rest after deeming them too badly wounded to move.

Returning to the company line on the hill, Becky reported, “The Guard got some payback today.”

Surveying the devastation, Ludwig observed, “Yeah, Becky; I guess we taught the bastards a lesson.”

“Damn straight, sir,” Bec replied.

Proceed to chapter 1, part 1...