Chapter 25: Cleanup

Hoff placed the plastic explosive on the roof of the tunnel, gingerly pushing the detonator transceiver into the clay-like lump. He tapped at his wrist computer, syncing the device to his system, then gave Brenner a thumbs-up.

“We’re good to go, LT. Don’t know how sturdy this tunnel is, though. Whole fucking thing might come down on us.”

“The map has been ... reasonably accurate so far,” Song added, examining the holographic readout on his display. “We should be right beneath the basement level of the palace.”

“All of this waiting is boring me to tears,” Petrova grumbled, her prosthetic arms crossed as she leaned against a nearby brick wall. They were all still up to their shins in greywater, deep in the maze of sewers beneath the Rask city. Their flashlight beams cut through the gloom, illuminating the odd alien ecology that seemed to be thriving in its stinking depths. There were clusters of colorful mushrooms and fungi growing along the waterline, clinging to the stone, the occasional echo of splashing water suggesting that there were more animate things swimming around down there with them.

“Pull back to minimum safe distance,” Brenner said, turning to address the rest of the SWAR team. “As soon as the Lieutenant Colonel gives the order, we breach. It’s going to be weapons free up there, the Admiralty wants the Rask leadership eliminated. Our orders are to secure the compound, and then wait for the Coalition forces to push into the city.”

He was interrupted as a message came through, Petrova standing up and readying her PDW eagerly as he put a prosthetic finger to the side of his helmet.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Understood, sir.”

“What did they say?’ she asked, Stevens checking the magazine on his rifle as he sidled up behind her.

“Stand down,” Brenner ordered. “Operation Checkmate was a success. The Admiralty has decided to go with the regime change option.”

“Blyat!” Petrova hissed, stamping her foot in the murky water. “You mean we trudged through miles of Rask shit for nothing?”

“Our new orders are to return to the temporary FOB that the boys in blue set up outside the city and await reassignment,” he added. “As far as the Rask are supposed to know, we were never here, so it looks like we’re walking back.”

Petrova sighed, Stevens giving her a nudge with his elbow.

“Come on, it ain’t like your legs are gonna get tired.”

“Move out,” Brenner said, waving them back down the tunnel. “Let’s not spend any more time down here than we have to.”

“What about my bomb?” Hoff asked as he spread his arms, sounding genuinely dismayed that he wasn’t going to be allowed to blow anything up.

“Pack it up,” Brenner replied. “Don’t leave any evidence that we were here.”

Hoff reached up, grumbling into his helmet as he slowly removed the detonator, returning the explosive to its container. He hurried along after the rest of the team as they made their way back down the dank passageway, struggling to slot it back into his rig, the splashes and footsteps echoing off the old stone walls.

“The war is over, then?” Petrova asked as she waded through the water beside Brenner. “We only just arrived!”

“Looks that way,” he replied. “The plan was to replace the territory’s old leader with a new one that had Coalition backing. If that fell through, we were going to clean house.”

“Feels like a wasted opportunity,” she grumbled. “It’s not every day that you get an excuse to remove a hostile nation’s entire leadership. A little chaos and unrest would keep them too busy to be a threat for a good long while...”

“We’ll see what happens. If they start cooperating, we’ll never have to come back.”

“I’m not complainin’,” Stevens added. “I’m getting sick of pickin’ the sand out of my joints. The sooner we get off this hellhole of a planet, the better.”

“I don’t think any amount of scrubbing will make me feel clean after this,” Petrova muttered.

“The MAST launch sites have been secured,” Sarif said, addressing a holographic image of one of the Admirals as he stood at the table in the Yagda’s bridge. “They only ever had four, including the one they launched. They were hidden deep inside the most populated areas of the city. We made the right call. Trying to bomb those sites would have been a disaster, the former Matriarch made sure of it. Our combat engineers are currently disassembling the launchers and prepping the missiles for transport.”

“Good to hear,” the Admiral replied after a short delay, the transmission taking some moments to reach him. He was clad in the usual white uniform and cap, his breast emblazoned with colorful ribbons and medals. “The meteorologists say that the sandstorm will make landing spacecraft impossible for another two months at least, so your battalion will have to stick around a little longer. Technically speaking, the succession of the new Matriarch is completely lawful as far as the Rask are concerned, so there’s no need for a provisional government or a military occupation. You’ll be remaining in the territory with her permission as a peacekeeping force, just to make sure that everything goes smoothly during the transition. And remember,” he added, his wrinkled brow furrowing. “Korbaz is on that throne because we ‘put’ her there, and if she becomes uncooperative, that can be undone easily enough.”

“What should be done about the former Matriarch?” Sarif asked. “I could apply some pressure, get Korbaz to release her into Coalition custody to stand trial.”

“It’s no longer any concern of ours,” the Admiral replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Let the Rask deal with her as they see fit. All of the Crewmasters who remained loyal to her were killed in action, as were all of the Palace Guard who participated in the battle at the gate. Her supporters are all either dead or have pledged their support to Korbaz.”

“And the PoWs?”

“Treat the injured and release the rest. Keep it to a slow trickle, we don’t want too many of them flooding back into the city at once. We can begin unloading the passengers from the civilian liner that left the Pinwheel, too. I have a feeling the mysterious problem with its superlight drive is about to clear up. We’ll bring them down a few shuttles at a time. Borealans have a very strict hierarchy, they’ll behave themselves as long as Korbaz keeps them under control. Still, until order has been completely restored, it would be prudent to keep an eye on the population. Coordinate with the local government to set up curfews, make sure no large crowds can assemble.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Korbaz will no doubt be in touch soon. She was an ambassador for a long time, which makes her far more reasonable and diplomatic than most Rask. I’m curious to know what kind of future she envisions for her territory. We must involve ourselves in this process, it may be our only chance to give the Rask a firm nudge in the right direction.”

“If I might ask, sir, is it the Security Council’s intent for the Rask to remain Coalition members?”

“If possible,” the Admiral replied, “but new agreements will have to be reached. Things cannot go back to the way they were before. That said, we now have far more leverage than we ever did while the previous Matriarch was in power, and the Rask have more reasons than ever to cooperate. We can yet turn this situation to our advantage.”

“I will keep you updated, sir,” Sarif said. The Admiral closed the connection, Sarif leaving his place at the holographic table, walking over to look out of one of the nearby monitors that served as windows. Below was the small tent city that had been established, personnel moving back and forth between the temporary structures. It was mostly barracks for the Marines, field hospitals for the wounded, and housing for the prisoners. They had been remarkably cooperative, he would give them that. The Rask PoWs hadn’t made a single attempt to escape or to rise up against their captors.

He watched as a Timberwolf drove past, its six wheels kicking up dust, the armored vehicle quickly vanishing into the storm. The recon company would be driving around the interior of the territory for a while, mapping it out, and ensuring that there were no pockets of resistance remaining who hadn’t gotten the memo.

The mechanized companies were mostly stationed inside the city now, guarding the launch sites while the combat engineers did their work, and patrolling the narrow streets to keep the peace. The Kodiaks were serving as stationary checkpoints, as it had been discovered that their tracks tended to tear up the cobblestones that the Rask used to pave their roads.

All things considered, they had gotten off pretty lightly. The situation could have devolved a lot further, and it had only been through swift action on the part of the Coalition, and Korbaz’s change of heart that further bloodshed had been avoided. A lot of lives had been lost on both sides, all for a cause that seemed trivial compared to the fates of entire planets and species, but morale among the troops seemed high after their victory at the East Gate.

They were going to need some R&R after their trek across the desert, and while the Rask territory was a far cry from the bustling markets and bars of Elysia, it would do them good to get out of their tanks for a while.

“I want the Yagda’s performance logs sent back to Mars via quantum link as soon as possible,” he said, the comms operator turning in his chair to glance at him. “Include all of the combat data, and bump it up to priority one in the queue if you have to. I don’t want it waiting in the satellite’s buffer for days.”

“At once, sir,” the crewman replied as he began to tap at his console.

“I think the program is going to be very successful...”

Ben lay on the roof of the Timberwolf, his fingers interlocked behind his head, the visor on his helmet dimming automatically to protect his eyes from the harsh glare of the twin suns. It had been two months since the end of the war, and the cursed storm had finally cleared, revealing the sky for the first time in what felt like ages. It was as blue as an ocean, broken up only by tiny wisps of cloud that sailed along lazily, the breeze blowing the tops of the trees in the distance. He turned his head to the right to peer out over the lake, its mirror-like surface reflecting the sky, disturbed by gentle waves that lapped at the sandy shore. It was so big that he couldn’t see the other side.

There was a clunk as Mizi hopped up onto the vehicles, bobbing over to join him.

“What are you doing?” she chuckled, handing him a packet of instant grape juice. He lifted his visor just enough to get the straw beneath it, taking a long draw. The liquid was wonderfully cool, he could feel it traveling all the way down his throat, settling in his belly.

“Sunbathing,” he replied.

“I thought you hated the heat?” she asked, her feathery headdress flashing yellow. “And you’re wearing your pressure suit.”

“It’s a matter of principle,” he replied. “When humans go on vacation, they’re supposed to sunbathe. I’m pretending that I’m on some Caribbean island somewhere.”

She perched on the side of the vehicle, following his gaze, the heat haze blurring the surface of the water in the distance.