Conscription Day: The Johnson Chronicles Page 2

  At 0730, I collected my troops in front of the combat boat. There were 150 men, ready to give there all for the empire, ready to die for what they believed in.

  The individual combat units stood in four rows of five, in perfect formation. I knew every single one of them. Some had been with me through numerous missions, and survived, which wasn’t something everyone had managed. My group was usually twelve squads of twenty men each. The numbers were replenished before every mission. My men had been dying quickly lately, quicker than they could be replaced. The replacements were almost exclusively recruits, fresh from the academy. I got one or two experienced soldiers who had asked for a transfer, or from units that had been almost completely destroyed. I divided them up among the other squads. There just weren’t the men to completely replenish the numbers of the combat unit. Realistically, I only had ten men, if you don’t count recruits. Tomorrow, only a handful of them would still be alive.

  “Recruits, listen up! Everyone, listen! I will now divide you and assign you to existing squads. I will first name the squad, and then your number. Move your ass as quickly as possible to your new unit and join it at the end of the line. Every squad gets five new recruits. When a squad is complete, march directly on board. We don’t want to put down roots. We have an important job to do today. We don’t have our full fighting strength, but these numbers will have to do. Listen to the experienced men in your squad. Do exactly what they tell you, learn from your comrades, as quickly as you can, that way you will have some kid of chance of seeing the morning. A landing like this can be quite rough. Find something to hold on to. Hold on to each other if you need to. Stow your bags properly and tie them down with the webbing. Let’s go!”

  I had taken the files of the new recruits so I could look at how they performed in the academy, as if you can even tell much from a month’s training, and also their psychological profile.

  I had used this information when I divided up the recruits and I hoped to give the young men at least some chance of surviving.

  “Combat Squad Alpha!” I yelled. As soon as I had finished the last syllable, an answer came from Lietuenant Hartmann.

  “Yes, sir, Unit Alpha, all present and ready for battle!”

  “Thank you, lieutenant! Here are your new recruits. Recruit five, thirteen, eighteen, twenty-five, and twenty-six joining Unit Alpha.”

  Even though the recruits were standing right at the back, almost twenty meters away from me (18.75 meters to be exact), I heard recruit thirteen whisper to his neighbor. “Bullshit, there’s no way he can still remember which number each of us is.”

  “Haaalt!” I yelled. “Squad, step back! Recruit thirteen, step forward!”

  I heard him whisper again, “Shit!” He stepped forward and stood at attention in front of me.

  “What did you just whisper to your neighbor? Do you want to share your skepticism with the rest of us?”

  Thirteen stared at me defiantly, but he didn’t say a word.

  “What’s wrong, thirteen? No balls? Just attitude. Come on. Repeat after me. Say bullshit, if it makes you feel better. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable on your first day in the squad. So, I’m listening.” He was still just looking at me, all the color draining from his face. You could clearly see the tension getting to him.

  “I don’t think you know which of us is which number. You don’t even know our names,” he spat the words out, like bullets. He looked almost relieved, as if he expected to be shot for what he had said.

  “Recruit thirteen, service number 59685741236, also known as Fin Glouger, born on Uta in 1024, according to the Imperial Calendar, son of Gloria and Kenneth Glouger. Two older brothers, Frank, killed in action in 1023 in the space battle for Rous, and Harold, discharged as unfit for service, one sister, Jennifer, service number 59665698712, doctor on the military hospital ship Challenger. Your shoe size, Mr. Glouger, is 43, uniform size 50, three disciplinary hearings during training because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Do you want to hear more about you, or one of the other recruits, number thirteen? I know everything there is to know about you and everyone else in the squad. I know when you take a shit, what your shit looks like, and I know what it smells like when you fart.”

  Fin Glouger stared at me, his mouth half open, and battled to keep his composure. There was a silence in my squad like a minute’s silence for fallen comrades. I wasn’t playing fair with this kid standing in front of me. He didn’t know about my implants. Like I said, I knew everything about everyone in my squad, and I meant it. I really did know everything about everyone who had ever been in my squad, including their exact times of death. Modern technology made it possible. When I was promoted to captain, five standard years ago, I was augmented with a photographic memory chip. It made it possible for me to remember everything I heard, and anything I saw even for a moment. It was a very helpful aid in situations like this, but it could also be a damn curse. What I wouldn’t give to be able to forget all the names of the people who had been killed under my command? This information wasn’t even saved on the chip. This information and these images were burned right into my brain. I would carry these horrific memories with me to my grave, because removing the chip would not get rid of them. I didn’t wait for number thirteen to answer, I just kept right on speaking. “You are damn lucky, thirteen. We don’t have time right now to teach you some discipline. Otherwise you would be begging me to shoot you before I was done with you. And I might still need you down there – even if it is just to catch a bullet for somebody else. Now move your ass, get back in line, and follow Squad Alpha on board, and keep your mouth shut.”

  I turned my gaze back to the group of recruits. “That goes the same for five, eighteen, twenty-five, and twenty-six.” Then I called out the other groups of five and distributed them to squads Delta, Echo, Golf, Juliet, and Lima. Bravo, Charlie, Foxtrott, Hotel, India, and Kilo had been wiped out last week. The distribution went without any further incident or interruption.

  Then operation Kasuar started.

  If everything went to plan, it would be the last big offensive in this system and would bring the enemy to their knees. We had never met such tough resistance on any contested planet before. The enemy was defending the system and the only inhabitable planet more tenaciously than ever before. They were throwing everything into the battle, as if they were defending their home planet itself.

  The imperatrix was set on conquering this system, no matter the cost. To achieve this goal, the imperial troops could call on whatever resources they needed to take the planet. How many men and women were killed in the invasion was not an issue.

  Strategically, this made a lot of sense. Targeos had an atmosphere that could support human life and had a mild climate. The average temperature was a comfortable 21 degrees. There were neither particularly cold winters, nor very hot summers. It was almost twice as far around the equator as on old Earth but the area of ocean was only a quarter as much. But it had a huge abundance of ore, gasses, and other raw materials. The other planets of the system were not inhabitable, but they were also rich in ore and were ideal for extraction. A new logistics base was intended to be set up here, with everything needed by the soldiers at the front.

  The fields of Targeos would provide considerable harvests and provide for food. There were several orbital shipyards for repair and building new ships, as well as uncountable manufacturing facilities.

  Because the system had all the raw materials needed, they didn’t have to be brought in, so it could operate fully autonomously as a base. It was also very important strategically because it was perfectly positioned to support the advance of imperial troops into enemy territory. Future offensives could be both planned and carried out from here.

  But there was one thing that made this system so incredibly important. It was the location of one of the five known jump gates that provided access to the Seisossa dominion. Until now, this h
ad been the only gate used by the enemy to penetrate into imperial territory. If we controlled this system, the colonies in the outer fringe would, for the first time in over twenty years, would be somewhat safe. Nobody knew if the Seisossa had an ordinary faster than light drive, and how powerful it might be. They had always come through this jump gate so far.

  That was the reason the imperatrix was putting everything into holding this system. Since then the fleet had cleared the system of enemy ships in huge space battles, orbital defenses had been positioned everywhere and new ships were arriving almost by the hour, not to take part in the battle, but to secure the system and make it impregnable.

  The enemy had made a big mistake in not defending the Targeos system strongly enough. Even though the fighting was fierce, the enemy was very much getting the worst of it, and hadn’t been able to counter our offensive with anything. The Seisossa fought courageously, to the last gasp, but the end was inevitable. The only thing that wasn’t certain was how many of us would be killed.

  The Sejsossa, as the species called themselves, were reptilian creatures. Their entire bodies were covered in a natural scale armor that was very tough. They had two legs, two arms, and three eyes. The third eye was positioned at the back of their head, in the center. We didn’t know if this eye had naturally evolved in this position or whether it was a genetic augmentation. This eye made it impossible to sneak up behind the enemy unnoticed.

  The aliens looked like crocodiles, an animal that had gone extinct hundreds of years ago on Earth.

  They walked upright and had a powerful tail, which they could use for balance or as a weapon. Their mouth was shorter than that of a crocodile, but their arms were longer and ended in claws as sharp as knives.

  But what made them so dangerous and the reason every citizen of the empire hated and feared them didn’t have anything to do with their exterior. The Seisossa were meat eaters, as are many creatures, but they particularly liked the taste of humans. Just the idea of being eaten alive was enough to strike terror into a lot of the people of the empire. It was barbarism, plain and simple. Such a species could not be allowed to exist in the universe. They had to be eradicated. Every single one of these horrendous creatures had to be wiped out. If there was one thing that humanity was good at, it was the eradication of other species. Humanity had shown this thousands of times. The Earth had once been home to innumerable species, but now not much was left of it at all. Huge numbers of species had been sacrificed in the name of inexorable progress and ignorance about the environment. It was even worse for species considered to be dangerous. Entire families of animals that could injure or kill humans were systematically wiped out.

  The battle against the aliens had begun more than twenty standard years ago. The Seisossa had been having problems with food for many, many years, and had expanded ever further into space until they had encountered a small human colony. Their defenses had been weak, and only a single Sejsossa ship had been enough to take the planet. None of the colonists had survived the following massacre. A freighter had arrived four days after the attack. The crew saw a picture of horror. All that they found of several colonists was gnawed bones and body parts. There was no trace of the other settlers. What had been captured on the colonies surveillance cameras was so indescribable that only edited sections were available on the imperial VID network. The original footage was locked away by the secret service. There were rumors that people who had seen it had been traumatized for years after, and had required psychiatric treatment.

  I’m very glad that I have never seen it myself. Just the thought of these monsters ripping men, women, and even children limb from limb makes me so nauseous that I have to force myself not to throw up. And this is the reason I hate these creatures with all my heart. That is why I learned to kill them, and without tooting my own horn, you know what? I’m damn good at it.

  The attacks increased in frequency until the first military encounter happened. And so, the empire was drawn into war, and started to penetrate ever deeper into enemy territory, taking one system after another.

  Usually, space battles were fought, won, and then the enemy worlds were glassed. Nobody was looking to take prisoners, so they didn’t. We visited many worlds that had been enslaved by the Sejsossa, and had been transformed into something like meat planets by them, with the native species as food. These weren’t always intelligent species, but that didn’t make any difference to the imperatrix. These planets were to be taken from the enemy with a minimum of collateral damage, and taking the Targeos system would finally be a decisive turn in the war.

  After everyone had boarded the combat boat, I went on board last, as is fitting, and used my implanted communication system called ICS to order the pilot to raise the ramp and close the loading port. We didn’t have any heavy equipment so the hold was pretty much empty.

  I pushed my way past the soldiers to reach the front of the troop transporter, where the squad leader had already collected them to wait for my instructions before the mission. I had more room than usual and reached the group of officers without slamming into anyone or treading on anyone’s toes.

  Master Gunnery Sergeant Al Zuchkowski, everyone called him Bull, greeted me in his usual charming way. “This is some real bullshit! This is a heap of bullshit.” He paused a moment for effect and then added, “Sir.”

  “Sergeant Zuchkowski, do you have a problem with this mission?” I replied.

  “Oh, come on, captain, this all stinks to high heaven. We are being sent on a special-forces mission, we are only at half strength, and we also have to babysit these new recruits. Just take a look at them, they are barely out of the test tube. Most of them are already shitting themselves. How long do you think they are going to last as part of a combat unit? Captain, because of them,” he nodded at the recruits, “good men are going to die.”

  The other officers murmured in agreement. Bull was a good soldier, one of my best men, my friend, and he was only saying what everyone was thinking. In other circumstances I might have even let him get away with this, but there was no way I could allow him to hurt the troops’ moral. Somebody might get the idea that this was a debating club! So I decided to tear Sergeant Zuchkowski a new one. I knew Bull would go along with it, and I would just have a couple of Rassels with him afterwards, when it was all over. I hated that stuff, a mixture of synthetic alcohol and some strange brew, but Bull loved it.

  “Master Gunnery Sergeant Zuchkowski! Shut your damn mouth, now. You are a special forces trooper of Her Imperial Majesty, Victoria X. When the empire calls, you come running. Our orders come from high command and they are directly subordinate to the imperatrix. If you start questioning the high command, you are also questioning the imperatrix herself. That is tantamount to treason. If you don’t want me to space you during the flight then pull yourself together and follow your orders. Or should I divide the troops up again? You’ll get all the new recruits and lead the assault.”

  I had reacted a lot more harshly than I had intended to. But I was under a lot of pressure, too and I was nervous. I too had a bad feeling about all this. Something was telling me that this was going to be a really shitty day. I looked Zuchkowski in the eye and hoped, pleaded even, that the Bull wouldn’t make a scene.

  He glared at me in fury. His hands balled into fists, and I prepared for the worst. But I was relieved when the Master Gunnery Sergeant simply replied, “No. Sir. No problem, sir. Sorry sir. It must have been the stress. Sir, when the empire calls, and sends me to my death, that’s how it’s going to be. I know my duty, sir. You can rely on me, sir. And I’ll take as many of those bastards with me as I can, sir,” and very softly, almost inaudibly, he added, “before I bite the dust.” Then he winked at me, and I was eternally grateful to him.

  The dull roar of the drive jets had risen to a level that made any more conversation impossible. A sure sign that the start was not far off. Almost the next second, the retaining clam
ps were disengaged and the combat boat left the hangar. It slowly moved to the airlock. We would soon pass through the force field that held the atmosphere within the station. Then the troop transport would accelerate brutally. Unfortunately for us, the combat boat wasn’t equipped with any very advanced inertial dampers. But this was no luxury cruise, or one of the bigger fighting ships. Good inertial dampers were expensive and hard to come by during times of war. At least not in quantities that allowed every shuttle or transporter to be fitted with them.

  The scream of the drives fell silent, the combat boat was now in flight and only the occasional thruster burst was necessary for course correction. This gave me the opportunity to say a few more words to the recruits. “Recruits, listen here! We will be leaving the base in a few seconds. Get ready for enormous acceleration. Forget everything you have learned in your training, assuming they even put you on any training flights. We will soon be experiencing between eight and nine Gs. That’s based on Earth gravity. This is going to be uncomfortable for anyone from a low gravity planet. Hold on tight to the straps above you. Try not to pass out, and make sure you don’t puke everywhere.”

  The last remark was rewarded with muted laughter and I decided to leave it at that. Twenty-five seconds after acceleration began, two recruits had lost consciousness. Ten seconds later the first of them was throwing their guts up and all hell had broke out 35 minutes later.

  The braking maneuver was almost as brutal as the acceleration. But this time nobody lost consciousness. There was just the vomiting.

  My ICS came to life. “Captain Johnson? We are approaching the planet and will enter the atmosphere shortly. Things could get a little choppy. Intelligence has located heavy defensive fire from the surface.”