Beggarman



  Beggarman

  Steve M. Benner

  Copyright Steve M. Benner 2008

  Part 1

  The anticipation was always the hardest part, the waiting. Cobb's mouth was so dry his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth; he felt his heart beating in his temples in time with the rhythmic throbbing of the lander's engines passing up through his body. The belly of the lander was dimly lit and smelled of machine oil and perspiration. The ashen faces of the soldiers in stark contrast to their dark-brown uniforms and the dark bulkhead. Wisps of smoke floated through the lander’s interior like snakes on the wind. The low murmur of men in the squad talking, their words washed out by the sound of the motors and air rushing by the thin shell of the lander. He was sure that some of the new men were spouting the same macho crap that nervous soldiers have probably being saying since the beginnings of warfare. Other newbies sat with nervous eyes, wondering how the hell they ever got into this situation and wishing they were home with their mothers.

  Cobb could tell the vets even in this poor lighting; they were the ones with emotionless faces, deep in thought. Cobb knew just what they were thinking. Do their job and get back to base for a warm shower and a cold beer; any thought of death was pushed to the backs of their minds. He knew because that was what he was thinking. He thought back to his first hot landing. Half his squad had been killed within ten minutes of landing; guys he'd spent over a year living, training, and drinking with, guys he'd grown closer to than anyone outside his family. Now, three years later, he could only recognize one other man in the squad from that original group. The rest were sent home because of wounds, sickness, or death, when there was enough left to ship home. Cobb hadn't even tried to keep track of their whereabouts. He didn't see the point anymore. This war was going to last forever, and eventually he'd join one of those three groups, most likely the latter. Getting blown to bits in some exotic location was one of the benefits of being in the military.

  He slowly looked over the faces of the other members of his squad. Of the sixteen soldiers, about half were from Earth. The rest were hominids from other Alliance planets. He barely knew the names of the new men; they came and went so fast. Most were recent arrivals on the planet and had seen only minimal action in policing operations, nothing that would get them either killed or experienced. Cobb thought that if everything went according to plan, they wouldn't get much experience today either. But he had a strange sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, was it a premonition of impending disaster? Of course, he always had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach during landings; it hadn’t been right yet, at least not for him. No matter how many times he made these landings, he never seemed to get used to it; if anything, it’d gotten worse. Intellectually, he realized that it was normal to be nervous about entering a lethal situation, even if you've been told it would be an easy mission. He'd heard that more than once when it turned out to be wrong.

  The lander hit an air pocket and shuddered, interrupting his train of thought. Cobb began to think of his family on Earth. His father had died when he was young, but he was very close to his mother and sister. Or at least he had been. He still sent them money and an occasional transmission to let them know he was still alive and in one piece. Over the last few years, the time between his transmissions had begun to stretch into Earth months. Back on Earth, the Alliance referred to this war as the "Glorious Conquest of Kirria." Anyone even remotely connected with the actual war knew it was anything but glorious and not much of a conquest. Cobb couldn't bring himself to tell his family how things really were. And even if he did, the censors would delete the juicy parts, so he didn't even try. Cobb got tired of putting a happy face on a situation that was barely tolerable. He thought that it was better not to write and just let his family assume he was well when they got the money. If he were dead or wounded, they would get an official government transmission.

  His first squad had arrived on Kirria three years ago. They were the second wave to touch down. The landing was not hot; almost no resistance. Kirria was unsuspecting and technologically far behind the Alliance. The Alliance, a loose confederation of member planets, was a group held together more by a desire for profit than by any sense of social responsibility. The Alliance had thought Kirria would be an easy conquest, but they badly misjudged how the Kirrians would react to an invasion. The Kirrians were fast learners and soon began exploiting the cracks in the Alliance to procure their own state-of-the-art weapons. The trouble with a confederation based on wealth is that a planet in serious need of technology and the resources to pay for it makes for an excellent financial opportunity. Some Alliance planets were more than happy to profit from the Kirrian need for technology, especially if it came at the expense of other members. Obviously, the members of the Alliance prosecuting the war were none too happy about this assistance from their supposed allies. They expressed their objections with increased repression of the Kirrian population and a blockade thrown around the planet that had been at least partially successful. Yet even with the edge in technology and complete mastery of the space surrounding the planet, the Alliance had managed to conquer only a third of the landmass in three Earth years, most of that in the first year. Cobb knew the Alliance was now in an awkward position. Either they cut their loses and let the Kirrians alone, or they finished the war using a minimum of money and a maximum amount of men. Clearly, they had chosen the latter. Cobb didn't really care about politics, so his knowledge of the machinations that went into creating this quagmire of death and destruction was viewed in very general terms. Cobb figured that if he weren’t here killing Kirrians, he would be on another planet killing some other alien species. It didn't really matter to him where he was or who he was killing. He just wanted to get this over with and get his beer and shower.

  Cobb was startled back to reality by the loud voice of Sergeant Westerly.

  "Systems check."

  Cobb grabbed his helmet from the hook directly above him and placed it on his head; the snaps as he locked the helmet into place. The Sergeant's voice over the helmet intercom said, "If you can't hear this, raise your hand."

  Cobb heard a couple of the newbies giggle nervously. Sergeant Westerly always made that same joke before a landing. Cobb considered shooting the Sarge just so he wouldn't have to hear it again.

  Sarge said, "This is a systems check. Gimme a thumbs up."

  Everyone in the squad raised their thumbs, with the newbies showing a lot of nervous enthusiasm. Cobb knew that they must be within five minutes of the landing zone, so he began a final check of his equipment. His laser rifle was the most modern version, but he had had only a few weeks to get used to it. It seemed to be an appreciable improvement over his previous model, but this would be the first time he’d used it in combat. Cobb always carried a hand laser and a knife just in case the laser rifle didn’t hold up to the strain of combat. He had never used the knife in combat, and most of the men didn't see the point in carrying one. His squad mates sometime made fun of him for carrying it. They said he'd never get close enough to stab a Kirrian. So far they'd been right, but Cobb carried it anyway. He had trained with it when he was off duty and had become something of an expert in its use. When the kidding from his squad mates became annoying, he'd throw the knife so it’d stick in the floor between his tormentor’s feet. Over time, this reduced the number of times that Cobb was kidded, about anything actually, to zero. Cobb finished checking his suit and leaned back against the bulkhead. It felt warm, like sunshine on his back.

  Sarge said, "Switch on dissipation fields."

  Cobb pressed a flipped a switch on his arm controls and immediately felt all the hair on his body stand on end. He hated the creepy feeling, but he knew i
t could save his life, so he was willing to put up with it.

  "Everyone on their feet."

  The squad rose as one and lined up facing the rear door of the lander. Now the training and experience began to take over, and Cobb's mind went on automatic. As the lander touched down, there was a sharp jolt that almost knocked him off his feet. After a pause of about ten seconds, the Sarge got the "all clear." Cobb heard the rear door bolts slide, and he braced himself for action. The rear section of the lander dropped open with the sound of grinding metal and an inrush of hot, humid air. Bright sunlight flooded the lander compartment, and Cobb instinctively flipped his tinted visor down before the light blinded him.

  Standing next to the door, the Sarge yelled, "Go!" as he shoved each man in line down the exit ramp. Cobb moved toward the light. Sarge kept shouting as Cobb ran past.

  "Go! Go! Go! Spread out! Set up a perimeter! Don't bunch up! Cum on ladies, it's just like training, only with live ammo."

  Cobb went by the Sarge in a rush, down the ramp and into the sunlight. The grass was thick like the elephant grasses back home and waist high.