First to Last Drop

A Military SF Story by painebook

First Drop

"One four niner niner on final approach." The voice of the pilot crackled over the command net. Dexter could hear the broadcast through his helmet speakers. He was near the back of the C-181 Super Lifter. He looked around at the other 400 airborne troopers seated in eight rows of 50 in the cavernous hold of the aircraft. More than half of them were asleep, waiting for the mission to begin. The bay was bathed in a blue light, signifying normal flight operations. The light changed to yellow as the jumpmaster yelled, "Three minutes!" and held up three fingers, in case anyone's communications failed.

Dexter's section member Annabelle leaned over. "We've come a long way from the crèche, haven't we?" she laughed. She yelled in his ear, "San Francisco, here we come!"

Trying not to throw up as the lifter descended to drop altitude like an amusement park ride, Dexter frowned at her. "This isn't funny." He thought back to his childhood.

Corvis Foundation

Both of Dexter's parents worked at the Corvis Foundation, a mega-corporation that controlled much of California. When the Cocoa Plague designed to destroy the drug cartel's production of cocaine mutated, all chlorophyll producing plants were infected. The resulting famine killed billions of people worldwide, and the resulting anarchy had only recently been reversed.

The Corvis Foundation was a mega-company that specialized in software and research and development. It converted all its efforts from computer systems to propulsion and came up with a prototype plasma engine. The engine was simple and had a high lift capability. It was easy to assemble and operated on liquid hydrogen. In exchange for a tax-exempt status for the next 100 years, the foundation offered its design to the New United States Government (NUS), which immediately put it into production.

The new plasma engines lifted farming platforms into space. The first platform was nine square miles of flat surface on each side, surrounded by a globe made of clear plasteel. It took forty new plasma drives to lift it into low earth orbit. It was opened to space, sterilizing the soil and the interior. Replacement engines, globes of sea water, fertilizer and atmosphere generators were launched to rendezvous with the platform. Seeds from unaffected crops were shipped under heavy guard from sterile facilities and shipped to the platform.

Spinning slowly on its axis, it went through day and night cycles. Ten days after the first platform was seeded, sprouts appeared. Soon, platforms were producing much needed food for the staring survivors of the plague. NUS controlled the distribution of the food.

Steven Corvis set up assembly lines in Northern California and Oregon. He kept all the software patents that operated the plasma engines. The New US Army and a private security force protected his operations. The government provided him food and the electricity he needed to run his factories. He became the richest and most powerful man in the world overnight.

People flocked to California. Those who worked for Corvis got enough food to survive. In exchange, they produced and maintained the technology for every computer-controlled device in the world and in space.

Childhood Lost

Dexter was born in San Francisco the tenth year after the plague. Enrolled in playschool at age three, Dexter met Annabelle, a big, strong, six-year-old who was the crèche bully. She regularly beat up the other children, but had a special attraction for Dexter. She learned how to push him into a rage, and then stand back and watch as he went berserk, attacking other children. She enjoyed watching him being severely punished by the staff.

There was a two-year period of peace when Annabelle moved on to primary school. Dexter, extremely intelligent, was a model student. He received high praise from the child care staff. He also had recurring nightmares involving Annabelle. He dreaded moving to the elementary level.

Annabelle was waiting for him when he got off the school's lifter. She snuck up behind Dexter as he walked toward the front door. He jumped as she whispered, "Looks like we got another place to ruin."

The teachers and school officials tried their best to keep them apart, but Annabelle always located Dexter and worked him into a frenzy. They had no choice but to expel them both after the first six months. Corvis security police escorted Dexter home to his parents. The police served them with an eviction notice. The family ended up homeless on the streets of San Francisco.

Ten years later, Dexter stood shackled in a courtroom. "How you doing, Judge? Long time no see." Dexter's chains rattled as he raised his hand as high as he could to wave at the judge.

"I believe it has only been, let's see," Judge Marple looked down at the heavy folder on her bench, "four months! You were here for grand theft auto and aggravated assault." She looked up from the papers and stared at the slight boy. "You put Nixon Rutgers in the hospital with a fractured jaw. It took three trips to the meditube before it healed."

"Nixie deserved what he got. He's a thug," Dexter said.

"And so are you." She looked back at the charge sheet. "Now it's armed robbery. I also see this is your sixth offense."

In the early days of the plague, the California state legislature passed a repeat-offenders law. It stopped violent food riots during the plague. Six felony offenses meant a judge could order your execution by lethal injection. Dexter hid his growing fear and tried to look bored.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" she asked.

Annabelle had been the one with the gun, dropping it inside the stolen vehicle and running away as the police closed in on them. Dexter still believed in the law of the streets, don't rat your friends out. He stood mute.

Judge Marple looked at the message she received earlier. She sighed. Three months ago, NUS lost more than 700 NUS soldiers in the failed attack on Sovereign Union of New York (SUNY). It was a blow to the military.

The United Nations sent a coalition force to invade SUNY. The plan was to take over the space port facilities in New York's harbor and place it under United Nations control. NUS joined forces with Ireland, France, and Germany to defeat the SUNY army. The attack failed when SUNY somehow shut down technology and used antique weapons to defeat the attackers. After the battle, SUNY launched a Doomsday Device that could destroy all technology on the planet and in near-earth orbit. They also demanded a seat on the UN Security Council.

NUS President Sanford hated SUNY and believed another war was imminent. Recent intelligence reports indicated that the Japanese and Chinese were considering expansion into the Pacific coast of North America. He needed to rebuild the army. He sent a message to every municipality to recruit "by any means possible" men and women to fill the ranks.

"I could order your execution, but have decided to be lenient." She banged her gavel and said, "Unshackle the prisoner."

The surprised bailiff moved forward and unlocked the handcuffs, removed the chain from Dexter's waist and took off the leg irons. Two other bailiffs, stun guns drawn, stood on either side of the young man. They knew he could go berserk at any moment.

"Raise your right hand," Marple said.

Confused, Dexter did as he was told.

"Repeat after me," Dexter parroted the judge's words.

"I, Dexter Maras, do solemnly affirm that I will support and defend the Constitution of the New United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely." Dexter laughed when he said that part.

Judge Marple was not amused. "Continue before I reconsider my decision."

"That I take this obligation freely; without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter." Dexter finished his oath. "Now what?"

"Stun him," Marple said. As Dexter lay writhing on the floor, he heard her say, "Put his shackles back on and transport him to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. There is a shuttle headed that way with ten other derelicts like him." She shook her head as they dragged Dexter out of the courtroom. "I feel sorry for the NUS Army."

Four hours later, Dexter shuffled into the bay of the heavy shuttle bound for the east coast. His guard pushed him roughly into his seat and fastened the shock harness. Dexter leaned his head back into the webbing of the seat and thought how lucky he was to be alive. That thought was shattered as he heard a familiar voice.

"Together again! I thought you would be dead by now."

Dexter looked across the cargo bay at Annabelle.

"Shit!" was all he said. He closed his eyes to keep the tears of frustration inside as the lifter took off.

Basic Training

The battalion commander looked at the records of the ten new recruits and shook his head. He knew the manpower shortage was bad, but his was ridiculous. The police records were filled with multiple arrests and ten or more convictions for each recruit. Every one of them should be dead and buried, not here under his command.

"Sergeant Major, come to my office. I have a problem we need to solve." They sat down and determined the best course of action. Each company would get two criminals as they filled with recruits. That way, the drill sergeants only had to deal with a few instead of one company with all ten.

The senior drill sergeant of A Company, J. T. Smith, was a former boxer and veteran of many military operations. Short and stocky, his hair cut to black stubble, Smith was like a rock. Veins stood out on his crossed arms as he looked at the two recruits assigned to his platoon. The company didn't pick up the next fill of recruits for a few days, so he wanted to set things straight with these kids. He knew what they came from. He had been a gang member himself before escaping the streets of Chicago and joining the NUS Army.

Smith ordered them to take off their uniform jackets and marched them to the hand-to-hand combat pit. He led them through a thirty-minute workout that left the two sweating. He wasn't even breathing hard.

"You will be in different squads. You may not contact each other or I will kick your sorry asses." He looked at the sullen faces of the recruits on front of him. "You don't like that? Then what are you going to do about it? No one is here but us three. My stripes are in the barracks. This is your one and only chance."

Annabelle smiled sweetly at her sergeant. "I don't have a problem with it, but little Dexter here, he's a hard case. He could go off at any moment, just like in grade school." She nudged Dexter.

Dexter glared at Annabelle, furious that she was getting him into something bad. He hated her. Thinking he didn't have a choice, he followed her lead. They separated, moving into attack position.

The tactics that worked against untrained victims didn't work against Smith. Ten seconds into the fight, Annabelle was out cold, face down in the sand. Dexter was gasping for breath as Smith tightened his choke hold. The last thing Dexter heard before he blacked out was Smith saying, "You got a chance to make your life better. Make the decision now, because if you ever try that shit again, I'll kill you. Training accidents happen all the time."

Basic training was easier than surviving the gang wars and mean streets of Frisco. Once he learned to keep his mouth shut, Dexter found he enjoyed the structure and the regular meals. His body filled out. He kept away from Annabelle, even when she tried to get his attention. He could hear Sergeant Smith's voice in his ear and didn't want to find out if the threat was real.

He had no friends. He kept to himself most of the time, studying and working on improving his skills. He was near the top of his class by the time they went to the firing range.

NUS soldiers were issued hypervelocity weapons and plasma rifles. The plasma rifles fired a burst of energy like the engines used in space travel and in heavy lifters. The blast fried anything it touched, with an effective range of 200 meters. They were useful in close combat.

The hyper-weapons came in two sizes: carbines, and rocket launchers. The carbines used packets of high-tensile-strength steel flechettes loaded into the hopper. The darts were packaged similarly to the old-style nail gun, glued together in a tight bundle, easily separated by the stripper. The rocket launchers fired 40-millimeter hypervelocity penetrators that could go through anything.

The trajectory was flat. They were simple point-and-shoot weapons; there was no need to lead your target. Most soldiers could consistently hit targets after a few hours of training. A power pack inserted into the butt of the weapon provided two hours of sustained fire or up to 20 total hours of use when fired in burst or single-fire mode. The pack also powered the thermal sights, the onboard computer for coordinated fire and the linear accelerator.

Each soldier was issued a hand grip that could be used with either weapon. It was programmed for the user only, through the hand print.

Dexter fired expert. He could put all forty rounds inside two inches at 4,000 meters. He felt good about himself for the first time in a long time. He accomplished what most people could not. Sergeant Smith even complimented him, once. That was high praise, and it made Dexter try even harder to do well.

Graduation day came, and Dexter stood in front of the company as the guidon bearer. It was an honor given to the most qualified member of the unit. The company commander finished his remarks and dismissed the company. Dexter watched as many of the soldiers ran to their families who came to see the graduation ceremony. His parents had disowned him years before and he made no effort to tell them where he was or what he was doing. He turned to go back to the barracks.

Annabelle was right behind him. "Now that basic is over, we can be together again," she said, as she punched him on the shoulder. "A little sex with the company clerk was all it took to have us assigned to the same unit. She was more than willing to put us in C Company, 1-504th. We're going to be Red Devils!"

Dexter threw up his breakfast. He glared at Annabelle for thirty seconds, then shouldered the guidon and marched back to the barracks without saying a word. He started having nightmares again, reliving his childhood and all the torture Annabelle put him through.

The basic training company got a 48-hour pass before reporting to their units. Dexter took every credit he had and searched Fayetteville's pawn shop until he found the most disreputable one.

"I'm looking for something special," he told the fat man behind the counter. "I know you don't keep your good stuff out in the open." Dexter flashed a wad of credits and smiled. "Maybe we could talk in the back?"

"You want drugs or girls, I got 'em." The man said. When Dexter shook his head, the man smiled, lifter the counter and said, "Follow me, soldier boy. For that kind of money, we got everything here."

The antique 9mm automatic pistol, a box of fifty bullets and an inside-the-waistband holster took all his cash. It was illegal, but Dexter didn't care. Annabelle might try something and he wanted to be ready to defend himself.

Body Armor

General Maxwell, the commander of NUS XVIII Airborne Corps, looked at the report on the new body armor being fielded by SUNY armed forces. NUS intelligence had spies in the city, former soldiers who'd stayed there after the defeat of the UN Coalition. Some joined the SUNY army and were sending reports to NUS. He read the specifications of the plasteel suits.

The armor was made by weaving an extruded clear plasteel thread into a form-fitting bodysuit, like the wetsuits people used when diving into cold water. It was a second skin, impervious to any projectile weapon in any inventory. Not even hypervelocity rounds could penetrate the armor. Putting on a standard plasteel helmet completely covered the soldier.

The body inside was not protected from the kinetic energy of a projectile. The suit partially absorbed by force and spread it over a large part of the body. However, a human couldn't take a direct hypervelocity hit and survive without immediate first aid. SUNY technicians solved that problem by placing packets of fast-acting nanoprobes inside the armor. Once the probes detected catastrophic damage to the wearer, they activated and were pumped into the body. Injuries repaired, the soldier became effective again.

Maxwell knew the Corvis Foundation built nanoprobes for meditubes. They also produced plasteel. He immediately called his contact at the military procurement agency.

"We need to make sure we get this armor ASAP. If we have another war with SUNY, there's no way we can defeat them." He remembered his defeat during the failed airborne invasion landing in Central Park. "See if you can expedite the manufacture of this design."

Three weeks later, Corvis technicians were fitting the first platoon of C Company with the new armor. They were the guinea pigs, chosen to test the effectiveness of the Corvis design. The platoon stood in formation, waiting for instructions.

"You will move as quickly as you can from the start point to the top of that hill," the Corvis tech said as he pointed to the low mound five kilometers away. "You have all been fitted with the armor, and should have sufficient nanoprobes to make it to the objective. You will be targeted by a variety of weapons as you move." He checked the readouts on the thirty men and women. "Remember, no matter how bad you feel, get to the objective."

"He said should have enough, he didn't say have enough," a trooper in the last rank whispered. "I don't like this at all."

"Amen to that, sister," Dexter said.

"Cut the chatter," Lieutenant Bonnie Newman, a recent graduate of the NUS Military Academy at Texas A&M, said. She turned to her troops. "You heard the man. Spread out, no more than fifteen meters apart. Once you get moving, keep moving. We need to make sure these things work." Newman called the unit to attention. "As an added incentive, the first one on the objective gets a three-day pass. Dismissed."

As the soldiers ran to their starting points, Annabelle tripped Dexter. "Sorry, buddy. You better hurry if you want to be the first one there. Fayetteville, here I come!"

Fuming, Dexter made it to his position just as the message to begin sounded in his helmet's headset. He set off toward the hill at a dead run.

Massed artillery units fired a barrage as the advancing soldiers entered the range. Explosions rocked the troopers as they ran forward. Two suffered catastrophic damage when rounds landed next to them. They died before the nanoprobes could repair the damage. The remaining soldiers made it through the barrage and moved forward.

Hypervelocity rounds hit every member of the platoon. Some were glancing blows that the soldiers shrugged off as they continued to run. Dexter was hit in the center of his chest and was thrown fifteen feet. He gasped for breath as the nanoprobes in his first aid packet went to work, fixing the damage to his system. Struggling to his feet, he looked at the backs of the rest of the platoon. He crouched low and continued to run, weaving back and forth to minimize his exposure to incoming fire.

As they got closer to the objective, the platoon entered a minefield. Six troopers stepped on antipersonnel mines. They were blown into the air, suffering internal injuries that slowed them down but did not kill them. The nanoprobes worked to perfection, but the possibility of another misstep slowed the advancing soldiers down.

Dexter, behind the other troopers and seeing the explosions, moved through the minefield which the advancing soldiers had cleared. He was breathing hard, but the nanoprobes had done their work; he was in good shape as he neared the top of the hill.

Cadre with old-style weapons fired at the lead soldiers with 7.62mm and 5.56 mm bullets. These struck the on-coming soldiers, slowing them slightly. Dexter surged ahead of the pack as he shrugged off the pelting projectiles and was about to cross the finish line when he was tackled from behind.

"No way you will beat me, you little shit!" Annabelle tried to get up so she could be first. Dexter grabbed her leg and tripped her, vaulting over her to cross the line ahead of everyone else.

He held his hands over his head in triumph. For the first time, he'd thwarted Annabelle. It felt good.

The technicians ran up to the rally point. They were reviewing the data gathered during the test. "More nanoprobes would not have made a difference with the two dead soldiers," the lead tech said. "We didn't think we could protect against a direct hit from a 155mm shell, any more than we can from a hypervelocity rocket. Your people proved that."

Lieutenant Newman, helmet off and dry heaving, wiped vomit from her face. "They died, you asshole. I thought we were safe, that's what you told us." She stalked toward the tech, but Dexter grabbed her and stopped her from getting to him.

"LT, you need to settle down. We need you." Dexter struggled to keep the distraught officer from doing the tech bodily harm. "I know it hurts, but so will he." He leaned in close and whispered, "I won the race. I have three days off." Newman looked at him as he said, "Fayetteville is a bad place; I can promise you that. People should be careful when they visit downtown."

"Private, let go of me." Dexter stepped away from Newman and turned to go. "Now, go get into civvies and enjoy your pass."

Dexter saluted his platoon leader and walked away.

Two days later, the lead tech was rushed to the hospital with a broken jaw, multiple contusions and both kneecaps shattered.

Dexter returned from his pass to discover he'd been promoted to corporal and given a section to command. Unfortunately, Annabelle was part of the five-person team. The platoon leader knew Dexter had a history with her and thought he could handle the unruly private.

The day room was empty. Annabelle looked around to see if anyone was in the hallway, then walked quickly over to the vending machine. Instead of inserting her ration card, she plugged in the hacking microchip she'd bought on the black market and made her selection. As the beer slid down the chute, she heard a sound behind her.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Dexter was standing with his arms crossed, staring at his former tormentor. "We've been given a chance to make our lives better, and you're trying to get sent to Leavenworth, or worse." The NUS Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas had been and still was the main military confinement facility.

"You're one to talk. I've heard about that little pistol you bought. One word to the commander and you get a free trip to prison," Annabelle popped the top on the beer and drained it. "Don't get all high and mighty with me."

"Cut the shit out, or I will gladly go to prison for murder," Dexter drew the pistol from his waistband, holding by his side. "I finally feel like I'm a part of something, and if you screw this up for me, I will kill you."

"Wow, little Dexter Mar-ass finally grew some balls," Annabelle laughed. "You going to shoot me now?" she challenged him, unafraid; he'd always backed down in the past.

Dexter could see sweat forming on her forehead as he lifted the pistol. He pointed it at Annabelle. Holding it steady, he made her stare into the bore for a full ten seconds before replying. "Not now." The muzzle didn't move as he smiled and continued. "Like J.T. Smith used to say, training accidents happen all the time. I'll be watching my back, you won't get to me. But if you do anything else wrong, you'd better watch your own ass."

He lowered the pistol, sliding it back into the holster. He walked up to Annabelle, getting in her face as he said, "And that's Corporal Maras to you. Private, you are dismissed!"

As she left the day room, he smiled as he heard Annabelle say to herself, "Holy shit, I think he means it."

Knock-offs

San Francisco SWAT got a tip of illegal activity in Chinatown. They surrounded the sweatshop where Chinese immigrants were producing knock-off computer chips. The leader waved in the armed police. He'd dealt with the Chinese before and figured they would run for the exits. He didn't count on the Wah Ching, a Triad gang, running the operation.

A fuselage of fire swept away the thirty operatives. The leader got a message off before he was shot in the head.

Peter Corvis, the head of security for the Foundation, informed his father of the incident. He stood back and watched as Steven went into an angry tirade against the San Francisco police department.

"I told the mayor to keep out of Chinatown. That stupid ass just couldn't leave it alone." Steven went to his desk, touched a few keys, and slammed his finger on the enter symbol. Seconds later, the mayor of San Francisco dropped dead of an apparent heart attack.

"I need those Chinese nanoprobes. NUS inspectors interfere with my operations, checking the nanoprobes we make in our factories. I'm tired of paying bribes to get our designs through the process. Those knock-offs have the surveillance technology that allows us to spy on everyone." Steven turned back to his desk-top monitor. "Use your contacts in the NUS Senate and have it fixed. And get it done quickly. Fail me, and I will remove you."

Peter knew what Steven meant when he said, "Remove." Those nanoprobes, designed to heal people, could also kill. He had no desire to die. He left the room, checking his list of congressmen and senators to identify those with the most checkered dossiers. He made a call.

President Sanford looked down at the message on his desk. It was hand-written, delivered to him from a NUS senator. The senator was a known pedophile; that information had helped the president pass some contentious bills in the Congress. The note asked that a clandestine operation be conducted to clean out a pocket of criminals in the San Francisco area.

"This stinks of Corvis," Sanford said to Phillip Santos, his chief of staff. "We already have problems with the drug cartel in New Jersey and now this?"

"The police and SUNY forces will deal with the drug cartel. We do what we must to keep Steven Corvis happy. You know he controls most of the world's wealth." Phillip looked at the last Corvis Foundation donation to Sanford's political party and whistled, "Considering what he's given us in the past, I think that sending in a few troops is a good idea."

"Call General Maxwell and have him send the alert battalion. That should be enough to solve Steven's problem." President Sanford picked up his putter and dropped three golf balls on the carpet. "A few more months, and I won't have to worry about this shit anymore."

Santos sent a secure message to General Maxwell. He didn't know that he and everyone else on the president's staff had nanoprobes with built in transmitters. They recorded what was being said. The knock-off nanoprobes sent the information about the attack to the Corvis Foundation's headquarters. The Chinese gang making the nanoprobes also received the message. The mission was compromised before it began.

First Drop

Dexter tried to focus as the light changed to red and blinked slowly.

Annabelle leaned over and touched her helmet to his. "We're going back to Frisco. This could be our last drop. All we have to do is ditch our gear and go back to the streets." Annabelle yelled as she punched Dexter on the arm. "Here we go, buddy boy!"

Dexter was about to respond when the red light came on. Training took over; 400 men and women stood up. Their seats folded down as yellow outlines appeared on the floor. The troopers positioned themselves in the center of the outlines. They adjusted their weapons so the muzzles pointed downward and the weapons they all carried were vertical. This wasn't a training exercise.

"NUSAF one four niner niner, three minutes," the ground controller told the pilot.

The jumpmaster called out over the all-hands net, "Check equipment!"

Four hundred pairs of hands moved almost as one as the troopers made sure all their equipment was in the right place, secured and ready for the drop.

"Sound off for equipment check!" rang out over the net.

The voice of the pilot crackled, "One minute."

The red light stopped flashing, bathing the compartment in an eerie glow.

The military subsidiary of the Corvis Corporation developed a delivery system for airborne soldiers to replace the T-30 parachute. Military planners determined that parachutes were ineffective for delivering soldiers to the battlefield due to the effectiveness of modern weapons. Soldiers were too exposed during the 15 seconds it took to get to the ground.

The delivery system had been perfected two years prior and combat tested during an assault on New York. The troopers wore boots designed with a metal plate in the heel and toe. These plates would keep the soldiers secured to the platforms through electromagnets which would release when the power cell burned out on landing. Small stabilizing thrusters were supposed to keep the platform and soldier upright during the drop, and a proximity sensor fired the retarding burst at the appropriate time.

The C-181 was modified for drop operations. The entire belly of the aircraft was removed and replaced with a honeycombed structure. The drop platforms were fitted to go into each chamber and programmed to release at half-second intervals. Once the soldiers were in place, the electromagnets were turned on and the platforms, soldiers attached, were lowered into launch position.

NUSAF learned from the second SUNY War to check for dampening devices before flying into the drop zone. More than two hundred troopers died when the field was turned on; their platforms didn't function and they slammed into the ground at 125 miles per hour. One lifter carrying four hundred soldiers and six crew members was caught in the full effect of a dampening field. It went into an unpowered glide; the troopers were trapped in their cells, waiting to be ejected. They all died as the plane crashed into the buildings on the south end of Central Park.

Drones flew in three minutes ahead of the drop aircraft and loitered over the enemy positions. That would allow the pilots time to abort the mission, but gave the enemy a warning that a drop was coming.

The first thing Dexter noticed after ejection was incoming fire. His body armor activated when a hypervelocity projectile hit him. He was uninjured, but it still hurt like hell. The impact flipped him over, but the platform righted itself just before landing.

Dexter felt the magnets releasing, but the inertia of the flip caused him to fall forward on his face. The front sight post of his weapon caught him under the chin, between the body armor and the helmet. It cut a four-inch gash in his face. He jumped to his feet, bleeding onto his uniform jacket as nanoprobes from his first aid kit repaired the damage. The blood flow stopped.

Annabelle ran up to Dexter. She hadn't been hurt in the drop and was grinning. "Come on. Let's head into town for some real fun." She punched him, harder than situation required. The suit absorbed the impact, but the blow irritated Dexter.

"We have a mission to accomplish, and you aren't going to let the rest of the unit down. Get it in gear, Annabelle, before you get your ass in a sling." Dexter pointed his carbine in her general direction. "Move it, private!"

Hoping he had plenty of nanoprobes left, Dexter ran toward the sound of weapons fire.

The plan was sound on paper. Presidio Park was the drop zone. All units were to assemble and move down Broadway and parallel streets until they reached Chinatown. A Company would clear the building containing the sweatshop as the other units established the perimeter. It fell to pieces before the first trooper hit the ground.

The gang had an arrangement with the Chinese government. The Peoples Republic of China (PRC) provided them more than five thousand soldiers with modern weapons in exchange for nanotechnology stolen from the Corvis Foundation. Chinese government officials had been building up clandestine units in the area for years. They took the long view; if NUS failed, they wanted to be ready to step in and claim the west coast of North America.

Many Chinese businessmen and shop workers were in fact highly trained soldiers, members of the People's Liberation Army (PLA). Caches of firearms were opened and the men and women of the PLA moved to designated assembly areas. The first to mobilize were firing at the descending troopers. The battle began .

City Fight

The 1-504th was prepared to face Chinese thugs, not well-trained military veterans. Casualties were light during the landing, thanks to the armor and first aid packets. LTC Freeland, the battalion commander, looked over the unit status on his head-up display.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked his intelligence officer.

Major Williams looked over the reports of enemy contact. "Sir, this isn't a battle against gang members. Military forces dressed in civilian clothes using PRC tactical formations are attacking our soldiers. The fighters have these," he showed his commander images of state-of-the-art weapons next to the bodies of dead defenders. "If the reports from the forward units are correct, we're outnumbered about five or six to one. I think we've been set up."

"So we can't tell who the enemy is," Freeland saw another soldier's icon flash red, signaling her death. "Tell our people to shoot anyone who has a weapon. Get that order out now."

The operations officer, Major Lorach, hesitated. "Sir, that violates the rules of engagement."

"Fuck the rules of engagement. We won't survive if we follow them," Freeland replied. "The people who established them aren't here, and I have my troopers to think about. If someone has a gun, they aren't friendly. Give the order!"

Lieutenant Newman passed the order along to her platoon. Dexter, bruised from three direct hits by hyper-rounds, yelled, "It's about time," as he switched to automatic fire and mowed down the crowd in front of him. The Chinese soldiers were using civilians as shields, and if they would risk them, Dexter would kill them. He advanced up the street.

Annabelle flanked Dexter, firing her weapon wildly. Dexter ordered her to conserving her ammunition, yelling over the squad net, "Stop spraying the street. You're wasting rounds." She responded by raising her carbine and shredding a woman carrying a rifle. "Let's try one shot, one kill."

The section member to her right flew backward and slammed into the side of a building as a rocket struck him dead center. The rest of the squad poured fire at the launch site, shredding the rocket team. Dexter ran over to check the status of his soldier. He pulled off the helmet, stepped back in horror and barely stopped himself from puking. The soldier's head was mush, his eyes were bleeding and bulging out of his head. It was as if a giant stepped on him, crushing him like a bug.

Dexter pulled the first aid packet from the dead man's suit and put it in his cargo pocket. "If anyone dies, take their power packs, bullets and nanoprobes. We need them more than they will." He stripped the corpse and resumed the march to the objective. "If you even think there is a rocket team, shoot everyone within fifteen feet."

"Copy that," rang out on the net.

The Chinese forces knew the terrain well and fell back in an orderly fashion to prepared defensive positions. What they hadn't figure out yet was how many soldiers NUS was using in the attack. There seemed to be no end of airborne soldiers.

LTC Freeland looked at the video of the battlefield provided by the micro copters. "I estimate we're facing at least four thousand people armed with military grade weapons. How can that be?" He flinched when a projectile struck the copter. Hearing the reports of mounting casualties from rocket fire, he instructed his fire control officer to use the copters to pinpoint any rocket teams. Artillery drones were launched against them, but there were too many arrayed against the attacking forces. The plan didn't call for this kind of combat and supplies were getting low.

"Issue a warning to watch out for rockets. No one has survived a hit yet." Freeland watched the casualties mount on both sides. He instructed his subordinate commanders to continue to advance. He would continue the mission until his troop strength dropped to fifty percent, then he would have to decide on his next move.

Field Expedience

The chime sounded in Dexter's helmet, letting him know his flechette packet was low. Leaning against a wall, he caught his breath as he looked at the power pack indicator. He called on the section net, "Shit, I'm low on everything. Anybody got any extra ammo or packs?" He waited for a response. When no one answered him, he switched to the platoon frequency and asked, "Anybody out there?" He could see Annabelle; she was ignoring his calls. The rest of the section was gone.

"Newman here," his platoon leader called to him. "We're down to five effectives, counting me. Meet at these coordinates and we'll fight together." The map on his heads-up display flashed an intersection one block away.

"Annabelle, let's move," Dexter yelled into the microphone as he sprinted through a hail of fire toward the rendezvous point. He didn't look to see if she was following him. He skidded to a halt as he came up on a soldier who'd been hit by a rocket and quickly stripped her of her power pack and ammo. He grabbed her plasma rifle and slung it over his back, dropping her handgrip on the still body. Now he had a back-up weapon.

He spun around as fire erupted from the apothecary on the right side of the street. Annabelle watched from cover; she didn't help him. Dexter charged the ambush, firing one-handed into the building, and pulling a grenade off his vest. He jumped through the shattered window of the store, holding the grenade in his left hand. "I hope I have enough 'probes left," he yelled as ten Chinese soldiers jumped him. The grenade exploded, killing the unarmored attackers.

Ears ringing from the blast, Dexter looked around the room. Wounded men and women had been waiting for the meditube that stood in the corner. The apothecary was an aid station; full of nanoprobe packets and quick-heal patches. Dexter jumped the counter and grabbed a bag, filling it with all the supplies he could reach. Some of the wounded were still moving, one shot at him from close range. Dexter armed another grenade and tossed it into the center of the room, then ran out the door.

He sprinted toward the meeting point, loaded down with supplies. Lieutenant Newman was waiting with two other troopers, Private Manning and Sergeant Sulima. Annabelle straggled up as Dexter handed nanoprobe packets to the surviving members of the platoon.

"Knock the top off and drink the solution," Dexter said. "That way you'll get the 'probes and hydrate at the same time." He demonstrated, choking down the saline solution containing the nanoprobes. "It tastes like shit, but should help keep us alive."

"Everybody get on the battalion frequency. I want you to know what's going on in case I don't make it." Newman waited until her soldiers complied and then called the battalion commander. "Sir, Charlie one here, with five effectives. Awaiting your orders."

"Five..." LTC Freeland replied. "Don't stay in one place, move toward the objective and stay on the net. I'm asking for instructions now." He continued, "Until I get a change of mission, you are ordered to continue the attack."

As soon as she heard the order, Annabelle threw down her carbine, turned, and ran down the street away from the battle.

Newman screamed at her, "Get back here, you coward. We need to stay together if we want to get out of this alive." She raised her weapon to shoot the fleeing soldier, but Dexter pulled the muzzle down.

"Save your ammo, she ain't worth it. Get her ammo." Dexter put her out of his mind, focused on surviving.

The battalion commander looked at his mounting casualties and switched to the long-range communications net. He got an immediate response from General Maxwell himself.

"Freeland, I sent you into a shit storm. I am sorry." Maxwell looked at the screen showing the battalion moving against the Chinese. Troop strength was at forty percent and dropping. "Intel let me down, and I let you down. The only thing you can do now is get back to the Presidio and wait for extraction. NUSAF has lifters off the coast waiting for your call. They have instruction to come in hot, so make sure you're ready to go when you make the call."

Trying not to break down as he looked at the casualty list, Freeland replied, "WILCO."

"Stop the advance and fight your way back to the pick-up point." Freeland gave the order to pull back as he led his staff away from the fight, back down Broadway toward the Presidio.

Dexter turned to the remaining soldiers and said, "Diamond formation, I got point, LT on the right, Sully on the left. Manning, you bring up the rear. Shoot anything that moves." Dexter looked at the dazed officer and said, "If that's OK with you, ma'am."

Newman shook her head to clear it. "Fine, but let's not run. We need to move quickly but not so fast that we miss an ambush." She reached over and took the bag of medical supplies, dividing the contents among her soldiers. She pulled open a packet and drank it. "Tank up, gang, we're going to need it."

"If you see any of our guys, check to make sure they're dead. Remember to pick the bodies clean of anything we can use." Dexter looked down at the flashing indicator on his carbine, and changed the power pack. "I'm down to my last one."

"Switch to the plasma rifle," Newman ordered, "and give your flechettes to me. I'm out."

Dexter pulled the handgrip out of his carbine, dropping it on the ground. He inserted it into the rifle, saying, "Let's move out."

Desertion

As Annabelle ran down the street she dropped her helmet into an open sewer drain and stripped off her combat vest. She tossed it into a dumpster. Kicking in the door of a clothing shop, she grabbed a long dress off the rack. She ripped the uniform off her body and pulled the dress over her head. The armor suit would keep her safe if anyone attacked her. Grabbing a brush from the sundries aisle, she brushed debris out of her short, blond hair. Moving farther into the store, she ripped open a box of baby wipes and cleaned the filth of battle from her face and hands.

She looked in a mirror and grinned. She was back in her element; the streets she and Dexter used to terrorize. Now she had only to wait until the battle was over.

She heard a crash behind her. Spinning around, she saw a group of looters rushing into the store, grabbing whatever they could carry and running back out.

One stopped and yelled, "Annabelle, that you?" Nixon Rutgers stared at the woman in front of him. "Shit, girl, we thought you was dead, you been gone so long."

"Naw, I was just hiding out. I got five strikes against me. Didn't want to get caught again; they'd kill me, so I been laying low." Annabelle lied. "Somebody ratted me out after my last job. I figured this was a good time to come back out, I need to replenish my food stash." She grabbed a box of ration bars from the shelf and started to leave, but had a thought. "Say, Nixie, you still owe me. Can you get a few guys together for a little pay-back session?"

The thug was skeptical, "Who and when?" he asked.

"I think our old friend Dexter is going to be passing by in a few minutes. I saw him in an army uniform a few blocks back. That made me think that maybe he cut a deal to keep from getting the needle, and joined up. He's probably the one who snitched on me, the little bastard. Thought maybe you would want to know." Annabelle knew that Nixie and Dexter had been in many fights; fights she'd set up. The last one left Nixie in a coma for three days.

Nixie put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Sixteen men and women ran up to him. Everybody carried a weapon. "Anna says our old buddy Dexter should be here soon. Not only did he put me in the hospital, but he got Annabelle in trouble."

"I bet he's going to the Presidio, maybe we can catch him before he gets there. You guys need to hit him fast and hard," Annabelle said. "He has three friends and they have guns."

Nixie turned to his gang. "Go get everybody you can find. We meet back here in five minutes. I want that asshole dead." They went out the back of the store.

Annabelle grinned as she thought about the fight to come. Looking in the mirror once more, she said, "If Dexter dies, I win. If he kills Nixie and his gang, I win. Either way, I'm happy."

Ambush

The four-person team moved purposefully toward the Presidio, staying near the buildings as they made their way down the sidewalk. "Watch out, shoot first then worry about collateral damage." Newman said as she scanned her area of responsibility.

The UN Human Rights Commission banned plasma weapons before the start of the Plague. Once the government realized the mobs attacking them were more likely to run rather than be burned to death by the weapon, the surviving nations of the UN Security Council lifted the ban. Steven Corvis had a lot to do with the change in international law; his people protected food shipments with plasma weapons.

Survivors of the effects of the weapon described it as a living hell.

Dexter hated the plasma rifle. Annabelle used to burn him with lit cigarettes when he was a child. She said it would make him tough. It just made him hate fire, and her. He shifted the weapon to the left front of the formation just as a projectile bounced off his armor.

Unleashing searing fire, Dexter yelled, "Action, front."

The weapons of the small detachment shredded the doorway the shots were coming from. The stench of burnt flesh wafted over to them.

"We've got to keep moving," Newman said. They choked on the drifting smoke and moved quickly into the middle of the street. "Stay alert."

"If we keep hitting them, they will eventually run out of power and ammo. Then you can take your time with Dexter," Annabelle whispered to Nixon. "Send some more of your boys ahead to shoot at them again, and I'll try to get some Chinese soldiers to help us out." Before Nixon could respond, she ran down the alley, back toward Chinatown. Once she turned the corner, she slowed to a walk. She waited in an alley until the four remaining soldiers of her platoon passed by, then followed them, hoping to see their demise.

With more than fifty fighters at his disposal, Nixon set up a series of ambushes in the path of the retreating soldiers. He promised the gang members if they died he would take care of their families; he also promised to punish their families if they didn't fight.

"I don't trust that back-stabbing bitch Annabelle to do anything to help us. We're going to need more people," Nixon told his second-in-command. "Go round up the rest of the gang. I want Dexter dead."

"Another fucking ambush!" Dexter looked at the battery level in his display. "I'm down to one three-second blast. How's everybody else doing?"

"Six flechettes and I'm out," Sully responded, then fired a single shot and took out another attacker. "Shit! Five now."

Manning pulled out the packet of flechettes and counted, "Sixteen, but I'm out of juice. My battery's dead."

"I'm out, too. We need to think of something fast." Newman pointed her empty rifle at a target, the thig flinched, and then waved more fighters forward. "Manning, give your rounds to Sully. Sully, hit them hard. Then we have to run for it."

"These guys aren't using modern weapons, they can't be Chinese." Dexter said as he fired his last plasma blast, torching two attackers. "I'm out."

"That means they don't have armor. We can use that to our advantage." Newman said. "Back to back, troops. Bayonets out, remember your hand-to-hand training."

Dexter watched the attackers approach. They kept back, as if waiting for someone to arrive. The crowd of seventy ringing the force parted and the leader walked toward the four survivors. Dexter recognized the leader, Nixon and realized that Annabelle must be behind this. Even in armor, there was little hope of surviving. Dexter had an idea. He whispered the plan to the rest.

"Annabelle should be here shortly, to see you die," Nixon snarled. "I will personally rip your heart out and eat it!"

"I am here!" Annabelle, in her flowing dress, pushed her way through the crowd. "Make sure you leave Dexter for Nixon. Kill the rest." Armored herself, she jumped at Manning, getting him in a choke hold.

"Run," Dexter screamed as the crowd of seventy men and women attacked the other three, pulling them in different directions while fighting to get close enough to kick them to death. Each soldier curled into a fetal position, absorbing the blows, until they heard Dexter shout, "Now."

They pulled the pins from their grenades and rolled over, closing their eyes, and waiting for the explosions.

The blasts and resulting hailstorm of hot metal fragments killed most of the attackers. The stunned soldiers waited until the nanoprobes repaired the damage to their bodies, then got to their feet. They picked up their bayonets, stabbing those who survived the blast.

Nixon was lying in a pool of blood, his guts spilled out on the pavement. He saw Dexter approaching, watching as he pulled the 9mm from his waistband.

"You of all people should know better than to trust Annabelle" Dexter said as he shot him between the eyes.

Annabelle, stunned by the blast, rose to her feet. She turned to run away, but was flanked by Newman and Sully. She could only escape by going through Dexter. She launched herself at him, screaming in rage.

She flew backward when Dexter shot her in the face.

"Tie her up, if we have to, we'll drag her ass back to the pickup zone." Newman looked at the wound in Annabelle's face. It was already being healed by the nanoprobes. "I want her to suffer as much as we did." She looked at her troops. "Where's Manning?"

Sully was looking down at his squad mate. He took off Manning's helmet. "He's dead. Goddammit, I told him to keep drinking the solutions. He wouldn't listen to me." He walked over and beat on Annabelle.

"Sully, stop wasting your time. We can't fight against the Chinese; we need all the energy we have left. Drop all your gear and get ready to run for it." Newman stripped off her shredded combat vest. Dexter and Sully did the same. "Let's move."

Annabelle, hands tied behind her back, would not get to her feet. "Fuck you, I'm not going."

Dexter put the pistol against her forehead and asked her, "How many times do you think I can shoot you before your nanoprobes run out? I've got twelve rounds left, and I know you can't have more nanoprobes than Manning did." He took up the slack on the trigger as he moved it to her left eye. "Get up, or we'll find out."

"OK, don't shoot me again," Annabelle struggled to her feet.

"Shit, pick up is in ten minutes," Newman said. "We can't get there on time."

"Watch her," Dexter said, handing the pistol to his lieutenant. He didn't trust that Sully wouldn't shoot her. "I'll get us a ride."

He ran down the line of damaged vehicles until he found one that looked like it would run. Smashing the window, he reached in and unlocked the door. He took sixteen seconds to hotwire the ignition. The vehicle started and Dexter drove it back to the waiting trio.

"Sorry it took so long," he said, "I think I lost my touch."

Sully shoved Annabelle into the back of the waiting hauler and climbed in. Newman took the front passenger seat and said, "I'll navigate."

Dexter laughed as he sped off. "Frisco is my home town. We'll be there in five minutes."

Last Drop

The lifter roared into the middle of the park. It was littered with cast-off equipment. "They're gone! They left us behind." Newman looked at her display, it showed a fleet of transports departing the San Francisco bay area.

"Call them, maybe they can send one more for us," Sully said, just as a torrent of hypervelocity rounds struck all four. They went down, nanoprobes busily healing their wounds.

"The Chinese must have followed us here." Dexter yelled. "Call for pick up, now."

Annabelle leapt to her feet, shouting in the Chinese she'd learned as a child, "Help me, they want to kill me."

Dexter ran after her, staggering from several hyper-round hits, and tackled the fleeing woman. "I won't let you get away." He yelled as he put the pistol to her head.

The lifter assigned to pick up stragglers flew up from its hide position under the Golden Gate Bridge. Chinese soldiers disintegrated as it unleashed a barrage of fire from the cannons in the weapons bay.

The surviving Chinese ran away as the lifter swept in, cargo doors open.

The external speakers came to life as the pilot said, "Get in, we've got to get the hell out of here."

Newman and Sully jumped in. "Leave her!" Newman yelled.

Dexter threw Annabelle over his shoulder and ran to the lifter. He dove into the open door.

"I can't believe we made it!" Newman looked at the shoreline disappear as the lifter headed out to sea.

"Lieutenant, make sure you are strapped in. I wouldn't want you to fall out after everything you've been through," the pilot yelled across the open troop compartment. "We may hit a little turbulence; hold on tight." Once he was out of sight of land, he turned southward and headed down the coast.

"Lieutenant Newman," the battalion commander's voice came over Dexter's headset. "Glad to see you made it. Job well done." He paused for a moment. "You need to get your platoon ready to go back into San Francisco. The president directed that we clear out all Chinese soldiers from the Bay area. We are being backed up by the rest of the brigade, they will be ready to drop in five hours. If necessary, the division will be deployed to finish the mission. Take your platoon to Monterey for refit and new orders."

"My platoon is me and two other guys. Just what in the hell do you expect us to be able to do?" Newman's voice was strained, but under control as she continued. "I don't think we can help much at all."

"You were there, you know the terrain. You'll act as pathfinders." The net was silent for a few seconds, then Freeland softly said, "We lost seventy percent of our troops, but we will continue the mission. Your job is to advise and support if necessary. The orders came from the top. I'm sorry, Bonnie. I'm going back in, too."

"See you on the ground, sir." Newman cut the communication.

Dexter looked at her in shock. "My god, they want us to go back in?"

Sully, his helmet off, didn't hear the instructions. "What the hell are you talking about? We're done, spent. I got nothing left, man."

"The President himself ordered us back in. Seems they need every able-bodied person to go." Newman threw up on the deck; salty bile mixed with bloody nanoprobes hit the deck plating.

"Looks like I won't be court-martialed after all; you need me." Annabelle said as she looked over at Dexter, an evil grin on her face, "You should've killed me while you had the chance."

Newman looked at exhausted soldiers. Three out of thirty survived the day, one was a complete waste of life, an oxygen thief. Newman glared at Annabelle, lying on the floor. "I'm convening a field court martial."

The pilot said, "You have no authority to do that, Lieutenant. I'll have to report you."

"Go ahead and report me! I take full responsibility." Newman took a deep breath to regain control of her emotions. "This piece of shit is accused of desertion, aiding the enemy and mutiny. She could have helped us, instead she almost got us killed. She murdered one of her own platoon members!" She kicked Annabelle toward the open door.

"Dexter, Sully, listen up." Both gave Newman a thumb up sign and waited. "You two are my jury, a jury of her peers," she said in a cold voice. "You know the facts, no need to ask for testimony. How do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty," Sully shouted at Annabelle. "Everyone else died fighting, you scum."

"When we were on our way in, Annabelle said that was going to be her last drop. She planned to desert from the beginning," Dexter said as he kicked her closer to the open hatch. "You wanted it to be your last drop. You didn't get your wish then, but you can have it now. This will be your last drop!"

"Do not throw her out!" the pilot yelled.

"Fuck you, I'll take my chances," Dexter screamed as he raised his foot.

The pilot banked the lifter hard to the left. The three soldiers were held in place by their shock harnesses. Annabelle screamed as she slid across the deck and through the open door.

"I told you to hold on." The pilot said to the three soldiers in the bay. "Turbulence."

"We have five hours before we go back in,' Newman said. "Better get some rest."

Dexter closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep. No more nightmares.