Wintertide at Knynsa: Seasons of War on Abira, #2

By Earl T. Roske

Sgt Imara Fermo keeps her promise at Bhisho.

 

Though everyone, including herself, was wounded, no one died. And they saved a lot of other lives in the process.

 

But can she do it again?

 

The Rhone have not honored their ceasefire. The war rolls on across the planet. Now, the Hospitallers must employ the third tenet of their mission. They must defend a Serdoban city from a Rhone assault.

 

That's when things go wrong.

 

Dropships are attacked on their way to the surface. Imara's squad survives, but they're tens of kilometers from where they should be. In fact, they're somewhere in the middle of Rhone held territory. And they're on their own.

 

Can Imara see her squad safely through their mission? Only time will tell.

And time is running out.

 

So, strap in! Hang on! Things are about to get crazy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl T. Roske
• Release date: Sep 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201994471

Earl T. Roske

Earl T. Roske is a San Francisco Bay area writer. He lives with his wife, daughter, a silly poodle, and two neurotic cats.

Book preview

01

T hrusters firing in one minute. Loadmaster SSgt Dale Nelson’s voice boomed through the cargo hold of the dropship. Several people flinched at the sound. He cringed and said, Sorry about that. I guess I had the volume up too loud.

A rumble of laughter, quieter than the loadmaster’s initial warning, and almost inaudible over the dropship’s own noises, rolled through the space between the two squads occupying the seats along the sides of the hold.

On the side of the dropship opposite Imara, Sgt Carlos Johnson gave her a chin lift of acknowledgment as he caught her attention. Looking forward to being back on-planet? he asked loudly enough to be heard over the background noise.

Sgt Imara Fermo and her squad had been planetside seventy days ago. They’d been key in stopping a potential slaughter of civilians and the rest of their Hospitaller company. After manufacturing their own landing beacon, they’d carried it through kilometers of meters-deep snow to the landing point. Then, they’d found and disabled a signal jammer that kept the beacon and all comms from working. After that, it was a matter of fending off a battalion of Rhone soldiers until help arrived.

None of them left the field of battle without injury. Imara had taken several rounds that had disabled her right arm. The entire squad had spent a week in the medical unit, recovering. After that, while other companies had been performing their duties on-planet, Imara’s squad had been left to sit on the ship, twiddle their thumbs, and recover. They’d counted the hours, waiting once more for their own opportunity to serve the people of Abira.

Always looking forward to being busy, Imara said.

Except for the snow, added PFC Bruce Cummings who was three bodies down from where Imara sat. I could do without snow.

What is it you want? Cpl Leah Bowers asked. You want sand and sun? A beach?

Cummings laughed. Yeah, that’ll about do it.

Sounds boring, said PFC Carol Walters from further down the row. At least here we’re doing something rather than doing nothing on the ship.

It was Walters who had ultimately been critical to the success of their last mission. She was the one who’d found all the pieces they needed to build the beacon that guided the other dropships down through the blizzard-like conditions. Without her and the beacon, the Rhone would have overrun Bhisho, killing every civilian and Hospitaller in the town. And Imara wouldn’t have been able to keep her promise to bring her squad back alive.

Except for Pvt Wade Rodriguez, the entire squad was still together. And he was only gone because of the growing relationship between him and PFC Sarah Harmon. So now Rodriguez had been transferred to another position aboard the ship.

Fraternization wasn’t disapproved of, except when it occurred inside a company. Poor choices were made when romantically connected people worked together. Sometimes, it cost them their lives. And sometimes it cost the lives of others. This was something that Imara was painfully familiar with and would not wish upon any of her people. Her fingertips rubbed the outer section of a pocket where two pocket knives were nested together.

The difference this time, though, added Cpl Brandon Larson from the very end of the row, is that we know there’s going to be action, and we’ve come prepared. Even got a MedTech this time. Should be a lot more fun.

I’ve only packed so many wound kits, Corporal Larson, said MedTech Violet Rudders. She was sitting next to Sgt Johnson on the other side of the dropship bay. So, don’t have too much fun.

Speaking of which, said Imara. She needed to remind them that this time wasn’t just about delivering food to poorly prepared civilians in the deepest winter. Give me a gear check. Weapons loaded. Additional gear loaded and stowed.

The orders had the effect of stifling the conversation as everybody checked their own gear and then the gear of those to their right and left. Along with the usual munitions and grenades each of them carried, they had the Hospitaller extras. Everyone carried a half dozen of the electronic hands and eyes that were useful in surveillance and recon.

The only things they weren’t carrying on this particular mission were their T-n-T bags. There wasn’t much likelihood of encountering children on the battlefield. That didn’t mean they weren’t still prepared for that possibility. In the hold beneath the deck, along with their crawler and additional supplies for waging war, was a crate of pre-filled toys and treats bags. It would never do to be unprepared for something as important as children.

Down the line, Imara saw Cummings open his mouth as if he might add something funny to the dead conversation. But at that moment, the dropship shuddered like a dog shaking off wet. The movement killed all conversation.

Imara was familiar with the peculiarities of dropships. She had been in several that had lost parachutes, going into long tumbles that no lunch survived. Once, a dropship had lost power a hundred meters from the ground and landed hard enough that the back hatch wouldn’t open as it was half-buried. But not once had she ever felt one shudder like this.

Imara looked forward to SSgt Nelson. She asked, Was that the thrusters?

SSgt Nelson, his eyes wide, shook his head no. He grabbed the comm set and shoved it on his head to communicate with Lt Marilyn Fitzgerald, the dropship’s pilot.

That was not the thrusters, said Sgt Johnson. That was something else.

Yeah, but what kind of something else? asked Cpl Larson.

Incoming kind of something, said SSgt Nelson. He adjusted his comm headpiece before pulling on his restraints, tightening them. Everybody cinch up. We got surface-to-air missiles incoming.

The dropship rattled again. Imara heard and felt muted explosions through the hull.

We’re deploying countermeasures, added SSgt Nelson. He shook his head as he said it. But we’re still a long way up.

Didn’t they say the area was clear? Sgt Johnson asked. He looked as confused as Imara felt. You were at the meeting, Fermo. Was I dreaming?

A louder explosion rocked the dropship. Everyone suddenly found themselves in freefall, and just as quickly, the Hospitallers found themselves slammed back into their seats. SSgt Nelson yanked the comm set back onto his head as it tried to float away.

That’s what they said. Imara answered Johnson’s question while she pulled on her seat restraints to tighten them. She looked down the row of Hospitallers. Her squad, that she had been working hard at keeping alive since the day she’d lost Nadia and two of her team. Everyone looked secured and pulled in tight with their harnesses. Pvt Ronald Carson, sent in as a replacement for Pvt Rodriguez, looked her way. His eyes were wide.

We’re doing good, Imara shouted over the explosions and the familiar noises of the dropship. Right, Carson?

Pvt Carson swallowed. It seemed to get stuck in his throat. Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement. His jaws were clenched tight together as he sat back, pushing his head against the hard cushion behind it.

Staff Sergeant Nelson? Imara asked, turning her attention back to the loadmaster. What’s the word?

SSgt Nelson covered the mic on his headset. Bad and okay, he said. We’ve lost one of the other company dropships. The lieutenant says it was a direct hit to the forward cabin. Others have taken damage but seem to be holding up. Most are getting through.

There you go, Sgt Johnson said. We’re going to get down there and show the Rhone what an angry Hospitaller battalion looks like.

Cpl Omar Zimmerman, sitting next to Sgt Johnson, nodded and opened his mouth. Presumably, it was to add an agreement. The words never came, as an explosion rang through the dropship, and a section of the hull behind MedTech Rudders and Sgt Johnson was torn away. It took Rudders and Johnson with it as it disappeared into the sky. Before anyone could react, another section of hull sheared away, taking Cpl Zimmerman with it. PFC Milton’s restraints were torn loose by the section of hull that had been ripped away. The suction did the rest, and Milton was also gone.

Staff Sergeant? Imara asked. Her voice had risen an octave as she spoke. The world outside was now spinning past. The bright light of dawn flashed like a strobe with each turn. Centrifugal force was pushing Imara’s squad against their section of the hull. Dropships could take a lot of damage, but no one had ever tested to see just how much before it was torn apart like paper.

SSgt Nelson was holding onto a grab bar to keep from being pulled sideways. Lost two thrusters. A third one is damaged. Hull damage, well, you see that. Lt Jackson says we’ve lost some power and controls.

Lt Taylor Jackson was the copilot of the dropship.

The wind whipped through the ragged gap torn into the side of the ship. The distant mountains spun past to reveal the open plain they were supposed to land on, which quickly slid from view to be replaced by the mountains once more. The rapid rotation mercilessly continued to repeat. Imara’s sense of direction was being tested, she was positive the mountains were getting closer.

They were all supposed to touch down on the upper plain where the Ruga Pass opened up. Coming through the pass was a fast-moving battalion of Rhone. The Rhone were aiming for the city of Jagersfontein, intending to drive the Serdoban civilians from their homes.

The Hospitallers were there to stop them. Except things were no longer going to plan. Intel had said the Rhone forces weren’t within several days of the end of the pass. Intel had said a lot of things. Things like the Rhone not having surface-to-air capability. But as Imara had learned from the last operation, the Rhone seemed to have a lot of tech and weaponry no one knew about.

A little help?

Imara looked up. On the other side of the dropship, PFC Daniel Foster was in trouble. He’d been sitting next to PFC Robinson when the missile tore the hole and yanked Robinson, their only medtech, and the two NCOs out. The harness that kept PFC Foster secured had come loose. The spin of the ship was pushing him away from his seat, turning him sideways.

Next to Foster, Pvt Loretta Sims was trying to hold on to Foster’s left arm.

Sims! You hear me?

Pvt Sims looked up. Yes, Sergeant.

Listen closely, Imara said. She had to cup her hands around her mouth to increase her volume. Unhook your MUW’s right strap. Attach it where Foster’s MUW’s left strap is. Got that?

My right to his left. Got it.

Imara watched impatiently as the mountains and plain spun past the ragged hole and Pvt Sims unhooked the right strap of her multi-use weapon. It took her several tries, but Sims finally got the clip to catch.

Good. Now, remove Foster’s right strap and connect it to your left strap.

His right, my left.

This time the procedure went quickly. Sims looked up, a relieved looking smile on her face. Imara nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Now, she said. Tighten the buckles on both sets of slings as far as you can. You and Foster are now best friends.

Nervous laughter followed Imara’s comment. If she hadn’t made a joke, someone else would have. That was just the way of the Hospitaller Orphan Corps. In the worst moments, if there was an opportunity to lighten the stress with a joke, one of them was going to make it.

With Foster temporarily safe, Imara turned her attention back to SSgt Nelson. He did not look happy. Not even close.

Staff Sergeant Nelson, what info do we have?

We lost three dropships, SSgt Nelson said. That was going to make for a long roll call in the morning, assuming they were alive to hear it. Half of those left are damaged, the rest are going to make it to the landing site.

What about us?

Lieutenant Fitzgerald isn’t sure about where. She’s just trying to get us down in what’s left of the ship.

If anyone can do it, she can. Imara turned to her right. Cpl Bowers, eyes closed, was gripping her seat harness with both hands. If she didn’t have gloves on, Imara was sure that Bowers’s knuckles would show white from the tension of her grip.

Bowers? How’s your fireteam?

Cpl Bowers opened her eyes and quickly looked away from the spinning world beyond the hole. She looked to her right.

Fireteam, check in.

PFC Harmon, PFC Cummings, and PFC Sullivan replied with affirmatives. Harmon’s and Sullivan’s voices were lost in the wind roaring through the hold. But PFC Bruce Cummings, Imara could have heard his voice even if he’d been in the pilot cabin. 

Imara shifted her attention back to Cpl Bowers as she turned her head, saying, Fireteam accounted for, Sergeant Fermo.

Good. Pass the word, let me know how Corporal Larson’s fireteam is doing.

On it now, Sarge.

Across the dropship, there was only one NCO left. Cpl Noel Fletcher was looking left and right, and though Imara could see his mouth moving, she couldn’t hear him over the wind. But from the nods and thumbs up from the Hospitallers around him, it was clear he was checking on everyone’s welfare.

Okay, I’ve got an ETA, SSgt Nelson shouted.

Soon, barked PFC Cummings. Even Imara responded with a laugh, so quick had been Cummings's response.

Ten minutes, said SSgt Nelson. But we’re way off target. We’re going to end up in the hills north of the Ruga Pass.

Any idea how far back into the pass? Imara shouted her question. Part of her attention was drawn to the spinning world beyond the hole. It might be wishful thinking, but it seemed to her that the spin was slowing.

The lieutenant said we should be glad she can land the ship and that we should worry about where after we touch down.

Copy that, Staff Sergeant, said Imara. SSgt Nelson gave a curt nod and cupped his hands over the mic and his mouth. Imara could see his cheeks move as he continued to communicate with the cockpit.

Outside, the world still continued to spin past the opening. The mountains were much closer. The ship’s rotation had slowed dramatically compared to the earlier centrifugal force that had attempted to throw PFC Foster free of the remains of his restraints. Looking across the dropship, she verified that Foster was still with them. He was standing at an awkward angle, his hands braced against the sides of Pvt Sims’s seat.

Foster! He looked over his shoulder. Imara pointed to the rear of the dropship. Unclip and move to the rear. Grab a seat and strap in. Landing in five.

Foster nodded. The strain of the situation and holding himself in an uncomfortable position was written on his face. With Pvt Sims helping, Foster unclipped from her. Then, with everyone on that side of the ship offering hands, Foster staggered to the empty seats by the closed ramp and strapped in. Imara almost laughed as she saw the look of relief wash away the stress that Foster had clearly been carrying.

Down both rows of Hospitallers, there was silence. Even Cummings, who was usually good for a laugh, had grown quiet and was now sitting grim-faced. With the exception of Pvt Carson, the rest of them had been through a lot together. Imara had kept all of them safe since they’d come to Abira. During their last mission outside the town of Bhisho, she’d made a promise to herself to keep them that way. She’d kept that promise, even if there’d been a lot of pain and bullet wounds in payment.

This time, Imara doubted her ability to repeat that performance. Her hand drifted to her pocket, where she carried the two knives. One was hers, the original one from her fifteenth birthday. The other one belonged to Nadia, who had been a joy and comfort to Imara for a brief but powerful time. She hadn’t kept Nadia safe even though she knew she couldn’t have. Not when Nadia was in a different squad.

A nudge brought Imara up from the black depths of her musings. Cpl Bowers was looking at her. A bead of sweat was tracing a line down the side of Bowers’s face. When Imara looked at Bowers, the corporal gave a barely perceptible nod toward the gap on the other side of the ship. A hillside of trees was moving towards them.

Staff Sergeant Nelson, Imara said. He looked her way, and she gave a nod similar to Bowers. That gonna be a problem?

SSgt Nelson looked as worried as Cpl Bowers as he looked to the hole and then back to Imara. He shrugged.

Great. Now Imara was worried, too.

02

Through the gap in the ship’s hull, all Imara could see were trees. Having nothing to compare them to made it difficult to determine their size or how close the ship was to colliding with them. She wasn’t a pilot, so it was difficult to understand why Lt Fitzgerald would lead with the dropship’s busted side.

SSgt Nelson had said the lieutenant told him it would be her worst landing yet. Imara wondered just how bad it was going to be. But as she continued to watch, the trees began sliding to the left of the breach in the hull. The dropship was turning. Soon enough, the trees slid from view and left an open view of the plain and the hills on the other side of the pass.

Brace yourselves, SSgt Nelson called over the comm for everyone to hear.

Imara looked right and added, If your face shields are up, put them down, now.

There was a brief flutter of movement as everyone pulled their face shields into place. They would do little more than protect their faces. But considering that they could stop a bullet at close range, that was saying something.

Then, at the lower part of the gap in the hull, Imara caught the view of treetops as they zipped past. The dropship seemed to turn a little more. Not a second later, it slammed into the trees. From all around the ship came the crack-explosion sound of tree trunks as they were broken by the dropship’s hull. Broken branches flew into the bay of the dropship, whipping around the space as the wind continued to blow through the torn hull.

Seconds later, Imara was shoved by an unseen force toward the front of the ship, only her seat restraints keeping her from flying off her seat. Beneath her, she heard the groan of metal