Summer at Xawela: Seasons of War on Abira, #4

By Earl T. Roske

Hospitallers be careful what you wish for.

 

 In the wake of the Nongoma action, Sergeant Fermo's team has been confined to base duty — and base duty makes for a long season on Abira. But when a peace talks mission goes bad and ends in an ambush, they are the only team available to respond.

 

Eager for action, Fermo's team jumps at the chance to rescue their fellow Hospitalers. But the ambush is just the beginning of Fermo's latest trial. She and her team must venture into unknown territory, with few clues and no outside support.

 

But they are not alone.

 

They have brought help with them. Will it be enough to see them through the mission? And what costs will the team pay to survive?

 

There's only one way to know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl T. Roske
• Release date: Apr 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224668717

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

Summer at Xawela

by

Earl T. Roske

© 2020 Earl T. Roske

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [e-mail]

Cover by: Mike Beckom

Also by Earl T. Roske

Dewey Tyler, Orphan Corps

Secrets on Wenshen

Abandoned on Juracan

Fortanach Outfitting Stories

The Stowaway Corpse: A Fortanach Spaceship Mystery

Orphan Corps Shepherds, Lost Sheep

Diversion in Raziel

Reckoning in Samael

Seasons of War on Abira

Midwinter at Bhisho

Wintertide at Knynsa

Spring at Nongoma

Summer at Xawela

Stories of the Orphan Corps

Rescue on Gimhae

Deceit on Panchala

Standoff on Oulu

Counter Offensive on Arda

Defiance on Vargo

The Last Wave Series

Last Wave

Last Dance

Standalone

Reluctant Symbiosis

Novjaro

Tale of the Music-Thief

Watch for more at Earl T. Roske’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Earl T. Roske

Summer at Xawela (Seasons of War on Abira, #4)

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Also By Earl T. Roske

Thank You:

Andrew, Wendy, & Tim for all your help.

Mike for the awesome covers.

––––––––

For my wife and daughter.

And my mom.

Never forgotten. Always remembered.

01

Except for the whine of the motors, the buzz of the tires, and the occasional thump thump thump of potholes being ridden over, the rapid response vehicle may as well have been a tomb. It was an atmosphere very much unlike the normal behavior of the Hospitallers seated inside.

Imara sat in the middle of the left-side set of jump seats. She had one hand on her shoulder restraint while the other was on her thigh, cupping the two small knives in her front pocket. As she rocked with the movement of the RapRes, she scanned her squad, checking on them without asking how they were doing. She didn’t need to. Each of them had a grim look on their face. An appropriate reaction to having just learned that their commanding officer, Major Shaun Stewart, had been ambushed, and they were the only people available to respond.

The last time Imara had responded to an ambush, it had been Nadia caught up in the attack. And it had been Nadia that Imara had lost. Imara’s hand briefly gripped the pair of pocket knives at the flash of memory. She had no doubt that other members of her team recalled that situation as well. That may have been part of why they were all looking serious and determined.

Eventually, though, the nervous energy got to them all. It always did. Corporal Bruce Cummings was the first to break, asking, Is this an okay time to be funny?

Imara smiled. It was a tight, grim smile, but it was a start. This was the first time Cummings had spoken up since they’d received the news. It was also a good sign for the team.

How funny? asked Cpl Leah Bowers. Her look was still stern but softening with the opening salvo of banter.

Cummings flashed a half-smile before saying, You won’t know until you hear it.

Imara lifted her chin and said, Spit it out, Cummings.

Corporal Cummings looked left and right at the surrounding Hospitallers. He shrugged his shoulders as if resigned to the inevitable. I just wanted to point out that when I said I’d do anything to get off base for a change, this was not what I had in mind.

While Cummings' comment did not earn him a round of laughter, it did earn him a few reluctant smiles. Considering the situation they were in, Imara counted that as a win.

Command had relegated Imara and her squad to base duty since the events of Nongoma. The only variations in their daily activities had been several supply trips to the ships in orbit, and then an entire CSMO as the battalion closed the base near Nongoma closed shop and moved out to a different hemisphere.

Even on the other side of the planet, they’d forced Imara’s squad to stay within the base confines. And that was why they were the only ones available to respond when the call from Cpl Sylvester Hale came through that the major’s convoy was under attack.

The company XO, Captain Leon McBride, being the senior officer on base, didn’t hesitate to send Imara’s squad out. However, rather than the usual cheers at finally getting to do something, the squad had boarded the RapRes with all the somberness of a funeral, strapping themselves in without comment, without complaint, and without the usual jocularity.

Imara had been trying to work out why Capt McBride hadn’t procured them a Martini to fly them in. They would have arrived much sooner. Instead, they were still en route, and they’d lost all contact with the convoy.

I have a question, too, said PFC Isaac Sullivan. He pointed at Pvt Ronald Carson. Why’s he got a T-n-T bag with him? This is a response mission, not a village visit.

I know. Carson threw his hands up. Imara could see his cheeks redden. When we got the call, I just grabbed everything.

Corporal Bowers cleared her throat loudly enough to be heard through the RapRes bay. Imara looked in Bowers’s direction to see her tapping a T-n-T bag she was carrying, too.

Habit, Bowers said and grinned.

That earned a hearty laugh from the rest of the squad and seemed to make Pvt Carson feel better about his own actions. Imara was going to comment about how they never knew who they might encounter on any mission, but her comm beeped in her ear.

She tapped her helmet, saying, Go.

Five minutes out, said Cpl Elvira Zimmerman, the RapRes navigator.

Understood. Imara turned to the rest of the squad after tapping her comm. Five minutes. Check your gear. Check your neighbor’s.

The RapRes continued, its motors whining, the tires buzzing, with the occasional thump as the tires encountered potholes, the AC growling. When the vehicle began to physically slow enough to catch everyone’s attention, the squad turned to Imara.

Don’t unbuckle until you know we’ve stopped, she said. Don’t let your emotions cause you to make a mistake.

As far as Imara was concerned, letting your emotions get in the way was part of the reason she’d lost Nadia. While the others tried not to touch the latches of their restraints, Imara allowed her hand to stray to the pocket once more, touching the two knives that represented Nadia and herself.

A couple more seconds and the RapRes lurched to a rocking stop.

We’re here, said the RapRes driver, Cpl Preston Griffith.

Imara looked at PFC Carol Walters and nodded her head. As everyone unstrapped themselves from their seats, Walters tapped the release button for the back hatch as she simultaneously removed one of the ballistic shields from a compartment on the bulkhead. She passed it to PFC Isaac Sullivan behind her and removed a second shield she held on to. As the ramp slowly descended, allowing daylight and the oppressive summer heat to creep in, Walters popped her ballistic shield open. Next to her, Sullivan was doing the same thing. By the time the ramp touched the ground, both ballistic shields filled the opening, ready to defend against attackers.

Imara doubted that there would be anyone to worry about, but she wasn’t going to relax her guard. That had previously come with a price she wasn’t willing to pay again.

Bowers, you have left. Cummings, you have right.

Imara kept to the middle of the RapRes as the two fire teams deployed around the sides of the vehicle. She deployed a ballistic shield for herself and MedTech4 Hugh Ramirez while the rest of the squad went around the outside of the RapRes.

Several seconds later, Imara’s comm buzzed. All clear, said Cpl Bowers.

Imara tapped her comm in response. Send back one from each fireteam, let’s get the mortars out and into position.

No sooner were her words said than she heard several people rushing to the rear of the RapRes. Imara handed the ballistic shield to MedTech Ramirez, then turned to the cargo secured to the middle of the RapRes bay floor. She began unstrapping the equipment as PFC Daniel Foster and PFC Sarah Harmon came up the ramp. She handed each of them a mortar barrel.

Fifty meters to either side. Return for the plates.

You got it, Sergeant Fermo, replied Harmon.

While the two PFCs ran the mortar tubes out to their position, Imara carried the baseplates to the top of the ramp for them upon their return. She then carried two cases of eye rounds and put them next to the plates.

While Imara waited for the two PFCs to return, she went to the front end of the RapRes and knocked on the small hatch that allowed access to the drivers. The window quickly slid back to reveal Cpl Griffith and Cpl Zimmerman.

How do things look from here? asked Imara.

Cpl Griffith turned for a quick look at the scanners and displays on the dash of the RapRes. He turned back to Imara, saying, Everything is quiet as far as we can tell.

We’ll have eyes up in a few minutes, Imara said. Then we’ll have a better idea of what we’re going to do next.

We’re not going anywhere, said Cpl Zimmerman.

There was a levity to the comments that Zimmerman used. Imara knew it was a defensive maneuver. Four of their fellow RapRes drivers were part of the convoy that had come with Major Stewart. So they were as invested in the outcome as Imara and her squad.

Imara returned to the ramp. The baseplates were absent, leaving just the two containers of ammo. Imara unstrapped the third mortar tube and carried it down the ramp and five meters back down the road. She returned to the vehicle at the same time as Foster and Harmon. They each grabbed a box of ammo and hustled back out to where they’d left the baseplates and tubes. Imara hauled the third mortar’s baseplate out and then just as quickly returned for the ammo she would need.

Moments later, Foster and Harmon were back.

We have everything ready, said PFC Foster.

Imara set the ammo box down and nodded. She turned and tapped her comm, looking at Cpl Cummings as she spoke to him. Cummings, send Private Hart to assist me. Foster will take you and Sullivan to your mortar emplacement. Finish setting up and let me know when you’re ready.

Imara repeated the same instructions for Cpl Bowers, keeping Pvt Ronald Carson while PFC Harmon showed Bowers and Walters where their mortar and ammo waited.

Imara turned to Pvt Genevieve Hart and Pvt Carson. She smiled encouragingly. Okay, let’s get it set up and dialed in. The sooner we’re up, the sooner we’ll know what’s going on down the road.

It took less than five minutes to dial in all three of the mortars. This wasn’t a counterattack, but a reconnaissance. The rounds they were sending wouldn’t explode. Instead, they carried eyes, one of the ubiquitous technologies employed by the Hospitallers, to do recon for them. Normally, they would use the grenade launchers or their Multi-Use Weapons to send the eyes over an area they wanted to study. However, this was an ambush recon. They knew they couldn’t get close. So, instead, they used the mortars.

If everybody’s ready, Imara said, fire at will. Be sure to expend all your rounds. We need as much data as we can get.

Imara nodded to Pvt Hart, who dropped the first mortar round into the tube. The ground around Imara vibrated with the launch of the first eye. She handed the second round to Pvt Carson. Carson stepped forward and dropped it into the tube. Around them, Imara could hear the deep-throated thump of each of the mortars firing their eyes into the air.

The eyes would record data from launch to landing. They’d continue to record if the impact didn’t destroy them. Either way, the data was being continuously fed into Imara’s helmet, where the program would stitch them together. The result would be a three-dimensional map and virtual landscape that would allow the Hospitallers to reconnoiter the location of the ambush before physically heading in.

We’re all done here, said Cpl Bowers over the com.

Imara checked Cpl Cummings and got the same response. Pack it in, she said. Pull back and we’ll wait for the data.

By the time the rest of the squad had returned with the mortar equipment, a small light was blinking on Imara’s face shield, informing her that the data was ready for use.

Who wants to tag along?

Corporal Cummings dropped the empty mortar crate and raised his hand. I’ll go.

PFC Walters raised her hand as well. Cpl Bowers gave a gentle shake of her head. Imara knew from experience that Bowers did not enjoy being a passenger in a VR recon as it gave her motion sickness. It was nothing to be ashamed of, of course, as many people found it more unsettling to be a passenger than to be in control.

From behind Imara, Cpl Griffith spoke up. If you don’t mind, I’d like to tag along.

Imara turned to see that Griffith and Cpl Zimmerman had joined them at the back of the RapRes.

Imara nodded, saying, Log in, Griffith.

With a tap of her helmet, Imara fired up the VR system. Her face shield went opaque, then she was standing in the air about thirty meters above the ground. She could look down to see the convoy of RapRes and local troop trucks in a ragged line. Several of the trucks and one RapRes lay on their sides. The RapRes in the middle of the convoy was the only vehicle upright. Rocket fire had obliterated its driver’s cab, which was now a gaping black wound at the front of the vehicle.

Around Imara, she could hear the others as they also took in the view of the ambush site.

As passengers in VR recon, everyone had to go where Imara went, but they still had three hundred and sixty degrees of vision. That allowed them to examine areas that Imara might not see or might not notice.

I don’t see anyone moving, said Griffith. Imara thought his voice sounded defeated.

What if we switch to infrared or heat? asked PFC Walters.

Imara reached out and touched the virtual controls, switching the image from visual to thermal. Parts of the vehicles which had taken damage still had a faint glow of yellow and orange. Around the vehicles and further away, off the road, were at least a dozen elongated green blobs. These were the dead, already cooling.

Going down. Imara adjusted the controls once more. The ground rose to meet her feet. Outside the VR, Imara could hear several people giggling.

Maybe we should strap Cpl Griffith to a chair, Cpl Bowers said helpfully.

Apparently, Griffith was still adjusting to being a passenger in VR. But now they were on the ground. From experience, Imara knew it would make the experience easier for those tagging along.

Imara switched the imagery back to visual and moved their location, bringing them to the front vehicle. Serdoban soldiers had manned it. Around and under the vehicle, she could see several of them. From the way they lay on the ground, and the blood that pooled beneath them, it was clear they were all dead.

There’s three in the back, said Cpl Cummings. I don’t think any of them even knew what hit them. Looks like they took rounds in the back.

Driver’s dead, too, said PFC Walters.

Imara moved the view back to the RapRes lying on its left side. There was no need to inquire as to the fate of the driver and co-driver. They could see them through the shattered windscreen, their bodies hanging in their restraints. Blood had already begun drying and cracking on their faces and exposed flesh. The driver’s eyes were open, looking sightlessly at nothing.

Imara continued, moving them to the back of the RapRes. Its hatch was open, hanging from one twisted hinge. Inside, however, there were no bodies, and unfortunately no survivors.

Well, that is either good news or bad news, said Cpl Cummings.

Unless we find them in the bushes, said PFC Walters.

Let’s just finish the recon before we make those kinds of judgments, said Imara. She was already pushing the view back to the RapRes in the middle.

This was the one with the gaping black hole where the cab had been. Imara could see what little there was remaining of the driver and co-driver. She was glad her team wasn’t physically on scene yet. That would have meant smelling the charred flesh. At least now she could prepare herself for that inevitability.

As the view turned to expose the interior of the RapRes, Imara held her breath. This was the vehicle that had carried Major Stewart and several of the more important dignitaries. Unlike the other RapRes, there were bodies here. First Sergeant Nelson Dawson lay prone on the open deck of the interior, his blood trailing down the ramp. His right hand was under his body, likely still holding the pistol grip of his MUW.

There was a second body further inside the RapRes. Imara turned a virtual dial, zooming in on the second person. It was Cpl Sylvester Hale. His eyes were closed, and he’d clearly taken several rounds to his arm and chest.

Is he dead? asked Cpl Griffith.

The data implies that he’s not, said PFC Walters. If we shift to thermal real quick, it might give us a better idea.

Imara nodded and tapped the virtual buttons, quickly switching to thermal a second time. Cpl Hale’s body glowed orange and red. They had one live Hospitaller.

02

Imara studied the image. She reached out and adjusted the controls to zoom in closer on Cpl Hale. Had this been a live vid, she could have seen if his chest was rising and falling with his breath or even a muscle twitching in his cheek. Instead, all she had was MedTech Ramirez’s well-trained opinion. It would have to be enough for now.

How can you be so sure? asked Cpl Cummings, seemingly unwilling to just take the medtech’s word.

I’ve been doing this a while now, Cummings, and I’ve developed a sense for it. I know all we have is a picture, but the color in his cheeks, the way he’s sitting, all that implies that he’s still alive. The surrounding blood, though, says that he’s wounded and we need to get to him if we want to keep him alive.

With the controls, Imara backed out to normal view and turned. We need to check the two unknown vehicles before we can come in and take care of Hale.

Imara moved the virtual image around until they were next to the troop carrier that was on the south side of the road, the treeline just a few meters behind. Someone had shot out the windscreen. The driver was a casualty. Behind the cab, the canopy had taken a lot of damage, much like the Serdobans’ vehicles. Underneath the vehicle itself were two more soldiers. Both of them had head wounds that made it unlikely anyone could do a visual identification.

I’m assuming that everyone else knows, said Cpl Cummings. but I want to point it out. I don’t see insignia, or rank, or any kind of identification on these soldiers’ uniforms. Not even on the trucks.

Imara nodded even though she knew it was unseen by those in the VR with her. You’re right, Cummings, we’ve all seen it. Whoever these people are, they obviously didn’t want anyone to know their affiliation. Their uniforms are of Rhone design. That’s evident even without insignias present. As far as their features are concerned, they don’t look like Rhone.

Are you suggesting something else? asked PFC Walters. You really think the Allied Planets would do something this extreme?

They could if they’ve got something to lose, said Cpl Griffith. If they’re losing the battle of hearts and minds, this might be something connected to that. It’s certainly going to disrupt the local negotiations.

Might give them a chance to regroup, Cummings said. But if they were just stalling for time, why would they take hostages? Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill everybody? As a matter of fact, why not use rockets instead of actually endangering their own people’s lives?

So many questions, said Imara. I’m not sure how we’re going to get answers. Until then, let’s check the other vehicle.

The second of the two unknown vehicles was on the north side and in a similar state as the first, except that its driver was on the ground, dead. Behind the vehicle, stretched and torn netting clung to the bed canopy. It did nothing to hide the two people beyond the truck bed who looked to Imara as if they’d been trying to flee after being shot. They hadn’t gone very far from the way things looked. Drying blood sketched a short, wide trail.

Imara expanded the view again, bringing them upwards thirty meters to have a better view of the scene. It looked to her as if the trucks had pulled in after neutralizing the Serdoban vehicles. Then, someone had hit the RapRes with a shoulder fired rocket. They probably hadn’t expected as much defense as they’d encountered. From the way First Sgt Dawson looked, it appeared as if he’d been trying to defend everyone else inside the first RapRes.

But it still didn’t provide an answer to where Major Stewart and the civilians had gone.

If you’re not used to it, prepare yourselves. I’m dropping us out of virtual.

Imara reached out and tapped several of the VR controls. Her view faded to white and then cleared as her face shield became transparent. She spared a glance for Cpl Griffith, who looked a little unsteady. Likely he hadn’t used virtual very often since becoming a driver.

Are you ready to take us in? she asked him once he looked like he was feeling grounded.

Griffith nodded. He signaled for Zimmerman to follow, and they made their way to the front of the RapRes.

Imara turned to her squad. Mount up, we’re going in.

Within minutes, Cpl Griffin had the RapRes in motion. A few minutes more and Imara felt the vehicle slowing as they reached the edge of the ambush site.

As the hatch went down, Imara cautioned her team.

Remember, just because we didn’t see anybody during our recon doesn’t mean that somebody didn’t stay behind to give us trouble. And although it looks like the only survivor in the area is Corporal Hale, don’t assume that all the others are truly dead. We’re going in as a squad and staying together, watching each other’s backs.

After receiving a nod from Imara, Cummings waved his fireteam out of the RapRes. They turned left, securing one side of the vehicle. The moment Pvt Carson left the ramp, Cpl Bowers had her fireteam up and moving. They bore to the right, securing the other side. Imara moved forward and tapped on the hatch to the cabin. When it opened, she found herself face-to-face with Cpl Zimmerman.

You guys stay here and on comm. If you see anything, let me know A.S.A.P.

Will do, Sergeant Fermo.

Imara turned as the hatch slid shut, and made her way out the back of the RapRes, joining the rest of her team.

MedTech Ramirez followed Imara as she turned left, coming up behind Cpl Cummings' fireteam. She tapped her comm.

Let’s move forward. Keep your eyes out and remain alert.

Imara led the way for MedTech Ramirez as the two fire teams shadowed them from the sides. They moved quickly and safely forward until they reached the RapRes where Cpl Hałe lay, hopefully still alive.

Imara cleared the inside of the RapRes before letting Ramirez enter. As she verified there wasn’t anybody inside they hadn’t seen during the virtual recon, she noticed Cpl Hale’s eyelids flutter. So, Ramirez had been right, Hale was still alive. But there was no doubt he was injured and bleeding.

Ramirez hurried to the back of the RapRes, dumping his medkit on the ground as he knelt next to Cpl Hale.

Hey, Corporal Hale, Ramirez said as he pressed his fingers against Hale's carotid artery. Can you hear me, buddy? Give me a word if you can?

Ramirez removed his hand from Hale’s neck and pulled his medkit closer. It caught against the drying blood on the RapRes deck, almost tipping over. Ramirez steadied the kit with two hands before opening up different compartments. As he worked, he paused to look at Cpl Hale.

There’s an eye, said Cpl Hale. To Imara, it looked like the most painful effort on Hale’s part to get the words out.

She knelt down on the other side of Cpl Hale. What do you mean an eye?

Imara watched Cpl Hale shakily lift one hand several centimeters off the deck. One finger striped with his blood slowly uncurled and pointed, before the effort exhausted him