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The men had boarded their drop plane in an orderly manner at 0530. Now it circled the designated area, looking for a good placement. The jet slowed to near-hover in midair, then began the process of rotating it’s wings to station keeping.
“Get your men ready, Sire,” said the pilot, a sanctuary Guardsman. Dane nodded and moved back to check on his unit. All the men were well outfitted and more than ready to go. Every man watched closely as Dane checked his chute one last time. He peered down at the cockpit, where the co-pilot gave him a thumbs up.
“Gather round men,” he said. He looked at them, one by one, seeing the determination in their eyes. Dane returned the looks of his squad commanders, silently acknowledging each one. Then he held out his hand to his commanders, and they answered with theirs. The other troops all repeated the scene with their fellow squad members.
“To Quantar!” Dane called, “To victory!”
“To victory!” they shouted in unison.
Dane broke from his men and opened the jump door himself. It was dark but clear outside, the moon still visible near the far horizon.
Dane stood in the doorway, hand on his chute release. He had made many jumps before, during training on Corant. But those were in the daytime, he reminded himself. Dane turned back to find the squad commanders lined up behind him as ordered. Layton, Myrick, Brake, then the others. Dane looked out once more to the moon and then jumped in one smooth motion, inflating his chute as soon as he cleared the aircraft.
He looked back up to see his men following, one by one. He paid special attention to Myrick, the young man who had so much trouble with the jumps in practice. Then he realized he had drifted away from the main body of paratroops, off course due to his own distraction.
Dane turned his attention to guiding himself in. Within a few minutes he and the five squads were all down and disposing of their main parachutes.
He walked back to where the rest of the men were gathering, concern etched on his face. Brake, the mercenary, walked up to him.
“Problem, Sire?”
“No, looks like all went well.”
“I meant with you,”
Dane looked up at him sharply.
“With me?”
“Aye, you look very worried for your men. So worried that you almost lost your landing.”
“I don’t want to lose any of them,” said Dane.
Brake sighed, put his hands to his hips and looked at Dane with the eyes of a battle-tested veteran.
“One of the rules of war is that good men die. Sometimes in battle, sometimes by accident. You need to get used to it, if you’re gonna lead this lot.”
Dane glared back at him
“You think I’m weak?” he said. Brake shook his head.
“No, Sire, not weak. Compassionate. It’s a good trait in a ruler. But bad in a soldier,” then he walked away, leaving Dane staring hard after him.
***
ONCE THE SQUADS WERE formed Dane sought out Brake again. The mercenary was disposing of his prime chute.
“Thank you,” said Dane, “for correcting me back there.” Brake grunted in response.
“Mention it again and it’ll be another bad trait,” he replied. Dane smiled, then called his squad commanders.
“It’ll be light in twenty minutes. Assemble your squads and move out.”
The men broke for their units. Dane watched as Myrick assembled his unit and moved out to the south, heading for the trail. The rest of the units passed him in four orderly lines, making for the south peak.
Two hours later Dane ordered a halt for twenty minutes to take some food and fluids, then they moved out again. He saw no reason to push the men for such a short march. They arrived at the south ridge on schedule, and began setting up their camp.
“Ready to send the scouts out, Sire,” said Brake.
“No need. You and I will go.”
“Us? Why?”
“I want to check out the jump site myself in the light. And I want to check on the progress in the valley. Any objections?”
“You’re in charge, Sire.”
Dane nodded.
“Mister Layton!” Dane called. Layton came running.
“Yes, Sire.”
“Hold my camp until I get back. Brake and I will scout the valley. Make sure the men are well fed and rested. Tonight will be a busy night.”
“Aye, Sire,” said Layton, watching as Dane and the mercenary headed for the south peak ridge.
“All right men, lunch break!” Layton shouted. The men all cheered at that.
***
DANE AND BRAKE WALKED a good twenty minutes from the camp in silence. As they approached the cliff’s edge they began to crouch lower, eventually ending up on their bellies. Dane pulled his field glasses out and set them for daylight mode, Brake doing likewise. From their position the valley was an open book. Axel’s unit was skirmishing with another group of twelve, a splinter squad from a larger unit. The splinter squad were obviously engaged in a diversionary tactic, trying to slow Axel’s unit down. Her men dispatched the rogues with a practiced ease, indicating a well-groomed veteran battle unit. They took the “killed” men prisoner, their chest targets glowing red to indicate their fate. Dane searched for Axel, finally locating her amongst a crowd of troops, pushing them on. Dane could see they were slightly behind schedule. She would have to whip them along to be in position by nightfall.
“I see Myrick!” said Brake. “Southwest, on that tree-covered ridge!”
Dane reset his glasses for longer range. Myrick had three men left besides himself, out of a starting complement of ten. They were perched on a hill, backs to Dane and Brake, firing down on a troop of men who were mostly out of sight beyond the ridge.
“They’re sniping them!” said Dane. “Good man, Myrick! Uh-oh!”
Dane could see two half-squads of five men each coming around the ridge from Myrick’s backside. “Watch out man!”
“He sees them!” said Brake. Myrick sent one of his men to snipe the closest of the two half-squads, while he and the other two continued to shoot over the ridge at the unseen men below. The lone sniper kept firing at his targets, eventually picking off two. Then the second half-squad arrived and swarmed him and the rest of Myrick’s troop. They did manage to take one more with them. Dane watched as the troopers set up a stasis field and penned his men in.
“Stasis field? They must be well behind schedule. How many men can you make out?”
“Hold it, I’m counting,” said Brake casually. After a moment: “Thirty-three. Myrick did a good job. Looks like Tannace is still in the game though.”
“All the better,” said Dane. He watched as Tannace and his men began to run, trying to make up lost time. Then he moved his focus back to Axel and her unit. They were now well positioned, marching to the northeast, right towards Dane and Brake.
“Looks like things played out our way,” said Brake.
“Yes. What time is it?”
“Thirteen-thirty.”
Dane put his field glasses down. “Let’s get out the field rations, time for lunch.”
“Then what?”
“Then move our unit into position, and get some sleep.”
***
WHEN THEY AWOKE IT was dark. Layton had brought the rest of the men forward and they were assembling for their designated jumps. Dane paused to check on Colonel Noiman’s progress, noting she was directly below, in almost perfect position. Maybe too perfect, he thought.
“We’ll have to be careful Brake,” he said, watching the warm glow of her unit’s campfires.
“You suspect a trap, Sire?”
“Always, Brake. Always.” Dane continued searching until he found her command tent, made a note of it, then turned his attention to his unit.
“Make sure your repelling packs are set properly,” said Dane. Each man in the unit checked his settings one last time. Dane looked around at the forty men assembled on the hilltop. Forty men willing to risk their lives for me in a crazy stunt to win a war game, he thought. Dane eyed them as they shuffled nervously, checking their pony chutes and trying to look relaxed.
He decided he should make a speech, but no words came to him, so he just said:
“This is our time, men. Brake and I will go down first, directly into the camp. The rest of you follow in two minutes, ten second intervals, two at a time, just like we practiced at the training ground. Use your chute controls and the repelling jets to land in the flatland outside the camp. Once you’re assembled, head into the camp in four squads. Remember, minimize kills, take as many prisoners as you can.”
“Sire, why no kills?” asked Layton.
“I have plans for them, Mr. Layton. All ready?” There were nervous nods all around. “Brake?”
“Aye, Sire.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Dane and Brake stood together on the ridge. He looked out and saw a jagged outcrop about thirty meters down, made a mental note of it, then backed up four steps and ran off the edge of the cliff without looking back. He cleared the outcrop easily, air rushing past his face as adrenaline rushed through his body. He deployed the pony chute, the repelling jet arms swinging out on either side. He grasped them and began firing, the gentle hiss of released gases helping to slow his descent. He pumped the jets at regular intervals, swapping his hands with the chute controls to position himself in the air. Soon he was on target and at an acceptable drop rate.
He switched his focus to Brake, noting by the hiss of jets that he was following closely. Two minutes later the ground was rushing up at him. He was barely thirty meters up and unable to use the jets for fear someone on the ground might hear them. The camp rushed up at him, but there were only two sentries in sight, both on the camp fringe looking west toward where an attack from general Tannace might come. The rest were asleep in their tents.
Dane landed to the east, behind Axel’s tent, back to the hills. He fancied it to be a stylish landing, hitting hard and then rolling. He popped up quickly, cutting loose his chute and jets and whipping his coil rifle from his pack. Brake landed a moment later without rolling and cut himself loose as well. Dane was chagrined as the mercenary joined him.
“Nice landing,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” grunted Brake. “We’ll work on your style later, Sire.”
“Uh-huh. Ready?”
“Aye.”
They moved out, Dane approaching Axel’s tent from the rear and then slithering along the north side. He could see the glow of a lantern light on in her tent. Dane peered around the front and saw two sentries talking quietly and seeming quite casual in their manner. Their rifles were at their sides. Dane shouldered his rifle and then walked out in front of them.
“Say, there,” he said. “There’s a couple of parachutes out behind the tent, look like pony’s to me.”
“Huh?” said the nearest guard. They both looked at him dumbfounded for an instant. Before they could respond Brake shot out from the side of the tent in a shoulder roll and popped up, tagging both men with his rifle.
“Stand down,” he said. “You’re both dead now.”
Dane pushed past the guards and into Axel’s tent, rifle drawn again. There was an outer area with a vacant table and two chairs in it. He went through to the next room and found Colonel Axel Noiman sitting at her desk, dressed in tight-fitting field fatigues, her right side to him, examining maps in the lamplight. There was a small cabinet between Dane and the desk, partially obscuring his view of her hands. She could have a weapon nearby, he thought. Without looking up she said,
“Corporal, I asked for my tea at 2300. It’s only 2230.” Dane hesitated for the slightest of moments, savoring his next words.
“I’m afraid the Corporal won’t be bringing you your tea tonight, madam.”
Axel began to smile, then turned her head slowly to face Dane, keeping her hands in front of her on the desk.
“Well, well. I am impressed,” she said.
“As you should be,” Dane couldn’t contain his smile. “Colonel Axel Noiman of Quantar, I hear by place you under arrest and declare you a prisoner of these war games. Will you surrender your weapon?”
“It’s there,” she pointed to the cot across the room, still smiling. Dane moved to the bed, his rifle poised on her, and deactivated her weapon. He also found her target and switched it to neutral, indicating her status had changed and she was now a Prisoner Of War. She leaned back in her chair casually.
“You will give me all the rights afforded a prisoner under the Conventions of War?” she said.
“Of course. We’re not without sympathy for our prisoners.”
The sound of low-energy rifle fire could now be heard. Obviously a few of her men had decided to resist. They listened together for a few moments.
“How did you get here? You know you’re not allowed to march at night,” she said. Dane’s smile grew wider.
“We didn’t march, we parachuted into your camp from the ridge,” he nodded upward for emphasis.
“Ah.”
Brake came in. “We‘ve got the camp secure, Sire. What do you want us to do with the prisoners?”
“Confiscate their weapons and keep them in their tents. Tell them to get some sleep. And tell them if there’s no trouble, then Sire Dane Cochrane of Quantar personally guarantees they will be back in this fight tomorrow.”
“Sire?”
“You heard me. Get going. And post a guard on this tent, we don’t want the Colonel escaping.”
“Aye,” said Brake, casting a wayward glance at the Colonel, and was gone. Dane turned his full attention back to her.
“You know, the best way to ensure that I don’t escape would be to guard me personally,” she said, her smile turning impish. Dane blushed at her teasing despite himself. She pointed at his rifle. “Are you going to hold that on me all night?” she asked.
Dane took a mock stand of aggression, raising the rifle again. “Will you give your guarantee Colonel-” she cut him off.
“I give you my guarantee I will not try to escape, nor kill you as you sleep. I am your prisoner.”
Dane lowered the rifle some. “You don’t seem too concerned about it, either,” he said.
“Why should I be? I expected it.”
“You expected it?”
“Yes. You did take parachutes and jet packs. And there’s no way to win from your drop position if you follow the conventional wisdom. I simply made sure we were in optimum position for you to try. I must confess I was a bit worried about you killing yourself.”
“Not a problem,” he said.
She stood up from her desk. “You’re still holding your rifle on me.” Dane finally put the weapon down on a canvas chair and switched it off, keying in his personal safety code. He turned back to her, curious that she had anticipated his assault.
“So you knew what our plan was all along?”
“Of course, why else would I have only two sentries posted?” She walked over to the small cabinet by her desk and clicked in a combination on the door, then reached in and to Dane’s surprise removed a bottle and two glasses from the cabinet.
“And why else would I have brought my family brandy?”
Dane watched as she poured for them both, the lantern glow shining through from behind, highlighting the auburn in her hair. She walked a few steps to him and handed him his brandy, then stopped to sip hers. Dane looked at his glass.
“Colonel Noiman, if this is a deception-”
“No more deceptions from me, Dane,” she said. “Only honesty.”
Dane sipped at his brandy.
“Colonel-”
“I am off duty now, your prisoner. No more worries. And my name is Axel.”
They both sipped again. Then Dane put down his glass.
“Axel,” he said. They gazed at each other, Axel with expectation, Dane with pensiveness. She put her own glass down and moved a step closer. They were inches apart now, as they had been on the Starliner. Only now the lust was gone, replaced by a deep connection Dane didn’t understand. Was it loneliness, or hurt? A mutual need to have someone, anyone, to trust again? He had no answers. But he could feel the connection in her, and in himself.
She moved into his arms slowly and put her head on his shoulder, then whispered to him.
“When I was a teenager, I had a picture of you on my bedroom wall. All the girls did. You were about our age, and I had a crush on you. We all thought you were so handsome. Back then I dreamed of being a princess. But princes don’t marry the daughters of military men. They marry princesses and executives daughters, so I gave up the dream as I got older. After the oppression started I replaced all my dreams with the passion of hatred, and thought only of your death. Now I’ve discovered that you’re a prince after all, but there’s no time left to dream.” Tears rolled slowly down her face as Dane held her gently, quite unlike the aphrodisiac-enhanced passion of the Starliner.
“Perhaps, when this is over,” he whispered back to her, “I can see to it that princes can marry anyone they choose.” She looked up to him, the piercing green of her iris’ rimmed now with red. He cupped her face in his hands. Their kiss was gentle and sweet, full of anticipation, and longing. They lingered together for a long moment, Dane holding her in his arms.
“I never dared to dream again that I would ever kiss a prince,” she said.
“You can kiss this prince any time you want,” he whispered back. Then their lips met again, and they lost themselves in the kiss.