Out of the Ashes Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Free Fall

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Free Fall

  The Series

  Out of the Ashes:

  A Story of the New Glasgow War

  Book One of the New Glasgow War Series

  By CN Stoesen

  October 18, 2017

  Version 1.00

  Copyright © 2017 CN Stoesen

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  Thank you so much to my wife and son for their love and support. I couldn't hope for a better family. After all, they put up with my nonsense constantly. And thanks to the Sprinters. Y'all are just inspirational.

  Free Fall

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  Chapter 1

  The rifle lay beside her as her back pushed tight against the shattered wall. She was breathing slowly to control her heart rate. The walker's metal joints squealed and its feet pounded the broken pavement of the street below. Counting in her head, she reached zero. With a flick of a finger, moved the rifle's selector switch to auto. Taking the pistol grip, she raised the weapon to her shoulder and braced it on top of the shattered wall.

  The building was an apartment complex in the past. Now, it stood ruined and derelict like most buildings in her city. As she got ready to fire, she noticed the remains of wallpaper still clung to the wall she hid behind. Pastel ducks, bunnies and bears told her that the room she occupied was once a nursery. Now it was a ruin.

  The Walker's thumping feet propelled it closer. There, it was two hundred meters down the street. Standing four stories tall, the Walker's torso pivoted from side to side looking for danger. Through the holographic site, she could make out the unit markings. This was a command vehicle of the Seventh Union Mechanized Infantry Division. It was probably the battalion commander's mech based on the antennas protruding from its iron grey head.

  The Walker's sprouted small weapon pods from either side of its head. It was malevolence in motion. Walker's projected the power of the Union. More so than their navy as these were the sharp end of the Union's will.

  Sweat rolled out from under her dusty balaclava and into her eyes. She tried to blink them clear as movement could attract unwanted attention. Waiting was always the hardest part. Engage too soon and you risked the rounds not being able to penetrate. Too late and they may not arm in time and would bounce off of the mech's armor.

  There. She pulled the trigger and unleashed on the walker. With the mech a bare fifty meters from her position, the inferno rounds ate deeply into the armored skin. The first four shots were right on target. They impacted on the cockpit view screen and armor in the head of the beast. The remaining eight rounds walked to the left across the head and into the right weapons pod. Using the recoil to push her over, she fell on her back beside the wall she used for cover.

  The weapons pod pulsed with light that brightened the ruin she hid within. She could only feel the deafening explosion. Her ear buds she wore under the balaclava protected her hearing from loud noises but amplified the quiet ones. Blast waves rolled over the building and knocked loose more bricks, dust and debris into the room. Covering her head with her arms, she kept her face from being torn by falling brick and shrapnel.

  With her head turned towards the center of her position, she locked eyes with a blue cloth rabbit. The well-worn toy was dust covered. Another reminder of what the Union has done to her home, her people and her planet. She reached out and picked up the toy. The face and ears were threadbare from the attentions of a child now long gone from this ruin. She thought of her own family, her little sister Janice in particular. Janice was only eight when she joined the militia. It was only a year later when the bombs fell on her city and Sergeant Rachel Duncan's only remaining family was the militia.

  Duncan couldn't risk wiping the tears from her eyes, least she rub dust and debris in them and make it worse. She placed the toy into her satchel before sitting up and peering at her handiwork. The walker sat embedded in the building across the street. Smoke rose from the stump that once held the weapons pod. The walker's mangled right leg lay twisted and ruined.

  Reaching back into the satchel, she withdrew a full magazine. This one had blue tape wrapped around the base with lettering reading anti-personnel. These were a mixture of grenades and flechette rounds for the rifle's, main gun. Ejecting the spent one, she reloaded the weapon. The empty magazine went back into the bag.

  She watched the street below. Union infantry were close by any of their walkers. Command mechs never moved without infantry support. But there were none visible. To her astonishment, the escape hatch opened at the bottom of the walker's head. A brown uniformed officer dropped to the ground below.

  He must have hit very hard. Landing awkwardly, the union soldier fell to his left side. He grabbed his ankle but didn't utter a sound. He writhed on the ground but was silent. If it wasn't for the ambient noise of combat elsewhere in the city, she would have thought she was deaf.

  Sighting in on the officer, she waited for more men to emerge. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she attempted to keep track of time. When an eternity passed, two minutes according to her wrist chronometer, she moved and made her way to the stairs. She took only a minute to reach the street.

  Taking cover in a doorway, she pushed another button on the rifle. This changed it from using its main weapon to a smaller caliber solid projectile thrower. The larger one carried a variety of possible loads. Inferno rounds, the ones she used on the walker, were an incendiary device that ignited in flight and burned with such intensity, that they could burn through almost a meter of armor plate. It was this ammunition that allowed her people to counter the threat of the mechs. They also could fire grenades, small high explosive projectiles and flechettes, a bundle of needle like spikes that spread out when shot. The latter two munitions were better suited against ground infantry than the walkers and vehicles of the Union. The secondary weapon fired a tiny round at a high velocity. It was more accurate and had better range than the main gun. It was more useful when dealing with enemy personnel moving through the city as it was suppressed.

  The rifle was heavy. Fully loaded, it weighed seven kilograms. It resembled a long, rectangular flower box. A pistol grip protruded from the bottom as well as the main gun's magazine. The ammunition for the secondary weapon was within the rifle's stock. A small hollow square sat on top of the center of the rifle. This was the holographic site. It offered ten times magnification for the shooter. The normal setting she left it at was three.

  At street level, she could better appreciate the size of the walker. The officer had fallen three stories to the ground below. Smoke now flowed from the top of the walker's head and from the escape hatch that the soldier fled from.

  Moving from cover to cover behind rubble piles and vehicle remains, she advanced on the wounded Union officer. A ground car blocked her view of the walker's feet. The officer should be right behind it. The destroyed civilian vehicle had its nose buried in the asphalt street. It was only a burned out shell.

  Climbing onto the vehicle's remains she saw... nothing. The officer was gone. Looking to the left and right she spotted drag marks in the dust and debris covering the street. He must have pulled himself along the ground into the building his walker crashed into.

  She jumped down from the civilian ve
hicle and ran to the door. She closed her eyes for a second and took in a deep breath.

  Chapter 2

  The officer lay on the ground. It had taken all his effort to pull himself inside the building. For whatever reason, the Union didn't believe it's Mech commanders needed a side arm. For Major Renee Dietler, this was a problem. Whoever had destroyed his walker was still out there and hunting him.

  He looked down at his shattered ankle. The foot flopped over to the side at an angle that nature never intended. He had pulled the medkit from the belt pack he wore. The small kit didn't have much. Anti-coagulants, a pressure bandage and antiseptic cream wouldn't splint that leg. He took advantage of the ampule of pain killer. He injected it into the meat of his thigh just as they showed him in training.

  His breathing was almost back to normal. He had resigned himself to his fate. At least whatever happened next wouldn't hurt.

  A shadow fell across his face. He turned his head up and looked into the eyes of his captor. The image he saw was of a figure clad in a mottled gray camouflage. This wasn't the baggy uniform that the Union infantry wore but a tight fitting armored jumpsuit. Because of this, he could tell this was a woman. The balaclava only revealed her eyes that were a cold, hard blue. As he was able to focus more, he made out more details. The name patch above her left breast read Duncan. On her shoulders he could see the rank insignia of a sergeant of the New Glasgow Planetary Militia.

  Member systems of the Federated Union of Planets could raise a militia for internal security but couldn't possess a military force by which to challenge the FUP. In terms of a navy, member planets could maintain a small fleet of light vessels for planetary protection but they couldn't build a true deep space navy. New Glasgow was a colony planet that wanted full membership or independence from the FUP. These hardy pioneers had put up quite the fight. Over half of the cities on the planet now lay in ruins but the people had yet to submit. Dietler was impressed by their resolve.

  Raising his hands above his head, he slurred out the words, "I believe you have caught me ma'am."

  The soldier's eyes went wide when they looked him in the face. But soon her resolve returned.

  She spoke her first words to him, "Welcome to New Glasgow, you poxy bastard."

  The figure he now thought of as Ms. Duncan swung the butt of her rifle and hit him in the head. That was the last thing he saw.

  Chapter 3

  Major Dietler woke to nausea and dizziness. The bright lights hurt his eyes and increased the pounding in his head. A face appeared over his and mercifully blocked the light for a moment.

  "Ah, good. You are awake."

  The accent was thick and hard to understand. It wasn't the dialect that most had from New Glasgow. He sounded more guttural and harsh. As his eyes focused, he saw that the man was a doctor. He was from one of the many relief agencies that served the refugees created by the war. This one was one of the more difficult organizations that the FUP had to deal with. In this and on other planets, they had reported the FUP for war crimes against civilians. Major Dietler knew of two officers cashiered due to their accusations.

  "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Doctor Mortimer Von Haustlin of Doctors without Boundaries. I believe you have heard of us, ya?"

  Through the nausea and dizziness, Dietler managed a half smile, "Yes, of course. Pleased to meet you doctor."

  "Ach, good. Your ankle is not in great shape. I had to remove many bone fragments from the break. How did you do this?"

  "I tripped and fell."

  The doctor backed up and the blinding light flooded back in and his head pulsed in pain. It was all Dietler could do to not throw up on the doctor.

  "Ah, shit," exclaimed Dietler as he tried to move a hand to cover his eyes but they were secured to the bed. "Excuse me, doctor. The light is very bright."

  "Oh, I am so sorry." He leaned forward and blocked the light again. "We have the ankle pinned. If you get back to an FUP hospital, they will restore you back to normal. Alas, we are restricted from bringing that level of care to our patients here in New Glasgow."

  It was the main complaint that DWB brought to the Planetary Assembly. They couldn't provide the best possible care to victims of war waged by the FUP. Now Dietler faced the reality of their complaint. The problem was, many of the advanced medical equipment that the rest of the universe enjoyed could be weaponized by skillful engineers. The technology he needed was the medical equivalent to a three-D printer that would recreate the damaged portions of his ankle. With that, he would be back on his feet and running in less than two days. The FUP forward field hospital just outside the city had these tools. But the civilians of this planet didn't. In the initial phase of the war, hospitals were one of the targets that the FUP bombed on the planet.

  "Oh, I believe you have a visitor."

  With that, the doctor moved again but turned down the lights in his room. The pain in his head eased as he looked at the woman standing before him. She had long brown hair and striking blue eyes. She was in the mottled gray fatigues of the planetary militia. Her uniform name tag read Duncan, and she bore the sergeant's insignia. Recognition came slowly.

  "Sergeant Duncan, we meet again."

  Major Dietler's voice was the precise and refined standard that many officers in the FUP adopted. Most were from upper class families from the principle planets of the FUP. Earth and Mars produced the lion's share of the officer corps but several other systems did as well. These were the earlier colonies set up from Earth. As opposed to New Glasgow which had only existed for three hundred years.

  The sergeant nodded back. She seemed more nervous than he was used to for someone about to interrogate him.

  "What is your name, major?" she asked.

  "Major Renee Dietler, Seventh Union Mechanized Infantry Division, Twenty Fifth Regiment, third battalion."

  This was the information required by convention that prisoners had to provide. It had been this way for thousands of years. He left out his serial number but that shouldn't be a big deal.

  The sergeant wrote something on the tablet she carried before looking back up at him. She opened her mouth to speak then shut it. Swallowing hard she stood taller before speaking again.

  "It was stupid for you to be so far from your covering infantry. We have been shooting at your walkers for weeks now with inferno rounds. Without ground troops, you are sitting ducks."

  He was taken aback. There was no probe for information. Just a commentary and accusation he was a lousy mech commander. Before he could respond, the sergeant had left. She was replaced by another man. This one in a crisp white lab coat. No name tag was visible.

  "Major, we need to take you to your room."

  The lab coated man removed the restraints on his arms and legs and lowered him into a wheelchair. This was an old fashioned one whose design must stretch back several hundred years. It wasn't the grav lift models that the core FUP planets used. The med tech rolled him out of the recovery room and into the hallway.

  The gurney lined hallway was filled with wounded. Most were civilians in various stages of undress. In a Mech, Dietler never appreciated what happened to the civilian during an attack. Now he bore witness to the damage wrought. He was wheeled down a long corridor. By the time they reached the end, another man held the door open and Dietler pushed inside.

  This was a private room. There was no window but there was a view screen that extended for the whole wall that showed a running loop video of each of the principle cities of New Glasgow. Each was in ruins. The buildings were bombed out and derelict. No people were on the streets.

  He knew this was on purpose. They were showing him these scenes to soften him up. So he would feel sorry for the people here and give up intelligence to them. He tried to harden his feeling but the sights they showed him were terrible. The children were the worst. Each one reminded him of his son and daughter.

  By the time they got him into bed, he was shaking. The orderly turned off the video screen and closed the
door as he left Dietler alone to his thoughts.

  Chapter 4

  Sergeant Duncan reported back to her company. It had been a long but productive day. She had secured a high ranking prisoner from the Union. Surely the FUP would trade for him. They had been unwilling to do prisoner exchanges with the government of New Glasgow. They had taken few of their officers alive. Hopefully that would now change.

  Rumors had it that combatants captured by the Union were executed. She doubted that was true. It was likely propaganda to inspire the troops not to surrender.

  What bothered her was how much he looked like James. The man appeared to be his twin. It was unsettling. James Tolliver had died in her arms two years ago when their squad was attacked. The mech had killed half of their number before someone managed to drive it off with a rocket. Her friend and lover bleed out before she could tell him one last time she loved him. And now this officer appears who looks and sounds like James and wearing the enemy's uniform.

  After James' death, she shut out the world. She put up walls so she wouldn't get hurt again. James was the only one who kept her from breaking down after he family had died. Now she was alone. She breathed deeply and regained control. It wouldn't due to show up to Captain Weaver looking like a weepy teenager.

  When she reached her company command post, Lieutenant McCloud was writing a report on his tablet. She noticed that he sat in Captain Weaver's chair.

  "Sir, Sergeant Duncan reporting for duty."

  She offered a crisp salute.

  The Lieutenant glanced up from his tablet and waved his hand in a vaguely military gesture.

  "At ease sergeant. Have a seat and I will be with you in a moment."

  She blinked. The lieutenant wasn't as formal as Captain Weaver but this seemed relaxed from what she was used to. She sat down and waited. Finally, the lieutenant tapped the screen with a flourish and said, "Done."