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  KRIEGER PLATOON

  ACT I

  Mars North-Western Hemisphere and the Local Star Clusters – 2107 A.D

  Copyright © 2014 by J.R. Ivanovich

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1503277119

  ISBN-13: 978-1503277113

  Authors Note

  I began writing this book in Alaska when I was stationed on a 378 foot Coast Guard Cutter, commonly called the White Needle of Death. At first it was just a little hobby to keep my mind off of the negative freezing temperatures, 50+ knot howling winds, and massive 35-45 foot waves of the Bering Sea. I was a look-out, so I had to physically stand outside in all that, and you really cannot dress warm enough no matter what you do. I always came back down after several hours, about ready to freeze to death. It was lovely. (Sarcasm)

  Anyways, without getting into a long story about Alaska, let’s just say it was one of the greatest and eye-opening experiences of my life. Everywhere we went, I saw a plethora of breathtaking sights including a perfectly shaped, snow packed volcano slowly billowing out smoke. (I have a picture on my blog.) It was beauty in such a desolate and remote environment that it started inspiring a new direction in my writings, and opened up possibilities of life beyond our comfort zone here on Earth. It took shape from there and continued to become what it is over the year.

  Ok, enough about me already! This book was possible because of the great friends I’ve had the pleasure of knowing over the years. You all helped inspire many of the characters in this book, (AKA Jon giving me trash talking advice, hah!) and really I couldn’t have done this without your support. I truly hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you!

  To my family in particular, thank you for supporting me with all the late night reading sessions and the endless amount of editing that took place for a year straight. Your feedback on my characters, and furthermore the fact that you started to become concerned for them, means the world to me. This went from simply being a way to pass the time on that big white boat in the Bering Sea and Japan, to becoming a fun way to connect with you guys over the phone, and then finally began to take the form of an actual story. I really don’t have words to describe how much that means to me, but I will say that I cherish every moment I spend with you and that from the bottom of my heart I love you.

  Thank you for always being there!

  Table of Contents

  1. Unexpected Reunion

  2. Lone Star

  3. Admin: The Abridged Version

  4. Polite Society

  5. All Acquaintance

  6. First Jump

  7. Keeping it real

  8. Don’t Tread on Me, or my tank!

  9. Second Guessed

  10. Hazard Pay

  11. Public Speaking

  12. Standing Down

  13. Workman’s Comp

  14. Sure Thing

  15. Old world Comforts

  16. Fact from Fiction

  17. Oh, it’s like that!

  18. Brought the wrong shoes

  19. Partial Recall

  20. Tip of the Spear

  21. Serpent’s Head

  22. Pomp and Circumstance

  23. Enemy of my Enemy…

  24. Navy Blues

  25. Opposing Personalities

  26. Station Vacation

  27. Pawn takes King

  28. High Values

  29. You can be my wingman…

  30. Saw that in a movie once

  Prologue

  Earth, in the not so distant future, is plagued by global overpopulation, famine, poverty, and war. With the collapse of civilization as we know it approaching like a dark cloud on the horizon, the few remaining technologically advanced nations combined their scientific minds together in a last ditch attempt to divert the impending ruin.

  Month upon month of disastrous failures by the scientific think-tanks almost led to the program being scrapped all together. That was until one particular cadre, working on a not too promising weather changing device, found a way to theoretically terraform untainted worlds. The cadre immediately applied this technology to the planet Mars, and astonishingly within just a few years the atmosphere had thickened, the average surface temperature had risen, and nitrogen and oxygen levels were stabilizing.

  Within weeks of the news, all humanity scrambled to begin terraforming any remotely habitable planet or celestial body within the immediate solar cluster. However, that also began a massive and uncontrollable exodus of refugees from Earth to the new colonies, but in particular the neighboring Mars. Mars was only beginning to establish itself when the ailments and corruption of the old world sunk its claws in, and vast criminal elements began to prey on the unspoiled riches of the Red Planet. Settlements soon came under constant attack from raiding bands, ruthless mercenaries, and even conquering security forces from nations and corporate interests trying expand their territorial claims.

  The major military powers of Earth, including the United States, began sending thousands of troops and equipment to the Red Planet in order to secure its borders, enforce the rule of law, and end the chaos that was quickly taking hold. The war for Mars had started to look up and was slowly turning into the favor of the territorial authorities; that was until October 29th at 5:54 AM Martian time.

  Without warning, and still without any confirmed reason, the Earth launched a full scale nuclear attack on itself and blanketed the entire planet in atomic fire. Earth had been turned into an inhospitable irradiated wasteland, and without the life giving technological support it once provided, the remaining human colonies found themselves alone and clinging to life on harsh and unforgiving worlds.

  Several years later the remnants of the United States, fighting a now even more desperate battle against the marauder threat, now teeters on the edge of all out collapse. Marred by economic failure, widespread corruption, and blatant indecision from their command; the US Military found itself fractured and fighting a costly and losing war. Spurred by the frustration and desperation of the situation, one lone Army General seeks to revitalize a disbanded special operations program that just might be the edge the military has been hoping for.

  Chapter 1 – Unexpected Reunion

  Smoke gently billowed from the smoldering butt of a cigar resting on a nearby ash tray, filling the shadowy corners of the windowless O’Leary’s bar with the pungent aroma of cheap tobacco. The numerous tables and chairs spread through the building lay cold and vacant as the last few miners, and a few obvious smugglers, strode out the bars’ swinging doors to begin their daily work contracts. A gust of cold, dry air escaped through the doors as they swung back into place.

  Jordan Kirovich, or ‘Bag’ as everyone called him, swirled the burnt smelling coffee around in his mug and began to do a visual analysis of the bar. Damn, he caught himself doing it again; always on the watch, never able to just let go and relax. It was one of his many deep seated flaws. Well maybe it wasn’t a flaw, since it had saved his life at one point...actually several come to think of it.

  Bag gazed down at his now very cold cup of coffee, yet again regretting the decision to drink the night before with the local alcoholic militia. He couldn’t blame them. It was an entirely new militia from the one that existed when he’d first arrived. All the others had been killed by rival towns, corporate securities, or the cartels themselves… Bag was content not being mixed up in that bullshit.

  The bar owner, a former US Marine turned entrepreneur named Jesus, walked over and leaned onto the bar toward Bag with one of those told you so kind of expressions. Bag knew Jesus meant well, but the way he worded things… “Have too much fun last night, sweet heart?”

  Bag shrugged his shoulders and passed the man back a ‘none too amuse
d’ look. “If I say yes, Can I get another cup of coffee?”

  “Will you ACTUALLY drink this one?”

  Bag slid the cup toward Jesus and grunted. He didn’t want or need a scolding…he just wanted coffee and to not feel like complete trash for the rest of the day.

  Jesus exhaled loudly and grabbed the cup, though he stopped and glared to ensure Bag knew he was serious. “It’s going on your tab, even synthetic coffee isn’t exactly cheap to come by these days.”

  “Fair enough…” Bag breathed in deep and laid his head down on the bar counter, closing his eyes tight in an attempt to fight back the pounding headache that blatantly refused to diminish. He was so happy migraines ran in his family…

  Right on time, the ear splitting sound of the morning news came blaring in. Bag opened one eye and glanced toward the old flat screen news monitor. It was the local news…or as he considered it, well put together corporate propaganda. The traditional news room backdrop, with a ticker tape of information across the screen, almost made it seem legitimate. At least the petite and tall blonde reporter was on this time, though she didn’t look as pretty as she usually did. Maybe she had a late night?

  “It’s a going to be a warm and sunny 49 degrees today, with that temperature continuing for much of the week...though it looks like there’s a chance of mild dust storms as early as Thursday and lasting well into the weekend-”

  The bar doors suddenly swung open wide, drenching the interior in the harsh light of morning. In walked an unfamiliar figure, fully hooded, masked, and literally covered in dust from head to toe. Bag carefully watched the figure as he sat down at a table in a far corner of the room, but he decided the figure wasn’t worth his time and turned back toward the news monitor.

  The reporter continued in her somewhat overly happy but monotone way, as she always did. “European Union Defense Forces responded to a distress call earlier this morning from the Russian frontier town of Chekov II, which reported a large number of badlands raiders circling just outside its borders. EUDF peace keepers took full control of the town and drove the raiders off with only a minimal amount of fighting. Russian representatives to the Martian Assembly have regarded this move as a direct violation of territorial sovereignty and claim that no distress call was ever sent out by Chekov II nor received by Russian authorities-”

  The hooded figure unexpectedly sat down at the bar stool directly left of Bag, partially blocking the news monitor. The figure promptly waved Jesus off, who had walked over to take his order, and then began watching the news report as well. Bag felt himself tense up, and instinctively reached down his right leg until he felt the handle of his combat knife. Bag continued drinking coffee with his free hand, but subtly watched the figure’s every move. In Red Sands, you don’t sit next to someone unless you have personal business with them. By the look of this guy, he wasn’t a miner or a trader… That didn’t leave a lot of other frontier job possibilities.

  The reporter continued, and seemed to have the hooded figure’s full attention. “The EU Parliament regards their actions as completely legal and justified following the guidelines for anti-terrorist and espionage activities on the Red Planet, agreed to by all nations at the first Martian Assembly… In other news, the terraforming effort on the southern tundra has slowed as funding has been transferred by the Ubarri-Metro Corporation toward what they call ‘Newer and better things’. Though what exactly those ‘New Things’ are is still unknown.”

  The hooded figure suddenly turned toward Bag and spoke in a muffled voice, prompting him to begin slowly drawing his knife from its sheath. “The news’ always the same isn’t it? Just the same old bad stories, replayed over and over again and spoken in a different way. It’s all fake hopes and empty promises, don’t you think?”

  Bag fully drew his knife and held it subtly down at his side. “If you say so…”

  “Yes, I do say so.”

  Now Bag was just annoyed. This guy better not be a mercenary recruiter… “There something I can help you with?” He demanded.

  The figure turned his back to Bag and continued watching the television. “Other than explaining why you’re just sitting here wasting space, no.”

  Bag partially turned himself on his barstool and ensured his feet and hands were in a position where he could react quickly. “That’s rather rude, care to explain?”

  The figure pivoted himself likewise toward Bag and genuinely laughed. “Haha! You really don’t remember me, Bag?”

  Bag maintained a firm hold on the knife, but suddenly the voice was sounding quiet familiar. Mature and commanding, but not harsh in any sense, and with a hint of a California accent… “Brett?”

  Brett pulled his hood back, removed the dirt coated shroud from his face, and passed Bag a friendly smile. “It’s been awhile! How are you doing?”

  Bag exhaled loudly and relaxed as he attempted to laugh, but stopped immediately due to the gesture causing a painful rush of blood to his head. “Uh…I’ve been better. For a moment there I thought you were a mercenary or someone else obnoxious.”

  Brett leaned his back against the bar. “Hah, I’m glad you think so highly of me. Wait…are you saying there are mercs after you?” Brett suddenly appeared concerned, but at this point he was coming off as more curious than anything.

  Bag subtly slid his knife back into its sheath, and let the tension leave his muscles. “No, just sometimes the nameless ones wander in here looking for a fight… To prove they’re tough and all that bull… So uh, what brings you way the hell out here?”

  Brett opened a large pocket on his coat and stuffed his face shroud in. “Well Bag, it took me awhile to find you, but I just stuck to all the Irish style bars and it narrowed it down a bit.”

  “Well, that will certainly do it.” Bag responded sarcastically.

  Jesus, who had been carefully watching the whole situation play out from the opposite side of the bar, walked over and set the fresh and steaming cup of coffee in front of Bag. He gave Brett a nosy glance as returned to the uphill battle of cleaning his ever dusty and dirty bar, made a little dustier due to Brett’s clothing.

  Brett passed Jesus a friendly nod, before lowering his voice slightly. “Wasn’t easy at all… I’ve been looking for you for the past four years now. I thought you had died for a while there.”

  Bag’s curiosity was suddenly sparked, but he hesitated to reply. What would be so important for Brett to come all the way out here? Instead, he took a long drink of coffee and turned his gaze off to the side. “That was almost true…a few times… I was on Earth for about a year, and few other places...”

  Brett shook his head in disbelief. “…Earth? Geez Bag… Do you mind if I ask why you had a death wish?”

  Bag let out a sigh and stared blankly into his cup. He didn’t really want to answer, but Brett was genuinely concerned. He’d have to say something, just out of respect for his former Commanding Officer. “Let’s just say I had some personal stuff to figure out… Sorry, I’m still recovering from a hangover…ask me again another time.”

  Brett continued to stare for a moment, then slowly nodded. Bag could only assume the gesture was in understanding. He took a long sip of his coffee, and then pushed the cup away from him. “You said you’ve been looking for me. How come?”

  The look on Brett’s face said it before he even spoke the words. “Sorry to drop it on you like this, but I came because the Army. We want to bring the Krieger program back.”

  Naturally that was to be expected. Bag sighed in disappointment. “Really now? Just like that?”

  Brett nodded. “It’s more like we’re losing the war and the Army asked me to find a way of fixing that, and Krieger’s what I came up with.”

  “And what war are we loosing, exactly?”

  Brett motioned toward the television, which was currently showing images of burning vehicles and abandoned and ransacked homes somewhere in the desert. Brett’s voice became very serious. “What war? Well, if you haven’t noticed we’re
surrounded by raiders, separatists, terrorists, and every manner of foul creature looking to destroy us in any way they can. We’re losing settlements on the frontier by the hand full, and the Army can’t do anything to stop them! We’re out of options and everyone knows it.”

  Bag motioned to Brett to lower his voice. “Whoa, Brett. People around here don’t exactly love Americans.”

  “Then why do you live out here?”

  “It’s quiet and simple.”

  Brett stared at Bag blankly, who turned back toward his coffee and quietly gazed at his reflection in the dark russet liquid. The bitter aroma of coffee and the metallic scent of the iron rich Martian dust, which was still radiating from Brett’s clothing, only seemed to increase the pain of his already throbbing head. Though he still kept turning back toward the News monitor though, despite the pain.

  “…most have been lost. The survivors of this town claim they were attacked by a large number of well-organized bandits. They also claim that US military forces garrisoned nearby, which are responsible for the security of the area, haven’t been seen or heard from since the attack began.”

  Brett nudged Bag on the shoulder and his tone suddenly became very grim. “Those soldiers weren’t there, because they’re dead. Most of our boys are poorly-equipped and poorly trained draftees that run at the first sight of danger. We need soldiers that can actually stand up in a fight. We need Krieger, Bag.”

  “Well, you’re just all good news aren’t you? Krieger is one unit, how much good could one unit do?”

  “I never expected to hear that question coming from you…” Brett began to scowl, as if in disappointment.

  What did he expect from Bag? Go right back and deal with the same old political bullshit as before? No thank you… Bag shrugged his shoulders and sighed dismissively. “I just want to live in peace, is that too much to ask?”

  “Your idea of peace seems to be drowning yourself in alcohol.”