Read Stark's Crusade for Free Online

moved around the wreck and the ambulances, bounding with odd grace from point to point. Stark's HUD automatically tagged the figures, some with medical symbols, some as regular infantry, and some as wounded. The medics weren't hard to spot. Unlike the battle armor of the infantry, the medical personnel wore lighter weight outfits that allowed them to better treat wounded while still in their suits. Medics weren't supposed to need armor anyway, since they weren't supposed to be shot at. Sometimes the enemy actually abided by that rule. Most of the time, the medics practiced trying not to get hit while they tended casualties.
    Off to one side, a small pile of armored bodies was marked with the ugly symbol that signified the dead.
    Stark moved forward, trying to get involved in the rescue and recovery while simultaneously staying out of the way of people who were doing their jobs just fine without his interference. "Doctor Asad. You in charge?"
    The figure tagged by his HUD as Asad turned slightly to nod toward Stark. "That's right."
    "How bad is it?"
    It was impossible to shrug in a suit, but somehow Asad managed to mimic the motion. "Could be worse. You see the dead over there. Not too many. Very few, considering how torn up this shuttle is. Most of the rest just have the usual abrasions, bruises, broken bones, and such. No big deal fixing them up."
    Stark took another look at the grouping of the dead, counting them this time, then looking toward the shredded, crumpled wreck of the shuttle. Only five. Very few is right. Damn miracle is more like it. "That's amazing."
    "Uh huh. Credit the pilot and his crew, I guess. They must have gotten the velocity on that sucker down quite a bit before it hit."
    "Where are they?" Stark looked around, vainly searching his HUD for anyone tagged as flight personnel. "The shuttle crew?"
    "Where?" Asad nodded again, this time toward the wreck. "In there. The shuttle came to rest on the crew compartment. We haven't been able to pry the bodies out, yet. Too busy taking care of the living. Might need engineers to open it up, anyway." He paused. "I guess they didn't have time to eject the crew compartment. Too bad."
    "They had a chance, Doc. They could've ejected."
    "Why didn't they?"
    "They were trying to save their passengers."
    Dr. Asad stood silent for a moment. "They did that. I'll get them out, Sergeant Stark. I'll take real good care of them. Promise."
    "Thanks. Do you need anything else? More people, more equipment, more transport?"
    "Have you got anything coming to pick up the soldiers who can walk?"
    Stark checked his command display before answering. "Sure do. There's some more APCs on the way. Should be here in a few minutes."
    "Then we're fine. Everybody who needs help has got it."
    "Guess there's nothing else I can do here, then. Good job handling the wounded. You and your people. Tell 'em thanks for me and all the other grunts."
    Another impossible suited shrug from Asad. "That's our job. But I'll tell my people. It never hurts to know you're appreciated."
    Stark moved slowly back to his APC, turning to look once more at the wrecked shuttle as he reached his transport. Gutierrez. And your whole damn crew. Thanks for saving those soldiers. I'll make sure you're not forgotten. He pulled himself into the APC, sealing the hatch then strapping in, moving with the weariness of great age or great responsibility.
    A briefing room big enough to accommodate the official planning hierarchy had no trouble holding Stark's small group for their postmortem of the operation. Sergeant Tanaka had explained the old routine to Stark before she'd died in the failed raid on Stark's headquarters. Generals would be holding down the best seats, flanked by senior planners, backed up by assistant planners, supported by junior planners. Standing against the wall would be the action officers who would do any actual work if such was required. Before each officer at the main table a display would offer instant