You got this.
She nodded to herself and climbed down the crew ladder toward the dropship’s empty bay and open rear deck. At the ramp, she detached two combat rifles from their strapdown points. Carter and Alphabet had boarded the skiff which now held two containers instead of one. Stallings wanted to slap herself. They needed cover going and returning. With a container forward of the cockpit, immediately behind the hasty firing position Carter occupied, and a container behind the cockpit, there was enough space for Alphabet and the wounded pilot. She handed a rifle to Alphabet.
“Take this, just in case.”
“Roger that.” Alphabet climbed aboard the skiff as Stallings moved forward a half-dozen steps and handed the second rifle to Carter.
“Thanks, boss,” Carter said. “I’m your eyes going out. Once we’re there, I’ll provide covering fire. Hopefully Thunder Six can work some magic.”
Stallings nodded and slipped her earpiece into her ear. “Warthog Six, Mako One Three, over.”
“We’re ready for whatever you’re going to try, Mako.”
“We’re on our way. Keep them down,” Stallings replied as she jumped aboard the skiff, powered it up, and shifted the heavy vehicle into gear. There wasn’t a speedometer, and it accelerated slower than an electric cart, but it would have to do. “Thunder Six, Mako One Three is on the roll.”
Over the whining of the skiff’s engine, she heard gunfire. Hogshead and the rest of the forward forces laid down an impressive curtain. The skiff pushed through the open hangar door, and she tried to remember how long the vehicle was before she turned hard right. She turned and heard a squeal of metal from the canister raking across the hangar doors.
“Dammit!”
She heard Alphabet laugh over her shoulder, and it broke her tension. With the accelerator floored, the vehicle continued lurching forward.
“Boss, bring us ten degrees right.” Carter was her eyes. “Guess our speed is 20 klicks.”
Gods, we’re crawling. She turned the wheel slightly to the right. Carter’s response was immediate.
“Centered on the target. Alphabet, I’m bringing us in on the target’s far right. She’ll be off the left side.”
“Got it,” Alphabet replied. “Left side cleared and ready.”
Stallings felt a flush of pride. She couldn’t see Carter, but they were driving a cargo skiff loaded with containers in an insane, but necessary, attempt to rescue a pilot. The vehicle and speed didn’t matter. The need for crew coordination was exactly the same as if they were aboard their ship, racing into a hot landing zone. She looked up as a bright blue bolt of something tore through the forward container and sprayed the trailing container with hot shrapnel.
Another bolt hit. Then another.
“Hawg Six, pin them down!” Stallings yelled. Letting go of the transmit button, she added in frustration. “Go faster! Godsdamnit, go faster!”
“Two hundred meters,” Carter said. “We’re taking heavy fire up here.”
“No shit,” Stallings grunted. “Are we in the open lane?”
“Not yet.”
Well, shit.
“We’re crossing into open space in ten seconds,” Carter replied. “I’m going head down as much as I can and still guide you in, Becky. Five seconds to danger zone, fifteen seconds to target at this speed.”
“Stay low, Carter,” Stallings replied. “Things are about to go to shit.”
Carter didn’t respond, which was just as well. She counted down mentally.
Open space in five, four, three, two, one.
* * *
Victoria Forces Forward Command Post
Victoria Bravo
“All stations, this is Thunder Six. Hold in place, I repeat, hold in place and lay covering fire for fallen angel recovery. Break.” He released the transmit button for a second. The intent was as old as radio communications—break up the signal so it could not be tracked or jammed. The Cochkala didn’t seem to be jamming anything of significance in the electromagnetic spectrum, but old habits die hard. “Maintain suppressive fire. Hammerhead Six, you are clear to continue transit to Force 25’s sector. Acknowledge, over.”
MacFollett’s response was immediate. “Hammerhead Six, acknowledges. In position in three mikes, Thunder Six.”
Ibson nodded but did not respond. The forward command post doubled as a communications bunker and was dark and tight. A skeleton crew of him and six operators watched the entire battlespace over the airfield. A remote camera from the top of the control tower to the southeast of the bunker was pointed at the fires burning in the downtown area.
A new voice filled his earpiece accompanied by a series of three beeps indicating a reserved civilian frequency. “Ibson? What’s the plan? Why have your forces stopped advancing?”
Watson.
“Governor, we have a fallen angel on the battle space, and forward forces have encountered heavy losses. We’re lost two tank platoons already and—”
“To the Cochkala?”
Ibson bit his bottom lip and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. “Yes, sir. We lost all flyers as well.”
“You’ve got to hit them harder, Ibson. Clear them off this planet before our guild representatives arrive. Is that clear?”
“Governor,” he paused for another breath, this time with his eyes closed. “My forces are fighting this battle. If you’d like to make a contribution to this effort, have your security forces investigate the incursion downtown. Peacemaker Vannix reported a battalion of Cochkala infantry entering the city.”
“I’m well aware of that, Colonel,” Watson replied with a sneer. “I am moving in that direction with two squads.”
Ibson blinked. A part of him was proud his friend, and the former commander of the Victoria Forces, had come out from behind his desk. The cushy lifestyle of a diplomat didn’t seem to fit the career soldier no matter how much he tried to make it appear otherwise. Ibson’s stomach, however, curled in on itself at the thought of the provincial governor leading a security team into a potential combat situation. “Sir, I cannot recommend you do that. Request you fall back and let your teams handle the situation.”
“Request denied,” Watson replied. “You can’t spare any forces, and I have the assets to investigate and engage them before they can establish a position that places our citizens in danger.”
Fine.
Ibson waited a second before replying. “Understood, sir. Be advised Peacemaker Vannix is in the area, investigating. Recommend you get in contact with her.”
“Let me be clear, Commander Ibson. My team is headed downtown to kill those little bastards. I don’t care what they’re doing. They’ve targeted civilians, and they will die. Every single one of them. If that little Veetanho Peacemaker gets in the way or tries to get them to surrender, I will not be responsible for the consequences of her actions.”
What the fuck?
“Sir, you can’t threaten the life of a Peacemaker in the performance of their duties.”
Watson shouted into the channel. “And you cannot question my authority in this situation, Colonel. You have your orders, and if you fail to follow them, death at the hands of the Cochkala will be too good for you.”
Ibson clenched his fist and jabbed the transmit button. “What the fuck happened to you, Brian? You’ve clearly lost your military bearing, as well as your sense of honor, since becoming governor. You think you can waltz into a combat situation, with two squads of unprotected infantry, and take down a battalion of Cochkala? Never mind that they’ve displayed more advanced technology than anything we’ve seen from a similar force. You think you’re going to make a damned difference in this fight? Go right ahead, but do not threaten a Peacemaker or anybody else that’s trying to help us.”
“You know what your problem is, Jamie? What it always was? You care too much. You’re not a leader. You can’t disengage yourself from the people on your right and left. A leader understands hard decisions must be made. I thought you coul
d do that.”
Fuck you, sir. Ibson kept his calm, barely, and replied, “My forces are recovering a downed CASPer pilot. When they’ve got her off the field, the attack recommences.”
“Noted. Open a communications channel to the entire force.”
“For what?”
“Don’t question my orders again, Colonel. Is that clear?”
Ibson clenched his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“Open a channel to all radios in the force and the civilian warning frequencies,” Watson ordered. “Our people need to be reminded who is in charge, and that we will prevail.”
“This is a waste of time and resources, sir, and it’s a dangerous use of the communications system.”
“If you’d applied our resources earlier, this situation wouldn’t have happened,” Watson rebuked. “Now, make that connection happen immediately. When I resolve the downtown situation, I will be at your headquarters and will relieve you.”
You think you can do better, fine.
Ibson pointed at the communications officer. “Make the connections.”
Five seconds later, the young, dark-skinned woman replied with a thumbs-up. “Connections are live. The governor is connected and broadcasting.”
Ibson, the population of Lovell City, and the collected Victoria Forces heard Governor Watson softly clear his throat and speak what were supposed to be familiar, calming words. “My fellow Victorians.”
* * *
Dauntless Cloud
Above Victoria
A shrill beep alerted Regaa to a change in the situation. She looked at Vaahn. “Status report.”
“Tracking a powerful transmission over multiple communications frequencies in the Human UHF band,” Vaahn replied. “I have a position fix. The transmission emanates from an instrumentation bunker near the spaceport’s runways. I believe it could be a forward command post.”
Regaa nodded. “Watch the transmission. Ensure it’s something valuable. If it persists, target it. How long until our first landing craft are within optical bombing range?”
“They will cross the aerial bombardment threshold in forty-five seconds, coming out of the sun with the projected landing point near the target.”
“Perfect,” Regaa said. “Can you intercept the transmission?”
“Working on that now,” Vaahn replied. Five seconds passed. Regaa watched the Jivool press a series of buttons, then a Human voice came through their speakers. She engaged a translation program.
“—we stand together, and we will defeat this foe. Until further notice, I have assumed command of Victoria Forces and will work to eradicate the threat at our spaceport and the incursion downtown in the vicinity of Webb Square. All citizens are urged to remain sheltered in place and—”
Regaa disengaged the communication. “Kill that signal source. We stamp out their leadership, and the Humans will fold.”
Vaahn tapped his command console. “Orders sent to the lead landing craft. They are thirty seconds from release. Shall we speed up the attack? If we land at those coordinates, we will have the Human infantry caught between our forces. In a vise, they will not last long.”
Regaa studied the display. “Are we certain the Humans have deployed all their assets?”
“Negative, Commander.”
Regaa’s eyes snapped to Vaahn. He’d called her commander for the first time. The honorific sounded good, and she relished it from a Jivool. “Then speed up the attack, Vaahn. While they are tactically paused and unsure of themselves, we shall seal their death notices.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty
Mako 13
Victoria Bravo
At the count of sixteen, the disabled CASPers of Liberty platoon came into view. Laser bolts and conventional rounds tore through the containers framing the open cockpit of the cargo skiff as Stallings swung the front wheel hard to the left, blocking the collapsed hull of Liberty Three. Staff Sergeant Mata lay curled on her side against the shattered machine. Her eyes were open, and she raised her head as the skiff slammed to a stop.
“Go, Alphabet!” Stallings called. “Carter, you okay up there?”
The flurry of rounds impacting the skiff made it hard to hear his response. “Hanging in there, Becky. Get us out of here as fast as you can.”
Stallings looked to her left. Alphabet had one arm under Mata’s right shoulder, but the wounded pilot couldn’t get her legs under her. “Carter, you’re gonna have to help him!”
“Moving.”
A few seconds later, she caught sight of Carter. Her copilot bled from a significant wound to one shoulder and a host of smaller shrapnel wounds. Blood ran down the left side of his face from under his combat helmet.
Whether it was adrenaline or ability, Carter and Vattakanavich lifted Mata and somehow jumped aboard the skiff’s middle section. Mata moaned loudly enough for Stallings to clearly hear her above the rounds impacting the skiff. The protected engine roared as Stallings slammed the accelerator as far forward as it would go.
The skiff lurched and sped backward.
Five seconds to cover.
Four.
Three.
WHAMM!
The container in front of Stallings erupted. What felt like a flurry of bee stings hit her exposed arms, chest, and head. She looked down and saw numerous holes in her coveralls. Slowly, the ragged edges of some turned black. Cold crept into her body despite the warm morning sun shining through the high, ragged clouds. Fingers numb, she felt her arms get heavy and threaten to drop to her sides. Realization dawned.
“I’m hit,” she croaked and turned her head toward Carter and Alphabet. The young pararescueman kept working on the injured pilot and did not see her. The skiff slowed, and Carter turned to her.
“Becky?”
“I’m...I’m hit, Carter.” The heavy fire abated as the skiff found cover.
Carter scrambled toward her. Stallings felt her left side go entirely numb, and as she slid off the seat, her foot came off the accelerator.
She felt Carter’s hands on her shoulders. “No! Stay with me!”
Stallings looked down at her chest, then struggled mightily to look up at her friend and copilot. “I’m sorry, Mike.”
“Becky?”
Stallings looked up at the sun and wished she could surf the thick clouds of Earth one final time. But it was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Her eyes were heavy. Carter reached into her coveralls, using the crew extraction handle woven into the back and around her legs. He lifted her from the cockpit.
“Alphabet! Help me!” Carter yelled. Together, he and Vattakanavich moved her next to the injured, but still conscious, Mata. A fresh burst of rounds clattered against and through the container. She saw Alphabet wince as he knelt by Mata.
Stallings lay on her side. The young CASPer pilot reached out a trembling hand and took hers. As Carter got the skiff moving again, she could hear Alphabet crying. More rounds struck the container. She felt another sting in her back but paid it no mind. Alphabet fell forward protectively over the young pilot. Proud, Stallings locked eyes with Sergeant Mata and tried to smile as the darkness welcomed her.
* * *
Warthog Six
Victoria Bravo
Captain Chris Hogshead watched the skiff start moving again. He jabbed his transmitter. “Guidons, Hawg Six. We’re pressing forward now. By sections, to the container stack to the east. Bravo section, go. Alpha section, covering fire. Now!”
The two CASPers to his far right fired their jumpjets and leapt forward. The apex of their jump barely cleared the containers and drew a high volume of fire from the dug-in Cochkala for a split second before they landed behind another stack two hundred meters away.
“Bravo section clear and moving. Alpha section, clear to bound,” his section leader, Yarbrough replied.
Hogshead didn’t wait. “Alpha section, on me!”
He cleared the containers and barely felt a round impact the Mk 7. When the CASPer touched down, H
ogshead ran forward with his wingman to his immediate left. Ahead, he saw Bravo section take up a position against the shipping containers. Laser bolts tore at the mottled wall of goods. Several of the containers smoldered and burned as high-power lasers cut through them, attempting to target the CASPers.
Hogshead looked over his right shoulder as they ran. “Avenger Six, Hawg Six, where in the hell are you?”
As if on cue, he saw six CASPers leap over a stack of containers on the far-right flank. Vuong replied, “Have eyes on you, Hawg Six. Closing the gap now.”
“Roger, we’ll time the attack with you and Force Two Five.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Vuong replied. “Switching to command.”
Vuong intended to relay the attack data to Ibson. By SOP, Hogshead did the same. As he switched to the frequency, he heard Governor Watson speaking. He jabbed the transmission button repeatedly without success. The Governor prattled on about duty and honor.
Hogshead flipped to the emergency frequency in time to hear Vuong say, “Thunder Six, Avenger Six on emergency channel. Avenger Six has the field. Standby for attack.”
“Avenger Six, Thunder Six, you are—”
KA-WHAMM! KA-WHAMM!
The massive explosions shook the ground around Hogshead and toppled more than a few containers from their precarious perch atop the stacks.
Hogshead brought his CASPer to a stop, tuned back to the north, and saw an immense cloud roiling upward. He heard a multitude of smaller explosions. The forward command post was gone. He looked for the skiff.
“Guidons, Hawg Six. Stay in position and be ready to move with Avenger Six.” He ran back toward Mako 13. “Mako One Three, Warthog Six.”
There was no response.
“Avenger Six, got a fallen angel to recover. Will rejoin directly,” Hogshead said and ran as fast as his CASPer would go.
Deathangel Page 22
