Commando

by James Evans

  “We do have a couple of rifles and some personal weapons that might be useful if we’ve got enough ammunition,” he mused.

  “Possibly. Our carbines are great in close quarters but if we can use the rifles we should. I think it’s safe to assume they’ll have more troops in powered armour defending this site if it really is their forward operating base. The carbines are next to useless against armour, far too risky to rely on them for that and if we don’t want to use our grenade launchers or the alien’s heavy weapons inside armour is a real problem,” Milton said.

  “I think if there’s evidence of significant armour we have to do everything we can to overwhelm it before we step inside any buildings. You saw how little damage those armoured scouts took, even after we’d dropped a building on them. Their armour is tougher and lighter than ours. If they have heavier suits for assault troops, we’re screwed if we get too close to them.”

  “Lieutenant? We’ve reached the canyon,” the driver called back over her shoulder.

  “Thanks, we’ll go on foot from here, shouldn’t be more than half an hour,” Warden said, turning to the squad, “Masks on everyone, this far from the habitats I don’t want our performance suffering from the thin atmosphere.” The commandos duly attached their breathing gear, checking function and the levels of gas from their HUDs. It was nothing like a space suit or powered armour but more than enough to handle the local environment. It was comforting to know that equipment or air supply failure, even out here, wasn’t going to cause them to suffocate in the air of New Bristol. It would dramatically slow them down, though.

  The driver hit the seal on the cockpit, and a thin door slid across, separating the passenger and cargo area from the front of the vehicle. It was a simple way to reduce the amount of atmosphere lost when loading and unloading the vehicle.

  Moments later the marines were on the ground, walking down the shallow incline to the canyon floor. Twenty metres in they found a suitable spot, a bend in the canyon that gave them a good backstop for the weapons to discharge against and sufficient range to keep them safe from ricochets or explosives.

  It actually took longer to set up, safety check the weapons and establish a testing protocol than it did to run the tests. They’d recovered a fair amount of ammunition for all the items they had brought along, but Warden didn’t want to waste too much all the same.

  They quickly established that the function of each weapon was nearly identical to their own heavier armaments. The rail rifles were clearly intended as sniping weapons, with near silent operation and high target penetration, similar to their own weapons, though they couldn’t be exact in a test against a rock wall.

  Fired within or at the buildings of the solar farm, the rail rifle’s rounds would punch through the walls and anything that might be on the other side, so they agreed to use them sparingly. There was a reason no-one had ever produced a rail gun capable of burst fire.

  The grenade launcher and shotgun were easily tested. They had anti-armour high explosive grenades as well as fragmentation models, differentiated by colours, just as their own were, although the markings and design were quite different. The shotgun was entirely dull though it would be useful for clearing rooms of lightly armoured hostiles.

  The smaller pistols were high calibre but perfectly usable as backup weapons. All had integral silencers, suggesting that they were intended for stealthy takedowns during the opening stages of an attack. The commandos rarely used pistols because it wasn’t necessary to have so much weaponry on the typical deployment, but they had their uses.

  The alien rifles were full-length assault rifles, not bullpup carbines like the weapons from the armoury. The rounds were a heavier calibre, making them preferable to the carbines even in close quarters. They were much more likely to penetrate powered armour than the lower calibre carbines the marines carried.

  All in all, Warden was pleased. He would have preferred to have weapons they were familiar with, but despite the outward appearances of all of these, the functional designs were similar enough that they weren’t going to have any problems changing magazines or firing the weapons. It seemed strange that the first aliens they’d encountered were sufficiently similar to humans to be able to use their weapons, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  They were back in the rovers within half an hour. Warden and Milton distributed the rail rifles to their snipers. Each section had at least one Marine who’d been through the extensive training required to qualify as a sniper. Lance Corporal Bailey was the senior sniper in A Troop and would lead the team of three snipers, along with their spotters, and the tech specialists who would be using drones to sweep the area. They gave the grenade launcher and shotgun to the spotters. Without clear targets, their main role was to protect their snipers.

  They only had enough of the assault rifles for a few troops, so those went to the close quarter specialists, and they handed out the alien pistols to as many people as possible. Anyone left with only standard-issue carbines was given more grenades for the underslung launchers. If they encountered powered armour, a grenade would be their best option. Either that or they’d target the enemy with their HUD and hope the rail guns could shoot it through a wall.

  Warden looked around the vehicle; the Marines looked confident, comfortable. They were as ready as they would ever be. “Move out,” he ordered.

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as they were underway, Warden reviewed the topography of the solar plant and the settlers’ plans of the base with Milton, looking for ways to incorporate the alien weapons into their plan. Together they selected overwatch positions for the snipers, agreed on an approach route and found a rock formation close to the base for the drivers to park behind. Then they polished their plan of attack and issued it to the commandos via their HUDs.

  The Marines sat in silence while they reviewed their assigned positions and the lines of attack. The HUDs showed their expected flow through the buildings to clear them, so by the time they reached the vehicles parked, they were ready to do the job.

  They piled out of the vehicles without a word, snipers and their support teams breaking away to find positions on a formation of basalt columns. Warden blinked in surprise and spared a glance for Milton, who stood open-mouthed.

  “Perfect for snipers,” he muttered, watching as the teams climbed the natural terraces and disappeared. The column tops were flat and lacked concealing vegetation, but that hardly mattered in this case. The attack would be swift and brutal, and if the snipers were under fire, you couldn’t ask for better cover than the hard rock.

  While the snipers found their spots, the tech specialists launched their drones, sending them zipping over the columns of rock and down the other side. The drones hugged the ground, skimming low to avoid detection. No bigger than a hummingbird, their lifelike movement would be totally out of place on New Bristol. With no indigenous lifeforms, any movement would stand out like a sore thumb to any alien sentries.

  Warden and Milton split the remaining marines into two teams while they waited for updated information from the drones. They were watching the video feeds from the drones as some flitted clockwise and some counter-clockwise around the solar plant.

  “There,” said Warden, zooming in, “that looks like a drop-ship to me. A large one.”

  “Seems too big to me,” said Milton sceptically, “if that was full of troops when it landed, where are they? This camp should be swarming.”

  “One platoon at the city, a few patrols at other sites.” Warden frowned. “There could be two or three platoons here if that thing came down full.”

  “Unless they carry something else. Vehicles perhaps? They could have their own colony equipment in there. Do they want to kill us or capture New Bristol and colonise it?”

  Warden shrugged, “There’s little value in New Bristol, it won’t be terraformed for decades, and they don’t seem so dissimilar from us that they’d want to call this rock home. Would you come to another so
lar system and fight a war, just to colonise a planet you still had to terraform?”

  “No, I wouldn’t, but our own history has a lot of similar examples. Maybe aliens are just as stupid as humans?”

  “Fair point,” conceded Warden with a shrug, “can’t really argue with that. Either way, we can’t charge in there unless we know more about their numbers. Agreed?”

  “Yes, Sir. I have no interest in finding out the hard way that they do have three platoons of power armoured troopers just waiting around the place.”

  Warden nodded and briefed the tech specialists, sending new instructions via the HUD. In moments, a dozen more drones were in the air and heading into the camp.

  “Now we’ll see,” murmured Warden as the camp’s plan unfolded in his HUD.

  He turned his attention back to the drone feeds, but there wasn’t anything new. The updated layout showed only superficial changes, like new tool sheds and shifted storage containers, but nothing that presented a challenge for their plan of attack. The only remaining question was the number of enemy troops.

  “Milton, get the grenade launchers up on the ridge in case they twig to the drones,” he said, advancing on the ridge himself as the Sergeant set to reorganising the teams.

  Warden climbed the stepped columns, making his way up toward the highest point. He picked a spot a couple of metres down from the peak and hoped he would avoid the sight line of any sentries. Being silhouetted on a ridge was a classic mistake that had been thoroughly drilled out of him in commando training. You could only take so many paintball bruises from the sniping instructors before you got the point about keeping your head down.

  The data from the drones and the various displays and map overlays he could access from his HUD were as good, he knew, but there was nothing quite like a Mark 1 eyeball to make a location seem real. He glanced to either side. The snipers were a little below his position and were scanning back and forth, looking for targets.

  He took a deep breath and raised his head just far enough above the rock to see the alien spaceship. As he’d seen from the drones, it was large and odd-looking to boot. There were similarities to human ships, but it was smoother and less blocky than the Royal Navy’s ships.

  Drop-ships didn’t need to be attractive beasts, and the Navy’s certainly weren’t, but this one had a somewhat pleasing aesthetic, even if the metal was a strange swirling mix of blues and greens.

  But the camouflage hadn’t just been achieved with paint; it was built into the metal of the hull. There was little point camouflaging a drop-ship designed for rapid entry; it was hardly a subtle affair. Warden shook his head. Alien paint schemes were a puzzle for a quieter day.

  There were no sentries around the base, and that surprised him. It would be incredibly lax of their commander to have no patrols or sentries guarding their perimeter. Perhaps they were using drones or sensors? Maybe they had launched an attack elsewhere?

  “Anyone got an update for me? Come on people, give me something,” he said, clenching his fist, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. He needed to know what was going on here, where the enemy were and how many of them were running around. If they didn’t get something soon, they’d have to push on regardless. The Captain had given him a job to do, and the colonists expected results. He gave the plant one last look and then began to descend the steps of rock.

  “Grenade launchers are in place, Sir,” said Milton, “we’re three hundred metres from the first building we can use as cover. Do you want to move in now or wait to confirm numbers?”

  “We’ll give the techs two more minutes, then we move. We’ll just have to risk it.”

  Milton nodded, and they moved to their respective teams, walking them toward the side of the rock formation. The drones had advanced well into the plant by the time Milton and Warden’s teams reached the last of the rocks. Any further and they would be in the open terrain between the rocks and the first buildings.

  “Noted. Anyone else?” Warden asked across the HUD.

  Jenkins, the tech specialist for Section 1 responded, “Negative, Sir. We’ve flagged the buildings we’ve cleared, but we can’t get into the central structure, so we expect the enemy are in there if they’re here at all. No sentries or automated defences. The drop-ship is cold; engines haven’t been fired recently, the ship is at atmospheric temperature, and there are no signs of active scanning. We have drones at all the breaching points; we’re ready to go. If there’s no immediate contact when you breach, we can send the drones in so they can scout the interior. The structure is like a bunker, and it’s blocking our scans, but the interior walls probably aren’t any more solid than they were in Ashton. There’s some accommodation in their for a few people and storage space, so plenty of room to put their barracks and armour in there.”

  “Understood. Overwatch, we’re moving out in thirty seconds. Any enemy contact, fire at will,” ordered Warden.

  He glanced at the time on his HUD, counting down, “Three, two, one. Go!” he called out as he broke into a run. Even wearing breathers, the thin air took its toll; without them, the three hundred metre dash would have been a real lung-buster. Warden’s heart pounded in his chest as he broke free of the safety offered by the basalt.

  The section followed behind him, eyes on the base, looking for the first sign of trouble. The ground was flat and hard, no dips to dive into or boulders to shelter behind. They were horribly exposed to enemy fire.

  “All clear, Lieutenant, no sign,” said Bailey when they reached the halfway point.

  “Noted,” he responded, “don’t let up the pace.”

  They skidded to a halt behind the first building, not much more than a low concrete ridge topped with thin metal walls and roof. It wasn’t the best cover, but it was long enough that both teams could shelter behind it while they caught their breath. Warden took a moment to check the drone feeds; still no sign of enemy movement.

  It was beginning to irritate him. Where were the bastards? He’d almost rather see sentries and some defensive positions, if only to confirm that they were in the right place. He checked the bio-readouts for his team; heart rates were almost settled, so he moved up from his crouch and made another run.

  The teams split up now, filtering through the buildings in smaller groups, double checking the drones‘ information as they went, bursting through doors and checking for concealed sentries.

  They quickly made their way to the main building, coordinating their approach so that they hit both entrances at the same time. The building was squat and ugly, another bunker with a single storey above ground and more space below.

  Marine X drew his pistol and fitted a suppressor as Harrington reached for the door handle. Locked. Harrington made space for Fletcher, who pressed a mechanical pick against the handle. The machine buzzed briefly then the lock clicked open, and Fletcher stepped back. Warden shouldered his weapon and checked the grenade launcher. The silenced pistol would make short work of an unarmoured alien but wouldn’t dent power armour.

  The door came open at Harrington‘s touch, revealing a small room with a concrete staircase descending into the basement on the left and another set of doors opposite. To the right were benches and coats as well as breathing gear. Still no guards.

  Warden wanted to check on Milton at the other end of the building, but she didn‘t need his help and wouldn‘t thank him for distracting her. Milton‘s target, the main entrance, had a door for workers and a large roller shutter for forklift access. No carbine fire, so no serious contact yet. Warden nodded to himself and signalled his team to move in.

  Ten slipped into the room, and four other marines followed, silenced pistols at the ready, to clear the way as quietly as possible.

  The plans suggested the lower floor was mostly storage, but Warden wasn‘t going to leave any part of the base unchecked, no matter how unlikely the enemy‘s presence. The colonist’s inventory listed a workshop and dozens of containers full of solar panel spare parts and other equipment. Th
at didn’t mean the aliens hadn’t barracked more soldiers instead.

  Marine X, Harrington and Fletcher were heading down the staircase to the lower level as per the plan, and Warden ordered the bulk of the section forward. Lee and Campbell took the lead with their suppressed pistols at the ready. They were backed by those carrying the more robust alien weapons. Two more quietly opened the doors and the lead marines crept forward.

  Like the offices at the hydroponics hall, the floor space was divided by thin partition walls, some of which had windows into corridors. There was an office area to their right, every wall of which was glazed along the upper half. No aliens to be seen, nothing to be heard.

  Warden sent two marines to check the offices. Lee and Campbell advanced down a corridor to the left, and Warden hunkered down in the front room to watch the feed from their HUDs. They came to a windowed door, and Lee risked a quick glance inside. A canteen.

  Though Lee had only looked through the window for a fraction of a second, they replayed the video via the HUD. Three aliens were inside, two with the wings eating at a table, the third at a coffee machine, waiting for it to dispense. It had scaly skin, completely different to the snipers. None of them was in armour. Campbell sent a query to Warden.

  The reply was a simple confirmation; ‘Execute’.

  Lee and Campbell opened the door and strode into the room bold as brass. Nothing flashy, nothing dramatic, not like in a movie. These soldiers weren’t expecting an attack; they hadn’t even posted guards.

  The snipers barely had time to react before Lee’s rounds punched into their skulls, one looking up in surprise over the slumping shoulder of his colleague before his head rocked back, shattered. The coffee-drinker slumped to the ground with two bullets in the spine and one in the back of the head. Warden nodded, grimly pleased; textbook and swift.