“Then I guess it’s going to be one hell of a week, because I want to get back home. I’m ready to hang up my spurs.”
“Men like us never hang up spurs. Soldiering is in our blood.”
“Just because you happen to be good at something doesn’t mean you want to do it. No. I am ready to go home, and yes, Shaunte has something to do with that, but I have a job and am almost done with my online classes to learn what it is that I’m supposed to be doing. There’s more action than that tiny spaceport can handle. We’ll boom again, and I need to be ready for that. Shaunte and I need to be ready.”
“Is she the one?”
“Two grown men talking about their girlfriends? I’m glad you kicked everyone out of here.”
“She is your girlfriend?”
“You are a nosy bastard. Yes and no.” Thad smiled to himself. Then the stench hit him. “Maximus! I’ll never get used to that.”
The general fled before the noxious cloud could reach him. He dismissed the officers waiting in the corridor as he ran past with Thad close behind. Maximus remained where he was and continued to snore.
***
“I muchly miss the sheriff,” Mast Jotham lamented. Pierre stood behind the bar, avoiding the spot where young Pierre had been killed. He cleaned the glasses as if their sparkle held his sanity in check.
“Grasshopper,” Shaunte ordered.
Pierre looked askance. “Tend the bar, Dixie. I have to go to the freezer.” Pierre tromped away, unhappy at an order that required that much walking, but he would never tell a customer ‘no,’ especially when that customer was the Company Man.
Dixie swung her legs off the barstool, making sure that the side of her short skirt showed plenty of leg on her way to the floor. As she slid off the stool, she made sure the skirt caught just enough to tease a look at her leopard print panties underneath. She blinked and covered her face as if embarrassed. Shaunte didn’t bother to watch. She knew the routine. Some of the off-shift miners hooted and hollered anyway. That guaranteed a return engagement, the next time Dixie dismounted.
“A grasshopper, Miss Plastes? A cultured drink. I thought you were a convert to whisky because of our dreamy sheriff,” she tried to drawl seductively.
Shaunte frowned. Was she a convert?
“He is a soldier’s soldier, bigly among other men,” Mast interjected. “When is he coming home? I do not like being the sheriff. That is Sheriff Fry’s job. They say he is the best at it, yes, that is what they say.”
Shaunte turned toward Mast and craned her neck to look up at him but didn’t say anything.
Pierre returned with the ice cream and stuffed it into the small freezer under the bar. He wasn’t looking forward to the trip back to the basement to return it. He would have to as they could only hold so much in the freezer and ice cream was rarely ordered. It was too expensive, especially after the bust. His watered-down stuff was all anyone could afford, except the Company Man and her revenue continued unabated. Pierre knew there was something else going on, but wasn’t sure what it was. He eyed her carefully.
“A grasshopper? Not your usual fare, Shaunte,” he taunted. She didn’t rise to the bait, choosing to wait for her drink. It took on the light green color when the creme de menthe was added and blended in. He poured it into a wine goblet.
“Really?” He shrugged and turned away.
She put the concoction against her lips, enjoying the hint of mint and the cool of the vanilla ice cream.
“That doesn’t look like tigi. I miss our tigi. Miss Dixie, would you know when it will be available again?” Mast asked.
Dixie shook her head. “So much rebuilding to do and no revenue to do it with.”
“I’ll pay for it. Get that greenhouse rebuilt, or takeover one of the abandoned ones and refurbish it.” Shaunte continued to look at her drink.
“What are your terms?” Dixie asked. Everyone knew that Dixie was loaded, but she didn’t know that they knew, which perpetuated the game.
“Three percent, payback in one year, lump sum.”
“That’s very generous of you, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay it back in one year.”
“We both know that you could pay it back tomorrow if you wanted.” The cat was out of the bag. Dixie feigned shock, but narrowed her eyes as she glared at the Company Man. What else did she know that she wasn’t letting on?
“I’ll take your terms,” Dixie replied coldly.
“Get those trees growing because Mast and his friends need their tigi.”
“Tigi is illegal to sell to the natives,” Dixie said slowly. Pierre watched with interest.
“Not anymore. It will be regulated, such as only available in the Mother Lode and at decent prices, but with a limit of two glasses. Any other questions?”
“Sounds good to me,” Pierre said with a smile, always happy to exploit a new market.
“The sheriff will make sure the new law is enforced.” Mast pounded on the bar. “TIGI!”
Pierre ignored him.
Dixie moved close to the Company Man and leaned upward until her lips were near Shaunte’s ear. “You win. The sheriff will come home, not because the war is over, but because you are here. Not me. Not Mast. Not Darklanding. He will come home because of you.”
“I know, and that’s what scares me.”
“You need to enjoy life a little more, Miss Company Man. If he was coming home to me, I’d be doing more than nursing a foofy drink.”
“We’ll see if he comes home to me, but I don’t think I’m the type to come home to. My job comes first.”
“Of course it does, just like sheriff is his gig and he works for you. All the chances you had to fire him… Why didn’t you?”
Shaunte turned toward Dixie, a sharp retort on her tongue, but shrugged instead. “Finding a replacement would cost money, more than he costs me. It’s all business.”
“Yes, dear. Keep telling yourself that. It’ll make it easier when he carries you to his bedroom.”
“There will be no carrying, and have you seen his bedroom?” Shaunte stopped herself, but it was too late.
“I sadly admit that I have not,” Dixie said with a wink. She left to work the tables.
That’s not what I meant, Shaunte thought. And what is with that dog? Would he want that thing to live with us? That could be the show-stopper right there. That thing is disgusting.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After another night of horrible sleep, Thad couldn’t wait to get off the Big Nuts Explorer. He figured he’d get more and better sleep on the ground than squeezed into a small bed with the monster of a Glakridozian.
I sleep with an alien. My deputy is an alien. I’m trying to make time with my boss, and her dad is everyone’s boss. Get it together, Fry-man. Focus or you’re going to get yourself killed.
Thad splashed water on his face before dressing in his combat uniform. He strapped on the body armor before buttoning his shirt over it. He dumped his pack on the deck for one final check of his gear. The last thing to add was his weapon. Thad intended to check out a sniper rifle, in addition to a blaster. Penelope was the marksman in the family, but he wasn’t a bad shot either. One well-aimed round could change the course of a battle.
He rolled into the corridor early and went straight to the unit armory. The soldiers were already lining up. He walked to the front of the line. “Maximus?” The pig-dog issued his heartiest morning greeting, which drove the line backward. Thad checked out a hand blaster with holster and belt along with a sniper rifle. He checked his standard ammo load and stuffed that into his backpack. He’d keep the weapons unloaded until they boarded the shuttles.
He hurried away before the soldiers in line recovered their wits.
Chow was uneventful and bland. “Makes it easy to get off the ship,” he told the cook.
“That’s the idea.”
Thad wolfed down his portion while Maximus gulped his. The pig-dog belched before licking the tray. Thad took both empty trays to the
scullery before checking in one last time at the command center. He found the general deep in thought.
“We’re ready for this, and more importantly, they’re ready for this.” Thad pointed to an indeterminate spot somewhere outside the room. “The only way to know for sure is to turn them loose. Trust me, General. I’m here because I don’t want to see them get killed. I don’t need to prove anything for myself. I want to win the battle and bring them home. All of them.”
“A lofty ideal, Colonel Fry. I salute you.” The general saluted using two fingers. “I’m going down in the second wave to get my feet on the ground and start the coordination with the locals. We’ll see if we can get some help from someone who won’t be feeding intel to the bad guys.”
“I think there will be plenty of that, so staying on the move will be important. Don’t give them time to set up an ambush. We are going to race around the populated areas and cut off any chance these guys have of getting away.” Thad’s eyes turned steel gray as he contemplated the action. Maybe he was more at home in combat and the general was right. Guys like them didn’t get to quit.
When Lieutenant Colonel Thaddeus Fry and his trusty companion Maximus walked onto the shuttle deck, the soldiers came to attention. Thad’s demeanor was all business. A rifle slung over his shoulder, a hand blaster at his hip, and bulked up from the body armor, he conducted a quick inspection of the soldiers. He slapped shoulders and growled at their faces. They growled back, some with false bravado and others with a little too much exuberance.
He called for quiet when he reached the end, standing at the first shuttle that would exit the bay on the landing run to Centauri Prime.
“We’re back, to a place I never thought I’d return to, but I’m here because of you. For those of you who have never been in combat before, remember your training. Look for me if you have to, but remember the mission. Our first objective is to secure the landing field. The shuttles will depart and then we’re going to move out, conduct a recon on a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree arc toward the city located to the north. The second wave is going to land on the edge of the city, in case we’ve flushed any of this new army from their holes.
“TerroCom is taking the fight to this enemy’s home turf. What that means is hit and run. We have to stay on the move. If we get into a protracted battle, he’ll know where the secret doors lead inside our perimeter. Don’t give him a chance to exploit that. Hit and keep moving so we can hit him again. We’re going to hit them hard, destroy their will to fight and then destroy all the equipment they are using. You’ve all been issued thermite grenades. Destroy their gear when you get a chance and keep moving.
“Stay with your fireteams, keep your squads under control, and use the platoons to wreak havoc on the enemy. Pin them down and eliminate them, and then move on. We will not win a static fight, but we will dominate them if we keep moving. MOVE and SHOOT! DOMINATE!”
Thad climbed aboard the lead shuttle and was joined by twenty soldiers. Twenty each loaded onto five shuttles. When the last one buttoned up, they launched. The reserve five shuttles moved into place in the bay and immediately began loading.
The Explorer carried a total of ten shuttles, but could only launch five at a time. That limitation was built into the plan. It was critical to get the five hundred soldiers planet-side without losing any of the shuttles or the lift plan would be thrown into disarray and extend the landing. After that, they’d have shuttles on the planet to help conduct vertical envelopments, that was, move around the enemy by air to cut them off. The shuttles were key to the plan.
Thad had a backup. Acquire airlift assets while on the planet. It was a big planet and the enemy couldn’t get around solely on foot. They had to fly, so instead of destroying theirs, seize them. He might do that anyway. They could always use extra airlift.
The shuttle disengaged from the Bicknas Explorer and headed toward the planet. Maximus started to howl as the shuttle bounced into the upper atmosphere.
“It’s okay, buddy. This is how we do it.” Thad pulled the pig-dog close and held onto him as he looked over the young faces accompanying him. Eager. Afraid. Ready. Grim. They wore all the expressions. He gave them the thumbs up as they were tossed viciously in the turbulence. Maximus started to howl again.
Thad hung on until the ride smoothed and they descended steeply toward the surface. With the fireball they left behind them breaking into the atmosphere, they had become a target. Highest survivability meant a sharp dive toward the surface, flaring at the last second, making a quick landing, disgorging the troops, and getting the hell out of there. It was standard operating procedure. SOP.
The occupants of the first shuttle hung on as they turned from a nosedive to a flare, crushing the soldiers into their seats. Maximus was smashed on the floor. He moaned pitifully. With a single jolt, the shuttle hit the deck. Thad was first to unhook his harness and run toward the hatch. When it popped, he flew through it, hit the ground, and kept running. The soldiers followed him out and the shuttle took off, disappearing into the distant sky with four other shuttles following it out of the landing zone.
They were in a shallow valley. Thad couldn’t see anything beyond the small hills surrounding them. “Get your platoons on those hills! We’re sitting ducks in here,” he yelled, and pointed to the five points where each shuttle’s worth of soldiers needed to go. Maximus squatted and dumped. He had a special place to go on the ship, but hadn’t liked it. He preferred nature.
Thad jogged after the center platoon. He waited until all five groups were in position before he keyed his mic. “First platoon, report.”
“Open ground to a thousand meters.”
“Roger. Second platoon.” Thad continued through the platoons. They’d landed in a safe area, which also meant they were hell and gone from last-known enemy positions, but their reports were old. They had not asked for updated intelligence because they didn’t want to signal that an operation was imminent. They reasoned that it was better to have surprise on their side.
Thad and the general had concocted a plan to approach across a wide front to flush out the enemy. They would use themselves as bait, but for the enemy they were facing, the target needed to be juicy and small enough to bring the enemy into the open.
“Dust cloud, coming this way,” the third platoon commander reported. Thad saw the man talking on the radio less than a stone’s throw away. He crouched and ran to him.
They watched it moving. Thad had seen its like before.
“All hands, prepare an ambush on a heavy armor target. Platoons one and five, run like hell’s demons are chasing you and get into position forward of your current position by at least five hundred meters. Second platoon, move behind first. Fourth platoon, you’ll be in reserve. Third platoon will be the base of fire. And keep your heads down. Break, break. Second shuttle wave. Heavy armor element inbound our position. Request you land between the armor unit and the city. Approach from the east and come in low. Land behind them and prepare to play anvil.”
“Roger,” the general’s voice came through loud and clear. The flanking platoons ran like freaks, heading for their new positions. Second platoon moved out more deliberately to provide supporting fire. They fell in behind first platoon and set up small mortars. Thad counted the heavy weaponry. Forty disposable, portable rocket launchers. He took a small pair of binoculars from his pocket and looked over the troops.
Men and women alike, a flurry of activity as they prepared for combat. Too soon, they would all be experienced. Fifty percent of them would freeze, but would they get through their hesitation quickly? Thad watched them and wondered. Their training had been far better than what he was used to. Maybe only ten percent would freeze. He hoped that would be the case.
The approaching mechanized force was enough to wipe the one hundred soldiers off the face of Centauri Prime without slowing down.
Thad used his pad to contact the Explorer. “We need orbital fire support right now! Drop on these coordinates. RIGHT NOW!�
�� Thad tapped the pad’s grid.
“Roger,” came a mechanical reply. The transport ship had a single plasma cannon to support landing forces. It had a minimal complement of self-defense weapons, but those were based on the last-ditch effort concept. If the ship had to use those systems, it was in real trouble.
TerroCom needed the invasion to be unopposed because they had no space fleet supporting this mission. The Explorer was alone in orbit. If the enemy had any space attack capability, the Explorer would have to run for its life.
Thad watched the unit spread out as it slowed its approach. The first two lines of tanks threw up enough dust to obscure everything behind. The colonel blew out a long, slow breath as he tried to still his racing heart. He could see the looks on the soldiers’ faces. There was plenty of terror in Terror Command, but not among the enemy.
“Prepare to fire,” he said calmly over the radio. An enemy tank rotated its turret and fired its mounted blaster at the hillsides beside it. TerroCom had been spotted.
“Fire!” Thad ordered.
Missiles streaked from the two low hillsides bracketing the mechanized unit. Half of them went high, disappearing into the dust cloud. The other half found their targets. The explosions were spectacular. “YES!” Thad yelled and pumped a fist. “Second and third platoons, prepare to engage the enemy.”
More tanks plowed through the dust and smoke, turned into the attackers, and fired their main weapons. Plasma beams tore through the hilltops.
“Second and third platoons, fire.” Thad waited for a heartbeat. Not a single rocket appeared. He found his fifty percent. He stood and ran along the platoon. “Aim and fire, damn you! I said FIRE!” A few mortar rounds arced skyward while a handful of missiles launched. When the soldiers saw they were having an impact, they were able to push their fear and confusion aside. The remaining soldiers fired their weapons.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The second wave of shuttles pounded their way through the upper atmosphere and into the calm skies over Centauri Prime. The general was so used to flights from orbit that he slept through reentry. Craken woke him before they landed.
A Warrior's Home: Assignment Darklanding Book 09 Page 4
