The Peacekeepers. Books 1 - 3.

by Ricky Sides

  Pol was in solid agreement on that score and said as much.

  Pete asked what sort of fighting the ship would be capable of managing and Pol answered, saying that he could give him a score of short duration shots with the forward laser, but the belly gun was out of the question. He also cautioned that prolonged bursts of the forward laser would reduce the total number of shots possible and advised a conservative approach.

  “Then I’ll primarily fire if I see one of those rocket propelled grenades,” Pete said thoughtfully. Looking over at Pol he said, “When this is over we have to figure out some way to mount a machine gun on the ship to augment the energy weapons.”

  “There are plans for doing so in the computer files under Malcolm’s personal development work, but the military was more interested in the base ship and the energy weapons. They could retrofit conventional weapons onto the ship once the units were being produced,” Pol explained.

  “Malcolm was the weapons development specialist?” asked Pete.

  “Yes, Malcolm Tidwell was his name. A studious man when it came to weapons. I miss him, though he was ever the serious fellow,” Pol said with a sad tone to his voice.

  “Well, when this is over, we’ll see if Malcolm can still help us won’t we? In that way, he continues to contribute to the development of the ship,” Pete said sincerely.

  “Malcolm would have liked that,” Pol said.

  “Yes, he would have liked being able to contribute to the improvement of the ship, especially if it involved further arming the ship with conventional weapons. He felt it a bad notion to tie all of the defenses of the ship into the energy weapons, which are so dependant upon the energy levels of the ship to provide defense,” Patricia agreed. She then added, “I remember at one time the developers had a huge argument because Malcolm had installed a conventional minigun in the nose of the ship.”

  “He did? I missed this somehow?” Pol asked incredulously.

  “You had the flu and were hospitalized a few days and then spent several more at home during all of that. By the time you returned to work it had blown over, and the team thought it best not to distress you with the incident. You were very weak from that bout with the flu,” Patricia said sympathetically.

  “Now that I remember all too well,” Pol said grimacing. Then he asked, “Did the team observe Malcolm removing the weapon?”

  Shaking her head Patricia said, “No, Pol. Father gave Malcolm an ultimatum. He was to remove the weapon or he would be removed from the team. Everyone went home early that afternoon because the developers were upset that Malcolm had fractured the unity of the development team. When we returned the next day, Malcolm apologized and said that he’d stayed until the weapon removal was completed the night before. Everyone was so relieved that the crises had passed that the matter was dropped.”

  Patricia turned toward the windshield and stared out as the first of the Marauders rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt when they saw the barricade and heavily armed peacekeepers waiting to confront them. Out of sight around the corner, they heard the team in the forest open fire on the column, and then all around them the peacekeepers opened fire on the Marauders.

  “I wish I had Malcolm’s minigun now,” Pete said lightly as he targeted one of the Marauders who was raising an RPG to the firing position. He shot the man through the head destroying the weapon as well when the beam sliced through the barrel. Pete thought back to the times he’d examined the nose of the peacekeeper and wondered why that unexplained faintly visible seam was present. Now he understood the reason that it existed.

  “Lieutenant, please radio Sergeant Wilcox to commence his operation,” Jim ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Patricia said and sent the message. She wished the sergeant and his team good hunting, and then signed off. Turning to the captain, she confirmed that the battle bikes were beginning their attack run.

  Pol said, “I wonder,” and then he keyed in a search query at his computer terminal. Finding a file he opened that file and then he searched through a sub directory and located a file that had been created during the time of his illness, when, according to Patricia, the incident with Malcolm had occurred. “Patricia,” he whispered. “I found a file dating back to that time period that you referenced, but it is security coded. Would you be a dear and open it for me?”

  “Now, in the midst of a battle?” Patricia asked incredulously.

  “If I am right, then this file could be vitally important, my dear,” Pol said simply.

  Shrugging her shoulders, Patricia turned her mind to the task. She tried several passwords, but none worked. Patricia concentrated and cleared her mind of all other preoccupations as she sought out the memories of Malcolm and his security habits. Finally, she smiled and tried another password and the file opened obediently. Up popped schematics of the minigun module, which he had installed during a three-day weekend, when the other developers had taken the weekend off after a month and a half of working seven days a week. Scanning down the page of the file, she came to an interface that he had installed that required a command word to activate a retractable nose assembly, which would cover the gun port. Looking over her shoulder at the file, Pol said, “I don’t think he removed the minigun. I think he concealed it and the operating system.”

  “There are those controls on the weapons console that don’t seem to do anything,” Patricia stated. “I always thought that they were there for other weapons that could be retrofit. That’s what Malcolm told us at any rate.”

  “Try activating the system,” Pol suggested as the firing outside intensified.

  Patricia tried to do so, but noticed nothing different even though the prompt “System Activated” appeared on the computer screen.

  “Tim asked, “Was it my imagination, or did the ship just give a slight shudder?”

  “I felt it too,” Pete said, and then he asked, “What’s that little target sight visible on the windshield now? I’ve never see that before have you?”

  “No I haven’t.” Tim said.

  “Try the roller ball interface to the right of the weapons station,” Patricia suggested and Pete did so. The target sight moved perceptibly and Pete smiled. “Aim the sight at an enemy and then try the controls to the far left of the weapons console. The ones we could never get to work,” Patricia explained.

  Pete pushed one of the three buttons there and a brief burping sound reached their ears. The biker Pete had targeted was struck by a fusillade of bullets, as was a portion of his bike as well. The tank exploded killing several men nearby. “You mean the weapon is still aboard?” Pete asked.

  “Apparently so,” responded Patricia, and then she said, “You can thank Pol for the discovery. He found the file to activate the system.”

  “Thank you, Pol!” Pete said enthusiastically as he targeted another group of riders and tried the other button. This time there was a sustained burst of weapons fire for a full five seconds. The entire group of bikers he’d targeted went down in a hail of bullets. “One last button to test,” Pete said and then he targeted the nearest ranks of bikers. He pressed that button and moved the targeting sight as he did so. The third button fired the weapon and it did not cease firing until Pete removed his finger from the button. The deadly firepower of the ship had followed his every move of the targeting sight.

  “Your available ammunition is one third depleted,” Pol informed Pete.

  “You can see that on your screen?” Pete asked.

  “Yes, my friend, so be careful not to waste your ammunition. From the text in the file I gather it is a complex process to reload the unit,” Pol explained.

  “Are there any more modifications to the ship that the developers made that we don’t know about?” Jim asked in excitement as he marveled at the discovery they’d just made.

  “None that I’m aware of, but fifteen minutes ago I would not have dreamed that the minigun was aboard,” Pol stated emphatically and Patricia concurred.

  “When we get bac
k to the base I’ll run a thorough check on all of the developer files, just to make certain that we know everything they had worked into the system,” Patricia promised. “But I can tell you that there were no other incidents that I’m aware of that would lead me to believe the developers were hiding anything else from each other,” Patricia explained.

  “Well, no offense meant to Pol, but he did conceal his plans, though he did so in a noble manner that would have benefited all of the developers equally. Therefore, please do a thorough search, even of your father’s records. If that’s painful, then Pol can examine them once you open the files for him,” Jim said reasonably.

  “Of course I’ll help,” Pol said immediately, and he smiled at Jim in gratitude for characterizing his actions as noble.

  “Power supply, Pol?” Pete asked.

  “Thirty-five percent, Pete,” replied the engineer. “Perhaps we should stick with the minigun for now,” he suggested hesitantly.

  Chapter 28

  The strike team rolled forward, quickly gathering speed as they rushed toward the rear of the Marauder column. Some men might feel trepidation at what they were about to do to the Marauders, but Sergeant Wilcox was thinking about the fearful faces of the people who’d trusted him and his men to protect them from the outlaw bikers. He had warned them that the fighting would soon draw near them, but had assured them that they would be safe so long as they remained still and quiet. He’d given them every precaution that Jim had ordered and a few more. He’d gone so far as to suggest that the people lie down when they heard the shooting begin, thus making even smaller target profiles of their bodies. No, Sergeant Wilcox felt no consternation about what he was about to do to the Marauders. His sympathy had been fully invested in the innocent civilians he’d sworn to protect.

  Rounding a curve, the four men started down a long and steep hill. Ahead of them, the biker column was going up a gentle rise to disappear around a curve in the road as they made their way up the undulating highway. Sergeant Wilcox carefully gauged the distance and the timing of himself and that of the column he was pursuing and judged that the rockets could reach the targets. He launched first one rocket and then the other and then signaled his men to fire at will. As his own two rockets lanced into the column, those of his men likewise sped toward the madly disorganized rear elements of the Marauders. The eight explosions were not huge, but the very concept of rockets being used against the bikers was enough to cause a panic in many of the riders.

  Sergeant Wilcox thought that they needed to close the distance a bit more before launching their grenades so he poured on the speed. His three men pulled up abreast and matched his speed waiting for him to launch his grenade. They were so keyed to his actions by now that his own grenade had barely left its launcher when the other three men fired their own projectiles. The explosions from the forty-millimeter grenades were actually a bit larger and more deadly than the rockets. The combined explosions of the four grenades shredded a score of the motorcycles.

  Now it was necessary to close the gap even more to utilize the machineguns, which used nine-millimeter pistol ammunition. This was hampered by the need to dodge around the burning wreckage of the motorcycles and men who’d been eliminated in the first two attacks. The Marauders were also beginning to return fire at the peacekeepers. When they rounded the curve, they saw a perfect opportunity to utilize their machineguns as the biker column went down another short, but very steep hill ahead of them. The sergeant signaled his men to stop and opened fire on the column slightly twisting his wheel to the left and the right to cover the entire road in the fusillade. His men followed suit and in a matter of a few seconds, twelve hundred bullets assailed the bikers. The effect of this attack was particularly devastating, because the bikers were traveling at a high rate of speed up an incline. This brought them into the field of fire of the four machineguns. To their horror, many saw the death trap they were riding into as riders before them were hit. Nevertheless, they couldn’t stop due to the riders behind them forcing them on into the death trap that the small stretch of the highway had become.

  The strike team was amazed at the success of their attack and estimated that they killed at least seventy men with the machineguns alone. The affect that they had on the Marauder column was even more profound. A mass panic ensued in the aftermath of the combined attacks and the riders roared toward the intersection now intent on escaping the deadly foursome to their rear. Their ordinance now spent, the sergeant ordered his men to turn around. They would follow the road back to the main south road into Alamo as ordered. He sent a report to the Peacekeeper that they had accomplished their mission and was now following their orders to return via the specified route. He also reported that the attacks had been amazingly successful, due to the terrain and gave a casualty estimate of around one hundred Marauders. He did advise that some might not be dead and that a team should be dispatched to check on that detail.

  ***

  Big Red shot one peacekeeper in the chest and had the satisfaction of seeing the woman go down behind her barricade but another peacekeeper fighting beside the woman fired a round that slammed into the biker’s forehead killing him instantly. Thus ended the dreams of a man, who dreamed of the day when a vast group of outlaw bikers, would rule America. Beside the man who shot Big Red the young woman, named Beth struggled back to her feet and smiled as she shot two more Marauders attempting to target her with their pistols. Never again would she carp about having to wear body armor when she was ordered to do so by the sergeant in her Tennessee peacekeeper unit.

  In the forest facing the Marauders, the peacekeeper team stationed there continued to rake fire into the swarm of bikers, who’d finally begun to thin to a few stragglers who rode bikes obviously damaged by recent fighting. Some few bikers stopped short of the trap and entered the forest in an effort to locate the men firing upon their column. Three Tennessee snipers had positioned themselves in strategic locations to watch for just that sort of tactic. The Marauders who entered the woods never even saw the men who killed them.

  One biker who sought to escape the carnage at the corner ran straight into the middle of the assembled civilians where the Marauder attempted to take a woman hostage with a knife. He’d picked the wife of a veteran of the Gulf War. As the biker struggled to drag the frightened woman to her feet, her husband reacted with a feral rage he hadn’t felt since the Gulf War. The veteran easily took the knife away from the Marauder and then snapped his neck in a fit of rage.

  ***

  The Peacekeeper moved forward as the minigun strafed the bikers on the road before them. Their leaders were now dead and their will to continue this battle was broken. They turned east, running from the peacekeepers who gave chase as the remaining two hundred or so bikers sought to put distance between themselves and the angry peacekeepers.

  “Ammunition is down to one third, Pete,” Pol said answering the question that Pete had just asked.

  Grunting Pete swore to himself that he would make every shot count, and to his credit, most of the projectiles did find either flesh or the bikes the men rode. Even so, the ammunition ran out before they had dealt with the last of the fleeing Marauders.

  “Pol, if I use the ship to ram the Marauders would the skin be damaged?” Tim asked.

  “Why would you ask me this question, Tim?” Pol asked surprised.

  “Because you’re our engineer,” Tim said laughing.

  “Because I am your engineer, I’ll tell you, my friend, flying at a rate of speed to overtake these men at an altitude sufficient to ram them is most dangerous. But no, the skin of the ship would not likely be damaged, unless you hit one coming at us head on,” Pol said politely and then he winced and covered his eyes as Tim battered aside a group of four motorcycles causing them to tumble down onto the asphalt where they slid for hundreds of feet. Behind the ship, a string of peacekeeper vehicles was just beginning to pursue the fleeing Marauders. These vehicles paused near the mangled bodies of the bikers long enough to ad
minister some nine millimeter first-aide, which was the only first-aide the Marauders could expect from the peacekeepers.

  One by one, the ship overtook the Marauder bikers and in each case, Tim rammed them causing them to lose control of their bikes. Within four miles distance from the site of the barricade, the Marauder problem ended as the last Marauder went down hard and his tank exploded engulfing the man in flames. Pete gave him mercy with the forward laser.

  ***

  Maggie and the medics worked well into the night to treat all of the wounded peacekeepers and there were many wounded. But only three peacekeepers had lost their lives in the battle with the Marauders. All three had been shot in the face.

  The peacekeepers remained in Alamo for two days, during which time the bodies of the Marauders were collected and buried in a common grave. Many of the mangled motorcycles were also taken to the local junkyard, but the task of removing all of them would consume several weeks and the peacekeepers couldn’t invest that much time in the project. The men of the community had assured them that they would see to the cleanup. Fifteen men had asked to be admitted into the peacekeepers so that they could return and establish a base in Alamo and they were accepted with the usual warnings that the training was tough and took months to complete. The Gulf War veteran was among them.