by Matt Thomas
Hetarek rounds flashed past, even after Loki struck from above.
Siskind shouted at Bryan, but even with his radio headset he couldn't hear the man less than five feet away. He was pointing to the screen where Loki's feed usually displayed. The feed must have been cut, probably because the satellite had been detected and destroyed. O's right arm bled through a tear in the sleeve.
Jess popped off shots. She raised to a high crouch, and Bryan noticed the black streak across the olive skin of her cheek.
The map on his forearm computer and his own experience told him that only high desert and fields stretched for a hundred miles towards the mountains. No cover, no concealment. He couldn't get enough resolution on his small screen to see if a singe building or house lay to the west.
Sound began to resolve again, and O's electric voice made its way from the headphones through the ringing in his ears.
"Raghnal says he's packing up to get out here. Bryan, can you hear me? Raghnal's bringing the guys."
The team leader broke everything into pieces. Focusing on each small, individually solvable problem.
"Tell Ragnhal to stay there. We need him to work comms. Tell him the get Lucas to send some people out here. If he can't, we need to find strongpoints between here and the mountains. He needs to call Cho and have him find some way to distract them on that side of the mountains."
The Hetarek fire had slackened since the last air strike, and Bridget finally threw Alona over her shoulders and ran for cover underneath Starek's suppressing fire. She collapsed inside the building near Bryan, Alona calling out in pain at being dropped. That was a second problem solved.
Some kind of heavy round struck me he side of the their building, spraying wood and drywall into a fog.
Bridget or Jedynak would check on everyone to make sure they were okay. He didn’t need to worry about that.
"Jess you got that Hummingbird?" He called out, not knowing exactly where she was. "Can you get it to Siskind?"
"Sure."
"Get it to him, then link up with Kendrick and provide overwatch."
A reinforced plastic cube tumbled towards O, who scooped it up and popped the lid. Inside, he found a surveillance drone slightly larger than his hand, and a control module he plugged into his computer.
"Jess, don't let Kendrick wander. We might have to get out of here fast."
"Roger."
"I'm in the southwest corner of the second floor." Kendrick announced over the radio.
O had the drone out the window, sending him a live feed of anything its camera caught.
"Starek, what's going on?"
The heavy fire paused as Starek triggered his radio. "I'm still going. A little bruised up, and I'm burning through these capacitors."
"Is OTIS still in the other truck?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sending Perkins and Harry to go sterilize the first Komodo."
He grabbed Perkins by the shoulder. He nodded, then reached down into Smythstyne's rucksack, rummaging for a detonator. Eventually he turned the bag upside down, its contents dumping over Smythstyne's body. Finding what he wanted, he tossed the explosive cylinder back in and tossed the near-empty pack over his shoulder.
As much as he hated to lose the Komodo, Bryan knew they wouldn't be able to recover it, not in the snow across the hills, valleys, and gullies between their location and the relative safety of the mountains.
The two commandos ran out, gunfire erupting around them. At the rear of the truck, the cargo hatch fell to the ground as they yanked on it. The four-legged robot leapt out and stood by, waiting for instructions behind what cover the destroyed vehicle offered. The two men climbed through, disappearing into the vehicle. They loaded OTIS with cans of ammunition, medical packs, and other equipment they might need later in the fight. Perkins hopped out a moment later, the rucksack bulging from what Bryan guessed to be communications equipment, computer hard drives, and anything else that might get have sensitive data that needed to be protected.
With a command, OTIS turned and ran through the front door of their position.
O’Hare climbed into the second Komodo, revving the engine and sending the truck in reverse until it struck the corner of the building.
Perkins tossed the cylinder through the cargo hatch of the damaged vehicle. Within seconds, white plasma erupted inside, annihilating anything that was left. The bright flash left imprints on their eyes and the heat radiated across the street through the open doors and windows.
"Let’s move. Get the shit in the back of the truck."
OTIS scrambled back outside towards the remaining vehicle. Bryan could hear his teammates outside tossing the equipment haphazardly into the vehicle.
"They're moving in, now that Starek's moved back." O announced, watching the Hetarek move through his drone feed.
"We're on them." Jess replied, the report of Kendrick's rifle producing a double echo through the building and through her radio.
"Perkins, I need OTIS back here to get Smythstyne." Bryan called out, then stood up next to the window to add to the volume of fire.
"We're almost done off-loading."
Yelling at them to hurry up wouldn't make a difference. They were getting shot at too and knew what needed to be done. The hammering of a M350 started from somewhere near the truck. Tracers flew outbound past the window. Someone must have grabbed Starek's weapon while he remained in the turret.
"Say again Charlie?" O yelled into his microphone, taking his eyes off the Hummingbird for a moment. "Copy."
He grabbed Bryan by the arm and yelled in his ear. Laser blasts impacting the wall drowned out what he said, and Bryan told him that repeat it.
"Raghnal says Lucas has a safe house outside Yakima."
Bryan gave a thumbs-up in response.
OTIS ran back through the rear door, nearly taking friendly fire, and stopped next to Smythstyne.
O helped Bryan lift the body and shoved it into the robot's cargo carrier. Smythstyne's arm kept rolling loose, jutting out behind OTIS's leg. After several attempts to tuck it in, Bryan used utility tape to hold the limb in.
He told everyone to get out of the building. They did in stages, one group firing while the other moved. He took one glance around the destroyed room to see if anything important had been left amongst the spent magazines and packaging from first aid kits. He had to grab the case for the Hummingbird, which he tucked between Smythstyne's legs. Everything important secured on the robot, he stepped outside.
Even the limited insulation from the building muffled the sounds of the fight outside. Stepping through the door doubled the volume. Sunlight reflecting off the snow temporarily blinded him. When he could see again, amidst the chaos he saw the order. Some returned fire. Some loaded supplies and cargo, including Smythstyne, into the back of the vehicle.
He took a knee behind Jedynak, peering around the corner of the building. The side of the structure had been chipped away by fire. A few holes smoldered. A Hetarek head appeared above the impact crater where it took cover, and either Jedynak or Bryan hit him.
Another glance over his shoulder confirmed that the cargo was on board and OTIS was climbing onto the back.
As he turned to run back to the Komodo, something knocked him off balance and he fell. It wasn't until he rolled to his side to stand that he felt the burning beneath his shoulder blade where his armor plate ended.
"You okay?" O shouted.
Bryan felt the spot. The tear in his uniform still felt sticky from the melted fabric, and the plate was warm from the diffused energy. But he could breath relatively fine, and the pain didn't go much deeper than his skin.
"Yeah, I think so."
Siskind hoisted him to his feet. "Don’t worry. I won't tell anyone you got shot in the back."
"Thanks."
They charged towards the vehicle. Bryan wouldn't let it show how much it hurt to climb in the back.
Equipment, bits of uni
form, weapons, and food garbage crowded almost every space. The Komodo ordinarily held a driver, gunner, and five soldiers plus equipment. With the casualties and gear cross-loaded from the destroyed vehicle, space was at a premium. Hunched over, he hauled himself over Smythstyne's body as delicately as possible, past where Alona lay heavily sedated with Bridget still pumping her full of what looked like blood expanders. The medic gave Bryan a concerned look, then amplified when she saw his own wound. She reached for it and he battered Bridget’s hand away.
Starek continued to fire from the turret, and Bryan squeezed by his feet on his way to the front. He shoved himself into the passenger seat and looked over at O’Hare.
"How's it looking?"
He checked the displays. "Running hot, leaking fluid, and I had a bitch of a time sticking it in gear."
Bryan twisted O's arm forward to show it to his new driver. "Follow this gully to the river, then follow it to Yakima." He traced a finger along the map on O's screen.
"Too easy."
"Get the fuck in." O called out to someone after he got his arm back.
"We're on the roof." Jess called out as she and Kendrick clamored onto the hood, firing their rifles to the rear.
"Watch it!" Bridget shouted as bodies started hauling themselves in. With all of the equipment, it was a tight fit. Perkins shoved his spare radio between Bryan's feet, and O squeezed between the driver and commander, pinning Bryan to the door and placing pressure on the burn on his back.
Jess slapped the windshield twice.
"We all here?" Bryan asked.
"Sure?" O guessed.
"Don't make me be an asshole."
Rounds continued to bounce off the metal hull. Kendrick and Jess fired. Bryan couldn't see who opened a side door and started taking pot shots.
The team started calling out names, and Bryan kept a mental checklist. He nearly called for Smythstyne.
"Go!" He called over Siskind's legs.
The Komodo lurched forward.
He grabbed the transceiver off of O's back. "Serpent Eight-Two, Beast Two-Two. We're in truck one heading down the river to Yakima. Game on. Time now. Over."
"Serpent Eight-Two copies all. Good luck. Out."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
No one stirred on the OPCEN floor. Their stress and exhaustion levels could never approach the team’s. Still, everyone one in the room felt them.
"How soon can Thunder launch another Loki?" Berne asked, staring at the static map where a live feed had once been.
"It's not an Loki." Tennison started to explain. "Technically it's a..."
"Another hour." Xander interrupted. "Then another five hours to make orbit. If we're lucky."
The team had called in status updates every thirty minutes. They remained in contact, although they had gotten ahead of the main cluster of Hetarek. Twice in the three hours since they'd started fighting their way back to the mountains they had stopped to fight off their Hetarek pursuers. With no imagery, the most Xander could do in support was sift through the sparse data being pulled from the sensors the team had on their remaining Komodo and slowly transmitted through Thunder's link.
"Serpent Eight-Two, Beast Two-Two." Howe’s voice came through the radio.
There weren't any gunshots in the background, which Xander hoped to be a good sign.
"Go ahead Beast Two-Two."
"Casualty update." Xander's stomach fell. Berne leaned over, his fists pressing hard on the console. Everyone knew and expected what came next. That didn’t make it any easier.
"We have plus one FHSF KIA. Romeo India Three-Two-Seven-Nine. Current casualty list two-by FHSF KIA. Five-by FHSF WIA, all status stable and RTD. How copy?"
"Yeah Bryan, but can they really fight?" Berne muttered to himself. Popov, glancing at his superior, looked like he was about to ask that very question. CHOPS waived him off.
"Serpent Eight-Two copies Romeo India Three-Two-Seven-Nine KIA. Over."
The tiny icons moving along the map appeared to barely move.
"How long until they get to the safe house?" Berne asked.
"About another four, four-and-a-half hours at their current rate. At least it's dark so early."
"When is Thunder in position to release the new satellite?"
Berne had just asked, but Xander checked his screen again.
"About fifty-five minutes."
Berne leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and letting out a long, heavy sigh. "Let's go around the room. I need a no shit assessment."
"Their force strength right now is three KIA, total. They have five WIA, and Raghnal can't fight because of his knee. Even if Howe is right about the status of the WIA's, that's a quarter the team out of the fight." Major Liao, the personnel officer, reported.
"Their new satellite had will have full-motion video, but no other collection capability. It's unarmed and isn't QEC enabled." Xander spoke up. "We'll be going through Thunder for our feed."
"They're down to two Komodos, assuming the number one truck is functional at all after this, with the number three truck back at the camp. Their last status was amber ammo, red equipment." Amersvoort reported.
"Lets say they're red on ammo. If they're not now they will be soon." Berne said. "Put their CONOP on the screen." The map was replaced with a screenshot of their concept of operations, detailing their mission and how they intended to accomplish it. "So they were supposed to go to Yakima anyway, link up with Lucas's crew, and raid the Hetarek depot tonight." He mused.
After a moment’s thought, Berne reached down to the transceiver and picked it up. "Beast Two-Two."
"Go for Beast Two-Two." Howe's voice came through again, each word labored. No one needed to see him to know his level of exhaustion.
"Bryan, its Colin Berne." CHOPS broke all protocol. "You're fucking kicking ass man. We're all proud of you. You're halfway through your CONOP. You tell me what you want to do. It's been tough and we all know it. How can we help you? Over."
Howe came back on almost instantly. Still tired. His voice still raspy and worn. But those were superficial symptoms. "We need Thunder to drop bundles three, six, eight, and twelve at the safe house location. We don't have comms with them. Over."
Berne looked over at Amersvoort, who checked the list against the pre-packaged supplied stored on Thunder.
"Three is ammo. Six is heavy weapon ammo and weapon repair kits. Eight is medical supplies. Twelve is vehicle repair kits.”
"Serpent Eight-Two, if Thunder can get us that tonight, we're good to Charlie Mike. Over."
Bryan Howe responded like he hadn’t lost two members of his team, like no one else was hurt and crammed into their one operational vehicle, like they didn’t have more than a hundred miles of exposed terrain between their position and any type of security. Howe would keep going. He would continue mission.
"I fucking love that motherfucker." Berne said, handing back the transceiver to the Popov to confirm and approve the request.
"We'll make it happen, sir." Amersvoort said.
"Thunder's en route to deploy the new satellite anyway." Xander added.
Berne stared at the board showing the current operation. Then he stared at the team status board, full of red and yellow. Then he stared at the faces of the dead. Without a word he disappeared out into the hallway.
The staff had already sprung into action, contacting Thunder and spelling out the request. Xander remained at his spot, standing near Berne's empty chair as he read through reports appearing on his tablet nearly every second. He tried to sift through it all to find something to help the team.
Berne wasn't gone long, less than ten minutes.
"Listen up." He shouted. "I just talked to the commander. Mission one is to get these guys everything they need right fucking now. If Thunder has to land in the fucking surface, they're cleared to do that. Mission two is to get them what they need for D Day. I'm not leaving Bryan Howe at half strength when the entir
e planet is coming for them. I don't give a flying fuck how long you've been awake, you're not as tired as they are. We're going to stay in this room until we have a plan to get them some backup. We've got some mission planning to do. Get some coffee."
*****
Meals, generally, provided the only time that all four crew members moved as a unit outside if their fighters. On larger ships, pilots ate in their own mess hall, segregated from the general population and fed slightly better. Eating with the rest of Indomitable's crew became just another perceived slight against escort pilots. But the group that had started as eight pilots and weapons officers, now reduced to four, claimed a permanent table in a far corner. Without any spoken coordination, they wore flight suits at every meal, so the rest of the crew knew who they were. Generally, while the quality of food didn't improve, the quantity did, and most mornings a full carafe of relatively fresh coffee waited for them.
So, for Sasha to show up late, without prior word, created a lot of wild speculation. Since the recent shake-up in the chain of command, Sasha had become the official leader of the squadron, in spite of the widespread belief the Costeaux would be better suited. But leadership was a pilot's task, or so the commander said. When Sasha was anywhere alone and not in the gym, the remaining three took turns inventing hypothetical conversations between Sasha and the commander. But they all had trouble imagining the man missing dinner for a meeting.
"Must be steak and lobster night on Intrepid." Dauod said.
"I barely remember what steak and lobster tastes like. I'd have no idea if they're even close at faking it." Jean replied. Quinn stayed silent, staring at his salad.
"Maybe they found us a replacement squadron leader and his busy dumping everything on the new guy." Dauod added.
