“I hear you.” Tara grunted and started to get to her feet. Raleigh shoved her down. She looked up, wincing at the pain in her head, and saw he hadn’t drawn his pistol. “What do you want me to do?”
“I didn’t hear you,” Raleigh said in a low voice. She knew the game, but until she could get her wits about her and do something, she’d have to play along.
“What are your orders, Sir?”
He nodded absently, and his sick smile widened across his face. “You lost them. You’re going to find them.”
“The unknown contacts?”
“That’s right, Mason. It’s simple. I’m going to take down that compound before sunrise tomorrow. You, however, aren’t going to be here. I thought I might let you command a section, maybe even a platoon, but you’ve proven you can’t follow simple instructions without getting distracted. So, Miss Mason,” he stressed her name with a smirk, “you have a different job to do. You’re going to find those things and bring one of them back to me, dead or alive. You’re not to return until you do.”
Tara blinked. “I’ll need gear. What about—”
“Ammunition and water. That’s all you get.” Raleigh grinned. “And I would avoid critical failures while you’re out there. You’re on your own.”
Tara tried to stand, and this time he didn’t stop her. “That’s suicide, and you know it. Send another CASPer with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Do you really want to know what those things are, and why the guild wants them gone?” She watched his face, searching for a glimmer of doubt and found it easily. Whether the guild knew about the mysterious creatures or not, he had their ‘golden’ contract in his pocket, and he’d look for any advantages to help him settle the contract upon completion.
“Hmph,” Raleigh managed. His realization that she was undoubtedly right cut his macho ego like a hot knife through butter. “You’re not taking any of my good guns.”
Tara shrugged. One other CASPer would give her security and maybe even an ally. “Give me one of the new kids.”
Raleigh laughed. “No. New kids have a startling tendency to die around you, Mason.”
Tara flinched. “Then who? I need someone who can handle a CASPer. Someone with experience, who I can trust.”
“Trust?” Raleigh shook his head and laughed. “Now, that’s a funny word coming from you. You’ll take Oso in Mike 77.”
Tara clenched her jaw. Oso was a bear of a man in a Mk 5 CASPer. No one had ever heard him speak, or so they’d said. He’d been with the Raiders for more than three years—longer than any current mercenary. He was ruthless and cunning, and he was completely devoted to Raleigh. He wasn’t a great CASPer pilot, but he’d follow Raleigh to the gates of hell. At the first opportunity, he’d likely try to kill her. There wasn’t any alternative, though. “Fine. Send him along, but I’m in charge.”
“Sure. Sure,” Raleigh said and turned away. She knew this gambit well. His ‘aw-shucks’ demeanor was supposed to endear him to her and cause her to let her guard down slightly. He’d wait for her to relax, then do his parting act. She smiled but didn’t relax as he reached for his pistol. He didn’t point it at her face or chest, he waved it theatrically in the air. “Don’t come back without one of those things, and don’t cry for help. My recommendation doesn’t come cheaply.”
“Have Oso ready to move in thirty minutes. I’ve got a surprise for those bastards.”
You cocksucker, she finished silently.
“Try ten. Get the fuck out of my compound until you bring me those things—whatever they are.”
She watched him holster the pistol and walk back toward the gathered pilots. A chorus of laughs, some boisterous and some nervous titters, rang out as he approached. He’d say something funny or try to say something inspiring. They’d eat it up, and everyone would feel better for about ten minutes. Soon enough, he’d be back in the command ship with his whiskey and his delusions. He’d take the compound without a doubt. Any frustration he had boiled off too quickly. If the MinSha continued to resist, he’d grow more impulsive and impatient. The weapons and collateral damage would both be larger. The only thing holding him back from an all-out nuclear attack was something unknown. Raleigh never shared secrets and never let anyone talk to someone outside the unit.
Something wasn’t right. Her mind flashed back to the sniper nest and the counterbattery fires that took out the first six CASPers on the south side. The MinSha defenses were impregnable. Why would they need a sniper nest?
That was the place to start. Collected around her CASPer’s mounting station were several locked, hard-plastic gearboxes. One of them held her personal gear. She worked the lock quickly, pulled out a small version of a bug-out-bag, and rummaged through it. She could stow a half-dozen envelopes of combat rations and some extra water bags inside the CASPer’s cockpit. It would be tight, but she’d need the extra supplies. Two M1911 .45 caliber pistols and about a hundred rounds of ammunition were in the bottom of the lockbox. Stowing them would be a challenge, but if shit hit the fan, they were necessary.
Stowing everything, even the pistols, was easier than she imagined. After a quick visit to the latrine, she snagged a handful of piddle packs from the maintenance chief and made her way back to her CASPer. A familiar battle-damaged Mk 5 stood silently nearby, its pilot watching her. In the fading light, she could see the number 77 on the forward bulge of the cockpit. She didn’t look at it as she walked to her CASPer and worked her way inside. Once she had her legs in the snug-fitting compartment, she tapped the master power button, and the CASPer came quickly to life under.
<
“Lucille, we’re going back into the jungle. Keep an eye on Mike 77. He’ll be with us, and I don’t trust him.”
<
“Can you do that without him noticing?”
<
Well, hell. Why not?
“Go ahead, Lucille. We’re headed back to the MinSha compound. Set a waypoint for where that sniper nest was.” Tara worked through the ignition and pre-combat checklists from memory. The CASPer wasn’t much different from her beloved tanks. Were she ever in a group of tankers, though, she’d deny that thought. “We’re up and ready.”
<
Tara snorted. “He’s sending me out there to die, Lucille. No support, no contact, and no assistance.”
<
“Not if I can help it, Lucille. First things first—let’s find that sniper and figure out what the fuck is going on here.”
* * *
MinSha Compound
Weqq
Tirr stood exposed on the southeast corner of the compound. In the fading light, he used a thermal scope to scan the surrounding vegetation for any sign of the Peacemaker. There was none. Her communications device was silent, and there wasn’t even an electromagnetic signature from her combat wrist-slate. She’d vanished.
“Have you found her?” Psymrr’s voice came through his headset in a clearly condescending sneer. “The Peacemaker’s body or any trace of her?”
“The vegetation below is dense. Without clearance to leave the compound, I cannot verify her condition or status.”
“No one leaves the compound.”
Tirr clenched his lower jaw. There was nothing like being a leader in name only. “Then I don’t know.”
“It’s clear, Tirr. The Human mercenaries have retreated, and she’s with them. We’ve held out against them, and her efforts to subvert our mission have failed. She quit and is departing with them.”
“She was near an explosion, and several of my soldiers saw her fly off the wall into the undergrowth below, after damaging
one of the Human mechas. Blindly saying she’s run off with the mercenaries is too much of an assumption. She could be hurt or dead. I don’t know, Psymrr. She may be Human, but she is a Peacemaker and would not quit her post.”
“No, it’s not too much of an assumption. Clearly your youth and experience with Humans haven’t given you the intelligence to understand the situation. You can’t trust Humans. Peacemaker Francis was here to gain intelligence about our mission and position. She’s run off with them in their failure to succeed. Stand down the defenses immediately.”
Tirr bristled. “I must disagree—”
“You heard me, Tirr. The Humans have retreated and will be leaving the planet shortly. I know this, as I have seen their behavior before. Stand down the defensive network immediately, or I will do it myself.”
“Psymrr, lowering the defenses when the Humans are still on the planet’s surface is not good practice.”
“They’re not coming back, Tirr! Now stand down the defenses, or I will terminate your duties as captain of the guard.”
The disgrace of a soldier relieved for cause was not something Tirr wanted to live with. Yet, his leader’s arrogance in the face of an enemy that could very well be in a ‘tactical pause,’ instead of a full-blown retreat, unnerved him. He could, perhaps, stand down the networks but keep his soldiers on guard until the Humans either left or resumed their assault. With every fiber of his being, Tirr believed the latter would be the case. It was okay to hope for the best—in this case a terminated Human campaign and retreat—but he knew Humans were unpredictable and, in some cases, irrational.
A burst of noise from the marshes caught his ears. Psymrr’s laugh split Tirr’s auditory sensors a second later. “Their ship is launching, Tirr. I have keyed off the defensive network.”
The jungle floor vibrated slightly, then more intensely. A moment later, the intensity doubled, and Tirr reached for the parapet wall to steady himself. The tall, green trees thrashed in a sudden maelstrom of wind. Through the wildly twisting canopy, he could see the Human ships—two of them. They were smaller than frigates, and they had impressive batteries of cannons hanging down—pointing at the compound.
“Take cover! Take cover!” Tirr screamed into the network. “Bring up the defenses! Bring up—”
The first salvo knocked Tirr down into the compound’s central area. He rolled to the nearest wall, pressed his face into a corner, and extended his wings to protect himself. Round after round tore into the compound from above. In the resulting explosions and shockwaves, Tirr lost track of time, and eventually, consciousness.
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Assembly Area
Reilly’s Raiders
Weqq
Their first sunset on Weqq wasn’t much to see, but Raleigh caught himself looking past the silhouette of his command ship, Satisfaction, in the final light of the day. His three smaller ships, completely unloaded and with skeleton crews, lifted to orbit. They had no access to gate codes and knew that he could shut down their life support systems remotely. Getting them off the planet was an essential part of his next phase of operations. The MinSha saw them depart and lowered their defenses, giving him the opportunity he wanted. The Satisfaction lifted last and, instead of departing the planet, swung wide to the north and circled back.
Satisfaction hovered five hundred meters above the MinSha compound. Raleigh watched the first battery of cannons and lasers fire directly into the compound. Its walls had stood up to intense bombardment from the surface and three waves of CASPer attacks, without failing, for most of the day. He knew that hovering his command ship above the compound, its cargo holds open and full of every weapon he could spare, was half-crazy and half genius. Any well-aimed shot could damage his primary vehicle and strand them on the surface, especially with her cargo bays open like large, convincing targets. But the benefits of a sustained, direct-fire barrage on the upper surfaces of the compound far outweighed the risks.
He wiped his stubble-covered chin on his arm and grinned. L’audace, l’audace, l’audace! Toujours l’audace! The memory of his grandfather waving garden implements in the sad little patch of greenery behind their home made him laugh. Between intense dementia and a host of other ailments, the old man stomped between the rows of corn like a drill sergeant and waved away the crows defiantly until his dying day. His favorite quotation, though, stuck with Raleigh. Audacity, audacity, audacity. Always audacity. When Raleigh completed his first VOWS as a teenager, he’d heard it differently. Go big or go home. He decided, then and there, to always go big. He took the missions no one else would and completed them with increasing prejudice. There was very little he would not do. His reputation grew rapidly, gaining him the command of his first mercenary company at thirty-one. Success, though, wasn’t kind.
He glanced down at the dented silver flask sticking out of the cargo pocket of his tiger striped pants. As much as he wanted a drink, the thrill of the moment kept him from reaching for it. A second fusillade went into the compound from the Satisfaction, and, almost immediately, there was a secondary explosion. He leaned forward and jabbed the transmit button. “Report!”
“Secondary explosions on the southwest corner. Target is obscured.”
Raleigh weighed the news for a split second. There could be a weakness, and timing was everything. He changed the frequency to his CASPers. “Attack and converge on the southwest corner. Breach the target and kill everything that moves.”
“Boss, Satisfaction. Breach on the southwest corner. Full battery fire, lift and shift on your order.”
“Fire. Lift and shift to the opposite walls. Keep their heads down.” Raleigh said. He slapped the shoulder of the skiff gunner to his right. “Let’s go, Angelus!”
Behind her ballistic faceplate, the dark-skinned woman grinned and mouthed commands to the driver on a frequency Raleigh wasn’t monitoring. His heavily-protected helmet significantly dampened sounds. Outside the frequencies he monitored, the rest of the world didn’t exist. The command skiff lurched forward on its six large, rubber wheels. The heavily-modified chassis resembled the Striker vehicles his grandfather boasted were the best thing since sliced bread. Rolling through the marsh toward the jungle, Raleigh felt the large engine rev faster as the wheels hit more solid ground and tore through the increasingly thick brush. He popped up through the circular hatch to sneak a look at the third, and final, battery fire. Exploiting the breach was key. Once it was large enough for a CASPer to get through, the Satisfaction would aim for the opposite walls and lay down a similar volume of fire. The intent wasn’t to create more damage to the compound, but that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Keeping the MinSha down was everything.
The third volley came down, causing two shattering, secondary explosions. Thick dark smoke billowed up from the ruined corner. Raleigh didn’t need any confirmation from above.
“Attack! Attack! Full speed!” he called. “Lift and shift fire! Lift and—”
The sky above the compound came to life with laser bolts and surface-to-air missiles streaking up toward the Satisfaction. All along the silhouetted hull, he saw penetration. Several missiles flew into open bays and detonated deep inside the vessel. He watched his ship shudder and yaw to the left, away from the explosions.
“Evasive action!” he screamed into his communicator. There was no response. Limping, the Satisfaction swung away from the compound. Her nose lowered, and he could hear the mighty engines trying to fight gravity. The skiff continued to push into the jungle. As the canopy started to obscure his view, his executive officer’s frantic voice came over the radio.
“Boss, we’re going down. Primary controls are gone. We’re under control, but she’s not going to reach orbit without major work.”
Raleigh’s elation flashed into abject anger. “Put her down safely. We’ll scrape these fuckers off the planet and get some help. Just put her down safe.”
“Copy, Boss.”
Raleigh lowered himself into the cockpit. “
Bring up the guns, Angelus. Who’s leading the attack?”
“Crossbones 51 and Hammer 43.”
Raleigh tapped his slate. “Bones 51, Boss. Condition of the breach?”
“Wide enough to lay a highway through it.”
“Roger that. Get through, take the left side, and put Hammer 43 on the right. We’re coming right through you. Weapons free inside the compound—I don’t care if there’re targets or not. Clear the objective.”
“Copy all, Boss.”
The skiff’s external weapons indicator lights came on. Angelus controlled the twin-mounted 25-millimeter cannons on the vehicle’s forward turret. From his position, Raleigh commanded two missile-launching platforms. One was a standard folding-fin aerial rocket pod, and the second was a modified optically-guided weapon for longer range targets. Raleigh brought both online and selected thermal imaging. Ahead, he could clearly see the hot walls of the compound and a large v-shaped breach through the external wall. The lead CASPers pushed into the compound, their weapons blazing. Two more followed and expanded the breach. The command skiff was a hundred and thirty meters away when he saw one of the CASPers detonate. The MinSha weren’t done.
“Flyers! Now!”
He knew the ducted-fan aircraft weren’t capable of the same concentrated bombing as the Satisfaction, but what they could do would distract the compound’s weapon systems while he pushed more CASPers into the central area. From there, they could target the command and control systems of the weapons pylons or the pylons themselves. It didn’t matter. Once they were silent, the compound would fall into his hands.
“All CASPers—aim for the breach. Get inside and silence those platforms. I want two squads up on the walls right fucking now! Move!” He slapped Angelus on the shoulder and pointed at the breach. “Get us through!”
Honor the Threat (The Revelations Cycle Book 12) Page 12
