by Cain Hopwood
The colonel rubbed his chin, a move Jon knew well. Then he continued. “And did you see that ship bay? The one our transport docked in when we were brought aboard.”
“Hard not to notice it sir, it was gigantic. But it was all rather a blur. Things moved so quickly.”
“Yes, which was odd in itself don’t you think? But, things started making sense once I’d reviewed some of the helmet cam footage. The bay looked big and busy, on the cursory glance we got of it, but it was mostly empty.” The colonel looked around. “A bit like this place.”
“Do you think there’s something wrong sir? Something we should be looking out for?”
“I don’t know if it’s wrong Moss. Maybe we’re missing something, maybe they’re not telling us something, or maybe we just don’t understand.”
This was all a rather strange conversation for Jon. The colonel was usually confident and decisive. Seemingly two steps ahead of everyone else. It was an image Jon aspired to projecting when commanding his own squad, especially when things got hairy.
Of course, Jon had peers like Pascale providing support as he muddled his way through learning how to command. In a flash of insight, Jon realized what the colonel needed, or more correctly who.
“I’d imagine that you’re missing the XO sir.”
The colonel gave Jon an appraising look, obvious even through the grainy holo image. “Yes Moss, I am.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why isn’t he along? You still need a second in command, even though the unit numbers are rather small.”
“I’ll have one shortly.” The colonel chuckled. Then he adopted a questioning tone. “But tell me Moss, why do you think that is?”
“That the XO isn’t here, sir? Or that we seem rather down on our usual compliment?”
One edge of the colonel’s mouth curled up. “Both.”
Jon thought carefully, this was sounding a lot like the kind of questioning he’d been peppered with randomly through officer training. It was important that he think these questions through properly, not just blurt out the first answer that occurred to him.
“There’s a few reasons I can think of,” said Jon slowly. “Katona might have requested a specific size force, or there may be a constraint on how many of us they can handle.”
The colonel made a show of looking around, then raised a single eyebrow.
“Okay,” said Jon. “That’s probably not it.”
“I’ll give you a hint,” said the colonel. He jinked his head toward the wall of green where Jon’s men were cavorting like monkeys. “It’s the same reason you’re out here in the heat and dust, while they’re in there.”
“Protectiveness?” Jon’s eyebrows scrunched together. Then realization dawned. “Of course! You’ve only selected those of us without family. Well, without partners and children at any rate. Am I right?”
“Yes. If we’re stranded out here, there’s no regimental rescue mission. There’s not even the faint hope of getting news back. Losses are part of the job. But not knowing, never knowing, when or if someone’s coming back. That destroys more than just the one life.”
“I understand, sir. Though, I don’t imagine that the XO would have seen it that way.”
“No, he didn’t.” Colonel Whitfield paused for a moment, then seemed to collect himself. “But, I didn’t break your communications blackout just to air my worries. How fast can you return to camp?”
Jon brought up his topographic map of the chamber and consulted it for a moment. “Well sir, we took a fairly roundabout route getting here. It’ll be quicker than that.” He traced a finger along the canyon they’d used earlier. “That’s fast going for sure. But after that it’s a bit of an unknown. If we push it, we should make it back inside of twenty four hours.”
The colonel looked down at the holo map and nodded. “That’s fine. If you’re not back by this time tomorrow, call it in. We’ll send transport.”
“If it’s so urgent sir, why don’t we get transport back now.”
“Oh it’s not urgent Moss. It’s just that the starship is jumping to the Marbel system in about thirty four hours. Everyone needs to be back at camp by then.”
“Jumping? Wasn’t that the light show outside when we first got here?”
“It was. That was our departure from Sol. Since then, the starship has been attending to whatever business took it from Marbel in the first place. This jump will take us to our destination, and as we’re not strapped into a ship this time, there’s a few precautions we have to take.”
“Understood sir. We’ll get going shortly, get a few clicks under our belt before turning in for the night, and finish the trek tomorrow.”
“Good plan. And one more thing Moss.”
“Sir?”
“I’m appointing you second in command of the unit. We’ll be on Marbel shortly. That’s technically hostile territory, and we need a clear line of succession. The paperwork will be in your inbox shortly.”
Jon blinked. “Sir, isn’t…”
“Gritz hasn’t the temperament, not yet at any rate. I’ll give you a field promotion so you outrank him. Try not to antagonize him about it.”
“Of course not, sir. And thank you.”
“It’s well deserved Moss. Now, you’d better get this lot moving.”
“Will do, sir.”
With that, the colonel’s connection terminated, and his holo dissolved.
Jon tapped open his squad’s tac-link. “Report in everyone, there’s been a change of plans.”
— 20 —
It was two hours into their return journey when Skip sidled up to Jon. They had been making a cracking pace back along the floor of the canyon they’d used that morning. And though there’d been a few half hearted grumbles at leaving what they were calling ‘the jungle paradise’, the squad had knuckled down and put some clicks under their belts.
Skip’s voice was low, pitched just loud enough to carry the couple of meters between him and Jon. “Sir, I think we’ve got a tail.”
Jon resisted the urge to order the squad to dive for cover. If there’d been any imminent danger, Skip would have done that himself. And, if they were being watched any sudden changes could precipitate action. Instead, he kept plodding on, just as he’d been doing.
It was an unfortunate time for an engagement. The squad had been on their feet for at least twelve hours. They were dog tired, but that was how things went.
“Where are they?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“No ‘they’, it’s just a single contact sir. North, the other side of the ridge.”
“You’ve got an obs-drone up?”
“Yes, sir. The same one we had watching your back earlier. The power usage numbers looked off, so I thought I’d leave it up. Besides, I didn’t like the look of this canyon.”
“Good initiative Skip. So, what have we got?”
“Don’t know. One of those lizard men the colonel’s told us about maybe?”
Skip fed Jon an image from the drone and kept talking. “He’s barely visible in IR, and only occasionally on the visuals.”
“How long has he been there?”
“Not sure, the drone only just tagged it. I’d need to review the feed to see for sure.”
There’d been nothing in the trek’s briefing, but Jon had been expecting something like this to occur. Having a foot slog just for mapping and physical training, and not adding a combat element, would have been out of character for the colonel. Another possibility was that this wasn’t the colonel, but their hosts, either just keeping an eye on them, or doing a little testing and evaluation of their own.
This chamber was supposed to be safe, which contradicted somewhat with his orders to keep the squad alert and ready for anything. Which, knowing the colonel, would be part of the exercise. And, timed right at the end of a long day of marching, this smelt like a drill.
He had to take it seriously though, otherwise his squad wouldn’t. “Any idea how he�
��s tracking us Skip? He seems to be running parallel with us.”
“No, sir. I don’t know what the Galactics are capable of, nor what kind of resources this guy might have up. Though it wouldn’t take a genius to figure where we’re headed. I’ll see if I can back track his movements a little.”
The image spooked backward, stuttering like a bad bandwidth video as Skip’s comp jumped back, following the tagged contact.
“There,” said Skip as the image juddered to a halt. The contact was high up on the ridge’s edge a click back. “It looks like he’s leapfrogging us, he’s probably just using the old mark one eyeball.”
“Okay, keep an eye on him. Let me know when it looks like he’s coming up for his next look.”
“Will do, sir.”
Jon replaced Skip’s image with a map. He had a quick look and confirmed what he thought. They were almost at the end of the section of canyon conveniently heading in the direction of camp. After that, it meandered south. It was there that he’d planned to leave it over the north ridge, and head directly for camp.
The only problem was that whoever, or whatever, was following them was also on the north side of the canyon. If they knew where Jon’s squad were headed, which was likely, and they knew the layout of the canyon, which was also likely, they’d also know the easiest place to scramble over that north ridge. In other words, they had an ideal location to lay an ambush for Jon’s squad. If that was indeed their plan.
Jon came to a decision.
He tapped open the squad’s tac-link. “Heads up everyone. Skip’s just told me we have a contact. Five hundred meters away, on the other side of the north ridge. If this is a drill, it’s not one I’ve been told about. So treat this contact as possibly hostile. But, as per standing orders, do not fire unless fired upon. So sharpen up.”
Up ahead, on point, he saw Peggy’s assault rifle lift just a little, and her gait changed. Gone was the fatigued slog of a moment ago, and now her usual cat like flow returned.
“Sergeant Sale, find us a way out of this shooting gallery. Make sure it’s on the south side of the canyon.”
“Copy sir, actually it looks like there’s a place up ahead. It will be a scramble, but the cover’s probably not too bad either.”
“Thanks Sale, that’s our exit. Listen up everyone, this is the plan. Sale, continue as normal past the exit. Once the middle of our line has reached the spot, they’ll go up first. Sale, you’ll then withdraw while Murdoch brings up the rear. You two will cover the rest of us. Once we’ve got people at the top, they can cover your withdrawal. Our purpose is to withdraw quickly, and look for an opportunity for a counter ambush.”
Jon considered his orders, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. He realized they needed a meeting point. It would ideally be somewhere more defensible than this canyon, somewhere where they had a hope of holding off an attack while waiting for emergency transport. Last night’s camp was as good a spot as any, so he marked it on the map as the squad’s primary waypoint.
“Display’s set to tactical,” he said, tapping the glyph that activated the squad’s tactical datatacts. Up ahead, a green glyph appeared over Peggy Sale’s head. Around her the canyon seemed brighter, as his datatacts adjusted to improve the shadow definition. As tactical audio faded in, he could hear Skip’s breathing off to his right, even though the corporal was a good ten meters away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a red glyph, their tail, half way down the other side of the northern ridge.
“Acknowledge orders and waypoint,” he said. A list appeared in the corner of his vision, and one by one was checked off as the squad confirmed his orders.
Jon hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps between when he’d first spoke to Sale, and when the squad had confirmed the plan. The whole time he, and the rest of the squad, were trudging along the canyon floor. Only a highly trained observer would have noticed the change in posture as they prepared to move.
In a few more steps Jon could see the place Peggy proposed for their withdrawal. It was a narrow rocky cleft made up of a series of ledges. If it ever rained here, which Jon doubted, the cleft would have made a pleasant cascade of small waterfalls. It wouldn’t be an easy climb, but it would get them out of the canyon.
“Ingles, Childs, on my mark,” Jon muttered, relying on the tac-link to pick up his voice, and relay it clearly. He glanced left. Whoever, or whatever, was following them, was still a good distance from the edge of the ridge.
As best Jon could tell, even if whoever was following them reacted the moment Ingles and Childs moved, the two soldiers still stood a good chance of getting up the cleft before their tail could breast the ridge top.
“Go!” Jon said.
Ingles and Childs took off like scalded cats. They leapt up the first ledge, scrabbling a little in the heavier unfamiliar gravity, then attacked the second without hesitation.
Jon darted over to a large rock at the mouth of the cleft. It afforded little in the way of cover, but he was safer here than standing in the middle of the canyon. From it, he had a good view of the north ridge.
“Skip, follow them,” he said without taking an eye off the ridge. “As soon as you’re at the top, find a good firing position. Make it snappy, I don’t want us in this canyon any longer than we have to be.”
Behind him he heard boots scraping, and pebbles flying as Skip made a mad dash up to, and presumably over, the first ledge.
Jon kept his eye on the red glyph. To his relief, it continued making a leisurely pace parallel with the canyon, and matching their previous rate of movement. Jon risked a quick scan of the squad members left in the canyon.
To his right Peggy, on the same side of the canyon as Jon, was making a swift retreat back toward the cleft. Her rife up and scanning the north ridge with an eagle like intensity. On his left Murdoch was rapidly bringing up the squad’s rear, though on the other wall of the canyon so as to keep an eye on the southern ridge.
It was Murdoch who arrived opposite first. Jon held up a hand for him to stay put. It didn’t sound like Ingles and Childs had made it to the top yet and they daren’t begin their own ascent until they had someone watching their back.
The tall dark Aussie gave a little nod and seemed to shrink into the rock wall at his back. “Lieutenant,” he whispered, his voice carrying clearly through Jon’s aural implants. “Were you serious about that counter ambush?”
“It’s either that, or call in the cavalry. I know what the colonel would prefer.”
“Well sir, I don’t seem to recall any of the terrain between here, and last night’s camp, providing us with much opportunity for an ambush.”
Jon thought back to that morning, it seemed a long time ago. “No Murdoch, neither do I.”
“So sir, I was thinking, I could hang back during the turmoil of the withdrawal. Our guy may not notice one less of us. I might get an opportunity to sneak up on him.”
“Sneak up on him?”
“Maybe sir. He’ll be in a hurry. And, trying to catch up. Also, he’s got to keep an eye out for you, make sure he’s not seen. He probably won’t be looking back much.”
Jon considered the idea. It wasn’t a bad one, and it had the advantage of not having all his men in one spot. If something happened to the squad, Murdoch, of all his men, would stand the best chance of getting word back to the colonel.
Besides, as Murdoch had said, whoever was following them couldn’t look in two directions at once. At least, he hoped these lizard men couldn’t.
“Do it,” Jon said.
Murdoch just nodded and shrugged off his pack. A sound to Jon’s right marked Sale’s approach.
“Hey Sale, need a smaller rifle. Swap you?” Murdoch held up his Barrett.
Peggy nodded. Then, with a casual flick Murdoch threw his beloved rifle across the canyon to her. She deftly plucked it out of the air, then threw her own assault rifle back.
Murdoch caught it, collapsed the stock, and swung it over his shoulder. Then
he hefted his pack. “This one’s for you sir.” He tossed it across the gap to Jon. “I need to travel light sir, and it’s kind of obvious if I leave it behind.”
In the year that Murdoch had been with Jon’s squad, he done some odd things, but nothing this strange. Still, they’d never been anywhere this strange either. Jon shouldered the pack, turned, and started climbing the cleft.
Before he’d even made it up the first step, Ingles reported in from the top. “We’ve got you covered sir, good sight lines, and our tail is still over the ridge. It’s a good time to move up.”
Jon accelerated his pace.
“You too Sale,” he heard Murdoch say. With a scrabbling noise, and a couple of small grunts, Peggy appeared on the rock next to Jon.
The next ledge was big, so he threw Murdoch’s pack up first before scrambling up himself. As he was picking up the pack he glanced back down into the canyon and was stopped dead by what he saw. Murdoch was nowhere to be seen. The surprise must have been obvious on his face, because Peggy, who had just levered herself up to join him, snapped around to follow his gaze.
“He’s gone?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Jon. “He’s not even on the tactical. But we can’t stand here wondering about it. Get up there.”
They spun and continued scrabbling their way up the cleft. It turned left and right, before eventually becoming a low gully. They ran up the gully, and dove over the ridge to land beside Ingles and Childs. Both had rifles trained on the opposite ridge. Skip and the others were just below.
“That’s all of us, lets move out, and let’s move fast,” Jon barked.
“Where’s Murdoch, he’s not on the tac,” said Skip.
“Don’t worry about Murdoch,” said Peggy. “He’s gone native. You won’t see him, I won’t see him, and our tail definitely won’t see him.”
“What do you mean native?” said Skip.
“I’ve seen it before. Last time was on a joint op with the ADF rangers somewhere in the Hindu Kush. But we’ve got to move, I’ll explain later. Or maybe he’ll explain.”
