Scouts Out: Books One and Two

by Danny Loomis

  “Probably going to detonate them when we’re on our way back,” Brita said. “Let’s go.” Within minutes they reached the end of the tunnel. A short ladder led upward.

  “Pointy first, then Irish,” Brita said.

  They ensured their ghillies were in place, and eased open the hatch. A guard had just turned away from them, which enabled Ian to silently close with him. A forearm across the sentinel’s throat and quick thrust of his knife ensured a silent kill. No one else was in sight.

  “Clear,” he murmured. A flood of bodies poured from the tunnel, to the closest cover available inside the large office space they’d entered. Everyone checked their needlers. Silence was paramount, so they needed to be on single-shot to ensure they were quiet.

  “Pointy, Ian, get on the roof. The rest of you, let’s go!” They burst through the office door and sprinted into the main warehouse. Two guards died before they realized anything was wrong. Ian and Pointy raced for the stairs to the roof as the hostages stirred, aware something out of the ordinary was happening. Five more guards collapsed without a sound. “Clear in west building,” Brita said.

  Seconds later, Boudreau’s voice whispered over their helmet coms, “Clear east side.”

  Before ascending the stairs, Ian turned off his ghillie suit, gathered several of the hostages close to him and cautioned for silence. “Form into groups of ten each. Be prepared to run when you get the signal.” Brita and the rest of the fire team were doing the same throughout the warehouse.

  With a minimum of noise groups of hostages began to form and moved close to the large sliding doors on the north side of the building. Ian and Pointy turned their ghillies back on and climbed the stairs to the trap door which led out on the roof, needler rifles at the ready. They slipped out and scuttled to either end as eyes scanned for anything out of the ordinary.

  Ian spotted movement first. “Enemy squad approaching from northwest side—hold one, it’s now company strength. Eighty meters out, closing slowly.”

  “Same this side, looks like two platoons,” whispered Pointy. “Also see two crew served weapons in fixed positions.”

  “Two crew served positions this side also,” Ian said. “Those are our targets if the shit hits the fan, like I think it will.”

  By now it was apparent they had been expected. Several companies of Alliance soldiers had formed skirmish lines in a loose circle around the two warehouses.

  Boudreau’s voice came over their com, sounding almost bored. “Snipers, take out crew served weapons personnel first. Then leaders. Wait for my signal.”

  An armored vehicle rolled to the front of the troops facing them on the north side. A lone figure stepped out and put a loud hailer to his lips. “This is Major Vogel. We know Confederation troops are in there. You have one minute to lay down your arms and come out, or we will open fire and kill not only you, but the innocent civilians you are hiding behind. Remember, one minute.”

  Vogel—Ian moved his scope over to the man with the loud hailer. Was that the legendary sniper he’d almost killed several years ago? Couldn’t tell. He sighted back in on the heavy machine gun position to the right.

  “Bastard thinks we’re crammin’ everybody into the tunnel to escape. Bet he’ll blow ’em when a minute’s up,” Pointy said. Ian nodded agreement.

  Boudreau came up on the radio again. “I heard that, Pointy. If he does pop ’em off, use that as your signal to start rockin’ and rollin’.” Ian double clicked in acknowledgment, just as the rest of the fire team joined him and Pointy on the roof. Brita had stayed below to help direct the hostages when an opportunity came for them to escape. “Blade, Two Eagles, take the crew served weapons to the south and west. Pointy, you got the leaders in the same sector. J.C., you take the leaders to the north and east. I got the crew served weapons.” Besides one heavy machine gun, there were two power guns with barrels 3 centimeters in diameter, which would put out a plasma bolt powerful enough to put a hole through light armor. Just a bit of overkill, he thought.

  A loud, rattling blast shook the warehouse. “There go the tunnels,” Ian said. “Let’s hose ’em.” He stroked the trigger of his Webley, and put two rounds through the faceplate of the gunner on the heavy machine gun a hundred meters away. A double-tap to the assistant, and on the power gun straight east of them. This time he fired four shots into the power pack for the gun, which had been carelessly hooked up beside it. He barely had time to duck as a shatteringly loud blast engulfed not only the crew of the gun, but everyone within twenty meters of it.

  The second gun managed to get off one round before Ian knocked out the gunner and his assistant. He sighted on the barrel of the power gun which was only eighty meters away. Two rounds down the barrel ensured it was out of the fight. By this time all the Alliance soldiers had taken cover, and those on the north side began pouring their firepower into the warehouse, creating a thunderous crescendo of sound. Ian began to seek and kill targets as fast as he could scope on them. He hoped Brita managed to get everyone to lie down. There was a two foot drop in the warehouse floor, which would provide minimum protection for the time needed.

  Almost as he thought of them, the enforcers rose up behind the Alliance soldiers to the north of the warehouses and began killing. Even from one hundred meters away it was apparent they were proficient at it. Alliance firepower slackened as confusion set in. Unexpectedly the warehouse doors burst open and thousands of Edoans came out at a dead run, some brandishing makeshift clubs while most were completely unarmed. Hundreds died in the space between the doors and the entrenched soldiers. But hundreds managed to survive the twelve second run, and drove into the Alliance soldiers with a vengeance.

  Quickly Ian shifted his firing to the east side, knocking down anyone who even looked like they were trying to organize the confusion that had the enemy in its grip. Now the civilians were being routed towards the tunnels by the Enforcers not directly engaged in the fight. It was working!

  A thunderclap of sound staggered Ian as a Viper streaked over. Seconds later the eastern warehouse blew apart. “Over the side!” Ian shouted, leaping towards the edge. In mid-jump a crushing force caused him to scream in pain and shock. The building dissolved under him in a huge explosion. Everything faded. to. nothingness.

  VANPORT (DAY +35):

  Major Vogel walked through the blasted out remains of the easternmost warehouse closely followed by his one remaining officer left from the ambush. Three NCOs joined them, including Sergeant Major Dekkens who briefed him on the casualties as they walked.

  “…Over seven hundred civilians killed, not counting the number that may have been in the tunnels. Thirty of our commandos dead, fifteen wounded. Ten of them were NCOs, and three officers. Storm troopers lost a lot more. One hundred twenty-five dead, twenty of them NCOs and fifteen officers.”

  “How did the officers die? What kind of wounds?” Vogel asked.

  “Needler wounds on over ninety percent of officers and NCOs. Only a handful of others were wounded by needles.” Vogel nodded absently. As he’d thought, LRS snipers had been part of the raiding force.

  Just then General Lambert joined him. “Major, it looks as if your ambush worked.”

  Vogel gave a strained smile. “If you call grabbing the tiger’s tail a success. We lost a lot of good men, Sir.”

  “That may be, Major. However, I hear you captured some Confederation soldiers, and have positive I.D.’s on others killed.”

  “Yes, General. Even though some of the hostages escaped, most were killed either during their attack of the guard force or while escaping through the two tunnels we mined.”

  “No way to estimate how many died there,” Lambert said, picking his way through the debris. “But it might be prudent to have a, shall we say, ‘liberal’ estimate of how many died. It would help morale tremendously.”

  “Of course, Sir. I’m convinced there are several hundred hostages entombed in there, along with the rest of the Confederation soldiers that were in on the raid.
”

  “On another note, I want to commend you for locating the main junction of tunnels in this sector. When do you think we can begin to clean out the scum?”

  Major Vogel paused and faced the General. “I would advise caution on entering those tunnels until we spend at least a couple more days mapping the area. That will give us a better tactical picture.”

  “Very well, but don’t take too long. My storm troopers are chafing at the bit to begin.”

  “It shall be as you say, General,” Vogel said. “By the way, the two Confederation soldiers we captured are in critical condition. Once they’ve been stabilized and are on the mend, request that I be allowed as part of the interrogation team. My expertise in these matters is extensive.”

  “So I’ve heard. Get with my Intel chief tomorrow. I’m sure he’d appreciate any assistance you could provide. I also expect a more complete debriefing of today’s events by tomorrow’s staff meeting. See you there.” He swept off, followed by three members of his staff who had waited discreetly out of earshot.

  Vogel gave one more searching look around, and turned to his Sergeant Major. “Get a list of people you feel should be promoted to fill the vacant NCO slots. Captain Pontus, get with my executive officer and select replacements for our dead officers. All of you need to finish inventorying materiel and personnel losses by 1800 hours. I want a complete report on my desk by 2100 hours tonight. Any questions? Then don’t let me keep you.” They hurried off on their separate missions and left Vogel staring around the gutted out building.

  “You’re still out there,” he muttered, fingering two holes in the left sleeve of his coat. No matter what he’d told the General, he still felt their presence. When the tunnels exploded he stepped behind the armored car, just as two needles touched him. One even scored a slight scratch, drawing a line of blood on his skin. A split second slower. Death is so close to all of us, he thought.

  * * *

  Ian finds himself on a vast darkened plain. Occasional flashes of light speed past. Slow, deliberate movement to his front catches his attention. He strains to see what it is that approaches, but only sees a formless mass of blackness.

  “Repairs are going well with this bio-construct,” a voice says. The blackness turns away, withdrawing.

  “Wait,” Ian shouts. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  He senses amusement. “As to where you are; in my domain for the moment. As to who? Call me The Guardian.” The darkness moves beyond his senses. He turns, sensing a brightness, runs toward it…

  “He’s coming ’round,” an unfamiliar voice said. Ian forced his eyelids open, squinting them closed at the bright light.

  “You’re safe, Staff Sergeant. I’m Doctor Arness. Your friends brought you here.”

  “Friends…” he croaked, and tried to lick his lips. There was a stinging sensation on the side of his neck.

  “We’ll tell you all about it. For now you need to sleep.” He sank back into blackness.

  * * *

  Ian came gradually awake, and felt more comfortable than he had in years. Turning his head he saw Pointy sound asleep in a chair next to his bed—or rather tank. He floated in a vat of liquid. Tubes sprouted from every orifice. A muted chime sounded, and a small white-haired man bustled into the room. “Finally awake, are we?” He scanned a monitoring screen at the head of the tank, and nodded his head quickly, like a bird.

  “Your vitals are so much better, Staff Sergeant. Much better. You should be out of this tank by tomorrow.”

  By this time Pointy had roused. “Tomorrow? But Doc, how about his…”

  The doctor quickly hushed him. “I am Doctor Arness. I need to tell you what happened to your body medically. Are you awake and alert enough?” At Ian’s nod, he continued. “Both arms were broken just below the shoulder. Also a major concussion, which caused us to have to operate and relieve pressure building up on the brain. Pelvis broken in two places. Right leg crushed below the knee…”

  “Leg?” Ian husked. “Did you say my leg was crushed?”

  “Yes, but it was easily cleaned up. It’s well on its way to being fully healed.”

  Ian relaxed again with a sigh. “That’s not so bad, I guess. What else, Doc?”

  “We had to take out your bio implant and rebuild it. The shock to your head damaged it enough so it was malfunctioning. I think you’ll be pleased with the result. Edo makes some of the best miniaturized electronics in the known universe. And last but not least, we renewed your nano-meds with an upgraded variety. You’re probably feeling pretty good right now, which is normal with these new ones. They tend to remove wastes from your cells quicker, which reduces your fatigue levels much more rapidly. You only need to renew them once a year, too, not like those low-grade military ones you have to pump up every three months.”

  “How about the rest of the squad? How’d they do?” Ian asked.

  Pointy leaned over the edge of the tank, a big grin on his face. “Lissa and I drug you out of what was left of the warehouse, and managed to link up with Blade. Blade got shot in the hip, but he’s okay.”

  “And the others?”

  Pointy’s face fell. “J.C. didn’t make it. He was dead before he hit the ground. Two Eagles and Brita are missing. We think the Commandos got them.”

  Ian’s heart plummeted, made him feel cold all over. “Commandos? Then it was Vogel out there.” And they had Brita. He became impatient. “How about the rest?”

  “Boudreau got banged up pretty good. He’s still in a coma, and they’re not sure if he’ll make it. Chucky’s dead, as is Ralphy and Ernie. His other two guys, Burbank and Wells, got out okay,” Pointy said.

  “That leaves me in charge,” Ian said. “Doc, when can I get out of this?”

  “As I said, we’ll have you out by tomorrow, young man. I want that leg to heal up, as well as give your concussion more time in the tank. That’ll help you heal faster in the long run. No sense in having a relapse because you were in a hurry to go somewhere.”

  Ian looked at the ceiling in frustration and a growing fear, which curdled his insides. Brita—was she still alive? And if so, would it be best if she was dead, in the hands of those butchers? Especially Vogel.

  “I’m putting you back to sleep, Staff Sergeant. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Doctor Arness touched a button on the side of the tank, and bustled out of the room.

  “I’d better get some real shut-eye myself, Irish,” Pointy said, walking to the door. “I’ll let the others know how you’re doin’.”

  The pain of loss he felt for J.C., the frustration of having Brita and Two Eagles missing and presumed captured slipped away as the medication worked its magic, pushing him down into sleep.

  * * *

  Once again Ian finds himself on the darkened plain. Tentatively, he walks towards the featureless horizon. After what seems like hours, a shape begins to materialize in the distance, another form approaching him. Slowly they near each other, until Ian is confronted by a large man in a white flowing robe. His beard is whitened with age, but the eyes penetrate to the soul.

  “Hello Ian. How do you feel?”

  Ian recognizes the voice of the earlier presence named The Guardian. “I’m worried about Brita and Two Eagles. Can you help them?”

  The figure seems to draw in upon itself slightly. “I’m afraid that is beyond my abilities. Both were badly wounded, but now recover. From what I gather, they are to be questioned once they are well.”

  Despair wells up. “They’re in the hands of a sadist. I fear for their lives.”

  “It is well you show concern for others, Ian. However, it is time to move away to help the rest of your charges.”

  Ian feels shame. “You are right. I must remember my duty. But I love her!”

  The large man emanates sadness. “That is unfortunate. Many could die if you let this emotion overcome you.”

  “What do you mean?” Ian asks, bewildered.

  “It will become clear, Ian. It is unfortunate thi
s burden must be yours.” The large figure moves away.

  “Wait, I don’t understand,” Ian shouts. “Help me understand.”

  The shape slowly dissolves into the surrounding blackness. “Soon, Ian,” floats back a last quiet whisper.

  Ian awoke with a gasp, tears streaming down his cheeks. Damn, he sure wished they’d cut back on the drugs!

  * * *

  By the next afternoon Ian had been moved to a normal hospital bed. He was slowly going crazy with boredom when Pointy breezed in, Lissa close behind still dressed in black with a mask across her face.

  “Hey, guy. Thought we’d better see if you were still with us.”

  “Where’d I be able to go? The old battleaxe of a nurse I’ve got guards the door like I was the biggest criminal on the planet!”

  “And well you might be, young man,” came the answer floating in the door. Ian grudgingly smiled, then chuckled while Lissa and Pointy whooped in laughter.

  “Okay, I suppose I haven’t been too easy on them around here. But no one wants to tell me anything. Fill me in on how the squad’s doing.”

  “The squad’s doin’ just fine, man,” Pointy said. “Stanton’s made us into trainers for the civvies who’ve volunteered to fight.”

  “That means everyone on the planet,” Lissa said, eyes sparkling with excitement. “For the first time ever, there was a unanimous vote by all to fight to the death against the aggressors.”

  Pointy shook his head. “I still find it hard to believe their system of government works so well. It’s nothin’ like what any other world in human space has.”

  “And how would you know that?” Lissa asked.

  “Erm, well, I got a degree in political science before I decided to join up,” Pointy said, ears turning red.