by Sam Schall
Ortega switched her battle rifle for her sniper rifle. As she did, she dropped to one knee. With Zen at her shoulder, she focused on the coordinates Tag called out. Her implants kicked in, slowing her pulse and breathing. Eye sight sharpened, and the sights of the rifle synced with her ocular implant.
There!
One corner of her mouth twisted up in a parody of a smile. She waited, wanting to be sure of her target. The battle-hardened veteran in her knew she should take the shot before they were spotted. But she had to be sure. There was a chance, small though it might be, that the figure wasn’t one of the enemy. All she needed was for it to step into the light.
Come on, take another step this way. Give me a better look at you.
“Now, Sorceress!” Zen said softly.
Sniper rifle snugged against her shoulder, Ortega gently squeezed the trigger. She watched through the scope as the projectile severed the soldier’s spine at the base of his neck. He dropped where he stood. Ortega waited, scanning the area for any indication the Callusian foot soldier hadn’t been alone.
“Tag, Bird, you’ve got retrieval. We’ll cover.”
Zen and Tusker moved to take up positions that left Ortega between and slightly behind them. As they did, Tag and Bird slowly picked their way across what might once have been a small park or greenway. Ortega watched through her rifle’s scope, scanning the area. The last thing she wanted was for more of the enemy to come upon them and catch them unaware.
“Sorceress, Bird. We’re in place.”
“Roger that, Bird. Strip out his weapons and anything else you can carry. Leave ID if he has any but make note of it. Then hide the body. Let’s not get sloppy now.”
The comms specialist acknowledged the order. As she watched him doing as she said, Tusker on look-out, Ortega listened to reports coming in over the battlenet. Rear Admiral Kieran O’Malley, commanding officer of Taskforce Liberator, wanted a status update. Unfortunately, she didn’t have one for him. Even if she did, she couldn’t risk the enemy intercepting their comms. At least Halverson, possibly with input from Adamson, knew how to respond. All she had to do was make sure the fireteam got into position before the enemy discovered what they were up to.
Five minutes later, they were on the move again. Tag and Bird returned to their positions in the formation. Zen now carried what they had confiscated from the dead Callusian. Later, assuming there was a later, Ortega would examine what they found. For now, however, it had to wait. They still had a great deal of territory to cover and she wanted it done before the sun came up. Once that happened, they’d be caught in the middle of a no man’s land. That had to be avoided at all costs. So much depended on them getting to their destination before the enemy new what they planned.
For more than an hour, the fireteam crept further and further away from the rest of the company. Not that it stopped the reports from coming in or muted the sounds of battle. The battlenet saw to that. Ortega listened in, occasionally clarifying an order or making a suggestion on a private channel to Halverson and Adamson. Even as she did, she reminded herself she needed to focus on the task at hand. Halverson and Adamson were more than capable of keeping the rest of the company safe, at least as long as the enemy didn’t try to overrun their position. The best thing she, and the rest of the fireteam, could do was reach their goal. Fortunately, they were almost there.
Tag dropped to one knee and lifted his left fist, signaling everyone to stop. Ortega repeated the signal. She waited until the others dropped to a knee. They turned outward, weapons ready, watching all approaches. Trusting them to warn her if anyone – or anything – approached, Ortega silently moved to where Tag knelt, his attention focused on the area directly in front of them.
“There’s your target, Sorceress.” He nodded to several buildings approximately one hundred yards from where they knelt. “Optimum position is the first building.”
She studied the buildings, doing her best not to let her emotions show. They waited at the edge of what had once been a thriving commercial center. Most of it was now a smoldering pile of rubble. In the time since the Callusians invaded the system, they had followed their normal order of battle. After either destroying or taking over military installations, they moved on to planetary infrastructure. Because the system had done its best to hold out, the invaders had taken to bombarding the capital in an attempt to force a surrender. The government had gone underground. Most of the survivors in the capital had fled. Those who hadn’t had been killed or captured by the invaders. But the survivors had continued the fight, keeping the enemy focused on the capital instead of the rest of the planet.
Not that it helped them just then. The building Ortega targeted as the best location to begin their part of the op looked as if it might not remain standing if it took another artillery hit. Hell, she wasn’t sure it would remain standing once they started making their way to the rooftop. Unfortunately, the other building looked to be in even worse condition and none of the remaining buildings in the area would give the vantage point she wanted or needed.
“Bird, let Snapper know we are about to move into position. We’re going dark until we have.”
Trusting the comms specialist to do as instructed, she scanned the area between them and the building. There was too much open space and too little cover. Their best bet in case the enemy had eyes on the area was to make a run for it and cross the open area as quickly as possible.
“Tag, you have point again. Same order of advancement as before,” she said as Bird ended the transmission to Halverson. “Keep an eye out but hit the building without stopping. That’s an order. Once inside, find us a way to the roof. We move, and we move quickly. Questions?”
“You keep between us, Sorceress,” Bird told her. The others nodded in agreement.
“Let’s move out.”
Tag took another moment to scan the area in front of them. He gave a quick thumbs up. Then he shouldered his rifle and rose to a crouch. Ortega watched as he took off, moving quickly in a zig-zag across the open area. She waited, knowing at any moment a shot could ring out. The fact they hadn’t spotted the enemy nearby didn’t mean there wasn’t a sniper in position keeping watch. Or a drone. Until they were all inside, she couldn’t relax.
One by one, they raced across the clearing. By the time Tusker slid to a halt inside the building, Ortega had the others looking for the quickest route to the roof. Now they were in for the long slog. With the power out, they had no choice but to climb. The only question was whether they could use the stairs all the way or if they would have to improvise. Either way, it was going to take time and, as tempting as it was to simply race upstairs, they had to go carefully. They had to make sure they weren’t walking into an ambush along the way.
“Zen, you have point. Bird, you get the rear. If we run into trouble, let Snapper know and extract. Zen, give Bird the goods.” She watched as Zen handed over the items taken from the fallen Callusian soldier. “Let’s get it done.”
After what seemed like hours, Ortega watched as Zen and Tag forced open the door leading to the roof. While the rest of them waited, weapons aimed either at the doorway or down the stairs, Tag cleared the roof. When he signaled the all clear, Ortega was the first out the door. Instantly, she dropped to her stomach. As she did, she cursed softly. The damage up here was worse than what they’d encountered on the slow climb up. The roof was pitted from mortar fire. The parapet around the roof, the architectural feature she hoped would make it harder for the enemy to spot them, was missing. In fact, much of the roof and wall on that side of the building was gone.
“Bird, Tusker, you’re with me. Zen, Tag, hang back.”
She slid her battle rifle into place across her back. Then she slowly, carefully crawled across the roof. Her breath caught and her pulse pounded as the surface seemed to groan under her weight. Instantly, she signaled the others back. If the rooftop was going to give way, better it be under just one of them. At least that’s what she told herself.
> Inch by inch, she crossed what was left of the roof. Over some debris and then down, sliding feet first, to the next level where the roof collapsed. She might have her doubts about the stability of the building, but she approved of this location. Unlike the partial roof above, this floor offered at least a modicum of cover from anyone who might look her way from ground level.
Crouched next to what had once been a window Ortega scanned the area below. Then she lifted her sniper rifle. Once again, she scanned the area. She felt a moment’s relief to see the enemy had yet to change position. She didn’t understand why but she wasn’t going to complain. At least this way she didn’t have to recalculate for their strike or change locations. Hopefully, their luck would hold a little bit longer.
As the others took up positions, Ortega continued to watch the enemy. Between the building where they perched, readying to signal the rest of the company to move, and the enemy’s location was a dead zone. How different it looked now than it had a mere month ago. Then it had been alive and prosperous. Even this late at night, people would have been coming and going from the entertainment sectors. Others would have been working the night shift or preparing to head in for the morning. Then the Callusians invaded. Now much of the city lay in ruins. How many had died in the last month? Ortega didn’t know and knew she couldn’t focus on that, not yet. Just as she couldn’t think about all those who had died throughout the system as the Callusians ran through it. All she could do was make sure they recaptured the remaining defense systems, taking them off-line so the taskforce could finally close in on the enemy ships and deal with them.
“How long, Tusker?” she asked as she lined up her shot.
“Two minutes.”
She nodded. She marked her first shot, then her second and third. By the time she managed those, she knew the enemy camp would be alive and moving. Everything after that would have to be done on the fly. But it would be enough. It had to be.
“Reaper, Sorceress.”
“Go for Reaper.”
“Get ready.”
That was it. She didn’t dare say more in case the enemy somehow managed to intercept the signal. But it would be enough. She and Anderson had been through too many battles not to understand one another. Anderson would relay the message to Halverston and then she’d get the company ready. Now it was up to her and the rest of the fire team.
“On my second shot, Tusker. Bird, light his target.”
Ortega said a silent prayer. Then she opened her eyes and once again focused on her first target. Inhale. Exhale. Let the heart slow. As she did, she felt more than saw the others preparing to take their own shots. She flicked through her HUD’s filters, verifying her data. Then, just before squeezing the trigger, she sent confirmation to Anderson. The battle was about to turn — she hoped.
A split-second later, her target’s chest exploded. Even before his knees buckled, she shifted her sites to the second target and then the third. By the time she zeroed in on a fourth, Tusker began his assault. A grim smile touched Ortega’s lips as she watched the enemy camp turn into a mass of turmoil.
“Reaper, move in! I say again, move in!”
Immediately, hell rained down on the enemy position as heavy weapons from the rest of the company came to life. She continued to carefully choose her targets, picking them off one by one. At the same time, reports came in over the battlenet as not only Alpha Company, but the rest of the battalion as well, began a fresh push against the enemy.
“Movement at two o’clock,” Bird reported. At the same time, he painted the new target for Tusker, ready in case Ortega gave the order to open fire.
Ortega glanced to her right. She fired off three quick shots, hitting two targets. Three others broke for cover. She cursed and began scanning for them. They couldn’t be allowed to break out.
“Tag, Zen, new positions. Don’t let anyone get past us.”
“Sorceress, Reaper.”
“Go, Reaper.” She sighted another target and fired.
“Moving to forward position. Sending you reinforcements once in place.” The sounds of weapon fire almost drowned out Adamson’s words.
“Secure the target first. I repeat. Secure all targets.”
For a moment, Adamson said nothing. “Watch yourself, Sorceress.”
“Always,” she replied and switched channels to let Admiral O’Malley know their status.
J. W. Campbell, flagship
Taskforce Liberator
Tenasic System
“Report!”
Rear Admiral Kieran O’Malley clung to the arms of his command chair as the Campbell rocked under another wave of enemy fire. This time, however, he had the satisfaction of knowing the ships under his command were no longer at a disadvantage. Somehow – and, at the moment, he didn’t care how – the Marines on the surface had finally managed to break through. They might not have taken command of the defense platform controls yet but the distraction they created worked in the taskforce’s favor. At least he hoped so. If not. . ..
He wouldn’t think about that.
“Admiral, message coming in from. Colonel Ortega.”
Relief he didn’t dare show filled O’Malley as he turned to the comms officer. The young lieutenant had held up well during the battle, as had all the bridge crew. If they made it through this – and, by God, he’d do everything possible to make sure they did –he would be recommending each of them for commendations. They had done themselves, the Navy and Fuercon proud.
“Put it on my screen.”
He glanced at the screen and waited as it changed from the ship’s insignia to Ortega’s image. The woman’s armor looked as if she’d been caught, and buried, under a ton of debris. He saw where enemy fire had hit and, hopefully, been deflected. Exhaustion lined Ortega’s face. Her eyes looked bruised. A cut along the left side of her jaw had bled freely before someone treated it. He needed only to look at her, and the other Marines he could see in the pick-up, to know it had not been an easy fight.
“Sir, we now hold the groundside defenses. We should have control of the orbital defense platforms shortly. Your orders?”
“Continue according to plan, Sorceress. Bring the platforms down. If your Marines can reprogram them to work for us, do so. Otherwise, do whatever you have to and shut them down.” He paused, listening as a report came in from one of the other ships in the taskforce. “Sooner is better than later.”
Otherwise, he would lose even more ships.
“Understood, Sir.”
“Then get to it, Sorceress. Keep me informed. Campbell out.”
O’Malley allowed himself a quick sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, not in the grand scheme of things, but it was something. It was also more than they had a few minutes earlier. Now he needed to do everything possible to keep the enemy focused on his ships and not on the Marines dirtside.
“Comms, set up a link to ships’ commanders,” he said as he studied the holo plot in the center of the bridge.
The relief from a moment before dissipated when he did. The lights indicating the taskforce told a story no commanding officer ever wanted to hear. The enemy outnumbered them and had been slowly whittling away at their LACs and leading edges. If Ortega and her Marines didn’t get the defense platforms down soon, the battle would be lost.
And he was damned if he’d not do everything possible to keep that from happening.
“Comms?”
“Ready for you, Admiral.”
He nodded and leaned back. The forefinger of his right hand hovered over the button on the arm of his chair that would activate his pickup. He gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he pressed the button, watching as each commander’s face appeared on his screen.
“New orders. On my command, initiate Attack Plan Barca. I repeat, on my command, initiate Attack Plan Barca.”
He leaned back, his attention focused on the plot before him. One by one, each ship in the taskforce confirmed receipt of his orders. He waited, doing his best n
ot to think about the men and women who would lose their lives if he made the wrong call. So much depended on the Warlords.
“Incoming message from Captain Osterhaus, sir,” Comms reported.
O’Malley drew a deep breath and schooled his expression not to show his frustration. “Put it on my screen.”
“Begging the Admiral’s pardon, but I have to protest these orders,” Osterhaus began without preamble.
O’Malley leaned back. This time, he didn’t bother to hide his flash of irritation. From the beginning of this mission, Osterhaus had been a thorn in his side. At least he’d been warned. Both Miranda Tremayne and Richard Collins told him Osterhaus would question every order, especially if he felt it might put his ship at the forefront of the fighting. While the man wasn’t exactly a coward, he wasn’t one to risk himself if he could find a way around it.
“Captain Osterhaus, you have your orders and you will carry them out or I will relieve you of your command.” He leaned forward, wondering if Osterhaus understood how lucky he was to be on another ship at the moment.
“Sir, the defense platforms will tear us to shreds!”
“The defense platforms will no longer be an issue, Captain. They have been dealt with.” As if his statement had been the cue, the platforms opened fire on the enemy ships within range. “Comms, give the order. Attack Plan Barca now!” He turned his attention back to Osterhaus. “Captain, if you fail to carry out my orders, there will be hell to pay and none of your family connections will be able to save you.” With that, he ended the comm and turned his attention back to the plot, praying as he did that he wasn’t sending his people to their deaths.
“Comms, signal Sorceress with my thanks and tell her we have initiated Attack Plan Barca.”
With luck, the tide of battle had turned, and they might actually live to talk about it one day. At least he hoped so.
Crocket’s Landing
Tenasic System
