Chapter 15
The Raptor was a sleek, aerodynamic vessel, but still had to fight and claw its way through Rome Three’s thick atmosphere. The exterior cameras were blinded by flames as the friction ignited around the small craft. The ship rocked Dean’s platoon hard, making their armor bang against the restraints. He felt like a stone in a rock tumbler, but he didn’t feel as if he were being polished as much as broken down.
The platoon suffered in silence. There were no windows in the combat ready shuttle, and Dean knew from the exterior camera feeds that he had pulled up on his TCU that they wouldn’t be able to see anything even if there had been. There was a constant stream of communication coming from the Charlemagne where Lieutenant Owen was piloting the shuttle. But the feed was weak, like trying to dial in an old fashioned analog radio. There was static and squeals, occasionally other voices broke through the running commentary from LT Owen. Dean wasn’t sure if the signal from the Charlemagne was weak because they were passing through the thick atmosphere of the planet, or because there was so much signal being put out from the ground below, but Dean had a bad feeling.
After a while the flames outside subsided and the signal grew stronger. Dean could see the ground far below. It looked like a greenish haze, but he felt better knowing they were getting closer to their destination. The ship looked fine, and the ride began to smooth out. The light banter from his platoon started up as they shook off the nerves of the rough trip.
“That’s more like it,” Adkins said. “I almost spilled my drink.”
“You’ll have to complain to the flight attendant when she comes back by,” Corporal Antonio “Tank” Pimrey said.
“I knew a stewardess once,” Bear D’Vris said. “Very beautiful, but a selfish lover.”
The Triplets all laughed. Dean expected to hear Chavez join in with the HA Specialists. He had a quick wit and loved to joke, but the newly promoted Staff Sergeant held himself back, remaining quiet as he watched the platoon. Dean’s respect for his Close Combat Specialist rose another notch.
Eleanor Tallgrass was talking casually with Cat and Harper. Sergeant Grady “Ghost” Bradus looked as if he were asleep, and Corporal Grayson Chancy III appeared to be sulking. Dean had hoped the Demo Specialist’s attitude would improve after their marksmanship exercises together, but Chancy seemed angry, and his distance from the other platoon members was growing. Taking him on a mission was less than ideal, but Dean had no choice. There was no time left to train him the right way, and Dean was certain they would need the platoon at full strength if they were going to succeed on Rome Three.
He was just thinking about the conflict happening far below the shuttle, when suddenly the steady stream of commentary from Lieutenant Owen dropped off.
“Sixty-five thousand feet,” the Operator in orbit above the planet was saying. “Wind is shifting slightly, at 23 knots from the sou-“
Dean heard nothing but silence and although the shuttle continued sailing through the air, a quick check of the craft’s systems showed that it was completely off line. The engines were still running, but with the auto pilot turned off it was flying blindly through the air.
Dean quickly hit the release on his harness system and slung off the safety straps.
“Captain! Everything alright?” Chavez said.
“We’ve lost the Charlemagne. Everyone brace for an emergency landing.”
“Oh, shit!” Adkins declared.
Dean ignored them and stood up, sliding aside the safety panel and hitting the antenna release button. He heard the boom as the outer hatch was blown away. The entire shuttle started to shutter. Dean braced himself and then cranked the handle as quickly as he could. It only took a few moments and at the same time Dean brought up the shuttle’s readings on his TCU. Their altitude was less than sixty-thousand feet and deteriorating. Dean didn’t know what most of the other readings were. Air speed was increasing, which he didn’t think was right, and the shuttle’s attitude looked off.
He turned and quickly pressed the touch screen for the shuttle’s Controls. The screen changed and several options appeared. Dean touched the small box that read Radio Frequency Activator, trying to ignore the altitude reading that was dropping past fifty thousand feet.
“Captain, are we falling?” Sergeant Harper asked.
“Let him work,” Sergeant Bear D’Vris said.
“This is total bullshit,” Chancy snarled. “We should bail out.”
“No parachutes, genius,” Adkins responded angrily.
“Can the chatter and secure everything,” Staff Sergeant Chavez said in a commanding voice.
Dean was ignoring the platoon, as he careful punched in the first frequency on his list. As soon as he had the numbers entered he checked them one last time, then activated his comlink.
“Wolf Den, this Wolfpack, do you read, over?”
“We have you, Captain. Damn fine work,” Lieutenant Owens said. “Looks like you’re in a slight dive. I’m bringing the shuttle back on course an-“
Dean had just felt the shuttle shifting slightly, before the connection broke again.
“Damn!” Dean said, but immediately punched in the second number on his list.
“Wolf Den, are you there, over?” he asked.
There was silence and Dean started counting silently in his head, ignoring the altitude number which was continuing to fall. After five seconds he called again and was relieved when Lieutenant Owen responded.
“I’ve got you,” he said, the relief evident in his voice. “Captain, this is a worse case scenario. We’re being jammed on multiple freq-“
The audio fed cut off again and there was nothing but static. Dean took a deep breath and calmly entered the next frequency. Then activated his comlink.
“Wolf Den, this is Wolf-“
The explosion knocked Dean off his feet. Before he even knew what was happening he was slammed into the ceiling of the shuttle. His vision blurred for a moment, but then cleared as he rolled down the side of the shuttle interior. Everyone was shouting, Chavez was fumbling with his seat harness and two of the Triplets were trying to grab onto Dean.
“No one move!” Dean shouted just after he crashed back into the floor of the shuttle. “Don’t you dare unharness Staff Sergeant.”
“Let me help you Captain!” Chavez called back.
“No, that’s an order,” Dean said.
The shuttle was in a spin and he could feel the centrifugal forces tugging him back toward his seat, but Dean instead crawled to the ship’s control panel and punched in the next frequency with shaky hands. He hit the wrong number twice, and the entire process took longer than he wanted, but he got the frequency in at last, just as the shuttle passed twenty-thousand feet.
“Lieutenant Owen!” Dean shouted. “There was an explosion, over.”
For a moment there was nothing but silence, then another boom sounded, but it was farther away than the first. Dean switched from the instrument readings to the exterior cameras. To his great relief the hull was intact. There was a large, blackened section where the glossy paint had peeled away, but the airframe was intact and appeared undamaged.
“Lieutenant!” Dean shouted again.
“I’m here!” LT Owen said. “We’re under fire, Captain.”
“We are well aware of that fact, Lieutenant. Get us on the ground.”
“I’m trying.”
Dean could hear the frustration and strain in the Operator’s voice. For several moments their connection seemed solid and Lieutenant Owen managed to slow the spin and bring the shuttle’s systems back online as more explosions boomed like thunder all around them. Dean was trying to get back into his seat when the line went dead again.
The shuttle suddenly pitched forward as another booming explosion tossed the aircraft onto its nose. Dean was slammed into the bulkhead near the controls and he quickly punched in the next frequency, but the shuttle was diving past ten thousand feet as he did so.
“Shit’s getting rea
l,” Tony Wilson, who everyone called Atlas because of his towering physique, said.
“Brace for impact!” Dean alerted his platoon, watching the altitude numbers leap past eight thousand feet.
“Captain Blaze!” the Operator said. “You are going down. I’ll do my best to slow the shutt-“
The connection clicked off again and Dean cursed. He only had two frequencies left and he punched in the first one, hoping that he wouldn’t die in the next few seconds. More explosions popped around them, like a hellish fireworks display. Dean had the exterior cameras arranged around the perimeter of his field of view. The altitude and last radio frequency for the shuttle controls were in the lower right hand corner. Dean saw the numbers fly past four thousand feet and a cold shiver of fear ran through his body.
The shuttle suddenly pulled up and Dean felt as if a giant fist was suddenly pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He could hear Lieutenant Owen speaking through the comlink but he couldn’t make out the words. It was as if they were echoing down to him through a long tunnel.
After several intense and terrifying seconds, the pressure eased and Dean could breath again. More explosions popped behind them, but it appeared as if they were moving out of the range of whoever was shooting at them.
“I repeat, prepare for emergency landing…” Lieutenant Owen was saying.
“I read you, over,” Dean managed to say.
“The fuel cells are compromised, and the steering is sluggish,” the Operator warned Dean. “There’s no way to keep you in the air, over.”
“How far are we from FOB Delta, over?”
“Over four hundred klicks. At least we are’t being shot at any-“
The connection went dead again. Dean checked their altitude and saw that they were just under a thousand feet. Luckily, the shuttle was gliding and Dean had time to punch in the last frequency.
“That’s the last frequency,” Dean said. “Make it count, over.”
For a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to Dean who just knew the shuttle was going to nose dive at any second, there was no reply. Then, as the shuttle drifted past five hundred feet Dean felt their speed slow and the shuttle turned to the right.
“Strap in Captain,” Lieutenant Owen’s voice came crackling back through the comlink. “I’ve got a good patch of ground in front of you. Initiating the landing sequence now, over.”
Dean didn’t bother replying. He pulled himself into his seat and got the shoulder straps hooked into the harness, just as the shuttle began to shake violently.
“What is happening?” Cat shouted.
“It’s the ground thrusters,” Dean said. “Hang on.”
Dean could see the ground rushing up toward the shuttle, which no longer seemed sleek or even air worthy. The entire platoon could feel the jets firing on the bottom of the ship, but Dean was certain they were coming down too fast. The landing was hard, but tolerable as the shuttle dropped the last few feet onto the ground with a heavy thud. Dean felt a sense of relief that they were still alive and for a second he savored the feeling, before remembering that someone had been shooting anti-aircraft weapons at the shuttle.
“We’re down, platoon. Everyone out. Assume locals have hostile intent. I want eyes in every direction around this shuttle. Move, move, move!”
“Let’s go!” Chavez shouted, bounding up and pulling the lever that opened the back hatch of the shuttle.
Normally the ramp that folded up neatly onto the back side of the shuttle slowly descended after a command from the Controller operating the aircraft. The manual lever popped the internal locks and sent the ramp crashing backward. Chavez was the first one out, as Dean switched his TCU to platoon channels, picking up the video feed from his troops. Dean double checked the safety of his utility rifle and followed the others out of the shuttle. They were on the dirt, the fact that they weren’t at their designated landing area was irrelevant. Dean’s Recon platoon was on the ground, and that meant their mission had begun.
Chapter 16
Dean walked quickly down the ramp and activated his radar which was part of his TCU. It was just a simple system that gave him an indication of movement within a few hundred yards in any direction. They were alone in a field surrounded by towering trees. Nothing moved aside from the troops in his platoon, and Dean felt safe enough taking a second to evaluate things.
Staff Sergeant Chavez had the platoon spread around the shuttle in a defensive formation. Dean approached his second in command and nodded appreciatively.
“Good work Staff Sergeant,” Dean said. “Let’s stay alert. I’ve got nothing on radar but that could change any second. I’m going to try to make contact with the other platoons.”
“Do your thing Captain, we’ll keep an eye out for the natives.”
Dean smiled even though Chavez couldn’t see his facial features behind the TCU’s visor. The big Staff Sergeant maintained a jovial demeanor even in a combat zone, and Dean appreciated the levity. He tended to be all business, and having a second in command who could balance him during combat was important.
Dean ordered his TCU to switch to the tactical channel and heard nothing but static. Still, his first responsibility was to try and make contact with the ranking officer on the ground. That should have been Major McDowell, but with the locals crowding all radio frequencies with meaningless chatter, he doubted he would be able to reach anyone.
“Command, this is Wolf Pack, come in, over,” he said after boosting the signal as much as his TCU was capable of.
The response was nothing but static.
“Major McDowell, this is OWFR Wolfpack. We are on the ground after an emergency landing. I’m showing our coordinates at 40 degrees north, by -73 degrees west. Transmitting our tracking beacon on the secure EsDef channels. Please advise, over.”
Dean waited a full minute but there was nothing but static. He tried to reach the Charlemagne but there was no response from the ship either. Their communications were completely cut off, which meant Dean was on his own with no orders to act on. He had no idea if EsDef was supporting the colonists, or the church leaders. He checked his systems to see what information he could find and was able to bring up a map of the surrounding area. They were over four hundred kilometers from the nearest Forward Operating Base which was their original destination. Between his platoon’s position, and the FOB, was Vatican City, the capital of Rome Three, and the official headquarters of the church. Going around the city would add days to a trek that would already take his platoon more than a week under ideal conditions.
“Any word Cap?” Chavez asked on a private channel between the two of them.
“No, we’re cut off,” Dean said. “The locals are jamming every frequency. It’s a miracle we made it to the ground alive.”
“Can we march to the FOB?”
“Sure, in about eight or nine days. It’s over four hundred clicks out.”
“So what’s the next move? We stay here the locals will find us for sure.”
“I’m thinking we make our way to the capital,” Dean said. “I’ll keep trying to reach someone in charge. Until then, we assume all locals as hostile. I want to move slow and silent, Staff Sergeant. No unnecessary risks until we can get a lay of the land.”
“Yes sir,” Chavez said, before switching to the all platoon channel. “Platoon, form up on me.”
The eleven other members of the Wolf Pack Platoon joined Dean and Chavez near the rear of the shuttle. They looked anxious to do something and Dean knew exactly how they felt.
“Check your weapons. Make sure your non-lethal ammo is loaded and ready to go,” he told them in a steady voice. “Safeties off, but we don’t fire unless we have a clearly hostile target. We’ve lost communications, which means our first priority is to reestablish contact with the rest of OWFR. We’re moving away from the shuttle, but I want to stay hidden. We move into those trees and keep chatter to a minimum. Watch your step and stay alert. We’re in a hostile zone here, pe
ople, with no way to call for help if we step in the shit. Form up Endcaps, let’s move out, platoon.”
They formed a standard marching column, with Sergeant Bear D’Vris, Adkins, and Pimrey at the front. Behind them came Harper and Valosky, then Dean by himself. Behind Dean were Chavez and Ghost, followed by the Demo team, Tallgrass and Chancy. The Triplets took up the rear guard and the column moved quickly away from the shuttle and toward the forest.
The trees had incredibly tall trunks with rough looking bark. Dean guessed the foliage, which looked similar to pine needles, began about a hundred feet from the ground, and formed a thick canopy overhead. Dean was grateful that Lieutenant Owen had managed to land the shuttle in a clearing, rather than crashing into the trees.
Inside the canopy the ground was soft and dark, with thick roots running along the surface which forced the platoon to slow down. Luckily, there weren’t enemy fighters nearby and after an hour they came to what looked like a road although it was little more than a path worn through the forest.
“Captain, we have a road up here,” Bear announced over the tech link.
The rest of the platoon halted beside the road. Dean wasn’t pleased that they broke formation, but he didn’t reprimand them. There would be a time for instruction, but the middle of a mission when so much had gone wrong already, wasn’t it. Dean was silent as he considered their options. The platoon could move much more quickly on the road than through the forest. The road would be less taxing and Dean was confident they could survive a head to head encounter with the locals, but the forest would make them vulnerable to a flanking maneuver.
“We take the road,” Chancy said, as the platoon waited for Dean to speak. “We’ll make better time.”
Several members of the platoon started to respond to the outspoken Corporal and Adkins clearly wanted to get his hands on Chancy. The Demo Specialist wasn’t liked and his pompous attitude did not improve his standing in the platoon, but an idea was forming and Dean didn't want to lose his train of thought, so he raised a hand to settle everyone down. His short range radar showed no sign of enemy fighters but it wouldn’t until they were almost on top of his platoon. The radar was to help him keep track of movement in battle, so he could direct his unit effectively, it simply wasn’t strong enough to work as a warning system, and Dean couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was coming their way.
Welcome To The Wolfpack Page 9
