“Captain,” Chavez said. “Should we move on the road?”
“We’d be stupid not to,” Chancy went on. “We can’t see a thing in this forest. Our first priority has to be to get into the open and assess our options.”
“It wouldn’t bother me none,” Tank said, trying to ease the tension.
“We could move at a faster pace,” Cat Valosky said, obviously trying to lend Dean her support.
“No,” Dean said. “We aren’t taking the road. Not yet at any rate.”
“Are you insane!” Chancy growled. “I’m not walking through this stinking jungle just because you have to contradict every order I suggest.”
“Corporal,” Dean said, his tone low and menacing. “You don’t give orders, you take them. I’m not your enemy, but if you raise your voice to me again I will make you regret it. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” Chancy said in a sarcastic tone.
Chavez stepped forward, but Dean waved him off. He didn't need the big Staff Sergeant to fight his battles, and as much as he wanted to beat the insolence out of Corporal Grayson Chancy III, he had a platoon to lead and that responsibility held his emotions in check.
“Here’s what we’re going to,” Dean said in a claim voice. Inside he was shaking with rage, but luckily his battle armor hid the way his face was flushed with anger. “Ghost, get up high, somewhere over there where the road curves. Find a spot where you can see in both directions.”
“I’m on it,” the laid back sniper said, before slipping silently through the trees.
“Staff Sergeant,” Dean went on. “Take the Triplets, and Cat, across the road. Set up a defensive position with good firing lanes to the road.”
“Yes sir! You heard the man, people. Let’s move.”
“Bear, let’s set up our own defensive position right over there.” Dean pointed to a small gap in the trees fifteen yards from the road. “Sergeant Tallgrass, I want smoke bombs on both sides of the road. Harper, deploy four MAV’s. They are eyes only, do not arm them. Understood?”
“Yes sir, Captain,” the FAS and Demo Sergeants said in unison.
“We didn't bring smoke poppers, just the non-lethal ammo,” Chancy complained, even though his counterpart was already moving to obey Dean's orders.
“Lets agree right off that you don't know everything, Corporal,” Dean replied as he turned to face the insubordinate Demolitions Specialist and switched to a private channel so the rest of the platoon didn't hear their conversation.
“I know I could lead this platoon better than you with my eyes closed,” Chancy boasted.
“You're a fool, Corporal. You don’t even realize that the entire platoon sees right through you. A leader doesn’t need to boast, and good ones never overestimate their abilities.”
“I'm not,” Chancy insisted, sounding like a petulant child. “I outshot you on the range. I could make decisions without pissing myself like you.”
Dean realized a very important fact about Corporal Chaney at that moment. The outspoken Demo Specialist was delusional. Not insane, not even necessarily unfit for service, but he created his own reality. He wasn’t just boastful, it was as if he actually believed the lies he told himself. Dean wanted to test his theory and he knew he could it with just one statement.
“The platoon would never follow you,” he said.
“Are you insane?” Chancy nearly shouted. “They all know I’m the only person capable of successfully leading this mission. They’re all looking to me to get them off this rock alive.”
Dean knew the reality was that the platoon despised Chancy. They thought he was weak, incapable, and they resented his lazy, insolent attitude. Dean felt sorry for his Corporal. No amount of training or instruction could help him if he was unwilling or unable to recognize his own faults.
“I suppose you are too,” Chancy went on. “We need to press on, not dig in. We don’t even know who we’re fighting. Getting to the FOB as fast as possible is our top priority. I suppose you're too stupid to understand that. Hell, you're just a child. I can’t believe I’m stuck on a substandard platoon with an infantile poster boy for a Captain.”
“Corporal,” Dean said in a placating tone.
“Let me guess, you want me in the rear for the rest of the mission. Speak when spoken too. Damn it you know-it-all officers all the same.”
“Actually I’m going to take your advice.”
Dean smiled, wishing he could see Chancy’s face behind the Demo Specialists battle helmet’s face shield, although his body language was plain to see. He actually took a step backward, almost as if he were afraid that he was going to be put in charge and be responsible for carrying out the ideas he had spouted off.
“Go down the road, scout it for us. Report back if you see anything. Do not engage, do not try to make contact with the native people. Do you understand your orders, Corporal?”
“You want me to go alone?” Chancy asked.
“Yes,” Dean replied. “And I want you to leave your ammo here. Take enough for yourself, obviously, but leave your heavy pack with us.”
“You’re hoping I’ll get killed out there so I won’t be a threat to your position,” Chancy said, and Dean could hear the note of fear in his voice.
“Actually, I was thinking that if you run into anyone, you’ll be able to move more quickly and quietly without a heavy load. I don’t want to lose you Corporal. You are part of the Wolfpack and I would not ask you to do anything I wasn’t willing to do myself.”
“Easy for you to say,” Chancy grumbled.
“It was your idea,” Dean said, keeping his voice calm.
“Not to go alone,” Chancy complained. “I never said that.”
“No, but it was a good idea. I’m taking it and entrusting you to see it through. I can trust you, right? You’ll do you duty?”
“Of course,” Chancy sneered, his ego rising to the challenge. “It’s just a waste of time to set up an ambush here. We don’t know where the road leads or if anyone will be on it.”
“That’s an interesting observation. I hope you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I will not argue you with you, Corporal. You have your orders.”
He continued to grumble under his breath as he shrugged his way out of the large pack. It was reminiscent of a hiker’s backpack with a sturdy, aluminum frame and several compartments. Demolition Specialists normally carried portable mortars, shoulder fired rocket grenades, blocks of moldable plastic explosives, as well as ammunition reloads for the entire platoon. They weren’t fed growth hormones, but they were required to be strong enough to carry their heavy loads for hours at a time.
He cast one look back at his Captain, who couldn’t see the Corporal’s face but Dean could image the loathing there. Then he began jogging down the dirt path.
“Where’s he going?” Staff Sergeant Chavez asked.
“He’s taking his own advice,” Dean said. “Stay in position, but take a knee. This may be the only rest we get for a while.”
Dean looked around and despite their armor and the fact that Dean knew exactly where his platoon was in the forest, it was still hard to imagine anyone else noticing them before it was too late. An ambush was a good idea, if the enemy came marching down the road. Otherwise, Dean might end up looking like a fool, or worse yet, losing the respect of his new platoon. He couldn’t let that happen, but it was out of his hands for the moment. All he could do was wait and hope.
Chapter 17
For over an hour they rested, and it was the first time in many hours than they had a chance to eat. Even though they were segregated, the platoon kept up a steady conversation over their local comlink, and their spirits seemed to lift with Chancy gone.
Dean kept a close eye on his scout. They were out of visual range, but Dean could still send voice messages to Chancy over the local network that was part of their battle armor, and follow him on the TCU which updated every sixty seconds with terrain mapping.
Periodically Dean tried to reach the other platoons via the command channel, but he never got more than static. It was frustrating, and waiting didn’t play into Dean’s strengths, but he knew he had the trap well laid and that at times, waiting was part of hunting.
He checked the smoke canisters that Sergeant Tallgrass had set. His plan was to pop the smoke as their enemy passed through their line of fire. The smoke would cloak their positions, and the Mini Surveillance Vehicles would allow them to see their targets by transmitting video straight to their battle helmets, which was used to aim their weapons. They would be hidden, but their enemies would be clearly visible and completely vulnerable.
The plan changed when Corporal Chancy finally made contact. He was just over five kicks away from the rest of the platoon, and he was breathing heavy. Dean knew that he had slowed to walk as soon as he was out of visual range, so something else was upsetting the lone Demo Specialist.
“Captain,” he said suddenly over the platoon channel. “Something’s coming.”
“Are you still on the road?” Dean asked.
“No, of course not,” Chancy snarled, but Dean refrained from chastising him over proper respect for superior officers. He couldn’t let the disrespect continue, but for the moment he let it slide. “I heard something, sounds like a transport. It’s loud.”
“Could be a gas burner,” Tallgrass added. “They still use fossil fuels on most colony worlds.”
Dean jumped into action. A transport was exactly what they needed, especially if they could all fit inside. It would conceal them, give them free rein past the colonists, and provide a much faster egress to the FOB.
“Tallgrass, do you have charges that can bring these trees down?” he asked.
“One at a time, or several?”
“One each on either side of the ambush zone.”
“Yes sir.”
Dean marked two points roughly a hundred yards apart on either side of the position covered by the platoon.
“Here and here,” he said. “Make sure those trees come down across the road. We have to block them in, force them out of their vehicle. Listen up, platoon. We are taking that transport, whatever it is, so do not disable it in any way. We’ve only got a few moments people. Stay sharp.”
“Sergeant Tallgrass,” Ghost’s voice ambled through the taclink like a lazy Sunday breeze, “don’t forget I’m up here. I’d hate to be in the tree you blow down.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“HA, defensive positions,” Staff Sergeant Chavez said. “Everyone else take cover behind them.”
Dean was the only other person on his side of the road that wasn’t already behind the Heavy Armor Specialists. He made his way back where Sergeant Bear D’Vois, and Corporals Adkins and Pimrey were positioned. The three HA Specialists had their backs to the road, their big titanium-hydrogen alloy shields overlapped slightly to create a wall between two massive trees. The hulking soldiers were down on one knee, their utility cannons tracking the road as they waited for their target. Harper was facing them, still on one knee, double checking her MSV’s that were positioned just off the road, two on each side.
“First charge set,” Tall grass said.
“It’s a troop carrier,” Chancy said. “Looks like a box truck.”
“Are they good guys or bad?” Adkins said.
“With all the interference,” Dean said, “we can’t know which side the Brass is coming down on. My guess is that neither side wants our help. We’re outsiders, interloping on their civil war. We have to consider them to be hostile.”
“I’ve got the bogey in my sights,” Ghost said a minute later.
Dean enlarged the vid feed from his sniper and saw the road meandering through the trees like a river. The transport was essentially a big engine, with an enclosed cab for the driver, and dark green canvas over the back. The canvas was supported by tall, arching ribs and looked to be large enough for the entire platoon to fit inside.
“Sergeant Tallgrass?” Dean said.
“Almost ready.”
“Steady people,” Dean said calmly. “Do not fire until fired upon.”
There was a steady chorus of Yes, sir from the platoon. Dean could see from the vid feeds that Chavez was in a good position on the far side of the road. The transport was loud, a diesel engine from the sound of it, with massive tires that crushed any vegetation on the road.
“Second charge ready,” Tallgrass announced.
“Just in time,” Pimrey said.
“Quiet!” Dean ordered. “Sergeant, fire the first charge.”
There was an almost immediate boom to Dean’s right. Then the sound of branches snapping as the massive tree toppled banging into its neighbors before crashing to the ground. The transport stopped in the middle of the road, directly in the line of fire from Dean’s platoon. Both sides of the vehicle were covered, and the locals wouldn’t be able to egress without being seen.
“Steady people,” Chavez said quietly.
The truck suddenly lurched backward, trying to turn around on the narrow road.
“They’re runnin’” Ghost said.
“Tallgrass,” Dean ordered.
“On it,” she replied.
Another boom and splintering crash as the second tree came down brought the vehicle to a halt. Dean forced himself to breathe. He could see via his TCU that every member of his platoon was excited. It was their first taste of combat together as a platoon and they were eager to show their prowess.
Sergeant Eleanor Tallgrass moved stealthily through the trees back to Dean’s position, adding her utility rifle to his, although Dean doubted that it was needed. If the locals were using transports, he didn’t expect they would have forces on the ground as well. And even if the transport was loaded to overflowing with soldiers, they wouldn’t stand much a chance inside Dean’s overlapping fields of fire.
“You ready on those smoke bombs?” Dean asked.
“Affirmative,” Tallgrass replied.
“Sergeant Harper, bring up the feed on the MSVs.”
Almost instantly Dean saw four small vid feeds appear on the periphery of his visual field. A few winks sent the feeds to every member of the platoon. If the shooting started, they were prepared, but Dean hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He knew his platoon wouldn’t kill the colonists, but things would be easier if they weren’t hostile.
One door opened, on the passenger side of the cab. Dean couldn’t see into the back of the truck, but he saw movement.
“Get me eyes inside that transport,” he ordered Harper who was controlling the MSVs.
He could see the movement of one of the little cameras but he ignored it in favor of the man looking around the outside of the transport. He had a semi-auto rifle, military grade but older than Dean. He didn’t know enough about antique firearms to make out what model the rifle was, but he knew it was deadly.
Dean switched on the exterior speakers of his TCU. The battle armor masked the sound of the platoon’s voices, and he could toggle the speakers on and off at will. He moved quickly away from the HA line he was behind and moved to the safety of a thick tree trunk before he broke the silence.
“My name is Captain Dean Blaze,” he said, causing the man to whirl around and raise his rifle to his shoulder. “Extra Solar-“
The shot cut off Dean’s explanation and forced him to duck behind the tree. Dean didn’t hear the shot that took the colonist down, but he saw the flechette dart strike home in the center of the man’s chest, via one of the mini surveillance vehicles Harper was controling. The colonist looked down, surprised, then fell to his knees. He tried to shake the effects off, but failed and toppled over.
Dean could see that nearly two dozen men were in the back of the truck. One of the MSVs was looking straight into the cargo area, which was only partially covered. The vid screen showed the men drawing back the cocking mechanisms on their weapons and lining up to jump out.
“Staff Sergeant,” Dean s
aid over the comlink, having already switched the exterior speakers off again, “I want one alive and ready to answer questions.”
“My pleasure, Captain.”
“Ghost, you take out that driver if you get a chance.”
“This ammo won’t penetrate the glass of the cab,” the lanky sniper said.
“I can fix that,” Tallgrass said.
Dean looked over as she snatched up a rock off the ground. It was the size of plum and she hurled the rock at the vehicle in a hard, overhanded, throw. The side window shattered on impact and Ghost immediately sent two shots into the driver from his position high in the trees.
Dean didn’t have time to see the result as soldiers came pouring out of the truck. The sounds of the tranquilizer flechettes being fired at a high rate of speed sounded almost like a flock of birds taking flight. The colonists fell to the ground around the rear of the vehicle, every one of them unconscious but alive.
“There’s one left in the truck,” FAS Harper said.
“That one’s mine,” Chavez said.
He appeared out of the tree line and moved to the side of the transport. Dean could see movement in the darkened interior, but he couldn’t make out what he was seeing exactly. In one swift, fluid movement Staff Sergeant Chavez stepped to the rear of the vehicle and rolled over his shoulder into the cargo bed and up onto his feet. A gunshot lit the interior for a split second, but Dean couldn’t tell what he had seen. The bullet shot out and into one of the many trees lining the road. There was a thud, then the rifle went sailing out of the back of the transport.
“Got me a live one!” Chavez crowed as he forced the man out of the back of the transport.
Welcome To The Wolfpack Page 10
