“Patrol.” He whispered with May and Siiri in earshot, “Lost them on my Con.”
“I’ll bet they see us,” the tanned skinned helmetless marine replied gravely.
Siiri began, “What are they going to do …” but she was interrupted by several plasma bolts melting the exposed engine of the bus. All three kissed the pavement and Torian leopard crawled over to Siiri who watched him wide eyed.
Then he rolled on his back with his rifle pointing up, “Friendlies! You assholes!” he yelled.
“Identify yourselves!” a harsh voice replied and Torian heard footsteps on the road as marines took positions behind other vehicles. He knew some carried heavier weapons than rifles; light machine guns (LMG’s), grenade launchers, and mini antitank canons, along with a patrol sized defensive shield.
“Survivors!” he called back and May shot him an anxious glance, “One Dragon Marine, one Hawkeye crewman, and a civilian.”
“Who is the civilian?”
Torian sighed, “I was hoping they wouldn’t ask that.” He kept his eyes on Siiri who reached for his hand, then he shouted back, “Admiral Bennion’s daughter.”
May twisted around and glared at him, while he shrugged, “They’re not going to believe me about her anyway, and he’s a Mormon, with a huge family and lots of daughters.”
“Oh yeah?” shouted the husky voice, “Which one?”
“Jarhead…” Torian sighed quietly, and then yelled, “Like you know them all.”
“You must be the Space Jockey, send out the Dragon, unarmed, first!”
Sitting up May undid her webbing and peered nervously at Torian, and then she raised her fist and hit his, “Semper Fi.” Solemnly he nodded back while Siiri inched closer to him.
“May …” she whispered, but the brown almond eyed woman winked and then stood up with her hands high in the air. She walked slowly around the smoking bus and took a few paces before two heavily armed and armoured figures strode out from behind a hover truck and grabbed her by the arms while a third appeared aiming his assault rifle.
“Not so rough, boys …” she clenched her teeth.
“The civilian girl next!” came the commanding voice.
Siiri turned to Torian nervously and he stroked her hair, “Just do as they say, hands high, and if they touch you inappropriately, kick them in the nuts.”
A faint smile appeared and she leaned forward and put her finger on his lips, “Don’t say anything stupid, Torian.” Then she got up, took off her webbing and pistol and walked around.
A moment later he heard voice inside his head, “It’s all right, Torian, they have us on the ground.”
“Come on out Hawkeye…” growled the marine in charge.
Torian stripped off his webbing and left his rifle, but he took his Con as he walked out hands high still holding the device, “I have a Con!” he shouted as two marines seized him and forced him to his knees. One took his Con and a third appeared with a smaller version of the assault rifle and a patch depicting three inverted green chevrons over crossed rifles in the center of his chest armour, his face hidden by his visor.
“All right smart mouth …” he studied Torian’s shoulder patch, “Callisto, huh.”
The marine’s green shoulder patch depicted a sword pointing down and Torian remarked, “Warlords … I heard you grunts were bad ass.”
“Wait till you get to base camp. Now, name, rank and you know the rest.”
Chapter 18: Warlords
The squad consisted of ten marines including two women. Each wore armor and webbing but since it was a day patrol, no backpacks or bed rolls. They had gone through the webbing of the three newcomers and returned them so that they could use the prox shields. The squad was made up of a squad leader, the sergeant, whose name tag was removed but Torian had learned was his name was Keith, two light machine gunners, one a large boned black woman. The LMG’s were a bit longer than a normal assault rifle, fed from a backpack and a tube firing large balls producing plasma bolts capable of penetrating heavier shields and light skinned armored vehicles. There was also a grenadier, who carried an assault rifle with a tube under the barrel to launch all types of grenades.
In each squad, there was an option for an anti air or anti armor personal light canon, or a large proximity shield capable of stopping light plasma bolts and heavy shrapnel from artillery, except for a direct hit. In this squad, one marine carried a generator on his back with a telescopic tube and a bulbous apparatus attached to the end. Finally, the last specialized member was the Multi-Con operator, who also carried a generator on her back with a rectangular scanner and a variety of different Cons on her webbing, designed for penetrating counter measure shields and long ranges into space beyond orbit.
Helmets contained similar but limited functionality compared to Cons, for communications and specialized imaging through the visors in a Heads Up Display (HUD). Cons provided Command and Control features with holo displays of tactical situations free of the confines in a HUD.
The marines studied images inside their visors, manipulating screens by blinking, fed directly from the Cons on their rifles. When they were off the parkway Sergeant Keith called a halt along an animal trail in the woods and the marines took defensive positions while the three escorted detainees sat together with Siiri close to Torian eying the soldiers nervously.
“10 minutes…” the squad leader growled “Evans and Collins on air watch, and no music or games!” Most broke out their cups to make juice or coffee, “Who has extra for our guests?”
The female radio operator removed her helmet letting her short soft red hair spill out and handed out some spare coffee cubes to Torian and May. Another marine, totally bald with unnaturally green eyes, and a rank symbol of two inverted chevrons over crossed rifles on his chest armor kneeled next to Siiri and gave her a juice.
“I’m Jack Wilder.” he flashed a shiny steel toothy smile.
“Um… thanks …” Siiri could not look away from his eyes, or his teeth. When he turned away, he looked back and gave her a wink.
The blonde haired girl quickly whispered to Torian, “What …”
Pouring coffee from a food processor Torian leaned close to her ear, “Night vision eye implants, steel teeth, and I’ll wager titanium tibia, cranium, and other bones. He’s a lifer.”
She also noticed that Sergeant Keith had the same green eyes, but with a mess of top-heavy charcoal hair cropped on each side. He watched the trio and put down his drink studying his Con.
“McCallum, right? C.S.S. Callisto?”
“That’s right, Sergeant.”
“You check out. A Hawkeye tunneled out before the cruiser was lost with her logs.”
“Who was flying?”
“Lieutenant Venus Calahan, a couple of Starhawks tried to ride her tunnel, only one made it. So we got all the logs. Know her?”
“Yeah, good pilot, I bunked with her LRRS tech.”
“According to the logs there was a Hawkeye crewman who survived the shield.” he stared hard at Torian.
“And you!” the gruff marine burned a glare at May, “You check out as well, sad to hear about your company.”
“Thank you.” she drank her coffee and glanced at the ground.
Then it was Siiri’s turn, and she shrank squeezing closer to Torian when the marine sergeant shook his head, “Got nothing on her, no Siiri Lauronen with her DNA tag anywhere.”
“She’s for the S-2.”
“Oh yeah, and how would you know, specialist?”
“My security clearance is a lot higher.”
“Does that include what’s blocking the scan in her head?”
Torian angrily glanced away, “No …”
“Who are you?” the squad leader focused on the civilian girl.
“I’m from here, this is my home.”
“You are from this planet?”
“Yes.”
“A likely story, an Imperium plant maybe …”
“She’s telling the tr
uth, I found her.” Torian spoke up in frustration.
“I’m sending her file to Headquarters, let them decide …”
Dark skinned Private Emma Evans hissed, “Solvairs!”
Instantly Sergeant Keith reacted, barking orders, “Gunners! Up front, Greene, get on the horn for air support, positions everyone and no movement!” The read head who gave Torian a drink knelt donning her helmet playing with the array of black boxes on her belt.
Kneeling beside Siiri and May, Torian put his arm tightly around the blonde girl and stared through the canopy of trees. Four sleek black and red fighters streaked through the air about three thousand feet up in a loose formation while everyone held their breath. The squad prox shield would not withstand a direct hit and while it might distort the targeting system of the delta-winged fighters for a few seconds, they would eventually lock onto the squad.
“Fly away, fly away …” May whispered next to Torian and Siiri gripped his arm.
“Damn!” Sergeant Keith hissed; one of the fighters began to peel away from the other three. It began to fly towards the parkway. Corporal Jack Wilder tossed Torian his old rifle.
“Nice job, he’s checking out the smoke from the bus.” Torian glared at Wilder, but then Siiri clamped her hand over his mouth.
“I’ll bust your pretty teeth …” Wilder growled.
“Shut up!” Sergeant Keith whispered angrily. They all watched as the Solvair lined up on the parkway and began to dump ordinance, sending mushrooms of fiery smoke all along the roadway, engulfing dozens of abandoned vehicles.
Lance Corporal Millyssa Greene tapped Sergeant Keith’s shoulder, “Two Starhawks on CAP, coming in.” Framed by birch and maple leaves they watched as two nimble Starhawks raced across the horizon towards the flight of bulkier Solvairs.
“2 against 4!” Sergeant Keith grumbled, “Typical Space Jockey support.”
Then Torian pulled Siiri’s hand away and grinned, “See the one with blue and white stripes?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Just watch …”
The entire squad viewed the two Starhawks racing toward the flight of three Solvairs with the fourth one gaining altitude fast to join the others. One deadly F-24 Starhawk fighter bore the standard light and dark blue colors, while the other stripes vertically along the thin fuselage. It suddenly veered away from the wingman and charged straight into the three Solvairs, a bold move. The three, caught off guard, broke in different directions, but not before the middle fighter twisted and spiraled out of control with smoke pouring from the cockpit. The rebel fighter twisted upside down and dove straight into the ground nose first. The pilot never ejected.
The striped Starhawk was just getting started, turning sharply and racing after the next Solvair, the enemy pilot clearly panicking trying to shake the Confederation fighter. The rebel made a fatal mistake of trying turn inside the more maneuverable Starhawk and with just one short burst from the nose gun of the sleek fighter the Solvair rose with a thin smoke stream under the cockpit and then curved downward seemingly drifting and then dropping straight down into the river.
Left to fend off two fighters gaining on his tail, the Starhawk wingman dove to the deck. He flew with precision over the treetops, banking and trying to outturn the enemy. The striped fighter then dove down to rescue his wingman swooping almost on top of the two enemy fighters breaking their tandem formation and sending them in different directions. The wingman tore after one fighter while his partner finished the next victim with another short burst. The last Solvair, instead of mixing it up, ascending high into the air and then ejected, parachuting down somewhere near the river a few kilometers ahead. Both Starhawks then raced away leaving two white contrails as they gained altitude.
“Ok McCallum that was some show.” the squad leader rose and motioned for the others to form up, “Who was that guy?”
“Declan ‘Dekker’ Stronn, an expert with a deflection shot, the fleet ace of aces.”
“Huh, well, let’s hope he sticks around...” then the sergeant touched his ear and put on his helmet. Receiving a call, he spoke quietly glancing at the radio operator. After he was finished speaking he gave Torian and Siiri a curious look.
“Ok folks, I’m sending you new coords, check your Cons, we’re rendezvousing with battalion, their sending an escort.”
“Oh, a ride home?” Wilder grinned.
“You wish …” the sergeant jerked his thumb at Siiri, “They want her bad, that was the colonel.” Then he waved to the squad, “Let’s move out!”
A tall marine named Nixon, though not quite the height of May, with tapered blonde hair under his helmet, took point. The Dragon Marine put on a good show, but she still limped slightly and winced occasionally. The squad wound single file around thin trails keeping the parkway in view. Torian studied his Con attached to his rifle and then glanced at the sky.
The point marine suddenly knelt, signaling to stop with his fist. Siiri crept close up behind Torian and crouched beside him. Then the squad witnessed more than a dozen dots in the sky become bigger diving rapidly.
“More Starhawks,” May whispered from behind, “Looks like a whole squadron.”
The sergeant was talking in his helmet near the female multi-Con operator and nodding while the rest of the squad took defensive positions.
Lowering his head so that it almost touched hers, Torian spoke softly into her ear, “Listen, do as they say, and be strong.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“I think they’re going to take you to the base camp by air.”
“I won’t go without you.”
“It’s safe there, better than this patrol.”
Then she gripped his arm, “Torian …”
“All right, let’s get going, we’ve got our air cover.” the sergeant prodded the marines and they all glanced up at the formations of fighters, each breaking off into groups of four, with sixteen in all. In the dense under brush wearing camouflage that changed instantly blending with the colors, the squad literally vanished, unseen except for a dark blue flight suit. The combat clothing was made of special material that with a simple scanned image from a Con could change like the skin of a chameleon. Covered in tiny millimeter squares like large pixels, the material reacted to signals manipulating changes on the fly. While on patrol, a marine could be constantly changing the camouflage in real time. Most of the time they just left the pattern on a specific default setting, but in tactical situations, they changed it to match the environment. Normally the fatigues were an ambiguous pattern of brown, green, and black squares with a tiny rank insignia on the front that could change color from black to light green.
In just under an hour, the patrol came to a stop next to a clearing by the parkway not far from old broken flat panel traffic signs from a main intersection. In the clearing were over turned benches and picnic tables where it was once a small family rest area, now full of weeds. Sergeant Keith signaled a stop and everyone took up defensive positions with May, Torian, and Siiri in the center. He then made a call on his Con.
Previously unseen, but now their presence known by a low whining noise, three Spacemasters suddenly appeared over the treetops while two flights of Starhawks over flew the position. Siiri was clearly nervous, clinging to Torian’s arm as the three monster spacecraft hovered over the parkway near the clearing. One of them was like the others they had seen, especially May’s box like vessel that had crashed. The other two were different; the troop carrying rectangular structure underneath replaced by a huge double gun turret hanging upside down rotating menacingly hunting for potential targets.
“Gunships and tankbusters,” Torian whispered to the girl whose pretty azurite eyes were wide and scared. The two heavily armed Spacemasters circled the pickup area while the troop carrier landed stirring up dust and debris and pushing away abandoned hover vehicles with its heavy thrusters. Fighters continued to fly overhead.
The back of the large space vessel faced the tree line where the s
quad lay hidden. There where three doors, two on the sides open with plasma machine guns pointing out, manned by helmeted marines, and the back door opening downward into a ramp. When the ramp hit the ground slowly, a squad of twelve additional marines fanned out and took positions crouching around the Spacemaster. They were a little different from the marines in the squad, wearing camouflaged berets and sporting dark sunglasses with shorter compact assault rifles.
“Commandos…” May remarked in hushed tones, “… they’re going all out.”
“What’s the difference compared to regular soldiers?” Siiri turned still wide-eyed to the tanned skinned marine.
“More implants and really expensive toys...” she started to grin at Siiri trying to give her a little reassurance.
“…and they love this crap.” Torian grumbled.
“I want to run away…” the blonde haired girl winced.
The wiry flight specialist clutched her hand, “Real food and a hot shower, it will be all right, Siiri, and we’ll be along later …”
The sergeant came up to both of them, “Ok little lady, time to move.”
“Can’t he come?”
“Or Private Xiong, she’s injured.” Torian added.
With a scowl, the squad leader pointed at his rank insignia, “See this? Do you see an eagle? They only want the girl. And the longer they wait, the more we’re all exposed!”
“Yeah I get it.” then he leaned close to the frightened girl, “I’ll come find you when I get there.”
“Promise, Torian? Promise me!”
“I promise, Siiri.”
“Nixon, get up here!” the sergeant shouted, then turned back to Torian, “And give me your Con, they want logs.”
Forcing a nod Siiri glanced up at the sergeant and the other marine with the tapered blonde hair, “All right.”
The Battle for the Ringed Planet Page 20
