by Franks, JK
The sound of Solo making his attack on the rear guards distracted the one standing over Scott. He rolled and swept the legs from the man, retrieving the Glock-17 from the man's waist and firing one 9mm shot through the man’s head. The sound of tearing flesh made Scott glance up, and right then, he saw Ghost moving into action. Two of the four men by the LSV were already down, the other two were trying to get a shot at Tommy who was moving with incredible grace and preternatural speed. The man who had always seemed more like a statue to Scott was now jumping, running and fighting with a fluidity that seemed almost artistic.
Tommy likes knives, was what Skybox had told him. He had brought plenty, strapped to him in every place imaginable. Now, those blades were slicing through the air, then skin and organs, before being withdrawn from falling bodies to be used again. Scott watched in morbid fascination as Tommy effortlessly flayed away the right side of one man’s face before throwing the same blade and catching the other in the throat. All with deadly efficiency.
Tommy retrieved the weapons, cleaned them on the dead guards’ clothing and quickly sat back down in the passenger’s seat. Scott shook himself from the mesmerizing carnage and looked up to see Solo walking between the two Humvees. He paused to piss on one of the tires before trotting back to the LSV where he hopped gently in behind Ghost.
“Are we done here?” Scott asked his non-responsive passengers. He switched the vehicle back on and rolled up and around the roadblock, taking note of three additional bodies. One more than he’d been aware of.
Nearing the rendezvous spot outside a short time later, a few miles outside Hackberry, Scott pulled to a stop. He checked the time and his GPS and looked over the water covered wetlands. Tommy climbed out silently, his clothes covered in blood, as was Solo’s fur. They all turned at a sound back down the bayou. A sleek black Barracuda Interceptor slipped around the far bend and cut its engines coasting smoothly up to the bank. Skybox gave a nod from the pilot’s cabin.
Skybox jumped out along with another soldier, then greeted his friends, taking notice of the blood stains without comment. It was just going to be one of those kinds of days. “Scott, you can wait here or take the Barracuda back out to sea. I’ll call you once we have the Padre.”
Scott shook his head no. “They are my friends out there, as long as I don’t compromise the mission, I’d like to go along.”
Skybox grinned, “Hoped you might say that—your girlfriend’s gonna be pissed, though.”
“She’s out of town, let’s just keep this our little secret for now, ok?”
“Alright, guys times a wasting.” Skybox loaded ammo and ordinance into the LSV weaponry, then switched the engines to electric for stealth. He sent the other man, a Ranger named Owens back in the Barracuda to wait near the Marco Polo. “Listen, Owens, stay chill when the shooting starts. We may need to exfil by sea. If so, I need you hot on the throttle—got me?” The man nodded and sped off back down the small canal.
They pulled off the highway long before the petroleum complex, weaving their way back toward the enemy camp. They exited the LSV and made their way through the thick brush to a vantage point. Skybox pointed and whispered something to Tommy who immediately disappeared from sight.
“Scott, we have no time for a real plan, you take Solo and try and get close to that trailer. Tahir believes that is the command post. I am going to take the Spider, pick-up a couple of my guys and go apeshit on these bastards.”
Scott had a growing sense of dread but nodded. “What if…you know...” he cut his eyes upward.
Skybox understood completely, “Let’s just hope they don’t.” The thought of a thirty-foot long telephone pole made of solid metal dropping on them from hundreds of miles up would make this a very bad day. “It’ll work, Scott, Tommy is going to clear a path, use Solo to help do the same. We’re going to take out the main threats as quietly as possible. We’ll keep everyone off you, but whoever is in the command post will likely be up to you. Once the alarms go off, we have to be somewhere else. We have to go now. You good?”
“Yes, Sky, good hunting!”
“You too, man. Let’s go get our friends.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Skybox picked up two of the SEAL team to use as gunners and eased the LSV to the top of a small berm giving him good sightlines to the NSF controlled compound. Although not 400 troops like they had first been told, the squad stationed here was not insignificant. He wondered if they knew how quickly they would all be sacrificed if the weapon orbiting high above was deployed?
While Skybox had scrubbed the official mission for most of his insertion teams, a handful of the special operators were recruited to assist him in recovering his friends from the AG. Three Army Rangers, including the one on the Barracuda, and four other SEAL team members. Those not in the LSV were easing into strategic positions. The NSF had the numbers and had the battle tech. Sky kept eyeing the large, olive-green microwave panels, he knew how terrible those could be if triggered. He’d seen the test and even had a small prototype used on him in a demonstration. It literally made you feel like you were on fire. The microwaves caused the water in your cells to vibrate fast enough to cause friction and heat. It could cause death at the highest settings but was best used as a physically agonizing deterrent.
The SEAL riding shotgun in the LSV, a man named Krychek, scoped the area making entries in the weapons targeting system for primary and secondary objectives. A single mic click from each of the other men let him know they were all in position. Ideally, they would hide and watch for as long as it took in order to go in at the optimal time. Today, they didn’t have the luxury of time. Skybox had worked out a down and dirty plan for engagement and extraction. Some plans are elegant, and then some are just ugly and brutal. This was much more the latter. More of a complicated method of suicide than actual military strategy, but…Well, fuck it, he thought.
His first sound-suppressed round was a clean headshot from 100 yards. The second got the man firing what appeared to be a fixed mount .50 caliber center-mass. Each of the remaining gun emplacements on this side would be getting similar treatments. No matter the skill level of the operator, a fully operational machine gun could level the playing field real damn fast. Those had to go, and, one-by-one, they did.
Scott felt a bit exposed without Bartos there to instruct Solo, but he’d trained often with the dog and knew most of the basic commands. When they got within sight of the white-sided trailer, he gave the signal that it was the objective. Then, he made a sweeping gesture and gave the hand signals for ‘quiet-kill-all.’ Solo dropped his head low and disappeared into the compound. The closest of the massive oil storage tanks towered overhead. On the far edge, he saw a blur of movement as one of the NSF troops disappeared from sight. Several seconds later, another went down. He knew this was Ghost working his way toward him, but he still could not spot the man.
Turning in the opposite direction, he saw Solo launch from cover at a man’s neck. The soldier never even managed to grab the gun hanging from his shoulder. He now understood Skybox’s plan. The enemy had too much ground to cover and had deployed the actual soldiers too far apart. So far that they might not have a direct line of sight of each other. Solo and Ghost were working their way toward him, it was about to be his time to move. That was when the first unsuppressed shot rang out. He stayed crouched and ran for a building near the command trailer. The shit was about to get real. All he could think of was that steel arrow being decoupled up in orbit.
Scott’s hands were sweating and his heart pounding as he knelt beside the block building. Marshaling his remaining courage, he ran and dove for the backside of the trailer. He heard agitated voices from inside. Then, all he heard was the LSV speeding through the compound both guns spitting out a deadly hail of rounds down range. The occasional bass woof of the grenade launcher added the perfect exclamation point to the effective firepower being unleashed. Concussive blasts from the explosions drowned out everything else. He didn’t even n
otice the bullet hole that appeared in the wall just above his head.
Jack was still trying to explain to the NSF officer that they were on a trading mission when the firing outside began. The commander began to draw his weapon as Jack ducked low and thrust a vicious leg kick into the man’s testicles. He went down with a noiseless expression of agony that made all of the men in the small room cringe in sympathy. There were two other armed guards in the small construction trailer that the NSF had converted to a command post.
Todd acted almost as quickly as Jack, but his man managed to get his weapon up before Todd reached him. He fired wildly hitting nothing but the far wall as Todd smashed a meaty fist into the man’s face. Jack threw an elbow into the nose of the man in front of him and watched proudly as DeVonte clubbed the third guard with one of the metal chairs they had all been sitting in.
“Get the guns,” Todd yelled. He had a grip on one, but the man Jack was fighting with was not ready to give in. DeVonte’s target just glared at him as he raised his handgun to fire. A blast went off and all turned to the now open front door. Scott Montgomery stood in the door, gun in hand looking for the next target. He moved in just ahead of Solo and both quickly cleared the room. The one guard lay dead, the other two were suddenly cooperative.
“Todd, Jack…” He stepped toward the young black man, helping him up, “DeVonte,” he said with a voice of calm that belied his actual state of being. “How goes it, guys, anything exciting happening?” As if choreographed, an enormous explosion rocked the trailer back and forth. “Oh, yeah…um, we need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Damn glad to see you, Scott,” Jack said as he picked up a gun and headed for the door.
“Same here,” echoed Todd and DeVonte.
“Solo out, guard,” Scott yelled as the four men exited the trailer on a dead run. Ghost appeared on their left side just as the LSV came into view on the right. Scott saw Skybox touching his ear then pointing straight up. He knew what that meant. Tahir had obviously radioed that the orbital weapon had been fired.
“Move your asses!”
They all grabbed onto the black LSV as it slowed and turned back toward the boat landing. Shots rang out and they heard DeVonte scream as he was hit by a round. Todd looped an arm around the boy holding him tight against the roll cage as they all sped out of sight.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
High overhead, the solid rod began its one-way trip to the planet's surface. It would reach ballistic speeds within a minute. One hundred and fifty miles below, only a handful of those involved knew what was coming. Colonel Shane Willett and his contingent from the combined 194th and those from the 1st were proceeding at full speed. “Looks like they are trying to start the party without us, boys,” the colonel yelled to his men when they heard the gunfight. They tossed the battle plan and headed straight for the storage fields.
Willett had been briefed on the ‘Ghost Army’ as well as the ‘Rods from God’ weapon but chose to ignore it. He was out for blood, and a smaller force defending the SOR just made his job easier to his way of thinking. As the facility in Hackberry came into view, neither he nor his 280 men knew they had less than three minutes to live.
The Naval officer shook his head but kept trying to reach the Army detachment. “Roundhouse to BigDog, come in.”
Commander Garret shook his head in frustration. While they had everything riding on this mission, too, he wasn’t going to be stupid. He’d ignored the guys in Harris Springs before and regretted it. When they explained the dangers involved today, he canceled all mission activities connected with the SOR raid.
“Sir,” a petty officer leaning over a console nearby said. “We have the bogey acquired on radar. Damn, that thing is moving…” Then he added, “Sorry, sir. Impact in 90 seconds.”
Garret dropped his head, Those damn fools. Yelling at his radioman, “Get me fleet command. Launch authorization alpha. Take that fucking mountain out. Do it now before that impact screws up comms. Goodbye, Madam President.
The LSV slid to a stop moments later beside the Marco Polo. They were just under two miles from the storage facility. Scott hit the ground helping Todd lower DeVonte down. The Navy Barracuda boat was just rounding the bend and pulling in beside the other boat. Skybox looked at the boy. The wound was nasty but not life-threatening. “Krychek, throw me your blow-out kit.” The Ranger checked his ruck and tossed the large wound trauma kit over. Sky applied the field dressing as Todd and Scott were carrying DeVonte onto the Navy boat.
“We have to go now, people. Impact is eminent.
Scott looked back at the Marco Polo and then to the bad-ass looking tactical vehicle. He hated leaving them both to the disaster ahead. That was when he saw Jack slumping off the back of the LSV. “Oh fuck, Jack!”
Surprisingly, it was Tommy who came into view and grabbed Jack dragging him quickly up and into the boat. The pilot was already backing away from shore and buried the throttle fully once clear.
“Jack, Jack! Preacher!” Scott was checking him for wounds. His chest was moving raggedly, and his eyes were open. One of the SEALs, seeing what was going on, jumped down and helped Scott roll him on his side. That was when they saw the raw, gaping wound spread across his back. Scott looked up and locked eyes with Todd who was attending to DeVonte. He gave a small shake of his head and saw all the color drain from Todd’s face.
“Big round, no exit,” the man said. He was cleaning the wound and stuffing it with the clotting agent. He tore open a battle dressing. “Going to need some help, have to get this wrapped around him tightly.” Todd had crawled over and was cradling his friend’s head. Scott helped lift Jack’s body and felt him writhe in pain. The bandage went under and around. The medic pulled it tight to seal off as much of the wound as possible. He made eye-contact with Scott, then broke it and looked for the full trauma kit. “Need to start fluids on both of them.”
Skybox was up front in the pilot’s cabin. “Faster, faster!” he kept yelling. “Get us out of this bayou, or we’re all dead.” They could just see the channel opening up to the sea ahead.
“Command says 90 seconds to impact,” one of the sailors yelled. Sky looked at his watch, then caught part of what was going on in back. He twisted around more to make sure Tommy was there and saw him in the shadows against the enclosed cabin wall. He was grinning maniacally. Curled up at his feet, a bloody-furred Solo appeared to be sleeping.
Powered by a pair of 575 hp diesel engines, the high-speed Barracuda was clearing the outer buoy markers in seconds. They were five miles from the site, But will that be enough?
“Thirty-seconds.”
The first use of a space weapon, and it happened to be targeting him. Skybox caught just a flash of light high overhead before seeing the entire coastline behind them erupt in a massive fireball. The solid rod of depleted uranium punched neatly through the middle storage tank and continued below into the salt dome cavern filled with crude oil. The kinetic impact ignited everything around it, including the air. The concussive wave stretched out for almost ten miles clearing everything in its path. The combined armored divisions under Colonel Willet, less than a mile away, literally ceased to exist as anything but disassociated molecules. Then came multiple sonic booms which shattered most of the windows in the boat and sent it careening well out of the water.
“Holy Shit!” someone said from the rear of the boat.
“Everyone take cover, we may get secondary impacts,” Skybox shouted.
The ballooning cloud of fire looked every bit the monster it was. None of those aboard had ever witnessed an atomic explosion, and while this was non-nuclear, it was damned close to what that would look like.
“Uh, sir,” the pilot said looking at a rear facing monitor.
Skybox realized the source of the man’s concern as he, too, saw the wave approaching from behind. The boat was fast, nearing fifty knots. The wave was traveling at nearly four times that speed. It was already nearly fifty-feet tall and growing. Sky punched the nav s
ystem. Quickly going through menus to find what he wanted. There, the deepest channel around. Most of the Gulf in these parts was relatively shallow. A wave grows as it travels through shallow water but, theoretically, should decrease in deeper water. He pointed to the location. “That heading, now!” The man expertly angled the boat in that direction. It was going to be close.
Jack had gotten fluids and morphine and was drifting in and out of consciousness. He had been awake to see the brilliant flash and whispered, “Oh, God,” as the boat had been lifted from the water and slammed back down. Scott grabbed Todd’s hand which was shaking uncontrollably.
Todd looked up, “I don’t know what to do, Scott. I can’t lose him.”
“I know, Brother. Be his friend. Tell him what he means to you…to all of us.”
DeVonte was awake now and watching in awe at the growing wave behind them. He too had gotten morphine. “Now that’s some shit you don’t see every day. Hey, Boss…what’s wrong wid Jack?”
Scott took the boy in his arms and leaned him up, so he could see better, “He’s hurt bad. He took one in the back. Messed him up inside.”
“No, ugh, uh…no, that’s not right.” Tears started streaming down the boy’s dark face. “Hang in there, Jack,” he said feebly.
The wave behind them was all they could see now. It looked more like a solid wall than water.
“It’s going to be close. Hang onto the wounded and brace for impact,” Sky yelled from the front.
