by Rolf Nelson
Hanging the glowstick from a ceiling hook, Lag glanced to the 230 inscribed over the firing ports. “Adjust zero, 230 meters. Drop twelve clicks.” They both adjusted their scopes. Popping up the firing ports, they gently pushed the barrels out. Before them, much closer than before and at a different angle, lay the compound. Several men were cautiously peering over or around cover, searching the blasted and cratered hillside for movement. No invaders were visible in the field. Lag and Brother Libra could hear them call and point, but the words are indistinct. After much yelling, five men stood and started to advance while two others crouched behind and watched through binoculars, peering around the edge of a blown open doorway. The five formed a scrimmage line and started to advance toward the tree line off to Lag’s left. As he watched, one shouldered the rifle quickly and shot a couple of times into the grass near his feet. Clenching his jaw he whispered to Libra. “Two in the door. Range two-sixty. Hold four centimeters high. No wind, take the click off. You take the left one, I’ll take the right. Ready?”
“I take the left one in the doorway, binocs. No wind…” Libra adjusts the turret on the scope without taking his eye from the glass. “Hold-over four cm…. Ready.”
“On the third beat. Breathe in… Breathe out… Squeeze-” Both triggers broke cleanly and nearly simultaneously, their shots covering in the distance in less than a third of a second. Coming off recoil, they saw the two intruders slumping down. They shifted their aim points swiftly to the men in the field, who whirled upon hearing the supersonic crack passing behind them. Two more of them went down, then two more a moment later. The last one dropped awkwardly, his dive for cover interrupted by two bullets passing through non-vital body parts. They scanned the fields and buildings, but no more movement can be detected.
“Anything?”
“No.”
“Time to move again.” Moving swiftly back down the tunnel Lag led down a different branch before stopping at one of the sandbagged intersections about a hundred meters further on. Hanging the rifle’s sling on a nearby hook, he rapidly shifted some of the sandbags to reveal a narrow entry to another tunnel, concealed from the main passage. As soon as it was open, he grabbed the rifle and slid through, Libra right behind him in the dim light of the glowstick. This passage angled sharply downward, then leveled off, obviously running under the field and track toward the house. “I put this in almost twenty years ago after a close encounter with a vengeful sort. Just in case. The family knows about it, but no one else. Kids are taught bolt for cover first, go to ground, go for help next, try to help last. Grandkids are not old enough to understand or keep a secret yet. Hoped to never need it. We’ll be entering up through a trap door in a back room.”
Without words exchanged, both changed the scope settings to low magnification, point-blank zero as they move quickly down the tunnel. Finally it came to a T intersection. Lag led a short way down to the right to an apparent dead-end. Lag pushed on a seeming blank bit of wall causing a small portal to open, allowing him to fold out a shelf with equipment on it. He put on and buckled up body armor with several magazines and pouches, and picked up a much more compact rifle with better close-quarter optics, as well as a gear belt with holstered pistol, magazines, and water-bottle. Libra donned similar gear from among the three remaining sets.
Performing a quick function-check, seating a magazine, and working the action, Lag motioned back the way they had come. Going a short way down to the other branch to the left, he mounted a series of low stairs climbing toward the level overhead. At the top was a square above Lag, a hinged plate with a simple latch, handle, and lift. With rifle ready, he silently slid the heavily greased latch back, then gently pumped the handle of a small manual hydraulic jack hooked up to one side, slowly raising the hatch upwards. Peering out across the floor from a corner of the room, he saw nothing but debris, and heard nothing but the barely audible whimper of a scared child. Pushing on the armor plate of the hatch by the handle, he shoved it quietly up, pausing as a small amount of something on top slid as the angle increased, and softly bumped into the wall when it hit bottom. Lifting the plate the rest of the way, rifle and eyes on the door as he rose, he stood up and scanned the closet. The shelving is intact but with disarrayed contents, the lights on, and door ajar. Stepping out of the trapdoor, he motioned to Libra to follow him while he covered the door and carefully peeked out. He slowly opened the door, keeping the rifle aimed down the hall, “slicing the pie” as he silently expanded his view.
Seeing nothing that needed shooting once the door was open enough, they began to carefully and methodically clear the house, Lag on point. At each body they passed, they checked for a pulse, even when it’s obvious there won’t be one. With each silent face he saw, Lag’s gradually hardened even more, becoming more automaton-like, and dangerous. Approaching a room from which the small cry could be heard, he tapped gently, almost silently, on the wall. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap… Tap. The crying slowed, then continued, with a small tap back. Tap-tap-tap… tap-tap. Lag held up two fingers and pointed to the room entryway they were about to pass, nodding in reply to Libra’s quizzical look. Carefully so as to not make a click, he switched the selector to three-round burst. He stepped boldly around the entryway with shouldered rifle rising as he cornered. With two quick trigger pulls he put six rounds into the two men covering a small cluster of hostages huddled in a corner. One intruder was already aiming at the door, and fired from less than three meters away, hitting Lag in the chest and destroying a magazine in a chest pouch. He did not live long enough to know the armor stopped the bullet cold, leaving nothing by a bruise to be ignored until later under the flood of anger and adrenaline. Lag’s trio of vengeance had no such problem with the hostage-taker’s much cheaper armor. Heart, lung, and spine did not deal well with the 6.5mm bullets passing through, mushrooming to advertised spec at more than 770 m/s. The second man, facing the other way, took them low in the back. Spine and liver failed catastrophically as the fast-moving metal shredded bone and flesh.
The six suppressed shots sounded loud in the near silence, even though their hearing had not recovered fully from the previous explosions that left these survivors bruised and bloodied. The five adults and four children flinched back at the sudden movement and gunfire and the collapsing men beside them, before looking up at the savage visage of the Colonel-barely recognizable with its silent feral snarl-in shock. Recovering his professional working expression quickly, he motioned finger-to-lips for them to remain silent as Libra covered the door and Lag raced to the blown out window to see if anyone heard or was moving outside. Satisfied it was clear, he turn and knelt, hugging them each child briefly as they huddled around quietly suppressing noises of relief, while Libra un-cuffed the adults.
Disengaging himself from the kids, he picked up one of the dropped guns, and handed it to his son-in-law, who took it silently with a stoic look and a nod as he did a chamber-check, then started stripping an interloper’s corpse of ammo. Lag’s daughter picked up the other rifle, a model familiar to her, and did the same before joining Libra, who had returned to covering the door.
Facing an eight year old boy with a serious expression Lag asked quietly, “is your Sky Spy handy?” The boy nodded and pointed to a corner. “Get it, fly it out the window.” The boy quickly retrieved the toy, a small quadrotor flyer with a camera. Folding out the arms and clicking them into position he looked at the window, realizing it was a bit too small for the RC toy to fly out. Taking it from him Lag gently maneuvered it out the shattered window and around the son-in-law watching, rifle ready and pointed out the same window. Holding it far enough away from the wall and window so it could fly free, Lag asked “Got a picture?” the boy flicked a switch and nodded. “Power? How long”?
Looking at the screen a moment the boy reports “Only about twenty minutes left, Sir.”
“Good enough. Take off, get it up a hundred meters or so, and then let me have it.” The boy pushed levers and twisted a dial gently on the remote
control app of his tablet, causing the whir of small electric rotors to waft in the window as the half-kilogram of composites, metals, and electronics buzzed gently outward and up. Working the controls, he flew it up high over the compound, then handed it off to the older man, now with the CQB rifle slung across his chest. Lag set it on the bed to work it with two hands. Buzzing about the airspace overhead, he rapidly zoomed in and out identifying bodies and their likely condition, scanning back and forth looking for movement or uniforms, and getting a general picture of the scene. The children crawling away in the field would be fine, and could be ignored. The pair of adults he recognized, crouching in a ditch back to back with drawn handguns was good to see, but not of immediate concern or use. The motionless uniforms with red spots on them were no longer an issue as they did their best to assume ambient temperature. A burst of automatic fire ripped out from nearby, sounding loud in the house. At the same time on his screen he saw a man taking aim upward at the flying toy camera above. The camera was aiming almost straight down the wildly moving barrel and its only barely controlled shooting.
“One or more shooters off the kitchen.” Pointing firmly to the boy, he issued orders rapidly and calmly. “Keep it flying fast, keep it high. Challenge and password are flying and monkeys. You,” looking at Libra, “are with me.” Facing his daughter he smiled encouragingly as he headed out the door with a quiet “back in a half-minute.”
Lag ran on the balls of his feet, with Libra right behind. He sprinted though the house to the far side, glancing through doors as he passed. His hard-calloused bare feet slid on the tile floor as he skated sideways into the kitchen as rifle-fire rattled and echoed about the pots and pans and other kitchen equipment. Sliding by them, he fired a short, high cyclic rate burst into each of the three masked and armed men he saw pointing their rifles out the windows and doorway. One was aiming up trying to shoot the Sky Spy, the others were expecting an attack from the outside and were unable to adjust fast enough. Putting a foot against a cabinet to keep it from slipping, he shoved off and ran out the other door, clearing the rest of the building at high speed. Libra needed to run as hard as he could to keep up.
As Lag ran by one door bullets flew out, cutting through the air where he was a moment earlier. He slid to a halt while more rounds splattered on the concrete, door frame, and wall. Behind him on the other side of the doorway, Libra halted just in time, not exposing himself to the gunfire. Quickly using signs, Lag indicated Libra should slowly angle around the corner to get a target, and Lag would be the distraction so Libra could fire from the far side. Libra nodded understanding and brought his rifle up, while standing as far from the door jamb as he could. He slowly leaned out and inched around until he could barely see the shoulder and leg of the intruder aiming at the opposite edge of the door. He nodded. Lag stuck a small corner of his rifle’s muzzle out into the doorway, hesitantly, as if by accident. Another long burst of full auto fire threw lead in their general direction, then the click-clank of a magazine release and an empty mag hitting the floor. Libra fired into the exposed leg of the reloading man, striking the femur just above the knee. Swinging the rest of the way around the doorway, Lag put hot copper jackets into another masked trespasser, who collapsed while trying to seat a full magazine into his assault rifle, another cheap knock-off of an ancient Russian design with an even cheaper optic. He hit the floor as empty of life as his spent mag was of ammunition. Libra’s swift kick to the head of the recipient of the monk’s bullet knocked him out cold.
Finding no other moving people in the building they hurried back to the room where they left the hostages. Pausing outside the door, Lag whispered “Flying.”
“Monkeys,” came the soft reply. Stepping into the doorway, rifle at low ready just in case, he saw the others lowering their weapons as he did, expressions of relief on their faces.
Looking at the boy controlling the Sky Spy he asked, “see anything?”
With eyes wide and face pale, the boy shook his head and moved to hand the tablet over, having seen far more than he wanted to but understanding the implied question of see anything that needs to be shot right now? Taking it, Lag rapidly looked around the compound again, zooming in and out. The roar and thunder of supersonic craft passing overhead rocked the walls, and made nearly everyone cower and look up in fear; Lag just smiled. “From the north. Friendlies from the base, off to make a mess of their ship, I expect.” He handed the tablet to one of the other adults and punched up an item and a number on a wall screen, then typed in a series of codes, bringing up a uniformed man with fourth Lieutenant Pips on his collar on the screen looking surprised. “Colonel Lag here. My home has been hit, I’m inside with some civilians so be rigorous with your target identification before you shoot anything. An unknown number of attackers, mostly armed with rifles, but also with a few heavy weapons. Several of them are now dead. There are likely several civilians about that are injured as well. Come heavy, wear class seven armor if possible to do fast, bring medics, and be here twenty minutes ago.”
“Sir, who-”
“I don’t know.” He smiled, and it isn’t a nice smile. “But I hope to know more by the time you get here.” He motioned to his in-law to keep the line open and give as much information as they can, while motioning to Libra.
Going quickly down the hallway toward another part of the house, rifle shouldered and ready, Lag paused beside a slumped figure in cheap armor, then slapped him hard and put the rifle muzzle to his head. The eyes opened, showing pain and fear. “Apparently, Brother, war won’t leave my family alone.” He prodded the injured soldier hard with the muzzle. “So we are going to find out who you are, and who sent you.” He leaned down into the man’s face, showing a feral grimace as he dug the metal into the flesh on the man’s temple. “You are going to tell me everything, even things you didn’t know you knew, because my family is off-limits.” His voice was quiet and cold, but intense.
The injured man’s eyes showed the pain of his injuries, but his voice trembled with hatred and defiance, even in its weakness. “You killed my family at Dustbowl! My brothers, my sister, my parents! You bloody butcher! You should have died there!”
Lag looked at the man in sudden understanding, but no pity. “They went there to kill. They would have killed you, too, if you stood next to me. They were blinded by hate and… they were blind. They didn’t have to go…. But you have to talk.”
“God sent me to kill you! It’s God’s will!”
“Your Mahdi is dead, as is every follower who could make it there. Ever thought that maybe it wasn’t God that sent him?” A brief look of conflicted fear flashed across the man’s face before his sullen, hate-filled stare returned. “Who paid you, who armed you, who flew you, who gave you information, who lead you, everything.” Lag ground the steel into the temple harder, drawing blood. “Your family is dead and dust. You can’t help them now. You can only help yourself. Easy or slow, I don’t care. But you will.”
Brother Libra put a gentle hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “Don’t go down that path, my friend. It’s a dark place.”
Lag met his eye, thought a moment, then looked back at the bleeding man he’s kneeling on. “You may think god gives you no choice, savage, but I will. You can help your extended family. Talk, tell me who funded and lead you-”
“Never!” the man whispered harshly, still defiant.
“-tell me everything, and I go after the ringleaders and money-men. Don’t talk, and after we ID your body I hunt down every living family member and corpse within four generations of blood relations, up, down, and sideways on your family tree, and make sure they all get unceremoniously dumped in unmarked mass graves on lifeless planets in deep space, after being covered in pig shit and burned to the bones…. You know I can. You know I will. As far as the universe in concerned, your family will never have existed. Your choice. I’m listening.”
Refit
A much-refreshed Captain Strom looked over Tajemnica as she sat in the landing ba
y looking strangely skeletal. The damaged hatches and turrets had all been removed, as had a number of other damaged items, and the blast-holes had been cleaned up a lot, leaving her looking like a huge and very odd ocarina. He felt much more like his old self, and he was glad that everyone else seemed upbeat with the progress being made on the repair and refit. It was hard to believe how much had been done in a little more than two days.
The interior had been virtually stripped, damaged drive core systems replaced, water-damaged vid panels, wiring, sensors, and modular parts pulled and replaced or were being cleaned, internal weapons systems checked and repaired, and living spaces sanitized and restocking had started. The hull repair tests had been going well, showing practical results from the experiments Stenson’s crew had run when not working on everything else. It sounded like hull repair to better than 90% original strength was likely, even for the most difficult damage.
The layer of super-capacitors and magnetic coils discovered embedded in the hull were a surprise. Any incoming shape-charge slugs that got more than a third of the way through would trigger a massive and highly localized transient magnetic field that would dramatically disrupt and slow the incoming molten metal slug. Strut had opined that it shouldn’t be hard to fix, but it wasn’t on the schematics… as if anything else was.
Allonia and Dorek hadn’t left their quarters except for meal times, where both seemed to have a serious appetite, and although Quiritis had been more excitable recently than when they met, it was mostly in a good way. Kaushik was appreciating the counseling Taj was providing, Bipasha was almost bubbly, and Harbin appeared to be recuperating well, finally taking a break from recruit instruction. He was last seen wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt teaching Quinn and his new posse of friends to throw, and catch, a baseball.
