“Yes, Sir,” she slapped her neck and came away with a wriggling multi-legged insect. “This thing bit me.” Her hand already had a droplet of her own blood on it, and there was more as she squashed the offending native insect against a tree root. The forest floor was covered with decaying leaf litter from the sturdy trees above, and the three humans were dismayed to find all manner of insects and worms found the rotting leaves to be an inviting place to inhabit. Almost as bad was the sharp spikes of seed casings; the dropped casings had spilt open but the spikes were still sharp. If the downed pilots had need to sneak around quietly in the forest, that would be a problem, as the dominant type of tree had nearly-circular leaves of a tough, waxy material, kind of like a mountain laurel bush on Earth, Sami thought. It apparently had not rained in the area recently, as the fallen leaves were dry and cracked loudly when stepped on. That was the only good thing about being targeted by a sniper; the enemy was far enough away across the lake that making noise by moving around was unlikely to attract a shot in their direction. “These things,” she held up the squashed, yellow-green insect that had bit her, “aren’t poisonous, are they?” Her neck now itched, she couldn’t tell whether the sting was getting worse, or whether the feeling was paranoia.
“Skippy says the biology here is incompatible with human biochemistry,” Captain Zhau assured her. “We can’t eat them, and they can’t eat us.”
“Tell that to this stupid bug,” Sami muttered, and flicked away another bug that had been crawling up the right forearm of her flightsuit.
“Skippy did not say the life here can’t eat us,” Singh pointed out. “He said animals here can’t digest us. They won’t know that until we’re already in their bellies.”
“Yeah,” Sami rubbed her neck. The bite area was itching worse. That could be a biotoxin. It could also be a simple allergic reaction to foreign, alien, proteins in the saliva of the insect that bit her. The skin there could also be irritated simply from her scratching at it. She forced herself to leave it alone, holding her hands out in front of her where she could watch to make sure they weren’t sneaking back to rub at her neck. “But Skippy says a lot of things, and they aren’t always the Gospel truth, are they? He thought it would be just fine to go poking around in that dead AI canister. And he told us there was no intelligent life down here, didn’t he? The Elders are long gone, and he never considered there might be other survivors who made it down here. When we lost the ship and had to come to Gingerbread just to survive, I thought we would be in danger from whatever machines the Elders left behind. I never thought we would get shot at by little green Thuranin assho- Whoa!” Reed startled as a round glanced off the tree she was huddled behind, rocketed past her and dug into the dirt. She ducked as the buried round exploded, throwing up a fountain of dirt and rocks. Then she scrambled back behind the tree, to remain out of view. Keeping her head down and shielding her skull with one hand from small shattered bits of rock raining down, she crawled on her belly across the forest floor to hide behind another tree. Whoever was shooting at them had decent imaging equipment; Sami feared the enemy knew which tree was now protecting her.
That last round had exploded. The human pilots had been keeping count; one out of three rounds was a dud. At first, when some rounds exploded and some didn’t, Sami had wondered if every third round was a sort of tracer, but that didn’t make sense. With advanced technology, aliens almost certainly didn’t need tracers, and every sniper Sami had ever met was arrogant enough to disdain wasting a shot simply to enhance targeting. Each shot by a sniper was supposed to be a kill. The answer had to be the Thuranin equipment was old and unreliable. If Skippy was right, the Thuranin probably had not been able to use their high-tech gear, even if it was ancient. Only now that Skippy had ordered the Guardians to stand down were the Thuranin able to use weapons they must have kept in storage for a very long time.
Which meant the sniper could not have been able to practice shooting live rounds. That might be the only reason Sami and her companions were still alive.
“Reed, are you all right?” Captain Zhau asked.
“Yes, Sir, squared away. You? How’s your shoulder?”
“Fine, Lieutenant. We can’t stay here.”
“Agreed. They seem to know where we are when we move.”
“I don’t want to go up the hill,” Zhau mused. “We might run into those other Thuranin. But we can’t stay here.”
“We could, if someone wasn’t shooting at us from across the lake,” Singh complained. “On Earth, even a skilled sniper with a specialized rifle would have trouble making that shot. These damned aliens have technology that makes them super-”
They all ducked as another round hit the tree to the left of Sami, breaking the tree off six feet from the ground and sending splinters in every direction. Because Sami’s tree was slightly up the slope, it protected her from the worst of the flying wood shards, though she took impacts on the back of her right hand. “Ow. I’m Ok, Sir,” she assured Zhau. “If the Thuranin think they hit me behind that other tree, I’m staying right here.”
“Good thinking, Reed,” Zhau agreed.
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Singh warned.
“I am concerned that sniper is attempting to flush us out from cover, and straight at the Thuranin coming down the hill at us,” Zhau explained.
“Sir?” Reed interjected. “There’s a gap in this tree, I can see the eastern shore through it.” The tree formed a shallow Y shape near the ground, leaving a narrow gap.
“Yes, so?”
“So, Sir, they might think I’m dead. I can use my zPhone’s imager to pinpoint the location of that sniper, next time they fire.”
“Mmm,” Zhau considered that. “If you can identify where they are-”
“Yes, Sir.” Sami finished her leader’s thought. “The aliens out here have superior technology and genetic enhancements; they have every advantage over us. But there is one thing I know about modern combat that is true for everyone. If you can see it, you can kill it.”
“Call it in,” Zhau ordered.
Four minutes later, after two more rounds impacted and one of them caused a rock to thud painfully against Singh’s ribs, Sami knew almost exactly where the sniper was located. Interestingly, the sniper had not moved between shots. That demonstrated arrogance and tactical stupidity, in Sami’s opinion. “Viper Lead,” she called over her zPhone, “this is Fireball, do you copy?”
Viper Lead, the commander of the incoming dropships, responded immediately. “Viper Lead here. What is your status, Fireball?”
“We are pinned down by sniper fire. We know the sniper’s position, transmitting location over taclink to you now.”
“You have him located?” Viper Lead asked, impressed.
“Yes, Sir,” Sami replied with a wink to Zhau. “Would you mind delivering a message to the sniper from us?”
“Mmm,” Viper Lead’s voice reflected amusement. “I think we can do better than that. We will be in range within twenty seconds.”
Thirty seconds later, providing a ten-second safety margin, a door opened behind a Falcon dropship, and a single missile was ejected. The door snapped closed immediately, as an open door compromised the Falcon’s stealth and aerodynamics. The missile fell straight down to clear the formation of dropships, and fell farther to reduce its signature, before igniting its main engine. A jet of flame erupted from the missile’s tail, and it surged forward, exceeding the speed of sound in the blink of an eye.
Hugging the terrain, the missile raced south, then west as it crested the ridge of the hills east of the lake. Diving to follow the slope, the missile turned north, rocketing in on its target. It dove straight at the ground and detonated its warhead in a cone-shaped explosion, hammering a hundred-meter circle of ground with devastating force. Microseconds later, the body of the missile impacted the ground, dug in and its remaining fuel exploded, digging a crater three meters deep.
Across the lake, all three humans observed the missile strike, see
ing a jet of dirt shooting skyward above the tree canopy, then falling back down to create a cloud of soil, soot and mist. “Whoo, yeah!” Sami exulted without taking her attention off the target area. “Viper Lead, thank you, the target is toast!”
“We ran out of fruit baskets, Fireball, glad to hear the target enjoyed the message anyway. We are headed for the LZ now.”
“I do not think there will be any survivors in the target area,” Captain Zhau said with satisfaction. “Let’s move now, while that dust cloud obscures their view of us. If that sniper did survive, whoever they are will be keeping their head down for a while. Singh, can you move?”
“Yes, Sir,” Singh stood up stiffly, clutching her bruised ribs. It hurt like hell to breathe. “I may have cracked ribs.”
“I’ll help her, Sir,” Reed offered, dashing lightly across the debris-littered forest floor to assist her fellow pilot. “Which direction?”
Zhau pointed to the left. “The dropships LZs are to the north, so Major Smythe will be bringing his people in from there. Let’s save them part of the trip, eh?”
Sami grinned. “Good idea.”
At home base, Margaret Adams glared at Skippy's inert beer can. "What are you doing to do? What can we do?"
"Nothing, I am afraid," Skippy replied miserably. "Joe can't get himself out of that cockpit, and we have no way to go down there to get him out. I wish we did."
"He has not fallen to the center of a star, Skippy, he's in a freakin' lake.," she insisted with hands on her hips. "You mean to tell me with all this fancy alien technology, we can't extract the Colonel from a puddle of water?"
"As Joe would tell you, it is not a mere puddle. It is a glacial lake, very deep. It-"
Adams made a cutting motion. "That sounds like an excuse, Skippy."
"Uh, Ok, I know the United States Marine Corps does not allow excuses. However, as I am not a Marine, then realistically I must tell you-"
"You're not a Marine, but you are a pirate. We don't accept excuses in the Merry Band of Pirates either."
Skippy had no idea when to shut up and stop pushing his luck. "Technically, I am not part of the crew. You all work for-"
"You are part of the crew, Skippy. You insisted on being listed in the crew roster, remember?"
"Oh. That was a joke, Sergeant. No one really thinks my rank is Asshole First Class so-"
"No joke, Skippy. That doesn't matter anyway. You're giving up?"
"I do not see a realistic alternative."
"Bullshit. Bull. Shit. None of us gives up, not on anything. Never."
Skippy sighed. "Margaret, this is not a movie where the tough sergeant gives a stirring speech that inspires the troops to victory. I have already considered all possibilities to rescue Joe, and it is impossible. I will not waste my time-"
Adams snatched Skippy off the table and held him up right in front of her face. "Listen to me, you useless tin can-"
"Sergeant, that is uncalled-"
"It is totally called for, you worthless piece of shit. Your idiotic sorry excuse for judgment got us into this mess."
"I also rescued your worthless mudball of a planet." Skippy shot back hotly.
"You? You make it sound like you did that all by yourself, and that is Grade-A bullshit. Without Colonel Bishop giving you useful ideas to work with, you are a shiny Goddamn toaster. The two of you together are a great team. Separately, Joe is a decent sergeant and you are a fancy laptop."
"That hurt, Margaret."
"The truth often does, Skippy. You have been an insufferably arrogant asshole since the beginning, telling us how incredibly smart you are. Great, fine, I don't care if you insult me, they're just words. Now put your enormous brain to work, and think up a way to get Joe out of there. Because if we don't have Joe," she glared at him, "then we don't need you anymore."
"Uh-"
"I am waiting."
"Ok, maybe I could examine the problem again. It's not like, heh heh, I have anything else to do. Could you please put me back on the table?"
Adams slammed Skippy on the table hard enough that he wobbled. "Joe doesn't have much time. I expect a solution in five minutes."
"Five minutes? Come on, that is-"
"You keep telling us that five minutes in meatsack time is an eternity in Skippy time. Were you lying about that?"
"No. Working on it."
“This is acceptable,” Major Smythe declared with soft understatement. Then, even his typical British reserve could not stop him from breaking into a broad grin. “This is brilliant!”
The Merry Band of Pirates could not fly over enemy positions with dropships, but they had been able to deploy a half dozen stealthed recon drones after the dropships landed. The devices, no larger than a hummingbird, weighed almost nothing and therefore did not require much thrust to keep them aloft, which was the secret to their successful use. A heavier drone, like armed hunter-killers, had to rely on miniature turbines or flapping wings to counteract the force of gravity, and that disturbance of the air gave away their position. Even under stealth which bent photons around them, drones could be detected by the artificial downdraft of air beneath them. A downdraft and ionized air coming from an otherwise-invisible device was a clear giveaway of a stealthed drone’s presence. Drone designers attempted to make their drones less noticeable by disguising them as birds or whatever native life flew in that planet’s atmosphere. In rare cases, such disguises fooled enemy senses briefly; mostly semi-intelligent sensor systems could easily tell the difference between a real bird and a maser-carrying drone.
Often, the deployment of drones gave a military force only a quick glimpse into enemy territory, before the enemy’s counterdrones attacked and destroyed the intruders. Thus, Major Smythe was enormously pleased, nearly tickled pink with delight, that his force could rely on six stealthed recon drones to provide persistent data above their position, and over enemy territory. At first, assuming the useful life of his drones would be short, Smythe ordered the drone operators to fly them high and fast, to collect as much data as they could before being shot down. To everyone’s surprise, all six drones completed their missions undisturbed. Knowing he was pushing his luck, he instructed two of the drone operators to send their devices west of the lake; one to circle the three downed pilots, the other flew higher up the hillside to determine exactly how many Thuranin were there and what they were doing. The other four drones were detached to cover Captain Chandra’s team on the east side of the lake, and to scout how extensive the Thuranin settlement was in that area.
Through the visor of his helmet, Smythe, and any one of the Merry Band of Pirates on the ground near the lake, or orbiting the area in a dropship, or even back at base camp, had a God’s eye view from any or all of the six drones. Smythe could rapidly toggle from a visual feed from a single drone, to a composite image of the entire area, with enemy positions highlighted by red icons. “This is brilliant,” Smythe muttered to himself.
“Captain Xho,” Smythe called to the Chinese team commander, who had been sent to the west side of the lake to link up with and recover the three downed pilots. Smythe could see Xho had split his team, with three proceeding toward the enemy and two headed straight toward the three pilots. “Do not, repeat, do not engage the enemy. Break off before contact.”
“Sir,” Xho replied, understandably frustrated but Smythe could see Xho and the two people with him had halted. “We can intercept-”
“I have high confidence you can, Captain,” Smythe said calmly. Xho and his team had three of the Kristang armored suits and represented the most powerful ground combat team available to Smythe. On the west side of the lake, Captain Chandra had five armored suits, plus a combot, with two other combots back at base camp to deal with the unexpected. “The enemy’s capabilities are as yet unknown and we do not need to engage to accomplish the mission,” he reminded his subordinate. Xho was not the only commander on the scene eager to make contact and see what the enemy was capable of. From drone surveillance, Smythe kn
ew the Thuranin on the west side of the lake were not accompanied by combots and, in theory, represented a manageable threat. Smythe also knew from experience that you truly only knew what an enemy was capable of when the shooting started. Skippy had told Smythe not to expect any threats on the surface of Gingerbread, yet the Thuranin had fired antiaircraft missiles and used rifles. What other threats was Smythe faced with? “Extract the pilots, cover their egress and if we decide to engage, it will be at a time and place of our choosing, and on our terms. And if we hit them, we won’t have to worry about unprotected pilots getting in the line of fire.”
“Yes, Sir,” Xho replied, and Smythe was satisfied to hear the grim determination in the man’s voice.
“Hey, Joey,” Skippy said cheerfully.
“Hey, Skippy,” I answered weakly. “What’s up?” I asked after a coughing fit.
“I have a monkey-brained idea to rescue you.”
"I thought you said it was impossible."
"Sergeant Adams, um, persuaded me to consider the problem from a fresh perspective."
"Uh huh. Was this fresh perspective provided by her boot up your ass?"
"That damned woman can be very persuasive," he grumbled.
“So what is your idea?”
“It is a genius plan to rescue your worthless hide.”
“Skippy, I told you, I do not want Chang putting anyone at risk to get me out of here. A dropship hovering over the water would be a big fat target. Even if a dropship came in and dropped off a person in powered armor, it would be exposed to missiles too long-”
“I agree, Joe. Also, I considered the possibility of someone diving down to you in a Kristang armored suit, and that is a no-go. Those suits were not designed to work underwater; their maximum effective depth is about fifty meters above your position. The Kristang use specialized suits for underwater and high-pressure atmosphere conditions, we are not equipped with that type of gear.”
“Oh, crap,” I said. There went the idea I had been keeping in my back pocket, if Smythe’s team could take out the Thuranin and eliminate the threat to our dropships. “No powered suits swimming down to rescue me, then.”
Zero Hour (Expeditionary Force Book 5) Page 30
