by Danny Loomis
“Please, call me Frank. Yes, all my troops are down and the equipment’s being landed without a hitch, so far.” At first glance he wasn’t what was expected for an army General. Short, slight build, with thick glasses. Until you looked in his eyes.
Howell gestured to the table. “Make yourself comfortable. My friends call me Jim. I hear you prefer tea, as do I. It’ll be right in.”
Lawry nodded towards the window while sitting. “Nice view. From what I saw when I arrived its also very defensible.”
Howell smiled. “You’re right, it is. I’m impressed at the work your Division’s already done in that regard, too. Not only busy moving in, but you make time to set up a strong defensive perimeter. Nice.”
“We try to make sure we’ll survive, wherever they send us.” He took two folders from his briefcase. “I hear you’re having an increase of incidents from the rebels. Is this something I need to be concerned with?”
“I’d like to say no, but you already know better,” Howell said. “Smaller population centers, villages, and some towns have gotten downright nasty. When we move into a village to quell a disturbance, the entire place empties. Have the devil’s own time settling them down.”
“Would you like our assistance? Just say the word, and we’ll be glad to reinforce your units in those towns where you’re having the most problems.”
Howell shifted uncomfortably. “You mean troops? No, not yet at least. The reason for all this fuss is due to the heavy hand one of your commanders recently used. Caused an uproar across both continents when they slaughtered everyone.”
Lawry held up his hands. “You’re right, that was pretty harsh. Normally, we make every effort to separate the wolves out of the herd. Got out of control this time, on both sides from what I hear.”
“Actually, I had another thought about this problem,” Howell said. “We’re giving strong thought to bringing in our smaller garrisons to centralized locations. Mainly to the cities and selected towns. Fort up there, and send out beefed-up patrols.”
Lawry shrugged. “I’ve seen this kind of an answer to guerrilla activities backfire into disaster. You’d have to be in a serious position to do that. It’s hard to send forces back to re-invest a garrison once they’re taken out.”
“Believe me, I fully understand. But we’re seeing a four percent loss of troops by violence, and another four percent are deserting each month. Ninety-nine percent of both those numbers are from the smaller garrisons and outposts.”
Lawry straightened, eyebrows raised. “That high? Damn, hadn’t heard it was so bad.”
“Not something our leadership is proud of. But they’re pushing me hard to take some kind of measures to stop the losses.”
“In that case, you probably do need to draw your troops into more centralized garrisons. I’d like to offer you another tool that may help. How would you feel if we offered to have six Vipers on call around the clock? Air superiority is a powerful weapon. We’d provide personnel to handle the communications on the ground, and backup forces if needed to reinforce any point necessary on either continent.”
Howell felt a smile building on his face. “That sounds excellent. What kind of munitions would you have with the vipers, and with any relief forces you might supply?”
Lawry handed him a folder, hiding his smile of satisfaction. Step one in his occupation plans had gone without a hitch.
PLANET EIRE–REBEL BASE (Day +75)
“Load ‘em up, Sergeant.” Irish watched while Nolan led six snipers onto the shuttle. Having him do the inspection of the team prior to liftoff was satisfying. In just a few short weeks he’d grown into a top-notch sniper and even better NCO.
After the last one disappeared inside, Irish trotted up the ramp. “All right children, time to earn our keep.”
After a thorough pre-flight check by Nolan who was his co-pilot this trip, Irish closed the ramp. “Cloaking on, if you please.”
“Yessir. All systems green.”
The shuttle lifted and began its slow trip towards the town of Tanhill, ninety kilometers south of Cork. Irish had decided to be extra careful this trip, since the skies were noticeably busier with Alliance ships. Still landing troops and equipment at their base near Galway, which meant air security was tight everywhere.
Once at an altitude of 500 meters and moving 80 kph, he set the automatics. “Okay, Nolan. What do you remember of the briefing this morning?”
After a quick check of the board in front of him, Nolan reached for his notepad.
“Wup, do it without the notes first time around. Notes are good, but sometimes you need to rely on your brain for the answers.”
He smiled. “Sergeant Smith said you might pull this on me. Okay, let’s see. First of all, Major Long is super boring when giving a brief. Far as the mission goes, we’re to set up four sniper’s nests five to eight hundred meters from the ambush site that twenty freedom fighters will prepare along Bellevue Road at the coordinates we were given. They expect a platoon or more of Legs to be traveling along it this afternoon. At least that’s what Intel thinks. Probably from one of the village garrisons west of Tanhill.”
“What’s so important about Tanhill that they’re moving troops that way?”
“They’re starting to centralize all the outlying troops stationed in at least twenty village and town garrisons in this district. Tanhill’s to become their new base of operations.”
Irish glanced out the window and back at Nolan. “And our mission?”
“Kill the leaders of those being ambushed. And do the same with the troops they send from Tanhill to chase off the freedom fighters.”
“Right. Good memory, even if you were bored out of your mind by the good Major’s brief.” He checked the time. “We should be there shortly. Why don’t you go back and make sure our cargo isn’t tensing up? Tell ‘em one of your stupid jokes, that ought to do it.”
He unbuckled and headed for the bay. “Hell, Sir, it was only one stupid joke. The others were pretty good.”
Nolan was just sitting back down when a light pulsed on the board. “Ground contact front,” he said. “Looks like the team’s moving in for their ambush.”
He brought up a map of the area they were approaching on the screen while Irish slowed and hovered a thousand meters over the site. A sweeping bend in the road turned to the east. Green ciphers depicting the freedom fighters concentrated at the head of the bend, giving them good fields of fire down both avenues.
“Hope they don’t get antsy,” Irish said. “From what we saw on our fly-by the Legs hadn’t left their garrison yet.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Nolan said. He studied the surrounding area. “Hey Captain, how about the ridgeline above the bend? We could put two teams there. Close to the ambush, and should have a good view of the road before and after the turn.”
Irish studied the screen. “You’re right. Two here,” he touched the map, “and the other two above the ambushers on the opposite side of the road.” He turned to his control board. “Why don’t you get a couple teams ready? I’ll land us on the western side of the road first. Make sure their comms are on Tac two, will you?”
After dropping the first two teams, Irish searched for a good hide to park the shuttle in. Two kilometers away he located a patch of straggly trees just off the crest of the ridge. Within minutes they trotted back to the site overlooking the ambush. The other team with them took the left side of the ridgeline, leaving Irish and Nolan the eastern side.
“They got the good side,” Nolan grumbled. “That’s where all the action’ll be.”
Irish smiled. Not too long ago, that would have been him griping. “Don’t worry, Sarge. We’ll get more than our share when the reaction force shows up.”
“Teams one and two ready,” came the whisper over the comm.
“Good timing.” Irish scoped to his front and down the road leading east. A post at one thousand meters marked the furthest he’d want
to try a shot. The rock at seven hundred would be prime for distance. Redirecting his scope, he checked the distance to the middle of the bend. Four hundred meters.
“Team three ready,” came the signal from the pair on the other side of the ridge from them. Nolan had already finished prepping his cammys and was industriously scraping out a shallow hole. Irish took a cloak from his rucksack, made of the new camouflage material. Didn’t bend light around him, but did a pretty good job of changing colors to match the surrounding area. He’d found an already existing depression seven meters downhill from Nolan that was perfect for his needs.
“You ready yet, Sarge?” he asked, glancing towards Nolan.
“No fair, Sir. You not only don’t have to tie junk on your cammies, you found a hole that was already dug. Gonna get lazy that way.”
“That may well be, but I still beat you.” He chinned his comm. “All teams are now ready. Make sure to search your areas well, and find at least two escape routes. Unless you want to walk home, don’t get lost.”
Irish was busily scoping the downslope towards the road when he spotted movement. A green clad figure crept from a clump of brush, looked around and began urinating against a tree. “Damned idiot,” he muttered. One of the cardinal sins for ambushers was moving. This joker was also standing with very little cover around him.
“Be alert, folks. There’s been some movement at the ambush site. Must be getting nervous.”
Minutes later his comm alerted onTac one. “Scout One, this is shag. You got hostile air assets headed your way, looks like four fast movers.”
He keyed over to Tac two. “All teams, freeze in place. We got four inbound bogies.” Obeying his own command, he sank down and went still.
Four missiles impacted the ambush site with shattering blasts. One after the other, four spear-shaped Vipers streaked over, unleashing one second bursts from their particle beamers.
The sudden silence was jolting as the roaring violence had been. It was another ten minutes, filled with fruitless scoping for any movement at the ambush site before Nolan called. “Movement on the road.”
Eight vehicles came barreling down the highway and passed the ambush site without pause. A scout vehicle and van pulled over after the others passed. Six soldiers exited the van, two from the other. They gathered in a knot on the shoulder of the road, while one began a briefing.
Irish bared his teeth in a snarl, then forced himself to relax. “All teams, pick your targets. Nolan, you take the leader. On my signal...” He waited two seconds. “…Fire.”
All but one man fell threshing to the ground. He was able to stagger two steps before multiple impacts sent him crashing down. Irish scoped the scene, paying close attention to the van. Nothing moving. “Not bad, folks. Teams one and two, withdraw immediately to Point Gold. Remember to take it slow. We’ll be there when it’s safe to pick you up. Team three, with me.”
* * *
“Hey, Bernie, how’s it going today?”
She looked up with a smile. “Well if it isn’t the Captain. What might you have brought me today?”
He placed a silver inlaid pistol on her desk. “A thirty caliber handgun from one of the best gunsmiths in Ennis. Our lord and master in, by any chance? He asked me to stop in this morning.”
She absently nodded, eyes fastened on the pistol she’d snatched up. “Sure, go ahead.”
He strolled in. “G’morning, Brian. Thanks for telling me what kind of toys Bernadette really likes.”
“What did you just call her?” Brian asked, eyebrows raised. “Did you by chance call her Bernie?”
“Um, yes, I did. Was that a bad thing?” He settled on the edge of a chair feeling a twinge of uneasiness. What had he done wrong now?
“Damn, she’s pretty finicky about who calls her Bernie. Only her folks and me have ever been able to call her that without some kind of fireworks happening.”
Bernadette came striding in, brandishing the pistol. “Look, Brian. A beautiful weapon, don’t you think?”
He took it from her, turning the semiautomatic over in his hands. “It’s gorgeous.” He looked at Irish. “Where’d you get it?”
“A shop in the town north of here. Fallagh, I think it’s called.”
Brian handed the weapon back to her. “Nice balance. Any ammo? Or were you afraid she’d shoot you?”
He held out a paper sack to Bernadette. “Here’s all I could afford after getting the pistol. Afraid I’m broke, now.”
“What? Haven’t you been picking up your credit chit from Bernie?”
“Bernadette laughed at the surprised look on his face. “Don’t worry. I left a bit in your account. See me after you’re done in here. I’ll line your pockets with gold.”
Brian was still chuckling after she’d left. “Yeah, she likes you. Not only didn’t shoot you for calling her Bernie, but might not have spent all your money. You’d better take her out to lunch after we’re done here. That’ll let her spend the rest of it.”
“Seems like I’m always stepping in it when I show up here lately,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, before she decides to shoot me after all, I’d better brief you up on the snipers.”
“I heard about your incident outside of Tanhill. Too bad about the freedom fighters. Expensive way to learn about making sure you aren’t observed from the air besides the ground.” He shook his head in frustration. “Not only that team got killed. Another group was spotted down by Galway when a Viper flew the route ahead of an alliance convoy.”
“I wish we had the proper guidance systems to put on the shoulder fired rocket launchers. That would put a damper on them.”
Brian smiled. “Ah, but we do. At least now we do. They’re being fitted on the new launchers that’re coming off the assembly line now. In a week we’ll be shipping them to everyone.”
“Excellent. We’re also ready to deploy forty-five sniper teams, instead of the twenty we’ve been sending out. I’d like to send ten of those teams over to the other continent, Burunda. They can not only conduct missions but train others while there. We’ve also got flex room in their missions, so we can work in priority targets that you feel are most important to remove.”
“That’s quite a few teams,” Brian said. “You leaving anything in reserve, for training or emergency missions that might come up?”
“Yes. We’ll have four top notch trainers still busy here, and two teams on standby.”
“Man, that’s music to my ears. We need to have some good news to put out over our information net.”
“We’ll start placing our teams tomorrow, and expect to be hearing results a couple days after that. Each team has at least two target areas to work on, so probably will be in the field at least a week or two. Oh, and by the way. We could really use some help coordinating the communications with them.”
“How many people you need?”
“Two would be enough, three if we get really busy.”
“Get with Bernie after this and she can set you up.”
Irish sauntered to Bernadette’s desk, marveling at the efficient way she loaded bullets into the magazine for her new toy. “You seem to have some experience with weapons.”
She seated the now-full magazine in the butt of the pistol. “Yep. Since I was ten.” She handed him a plastic card. “You’ve got two months pay on that one. When we get back from lunch, I’ll give you one to use for expenses.”
His eyebrows twitched. “Lunch?”
She stood, hooking her arm through his. “That’s right. We’ve got some things to discuss. You mind?”
A feeling he didn’t remember having for a long time tingled through him. “Not at all. Long’s you pick the place.”
Bernadette laughed. “Since there’s only one place other than the chow hall to have lunch around here, you’ve probably got a good idea where we’re headed.” She pulled him towards the door. “Let’s get out of here before the boss notices I’m gone.”
Fifty meters down the tunnel from her office was Stacy’s Pub, one of the most popular places in the cave system that made up the main rebel base. They entered and immediately turned right, away from the familiar bar area. “Hope you don’t mind, but I got us a room in the back.”
Irish craned his neck while they passed several entryways into other rooms and tunnels. “This place is a lot bigger than I thought.”
“Ever since our last expansion of troops they renovated the place. Now they can hold upwards of six hundred customers on a payday night. Ah, here we are.” A closed door opened to the touch of her I.D. card, revealing a small dimly lit dining room with only four tables. “Pick a table, Captain. Any table.”
He made a beeline for the last table. Once seated, Bernadette took both his hands. “You’re not hungry yet, are you?”
Irish felt himself falling down, down into the depths of her green eyes. “No. Just for you.”
A sad smile crossed her face. “You still have feelings for her.”
A deep flow of loss coursed through him. “Yes. But she’s gone, and said to move on with my own life.” He gripped Bernadette’s hands, tears starting. “I know I have to, but feel so lost!”
She loosened one hand and stroked his face. “Tell me, Ian. Tell me all.”
* * *
“So then Marcus and Billy tried to blame me for the broken dishes in the basement, and war was declared for that entire summer. They finally gave up, though.”
Irish started, looking around. They were in the pub, sitting at the bar. He looked at a plate in front of him with the remains of a salad on it. Rubbing his face, he gave her a sheepish look. “I’m embarrassed to say I missed the main part of that story.” He smiled. “Do you always have this effect on your dates?”
She gave a loud cackling laugh. “Oh, my. A date? Is that what we’ve been having?” She reached over and gently cuffed him alongside the head. “If you really want a date with me, you have to do more than just sit there listening to my childhood stories.”
