Op File Revenge (Call Sign Warlock Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  As they talked, five Marines came out of hospital rooms holding their pistols.

  “Three of you, down the hall and retrieve weapons and ammo,” the Sergeant directed.

  One of the Marines stepped to the corner and looked at the empty passageway.

  “Clear,” he announced and the three runners raced away. Then, he looked at Keano. “The Cool, what’s doing?”

  “Can’t talk man,” the Lance Corporal informed him. “I’m covering Warlock’s back.”

  “Warlock?” inquired the confused Marine. “What’s a Warlock?”

  “Six. On me,” Alberich called as she moved deeper into the hospital ward.

  “That’s Warlock. A Striker and I’ve got her six,” Keano said before jogging after the retreating back of Master Sergeant Alberich.

  ***

  In an alcove at another intersection, Keano pulled a phone from the wall.

  “I don’t know if anyone is monitoring the seventh deck. Or if they’re too busy, or…” he trailed off as if he feared speaking the thought out loud.

  While Six manned the phone, Warlock studied the facades across the passageways. Only a few bullet holes from the initial assault marred the various health clinics. Somehow, the Marines on deck six had driven back the hostiles. Their success only confirmed her assumption that the bulk of the insurgents were heading for the Remote Surgery Suites.

  “This is Lance Corporal Keano, Marine Security Guard Company. Master Sergeant Alberich and I are coming up,” Six said into the phone. He listened for a couple of seconds before responding. “Understood.”

  Warlock, with her rifle’s sights floating from left to right covering the passageway, twisted her neck around to face him.

  “Status?” she requested.

  “Access is restricted to the seventh deck,” Keano explained. “Marines are concentrated at the four entrances and, so far, have prevented the insurgents from advancing. But, the Private on the phone said the firing from the hatches is increasing. He guesses more hostiles are arriving. If they break through one hatch, it’ll be like a dam breaking. There’ll be no containing them.”

  “There’s a couple of things in our favor,” commented Warlock to a shocked Lance Corporal. He couldn’t think of anything positive or adventitious about the situation. “They split their forces and reduced the assault units by securing the lower decks. It gives us time.”

  “Time for what?” inquired Keano as the elevator car, controlled by the Private on the seventh deck, arrived.

  “To reduce their number,” replied Warlock as she shoved Six into the car before stepping in herself.

  ***

  Where the Mental Health area on the fifth deck and the hospital wards and clinics on the sixth attempted to create a professional and welcoming atmosphere, the seventh deck was utilitarian.

  Surgery suites sat in glass enclosed rows on one side of a corridor. Each had spotlights, clustered lamps, laser arms, and multicolored tubing suspended from the overhead. Across the deck, labs with machines for separating samples and analyzing them, plus cabinets of chemicals and work areas took up the other side.

  Warlock could see another row of surgical suites through the glass of the labs. Some of the glass was cracked or shatters. However, nowhere were there plants, pictures or even seating areas for visitors. Of course, everything was a blur because she was sprinting.

  “I’m Master Sergeant Alberich. What is the distribution of your Marines and your available ammo,” she asked a Sergeant after ducking into an operating room.

  Following the Private’s directions, Warlock and Six had run from the elevator to the center of the surgical and lab area. Four corridors radiated from the center, and far in the distance, she noted the edges of the deck’s four access points. Marines squatted behind the L-shaped reception desks situated about three meters from the hatches. The bodies of Marines and insurgents sprawled in the kill zone between the two.

  “Three Marines at hatches A and C, and four at hatches B and D. I’m holding these three as reinforcements if the insurgents break through. Although I might make an adjustment as the volume from B seems to be lessening,” reported the Sergeant. “Ammo is light. I’ve ordered shoot only at targets of availability and avoid suppressive fire.”

  Warlock glanced over her shoulder to where Keano stood guarding her back.

  “Six. Your opinion?” she asked.

  “Access to hatch B is where we came up the stairs,” Keano replied. “I’d say the bad guys are a little light on hostiles in that direction.”

  “You came up the stairs?” questions the Sergeant. “The last report I received was the stairs were impassable. Our units are just starting their assault up from deck three.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. We came up the stairs. Although, Warlock had to kill fourteen of them as a reminder that they were in Galactic Council Marine Corps territory,” Lance Corporal Keano added before turning around to scan the glass walls at Diosa’s back.

  “Warlock?” asked the Sergeant.

  “Call sign Warlock of Striker Command,” the Master Sergeant advised. “But that’s not important. Right now, we need to formulate a delaying tactic.”

  The three reserve Marines snapped their heads around to stare at the woman in the battle utilities. When Keano noticed the open mouths and the fixation on seeing a Striker up close, he barked, “Face front. Watch the approach to your position.”

  He received a smile and a confirming nod from the Sergeant. “How are we going to delay units of soldiers on a suicide mission?” asked the NCO.

  “Because they’re acting on a battle plan,” Warlock replied. “They might not have an exit strategy, but the insurgents want to complete their mission. I can’t believe dying in stairwells was the objective of the operation.”

  “You think the surgical suites are the objective? That means the insurgents are converging on this part of the deck,” offered the Sergeant. “How do you plan to delay them until our units arrive?”

  “I need a few things,” responded Warlock. “Let’s see how brave the insurgents are.”

  Then she turned around and tapped Keano on the shoulder, “Six. Take the reserves and find two medical geeks and three laser techs. This is what I need…”

  After her explanation, she faced the Marine NCO. His mouth was open and he suggested, “Master Sergeant Alberich. That’s insanity.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Warlock replied with a smile. “And recently. Here’s how it’s going to work…”

  ***

  Lance Corporal Keano interviewed four lab techs. He stood in a sealed off area where the Sergeant had placed the medical support personnel, nurses, doctors and a few post-surgery patients.

  “You and you seem to be first class pranksters,” he announced after speaking with the lab techs. Then he turned to another group. “You four, collect your laser equipment and work your way in close to the Marines at D hatch. And, stay out of the line of direct fire.”

  Keano guided the pranksters to a Lab with extra chemical cabinets and watched them work.

  One pulled out containers of zinc and sulfur from different locations, while the other selected potassium sulfate, nitric acid, and sodium carbonate from different cabinets.

  When one was busy mixing the chemicals, and heating hot plates, the other walked out. Moments later, he returned with a bag of sugar from the breakroom.

  “How much?” he inquired.

  “Equal parts of granulated with the powdered medical sucrose,” the other geek replied.

  “Go heavy on the sulfur,” the other suggested as he mixed and sifted the sugar mixture into the plates. “It’s good for the sinuses.”

  “Definitely. Better than wasabi,” the first agreed as he heavy handedly splashed the nitric acid into the mixture. Then he directed Keano, “On the third shelf, you’ll find plastic containers. Make big holes in two of them except on the ends. Keep those holes small.”

  As Keano punctured the containers, the three reserve Ma
rines returned. Two held up goggles and the third displayed two big batteries and a roll of wire.

  “The lasers are in position,” the one with the batteries and wire reported. “How’s it going in here?”

  “This is going to be epic,” one of the geeks announced. He filled one of Keano’s plastic containers with the mixture, snapped on the lid, and pushed it to the other lab tech.

  “Epic,” repeated the other geek as he fed two wires through the end of the container. “Awesome choice of batteries. More voltage than you’ll need.”

  He placed the battery on top of the container and affixed a wire to one terminal. Then, he taped the battery and the container together.

  “When you’re ready, wrap the wire around the other terminal,” he directed as he pushed the container to Keano. “Then sit back and enjoy.”

  “I don’t think Warlock has sitting back in mind,” the Lance Corporal replied. “Get the other one ready and bring it to me. Good work!”

  “We all serve to our abilities,” one of the techs offered.

  “And you are,” Keano acknowledged before rushing out of the lab to report the progress to Master Sergeant Alberich.

  ***

  “I miss my katana,” Warlock whispered to herself. Then to the Lance Corporal beside her, she inquired, “All set, Six?”

  Keano crouched with the Marines behind the reception counter at D Hatch.

  “Ready when you are, Warlock,” he informed the Striker.

  “Then, fire them up,” ordered the Master Sergeant.

  The Lance Corporal wrapped the loose ends of the wires around the terminals and watched the devices. Nothing happened at first but, a minute and a half later, smoke began pouring from the holes in the plastic.

  “I can smell it through the rebreather mask,” complained one of the Marines.

  As plumes of sulfur tinted smoke poured from the containers, it clustered. Soon an odorous cloud gathered around Keano.

  “Advance your smoke bombs, Six,” instructed Warlock. “I’ve got you covered.”

  He couldn’t see anything through the thick fog and he doubted the Master Sergeant could either. Hopefully, the insurgents on the other side of the hatch were as blind. He slid both from behind the L-shaped counter and, like an old coal fired locomotive, he chugged across the deck towards the hatch.

  “That’s close enough, Six. We don’t want the hostiles to reach them,” Warlock’s voice came out of the smoke. “Get the lasers working and cover my back.”

  Scooting out of the fog, he circled his arm over his head and wondered how he could watch a back he couldn’t see. What he could see were thin laser beams snapping on and piercing the smoke. As if tiny searchlights, four laser beams moved through the thick smog. Crossing and moving and re-crossing, the laser beams appeared to be laser sights on sniper rifles seeking a target.

  It wasn’t snipers searching for targets in the soup. It was a solitary Striker.

  ***

  Warlock closed her left eye shutting out the zero visibility. Using only her right eye, the scattered light reflecting off the hatch entered the scanner and became a defined image. As well as the three heads popping in and out from around the frame. Each time a laser beam tracked through the smoke and passed the hatch, the insurgents jerked back.

  If they were really snipers, instead of fake laser scopes to keep the insurgents on their side of the bulkhead, marksmen could easily drop the insurgents before they could duck.

  Master Sergeant Alberich pushed her rifle forward. When a head looked around the frame, she put two bullets in his brain. Another bent low and felt around on the deck to check on his comrade. He located his friend when he fell dying across the man’s legs. Then, a ghostly shape emerged from the smoke in the corridor outside the hatch.

  Warlock fired double shots at four of the brown armored hostiles before her bolt locked back on an empty magazine. For a heartbeat, the insurgents staged on the passageway thought to respond. But the Striker gripped the taped together magazines, flipped them over and reinserted the loaded end. Five more soldiers of the Empress died or moaned from their injures as the ghost faded back into the smoke.

  “Six. I’m coming in,” the Striker announced. “Give me a location.”

  Keano hopped from the safety of the counter to the edge of the smoke where he was still visible to the Marines defending the hatch. Turning his back to the smoke, he raised his arms to shoulder level and shouted, “Friendly. Friendly coming in.”

  Warlock materialized behind him and placed a hand on the Lance Corporal’s shoulder.

  “Lead me in, Six,” she directed. “And thank you for saving me from getting shot by a trigger-happy Marine.”

  “No worries, Warlock. I’ve got your back,” Keano assured her.

  “And now I have yours,” Warlock admitted as they reached the L-shaped counter.

  Once behind the counter, Warlock advised the Sergeant, “You have a window of opportunity. There are eleven rifles at the hatch. If you hurry, you can multiply your fire power before more insurgents come up to fill in their position.”

  The Sergeant pointed at his four Marines, “Go! And don’t forget extra magazines.”

  They rushed into the smoke. Twenty second later, a crescendo of rifle fire came from the corridor beyond the hatch. The Sergeant moved towards the sound but Warlock hooked his arm and stopped him.

  “They are good. Or they’re not,” she explained. “You dead, does none of your other Marines any good.”

  Seconds ticked by as Lance Corporal Keano and Master Sergeant Alberich leveled their rifles in the direction of the hatch. A cough announced someone coming back through the smelly haze. Then a Marine appeared. He carried two rifles, four bandoleros of magazines and sported a huge grin on his face.

  “What happened,” demanded the Sergeant as his other three Marines appeared.

  “We were gathering weapons and ammo when that gung-ho turd heard something on the stairs,” he replied pointing at another grinning Marine. “So, he calls out to ask who is the Commandant? Someone down there responded in a thick accent that our beloved Commandant should perform an anatomically impossible act.”

  “What did you do?” inquired the Sergeant.

  “We came on line and applied brute force reasoning,” the Marine informed his NCO. “About a half a magazines worth, each. Sorry Sergeant.”

  “No worries, Marine. No one insults our Commandant,” the NCO assured him. “The three of you, distribute ammo and weapons to the other hatches. And, inform them targets of opportunity and limited suppressive fire is authorized. I’m sick of being a sitting duck.”

  The last Marine out of the smoke stopped in front of his Sergeant. He had a brown piece of cloth between his fingers.

  “Thought you might like this,” the Marine suggested.

  The Sergeant took the cloth and the Marine jogged away to deliver the weapons and ammo. After reading it, the NCO held out the tab so Master Sergeant Alberich could read the letters stitched on the patch. They spelled out - Soldiers of the Empress, Tenth Division.

  “It’s going to be a long war,” offered Warlock.

  The Sergeant nodded his head in agreement.

  ***

  The Soldiers of the Empress distributed their remaining forces, placing an equal number at each entrance. There were fewer than called for in the plan for three reasons. They’d lost more than anticipated in the stairwells where they stationed men to slow up the Marines. Plus, an entire squad had been killed at the D hatch. And combined with the loss of half the raiding company before the insertion, the were far understrength. Even shorthanded, they followed the plan.

  Now, with only twenty assaulters on the seventh deck and the Marines coming up the stairs, they prepared to kill the remote doctors, wreck the equipment, and insure many of the Galactic Navy’s wounded died without critical surgery. Their officers sounded the alert and the soldiers stormed through the hatches.

  But there were only five hostiles at each hatc
h and the Marine Corps stressed marksmanship. Put a target in a narrow approach lane and it becomes riddled with holes. The same was true for the Empress’ soldiers. Tight three round groups ripped their body armor and destroyed muscles, bones and organs. None of the insurgents got farther than two yards onto seventh deck.

  The Sergeant didn’t allow the Marines to relax until his Lieutenant and a relief force stepped through the hatches.

  “What’s the body count,” the officer asked, expecting the worst.

  “We lost three Marines on the initial attack. And four suffered minor wounds in later actions, sir,” reported the Sergeant. “The doctors are patching up the injured.”

  After a few minutes of talking, the Lieutenant walked to a pair of Marines cleaning their rifles. One was a fit looking woman with a Private stripe on her sleeve. The other was a young Lance Corporal. As he approached, they started to stand.

  “As you were Marines,” the officer instructed them. “The Sergeant tells me you two are a big part of our victory today.”

  “Just another day in the salt mines for a Marine, sir,” Keano replied.

  The officer nodded and walked away to speak with his other men and women.

  “Six, thank you for covering my back,” Warlock said as she shoved off the deck. “Now, I’ve got unresolved issues to deal with.”

  Chapter 20 – Living Well is Living

  With each volley of gun fire echoing from the stairwells, Livina flinched and dug her fingernails into her palms. In her career, Doctor Everhard had dealt with every crisis by working through it. Her marksmanship came from a bad incident. After that, she took lessons and spent time at the range. Not for the pleasure of punching holes in targets but to assure her hand was steady and she could hit what she aimed at with the tranquilizer pistol. As a result, while her orderly aimed at the door and the other doctors huddled in a corner, she shook off the fear. Ignoring the reports of rifle fire, she marched to her desk and opened her computer.

  ‘JAG Office, GCMC. Doctor Livina Everhard, Director of the Mental Health Clinic. I am requesting information on Master Sergeant Alberich,’ she messaged expecting to wait a while for a response. Almost immediately, she received a reply.