“Well, whichever one of you it was, good fucking shooting,” Sergeant Go said. “You zeroed him but good.
“Portillo, you ready?” he asked, turning away from them.
“Roger that. Here, help me pull this guy away,” JJ said as he joined them.
Jasper bent over to grab the dead merc’s left leg, and together, he and JJ dragged the body away from the comms station.
“That’s far enough,” JJ said, grunting as he stood back up.
“They nailed me twice,” he confided to Jasper, pointing at two rents in the cloth covering over his armor. “Bam, bam!”
“But your armor stopped the rounds, right?”
“I’m standing here, aren’t I?” JJ asked with a grin. “But a .370 packs a big punch, and I’m feeling it but good. Especially this one,” he continued, pointing to the rip just over his right pec. “Gonna have a stupendous bruise there, I’d say.
“I’m just glad the polydeflexion held up. A .370 can go right through it if it hits right,” he said as he started walking back to the console.
Jasper stared at JJ’s back. The guy had been hit twice, yet he’d kept charging the merc. He could have hit the ground and taken cover, but he hadn’t faltered. He and Sergeant Go had demanded the field by pure force of will from the merc, and it was the merc who broke and ran—and died.
Jasper was suddenly glad that the Marines were on his side.
“OK, Portillo, do your stuff,” Sergeant Go said.
With a huge smile breaking out over his face, the young Marine said, “You’ve got it, Sergeant!”
He reached into his engineer harness and pulled out a small, dark green cylinder.
“Wait until you see this!” he said with evident glee. “Brand new to the arsenal. It’s an ME-201; we call it a “toad.”
He took a moment to look at the console for a moment, then placed the toad right where the screen met the rest of the body.
“Fire in the hole!” he said before popping off a restraining clip, then flipping what had to be an arming lever.
JJ quickly took a few steps back and said, “Mind your eyes!”
Jasper quickly put a hand up to protect his eyes, then as nothing happened for a few moments, lowered them just as a small sun burst into life on the mercs’ equipment, sending an actinic glow to light up the immediate area.
“Holy Mother Earth!” Mountie exclaimed. “That’s freaking amazing!”
“That’s chained-oxythermite,” JJ said as the small grenade immediately melted through the metal case, hissing and popping sounds continuing as it sunk into the guts of the console. “It’ll about burn through anything. Right through any known armor, if it has to.”
Jasper watched, fascinated. He had spots in his vision from the initial flare, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away. The toad burned for almost ten seconds, which was more than enough time to destroy the mercs’ console and burn its way into the rocky ground below it.
Sergeant Go took a step forward and peered into the glowing hole in the console case. He must have been satisfied because he nodded, then turned back to the other three.
“I’d say that’s mission accomplished. Good job, you two. I think we need to get moving, though. Who knows when the rest of the mercs are going to come to check up on them? Uh, that’s if you agree, sir,” he added.
Jasper could tell that the sergeant felt in command, but was working hard to keep up the military decorum. If Mountie noticed that, though, he seemed willing to let it slide.
“Yes, we need to put some distance between us and here,” he agreed. “Lance Corporal Portillo, if you’d resume the lead, we can move out. Wait a sec, though,” he added.
Mountie took a few steps to the body of the first merc killed. He dropped his UKI, bent over, and picked up the merc's Gescard. He worked the action, then dropped the long magazine, checking to see how many rounds it had. The merc had four more mags in a pouch, which the lieutenant took and slid into his calf pocket.
“OK, now we can move out,” he said.
Jasper turned to look at the bodies of the three dead mercs. The Marines and the lieutenant seemed willing just to leave them lie. He shrugged. Dead was dead, he guessed, and if the mercs wanted to retrieve their men, that was up to then.
His glance lingered on the merc he’d killed for only an instant before he turned and followed in trace of Mountie as they left the small field of battle.
Chapter 12
Mountie
The four men stopped at a rocky outcropping, looking down into the valley stretching out below them. They’d been paralleling the original trail, but up the slope almost to the military crest. Moving down into the valley, though, they’d get funneled back to the trail, something the sergeant had been warning them about. They were still deep into enemy-held territory with thousands of Tenner mercs between them and safety.
“If I’m reading my maps right, down there is the Beneden Merwede,” Sergeant Go said, slightly stumbling on the river’s name. “Then, we’ve got the Granger Range, and past that, we’ve got our forces up on the Van der Horst Plateau. Maybe 50 klicks more. Is that right, Mr. van Ruiker?”
“That’s about right, Sergeant,” Jasper answered.
“So, I don’t see as how we’ve got much choice, right sir?”
Mountie looked out over the valley. A low-lying level of smoke hung over most of the area, while columns reached up into the sky in at least three places in the distance. The smoke made the setting sun a bright red. It was rather beautiful, but a beauty that disguised the ravages of war.
Fifty more klicks. I could fly that in five minutes, Mountie noted. But I guess we’re going to have to hoof it.
“Right, Sergeant. We’re doing no one any good hiding out up here. But we need to be on our toes. That smoke makes it a pretty good bet that the merc forces are out there, too. So, no hot-dogging. Just nice and quiet.”
“Of course, sir. Unless we see another target of opportunity, that is,” Sergeant Go said.
“What do you mean?”
“A target of opportunity. Something we take out to further the war effort, sir,” the sergeant said as if surprised the lieutenant asked that.
“Well, now I think our first mission is to get back to friendly lines. So, we can live to fight another day and all of that.”
“I understand that, sir, but I also understand the Military Code. Clause 4.”
Mountie had to quickly mumble under his breath from the first clause to get to Number 4.
“A Federation service member will never willingly surrender, and no matter the odds against him, will fight to deny the enemy his objectives,” he finally said.
“Exactly, sir. If we see where we can hurt the mercs, we have to do it.”
Mountie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He was a trained pilot, someone the Federation had spent over a million credits to train. His best service to the war effort would be in another Lizard, wreaking havoc from the air, not playing commando behind enemy lines. Sergeant Go’s ultra-gung-ho attitude, while admirable in many ways, failed to take into account the big picture.
Mountie was grateful for the two Marines’ presence. Their assault against the mercs had been a thing of beauty, one moving while the other covered him. But he was in command, and he needed to make the decisions that would affect them all. He’d agreed to take out the merc comms relay, but that was a one-off, as far as he was concerned.
“We’ll take that into consideration, Sergeant, if we come up against such a situation. For now, though, unless we want to stumble off this mountain, I think we should rest up here until daybreak. That sound good?” he said, making sure he looked at all three of them, even if he knew he was really confirming it with the sergeant.
A flash of something, possibly annoyance, flashed over Jasper’s face. Sergeant Go, though, hesitated only a moment before saying, “Sounds good, sir. We can leave an OP right here, and the other three can back up under the denser canopy right back there. If you d
on’t mind, I’ll take the first watch.”
“OK, you do that.”
Mountie and the other two moved back about 20 meters where the trees gave more overhead cover. He was glad to get off his feet. His pilot’s boots were pretty comfortable, but they were not designed for long humps. If the sergeant were right, they’d only covered about 10 klicks so far, and they had a long ways to go.
Mountie was tempted to tell one of the Marines to turn on his planetary positional tracking to confirm where they were and how far they had to go, but the Marine’s story of what happened when they tried to communicate with battalion gave him pause. If the sergeant, looking at his previously downloaded maps, thought he knew where they were, that was good enough for him.
He tried to settle down, but something was digging into his butt. Reaching underneath him, he pulled out a half-buried stick. He gave it a toss down the slope where it bounced a few times in the leaf litter. Back at the overlook, Sergeant Go spun around at the sound and then frowned. Mountie acted like he didn’t know what had made the noise.
He rolled onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position. This was another reason he was glad he was a pilot and not a grunt mudpuppy. After a mission, he slept in a cot at worst, in a hotel bed at best. He was a “civilized” warrior, and he didn’t think he needed to be uncomfortable to prove his warrior credentials.
Lance Corporal Portillo, though, was already out cold. He’d plopped down on his back, grasped his M90 to his chest, and in 30 seconds, was fast asleep.
Mountie turned to his other side where Jasper was sitting. The older man was not trying to sleep.
“You OK, Jasper?” Mountie whispered.
“No, not really. I don’t think we should have stopped.”
“We had to. Too dangerous to walk around on this hillside in the dark. You and I don’t have night vision goggles.”
“Neither do my wife and the kids,” Jasper said. “But they seem to keep moving.”
Mountie should have realized what was bothering the militiaman.
“They had more than a day head start. We’ll catch up to them.”
“I’ve been expecting to catch up every turn in the trail down there. There’s 72 of them, and they can’t be moving very fast.
“And there’s something else. Down the hill, where it comes out of the hills, the trail branches out. I’m thinking they’re going to split up.”
Shit. That means he’s not going to know which way his wife went.
“Do you know where they’re going?” Mountie asked.
“It’s a long ways, but I’m guessing it’ll be Spirit Lake.”
“Spirit Lake? Where’s that?”
“Up there in the Grangers.”
“Why there?”
“It was brought up at the town meetings, before the attack. Spirit’s a poison lake. It can kill you right quick.”
“What do you mean, a poison lake?” Mountie asked, having never heard of such a thing before.
“Part of the terraforming, I’m told. The lake was adjusted to use as a carbon sink, but the CO2 reacts somehow with the native sulfur, and nothing can live there. It was supposed to have cycled itself out by now, but terraforming is still not an exact science.”
“And they’re going there?” Mountie asked, surprised.
“Not in the lake. The gasses hang down at the lake level. But up the slopes, there are some caverns. I’ve never been there, but Roma Teussel goes to take readings every year for the survey. She can lead them.”
“Even if they split up like you think?”
“That’s what’s got me worried, Mountie. I don’t think this was thought out.”
“Try and get some sleep. Let me try and figure something out,” Mountie told him.
“I . . . that’s fair. I’m just afraid I’ll lose them, too. I don’t think I can take that.”
Mountie knew that Jasper must be feeling pulled into more than one direction. He had to be worried sick about his wife, daughter-in-law, and grandkids. If he chose to slip out during the night to try and find them, Mountie would understand. Technically, it would be desertion. Jasper was a member of the local militia, and in a time of war, that made him subject to the Federation military. In this case, to one Lieutenant Castor Klocek, UFN.
If Jasper did run, Mountie wasn’t going to do anything about it. With thousands of mercs between him and his airfield, he had more important things to do than to run down an old man who only wanted to save his family.
Chapter 13
JJ
A rush of noise off to his right made JJ swing his M90 up, ready for anything. Further down from the hills, the brush was thicker, the visibility far more limited. Nothing appeared, and the sound receded quickly, too quickly to be a man. JJ turned to look at Jasper, turning his hand palm up in a question. Jasper just shrugged and shook his head.
It’s his planet, and he doesn’t know what that was?
Which wasn’t too charitable a thought, he knew. He hadn’t gone out into the wild areas on his own Nuevo Oaxaca, and he didn’t even know what wildlife had been introduced there. So, if Jasper couldn’t tell what deer, cow, or whatever had just run away, then that could be expected. It wasn’t a danger, and that was all the mattered.
He knew he was just on edge. JJ hated the unknown. He hadn’t been nervous before launching the attack on the three mercs the day before because he knew what to expect. Here, he couldn’t see ten meters in front of him sometimes, and that made him nervous.
He fingered the rip in his utilities, or more exactly, the gouge in the polydeflexion of his breast plate. The merc’s big .370 round had hit him with a glancing blow, and while it hadn’t penetrated the body armor, it had left its calling card. If the round had hit at a more direct angle, Mrs. Portillo’s favorite son might have been zeroed. JJ’s ribs were sore, but that was nothing. When he got back, whenever that was, he was going to claim the breast plate as battle damage and get it mounted in a shadow box.
Another copse of thick brush blocked his way. He held up a closed fist, the time-honored signal for the others to stop. For a moment, he thought about forcing himself through, but he’d heard far off mechanical sounds, and he couldn’t be sure how close any mercs might be. Instead, he pointed to his left, letting the others following know he was changing the route.
It was a good choice. Immediately after passing a large tree of some kind, something too large to be natural given the fact that the planet had only been terraformed for close to 60 years, the brush dwindled to just a few perched on a small drop-off. Two meters below the drop-off was a paved road. They’d finally reached Highway 44. If JJ had bulled his way through the brush, he’d have fallen smack dab on the road surface.
He immediately dropped to his belly as he scanned the road and the far side. A few moments later, Sergeant Go crept up beside him, followed by the lieutenant.
“See anything?” the sergeant whispered.
“Nada.”
“OK, sir, this what we call a danger area. If we cross, we can be spotted, either by mercs or sensors,” Sergeant Go told the lieutenant.
“But we have to cross, so what’s the SOP?”
JJ still couldn’t draw a good bead on the lieutenant. He’d seemed a little hesitant when the sergeant had reminded him about Clause 4 of the code, but here he accepted that they had to cross the road.
“Well, with only four of us, we can simply rush across together. That limits our exposure. Or we can cover each other and cross one at a time.”
“And you recommend?”
Sergeant Go took a few moments to look down both directions of the road before answering, “One at a time.”
“I’m used to having wingmen cover my six, so one at a time is the ground version of that, I guess.”
Sergeant Go motioned Jasper forward to join them while JJ tried to pick his path. He could cross right where they were, but the other side of the road was covered in thick brush. He’d have to find a way through that. Down to the
left, there looked to be a natural runoff going down the slope. There had to be a culvert there, and the far side directly opposite of that was free of vegetation. For a moment he was tempted to drop down right over the culvert, then crawl through. But if he’d controlled the area, he’d have sensors emplaced in it at a minimum, even booby traps if he had them. JJ was confident that the Marines were the most professional ground force in human space, but that didn’t mean the mercs totally ignored the art of warfare.
“I’m going to send Lance Corporal Portillo first while we cover him. We heard the mercs as we came down this last hill, so they can hear us, too. You, two,” he said, indicating the lieutenant and Jasper, “you’ve got rifles with loud reports. When Portillo crosses, I want your eyes peeled, but do not fire unless I tell you. My M90 is much quieter, maybe enough not to be noticed at a distance.
“So, Lance Corporal Portillo rushes across and takes a position. You, Mr. van Ruiker, you’re next. Go to the same spot, then pass Portillo and take a position ten meters deep on the other side. Lieutenant, then you’re up. Once you’re set, I’ll be following. Is that all clear?”
The two assured the sergeant that they understood.
“OK, Portillo, where’re you heading?”
“Right over there,” JJ said, pointing to the far side of the runoff. “I can cover all of you from there.”
“Should we move down there to give us a straight shot?”
“I don’t think so. There’s no water now, but it’s eaten away at the hill, and the footing looks loose. We can just jump to the road right from here, then sprint to the other side.”
“OK, it’s your call,” the sergeant whispered into his ear. “Don’t fuck up.”
JJ crept to the edge of the drop-off. In the distance, there was the rumble of a large engine of some sort. He took a deep breath, swung his legs over the edge, and pushed off, landing on the road bed, bending his knees to take in the shock. The poleynes on either side of his knees were more flexible than the rest of his armor, and they served to give strength and stability as well as protection. Still, with almost 50 kg of battle rattle, he hit pretty hard, his breath whooshing out with the force of the impact.
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