“Fucking mercs! No, they don’t kill women and children!” JJ almost spat out.
Jasper felt a hand on his shoulder. Mountie said nothing, but his mere presence was a help. Jasper drive-heaved twice more, then wiping his lips and taking a deep breath, stood back up. Mountie handed him his canteen, and Jasper gratefully took a swig, swished the water in his mouth, and spit it out before taking another swig and swallowing.
“Take your time,” Mountie said. “It’s pretty rough.”
“Was it the mercs?” Jasper asked him.
“I don’t know. Probably, I mean. This is still their AO.”
“Could we, I mean the Federation, have we ever done that?” he asked, pointing toward the bodies but refusing to look.
Mountie’s eyes clouded over as he said, “I’m a pilot, and the Navy’s got big ships that have bombarded planets before. It’s one of the burdens, to know civilians suffer in war. They always have.”
“But like that? I mean, they were executed. One was burned,” Jasper almost pleaded.
“It could have happened. Probably has happened somewhere. But if I ever find someone who’s done that, I’m not waiting for a court martial or trial. I’ll blow their fucking brains out.”
Jasper didn’t want to look again, but something beyond his control twisted his head until he could see the four bodies. No wonder the farmer had stood his ground. He had far more than a few buildings and some equipment to protect. He had his life there in those four sad bodies—just as Jasper had his family to protect. He looked up to the Grangers, hoping that his wife and grandkids had made it through, hoping he could find them.
“We’ve got company!” JJ shouted, rushing past them. “Get back into the trees!”
Down the road, Jasper caught movement. Some kind of armored vehicle was emerging from around a bend out beyond the farmed fields and was heading their way. Mountie pulled Jasper around as he took off in a sprint.
Jasper took one more look over his shoulder as he bolted for cover. He couldn’t do anything for this poor family, but he hoped he could still do something for Keela and the grandkids. He was tired of playing soldier-boy. He needed to find and protect his own family.
Chapter 18
Mountie
The Marine Viper’s vulcan spewed out 30mm kinetics, chewing up the road and destroying at least three vehicles before it inverted and flew upside-down over the trees, immediately disappearing from sight.
“Get some,” Mountie said as JJ high-fived Jasper.
The Viper was not nearly the bird his own Lizard was, and the Lizard was low-man on the Navy fleet’s totem pole, but it still packed a powerful punch. It was not invulnerable, though. Mountie didn’t spoil the mood of the others by mentioning that the SOP for Vipers was to hit in two-plane formations. He also knew that the Marine battalion had four Vipers attached to it, so if only one had hit the merc column, that didn’t bode well for the fates of the other three.
It had taken much of the shorter Nieuwe Utrecht day for the three of them to make their way north of the destroyed farmhouse to the foot of the Granger Range. For most of the day, movement had been decent as they walked silently, the image of the dead kids etched into Mountie’s mind. They’d reached Baseline Road after another hour, but merc traffic was much heavier on it than they’d expected. Something was up, and the mercs were all over the place. Mountie knew that there were probably Tenners still searching for them, and now, with what looked to be at least a regiment getting ready for an operation, Mountie felt trapped.
Like the other two, he’d reveled in the Viper attack, but he wanted to get past the mercs and through the range to Federation forces. If there was a big merc push coming, he needed to be in the air supporting the Marines. The carrier had an unassigned Basilisk, and if he could catch a ride to the ship, he could power that Lizard up and get back into the fight.
“What do you think those trucks had in them?” Portillo asked from where they lay glassing the burning trucks.
As if on cue, one of the trucks erupted in a huge fireball, knocking down the mercs near it and sending others scrambling for cover. A few moments, later, the shock wave crossed the intervening klick and brushed past the three men.
“I’m guessing ammunition?” Jasper said, stating the obvious.
“And I’m guessing you’re right,” Lance Corporal Portillo said.
“I wonder why they just sat there, though,” Jasper said.
Mountie had wondered the same thing. The three of them had come up to a small creek that meandered through low marshy ground just before the Viper had launched its run. When first spotted, Mountie had thought that the trucks and half-tracs were just making a halt, but now, he’d have thought they would have scattered. When the ammo truck blew, it had even set two more trucks on fire. Mountie watched mercs rushing to extinguish while the other vehicles remained in place.
“Let’s sit here for a few moments and watch,” Mountie said as something niggled at the back of his brain. “We can’t really cross the road now anyway.”
They might be a klick from the gathering of trucks, but between the creek lowland and the clearing around the road, they could be spotted from quite a ways off should they try to bolt across it.
Mountie was glad he had Sergeant Go’s binos. His SERE kit had a small loupe he could have used like an old-time wet-water pirate, but Go’s compact Zeiss Conquest 4s were amazing, bringing everything into sharp focus. The fires on the other two trucks were quickly put out, and as the mercs regrouped, they began to act as coolies, hauling the cargo out of sight up the far slope. Some of the boxes were heavy, with two mercs hauling each one. The Zeiss binos were excellent, but Mountie couldn’t make out the writing on the boxes.
“Here comes four more,” Portillo said.
Mountie spun around to see four trucks coming down the road. There had to be 100 meters between each one, and Mountie wondered why. One-hundred meters was far more than normal, but on an improved road like Baseline, a Lizard or even Viper didn’t care if it was 100 or 300. The trucks rumbled past on the other side of the creek, just 150 meters from the three men.
“It’s ammunition,” Jasper said suddenly.
“What do you mean?” Portillo asked.
“They’re storing ammo. Look at how heavy the trucks are loaded, and look at the mercs carrying it. You guys said that something big is up, right? They’re going to make a big push, right?”
“Yeah,” Portillo said. “They’re going to try and hit us with something big.”
“But we’re hitting them with air, right? We just saw them lose a truck full of some sort of ammo. So, they have to protect it until they make their move. There’re lots of caves in the Grangers. I’m guessing they’re staging their ammo in one of the caves so they don’t lose it all before they attack.”
Hell, he’s right! How could I have missed that!
“How big are these caves?” he asked.
“Some are small, some are big enough to store whatever you want.”
“What about right there?”
“Don’t know. Like I told you, I haven’t been here before. But if they are unloading there, I’d bet they’ve found some good caves.”
Mountie considered that for a moment.
“Where do you think the trail is for Spirit Lake?” he asked.
“Spirit Lake?” Portillo asked. “What’s that?”
“I think over there,” Jasper said, pointing to the next peak to the east. “I think that’s Mount Rand, and so the trail would be just on the near side of it.”
“What trail?” Portillo asked.
Mountie ignored him. Initially, he’d planned on keeping Jasper with them until they reached Baseline Road, then letting him go on his way. With all the increased activity, though, he was sure that the major avenues through the Grangers would be blocked. Jasper had told him that the trail to Spirit Lake ran completely through the range to the plateau beyond, and given the size of the trail and the poisonous air around the
lake itself, it was doubtful that the mercs either knew of it, or if they did, they considered it passable. But if they climbed up and around the lake itself, they could make the trek, with or without Jasper’s family. Mountie hoped they were there waiting, but given what they’d gone through themselves to cross the valley, he wasn’t holding out much hope that a bunch of women and children could have managed it.
Mountie snuck a sideways glance at Jasper, who was back to watching the unloading of the trucks through his old SERE loupe. He knew his job was to get back to where he could fly again, and he knew that Jasper was driven to find his family. But Sergeant Go had stressed Clause 4. Sure, Mountie was a pilot, and that was how he was trained. But more than that, he was a sailor, a member of the Federation military. His real mission was to advance the Federation cause and protect it from adversary. If the mercs were, in fact, storing their ammo in a cave somewhere, then his mission should be to destroy that, be that from a Lizard or any other way at his disposal.
“Lance Corporal Portillo, do you have anything in your engineer bag of tricks left that could blow some ammo?”
“Huh? I mean, you want to blow it up?”
No, that’s why I asked you! he thought, but instead said, “What do you have that could do it?”
“I’m not sure, sir. Let me look.”
Mountie watched as Portillo rolled to his side, pulling his kit in front of him.
“I’ve got my toads, but they’ll just burn, not detonate anything,” he muttered to himself, his eyes scrunched together in concentration. “Ten, no eleven detonators and five E-22’s, but those have to be attached. I guess if I could get access, that would work . . .”
Over Portillo’s head, Jasper looked at Mountie, raising his eyes in a question. Mountie knew the older man was anxious to get up the trail to Spirit Lake, but he held out a hand and shushed him. Jasper didn’t look happy, but he didn’t say anything.
It took Portillo five minutes, but finally, he looked up at Mountie and said, “Sir, I’ve got detonators and a few charges like some C10 that could set off most munitions, and with enough of an initial detonation, we could blow a shitload of whatever they have.”
Mountie felt a jolt of excitement and opened his mouth to reply when Portillo interrupted him with, “But the problem is, they gotta be either inserted into the explosives or placed right next to the munitions, and even right beside, say, a 175 shell, there’s a good chance nothing will happen.
“Now, I’ve got a lot that can set off their detonators, either their engineer gear or the fuze caps of their shells, but no one stores those near the munitions. Even the mercs can’t be that stupid. Powerpacks, detonators, and munitions are always stored separately. If you’re thinking of them over there, I’m betting they put each into a different cave. The powerpacks would take much space, the detonators more, but it’s the munitions that’ll take the biggest cave.”
“So, you don’t have anything that, you know, you can shoot in a cave opening and bring the place down?”
“Not with me, sir. We were on a bridge mission, not a bunker. A MAPAW would work, if it actually reached the munitions and hit them, but I don’t have one.”
The Man-Packed Assault Weapon was basically an all-purpose direct-fire artillery piece carried by grunts, and if Portillo said it could work, so be it. But since none of them were packing a MAPAW, he might as well wish for his Lizard and a Snipe. The missile was armed with a thermobaric warhead, a big thermobaric warhead.
He didn’t have a Snipe, but he knew someone who did. If he could just get word back to the airfield, they could get a Lizard in the air. Heck, if they wanted to risk a destroyer, they could bring one into high orbit and drop a Cowboy on the site. A ton of bomb penetrated pretty far with a lot of force—the warhead that detonated was sometimes more of an aftershock. His own comms were shot, but Portillo still had his. They just hadn’t powered up knowing that doing so would bring down a world of hurt on their heads.
But something had to be done. Mountie was not the hero-type. He’d gone into battle fully expecting to come back home. Even when coming in winchester on the hill, he hadn’t thought that he could get shot down. That happened to other people, not him.
Blowing the mercs’ ammo could make a huge impact. There was no way all of their ammo was being stored in some cave, but there were enough trucks to show that a good percentage was, and if that was gone, not only could it save lives, but it could turn the tide of the battle.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he held out a hand and said, “Portillo, give me your comms.”
“Sir?”
“Your comms. Give them to me.”
“But sir, if you power up, they’ll have us.”
“I’ve got to get word back to the squadron. We’ve got Snipes with thermobarics that can set all of the mercs’ munitions off. This is too important.
“Listen, I want you two to head east. You’ve got to take Jasper to a trailhead he knows about. Listen to him. It will get you over the range and into what’s Federation-held territory. At least I hope it still is.”
“What, you’re just going to sit there until the Tenners drop a missile on your head?” Jasper asked, sounding angry.
“No, I’m not going to ‘sit there,’” Mountie replied. “I’m going to send the message, then run like hell. But I want you out of the way, first. They’ll still probably come running, so you’ll have more of them on your asses soon enough.”
“You might not have enough time to come running, sir. A Nine-line is going to take some time to get transmitted.”
Don’t I know it.
“I’ll be quick, don’t worry. So now, I want you two to make your way east. See that half-fallen tree down there?” he asked pointing to where a tree leaned out over the creek about 300 meters upstream.
“I’ll be watching. Once I see you, I’ll go ahead and send the Nine-line. If you see me wave my hand, run. If you see me get up and run, run. I’ll catch up to you somehow. Understand?”
“I’m guessing there’s no way I can talk you out of this?” Jasper asked.
Mountie almost snapped that the mission was far more important than the risk of more mercs chasing them, but the concern in Jasper’s eyes stopped those words stillborn. It was obvious that the man was concerned for him, not that he himself would be in any greater danger.
“No, I wish you could, but it has to be done,” he said instead.
“Well, that’s that,” Portillo said.
Jasper started to slide back deeper into the trees, but he stopped, then reached out to hug the surprised pilot.
“Run fast, Mountie,” he whispered in his ear.
Portillo watched, then held out a hand, saying, “Balls, sir. Big balls.” Then as Mountie took the hand, added, “Pretty impressive for a sailor.”
“Fuck you . . . JJ,” Mountie said, squeezing the Marine’s hand.
JJ’s eyes lit up as he replied, “Get some . . . Mountie, sir,” before he turned and scrambled back.
Mountie almost laughed out loud. They’d been together for four days, and it took this shit to break the ice. Then the import of what he’d decided hit him. He wasn’t sure he could get a Nine-line out before the mercs responded. And even if they didn’t, he’d be far more valuable as a forward air controller than fleeing wildly through the forest. He didn’t want to face it, but in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to stay.
He settled down, binos to his eyes, switching from the merc offload to the leaning tree. It seemed to take forever, and he was beginning to wonder if they’d misunderstood him when he realized there was an extra lump at the base of the tree that wasn’t there before. He increased the zoom, until he could barely make out Portillo’s—JJ’s—outline. His armor might be all messed up, but even the pattern on the PFG cloth made him difficult to see.
Mountie gave JJ a slight wave, then turned over to his back, JJ’s PCD[8] in hand. He switched the selector to open circuit, no frequency hopping. Anyone on a standard
Federation frequency would be able to pick up the transmission. He powered up the PCD, took a deep breath, and depressed the transmit button.
“All Federation forces, this is Lieutenant Caster . . .”
The PCD indicated a steady green ready. There were none of the red indicators the showed any signals reaching the circuits.
He depressed the transmit again and said, “All Federation . . .” then stopped.
The green indicator showed that the PCD had power, and it was ready to transmit. A red one would mean that the PCD was actually getting something out into the comms circuits.
What the hell?
He switched to the diagnostics, and immediately the readout went crazy. The PCD was being blanketed by heavy jamming. He couldn’t communicate. He looked up, half-expecting to see incoming, but then he realized that if he couldn’t reach the net, then the mercs had nothing to see. He couldn’t reach Federation forces, but that meant the Tenners still couldn’t see him, either.
Mountie was washed over with a wave that was part relief, part anger. He wasn’t about to eat a merc arty battery, but the mission was stillborn. He tried the comms twice more before giving up. Sliding forward, he held out a hand and waved the other two back. A hand rose out of the shapeless lump that was JJ, thumb up. A moment later, the shape melted back away from the tree.
Ten minutes later, Jasper and JJ crept up beside him.
“What happened?” JJ asked.
“Jammed. No comms.”
“Shit. So now what, sir?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if we can push forward fast enough, we can get out of the jamming and try again. Jasper, how much time to get through the trail?”
“I think about seven hours in daylight. It’ll be hard to make that time at night, though.”
“From the tempo, I think whatever they had planned is going to kick off before then,” Mountie said. “I don’t know. I don’t see an option but to just push on. That sucks, though. Right here, we could have done something.”
Behind Enemy Lines: A United Federation Marine Corps Novel Page 14
