He also knew that sitting here crouched beside the road would quickly attract some unwanted attention. He had to get up and move forward. The only problem with that was that his legs didn’t seem to want to follow his commands.
Come on, Castor! Just do it.
With a huge force of will, he stood up, and with the bomb in JJ’s engineer pack and on his back and his Gescard slung, not at the ready, started walking towards the pile of trash alongside the main staging area. He’d taken only a dozen steps when he heard a rumble behind him, and a few moments later, the blackout lights of a vehicle lit up his back. He kept walking, expecting to hear shots and shouting, but a few moments later, the truck whispered past, the smell of burnt fries enveloping him. He let out a sigh of relief.
A couple of minutes later, he reached the edge of the trash. The mercs were screwing up. They obviously wanted secrecy, yet they’d dumped hundreds of boxes and shipping cartons in the trees. They should have removed them with each outgoing truck. As it was, they were a signpost to any Federation surveillance that something was going on in the area.
Mountie kicked the first box he came to, but it came apart, split up the back. Without using his binos’ light-gathering capabilities, he couldn’t see that well in the shadows, but he stumbled across three more cases before he found one that might work. He quickly kneeled, unslung the pack, and slipped the bomb out.
The case might as well have been made for the homemade explosive. It fit perfectly, the memory bottom forming around and cradling it. He gave the case a shake, and the bomb remained secure in place. He glanced up to see if anyone was looking towards him, then carefully set the detonator for 20 minutes. As he saw the countdown begin, he closed the display. To a casual observer, the bomb was inert.
He and JJ had debated on the amount of time to set. He needed enough time to get it into the cave, but not long enough for someone to stumble over it and turn it off. If something delayed him, he could reset the timer, but that might be difficult to explain with a bunch of mercs around him. Closing the case, he stood up, lifting it by the handles, and struggled out from around the trash heap.
Mountie made it almost 100 meters, stopping once, before someone called out, “Who’s that?”
“You, get over here. I need two bodies,” Mountie said in his best command voice.
“Who are you?” the voice repeated, a shadow stepping forward, weapon at the ready.
“I’m someone who’s going to have your ass unless you follow orders and help me. I don’t have time to screw around here.”
The shadow lowered the weapon and stood a little straighter, then called back. “Spec, I’ve got someone coming in. He says he needs help.”
“Who the hell is he?” a voice from further back in the trees asked.
“I don’t know. He looks like a pilot.”
“And a pilot who’s getting mighty pissed off!” Mountie shouted.
He heard a subdued “Shit!” then a louder “Banks and Ming, go help the officer!”
The shadow in front of him didn’t move, and Mountie stood there, trying to control the slight trembling of his hands. He stood there, wondering if he should simply bull ahead when two mercs came rushing forward.
“Sorry, sir. What can we do?” one of them said.
“You can pick this thing up, is what you can do. First, you guys drop me off who-knows-where, then I have to break my back lugging it here.”
“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison.
“Uh, where do you want us to carry it?”
“Well, how about back to the flight line? I came all the way here just so we can return it. Come on, think!”
“Uh, right sir. To the depot.” Then, “Which one?”
Mountie had already figured the ordnance would be stored in separate places, so he had an answer already planned for that.
“How the hell do I know? With the munitions, of course.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “To Blue,” he added to the merc on the front of the case.
The two mercs started moving into the bulk of the trucks, making their way to the back of the unloading area. Other mercs were moving back and forth, carrying boxes and coming back for more. No one gave Mountie a second glance as he followed his two porters.
As the three cleared the trucks and started to climb, Mountie couldn’t help himself and gave a quick look back. Out there in the darkness, JJ and Jasper would have their eyes on him. He resisted giving a thumbs up.
It was going smoothly—too smoothly. So of course, before they’d even managed to climb 20 meters, two guards stood on the path. Three mercs had just been checked and were moving up to an opening in the side of the hill, another 30 meters up. Mountie tried to swallow, but his mouth was suddenly dry.
The two mercs lowered the case and stopped beside the guards.
“Inventory?” one of the guards asked.
“Sir?” his head porter asked, turning to him.
“I don’t have one,” Mountie said, trying to sound bored. “Just let me deliver this and get on my way.”
“Sorry, uh, sir,” the guard said, peering at Mountie. “We need an inventory chip before we accept anything.”
Mountie had never considered that, although he should have. The Federation forces loved to refer to the Tenner forces as mercenaries, but many had probably served in the Federation Navy, Marines, or FCDC, so they would have adopted the same morass of regulations.
“Who the hell are you?” he shouted, immediately knowing he might have just overplayed it. He adjusted, “I mean, what’s your name and rank?”
He saw a flash of something in the merc’s face as his two porters stepped back and the second guard took a stride to the side where he’d have a clear shot at him.
“Ordnance Specialist Four Ibrahim . . . sir”
“Look, Specialist. This is your fault. Not you personally, but the idiots who picked up our ordnance. You were supposed to pick up 27 Victor 33’s.”
Mountie knew that the Tenner forces had the V-33 in their arsenal, and they roughly looked like their homemade fuel-cylinder bomb, but that wouldn’t stand any kind of scrutiny, and if this spec standing in front of him were an aviation ordnance tech, he’d know if the V-33’s were even on the planet.
“Yes, sir?”
“Well, you picked up 26 of them, leaving this one on the tarmac. The command . . . adant,” he said, quickly changing from the Federation “commander” to the Tenner “commandant” for a unit commanding officer, “understands what’s going on now, and he doesn’t want anyone’s ass, so he sent me to ferry this thing here.”
The guard looked at him, not saying a word. Mountie could almost see the thoughts flashing behind his eyes as he considered his options.
“I think I need to get the captain here,” he finally said.
“Look, it’s up to you, Specialist Ibrahim. We can wait for your captain to come and clear this up. It’s no skin off my nose. I’ve got to get back, for reasons I know you understand. So, I’ll just leave the missing V-33 for you to deal with. You can explain to your captain why you keyed in 27 Victors, but you only have 26 on hand.”
“I just got one duty 15 minutes ago, sir. I didn’t make any mistake.”
Bingo! He’s beginning to buy it.
“I didn’t mean you. But who was here earlier?”
“Spec Gladstone, sir.”
“OK, Gladstone’s going to have to answer, along with whoever picked up the load. My commandant didn’t want anyone to fry for this, but if they fucked up, then so be it.”
Mountie was aware of more mercs coming up the path, waiting to pass with their loads.
“So, up to you. We leave it here and I’m done, or we take it on in to marry up with the rest of the load. I’ll let your captain deal with the fallout, and you know what that means.”
Mountie didn’t really know what that meant, but he thought the implied threat was better than anything specific. He’d let the merc fill in the blanks. And now it was up to him
. If he had to, he’d leave the bomb right there. In another ten minutes, it would blow, but not do much damage. He wondered if he should take it back down to the loading zone so it could at least take out a truck or two.
He could tell the spec was wavering.
“We missed one?” he asked.
“It’s right there in front of you. But look, I’m holding up the queue, and I’ve got to get back to the flight line. I’m passing this on to you, and you do what you deem fit. I’m done with all of this.”
He turned as if to leave, and the guard quickly said, “No . . . sir! Can you, uh, go ahead and take it in with the rest. Spec 6 Wallenda is up there, and he can marry you up with the rest of the Victors. I don’t think I need to bother the captain with this.”
Mountie looked back down the hill as if he was contemplating it, but mostly he didn’t want anyone to see his expression.
He gathered himself, then said, “I’m running short of time, but OK, Specialist.” To his two merc porters, he said, “Let’s go.”
“Thank you, sir,” the spec whispered as Mountie walked past him.
The mouth of the cave was lit with a low-level red light. Several mercs were milling about the entrance. The red light didn’t provide great illumination, but it was more than outside, and Mountie felt that someone would recognize him as a Federation pilot at any moment. He brushed past them, telling his two mercs to hurry.
The cave had obviously had some recent excavation work, a widening and straightening of the corridor and a flattening of the floor. A decking machine had laid a path of poly planks to give more secure footing. Starting after only five meters, cubbyholes had been cut into the walls, and these were full of ordnance.
“Sir?” the senior of his two mercs said. “I think that was the spec 6 the other spec told you about.”
“Was he?” Mountie said, stopping to watch the retreating back of a merc. “Well, no reason to bother him now, is there? He looks like he’s got a lot on his hands.”
“But—”
Mountie didn’t give him time to say anything, pushing deeper into the cave, following the tracked lights on the deck. A few moments later, he entered the first opening. At the far side, a small commercial excavator chewed at the walls, expanding it. From the looks of the markings, what had once been a small cavern had been excavated to cover at least 300 square meters. Stacks of munitions were like little hills, each separate from the others. Mountie had expected much more, to be honest, but still, it was a significant cache.
“Just put it there,” he told the two mercs.
“But we need to find the others.”
“I don’t need to keep you all night. You get back to your unit. I’ll track down someone, and I’ll have them place it with the rest.”
“You sure, sir? We can stay until you’re done.”
“I’m sure. You two take off.”
“Well, OK. Evening, sir,” the merc said before leaving him, his silent partner in tow.
Mountie started counting. He was very aware of the timer in the case, ticking off the seconds, but he couldn’t very well rush past the two mercs on their way out. He considered kneeling and extending the time, but there were too many mercs running back and forth.
“Excuse me, who are you?” a voice asked.
“Are you Specialist Wallenda?” he asked after swallowing back down the bile that had surged up his throat.
“No, I’m not. He’s up there somewhere,” the merc said, pointing back up the entrance. “Why?”
“There’s a problem with the inventory that needs to get un-fucked. Thanks,” he said, spinning to walk purposefully back to the entrance.
He waited for the shout, ready to sprint. He waited for the explosion as the bomb went off, and he wanted to sprint. But all he could do was march forward and hope for the best.
Chapter 22
JJ
“I’m moving over so I can get a better look,” JJ said as they watched Mountie approach the trash heap.
“Mountie told us to stay here,” Jasper said.
“Like that matters now. When . . . if anything happens to him, I’m in charge,” he said. “You can come with me or not.”
JJ knew he was being unfair to Jasper, but he’d been shocked—and somewhat hurt—when Mountie had told him about Jasper’s family, ordering him to take Jasper up to this Spirit Lake place. It wasn’t about the militiaman’s family, but the fact he’d been kept in the dark, and Mountie’s assertion that he’d kept the knowledge from Sergeant Go and him for security in case they’d been captured did nothing to appease him. He wouldn’t have given up anyone’s family, much less Jasper’s.
He stood up, backed into the trees, and started moving west. JJ was relieved to hear Jasper following. He was probably pissed, but he’d understood that they needed to stay together.
JJ also knew he was disobeying orders, but Marines were taught to take the initiative. He knew Mountie had issued the orders to keep them out of harm’s way, but if something did go down, they were just too far away to be of much help. JJ’s M90 could easily reach that far, but even with the night vision capability of the scope, he knew he couldn’t provide effective fire. Jasper, with the Gescard, would be lucky to even get the rounds in the area.
By moving forward, they could not only provide support, but they could have better eyes on target, maybe seeing up to where the cave actually was located. He slipped through the trees, senses on high alert, for a few minutes before he turned and crept up to the treeline at the edge of the creek’s wetlands. He was now less than 700 meters to where a handful of trucks were unloading, and the bright red lights of what had to be one of the caves almost blinded him. He lowered the binos for a moment, and the glare disappeared to a very faint red glow. Raising them again, it only took a few moments for him to spot Mountie rummaging through the trash heap.
“Hell, they’ve got to see him,” he muttered, noting how much in the open the lieutenant was.
“They’re going to see him sooner or later,” Jasper said. “That’s part of the plan.”
“I’d rather it be later.”
They both watched Mountie in silence. Jasper had Sergeant Go’s binos, so he now had full low-light level capability. Time stretched on while JJ became evermore nervous.
“Finally!” he said when Mountie seemed to select a case.
It still took a few more minutes before he’d packed the bomb and stood up.
“Twenty minutes,” Jasper said.
No shit, JJ thought, but he kept silent.
Mountie started lugging the case forward, and for a while, it seemed as if none of the mercs knew he was there, which boggled JJ’s mind.
“Piss-poor security,” he said under his breath.
It wasn’t until Mountie was almost to the nearest truck that a merc stepped forward to stop him. JJ put his crosshairs on the merc, ready to fire if he threatened Mountie. It was probably 700 meters, and in the dark, but if he fired enough darts, he was pretty sure he could drop the bastard.
“He’s yelling at him!” Jasper said in amazement.
JJ had been focusing on the shot, not the merc’s attitude, but he’d seen enough ass-chewings to realize Jasper was right. The merc hadn’t come to a position of attention, but he had the posture of someone both afraid of an officer and not knowing what to do.
“Get some, Mountie,” he said, smiling despite the gravity of the situation.
It took a few moments, but two more mercs rushed forward, picked up the case, and led Mountie towards the truck.
“Son-of-a-bitch, Jasper. You were right!”
It had been Jasper’s idea for Mountie to try and order some mercs to help him, saying that they would both be camouflage for him as well as keep others from looking too closely for fear of being drafted to help out.
Shit, the old man knows grunts better than I do, he admitted to himself.
Both of them followed the three men until they passed through the trucks, then picked them up again as th
ey climbed the hill beyond them and approached the cave mouth. Except that Mountie was stopped. Even with the binos on full zoom, JJ couldn’t see what was happening other than there was some sort of conversation going on.
“Ten minutes,” Jasper said.
Just put it down and walk away, Mountie. Get out of there.
JJ thought the gig was up, but was surprised when after a few more moments, the two mercs dutifully picked up the case and followed Mountie up the hill. All three went into the cave opening and disappeared from sight.
“How much time?” JJ asked, wishing he’d started a countdown as well.
“Seven minutes, fifteen seconds.”
“That’s enough time, right?” JJ asked. “Or he can reset it like I showed him.”
Before Mountie had set off, JJ had tried to convince him to let him go instead. But the key to this was the flight suit, and Mountie was a good half-meter taller than him. There was that pilot swagger about him that seemed natural as well, a swagger that would do him well, a swagger that JJ lacked, or at least a style of swagger he lacked. JJ’s bluster was a typical grunt’s fist-fight-in-the-bar bluster, not the I’m-so-cool demeanor of pilots.
It wasn’t as if resetting the detonator was difficult. The guy could fly a Lizard—he wasn’t going to be stumped on resetting a clock.
“How much time now?”
“Six-twenty-two.”
Less than a minute gone by? Oh, God!
The two lay in silence, binos trained on the cave opening. Mercs were going in and out without any sign of alarm. JJ waited, and when he was sure ten minutes had to have expired, he asked Jasper for another time check.
“Three and eleven.”
“Mother of us all,” he said, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest.
He tried to calm himself down. This was worse than anything he’d done so far on this god-forsaken planet. He knew it was because he had no control over anything. He was just a spectator.
The 20 minutes had crawled by with glacial slowness, but Jasper’s “One minute” took him by surprise. Still, no sign of Mountie.
“I bet he reset the detonator,” Jasper said.
Behind Enemy Lines: A United Federation Marine Corps Novel Page 17
