She didn’t care, though. This had been one hell-of-a Birthday Ball.
Chapter 26
13
The small family looked scared out of their minds as Gracie, Eli, Kierk, and Oesper entered their front room. Three Marines stood watch over them, M99s pointed slightly to the side, but obviously at the ready.
“Sergeant Pillsbury’s upstairs,” one of the Marines told the four of them.
Gracie wanted to assure the family that everything would be OK, that they just needed their home for a short while. From the resigned, defeated look on the man’s face, though, she didn’t think he’d believe anything she’d have to say. At least the toddler was asleep in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of the Marines who’d taken over his home.
Gracie led the four scout-snipers up the stairway where the India Company sergeant was waiting. He looked relieved to see them.
“We’ve cleared the home. Nothing here but the four jericks downstairs. I’m going to leave a fire team here, but I’ve got to marry up with the rest of my platoon.”
“Anything else we should know?” Gracie asked, uncomfortable with the lack of a real brief.
Once the Marines realized the opportunity and the plan thrown together, Pillsbury’s squad had been tasked with securing the home for the sniper team. The sergeant probably felt bad enough leaving a fire team for security, but he was also anxious to get back to his platoon to get his own operations order, so Gracie let it slide. She knew her mission.
Kierk was not so accepting, though.
“That’s it? That’s your turnover, Sergeant?”
“That’s it,” the sergeant said. “If you’ve got any questions, you can ask Corporal Weintrub. I don’t have time to sit here and hold your hands.”
With that, he wheeled about, gathered up the rest of his Marines, and clumped down the stairs.
“Real professional,” Kierk said.
“Nothing to do about it now, so let’s prepare our FFPs,” Gracie said.
Kierk was actually half-a-year senior to Gracie, but this mission came down to skill with the weapon, and Gracie was given the Barrett. As the designated primary, she was effectively in charge. Kierk didn’t seem to mind, and he was following Gracie’s lead.
This was a pop-up mission. It hadn’t been planned. The battalion was already into its embark prep, and the advance party for 3/14 had already arrived when Intel found out about this meeting, so less than 80 minutes after the warning order, the mission was in full swing. India’s First Platoon had been on a routine patrol in the area, and it had quickly become the focal point of the operation. Gracie couldn’t blame Sergeant Pillsbury’s impatience to get back to his platoon and get his new orders.
The four Marines checked both rooms that faced their target. Gracie considered splitting the two teams up, but the tiny window in the child’s bedroom was not suited for the mission, and the bigger bedroom was a corner room with three larger windows, so that became their position. Moving quickly, they slapped their lines on the walls, then hung tarnkappes facing the target and camo nets along the sides. The nets would not fool anyone specifically looking inside the home, but they served to create shadows that would make observation into the room more difficult.
The target was a squat building known as the “Hatbox,” or rather, the people inside of the building. The Hatbox was a round, almost bunker-looking building, the home to one of Jericho’s leading industrialists. It stood isolated on a small hill in the suburb of Theodore Manor with the nearest neighbor almost 400 meters away to the northeast. From Gracie’s position to the west, the home was over 800 meters away. The running joke before the war was that he’d ruined so many competitors that he was afraid someone would try to extract revenge, so he’d built a fortress protected by open ground. Urban myth or not, the fact now remained that no police or Marine force was going to be able to approach the home without being spotted.
Henri Nilsson, the owner, was not the prime target, however. He was not the big fish. What had excited Intel, and therefore the commodore, was that the house was being used as a meeting between Mark Pyritte from Svealand and Tabitha Rinzinni of the ultra-nationalist Our Homeland Party. The Federation had been calling for meetings between the north and the two southern continents, but not between these two groups. Pyritte led a faction from Svealand that not only advocated full independence but the seizing of about 1/3 of the eastern continent as well. Rinzinni and the OHP had long advocated draconian “purity” laws and a new constitution, only to be defeated in election after election. There was substantial evidence that Rinzinni personally ordered some of the civilian massacres that had occurred, atrocities that had killed both Svea and Tinos, in hopes of fomenting full-out war. She’d escaped arrest and had been tried and convicted by the Jericho court in absentia and sentenced to a mind-wipe and life in prison. The fact that both were meeting had huge ramifications, and the Federation Council itself had stepped in and authorized the kill mission.
The Josh could level the Hatbox without a problem, but there were two roadblocks to that. The first was that there were purportedly over 150 people in the building, to include the household staff and their families. The second was that the Jericho premier, who was one of only four Jerichoites to know about the mission, wanted the house intact for intel gleaning.
Gracie checked the time. In less than ten minutes, the Federation would contact the governor of Svealand to inform her of the mission against one of the north’s prominent citizens, and if the FCDC commander and some of his troops stayed with her until the operation was concluded, well, that wasn’t because of a lack of trust, of course, but merely to ensure her security.
“Let’s get set up,” she told Kierk, then, “You two, keep working on the hide.”
All four had come loaded for bear. Gracie had her Windmoeller and her M99 in addition to the Barrett. Keirk had both his Windmoeller and Kycocera in addition to his 99, and each spotter carried an additional weapon as well: Oesper had an M54 grenade launcher, and Eli an old Peacemaker that Gracie had begged from Staff Sergeant Holleran. Together with the fire team on the first floor, they made up a pretty potent force. Intel had noted increased activity in the area, which didn’t necessarily mean anything significant, but with the Wasp down for pre-embark, better overkill than the opposite. The crew was trying to rush the Wasp back online, but that was a four-hour evolution, so it would probably not be available should things go south.
There was no reason to range the Hatbox. The Josh had it at 812 meters from her position to the center window. Atmospherics between her position and the building measured by the ship were being continually downloaded into her Miller’s AI.
Gracie and Kierk dragged the bed to just short of the window through which Gracie would fire if she got the call. It was too low for her to take a prone position, and being a bed, it was soft and giving under her, not a great surface upon which to fire. But she didn’t have time to search the house for something to put under her. With the Barrett resting on the edge of the window sill, she’d just have to still her body and make due. At least as with many of her shots since arriving on Jericho, the range was pretty short. Eight-hundred meters was nothing for the big gun.
Gracie glanced at the time, then got on the bed and leaned up against the footboard. She was about as tight as she could get herself. She dropped the magazine and checked the rounds. The first four were M33 CDs, the “CD” designating “counter defilade.” Except for the lime green tip, which was painted on for identification purposes, it looked no different than any other round. What was inside of it was what made it special. While still in the chamber, the AI programmed it for the shot. Once fired, it was on its own, but its mission was already mapped out. The round would travel to a given point, say a window, and once past it by a programmed distance, detonate with a surprisingly powerful blast for something that small. The ECR[25] was a very respectful four meters.
The technology was basically the same as with the larger energy shell
s, rounds that would carry a proton or plasma beam warhead over long distances before detonating, but highly miniaturized. The Windmoeller also had the M34 CD round, which was a mini-version of the larger energy shells, but its small size meant that to have any effectiveness, it had to focus the energy into a tight beam, which meant the specific target had to be identified and located once the round entered its kill zone.
One thing that still amazed Gracie was the seven-hundred-year-old technology used to power the round’s tiny brain. To keep costs down, the round was equipped with a magnetic transducer. With the round rotating, the transducer interacts with a planet’s magnetic fields to generate an alternating current. This tiny amount of power was more than enough to calculate the distance traveled as well as trigger the detonation.
“Now we wait,” Gracie told the other three Marines.
The Navy forward observer with the battalion had released a swarm of nano-drones, drones so tiny and so well shielded that nothing inside the house should be able to pick them up. These drones should already be on their way across the open approaches to the house, and once there, some would attach themselves to windows while others were programmed to surreptitiously worm themselves inside the building. As soon as either of the two targets was in a room that could be targeted by any of the four teams, the order to fire would be given.
As they were drawing weapons, Zach had suggested putting together a kitty on who would get the shot. Gracie had paid the entire 100 credits for her team, and she wanted to collect.
When the Svealand governor was notified, the mission was hot. Eli and Oesper continued to make minor improvements to the hide, but she and Kierk got into a semi-position, Gracie on the bed, Kierk on a chair. After only five minutes, Gracie had to stretch out her leg. It was going to sleep in the position that she had it, and she couldn’t allow that. She stretched it out straight, knowing she could bend it back and be ready in only a few seconds.
After another four minutes, the platoon command circuit lit up, and the lieutenant passed, “New analysis indicates the windows are rated R36, not R22. I say again, R36. All primaries, chamber an M18 AP first. Use that to create an opening, then the M33.”
Gracie quickly dropped the magazine, extracted the M33 round in the chamber and put it back in the mag, then took out one of her armor-piercing rounds. The M33 round could penetrate anything with an R30 and above rating. If the windows were R36, the round would probably bounce off and never penetrate the home. With the M18 AP, she could defeat and penetrate anything up to an R60 rating.
She put the armor-piercing round in the magazine, locked it in place, and then chambered it. She looked over at Kierk and raised her eyebrows. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back downrange. He’d already had the .308 M4 AP round chambered, but the smaller round fired by his Windmoeller would be pretty useless if he had to smash one of the windows now. He’d only be able to fire if someone came into the open outside the building or through a broken window.
“I don’t have to tell you that you need to be quick with your second round,”
the lieutenant said. “Don’t hesitate.”
If the shot came down to her, and she took the people in the room by surprise, then she was pretty sure they’d hesitate even just a moment before realizing what had happened and try to flee. That hesitation would be all she needed. With the Barrett’s superb counter-recoil system, she knew she could get off another round in just over one second. The first round would blast the window (and the super strong molecularly-oriented crystal used in higher R-rated windows tended to shatter when finally penetrated) with the follow-on round being the CD round, the one that would kill.
Gracie calmed herself. This was an easy shot. She just had to get the round through what would be an open window. Still, a bad position or buck fever could result in a catastrophic miss.
Breathe. Easy.
“Team Shark, we’ve got movement,” the lieutenant passed on the platoon command net. “Get ready.”
“Shit,” Kierk said.
“Team Shark” was the mission designation for Staff Sergeant Riopel’s four-man team. He’d been given the side of the building that Intel had thought the most likely target. Gracie started to relax, waiting for either the word to the staff sergeant to fire, or if it wasn’t passed on the open net, for the crack of Riopel’s Barrett to reach her. The staff sergeant was a good 1200 meters away from her, but over the open ground, the big gun’s report would still be plenty audible.
But nothing happened. No word, no gunshot. Gracie looked over and caught Kierk’s eye. He gave a shrug, then went back to his scope.
It was almost ten minutes later when Lieutenant Wadden came back on the net with, “Team Marlin, we’ve got movement entering 2003. Stand by for target confirmation.”
Gracie jerked back into full concentration. “Marlin” was her team’s designator, and 2003 was one of her target rooms. She brought her outstretched leg back in, settled the Barrett on the window sill, and read off the data still flowing from the Josh.
“Doughbaby is in 2003; I say again, Doughbaby is in 2003. Wait for confirmation on Red Piper,” the lieutenant passed.
“Doughbaby” was Rinzinni. Without consciously realizing it, Gracie reached under her blouse, and pulled out the lanyard and HOGs tooth, putting the round between her teeth. Just as mindlessly, she started caressing her trigger, getting ready to take the shot.
“We do not have Red Piper. Stand by, Marlin.”
She was barely aware of Eli coming to stand beside her. The world had shrunk down to the single one-by-two-meter window 812 meters away. That was all the mattered.
“Team Marlin. Doughbaby is in the back right corner of the room from your position. Engage.”
Gracie didn’t hesitate. Her caress became a gentle pull, and the big gun went off. She cycled the round and fired again just as the window exploded into shards of tiny crystals that flashed in the sunlight. Her second round exploded inside the room, a small orange flash just as Gracie adjusted her aim to skip the next round just inside the right window mount. It took her three more seconds to be satisfied before she sent the round downrange.
To her surprise, a middle-aged man stumbled to the window to look out in shock. The supersonic crack of a round next to her told her that Kierk had switched to his Kyocera, and a split second later, the man fell back with a chest shot.
Gracie watched through her scope, but she couldn’t see any movement. The ROEs stipulated that anyone in the room was to be taken out with the bodies to be sorted after-the-fact. However, with the Psych Team now getting ready to broadcast a call for surrender, no one else could be targeted except in defense.
“We’re still on the clock,” Gracie reminded the other three. “We don’t have any confirmation on Red Piper yet.”
If Red Piper hadn’t been in the room, Gracie didn’t think he’d be showing up anytime soon, at least on her side of the building. But she didn’t want anyone to relax. The Barrett had a pretty loud report, and by firing it, she’d given their position away to anyone in the area. Until they and the fire team downstairs were gathered up by Hotel’s Second Platoon and they were back at camp, she wanted everyone on the alert.
Four speaker drones flew up to surround the Hatbox, and within moments, the psych team’s announcement was blaring at them. With one speaker 700 meters from them, two at about 800, the one on the opposite side of the building 950, the announcement was reaching Gracie at different times, making it difficult to make out. She focused instead on the team’s position. She had excellent fields of fire to her front. The same things that made the Hatbox secure benefited her as well, at least in that direction. She leaned out and swung her Barrett around, but she had nothing to the rear.
“Gittens, open that window there,” she said, indicating the one on the side wall. “Keep an eye on the road alongside us and the homes across it.”
He looked back at the door leading into their room, and she added, “We’ve got the Hotel fire team
down there. Anyone coming in the room will have to get past them.”
Eli nodded and went to the window, then said, “Hey, this one doesn’t open like yours.”
“Well, break it. These folks are going to submit a claim anyway, so we might as well make it worthwhile.”
With a smile, he brought up the butt-plate of his 99 to hit the window when Gracie said, “Not with your weapon, Gittens. You really want to have to fire that with a broken stock?”
He looked around confused until Gracie pointed out a metal chair. He picked it up and started whaling away at the window. It managed to hold up through five hits, popping out of the frame of the sixth to fall to the ground below.
“You staying with the Kyc?” she asked Kierk.
“Yeah. I think our part’s done, but I’m sticking with Flora,” he said. “Besides, you’ve got your Windy.”
Like about half of the Marines in the platoon, he’d named his two personal sniper rifles.
If Kierk were on his Windmoeller, Gracie would have stuck with the Barrett. But with him on his Kyocera, she only hesitated a second before putting the big gun down and picking up the smaller one. Kierkagaard was probably right, though, so it wouldn’t make much difference. All they had to do was wait for the platoon and get back to camp, then finish up their embark and get ready to get off the planet. Still, she laid the Barrett right beside her and patted her Ruger in the holster on her thigh.
“There goes First Platoon,” Kierkagaard said, pointing to Marines who had started to move into the open area leading up to the Hatbox.
Gracie grabbed her helmet and slapped in on, powering up the display. She hadn’t realized that Hotel’s First Platoon had been so close to them, only 200 meters to their left. She knew the op order, of course, and she knew that First Platoon would clear the building and take any surrenders, but due to the extreme compression of time, she hadn’t really absorbed all the details of who was where on the ground. Second Platoon was part of the security element and was spread out from just past their position on one side and then all the way past Staff Sergeant Riopel’s position. Third Platoon and Weapons were on the other side of the Hatbox. Still more than two klicks out, Golf and India were on the move to join them.
Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2) Page 13
