Horizons

by Donald B McFarlane

  Setting the helmet back down, Fu stepped away from the locker and kneeled down and pulled his boots off, stood back up and opened the collar of his uniform, and undid his one-piece jumpsuit, stepping out of his uniform he folded it neatly and hung it on a hook that was inside the locker next to the Shimmer Suit and pulled out a skin-tight black set of leggings and stepped into them before pulling out a matching top which he pulled over his head, then tucked into his waist. This followed by a small belt which attached firmly around his waist, bringing the buckle to the front where he tapped a pair of small tabs which initiated a series of cables to move away from the belt and cut across his body diagonally and run over his shoulders before attached to the backside of the belt. The cables had sensors that monitored Fu’s vital signs and were capable of regulating the suit's temperature and could even administer nano-bot medical treatment if required.

  Rolling his neck from side to side, Fu looked to his right and watched as Kio and the rest of the team were going through the same procedures he was, but each going through the motions of getting prepared in their own individual manner. Moving away from his locker, Fu moved to the weapons locker and slid the cover to the side and looked over the three compact rifles, three long-range rifles, and six energy pistols and a myriad of hand grenades and other explosives.

  Fu pulled out a compact rifle and brought the weapon up and peered through the optics and took a few breaths, concentrating on nothing but the section of the bulkhead he had drawn a bead on. Relaxing, he dropped the weapon down and returned it to its slot on the weapons rack.

  By the time all six members of the team were fully dressed and had their weapons, the ships that were patrolling the system had scattered in a desperate attempt to track down the stealth ship. It was the perfect time for the three teams to make their run for their target zones on Terra, and it was time for Fu to give his final instructions.

  “You know what your instructions are. Stay together on the ground. Get as much information on the local environment as you can by any means available. Only engage the inhabitants if you are forced to do so. You have three rotations before you need to get back to your pods and get back to the ship.” Fu looked at the five other members of the team. “Good hunting, and I will see you back here.”

  29

  Major Mike Tattersall, or Tatts to his friends, was starting to stink after three days in a hide location in the Iraqi desert fifteen miles outside of Mosul. The hide-site that he had picked was on a gentle slope and offered excellent views of the village that his team was surveying where a force of an estimated one thousand militants was holed up.

  The day was like most in northern Iraq, warm and bright with a light breeze. The team was scheduled to be extracted at nightfall, which was still some six hours away when the first indicators of something amiss caught Mike’s attention. A loud bang from a position in the sky above the town, prompting Mike to look up to his second in command who was staring at the town through a pair of binoculars.

  “What was that?” Mike shifted in the dugout hole they were in. “Sounded like a jet going supersonic.” His posh English accent unspoilt by the harsh conditions he was experiencing.

  “I don’t see a thing, Boss.”

  Mike shook his head and looked back down at the meal he was attempting to enjoy when another loud boom came from the centre of the village.

  “Boss, I just saw a large plume of dust just came up from the vil.”

  “Bomb?”

  “Unsure. No detonation.”

  Mike got up from his sitting position and rose to his feet, and peered out onto the sunny landscape down to the village that was made up of a few dozen buildings with a single road running towards Mosul and ran off to the right of the hide location.

  Bring the radio handset to up, Mike gave a quick notice to his headquarters. “Zero, Romeo Four Zero Alpha. Possible activity in target village. Wait-out”

  “Glasses.” He whispered.

  He took the binoculars and peered down at the buildings. “Everything seems in good order.”

  Mike set the binos down and looked towards the sky, and then scanned the terrain to the left and right of the village. “Get the other two teams on the net. Find out what they’re seeing.”

  Just as the sergeant was about to respond a single gunshot rang out from the village, stopping the soldier where he stood, and drawing the breath out of the hide site. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of Mike’s head in the lull that followed the shot. He slowed his breathing, only allowing his eyes the freedom to move as they normally would. And just when it started to feel like someone in the village had accidentally discharged their weapon or perhaps an execution had been conducted, a roar of fire erupted in the centre of the village so ferocious that both Mike and his sergeant ducked down into their hide site.

  Even though the hide was well outside the village, the volume of fire was so intense and involved what sounded like everything from AK47s to machine guns all the way to RPGs, that Mike couldn’t hear the incoming radio call from the other two teams that surrounded the village. Mike wasn’t sure what had just kicked off in the village, but it was massive.

  “Get on the net and get something in the air over the vil!” Mike shouted, even though they were far enough from the village, not to be drowned out by the gunfire that was roaring in the small hamlet not far away. He was positive that there were no other friendly forces in the area, and the pro-government militias were in defensive positions around Mosul, so the question was who was shooting at whom inside the village.

  “Zero.” The sergeant yelled, the radio handset still pressed against the side of his head. “They want to know what’s going on.”

  Mike stuck his arm out and took the handset. “This is Romeo Four Zero Alpha. I need immediate eyes over my location.” Standing up, Mike peered over the edge of the hide-site down to the village just as a series of mortar rounds detonated in the centre of town. The powerful explosions rocked the ground, forcing Mike to duck back down.

  “Zero!” Mike keyed the transmission button on the handset, but the line was dead. He tossed the set back to the sergeant and stood back up. “Get them back online.”

  Picking up the set of binoculars, Mike peered through them towards the set of buildings searching for any indicators that could tell him was the fuss was all about. Plumes of black smoke were slowly rising from several positions, and the sound of gunfire appeared to be drifting to the eastern part of the village from an original start point on the western side of the town.

  Whoever was down there was giving the militants a hard time, and considering that the intelligence reports that Mike had seen before he was inserted suggested that there were up to one thousand fighters in the village, their opposition was beyond fierce. Sitting back down on his haunches, he started to rack his brain again as to who could be behind this sneak attack. He knew that the Iraqi army was incapable of something like this without air support and that the friendly indigenous forces were too far away to be involved, which left him with two options to ponder: it was the Americans, or another player had come into the neighbourhood.

  He shook his head at the last suggestion. He knew that the Sentinels that the Alliance had on the planet were capable of something like this, but he’d have heard if they were going to be deployed, and he very much doubted that anyone would allow those machines to just slaughter humans. But when he went back to consider the possibility of an American SF raid, this seemed equally improbable. It was broad daylight, and there wasn’t a helicopter in the sky, and there was no chance that the Americans would have launched a raid in the British sector without first informing Mike’s team.

  It was at that moment Mike thought of his beloved Conan Doyle and one of Sherlock Holmes most famous quotes: when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Suddenly Mike’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and his heart started pounding in his chest like he was sprinting up a hill. Whatever was attacking
the militants in the village wasn’t from Earth, and if they weren’t Alliance, then the only option was that the Coalition had returned in some guise or another and were in the Iraqi desert.

  Mike quickly picked up his rifle and ensured that a round was already chambered, set the weapon down, pulled out his pistol and pulled the slide to the rear, chambering a nine-millimetre bullet before slipping the gun back into its holster.

  Without saying a word, Mike picked up the radio handset and switched the frequency on the control panel to an unsecured, all channel broadcast before bringing the headset up to his mouth.

  “All callsigns, this is Romeo Four Zero Alpha sending in the blind. Zeus. I say again, Zeus.”

  He dropped the handset and looked at the sergeant who was now staring back at him. “Are you sure, Boss?”

  Mike ran his tongue over his dry lips to moisten them and nodded slowly. Standing up slowly, he looked back over the sun-drenched landscape towards the village. The intensity of the gunfire had not subsided, and the noise was still an almost constant chatter of machine gun and rifle fire, with the occasional explosion. It was clear that the militants were throwing everything they had at their attackers, but it hadn’t worked yet. Mike had read the report on the Sentinels that Major Joe Hunt had released, and from what he gathered, it would take an enormous bomb to stop one of those machines, and nothing that the militants had at their disposal would be able to even slow one of those machines. Not even the decades-old Russian tank that he could hear joining the fight when its 125 millimetre cannon roared into action would be enough to stop a Sentinel, and less than a minute after the first cannon round was fired, Mike heard a massive explosion as the tank was hit by something, flinging the turret fifty metres into the air.

  The thud of the turret slamming into the parched Iraqi landscape twenty metres from the hide site was enough to make Mike and his sergeant jump up to see what the commotion was about.

  “Jesus.” The sergeant whispered.

  “Jesus can’t save them,” Mike responded. “if that’s alien tech down there, you’d need to drop a fucking J-DAM on it to stop it.”

  Before the sergeant could respond the radio chirped to life. “Romeo Four Zero, come in.”

  Mike quickly kneeled down and picked up the handset. “Romeo Four Zero Alpha.”

  “Romeo Four Zero Alpha, can you confirm Zeus? Over.”

  “Roger Zero, Zeus. Has to be. Over.”

  “Understood. Stay put, we’ve got fast movers en-route to your location now, and Ugly’s ten mikes out.” Jets and Apaches. Welcome news.

  “Roger.” Mike set the receiver down. “Looks like the air plus aviation is inbound.”

  The sergeant nodded at the news but had some of his own. “Listen.” He paused as he turned his left ear towards the village. “The rate of fire is falling off.” He said in a hushed voice. “The fight is coming to an end.”

  Mike stood up and peered at the village and immediately noticed the drop-off in gunfire. “You’re right. The tank must have been their last card to play.”

  Three minutes later a pair of US F16s streaked over the village on a quick pass before pulling up towards the sky and another run. Mike watched as the two jets streaked upwards, noting that they didn’t take any fire when the buzzed the village. That was unusual in these times. Militants would always take a pot-shot at anything that was within their weapons range even if they had no chance of hitting it. The jets made their second pass again without incident before climbing to a position above the town where they started to circle slowly.

  Mike sat back down into the hide, waiting for the sound of the approaching helicopters when the radio chirped back to life. “Romeo Four Zero Alpha.”

  Mike grabbed the handset. “This is Alpha.”

  “Four Zero, we want your team to enter the village at once.”

  “Say again.” Mike looked at the sergeant with a confused look on his face.

  “We’ve got a Predator on site, and they can’t see anything moving in the village, and if this is a Zeus incident, we need it verified at once.”

  “Roger, Zero.” Mike put the radio down and picked up his team radio. “Team leader to all teams, prepare to enter the village.” Cutting the transmission, he placed his headset on and checked that his microphone was in the correct position.

  “Right then.” He whispered to himself pulling his helmet out of the top of his Bergen. Mike put the camouflaged Kevlar piece on and ensured that the chin strap was nice a secure, giving the helmet a quick jostle to ensure it was sitting properly and not interfering with his communications system.

  “Ready to move?” He asked the sergeant who was just fastening his helmet and preparing his weapon.

  Mike got a thumbs up before the pair rose to their feet and gave the village another look. Peering through the binoculars, Mike couldn’t see a thing move, and he also noted that it was too quiet for his liking. Setting the binos down, he toggled his comms unit. “This is Romeo Four Zero Alpha, hide one and two, move into the village and meet at the central square. Watch your background when firing, we’ll be moving towards each other.”

  He killed the channel and raised his arms to push the piece of plywood that was covering the hide back, allowing the warm sun to hit his body after three days in the ditch that he and the sergeant had dug in haste on their first night.

  Hoisting himself out of the hole, Mike moved forward two feet before dropping to his belly and taking up a firing position towards the village, peering through his rifle sight checking for any movement to his front. In the distance, he could barely make out the two other pairs that made up his recon element hoisting themselves out of their hides.

  As Mike continued to scan the village, his sergeant moved past him, on his left and dove to the ground, assuming a firing position. As the sun beat down on them, and the smoke continued to plumb from the village, Mike could feel an eerie sensation creep over him. He had only felt it once before, on tour in Afghanistan when his patrol entered a town after the Taliban had slaughtered the inhabitants. Something that the village was telling him gave him the same feeling. Something was very wrong down there, and worst case scenario, the danger that had caused so much grief for the militants would still be lurking, waiting for Mike and his team to stumble into its grasp.

  “Moving!” Mike exclaimed, getting to his feet he raced forward twenty yards before dropping back down into a prone position. “Move!” He tried to slow his breathing as he continued to scan the village to his front. It was hot, and he was already sweating profusely in the midday sun.

  Mike watched as his sergeant raced past him and took up a kneeling position fifteen metres to his front and ten to his left. “Move!” Came the declaration.

  Mike used his left hand to push his torso off the ground while keeping his rifle aimed at the village. Getting to his feet he relaxed his posture slightly, letting his rifle barrel drop. They had gotten this far without incident, he thought to himself, if there was a danger, it was going to be inside the village, not on the outskirts.

  Moving forward at a light jog and when he came online with his sergeant, he waved the man forward. “Let’s go.”

  Making quick work of the distance that they needed to cover, the pair reached a small wall that marked the edge of the village and took up a hasty position behind it, scanning down a dirty alley that lead to the village square. There were no visible signs of the brutal combat that had raged earlier, but there was also no movement or sounds that Mike could detect. The village was a morgue.

  “Go left side, let’s push to the central square.” Mike ordered.

  The sergeant didn’t need to reply, he leapt over the small wall and moved to the left-hand side of the street and took up a position against the first of many houses that lined the road.

  Once he was set, Mike swung his legs over the wall and moved off to his right and knelt down next to an abandoned house, continuously scanning the road to his front.

  Looking across the street
, he caught the sergeants attention and slowly waved his left arm forwards. The pair rose from their positions and started to walk slowly down the street, stopping to check every open door and window. Every time they encountered a cross-street, Mike and the sergeant would carefully scan the opposite road before quickly popping into a position where they could aim their rifles down the adjoining streets.

  Block after block they found nothing. No people. No weapons. No blood. That was until they reached a point fifty metres from the town centre when they saw their first dead body, at the same time a call came in over their section radios from one of the other teams.

  “Boss, we’ve found the primary fight.”

  “Understood. Sweep for survivors but press on towards the rally point.” Mike replied.

  The sergeant was the first to reach the body, which was laying on its back, arms open wide, AK47 resting nearby, and a single burn mark on its chest. “Dead.”

  Mike jogged up and knelt next to the body. “Looks that way.” He gave the deceased a once over. Mid 30’s, bandoleer across his chest, and a full beard. Clearly a militant.

  The sergeant pointed at the burn mark on the man's chest, and Mike leant in to examine it. “This is not good.” He stood back up and toggled his comms unit. “This is Romeo Four Zero Alpha. Zeus is confirmed.” He quickly switched channels and got command. “Zeus is confirmed.” He cut the line and looked down at the sergeant, “Let's get to the centre.”

  The pair moved off again at a light jog, and as they got closer to the town square, they encountered more bodies, including a group of five men who appeared to have died facing in different directions. “Wait.” Mike ordered as he stopped jogging, and knelt down next to the group of bodies.

  Examining the ground, he paid particular notice of the empty brass casings that littered the ground. “Look at this.” He pointed to a cluster of casings, then back to the bodies. “These men were firing in all directions.” He looked over the torsos of the bodies. “And they all have burn marks on their bodies.” He looked up to the buildings that lined the road they were on. “They were caught in a crossfire, they just didn’t know where to shoot.”