by C. R. Daems
"Me too," Art and Cedric said simultaneously.
"I may not get a team," I protested.
"You will. You screwed up and were successful. That's not your fault, but no good assignment goes unpunished," Pete said as Smitty, call sign Flintstone, and Van Lowe, call sign Salamander, entered the bar. Before they reached the table, my TCom buzzed on the emergency channel.
"Told you." Pete said, smiling ear-to-ear.
CHAPTER FIVE
Planet: Delphi: A Long-Ago Enemy Returns
When I exited the Nightingale Club, a military vehicle sat waiting outside at the curb. I walked over to the vehicle and peeked into the open window.
"Can I hitch a ride back to Fort Endeavor? It's kind of an emergency," I said, hoping I wouldn't have to wait for the shuttle.
"Are you Tasmanian Luan?" asked the red-headed, curly-haired youth sitting in the driver seat while looking at his tablet.
"Yes, I'm Tasmanian Luan," I said.
"Then jump in. I was sent to pick you up," the corporal said and smiled.
I didn't know what to think. How did they know where I was, and why had they sent a vehicle for me? Shrugging, I opened the back door and stepped in. Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die, as the poem went. The driver sped off in the direction of Fort Endeavor. I surmised this meant I was again going to be in charge of the team. I knew it had worked out alright last time, but I didn't relish the idea of doing it again. But this was the military, and nobody was asking me, and I wasn't being asked to volunteer. I had apparently done that already.
The ride to Endeavor was short, and before I finished my musing, the driver was pulling up in front of the headquarters building. I recognized Howard, Clifford, and Finley but not the other man. Howard waved me over.
"Luan, you know Clifton and Finley, and this is Tasmanian Tang. You four are going to be my team leaders. I waited for you to arrive before making the assignments. Your performance at Libian was excellent, which leaves me with a dilemma. Do I give you a team, or do I expand your responsibility to two or three teams?"
The thought of being in charge of several teams had my heart pounding against my ribs so hard I couldn't breathe. I opened my mouth to say something, but no coherent sound emerged.
"I've talked it over with Clifton and Finley, but they were no help. They both agree you should be a team leader, but they don’t agree on the number of teams. Would you like to give me a suggestion?" Howard asked and a smile touched his lips, probably at the look of fear on my face.
"What's the assignment?" I squeaked out.
"The USP has been invaded by the Abaddon. They struck the cities of Trika and Sidon on the planet Megara. I'm told that they evolved from a creature, something like the prehistoric Ornithosuchus, whose name means bird crocodile. They have powerful hind legs and can run four or five times faster than a human for short periods of time. Their two upper limbs are smaller than a human's arms but twice as strong, and they have tails they can sit on like a kangaroo. The Abaddon invaded the USP at least twice that we know of over the years, and each time, they abducted tens of thousands, and in the process, killed thousands. We theorize that humans have something in our organs or blood that enables the Abaddon to extend their normal lifespan, or maybe humans are a delicacy like caviar. It doesn't really matter. During our previous encounter with the Abaddon, we found their technology as advanced as ours." Howard paused to look at me. "Does that help?"
I wanted to scream no. Instead, I sat. When I opened my eyes sometime later; everyone was sitting in a semi-circle facing me.
"She does that often, Tang. Our sister believes strongly in the ready part of ready, aim, fire," Howard said.
"So I've heard," Tang said, giving me a nod of approval.
"One team, please. My value is in sneaking around and collecting information. The more men I have, the harder that will be," I said reluctantly. I wanted to say I could sneak around better by myself, but I knew it would be a waste of effort.
"Let's break the squads into ten men each. That should give you more flexibility in the field. Clifton and Finley will have five squads each, Tang four, and Luan one," Howard said. "The shuttles will be here in eight hours. We have been assigned the city of Trika on the planet Magara."
I took out my tablet and sent a message to my old team.
If you are available, meet me at the headquarters building immediately. fox.
They must have followed me back to Endeavor, because I had no sooner sent the message when eight men were walking toward me.
"We didn't want to take any chances," Smitty said with a huge ear-to-ear smile.
"I need two more scouts, one with a sniper and one with an explosive's primary. Better if they each had both," I said before Smitty could get in another word.
"Oh, shit," Smitty swore as he pulled out his tablet. "That sounds like the damn Abaddon are back.
"They're vicious, fast, and intelligent, and we'll be fighting inside buildings. Last time, we lost fourteen Tasmanians," Van said, sitting down next to me. "We're going to need a fox rather than a wolf to fight them."
Just then, two men came running toward us.
"Reporting for duty, ma'am," the shortest of the two said as they stopped in front of me. He had a square face and a stocky build. "I'm Carl Shoeman, call sign Bulldog. My specialty is sniper."
"I'm reporting for duty too, ma'am," said a tall lean man in his early thirties. He was twelve centimeters taller than Carl and had long brown hair and an angular, clean-shaven face. "I'm Freddie Hall. My specialty is explosives, and my call sign is Firebird." They stood smiling down at me.
"Sit," I said. "And quit calling me ma'am. Makes me feel like an old woman." I paused, looking around the group before me. Everyone was senior to me by at least eight to ten years. "We are going to Megara to fight the Abaddon who are attacking Trika and Sidon. The shuttles are scheduled to arrive in eight hours."
* * *
I had just finished storing my gear in the second-level sleep box when Howard appeared with Clifton, Finley, and Tang in tow. '"Luan, come with us," Howard said. "General Fairchild, who is the Brigade commander for the offensive on Trika, has just call for a meeting of all his battalion, company, and platoon commanders."
I sighed in relief. "Howard, I'm a squad leader."
"Technically, you're a platoon leader since you report to a company commander. Come, you need to hear what he has to say."
Reluctantly, I jumped down and followed. Howard exited the bay we were assigned and headed toward the front of the troop carrier. A hundred meters along the corridor, he stopped in front of two marine guards, spoke for a minute, and then waved for us to follow as the two guards stepped aside. Inside was a large room with a long conference table and over twenty men and women standing in small groups talking.
We had just entered when a lieutenant shouted, "Attention," as three men and a woman entered, followed by a stocky, silver-haired major general. He went to the head of the table and sat.
"At ease," he said, and everyone scrambled to grab a chair and sit. "The Abaddon have returned. The last time we engaged them, it was a cluster fuck of galactic proportions. We lost over a thousand army personnel and saved no one. At that time, we had rules of engagement–straight from our wise leaders–prohibiting the killing of civilians. That meant we couldn't shoot at the Abaddons who were herding civilians, and the navy couldn't attack a transport with thousands of civilians held captive. So, it's little wonder they returned," he said and slammed both fists on the table so hard it seemed to propel him to a standing position. "This time, you and your troops have only one rule of engagement: kill Abaddons! If civilians die, so what. What did our politicians think would happen to the kidnapped civilians when the Abaddon delivered them to their home planet? I'll wager dying here is far more merciful than whatever awaits them on the Abaddon's home planet." The rage seemed to drain out of him, and he collapsed into his chair. As he did, a brigadier general rose.
"If you hav
e any troops you think can't or won't follow General Fairchild's rules of engagement, leave them on the ship. We don't want the troops hearing conflicting views. This is an order from your commanding officer and not a suggestion." He paused as his eyes swept the room and settled on Howard. "Commander Howard, the Tasmanians will lead the assault on Trika. We don't expect you to drive them out of Trika." He had the nerve to smile. "But we would like an assessment as to their strength and potential weaknesses. While you are engaging the Abaddons, the army will create a security perimeter around the city. When that is in place, the navy will destroy the Abaddon ships in Magara Space. Consequently, the Abaddon on the ground will be unable to leave the planet and must therefore be killed to the last alien."
* * *
The walk back to our bay was made in silence. After we returned, Howard led us to our bay's conference room. Compared to the general's conference room, it was small and dingy with unpainted walls and a steel conference table and chairs.
"Well, what do you think?" he asked, while pouring himself a cup of coffee from the only luxury in the room: a coffee machine.
"Typical Tasmanian mission. Throw us at the enemy to see how dangerous they are before formulating a strategy," Tang said and grinned.
"That's the price of all the extra privileges," Clifford said, and Finley nodded agreement.
"Another military strategy designed by politicians worried about their reelection," Tang said.
"The politicians got a lot of grief last time for letting the Crocs leave with tens of thousands of civilians because they insisted we not destroy any enemy shuttles or troop transports if they had captured civilians aboard," Howard said, then looked to me. "What do you think, Fox?"
"Unless the Abandon are stupid, it won't accomplish the first objective," I said after having thought about the strategy on the walk back to our bay.
"Why not?" Finley and Clifford asked simultaneously.
"Given similar conditions, what would the five of us do if we discovered our transportation home had been destroyed?" I asked, tilting my head as if to hear better.
"Break through the outer ring of the soldiers and then split up," Tang said quietly as if talking to himself.
"Of course, and that defensive perimeter will be so thin that at least three or four of us would be able to break free," Finley said. "A thousand Crocs wouldn't even notice we had a defensive perimeter, and then they could split into fifty Croc units before we could respond. With our current numbers, we couldn't safely chase more than ten without risking our entire pursuit units being annihilated."
Howard stood shaking his head. "A thousand hungry and desperate Crocs wandering Magara against defenseless civilians."
"That's the ideal scenario," I said, and everyone stared open-mouthed in my direction. "The Crocs could break into the fifty groups before they broke through the outer perimeter."
"And hit the line at fifty points, effectively destroying the entire Brigade." Howard's face turned pale.
* * *
"Well, Jolie, care to share?" someone shouted as I returned to my sleeping box and was preparing to climb into it. Giving a Tasmanian a secret was like announcing it with a megaphone since they considered each other family. After all, what was wrong with sharing it with family? I spent the next five minutes looking into random sleeping boxes, over and around a hundred things, and nervously glancing everywhere. Finally, I put a finger to my lips.
"I snuck off right after the meeting in a shuttle and found a lone Croc on guard duty. He was the nicest fellow after I smacked him a few times. I whispered in his ear that the Tasmanians were coming to rouse him and his buddies. The poor fellow ran off leaving a trail of piss. By morning, they will all be gone. So, when we arrive, we will have to do a lot of shooting and yelling like we ran them off. After, we can have a raffle to see who we will shoot to make it more realistic. Don't get all pale-faced. Just a fifty-caliber shot to an arm or leg. The lottery winners will be the heroes of the battle of Trika."
"Are you in the lottery, Jolie?" someone shouted, and the room quieted.
"Of course not, silly. Everyone knows I'm the Tasmanian's cheerleader and need to stay well out of harm's way." I mimicked a body position for a T then shouted "T," and then formed an "A." As I continued everyone began shouting the letters, "S," "M," "A," "N," "I," "A," "N," "S." When I finished the final letter, I leaped into the air, spreading my arms and legs, and I heard the entire bay scream, "Tasmanians!" I took a bow when the clapping, stomping, and shouting my name began. I love these idiots, I mused as I climbed into my box to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Planet Magara: The Abaddon
"Luan, follow Petty Officer Hardy," Howard said. "Your squad will be in the first shuttle. Tang, split your platoon in half; you will be in the next two shuttles. Finley…"
Howard's voice faded as I followed the petty officer out into the hallway and down toward the middle of the ship. There he turned left into another bay where at least twenty shuttles sat with the cargo doors open, looking ready to go. The petty officer pointed to the shuttle closest to the massive bay doors.
"That's shuttle one. We should be ready to start in about ten minutes so get your luggage secured and strapped in. Good luck," Hardy said as he pointed to one of the ubiquitous green-gray camouflaged painted shuttles. When I entered the shuttle, I was amazed to find it empty, as it looked like it could hold at least fifty troops.
"Didn't you guys wash this morning? No one appears to want to ride with us," I said, confused as to why only my platoon was in shuttle one. As I secured my duffel bag, sat, and began tightening the harness, Isaac secured his duffle and sat next to me.
"The Crocs will send a few fighters when they see shuttles bringing troops to the surface. They won't send many because they can't afford to leave their transport ships unguarded. So, the army is minimizing the risk by cutting the number of troops in each shuttle in case one or more are shot down," Isaac said matter-of-factly as if he had just said it'll be a fun ride.
"Cheery thought, Isaac."
"Howard obviously wants this team safe, so he sent us in the first shuttle. That should be the safest shuttle, as we should be on the ground before the Crocs can get their fighters over here. In fact, most of the Tasmanian shuttles should get a free pass. General Fairchild also wants the Tasmanians to get on the ground safely because he is using us for reconnaissance." Isaac smiled.
Since there was nothing I could do, I sat back, closed my eyes, and practiced Gong Luan meditation. True to Isaac’s word, we were planet side in under an hour without encountering any Croc fighters. Once we exited the shuttle, it was preparing for takeoff. I stood looking around as there was nothing to do until Howard arrived. We had landed on an elevated strip of prairie, which permitted a good view of the surrounding area. Off in the distance, which I judged to be about ten klicks, was the city of Trika with a population of close to one million. The largest buildings seemed to be clustered in the center of the city and looked to be ten to twenty stories. As I looked away from the city, the buildings decreased in size with the largest being five to six stories. I couldn't imagine fighting in the city. Personally, I would have much preferred a good swamp or a mountain. Howard's voice jarred me out of my musing.
"Luan, over here." He stood talking with Clifford and Finley. As I made my way toward him, I saw Tang approaching. "Any ideas on how to approach this…reconnaissance?" he asked when we were all present.
"How about we all go home," Tang said shaking his head in disgust. "This isn't the kind of fighting the Tasmanians were created to do. This is door-to-door search and destroy is much more suited to army grunts."
"True," Howard said. "However, I wasn't given a voice in the decision. This is one of those have Tasmanians; must use decisions. We may not have to salute, but we have to obey orders."
"How come? Jolie never follows them," Finley said with a grin.
"Good point, Finley," Howard said and turned to look at me. "Well, Fox, what would y
ou do if you were in charge?"
I sat and close my eyes. When I opened them, I could hear explosions and gunfire. Looking up, the sky was filled with shuttles and fighters. The USP fighters were small with blue and white colors while the Croc fighters were longer, wider and painted a dark green. The USP fighters seem to outnumber the Croc fighters ten to one. As I watched, one army shuttle exploded into a ball of fire.
"Well, Luan?" Howard's voice broke my fascination with the war in the sky.
"It's going to take the army at least twenty-four hours to get into position. Let me take my boys and look around. Maybe we can find something productive to entertain us," I said as there was no way to develop tactics until we knew the location of the enemy, what they were doing, and how many. Howard didn't say anything for a few minutes then slowly nodded.
"I'll give you a four-hour lead, and then we'll follow. Tang, you take the center; Finley, a klick to the right; and Clifford, a klick to the left. I'll be on channel 101, Luan 102, Tang 103, Finley 104, and Clifford 105. Use channel 100 for general communications."
I nodded and waved for my platoon to come closer. "Suggestions?" I asked as I looked around the group. They looked back at me with blank stares. "Maybe after you've had your morning coffee," I said and got a few smirks. "Let's break into three groups of three. One group will lead, staying twenty meters in front of me. One group twenty meters to my right and one twenty to my left. We will rotate the lead counterclockwise every half hour. I'll stay in the center of the triangle, acting as an anchor for the three groups to ensure we keep together. This is a reconnaissance mission, so no fighting unless you have no choice. Any questions?"
I watched as the men separated into groups of three. Smitty, Vann, and Carl began moving straight towards the city center while Todd, Art, and Isaac went left; Pete, Cedric, and Freddie went right. Not a word was spoken. These were seasoned professionals. They didn't like making decisions, but once the decision was made, they moved like a precision machine.
