by C. R. Daems
I folded into a meditation posture, knowing that waiting was the hardest part of any war. When you aren’t focused, your mind wands and comes up with all sorts of scenarios–none of them good. You can’t help worrying about your brothers being hurt, captured, or killed.
* * *
"Luan, Carl and Freddie found three scouts. They think they were carrying communication equipment with them, and they just entered a house with a good view towards where we landed," Cedric said.
"Have Carl and Freddie stay where they are. Recall everyone else," I said, wanting input from the group on how best to proceed. The Crocs were dangerous, and any confusion or miscommunication could result in deaths. I knew it was unreasonable, but I still had trouble with Tasmanian deaths–especially my detail since I was responsible. And since they weren't concerned, it was doubly important for me to worry about it. I was still obsessing over the problem when they began returning like ghosts, appearing from nowhere.
"What's up, boss?" Smitty asked smiling as the others sat in a semi-circle facing me.
"Carl and Freddie found us three Croc volunteers. They have taken up residency in a house. I'd like your ideas on how to evict them," I said looking around the group. Everyone looked to be considering the problem, but no one spoke.
"That's easy," Pete said. "Set the place on fire. They don't seem to like fire any more than we do."
I nodded in agreement. The only potential problem was controlling their exits.
"Alright, let's go see the house and decide on a plan," I said. "We need supplies, like alcohol and bomb-making materials, so let's stop at the next couple of houses and requisition them."
It took an hour to reach the house with the Crocs as we stopped at ten houses on our way, which proved amusing.
"The door's locked," Smitty said after trying the doorknob.
"We're Tasmanians, sent to counter the attack by the Abaddon who are in Trika," I shouted. "Open the door. We need some supplies you might have available."
"Go away. We have guns," said a high-pitched voice of a youth. I could see through the side window where I was standing; it was a lanky teenager with a rifle. An old man stood a few meters away shaking his head.
"One kid with a rifle. Ready?" I asked looking at Smitty who nodded. When he did, I drove my Mfw through the window, shattering the glass. "Drop the gun or you're dead," I shouted to get his attention. He turned in my direction, but before he could focus on me, the door burst open and Smitty was on the boy before he could process the information. I followed Smitty.
"Sorry about the window and the door, but this isn't a social call, and we don't have time for games." I took the rifle Smitty now held and handed it to the elderly man. "If you see any Abaddon, I wouldn't shoot at them with this rifle. It won't hurt them, and they may decide to shoot back. Do you have any flammable or explosive substances in the house? Gasoline, alcohol, gas containers or similar items?"
A middle-aged woman entered the room looking pale and nodding. "Not gasoline, but whisky has alcohol, and we have two oxygen tanks in the garage. Should we leave the house?" she asked without stopping to take a breath.
"No, you will be safer staying in the house. I doubt you will see but a couple of Abaddon scouts. There are not enough people out here to justify their time. But if you are outside, the scouts may decide to shoot you for any number of reasons. Now, show me the whiskey and gas containers."
We left five minutes later with two bottles of whisky and a bottle of vodka that contained forty percent alcohol and two containers of liquid oxygen. We visited a total of ten houses and collected an assortment of flammable substances and potentially explosive items.
"I would like the Crocs to exit the front door and trip something that explodes with enough force to at least stun them," I said as we lay examining the house Carl and Freddie had identified. "But in case the Crocs don't cooperate, us snipers will have to be in position to stop them."
The house was a standard two-story building, with the bedrooms upstairs and the living area on the first floor and no basement. Unfortunately, it had lots of windows on the front, sides, and rear. There were two exit doors: one in the front and one in the rear.
"Anyone like to volunteer an idea on how to get the Crocs to leave?" I began, seeking input.
"A Molotov cocktail should do it," Carl said and shrugged.
"Let's just go in a get them. With their acute senses, a couple of flash-bangs should render them useless, and we kill them," Todd said and grinned.
"Blow up the lower level, and then pick them out of the rabble," Freddie said, smiling.
"In other words, we're badass Tasmanians. Let just wing it!" I said, and when I looked, everyone was nodding. "Alright, Freddie, Smitty, make up four bombs we can detonate remotely. Art and Cedric, make six Molotov cocktails," I said trying to organize their suggestions into something that was a little less chaotic that might produce less random results. When they looked to have finished, I waved them to me. "Freddie and Carl, rear of the house. Smitty and Pete, right side; Art and Todd, left side; and Cedric and me, the front. Isaac and Van, I want you to stay here and be available for when my plan meets the Crocs." I paused to see the inevitable nods and grins–the same reaction I'd get if I told them we were going to a party with free drinks and naked girls. I shook my head in resignation. "When you're within fifty meters of the house, rear click once, right twice, and left three times. When I signal Go, Smitty and Art will race forward and throw their cocktails into the side windows. I anticipate all three will exit by the same window or door. Try stopping them with your bomb; if not, then the sniper. Each team is far enough away from the house for their sniper to support two of the teams, i.e., the front could support the right and left side, or the right side could support the front and rear," I said, and immediately, everyone began moving.
Twenty minutes later, Cedric and I were in position and I received three clicks. Five minutes later, two clicks, and a minute later, one click. Looking around, the area was quiet with no one in sight. Mentally crossing my fingers, I sent four clicks. Before I had sent the fourth click, I could see Smitty and Art running crouched over at double-time. When they were within five meters, they released the flaming bottles and retreated at full speed. It took only a few minutes for the flames to be seen in the windows, and several minutes later, they exploded outward. A minute later, the second-story windows shattered, and Crocs came flying through landing with relative ease. Then they did the unexpected. One went right, and two left, circling around to the sides of the house looking for the cause of the fire. The one on the right raised his weapon, but Pete shot first, hitting the Croc in the helmet and causing him to stumble backward and collapse.
The two on the left chose to run toward Todd and Art. Halfway to them, a bomb exploded, lifting the two Crocs into the air. Todd, Art, Cedric, and I sprinted toward the Croc who appeared not to be moving, but I had seen them recover from equivalent explosions. I reached the two Crocs only seconds after Todd and Art. A minute later, one of the Crocs staggered to his feet as Todd and I fired. Ironically, we both fired at his breast plate, and he was flung backward like he was on the end of a bungie cord that had reached its limit. He didn't move.
"Well, Fox, you've got your Croc corpses. What now?" Smitty asked, looking down at one of the bodies and giving it a kick.
"I want them carried back to our camp in the trees where Isaac and Van can perform an autopsy while the rest of us examine their protective armor."
* * *
It took three of us to carry each body, and we were exhausted by the time we reached our camp. The breast plate was a two-pieced hinged metal plate that covered the front and back from the lower part of the neck past the intestines. Our two point 408-caliber bullets had penetrated the metal but had only penetrated six and seven centimeters into their thick elephant-like hide. According to Art, the one that had penetrated seven centimeters had managed to inflict lethal damage, and then only by luck. The helmet appeared to be of the
same metal but thinner. The face plate was some sort of plastic and the most vulnerable. Our subsequent tests proved our CheyTac bullet was effective but not our Tavor 9 mm bullets. The only areas not covered by armor were the ankles and feet and the back of the knees, elbows, and lower neck. Art and Van determined the most vulnerable spots, although not immediately lethal, were under arms, neck, groin, and lower intestines. Eyes and ears were the only immediate killing spots.
"Well, Fox, satisfied?" Taipan asked when we had all been briefed.
"No. I'd like to see the effects of our flash-bangs," I said, frowning. "What we mostly know now is what won't work if you aren't carrying a CheyTac sniper rifle when one appears racing toward you at twenty-two kilometers per hour."
"That's an image to go to bed with," Smitty said, shaking his head and grimacing.
Just then, my TCom unit vibrated. When I looked down, Todd's face appeared. I clicked accept.
"Luan, I spotted Tang's group about a klick away. They are headed in our direction," Todd said. I had sent Pete and Todd out to scout the area to make sure we weren't surprised while we examined the Crocs.
"Tell him to be careful as there might be other Croc scouts in the area," I said, not that two or three Crocs would try to attack Tang's platoon, and I doubted the Crocs would send anyone this far seeking to engage troops. I clicked off and waited, knowing Howard would join us as soon as he heard we were here. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Howard and his units appeared.
"Well, Luan, what have you learned?" Howard asked looking around at the dissected Croc and all the armor laying around on the ground. "General Fairchild has been plaguing me for an update every hour on the hour. I think he expected me to send my fifteen units racing into the city, engage the Crocs, and report back their strength, weaknesses, and number of kills. He wasn't happy that I sent only one group and waited four hours to move out. He anticipates the army will be in position in the next eight hours and wants to know the Crocs' status."
"If you had, I think you would be lucky to have five squads left alive. Our standard Tavors won't penetrate their armor, the few with CheyTacs would be lucky to kill one except by accident, and if you got close enough to use a knife, you would find out too late that slashes don't penetrate the skin," I said and was greeted by stony silence. I walked Howard, his platoon and squad leaders around our make-shift autopsy area and explained our findings as well as what we had encountered in the city.
"In other words, the general's plan is a planet-sized cluster fuck awaiting his signal to happen," Howard said almost in a whisper. He clicked on his TCom device and put it on speaker. General Fairchild answered.
"Well, Howard, do you finally have something to report?" he shouted. "The whole damn army is waiting on the Tasmanians for intel to start the war."
"The Tasmanians are officially informing you that if you start the war with your current plan, the Abaddon will destroy the army and be free to run wild over the planet," Howard said formally. "And since the civilians don't have the kind of weapons it would take to stop them, it wouldn't surprise me if Delphi wouldn't leave what was left of the army on the planet to clean up the mess they made. And if we succeeded, which I doubt, it would take years if not a lifetime."
"What are you talking about, Howard?" Fairchild shouted, then gave a small chuckle. "Sounds like the current Tasmanians can't live up to their reputation."
Howard looked skyward and shook his head in frustration before speaking. "General Fairchild, you have been officially warned. So, get your ass out here to my location or give the order to continue with your orders and live with the consequences."
"I don't know who the hell you think you're talking–" Fairchild began but Howard disconnected the connection.
"What do you think, Jolie? Ready, aim fire, or fire and skip the ready aim?" Howard actually laughed. "You're making believers out of us all. Your team did well, Fox."
The general arrived thirty minutes later in a convoy of three armored cars. His face was red, looking like he had been screaming the entire trip here, but he was silent when he exited the vehicle. Howard waved for him to follow him and me. I spent the next hour explaining everything we had seen and done. Without a word, he wandered off, head bent with lips moving but no sound coming out. He returned a half hour later.
"I won't apologize but I won't court-martial you like I had planned." He snorted a laugh. "What are you suggesting, Howard?"
"I see two possible alternatives," Howard began. "One, reinforce your perimeter with 50 caliber machine guns and a large quantity of bombs. Then destroy their fleet. Of course, while your arming the army, a lot of civilians are going to be shuttled to the transports. Or, two, begin harassing the Abaddon fleet while simultaneously harassing the Abaddon on the ground in an effort to make them leave with minimum captives on board their ships when you destroy their fleet."
"So, you want me to ignore the Delphi Congress's orders?" Fairchild asked, not looking happy about any of the two options.
"I'd rather explain to the Congress that I killed fifty or hundred thousand civilians in order to avoid destroying the planet Magara with marauding Abaddons."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Planet Magara: Death March
Much to the general's growing frustration, equipping the army with the proper weapons and support vehicles and making assignments took until the early hours of the morning.
"When General Fairchild signals, Operation Dispatch is a go," Howard said. "Finley and Clifton will send one squad down each street; Tang, your four will cover their rear in case the Crocs try to sneak behind them. Luan, you are free to do your thing. Remember, our objective is to convince them it's time to leave. Given the fifty caliber rifles and the grenades, we want to present a wall of death and destruction. We do not want to give them a chance to mount a defense. That means every Croc we see must die regardless of the number of civilian casualties."
"We're going to have a shitty reputation after this," Tang said to nodding heads. The logic behind this strategy isn't going to be included in the telling; just the wanton killing of civilians."
"We will have to be content knowing we saved a planet from years of roaming bands of Abaddons and the tens of thousands they would have killed during that time," Howard said and shrugged helplessly. I waved my squad to follow me as I headed for the outside of Clifton's line of march.
"I want to experiment with the flash bangs," I said, handing five to each man and keeping ten. If their senses are more highly sensitive, won't noise and light be more destructive to their systems, even though the concussion will be less effective because of their tough skin?" I speculated. "So, let's find some Crocs to experiment on, preferably small groups of two or three."
I smiled as I preceded at a trot toward the center of Trika. We had only been trotting for a half hour when we spotted three Crocs who immediately began running toward us. Before we left Howard, I had damp rags packed inside our helmets, which made it impossible to hear someone yelling less than a meter away. We could only hear each other through our TCom ear implants.
"Smitty, you and I," I said as we each lofted a flashbang in the direction of the Croc, turned, and dived toward the ground. Of course, even with my ears blocked, my arm covering my eyes, and my face in the dirt, I saw a flash of light, heard a loud bang, and felt the expanding air caused by the explosion. I immediately rolled over and sat up to survey the result. All three lay on the ground, not moving. I shakily rose to my feet and slowly began moving towards the downed Crocs. When I reached them, everyone had followed but had stopped several meters away with their weapons pointing down at the prone figures. Isaac moved forward and knelt down and examined each one.
"They are alive but out cold!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "I guess their brains aren't as tough as their skin. Everyone looked to me, and I nodded, resulting in a flurry of shots into their bodies. "On second thought, I pronounce them dead from Tasmanian exposure."
Howard, flashbangs render them useless. Wait for the
bang, then have all units begin moving. Luan:
"Guys, at the next intersection," I said and pointed to the next street. "We are going to start running down the street. At each intersection, one of the two at the rear of the formation will throw a flashbang to the right and the other to the left. We will not stop but continue running to avoid the flashes and bangs. We will continue until we have covered Clifton and Finley's areas of responsibility. Then we will proceed to the intersection two streets further along and do it again."
As we walked to the intersection, I could see them pairing off by twos and getting in a line. These people were experienced professionals and so easy to lead. They just didn't like having to make decisions, but then neither did I. Only my father's training made it possible. Ten minutes later, I got a message from Howard, which made me smile as I could imagine he was.
Luan, ready. Howard.
I waved my arm and pointed at the intersection, as I began running from the shelter of the building we had been waiting behind. I found myself between Todd and Isaac and smiled at the protective gesture–brothers looking after their little sister. We were passing the fifth intersecting street where Carl and Freddie had thrown their flashbangs, and we were just entering the protection of the next rows of buildings, when four Crocs entered the street at the next intersection.
"Shit! Hit the ground and cover up," I shouted as I heaved a flashbang as far as I could in the direction of the Crocs and dove toward the ground. Unfortunately, the flashbangs Carl and Freddie had thrown at the intersection exploded while I and most of the others were still upright and exposed. I had slowed while getting ready to throw a flashbang, which kept us from being far enough into the protection of the buildings and had no protection except the ground from either my flashbang or the one Carl and Freddie threw at the intersection. Only the sound-deadening material in our helmets saved us from a complete disaster. But the last four streets would now be on alert.
