Tasmanian SFG, Book II: Devils to Me (Tasmanian series 2)

by C. R. Daems

"No, no, not part of gang," he shouted and tried unsuccessfully to shake his head choosing instead to wave his hands back and forth in a negative gesture. Taipan stretched out his arm and had a cell phone in his hand. "Part of deal with Nuranjo to tell him when strangers come. Chief knows," the youth said in a rush and looked pale. Couldn't blame him given the violent environment he lived in. He knew we were looking for Nuranjo and had to assume we were as vicious as him.

  "What did you tell him?" I asked then reluctantly added a little incentive. "The truth or bad things happen." He tried to nod but Taipan's hold restricted his head movements. I nodded to Taipan who released his hold on the youth's neck but rested it on his shoulder.

  "Ten soldiers entered camp looking for him. Think they stay the night. They set up a camp near Chief's tent," he said, then added, "I tell truth. Not know more."

  "What did Nuranjo tell you to do?" I asked, knowing Nuranjo would have given him instructions.

  "Nuranjo said to tell him when you leave."

  "You can go. I'll keep your phone. You won't need it as we aren't leaving for now." Taipan had no sooner released his hold on the boy than he took off at a run. I gestured for everyone to gather close. "We are expecting Nuranjo's gang sometime in the next day or two. They know we are here, so I would expect an ambush since we also have weapons, and I doubt they want a fair fight given their previous encounters. So, I'd like a little surprise party for them. As we approach evening, I would like each of you to prepare your sleeping bags like you were in them and then fade off into the jungle. I think it likely they will come from the north or the east; therefore, I'd like half stationed deep in the jungle to the south and half to the west of the camp as night approaches." I sat thinking about what we should expect from inexperienced but vicious youths with automatic weapons. "Find good cover and keep a good separation, as you can expect them to spray the area with automatic fire when they return fire." Everyone was grinning now in anticipation of what I had planned. "I will send south or west to begin the killing. However, you will fire only until they begin spraying your area. Let's assume west begins the ambush. Then I will send south. When south begins shooting, west will slide north. At some point, south will stop shooting and I will send west for them to begin shooting again as south slides east. West will stop and I will signal south again. If anyone is left after the last group fires, you will have to retake the Tasmania Qualification School again," I said to smiling faces and nods.

  "That's sneaky, Fox," Smitty said. "What if they surrender?"

  "I'll send stop. But they will have to surrender en masse," I said, thinking it would be nice but unlikely as youths would tend to panic, not understanding that surrender was an option.

  The day passed slowly for me as I imagined some kind of berserk charge into the camp by Nuranjo's gang could surprise us and cause an excessive number of casualties and deaths. We would win, but the cost would be high. Nothing happened that night, adding the punk band Gallows to the heavy metal band Manowar already inside my pounding head competing for title of the loudest band in the world. I was surprised the entire village wasn't dancing to the sounds that must have been blasting from my ears. By midday, I had everyone on alert, although they looked busy with mundane tasks.

  To my relief, the gang entered the village early the next morning just before dawn. There looked to be about twenty-five, give or take a couple. When most were within twenty meters of our campsite, they began firing. I waited until I felt most were about to exhaust their ammo and would need to insert new magazines, then I pressed the west icon on my TCom. Immediately, five Tasmanians began firing and bodies of youths began dropping. Their reaction was so slow; half their number was dead before they recovered and turned their attention toward the west. Several seconds later, west stopped firing, although the youths continued. I pressed the south icon and my group began firing. This time, the youths were faster to respond but not before another eight died. We stopped firing, and I pressed the west icon again and the last six died. It was easy to ignore that most were in their early teens when you saw the devastation they had caused. I sent out two scouts to ensure there weren't more out there, and then I walked around verifying they were all dead, although it would have been nice to have one alive to question. As we did, the villagers exited their huts and stood staring at us. They looked afraid, probably anticipating Nuranjo's response once we were gone. I idly wondered how bad Nuranjo needed the food supply the Dubaku were providing, but then I realized he could just raid other villages. Time for an update.

  Professor, we just killed twenty-six of Nuranjo's militia and deprived them a shipment of food, which will probably make him active and take the Tasmanians off his Christmas list. Fox.

  "Smitty, I'm going to give the phone back to Nuranjo's spy. Let's subtly pass the word that we are going to Gugu tomorrow, and let's see what Nuranjo does." I said. "It will tell us a lot about him and his militia."

  "I'll make sure the spy knows. After all, what good is a spy if he doesn't have any secrets to share?" Smitty said as he turned and headed for our camp area. Seeing the young spy, I headed for him.

  "Here," I said when I reached him. "You can tell him what happened to the gang of children he sent. If he wants his food, he can come and get it or send more children if he is afraid."

  The youth shook his head. "I can't tell him that!"

  "What's the next village?" I asked.

  "Gugu. A half-day walk to the northeast. The trail leading to Gugu starts over there," the youth said while pointing.

  "Thank your village chief for his hospitality," I said and made my way to our campsite.

  * * *

  We left the next morning at first light. About an hour later, I stopped.

  "I decided I don't want to go to Gugu but rather Bapoto. According to my map, it should be directly north of here. Whoever Nuranjo sends will probably go through Gugu to reach Dubaku if they are using the established trails. So, rather than meet them on the trail, I thought we could find our way through the jungle to Bapoto and then approach Gugu from the north," I said surveying the men for their reaction. "That may provide us with information about his whereabouts or catch him from a direction he isn't expecting." Not seeing any objections, I continued. "Single file."

  There were trails, but they appeared to have been made mostly by animals and led to watering holes or streams. If any led to Bapoto, they weren't obvious, so the scouts just tried to maintain a northerly direction. We thought Bapoto, Gugu, and Dubaku formed a triangle with two of the legs being sixteen and ten hours’ walk. And since Gugu and Dubaku appeared to be a right angle, the Bapoto-to-Dubaku leg was the hypotenuse and approximately nineteen hours. So, after twelve hours, I decided to make camp for the night so as to be rested when we reached Bapoto. As I had hoped, the scouts found human trails when we got within several hours of the village. We approached carefully to ensure Nuranjo and his gang weren't camped there or lurking close. When we arrived, the villagers were cautious but there was no panic. The word had clearly been disseminated that Delphi troops were wandering the jungle and didn't appear violent. I wondered if that was due to the spy network or word of mouth. This time, the village chief didn't need a youth to translate for him.

  "Welcome," he said with a tentative smile as he surveyed my group and me. "I am Chief Eniola. How may I help you?"

  "We are Delphi troops looking for Nuranjo and his militia since we have been told he is killing villagers and stealing from them," I said, wondering if the direct approach would work. "And we would like to know what your village spy is telling him right now."

  Eniola smiled. "Probably that the troops chasing him are in the Bapoto village, how many you have, and that they have a woman soldier."

  "Has he been here recently?" I asked as the chief appeared willing to answer questions; whether the answers were truthful or not remained to be seen.

  "The gang of youths you killed came through here two days ago. I have not seen Nuranjo in many months."

 
"You have an agreement with him?" I asked.

  "Yes, it is in the best interest of my people. We cannot fight him and win, so we must join him," the chief said as a matter of fact. I agreed with him.

  "Chief Eniola, I have medics with me. I will have them see to your people if you have no objection." I wondered if his people would confirm what he had told me. I thought they would but regardless, helping if we could was a good thing."

  "I would welcome your help, and I will fetch Nsia and bring him to you so he can tell you what he told Nuranjo."

  That evening, I asked, "Well, have we discovered anything we can use?"

  "No," Peppermint said, shaking his head more in disgust than emphasizing the negative. "Nuranjo's gang use the Bapoto as their private brothel, and it keeps everything peaceful. Occasionally, they take a youth but otherwise leave the tribe alone."

  "If they come through here often, it might indicate that Nuranjo's base camp is north of here. Ironically, that would make sense, as it would mean he would be close to Thabo city and able to keep tabs on what was happening there–like that troops from Delphi had arrived, and he’d know where they were headed," I said thinking out loud and hoping for feedback.

  "He must be sending a kill squad after us. Killing twenty-six of his militia and stealing his food must have pissed him off." Smitty grinned at me. "And a girl in charge. How insulting."

  "If we can determine how, that may indicate the most likely direction of his base camp," I said.

  "Or it may just be where he was raping and killing when he found out about us," Mamba said with a snort.

  "True–" A buzz on my emergency TCom channel stopped me cold.

  Fox, company from the north. Five minutes or less. Firebird.

  "Same teams, one south and one west. Slide east and north." They were moving before I finished talking. I got the best men in the Tasmanian SFG, I thought as I ran, following the men heading toward the jungle on the east side of the village. When I was thirty steps into the jungle, I found a small rise and dropped down and began setting up my CheyTac, since I would be less likely to kill innocent villagers with it than I would with the Tavor, even using small bursts. I had just finished when youths began exiting the jungle from the north. It was immediately apparent they were ready for a fight. One older youth headed for the chief's hut while the rest wandered the village. This was a cluster fuck waiting to happen, and it was getting worse as the group began dispersing. I closed my eyes seeking to quiet the panic. After what seemed like an eternity, I clicked on Taipan's channel. "Fire from cover," I said. He began a second after I gave the order. Youths began falling one after another as the shots rang out. By the third kill, it began to have the desired effect. They began collecting together, moving away from the shooter and seeking shelter behind huts. I clicked on the west icon and began firing. Another seven or eight dropped, and I signaled for west to stop and waited. As the youth began emerging, I clicked on the south icon while moving north with the rest of the west team. Now the youths were in panic mode and spraying shots everywhere while running for cover. I signaled south to stop, knowing they would now slide east.

  From what I could see, it appeared less than ten remained alive, which meant Nuranjo had sent over thirty to kill us, because there were at least twenty-three dead bodies. Six more died before several dropped their guns and raised their arms above their heads. Proving Tasmanians were not heartless killers, none of them were shot.

  As a deadly quiet settled over the village, I walked over to the youths who had surrendered, followed by my west team. I was joined seconds later by Chief Eniola.

  "Chief Eniola, would you mind translating for me?" I asked, thinking he would like to see Nuranjo eliminated. He nodded for me to continue.

  "You can lower your hands," I said, and then Eniola said something, and everyone lowered their hands. "Does anyone here speak Standard?"

  One boy, around fifteen, raised a hand. His face was pale, and his left hand was shaking.

  "Do you know where I can find Nuranjo?" I asked.

  The boy shook his head. "He not in camp #1, maybe in #2," he said looking nervously from me to Eniola and back again.

  "Two camps?" I asked Eniola who immediately started a conversation with the youth and two others. Eniola nodded.

  "They say Nuranjo has two camps. One north of here about eight hours’ walk and another east. The east one is a two-day hard march," Eniola said.

  "How many in each camp, and what about women?" I asked Eniola to save time. He spoke with the boys for several minutes before turning back to me.

  "They say camp #1, the one to the north of here, had about eighty men, but now there is less than thirty. There are no girls in the camp. Nuranjo sold the last of them a month ago. He doesn't know to whom. They were told that camp #2 had two hundred boys. They don't know about girls," Eniola said.

  "What will happen to these boys?" I asked. The chief shrugged.

  "They have all been branded," Eniola pointed to the shoulder of one tall thin youth. The symbol looked like a one-inch asterisk, but on closer examination, it was three swords: one pointing down, one on an angle up, and one on an angle down. "If they are caught by Nuranjo, they will be executed as deserters. Usually that involves a knife fight, with the deserter facing five to eight opponents. They usually stop the fight when the deserter has been cut numerous times; then they tie him to a pole to bleed to death. It's not pleasant. And if he goes into the city, they will either hang him or throw him into prison where he will die from starvation, or disease, or fights. So, most will return to Nuranjo if they get free."

  I decided to send Howard an update.

  Professor, Nuranjo has two camps. One camp is an eight hour walk north from the village of Bapoto, which would put it approximately sixteen hours east of Thabo City. It had eighty fighters but lost twenty-six at Dubaku and another thirty at Bapoto, so it now has only twenty-five. I thought I would visit and eject the tenants. The second camp is due east of the first by some twenty to twenty-four hours. I'm told that camp has close to two hundred fighters and Nuranjo. I could wait at camp one. If you find camp two and Nuranjo escapes, he may come running to me. Fox

  I got an almost immediate reply.

  Fox. Where are you getting all this information? We haven't run into one of Nuranjo's fighters. Professor.

  I replied immediately.

  Professor, this proves Nuranjo isn't stupid. If one ten-person team can take out his twenty-six man kill squad, he could envision losing his entire militia if he engaged ninety Tasmanians. he has a Nuranjo guide leading you and gets reports from each village you visit, so he can engage you at a time and place of his choosing or avoid you forever. I'd shoot your guide, take the cell phone away from the village spy–each village has one–and have your medics treat the villagers. They will tell you all you need to know. Fox.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Planet Dodoma: Surprises Can Be Good or Bad

  The next morning, we left for camp #1 after I damaged one of the spy's battery connections on his cell phone. I didn't want camp #1 ready for us when we arrived or Nuranjo knowing we were planning an attack on his camp since no one appeared to know where he was at the moment. Fortunately, there appeared to be a human path going in the right direction. Wanting to be fresh when we reached camp #1, I called for an early stop to make camp, rest, eat, and get a decent night's sleep, although everyone had a two-hour guard duty shift. I doubted the camp would be sending anyone else, but a surprise in the jungle would be a disaster with bullets from thirty or more automatic weapons flying indiscriminately in every direction. I shuddered at the thought.

  We were up at dawn and on our way in less than fifteen minutes. Lucky, because less than twenty minutes later, I got an urgent text message from Peppermint who was currently in the lead. He had sent it to me but on an open channel, so everyone was aware.

  Large group approaching on trail. Contact in two minutes.

  The worse possible scenario I had imagined and wa
s trying to avoid–an automatic weapon's fight in thick jungle terrain…multiple deaths, wounded. My mind whirled in panic for what seemed like eternity, and then it quieted as I conquered the fear. I was filled with revulsion as I sent:

  Disperse both sides, hide, Tasmanian attack on my signal.

  To a quiet mind, it was the best of a list of terrible responses and would at least reduce the number of automatic weapons firing. A Tasmanian attack would mean we would have the element of surprise as we exploded into the group, the fighting would be one-on-one death clashes against untrained youths, and the odds were tolerable. By now, the lead men/youths were even with me and I sent, GO!

  I rose from behind a flowering bush and fought my way in agonizing slow motion toward the lead men. I was within two meters of them before they stopped and turned to face the noise of cracking underbrush and giant leaves smacking me as I raced toward them. One was raising his weapon as I slammed into him, pinning his weapon against him as my knife cut through his throat to his vertebrae. As he was propelled backward, I shot the next youth in his open mouth, using my Jericho. His head exploded spraying blood on the closest two youths. Subconsciously, I felt Smitty hit the line from the other side. As I turned to face the man in the lead, he had begun firing as his gun swiveled toward me. I dropped into a split and threw my knife, hitting him in the eye, but not before his pellets sprayed the youths behind me. One youth, wounded judging by his blood-soaked shirt, charged me as he fumbled to turn his weapon in my direction. I crossed my right leg over my left, catching his leading ankle and throwing him sideways. I shot him twice as he fell. Pain scorched my leg and side as the pop, pop, pop of multiple weapons could be heard. Silence. As if I had gone deaf. Not a bird chirping, or monkeys jumping from tree to tree, or squirrels running up trees. Silence. For a moment, I felt Death as a living breathing thing hanging in the air, searching for what now belonged to him.

  Smitty shattered the silence. "Peppermint, Wolf, the Fox needs a medic," he shouted.