The ludicrous accusation astounded Rizer. He was already trying to process his confirmed kill, legal by the laws of war yet still hard to accept. Damned if you’ll pin Baltazar’s mistake on me! “Sir, he could have still taken an unmined route; they were clearly marked on our HUDs.”
“The fact is you froze upon engaging the enemy, Rizer. You didn’t kill him, but your hesitation and the chaos it created contributed to Sergeant Baltazar taking a different route, therefore partial responsibility lies with you.”
Rizer shook his head. “Sir—”
“Don’t shake your head at me!”
You fucking snake, you’re a goddamn coward!
“Sir, might I interject a moment?” Len asked.
Dupaul snapped at Len, “Go ahead, staff sergeant.”
Len stepped to Rizer’s side. “I don’t know why you froze out there, Rizer, but your hesitation is unacceptable.”
“Completely,” Dupaul added, spitting out the word.
“If you hadn’t redeemed yourself by carrying on the fight and getting a kill in the jungle, you wouldn’t be getting promoted. I know a true infantryman when I see one, Rizer. You have excellent combat instincts, but you need to unleash them at go-time, or they don’t mean a thing. You might not be directly responsible for a squad mate’s death but screw ups like that could definitely get someone killed. No one wants that.” He let the truth of his words sink in. “So get your grape screwed on and square yourself away, both in the field and in garrison. We’re expecting replacements at any time, boots out of SOI. As corporal and fire team leader, you need to set a powerful and motivating example. If you’re not up to the challenge, say so now—we’ll award the stripe to Hagel or even Stubneski.” A second later he muttered, “God forbid.”
Rizer found himself in rare disagreement with Len; Stubs would make an excellent NCO. But he wasn’t about to pass up his chance. “I’m ready, staff sergeant. I won’t let you down.”
“We’ll see about that!” Dupaul hissed. “You are dismissed.”
Go fuck yourself, butter bar, thought Rizer as he about-faced and exited.
SSgt Len pinned on Rizer’s double chevrons the next morning. Lt Dupaul stood far off on the company office steps during the formation, scowling at Rizer.
CHAPTER 21
Most Marines don’t die when they’re expecting it.
Rizer didn’t have that problem. He fully expected to die as he led first fire team into the town of Pax at a quick march. He recalled from high school Latin that pax meant peace, the irony not lost upon him. The small burg simmered with cracks of rifle and machinegun fire. Plasma gun flashes lit the streets as the sun dropped over his shoulder.
Most of the action took place about a quarter klick ahead on the main street, around BM’s broken-down dump truck. Rizer had no idea what was wrong with the truck, but it must have been fixable, for a team of engineers had been sent to assist, accompanied by a hover tank and a merc team to provide fire support.
It should have been a simple operation, but insurgents had quickly materialized on the scene like jackals surrounding a wounded deer. Anti-armor rockets had disabled the hover tank, which sat grounded and immobile, taking heavy fire from buildings across the street, forcing Rizer’s platoon to dismount from a distance.
He wondered why they didn’t just direct their main turret guns at the insurgents, instead of relying only on their top mounted machinegun. Poor angle? Disabled turret? The reason didn’t matter. Doom Squad had its orders: clear the buildings of hostiles.
Calls for artillery were denied, must prevent collateral damage against the civilian population. Requests for close air support had been granted, yet none had showed up yet. SSgt Len, leading Ghost Squad at the head of the platoon, requested status on the inbound gunships and received the answer: ETA 10 MINS.
Guess we suck it up until then. Yet even as he acknowledged and dreaded the possibility of death, Rizer felt energized, his adrenaline up, the march into town from the Scorpions a warmup for the action ahead.
Ghost and Fury Squads continued straight upon reaching the junction at the edge of town, bound for the downed truck and tank to provide fire support. Evil and Doom took a left fork that would bring them to the next block; they would attack the insurgents from the rear. Making their way through a warren of alleys between buildings, the Scorpions would follow in support as they cleared the buildings, the human fighters easier to replace than the vulnerable off-world machinery.
Their fastest route to their objective appeared on Rizer’s HUD. If they weren’t attacked along the way, they would be there in under five minutes. What are the chances of that? As if in answer, glowing exhaust ports of two air cars appeared over the rooftops, insurgents glaring down at them from the open side doors. The cars roared on and fell from sight as they descended to drop more enemy near the southern edge of town.
“Evil and Doom, get your asses on the move. We got hostile reinforcements moving in from the south!” SSgt Len’s voice commanded over the radio.
Evil and Doom raced down the street, bound for an alley on the right that led to the rear doors of buildings facing the downed vehicles. The maps on their HUDs blazed with red dots, enemy detected in the buildings ahead.
Gunfire ripped down on the advancing Marines from a darkened building across the way, its top floor widows flashing with enemy fire.
“Contact left! Contact left! Take cover!” shouted Sgt Flynn, Evil’s squad leader.
He was asking a lot; not much cover around save for a few parked vehicles, both hover and wheeled. Ahead of Doom, Evil took most of the fire, plasma bolts and slug rounds peppering the area, kicking up clouds of dust. Two Marines went down immediately, followed by the cries for med bots.
“Shit!” said Flynn. “We gotta clean out these buildings, or they’ll hit us from behind!”
“Roger that,” responded Sgt Cardona, Doom’s new leader, pulled from first platoon. “We’ll move on, you take care of it!”
It seemed a sound enough idea for a plan devised on the fly. Leaders who couldn’t improvise got killed, along with their squads, and their platoon had lost enough Marines already. The tally rose when another Evil Marine went down, shot through the helmet visor. Evil’s fire teams split up, two taking buildings on either side of the street.
Now under fire, Doom made for the alley while med bots tended to Evil’s wounded in the streets.
“Get suppressing fire on that building! We have to move forward!” Sgt Cardona shouted.
LCpl Bach, carrying the light machinegun on Rizer’s team, fired on the run at the upper floors, covering their approach. He took a bullet for his efforts, cried out, and fell. He still moved, didn’t appear to be bleeding, but reeled as he attempted to stand. The projectile must have glanced of his armor, knocking the shit out of him while causing no real damage.
“I got him!” called LCpl Leone, one of the boot replacements assigned to Rizer’s squad. Like Belzer, she was an SOI honor grad. She hadn’t been around long enough for Rizer to properly appraise her, but at least she seemed like a team player.
Rizer and PFC Hood, another boot, fired at muzzle flashes on upper floors as Stubs and Leone got Bach up and moving, bringing him forward. Second fire team, with Cardona and Farik leading, ran around them and led the charge down the alley. First team followed, while third and fourth covered with suppressing fire
“Shit! Bricked over!” Cardona shouted upon reaching the back door.
They had demolition charges, but Rizer didn’t relish the idea of taking fire while the man set one to blow through the wall. Cardona didn’t either, choosing instead to follow the alley when it turned left at ninety degrees.
Rizer spotted a steel door on the adjacent building, which was connected to the first one. We can blow a hole through the wall inside.
The door was locked, of course, and looked rather stout. As Rizer’s team covered him, Cardona kicked in the door, one shot, the thick steel no
match for his power armor. “Go, go!” He waved first team into a room packed with rows of industrial sewing machines and bolts of fabric, a tailor’s sweatshop. They moved quickly through the machines as they cleared the room, finding no insurgents.
Second team moved on to the room’s other door, which was unlocked. “Clear!” Farik said, first man into the hallway beyond. His team began kicking in doors on either side of the hall, clearing the rooms.
First team followed, Stubs in the lead.
“Far door, first team,” Cardona ordered, pointing to the hallway’s end.
The unlocked door accessed an ascending stairwell, the area nearly pitch-black. Their infrared vision kicked on. Stubs ran the stairs two at a time, Rizer right on his heels. At the second-floor landing, they took fire from the third floor, still two flights up. Two insurgents leaned over the railing to shoot in flashing white bursts, hyper velocity slug rounds sparking as they ricocheted off concrete and steel. Gray dust filled the stairwell as concrete chunks and plaster rained down.
A wild round found Bach, striking the hapless Marine in the thigh through a gap in his armor and taking him down for the duration of hostilities. When Leone bent to help him, he shoved the M-251 into her hands.
“Take it!” he growled through gritted teeth.
Leone took the light machinegun and an ammo bag with several full drum magazines as well.
“Now go! I’ll be fine. I’ll mark my position and wait for backup.” He pushed himself into the corner of the stairwell.
Leone nodded and tossed him her rifle and an extra mag before rejoining the fight.
Rizer and Stubs leaned out to return fire. A burst from Rizer struck an insurgent in the head, which vaporized into a cloud of pink and red mist. Stubs almost leaned out to shoot again.
Rizer ordered, “Charge him, it’s only one man!”
“Right!” Stubs continued upward.
Rizer sent a mental text to Farik: CLEAR THE SECOND FLOOR. DOOM MOVING TO THIRD.
Atop the third-floor landing, Stubs put a shot right through the enemy’s chest point-blank, the man’s torso disintegrating in a sizzling flash. He moved to the door, which suddenly flew open in his face, startling him and knocking him back. Light flooded the landing as an insurgent in urban camo skins and exoskeleton power armor stepped through and leveled a large automatic pistol at Stubs, who deftly knocked it from the enemy’s grasp with his rifle barrel. The insurgent grabbed Stubs’ weapon as he fired. The burst sprayed the concrete wall above the door; huge chunks of smoldering plaster rained over the stairwell. The insurgent had Stubs tied up, clutching his rifle barrel with one hand while attempting to stab him with a short vibro-blade. Smaller than Stubs, the insurgent fought to stay inside the big man’s rifle distance. Likewise Stubs kept the man’s blade out of the fight while he activated his own.
Rizer watched helplessly as the two men grunted and bellowed. He couldn’t get a shot past Stubs, so he activated his own vibro-blade and moved up behind him.
The two grappling men broke apart, threw each other stumbling backward. The insurgent activated a wrist-guard pistol and fired, missing Stubs. The slug grazed one of Rizer’s shoulder plates and bounced off. Stubs charged in a low crouch, plowed into the man, and drove him backward into the door. Rizer advanced to assist, practically crawling to avoid wild pistol shots. He dove and slashed at the insurgent’s leg, cutting through armor into the calf muscle, eliciting a cry of agony that Stubs silenced with a head-butt that shattered the enemy’s visor. Rizer sprang up and jabbed his blade into the side of the insurgent’s neck repeatedly, the power-assisted stabs punching the blade clean through. Fountaining blood splattered his face shield. Stubs dropped the dying man to floor like a wet sack of potatoes.
Rizer tried to wipe the mess from his visor, leaving filthy red streaks. He pressed the stasis key and a static discharge cleared the visor. When it was clear, he saw Stubs looking over at him, bent over, trying to catch his breath. The intensity of the encounter had shaken Rizer as well. His hands trembled, feeling cold and prickly as a result of the fear and adrenaline from the encounter.
“You ready?” Rizer asked.
Stubs nodded, “Yeah, let’s keep moving.” He opened the door and stepped over the body as Rizer followed.
The third-floor hallway was wide enough for two men to move abreast. Three evenly spaced doors lined both walls. They cleared the rooms—studio apartments, ransacked and trashed—finding them empty. The enemy they had whacked on the stairs had been manning a heavy coil machinegun in the center apartment on the street side. Two more dead insurgents and three spent rocket launchers lay scattered on the floor.
Farik pronounced the second floor clear. “Third floor clear,” Rizer responded. “Can you access the next building from down there?”
“Negative,” Farik responded. “Gonna blow the wall.”
“Let’s blow it together, create more chaos.” Rizer turned to Hood, who carried their explosive charges. “You know how to do it?”
“Yes, corporal,” said Hood, who struck Rizer as an abrasive hayseed, still gung-ho with boot bravado and misplaced idealism.
“Good idea, Rizer,” Sgt Cardona responded. “Set to fifteen seconds. Countdown on my mark.” Hood removed the adhesive backing from the charge and stuck it to the wall, set the timer to fifteen seconds. “Three, two, one, mark.” Hood depressed the timer button; the countdown began on their HUDs as the team ducked into an apartment.
“We’re first through, Stubs,” Rizer said.
Red enemy dots in the next building appeared on his HUD, populated by intel from other Marines or drones, but none were near the blast zone, all concentrated in rooms further down on the street side. “You got a full drum in that MG, Leone?”
“All set, boss.”
“Here we go…”
The building shook in one mighty heave from the synchronized blasts. Rizer and Stubs charged into a thick dust cloud that severely hampered vision. Through the breach, they entered an apartment, one lavishly furnished for a small town on Verdant. Rubble and a thick layer of dust covered its thick rugs and plush furniture. Enemy rounds pocked the doorway as they approached.
GO I’LL COVER, Rizer messaged Stubs. He nosed his rifle barrel into a hole and fired a long burst, spitting crimson fire into the room.
Stubs crashed through the busted door and advanced, rifle cracking. Rizer followed. They wasted two men who had been guarding the passage. Stubs moved hastily along, kicked in the first door on the left and lit up the room with rifle fire.
“Hood, right door!” Rizer ordered. “Leone, second left!”
Rizer moved up beside her to assault the room. We’re gonna take a shitload of gunfire. Fortunately, Leone had the machinegun.
“Hit them with the machinegun! Shoot them through the wall!” Rizer called as he kicked in the door.
With a crazed howl, Leone blasted away through the wall. Rizer cleared the other side of the room, winging an insurgent, exhausting his magazine as he hosed down anything that twitched. Several slug rounds ricocheted off their armor.
“Shit!”
Two insurgents had hid in waiting for them in an adjoining room; fortunately, the enemy machinegunner had exhausted his ammo and attacked with a backup submachinegun. Neither of the enemy stood a chance with Leone lighting up the dark room with flashes of crimson. Her blistering fire disintegrated the wall until she was looking into the room. She continued to spray the bodies after they fell, pieces of them flying into the air, the definition of overkill.
Empty metal ammo cannisters lay scattered about, along with three spent rocket launchers and three additional dead men. Rizer checked out the window. The tank had crashed halfway through the sidewalk upon losing hover power, likely breaking a sewer main. Its resting angle left the turret elevated too high to fire on the building. If not for that inconvenient fact, Doom wouldn’t have had to clear this place out.
Shots sounded from next door,
followed by surprised shouts and then a grenade blast as Stubs moved in to take out more insurgents.
Rizer and Leone moved back into the hallway.
Hood had cleared the first two rooms on the right and opened the last door on that side. A woman screamed. Pistol fire erupted; plaster chips and dust flew from the wall next to him. “Bitch!” he growled, opening up with his rifle. The pistol fire ceased, followed by his rifle. Hood panted heavily in the wake of his face-to-face encounter but remained uninjured.
Rizer glanced into the room. One of Hood’s rounds had taken her low in the gut, another through the right lung. She lay lifeless, the carpet soaking up her blood. No kids at least. He cared not for the woman’s fate. She would still be alive had she surrendered.
“It happens; get over it.” Rizer clapped him on the shoulder to snap him out of it. “Third floor clear!”
“Second floor clear,” Cardona said moments later.
“Good work, Doom,” said SSgt Len. “Be advised, more hostiles are converging on this point. Get there, A.S.A.P.” A green light flashed on their maps, along with the optimum route to the southern edge of town. “Use the center alley, Doom. Ghost will be moving on the street, with Fury clearing the buildings around the courtyard on your map. Evil’s bogged down to the east, taking out the enemy; they’ll join you after mopping up and picking up the casualties. Over.”
Rizer acknowledged, rallied his three remaining team members, and moved out to meet up with the rest of his squad.
***
Doom encountered stiff and determined resistance when they reached the courtyard, roughly fifteen meters to a side, enclosed by the surrounding structures. Fury was busy clearing buildings on the east side of the courtyard, where insurgent fire presently originated. Doom Squad’s second and third teams hunkered behind a couple of statues and a low stone wall surrounding a fountain as they fired at insurgents in windows overhead. First and fourth took cover in the mouth of the alley; they needed to cross the courtyard to reach their objective.
War's Edge- Dead Heroes Page 28