Dragon Two-Zero (Fury's Fire Book 1)

by William McCaskey

  When Space Case had rolled behind the cover, he had done so to pull Bard down behind it with him and had ended up with Bard’s body resting across his own. The shattered remains of Bard’s head came to rest against his left shoulder. The sight of his friend’s broken body froze Space Case for a split second. In that brief instant the roar of the enemy weapon fell away, and all Space could take in was the ruined mess that had once been his best friend’s face.

  Space rolled Bard’s body from atop him and tucked his friend against the wall of the building flanking the rubble pile and pulled his rifle back tight to him. With a deep breath, the noise of the world came crashing back into his ears, and he snapped out from his cover. The butt of his rifle found the pocket of his shoulder on instinct, and in quick succession, he fired three rounds toward the enemy position before rolling back behind the rubble pile. The answering chatter of the enemy machine gun told him all he’d done was draw attention back to himself.

  Space Case triggered the mic-switch on his rifle and dropped into the zone where he lived the day Scar had died. "Bard's down."

  Space released the push-to-talk switch and took a deep breath, fighting the surge of rage and fear coursing through his body. He depressed the PTT again. “Boss, these assholes are dug in ahead of us. I’ve got no shot." Releasing the mic-switch, Space shifted behind his cover, readying to bring his rifle to bear on the Renk bastards that had killed his best friend, hoping that his squad leader had something up his sleeve.

  Space Case’s words came through loud and clear in Reaver’s ears; he could also hear the emotion in his Marine’s voice. He needed to take his shot now. The enemy gunner was occupied, and his Marines were being killed. Reaver shifted behind his cover and spun out the side furthest from where the machine gun fire was impacting. The butt of his rifle settled into the pocket of his right shoulder with a natural movement; the combat optic set onto the top of the rifle’s rear quarter gave him a clear picture of his zone of fire and allowed him to quickly find and identify his target with both eyes open so he didn’t sacrifice his peripheral vision. The enemy gunner strained to hold the muzzle of his weapon down and keep his rounds where he wanted them; you could tell by the way his body rocked with each cycle of the weapon.

  Center mass, nothing fancy, Reaver pulled the trigger twice; the first round took the gunner under his arm, puncturing and deflating his right lung. The second round followed the rise of the muzzle and struck the gunner slightly above his heart. The shots struck in rapid succession, fractions of a second apart, sending the gunner stumbling backward from his weapon to collapse on his back gasping and choking on his blood. Reaver was back behind cover before the enemy could react, and all they managed to do was chew small pieces from the rubble he crouched behind. He yelled forward. “Space, cook ‘em!"

  Space heard his squad leader's shots and then his shout and nodded in response regardless of whether Reaver saw the movement. Reaching for his grenade pouch, Space pulled a disk and switched the selector dial to incendiary, setting it to a proximity burst and priming the plunger. He took a quick look from the side of his cover to gauge the distance to his target, then ducked back into cover before rising over the top and hurling the grenade in an overhand pitch toward the enemy position.

  This grenade had an interesting deployment style. Thrown like a traditional grenade, it could be set to airburst or ground detonation; in either case, a highly explosive and extremely flammable aerosol compound sprayed from the grenade, covering anything below or around it, depending on the deployment style. A fraction of a second later, the grenade itself would explode, igniting the compound. With a consistency similar to napalm and a need only for oxygen like white phosphorous, incendiary grenades were a nasty piece of weaponry that were incredibly effective against enemies hidden behind cover and worked like a charm against the team pinning the Recon Marines in place. Screams and the burnt pork smell of cooking human flesh filled the street, rising from the enemy position.

  Closest forward, Reaver was the first to slide from cover and advance, gathering Bard’s helmet from where it had fallen as he passed. Space was lifting the chain holding Bard’s identification tags around his neck from beneath his uniform top.

  Bard was gone.

  Two ID tags hung from each Marines chain, each a perfect circle and stamped with the Marine's name and Alliance citizen number. Set into the tag beneath the number was a data chip any medical facility could read quickly to determine blood type, allergies, and other pertinent medical information. One tag would remain with Bard's body; the other would stay with the squad until they returned to their home base and could hang it on the memorial wall. It was a point of pride that there were no missing tags on any memorial wall throughout the Alliance Marine force. A promise they all kept: every Marine came home, regardless of the cost it took to recover just one set of tags. Those Marines lost in the void were honored much the same as the Navy honored their sailors; with no body or tags, the personnel were considered ‘still on patrol’ and listed as such.

  Reaver turned to look at Space, jerking his head toward the still screaming enemy. “Shut them up; I'll get him packed for extract." When Space didn't move immediately, Reaver slapped his shoulder sharply. “Bounce, Marine."

  "Aye aye, Staff Sergeant," Space Case responded, shaken from his distraction, laying Bard’s body in the street and hustling toward the wounded forces screaming hoarsely through charred throats. Four shots echoed off the surrounding buildings, and the screams stopped. The final shots were a mercy more than any medical treatment could have been; not that mercy was on any of the Marines' minds. Reaver knew most of his squad would rather have let them burn for taking one of their own. Hell, he was one of them, but screams drew attention and they already had too much of that.

  They quickly removed ammunition and equipment from Bard and his kit and redistributed it throughout the rest of the squad. Reaver slid the wasp grenade into his equipment pouch and set the primary radio aside for Space Case to carry. Reaver made the sign of the cross over Bard’s body and lay his hand on what remained of his forehead.

  “May God and His angels greet you and carry you upon new wings to eternal peace in Heaven. Your watch is ended, your rest assured. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen." Crossing himself, Reaver then flicked his radio to the dedicated medevac channel and pressed the transmit button. “Skyhook, Dragon Two-Zero, one kilo for extract. Area is hot. PZ is pinging." Completing his transmission, Reaver twisted and activated the emergency locator built into Bard's uniform. A 'skyhook' call meant a confined area extraction and would require the pilots to hover over the pick-up zone.

  A muffled voice came through crackling, but understandable, in Reaver's ears. “Dragon Two-Zero, we have your ping. Skyhook is inbound, five mikes." The radio clicked off and Reaver motioned for his Marines to take up security around Bard's body. They would move after the pick-up. In the meantime, each of the squad would make their own peace with Bard’s loss as best they could in a combat zone. Grief was like a hot shower; you ignored the need for it until you could afford the luxury of time for it, back in garrison.

  Four and a half minutes later the Hawk's engines sounded overhead; seconds later a line launched from a side door of the bird, a weighted hook at the end helping to ground it near the fallen Marine's body. As the end of the line crashed into the ground, Reaver rushed for it and dragged the hook over to Bard. With practiced movements, the hook quickly locked around a sling point on Bard's vest between his shoulder blades and a smack of the actuator on the hook sent an electrical impulse racing back up the line to start the reel, hauling the cable with Bard back up to the hovering aircraft. As the body cleared the rooftops, the Hawk began to climb up and away from the city; Bard's body would be taken to a casualty collection point and kept until he could be returned to the Fury’s Fire.

  With the departure of the bird, Reaver signaled for Alice to take point with Titan on pace. Bull would take up the rear security posi
tion, with Harlequin walking between Wolf and Space Case, who would be behind Reaver. Bard and Space had been close friends; Reaver knew how watching your buddy get killed in front of you could fuck with your head. You never really recovered from it, and every reaction was different. The squad moved out, just as alert as before but now with a more dangerous air to them. God have mercy on the next Renks they met, because his squad would have no mercy to spare.

  With Alice on point, the squad continued its trek toward the docks; the entire firefight and extraction may have taken less than ten minutes, but it felt like hours had passed since they had begun their hunt for the Renk’s artillery positions. The tang of salt on the air grew sharper as they neared the city’s dock area; while they saw signs of enemy passage and presence in the layers of dust coating the city streets, they encountered no further patrols or booby traps on their route.

  The Marines had not known what to expect upon reaching the docks, and the sights and smells greeting them as they entered the area s stunned them. This area, unlike most of the city, had escaped the enemy's bombs and seemingly wanton destruction relatively unscathed. Here and there burn marks marred buildings and the glass from the few shattered windows littered the ground, but they appeared to be caused more by concussive force from nearby detonations rather than intentional damage.

  The reason for the lack of damage quickly became evident as the Marines turned their attention to the northernmost portion of the docks; the largest concentration of enemy forces the Marines had come across within the city had tucked themselves into the space. Looking to be around the size of at least a standard company, the Renks were creating their own infrastructure and using the warehouses and other standing structures to do it. But where had they come from and how had they avoided every scan aimed at this rock?

  Alice's soft voice came through on the internal channel; she had detached the scope from her rifle and was using it as a field glass to get a closer look at the Renks’ actions. “Looks like they are prepping for a larger force, Boss. They've got the big guns tucked in with the cranes and lifts, using them to camouflage the barrels’ signature, tricky bastards."

  Alice paused in her report as she panned the scope over the enemy's position. With no way of knowing when Renk reinforcements might show up and as the only force that could do anything about this concentration, they had to act soon. If they waited too long, then more could show up and eliminate the advantage that surprise and the Starstrikes would give them with Mjolnir. "Couple of heavy weapon nests on the obvious avenues of approach, lots of cover between us and them, and I've got whips rising from one of the central warehouses. That's probably their headshed."

  Reaver cut in across her broadcast, the command code tied into his radio signal allowing him to step over other transmissions. “Look for any officers or political officers not in the shed. If they're out, then we call a star down on the shed and isolate the entire position." Releasing the talk-switch, he waved Space Case up to his side, signaling for the radio. When Space arrived, he took the proffered handset and plugged his auxiliary comms cable in as he squeezed the transmit button, the handset held about an inch from his mouth so he could keep his voice low. “Fury’s Fire, Dragon Two-Zero, request Mjolnir status." Reaver released the switch and waited. Lieutenant Davis had said 'if the Fury was still flying,' that meant the situation up top was even more in doubt than his words had conveyed.

  A minute ticked by with no response from the Fury’s Fire, and Reaver swore under his breath; no response meant one of two things: either the Fury was down, or no one was at the weapon station. Neither was good news for Reaver. He triggered the squad channel. “Quinn, Alice, have either of you got a good link with Mjolnir? See if you can get remote control." Reaver clicked off and waited for a response from someone.

  Alice’s response came in before Quinn’s. “I've got a good link, and remote firing is online." The news filled in one of the blank spaces in the plan forming in Reaver's mind. A link meant that Fury’s Fire was in the skies above this half of the planet. If she had been darkside then the link would not have established.

  Harlequin was next in line, and his answer matched Alice's. Mjolnir took thirty seconds to recharge between each shot. This gave them two effective Starstrikes to put to the most efficient use, and the final puzzle piece of his plan locked into place. Reaver handed the radio set back to Space and instructed him to stay plugged in; they needed to know what was happening and listening to radio traffic, if you knew what you were listening to, was an easy way to develop a picture of the ongoing vac-war. Calling his squad together, he laid out the plan: Harlequin and Alice would take up positions overlooking the enemy fortifications, with Bull and Titan working dual purpose as a spotter for each sniper as well as providing heavy weapons support for the assault team.

  Initial priority for the Mjolnir strike would be the headshed; second would be a hit on the artillery battery, which meant that one team had to be in a position to get a good paint on at least one of the guns. Wolf, Space Case, and Reaver would locate an officer and ball him up; if they couldn’t make a hit on the battery, then the assault team would spike the guns themselves. Targets of opportunity were tertiary and could be engaged once the primary and secondary targets had been taken out. Speed and surprise were the keys to success, and Reaver sent his overwatch teams out with instructions to keep things quiet until everyone was in place. Harlequin's answering grin was all the confirmation Reaver needed that his Marines' heads were in the right place for this type of work.

  While the snipers and their spotters worked themselves into position, Reaver led the assault team through the back alleys and side streets, working their way nearer to the edge of the enemy encampment. They halted in an alley shadowed on either side by parallel rows of warehouses. The three Marines kept low and stayed to the lengthening shadows as the day drew to a close. Waves breaking around the support beams of the docks and crashing against the breakwaters served to muffle the sound of the Marines' footsteps, but Reaver knew the waves would do the same for those of his enemies. Almost seven minutes from the split of the squad and two minutes after Reaver and his assault team had reached their hold point, Bull’s voice came through on the squad net. “Dragon Two-Bravo in position," signaling he and Harlequin were in their selected position.

  Reaver keyed his mic. “Harlequin, you got eyes on the shed or the guns?"

  Harlequin's answer was quick. “Shed. I can make a shot on the guns if I have to, but Alice is looking for a spot to have coverage on the eastern side, and a cleaner go at the battery. I have the western-most control point in field, as well. Bull should be able to land a couple of hellfires on the eastern control point."

  Reaver double-clicked his response. The positioning told him the first sniper team was above and behind him, with coverage on the main street closest to the docks and ocean. The enemy had established entry-control points on two streets running parallel to one another, with a row of warehouses set between them, and to the docks that went right into their area of operations. The streets also happened to be the two main thoroughfares running through the city, the westernmost one running purely north-south while the easternmost road curved inside the city proper and exited to the east as a highway into the continent. Further to the west of these roads were nothing but back alleys, side streets, and warehouses until reaching the waterfront. Where the Renks were sitting would give them the opportunity to create two primary main supply routes; hitting them before they established it would throw a major wrench into their plans.

  Five more minutes had passed before Reaver finally got a radio call from Titan. A slight thread of strain could be heard within the large Marine's voice as he radioed in. “Dragon Two-Charlie, in position."

  Reaver triggered his mic. “Any issues?"

  Alice responded, rather than Titan, after Reaver had released his talk switch. “Nothing to write home about. I have a clean shot on the battery. Ready on your mark."

  Reaver activated his m
ic one more time. “Harlequin, first shot is yours. Alice, battery is yours as soon as Mjolnir is ready again. Thirty seconds from first impact the assault team is moving up the western drag." Cutting his transmission, Reaver slid along the alley wall toward the exit onto the street. Harlequin would call the shot, and time from shot to impact. Alice would paint her target forty-five seconds after Harlequin called his shot made, that would ensure Mjolnir had fired and recharged. Space Case was on Reaver's hip, ready to follow his squad leader into the street toward the enemy base, and in a good position to fill Reaver in on any activity over the fleet's comm net that he was tied into. Wolf set herself facing away from the main street and looking further into the alley, with the ankle of her back foot set against Space's. Either Marine would know when the other moved.

  Harlequin shifted his posture, bending his right leg and pulling his knee up and parallel to his body; this lifted his right side, allowing him to get a more comfortable set behind his rifle. With the sun to his left and slightly behind him, and little risk of any gleam giving him away, his target area was highlighted quite nicely. He had committed to memory the position of the entry-control point he needed to eliminate after Mjolnir had taken out the command post. He chuckled softly to himself as he realized what Reaver was doing. “Hey diddle, straight up the middle."

  Training the Starstrike on the southern wall of the warehouse Alice had identified as the command post, he pulled the trigger on his rifle and watched through his scope as the marker beam launched out and splashed against the wall; the entire building glowed through the filter. As the signature left his weapon, Harlequin checked the display on his scope and saw that the beacon had registered and activated Mjolnir. He depressed the transmit switch on his rifle. “Shot out," then shifted his sight picture to zero in on the western road's ECP. Beside him, Bull started a low countdown as he prepped his weapon to take out the eastern ECP.