by Chris Hechtl
<)>^<)>/
Major N'v'll heard about the battle in Fallbrook and swore viciously. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot he could do about it. He immediately dispatched air forces to investigate but limited it to a single gunship and a pair of reaper drones. There was no way he was going to uncover the search area.
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Captain Goddard grimaced as she checked the losses. That one Marine squad had cost her most of a platoon. She'd lost another platoon taking out the militia group at the jail. She no longer had the personnel on the roads to cut down the refugees as they tried to leave, but no matter.
Once resistance was more or less crushed the captain ordered her people to fan out and cut down anyone they could find, especially aliens and Neos. The market was ablaze so they couldn't get anything out of there. Not that they were after loot. Weapons and ammunition she'd gladly pick up, but she needed her people to travel light.
“We've got ten minutes before they get air cover over us. Get it done,” she growled. “Conserve your ammo, don't get carried away. Loot weapons and then burn,” she ordered, waving them on with hand signs. Her sergeants nodded and had their squads each take a street. They cut down anyone out in the open then started to go door-to-door.
She found the town hall near the jail. Her people were around; occasionally she saw a flash and heard a bang of a gunshot. Whimpers and the crackle of fires could also be heard as she mounted the steps and went through the kicked down double door to see the tableau inside.
Her men were playing with a group of people there, people they had been told to kill swiftly. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” she asked coldly.
“My job,” a private said absently, not looking over his shoulder to the voice. He turned to see the captain backlit by the open door behind him. Instinctively he straightened.
“The hell you are. I said quick, clean, efficient. Get it done and move on. Don't screw around or screw up. And you can't even follow those simple orders,” the captain said coldly as she strode into the room. Her head swiveled like a turret, taking in the surroundings.
Private Lois looked up to the captain from the woman he'd been about to rape. She wasn't a looker, old, but he hadn't had any in a year so he had tossed towel over the woman's wretched face and had started to get down to business. The interruption was not welcome. “I …”
“If I wanted your opinion I'd give it to you, wrap it up and shove it up your ass! And you'd like it!” the captain snapped, going nose to nose to stare into the man's suddenly wide opened eyes. “Isn't that right?”
“Yes ma'am,” Lois replied stiffly. He'd stared into death before but his boss scared the ever little shit out of him. She'd made a couple examples out of people who'd stepped out of line, brutal examples and had made the men watch to drive the point home. It was all he could do to keep from gulping or breaking out into a cold sweat. He felt his bladder tighten up … as did his sphincter. The sadistic bitch meant business.
“Oh good, I always knew you were gay,” Angela said mildly as she continued to stare at him, urging him silently to do something stupid so she'd put him down like the rabid dog he was.
There was a titter from some of the other troops. She turned to stare at them. “Did I tell you to speak?”
The group quieted and came to attention. Captain Goddard noted one of the civilians, the old guy they'd ID'ed as the mayor was dead. But one of the women was trying to crawl away. A few of the others were huddled in balls of misery trying to block the titans out of their mind.
She pulled her weapon out of her holster and casually shot each of them in the head. The troops winced at the shots but didn't respond. “We're a professional outfit. Get in, get it done, move on.”
“Quick,” Bang. “Clean,” Bang. “And done.” she said as she finished the woman Lois had been about to rape and holstered the weapon. “And now we move on to the next target.” She turned to Lois and stared at him again. “So stop. Wasting. My. Time.” she snarled, eying him again. “Are we clear?”
“Clear Ma'am!” Lois said. The other troops instantly echoed his sentiment.
“Good. Then get back to work,” Angela said as she strode out into the night.
“Geeze,” Lois murmured softly as the troops moved out.
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Isabel saw the guy running with a weapon. There was no way he could miss them, not on the path he was on she knew. He was human, so she might have a chance. She pushed Flo, Tessa, and the kids down into the ditch and then climbed out. She looked at him and then ran across the street and up an alley.
She got about thirty feet before a shot rang out and hit her in her back. She cried out in pain as she went down on her face, realizing she had made a critical error. They weren't taking prisoners. She closed her eyes as the pain swept over her and then blissful nothingness replaced it.
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Flow saw their friend go down but it had worked. Isabel's momentary distraction had gotten the guy to change direction and he didn't come further down their road to see them. He instead went down the alley looking for other people.
When the coast was clear she scrambled up the road with the kids clinging to her chest and dress then led Tessa to the covered bridge nearby leading over the river to safety. They clattered through it fast then got to the other side and rushed into the tree line.
Only then, panting, did they have the time to look back and weep.
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“Sir, we're getting radio intercept reports of an attack on Fallbrook,” Mackie said looking up as the captain entered the room. “Do you think it's a distraction to pull the air cover off us so we can slip out?” he asked hopefully.
The captain grunted then checked the passive scans. After a moment he grunted again. “If it is it didn't work. They are still there,” he said. He pointed to two of the passive tracks on IR. “We're not going anywhere,” Captain Zhukov said with a shake of his head.
“Oh,” Mackie said, hope leaching out of his voice and turning into disappointment. “Damn.”
“Better luck next time I guess,” Private Askdall murmured.
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General Drier grimaced as the first reports of the battle of Fallbrook came in. Captain Goddard was keeping to the script, she omni broadcast simple compressed messages she'd made ahead of time to keep him aware of what was going on.
He tucked his hands behind his back as Corporal Danvers updated the Fallbrook board. “So, the plan to use atrocities to entice the Marines into covering all of the towns is working. Any movement from Zhukov?” he asked.
The corporal turned and shook his head.
“Yeah, I know you'd tell me if there were. I suppose the air cover is still tight over his area?” the general asked. The corporal nodded.
“Damn,” the general muttered. He'd hoped the distraction would have allowed Zhukov to perform a breakout to slip some of his forces out. Apparently, the enemy wasn't quite ready to give up on finding and digging him out however.
No matter. Each attack would force the Marines to react. They were spreading themselves thinner and thinner. Eventually the dispersed units wouldn't be able to cover each other effectively, which would allow his men to pick them off with more attrition tactics. Playing it that way made them look ineffective and turned public opinion against them.
He wasn't certain for how long; the bastards could receive reinforcements at any time though.
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Captain Goddard sent out the last broadcast saying they were retreating, then moved out with her people. Each squad took a different route out; they had to get out of the area fast. There were no attempts to lay in wait and hit the Marines as they came roaring in. That would be cute, but that was a suit tactic. Her people didn't have the heavy weapons or SAMS. They'd fired most of their limited heavy weapons taking out the Marines and militia units.
Fallbrook burned behind them. But as they tried to disperse, the captain realized getting away
wasn't going to be so simple. The unit ahead of her was cut apart by a strafing gunship as it roared past.
She swore and took cover in a ditch, grunting as some of her men fell or jumped in on top of her.
“Get off me, oafs!” she swore. She turned to see troops in different directions getting cut up by lines of fire from the sky. Here and there men were sent to hell in fireballs as rockets and missiles tore them apart.
“Disperse. Spread out. Get rid of anything metal,” she growled as she put words to action. She stripped off anything metal and left it in the trench, then took her uniform top off. She then hunkered down and headed for the river. She dived in just as some of the men off to her left were cut apart. When she surfaced, she gasped for air. The water was cold, bitterly cold. She swam for her life though, occasionally letting the current pull her along, like under the covered bridge. She planned to get out of the water at the bend and then head for the nearest tree line.
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Wolf 4 watched the enemy try to disperse, but his gunship and the Reaper drones swung about and hit them hard like angry hawks. “Watch your fire,” he warned over the radio to the Reaper controllers.
“We are. We're hitting anyone with a weapon.”
“We're still going to have some blue on blue incidents,” the copilot of Wolf 4 warned as he saw a group spreading out into a field with his FLIR headset. He swiveled the gun turret and tore them apart in a sweep from left to right as his bird banked around the town like a hovering vulture.
When they were done, less than four of the Horathians and their native allies had gotten away. There was no celebration on the Marines side though; their eyes turned to the smoldering town.
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Harambe swore viciously when he heard that Fallbrook was under attack. His people had seen people on the roads, wagons and such, but had assumed they were people getting back to trading and such. His people had even stopped a few and traded with them! He immediately ordered his people to go after them.
It was only luck that they found a wounded woman and a trio of men on the trails a day later. The group had bicycles, but the trail was frosted over and slippery. One of them slipped and took a spill alerting the Neos of their presence.
The woman begged for her life when they realized they were surrounded. Reluctantly, Harambe allowed them to surrender.
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The Roy Boehm received the news of an entire town that had been destroyed just as the ship finished her braking maneuver and slipped into equatorial orbit of the planet. The radio reports were grim and hard to listen to. From what they heard, the enemy had flattened the town and killed everyone they could.
Finally, Jethro had had enough. He reached out and shut the radio report off and turned to the assembly.
“Suit up, people. We hit the ground, get acclimated, then we're going to knock the enemy on their ass and put them out of everyone's misery once and for all,” Jethro growled.
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The Cadre took the lead in landing at the Spaceport. Jethro was not sure why they'd been shuttled down by fire teams instead of by squad, but he didn't argue. An order was an order after all.
They exited the shuttles to see the picked-over ruins of the Skywhale that took out the road and sections of town. Many parts of the town and spaceport still showed signs of devastation.
The spaceport itself had scars. It had been shot up, blasted, and cratered. They could see a few burned out shuttles, gunships, and the wreckage of buildings that had been bulldozed to one area to form an impromptu dumping area. Some of the nearby open hangars had holes in them and were strewn with wreckage or parts from various aircraft that were partially or completely torn down. Even though it was the middle of the night, there were work crews busy on the aircraft, swearing and trying to get them sorted out.
Here and there some were being picked part for their materials by the civilians. Apparently some of it was still salvageable he noted. Most likely they needed it for housing he mused darkly.
From what he'd seen, the Horathians had taken a scorched Earth policy when they were forced to give up territory. Some said they even figuratively salted the ground … at the very least they hunted down any civilian and killed them. And some of the dark stories said they did it by hand to conserve ammo.
“Bastards,” he muttered, feeling a breeze ruffle the fur on his exposed face. He looked around.
Uraj looked at him and then away, quartering his own zone.
Jethro's eyes caught on a massive blackened crater near the edge of the taxiway. The center was glassed. He nodded. Most likely that had been from an orbital strike, a KEW. He wasn't sure which side had fired it. He was fairly sure the natives didn't care either way.
He turned back to the runway and noted it wasn't quite perfect. Expert eyes picked out the round slight depression where someone had backfilled in other craters. He nodded. KEW strikes again according to the reports he'd read.
He looked over to a few other craters near the outskirts of the spaceport. They had water pooled in them and a few had weeds. A few had been turned into fighting positions for the Marines, with their edges built up with sand bags and the entire thing covered over with some of the wreckage from the buildings as impromptu overhead cover.
He nodded. That told him the enemy used artillery, most likely mortars so they could shoot and scoot. Air burst? He wasn't certain. “Bast, look up the artillery. Find out if the enemy is using mortars or not. See what else they like to use.”
Bast nodded silently on his HUD. After a moment, she spread her hands apart and a window appeared between them. A list of incident reports came up. Sniper fire and bombs were favorites over mortars.
“Map?” he asked.
“Who … oh, Bast?” Uraj asked as a group of Marines approached them.
Jethro glanced at him and nodded briefly before he refocused on the map. Bast plotted each mortar attack. “Time line of each?” She placed a time marker. He frowned. “Did anyone plot that out? See the logical progression? Anticipate the next target? It looks like one unit moving through an area. Not very smart.”
Bast shrugged.
“Okay,” Jethro drawled, flicking his ears. “You don't know. Okay. Send a memo to higher. See if they've seen the pattern. Possible intercept or trap. Suggest snipers and RECON. Possible drones or fixed sensors to monitor paths the unit is covering.”
Bast jotted the memo out. She filled in the rest for him and then presented it. His eyes rapidly scanned it and then he nodded. “Send it. Let's see where it leads,” he said.
Bast nodded again.
Jethro grimaced as his eyes refocused. The marines came up, and they exchanged salutes. “So, who do we report to? And do we have a place to set up shop?” he asked, eying a big familiar looking grizzly.
“We're working on that. The brass is busy with …,” Gunny Kodiak turned in time to see a drone light off its engine and then taxi to the runway. After a moment, she turned back to Jethro. “ … The attack on Fallbrook. It's a mess.”
“Understood. Let's see if we can do the basics and not jog their elbow. I'm supposed to report directly to Colonel Harley,” he said.
“She's en route and will be here in the morning,” Anastasia said. Her eyes narrowed. “You're Jethro, right?” she asked.
Jethro blinked and then his eyes narrowed as Bast pinged the noncom's IFF. He grinned. “Nice to see you again, Anastasia. A gunny now. Looks good on you,” he said.
“You too. A warrant,” she said with a shake of her massive head. She looked around, then indicated a hangar nearby. “We can catch up later.”
“Agreed. I know you've got work to do,” Jethro said.
“It never ends,” she muttered.
“Well, we might not be able to stop it, but maybe we can lighten the load,” Uraj said as he hefted his rifle.
<)>^<)>/
Harambe call in about the woman. “We've got a couple of people here; one's worse for wear. Well, two actually,
” he said glancing at the male who'd taken a tumble. “The woman is a captain. A Captain Goddard. That mean anything to you?” he asked.
“Yes, yes it does,” Blake said excitedly. “I'll be on the next flight out. Whatever you do, keep her alive,” he said.
Harambe turned a glower on the woman. She huddled with her troops for warmth. The Neos had stripped them and bound them in riggers tape until they could barely move. He snorted. “Easier said than done. But she's not going anywhere,” he said as one of his younger daughters went over to the woman, slapped her upside the head, then yanked on her hair before she twisted a nipple. She then rushed off on all fours chuffing at herself for her bravery to the other cubs and Neo children nearby.
“Roger that.”
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Angela fought tears as she tried to roll her aching shoulders. The bastards had taped her up like a mummy but had left her nipples exposed to the bitter cold. That little ape had hit her hard, making her head hurt. The nipple twist had her fuming.
She wasn't certain what they were going to do with her. She regretted not committing suicide. Oh she regretted it now she thought over and over. Were they going to eat her? She wasn't sure. She could smell urine trickling from one of the guys and turned away to close her eyes in pain. If she could, she would have breathed through her mouth to avoid the smell, but they'd packed it with her underwear and tapped it shut.
All she could do was sit in her misery, wait, and wonder what her future was going to be.
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Once all three squads were down, Jethro left Letanga and Sergeant Sekibu in charge as he reported to Colonel Harley. “Jethro, you are a sight for sore eyes,” she said with a grin as he strode into her HQ in his armor.
“It's nice to see you too,” he replied with an ear flick as they exchanged salutes. “How can we help? We heard about Fallbrook.”
“Yes well, with you in our corner, I think that will be the last of sights like that,” Dana said as she turned bleak eyes to the video images of the smoldering town.