by Danny Loomis
SCOUTS OUT
Books One and Two
By: Danny Loomis
This story is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cover art by: Josh Wright
eBook editions by eBooks By Barb for booknook.biz
Author’s Page: www.amazon.com/author/dannyloomis
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to my sons and wife for their patience and excellent advice. And a special thank you to Josh Wright for his excellent artwork on the cover.
TABLE OF CONTENTS – BOOK ONE
BOOK ONE (Insurrection)
Training Preserve 12, Planet Alamo (Orion Confederation)
Day -60 (Capitol of Alliance)
Day -30 (Stobol Mining Complex)
Day -2 (Fort Henry)
Day 0 (Fort Henry–Preparation)
Day +3 (On board Argyle–Training)
Day +8 (On board Argyle)
Day +8 (Sons of Freedom Camp)
Day +16 (Stars End–Notification)
Day +21 (Space Conflict)
Day +26 (Patrol–First Day)
Day +27 (Conference)
Day +28 (Fleet Arrives)
Day +29 (Commo Problems)
Day +32 (Recovery)
Day +33 (Rebel Plans)
Day +38 (Visitors)
Day +40 (Stars End Capitol City)
Day +42 (Stobol Air Field)
Day +47 (Mission Planning)
Day +51 (Richland Mission)
Day +54 (On Patrol)
Day +60 (Rebel Conference)
Day +60 (Richland)
Day +67 (South Continent, Star’s End)
Day +70 (Turning the Tide)
Day +76 (Aftermath)
Day +85 (Star’s End–Recovery)
Day +105 Hanover, Alliance Hegemony Capital
Military Terms and Definitions
TABLE OF CONTENTS – BOOK TWO
BOOK TWO (Invasion)
Planet Alamo: Regimental Training Facility #2
Day -60: Alliance Capital
Day -44: Edo Star System
Day -35: Fort William Henry
Day -31: Edo Star System (near space)
Day -5: Planet Alamo, Fort Henry
Day +8: Aboard C.C. York
Day +26: Alliance Forces
Day +26: (Three hours earlier)
Day +28: Confederation encampment
Day +31: Scouting Vanport
Day +32: Alliance HQ, Vanport
Day +34: Enforcer HQ
Day +35: First Contact with Guardian
Day +42: North of Vanport (Edoan HQ)
Day +43: North of Vanport-Planning
Day +47: Vanport-The Wolf Awakens
Day +56: Edoan Supply Cavern
Day +57: Vanport Airfield
Day +62: Edoan HQ
Day +69: Alliance HQ
Three Months Later
SCOUTS OUT: BOOK ONE
INSURRECTION
TRAINING PRESERVE 12, PLANET ALAMO (Orion Confederation)
Second Diaspora, 1195 (Old Earth 3981)
“Eagle five. Mission is a go.”
Ian Shannon’s eyes opened, and he noted the time display on the inside of his helmet’s face shield.
“Roger,” he whispered. Time to move into position.
He paused long enough to wipe sweat from his face before removing the cover from his spider hole and set up his sniper rifle, movements slow and deliberate. Once the sun came up four hours ago, heat became as much an enemy as the hostile forces surrounding him. He’d dug in near the middle of a large meadow, hopefully one of the last places they’d think to look. Five hundred meters to his front, the command center of the target snuggled against the base of the only hill over fifty meters high within twenty kilometers.
The trees around the clearing were palm like, until closer inspection showed the leaves to be large puff balls, with dozens of kinky string-like pieces. Their blue-green tinge distracted the eye for the first few weeks on planet. The grass was a matching color, with a long flat stem.
“Eagle four, what’s your location?” he murmured.
“Thirty meters from the bunker. Ready to move when you delete the target,” came the quiet answer from Phil “Pointy” Winters, his partner on this mission. The target was the enemy’s Commander.
His and Pointy’s arrival on site took longer than anticipated. Ian’s active camouflage, nicknamed ghillies, began to act up after they inserted for this mission. It was a baggy overgarment loose enough to fit over his backpack. He’d been puzzled by the nickname ghillie. No one was sure where the term came from. Probably one of those ancient earth words.
Pointy’s ghillies worked fine. He was by far the best at sneakin’ and peekin’. He would infiltrate the bunker during the confusion when Ian attempted to place a round in the boss man who should be coming out any time now, like he had the last two mornings. With everything prepped to his satisfaction, he ’scoped the perimeter, looking for security measures. Two sentry posts had the meadow under observation. His helmet ’tronics picked up movement and sound sensors within two hundred meters of the bunker. Sloppy. Should be at least three fifty out in this terrain.
Four soldiers walked from the bunker. The one on the right was the objective. Ian gave a last scan of his helmet ’tronics, scrolling the information across the lower portion of the faceplate. Wind negligible. Range four hundred fifty meters with a ten-meter rise in altitude. Ian put the scope’s cross hairs on the off-colored patch over his chest.
The sound of the rifle’s quiet burp wasn’t detectable more than fifty meters away. The target pitched forward. Ian slid back into the spider hole, pulling the lid shut.
“Deleted,” he murmured, a pleasurable tingle turning into a smile.
“No shitty da,” Pointy whispered.
A tickle of satisfaction ran up Ian’s spine. It wasn’t every day a soldier got to whack his own Regimental Commander. Ian’s sniper rifle sported a training laser that carried an electronic pulse which, when it painted one of the special target patches all the players had on their uniform, gave an unpleasant shock to the recipient.
The ground vibrated when several vehicles rolled through the meadow. A bare place to hide, but indirection was the best way to survive this situation. Pointy should get his chance to sneak in the bunker soon. The actual mission would be accomplished by placement of a locator beacon, which also scrambled any commo within five meters. His side could then launch a bunker buster rocket with total accuracy.
Over the past three months, training and exercises had increased two-fold. This was the biggest so far and involved all combat elements of the Regiment. Scuttlebutt said it was in preparation for a show of force against the Alliance, who’d been beating their chest more loudly over the past year or so. Good as any other reason.
A jaw-popping yawn escaped. He settled in, ignoring the stifling heat. With nothing else to do, he dozed.
A double click on his helmet commo roused him. “Hey, Irish.”
“Get it planted?” Ian asked.
“Didn’t function. Go to Plan B.”
Ian forced tense muscles to relax. He needed to create a diversion so Pointy could get out. But first he would wait for the intensive man hunt to die down. Sweat dripped from his chin.
The next two hours were boring, dirty and hot. He
constantly felt the vibrations of passing feet or wheels. He’d considered leaving a passive sensor on the surface, but nixed the idea. Didn’t feel justified in extra risks at this point.
His spider hole had been a pain to dig, since he had to remove all signs of dirt and not leave a beaten path to the hole. Most of the night was spent accomplishing this, and gave him time to think. Maybe he should’ve gotten word to his squad leader about this trek. Probably get a strip torn off his ass when they arrived back in barracks. He shrugged. Couldn’t do anything about that now. Just as well get some sleep.
Ian was in limbo between zoned out and real sleep when a double-click on his helmet’s commo brought him to full alert. “You’re clear. Come on out.”
Thank God! He started to ease the cover off his hole, and paused. That wasn’t the password. He keyed one of his pets, a booby trap, and detonated it by remote. Right rear of his location and fifty meters into the tree line, a mild chuff and a wisp of smoke marked its location.
A thuttering roar passed over as a flitter zeroed in. Other sounds of pursuit headed that way. He carefully pushed the cover aside and scanned for activity. Not at the action inside the tree line, but toward the bunker. Two officers viewed the action through binoculars. He set up the Webley again and zeroed in on the bunker entrance.
“Get set, Eagle four. I’m taking out the next target exiting the bunker,” Ian whispered. This might give Pointy his chance.
Two more targets exited. He stroked the trigger four times, a second between each shot. Four more down. He disappeared into the hide, planning to stay till dark if necessary.
Within ten minutes the call came: “Allee Allee in free.”
He crawled into the open, and managed to stand without falling on his face. Stiffened muscles from hours spent in the same position had him hobbling the first few steps. Quite a crowd by the bunker. Didn’t seem inclined to come out and give him a lift, either. Ian trotted toward them. He stopped and faced the group of officers, most whom he’d just killed, and came to port arms.
Pointy shut off his active camos, walked through the startled group and did an about face next to Ian. His overly large nose which gave him his monicker drew everyone’s eyes when he came to attention.
The Regimental commander, Colonel “Mad” Mike Grayson, stepped in front of them with a scowl. “What do you think you’re doing in my area of operations?”
Ian kept his eyes focused past the Colonel, stiffly at attention. “Killing the enemy’s chain of command, Sir!” He hadn’t realized until now that the Colonel was a good four centimeters shorter than his 1.7 meters. Not that it mattered, especially at times like this. Hopefully he wasn’t trembling on the outside like his innards were.
“Was this part of the exercise?” The Colonel’s head swiveled left. “Ops! Where are you! Did you authorize this?”
Major Teague flinched. “Uhh, no, sir. The Long Range Scouts were supposed to be security for the enemy’s CP.”
“Hmph!” the Colonel snorted. “I suppose this is another one of those cutsey tricks from Recon platoon.” He turned and stumped toward the bunker, looking more like a fire plug than ever. “Get these bastards out of here. I’ve got an exercise to run.”
“Actually, sir, you and your staff are dead,” Pointy drawled.
The Colonel about faced. “What’d you just say, soldier?”
Ian tried to sink into the ground. Damn! Now they’d be in for it. Pointy’s eyes remained fixed straight ahead. “Irish, here, nailed you and four of your staff when you came out rubbernecking, sir. And I put a scrambler on your commo gear. Shoulda’ gone off ’bout thirty seconds ago, sir.”
Colonel Grayson’s face turned from red to puce. “Report to your Platoon Leader, you goddamned assholes! I’ll make you wish you’d joined the Boy Scouts instead of the LRS before I’m done with you.”
He began to march off and paused. “But first I want you both to take two days liberty. All the beer you can drink at the Pelican Pub—on me.” He turned away, muttering obscenities.
Ian released an explosive sigh. He’d held his breath since Pointy opened his yap. Glad he wasn’t in charge of the security forces around here today. They’d all be bloody once the Colonel got his teeth into them. Ian suspected he and Pointy would soon suffer the same fate. His idea of taking a hand in the exercise, without specific orders, didn’t look so great now.
They began their trek to the opposing forces’ lines. Pointy rubbed his nose as he gave a nervous glance back at the bunker. “The Colonel was really pissed. You think Staff Sergeant Smith is gonna be, maybe, a little upset with us?”
Ian gave a strained smile. “Now that you mention it, he might. Especially since he thinks we’re with Sergeant Weiss, and Weiss thinks we’re back in barracks.”
“I thought you said this mission was authorized, man!”
“I lied.”
DEUTSCHLAND, CAPITOL OF ALLIANCE (Day -60)
First Secretariat Karl Richter absently rubbed his chin as he watched the flight of migratory birds drifting over Hanover, the planetary capitol of Deutschland. His brooding was interrupted by the chime of his desk comm.
“Sir, your next appointment is here.”
Karl ran fingers through grey-streaked blonde hair. “Thank you, Marta. Send him in.” He picked up the memory cube given him by the Treasury Director two hours ago, and stepped to the small conference table beside his desk.
He seated himself as the head of the Committee of Public Safety, secret police in all but name, entered. “Good morning, Victor. Please, have a seat. We need to talk before the Executive Committee meeting this afternoon.”
Victor sat. At first glance, he seemed the perfect example of a grandfather, with grey hair and beard. Until you noticed his cold, black eyes. “This about the report from Bernard? He’s been preoccupied the last week or so. I thought he was having woman troubles ’til I got a glimpse of the information he’d collected.”
Karl gave a brief smile. On top of the situation as usual. Not much happened in the thirty worlds of the Alliance Hegemony without victor knowing. He inserted the cube into the side of the reader. “He’s done his typical brilliant work.” Monitors rose from the table. “We knew our economy was having difficulties. He just gathered the information and boiled it down.”
Karl tapped the keyboard in front of himself. “Look at the summary.”
Victor scanned the report. Finally he glanced up, face bleak. “This is serious. Anybody else know this?”
“Several people know portions. Bernard is the first to gather the information into one picture.” He leaned back with a sigh and massaged his temples. “But we will have to tell the Exec Committee today, and we need the outlines of a plan to counteract the problem. Otherwise, a new government will be in place a couple months from now.” And you and I will be dead, he added silently.
Victor nodded slowly. “Rattling our sword at the Orion Confederation helped. But tax troubles on five planets hurts us in the pocketbook.” He gestured at the monitor. “A lot more than anyone anticipated.”
Karl shut off his monitor. “If we’d only handled the situation better, five years ago. Arresting and executing the ringleaders of the tax revolt on Ilium and Trent was a mistake.”
Victor smiled humorlessly. “You’re right. We didn’t consider all the factors.”
Karl shook his head. “Water under the bridge, old friend. I suspect we’ll have to step up pressure on the Orions, and see if we can re-boot our economy without the expense of a full-out war.”
Victor nodded soberly. “We’re not ready to take on seventy worlds. Even if they’re scattered all over hell. The Terran Federation would probably add their twenty-five star systems, although it’s usually hard to get them concerned over anything.”
Karl gave a wry shrug of his shoulders. “Unless there’s money to be made, then the Federals become very interested.”
“I think one of the projects we started last year might be the answer,” Victor said.
Karl stared at him, mind quickening. “You mean one of the independent planets we’ve been trying to destabilize?”
Victor tossed a memory cube to Karl. “I’ve been working on a plan to take over one of them.”
Karl scanned through the relevant pages, gently stroking his chin. “Hm. This has real possibilities. Not only do we have a presence there, but the rebels already paid us several million Terran credits for obsolete weaponry.” He read on for several minutes.
Once finished, he relaxed with a sigh. “Very good. Make the rebels dependant on our military support, and we can put a couple divisions on the ground to control the place.”
Victor scrolled ahead a few more pages. “The Orion Confederation will complain, and the Terran Federation won’t be thrilled, either. We could demand a Tribunal to decide the matter. Take them years to arrive at a decision.”
“We’d bleed the world during that time,” Karl said. “They export billions of credits in diamonds a year, and sixty percent of one of the drugs used in the rejuvenation process. We can stabilize our economy if we control those exports, even for a short time.”
Victor plucked the cube from the reader. “Plus political conditions are ripe on this particular world. If we move fast, they should fall into our hands with a minimum of effort.”
“What’s our current level of commitment to this project?” Karl asked.
“One company of Commandos. They’re acting as training cadre at the moment. We can gradually keep feeding more Commandos onto the surface of the planet, until we have a large enough force to overpower the government troops.”
“Good.” Karl rubbed his chin. “We need to strategize how to get the Executive Committee to buy in on this.”
An hour later, Karl stood and stretched, groaning as his joints popped. “Excellent plan,” he said. “What was the name of this planet? I didn’t see anything listed in the file.”
“Star’s End.”
STOBOL MINING COMPLEX, STAR’S END (Day -30)
The elevator brought the touring group of VIPs from the depths of the only Star Diamond mine in human-occupied space. A weight lifted from Lieutenant Stanton’s shoulders as they neared the surface. Holes in the ground like this spooked him. The rest of the security detachment was deployed on the surface, in a compound surrounding the mine entrance. He’d been anxious from the moment he found there would only be a platoon to provide cover.