Scouts Out: Books One and Two

by Danny Loomis

  “Captain Young, your men will be on the opposite side of the creek. Sow the area between the creek and your position with as many anti-personnel mines as you have time to set up. Arm your men similar to Captain Tace’s with the addition of the rest of the heavy machine guns. Also, have one platoon follow behind the end of the enemy line as it drops into the gully. About one hundred meters in, set up a blocking position to kill anybody who comes back your way. Once the ambush is over, that platoon will sweep through the kill zone and ensure all Alliance soldiers are dead.”

  He looked up. “Any questions?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Young said. “Do you want any captives?”

  “I want every one of them dead. No prisoners, no treating of the wounded, no quarter.”

  Both officers smiled wolfishly.

  “One last thing. The signal to open fire will be when I kill their commander. Now gather your men and go. You only have four hours to prepare the site.”

  * * *

  For the second time that day, Brita signaled a halt. “Take ten, guys,” she commed. “I’ve gotta see a man about a horse. Again.”

  The fire team spread out in a half-circle facing away from the ocean, towards the ever present forest. “Gawdamn, Sarge, we’re never gonna get to Pacifica at this rate,” Pointy complained. They’d been assigned the southwest coast sector and were headed toward the southernmost town.

  “Put a cork in it, Pointy,” Brita snapped. She moved behind some tall bushes before digging a cat hole.

  “Somebody needs to put a cork in something,” muttered an unidentified voice. In spite of herself Brita smiled. Having the runs was no picnic, especially when on patrol. Even though her ghillies provided modesty by turning her almost invisible, she still liked a barrier between her and the others. She dropped her pants and squatted over the hole.

  “Freeze!” came the hissing whisper from the point man.

  Seconds later she heard the sound of bodies moving through the bracken towards her and the fire team. Many bodies. She desperately hoped the ghillies covered her ass.

  Fifteen meters away a file of soldiers came through a wall of brush and proceeded along a dim trail which passed within spitting distance of her. The file clumped by. Another group. And another. The column seemed endless. The pressure of her bowels became unbearable.

  Finally, the end of the line passed by and out of sight. Wait thirty seconds, she prayed. Please hold off. Finally she relaxed and her bowels voided. Instant, blessed relief.

  “Jesus, Brita! You okay?” commed Blade. “Sounds like you blew a hole in the ground for sure.”

  Brita staggered upright, cinching her pants. “Go to hell, asshole. Anyone get a count?”

  “Thirty-four through our perimeter, one hundred and three total,” was Ian’s instant reply. “Three columns headed due east.”

  Brita flipped over to the task force operations net. “Tango Oscar, this is Eagle One.”

  “This is Tango Oscar.”

  “We’re behind a company-sized element of Alliance commandos, headed east. Could use some back-up.”

  “This is Tango Oscar. Continue to follow. Will get back to you soonest. Out.”

  * * *

  Colonel Racine was impressed in spite of himself. There were only five soldiers visible when he entered the clearing at Point Five Zulu, and little sign there had been more. The glint of sunlight on a rifle barrel tracking him, and half-seen forms moving purposefully behind the screen of trees and brush was disquieting.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward and gave a half-bow. “Colonel Racine? I am Captain Ulrich.”

  Racine forced a bright smile on his face. He shook Ulrich’s hand. “Captain, it’s good to see you. We’ve eagerly awaited you for the past two weeks. Captain Vogel is out with his snipers again, but we expect him back any time.”

  Ulrich shook his head with a sardonic smile. “Stanton always was one for the hands-on approach.”

  “Are you ready to leave, Captain? The sooner you’re under cover the better. Those damned recon satellites are harder to fool each day, even with the advanced electronic camouflage equipment your government provided us.”

  “Forming up now, sir. I’ve got them ready to move in platoon-sized units.”

  “Normally, that would be the most secure way to move. Unfortunately we’ve got this sector mined pretty heavily. Only one trail in. Makes it easier to guard this side of our perimeter. We’ll have to go single file.”

  “No flank security, sir? A bit risky,” began Ulrich.

  Racine shook his head. “No risk at all, Captain, I assure you. I have patrols on each flank, as well as OP/LPs sprinkled around the area.”

  Ulrich gave some hand signals and the clearing began to fill with soldiers. “At your command, Colonel.”

  Racine moved down the trail. Without a word being spoken the crowded clearing became more orderly as squad after squad peeled off and fell into line behind Captain Ulrich and the Colonel. Within ten minutes the last man left the clearing.

  Moments later five ghostly shapes floated across it, the ripple effect of their ghillies like smoke through the trees. Soon nothing remained to signal the passing of two forces.

  Three kilometers into their march they reached where the trail dipped down into the shallow gulley. Racine could feel the Alliance soldiers tense up and become extra vigilant. He wanted to speak and ease the tension, but knew it could backfire if he wasn’t careful. He remained silent and strode on with the Alliance column stretched out for six hundred meters behind, at least five meters between each soldier. God, they looked vigilant. Too vigilant.

  The Colonel passed the first mark he’d made on the trail—two hundred meters in, another six hundred to go. That should get most of them in the trap.

  “What was the significance of the mark, Colonel?” Ulrich asked. Was he beginning to suspect?

  “One of my men left that. It means we’ll be approaching an outpost in a few hundred meters. We’ll have to stop until I’m identified, and show I’m not a prisoner leading the enemy to our headquarters. If it’s even suspected that is the case, they alert everyone.”

  “Wise precaution, Colonel.”

  He felt laughter bubbling near the surface at the respect he heard in the man’s voice. Another five hundred meters and he’d give that stiff-necked kraut something real to respect! He allowed a tiny smile to take root while he strode along.

  * * *

  “They’ve gone down into a gulley,” Pointy whispered on the helmet comm.

  Brita signaled a halt in place. “Let’s not get too close. The undergrowth is thinning out.”

  Ian keyed in the satellite recon. “The shuttles are dropping off the squads now.” Once they’d started tracking the Alliance force, Brita had requested two squads of LRS be landed north and south of their position. That way they could keep tabs on them no matter which way they went. “Also looks like a battalion is being loaded into shuttles back at the base,” he said.

  “That means we better not blow it,” Brita said. “There’d be a lot of pissed off troops if we took them away from their nappy-time for nothing.”

  They’d just begun to move again when Pointy hissed, “Freeze!” As one, they became motionless statues, blending in with their surroundings. “Another force comin’ in from my right. Brita, I could swear these new guys were waitin’ until the others went down in the gulley before they showed themselves.”

  “Let’s see what happens,” Brita whispered.

  The rebel platoon moved to the lip of the gulley, hesitated, and followed after the Alliance force.

  “That was a blocking force,” Ian said. “We got any friendlies in the neighborhood? I smell an ambush.”

  “Me, too,” Pointy whispered.

  “Set up a defensive perimeter while I check this out,” Brita said. The fire team formed a circle around Brita, ten meters out from her kneeling form, and faced outwards.

  “Tango Oscar, this is Eagle One. We got any friendlies bes
ides us in this area?”

  “Wait one, Eagle. Tango India says not only no, but hell no.”

  “Roger, Tango Oscar. I may be wrong, but it looks like another unit is getting ready to ambush the bad guys we’ve been following. I’ll keep you posted, over.”

  “Eagle One, this is Scout One,” Boudreau commed. “I’ll have Williams’ and Rice’s units close up to within five hundred meters.”

  “Negative on Williams, Scout One,” Brita said. “We’ll need room on the north side ourselves.”

  “Roger, Eagle. Scout One out.”

  “Listen up,” Brita said. “We’re going to move along the north side of this gully. I suspect we’ll begin seeing gooners, or whoever these others are, not far ahead. So keep a sharp eye. Pointy, lead. Blade, rear. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Racine stopped when they came into sight of the second marker. “Captain, have your men stand fast. You and I will go another fifty meters so they can see us more clearly.”

  Captain Ulrich raised his arm and the file of soldiers knelt, alternately facing left and right.

  “After you, Colonel,” he said.

  They moved fifty meters and stopped again. “Hold up your hands so they can see they’re empty,” Racine said, and waved one hand in the air. His left was filled with the knife he’d palmed.

  He turned with a smile and drove the knife blade up under the ribs of Captain Ulrich. Racine felt the blow of a bullet as it broke his right shoulder. Too fast, he thought in shock. They were much too fast in their reactions. He fell to the ground, the world erupting.

  Even while the rebel fire tore into the file of Alliance soldiers, they charged. The racketing blast of exploding grenades and rifles on full auto increased, with a deeper roar of machine guns punctuating the hellish confusion of the conflict. Thirty in the kill zone died. Another fifteen became casualties as they tripped the anti-personnel mines. The remainder charged grimly on. Their response was so quick most of the thrown grenades exploded behind them.

  Several rebels came to their feet in excitement, and were cut down by return fire. The Alliance soldiers who charged across the creek impacted the rebel line first. Savage hand-to-hand fighting ensued. Sounds of screams and explosions were punctuated by rifle and pistol fire. The machine guns fell silent, the forces too mixed to safely fire.

  Those charging to the top of the gully took a moment longer, but had light casualties due to the inexperience of those facing them. Most rounds fired were at too high an angle. Again the battle became hand-to-hand. Alliance soldiers broke through, teamed up and looped back into the scattered rebels. It was turning into a slaughter on this side.

  The sudden appearance of the blocking platoon startled the Alliance soldiers as a loud stuttering fire of weapons on full auto blasted them. They broke and ran to the east and north. A hail of gunfire swept them, leaving ten on their feet who disappeared into the undergrowth.

  On the south, the tide began to turn back in favor of the rebels, as sheer numbers began to wear down Alliance troops. A sharp blast on a whistle caused the remaining Alliance soldiers to break contact and coalesce on a figure who pistoned his arm up and down, pointing to the south. At least eight disappeared into the surrounding woods.

  The firing eased to an occasional shot. Racine rose painfully to his feet. Two of his men ran up, concern on their faces.

  “Never mind me,” he snapped. “Recall the men. We need to recover our wounded and dead, then get them under cover. There’s no way the Confederation’s satellite recon will miss what happened here. We can go after the survivors later.”

  * * *

  Ian watched the two forces struggle to the death in front of him, the smoke and horrendous noise of battle numbing his brain. The rebels’ lack of training hindered them, but their greater numbers and hatred of the Alliance forces won out, at a ruinous cost. Over sixty percent casualties left the rebels a broken force. Only a handful of Alliance troops were left to retreat to the south and north, most of them into the arms of two LRS squads.

  “Once they’ve policed up their casualties, we’ll follow the survivors,” Brita said. “Their base can’t be too far away.”

  By dusk the rebels had finished the grisly task of gathering their wounded and dead. Brita’s fire team followed them to their base, a task made simple due to the lack of security. The heart had gone out of them. During this time the militia and Confederation troops had been brought to within striking distance.

  Brita watched the last of the rebel soldiers move inside their underground base. Her face firmed as she reached a decision. “Eagle one to Tango Oscar.”

  “This is Tango Oscar. Go.”

  “Request permission to recon base prior to attack, over.”

  “What’s up, Eagle One?” came the reply.

  “We need to verify numbers and what resistance our forces may encounter,” Brita commed.

  “This is Tango Two. We’re moving to seal the area off, so no heroics are needed.”

  “Understood, Tango Two. We’ll go in soft.”

  “We’ll hold the nutcracker until you’re out. Good hunting, Eagle One.”

  “Okay, guys,” Brita said. “It’s up to us to end this. J.C. and Blade, you’ve got the entrance. Secure it ’til we get back out.”

  She stood, ensuring the ghillies didn’t cover her left hand so everyone could see it. “Irish, Pointy, we’re going to find the commander and talk with him. Irish, keep us patched in directly with Tango Two. Maybe we can talk this commander out of committing suicide by resisting any more.” With a “follow me” gesture she entered the unguarded entrance to the base.

  A sick-sweet smell like an overcrowded hospital impacted all three when they entered. The first two rooms were filled with wounded soldiers being treated. Brita gave a quick peek around the next doorway. She gave a thumbs up and backed off.

  “One officer,” she whispered. “Looks like the same one who led the gooners into the ambush. Pointy, watch the hall. Irish, in with me. I’m disconnecting my ghillies so he can see me. You two stay cloaked.”

  Brita turned off the power to her ghillies and moved into the room, Ian close behind. He stepped left and froze against the wall. Brita stood patiently waiting for the wounded man sitting in front of her to lift his head.

  Colonel Racine gave a start when he looked up from the document he’d been reading. He winced at the spike of pain through his shoulder. “What is it—wait—I don’t recognize you.”

  “Brita came to attention. “Sergeant Brita Weiss, Orion Confederation, Sir.”

  “He leaned back, favoring his right shoulder. “Please be at ease, Sergeant. I’m Colonel Racine, commander of the military arm of the Sons of Freedom, probably better known to you as the Jeffersonians. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve come to discuss terms of surrender, Sir,” Brita said.

  Racine’s eyes swept the room, slid over, then back to Ian again, a confused look turning to comprehension. “He was afraid of you, did you know?” Brita looked puzzled, and Racine passed the situation report to her.

  “Major DeVries of the Alliance. Once he found out you were here along with a task force, he began to cover his tracks. As you can see by that report, he planned to set off a nuclear device to disrupt the mining operations.”

  Brita scanned the sheet, and handed it to Ian. As he moved, Colonel Racine smiled. “Near perfect camouflage. Expensive, but very elegant.”

  “That report just states DeVries made a threat. What makes you think…”

  “Because the commander of the unit we just tangled with had dispatches for Captain Vogel. One of them explained what ‘Operation Valhalla’ was, and where the device is located.” He passed the dispatch to Brita. “The mission of this last batch of commandos was to secure the minehead, where the old thermal tap was dug four hundred years ago and activate the bomb if they hadn’t heard from Major DeVries in a specified length of time. I think our time is up.”

  Ian had opened a comm link
to HQ when they entered the room. “You getting this, Tango Oscar?” he subvocalized. A double click was his reply.

  “Where is this shaft located?” Brita asked.

  “Twenty kilometers southeast of our present location. How fast can you have your troops there? Even though there’s only a handful of the Alliance soldiers left, they’re still a threat if they can reach that mine head before us.”

  “You said ‘us’, Sir,” Brita said.

  Racine hesitated a long moment. “Could we surrender to you rather than to the government? They despise us, and I’m afraid how my men would be treated.”

  Brita turned to Ian. “You still got an open line, Irish? Ask them.”

  Major Grant’s voice came over Ian’s com. “Tell her Tango Two authorizes her to accept unconditional surrender. We’ll put them under the protection of the Confederation until details are ironed out.”

  “Unconditional surrender,” Ian said. “You’d be under the Confederation’s wing until things settle down.”

  “I agree.” Racine rose to his feet. “I have one request. Could you get medical help for my wounded?”

  “Of course, sir.” Brita took his proffered sidearm.

  Five minutes later Brita hurried out of the bunker, snapping orders as she walked. “Ian, has Staff Sergeant Williams acknowledged his new orders? We need him at that minehead ASAP. Have J.C. stay here and act as liaison between our troops and Colonel Racine. Steer a company of troops to the thermal tap site along with a bomb disposal team, and tell them to touch base with either me or Staff Sergeant Williams once there. Oh! And lay on a flitter to take the rest of us to the thermal tap. Now.”

  “Yes, he has. J.C. says OK. Company laid on, and flitter’ll be landing in fifteen seconds,” Ian said.

  Brita checked her headlong rush for a second, and gave Ian a searching look. “You okay, Irish? I swear you had all that done before I even said it.”

  “No sweat, Sarge,” he drawled, fighting the urge to curl up and die from the disorienting pain he experienced each time he activated the bio link.