“You’re cleared for flying over America, don’t think I made any friends, but I don’t think they realized that we record all conversations through the armor. Got another thing for the American people to listen to. I swear I don’t understand how some of these people ever made it into power,” she said.
“A silver tongue and a good smile,” Monk sighed.
“Well even if you are half a planet away, it’s good to have you here. Now I have to deal with the Kalu trying to get around my damned lines,” she said.
“Good luck my dear,” Monk said.
“You too Monk, should let Salchar, Rick and Bok Soo know you’re here,” she said.
“I will,” Monk promised.
“Talk later,” she said again cutting the channel.
“Four minutes,” the pilot said. They were through the clouds as Monk went to the shuttles optics, looking out over the war torn land below. Even at this height he could see the tracers and lasers hammering back and forth on the ground, punctuated by rolling explosions on top of where the lasers were coming from. Monk sent a request out to Rick, Bok Soo and James.
“Ahh I was wondering if it was you up there burning our atmosphere,” Bok Soo said, Monk could hear close combat in the background.
“Thought I’d drop in and lend a hand,” Monk said.
“Good to see you Monk,” Rick said.
“Don’t take any shit from the governments or military types, they’re learning but their more liable to get you killed than help,” James said, sounding annoyed.
“I will take that into mind, and it is good to be down here in the middle of it,” Monk said.
“Two minutes!” The pilot called out.
“Happy to have you, talk later,” Bok Soo said, cutting the channel,”
“Same here, look after yourself,” Rick said.
“Thank you Rick, you too. I know how trying to keep James out of trouble is a full time job,” Monk admonished.
“I heard that,” James growled. “But if anyone starts fucking with you, send them to me. I’ll set the bastards straight.” James mood went from playful to restrained anger in the space of a heartbeat.
“Best keep that temper in check James,” Monk said, knowing just how fiery his brother in every sense of the world was likely to act.
“I’ll try Monk,” James promised. “Now as your Commander, I order you to make the Kalu regret ever thinking about leaving their dens.”
“I will do my best Commander Salchar,” Monk said, tapping the heavy staff to his side.
“Good man, look after yourself,” James said, he and Rick cutting out of the channel.
“Thirty seconds!” The pilot yelled as ramps started opening, the turrets still blaring rounds out at anything that faintly looked Kalu. The fire stopped as harnesses released, Commandos grabbed their gear, checking it.
“Go!” The cargo master said, the shuttle pulling into a hover, handles that were above their heads for just this reason stopped Commandos from falling over as they took the sudden stop and started jumping off of the ramps, landing ten feet down and started moving for the positions the commander within the shuttle had tagged up on approach.
The shuttle came down, touching the ground speeding up the disembarking out of the three ramps.
Monk flowed out with the Commandos into what had been Yellowstone national Park. Interstate fifteen ran along the rear of the military forces, supplying hard points and moving troops across the country.
The Rocky Mountain ranges acted as the Canadians lines. The center of the United States was sporadic fighting and not much else. The other firm lines ran from Detroit to Nashville and down to Houston.
The Kalu had run through Northern Mexico except for the area around Hermosillo. The government had pulled back their forces, consolidating them around Torreon but they were now closer to Fresnilio.
Monk’s first phase was to clear the immediate area of the Kalu threat, then he would head south through Mexico, hitting the Kalu in the rear and moving more Commandos to support their lines. Once that was dealt with, South America waited.
One part at a time, Monk thought, looking over the information coming back from the landing shuttles, he’d looked over the landing areas they’d looked good and he’d left it to them.
Cargo containers dotted the landscape, parachutes draped over their entry-burned heat shields.
“Commander, will you be taking an escort?” Commander Olisk asked, his tone suggesting he damned well was no matter what.
“That would be a fine idea. I will be going to the command center; could you coordinate getting the tac table there?” Monk opened up a channel to Joel and Pix, both of them brigade level commanders and the three that he would be working with for the immediate future.
“Can do Commander. Protection detail will be with you momentarily,” Olisk said.
“Very well,” Monk said, he never stopped walking. Now he was looking over what had been Salt Lake City and was now the headquarters for the Western defense line.
“Commander Joel, do you have time for a face to face, I have some questions,” Monk asked.
Joel had been the Commander of the American contingent since landing on the planet and Monk intended to pick her brains clean.
“Yes Commander, I can be there in…” She paused consulting something. “Ten minutes.”
“Very well, do not rush I will be talking with our other counterparts,” Monk said.
“Yes Commander, if you have nothing else?” She asked.
“Dismissed. Now Pix, you will be commanding our lines on the East Coast, let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes Commander, if I may?” Pix asked, new to the role he needed to get on top of his new duties and fast.
“Dismissed,” Monk said, striding through streets that had cars pushed to the side to allow the massive military resupply trucks a route. Ten Commandos moved around him, his protection detail had arrived.
“Olisk, start pulling our supplies. I want to set up supply points along the coast. Artillery and ammunition pushed out to the lines first. I want sensors up and down the line, only relying on what the powered armor is telling us,” Monk trailed off, getting a grunt from Olisk
“Also start looking at units that are it for the powered armor and rail guns. One kit one person. Before it’s been piecemeal, you get armor you get a gun. Get all of those that were Commandos before the cock up a few months ago through first. Then anyone whose ran the simulators, use your own discretion,” Monk said, reminding himself that Olisk was a smart man, he would figure it out.
“Yes Commander,” Olisk said cutting the channel.
It would be weird in other militaries but Monk hoped that his people got comfortable with cutting their channels off when they needed it instead of asking permission.
He walked into what had been an elementary school. It was marked as the headquarters.
The words read Rosecrest Elementary school and the windows had fractured and given into the pressure waves coming over the mountains long ago.
Defenses were all over the place with more than one soldier twitching their rifle in the direction of the approaching Commandos.
Situated between interstate two-fifteen and Eighty. He didn’t need to look at his map to know that the front lines were just past the mountains just forty kilometers away. Salt Lake City was shaped like a basin, not a good place to fight, so instead of hugging the interstate fifty, the lines ran along the eighty-four, eighty and down route one-eighty-nine till it met fifteen again.
He came to the door meeting a burly Sergeant and a group of National Guard who didn’t seem to enjoy Monk’s path.
“What can I help you with?” The Sergeant First class asked, his tag named him as Banks.
“I’m here to see whoever is commanding the Western lines. I am Commander Monk, detached from Parnmal,” Monk said, opening his visor so that Banks wasn’t just talking to an opaque visor.
The First sergeant grabbed his radio o
n his shoulder, relaying the information, his right hand never left his rifle treating it as if it was but an extension of himself.
He listened to something in his earpiece.
He looked to Monk and his group, turning so his conversation was a little more private. Again he waited, probably listening to the message, he grimaced and spat on the ground.
“Yes sir, understood out,” he finished looking to Monk and his entourage. “Fuck it, could die tomorrow.” Obviously making a decision he didn’t like.
“Jones!” He barked, a corporal came from inside.
“Sergeant?” A shorter looking man asked.
“Go tell the Major that Commander Monk is here, don’t let Lieutenant Masters see you,” Banks said, looks passing between the two.
“You got it,” Jones said, turning and going back in the building.
“Sergeant I was wondering if you could help clear up some things for me. I’ve only just come in so I want to get a feel for how things are on the ground,” Monk said, Banks looked him over as if trying to make a decision.
“I’ll help you as much as I can sir,” Banks said.
“Please call me Monk,” Monk said holding out a hand, Banks took it, wincing in anticipation of having his hand crushed.
Monk smiled while Banks looked relieved to have his hand intact.
Not weak of heart this one, Monk thought.
“Very well Monk, how can I help you?” Banks asked.
“Where do the enemy attack from most, what are the rotation periods between troops on the lines off, what is the supply situation and please tell me you aren’t using those on the line?” Monk said, indicating the standard M16’s he and his people sported.
Banks pulled off his helmet and scratched his head.
“We’ve got heavier guns up there, but this is still our primary, better to have something rather than nothing,” Banks said.
Monk didn’t like it but he nodded, understanding the logic, he too pulled off his helmet, feeling the sunshine on his bald head.
“The enemy have no real target, wherever the fighting is the hardest they hit with everything they’ve got. Looks like they’ve learned to spread out or get nailed by machine guns and artillery. Rotation is, well basically your reserve until your needed, then you get pulled back if your wounded or you need to replace your losses,” Banks’ voice was hard but death was an occupational hazard, if you couldn’t deal with it you got out of the Army well before you became a Sergeant first class.
“Supplies, we get ammunition but food and water is a mess, we have supplies but we’re not only feeding a third of the population, we’re feeding troops as well. The civvies get first dibs so supplies aren’t the best.
“People were cooking up their food in big barbecues, electricity is gone and freezers don’t work so better to eat it than let it rot. Those stopped a few days ago so now everyone’s on rations or what they can pull from stores.” The troops around Banks didn’t look all that happy with the situation.
“What about medical aid?” Monk asked.
Bank grimaced and shook his head.
“We tanked out the hospitals and clinics, those fucking things do a number on people. Most don’t make it that far,” Banks said.
“Has anyone requested hell fire?” Monk asked.
“Hell fire? That the drug that hurts like hell and dopes you up more than kid soldiers?” Delarouse, a Private who had been listening said, grimacing.
“Nope, its basically an advanced tourniquet, seals up your wounds, boosts immune system and stops bleeding. Starts putting bones and internals back together. Though it does hurt like hell.” It was Monk’s turn to grimace.
“Sounds too good to be true,” Banks said.
Monk pulled an injector from a row of them on his chest and tossed it to the man.
He caught it, looking it over.
“If anyone gets shot stab that in the injured person’s body, closer to the wound, in an artery is the best. It’ll keep them alive to get to medical aid. Or it can get people back into shooting,” Monk said.
“I’ve seen a lot of you people get up after some really bad injuries. I thought you were drugged up, or just alien enough for it to not matter,” Banks admitted.
“Oh, it hurts like a sounvabitch, but that plus a dose of wake-up and you’re more alert than the biggest adrenaline junkie,” Monk said as movement caught his eye in the school
Banks nodded, interested.
The whine of shuttle engines cut through the sky, shit flying everywhere. Troops moved to firing positions as the shuttle hovered, it’s ramps opening and five figures falling out of the rear ramp as soon as they could.
Someone fired off a shot, Monk’s helmet was on, locking as he was pulled back into the protective circle of Commandos, their guns raised as more shots went off.
“Cease fire! Cease fucking fire!” A man with hard eyes with permanent bags under them barked, his commands made it over the noise.
“Fucking...” He trailed off, his face grim as he looked at the Commandos and now five more on the ground.
“Zek, find who shot, bring them,” Monk said, he sounded like nothing had happened at all.
“Forly, Ekar stay, the rest of you with me,” Monk said, highlighting the five Commandos.
Three showed green, one red the other yellow.
Four stood, their weapons up and covering the Americans, allowing Monk into their perimeter while the others were fanning out.
The shuttle was still on station, it’s wash pushing the grass down as it’s turrets looked at the elementary school. Two MEF’s came screaming out of the air and stopped next to the Shuttle, the threat clear.
Shoot on us, we’ll wipe you out.
Monk checked the readings of the person in red, it was Joel.
“Fuck sir, remind me to not walk in front of a Seven-five,” she said, grunting.
“You ready?” Monk asked.
“Fuck no, do it,” she said tensing.
Monk waited.
“What are you?” Monk asked, distracting her.
“Comma…” Joel said, as Monk activated her auto-inject and she went stiff in grunting pain.
“Works faster if you’re not tense first, sorry, Joel,” Monk said.
A few moments later she was reading yellow, stable but not life threatening, her armor was dented, a round had pinged her side, shattering a rib and sending it into her main cavity, not a pretty mess.
“I’ll remember that,” Joel said, not sounding happy.
Monk helped her to her feet.
“Let’s try that again,” he said, indicating he wanted to go back to the steps.
Joel grabbed her rifle and followed, it was hard to not wince at her careful steps, they must have hurt like hell.
“Commander,” the Major, Wakovich said.
“Major, it seems that your people do not know who the enemy is. See that it doesn’t happen again,” Monk said, his visor opening to show cold eyes.
“Yes, Commander,” Wakovich said, grimacing.
Zek appeared, hauling a young looking Corporal.
Banks and Wakovich’s eyes looked like they wanted to burn holes through the man.
“If you could get this man off of the line I would greatly appreciate it, seems that he doesn’t understand the term friendlies,” Monk said, looking to Wakovich.
“Perry, go find some use with the supply trucks. Do not let me see you around the front lines unless the Kalu are trying to eat our food,” Wakovich said.
“Yes Major!” Corporal Perry said, shaking and pale enough to make it look like he might pass out with a strong breeze.
Zek released the man with a push.
“Good, now shall we start planning our counterattack? I would breath a little easier without the Kalu just forty kilometers away,” Monk said.
The universe did what it did, all Monk did was live through it and deal with what he could. Shit’s going to happen, if you focus on what’s wrong then you will never ap
preciate what’s great, his mantra ran through his head and he smiled. No one had died and the Major looked to be taking him seriously. It could be a lot worse.
“We’ve set up operations in the gym if you’d care to join us. I am the General’s aide but I think he would be interested in your idea. We’re done being pushed back,” Wakovich said, turning and walking, indicating for Monk and his people to follow.
***
Daskil looked up at the battle-brothers as they trotted into the camp he had lived in for the past weeks.
None had returned with both battle brothers, and fewer had survived Daskil’s wrath at their useless information.
Daskil waited for them to approach, they submitted their heads to the ground in supplication.
“Speak,” Daskil said, impatient to hear their words. He longed to report to Orshpa his success.
“We found a large clan grouping with dens that stretch into the sky. We went past the buildings and found no Commando lines. We ranged past for many lengths of light and dark before returning,” the larger one said.
“Where was this place?” Daskil said, excitement making his mane quiver.
“Three days in the cold,” the larger continued, obviously the prime of the two.
“Rise, you have written your names well, eat, rest and wait. We will return to this place and we will lead our hunting pack down the Commando lines,” Daskil said, bumping their sides with his own, a show of respect to them.
“Thank you aide of Orshpa,” the larger one said.
Daskil’s body shook with glee.
“I will leave for our great war leaders den and tell him of your finds, he may well come to hear your stories himself,” Daskil said. Again they lay down on the dirt.
“It is our honor to have our names written below his,” they both said, their voices filled with deep respect.
“Rise and rest, I will return shortly,” Daskil said, turning and getting his feet under him. He stretched his body, accelerating with his armor open, letting the air run over his body. No fatigue or anger filled him, now he was filled with pride and joy that he might bring his war leader what he desired.
He raced through the dens that stretched outwards, unnaturally tall and above ground.
War's Reward (Free Fleet Book 6) Page 22