by Danny Loomis
Bracken ran to the edge of the road and dropped into a freshly-dug foxhole. “Call it in, Sergeant. The rest of you, prepare to fire.” Ten rifles poked their snouts out of dug-in positions on either side of the road. Bracken prepped and aimed a shoulder-fired rocket.
Price looked out of the shack. “Sir, the Captain says to make sure it’s a threat before callin’ in again. Then he cut me off.”
A splat of sound made Bracken glance around, startled. What the…
The Sergeant was on the ground, kicking his last. Horror gripped Bracken, causing his hand to spasm on the rocket launcher’s trigger. The rocket whooshed out the barrel, exploding in front of the approaching truck. It swerved left, smashing into a boulder. The resultant explosion had all of them ducking.
Another vehicle sped into sight. Bracken snatched up his rifle. “Fire!” he shouted, emptying his rifle towards the oncoming car.
A burst of gunfire close behind their dug-in positions sent all but two of the soldiers sprawling forward in death. Bracken dove to the bottom of his foxhole, covering his head with shaking hands. An explosion on the far side of the road accompanied by an agonized shriek had him whimpering in shock and fear.
A rounded object rattled into the foxhole. His last moment of life was spent taking a breath to scream.
* * *
Alliance Airfield, Youghdal Airbase:
Lieutenant Scarborough clambered into his Viper, and prepping the craft fast as he could move. His first mission on Eire–time to show his commander what he was made of.
Within a minute his and two other craft taxied into position for a takeoff. “Alpha flight ready for takeoff,” he heard over his helmet.
“Permission granted,” came the tower’s answer. A handful of seconds later all three Vipers were clawing for the sky.
Captain Nester came on line. “Move into delta formation and follow me. There’s been an attack on Roadblock Twelve, seventy klicks to our front. Prepare weapons now, we’ll be there shortly.” Scarborough clicked a reply and positioned himself to the right rear of Nester while climbing to five thousand meters.
Nester’s voice crackled from the comm. “Target area spotted. Check your screens, and follow me. One second intervals.”
Scarborough barely had time to check the map on his screen before it was his turn to begin an attack dive, bringing up the rear as usual. He clicked the ready switch on his missiles, intently watching the screen. A sudden fireball to his front caused him to jerk his craft up and to the right, breaking from his run. The explosion’s force had him fighting for control.
A warbling announced a missile lock. Instinct had him dumping chaff and dodging to his left. Seconds later, he shuddered in relief. Still alive. He keyed his comm. “Fox One, this is Fox Three.”
Twice more he tried to raise his commander before giving up. By now he was at 7,000 meters and circling the area, with no sign of the rest of his flight. Had both gone down? He shook his head while doing another scan of the immediate area.
“Fox flight, this is Base One. Sitrep, over.”
Scarborough hesitated, vainly hoping his commander was still around to answer the call. After the second call, he keyed his mike. “Base One, this is Fox Three. We were attacked by missile fire when conducting our attack. No sign of the rest of my flight.”
“Understood, Fox Three. Return to base.”
He alerted to movement on the road. Three vehicles moving rapidly away from the roadblock. “Targets in sight, Base One. I’ll head for home after one more run.” While talking he’d begun his dive, once more arming his rockets.
Squawking from his radio faded into the background, his focus was so strong. The warbling of a missile lock caused him to flinch, sending all four of his missiles towards their targets. His Viper exploded seconds before his missiles impacted the road, fifty meters short of the fleeing vehicles. Pieces and chunks of the aircraft rained down on the three vehicles. The biggest truck caught the full force of a large piece of engine casing, killing everyone on board. The other two put on a burst of speed, disappearing around a bend within seconds.
Corporal Donahue turned away from the scene on the highway with a shudder, and finished packing the unused rocket. He looked up at Lieutenant Ingles. “Damn, Sir, why’d that guy come back? He should’a known we’d be keepin’ our guard up in case he did just that.”
Ingles climbed in the open-topped vehicle and glanced back. “Who knows? The bastard did manage to get his licks in, even after he was dead. We had nine good troops on board that truck.” He shook his head. “At least we saved the rest of ‘em.”
Donahue slid into the driver’s seat, starting the vehicle. “We better get outta here before they send reinforcements. Don’t think we’re popular ‘round here at the moment.” They pulled onto the highway and sped after the remaining vehicles.
* * *
For the first time since Irish had attended any of their meetings, the Executive Council of the Freedom Fighters was silent, paying close attention to their briefer.
Brian stood at the front of the room, highlighting the map behind him with a laser pointer. “We had thirty troops attack the roadblock at this location, with a secondary mission in mind of ambushing any Vipers that would respond with our newly issued shoulder fired rockets. The enemy troops were wiped out, and all three of the Vipers that responded were destroyed. I’d say this particular mission was a roaring success, but for the fact one of our trucks was destroyed while leaving the scene. Nine of our soldiers were on it.”
He sat, looking around the table. “That was our most expensive mission, in regards to lives lost. In all there were ten attacks on roadblocks and two on garrisons across Eire. The garrison attacks weren’t all that successful tactically, but the strategic value was excellent. A low number of casualties for us, plus the Legs and Alliance troops overreacted-again-by taking their frustrations out on the civilians. Luckily no deaths, but a couple dozen incidents of citizens being beaten cast a bad light on the enemy.”
Brian pointed at Aileen, the Information Chief. “It’s my understanding you had a field day reporting what’s happened so far. Anything concerning a buildup of public resentment to the Legs and Alliance troops?”
Irish tried his best to look alert and interested while the next two speakers gave their report. Finally, Brian pointed at him. “Mister Ambassador, I understand you have some information concerning future events?”
“Thank you, Commander,” he said, rising to his feet. “From the reactions of the public and the forces against us, we feel it’s time to step in with a heavier punch. With that in mind, we’re planning raids on the three airfields being used by Alliance forces, with the idea of knocking out a maximum number of Vipers and attack shuttles. Along with this, raids will be made on the garrisons in or near each major city. The overall aim of these attacks is to cause maximum damage to their facilities, and kill the greatest number of leaders we can. The snipers are even now being concentrated for these actions.”
It was another hour before the meeting finally adjourned. Irish followed Brian to his office, trotting to keep up with his longer strides.
“Shite, thought we’d never get out of there,” Brian growled.
Once in his receptionist’s office, Brian waved at Bernadette. “You have time to join us for a discussion, Bernie?”
“Of course.” She trailed them into his inner office. “Do I need to take notes or anything?”
Brian grabbed some papers off his desk before joining the rest at the conference table. “Probably a good idea.” He gave Brian a suspicious look. “All right, what didn’t you tell the Exec Council?”
Irish shrugged. “I might be too suspicious, but didn’t want to spill the beans about our overall deadline, which is less than two weeks away now.”
Brian nodded. “Good point. But there was something else.”
He sighed. “Damn it, can’t get anything past you. Yes, I’ve got a special mission
in mind for a couple teams. Plus a modification for one of the garrison raids.” He turned to Bernadette. “But first, I’ve got a question. Do you have a way to contact that witch, Glynna?”
“Yes, if it’s important. And before you ask, she’s normally neutral concerning politics. In this case, she wants to kill all the Alliance soldiers on the planet.”
“Good. You think she’d lend her support to us by doing some kind of a curse against them? Maybe even the Legs?”
She smiled. “Good idea. In fact, it’s a great idea. We should’ve thought of this sooner.”
“No. Her assistance wasn’t really needed. Until now.” He touched the bracelet on her wrist before turning to Brian. “Two Eagles and I want to sneak into one of the ammo dumps the Alliance has by Galway. Whether we succeed or not, that’d be the signal for other missions to start.”
“Sounds fine, but why does the Confederation’s Ambassador have to take part?”
“Because if I don’t get out of here and kill something soon, I might be tempted to start in on your Execs.” He shuddered. “Gah! I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth from today’s session, and it wasn’t terrible like usual. Only bad.”
Brian shook his head, a sorrowful look on his face. “My friend, you sorely tempt me to call an emergency meeting right now just so I could get rid of them. Instead, I’ll have to reluctantly look the other way while you go inspect your troops sometime in the near future. That good enough?”
“You bet! In fact, before you suggest it, I vote that we move to the pub and continue our discussions.” He smiled at Bernadette. “You up for a couple rounds of free drinks? They’re all on Brian.”
NEAR 41ST DIVISION PERIMETER (Day +92)
Irish slid into position to the left of Two Eagles, a hundred meters south of the 41st Division’s ammo bunker. Their main installation began another two klicks from there. He lifted his face shield to wipe sweat from his face and started a scan of the area through his scope.
“Nicely set up,” Two Eagles whispered. “Their fortifications are a little close to the dump. Maybe it doesn’t have much in it.”
Irish studied their objective. Double barbed wire encircled it, with only one entrance on the far side from them. A platoon of guards bivouacked three hundred yards to the west, providing the security forces around and in the dump. The four-man patrol that walked the perimeter once every six hours had just finished its circuit. “Only seen four guards going in during shift change.”
“Just like they set up every ammo bunker,” Two Eagles whispered. “Bet they have the same alarm system, too.”
Irish listened to a murmuring on his comm. “Sniper team’s in position above us now.” Four snipers were snugged in along a ridgeline, within seven hundred meters of the bunker. He checked the time. “Okay, let’s move.”
They slithered forward, Two Eagles in the lead. His hand-held sensor was capable of spotting electronic detectors well before they alarmed. It was an hour before they reached the electrified fence. If the current was interrupted all hell would break loose. Irish smiled involuntarily. Two Eagles was right, at least so far.
After attaching a bypass wire for the bottom two strands of the fence, they cut them and crawled through. Two Eagles motioned Irish into the lead when they rose to a crouch. Swinging the small metal detector back and forth, Irish picked a safe route through the minefield inside the fence until finally at the wall of the bunker.
Two Eagles gestured right. They crept along the wall until next to the double-door entrance, large enough to drive a truck through when open. A smaller entryway close by beckoned. Irish held up two flash-bang grenades, gesturing at the door. Two Eagles grasped the handle and turned it-unlocked. When Irish nodded he jerked the door open. Two flash-bangs flew in and he slammed the door. A double whump more felt than heard was their signal. They sprinted inside, Irish running to the back room while Two Eagles took care of the three figures writhing on the floor.
A man was just rising to his knees when Irish drove a knifeblade into his throat, jerking it to the side. A quick glance-no one else. “Clear,” he called.
“Clear,” answered Two Eagles.
There was a gated entry into the main storage of the bunker. Two Eagles swung it open. “Damn, they must feel pretty safe here. Didn’t even lock up all that stuff.”
Irish stepped inside, and headed down an aisle between wooden crates stacked five high. “Glad they did. Probably saved us having to search bodies for the keys.”
It was another thirty minutes before they stepped out of the bunker. Two Eagles shook his head. “Still can’t believe they left not only the inner gate unlocked, but the outer one, too.”
“I suspect they got a little slack once they were established on Eire. And with thirty more guards within spitting distance, I don’t entirely blame them,” Irish said. “In the meantime, I set the timer for half an hour instead of an hour. Told Sergeant Wells to start their diversion in fifteen minutes, too. So let’s boogie.”
They’d joined up with their sniper support on top of the ridge when a rippling of explosions and automatic firing was heard more than five kilometers to their northeast. Wells and his squad of freedom fighters were unloading on the division perimeter with rockets and grenade launchers. Right on time.
Irish watched for a moment, then swung around. “We’d better put another two klicks between us and that ammo dump. Looked to have more ammo and explosives in it than we thought.”
They’d barely reached where the shuttle was hidden when the sky behind them lit up. Seconds later, a loud roar accompanied by a strong wind had them diving to the ground.
Two Eagles looked up at the mushroom shaped cloud lit by the continuous flashes of ammo being cooked off. “Man, I think those idjits had all their eggs in one basket. “Wish I could’ve seen that blast from the ridgeline!”
Irish rolled over, spitting out dirt. “Might’ve been the last thing you ever saw if you’d stayed there. That was about twice or three times larger an explosion than we expected.” He came to his feet. “In the meantime, we’d better head for home. When they get over the shock, they’ll blanket this area with patrols.”
* * *
The sun was peeking over the mountaintops when the shuttle drifted inside the tunnel next to the newest site for the rebel HQ, a hundred kilometers north of the last location. Irish spotted Bernadette while shutting down and felt a twinge. She didn’t look all that happy.
Her first words underlined his impression. “Let’s get some breakfast.” She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving him to catch up. No, not unhappy. She was pissed.
Once they’d placed their orders and had coffee in front of them, she touched his hand. “If I look somewhat irritated with you, it’s because I am. Why didn’t you leave word with Brian or me where you went?”
He shrugged. “I told Brian I’d be gone a couple days on a mission. He didn’t seem upset at the time.”
She slapped his hand. “You realize it’s been five days since you left? There’ve been three meetings your presence was needed.”
Irish raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Five days? I thought…”
“That’s the problem, you didn’t think. Mister Ambassador, this isn’t a game where you can go out and have adventures with no repercussions.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Got caught up in the mission. You’re right, I need to be more responsible with my time. I promise to do better in the future, okay?”
She smiled inadvertently. “You look so guilty right now.” A severe look returned. “As well you should. Brian’s been under pressure to make some decisions that involved the Confederation. So far, he’s been able to put off those items. You owe him a large apology, and need to ensure your duties as an Ambassador are covered before haring off on one of your trips again.”
Irish ducked his head, face heating. “I-You’re right, of course. Been hiding from my real duties.”
&
nbsp; They quieted when their waitress served them pancakes and eggs. Conversation ebbed in favor of eating for the next few minutes.
Finally Bernadette took a sip of coffee and relaxed. “I’ve been wondering why you touched my bracelet after mentioning Glynna the other day.”
He brightened, glad to move on from his scolding. “I’d done some research on the Wiccans here on Eire, and how they were tied in with the worship of Gaia.” He touched her bracelet again. “This is a powerful symbol of Gaia. The centerpiece of it is made more like an amulet normally worn by those who are members of a group close to the High Priestess.”
She put her hand over his. “Very good, Ian. And before you ask, I’ve been a loyal member for many years. When I was young, my mother introduced me to the local priestess. I was smitten with the religion, and agreed to join a select few in hopes of eventually becoming a priestess myself.” She took another drink of coffee.
“But life intervened. I fell madly in love and married my life mate. Which meant I had to drop out of the training. But I remained a firm believer ever since.”
“Life mate? So you’re married?”
“The key word being was. He died fifty years ago. Although I’ve enjoyed the company of men, there has never been another who tempted me into marriage.”
Irish toasted her with his coffee. “I, for one, am happy you’re still involved with the Wiccans. I suspect they can be a tremendous help for Brian.”
“I tend to agree with you. Having at least six million adherents makes it a force to reckon with. Especially if the High Priestess calls on them to throw out the Legislaturists.”
Bernadette’s comm chimed. She read the incoming message, lips pursing. “Looks like it’ll be tomorrow before Brian can meet with you. He’d like an update concerning how the plans are progressing on the next phase, if possible.”
Irish sighed, shaking his head. “Back to work. Guess I’d better meet with the planners and see how they’re doing.”