by Gary Beller
John spun around and fired. Blue beams flew from the muzzle of his weapon, cutting down three enemy soldiers, forcing the others to back up. Over the barking of the enemies, Ben heard another heavy weapon firing, and realized Bielema was shooting up the stairs. The enemy troops ran back into the hallway, trying to overwhelm John. This time Ben, Ashlie, Wilkie and Evans added their fire to John’s. Two soldiers slid, hit the wall, and fired, just missing Ben’s helmet, then scrambled back the way they came. The sound of a half-dozen particle weapons filled the air again, followed by two muffled thumps and a brief whimper, silenced by a pistol shot.
“Never seen that before.” Ashlie said.
“That was almost entertaining.” Ben said, leading the team around to the secured set of double doors. Loud barks and howls could be heard inside. Evans once again set the charges, and the door blew in. Ben walked in, doing his best impersonation of an angry pit bull. The Banor soldiers stopped and looked at him, as perplexed as his own Marines were by his odd behavior.
He walked right up to an officer with ornate braiding on his shoulder boards and barked in his face. The officer, overcoming his surprise, pulled his pistol. Ben was, however, slightly faster and stuck his Ka-Bar into the alien’s ribcage. The other Banor officers put down their weapons as the General dropped.
In short order, the Special Missions Operators cuffed the enemy officers, and sorted them by ranks. Ben ordered Wilkie and Sid to pull a dump on the computer, while Rob looked over the officers. Rob had studied the Banor language at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, and was about as close to fluent as any human could be. One of the officers barked, drawing a sharp retort from Rob.
“What’s he saying?” Kay Jay asked.
“He says it is a dishonor to be captured by soldiers who bring their mating stock to battle.” Rob said, looking at Kay Jay, Ashlie, and Sid.
“Mating stock, huh?” Kay Jay asked. She grabbed the officer by the collar, lifted him from his kneeling position and slammed him into the wall. “Do you speak our language?” She asked.
The officer looked her in the eyes, but said nothing. She pushed him into the wall again. “Yes.” He said his voice gravelly. “I speak the human tongue.”
“Do I look like someone’s mate to you?” She asked.
“You are female. Are not the females of the species for mating and domestic work?”
“Human females are a bit more complex than that. Yes, we carry the young. But we are also more than capable of whooping your bitch ass.” She said.
Sid walked up. And handed a tablet to Rob. “Translate this?”
Rob looked it over, then waved Ben over. “What is it, Rob?”
“This is solid intel. If I am reading this right, sir, we may have struck a goldmine.” He said, then shoved it in the Banor Soldier’s face. “Tell me what this says.”
“It is the security updates for a Banor prison. Nothing of interest to humans.”
Rob shook his head slightly, indicating the officer was lying. Kay Jay slammed him into the wall again. “I think you’re full of shit.” She said.
“Fuck it. He speaks English, he’s alive. Let’s take him with us.” Ben suggested.
“I like the sound of that.” Kay Jay said, “Especially since you killed their General.”
“I will not betray the Banor.” The officer said.
“That’s nice. We’ll see about that.” Kay Jay said, grabbing him by the collar, pushing him in front of her, her pistol pointed at his ribs. “You try anything stupid and I will make sure your death is slow and painful.”
Ben looked to Rob, then Sid. “Got everything?”
“Absolutely.” Sid said. “What about the rest of them?”
Ben held a hand up. “Phantom Six to Rappahannock,” He radioed, using the Chancellorsville’s radio call sign, “We have a half dozen prisoners, you got room in the brig?”
“Sure thing.” Commander Grant said, “Dispatching a jumper now.”
***
Within 30 minutes the entire raiding force was aboard the Teufelhund, and Chancellorsville had taken possession of the prisoners. Captain Blake had orders from high up the chain of command for finishing the mission. “Bridge to torpedo room, load Mark 99 Torpedoes.”
“Torpedo room to bridge, please confirm Mk. 99?” came the voice of the officer below decks. The Chancellorsville only carried four Mark 99 torpedoes: The weapons were long-range, high yield matter/anti-matter weapons. Their use was strictly prohibited, unless ordered by a 3-star officer or higher. Each of the Torpedoes unleashed a forty megaton explosion, capable of leveling entire cities.
“Confirmed, Torpedo room. Target the enemy base and fire when ready. Helm, lay in a new course, 197º x 15º x 38º.”
An alarm klaxon blasted three times and the two torpedoes launched. “Course set, Captain.” The Helmsman reported.
“Instruct Teufelhund to follow, and move out.”
CHAPTER 3
Returning to Ka-Bar, Ben presented the intelligence to Danny.
“This is good work, Ben. Better than we hoped.” He took a deep breath. “Look, we’ll have to verify it, but stay frosty.”
“Aye, Sir.” He said.
Ben kept his team ready while waiting for Intelligence to verify the enemy intel they’d brought back. Runs were longer, and the team ran a number of close-quarters battle drills.
Sitting around the camp one night, Bielema and John worked out a coordinated version of the technique they used during the previous mission. Since the two gunners rarely worked on the same team, they planned to coordinate with simple radio calls, for alternating fire or simultaneous fire. During the days of training, the normally jovial pranksters worked out the kinks in their new technique, and taught it to their counterparts from the Raiders teams and 2SMU.
During one training mission, Bielema saw Kate and Gene watching, amused. “You know, First Sergeant,” Kevin said, sitting next to Kate, “What if we incorporated sniper fire into this?
“How would we do that, Bee?” Kate asked.
“Well, if we are pinning the enemy down with our firing patterns, you and Gene could be picking off anyone brave enough to poke their heads up.”
“What if they break ranks?” Gene asked.
“Pick ‘em off as they do. Force them back into our kill zone. Or if you guys have an elevated snipers hide and can see over whatever they use for cover, nail them that way while they cower in fear of our superior firepower.”
“Actually, I kind of like it.” Kate said. “We don’t coordinate between elements nearly enough.” She said.
“Is that your opinion as our Chief Sniper, or as our First Sergeant?” John asked, taking a seat next to Gene.
“Yes.” She said, “Okay. Let’s work it out.”
Ben stood outside of Danny’s office, watching the coordinated training scenario going on. “You tell ‘em to do that shit?” Danny asked, offering him a cigarette. Ben accepted, and lit up. “Nope. Did that all on their own.”
“These kids are growing up, Ben. We got the intel back.” Danny said.
“Good news?”
“Sort of. Pick your Operators, you’re leading this mission.”
***
Ben grabbed both Special Missions Units and Delta Squadron. He pulled Kay Jay and Major Reynolds, along with jumper Commander Major Rheems and Colonel McQueen into Danny’s office.
“Alright. Here’s the deal, folks. Intel gathered from that last raid has been vetted, and I must say, it was done by some folks from the Office of Naval Intelligence who probably tote their balls around in wheelbarrows.”
“Recon flights?” Kay Jay asked.
“Five pilots, eight flights, including three with atmospheric penetration.” Danny said. McQueen and Rheems both looked impressed. “Alright, so here’s the deal. Have your people ready to go. Chancellorsville and Teufelhund will provide transport and screen. Oh, and you’ll be joining the Valderans and some other coalition ships. Colonel McMillan will brie
f you on the way.”
“So that’s all we get?” Kristen asked.
“For now, Colonel. But let this be known: Bring you’re A-Game, this run is deep into the Wolf’s Den. You’ll be behind enemy lines and without reinforcements if shit gets sideways.”
“Aye, Sir.” Ben said.
***
The trip out took more than a day, but was uneventful. 1SMU was geared up and ready to go when Ben received instructions.
“Alright, everyone sit tight.” Ben ordered. “Major, Captain, with me. Kate, you too. Kev, you’re in charge.”
Kevin watched as the senior team members walked off the flight deck, then turned around. “I am completely unsupervised…”
“If you quote Doctor Who one more time I’ll shove a TARDIS where the sun don’t shine.” Ashlie said with a smile.
***
Ben and his staff arrived on the bridge to find Colonel McMillan reading a new set of orders. “What’s the good word, Sir?” Ben asked.
“That intelligence you and your Marines pulled in? It gave us the location of a POW camp six light years from our last op, and they want us to liberate it.”
“How many POWs?” Sid asked.
“A few hundred, Valderans and others. One of them is Jarul Fignarigto.” McMillan said, handing the tablet to Ben.
“Umm, pardon my ignorance, sirs, but who is Jarul Fignarigto?” Captain Grimes asked.
“He’s the Valderan Empire’s leading ace, and has been promoted to Major General in absentia….And he’s also the Emperor’s brother. He was shot down six weeks ago, and the Banor have been trying to use him as a bargaining chip ever since.” Kristen explained, watching the briefing via video link from the Chancellorsville.
“The Valderans haven’t even negotiated for one of their princes?” Sid asked.
“Officially, no. Prince Jarul has been a combat pilot for years, and by imperial order he is treated no differently than any military officer.”
“So, what do we do?” Ben asked.
“We’ll be meeting up with the Majestic, Vasa, and the Valderan Assault Platform Vorla’jak and hitting the planet in force. Get in, free the POWs, and escort them to the transports, then we leave.”
“Alright, let’s do this.” Ben said, looking at his fellow officers. “What’s Intel got on the enemy camp?”
“This is the first POW camp we’ve located, so we don’t know if this is a standard layout. Each cell block is a rectangular building, about 500 feet long by 60 feet wide. The number of prisoners in each block is unknown as of right now. The surveillance ship covered the base for 3 days to determine a camp routine, and although a full headcount wasn’t made, it was noticed that the prisoners include not only Valderans and several of their vassal species such as Rulakans and Hitari, but also Humans, Kntarians, Narcanians…and in a separate, segregated part of the camp, Banor.”
“So it’s a general prison?” Kay Jay asked.
“We don’t know. We do know that facial recognition identified Prince Jarul, and several other Valderan prisoners. Since the Valderans don’t have access to our personnel files they didn’t cross reference them, but we may be able to bring some of our people home as well.” The Colonel said, hopeful.
“What about the Narcanian prisoners? What do we do with them?” Sid asked. The Narcanians were officially neutral in the war, but were generally considered to be hostile towards everyone.
“Once we affect the rescue, our government and the Valderan government will contact the Narcanians and arrange for their journey home. The Kntarians are aware of this raid, and will be ready to take charge of their personnel, but because of current military obligations cannot provide direct support to this operation.” McMillan said. “We’ll be going in with His Majesty’s Royal Marine Corps’ top unit, 14th Special Assault Battalion. With all units present, our ground strength will be approximately six hundred Marines. Intelligence estimates the base garrison to be around one thousand. Of those, there are about 150 infantry, and the rest are basically just security guards, cooks, clerks, and the like. Any further questions?”
“No sir.” The officers said in unison.
“Dismissed, but stay frosty. We’ll be on target soon.”
CHAPTER 4
The five ships of the improvised joint strike force came into the system housing the Banor Prison, known only to the humans by its basic designation MN20136, in a loose formation. Majestic and Vorla’jak held back, while the battlecruiser Vasa and Chancellorsville lead the way. Teufelhund stayed in the middle of the formation, a final screen before the carrier and troop transport, but itself protected by the two larger warships.
Space resistance was heavier than expected: A light cruiser and two destroyers broke orbit to meet the force, while fighters deployed from an orbital defense platform. The jumpers and fighters from Teufelhund deployed, and hung back near Majestic, freeing the Marine cruiser to engage enemy warships. Majestic launched her fighters and bombers, reuniting Colonel McQueen’s “Satan’s Kittens” Squadron with the rest of her fighter group and their carrier wing.
The space battle began with the fighters, far faster than the large and lumbering warships, their twisting, turning battle filled the gap between the warships, turning empty space into a brilliant lightshow of red and blue particle beams, punctuated by bright red and gold fireballs that resulted from the destruction of a fighter, and likely the death of its’ pilot.
In the cockpit of her fighter, Colonel McQueen had her hands full. She was now directing traffic for the three squadrons of fighters under her direct command, as well as keeping herself in the fight. An enemy Dart zipped past the front of her, diving towards a pair of unsuspecting Navy Tomahawk Fighter-bombers. “Vixen 309, 310, incoming from above!” she yelled into the comm as she rolled hard after the Dart. Off her starboard wing, Captain Eddie Tracy in Kitten 102 was flying at the edge of his ability to keep up with the Colonel.
McQueen pushed her fighter hard, and got into a firing position, with Captain Tracy behind her, ready to take a shot if she couldn’t. She nosed up slightly, adjusting her lead angle, and fired. Her fighter’s six particle cannons spit blue energy beams towards the enemy spacecraft at a rate of four beams per second per gun. The high powered weapons ripped through the Dart, first detonating the ship’s weapons capacitors, then striking the fuel cells. The glowing explosion of the fuel and the engine engulfed the sleek, angular craft.
Kristen turned away, Captain Tracy closing in on her wing again, and continued the hunt. Another pair of enemy fighters presented themselves, trying to make a break for a group of fighter bombers heading to the planet’s surface. Kristen pulled her fighter up and looped back, letting Tracy take the lead.
The attack this time was a textbook missile ambush, With McQueen providing cover while Tracy lined up for a long-range missile shot. The Bearcat fighter could target and engage up to six enemy ships simultaneously with missiles. Tracy led the fighters, let them fly into his targeting path, and got a solid lock. “Kitten 102, Fox 3 Fox 3” he said calmly as he released the two high-speed missiles. He kept on his course until the missiles hit their intended targets. “Two down!” He called.
“Confirmed, 102. Welcome to the club!” McQueen said. The two fighters represented Captain Tracy’s fifth and sixth combat kills, qualifying him for the title of ace. A bright flash of red caught McQueen’s attention. “Break right and down, 102.” She ordered, following him through the break. Diving below the plane of the system, McQueen retook the lead, and rolled her fighter. At a range of 35,000 kilometers, the warships had begun the engagement. The Banor light cruiser and destroyers were outmatched badly against a battlecruiser, a heavy cruiser, and an escort cruiser.
A moment later, the comm crackled to life in McQueen’s ears. “Kitten 100, Eagle 100, form your groups to escort jumpers.”
“Kitten 100 acknowledges, Control.” McQueen said, pulling her fighter around. “Satan’s Kittens, Banshees, Thunder Chickens, form on me for jumper escor
t.”
“Kitten 105 Acknowledges.” Said Lizzie Hansen, Kristen’s wife.
“Banshee 201 copies.”
“Chicken 301 confirms.”
***
Although the warship battle was just starting, the Starfighter action was in its mop up phase. Combat controllers pulled the six Marine Corps squadrons to escort the landing force. The Marines had been in their jumpers, anxiously awaiting clearance to make landfall, but forced to watch the battle from the rear. Captain Dave McCallister, flying Mini 401, turned and looked to Ben. “We’ve got clearance, fighter escort is coming.”
“Who’s our escort?” Ben asked.
“Colonel McQueen, Sir. Colonel Gideon’s wing will escort the Valderans in.”
Ben gave him a thumbs up. Through the window, Ben saw the Bearcats of Colonel McQueen’s fighter squadron, painted in their distinctive and familiar woodland camouflage pattern, forming around the jumpers. Colonel Gideon’s fighters, identified by their red yellow flame paint scheme, formed up with the Valderan landing craft now launching from their ship.
“Commando Leader to Phantom Six and Reaper Six” The Valderan team leader called over the radio.”
“Phantom Six reads, go ahead.” Ben replied.
“Reaper Six copies, Commando Leader.” Kay Jay said.
“Tell me how this sounds, Colonels. Phantoms will take the far north cell block. Reapers will take the next cell block immediately adjacent to it. My teams will assault the two cell blocks on the south. Delta Squadron will provide a four corners perimeter around the cellblocks.”
“Works for me.” Ben said.
“Reaper Six agrees.”
Ben relayed the information to his team, and advised McCallister of the attack plan. McCallister then relayed the landing plan to the other jumper pilots, while Ben communicated the plan to his Marines, and to Delta Squadron’s commander, Major John Reynolds.