Gnasher’s men moved in a double column with first squad up front, third squad in the middle, and second squad taking up the rear, trading security for speed in this desolate wasteland. On flat, open ground Letsego guessed the rugged soldiers could cover the required distance in two hours. But the terrain and weather tripled that time.
He stayed close to the lieutenant at the middle of the column. Carpenter seemed to have little trouble keeping up with the brisk pace the ICARUs troopers set. Letsego was not fairing as well. He did his best to conceal the pain and exhaustion that he felt with every step. It had been many years since his days in the South African Army infantry, and he had to admit that life with Peacekeeper Intelligence had made him soft. He had sacrificed the physical endurance of sustained combat for the mental stressors of intel work. He was relieved when he heard first squad’s transmission.
“Two-actual, this is Two-one. We have the objective in site. It’s about four hundred meters to our front.”
Gnasher keyed his mic. “Copy, any signs of life?”
“Negative, not that I can see, but the storm is concealing half the compound.”
“Two-one. Take your squad up and recon the objective. If there are any contacts, Fed or other wise, stand fast. I say again, do not engage. How copy?”
“Solid copy, Two-actual. Two-one moving to objective.”
“Two-two, Two-three. Punch out security. We’re waiting for the go ahead from Two-one.”
They lay in the snow. Letsego’s pain and exhaustion were replaced with frigid misery. The time ticked by as first squad completed its task. Even with the environmental unit in his armor, Letsego’s extremities grew numb. He forced the discomfort from his mind. None of the other Peacekeepers stirred as they waited. Even Carpenter was completely still as he lay on the blanket of snow. These were hard men.
Thirty minutes passed. Then forty five. Finally, his comm unit crackled to life.
“Two-actual, two-one.”
“Send it.”
“Sir, there’s no sign of life up here. This place has been vacant for a while. But we do have multiple victors ripe for the taking.” This was good news. There were vehicles at the supply station. Letsego did not feel like walking another step in this ice box.
“Roger. We’ll come up and join you.” Gnasher stood and waved his hand in an upward motion. “Everybody up. Field Sergeant, let’s get the hell out of this storm.”
Soon, through the concealment of the blowing snow, Letsego could make out the faint outline of a series of buildings at the base of a large rock outcropping. The compound was devoid of life, save for the footprints of Sergeant Weilbacher’s squad leading up to it, which were quickly being erased by the storm. Stations like this dotted the landscape of the dark side, once serving as supply bases and transportation hubs for the mining facilities. Since the Colonial Wars more than half of them had been abandoned.
As Letsego trudged through the snow, he felt a faint vibration beneath his feet in the tundra. Then, through the howling of the wind, he swore he could hear the whine of engines.
“Hit the deck!” Nobal’s voice echoed through his helmet speakers.
As the ICARUs soldiers all dove for cover, Letsego made himself one with the ground, embracing the cold. Seconds later, two gunboats bearing dark red and black markings zoomed by overhead, less than one hundred meters above the platoon’s heads.
“Two-one, we just got buzzed by two Fed boomers.” Gnasher was pressed up against a rock ten meters from Letsego. “Do you have eyes on them?”
“Affirmative. They are holding course through the valley. It doesn’t look like they spotted you.” The seconds ticked by. “Shit. Two-actual, they’re coming back around.”
Gnasher looked around at his platoon, which was scattered across a hundred meters of frozen tundra. Most of the soldiers were lying prone in the open. “Get to cover!”
Letsego sprang up and sprinted for a rock outcrop nearby. He did not want to be caught in the open when the gunboats returned. He could hear them turning at the far end of the valley, the whine of their engines became louder once again. The intel operative knew the capabilities of every ship in the Federation’s fleet. In atmosphere, these gunboats were outfitted with chain and rail guns. Against fortified positions the ships posed little threat, but they could tear a platoon of lightly armored infantry apart. On top of that, each ship could carry a complement of fifteen shock infantry. If the Feds had spotted the platoon, Gnasher and his men, including Letsego, were in for a bad day.
He reached the rock, only to find Carpenter already taking cover behind it. The smuggler racked the bolt back on his rifle and then began feeding ammo into the underslung grenade launcher. “Good morning,” the man said. “No better way to wake up than a good old fashioned gunfight.”
Letsego grunted. “I’d prefer a coffee.” He checked the magazine for his own rifle and then racked the bolt back.
“Two-three,” Gnasher said over the radio. “Get your Pilum team ready. Once those bastards are in range, let fly.”
Letsego peered around the rock. To his front, two Death Divers ducked out from behind cover, one of them hoisting a large tube to his shoulder. Down the valley, the glow of the gunships’ engines lit up the darkness. They appeared to be moving slowly, searching for their prey. They soon found them.
The Pilum missile streaked from the launcher on the Diver’s shoulder toward the incoming craft. The right gunboat banked hard to the outside. The other one was not as quick. As it veered left, the missile careened into its path, detonating on the ship’s port weapons pod. The gunboat began trailing smoke, but it was still very much a threat.
Their prey revealed, the gunboats opened fire with their chainguns. The snow to Letsego’s front became stitched with bullets. He ducked behind his rock as more rounds peppered the granite. Then, with a whoosh, the gunships passed over his head.
“Get to the compound!” Letsego was up and running before Gnasher’s words finished echoing through his ears. With all the energy he could muster, he forced his legs into action, sprinting toward the safety of the buildings. They were only two hundred meters away now, but in this snow, that was a lifetime.
Suddenly, more missiles streaked into the air, this time from the compound. Letsego flinched as the cracks of rifles echoed in front of him. First squad was covering their movement, engaging the gunboats. The gunboats fired back, targeting both the compound and the fleeing Divers. Rounds started impacting all around the open valley. Letsego ran faster.
A railgun round impacted close by. The force of the explosive tipped projectile sent Letsego flying. Dazed, he picked himself up from the snow. He ached but a quick inspection revealed that no shrapnel had pierced his armor.
A hand grabbed him by the arm. “Come on!” Carpenter shouted as he pulled him to his feet. Letsego barely had time to grab his rifle as the smuggler ushered him forward.
They continued to run. Letsego was still regaining his equilibrium after the blast, but he could see they were less than a football field length away from the compound. He forced his body into overdrive, his lungs and legs burning. Carpenter continued to hold him by the arm as they ran. Snow erupted around them as the Feds engaged. Sergeant Weilbacher’s soldiers continued to lay down resistance in the form of missiles and bullets from the compound.
Carpenter’s hand let go, but Letsego continued to run. Up ahead, in the doorway to one of the buildings, Gnasher was waving him forward. Fifty meters. Forty meters. Twenty-five. It seemed to take forever. At last he reached the opening, and entered into the relative safety of the structure.
“Everybody upstairs,” Gnasher directed the men as they streamed through the doorway. “Set up defensive positions.”
Letsego obeyed. He deferred to the man’s combat experience and climbed the stairs to the second deck. There he found first squad and portions of second and third laying down heavy fire.
“We’ve got foot mobiles! Ten o’clock
!” Sergeant Weilbacher yelled for all of the Divers to hear. In one of the windows, two soldiers manning a machine gun, aptly nicknamed the “buzzsaw”, traversed to the right, engaging the new targets.
Letsego took cover in a doorway. In one swift motion, he leaned out, took aim with his rifle, and dropped a Federation trooper. At the same time he surveyed the situation.
One of the gunboats sat on the valley floor, smoke rising from its engines. It must have made an emergency landing after taking one too many missile hits. The troopers and crewman from the ship appeared to be staging a hasty offensive against various ICARUs soldiers who had not made it to the safety of the compound. They were digging in fifty meters or so outside the walls, using whatever they could find for cover. To make matters worse, the surviving gunboats continued to make passes, allowing the Federation troops to advance.
Letsego looked around at the second floor of the compound. Spent Pilum launchers lay on the deck, all their rounds expended. There were twenty or so soldiers laying down fire from the building. Gnasher and Nobal were moving around, directing fire. That left about ten soldiers still unaccounted for.
Then Letsego realized he didn’t see Carpenter. He had not seen the man since the smuggler had helped him up during the mad dash back in the valley. Logic told Letsego that the smuggler could take care of himself, and that the Peacekeeper owed the man nothing. But Letsego also knew that the man was valuable in a fight. Where was he?
When David came to, he was on his back and couldn’t hear anything. His eyes were greeted by a large ICARUs soldier leaning over him. The man’s mouth was moving but no words came out.
Then, with a boom, a railgun round exploded nearby and all of his senses came back to him.
“Sir! You need to get up right now!” the soldier was yelling.
David rolled over and got to his knees. Then he attempted to stand.
Only to be tackled by the soldier just as bullets cracked by his head. “Not all the way up, dumbass!” He helped David over to a rock to use for cover.
David looked around. He was still in the valley. The last thing he remembered was running with Letsego towards the compound. He must have been knocked out by one of those damn railguns. He peered over the rock. One of the gunboats had landed and now there were Federation troops pouring out of it, trying to flank his position. Fire was raining down from the compound, but soon the rest of the platoon would be unable to fire or risk shooting their own men.
Corporal Zeek was on the radio. “Sir, we can’t move. They’ve got us pinned down.”
“Damnit, Two-three! I can see it from here!” Gnasher’s voice shouted. “They’re trying to flank you. You need to punch out into the valley and cut them off. How many men do you have?”
Zeek took a quick head count. It was clear to David that the man was overwhelmed with his new responsibilities as squad leader. “Seven, sir,” he said when he completed the count.
“Zeek, you know what you need to do. Set up a base of fire and punch out to your left.”
“Aye, sir.” Zeek looked to the men around him. He hesitantly issued orders. “Okay, you two, set up right here. Keep those assholes’ heads down. The rest of you, we’re gonna-”
A bullet slammed into Corporal Zeek’s shoulder and his body flopped into the snow. David looked around, waiting for another soldier to spring into action, but none did.
I thought I was done with this shit. “Medic!” David yelled as he scrambled over to the fallen corporal. The soldier who had helped him up followed.
The man was alive but he was losing a lot of blood. “You got this, Doc?” The soldier nodded and pulled out an aid bag. David looked around at the other men. There were five of them now. Beyond the rock outcropping they were hiding behind, he could see movement as troopers encroached on their left flank. David estimated the force to be at least a dozen.
“You, with the big ass gun,” he pointed at the soldier with the buzzsaw. “Set up there and start laying into them. You two, start lobbing grenades behind those rocks. I want them pinned down.” He looked at the last soldier. “You’re with me.”
The two of them moved to the left edge of the outcropping. Behind them the other three opened up with the buzzsaw and grenades. From the ruckus that was created, David suspected that the Feds would be ducking for cover right about now. He pulled the soldier in close.
“What’s your name?”
“Bailey, sir.”
“Bailey, on my mark we’re gonna run like hell to those rocks.” He pointed to a point about fifty meters forward and to the left. He looked at Bailey for confirmation. The man nodded.
Pulling out two smoke grenades, he lobbed them into the open space. The smoke began to billow. “Wait… Okay, go!”
They sprinted across the snow. Behind them, the buzzsaw sprayed deadly lead into the Feds’ positions. By the time Bailey and David made it across the smoke was blowing across the valley, completely obscuring them.
David slammed into the rock and then glanced around it. He was now looking directly down the Federation lines. Just like he had planned, the troopers were making themselves small, seeking sanctuary from the dual threat of bullets and grenades. The snow was stained red in multiple places next to lifeless bodies. Still, there were six Feds continuing to fight.
David looked at Bailey. “Let ‘em have it.” Then he raised his rifle to his shoulder, flipped the safety off, and opened up.
His first burst dropped two Feds. Bailey got one. The enemy didn’t know what had hit them. Soon all that could be heard in the valley was the howling of the wind.
David stood up from behind his cover. “Two-actual, this is Two-three,” he said into the radio.
“Is that you, Carpenter?” Gnasher’s voice came back. “Where the hell is Zeek?”
“He’s okay, sir. The medic’s taking care of him. We’re clear down here.”
“I can see that. Good job. Now get your asses up- Shit! Hit the deck!”
David didn’t wait to ask why. Grabbing Bailey, he threw the two of them down into the snow. He was just in time. Five railgun rounds impacted on the far side of the rock, throwing shrapnel and rock fragments everywhere.
David looked up just in time to see the remaining gunboat streak past. He keyed his mic. “Two-actual. Can you take that damn thing out for us?” In the distance he could hear the sound of the buzzsaw going cyclic, the rounds bouncing harmlessly off of the gunboat’s armor.
“Negative, Two-three. We don’t have any Pilums left. You have any down there?”
David checked with the rest of third squad over the radio. They were also dry. “We’ll look around up here,” Gnasher told him. “See if you can scrounge up anything.”
On its own the lone gunship was not much of a threat. It continued to make passes, tearing up snow and rock with its railguns, but the Divers were well dug in at this point. Still, until the ship was taken out, they could not move. And that meant the Feds were minutes closer to landing reinforcements.
“Roger,” David concluded with Gnasher. They needed to find something that could pierce the gunship’s armor.
Bailey tapped him on the shoulder. “There!” he said pointing toward the wreckage of the other gunboat.
David looked to where he was pointing. There among a scattering of storage containers, was a tube that very much resembled some type of launcher. “Good eyes.” He looked to the sky. The gunboat was coming in for another pass. “When he goes by, we move,” David directed.
The ship buzzed by, spewing deadly projectiles at the buzzsaw gunner’s position. As it swooped overhead, David and Bailey sprinted across the snow.
At the wreckage, David was happy to discover that the tube was, in fact, a rocket launcher. It was of Siberian make with Cyrillic characters scrawled across it. He checked the muzzle. “Ammo?”
“Right here,” Bailey said, pulling two rocket canisters from a case.
David nodded, taking cover behind a rock.
The soldier joined him. “You ever fire one of these before?”
“No, sir.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day.” He hoisted the launcher to his shoulder. “Load me.” Bailey did, sliding a rocket into the rear tube. David inspected the controls. He found two levers, one that was red that must be the safety and another that was the trigger. Down the valley, the gunboat was coming around for another pass.
“Alright, once he goes by we step out.” Bailey nodded in acknowledgement.
Five seconds later the ship flew by. David rushed out and took a knee with the launcher on his shoulder. Bailey was right behind him. He brought the holographic sight to bear on the gunboat and the guidance system locked on, tracking the ship’s heat signature.
“Clear?”
Bailey checked behind them to ensure there was nothing to block the rockets back blast. “Clear!” he confirmed.
David exhaled, flipping the safety off. Then he depressed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“Shit.” He tried the sequence twice more. Three times the rocket refused to launch. “There’s gotta be a secondary safety back there,” he told Bailey. Up ahead the gunboat was circling back again.
Bailey searched the back of the launcher. David held it tightly, still tracking the bogie. “Any day now would be nice.” As if on cue, the ship open fired and began tearing up the ground to David’s front. The rounds crept closer, kicking up snow and ice.
David held still, waiting for Bailey’s go ahead. Finally the soldier pulled away the launcher’s cable safety and gave David a firm slap on the shoulder. “Clear!”
In one smooth motion, David depressed the trigger. The rocket sprang forth, reaching for the threatening gunboat. It didn’t have to go far. At this point the ship was right on top of them.
The rocket impacted squarely in the ship’s cockpit. In a brilliant display of destruction, the ship exploded and disintegrated over David and Bailey’s heads. The pieces of it crashed into the ground farther into the valley, burning shrapnel leaving black scorch marks on otherwise pristine snow.
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