by C. R. Daems
"Smitty you are unit one; Todd, unit two; and Pete, three," I said, thinking that an easier way to communicate, as I began taking up my position in the triangle.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Planet Magara: Howard
"She has got to be the most talked-about Tasmanian. It would be an unusual day if I didn't hear Jolie's name mentioned," Tang said as he watched Jolie trotting off with her squad.
"Jolie had the recruiting sergeant modify the existing recruitment contract. So, the army brass did everything they could to keep her from getting into the Tasmanians. They sabotaged one of the exercises and almost got her killed, yet here she is. If they had succeeded, they would have given her the shittiest job they could find to embarrass her for daring to question their contract," Howard said staring in the direction of Luan's squad. "What a loss that would have been. Just look at that formation. She broke them into three groups with a lead group and two trailing on the lead group's flanks. That's not unusual but note, she is staying in the middle as an anchor so none of the groups can get out of formation. Clever. That's not important while they are on open ground, but it will become critical when she starts hitting houses and streets." Howard gave a small chuckle. "Can you just imagine her in a normal army squad or platoon? The person in charge would give her a task to do, and she would sit to think about it. That would have whoever was in charge screaming at her and giving her extra duty for not obeying orders. The Tasmanians just sit down with her. She can be unpredictable, but she never disappoints, and she's always in the thick of the action. In fact, she's one of the four sentinels. An honorific we strongly discourage, yet everyone agrees she and her teammates earned it, so we've allowed it to stand. Eight Tasmanians stood off one hundred Hatari soldiers. And the final confrontation was hand-to-hand. You will notice that her squad is made up of very senior Tasmanians. That's because they know she'll be in the middle of the action. She has three specialties, and if that weren't enough, she keeps us entertained going and coming from assignments like a professional entertainer. The Fox will always be the first one picked for any assignment."
"Why didn't you give her a couple of squads instead of just one?" Tang asked as Luan's squad faded into the landscape.
"Jolie is a force of nature. She is intuitive and unpredictable. I think having her direct several squads would be distracting and negate what she brings to the table. One squad is perfect. It gives her plenty of protection, yet the group is small enough that she can change direction on a whim. It's the ‘ocean liner versus the speed boat’ analogy. For an ocean liner to make a U-turn would take an hour or more, and the ship would be ten miles from where it started. A speedboat can turn in a few seconds and be only a few meters from where it started. Jolie needs a speedboat to be effective."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Planet Magara: First Blood
An hour later, we saw our first houses staggered randomly across the rolling hills. I estimated we were about four klicks from our landing area and six to seven from the center of Trika. The current houses appeared to be small farms where crops were being grown and animals of one sort or another were raised. The house I was passing had a fenced-off area with twenty or so goat-like animals and a vegetable garden for a family of ten to twenty. I decided to update Howard.
Howard, we are about six klicks from the center of Trika and have encountered a few houses but no Crocs. Luan.
I decided to continue the current pace while I could keep my platoon in sight. It would become more difficult when the houses were spaced closer together. As we ran, the number of houses stayed the same, but now they had joining buildings. The cultivated land increased along with the number of animals, and I noticed more people working the fields or in and around the buildings. They stopped to watch as we passed but didn't wave. When dirt roads began appearing, I called for a short rest.
Howard, we are about four klicks from the center of Trika. it's mostly farms. Dirt roads show no sign of Croc vehicles. This would be a good place for the army perimeter–it's open with a clear line of sight. Luan.
"Let reduce our pace by half. I want to keep the three units in sight as much as possible. I'd prefer we remain close enough to support each other and to react quickly,'' I said and received nods from everyone.
Shortly after, the number of houses increased, and the streets were paved for light traffic. I intentionally stayed off the road, as that would make us visible and the most likely place for Crocs whether in vehicles or not. We kept the same pace as intersections allowed me to keep the flanking groups in sync with the leading group. Although the houses were far more numerous, I saw few people outside, and when I did, they were quick to disappear inside. Most could be seen in windows, watching from behind curtains or doors. It was apparent that everyone in Trika had received some communication that they had been invaded, but they weren't sure what to do. So, they were keeping a low profile, hoping they would be ignored or that help would arrive in time to save them. I wished them luck, but crossing my fingers had never worked.
"Crocs," Cedric said into his TCom, and everyone froze in place. "They are on the road moving in the direction we came from. They look like scouts, as they are ignoring the people they see."
A minute later, I saw them from between the houses. They would have made me look like an undersized midget standing next to a rearing Kodiak bear. I concluded I'd rather face a Kodiak bear than a Croc. Their heads were large, and they had a massive array of teeth. I sat and almost choked on a laugh as I watched the team members sit. I needed to focus so that I could determine my mission. Howard didn't need to know there were Crocs in the city. He already knew that. He needed to know the approximate number, if they were concentrated in a specific area, and how dangerous they were. I could determine the latter if I engaged these three Crocs; however, I could lose my entire platoon if I underestimated them. They were in full armor. We weren't. They had helmets, wraparound breastplates, and even plates on their massive thighs and forelegs. Interestingly, they weren't wearing boots on their hawk-like feet. I let them pass, deciding testing the Crocs could wait until I had more substantial information about their positions and numbers. I stood and waved for everyone to continue into the city.
Howard, we are about three klicks from the center and have encountered three Crocs. I believe they are scouts. Luan.
Over the next hour, the buildings got bigger and closer together; I had to pause at each intersection to keep the units in formation. I could hear gunfire and explosions coming from nearer to the center of the city. Buildings were on fire, judging from the plumes of smoke; almost every window on every floor had people staring out. Except for the distant sounds from the city, the streets had an eerie silence as if to scream there's nobody here.
Howard, currently the only activity we have detected is in the heart of the city. We are one klick out, and it's quiet. Luan.
If Howard kept to his word, the Tasmanians would be getting ready to move out. And so far, I hadn't provided them much intelligence. I signaled to tighten the formation by half and gave the sign to start moving again. As we moved toward the city, hundreds of people streamed past us heading in the opposite direction. I stopped the platoon, hoping they weren't being chased by ten to twenty Crocs. They weren't. I soon found we were on a street where the buildings were deserted, or at least appeared deserted, and the gunfire and screaming sounded close–only a minute or two ahead.
I signaled the lead team, currently team three, to fall back to me. "Teams one and two, take cover. Team three and I are going to one of the roofs to see what's ahead," I said on the platoon's open channel, as I entered the five-story building to my right. I had no sooner entered when I heard team three enter.
I took the stairs two at a time, making no effort to be quiet. The Crocs were making too much noise to hear us even if they were listening. I stopped at the fourth floor thinking the roof may be too exposed if someone were looking. Most of the apartment doors had been left open when the tenants fled. I selected one
with windows facing the city and entered. From the look of the apartment, the previous tenants had taken very little with them, as there was no clutter, which usually resulted from people rushing to search for and grab their prized possessions. The windows not only provided an excellent view of the action a block ahead but also the city and the landing area the Crocs were using to land troops and to escort captives to the transports. On several of the roofs, Crocs where taking captives.
Clearing my mind of the horrors those people were enduring, I watched with an analytical eye. The Crocs appeared to have only one weapon. As I watched, I determined their multifunctional weapon shot bullets, a stun projectile, and gas pellets. The stun projectile had no wires and apparently carried its own charge of electricity or serum. The gas projectile created a cloud of poisonous gas effective in an area approximately ten meters square. In addition, the weapons were capable of shooting incendiary pellets. All in all, it was a very versatile weapon for any situation. The Crocs appeared to want the captives alive. Once caught, they were loaded into open-air vehicles, holding up to twenty, and driven to the Crocs staging area to await the next shuttle. They shot anyone resisting.
The Crocs were very efficient. They would place groups of Crocs at all the possible building entrances and or exits, then one or two would enter the building and set it on fire. The residents had no choice but to exit or be burned alive. The most interesting sights were the fights. I saw several men exit with guns. Unfortunately, the Crocs were wearing armor over what appeared very thick skin, so guns had little if any effect. Actually, the Crocs seemed to be amused rather than angry when someone shot at them. I saw pistols, rifles, and multifunctional weapons used. Fire was a different matter. One woman came running out of her burning building with the equivalent of a Molotov cocktail and hit one of the Crocs in the chest. It exploded and he looked like a Roman candle in seconds. The other Crocs backed away, having no desire to help, either because they had nothing to help with or they were afraid of fire.
At another building, three men exited; one carried a homemade bomb. They stopped just outside the doorway, about ten meters from five Crocs. Two of the men had multifunctional weapons and began firing at what appeared amused Crocs, because they raised their weapons deliberately slow. The third man lobbed a package at their feet. Two of the Crocs must have sensed what it was, and they spun away with incredible speed. They managed to get ten to twelve meters away when the package exploded. It was a well-constructed bomb. The three Crocs nearest the bomb were lifted into the air and propelled twenty-meters backward. The two who had managed to put ten meters between them and the bomb were propelled another ten meters in the air and slid another five after landing face first on the street. The three men were slammed back against the building and through the collapsing walls. An open-air car with ten human prisoners some thirty meters from the bomb blast was upturned and pushed five meters up the street.
I surveyed the area intently as it presented an excellent opportunity to assess the toughness of the Crocs. The three Crocs standing closest to the bomb should have been torn to shreds. Their limbs were lying at odd angles, but their bodies, from what I could see, were relatively intact. They were dead but more from the shockwave than from having their bodies torn apart. I couldn't see the three men anymore from my angle, but they were clearly dead, having been thrown against the building with enough force to crash through the wall. The two Crocs that had managed to run ten meters away, to my surprise, rose and were able to walk. They looked dizzy and disoriented but alive and not critically injured. Only two of the humans who were in the open-air car managed to walk away, but they didn't look likely to survive without medical attention. The open-air car gave them no protection when it rolled over, and they were scraped along the street. Most died instantly.
Humans who had remained in the building took the opportunity to exit and scatter in every direction.
"My God," Smitty said. "Those Crocs are tough."
I scanned the area quickly looking for a Crock to shoot with my CheyTac. Several buildings away, humans had apparently tried to escape the Crocs by going to the roof. Two Crocs were trying to herd about thirty humans into a corner where they could restrain them. I took careful aim, sighting on the Croc’s breastplate, and fired. With all the commotion going on in the street, I doubt anyone heard the soft pop made by my suppressor. The Croc stumbled backwards several meters then fell. I took careful aim on the second Croc, sighting on his helmet, and fired. He spun around several times and hit the ground hard. To my surprise, the first Croc rose and walked over to his fallen mate.
"Looks like you put a hole in the first Crocs breastplate, but it obviously didn't reach his organs since he's moving," Smitty said while shaking his head in disbelief. On the other hand, the second Croc is dead. You shattered his face plate."
"Good," I mumbled as I sighted in on the kneeling Croc's head. He stood and began looking around for the shooter. As his head turned in my direction, I fired.
"Got him," Smitty shouted, as the Croc spun away, hit a large equipment box, and collapsed. "If those humans stay on the roof, they may be safe. The Crocs might assume the building has been cleared."
"Time to leave, boys," I said. "I'd like to get out of here without being seen, and the Crocs are moving in our direction."
CHAPTER NINE
Planet Magara: Trapped
We exited the rear of the building and double-timed to join twenty or more people who had decided to make a run for it. Soon, we were joined by others. Then panic seized the crowd, who began to stampede like cattle, running and destroying anything and anyone in their path. We followed in their wake. Anyone who tripped would never survive the fall as he would be trampled to death. But the Crocs weren't stupid. Suddenly, nine Crocs blocked the street ahead, firing at the leading individuals; this stopped the momentum. The crowd searched for an open path, but the Crocs had closed off the other end of the block. We were trapped. I typed on my TCom.
Snipers: Shoot one each. Carl center, Todd right of center, and Pete left of center. Target the face plates. Luan.
I lifted my CheyTac and sighted on the Croc two right of the center one. I was the last to fire. The crowd took only a few seconds to see the break in the Crocs' formation and surged through, brushing aside the remaining Crocs on either side that tried to move to stop them. My detail flowed through like logs trapped in the current. The Crocs managed to close the break, but only after half had escaped through the breach. Looking down the intersection, I saw the Crocs had many of the streets blocked, so it wasn't surprising when they didn't pursue us. Besides, they would have had to let the ones who were still trapped loose, and they couldn't expect to recapture more than a small percentage of the escaping crowd as the buildings gave way to less crowded areas.
After we had gone close to two klicks, I spotted an area that was heavily treed and made for it. Fifty meters in, I called for a halt. We were far enough inside the trees to see anyone passing, but we couldn't be seen without close examination.
"That was close, Fox. With nine Crocs in front of us and nine behind us, I thought we were Croc lunch," Cedric said to nodding heads.
"They probably would have let Jolie through, because there isn't enough meat on her for a Crock snack," Smitty said to smirks and grins. I took the time to type a message to Howard.
Howard, the Crocs are concentrated on the south side of the city and moving south as they collect humans from the buildings. I estimate they are now about a klick south of the city center and extend out a klick east and west. Their protective armor is effective against fifty caliber projectiles but not the face plates. However, I suspect the face plates would be effective against our standard Tavor and Jericho ammo. Standard explosives are only effective within five to ten meters. Luan.
"Tell me, Fox. Why didn't we shoot all nine Crocs?" Smitty asked, frowning in thought.
"Because I love you guys," I said and gave them an award-winning smile. "If we had killed all nine, the entir
e crowd would have disbursed. The Crocs would investigate to see what happened, seen they had been shot, and they would be looking for the shooters. Since only half escaped, the reinforcements would stay to keep them contained and give us time to get away. We have only three guns that can kill them, and sniper rifles aren't the best weapons for shooting at people's heads while they are running."
"What's next, Fox?" Smitty asked, and all eyes turned toward me.
"Why don't you, Carl and Freddie figure out how we're going to make some bombs. These Crocs scare me. Oh, the rest of you can figure out how we're going to capture one."
CHAPTER TEN
Planet Magara: The Abaddon Anatomy
"Why? Alive?" echoed from multiple individuals.
"You're kidding," Smitty said.
"Well, we could start off with a dead one, I suppose," I said, holding one hand up and stroking my chin in thought.
"And then what?" Smitty asked, shrugging and looking around the group to see if anyone had an idea why I wanted a dead Croc.
"Then you guys are going to examine his equipment while Vann, Isaac, and I dissect him." Before anyone could respond, I continued. "When ten Crocs are charging us, I want to know how we stop them."
"Me too," Cedric said. I don't remember being taught that in the Tasmanian Qualification School."
"I leave it to you, but I want to find a group of two or three Croc scouts," I said looking around the group for ideas, since they were all scouts. They broke into four pairs and began walking forward, slowly widening the distance between the pairs as they walked. Cedric joined me as they faded into the surrounding landscape.
"Stay here. They will use me as a focal point to keep you informed," Cedric said. This made sense since Cedric's specialty was communications. "The Tasmanians with a communications specialty have a shorthand method of communicating. Takes much less time to type when you don't want to use voice communications, and it’s useful if you suspect your opponents can intercept your transmissions. Most of the older Tasmanians know enough to be understood."