Siege Protocol: The Separatist Wars: Book 3

by Thomas Webb

  “I’m glad I got you guys,” Shane said. “How’d the CO take it?”

  “He wasn’t happy about releasing six of his best flyers,” Pyro said. “Some of his heaviest hitters grabbed and temp reassigned for ‘Special Duty?’ His head pretty much exploded.” She laughed. “And when he found out it was per your request?” She laughed even harder. “Oh boy—he really lost his shit then.”

  “Screw him,” Shane said with a smile. “Guy’s an asshole anyway.”

  Shane had made sure Colonel Trapp knew where the request to pull his flyers was coming from. No, that wasn’t quite right. It hadn’t been a request. It was more of an order. She didn’t worry about pulling good pilots out of flying critical missions. Operational tempo had slowed considerably of late. That was due to the impending peace talks, although the rank-and-file UN military may not have fully known about those yet. There were still plenty of great pilots left to fly what missions there were.

  The room leapt to its feet, cutting the chatter short. Lima and a woman Shane had only just met moved into the room. The active duty troops un-assed their seats quickly at the woman’s entrance. Shane, the ASI team, and the UNIA assets all did the same as a show of respect.

  “Take your seats,” the woman said, her Slavic accent thick and rough. “For our guests, I appreciate your following of protocol. For my military people, it is good to have you here. In case you were unaware, we are on loan to the UNIA. So congratulations-you have all been officially sheep-dipped.” Polite laughter floated around the briefing room.

  “All the troops know me already,” the woman continued. “But some of you may not.” She looked everyone in the room in the eye. “I am Colonel Marta Vladovic, of the United Nations Air & Space Command.” Shane had heard of her. “Vladovic the Impaler” they called her. A legendary pilot who’d never lost an engagement. “Before we begin, let me be perfectly understood. For the duration of this operation, you are all on my ship. You will answer, first and foremost, to me. Are we clear?”

  A mix of hooah’s, oohrah’s, and yes ma’am’s followed in several languages. “Good. For this briefing, I will hand the details over to our acting UNIA liaison, Mr. Silvio Lima.”

  Silvio moved to the forefront and keyed a holographic imager. “Thank you, Colonel. First, some housekeeping. We are waiting on several more troops that were held up, but I am told their ship is inbound as we speak. I expect the ground team leaders to individually brief any latecomers prior to when we deploy.

  “That’s your boss, isn’t it?” Pyro whispered. “What’s with him? Seems like a real hard ass.”

  “He’s not someone you want to mess with,” Shane replied.

  “Before I begin the briefing,” Lima continued, “let me extend to you all my personal thanks. Your reputations as professionals precede you. Your work and your service are both appreciated. With that being said, we will run this op by the numbers.”

  Silvio turned to the briefing station and cued up a holo screen. An image of a planet appeared. Silvio expanded the view with his hand, focusing on a small peninsula jutting into the sea.

  “Per intel retrieved from an asset, we have located the newest United Les Space base of operations. It is here,” he said, pointing to the holo image, “on the planet called Kratos. You should have all been briefed in on United Les Space at this point, yes?”

  There were nods of agreement. “Good. Then you already possess the intel that we ourselves only just recently discovered. That ULS is, at least in part, behind our prolonged involvement in the Separatist Wars.” A low murmurer rippled through the briefing room. Everyone here had lost friends to the Wars. Lima paused. “Artificially propping up conflict in order to increase profits is nothing new. Blood for wealth is a part of the history of the human race. However, that does not mean it is acceptable. We have all lost good friends to this meat grinder of a war. Now is the chance for some payback.”

  Grim faces looked out from the audience. The mood had noticeably darkened, Shane’s included. She thought of everyone who’d died since she’d joined up. How many of them had done so needlessly, in pursuit of more credits to satisfy the greed of some interstellar conglomerate? How many had died for nothing?

  Silvio expanded the holo view further. The sea and the brown lands of the peninsula grew until a satellite-eye view of an industrial complex appeared before them. “These images are current as of 0600 standard planetary time this morning,” he said. “They were taken via a reconnaissance bird we have tasked to this sector of space specifically for this operation.”

  One of the active duty pilots raised a hand. “Will this action be legal, sir?” he asked. “If not I’m sure the attorneys will have our asses after this is all said and done.”

  “A good question, lieutenant. We are outside of Planetary Alliance and UN controlled space, so no permission is technically needed. This is an advantage for a dark company, but also an advantage for someone taking them down.”

  “I don’t get that,” Pyro whispered. “Why so far out?”

  “That’s an easy one,” Shane whispered back. “A small planet in the Epsilon Cephei system is outside intergalactic law. Way less difficult to evade taxes if your HQ is beyond the tax AI’s reach. Also, if you’re building an army, it’s usually best to do it somewhere out of sight.”

  “What you see here,” Lima continued, “is a newly-constructed industrial complex.” He pointed to the small holographic buildings. “It is heavily fortified. As one would expect an evil, intergalactic corporation to be.” The room laughed. Dark humor was a trait specific to the military. It was a coping mechanism. A way to process all the trauma and horror witnessed during their service. “We expect they will know we are coming,” Lima said. “So be ready for a fight. Our initial attack will begin in space. Once we enter the planet’s orbit, Valkyrie,” Lima pointed to her, “will lead our squadron of fighters. They will clear the way for the ground forces.”

  “They have fast movers?” someone, presumably one of the ground pounders, asked from the back.

  “Affirmative,” Lima replied. “Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen—the enemy we are dealing with is well-equipped and well-trained. The best money can buy, to include orbital/suborbital attack craft. Valkyrie and her pilots will soften them up,” Lima said, resuming the briefing. “Drawing away their air support. Then the initial assault will launch here, from onboard the Libertas.

  Once the fighters have engaged, the ground team will drop under their cover. Ground troops will assault here.” Lima zoomed in and pointed to a beachhead near the complex walls. “We will drop in full FAST armor. With the help of our forward space controllers, Valkyrie and her squadrons will provide suborbital close air support. Ground teams will breach the main entrance of the structure, and then make their way inside. We should expect heavy resistance.”

  “What type of enemy forces are we looking at?” Hale asked.

  “Some AI troops, as well as private military contractors from Ares Corp. No prior United Nations-affiliated forces that we are aware of.”

  “What about Separatist presence?” one of the Indian operators said.

  “We have credible intelligence that says the Separatist factions are no longer associated with ULS.”

  Pyro raised a hand. “What’s our mission objective here, Mr. Lima?” she asked.

  “Our aim is to arrest senior leadership, seize assets and evidence, and eliminate the company’s influence. As I said, this corporation has planetary-level resources. If we do not stop them here and now, the damage they have done during the wars will be just the tip of the asteroid.” Lima scanned the room. “I’m sending data packets out to you now.”

  Colonel Vladovic steeped back to the front and clasped her hands behind her back. “Very good, Mr. Lima. Are there any questions?” Colonel Vladovic waited a beat. No one spoke up. “Very well. The bridge tells me we are two hours out. Pilots—report to the hangar bay ready room for your individual briefings. Ground pounders—go do whatever the
hell it is you do to get ready.” Colonel Vladovic Stepped down from the podium.

  “Attention on deck!” someone said.

  The active duty sprang to their feet. Shane and the rest of the ASI team stood as well.

  Colonel Vladovic strode from the briefing room. Lima walked beside her, the two already deep in conversation. After the briefing emptied, Shane and Pyro hung back. Hale, Lash, Kris, and Gina also stayed in their seats, then joined them.

  Gina gave Pyro a tight hug. “Long time no see, Pyro.”

  “Long time no see, Zombie.”

  Other than Gina, the ASI team hadn’t met Shane’s old copilot. Shane rectified that, making intros all around.

  “Valkyrie’s caught me up on all of you,” Pyro said. She stuck out a hand to Hale. “Pleased to meet you, Trace.”

  “Always good to know a pilot or two,” he rumbled, his hand engulfing hers.

  Pyro greeted Lash and Kris in turn. “No need for any of you to worry,” she assured them as she shook. “We’ve got your air support covered. Speaking of—“ Pyro turned back to Shane. “We’d best get going, ma’am. Flight briefing’s about to start.”

  Hale laughed. “Ma’am?”

  Shane looked at Pyro and they shared a smile. “Old habits,” Shane said. “Pyro’s right. We gotta get moving. My briefing starts in ten.”

  Hale chuckled. “Watch your ass, Valkyrie. It’s too nice to get blown out of the sky.”

  “Easy Hale,” Gina warned.

  “Screw you too, Hale,” Shane laughed. She reached up and kissed Gina. “Be careful down there.”

  “You be careful. I’ll be pissed at you if you get killed.”

  Shane didn’t have a good answer to that. “I’ll see you all on the other side,” she said.

  They exited the briefing room together before splitting off, with Shane heading one way and the rest of the team another. Shane didn’t look back. She didn’t trust herself to.

  Shane told herself this was just a regular mission. That she’d see her love, and the team who had become more like family, again soon. She believed that. She had to.

  Instead of focusing on the uncertainty of the future, she focused instead on the feeling of present. How great it was to be in flight armor again. How incredible it was to be preparing to lead a squadron.

  “Pretty quiet over there, flight leader,” Pyro said as they walked. “You up for this?”

  Flight leader. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to hear that. She smiled. What was Pyro thinking, anyway? She was totally up for this.

  “Yeah,” Shane said. “I’m five by five. Just wargaming in my head. Planning out the briefing.”

  Shane took a deep, cleansing breath. Her heart beat faster. Her mouth went dry. The old sensation was back. The hunter was returning. Shane grinned.

  She couldn’t wait to get this briefing done and get out there among the stars.

  -22-

  “She’ll be fine,” Hale reassured Zombie. “I’ve been military most of my adult life, and I shit you not—she’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah,” Zombie said. “I know.”

  Hale wasn’t quite sure his 2IC was buying what he was selling. No, he reminded himself. That’s not right. She wasn’t going to be his 2IC today.

  “So what’s eating you then?” he asked. “Pre-op jitters?”

  She looked up at him. “You ever miss it, Hale?”

  He knew exactly what she meant. The camaraderie. The danger. The bond between you and the ones you shared a fighting hole with was damn near impossible to replace. They had something similar now with ASI. Yet somehow, without the uniform, without the flag on the left shoulder of your armor, something was still different.

  “Yeah,” Hale said. “Only every single day.” Hale gave her his best ‘try not to worry about it’ smile. “How about we get to this briefing?”

  “Roger that,” Zombie said. “So you handling this one, boss?”

  They were nearly at the ship’s team room and Hale couldn’t hold it any longer. “I’m not running your team today, Zombie.”

  Zombie looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Stop screwing around, Hale,” she growled. “The fuck you getting at?”

  Hale grinned. “I got a surprise for you.”

  Zombie grimaced. “You know I hate friggin’ surprises.”

  “To be fair,” Hale said, “it was mostly Lima’s idea. But I was for it all the way.” He held his arm out for her to enter first. “Go ahead.”

  Zombie gave him the stink eye again as the team room hatch whooshed open. When she stepped inside, she gave a shout.

  “Holy shit!”

  Hale laughed. “You know these Army assholes?” A few operators from Zombie’s old unit, courtesy of Silvio Lima, headed over to greet her.

  Zombie looked up at him. “We’re running with my old unit?”

  Hale shook his head. “No. Not we.” He pointed at her. “You. You’re leading Bravo Team on this one.” Hale smiled. “Today you’re not my 2IC, Zombie. You’re Bravo One.”

  Hale swore he thought her eyes were tearing up. He thought she was going in for hug, but instead she turned it into a more than decent right hook to his shoulder. “You sunovabitvh!” she said.

  “You earned it,” he said, rubbing his left deltoid. “You’re obviously team leader material. Hell, you don’t need me to tell you that. You’ve done it before.”

  “I. . . so who’s gonna make up your squad?”

  “Oh—don’t worry. It sounds like we’re going pretty deep into the shit, so I asked Lima if he could pull a string or two for me as well.”

  Zombie went to the soldiers she’d served with, shouting them down and hugging all around. Hale stepped back, letting her have her moment. He’d been right when he told her a moment ago that she’d earned it. Hale hung back against a bulkhead, watching the operators congregate, listening to the pre-op chatter and soaking it all in. He didn’t turn to watch when the hatch behind him opened, letting in the latecomers.

  “So I guess this must be the place?” a voice said.

  When he saw who’d walked in, Hale’s face lit up. “Staff Sergeant Johnny Chin,” Hale said, his grin a kilometer wide.

  “Trace Hale.” Johnny Chin laughed. He walked across the briefing room and grabbed Hale’s hand, pulling him tight for a one-armed hug.

  Hale stepped back and looked him over, noticing the new row of rockers on Johnny Chin’s uniform’s rank insignia. “Damn—looks like its Gunny Chin now, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Johnny Chin chuckled. “Got selected about a year ago.”

  “Congrats, Gunnery Sergeant.”

  “Thanks man. Hey—I brought someone with me. A kickass sergeant in my unit.”

  “Oh yeah?” Hale said. “Always glad to have good Marines on an op. Where is this sergeant?”

  A second later she walked in. “Sorry I’m late,” Cutter said. “Had to drop me and the Gunny’s gear off by the supply deck.” She came to the position of attention before Hale and snapped off a salute. “Sergeant Cutter, reporting for duty, sir.”

  Hale laughed. “Since when do we start saluting civilians? Get your ass over here, kid.” He scooped Cutter up in a bear hug, then held the Marine at arm’s length for a better look at her. “So you’re a sergeant now, huh? Looks like everyone’s getting stripes out there.”

  “No way,” Johnny Chin said. “She earned that third stripe.”

  Hale nodded, thinking back to the last time he’d operated with Chin and Cutter, back on Delos. “I know she did,” he said. “Congratulations, Sergeant Cutter. It’s good to see you again.” He looked at Johnny Chin. “Both of you.”

  “Good to see you too, Staff Sergeant,” Cutter said.

  Hale smiled. “It’s just Hale, now.” He looked around. “Where’s Bear and Mac?”

  “Bear couldn’t get temp duty,” Chin said. “He’s deployed.”

  “And Mac?” Hale asked.

  Johnny Chin hung his hea
d, and Cutter looked away.

  Hale got a sick feeling in his gut. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Mac bought it at Proxima Centauri.” Johnny said. “He was part of a mission evacuating civilians from a combat zone. . .he was KIA.”

  The mood suddenly shifted. The last year or two had been a whirlwind. Hale had been busy working for Lima at Soluções Avançadas Incorporadas, sure. . . but how could he not have heard about Mac? Why hadn’t someone told him?

  Hale nodded, setting the pain away for later. He swallowed hard. “When this is all over, we’ll drink one in his honor.”

  “More than one,” Cutter said. “So, uh. . . what have you been up to since you—since you got out?”

  Hale laughed. Since he ‘got out.’ That was putting it politely. Being kicked out on a general other than honorable discharge wasn’t the same thing as having an honorable discharge.

  “That’s a long story,” Hale said. He caught Zombie out of the corner of his eye. “Hey—the two of you follow me. There’s someone I want you both to meet.”

  Hale somehow managed to drag Zombie away from her old squad mates. “Hey Zombie—this is Gunnery Sergeant Johnny Chin and Sergeant Milena Cutter. Johnny Chin and I came up together, and Cutter was the FNG in my unit right before I, uh, got out.”

  “No shit?” Zombie said, shaking hands. He hooked a thumb toward Hale. “You served with this asshole?”

  Johnny Chin laughed. “Yeah. He’s a special kind of someone alright.”

  “Okay,” Hale protested. “Enough about me. Zombie here’s a prior-service green beanie. She works with me now at ASI. She’ll be Bravo One on the op today.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Zombie,” Cutter said. “Any friend of Staff Sergea-I mean Hale—is a friend of ours.”

  “Likewise,” Zombie said. “He’s a hell of an operator.” She turned to Hale. “That’s all the compliments you get from me today. Let’s get everybody briefed.”