Strike Force Red

by C T Glatte

  Hank whispered excitedly, “You got them. You got ‘em both.”

  Jimmy reloaded, then slipped backwards into the dug-out crater. He saw Hank still scanning through the binoculars and he reached up and pulled him backwards. Hank protested but was interrupted when the sound of a bullet smashed into the tank and zinged away. “Holy shit. Fuck, fuck fuck,” he exclaimed. “That was close.”

  Jimmy felt a cold, hollow hole forming in his gut as he realized how close he’d come to losing his best friend. Anger rose in him. “Dammit, Hank. You don’t sit there gawking after a shot, for Chrissakes!”

  Hank’s face was white as paper. He rolled onto his back and tried to get control of his breathing. “We’ve gotta get outta here. They know we’re here.”

  As if confirming his fears, they heard the soft thumping followed by the low whistling hum of a mortar. Jimmy grabbed Hank’s shirt and pushed him to the other side of the hole. “Mortar! Keep the tank between you and the ridge. Ready?” Hank licked his lips and nodded. He let the binoculars dangle, adjusting them to his back. Jimmy punched his shoulder, “Go.”

  Hank sprang from the back of the dugout and took off like a bolt. Jimmy was close behind. He thought he felt a bullet pass close, but didn’t know for sure. They ran headlong toward the next crater. The rushing sound of incoming mortar fire grew in intensity. Hank disappeared into the crater and Jimmy dove headfirst. He hit the lip and somersaulted into the bottom of the hole. There was a thump as the mortar shell landed beside the burned out tank and sent shrapnel and dirt in all directions. Another followed hitting just beyond the tank.

  When there were no more mortars, they relaxed in the bottom of the hole. They lay there breathing hard. Hank couldn’t keep the giddiness from showing. He covered his mouth but couldn’t contain the laughter. Jimmy listened and shook his head. The laughter was contagious. He could feel it growing in his throat and soon they were both laughing like maniacs in the bottom of their hole.

  Sergeant Spuntrant hated being surrounded by so many humans. At least they were military. It wasn’t quite as bad as being around human civilians. The aggressive nature of the species, especially the soldiers could be intoxicating, but their base thoughts, of eating, killing and fucking disgusted him.

  Despite near constant training, the Korth cadre of warriors couldn’t seem to expunge the human’s insatiable desire to procreate. Indeed, they found combat actually made the desire stronger.

  He’d been appalled and disgusted when he’d come across a group of Russian soldiers forcing an unwilling female into sex. She’d been a local resident of a small town, a noncombatant, but it didn’t matter, in fact it seemed to be a requirement. The disgusting beasts stayed away from their own female soldiers. He shook his head, remembering the incident. Despite their simple leashed brains, he had a lot to learn about these vermin.

  He was pleased with their progress so far. The columns of tanks and troops had rolled over the lightly defended landscape easily. Now that they’d finally come up against real resistance, he was eager to see how they reacted. “Captain Ilyenko,” he clicked.

  The nearby Captain’s translator glowed red in his neck and he winced slightly at the discomforting burning, but immediately turned toward the eight-foot tall Korth Sergeant. Ranks meant nothing between human and Korth. The lowliest Korth could order around even heads of state. Captain Ilyenko answered, “Yes, sir?”

  “Assign an escort, I wish to move forward and observe the enemy lines.”

  “Of course, sir.” He spun and pointed at the two nearest soldiers, one a sergeant, the other a Lieutenant. “Escort Sergeant Spuntrant. Be sure no harm comes to him.”

  Sergeant Spuntrant’s head deflated and his mandibles shook slightly. “They are incapable of protecting me, Captain. I simply need them in case there’s any hole digging.” Captain Ilyenko’s face went pale at the rebuke and he nodded. He’d seen the surly Korth kill for far less.

  The two humans went to either side of him and had their PPsh-41s ready. Spuntrant reached for their feeble minds and nudged them. The soldiers immediately were compelled to move forward. They crouched as they crested the ridge.

  Spuntrant followed, his shimmering clothing immediately changed to match the surroundings, making him nearly invisible. He felt the weight of the weapon on his back. It was not a Korth weapon, but a modified Russian Simonov anti-tank rifle. The weapons the humans wielded were too small for him. They felt like toys. The Simonov was big for the humans but the correct size for a Korth. It had been simple to turn the single shot weapon into a semi-automatic. He’d used it against several North American soldiers and savored the way it nearly tore them in half. It was nothing compared to a powered Korth rifle, but until the mother ship’s core was repaired, they had to make do with what they could find on this backwards planet.

  The two humans moved from crater to crater until they were halfway down the hill. Spuntrant followed, observing the foxholes lining the slope filled with soldiers. He could sense their fear as he passed. He was one of ten Korth advisers mixed throughout the Russian Divisions. For many of these human soldiers it was the closest they’d ever been to a Korth warrior. He felt them watching him and gave them a twinge of pain deep in their brains if they stared too long.

  He reached out to his escorts, directing them to an empty trench. They moved to it and took up positions with their machine guns sweeping the landscape. Sergeant Spuntrant stepped in beside them and unslung his Simonov and placed it against the back wall of the hole. It was a good vantage point. He could clearly see the enemy positions across the road in the fading light of the evening. He reached out with his mind, but the distance was too far. The escort soldiers beside him irritated his senses and with a shock of pain he sent them scurrying back up the hill. The hole was deep and wide enough. He didn’t need their manual labor skills.

  He settled into the trench, taking in the scene. He was a warrior and he felt comfortable being surrounded by a battlefield. He was a veteran of hundreds of battles on hundreds of different planets. His entire lineage, dating back generations were all warriors. The name Spuntrant was on the sacred lists of countless planetary invasions.

  He wondered what glory his comrades in the regiments were attaining. Being stuck on Earth, a small, disgusting planet which should’ve been attacked decades before, was like a prison sentence. He had no idea what the TR saw in this place that kept them from unleashing the fury of the regiments, but he’d been assigned to accompany Captain Vannt as a sort of R and R, and now he was stuck for the foreseeable future.

  His mind suddenly twinged with…something. He focused, there was something predatory out there, probing his own mind. He tried to pinpoint it, narrow it down to a sector. There, in the structure. He focused and saw his doom an instant before the archaic bullet propelled by a laughable technology of air and fire, penetrated the center of his head and he felt his senses explode. He felt something he hadn’t felt in decades, pain twinged with fear. The sound emanating from deep within himself was unrecognizable, and he idly wondered who was screaming. Then this ugly world turned dark and he knew no more.

  As the day waned toward evening, Jimmy and Hank spotted another good place to lay up. It was twenty yards from the tank and seemed to be a part of a dilapidated shed. It was mostly collapsed. Jimmy couldn’t decide whether it was destroyed by the surrounding battle or if it had fallen down years before.

  The grass was knee-high between their fall-back hole and the new position. They’d waited an hour after their last shot before moving. They crawled painstakingly slow, careful not to make any sudden moves. It took nearly an hour before they were finally in position. They pried themselves beneath a fallen wall, trying to ignore the thick spider webs.

  Once in place, Jimmy brought his 2.75 power scope to his eye and slowly swept the ridge. He could see some opportunities but he didn’t want to give up his position unless he could get a shot on an officer or even an alien. The brass seemed to think there were Korth mixed with
the Russians, but so far he hadn’t seen any.

  Hank cursed softly beside him. “Fucking spider’s on my neck. It feels big.”

  Jimmy smiled. “Just ignore it.”

  “What if it’s poisonous?”

  “Don’t give it a reason to bite you.”

  “How the hell do I do that? Ask it nicely?” Jimmy didn’t answer. He saw something in his scope. He tensed. Hank noticed. “See something?”

  Jimmy whispered. “Yeah, I think I see an - an alien.”

  “A Scalp? Where?” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice.

  Without taking his eye from his scope, Jimmy answered. “From our marker, move up ten feet then right thirty.” Hank moved the binoculars to the spot. Jimmy noticed Hank was holding his breath as he scanned the area. “See what I see?”

  Hank adjusted the focus. He saw what Jimmy was looking at. It looked like the crest of a head just over the lip of what he thought must be a foxhole. Whatever it was wasn’t wearing a helmet, which was unusual. “I see it, but can’t identify it. I thought they had red heads.”

  Jimmy felt the strain in his arms, trying to keep the crosshairs centered. He felt the familiar cold sweat prickling his armpits. He whispered, “Maybe they camouflage it out here.”

  Hank suddenly drew in a sharp breath. Through his binoculars he suddenly saw the head clearly as it gazed over the lip. He could see some sort of mandible like structure in front of a small rounded mouth. The eyes were shimmering black and seemed to take up half the things face. “Tha - that’s an alien…take the shot.”

  Jimmy saw it more clearly too. He started to apply pressure to the trigger. He watched as the alien slowly turned toward him then seemed to lock on his position. Holy shit, he sees me. The realization made him suddenly weak, but he pulled the trigger and the rifle barked. Hank startled and nearly broke cover when he hit his head on the low ceiling.

  Jimmy seethed, “Steady. Did I get him?” He couldn’t see the target, something was obscuring his vision. He took his eye from the scope and saw the end covered with a spider web. He swept it aside.

  Hank’s voice cracked with excitement. “I, I think you got him.”

  “What you mean you think…?”

  He was cut short when there was an ungodly sound emanating from the ridge. Hank had the binoculars pressed tightly to his eyes. “Holy shit,” he uttered.

  “What is that? What’s happening?” He put the scope back to his eye and desperately searched the area. He saw movement. Something was thrashing around. He rested his finger on the trigger waiting for another shot. The scene crystallized in the scope. He saw the alien extend his head over the lip again, but this time it was changed. His mandibles were spread wide and his mouth was pursed forward emitting the ear-splitting sound. Jimmy could clearly see the deep blood-red of the alien’s flat head and the gaping hole his bullet had left. How’s it still alive? He pressured the trigger but nothing happened. Shit, forgot to load another round!

  He quickly worked the bolt then went back to his scope, but the opportunity passed. The alien was gone. Jimmy swept back and forth. He seethed, “Dammit.”

  Hank’s voice was panicked. “He saw us, we have to get outta here.” He started to back away.

  Jimmy squeezed his shoulder. “Stay here. I got him. I don’t think anyone else saw us.”

  Hank wasn’t convinced. “Got him? Then why’s it screaming? It saw us. Right before you shot, it was like he could sense us or something.”

  Jimmy whispered, “Listen. The screaming stopped. Must’ve been his death scream. I saw the hole I put in his head. Nothing could survive that.”

  “How do you know what they can survive?”

  Jimmy squeezed his arm harder. “No mortars, no snipers. No one saw us.” He let that sink in then released Hank’s arm and pulled the scope back to his eye. “Look at that, we’ve kicked a hornet’s nest.”

  Hank fumbled with the binoculars but finally got them to his eyes. He saw the flood of movement in the area. There were Russian helmets streaming in from every direction. “You ain’t kidding.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a radio. A mortar strike could take a heavy toll on ‘em.”

  “There are multiple targets. Wanna take another shot?”

  Jimmy considered. He had his finger on the trigger guard, watching as more and more soldiers filled the area around the alien. “They’ll spot us for sure. Let’s wait till nightfall then get the hell outta here. Command’s gonna wanna hear about the alien.”

  Hank nodded. “You really think you got him?”

  Jimmy nodded, “I saw the hole in his flat head. It was oozing blood, can’t imagine it survived.”

  Soon after shooting the alien, the Russian’s seemed to fire every artillery piece they had. They blanketed the trench-line walking them back and forth. Nothing landed close to the sniper crew, but the ground shook and made them nervous. If an artillery shell landed close, the sparse structure wouldn’t save them from annihilation.

  When it was fully dark, Jimmy and Hank pushed their way backwards from their hiding spot. They moved slow, pushing through the grass until they were finally back to the relative safety of the crater. From there, it took another half-hour to reach the trench-line.

  They nearly caused two soldiers on guard duty to shit themselves, when they suddenly appeared mere feet from them. They yelled the password and rolled forward into the trench. The GIs hyperventilated. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of us.”

  Hank chided, “Is that what I’m smelling? Thought it might be your breath, Capelli.”

  Private Capelli responded, “Fuck you Gugliani.” Capelli watched the two-man sniper crew dust themselves off. “You the guys that caused all that racket earlier?”

  Hank nodded, “You mean that Scalp Jimmy snuffed out?”

  Both GIs guffawed, “You got a Scalp? Was that the screeching we heard?”

  Jimmy’s teeth gleamed white against his darkened face. “We got one.”

  “That must be why they got so pissed and shelled the crap outta us, huh?”

  Hank and Jimmy nodded. Jimmy asked sheepishly “Anyone get hit?”

  He perceived a shrug in the darkness. “Heard some calls for the medic, so I’m guessing.”

  Jimmy looked at his mud encrusted boots. “Dammit.”

  A new voice interrupted them. “That you Private Crandall?”

  Jimmy braced and nodded, “And Private Gugliani, sir.”

  “Don’t ‘sir’ me you asshole. I work for a living.” Sergeant Collins came around the slight bend in the trench-line. “Report,” he barked.

  Jimmy and Hank exchanged glances and Hank nudged Jimmy’s arm. “I got a few shots in, Sarge. I think I might have hit a Scalp.”

  Sergeant Collins pulled himself to within inches of Jimmy’s nose. “You think?”

  Hank added, “He got him, no doubt. A head-shot. Then he started screaming like some kind of banshee. You must’ve heard it.”

  Sergeant Collins nodded in the darkness. “Yeah, we heard it alright. Then they shelled the hell outta us.”

  Silence ensued and Jimmy felt his scalp start to itch with the prickling of sweat. “And we fired on an enemy sniper crew,” he stammered.

  Collins turned away and waved them to follow. “Come on, the lieutenant will want to hear all about it.”

  After Jimmy and Hank relayed their evening successes to Lt. Little, they were sent to the line and told to eat and get some rest. Neither man felt much like sleeping. Jimmy slurped down the last of his cold spaghetti from the K-rat and said, “Did you get the feeling those guys didn’t want us to hit that Scalp?”

  Jimmy was on his haunches, trying to keep his butt from the muddy ground. He was slumped over his arms with his head down trying to get some sleep, but it wasn’t coming. He shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know. It was almost like they were afraid of what might happen. Like we’d kicked a hornet’s nest or something.”

  Hank put the K-ration carton on the ground
and tried to get comfortable. “You heard the radio call he got as we were about to leave?” He didn’t wait for a response, “The Russians are on the move. They’ll probably hit us in the morning.”

  “If they wait that long.”

  Hank took a deep breath and let it out slow. He adjusted his poncho beneath and squished down on it trying to get comfortable. He made sure his rifle was readily available and put his head on his crossed arms. In the darkness he looked like a dark blob. It was relatively quiet. The occasional flares shot from the various mortar crews lit up the churned up battlefield. Each time it brought a rifle shot and sometimes a thirty caliber machine gun would give away it’s position, but for the most part, it was quiet.

  Soon Hank was breathing deep. Jimmy sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, the thought making it even harder and more frustrating. He looked at the sniper rifle. Remembering the scene from the evening, seeing the hole his bullet had drilled into the alien. Do they feel pain? Did he even die? The screeching certainly made him think so, but they knew next to nothing about the creatures. He remembered the way the thing had seemed to home in on the imminent danger just before he’d shot. He definitely knew I was there. Telepathic? He blew out a breath and tried to force sleep.

  He was jolted awake what seemed only seconds later by the dull thump of an artillery shell. The ground shook slightly, sending clods of dirt cascading from the lip of the trench and onto his helmet.

  He shook his head and realized he’d slept. The night felt deeper. He pulled back his sleeve and squinted at the luminescent dials of his watch. It was a gift from his parents when he left for boot camp. It was 0200, he’d definitely slept.