The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (16 page)

It was rare for the admiral to curse, but it did seem appropriate to Istas because she was as surprised as Raurk. Istas reached out and moved the video backward and forward several times. She was concentrating on Netis’s face, trying to read what she was thinking. Ignoring the fight and everything else, nothing she saw appeared out of the ordinary—Netis looked like any other human would in that situation. All of the small tells were there, just as if she were human.

Finally Istas said, “We know the Xotolis take human embryos then change certain things within them to create the hybrids. I think that when all is said and done, we will find out that Netis is more human than hybrid. It didn’t work on her.”

“That is an awfully big set of assumptions you just put together,” Monnetal said.

“Yes, but what else could it be?”

“She could be an embed they want to get even higher up than Sand. A trick. A ruse to put us off the track.”

“No, no. They know she will not get near anyone of importance ever again. No, I watched her closely as she fought. She was protecting Sand. She was protecting not just Sand, but other humans. Is she not involved with another officer?”

“Yes,” Usiche said. “They have been very open about the relationship. I’ve seen them together. It seemed very real.”

“Exactly. Did you feel the same about Senator Carroll and his wife?”

Usiche sat back and looked first at Istas and then at Monnetal. “No. You're right. There was nothing between them.”

“That is not enough to go on. Istas, I need you to go to Rift immediately and investigate this. If it is anything like you suspect, it could be a huge break for us,” Monnetal said.

“Yes, I agree. I need to see her face-to-face. If I'm right she could be the key to defeating the Xotolis.”

“I hope so, Istas, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let me know if there is anything you need. Go now. There are many things the admiral and I need to discuss anyway.”

Istas stood and walked to the door. She hesitated before she left then exchanged a long look with Usiche before she departed.

Sui-Ren System

Chika

Naval Special Warfare Squadron

Mike Boat 79

Chief Petty Officer Zenes Lee reached over and flipped the last switch on the checklist.

“That’s it, Chief. We are ready to rock and roll,” Odaka, Lee’s copilot on Special Operations Craft 79 said.

“All right, let’s get the meat on board,” Lee said. “Dragon One to Flight, we’re ready for loading.”

“Roger, Dragon One. On the way.”

Odaka lowered the back hatch, and three files of Marines entered and took their seats.

“We from the SOC airlines would like to welcome you aboard this evening. We always appreciate it when you choose SOC, and your crew would like you to know that we do appreciate your business and hope that you choose SOC for your next trip into enemy territory.”

“Lee, would you shut the fuck up?” a Marine said.

“Is that you, Taro?” Lee said, laughing.

“Yeah, you got first platoon again. How about a smoother ride this time?”

“Lieutenant, it is always a pleasure to drop you and your platoon onto hostile planets. I don’t know how you can say we didn't give you a smooth ride. We have no control over a planet’s weather. If you have any complaints, please just tell our flight attendant and she will be glad to see to your needs.”

“That's gunner’s mate to you, Chief. I ain’t no flight attendant,” Petty Officer Toland said.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot, Toland.”

“We’re in and locked down, Lee,” Lieutenant Taro said.

Lee reached over and touched the rear hatch control to close and lock the rear troop ramp.

“We are closed and have a good atmosphere seal,” Odaka reported.

“Roger that. Here we go,” Lee said. He brought the engines up to prelaunch idle then switched frequencies to the Tarawa’s flight control. “This is Dragon One, are ready to taxi.”

“Wait one, Dragon One. Dragon Eight is still loading. We have not started depressurization yet.”

They couldn’t open the huge hangar-bay doors until the last of the first flight of ships was closed and sealed or the loss of atmosphere could be catastrophic. Lee glanced at the mission clock. They weren’t behind schedule, but if they didn’t get off soon they would have to adjust their speed and entry to make up for the lost time. Planets had a tendency to continue to rotate even when you were late in taking off.

“Dragon One, you are now cleared. Hangar-bay doors opening.”

“Roger that. This is Dragon One to first flight. On my mark.”

The huge hanger doors slowly opened. The pressurized atmosphere vented into space in a hurricane of forgotten tools and checklists. It seemed that no matter how careful everyone was there was always items left on the hanger deck.

Lee gently applied power to Dragon One. It rose into a hover above the hangar deck. Lee pushed the throttle forward. The engines on the wings rotated, and Dragon One moved across the deck and into space, followed by the rest of the first flight. Lee loved these first moments in space. He was now in complete control of his ship and his fate.

“The rest of the flight is in position,” Odaka said.

Lee glanced at the rest of the flight. They were spread out behind him in four Vs, with four ships in each V. His V was carrying Alpha Company, and the rest of the flight carried the other companies and the heavy weapons platoon of the Raider battalion.

Lee was the senior chief and lead pilot of the flight. Chika filled the display in front of him. Superimposed on its image was a green flexible rectangle leading downward to the planet’s surface and their drop zone. Lee put the nose of the ship in the center of the rectangle and slid into the ship into the center of the rectangle for their entry angle.

“Tarawa, we are in the box.”

“Understand, Dragon One. Good luck.”

Lee glanced at the rest of the three ships in his flight. They were all in perfect position. The other flights were following.

“We are all green,” Odaka said, scanning the instruments.

“Roger that.”

The reddish surface of Chika began to grow in his display as they entered the outer atmosphere of the planet. The nose of his ship began to glow a molten orange as the friction from the atmosphere grew. The heat shield had two purposes it was designed for protection as well as for confusion it would to disintegrate as they entered the atmosphere. As it burned off, the shield shed pieces that would produce a cloud of debris that would make targeting difficult for weapons systems trying to sort the real targets out as they made their entry. During the ramp-up to this mission, the engineers had shown Lee and the rest of the crews what a combat entry looked like to a weapons system operator trying to separate the chaff from the ships. It was almost impossible. There were literally hundreds of returns on their scopes, all moving in the same direction. Lee hoped the Xotolis’ targeting computers weren’t any better than the Confederation’s, because his life depended on it.

“We are beginning to take fire,” Odaka said.

“What kind?”

“Laser fire. Right now it’s concentrated on the third flight.”

“Any hits?”

“Negative. I’m going to add chaff to our signature,” Odaka said.

“Roger.”

Odaka fired rockets that sped away from the entry paths of the flights, where they exploded and launched drones that had the same electronic signature as the Mike boats. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee saw one of the drones hit by a laser. That was too close for comfort. The ship began to vibrate as they entered heavier air in the planet’s atmosphere. She was flying straight and true. Lee had loved flying the ship from the first day he’d taken his first qualification flights, and now she was proving herself in battle. It felt good to have a tough ship that flew like a dream going into combat. He did not have to fight the ship this time. He felt like he had a partner he could depend on something he had to fight to fly.

Their drop zone was on the night side of the planet. Lee could see a few lights scattered on its surface but no real concentration that might indicate a large complex. It looked like the intel had been correct and the Xotoli were just beginning to occupy and fortify the planet. A red flash, followed by another, streaked across their bow, headed for the surface. The destroyers in low orbit were pounding anything Xotoli they could find with their six-inch rails. The depleted-uranium rounds left glowing red streaks in their wake. A small cluster of lights suddenly disappeared. Lee could see reds and oranges of the explosion even at this height it was so large.

Lee checked his angle of entry. He was still right in the middle of the box as the ship continued to track on their entry path. Details on the surface began to emerge as they dove deeper and deeper into Chika’s atmosphere. A snow-capped mountain just off the nose of the ship came into view. It had been one of his visual landmarks in his training for the mission. He glanced at the mission clock—it had appeared right on schedule, so the mission was right on time.

It was going too well, Lee thought. He remembered one of the first lessons he learned as a pilot: when a mission is going exactly as planned, then watch out, because something is about to go very wrong. No mission ever survived the first minutes in combat. You always had to adjust and be flexible.

The destroyers had found another target. Rail rounds flashed through their formation. The rounds struck the ground, creating another tremendous explosion. Then secondary explosions that dwarfed the original followed as the target on the ground disappeared in a volcano of fire and debris.

“Looks like they got something,” Odaka said.

“Yeah, but I hope those destroyer guys are watching their scopes. Those last couple of rounds were close. Low orbit is still twelve hundred miles. It’s easy to get sloppy. I would hate to end up as a lesson learned in the post-mission briefing.”

The flight-path green rectangle was contracting as they approached the surface and their drop zone. Lee kept the nose of the ship in the middle of the rectangle, he checked his speed and angle everything was in the green. He glanced at his formation display, and it was good and tight—the other ships were right in their zones. The three Vs behind his were also in good, tight formations. The ship’s stick was beginning to vibrate more in his hands as they hit the upper winds of the atmosphere, but the ship was holding to its course. The new design was continuing to prove itself—the Mike boat was slicing through the upper winds with no trouble.

“Altitude?” Lee asked.

“One hundred miles.”

“Check.”

Then it was as if someone suddenly set off a fireworks display in the middle of their formation. Multicolored explosions blossomed in Lee’s lead V. Yellow plasma streaks cut through the formation, just missing Dragon 1.

“What the fuck!” Odaka said. “I got nothing on the scope. Where did that come from?”

“Think of something or we’re going to end up as space junk in orbit around the shitty little planet.”

Out of the corner of his eye Lee could see Odaka scrolling through display after display, his hands scrolling through the setting for their defensive systems, then punching up new ones.

“Fuck. It’s an orbital minefield. They’ve got hundreds of tiny mines orbiting around the goddamned planet. If anything enters the field they converge on the target. They’re coming from everywhere.”

“Can you counter them?”

“Not with any of our anti-missile missiles, but I might be able to confuse them.”

Lee glanced at his formation display. There were two ships missing, one from the third V and one from the fourth.

“We’ve lost two ships, Odaka. Do something.”

“We are. I’ve already networked with the other ships. We're all running through the frequencies and sensor channels.”

Another explosion filled the flight-display screen, Lee almost ducked, it was so close. He felt the ship shudder as debris from the explosion stuck it. Lee glanced at the flight controls and readouts. Everything was still in the green. Another explosion. Another ship in the third V disappeared.

1st Raider Battalion

Alpha Company

First Platoon

Sergeant Mala Nani sat tightly strapped into her drop seat in the back of the Mike boat. The ship was bouncing all over the place, but it was different than on 703—this did not feel like weather. It felt like ground fire. What the hell was going on? Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about it. So she did what she had learned so long ago: when you have no control over what’s happening, relax and let it go. Worrying about it solved nothing. She glanced at her heads-up and saw that her squad was all in the green. The systems on each of the individual Marines were working optimally. It was all she could ask for before a drop like this.

The drop compartment of the Mike boat was blacked out, with only red lights illuminating the darkness. She knew that if the lights were on all she would see was the armored helmets of the rest of the platoon. To her right and forward on the ship was Kifle Elias, and just beyond Elias was Lieutenant Taro. To her right was Hu. He had the first fire team. Beyond Hu and his fire team were the other two fire teams in her squad.

Mala had spent most of the last forty-eight hours down checking the armor systems on her squad as well as doing weapons inspections and skull sessions on the objective and their mission. She was tired. She couldn’t do anything about what was going on outside of the ship, so she decided to do what all good grunts have done since time immemorial: don’t stand up when you can sit down, don’t sit down when you can lie down, and don’t stay awake when you can go to sleep. Mala closed her eyes and went to sleep.

#

When Mala’s head nodded forward, Hu glanced over at her, then checked her status on his heads-up. She was asleep. It always amazed Hu how she could go to sleep anywhere, anytime, no matter what the situation. Sleep was the last thing he was thinking about.

He wished he could just relax. He was, after all, just along for the ride, and there was nothing he could do about it. But that was what was bothering him. He didn’t mind the dangers of combat because he was in control of his own destiny. If he died it was either bad decision making or bad luck, at least he was the one making the decisions. He didn’t want to die because somebody else had a bad day or made a mistake. No, he would take his own chances. He wanted to face his own luck, not somebody else’s.