Battlespace Nomad, page 21
Jimmy nodded. "Fair enough. I guess I'll go back to my makeshift OP and put my helmet back on."
"Sounds like a plan. The sun is going down, and we suspect the bad guys are coming out to play here soon."
"Well, don't play too fast or too loose with live explosives at your feet, big guy!" Jimmy said as he walked away.
"And you keep your head down out there," Boomer said, as Jimmy melted away into the trees again. He trudged his way back to the fallen log and the tuft of grass, where he found Ghost holding vigil with his M-7 Commando rifle pointing outward.
Neither man spoke as the sun was all but gone behind the horizon, and sound and light discipline went into effect. Jimmy donned his helmet and accessed the fire support menu. He initialized the targeting suite and then minimized the data field. Jimmy was as ready as he would be, so he settled in and joined Ghost.
As the scene darkened to near pitch black, Jimmy toggled his optics and switched to a layered filter with infrared and conventional night vision, giving him an unobstructed view of the spaceport.
Silently, they waited in the shadows for something to happen. Eventually, the minutes turned into hours, and Jimmy was bored to tears. But everything changed when headlights could be seen in the distance. Jimmy toggled his optics to account for the new light source lest it blind him otherwise.
A single truck rolled into the spaceport and pulled up to the hangar. The driver and passenger exited the vehicle and walked to the truck's rear, armed to the teeth. The driver had a dreaded Chartean plasma blaster slung over his shoulder. Jimmy had only seen examples of a plasma blaster during training but had never seen one used in person. The alien weapon was nasty and could melt conventional armor in short order.
The passenger hefted a flak cannon. Also of alien design, the ballistic weapon was a close-quarters nightmare. Jimmy knew his predecessor had fallen to flak cannon, roughly equivalent to an eight-gauge shotgun in performance. Hence, the sight of it gave him a disturbing reminder of his own mortality.
"Stay frosty, people," Hawthorne said over the TACNET. "We wait for them to go inside, then we make our move."
Jimmy joined the others in sending acknowledgment pings back to Hawthorne. He watched in horror as two captives, one male and one female, were being dragged out of the back of the truck in shackles. They wore nothing but undergarments and seemed to be shivering in the chilly evening air.
Once the resistance fighters escorted the people inside, Hathorne came back over the TACNET. "Nomad, Boomer, you stay behind and keep the mortar on standby. Everyone else, on me!"
Jimmy had his marching orders and settled into his spot with his rifle scanning the spaceport. Ghost quietly stood and stepped over the fallen log to comply with the commander's orders.
The team converged on the building, but something caught Jimmy's eye above them.
"Boomer," Jimmy called out on a private channel. "Is that your drone in the sky?"
"Nope!"
Jimmy keyed the TACNET. "All stations, look up! There's an unknown drone over your heads."
Then, a flash of light caused Jimmy to wince as a turbo-fan-powered missile launched from the hardpoint on Hammer's armor. As the anti-drone specialist, Hammer was ready to act and knocked the drone from the sky with a fireball.
Meanwhile, Wraith and Havoc kicked in the hangar door and opened fire on someone inside. A stray streak of glowing blue plasma sailed past Kievskaya's armor, missing her by inches.
"Tangos down," she reported coldly over the TACNET.
But before anyone could respond, a whole convoy of trucks of every imaginable type came into view. Jimmy's teeth ground shut nervously as he desperately toggled his visor to account for the light pollution.
"Be advised, we have multiple tangos on approach from the main road!" Jimmy called out over the TACNET, but the team was caught in the open, and troops began to pour out of the trucks en masse.
A firefight instantly erupted, and the enemy formed a loose skirmish line. Ballistic rounds and plasma bolts peppered the area, and the team all turned to face the threat, sending fire of their own back at them.
Jimmy knew the team could fight an enemy with superior numbers, but he also knew how many enemy fighters were in the mix, and his team was in the open.
Jimmy wasted no time. He pulled up the targeting suite, found the center point of the enemy formation, and deployed the invisible ELRF. The Eye-safe Laser Range Finder did its job and returned with the polar data needed to call for fire.
"Boomer, this is Nomad. Adjust fire, over!"
"Nomad, this is Boomer. Adjust fire, out!"
"Grid seven-three-two-six, four-two-seven-two, over!"
"Grid seven-three-two-six, four-two-seven-two, out!"
"Assholes in the open, HE in effect, over!"
"Assholes in the open, HE in effect, out!"
A few seconds passed before Boomer spoke again. "Mike-Tango-Oscar, three rounds, HE in effect, over."
"Mike-Tango-Oscar, three rounds, HE ins effect, out!"
The sound of a mortar being deployed echoed in the air.
"Shot, over!" Boomer said.
"Shot, out!" Jimmy replied.
"Splash, over!"
"Splash out!"
Boom!
The first mortar hit was a wild shot that impacted behind the enemy formation. Jimmy checked the base of the explosion in relation to the desired target area and then fired the ELRF to make the adjustment.
"Right, eight-zero, down, one hundred, over!" Jimmy called in the correction.
"Right, eight-zero, down, one hundred, out!"
The mortar fired again. Jimmy watched as the oblivious enemy formation remained in their position, pinning down the team as they hunkered behind the hangar.
"Shot, over!" Boomer called out.
"Shot, out!" Jimmy replied.
"Splash, over."
"Splash, out!"
Jimmy put his reticle pattern on the base of the subsequent explosion, which detonated just shy of the enemy formation.
"Left, three-zero, add five-zero, fire for effect, over!"
"Left, three-zero, add five-zero, fire for effect, out!"
Three successive mortar rounds were fired as the final adjustment was made.
"Shot, over!" Boomer called out.
"Shot, out!"
Jimmy watched as the three rounds slammed into the enemy ranks, sending bodies everywhere. Those left standing fell back and ran for the relative safety of their vehicles.
"That's our cue!" Hawthorne called out over the TACNET.
"Popping smoke!” Mama called out.
With the enemy on their heels and a billowing cloud of infrared-sensitive smoke billowing from the smoke grenade, the team finally ran for cover.
Jimmy flinched as Ghost jumped over the fallen log and slid to a halt, dropping to the ground and rolling over to point his weapon toward the enemy.
"Nice shooting, Nomad!" Ghost said. "You just saved our asses out there!"
"It's all in the wrist," Jimmy said playfully.
"Listen up!" Hawthorne called over the radio. "We've got the prisoners, and we're outgunned. We're falling back to the rally point. We have a dropship inbound."
The team all melted away into the underbrush. The two barefoot captives, both with bloody feet, painfully trudged behind Mama as she guided them through the maze of thickets.
Jimmy saw the waypoint on the shared HUD and rushed toward it. Deeper into the woods, they went, with a hostile enemy on their tail.
Upon reaching the extraction point, the team formed a perimeter, and Jimmy took his place. They all took a knee and faced outward with their weapons.
The whine of the dropship's repulsor drives echoed overhead, but the craft hovered briefly without dropping down to the clearing they were all in.
Autocannon fire erupted from the dropship from its dorsal-mounted turret, sending twenty-millimeter explosive shells into the woods behind them.
The firing went on for a full minute, with several controlled bursts sending fiery death to anyone in range before the craft finally dipped below the treetops.
Once the ramp fell open, Mama quickly ushered the captives inside. Once secure, everyone else converged on the craft, rapidly filing in and grabbing empty spots on the troop seats.
"We've got everyone, Boss!" Master Sergeant Best called out.
"Thanks, Top," Hawthorne replied, banging on the cockpit door to alert the pilots. The ramp raised up as the craft dusted off the forest floor.
36
Jimmy handed the female pilot a blanket as she shivered on the troop seat. Boomer did the same for the male pilot. The former captives' eyes were distant, as if their minds were elsewhere. There was no telling what horrors the two pilots experienced until they were rescued, and Jimmy realized they could benefit from Ghost's cocktail.
"Todd, can you offer your cocktail to these pilots?" Jimmy asked via a private channel.
"You have a nano module, buddy. Select the mode labeled 'good stuff' and let her rip," Ghost replied.
"Copy that," Jimmy replied, before retracting his visor to lock eyes with the former captives. "Sir, Ma'am, would you care for an anti-trauma injection?"
The man nodded enthusiastically, but the woman recoiled in fear. Jimmy applied the injection to the male pilot, who thanked him sincerely. Jimmy turned his gaze to the woman, who seemed guarded and glared at the module in apprehension.
"I've got this," Kievskaya said softly. Jimmy nodded and took a step back to give the women some space. They spoke in soft tones drowned out by the ambient noise of the dropship. Jimmy couldn't hear the conversation, but he surmised the woman had been traumatized at a man's hands and would be more open to a woman's touch.
Kievskaya injected the woman after several minutes of talking. By this time, Jimmy had sat back down on the troop seat across the way from the captives, consciously keeping his distance out of respect.
Then, the dropship buffeted and shook wildly. The lighting in the cabin went from white light to a dull red, and a flashing yellow light came on.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your humble pilot speaking. I will casually dump this tub on the forest floor because of the incoming missiles. I apologize for the inconvenience," the voice came over the overhead speakers.
"Brace!" Hawthorne called out. The craft shook wildly and then abruptly dropped. Jimmy's stomach dropped as the ship engaged in an emergency descent. Moments later, the retro thrusters kicked in, rapidly slowing their descent before the landing pads made contact with the ground.
Hawthorne opened the cockpit door and stuck his head inside. A few moments later, he pulled his head out and turned to face the team.
"Listen up, people!" Hawthorne said. "Looks like there are MANPADS three klicks north of our location, and they've got our ride pinned down. New mission... Seek and destroy!"
The ramp fell open, and the team rushed out, minus Kievskaya and Mama. As they moved in unison, a sense of unity and shared purpose filled the air.
"The ladies will sit this one out and keep tabs on our pilots and captives," Mama declared.
Hawthorne nodded in the affirmative. "Roger that, Mama."
The rest of the team was already outside, so they formed a perimeter around the dropship. Jimmy watched the world through the reticle pattern in his gunsights as he scanned the tree line for threats. A waypoint popped into the shared HUD, and Jimmy saw it floating within his natural field of vision.
"All right, folks," Hawthorne called out, "This waypoint is the estimated location of the enemy firing units. We move quickly, and then once we close within half a klick, we form up and go tactical."
Acknowledgment pings flooded back to Hawthorne, and Jimmy sent one of his own.
"You heard the boss, people!" Master Sergeant Best called out. "Let's get moving.” The team, fueled by determination, surged forward into the underbrush.
The operators rushed into the underbrush toward the waypoint, and Jimmy followed suit. They tore through the forest at a blistering pace. Jumping over fallen logs and sprinting through clearings, the operators closed the gap briefly.
Finally, they came within five hundred meters of the waypoint, and Hawthorne called out over the TACNET. "Halt here and form up.”
Jimmy found his place on the right flank of the wedge formation, taking up a typical rifleman position. The formation began moving silently into the woods, maintaining visual contact with each other as they moved methodically. They did tactical crossings of potential hazard areas and crossed clearings at a dead sprint to minimize their exposure to potential threats.
"Boomer, you're up," Hawthorne called out.
"Drone is prepped and ready, Boss. Stand by for launch."
The drone shot up from the hardpoint on Boomer's back, causing the mortar tube to shake wildly. The drone buzzed over the treetops and disappeared.
"We hold here until the drone can enter a search pattern," Hawthorne ordered.
They were still two hundred meters shy of the objective, which was just outside the practical range of nanobots, so the drone was the ideal choice for situational awareness.
"I've got twelve bodies. They're stationary. Two hundred thirty meters north by northwest. Setting new waypoint," Boomer announced over the TACNET.
The new waypoint appeared in the shared HUD. But this time, twelve tiny red dots were co-located with the waypoint marker.
"We hit them hard and fast. Form a skirmish line and prepare to move out," Hawthorne ordered.
The formation shifted as specified, and Jimmy took the right flank for himself. That's when Ghost tapped on his shoulder.
"Let me take the right flank. It's better to have a higher casualty-producing weapon on the flanks," Ghost explained.
It made sense to Jimmy. Ghost's M-7 Commando rifle was a 12.7mm beast with an underslung 40mm grenade launcher and was too heavy to be operated without a suit of powered armor.
Inversely, Jimmy's pulse rifle was dual-purpose and light enough to operate without augmented strength. Jimmy stepped aside and swapped places with Ghost before the formation started forward.
Jimmy's nerves were piqued. It was the proverbial calm before the storm. He fought the butterflies in his stomach as they slowly progressed towards the objective. The red dots denoting the locations of the suspected enemy grew larger. Soon, the tops of tents came into view, and it was readily apparent that the enemy had formed a rudimentary encampment.
There was nothing tactical about their setup. Jimmy tried toggling his optics to see if he could identify any preparations or defenses, but he came up empty. It was evident the enemy wasn't expecting a ground fight.
"The enemy isn't expecting us, people," Hawthorne said. "We do this fast and easy. We move up, and when the M-7s engage, we all open up with everything we've got."
It made sense. The highest casualty-producing weapons were always the first to fire, to cause maximum initial damage to the enemy. In this way, maximum confusion would ensue as the enemy would be shocked to their core.
When the 40 mms disgorged their loads, the team opened fire. Jimmy jerked into action and fumbled to wrap his finger around the trigger. Finding purchase, Jimmy squeezed the trigger. He lined up his sights on the red signatures and released a steady stream of controlled bursts.
"Assault through!" Hawthorne called out. The skirmish line rushed forward into the encampment. Jimmy saw a panicked man wearing load-bearing equipment and mismatched fatigues trying to draw down on him with a flak cannon. There was no thinking. Only action. Jimmy lined up his sights in slow motion and willed his finger to squeeze firmly.
When the pink mist erupted from the man's chest, he dropped in a heap. Jimmy instinctively moved to the next threat and saw a fleeing man firing a pistol behind him wildly. Jimmy simply released a nervous breath, aimed, and fired.
The second enemy dropped into the underbrush. In seconds, the entire engagement was over, and the operators were tasked with checking the fallen enemy for signs of life before searching them. Jimmy just stood there blinking wildly. He'd just killed two more human beings, but this time, he felt nothing. He was numb to the world, and the humans had been nothing more than viable targets to be engaged.
"What the fuck was in that cocktail?" he said under his breath.
"Hey, Nomad!" Ghost's voice cut into Jimmy's awareness.
Jimmy shook his head to snap back into reality. "Yeah?"
"Nice shooting, man," Ghost nodded, his face unreadable behind the visor. "You good?"
Jimmy nodded. "Strangely enough, I'm totally fine. That's the scary part."
Ghost retracted his visor, showing an empathetic expression. "Killing doesn't make you a monster, Jimmy. It's a necessary evil when dealing with the real monsters. Remember that. Don't feel ashamed if you find yourself feeling numb. It's the cocktail preventing you from feeling the effects of trauma."
That reassured Jimmy. "Thanks, man. I needed to hear that."
"We've got MANPADS, Boss!" Hammer called out.
"Let's mark this area on the map and call in for the MPs to clean up the mess. We hold here until we can hand over the site and get these missiles in safe hands," Hawthorne declared.
"Hey, Nomad," Hammer, the team's air defense and anti-drone specialist, called out.
Jimmy walked over to the other side of the encampment where the senior operator was crouched. There was a stack of three long hard cases, and the top one had the lid open.
"Have you ever seen an anti-aircraft missile before?" Hammer asked.
Jimmy shook his head. "Only in pics and vids, but never in the flesh."
"These are old Apex Industries designs, but they're rugged, short-range, and disturbingly reliable. Here, pick it up and check it out," Hammer said, lifting the missile launcher from the case and attaching the pistol grip.
Jimmy held the missile tube in his arms, scanning it with his eyes as Hammer pointed out the individual features.
"It has a thermal-seeking head with a clear lens at the tip of the missile. The warhead is roughly one kilo of high explosives and detonates once within a few meters of the target, sending shrapnel to shred aircraft components. These things are ancient in design but treacherous in function. Once you've been shot down by one, you tend to respect it," Hammer explained.
