and the final target filled his vision, Antov saw something entirely unexpected: Major Temo’s face! The rotten bitch had not only gone over to the enemy-but was taking part in an attack on her own people.
Well, not for long, Antov told himself, and pulled the trigger. But that was the moment when Temo turned to look back over her shoulder. The bullet missed by less than inch, she saw the bodies, and broke right. Antov swore, put the Hawking aside, and said, “Give me the Walby. Quickly now.” Nothing happened.
Antov swore again, rolled over onto his side, and was about to rip into Heedu when he found himself staring into the Walby’s barrel. The weapon was steady, and, judging from Heedu’s stance, he’d been practicing with it. “What the hell?” Antov inquired. “Have you lost your frigging mind? Give me that weapon. We’ll discuss this later.”
“There will be no later,” Heedu replied woodenly. “Not for you.” And with that, he pulled the trigger.
Temo was scared. And for good reason. Every single one of her Ramanthian troopers had been killed by a sniper located on the rise behind Antov’s house. Could it be Antov himself? Quite possibly. He was arguably the best shot on O-Chi 4. So if she were stupid enough to raise her head above the concrete retaining wall at the side of the road, he would blow it off. Fortunately, there was a simple solution to her problem.
Temo removed the Ramanthian radio from an ammo pouch on the front of her chest protector, fumbled with the squeeze-style mike control, and identified herself. Then, speaking distinctly so as to avoid any possibility of a misunderstanding, she gave the necessary order.
Moments later, the fighter made a lazy swing to the south, came north again, and began to lose altitude. The dart-shaped aircraft was no more than a hundred feet off the ground when its pilot released the fuel bomb. There was a flash of light as the top of the rise was consumed by a rising ball of fire. Rivers of red flowed downhill, set the brush ablaze, and stopped just short of the road.
Confident that the sniper was dead, Temo stood and continued up the road. The plan had been to find Antov and kill him. But when she arrived at the house, she found that the front door was open, the servants had fled, and its owner was nowhere to be found. That made her feel even more confident that Antov had been killed.
Temo left through the front door and walked away. It wasn’t until three minutes later, when she was halfway to the Ramanthian extraction point, that she gave the final order. The fighter swooped in, a bomb fell, and the Antov house ceased to exist. The mission was complete.
From Santana’s perspective, the first two days of the field exercise had gone fairly well. By giving Alpha Company to Captain Jo Zarrella, Bravo Company to Rifles Captain Motu Kimbo, and Charlie Company to Scouts Captain Corin Ryley, he had been able to spread the leadership responsibilities around. And by assigning each company commander a quad, six T-2s, and eight legionnaires, Santana had been able to ensure rough parity among the three units. It was a strategy intended to build morale and ensure operational flexibility. Because it would be a mistake to rely too heavily on any one company.
In an effort to make the exercise easier to control, the war game had been held on the Antov family’s coffee plantation. The trees were laid out in orderly rows, and there wasn’t any underbrush to contend with, which made it easy to move around. Weapons, food, and other gear were stored in a half-empty warehouse, where they were kept under guard.
The rules of engagement were not only simple but very similar to a game called capture the flag that Santana had played as a boy. The main difference was that the battalion was divided into three teams rather than two.
The first thing each team had to do was take control of the territory assigned to it and hide its flag in keeping with Lieutenant Ponco’s rules. Each company commander could divide the force into groups of attackers and defenders, using whatever criteria and percentages they considered to be appropriate.
With that accomplished, it was time to hide the unit’s flag, position defenders around it, and send people out to capture enemy flags. Individuals who were caught and tagged were placed in prisons where they were held, traded for other POWs, and sometimes freed by opposing special-ops teams.
The rules were intentionally simple so that the company commanders could demonstrate initiative and creativity, which they immediately did by forming alliances, employing spies, and launching sneak attacks. There were verbal conflicts and some fistfights, but Ponco was able to keep things under control, which left Santana free to observe.
Zarrella’s Alpha Company emerged as the overall winner, having captured both enemy flags. And, given all of her experience, Santana would have been surprised by any other outcome. But both Kimbo and Ryley showed considerable promise, with Kimbo being the stronger of the two. Of equal importance was what the three company commanders learned about the men, women, and cyborgs in their respective units. Strengths and weaknesses that would help them place the right people in the right positions.
It had been Santana’s intention to use the last day as an opportunity to review what had been learned and brief the troops regarding the upcoming mission, but that plan was put aside when Sergeant Nello’s report came in. The TACBASE was under attack, Durkee was going out to fight, and three enemy transports were inbound.
Santana had questions but never got to ask them as Nello was cut off in midsentence. So Santana put in a call for air support, dispatched Ponco to Baynor’s Bay to investigate, and ordered the battalion to rearm itself. Then, having summoned Joshi, he led the quick-reaction force west. The rest of the troops were to follow as quickly as possible. But all of his efforts were for naught. Because by the time the elderly CF-150 Daggers arrived overhead and Ponco entered the town, the bugs were gone.
Santana winced as the damage reports came in but had no way to appreciate how bad things really were until he saw the black smoke pouring up into the sky and Joshi topped the final rise. Then, as the force of bio bods and T-2s flowed downslope, the full extent of the devastation became apparent.
The top of Signal Hill, which was off to his left, looked like a blackened stump. Now, in contrast to the spotty damage suffered earlier, the entire waterfront had been reduced to a swath of smoking rubble. Bodies lay in the road. Many had been executed, judging from the way they were clustered together, and in one case Santana saw a child crouched by her mother, sobbing hopelessly. All because of his decision to leave the town with only a minimal defense.
The knowledge was like a black hand that took hold of his spirit and crushed it. Here, lying in the streets, was the evidence of something he had feared but never confronted. Just because he’d been able to lead a platoon, then a company, didn’t mean he could handle a battalion. Somebody else, Kobbi perhaps, or Antov, would have done things differently. And most of the people who lay scattered about would still be alive.
The certainty of that rode the pit of his stomach as he ordered Rona-Sa to send all of the battalion’s medics forward on T-2s in order to get them on-site more quickly. Then he dispatched Ponco to north bay along with a request for assistance and allowed the Daggers to leave.
Finally, once everything Santana could do had been accomplished, he took a radio and set off for the crescent-shaped beach that lay half a mile beyond what had been Antov’s home. There was quite a bit of driftwood, thanks to all the dead trees, branches, and other detritus that was carried down rivers and into the sea during the rainy season. So Santana sat on a log and stared at the slowly sinking sun. It was bloodred. And, as the stars began to appear, he could feel the darkness closing in around him.
The crunch of footsteps came, followed by a noticeable tilt of the log as a heavy weight was added. “Permission to join you, sir?”
Santana looked to the right and saw Rona-Sa. He didn’t want any company but couldn’t say “no” to his Executive Officer. “Permission granted.”
The Hudathan nodded. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Santana scowled. “How many more permissions are you going to request, Captain? Okay, go ahead and get whatever it is off your chest.”
If Rona-Sa was offended, there was no sign of it on his craggy face. “We have a problem, sir,” Rona-Sa said bluntly. “And the problem is you.”
Santana started to object but stopped as Rona-Sa raised a huge paw. “I have permission to speak freely. Remember? And I intend to do so. What took place here was terrible. And I understand why you feel bad about it. But it couldn’t be helped. You were sent here to carry out an important mission and to do so using troops from what my people would consider to be three different clans. There was no way to protect Baynor’s Bay and take the battalion into the field. And there was no reason to expect a major attack. Which, based on eyewitness accounts, was led by Major Temo. An act of treason no one could anticipate.
