Uhhhhh, I thought. High-power AP was very expensive. And… it was for a specific reason.
“Getting into the Crash itself,” continued the captain as though reading my thoughts, “is going to require that level of violence. Recon by stealth to enter. Once we’re in there, there’re enough sensors left by the science team’s security forces for them to know we’re in. We have to find something called the Node. It’s a science station, one of several set up inside the portions of the wreck that have been explored and excavated. We won’t have that info until we’re in and we’ve hacked their system. We hit the Node. Retrieve a piece of equipment. And then we get into the science labs that were set up to study the ship. From there we commandeer a high-speed rail car and make it to the airfield via tube line. It’s a direct. One-way. Again, heavy resistance is expected. Most local defenses will be reacting to Dog’s attack on the bank. That should draw some focus as events develop. Our target ship, an armored security transport coming down direct from the bank ship now currently in stationary orbit above the capital, will set down at sixteen forty-five local. We emerge from the transport tube station here…”
He showed us a picture of the LZ. Three hundred meters from tube station to target landing pad.
“… at sixteen forty if the engines have powered down. Sweep the field. Snipers are on standby to penetrate the command canopy with high-impact munitions if the crew attempts an emergency departure. Reaper secures the transport and Dog and Ghost pull in.”
He looked at Sergeant Biggs. “We’re leaving the crawler.”
Our supply sergeant, a corpulent man who was always either eating salami or chewing a cigar, shrugged like it wasn’t a loss that would bother him much.
“Once we have the head count it’s throttle up and we try to reach the Spider by seventeen thirty rendezvous one hundred thousand over the surface.”
“Who’s flying the bird?” asked Chief Cook.
“Our employer has that handled. She’s a rated star pilot.”
Chief Cook nodded. Arms folded. Stance wide.
“Okay, sir. What do you want Voodoo to do, sir?”
“Chiefs Nether and Stinkeye, move with Amarcus’s people. Do what you guys do best. Interface with Chungo on indirect so you don’t get caught where you shouldn’t be.”
Cook nodded.
“And myself and the Little Girl?” he asked.
“You’re with assault team Reaper. I don’t know what you can do, Chief Cook, but I have a feeling we’re gonna need her friend down inside that alien wreck. You’re her wrangler. So that’s where I need you, Chief. Keep her safe in case we need her.”
“Copy that, sir.”
He stepped back into the shadows of the brief, indicating he was done with questions that pertained to him. Voodoo had their missions.
I raised my hand. “Sir…”
The Old Man looked straight at me and indicated I should speak.
“The high-power AP. Last time I checked, those are very expensive munitions reserved for infantry teams going up against field mechs. Is that what we’re expecting inside the Crash, sir?”
“Negative, Sergeant Orion.” He lowered his head and studied his battle board. “Intel informs us there is some kind of predator ape that can be found all throughout the area we need to go through to access the ship. Large, powerful, and extremely violent. They hunt in packs. We’ll be going down Lost Road Canyon until we dismount. From there on in we should expect these predators until we get into the ship. Treat them as vicious and deadly. Apparently the munitions will put them down.”
I nodded.
“And, last thing, sir. What’s an ape?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
We were thirty minutes into the dismount and approaching the target area when we spotted the first one. The ape. An ape.
It moved fast, up high above the massive cracked and broken boulders we were crossing under as we threaded the narrow canyon closing in on our objective to enter the Crash site and recover a high-value item deep within the wreckage.
I thought of Ol’ Amos and the last recorded image that captured him. After that he’d gone into the wreckage we were heading toward. Never to be seen again.
“Some kinda scout maybe,” muttered Punch, drawing a bead with his Bastard as he watched the swift-moving rock ape, finger hovering over the trigger and ready to squeeze off a few rounds and end its acrobat’s progress above us, focus intent through the ranged scope he’d flipped over to on his rifle for this part of the approach. Walking point, he needed to see them before they saw us.
Above the ape and the rock, the boiling black volcanic smoke constantly emitting from the crash fissure raced away into the sky and high into the atmo. At least a hundred and ten thousand up. Just as it had when Ol’ Amos first found this world over two hundred years ago. And then disappeared forever. We were following the approach marked as Lost Canyon Road on our maps. A twisting crack winding its way in closer to the wreck.
“Why is it shifting colors to match the rock?” wondered Choker not far behind Punch, frozen near a boulder as we tried to remain unseen. We were all halted in the crouch. Covering in the shadows of the big rocks, or behind them if we were lucky enough to have been moving near them when Punch’s hand signal to halt suddenly shot up as he spotted the ape.
Even though Punch had whispered it over the comm at the same time. “Tango. Up high. Two o’clock.”
I always made sure Reaper used both. Hand and low whisper over comm. You don’t always have good electronic comm. But hand signals… you don’t have those, you got real problems. It’s always best to be in practice with the original patrol operating system. Good habits make good soldiers, as some NCO once barked at me. I can’t remember which. But maybe that’s because I’m tired. Even though I’m telling myself I’m not. There’s no room in the ruck for fatigue on
