The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (23 page)

“But I’m a hybrid. So many would want to kill me.”

“As I said, you are under my protection from now on. You are much too valuable to be mistreated. I can assure you that I will protect you.” Istas deliberately reached over and touched her, using the attraction she had established.

“Do you believe me?” Istas asked.

Netis nodded but said nothing. She relaxed and seemed completely at ease now. “Yes, I do.”

“Now try and relax for a few minutes. I have some notifications and briefings to make. The two Marines will be outside and no one will enter this office.”

“Thank you.”

As Istas stood and walked toward the door, it dawned on her just how much she and Netis were alike—two people in one body trying to balance the two sides of themselves. She was beginning to feel as close to her as to one of her sister Anjins. Strange how the universe worked. She need to be careful with the affection she had for Netis. It could get in the way of what she might be forced to have Netis do. There was a real possibility that, before all was said and done, she would be dead one way or another.

Just another way the two of them were alike. Istas had felt for some time that she would not survive this mission. Fate was a strange force.

The two Marines were standing on either side of the door waiting for her. She motioned them over.

“My brother and sister. I call you that because you are from Rift, as I am, and truly understand what an Anjin is. I also call you brother and sister because we have fought together back on Earth. You were wounded protecting me. That makes us a warrior family. I chose you back on Earth because you are Rifts and because you have earned your hand-to-hand badges on Rift. Now I need your skills and loyalty more than ever. That woman in there is more important than almost anyone else in the Confederation if we are to defeat the Xotoli. She is a hybrid, but she is more human than hybrid. Their techniques did not work on her. That is the reason she saved General Sand’s life.” Istas paused.

“Do you trust her?” Ikiaq, the female Marine, asked.

“Yes, I do. And you must trust my judgment on this, for no one else has the skills that I do. Others will want to kill her out of fear, or torture her for more information. I will get what they want and need, but I need to be able to do it my way. I need you to protect her while I am doing this. So I guess the real question is, do you trust my judgment?”

Ikiaq glanced over at the other Marine. They exchanged a look, as if they had already had a discussion about this very subject. They both stood head and shoulders taller than Istas, as was the norm on Rift for a male and female. As a Rift woman, Istas was almost childlike compared to them. Someone observing the conversation would have misconstrued who was instructing whom.

“Yes, Istas. We do trust you. We know your training, and we’ve seen your loyalty to the admiral,” Sergeant Desna said.

“Good. Then until I give you further direction, Netis will not leave your sight. Nor will anybody see her except me unless I tell you they are cleared. Understood?”

“Rules of engagement?” Desna asked. “We are not on a battlefield.”

“None. You are to protect her with your lives. I intend to also. Escalate as needed. You both have shown good judgment in difficult circumstances, so I trust you. I have put you on my communication list, and you may call me at any time should you have questions or something to report. For now I must go and make arrangements for her. No one sees her until I return.”

“Even Von Fleet security?” Ikiaq asked.

“Especially Von Fleet security. Why?”

“No reason. Just wanted to make sure I understood the orders.”

Istas gave her a long look and one of her rare smiles. “Just don’t kill them unless you absolutely have to. A trip to the hospital will be fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ikiaq said.

Istas strode out of the room. The two marines glanced at one another, then returned to their posts on either side of the door.

Sui-Ren System

Chika

Naval Special Warfare Squadron

Mike Boat 79

Chief Petty Officer Zenes Lee carefully worked the metal storm across the runway as he flew the Mike boat down its length. Hybrids were scattering, trying to escape the deadly stream of depleted-uranium rounds. With no friendlies on the runway, he and his gunner could use the full power of the metal storm. It was an awesome sight to see. Lee almost felt sorry for the hybrids.

“Hey, Chief! You’re not leaving much for me to clean up back here,” Toland, the rear gunner, said.

“Good. Concentrate on Hangar Three.”

“Where is that whole second V? There are no friendlies on my screen to the west.”

“I know. Once we clean up this mess, we’re going to have to see what happened to them.”

“Lee, I’m getting a ship-down distress call from Two. It 's about five miles to our north.”

“Roger that. When we finish this run, set a course for their position. I think this will clean up Hangar Three for the Raiders.”

“Roger that,” Odaka said.

Lee came to the end of the runway, pulled back on the stick, and banked hard to the right, gaining altitude. Just as he was about to level off, the targeting-system warning began to squawk.

“Incoming missile. Ground launched.”

“You on it, Odaka?”

“Roger. It’s just a shoulder-launched. The auto defense will hold it off. I just sent you the heading for the Two ship.”

Lee glanced at his display and saw his new heading of twenty degrees, just a little east of north. Odaka had also put Two’s beacon on his display. The ship lurched as the anti-missile automatic missile defense system destroyed the incoming shoulder-launched missile. Lee put the throttles to the firewall as soon as he was on the new heading. If he was going to make a rescue and still provide ground support, he needed to get moving. He pulled up to a hundred feet and skimmed low across the surface of Chika, hoping to avoid any more anti-ship missiles.

“We should be seeing the crash site soon,” Odaka said.

“Roger,” Lee said.

He eased the throttle back and rotated the engines into a more vertical position. The ship slowed as they approached the site indicated on the display.

“Where the fuck are they?” Odaka said as he scanned the landscape.

They should have been right over the site. Lee rotated the ship’s engines into a full hover, the jets blasting the sand into a brown cloud around them.

“Chief, I got them. They’re behind us,” Toland said.

Lee pivoted the ship and approached the crash site. It did not look good. It appeared they had been hit by a missile in addition to the laser on wing was badly damage from an explosion. The wreckage looked like they went down out of control. He landed the ship about twenty-five yards away.

“Ready, Chief,” Toland said.

Toland had slipped out of her gunner’s sling and grabbed a rail. She would investigate the site and rescue any survivors.

“Toland, you be careful. This is a shoot down, not a crash after a laser hit.”

“No shit, Chief. Do you have my helmet cam?”

Odaka reached over and turned on Toland’s cam.

“Roger,” Lee said.

Toland jumped off the rear ramp and started running toward the crash. The camera bobbed up and down as she made her way across a dune to the site.

“Drones out,” Odaka said.

Four small drones lifted off the ship and began to patrol above them. Toland slowed to a walk as she approached the downed ship.

“Are you seeing this, Chief?”

“Yeah,” Lee said quietly. It didn’t look good. “The ship went in nose first.”

Toland walked up to the rear hatch and hit the emergency open. Nothing happened.

“Shit.”

Toland was Lee’s ship’s crew chief, and she knew the systems like the back of her hand. She went to the side of the ship using a simple knife she always carried, she pried open a electrical panel.

"This is the reason I carried a knife, Chief. It's the best tool ever invented," Toland said.

Using the light from her helmet she tested the connectivity of the wiring by attaching a small repair computer she kept in her tool kit on her belt. She ran a connectivity system check and identified the damaged components. She open a small repair port on the panel and pulled a nano repair kit from her belt. She attached the right nano pump and injected them into the port. Toland watched her computer screen as the nano's travel through the system to the damaged section and began repairing it.

"Come on, come on. We don't have all night," Toland as she stared at her computer screen as the progress bar went from red to green. Finally she said.

"Got it."

The rear ramp fell open. Gingerly, she stepped into the troop compartment. The gunner was suspended in his position, unconscious. The compartment was empty, so they had been able to drop their Marines. Toland crawled over equipment until she could get to the cockpit. Lee could see Hicks and Holcomb still strapped into their seats, slumped forward, not moving. They had called themselves H&H Airlines. To see old friends like this was a kick in the stomach. Toland put her medical reader on Hicks first. DOA flashed in bold black letters. Then she put it on Holcomb. Again, DOA.

“Fuck, Chief.”

“Yeah, I know. Check Annan.”

Toland crawled back to Annan. She placed the medical reader against his skin. Critical flashed red on the reader.

“He’s alive. Set up the medical litter for me.”

Odaka immediately unbuckled and went to the back of the ship to set up the medical litter. Toland was busy cutting Annan out of his seat when Lee heard the northernmost drone squawk.

“Movement.”

It paused, then announced, “Enemy ETA ten minutes.”

On the drone’s display, Lee could see armored hybrids moving fast in their direction.

“We got company, guys. Ten minutes.”

“Shit,” Toland said. She was struggling with the gunner’s seat. It had been damaged in the crash. “I could use some help. This fucking seat is fucked.”

“On the way,” Odaka said.

Now Lee had two out of the three members of his crew gone with hybrids closing in fast. He could fly the ship without them, but he wasn’t about to leave them. He watched their efforts to remove the gunner through Toland’s helmet cam. Even with both of them working at freeing Annan, it was proving difficult to remove him.

“Five minutes,” the drone announced.

“Five minutes, guys. Come on,” Lee said.

“We’re almost there. Odaka, grab that bar with both hands and pull.”

Lee saw both Odaka’s hands grab a bar and pull with all his weight. Annan fell out of the seat onto Toland’s shoulder.

“Got him. Shit, he weighs a ton,” Toland said.

The weight on her shoulders slowed Toland down as she moved through the sand toward the ship.

Lee was preparing the systems for takeoff as they moved closer, Annan slowing them down.

“One minute.”

Lee glanced up at Toland’s display. They were in. Odaka hit the rear-hatch control and the door slammed shut. Lee was already lifting off when Odaka climbed into the copilot’s seat.

“Cutting it a little close,” Lee said, nodding to the drone display. It showed hybrids bounding over the dunes and swarming onto the crash site. Odaka pulled up his air to ground missile interface but hesitated before he pushed “fire.”

“Do it!” Lee said.

“It just that it’s H&H," Odaka said.

"I know, man. Do it."

Then Odaka fired two air-to-ground missiles. They flashed off the rails, made a 180-degree turn, and sped for the crash site. The missiles hit simultaneously, and the ship disappeared, throwing debris and hybrids into the air. There were secondary explosions as Lee powered away. The downed ship’s munitions had been detonated by the missiles.

They had orders to destroy all downed ships so the Xotoli could not get any intel out of them. Lee pressed the throttles to the wall, heading back for the port. They should have the casualty collection point established by now. They could drop off Annan and get back to the fight.

He glanced at his display of the spaceport. There were too many Mike boats missing. The drop had gone bad. Where had the defenses come from? There’d been nothing in the briefings about resistance this stiff. He had to get back into the fight.

135th Penal Battalion

3rd Company

First Platoon

“Squad leaders, on me,” Striker said.

Fenes, Minga, and Ardan left their positions and met Striker at the bottom of the bowl formed by the dune. They had been setting up their position and getting their people into place for the past half hour. The dune bowl made a good position with its stone foundation. The platoon was where they were supposed to be, but no one else was, and they had heard nothing from them.

“Everybody in position?”

“Yeah, Sarge.”

“Roger that.”

“We’re good to go.”

“Look, I’ve got nothing on the command net. We don’t have an electronics-warfare tech with us, and we got nothing bigger than our rails right now. While we’re safe now, we need to get out to find out what’s going on. I don’t like the fact that we haven’t heard from the company, or the battalion for that matter,” Striker said.

Then he paused. “I need a volunteer,” he said. Before any of them could answer, he continued, “Thanks for volunteering, Fenes.”

“I think I’ve just been voluntarily told.”

“Good guess. You and I are going back to the LZ to look for lost souls, comm equipment, heavy weapons, and any electronic-warfare type we can find. Meantime I want you two to get everyone down and lie dog. Don’t pick a fight. Only fight if they step on you. Watch for the Marines on your left flank. With any luck, it won’t be long before they get here. Any questions?”

All Fenes could think of was that maelstrom back at the LZ and how lucky he had been to survive it once and now he was going back.

“Okay, this fucking war is not going to wait. Let’s un-ass this place, Fenes.”

Without another word Striker took off back toward VF LZ. Fenes had to work to keep up with Striker—he was big, strong, and knew how to get the most out of his armor. His strides and leaps covered more ground than Fenes had ever seen anyone’s do. They moved as quickly as they could while using what little cover there was toward the LZ.