“We’re set, sir.” Marek and Anton had managed to instill some military discipline in their fledgling rebel army. The veterans got back into form quickly; it took a little longer with the civilians, but the whole force was starting to look and sound a lot more military. “We’re setting the last charge now, sir.”
“Finish up and find some good shelter.” He glanced at his chronometer. “You blow the building in exactly 10 minutes unless I specifically order otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Detonation in exactly ten zero minutes.” Tony Graves was a solid professional, another Carson’s World veteran.
“Retreat to the rally point after mission completion.” Anton paused. “Good luck, guys. Anton out.” He flipped off the comlink connection. They were veterans who would get the job done; they didn’t need him harassing them.
“Alright, boys and girls.” They only had one woman on the team, but Anton was used to gender-integrated units. The Alliance military did not differentiate between men and women in combat units like the CAC and Caliphate did. Terms like “men” and “guys” were sometimes used to refer to soldiers in a unit, whether male, female, or both, but officers frequently utilized terms addressing both genders as well. “We commence in six minutes. Let’s review the plan one more time.”
Even with the veterans he had on this mission, Anton heard a couple groans. They’d gone through the plan at least five times, but Lucius Anton wasn’t an officer to waste a few minutes that could be used to review things again. He’d have preferred to carefully set charges like Graves and Jahns were doing, but there was no way to sneak into the supply depot – it was too well guarded.
The plan lacked elegance. In fact, it was downright crude. They were hiding here, hoping for a few minutes of disruption when news of Marek’s attack on the camp filtered back. Then they were going to rush the place, pop in a bunch of sixty second charges, and run like hell.
Finally, an ear-splitting alarm began sounding…Marek was attacking. Anton waited thirty seconds before giving the order. “Mike, do it.”
Mike Vargus was the best shot they had; he could beat Anton nine times out of ten. Vargus stepped out into the street to get a clear view of the enemy position. Two quick bursts added to the sound of the whining alarm, and the two floodlights closest to the target area exploded in a burst of sparks.
“Let’s go, guys!” Anton raced forward, the others following, fanning out precisely as they had planned. It wasn’t dark, exactly, but without the floodlights it was a lot harder to see the camouflaged attackers. The unit they were rushing never even opened fire. They were distracted by the alarm and the loss of the lights. Anton and his people were on them before they could react, and they jumped over the barricade, coming face to face with the stunned federals.
Vargus’ knife flashed and one of the Feds fell back, clutching his slashed throat. He grabbed a second, his arms around his stunned victim’s neck like a vice, tightening, twisting until the man went limp with a loud crack. Anton took out the third, shoving his heavy blade through the shocked man’s ribs.
“Let’s go.” Anton was a little out of breath. His mind wandered for an instant, thinking to his days in the service. Old Colonel Jax would have scolded him for letting himself get out of shape. “Throw on my mark.”
Two of them stayed in the captured position, manning the auto-cannon to cover the area against any counter attack. Anton and three of the team went right and Vargus took the others to the left. They lined up twenty meters apart, each holding two timed charges. They would have had more control with remote detonation, but Anton was afraid their signal could be jammed, so they had sixty second timers on the bombs. That meant they had to throw them at the same time and haul ass out of there.
The next few seconds seemed like slow motion to Anton. He fired a small flare, the signal for everyone to toss their charges and run back to the rally point. An instant after he fired, maybe even just before – it was hard to tell – he heard the sound of the auto-cannon firing. He activated his first charge and threw it over the small fence, as far into the supply dump as he could. He was already turning as he did the same with the second device, and he was running before it left his hand.
He pulled his rifle around from his back, aiming it forward as he ran. The auto-cannon was shooting at a group of federal troops, maybe a squad, that had come around from farther down the perimeter. About half of them were down, the others starting to run. Anton took a couple shots himself as he ran past the auto-cannon. “Let’s go, boys!” He screamed at the two men in the emplacement, who were still firing and had shown no signs of stopping.
The federals were mostly running, but a few were still firing, and one of the team took a hit, falling forward into the street. It was James Lasken, a veteran of ten years’ Marine service. The fire had been very light, and he was hit by a random shot. Plain bad luck. Anton turned back and, leaning over and grabbing him, hoisted the wounded man on his shoulders with considerable difficulty.
He ran – walked, really, the weight of his trooper making running an impossibility. Fuck, he thought, as he struggled with the burden - I never appreciated my armor enough. He didn’t know how much time he had – he’d set his chronometer, but he couldn’t get his arm around to take a look. Another reason to miss his fighting suit – the AI would be counting down for him. But now he had to go by his own hunch.
He pushed as far as he could. The rally point was behind a heavy ‘plast wall about 200 meters from the dump. Anton was guessing at the time, but he knew he wasn’t going to make it. There was a stair leading down into the sub-level of the building next to him. It’s the best you’re going to do, he thought, as he ran down the steps, lying Lasken down and crouching low just as the explosions began.
“Come on, let’s move it!” Things were going better than Marek expected but, as a result, they were also getting out of control. He never expected his forces to break into the camp, but they did, and now they were herding a bunch of terrified civilians through the hole they’d blown in the wall. “Everybody move quickly to the rear.”
As shocked as he was that they’d broken through, he knew there was no way they could hold. He had been worried about extricating his troops from the position and getting back to the coast…how in the world was he going to get hundreds of prisoners out of here too? Without getting them all killed.
He was screaming for the captives to remain calm, to stop pushing through the small breach in the wall, but his efforts were to no avail. The people in the camp were frantic to get out, and it looked like a stampede would begin at any moment. Then the guard towers began firing.
The inside of the camp became a nightmare, with gunfire tearing into the panicked crowd. The mob surged toward the breach, and those at the front who weren’t able to get through quickly enough were crushed against the wall. Marek didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t enlarge the breach; there was no way to clear the prisoners far enough away so he could detonate a second charge – even if he could get somebody up here with one. Worse, discipline was breaking down among the troops. They weren’t running, but they were enraged at the murder of so many civilians, and they lost what discipline they had. Clusters of rebel soldiers were standing in the open, shooting wildly at the towers. Others were breaking ranks, looking through the panicked mob for family and friends. Marek had trained them as well as possible, but they were still townspeople and fishermen at heart.
He was vainly trying to impose some order, trying to prevent the entire operation from turning into a disaster. Then the calls started coming in on the comlink. Randy Jarvis on the left flank: “Major…” – Marek still went by his militia rank even though he commanded the entire army – “…we have enemy troops advancing. A lot of them.”