Chapter V: The Hunters
Bill leaned against the barracks wall, feeling the cool stone through his tank top. A day's rest had done a lot of good.
"So, you think we've won yet?" Paul asked, plucking his
cigarette from his mouth and casually blowing smoke through his nose.
"Won?" Mack said. "Hell, Paul, we just got here!"
Bill smiled. "He's right, Paul. Way I hear it, there's still a few thousand Tau troopers walking the countryside. And the funny thing is, nobody knows where they are."
Paul shook his head. "How do they even know the Tau are out there, then," he asked.
"Basic estimates from combat units," Bill said.
"Why not just use the sensors on the fleet ships stationed above?"
Mack looked up at the sky and frowned. "I'd been wondering that myself. I decided to ask Dennis. He asked someone higher up, and was told that something about the jungle really screwed with their sensors. That's why they haven't been lending their guns to our fire support."
Bill nodded. "They can target a general area and pound it with firepower, but they have to be absolutely sure the enemy's still there, and they just can't do that without units close enough to the enemy that they'd be hit too."
Paul whistled, then blew a long puff of smoke. "Not good for us here on the ground."
"Nobody said our job would be easy," Mack said.
The barracks door opened and Hal Reed stuck his head out. "Got word on a mission," he said. "The voices from on high have spoken."
The three soldiers stepped inside with Hal, Paul tossing his cigarette to the ground and smothering it as he went in. Becker was sitting at a table, looking a bit tired. When he saw the trio enter, he stood up.
"Now that everyone's present and accounted for, I'll let you all know what our next mission is. I'll be brief; that's all we really have time for. It appears someone has heard of our success in the battle yesterday. Have they given us some time for rest and recuperation for our success? No, One Platoon,
your sins have caught up with you. We are being sent back into the field to try to find the Tau and get a good fix on their position so other units can be brought in to make sure this time they're taken out."
Becker
frowned. "The tricky thing about this mission is that only our platoon will be involved. Three Platoon and Four Platoon are ineffective as a combat unit right now, and Two and Five are pretty beaten up. That leaves us as the only unit in the area with 'experience' fighting Tau."
Mel raised his hand and said, "Lieutenant, any word on what happened to the Tau support? I know they can't get any tanks down here into the valley, but what about battlesuits?"
"Good question," Becker replied. "I asked around and no one's certain where they are. Seems they should have had quite a few in that fight. It may well be that the units before us took out the suits leaving us with just the foot troops, but I doubt it. For that reason, we'll be carrying a few krak grenades along with us today as well as our normal complement of frags.
"If there are no more questions...?"
There were none.
"Right. I suggest you all get packing. We're set to leave at 900 hours." Becker nodded, then walked to his bunk and sat down.
Bill glanced down at his chrono, saw it was 834. Less than a half-hour until they left.
He went to his bunk and sat down, then picked up his flak jacket and put it on. He zipped it up the middle, then leaned over and grabbed six frag grenades, snapping them to his belt. He attached his knife sheath to his belt, then grabbed his small combat pack and tossed his ammo clips
inside, leaving out a cluster to slip into his rifle.
He'd rigged the pack, like everyone else, to have a strip of velcro running along a length of it, so he could quickly shove his hand in and pull out a clip cluster, then close it again so the other ammo wouldn't fall out. It wasn't a good idea to take time to unzip a pack, pull out some ammo, then zip it back up. That would kill a man in a
fire fight.
His canteen strap was strung across his torso. Then he slapped a cluster of ammo clips into his autorifle, slipping the middle clip in. He stood up and hung the rifle on this right shoulder, ready to grab in an instant.
Becker walked by and tossed him a pair of krak grenades, the
same number everyone would be carrying. He snapped them onto his belt alongside his frags, then looked around.
The others were almost finished. No one spoke. They knew what would be coming if they ran into the enemy. They had already lost six of their friends, saw ten others wounded, of which four were unable to fight again yet. They were left behind at the base.
A glance at the chrono told Bill it was 855. Five minutes until they were back out in the field. Hopefully this time it would be the Tau who were surprised.
* * *
Mel walked along with the rest of the soldiers, trudging through the jungle. He felt the heat beating down on him, The tension coming from the soldiers was almost a physical thing, making Mel feel horrible.
He decided a good bit of singing would help with it. He searched his mind for the right lyrics, then came upon a set he felt was perfect for the occasion.
"Lonely soldiers, downward going,
They'll face who knows what the feth?
Following a rive flowing,
Down into the Valley of Death."
He noticed a couple others join in around him. Bill looked back at him. "Ripcord?"
Mel nodded. "Valley of Death, from the 'Torn Gravchute' album. You listen to them?"
Bill smiled. "Of course. I love those guys. Even though I can't really keep up with their pace."
"I'll try to get you a set of their lyrics, if you want?"
"Yeah," Bill said. "That's be great."
They continued marching for a few minutes, silent once more. Then something brushed across Mel's neck, causing his to jump.
He looked over and saw Jessy walking along behind where he'd just been, holding a leaf and smiling.
"Will you try not to do that?" he snapped.
"What?" she asked, her voice carrying a false innocence.
"Doing... whatever it is you just did," Mel said.
Jessy stepped sideways so she was walking right beside him. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Will you stop avoiding me?"
"Avoiding you?"
Jessy looked up at Mel and he could tell she was upset about something. "Yes. Every time I enter a room, you either leave it, try to hide, act like you're asleep or something."
"Well, we are in different squads and I haven't exactly been up to date on my sleep..." Mel began.
Jessy glared at him. "Don't give me that. I know what you and Bill talked about on the ship, remember? I heard at least half of that conversation."
Mel looked away. "So you didn't hear the other half?"
"You going to try to act like you can fool me into thinking you said something you and I both know you can't?"
Mel turned back toward her. "Is there some kind of book on me that tells everyone how to read me?"
Jessy smiled for a second. "Yeah, it's your face. You have a perfect set of instructions on how to tell what you're thinking. Only you can't see them 'cause they're in a light spectrum you can't see in. I'll read them for you." She reached up and began moving her finger across his face as if reading a book. "It says, 'Mel is... hiding... his true feelings... for Jessica Kline.' See?"
Mel shook his head. "And does it say what those 'feelings' are?"
Jessy squinted her eyes. "Yeah, it's right there... in your eyes. Says 'Mel loves Jessy so much he can't even admit it to himself.'"
Mel frowned. "You're not giving up, are you?"
"Have I ever?"
"No." Mel sighed. "So what do you want me to say?"
"You can start with just saying in words what you're feeling," Jessy said.
"Thinking, or feeling?"
Jessy laughed. "Leave the thinking for later. Let's just deal with your feelings, we can progress to your thoughts in a more appropriate time and place."
Mel smiled. "Okay. My feelings... Well, being honest, here... I think I'm in love with you, Jessy."
"See?" she asked. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"You?"
"Oh, you know by now." Jessy leaned against him and put her arm around his waist. "Now put your arm around me."
Mel looked at her. "There are people watching us," he said.
Jessy smiled. "I know, Mel. Let them watch."
He smiled, then put his around Jessy.
After a couple of minutes of silence, Jessy asked, "Why did you keep running from it, Mel?"
Mel close his eyes, then opened them back as he realized it wasn't safe to walk in a jungle with close eyes. "I was afraid. Not of how I felt, but how I'd feel should anything happen to you."
"Oh."
Nothing more was said as they continued marching with the rest of the platoon.
* * *
Jim checked his ammunition, making sure everything was in place with the clip and that it wouldn't slip out.
Toward the front of the line, he could see Becker motioning for the platoon to halt. They did so, and crouched low, wondering if there was enemy nearby.
Becker's voice came loud enough for everyone to hear, but not much louder. "I think it'd be a good idea to improve our odds of sneaking up on the enemy."
Sergeant Knight smiled. "You know, the same thing just
occurred to me, too."
Becker nodded and pointed at the brush around the troops. "I want everyone to get a bit of foliage and put it on your fatigues somewhere, anywhere. Make yourself look like a bush if you can, but make sure it doesn't interfere with your ability to fight."
Everyone began moving about, snapping twigs off of bushes, picking up bits of branch and the like from the ground. Jim grabbed a small bit of foliage and stuffed some in his belt, on his boots, and around his flak jacket and helmet. Then he reached down, grabbed some mud, and wiped it across his weapon, being careful not to get dirt in the firing, loading, or ejection mechanisms, but trying to kill the weapon's shine.
In a few minutes, everyone was done, and they began marching again.
Wilbur walked up beside Jim and said, "You look like you fell out of a greenhouse."
"Thanks," Jim said. "Don't you think you should have stopped playing the dirt back when you were five?"
"Ouch. You got me, Jim." Wilbur held up his meltagun. "I'm really looking forward to using this thing."
"Ooh, that would be fun to see. Good thing it's not like a flamer, set fire to this whole forest." Jim made a
'foosh' sound for effect.
Wilbur chuckled. "Yeah, that is good."
Becker once again motioned for the platoon to halt, but this time also frantically motioned for everyone to get down. They did.
He then motioned for the squad leaders to come forward. They did so.
Jim was close to their meeting, and could hear what was said.
Becker pointed forward and said, "About two hundred yards away, we're getting a reading for Tau on the scanner. Big group of them. I'm open to suggestions."
Sergeant Simmons spoke up. "Any way to surround them?"
"Possibly," Becker said. "They seem to be concentrated in an area, not doing much. Might be resting."
"Or waiting in ambush," Sergeant Hoover added.
"True," Becker said.
Sergeant George was next to speak. "Third squad could sneak up and dump a few frags in there."
Simmons nodded. "Fifth squad's good for that."
Becker seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Fifth and third will go to the sides and toss frags. First will go up the middle, with second and fourth flanking. Command squad will set up with your big guns, about
seventy-five yards out."
"Sounds good," Knight said.
Becker clapped. "Get back to your squads and set things in motion."
The five sergeants went back to their squads, informing them of the plan. Jim nodded as he listened.
When Sergeant George was done, Jim turned to Wilbur. "Looks like you'll be able to use that think after all."
Wilbur held up his meltagun and grinned.
"Sir?" Mack asked.
"Yeah?"
"Shouldn't we fix bayonets to our guns before going in, in case they're needed?"
George nodded. "Yes, we should. Do it."
Jim pulled his bayonet from where it hung on his pack and slid it onto the bayonet lug on his rifle. It snapped into place and locked in position.
Then he checked his belt, and reassured himself his frags were there. The oddly
colored purple kraks caught his eye.
He hoped he had no need for them.
* * *
Sara ducked low, as did the rest of third squad, as they began creeping along to the right of the enemy position.
She looked down and checked once again to make sure her bayonet was in place. It was.
Brush moved in the wake of the squad, but to anyone no
closer than ten to twenty yards, the squad looked like a bunch of walking bushes.
Sara made no sound as the squad passed through some dense, thorny bushes. The thorns tore at the faces of the troopers, but none said a word. Sara winced as a particularly sharp thorn dragged across her left cheek, irritating the area where she'd been slashed by a Tau knife the day before.
She saw Jim turn back and look at her, his eyes full or worry. She held up a thumb, letting him know she was fine.
The soldiers readied their grenades as they came within twenty yards of the Tau position. Sara pulled two frags, dropping her rifle to her side, where it dangled on its combat sling. She put a finger in the priming pins of both grenades.
Sergeant George raised a fist, then pumped it up and down and pointed toward the Tau.
Sara jumped up with the rest of the squad and dashed forward, pulling the pins on the grenades. She stopped, leaned back for leverage, and threw one grenades, then the other.
Twelve grenades came falling amidst the Tau, then fourteen more from the other side of their position. Shrapnel flew through the air, the sound of ricochets and the air whistling following horrendously loud explosions.
Shouts of confusion and surprise came from the Tau, who looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. Dozens of them lay on the ground, dead, dying, and wounded.
Both of the advance squads fired on the Tau, adding the fire of eleven autorifles and two meltaguns to the carnage.
Dozens more Tau fell as they ran about, trying to get a fix on where there attackers were. Sergeant George motioned for the squad to move around, making it harder to locate them.
Sara ran with the rest of the squad to a position twenty yards farther forward than it had previously been. The squad resumed firing as a barrage of energy weapon fire came crashing down
around the squad's previous position.
* * *
Bob ran forward the rest of second squad. They were to the left of first squad, and fourth squad was to the right. Together, the three squads ran up on the Tau lines and opened fire at extremely close range, possibly only fifteen yards away from the enemy soldiers.
Bob sprayed fire at a group of Tau, then turned and fired short bursts at another
group. He tried to concentrate on Tau that were firing at other Imperial soldiers, trying to slacken the fire being directed at them.
A couple of soldiers near Bob took hits and went down. He couldn't tell if they were dead or merely injured. Several more Tau began firing at the three squads that had just charged them.
Suddenly, like the opening bass roar that signaled the beginning of Gothic's "Darkest Hour Tour" concert at
Mediopolis, the platoon's heavy bolters and autocannons opened fire. Trees and bushes in the path of their firing collapsed and disintegrated as large-bore shells came in at the enemy.
Tau warriors fell like wheat scythed scythed at the hand of a strong farmer. Bob ducked to make sure he was out of the heavy weapons' fields of fire. He fired on the nearest Tau, watching them fall.
Hoover leapt to his feet and signaled a charge on the enemy soldiers, catching them with a move they least expected. The soldiers of fourth squad also moved to join them, and together the two squads charged forward, inflicting dozens of casualties. Three soldiers fell to enemy fire, then the soldiers were upon their foe.
Bob sliced upward with his bayonet, knocking a Tau's helmet off and slashing his face open up the center. Another Tau leapt at him with a blade of some kind. He fired at the warrior's face, killing him instantly.
A hammer blow from the side knocked Bob's rifle from his grasp. He reached to his side and pulled the rifle that had been taken from the dead Tau squad leader. Bob jumped on the back of a Tau taking aim at Bill, slashing the alien's throat open.
He turned and saw another Tau. This one saw the blade in his hand and seemed to hesitate, a look of fear mixed with a bit of respect on its face. Bob threw his arm forward and slashed across the Tau's chest, opening its armour easily and getting sprayed with warm blood.
He noticed a similar knife on the Tau's belt, then plucked it from his fallen foe. Wielding two blades, he ran into a group of Tau, too quick for them to fire on him, and began slicing them in a frenzy.
With five more Tau dead, Bob stopped to catch his breath, then prepared to charge another Tau. But something caught his attention. The whine of small anti-grav engines.
He looked up and saw six Tau battlesuits drifting toward the Imperial Guard line, taking aim with their weapons.
"Oh, shit."
* * *
Mack looked up at the battlesuits, fear making his stomach turn at the sight.
He fired at them with his autorifle, then gave up on the notion as his bullets mostly bounced harmlessly off.
Figuring his only chance was to get too close to the Tau for the suits to target and fire at him without chancing killing their own guys, Mack ran into the midst of the Tau line.
Energy weapons fired across the small patch of jungle, adding their unique sound to the song of death and destruction. Mack ducked and dodged to avoid the weapons fire. Splinters flew threw the air, some of them embedding in the mesh of Mack's combat fatigues, others bouncing harmlessly off.
He saw a perfect target present itself, and began to take aim. But before he could squeeze off a shot, a blast of energy caught his rifle in the side, knocking it from his grip.
Mack fell backwards, knocked off his feet by the force of the blow. His wrists were sore and the tips of his fingers blistered. He looked around, frantically searching for a weapon. With nothing else to use, he grabbed up one of the long, rectangular weapons used by the Tau.
He scrambled to his feet and began firing frantically. The energy rifle burned Tau where it hit, and penetrated their armour with much more ease than an autorifle. He tried to find a setting for automatic fire, found none, and instead decided to quick-fire with it by rapidly pulling the trigger.
The gun felt odd in Mack's hand. It didn't vibrate with the rhythm of an autorifle, or kick like one, or even sound like one. It was as alien as its makers.
Mack saw a battlesuit descending nearby. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured he might as well give it a try. He raised the alien weapon and fired at the battlesuit's head.
In a shower of sparks and a burst of flames, the head exploded. The battlesuit fell to the ground, burning and smoking badly.
A cheer came from some of the nearby soldiers. Mack smiled. He picked another target, fired, but didn't achieve the same results. It turned around as if annoyed by some insect sting and began firing in his direction.
So much for an easy victory.
* * *
Jim saw a battlesuit go down and suddenly a thought crossed his mind. He had two kraks that could hurt the suits pretty bad.
He kicked away a Tau warrior and fired into his chest. Then he dropped his rifle to his side and found a krak grenade on his belt. It was easily distinguishable from the red fragmentation grenades.
Jim looked around, found a battlesuit close by, taking aim at the command squad. He ran up and jump on the battlesuit.
The suit
began flailing about with its arms, trying to grab him or knock him off. He held onto the battlesuit as well as he could, pulling the pin on the grenade.
Then he thrust his arm out in the suit's face, letting its user see the deadly grenade. With that, he wedged it in the joint between the suit's right arm and main body, then jumped off.
Jim fell to the ground and hit hard, scraping his arm as he landed. He looked up and saw the suit's arms trying vainly to find the grenade and pull it out. It seemed as if the rider might have found it.
But he was too late. The grenade went off, making a low
'krump' sound, and the suit exploded. Flames erupted from around its torso, and the engines began smoking. With not a shred of grace, the battlesuit fell to the ground and rolled into a crumpled heap.
The bass roar of the platoon's heavy weapons joined the hissing of meltaguns and the
click-whoomp of plasma guns in the death song for the battlesuits. All manner of firepower turned on them, and in minutes they were out of the fight.
With their suits defeated and losing more warriors with every passing minute, the Tau soldiers dropped any notion of continuing the fight and began to fall back.
Jim sighed, then collapsed in exhaustion. This had been one heck of a fight.
* * *
Bill ran with a few soldiers in the wake of the Tau army, firing into the retreating soldiers and dropping yet more of the aliens. They stopped pursuing the Tau just fifty yards out from the where they'd started the pursuit, letting the few survivors flee.
Bob walked over to Bill, holding up a pair of elegant curved
blades dripping with blood. He smiled, a disturbing sight with all of the gore covering his fatigues. "Got me a matching set."
Bill shook his head. "You look like something they just dragged out of hell, man."
Bob laughed. "I feel that way, too."
The two walked back to the scene of the fight, and were shocked to see dozens of dead Tau strewn across the jungle. Where trees had stood in dense clusters there were only a few shredded trunks still standing. An artificial clearing created by all the weapons fire told everyone where the fighting had been at its worst.
Six battlesuits lay on the ground, three of them riddled with large bullet holes.
Few Imperial soldiers lay unmoving on the ground. But others were unable to get up, wounded to the point they couldn't stand.
Bill shook his head. This was madness and folly, this war deal.
* * *
Sara walked around gingerly on her right leg, trying not to put too much pressure on it. When she was sure she could put her full weight on it, she began walking normally.
The shorts she was wearing showed the prominent scar on her right thigh, put there by a Tau knife.
She felt sad as she looked around and saw many empty beds. Thirteen that would never be filled again, or at least not until the platoon got some more recruits. Eleven more that would remain empty until their occupants were released from the
med-bay.
Jim walked up and winced as he looked at her leg. "How's it doing?"
Sara sighed. "Better than yesterday, certainly. I'm lucky it didn't do more than cut through the skin and go a little bit deeper. No real muscle damage, but it doesn't feel very good."
Jim smiled. "I'd offer to kiss it..."
"But you'd get a boot to the face for your efforts."
"Right," Jim said, visibly sagging.
Sara stepped forward and put her arms around Jim. "I'm glad you survived."
"So am I," Jim said. "Mack's not too happy, though. He got injured in the last second of fighting."
"How?"
Jim leaned forward and whispered, "Shot in the ass. By an autorifle."
"Oh," Sara said. "I sincerely hope you won't be ribbing him over that any time soon."
"Hey, if you don't want me to..."
"I don't."
They stood together for a moment, not saying a word, then Jim spoke up. "A walk sound good to you?"
"Yeah," Sara said. "It does."
* * *
Bob set his twin knives down on his chest and admired their look. He'd been informed they were bonding knives, used in a ritual by Tau warriors to make them closer to each other, a sort of dedication ceremony.
He saw Bill walking over and smiled. "We did it, man. We survived another one."
Bill nodded. "That we did," he said, his voice almost a whisper.
Bob looked at him and saw a bit of worry in his eyes. "Lisa?"
Bill sat down on Bob's bunk. "Yeah. She was hit by one of those pulse rifles and has a nasty burn on her chest. Flak jacket managed to deflect most of the heat, but it ended up melting under the stress and letting some of the energy bleed through."
"Whoa."
"I'm told she'll be okay soon, but she's in a lot of pain." Bill's head hung forward, his eyes closed.
* * *
Becker leaned back and put a booted foot on the round table he and Mel were sitting at. "Made it through, yet again."
"Yep," Mel said. "Against all odds."
"All odds... You think anyone would ever bet on us going back to back and this many of us pulling through?" Becker asked.
"You're not such a bad leader, Dennis. Don't count yourself out."
"Thanks," Becker said. He leaned forward and grabbed a beer from a cooler sitting beside the table. He popped it open and took a long drink from it. "Do you think I was wrong in trying to get you all to be so close?"
"No,"
Mel said. "You did what you thought was right."
"Yeah, I guess I did. It's just that I see how much everyone gets
hurt at the loss of a fellow soldier..."
Mel shook his head. "They'd probably feel bad anyway. You got
us to care for each other. And for that reason we don't have to mourn any
more fallen comrades than we are right now. As it is, we're the unit with
the best casualty record."
Becker's only reply was a soft, "Yeah." He took another drink
from the beer, and decided to leave it at that.
END CHAPTER V
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER VI: A NIGHT ON THE TOWN
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