Reaper Inc.
Authors: Thomas Wright
I want to thank everyone who has supported me throughout the
months encouraging me through email and Facebook posts. I hope you enjoy The
Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison Book 2, Reaper Inc. as much or even more than
Book 1.
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For my brother,
Franklin Maurice Wright, devoted husband,
father and the best brother anyone could ask for in any Universe.
January 7, 1952 - May 22, 2009
The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison
Book 2
Reaper Inc.
Thomas A. Wright
Copyright
2015
"Staff
Sergeant Jamison, is your team ready?" Crew Chief Henry Adair's voice
echoed in Ben's helmet.
"Affirmative,
chief. Locked and loaded." The shuttle vibrated, groaned, and shook. The
shields were holding; the young lieutenant piloting the shuttle did everything
she could to keep it on course and in formation. Five inbound shuttles one of
which was the command center for the op. They were taking a beating.
The pirate
stronghold was much better fortified than they had been led to believe. There
was no element of surprise. Ben thought to himself;
the missions that worked
out the best were the unplanned missions, the lucky find while on patrol.
Ben believed
the pirates must have a security network setup around the planet which alerted
them to the presence of the navy destroyer. The navy would take care of that
little set back. Not that it mattered. The pirates would never use this
location again. It did give the navy something to blow up and 20 seconds of
target practice.
"Listen up
Misfits! This op is already a bust and we are jumping right in the frying
pan."
"No news
there, boss," Snake commented.
"Hillbilly!
You stay with the chief and the shuttle. Once the lieutenant hits dirt take up
a position on top and protect our ride out of here." Ben switched channels
on his com.
"Lieutenant,
Chief, I am leaving Private Beavens with you. Do you copy?"
"Copy
that. Sergeant Jamison. Set your countdown to ninety seconds and hold on,"
the lieutenant said.
"Call me
Reaper, lieutenant. The Master at Arms is the only one who calls me Sergeant
Jamison. Chief Adair grunted his agreement to the statement.
"Misfits,
eighty five seconds and counting," Ben announced to his team. His team
didn’t really need a countdown. They were always ready but it was protocol to
announce every damn thing.
"Birdman,
you have the point, keep your head down, I will give you a twenty count head
start. Mumbles and Ronnie, take the rear and hang back on our right flank and
provide cover fire. I have the feeling Ronnie will be busy on this one. The
rest of you are on me."
"Sergeant
Jamison! Shuttle 2 just went down! I have new coordinates and you have the
ball." The lieutenant overrode his com to make the announcement. Already
forgetting what he just told her in the excitement.
"Damn!
Copy that, lieutenant. We have the ball." Reaper repeated for the
record. He felt the shuttle accelerate. Everyone adjusted their grip as it
banked hard. "Listen up. We are the point of the spear now. Shuttle 2 just
went down. No change in plan just location. Look for the leaders, let the rest
go, we can round them up later. I'm updating the scans and plotting your
immediate targets. Everyone sound off receipt of new scans."
Ben's wetware
linked him to command operations and tactical information. Very few marines
below the rank of staff sergeant were given wetware neuro-implants. Those who
were chosen had to meet strict criteria to receive the expensive high-end
interface. Command dictated the level of clearance each soldier would operate
at on each op. That level of clearance could be increased during an operation
as conditions changed and they always did. Second lewies didn’t seem to last
long. His didn’t even make it off the ship. Supposed food poisoning. When the
doctor pays a visit to the mess chief and makes him do a full inspection and
they find nothing. They will be tearing up some butter bar ass. Reaper had the
feeling the real culprit was sitting on the shuttle with him. It was good and
bad. He didn’t have to baby sit on one hand, but then he couldn’t have his team
poisoning every new lieutenant on the other.
Ben received
his new orders and his interface adjusted letting him see all the teams instead
of just his in real time inside his visor. It updated all the targets
identifying them in red. The rest of the team had com units strapped to their
forearms with a small screen and a holo-projector. Given good solid recon and
information, they could run a precision operation. It wasn’t the marines or the
navy's fault their manpower wasn’t properly utilized. Had just one of the four
teams been utilized for recon prior to the assault on Shuttle 2, the men and
women on board would not be in a smoldering heap on the ground. He gritted his
teeth; the earlier amusement gone.
He felt the
shuttle descending again. She was taking it in fast. The lieutenant was
probably under pressure from command to get them on the ground.
"Ok
everyone, hold on tight." They heard the landing gear whine. Ten seconds
later, they bounced instead of coming to a smooth stop. Ben heard helmets
banging together and cussing but not over the com.
"Cut her
some slack. She got us here in one piece under fire," he reminded
everyone. The rear door opened and it looked like a laser light show.
"Birdman go, go, go." Private Estaban hit the ground running. Manuel
Estaban was an adrenalin junky. It’s really an unwritten requirement for the
job. His favorite past time was anything dangerous that gave him a rush. In his
spare time, it usually involved him jumping out or off of something high, hence
his call sign. He complained his wife was putting her foot down after his last
leave. She didn’t share his enthusiasm for his hobby and it was their
honeymoon. She didn’t want to be a widow after only a few days of marriage.
Reaper looked
around the edge of the shuttle door, making sure Birdman made his destination.
He took a quick look at the surrounding area.
Pirates are not
the most eco-friendly group of people. This worked in his team’s favor. There was
some kind of junk scattered everywhere over the immediate landscape; mostly
hulls and pieces of damaged spacecraft stripped for parts and patching
material. The planet the pirates called home sat near the border of Allith and
Trillond space. Although suitable for colonization, it was too close to the
border and too far to qualify for a military presence. It boasted a few small
settlements that must have worked out some arrangement with the pirates or the
Allith or both.
****
Birdman made it
to cover. The pile of scrap hull sections was perfect. He returned fire. He was
an expert marksman and it would not be hard to drill the dumb bastards, but he
couldn’t. They had orders. Because they didn’t know who was in charge, they
couldn’t just kill them on sight.
The pirates
were using a luxury liner as their home base. There were a number of ships
immediately surrounding it, others sat farther out all providing power via huge
cables that lay on the ground between the ships and the ground-based portable
lasers. Each one was coupled to the generator onboard the starship.
"Snake,
make your way to Birdman and setup the widow maker. Target the laser cannons or
the power cable and disable. Unless something goes terribly wrong, don’t use it
on the pirates. Do you copy what I just said, Snake?"
"Copy that
boss, don’t make hamburger out of the pirates."
Reaper
continued. "Command wants prisoners and there is a good possibility of
women and children on that liner." Snake patted the huge weapon hanging in
front of him like it was a pet dog. Snake's smile did nothing to make anyone
believe him.
"Snake!"
Reaper yelled.
"Copy
boss, no pirate burger," Snake hastily replied. A tripod hung on his back
if he chose to use it.
"Genius,
you and I will take the left flank, draw off as much fire as you can take so
Birdy can advance to the doors and set the charges. We go on three."
"Reaper,
what if the ships decide they are going to leave?" Genius asked.
"If Snake
can dissuade them with some hot tungsten to the engines then fine, but
otherwise, it’s the Navy's problem. The other teams should be taking care of
the ships anyway. That is their job on this op and that liner is ours now on
three! Go! Go! Go!" Reaper was pushing them.
They ran out of
the back of the shuttle ignoring the laser fire. There was no reason to panic.
They had spent their careers on the borders of colonial space fighting pirates,
smugglers, and the Allith. The shuttle lifted off once they were clear and
backed 300 yards from the action, well out of handheld laser range. Hillbilly
climbed the ladder inside the shuttle to the hatch and lay on the roof with
another widow maker. Unless the shuttle was in danger, he wouldn’t fire a
round. The widow maker was the largest hand-operated magnetic coil rail weapon
currently in service. It wouldn't make a scratch on the destroyer in orbit, but
a shuttle, fighter or precision shots to the drives or engines of a small
starship would put it out of commission or destroy it. Building materials and
life forms didn't stand a chance. The hull of the old cruise liner was heavy
but nothing compared to a battle cruiser.
The pirates
were setting off wild shots now that five laser rifles were firing at them
instead of one. Ben was thankful the navy had a handful of fighters making runs
at the laser cannons keeping them busy now that all the shuttles were on the
ground or they would have turned the damn ground lasers on the parked shuttles
and the marines by now if they could.
"Hey,
little Birdy, you ready to go blow up something?" Ben knew he hated being
called that. “You have no cover between you and those doors. Fly like the
wind."
"Affirmative!
If everyone could fire until your rifle overheats I would appreciate it,"
Birdman replied, ignoring Ben's baiting him into banter to distract him from
having to run across a wide open space.
"Let’s
light 'em up, Misfits!" There was really nothing for Birdman to do but get
close enough to throw the magnetic mine at the doors which were flush with the
hull; there was nowhere to hide so he would just turn and run back. He armed
the magnet and the mine and sprinted giving himself more than enough time. He
carried the disc-shaped mine ready to give it an under hand toss putting an arc
on his throw.
The pirates saw him coming via monitors inside the ship. The doors slid
open and three pirates starting firing. Birdman dived, rolled forward, and came
up running, letting the mine go in one fluid motion. It flew through the air
almost to the open doors before hitting the ground and rolling. The pirates
backed inside and tried to shut the doors but it rolled in and attached to a
hull support beam. The doors shut.
The explosion
rocked the liner and blew the doors outward but not open, just bulging out
slightly. Opening was something they would never do again without help. Birdman
went down face first into the dirt, taking multiple hits of laser fire in a few
short seconds.
"Ronnie,
stay where you are. I will get him and bring him to you after I set another
charge. The rest of you be ready to go in once those doors open."
"Snake,
you take point and the rest of you follow his lead. I will cover the rear after
I drop Birdy off with Ronnie. Cover me now!"
Reaper ran for
his team mate. The laser fire he expected was almost nonexistent, maybe something
new was about to happen. He took a mine out of Birdman's pack, taking it all
the way to the doors. He placed it where he thought it would do the most
damage. He turned and ran to his fallen team member, taking him by the arm,
bending down and lifting him over his shoulder making a sprint for Ronnie's
position. Birdman was about 160 pounds soaking wet. Not a real hindrance for
Reapers 6 foot 6 230 frame. The mine blew with the squealing sound of tearing
metal and Ben yelled “GO!” to his team.
Ben laid
Birdman down gently and looked him over for a second. Scorch marks on his armor
said it had done its job except for the one at the top of the chest plate and
his neck. Blood was running everywhere. A metal buckle melted into his wound
and it didn’t cauterize like laser wounds often do. Ronnie was pulling on the
armor trying to get it all unclasped when Ben took his combat knife and cut the
webbing away, pulling it off none to gently. Speed was key at the moment.
"Go!"
Ronnie said forcefully. "I will do what I can and you will be in the
way." She knew there wasn’t much she could do and he needed to be
protecting and helping the rest of the team. Ronnie put pressure on the wound
and blood poured between her fingers. Ben knew not to argue. He was ten steps into
his run to the liner when Birdman stopped breathing and his heart stopped
beating. The carotid artery had been damaged severely and he bled out in the
short time he lay on the ground and over Ben's shoulder. It was a fluke shot.
Ronnie had tears in her eyes. She wiped off her hand, picked up her rifle, and
headed towards the gaping hole that used to be the doors of the liner.
Reaper saw
Ronnie at the door. He knew if she was standing there that quickly then Private
Emanuel "Birdman" Estaban was gone. He was angry now, tired of losing
men. He would have to tell the new Mrs. Estaban and it already hurt to think
about it. Besides the women and children, he saw no reason to have to use such
restraint. Some pirates would survive by default because they were not anywhere
near his team. He could see his team felt the same way.
There were at
least a dozen pirates keeping them pinned near the doors they entered at. Ben
pulled a grenade and sailed it down the hallway. He pulled another and followed
the first one. Both went off and he heard some yelling and screaming.
"Let's go
get this over with. Snake, you're still point and I will follow you, everyone
else behind me. Genius, you’re with Ronnie. Let's go!"
They ran to the
intersection of hallways where the pirates had been. Clearing blind corners
sucked but they knew exactly what to do. There were two dead and two wounded,
the rest must have fled. The wounded opened fire, bad move; luck was not on
their side. Snake ended them both.