SpecOps Snippet 5

Okay, Getting there with the cover.

Here is the latest snippet:

Rangers Lead the Way

Dead Drop

=@=

Captain Aldo Grape smiled ever so slightly as Lieutenant Jorge Nameth entered his command center and came to attention briefly.

“At ease. Jorge, we've got a mission for the Rangers,” the blue ape stated.

“Yes, sir. The mountain one?”

“Yes,” the ape replied, passing on a memory chip. The human took it and then palmed it to read the contents into his implant memory.

“What is our target?”

“Greektown. Start there and set up a base of operations. Get to know the locals. Standard ROE applies. Go door-to-door for weapons and combatants. Once we free up some manpower, we'll send it in to hold your firebase and free up your platoon to do roving patrols in the area.”

“Roger that.”

“You'll be on your own for a while, Jorge; don't make any enemies. We need to get these people on our side so things can settle down and we can finish the job here,” the ape warned.

Jorge nodded. “So the usual security and helpful balance applies?”

The ape studied him but nodded slightly. “Use your best judgment but yes.”

“ETA on support and relief?”

“I'll have support lined up for you within three days. At least construction gear to build a firebase. Lend it out at your discretion afterward if you think it will help cement local support. Intel believes the militias have fled into the mountains in that area. It is riddled with caves and hollers. By taking the towns and valley, you'll cut them off from easy access to the outside world. They'll have to take the mountain trails to get out.”

The lieutenant nodded. It meant that things would settle down outside the area and thus free up troops to come in and secure the firebase while his troops were sent into the caves to root out the enemy.

In other words, the same job they had done for the past six months.

“Any surprises?”

“At the moment, no. No sign of radar or power sources. No signs of SAM units or heavy weapons. But you know the drill there.”

“Don't take the lack of intel for granted. Otherwise, you get bit in the ass by seeing what the enemy wants you to see,” Jorge replied with a nod and grimace.

“Bingo. So, watch your ass. Now get moving. Night drop. Tonight.”

“I'll brief the troops then. We've been getting prepped in anticipation of this.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

=@=

Lieutenant Nameth nodded to the platoon as they settled in to the MPR. It was tight but they managed to fit all one hundred of his platoon into the room. He would have preferred to hold the briefing in the hangar, but the mechanics said they needed it to work on the birds. He didn't want his people seeing a teardown in progress just before a jump.

He stood at the head of the platoon with a map board of the drop zone, AO, and other details. Each soldier had access to the information in their briefing documents in their implants, but he wanted to be sure they were all on the same page.

Hence the traditional briefing before a drop.

“Okay, our target is Greektown. It was settled by people from …”

“Let me guess, Greece?” a whit in the back asked.

“And people from Greektown in the USA. Hold your questions until the end, Igor,” the lieutenant said.

“How'd he know it was me?” Specialist Igor Bordeski stage whispered as he elbowed his neighbor.

“Because, Igor, there are no stupid questions, but there are inquisitive idiots. Do you want to know which one you are?” Staff Sergeant Edith “Yippee!” Ripee said from her place near the front of the group. That generated a laugh from the platoon.

The lieutenant snorted softly but didn't say anything. A little levity was good. It broke up the tension, and it made them feel more like a unit. Not that they needed anything like that.

The 2-3-2-2, Second Division, Third Bat, Second Company, Second Ranger Platoon, was the second Ranger platoon of the entire army. Each division currently only had one. He had cut his teeth in First Platoon before he'd been promoted to Second Platoon.

He glanced at the “old lady,” the platoon sergeant Edith Ripee. Edith was also an old hand from First Platoon. She was from Nuevo like a lot of army grunts these days. She had been a smoke jumper and active duty in the army until her husband had been killed by the worms. She'd moved to the reserves to raise their family alone. She had lost their only son to the worms several years ago and had opted for a fresh start on Agnosta and the full anti-geriatric package in order to help her move on.

“Settle down,” the woman growled. The group settled down instantly.

“Greektown has a high percentage of goats and sheep. Don't get any ideas, Igor,” the lieutenant growled, looking directly at the joker in the deck.

Igor closed his mouth with a loud clop and then shook his head.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. And don't get too friendly with any of them either,” the lieutenant said.

The specialist's eyes went wide as the group whistled and cat called. He ducked his head and put his hands up in token surrender. That earned more chuckles.

“Great, now that we've got that out of our system, the locals are fairly remote with a series of mountain ranges nearby. We're going to drop in and secure the town and bridges connecting them to the neighboring communities. Command believes there are partisans hiding in the mountains and surrounding area. By taking the town, we will be forcing them to use the mountain trails to get around and will be cutting them off from easy supplies from the town.”

A few of the sergeants nodded.

“We have no enemy activity according to the latest drone and satellite passes. No sign of SAM or heavy weapons. No signs of large troops. They have most likely gotten smart; they don't want a rock dropped on their head so they've dispersed.”

“That just makes our job a little harder,” Edith murmured. “We'll get it done anyway.”

The lieutenant nodded. “Standard ROE when engaging with civilians applies. Don't get trigger happy, but don't get killed either. You'll piss me off, and you know how much I hate paperwork.”

There was a general chuckle from the group again.

“We will be in country for several weeks so pack accordingly. “We may be there for a month, Command isn't sure at the moment.” He turned to Edith.

She nodded. “Weather is clear, clear viz and no storm fronts or thermals. Stay clear of the hills. Winds south by southwest. This is a night drop, people; we're landing in farmland not on the airstrip …

=@=

SpecOps Snippet 4

I'm working on the cover of Diplomacy as well as some character shots. Getting the lighting right has turned into the usual pain.

And on to the next story snippet!:

The Long Day

Rho Sector, Garth

Cast:

Delta Force

 

Viscount Trevor Van Pelt stood at the balcony and looked out to his domain. He ran a withered but still strong and capable hand through his thinning brown hair. The hair color was one of the signs of his vanity; he had gotten a treatment to prevent it from going gray.

He wore his favorite khaki hunting outfit. The blouse shirt accented his trim figure nicely. He even wore his army rank insignia from his time in the army on his collar. He had retired as a captain and had been given a courtesy bump in rank to major upon his exit.

He never liked being called by his rank though; Major Van Pelt made him feel like a piker, like a staff officer, and not someone who had been in the field. He had been in the field for years even if it had been training or as an occupational officer on Finagle, Garth, and finally Dead Drop before returning to Garth.

He didn't like his title either. The Horathian House of Lords had accepted his application to the peerage after considerable politicking with some of his clients, but they had seen fit to only give him the title of Viscount, the lowest rank. His lip curled ever so slightly in disdain over that. It had allowed him a seat, one for which he had traded the voting rights to. It had also given him title to the lands as well as a chunk of wealth from the orbital industry in the star system.

He had never seen the asteroids as his true wealth however. His major investment had been in what was tangible to him, his lifelong dream of creating and running a private hunting retreat for the exclusive rich. His reserve was the place for advanced hunters to go to have a real challenge. That was why he went by his last name.

He had animals in pens and cages, all geared to be hunted. His staff included Malakili, an accomplished beast master, and Professor Heinrich Isben, a former medical professor from Horath. The duo not only bred animals and others but worked on improving the prey to improve the experience for the hunters.

He offered private hunting to an exclusive list of clientele. He owned the entire mountain range and valley in between. The entire area was set up to cater to special rich guests with the main mansion set up as a hunt club. The spouses not interested in hunting could play pool or whatever while the rest were out in the field.

It wasn't a canned hunt either. Yes, he had tracking devices on the animals, Neos, the occasional human criminal or other, and alien prey but only to keep them within the boundaries of his lands. Each was always well cared for before the hunt and given a head start of some sort before the hunt began. He relished those that were a true challenge—those made the ultimate victory all the sweeter.

Of course the hunt included hunting Neos and aliens, he liked having prey that could think and fight back. The Dilgarth acted as hunting dogs or prey if he wished. For some who sought a truly thrilling adventure he could have the Dilgarth act as the predators, either hunting Neos or aliens, or the odd human who had pissed someone off … or, the hunters could get a visceral experience by going up against something truly dangerous.

He knew who would win out in the end though. After all, he was still there, and the rest were heads and other body parts mounted in his trophy room. He loved to sit in his trophy room and admire his work while sipping his scotch. He had his gun camera footage playing in the background from time to time. Such things usually impressed his clientele.

He took a stroll around the mansion grounds. He did it twice a day when he wasn't hunting, rain or shine. It was to make sure in his own mind everything was in order and a way to emphasize to the staff to get it right. They had discerning clients after all or had.

Now all that had changed. The Federation had occupied their world. He had slowly changed from thinking of them with hate to his usual adversarial approach. He had considered luring them to his lands but knew that it would just draw down Kinetic Energy Weapon strikes on his own head. Therefore, he waited like the patient hunter he was.

Well, waited, planned, and prepared. It wouldn't do to be caught off guard when his new guests finally arrived.

---@---

The Dilgarth subpack quivered in the individual cages in the kennel. They were not fully sentient; a lack of certain nutrients denied to their mothers as well as to them had turned them into feral beasts. Their bodies were driven by hormones and lashed by crude but effective cybernetics connecting their brains and bodies to the reserve's wireless network.

Each sat or laid in place, unable to move while they were under tight control. They would be taken out by Malikili daily and fed commands while they were exercised. They were rewarded with pleasure stimulation and punished with jolts to their body and pain centers. They each saw him as the beta, the pack second-in-command. They were below him in rank. The males wished to rise up the hierarchy but couldn't.

They all knew who the alpha of the pack was.

Each of the Dilgarth were outfitted with cameras so their controllers could see what they saw. The cameras had video recorders for those times when Van Pelt wanted to see the thrill of the chase and the end of the hunt from the perspective of the beasts.

They were all ready to fight. They had been on half rations for some time, fed a pungent protein paste that made them nearly ravenous. Now that the enemy was coming, the food was cut off. They would be whipped into frenzy, even more dangerous than before.

---@---

Second Lieutenant Norman Halligan checked his team with trained eyes. He had a triple squad with him for the operation given the ground they were going to have to cover. He had been denied the full platoon. He'd considered sitting out on the sidelines in Command One but had wanted to shorten the communication loop.

Besides, he liked to get some exercise now and then.

This place was going to test them all. Fine with him, he was from Nuevo and had been a smoke jumper and firefighter along with his army reservist position. He'd gone on to the army and Agnosta to help set up things there before he'd gotten pulled into paratrooper training, the Rangers, and then Delta Force.

Delta Force was one of the quietest of Special Forces in the SpecOps community. They didn't advertise their accomplishments like SEALs Team 6 or the Cadre occasionally did. Their tradition was to work from the shadows, get the job done, and then fade back into the shadows.

His thirty-five men and women were all experienced in such operations by now. Some were from Nuevo like him, but they had all fought on Protodon, Nuevo Madrid, Dead Drop, and now Garth.

He scratched behind one ear with a finger. He was one of the few humans in the group; the majority were Neos with one Gashg and one bug thrown in for good measure. Two of their number, Nitro and Earnesto Riceti, were former Marines who had seen the light and transferred into the army.

Sergeant Nitro was a Neodog Alsatian and the most cybernetic augmented of the group. He had lost a leg, part of his arm, one eye, and a lot of fur to plasma fire on Nuevo Madrid. He had disdained cloned replacements in order to get back into the fight. He had just rejoined the unit. The lieutenant was relieved to see him; the dog was their most experienced explosives tech. He led squad Alpha.

Squad Baker was run by Sascha Romaine, another native of Nuevo. He was good troop, quiet and damn good at his job.

Sergeant Merv Drummond was his antithesis. He was loud and loved to prank people. His Charlie Squad was starting to pick up some of his bad habits.

Delta had a fair amount of noncoms in the unit since everyone had to have some sort of experience before getting into Delta. Not many understood that you didn't just try out for Delta, you were invited. He was pushing for command to take on only veterans after the Horathian campaign. That was going to keep their numbers low however. That could be good or bad depending on how you looked at it.

---@---

SpecOps Snippet 3

Hi,
Okay, so, I've been playing around with stuff while working on the cover to Diplomacy. I'm awaiting additional feedback on that before I call it good.

Oh, did this guy over the weekend:

That is Lil Red's box in the background. lol

Anyway, on to the snippet!

Fear the Reapers

Charlie Squad, Third Platoon, Second Battalion of First Division, was grateful when they finished clearing their third station of the week. They were fortunate; there had been no casualties, at least on their side. No one was crying crocodile tears for any enemy breakage. That made the paperwork simpler to deal with.

They had managed to rescue the hostages, though many had been in bad shape. The surviving pirates had paid for their pleasures. Koji had let the surviving victims point them out and then put each of the offenders in an airlock. The victim had been shown the controls and then he and his squad had taken a brief stroll.

It was like flushing a toilet, or at least, that was how the Marines put it whenever the subject came up. The other euphemism was taking out the trash.

Koji just hoped that it was a step in the right direction for the victims. Every one of them deserved a little payback, and he fully intended to give them whatever he could. The lost looks were hard enough. Some begged them for confirmation of something as simple as the date. The hurt looks when he or his people gently confirmed that the sleepers were time lost was hard to bear. They had lost everything, woken up in a nightmare after fleeing another one. To many it didn't seem to end. They'd had the corpsman sedate a half a dozen people who had broken down mentally.

He climbed into the shuttle and then sat down, resting his helmeted head against the headrest. “Another one over and done with,” he said, closing his eyes.

“All in. Time to DD. We've got another date,” the cargo master said, slapping the close switch on the lock. There was a collective groan from the Marines.

They didn't even feel any satisfaction as they drifted away from the station a moment later. The lights blinked a warning. The last sailor out had set up a program to vent the station to space and booby trap it so the pirates couldn't use it again as a resupply base.

Staff Sergeant Koji Kuan wasn't the only one to grumble about the navy and how they needed to stop farting around with the dancing and just end the frackers once and for all. He just didn't gripe out loud like the rest of his squad.

The medium-sized Neocat flicked his ears and then checked his HUD. He had plenty of mail to sift through, but he just didn't care to catch up with old friends at the moment. He had no idea who had lived and who had died and didn't want to play Russian roulette with the mail. He was bone tired and didn't want to lose the glow of a job well done. He skipped to the mission brief for their next mission. He might as well get it over with.

The next mission brief was a bit of surprise. He'd already had six missions in the past twelve days. Five of the missions had been deemed successes. Technically, they were all successes in that they had fulfilled most of the mission objectives. He hated that on mission three the bastards had executed the hostages; that was the biggest blemish on his record.

None of the pirates had survived his squad's wrath to surrender. Pity about that.

Not.

Each of the other missions were deemed partial successes because they had also taken the station or platform offline and out of service for the enemy. Which was a very good thing. Each station that the enemy couldn't fall back on for supplies or use as a staging point to relay supplies to their elusive fleets was considered a good thing. The noose was tightening around them ever so slowly.

“Change in plans, boys and girls, or I should say, change in targets,” he said as his golden feline eyes scanned the document.

“Ship?” Lance Corporal Newt Kershaw asked. Newt was a character, a Neochimp and one of the three scroungers in the unit. Koji had given him some rank to keep him out of trouble. That had turned out to be a mixed blessing. Newt used his extra stripe to get more out of whatever he was after. “Purely for the good of the unit” or so he insisted.

Usually with a wicked grin and wink.

“Bite your tongue,” the puma retorted. “Try an honest to goodness lunar colony of all things,” he said with a brief smile.

There were a few groans but others gave tired cheers.

“Why are you so happy?” Newt demanded, looking at Patch.

Private First class Patch, “just Patch,” was a spotted Neodog. Somewhere in his genes was a mix of spaniels and other breeds. His fur was white with patches of black and brown, hence the name. The Neodog waggled his dangling ears at him.

“Because we get some skies. We get to have some big spaces, not just endless corridors,” the dog said.

“You are just hoping for a tree to do your business on,” Gaylore teased.

“That too,” Patch replied with a canine grin. There was a chuckle from the group.

“Well, before you can take your wiz, we have chores and some work ahead of us,” Koji said, bringing them to order. The compartment quieted. “We've got …” he checked his HUD and the ETA, “twenty minutes before we reach the ship. We have two hours and six whole minutes as the ship shifts orbits and then we load up again. So, in that time we need to get the maintenance and resupply done.”

There were fresh groans.

“Including,” his voice rose in tone and pitch as he pitched it to get over the chatter. “Settle down,” he yowled, getting them to quiet down. “Better. As I was saying, we're going to need to resupply in that time period, plus service our suits and plan the mission. So, Newt, Jedi, and Sammy, get into the ship's net and requisition what we need. Don't get cute but don't hoard either. Get what we need and what we may need. Anything we have that won't fit this mission needs to be turned in.”

The trio nodded. They were good at logistics, which was why he'd handed the assignment to them. Newt thought of himself as a player and good at scrounging. Jedi usually quietly did the real work of getting something the squad needed.

“The rest of you are on suit and weapon maintenance.”

“Are we debarking?” Gaylore asked.

“Hell no, we're not even going to get out of the suits if we can help it,” the puma replied. “It's a little tight in here, and I'm not interested in seeing your furry ass floating around here,” he growled.

There was a general chuckle from the group. Gaylore shot him a modest glower and then gave him a slow one-finger salute. He even rotated it for effect.

Koji snorted.

“Here's the thing. If you get your suit sorted out properly and I sign off on it, you can get some rack time.”

“A whole what, hour?” Patch growled. “In the suit?”

“Some time is better than none. Take what you can get,” Newt replied, hands out as he worked a virtual keyboard. The other logistics experts were doing the same.

~~{*}~~

SpecOps Snippet 2

Hi,
Working on the cover art.

Diplomacy went off well with the first 2 Betas. I'm going to go through the corrections and then put it up for the next group. If any Beta wants in (Carlos, Colonel, etc) let me know.

On to the snippet!

Still in the force Recon story:

“Sometimes I hate the dominance shit,” Zha-Zen grumbled as she came up behind the fox. He snorted. “And yeah, I know it's a chimp thing too. Pretty much everyone, including humans, do it to some degree. Doesn't mean I like it.”

He swiveled a long ear to her and then flicked it. His species were not pack hunters. They preferred solitary lives, at least when they'd been lower animals. Man's tampering had changed their bodies and intelligence. It hadn't gotten that desire for solitary lives completely out of them though.

Centuries of being with others had rubbed off some of the raw edges there. Not all however.

“We all know it's a thing like you said. Humans invented the chain of command to keep a lid on it.”

“Well, someone needs to educate certain people about it. I'm tired of playing errand girl,” she said with a suffering breath as she directed Austin's mule into the bird.

That comment surprised Chen; you didn't complain like that. It meant you were near a breaking point and they weren't even in the field yet.

The pack mules were necessary evils as far as Chen was concerned. Due to his diminutive size, they were great. They carried his excess gear and could more or less keep up with him as long as he didn't get into crevices or other areas. The robots were quadrupeds shaped like a pony. Early versions lacked a head. The newest version put out had a rudimentary head where most of the sensors were placed. That freed up room in the body for more battery space and cargo capacity. It also allowed the head and neck to act as a counterbalance on uneven terrain. A tail option was available, but he didn't want the extra weight.

“Good to go?” he asked as the Neochimp checked the new feet.

“We should call them camels,” she said as she checked the front right foot. It had a splayed out foot like a camel to handle the desert sands. Everything looked good though. “Thermal control is going to be an issue, mark my words. We're not moving during the day, are we?”

“Not if I can help it. At night. We'll bed down during the day to beat the heat,” Chen replied.

“Good. Smart,” she said with a nod.

He nodded back.

“About the griping …,” he said quietly, kneeling next to her.

“Sorry,” she said shooting a look at him. “It just slipped out.”

“I know. And believe me; I know he can be a pain. And as the Noob it sucks. There is no one coming in under you for who knows how long, and it gets old being considered the omega of the pack,” he said. “Just try to roll with it the best you can.”

She nodded.

“Hey, Secretary! Get me a coffee!” Austin called out. “I want one more for the road!”

Chen's ears swiveled, and he looked up to the Neowolf. “Get it yourself, Weenie. We're busy here,” he growled.

The wolf's ears went instantly back, and he growled ever so softly. It was clear and distinct from where the fox was. The fox held his ground though.

The wolf finally dropped his gaze when one of the pilots came by and muttered under his breath about having to do everything himself before he stormed off.

“Thanks,” Zha-Zen muttered, squeezing his arm ever so slightly.

“Don't mention it,” he said as he went back to overseeing the loading.

!<o>`^`<o>!

Once he was certain the loading was under control, Chen went over to check with Staff Sergeant Henry Uhas, the “skipper.” The massive staff sergeant was an imposing but silent presence in the boat bay. The male Neogorilla was just getting his silverback markings. He was tough but a good leader.

“Come on, you can do it,” Roger crooned, leading his mule into the shuttle to be stowed.

“Should we have packed them on a pallet?” the skipper asked.

“No, because we would have had problems getting gear on and off of them, plus the feet thing,” the fox said.

“Ah, true. Good catch there,” the Neogorilla growled.

“Comes from being in the desert and knowing what you are up against,” Chen replied with an ear flick.

“True,” the silverback grunted, eyeing Austin. “I somehow doubt others would have caught that,” he said.

“We all have our uses,” Chen replied with a shake of his head. He noted that Austin hadn't chosen to ingrate himself with the others by bringing back coffees for anyone else. Typical. “Mind if I lose him in the desert?” he asked hopefully.

The Neogorilla snorted harshly. “Tempting but no. Think of the paperwork,” he drawled.

“Darn,” Chen replied without feeling.

That earned another snort.

“On the subject of getting lost, don't,” the gorilla said. “We only have the one bird. Dust off and recovery will take hours, possibly days so think ahead. If you've got to hunker down, do so and wait out any storms or whatever comes your way. We'll come when we can.”

“Gee, thanks,” Chen drawled.

“You knew it was going to be like that when you asked for the assignment,” the gorilla said, swiveling a brown eye his way before turning his massive head to look at the fox squarely.

Chen flicked his long ears. “Yup. We'll make do. I think we packed everything up to and including the kitchen sink. I can't wait for some to learn to take a dust bath,” he said with a nod to the wolf.

The gorilla stared at him for another moment and then turned to the wolf and snorted again.

“Water and navigation will be issues. I've got the map, what passes for a map from the locals. Watering holes on it are few and far between. I'm going to ask for a better one when we see more locals.”

“Ask or barter for one,” the gorilla said. “Remember, you've got the scans too.”

Chen nodded. He had a single pass from the ship's sensors of the area they were supposed to work in. It wasn't highly detailed though. He had overlaid the native map over it and had a general idea of what was where. They were headed to a couple of desert towns and then into the desert to an abandoned canyon area in the deep desert.

Getting there would be interesting. He didn't like that he wouldn't have drone ISR coverage, nor any idea if there was a water source in the canyon once they got there. He would have to stay on top of the team and their water rationing.

“We'll top off water on the way in. I've got some trade goods.”

“Good. Maintain radio check-ins. I want one every twelve hours rain or shine,” the gorilla said.

“Cute. Rain. Desert. Really cute, Skipper.”

“Sorry, slipped out.”

“Sure it did,” Chen said with a shake of his head.

!<o>`^`<o>!