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.
---@---
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