Enemy Lines by Webb Thomas

Author:Webb, Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valiant House Press
Published: 2019-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

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Hale and the team passed a tense solar cycle underneath the camo netting, preferring to wait until the cover of planetary darkness before putting their plan in motion.

They set fifty-percent security throughout the Delosian day, half the team resting and half on watch. By the time the yellow Delios sun dipped low over the dunes, Hale had an almost fresh fighting force. As evening turned to dusk, Hale and his team slithered down the dunes and stalked their way to the edge of the secret construction site.

The construction rig loomed high above them, the edges of the near-completed jump-gate arc just visible in the evening sky. Hale called a halt behind a deep-space shipping container at the edge of the construction rig’s perimeter.

“Razor Five this is Razor One,” Hale said, speaking over the team channel. “How we looking from up there?”

“Two tangos patrolling in your immediate area,” Bear said. “Both patrolling the ground on foot. One closest to you we can cover. No angle on the second. You’ll have to take him.”

“Understood Razor Five.”

“Standby to move on my go Razor One.”

A heartbeat passed. Then two.

“Go,” Bear said.

Hale would never ask anything of his team that he himself wasn’t willing to do. He drew his Ka-Bar fighting knife and crept from behind the container, walking through the desert sand in a low crouch toward the Separatist’s turned back. He extended an outstretched armored hand, his Ka-Bar grasped tight in the other. They needed to keep this quiet—no rifles until absolutely necessary. Hale waited, patient and silent and poised to spring.

When the guard began to turn, Hale struck.

He clamped an armored hand over the soldier’s mouth, watching as the man’s eyes flew wide. Then Staff Sergeant Hale plunged the combat knife downward, piercing the point just above the collar of the armor where throat met sternum. He held the man in a grip strong as peristeel as he shook and died.

Hale looked up from his kill at the rig’s giant support columns. Just then the second guard rounded the corner, completing his circuit of the base of the rig. A silent, cobalt-blue pulse round streaked through the twilight, dropping him. The energy round seared the wound shut as it passed through, not even allowing the guard’s blood and brain matter to turn to mist.

“Razor Two this is Razor One,” Hale whispered. “We’re set here. Over.”

“Copy Razor One,” Chin responded. “We’ve secured one of the site’s sonic drills and got it in position. We’re beginning our dig. We’ll get out of sight while this thing does its work. Razor Nine says he can get all the charges planted in about fifteen mikes.”

“Roger that Two,” Hale said. “I make our time,” he checked his chrono, “nineteen-forty five local planetary.”

“Nineteen-forty five,” Johnny replied. “Check.”

“Get those holes drilled and stay out of sight,” Hale ordered. “You’ll get the signal in fifteen. Plant and set the charges and get the hell out of there. We’ll meet back at the growlers, NLT twenty-fifteen.”

“Copy Razor one. See you on the other side.

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