Future War 04.KOBANI by FX Holden

Author:FX Holden [FX Holden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

MARY Jo Basim had watched the Kurdish woman set up her hide with deep fascination.

First, she had hung black shade cloth from the ceiling, slice it down the middle and pegged the bottom corners back to create a hole she could shoot through. Beside her, she put a small table, her food and drink, and a chair. Then she set about getting her shooting position organized. As she started moving sandbags around, sighing audibly if one of the two Marines in the lookout got in her way, MJ had pulled out her phone and tried taking a photo. As soon as the Kurdish woman had noticed, she turned to MJ.

“No photo.”

“It’s going to be a great story,” MJ tried painting it for her. “Kurdish YPJ sniper takes down the Spetsnaz Murderer from two miles away at COP Meyer. You’ll be as famous as Arin Mirkan, maybe get your own statue.”

Daryan threw the sandbag she was holding down in front of her. “You know the story of Arin Mirkan?”

“Sure.”

“The real story?”

“Surrounded by ISIS tanks, stayed behind on the hilltop here, killed ten ISIS soldiers in a suicide attack so that her comrades could escape…” MJ told her. It was inscribed on the base of the fifty-foot-high statue at the entrance to the city.

Daryan shook her head. “You do not even know her real name.” She picked up the sandbag again and put it beside another, building a step for herself to stand on. “She was Dilara Milak. Twenty-two years old.” She lifted another sandbag, grunting with the effort. “Two children. She had been away fighting the Caliphate mercenaries so long, her mother, Wahida, asked to see her and she sent back a message. “I will see you when Kobani is free.” Daryan dropped the bag, pointed outside the tower. “She never saw her mother after that and she never saw Kobani free. She died, right down there.” Shouldering another sandbag, she turned to MJ. “Do not ever compare me to her. I am not worthy.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taking the tripod, Daryan placed it in front of her sandbag steps and pulled the rifle from her shoulder. She put a round into the breech, rested the stock on the tripod and sighted down the barrel like Jensen had shown her, then turned to the Marine standing closest to her. “You, do you know how to use this scope?”

MJ had recognized the man when she climbed into the tower. His name was O’Halloran, a private from Boston, not far from where she had grown up herself. He bent over and looked at it. “It’s got inbuilt ballistics,” he said, straightening. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Show me.”

O’Halloran looked at his corporal, who nodded, and then climbed up on the sandbags. “Is your scope switched on?”

“Yes.”

“Can I check it’s set up?”

Daryan stepped back, and he pushed a button on her scope, peered into it and started paging through menus.

“Rifle type?”

“Lobaev SVLK-14S.”

“Barrel length?”

“900mm.”

“Muzzle break?”

“T-tuner.”

“You ever use a suppressor?”

“No.”

“Chambered for?”

“Chey Tac, 10.36mm.”

“OK, got it.” He straightened up. “Yeah, good to go.” He pointed to a large red button on the side of the scope.

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