Choke Point

SIXTY-FOUR

30K had the drone crawler in the air, and then, with the APC crews preoccupied with the Marines targeting them just off to the east, he set down the drone, quadrotors turning into wheels. He began rolling it beneath the APCs and toward the huts, marking targets as he did so. He realized then that the farthest hut on the east side closest to the jungle was entirely unprotected, probably no one home. If he could scale it and assume a position on its roof, he’d have an excellent supporting fires perch. He shared this news with Ross, who gave him permission to head out there and get up top, but stay under active camouflage as much as possible.

This time he would be the insurance man instead of Pepper, and that was the whole idea, wasn’t it? Keep the old man safe. He took off running only a few seconds before Pepper and Kozak reached Ross, with Pepper calling after him.

30K was halfway to the hut when the night sky blinked to white as that second pair of Penguins exploded before they ever reached the LCS. The ship’s Phalanx CIWS (Close-In Weapons System) had put its 20mm M61 Vulcan Gatling autocannon on target and blasted apart both antiship missiles. Captain Wagner had given 30K and the others a tour of the entire vessel, including the high-tech bridge with its joystick controller and flat-screen monitors. Of course, he’d been sure to boast about the Phalanx’s capabilities. That the ship was still above water and still able to defend herself was a damned good sign.

30K reached the hut and crouched behind it. He fished out the drone’s remote from his pocket and got the UAV back in the air and on autopilot, in case Major Mitchell decided to take control of the drone himself for a bird’s-eye view of the battle.

A crude ladder constructed of planks and twine leaned against the hut, and 30K quietly mounted it, coming up on to the slightly angled roof that was made of tin and covered with palm fronds. He propped himself up on his elbows and was there one second, gone the next as his camouflage caught back up with his movements. He set up the Stoner on its bipod, with this particular weapon being magazine-fed from the top and the sights set off to the left to accommodate the mag.

He craned his head and scanned the jungle behind him, panning slowly to be sure no other FARC or Bedayat jadeda soldiers had moved up there — because the moment he opened fire, he’d become vulnerable. His escape plan involved a little jump off the back of the hut, nothing too elaborate, just a drop and run maneuver — a seven-foot bailout to the sand.

But then his hasty recon of the jungle to the rear gave him pause. What the hell was that, just behind that cluster of nipah palms? Was that a fifth APC? One they hadn’t seen before? It was just sitting nearby, heavily draped in foliage.

30K glanced back to the command hut, some fifty meters away. He thought about the position of his hut and the twenty-meter distance behind him, out to that hidden APC.

And he thought about the Hescos and his first reaction to them. Hamid’s men had dug trenches, but the dirt they’d collected was hardly enough to fill those broad Hesco walls, yet there was no sign of excavation anywhere else near or around the outpost.

He almost fell off the roof as he realized what they’d done … and what was about to happen.