The Orion Plague Read Free Page B

don’t touch a thing, and if anything is missing
when I return, as much as one shell casing, I will personally stuff
you in the nearest gun and fire you from its barrel, do I make
myself clear?”
    “Clear, Master Sergeant!”
    “Proceed.” The Marine marched inside,
clutching his service rifle nervously while Repeth led her team
around the corner of the headquarters building to the edge of the
parking area. She walked up to and laid her hands on a beat-up
monstrosity that might have passed for a Humvee at one time. “This
is it.”
    Lockerbie whistled, and the others hooted.
“What a piece of crap!” cried Butler.
    “You shut your pie hole, Randy,” Lockerbie
said sarcastically, arms crossed. “Shows what you know.”
    Grusky stepped back with Repeth, letting
their juniors take a closer look. She glanced at him as he stepped
close to her with a quizzical look. “Just give it time,” she
whispered. “I think Lockerbie has already smoked it out. The others
are fooled by appearances.”
    “Always dangerous when meeting someone new,”
he said archly, bouncing slightly in his boots.
    Lockerbie ran her hands over the oddly new
monster tires, then looked up into the wheel wells, examining the
suspension. She lay down onto the ground and scooted underneath for
a moment, then rolled out and to her feet. “Never judge a book by
its cover, boys. This ain’t your daddy’s Humvee.”
    “What?” asked Butler suspiciously.
    “This paint job, this scrap metal welded
on…it’s supposed to look beat up. But…” Lockerbie grabbed
the passenger door and yanked it open. She had to haul on it before
it would move. “Extra-heavy armor. Uprated suspension.” She walked
around to the front, popped the latches and raised the hood. “And
what is that? Some kind of supercharged diesel? Holy famolians, I
bet this thing hauls ass !”
    Repeth nodded. “That’s the plan. And you see
what it’s got up there?” She pointed at the lightweight,
manually-powered turret above.
    “What the hell is that?” Butler asked as he
craned his head.
    “What the hell is that?” echoed Grusky
quietly from next to Repeth.
    Repeth recited, as if from a manual, “M75
Vixen. Based on the M61 Vulcan design. Twenty millimeter
twelve-barrel Gatling. Electrically driven, selective load and
variable rate of fire from single to 9000 caseless rounds per
minute. That’s 150 per second for you arithmetically
challenged. We have Needleshock flechette for close and personal
work, we have Armorshock ultra-charge for anti-vehicle use, and we
have tungsten-tipped depleted uranium penetrators for
structures.”
    The team just stood there in silence for a
moment, then Grusky cleared his throat. “Wow. But is it sexy
enough?”
    The four burst out laughing. Repeth smiled
faintly. “It’ll do the job. Butler, get up there and get familiar
with the gun, but don’t shoot anything. We’ll bring enough ammo to
practice a bit before we cross the line of departure. Lockerbie,
test drive it around HQ here, gently. We’ll get your personal gear
set up. Be back in one hour.”

    ***

    Jill was itching to get going but she forced
herself to wait one more day. A week would have been better but she
didn’t think her patience extended that far. One day was enough,
barely. These people were veterans, even if they weren’t special
operators. Just dedicated MPs, willing to put their necks on the
line for her. They needed the day to familiarize with their new
gear.
    In a line team, cross-training was a luxury,
a state of being often only achieved after long practice and
demanding drill. The next-best thing was to put her people to the
jobs they did well and hope she didn’t lose any of them
before…well, hope she didn’t lose any at all.
    Fat chance. But truth is, I’ll risk them all
for Rick.
    Once that assessment would have concerned
her. Would have driven her to question herself and her motives, to
have aborted the mission. It makes no sense to risk five to