Marco Domici: Radio Malfunction

"All units, this is an order. You are to surrender immediately. This is Force Commander Quincy. You are to surrender to the Hofud Strike Force commandos nearest your position. All units, you are ordered to surrender."

The comms went silent while Marco and Jones looked at each other. Grishom, holding position about thirty meters away, glanced back scowling before going back to his OP duty.

"You gotta be kidding me." Jones said quietly. "We're in the middle of no where, teaching the locals to shoot chemically propelled rifles, and he wants us to go find someone to ..."

"Shh!" Marco held up his finger and looked around at the dozen tribesmen they had spent the last month with. "Let's get with Grishom first." They quietly moved to the base of tree the OP was in and climbed up. Marco dodged a big wad of spit as Grishom cleared his mouth.

"That stuff is nasty." Jones said.

"You ain't been kissing me lately so why should I care?" He replied.

"Okay you two, let's focus for a minute." Marco whispered tightly. "We can get back to the family squabble later. Grishom, what have you seen?"

"Dozen and a half pure out fighter birds, couple of big bombers, and a good dozen armed transports big enough for a heavy platoon each. They mount some sort of energy weapon as primary, not sure if it's plasma or fusion." He rattled off the opposition as if it were options at a singles bar. "Oh, and Jones has the hots for you, Marco. She keeps looking at you when you're looking away."

"Do not." Jones balled up her fist and started to punch Grishom where he wanted to be kissed.

"Stand down." Marco hissed. "Both of you! Grishom, you forget that she's a private because Quincy's none too subtle advances go unnoticed."

"We're sitting in a tree three hundred klicks from civilization. I'm reading a comsat screen older than dirt and the native troops we're training think smearing blagy dung on their nether parts makes them stronger. Do you mean our beloved Force Commander doesn't have all three of us on his party invite list?"

All three of them sat still for several moments.

"Jones, Grishom." Marco said slowly as he looked at them. "I'm not sure my comm is working. Must be the high humidity has gotten past the seals. How about yours?"

"Marco...I've been Quincy'd." Grishom said quietly. "Word is there's already paperwork to boot me out for insubordination. Lousy little weasel doesn't like seeing me and being reminded that I limp because he wet his armor and bailed out of a fight."

"What?" Marco replied.

"It's true." Jones added. "We're out here so Grishom can't rebut the charges until it's too late to write up a good defense. Lewis let me see the write-up. Totally bogus."

Marco scowled but kept his mouth shut.

"Well, nothing to lose." Grishom finally said. "I'm in. What's the plan?"

"Yeah, me too." Jones nodded as she took her small headset off and put it in a pocket. "This big lug probably needs someone to mommy him if he gets kicked out. He's such a whiner."

"Am not!" Grishom replied.

"Please, God." Marco bowed his head. "Let me not have to deal with these two quarreling again. I can't take it. Can you just let them kill each other or something?"

"Shush." Jones said. "You've been mooning for the entire time we've been out here! Can't get a vid of Irene in the bush, can you?"

"I think he whimpers at night." Grishom added. "Or cries. I'm not sure."

"Do not." Marco replied. "Okay, let me go talk to Towaga and see what she says. They may want to bug out. If so then it's three versus a bunch. I'll let you know what they say."

A few minutes later Jones and Grishom heard the natives yell and whistle. Marco and Towaga had spoken privately and then she spoke to her platoon. They were cheering and pumping their rifles in the air.

"Well, I think that means they're in." Grishom said.

"Options?" Marco whispered.

"We're three and a half klicks away, Marco. I don't think they can hear us." Grishom replied.

"Yeah, I know." Marco sat back and leaned his head against the wall. "I was supposed to be in OCS right about now. I'd be studying manuals on leadership instead of trying to figure out how three Marines and a dozen Gredga warriors can take on a heavy company of Hofud's finest."

"Rub some blagy dung on your nethers?" Grishom chuckled. "Besides, we've traveled by beast, combustion engine, and honest to blue suns sailboat to get within striking range of the bad guys. We're covered head to boot in native garb that smells like a urinal, our warriors are all hyped up to kick some butt, and Jones promised me a week of workouts if we survive. What's better than this?"

"You want the full list or just volume one?"

"Nyah, I'm good. Listen." Grishom nodded at Jones as she watched around the corner of the building. "Don't tell her this, but I'll be happy if I get cashiered out. Maybe she'll go with me and we can make a start of it elsewhere."

"Harumph. You two will probably kill each other if you don't have anyone else to shoot." Marco smiled. "Still, if you go I'll go. The more I think about Quincy being a Force Commander the more I think other jobs can't be too bad."

"You can stay home with the kids." Grishom grinned. "If they take after Irene they'll be bigger than you before grade school."

"Probably. Okay, let's get this in gear. Rest time is over, sundown is only about ten mikes away. Everyone eats, says whatever they need to say before going into battle, and we head out. Clear?"

"Clear." Grishom said as he stood. "Me and Jones take the transport from the roof while you and Towaga's boys act like you think lead bullets can actually get through Hofud Combat Armor. After that, Jones drives and I wreak havoc with a fusion gun. Works for me."

"Come on, move!" Marco yelled to the warriors as they scuttled through the destroyed facade of what used to be a bakery. "Out the back and then left. Fast!" Marco himself brought up the rear. His armor wouldn't stand any more direct hits but he was still better off than the Gredga. Shrapnel flew around them as the warriors sped up.

Marco desperately wanted to let the Hofud Marines chasing them that the bundle of rags he was carrying was not a chemical propellant based rifle like the others. His weapon would penetrate armor over a klick away; these guys were less than a hundred meters and closing.

The trap was set. They had maneuvered since dark and the tribesmen were letting one platoon chase them away from the initial assault area. Jones and Grishom were poised to attack. The transport commander was in body armor and hadn't bothered to button up the copula, as Marco guessed.

The Gredga were circling back and would be tossing grenades from upper stories as soon as Marco started in with his rifle. Marco took a deep breath and crawled behind a large section of stone rubble. The local buildings were old stone and mortar. Solid enough even against a standard energy weapon.

Marco was set back from the rubble and hidden as best he could be. He uncovered his scope and dialed in, passively marking the incoming riflemen.

"Good job, boys. Get cocky against the slug throwers. Stand out in the open where I can see you." He relaxed one more breath and then caught the flash of laser fire on the transport's topside.

"Party time." Marco drilled the lead commando square in the chest and switched targets twice in the space of a second. He closed his eyes against the flash as the grenades went off and then settled in to picking off anyone stupid enough to think they were still fighting slug throwers. Within a minute the transport's fusion gun warmed up and started melting Hofud armor at close range. Within two minutes it was over.

Then Marco was up and running. The transport sped off towards the down port. Jones and Grishom were going to do as much damage as possible and make the Hofud troops think they were the main attack. One lone man running away from the shooting would not gather any attention. Marco's destination was the old town courthouse where the rest of the unit was being held hostage.

Within five minutes he was a block away from the courthouse and cutting the blagy's reins loose. He swatted the riding beast's flank and it spooked towards the old stone building. Marco chased after it, yelling in semi-Gredga, and using the sight of a man chasing his mount to get him closer to the two guards at the side door.

Both went down quickly and Marco was through the door before the alarm sounded. A few more shots, a few more bad guys down, and he had the pass key to the cells.

"Anyone up for a rescue?" Several Marines had heard the shooting and had been trying to see what was going on. Marco opened the door and stepped in. "Come on, people, life is short! Nappy time is over. Let's go!"

"Domici! Stop right there." Force Commander Quincy stormed forward. "What do you think..." His head snapped back as Marco's armored fist broke jawbone and dislodged teeth.

"Oh, sorry Force Commander. I didn't recognize you." Quincy slumped to the floor unconscious. No one caught him.

"Must have passed out from the excitement and fallen face first." Someone said.

"Darn the luck." Marco added. "Okay, we're going out with me in front. There are seven down enemy and someone needs to get their weapons and pass out their grenades. Jones and Grishom are raiding the down port with one transport. We're going to take the one for these clowns and head for an AA battery about five klicks away. The goal is to make enough damage and noise that the Hofud aren't sure what's going on. Clear?"

"Clear!" the two dozen Marines yelled loudly.