The Broken Peace

“Let’s go, men, load up. Move, move,” Cazalas ordered as troops scrambled to board the dropships. The stiffness in his shoulder continued to bother him, but he resolved to rejoin the fight despite his discomfort. He watched with satisfaction as the last of the twelve transports lowered its ramp for the boarding soldiers.

“It’s good to see you back on your feet,” said Ambassador Marquette. The ambassador watched the operation’s beginning phase with apprehension. When he spotted Cazalas, Marquette extended his greetings and well wishes.

“Ambassador, good to see you again. Did you come to see us off?”

“In a way, yes. The information Malone gave us is questionable. This mission could be a big goose chase.”

“You could be right, of course, but it makes sense that the MLA would base its operations outside the cities. Worse that could happen is we find nothing. I think a walk through the woods might do me some good.”

Marquette laughed, “Well, this may be a little more than a stroll. Either way, good hunting, my friend.”

“Thank you, Ambassador.”

Cazalas boarded his transport, and the flight began to take to the skies. Inside, the troops ran through their equipment checks. Some joked with each other and exchanged raunchy stories. Others scrolled through their datapads or listened to music. Others still fidgeted nervously while some recited prayers or contemplated in silence.

Trying his best to put his injury out of his mind, Cazalas recited the operational plan in his mind. The transport’s destination was a large clearing about four klicks from the target area. Cazalas’ transport was scheduled to land first. The twenty-four troopers aboard his transport were to establish a defensive perimeter to cover the transports. Once landed, the squads were to push forward while Cazalas established a headquarters to direct the operation.

“Doing alright, Captain?” asked Sergeant Kreb.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Kreb.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sir, but it’s my job to make sure my people are ready to do their job. That includes their CO.”

“Noted. I’m fine.”

“Cap,” said the pilot, “ten minutes until we hit the LZ.”

“Thanks,” said Cazalas, “Kreb, see to your men.”

Kreb went astern to begin the final preparations for the mission. Cazalas took a deep breath, trying his best to clear his mind. Try as he might, the memory of his previous mission replayed over in his thoughts. He tried to banish the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on such thoughts.

“Cap, we’ve got a ping,” called the pilot.

“Civilian air traffic?”

“No, sir. We’re being scanned. It’s a passive-” Suddenly, an alarm blared. “Sir, we’ve got a missile lock.”

“Multiple launches detected,” called the copilot.

“Order all ships to take evasive action,” Cazalas said.

The transport broke hard to the right as an explosion rocked the craft. Two other transports disappeared in a ball of flames. Another trailed thick black smoke and went nose-first into the canopy below.

Cazalas’ transport shook violently. “Cap, we’re going down. Strap in for impact.” The pilots fought to keep the craft in the air. They guided the stricken transport toward a clearing. The ship scrapped the treetops as the pilot fought to keep the craft from suffering a catastrophic crash.

The pilot lifted the nose seconds before the craft’s belly began to scrape the ground. The transport skidded and turned toward the left as it sped toward the treeline. The ship crashed into the trees, snapping several trunks as equipment and men were tossed about inside the cabin.

The transport came to rest mostly intact. Smoke filled the cabin as Cazalas looked around in a daze. There was a loud ringing in his ears as he tried to focus his attention. Sparks flew from the ceiling of the transport as Cazalas surveyed the damage. He spotted Sergeant Kreb attending to his trooper’s injuries. Cazalas looked into the cabin. The pilot was impaled by a large tree branch protruding through his seat. The copilot was slumped over, blood dripping from her helmet. Cazalas couldn’t get a pulse from her. They deserved better, he thought.

“Kreb,” Cazalas called out.

“Sir.”

“The pilots are gone. We need to get out of here. Release the ramp.”

“It’s stuck, sir. We need to use the emergency exits.” Kreb turned to the man closest to him, “Gonzales, grab the transmitter. Everyone else who can help carry out the wounded. Once everyone is outside, start unloading equipment and ammo. Move people.”

The survivors opened the emergency exits and began to unload the wounded. They next moved on to the equipment and ammunition inside the wreckage. Cazalas set up the transmitter while Kreb managed the unloading. The sergeant reported to Cazalas. “Four troopers dead, plus the pilot and copilot. Six others were wounded. Most of the ammo is salvageable, as are most of our weapons. The pilots saved our asses.”

“Yes, they did. Let’s make sure their sacrifice means something. Detail half your men to prepare defensive positions. The other half keep unloading the ship. I anticipate we’ll have company soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cazalas switched on the transmitter. “Lima Base, this is Bravo 6. Transport is down; repeat transport is down. Request immediate evac with medical support. Over.” Silence followed. “Lima Base, this is Bravo 6, repeating. Transport down, request immediate evac with medical support.”

“Bravo 6,” came the voice over the transmitter, “request received. Evac scrambling. What’s your status?”

“Several dead and wounded. Be advised, hostiles in the area. They are also equipped with surface-to-air missiles.”

“Roger that. Evac will be en route shortly. We’re dispatching drones to your location as cover. Keep your locators on and sit tight. Lima Base out.”

“Yeah, just where are we supposed to go?” Cazalas said to himself.

Almost on cue, an artillery round landed inside the clearing. “Take cover,” Cazalas yelled as another round slammed the area.

Sergeant Kreb sprinted over. “Sir, I think you need a better spot.”

“No time for that. Keep your head down, Kreb.”

“Don’t worry about me, sir.”

From the far treeline, the enemy opened up on them with small arms fire. Anatolian troopers began to return fire from whatever makeshift cover they could find. The air was thick with projectiles, followed by deafening explosions from the enemy mortar rounds. There was little Cazalas could do but wait for the drones to arrive.

“Sir, the drones are here,” said Kreb.

Cazalas felt a sense of relief as the two drones took attack positions. The machines opened fire at targets along the treeline, and the enemy fire began to slack off. Out of the corner of his eye, Cazalas spotted a plum of smoke from the treeline that formed into a streak that blew apart the first drone. Seconds later, the second drone crashed to the ground from a rocket launched from the enemy positions.

“Lima Base, Lima Base, this is Bravo 6. Drones destroyed, repeat drones down. Request air support and artillery support.”

“Copy Bravo 6, air support enroute. Artillery support prepared. Call out for adjustment.”

“Copy that Lima Base prepare...what just happened?” The area grew silent as the enemy fire ceased. “Lima Base hold one.” Cazalas surveyed the scene as his troopers curiously looked around. “Stay down,” he shouted. “Kreb, get over here.”

The sergeant ran over to Cazalas. “What are your orders, sir?”

“They could be laying a trap. Take two men. Scout the treeline.”

“Finnegan, Pierce, with me. Everyone else keep down.”

The three men crept forward, weapons at the ready. Reaching the treeline, the men disappeared into the woods. Several minutes passed before Kreb, and his troops returned. “It’s all clear, sir. No sign of the enemy. If they had any dead or wounded, they took them along when they bugged out. I suggest we get out of here as fast as possible in case they change their minds.”

“Lima Base, this is Delta Six. Enemy forces have withdrawn. Request immediate evac.”

“Copy Six, transports deployed.”

“What do you make of that, Cap? They had us.”

“They knew we would call for artillery and air support.”

“Sir?”

“The enemy knew we’d call for support when the drones were destroyed.”

“How would they know to do that?”

“Because they’ve been trained to expect artillery support. These weren’t untrained militia. They used weapons that could shoot down drones and were instructed how to use them. Next, they withdrew instead of pushing into a battle they couldn’t win when our artillery and air support arrived. Let’s not forget the surface-to-air missiles.”

“What’s it all mean?” Kreb asked.

“It means we have much bigger problems on Meteora.”