Ashes - Standoff In The Ashes Part 30

"We'd better be moving, sir," a lieutenant from the security detail said, walking up. "We just received word that a lot of Federals have infiltrated this area."

"When the h.e.l.l did they come in, and where?" Ben asked, standing up.

"Intel thinks they've been here for several months, at least. Maybe longer. Where did they come in, sir? That's anybody's guess."

"All right," Ben said. "Let's haul a.s.s."

Ben turned, and a small round appeared in the lieutenant's forehead. He was dead before he hit the ground. Had Ben not turned when he did the bullet would have taken him in the head, and he would have been cooling on the ground.Ben and the team dropped to the ground, and the security detail fanned out.

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"Sound suppressor on that sniper rifle," Jersey said. "I never heard a sound."

"He might be two thousand yards away," Ben replied. He looked around him, carefully studying the terrain. "But I don't think so. I think he's on that high ground to the northeast. That's the only place where he could get a clear shot to here."

Corrie was on the horn immediately, pa.s.sing that information along.

"Gunships will be here in a few minutes," she told Ben.

"Everybody stay down," Ben ordered. "No heroics. Corrie, tell security to do the same. Let the birds handle this."

In only a very few minutes, a dozen gunships came roaring in and proceeded to tear up the landscape with rockets and 30mm ammo from its chain guns. Each gunship was armed with up to seventy-six 2.75 inch rockets, armed for this mission with high explosives.

Most of the infiltrators never had a chance, for just behind the highly advanced Apache battle helicopters came half a dozen ultra modern Hueys, each armed with three 7.62 M60 machine guns-one on each side and one mounted under, the belly mount operated from the c.o.c.kpit-25mm cannon, and 40mm grenade launchers. The heavily armed Hueys were flying hunter/killers, and on this day they performed magnificenuy.

"We've got prisoners," security radioed back to Corrie, and she informed Ben.

"Bring them in," Ben told her. "I want some information from these people, and I want to look at them eyeball to eyeball. And get somebody to make some coffee. We're going to be here for a while."

There were eight survivors of the sky attack, one of them so badly injured the medics took one look at him and shook their heads. They gave him a shot to ease his pain 251.

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and let him die in peace ... if dying can ever be described as peaceful.

"Thank you for that, at least, General Raines," said one of the prisoners.

' 'We treat our prisoners as humanely as field conditions permit," Ben said, turning to look at the man.

"That's not what we were told."

"Then you got some bad information. What is your name?"

"d.i.c.k."

"Last name?""That is my last name. d.i.c.k."

"And your rank is major?"

"Yes."

"First name?"

"Major."

"No," Ben said, shaking his head. "I know your rank. What is your first name?"

"Major."

"Your rank is major, and your first name is Major?"

"Yes."

"Major Major d.i.c.k?"

"That is correct."

"This is ridiculous! I am in no mood for games, d.i.c.k. Don't start with me."

"I am not playing any games, General. "My name is Major d.i.c.k. My first name is Major, my rank is major."

"Incredible."

The prisoner opened his mouth to speak, and Ben waved him silent.

"No .. . forget it. I'll just call you Major. That should cover it all."

Ben talked to the major for a few minutes. Major Major d.i.c.k gave Ben his serial number, and that was it. That was about all Ben expected to get out of the man. The man 252.

might have an unusual name, but to outward appearances, at least, he was tough and capable.

Major d.i.c.k and his men were taken back to the front lines for transport to a POW facility. The enemy dead were buried where they fell. The young lieutenant was body-bagged. He would be buried in a cemetery the Rebels had started weeks back, just after the first offensive by the Federal troops.

Ben drank his coffee, and then the short column started out again. They rode in silence for a few miles, Ben finally saying, "Cooper, I thought you said my new CP was only ten or so miles south of the lines?"

"Well," Cooper replied. "It's really not far, Boss. But it is more than a few miles."

"How far?"

"Oh, maybe thirty or forty miles, Boss," Beth said.Ben twisted in the seat. Stared at her. "Thirty or forty miles?"

"Right, Pops," Anna said. "Just a few miles north of die center of the state."

"Wonderful," Ben muttered. "I certainly should be safe there."

Ben's mind was already working on how best to ignore this order from Cecil and the SUSA's security council without making it seem he was thumbing his nose at President Jefferys. That was something he wanted to avoid.

There was no way anybody was going to keep Ben Raines out of action ...

at least not for very long.

He'd think of something.

Soon.

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Ben began settling into his new CP, waiting for his staff to arrive. As soon as they did, he would start making plans on how to get rid of them and get himself back to the front lines.

The offense by the Federals had fizzled out and turned into a near slaughter for the meres and Federal troops who were chosen to spearhead the attack. Most of them did not make it across the wide no-man's-strip before they were cut down. After the offensive failed, die Federals withdrew and were, according to the best guesses of intel, planning their next offensive.

Ben's new CP was located in what used to be a minimall on the outskirts of a town that was abandoned just after the collapse of government and the Great War. His CP was in the largest s.p.a.ce in the minimall, and part.i.tioned off by office dividers. Ben had the entire rear of what used to be a huge retail store.

A number of reporters from the USA had abruptly 254.

requested permission to report on the war, and much to everyone's surprise Ben had no objections to that. He granted them permission immediately.

"I think he's sick," Cooper had said. "Everybody knows he hates liberal reporters."

"I think he's got something up his sleeve," Beth said. "This isn't like him at all."

"I think he just wants some comic relief," Jersey countered. "We all know how the Boss likes to put the needle to liberal reporters."

"I think Jersey's got it," Corrie said.

"You're all correct to some degree. Especially Beth. Pop is planning some, but he's bored, too," Anna told the group. "He's been here a day and a half, and already he's edgy and restless." She glanced at herwatch and sighed. "I'm not looking forward to any of this. The new staff will be here in about an hour. And the reporters will be here later on this afternoon."

Cooper nodded his head in agreement. "Should be a real interesting day."

"That's d.a.m.n sure one way of putting it," Jersey said.

A Rebel from the security detail had walked up in time to hear the last few comments. "The arrival of the staff has been delayed a couple of hours," he informed the group. "Bad weather down south."

"Oh, goody," Beth said. "We get to meet the reporters first. I can hardly wait."

"I'm just all aquiver with antic.i.p.ation," Anna said.

"I'm thrilled," Corrie said.

Jersey belched. "A bunch of candy-a.s.sed, whiny, crybabies. s.h.i.t!"

"Isn't she quite the lady?" Cooper said to the Rebel from security. "You should see what she does for an encore."

"Spare me that," the Rebel replied, and walked away.

"Here comes the Boss," Beth said.

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Ben walked up and stood with his team for a moment. "I just got word the reporters will be here in a few minutes. One of the members of the security-council asked if I was going to greet them wearing my dress uniform."

His team laughed at that. Anna said, "And you told the security-council member?"

"I didn't have a dress uniform. She said they would have to see about getting me one. I told her not to bother, I wouldn't wear the d.a.m.n thing if they got it."

"How come the security-council is suddenly sticking its nose into our business?" Jersey asked.

"Oh, they're not trying to run the war," Ben told his team. "They know better than to even attempt that. But their concern for me is genuine.

I'm grateful, but I really wish they would just b.u.t.t the h.e.l.l out."

"Choppers coming in," Anna observed.

"That'll be the reporters," Ben said.

"How come you gave this Osterman-loving bunch the OK to come in and snoop around, Pop?" Anna asked.

"I needed a good laugh, Kid. And I imagine this group will provide me widi plenty of laughs. Especially Ms. Cynthia Ross-Harris.""One of those," Jersey muttered. She looked at Ben. "You've mentioned her a time or two."

"I knew her back before the Great War. I didn't know her well, but I knew her. She was a raging liberal back then, thought the government had the answer for everything. She still does," Ben concluded.

"Choppers are on the pads," Beth said. "Are we supposed to go over and greet these a.s.sholes? You know they're going to do a number on us."

Ben laughed. "Beth, your language has taken a turn for the worse of late. You used to be such a quiet and demure young lady. What happened?"

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"She's been hanging around Jersey too long," Cooper said. "The original Apache guttermouth."

Jersey reached down and picked up a wrist-sized stick from the ground, about two and a half feet long. Cooper got ready to run. Jersey gravely handed her CAR to Beth. "Hold this, please. I have to swat a bug."

Cooper took off.

Jersey was right behind him, about three steps to the rear, cussing and swinging the stick, but Cooper's legs were longer and he was a better runner. He raced ahead of Jersey, all the time slinging verbal taunts over one shoulder.

"I'll break your G.o.dd.a.m.ned head!" Jersey yelled. "You halfwit!"

Cooper laughed and flipped her the bird as they headed for the center of the parking lot of the old minimall.

Ms. Cynthia Ross-Harris and a group of reporters were just exiting the choppers and were preparing to walk across the parking lot toward Ben's CP when Cooper and Jersey came running and cussing past. The Rebels were used to the antics of the pair, and paid them little attention. Ms.

Ross-Harris and the others were somewhat taken aback.

"You sorry t.u.r.d!" Jersey hollered, waving the club. "Call me a guttermouth, you p.r.i.c.k!"

"My word!" a reporter from an eastern newspaper blurted as the two ran past him. "Are we under attack?"