Backshot by Dan Cragg, David Sherman Read Free Book Online Page A

the SLA HQ when they found it. But the navy didn’t have a warship in orbit. And the rules of engagement wouldn’t have allowed orbital fire on the HQ anyway.
    “It’s imperative that we find, fix, and fuck up the SLA HQ in order to bring this campaign to a close, so I’ve put in a request for assistance,” Fitzter continued. This time he looked directly at Kevelys, who steadfastly glared at the same spot of wall at which he’d glared since the general began talking about the “intelligence failure.”
    “I’ve asked the Combined Chiefs for a Confederation Marine Corps Force Recon team,” Fitzter said. Kevelys opened his mouth to protest and began to stand, then thought better of it and remained sitting with his mouth clamped shut. He believed that for the army to call in the Marines was taking the admission of mission failure too far, but he wasn’t about to argue with a two-nova officer, particularly one who happened to be his boss.
    “Do you have something you want to say, Lieutenant Colonel Kevelys?” Fitzter asked coldly. Kevelys was a good enough intelligence officer, and he’d been riding his reconnaissance company very hard to fix the enemy headquarters’ location. He took it as a personal affront that the division’s recon company hadn’t yet been able to maintain contact long enough for a reaction force to hit it. But now General Fitzter asked for his opinion and he couldn’t restrain himself.
    “Sir,” Kevelys said, lurching to his feet, “There is nothing the Marines can do that the army can’t. Just give me a little more time and we’ll find that HQ again and fix it this time.”
    “You haven’t found it yet,” Fitzter snapped.
    “We have, several times, sir—as you well know,” Kevelys rasped. “It’s a mobile HQ, it moves every time we locate it, and we haven’t been able to maintain contact when it moves—as the general also knows.”
    The commanding general and his intelligence officer glared at each other for a moment. Kevelys looked away first.
    “I know that,” Fitzter finally said. “And you’re probably right that the Marines can’t do a better job of locating the enemy HQ than our own assets can. But they can probably do just as good a job. A lot of good soldiers have died trying to fix the enemy’s location—as you well know. Marines aren’t very bright, and they don’t like to break contact with the enemy once they’ve established it. If a Force Recon team manages to survive discovery, they’ll most likely attempt to evade capture while maintaining contact. Maybe they’ll manage to stay alive long enough to find out in what direction the enemy HQ heads so we can land a reaction force in its path.”
    Fitzter abruptly stepped away from the podium. “Let’s let some Marines die for a change. Maybe that’ll change our luck.”
    “Attention!” shouted the division chief of staff as Fitzter strode out of the briefing room. Fourth Force Recon Company, Fourth Fleet Marines, Camp Howard, MCB Camp Basilone, Halfway
    “ ’Bout time you got here,” growled Sergeant Major Periz. “Go right on in, they’re waiting for you.”
    “Thanks, Sar’nt Major,” Sergeant Daly said, ignoring Periz’s remark; the company’s senior enlisted man always accused squad leaders of being late, even when they were standing right there when the call for them to report went out. Daly stood at attention in the doorway of the company commander’s office and rapped loudly on the frame.
    “Come,” Commander Walt Obannion immediately replied. Daly took the two steps forward that placed him a pace in front of Obannion’s desk and fixed his eyes on the wall directly above the company commander’s head. He didn’t even glance at the others in the office: Lieutenant Tevedes, Gunnery Sergeant Lytle, and Staff Sergeant Suptra.
    “Sir, Sergeant Jak Daly reporting as ordered.”
    “At ease, Sergeant.”
    “Thank you, sir.” Daly relaxed into a modified parade rest position, feet