Jungles of AwanilChapter 4
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Gavril popped off the tree borne leech with a lit cig and the tip of his knife. The three circular incisions in his skin moved him to offer up a prayer that all of his shots were up to date and still working. A nest of carnivorous worms had burst open underneath one of the hammocks and one of his men got bit on the ass, literally. At least his buddies had thoughtfully cauterized the wound when they blasted the nest with him still above it, screaming bloody murder. Gavril slapped some sim-plast over the second-degree burns and had him pop some pain meds. He was tempted to write the incident in his patrol log just to have another story to tell his grandkids, but decided not to. The image of pale white, gelatinous tubes with mouths full of needles still turned his stomach an hour later.
An hour's trek on a game trail and the Vizz tracers started to beep. They indicated targets two or three klicks forward and the Vizz were bouncing through the terrain. Gavril stopped his men and had Corporal Hairball set up the satellite link to get the latest intel even though his men were anxious to jump into the pursuit.
Cell contact with Base Charlie had been a waste of time: Other patrols in the area, blah, blah, blah and no confirmation of Vizz activity in the last twelve hours, blah, blah, blah. At least with satellite recon, Gavril's comp could compare changes between photographs over a period of time. That's how he saw the new trail.
"We've got a large animal or a small herd making a trail 3.1 klicks ahead of us at 320o on the compass," Gavril announced. "Put two and two together and we just found ourselves something to do today, ladies. Let's line up: Both cannons to the fore. Dunnel, keep the canopy clear for us and Jojo, you've got point. Let's move out."
An hour of stomping through the dense jungle brought the platoon to a tiny stream. One of the men threw an iodine tablet in the water. The tablet had a little bit of chemical to make it fizz and dissolve in all sorts of water. On Awanil, the fizz would react with a lethal substance leeched from the roots of a particular tree if it was present and explode with a small pop and puff of white smoke. The pill softly exploded and a handful of acrid smoke rose above the trickle.
"Does anyone want a drink?" someone called out. "It's guaranteed to purge whatever ails you out of your system."
"Along with your system," Dunnel added.
"We have a change in direction, lieutenant," the corporal announced. "They're on the move perpendicular to us. If we head at 260o, we should be able to ambush them in about twenty minutes."
"Same formation, but now we haul butt," Gavril announced. "Safeties are off. I want a spread pattern in front; sharpshooters in back. Move!"
The crashing of pairs of boots through the jungle mess was jarring to Gavril's ears. The chase had begun and the time for lurking in the shadows of the trees was done. The Vizz seemed to have a preternatural ability to sense humans at close range and Gavril was betting on that ability. His plan was to make contact and run down the beast or beasts to exhaustion. Once the animal collapsed, Gavril planned to blast the doomed creature to oblivion, hopefully from a distance.
At least he was on his game today. He hated having to admit his failures but he had felt better when he awoke this morning. Something moved in the canopy to his left. He blasted the branch into a million splinters and kept moving.
The corporal raised his fist and the entire platoon came to a sudden, silent halt. Hand signals: 1000 meters, coming from the left, on the ground, two boojums. Gavril heard the slight buzz of tiny tracers on the cannons booting up. He gave the command and the squad spread wider and then began to trot through the thinning trees.
There was no need to give commands. The attack was always the same. The cannons fired once at five hundred meters, leaving two trails of scorched earth. The men split in half and charged down the smoking paths, giving chase.
The first cannon fired again. The roar of the weapon rang in Gavril's ear as he tensed for the next cannon.
"Son of a scabby whore!" a faraway voice cried out. "Fuckin' idiots!"
"Stop the cannon before you kill the stupid human," Gavril called out. "Re-tag your target and pursue. Move!"
"Got'em on scope!" Jojo cried out as they poured down the newly scarred earth. Gavril knew he was going to regret the burning heat under his feet, but he had obligations to keep the fools from killing themselves. He charged after them.
About fifteen meters down, his targeting comp pulled him right.
"It's heading towards that thicket of prickly shit!" Jojo cried out. A burst rifle fired. "Missed."
"Up, you dumb fuck!" Another burst.
"To the right, to the right!"
"Maintain your formation!" Gavril yelled, as his men gave chase.
Gavril's proximity alarm suddenly sounded on his burst rifle, but his onboard tracer was pointing up and left. No time to think, he dropped on his right knee, swung his barrel and fired once. An awful, unearthly scream tore through the air.
Another burst came from just behind and the writhing mass disintegrated into an oily mash.
"What the fuck was that?" Corporal Hairball said as he rose from his position.
"Just another nightmare," Gavril said, turning his head to listen to the cacophony of five or six burst rifles firing. "You would think they would be able to hit the broad side of a barn by now."
A cheer went up in the distance.
"Let them celebrate for the moment," Gavril said. "Later, I'll rip their dicks out by the root for abandoning formation. Damn near got skewered this time."
"You fuckin' idiots! You nearly killed me," a man in uniform yelled at them as he stepped into the cooling kill zone.
"What are you doing outside your sector?" Gavril said. "Where's your sergeant?"
"He's dead. One of the boojums got him yesterday and we've been chasing them ever since then. The captain gave us the go ahead to cross sectors," the man said.
"Who's your sergeant?" Gavril asked.
He was reviewing in his memory the last cell message with base and he didn't recall any patrol crossing into an adjacent sector.
"Savranestes, sir," the man said with a near sneer.
"I know Enerol Savranestes, private, and he wouldn't do anything stupid to get himself killed," Gavril said.
He was already putting the clues together and he didn't like the possibilities. The look on his face was grim as he stared down the private.
"Green captain, dead sergeant," the private said. "Ain't that the way it always goes on Awanil?" He shrugged, letting the barrel of his weapon nearly touch the ground.
"Where is the rest of your platoon, and your captain for that matter," Gavril asked.
"It's better to stay out of burst range of the captain's rifle, if you know what I mean," the private said. "He doesn't take criticism well either. Just ask the sergeant ... or not."
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