Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [57]
“You did a pretty nifty job bringing that shuttle in. Any chance you could fly one of these aircraft?”
“It’s quite likely,” she replied with no trace of arrogance. “The Eluoi and Shamani have a great deal of technology in common. Chances are it would be like a human driving a motor vehicle on your own world. Even if you had never operated that model of vehicle, you could still discern how to control it.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jackson said. “We have to consider that possibility if we don’t want to walk through a thousand miles of monster-infested jungle.”
“Makes sense,” Ensign Sanders agreed. “What do you suggest?”
“I think we arrange a little reception for them, somewhere they won’t be expecting to find us. If it works out well, we might even be able to steal one of those buses and make up a little travel time.”
Consul Char-Kane, Director Parker, and Dr. Sulati would wait for the SEALS a few hundred meters away from the place where they had been cooking. Jackson told them that this would be the rally point, and if his men had to break contact with the enemy, they would all meet there. Intelligence was what the SEALS officer wanted right now: information about the enemy, how many of them there were, how they were armed, what their communications were, just where exactly their transport was, and how it was secured.
His best chance to find out anything before taking action involved breaking up his forces, something any leader is always reluctant to do. But there wasn’t any other choice. He would send a small detachment to gather information and deploy the bulk of his men to react to developing events.
The best point men also made the best scouts. Any information Jackson could get on the enemy right now would be more valuable to him than any weapon could be. His men knew this, and Sanchez and Marannis were prepared to move out along the Team’s back trail. After a quick briefing with the LT, the two men disappeared into the jungle. While they were gone, Jackson wasn’t going to waste one minute.
“All right,” he said quietly, addressing the rest of the SEALS as they huddled around him. “No comlinks—no electronics of any kind—because we don’t know what kind of scanners they have. Hand signals, no unnecessary talking. Let’s move out.”
The rest of the Team headed onto the back trail on the double, ready to give the Eluoi searchers a very hot reception. The SEALS clearly relished the prospect of action; they moved in utter silence but with a grim sense of purpose that boded much danger for any enemy they encountered. They moved with almost complete silence; even when jogging, each man placed his feet carefully. In what was second nature to them, the clips and grenades, packs, and canteens that they wore were suspended so carefully that nothing jingled or bounced.
For more than eighty years in the SEAL Teams, these men of action had studied the art and science of the ambush. It was one of the first combat tactics their forefathers had used in the jungles and swamps of Southeast Asia. Every man in the Teams learned how to prepare an ambush, lay it out, and conduct it, along with how to break one. Jackson’s men were no less skilled than any of those SEALS of the last century. Their jungle might be on another planet, but the rules of the ambush hadn’t changed across the light-years.
Jackson’s last orders to Sanchez and Marannis were that if they were being pursued, they should bring the enemy forces up along the pathway the men had already followed through the jungle. There was a slight rise that looked back along what must have been some kind of animal trail, and that was the point where the SEALS would set up an L-shaped ambush.
At the top of the rise, Jackson and Chief Harris would establish the short leg of the L. Along the left side of the path the rest of the SEALS would be strung out. While the rest of the men got into position and established their fields of fire across the path, Jackson