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Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [59]

By Root 465 0
trail. He had the best view of the killing zone, and he needed it because it would be his decision to initiate the ambush. The jungle noises continued to increase all around the men as the critters that lived there, the local equivalent of bugs and birds, grew used to the SEALS’ presence and went about their business. Several winged creatures that were as large as eagles glided just above the upper branches of the trees, but they simply soared past and took no note of the men taking position below them. Despite the noisy din—or perhaps because of it—there was a peaceful calm settling over their situation, making it easy to forget that the men were lined up to unleash violence on the next group of beings to pass in front of them. The sudden sound of two clicks over his earpiece told Jackson that the time for the ambush might be approaching rapidly.

Tugging the nearly invisible line that had been laid out along the ambush site, Jackson signaled all his men that the scouts were approaching. As each man felt the single jerk on the line, he passed it on. It was a simple, silent, and nearly foolproof way of communication among the SEALS. It was primitive, but there wasn’t any way an enemy force could detect it; that was why the whole force had been maintaining radio silence as much as they possibly could.

Suddenly, Sanchez and Marannis were in the clearing, moving up through the killing zone as had been arranged. That single action told Jackson that his men were being pursued. Now it was time for the SEALS to get down to the business of warfare.

Sanchez passed over the small rise and then dropped to the ground at the sound of a quiet hiss from Jackson. Marannis did the same thing, only he moved over to the opposite side of the trail, where Chief Harris lay in concealment. Crawling up to where he had heard Jackson, Sanchez saw the officer concealed in the undergrowth. He moved to where his lips were only inches from the lieutenant’s ear.

“Eighteen hostiles about thirty meters behind us,” Sanchez whispered. “Two of those flying buses back at a clearing blown in the jungle about five hundred meters back along the trail. There’s only one or two guards back watching the ships; everyone else is on our trail.”

At his lieutenant’s nod, Sanchez moved off to the left slightly and took up his position behind the officer, looking across him and back down the trail. Pulling on the signal line, Jackson sent two jerks down along it. His men had been warned that the enemy was approaching and that things would be moving very fast, very soon.

Even as he snugged the plastic stock of the G15 against his shoulder, Jackson saw movement back along the trail. He could see the entire killing zone and about fifty meters beyond that before the jungle swallowed the trail. He thumbed off the safety of the G15, moving the selector to the full automatic position. The weapon was prepared to send fifty 6.8-millimeter slugs the length of the trail, with the suppressor probably keeping the enemy from ever hearing where the shooting was coming from. Now there was distinct movement as he saw several heads bobbing along the trail.

Two Eluoi soldiers led the party, staying off the direct trail and moving through the brush, walking just to the right and left of the path followed by the castaways when they first had come this way. They wore off-white uniforms that stood out with remarkable clarity against the green of the forest. Each man had a white helmet on his head that ran from the nape of the neck over the cap and included a pair of cheek protectors that looked oddly like something a gladiator in Roman times might have worn. But the weapons in their hands were all too modern; they looked like the same plasma-ray battery-powered guns carried by the soldiers aboard the starship. The scouts were trailed by more of their men, already in view as the first pair approached. The Eluoi advanced with a swagger that bespoke real confidence, and they made a lot of noise, at least by SEALS standards.

In the lieutenant’s free hand was a green plastic box. He already

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