Chapter 35

 THIRTY-FIVE

Trigger looked out to a mottled grayscale jungle canopy below. Under normal conditions, Trigger immensely hated flying at night, especially in the training missions that involved loitering, the claustrophobia and loss of situational awareness as well as the general headache that the standard green phosphor night vision goggles caused made him thankful that a bulk of his close-air-support missions during the war occurred in generally high visibility situations. His mind was set somewhat at ease over the previous two months flying for Basilisk. As well as providing him a new plane and a, sometimes unwitting, support staff of Marines. They also provided him brand new state of the art equipment to use, that not even the LRSSG had access to. Now instead of a grainy green filled hellscape that would desaturate constantly. He now had a Scorpion helmet mounted display that fed him data, as well as providing him use of a white phosphor AN/AVS-9 Night vision goggle set that painted the world in a saturated, but more detailed grey scale.

 

Trigger flipped his goggles up and flipped one of the AT-802 Longswords MFD to the infrared camera on board. A small flashing warning indicated that it was currently slaved to his back seater, Sergeant Kyle, acting as sensor operator. Trigger could see half a dozen twinkling IR strobes stalking their way towards a lone compound nestled amid the dense brush.

 

Kyle slewed the camera to focus on the compound and switched the image, the grayscale TV picture flashed briefly, and was replaced by a more contrasted picture. A dozen black voids moved around the interior of the compound, Unaware of what lurked nearby.

 

Trigger glanced down to his watch, then to the fuel gauge. Everything was running as scheduled.

He made one last check of the weapons stores onboard before they’d be called up.

 

The Longswords impressive payload let the Marines get away with more than Trigger would have first thought, nestled under the wings was two GBU-12 laser guided bombs, a GAU-19 12.7mm gatling gun, and four AGM-114 Hellfire missiles. It was a load of firepower that he could only dream of while flying the Eagle or Viper and rivaled only by the more specified close air support role aircraft and more advanced multi-role fighters.  

Trigger clicked through each individual guided bomb to verify the codes where properly set. Prior to step off, he and Gunnery Sergeant Morgan privately briefed on the expected situation and individual laser codes for the weapons if needed. Trigger had worked with JTACs before but never in face-to-face briefings, it had been yet another hurdle for him to overcome with his new duties.

 

Satisfied that his preparations were complete, Trigger flipped down his night vision goggles and returned his attention back outside the aircraft. There was a pop over the intercom as Kyle spoke up.

“Yo Trigger, we’re almost at the time, are you ready?” Kyle asked.

“About as ready as the last twenty times you’ve asked me.” Trigger replied dryly.

 

As Trigger was only made of aware after the fact, during his re-education to fly, Bandog and his compatriots had been busy. From the moment he had returned with Morgan, the team had been on constant raids against various targets.

 

To Trigger’s chagrin, the missions rarely called for his intervention. He was almost giddy when he was called upon to drop a lone laser guided bomb on suspected weapons depot. The secondary explosions were almost movie worthy but did little to making the rest of his flying any more interesting. For all its benefits, the Longsword simply lacked a presence that a Jetfighter brought to the table, something Trigger dearly missed.

 

Trigger keyed the radio. “Archer 15, Initial point Tuka”

 

Two clicks broke the static.

 

Moments later, Lieutenant Fick’s voice broke the silence. “Basilisk, Grail is filled.”

Trigger glanced out of the corner of his eye to the FLIR display. He could see brief flashes of black as the Marines breached the perimeter and neutralized their targets with a brutal efficiency.

 

Within moments, the skirmish outside was over. Over a dozen rapidly cooling bodies laid motionless below, and Trigger sat bored as ever watching from a distance.

 

Zhao’s voice crackled over the radio. “Assassin, breaching.” He reported.

Even at the altitude Trigger was flying to minimize the Longsword’s turbine sound signature, he could make out the bright flash as they blasted open the doors.

 

There was a silence. Trigger could see two Marines watching the perimeter, from his guess it was Corporal Dennings and Sergeant Adams.

 

Rinse and repeat, just like the time before that, and the time before that. Trigger thought to himself frowning.

“Don’t you ever get bored of this?” Trigger asked.

“What do you mean?”

“All we’ve been doing since August was flying around in circle as voyeurs. These guy’s we’ve been going up against haven’t nearly been organized enough to actually need us.” Trigger complained.

“What would you rather do? Its not like you can clear the building with us. I’ve seen how you shoot.” Kyle replied

“Hey! I’ve been practicing!” Trigger defended himself.

“Yes, and I trust you about as far as to not N.D. into us, and if need be, to defend the compound until actual reinforcements arrive. But as for doing this shit? I trust your flying more than your shooting.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Trigger muttered

“Relax, these guys are just pushovers anyways. They’re geared up to fight cops and rival gangs, not actual professionals like Morgan and the rest. Frankly I consider this assignment a vacation.” Kyle replied.

“As opposed to?”

“Terrorists, KGB armed militias, radical military groups, regular military groups… You know, the usual.”

“I wonder how much black ink is in your records compared to mine.” Trigger wondered out loud.

“You probably have more. The Old Man isn’t big on keeping paper records on anything. Probably why we get screwed so often on the awards portion of our promotion packets every year. Lord knows if we get out, benefits will be a bitch to obtain.”

“Harsh.”

“Not much you can do.” Kyle relented.

 

Morgans voice broke over the radio. “Archer, Rider 1-3”

Trigger stood up straight and quickly replied. “Archer, Go.”

“Be advised, we have what appears to be hostile’s inbound, Advise when ready for the nine-line.” Morgan called.

“Rider 1-3, Archer 15, Ready to copy.” Trigger replied, flipping to an empty sheet of paper on his kneeboard.

“Tuka. One-eight-zero left. Seven point eight. One two four three. One BTR followed by three trucks. BZ400379. Talk on, North 8429. Egress west to Rory. No following remarks. Report IP Inbound with heading.” Morgan dictated.

 

Trigger plugged the information into the Longsword’s tactical terminal. He had a good idea of the situation but wanted to double check. The Compound was eight and a half kilometers from the targets, He was almost eight miles away, at the Longswords current speed he could cover the distance in just over two minutes.

Satisfied, Trigger banked the aircraft towards the point and called Morgan back “One-eight-zero, BZ400379.”

There was a pause “Readback correct, advise when ready for talk-on” Morgan said.

Without direction, Kyle slewed the FLIR towards the target and keyed the radio. “Ready for talk-on”.

As the duo had practiced dozens of times, Morgan guided Kyle to the convoy.

 

Trigger patiently waited until he reached the Inbound point and then called Morgan.

“Archer 15, IN with heading one-eight-zero.”

“Archer 15, Cleared hot.”

 

Trigger flashed a predatory grin.

 

Through the Display, he could see that Kyle had lased the BTR to be hit first.

“So, Hellfire or bomb?” Kyle asked.

Trigger thought for a moment. “We’ll need to save the bombs for the compound, so hit them with a hellfire.” Trigger replied.

“Works for me. Release when ready.” Kyle stated.

Trigger waited until the onboard computer calculated them being within range and squeezed the pickle button on the stick. With a brief shudder the diminutive missile flew off the rail and towards the target. After a brief second a flash burst from the distance.

 

Trigger rolled the airplane left and banked away from the target.

“Archer 15, Good hits, BTR destroyed, return to Tuka for re-engagement of remaining targets, Push when ready.” Morgan reported.

A moment later, Trigger was rolling into the target. He could see from the targeting pod that the men in the convoy were scattered and disorganized. He switched to the minigun pod.

A small target reticle appeared in his eye, he positioned the Longsword and engaged the first truck. Even over the noise of the engine, Trigger could hear the roar of the gun in the quick burst.

The 50 caliber HEIAP rounds made quick work of the aluminum siding and steel frame of the truck, the gas tank briefly bloomed in a flash as the earth around it erupted from the impacts of hundreds of bullets. The blast sent dirt, shrapnel, and debris into the scattered men below. Trigger pulled the plane around again and engaged the second truck. Like with the first, the vehicle did little to resist the impact of violence the Longsword was unleashing.

Morgans voice crackled over the radio. “Archer 15, Disengage and return to Tuka. Remaining targets are bugging out.”

“Archer 15 copies all” Trigger said satisfied. Fighting vehicles wasn’t as exciting as a dogfight but it was still something exciting to do.

 

“Assassin, we have the intel and are ready for dust off.” Zhao reported.

 Laurens voice crackled over the radio next. “Lancer copies, Rory inbound, ETA four minutes.” She reported.

 

Trigger watched from the FLIR as the massive CH-53 landed and extracted the Marines from the compound. As soon as the helicopter was clear, Kyle had marked the target and Trigger had released the precision guided bomb onto the roof of the building, sending it imploding in an explosion of debris.

 

As Trigger guided the Longsword back towards the compound, Kyle broke the silence.

“And who says we don’t let you occasionally do some fun stuff.” He joked.

“Yeah, I guess that was pretty cool. Still would have preferred the twenty-mike-mike though.” Trigger replied.

“There is just no pleasing you is there?” Kyle asked.

***

Trigger turned off the gas tug. Unlike every other experience he had in the air force, there was no support crew to store the airplane back in the hangar, so it was entirely up to Trigger and Kyle, under the watchful eye of Adams, to unload the ordinance and prepare the AT-802 for its next flight. By the time they had finished, the sun was just cresting over the horizon.

 

“So, Debrief in an hour?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, That’s the plan, you go run in, I’ll catch up in a moment.” Trigger said, wiping his hands on his pants and taking a seat. He reached into one of the pockets on his flight suit. Gingerly, he unfolded the thin paper picture, already showing its age under the austere conditions he stored it in.

It was of Cossette, torn from the page of a magazine. It was a candid shot of Cossette at one of the Royal estates, her new home following the Farbanti attack. He was mesmerized at how elegant she appeared, not letting the weight of the world that had come to bear on her show. It was finally close to the world seeing the Cossette that he had come to know.

 

There was a rap on the metal siding of the hangar.

“Not much for subtly, are you?” Bandog remarked as he walked into the hangar. Hastily Trigger folded the picture and shoved it back into his pocket.

“What can I say, they grew on me.” Trigger replied dryly pointing to the three diagonal paint lines across the tail.

“Yeah, but sin lines are a bit noticeable. Defeats the entire purpose of blending in.” Bandog critiqued.

 

Trigger cleared his throat to change the subject. “Any particular reason you decided to grace us with your presence, or?” he asked.

Bandog shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was in the neighborhood looking at some used equipment. While out here I got my hands on some intel from my new best friend and since I was already in the neighborhood; Thought it best to deliver personally.”

“How nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule.” Trigger quipped.

Bandog glared at him “You know I could easily have these guys drop your ass back off at that shithole we found you in, right? Don’t test me Trigger.”

Trigger frowned at the threat. “Just keep yapping guard dog, I’ve been itching to put what I’ve learned to good use.”

“You try anything, you’re going to be dropped immediately. I hate to waste the investment I put into you so its best you don’t try it.” Bandog threatened.

Trigger narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t in the mood to make any more enemies out of the few people keeping him alive.

 

“When is the briefing?” Trigger asked.

 ***
Trigger looked at the black cup before him on the table, he was running on fumes and was exhausted physically and mentally, but still had more to do. He glanced around the kitchen table and noticed the rest of the Marines were doing as well as he was.

Adams broke the silence “Lieutenant, can we get started or are you just punishing us?”

Fick looked to Bandog at the head of the table who nodded.

Fick cleared his throat and tossed a stack of file folders around the table.

“Alright gentlemen, I know these past few months have been different operationally than normal; but Old Man has given us for a task, and we have to deliver.”

Bandog stepped forward and took the lead.

“Right, as your aware the Machado Cartel has been one of them major players in the criminal underground of Usea for some time. Normally that wouldn’t be the problem of you all, except when they decided that arming terrorist was more lucrative than their usual rackets. While the rest of the world may not give a shit, I do; And is where you all have been getting involved. Thanks to the backdoors my new best friend left me, I can give you one hell of a juicy target to send the Machado’s packing out of this continent and back to the hole they crawled from.” Bandog started. He opened a folder and held up a photograph.

“This is Michael Troy. To the common Usean citizen, he’s just one of the well-connected business magnates out here with friends in high places and even a brother on the Selatapura City Administrative Council. What most don’t know, and even fewer can prove, is his connections to some less than stellar aspects of the Usea as well. INTERPOL has him flagged as a suspect of money laundering and fraud on behalf of the Machados, however it of course goes deeper than that. Mr. Troy, as you can guess is the Lieutenant administering Machado operations in the continent- And he has finally taken notice of what you boys have been up to.” Bandog continued.

 

“From what I have been able to piece together, Troy was the one to mastermind the selling of those burst weapons to the Radicals back in January and has likely been the one tied to those mysterious attacks on allied air power in the region. If we kill him, that should put an end to both operations.” Bandog concluded.

 

Trigger raised his hand. “Yeah, about that, how sure are you that those attacks are related?”

Bandog had forwarded him multiple Osean reports after Trigger mentioned the jets Asher’s men were using. It wasn’t until after Farbanti that anyone in Osean intelligence had made the connection between seemingly random IUN and Osean aircraft shootdowns. The most recent operation against the jets had proven an overwhelming success until Trigger had read into the details. He agreed with Bandog that the mysterious aircraft were a threat and had taken care to practice with the direct fire control system the AirTractor had installed in the event it became necessary but was still skeptical that the jets were anything more than another EASA project falling into the wrong hands.

 

“Great question. If you’ll flip to page fifteen?” Bandog instructed.

 

Trigger and the others complied, to see a screenshot on a spreadsheet. Splattered across was numbers, labels and an overload of information that meant nothing to Trigger.

 

“Ok, explain.” Dennings asked.

“These are weapons transactions. Each label is code for different weapons system that the Radicals had been purchasing from them. Each label has a type of prefix, following a three-character set telling you what it is. Cell A12 for example is ‘RAKM’ for Rifle, AKM. Cell F8 is ‘THLX’ for Truck, Hilux. Finally look at cell B21, AM29 for Aircraft, MiG-29, Turns out Romny gave them a killer deal on Fulcrums. My point being, everything has an explanation code next to when it was bought and how much was bought. Now turn to cell B36, back at the beginning of May, they shipped over a dozen AX10 to the Radicals. Any guess what those are?” Bandog asked.

Trigger and the rest of the Marines shrugged.

“Exactly!” Bandog exclaimed excitedly.  “The X-10 doesn’t exist! Theres no record of any aircraft with that designation or one similar, and even the sicario didn’t know anything. So, flip to the twentieth or so page in those folders.” Bandog once again instructed. This time was a printout of what appeared to be emails. Trigger could recognize it was written in Erusean but nothing more beyond that. One word was highlighted.

 

Colibris.

 

Trigger furrowed his brow; it was the same term Asher had used.

This time Morgan spoke up. “Mind explaining what buying hummingbirds have to do with all this?”

 

Bandog nodded “Colibris was a term that popped up in Radical chatter in the days leading up to the attacks on Farbanti. This email? Was between a Cartel weapons dealer and a Radical agent.”

 

Trigger spoke up again “Ok so we know they’re moving these jets, but whose making them?”

 

“Easy. I don’t know, but the data Troy has definitely would have those answers.” Bandog replied.

“So, then what, we go on another wild goose chase hunting those guys down too and killing them?” Zhao asked.

 

Bandog shrugged. “Up to you all. Let the OIA handle it at that point for all it matters.”

Silence fell across the table.

 

Adams raised his hand “So we take out Troy and presumably the Cartel collapses here. Whose filling that vacuum?”

This time Fick spoke up. “Arrangements have already been made with the Yuke Mafia and local crime lords. They already have an arrangement to divvy up what the Cartel leaves behind and most importantly, to not pull any of the same shit. Surprisingly even gangsters can learn to co-exist.”

 

Trigger steepled his fingers “So where is this meeting?”

Bandog produced another photo, it was of a nightclub exterior, written in large, stylized neon letters across the wall was AURORA.

 

Fick spoke “Troy owns a prominent nightclub in Anchorhead Bay where he conducts all his business. This Friday, he and all his sub-lieutenants will be gathering in the penthouse of the six-story club. Plan is to go in and eliminate them there.”

 

“Can’t we just drop a bomb on the place? Say it was a gas leak?” Zhao asked.

“Unfortunately, that club has a few hundred innocent bystanders in the way. Let’s try to keep the killing to just those that earned it.” Bandog shot back.

Trigger smirked. “Going soft on us Bandog?” Bandog rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.

Morgan leaned forward “How do we go about infiltrating that place?”

“Since we already have a backdoor into their systems, I can easily get you ID’s to get past the first layer of security without any undue searches. From there, Armor up and hit them hard. I understand Aurora is fairly loud so suppressed weapons shouldn’t be noticeable as long as its away from the patrons.” Bandog explained.

“Well three days doesn’t give us a whole lot of prep time.” Haver noted.

“We’ve done more on less time.” Hernandez reminded him.

“Yeah, but with more support generally.” Replied Kyle.

 

Fick clapped his hands

“Well, no sense in complaining about it now. I’ll work out a plan with Bandog, you all get some rest. We have a busy couple of days coming up.” Fick ordered, adjourning the briefing.