Starfist: Force Recon: Backshot

Book 1: Starfist: Force Recon

by David Sherman, Dan Cragg

Genres: Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Military Sci-Fi; Space Opera

Synopsis

An exciting new special-ops adventure from the battle-tested vets who created the popular Starfist series

Jorge Lavager, charismatic leader of the mysterious Union of Margelan, ferociously guards an agricultural research facility on the planet Atlas. What that facility conceals will prove whether Lavager is an idealist seeking to unify Atlas under a banner of freedom and prosperity—or a tyrant aiming to control all of Human Space.

The Marines of Fourth Force Recon’s second platoon are dispatched to Atlas to uncover the truth. They will have to sneak past state-of-the-art surveillance equipment barring unlawful entry to the planet and land in a desolate area miles from their target. And if they discover lethal new weapons instead of legitimate research, the thirty-six Marines are to seize the compound—guarded by merciless, armed-to-the-teeth soldiers—and destroy it. But what the recon team finds on Atlas sets off a chain of events that will force some hard decisions on the Marines . . . and end in a deadly surprise.

Release date: July 26, 2005

Publisher: Del Rey

Print pages: 368

Sample

CHAPTER
ONE
 
Fourth Force Recon Company, Fourth Fleet Marines, Camp Howard, Marine Corps Base Camp Basilone, Halfway
 
“ ’Toon, ten-hut!”
 
The Marines of second platoon, Fourth Force Recon Company snapped to attention at the command from their platoon sergeant Gunnery Sergeant Alf Lytle.
 
“Section leaders, report!”
 
“Squad leaders, report!” first section leader Staff Sergeant Suptra commanded in turn.
 
“First squad, all present and accounted for!” Sergeant Jak Daly shouted. His three Marines stood in a rank to his left.
 
“Second squad, all present and accounted for!” Sergeant Wil Bingh and his three men were directly to first squad’s left.
 
The four Marines of third squad were also present. Fourth squad would have completed the front rank of second platoon, but it was on a deployment, running a reconnaissance mission for the army. Only the four Marines of fifth squad were present from second section; sixth, seventh, and eighth squads, along with their section leader, were on a mission in support of a peacekeeping operation somewhere else. All seven members of the platoon’s sniper squad were present in the third rank, as reported by the squad leader, Staff Sergeant Athon.
 
Once the reports were complete, Gunny Lytle faced about and Lieutenant Tevedes, the platoon commander, marched toward him. Lytle raised his hand in a sharp salute and announced, “Second platoon, all present and accounted for, sir!”
 
“Thank you, Platoon Sergeant,” Tevedes said, returning the salute. “You may take your place.”
 
“Aye aye, sir.” Lytle executed an about-face and marched to his position two paces in front of Suptra.
 
Lieutenant Tevedes looked with pride at his Marines—his Marines. He’d previously served as a platoon sergeant and a platoon commander in a Fleet Initial Strike Team, a FIST. Before that he’d been first a reconman, then a squad leader in Seventh Force Recon Company. This was his first command in Force Recon, and he looked forward to the day when his entire platoon would be sent out on a mission. Individual-squad and multi-squad deployments in support of Confederation army units or the armed forces of Confederation member worlds were the bread and butter of Force Recon, but platoon-size missions were nearest to the hearts of the platoon commanders; those missions were when they got to demonstrate that they could do more than train their Marines and provide them with mission planning and support, that they could successfully lead them in harm’s way.
 
“I’m sure you will be happy to hear that sixth, seventh, and eighth squads have completed their phase of the peacekeeping mission with the army and will rejoin the platoon in a couple of weeks,” Tevedes said.
 
The Recon Marines were too well disciplined to show a reaction, though they’d been looking forward to the return of the three squads—by tradition, when two or more squads returned from a deployment, the entire platoon was given a week’s leave.
 
“That’s what I thought,” Tevedes deadpanned at their stone-faces. “Fourth squad is still bogged down trying to instruct the army on the difference between unconfirmed reports and the hard intel generated by Force Recon, so it’ll be a while yet before they come home.”
 
That brought out snickers from several of the Force Recon Marines and hoots from one or two. “Leave it to the doggies to not know the difference,” someone murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear.
 
“Quiet in the ranks,” Gunny Lytle said out of the side of his mouth.
 
“In other company news,” Tevedes continued as though there hadn’t been an interruption, “first platoon is deploying on a six-month training mission to Carhart’s World, where they will establish a recon school and train the first generation of instructors for a new Carhart Armed Forces special forces reconnaissance unit. Add in travel time and whatever bureaucratic nonsense they’ll have to deal with when they arrive on Carhart’s World, and they’ll probably be gone for seven months or longer. In the unlikely event that any of you don’t understand the significance of first platoon’s extended absence, it means there will probably be additional deployments for the rest of the company for the duration of that deployment.”
 
There was little reaction to that news; as much as half of the company was on deployment at any given time anyway, and it wasn’t all that unusual for a squad to have as little as two or three weeks, Standard, between deployments, though the normal rest and training period was at least two months Standard, and occasionally five or six months.
 
“The same squads from third and fourth platoons that were on deployments the last time I gave you an update are still on deployment, but I don’t imagine we much care about when they’re due back, not unless it interferes with our coming leave.” Tevedes was right, his Marines were more interested in what they would be doing until sixth, seventh, and eighth squads returned.
 
He gave his platoon a bland look that could be interpreted as, “Don’t ask me,” then said out loud, “Everyone who’s been in Force Recon long enough has run into a situation where you didn’t expect to need a sniper, but suddenly you do. So we are going to spend the next two weeks on the range, where we will all fire sniper weapons for orientation and qualification.”
 
“This again was the kind of announcement that didn’t provoke an overt reaction. They all knew that if a mission didn’t require a sniper, the squad or squads that went on it didn’t take sniper weapons either, so the training didn’t make much sense. But it was an opportunity to fire—and qualify with—more weapons, and the Marines all enjoyed spending time on the range.
 
“Commander Obannion,” Tevedes continued, “told me that came from very much higher-higher.” Which probably meant Obannion, the company commander, got the orders from Lieutenant General Indrus, the commanding general of Fourth Fleet Marines. “So get ready to head for the range. You know what that means. We leave at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning. Transportation will be provided. Platoon Sergeant, dismiss the platoon.”
 
“Aye aye, sir!” Lytle responded. He saluted Tevedes, who returned the salute, about-faced, and marched toward the company office.
 
Lytle waited until the lieutenant was halfway there, then faced the platoon and said, “You heard the man. Get your asses into the barracks and get ready to go play bang-bang with weapons most of us will never use.”
 
Camp Hathcock Controlled Ranges, MCB Camp Basilone, Halfway
 
Camp Hathcock, like Camp Howard, was a small part of Confederation Marine Corps Base Camp Basilone. Camp Basilone itself sprawled over more than eighty thousand square kilometers, which was far more space than was required for the headquarters of a Fleet Marine Force and its attendant units. But Camp Basilone was also home to the Marine Corps Combat Development Center, where new tactics and most Marine-specific weapons and equipment were developed and tested—when six or seven FISTs assembled to run war games together, or in opposition to each other, they needed prodigious amounts of space to play in. Terrain and weather were also a consideration, and Camp Basilone provided a full range from semitropical swamp through desert, temperate forest, and savannah, all the way to alpine. The installation also included several built-up areas, ranging from rural villages to a mock-up of a major metropolis—every one of which could be used for live-fire training for the full panoply of Marine Corps weapons.
 
Camp Hathcock was the smallest of the “camps” that made up Camp Basilone, only five kilometers deep by ten wide, backed up against the Veridian Ocean, but its area of influence via firepower was far larger: Air and sea craft were banned for a distance five kilometers to its sides and twenty kilometers beyond the shore.
 
Warrant Officer Jaqua, Fourth Force Recon Company’s training officer and range master, was ready for the platoon’s recon squads when they reached the range. Masers slung over their shoulders, Staff Sergeant Athon and his sniper squad stood in a rank behind him.
 
The four squads of second platoon available for that training evolution formed up in front of the company training officer the same as they had for morning formation behind the barracks.
 
Jaqua stood, hands clasped behind his back, casually looking them over. “I know,” he said before his inspection could make anybody uncomfortable, “that most of you have already done orientation firing of various sniper weapons. A couple of you have even fired all of them. But not one of you has fired any of them for qualification. We are going to spend the next two weeks correcting that deficiency.”
 
Jaqua could say “deficency” without giving offense; in addition to his Distinguished Blasterman and hand-blaster Expert badges, his chest bore the uncommon Expert Sniper badge with the scarlet pips that indicated he’d qualified at that level with all three of the sniper-specific weapons.
 
“We aren’t going to overwhelm you with firing all of our weapons at once; we only have two weeks, and that’s barely long enough to familiarize you with them. Instead, we will spend the first week concentrating on learning the maser. On Frigaday, you will fire the maser on the qualification range. Next week you will spend four days firing the mid-range projectile rifle and the long-range sabot. Next Frigaday, if you feel sufficiently comfortable with either of them, you will fire it for qualification.”
 
He raised a hand to stop the groans of protest he expected and quickly added, “If you qualify with any of these weapons, that qualification will be entered in your Service Record Book and you will be authorized to wear the appropriate badge. If you fail to qualify with any weapon you fire for qualification, that failure will not be entered into your service record. There is no requirement in the Basic Reconman MOS for qualification with sniper weapons, so it wouldn’t be fair to officially note any failure to do so. But qualifying with additional weapons will look good in your record.”
 
He smiled. “Besides, some of you might decide you like firing sniper weapons and want to apply for sniper school. Force Recon can always use new snipers who have prior experience as reconmen.
 
“Now, I’ll hand you over to Staff Sergeant Athon and his snipers for basic orientation.” He made an about-face. “Staff Sergeant Athon, front and center!”