Desperado (Murphy's Lawless: Watch the Skies Book 2) by Kevin Ikenberry (any book recommendations txt) 📕

be an armed force, an entirely different proposition than the occasional tribal militia vehicle. Depending on their path, an organized convoy could target his patrol from behind. Everyone was going to have to be on guard. Their enemies were not only to their front.

Zeesar raised a hand as Bo’s vehicle accelerated away. Bo returned the gesture and studied the disabled vehicle. There were parcels strapped to the rear deck which could have been anything in the darkness. Try as he might, Bo couldn’t help feeling he’d missed something. His plan called for a security force to assist with securing their attack corridor, but those soldiers were not manned or equipped to hold off an attacking force such as Zeesar’s might prove to be.

I need to fix this.

Under the cover of a grove of trees not unlike the baobab trees closer to the town, Bo stopped his vehicle. As he waited for the bulk of his force to catch up, he ran the plan through his head one more time.

Lieutenant Stewart was in position and ready to secure the cache site. Doing so would draw some attention there and open up the town for assault. By now, both security elements were in place and ready to take action the minute he and the remaining assault force opened fire on the objective. He had augmented the security teams, too, and Bo planned to send two more vehicles and about fifteen soldiers to each location. They’d have to move fast in order to be ready before sunrise. Once they were in place, the assault would begin.

Bo considered the adjustments to his plan. He’d done as much as he could to minimize casualties and collateral damage, but it might not be enough. He understood Murphy’s intent; they needed to take the town. They needed to find Aliza’s persons of interest. And, if possible, they needed to hold the town, which meant chasing, or scaring away, the various militias inside the walls before they figured out how to coherently fight as a unit. Combatants to combatants, Bo and his forces were outnumbered almost six to one. Undisciplined and untrained militia or not, Bo didn’t like those odds.

As morning twilight rose to the east, Bo wondered what Aliza would be doing that morning, at least until the raid began. Once the attack kicked off, he knew she’d find a place to hide. Or, failing that, a way to fight.

* * *

Mortar Point

Sean Davis adjusted his position atop the rusted vehicle for the thousandth time in the last hour. From where he sat, the entire valley of Imsurmik was laid out below him. For a firing position, it was perfect, except for the intense light from R’Bak’s stars. Even through his dark green uniform shirt, he felt as if his skin was already drying to parchment in the growing heat. He’d grown up in east Texas long before sunscreen was a thing, but he realized a change needed to be made. Davis and the other Lost Soldiers understood the adverse effects of too much exposure. Yet old habits tended to die hard, and he’d rolled his sleeves up above his elbow before dawn. Having felt the prickling intensity of the suns’ rays as the binary pair peeked over the horizon, he now pulled on the cuffs and rolled them back down as he checked his watch.

“Show time!” Davis grinned and stood atop the vehicle. He bounded down to the dusty ground. “Standby all tubes; prepare to fire!”

“All tubes, prepare to fire!” his indig master gunner, Ahce, called to the five tubes spread out in the clearing. He turned to Davis. “Targets, Lieutenant?”

Davis grinned. “Stick with the plan, Ahce. TRPs 1 and 2. We fire and adjust. Simple.”

“Simple,” said the indig with a shake of his head and a smile that revealed a few teeth to be missing in action.

It was anything but simple, and Davis knew it. After his promotion, he’d taken over the mortar section when Staff Sergeant Key rotated into the operations staff for Forward Operating Base Masada to their rear. Key hadn’t been a mortarman, though. Only a few of the Lost Soldiers were even familiar with the weapons. Old, yellowed procedural manuals crammed in their original containers proved invaluable. Fortunately, it had been enough for the Lawless, but not necessarily for their partners. Forced to learn something completely different and modifying the commands and procedures so the indigs could understand them without proper context, Davis had done the best he could. But there were still far too many opportunities for screw ups.

“Make it up as we go” ought to be our motto.

Davis smiled at Ahce and brought up his binoculars to study the gated complex on the western glacis. The angular walls would make pinpoint fires difficult, but not impossible. While there appeared to be several weapon emplacements, almost all of them were located at the junction of the acutely angled walls. Davis’ mortars were targeted on them to the best of his indigs’ abilities, but without a true fire direction center, his battery was shooting from the proverbial hip.

Ain’t nothing new.

Davis reached for his PRC-77’s handset. “Desperado Six, this is Tequila Sunrise. Standing by.”

There was no reply, which Davis expected. The attack was supposed to kick off at the top of the hour, and it was two minutes prior. The main vehicle contingent would be starting their engines and preparing to move. The vehicle assault force under Major Moorefield was already rolling toward Imsurmik.

Davis grabbed the radio and knelt atop his vehicle. In the northwest, he saw dust from the main road on the valley floor. The attack was on.

Here we go.

“Tequila Sunrise,” said Moorefield’s static-backed voice, “this is Desperado Six. Fire TRPs 1 and 2.”

“Desperado Six, Tequila Sunrise. Firing TRPs 1 and 2. Out.” Davis turned to Ahce and raised his voice. “Fire mission! Fire TRPs 1