Free Target Utopia by Dale Brown Page B

systems.
    Right now it was getting an eyeful.
    â€œWe got over fifty savages in the weeds,” said the Marine at the controls. “They’re massing for an attack on the west side of the base.”
    Danny spun around and nearly struck Captain Thomas.
    â€œI heard him,” said Thomas. “We’ll be ready.”
    A M ARINE RAN out to help Turk as he pulled Rogers into the shelter near the airstrip. Just as the weight was lifted off his shoulder, the ground rocked with another nearby explosion. Turk lost his balance and fell straight back, smacking his head on the ground. He rolled to his belly and got to his knees, momentarily disoriented. Then he pushed to his feet.
    The Malaysian ground troops were about four hundred yards away, near the outer perimeter. Turk decided that he should head over there in case they needed to liaison with the Marines. But before he could take a single step, one of the crew chiefs for the planes ran up to him, shouting about Rogers.
    â€œWe’re looking for him—they need him in the air!” yelled the Marine.
    â€œHe’s sick,” said Turk.
    â€œDamn. We need to get the plane off. It’s a sitting duck.”
    â€œI’ll fly it,” said Turk. “Take me up there.”
    â€œBut—”
    Turk grabbed hold of the man’s arm and pushed him in the direction of the runway. “Let’s go!”
    D ANNY STOOD AT the side of the small bunker as Captain Thomas took control of the situation. The rebel force was sizable, nearly four times the number of Marines assigned to guard the perimeter. But the Corps had a slogan: every Marine is a rifleman. And Thomas lived by it: he had already drilled the maintenance and support people in the defense of the base. He now rallied them into position, readying for the assault the Shadow had seen coming.
    Ironically, all that preparation left Danny feeling useless; he didn’t have an assignment.
    â€œGive me a rifle,” he told Thomas. “I’ll help on the perimeter.”
    The captain frowned. “No offense, sir, but—”
    â€œI guarantee I’ve seen more action than you, Captain,” answered Danny.
    â€œYes sir, but, uh . . .”
    Danny knew that Thomas considered it his job to provide security, and that he would feel responsible if anything happened to him. He’d been in the same spot himself, many times.
    â€œLook, Captain, I can shoot as well as most of your men, I’m sure,” he said bluntly. “You need bodies. And if anything happens, I gave you a direct order, which everyone here will vouch for.”
    â€œWhat I could use is someone liaising with the Malaysians,” said Thomas. “I haven’t been able to reach them on the radio. Their equipment is primitive—and that’s if they remember to use it. I need someone who can get a radio to them and tell them what to do. They can reinforce the southern side of the perimeter.”
    â€œDid Turk go down to talk to them?”
    â€œUh, Captain Mako ran up to the airstrip to fly one of the planes,” said a lance corporal who just entered the bunker, wearing his helmet and carrying an M-16A4. “One of our guys is sick, I heard.”
    â€œGive me a radio,” said Danny.
    Thomas hesitated, but then complied. “Mofitt, go over with the colonel,” he said, turning to the man who’d just come in.
    â€œYes, sir, right away.”
    â€œLet’s do it,” said Danny.
    O NE OF THE F-35s started down the runway as Turk ran up. It took him by surprise, and he ducked involuntarily as it roared past, both pilot and steed eager to get into the air.
    Turk continued toward the other planes. Two crew dogs were attaching bombs to the hard points of the nearest aircraft, despite the continuing whistle of the mortar attacks. A pair of rounds landed every thirty or forty seconds, with an occasionalsingle shell breaking the pattern. They were getting closer to