Nine Years before the Storm
Strakis Skorpeois
Southern Atenohtep Desert
Scorpia Colony
Preferring the company of Mitchell's silent vigil to that of the two soldiers camped below, Dedrick remained on the ledge. After finishing the second strip of dried rock dagger, he found a relatively comfortable position against the rock face and tried to sleep. Soon he was dreaming, disjointed bits and flashes of childhood and his mother.
He awoke when the second rock struck him. The stone had been flipped backward from where Mitchell lay observing the ravines. Dedrick settled his helmet on his head and low-crawled to a position beside Mitchell. Passing the binoculars to Dedrick, Mitchell took up his rifle, already fitted with a night-vision scope.
Dedrick scanned the rock formations, searching in the area he thought Mitchell had been observing, but found nothing. He looked aside, finding Mitchell sighting in on something. Without taking his attention away from the scope, Mitchell whispered, "North-northwest, second stone arch. Watch the south base."
Eyeballing the terrain, Dedrick spotted the two stone arches and then focused the binoculars in on the southern base of the second one. The area was deep in shadow, and at first he saw nothing. As he watched, though, the shadows shifted slightly, and in the dim moonlight he made out the head and shoulders of a man moving stealthily away from the arch.
"One man, moving this way," Dedrick whispered.
"That makes five, total," Mitchell responded.
Dedrick pulled his handheld wireless out. "Shouldn't we warn them?" he asked, referring to Janovic and Hedgewick.
"This enemy moves like the sandviper, my friend. It is likely there are more than the few we've observed. Warn Janovic, and those two cows will just give away the fact we know the enemy is coming, and likely get themselves killed in the process." Mitchell took his rifle off safety, and continued, "You can warn them in a moment… you'll know when." Dedrick saw Mitchell draw the rifle in tighter and lay his finger gently across the trigger.
Dedrick returned his attention to the binoculars, tracing a rough path from where he'd sighted the man by the stone arch, to the camp below. He spotted two figures laying prone on the back side of a small ridge, a scant forty meters from the camp site. They were visible against the light-colored section of rock due to his high vantage point, but they'd be invisible from the camp.
Swinging the binoculars to the camp, Dedrick found the other two members of the fire team asleep in their bedrolls. He turned the binoculars back to the ridge. As he did, Mitchell's rifle cracked sharply, and one of the men on the ridge rolled over, lifeless. As the second man reached out to check his companion, Dedrick heard Mitchell slide the bolt back and then chamber another round. The figure on the ridge began to retreat into the darkness at the base of the ridge, but Mitchell's rifle cracked again and he dropped in his tracks.
Dedrick swung the binoculars back to their camp below, at the same time keying the wireless to call a warning. Mitchell had been right, though, there were more of them. He'd shot the two he thought were on point, but a handful of others had slipped his detection and now came charging into the camp. The two sleeping SFA soldiers, just awakened by the sound of Mitchell's rifle, lasted only seconds against their shadowy enemy.
Before he could react, Mitchell grabbed his shoulder. "C'mon, brother. Time to go."
The minutes, and then hours and days, that followed seemed to pass in a blur. Dedrick followed Mitchell, traversing the next few miles of ravine perched on rock ledges and cracks that seemed impassable. Several times their shadowy pursuers shot at them from below, but they had the advantage of high ground, and if anyone tried to climb to their level, Mitchell put a bullet in them.
They had only Mitchell's carbine, Dedrick's automatic rifle, and what ammunition they carried on their belts. More critically, they had only two canteens of water and the few rock dagger strips that Mitchell carried. Still, Mitchell was clan-born and knew the desert, and Dedrick had any uncanny knack for picking up on Mitchell's ways.
Whenever they had cover, Dedrick would try the handheld wireless, hoping to contact another fire team. The minicomp had been in the camp with Corporal Janovic, and without it they had no long-range communications. When the day came that they were scheduled to rendezvous for extraction, the two men were still deep within the arches and spires of the Strakis Skorpeois.
That morning, Dedrick harvested a few precious ounces of water from the dew-catchers they'd made from their ponchos. His voice low and serious, he spoke to Mitchell, "By clan custom, you could take my life, and there would be no guilt-burden. You could move faster without me, and your chances of survival would be better. I am clanless, after all."
"I am diplopisti, of dual allegiance," Mitchell answered. "When I joined the Federal Army, it became my second clan. That makes you my clan brother, and your life my responsibility, as mine is yours." Mitchell regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then set about breaking their spartan camp.
As they prepared to move out for the day, Mitchell caught Dedrick by the shoulder. "I think today we will work our way back to the ravine floor," he said. "There is something I wish to show you, and afterward I think you will feel differently about me sparing your life."