In the Crosshairs

[Owen Matthews 0]

Thanks a lot to C.T. Caine for impersonating William "Shorty" Gibson

 

Owen sat on a bench in the locker room, carefully applying replicated twigs and leaves to what looked like a small bush lying next to him. Unlikely as it seemed, this was standard preparation for his missions even if they were only training in the holodeck. "Yo, Shorty," he said to the Marine who just entered the locker room, looking like a walking tree with a human head.

 

"G'day, Buddha." William "Shorty" Gibson edged his way around one of the locker room benches, careful not to jar the twigs of his own ghillie suit, and he gave Owen an easy grin as he came to a halt, eying his partner's preparations. "'Bout ready to go, then?"

 

"Gotta make sure to go with the local fashion," Owen replied dryly. They had gone through this preparation countless times before. The ghillie suits were basically flight coveralls with pieced of cloth attached so that they'd look like leaves. Once that was done all you had to do was drag it over the muddiest planet you could find. No washing required as that would ruin the effect. The downside was that these things tended to smell...bad. Owen had known a few snipers who preferred their ghillie suits covered in manure. Talk about going too far. He carefully donned his suit and picked up his helmet which was decorated in a choice variety of today's local flora. Looking in the mirror he quickly checked that the paint really covered all his face. When he was satisfied with his camouflage, he lifted the rifle out of his locker and turned to face his observer. "I'm ready to go, Shorty. Checked the rifle, prepped the suit, uploaded the programme. Let's have some fun."

 

"Brings out your eyes as always, Lieutenant," Shorty quipped, hefting his own rifle and turning to follow Owen out of the locker room and towards the already-running holodeck. "I'm right with you. Long days these days, guess I'll take my fun where I can get it." His tone was dry, calm, and he smiled a little sardonically as he checked the charge on his own rifle.

 

Owen stepped into the holodeck and waited for Gibson to follow him. "Good thing we're doing the lush woods thing today. I'm not in the mood for lying in the snow for hours." The good thing about Shorty was that the two of them had been a team for years. No need to tell each other what to do. They could almost read each other’s minds...at least as far as their job was concerned. Each step of the mission, from the planning to the assessment of conditions to the actual firing of the shots, had become second nature to them. This was something that could actually save their lives if they were out in the field. Every spoken word, even if it was whispered, could mean detection, compromise the team and ultimately get them killed. Their job was to take out targets at long range. They were not equipped to engage enemy forces. Their tactic was hit and run. Or rather hit and crawl, since detection had to be avoided at all times especially after a successful shot.

 

Gibson smirked but didn't respond; as soon as he stepped through the doors of the holodeck and let them whine shut behind him, his mind was on that silence just as Owen's was. A quick headjerk around took in the terrain, the angle of the sun, and scanned for any immediate signs of danger, but the area was quiet except for the sound of a couple of birds warbling some feet above them in the trees. His wrist snapped out, silently gesturing a direction, and then he all but disappeared with a low rustle into the brush, taking point.

 

Owen quickly followed Gibson. It was important they didn't lose contact. Even though it was Owen who ultimately pulled the trigger, Gibson's role was just as important. He provided cover fire when necessary, helped him assess conditions, reported sight adjustments and just generally kept an eye out for trouble. Having a good observer meant that Owen could concentrate on getting a good shot. And Gibson was one of the best observers in the corps.

 

After making their way through the dense underbrush of the large wooded area for a couple of hours, Buddha and Shorty finally arrived at their tentative position...the place which, during the preparation of their mission, had seemed best for cover and field of observation.

 

Owen tapped William on the shoulder and motioned for him to take cover behind a large tree trunk. They'd have to set up a position. Since he had programmed the holodeck for a short training mission of no more than 5 hours they'd set up a hasty position. Even though this was the least work they'd still have to find something to provide cover while not obstructing their view. In this environment the underbrush would likely provide them with enough cover to make sure they wouldn't be spotted by anyone.

 

Shorty nodded sharply and angled aside, dropping into the indicated niche and casting his eyes forward, peering through the brush as Buddha located his own cover just in front of him. They had come to a halt at the crest of a small rise in the land which looked down on an open area in which a small encampment was visible. Shorty pulled his scope from his pack and quickly got a sight on the small structure. "Eight targets...Soltie camp as expected," he muttered crisply, low enough as to only just barely reach Buddha's ears. "Range..." A pause as he adjusted the scope and muttered a few calculations to himself. "About four hundred meters." Lowering the scope, he raised his head slightly, testing the air, then continued. "Full-value wind, 9 o'clock, four m-p-h."

 

Owen dropped onto his belly and tried to get himself into a comfortable position, using his left arm to stabilize the rifle. He gave Shorty a sign that he had understood him. Even though William’s calculations were usually spot on, he checked the wind himself and tried to estimate the range. They had indeed a full value wind blowing from his left side but four mph was almost negligible. Now all they needed to do is figure out who of those eight possible targets was the highest ranking officer. To find that out they’d just have to wait and observe.

 

Shorty brought the scope up to his eye again, focusing in on the individual blue-skins moving about the camp. A few minutes passed in dead silence. Four of them were non-coms or something of the sort, he could tell immediately. Two were doing menial supply-checking tasks, the other two were on guard duty. Of the remaining four, three at first seemed to be in conference under a makeshift roof, but closer examination revealed it to be their mess tent; they were working their way through some heavy glop which Shorty could only assume to be the Soltie equivalent of field rations. The eighth of the group had disappeared into one of the tents just as Shorty and Buddha had arrived, and Shorty angled himself a little farther around the tree, a few of his twigs snapping against the bark, to try to get a look inside. "Eyes on the north-end tent," he murmured. "Fellow's set himself off."

 

Owen peered over his scope to orient himself. It took him only a few seconds to make out the tent in question. He carefully aimed his rifle just above the entrance to make up for the bullet dropping along its trajectory. It had been a while since he had used live ammo but sometimes there were situations where you just couldn’t use a phaser rifle. When there was a dampening field for example. So it was important to practice under these conditions.

 

Energy weapons such as phaser rifles were perfect weapons for snipers because they were not influenced by wind, humidity or gravity. You just had to aim at the target and pull the trigger. The scenario Owen had programmed was different, though. The Soltans had set up a dampening field to prevent the use of energy weapons. So they had to go about this old-school.

 

Lying motionless on his belly, Owen waited for the Soltan officer to leave his tent. They had to be feeling quite safe out here for the commanding officer to be so obvious about his rank. It wasn’t Owen’s problem. Now all he had to do was lie there and wait. His breathing was steady and he never took his eyes off the tent’s entrance. He knew that just behind him Shorty also observed the camp closely. They would remain like this, as motionless as possible, until their target was eliminated. Hopefully they’d be able to accomplish this with only one shot. The fewer shots you fired the better the chances to remain undetected.

 

The silence stretched, broken only by the noise of the wind gently rattling the branches above them. Shorty's slight frame leaned slightly against the tree supporting him as he stared unblinkingly at the tent that had become their target. There was no sense of impatience, merely the sort of trance of waiting, the hypnotizing rhythm of heartbeat and wind and nearly silent breath that passed the time as well as any activity, the tension shared by a coiled spring and a sniper with a goal in sight.

 

Finally there was a stirring at the entrance of the tent and a head poked out, followed by the rest of the officer who had taken up residence there. Immediately Shorty's head was up and alertness stiffened his twig-covered frame. "Buddha -- visual."

 

Owen didn’t really need his partner to tell him. He had seen the tent flaps move before the officer emerged. As soon as the man came into view Owen pulled the trigger. Still he didn’t move. His sight remained on the target. He smiled ever so slightly as the sounds of confusion and chaos reached his ears. Men jumping to their feet, urgent voices, shouted orders. Through his scope he could see the remaining Soltans look around frantically, trying to find the two Marines. Fortunately the confusion that reigned prevented them from taking coordinated action. It worked every time.

 

"Clean shot," Shorty muttered, admiration in his tone though his voice was almost too low to be heard. "Let's get out of here."

 

Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, Owen packed up his gear. Behind him Shorty was doing the same. They left by the same way they had reached their position.