Snow Snipers

It was just another mission for the group of snipers, until things began to go wrong...

 Small white flakes of fresh mountain snow drifted gently down around a prostrate figure lying next to a small boulder, on top of the ridge overlooking the only pass through the Snargh mountains. It swirled lazily in the ever present breeze that always blew in these lofty peaks. Building up deep drifts where it gathered in sheltered nooks.

Through the lens of his holo-imaging scope the man saw the flakes as nothing more than tiny blurred specs, hardly worth noticing. His concentration was on the floor of the steep sided valley that cut through the snow covered mountain range. This was where his quarry would be found, not in the dancing flight of wind blown snowflakes. As he lay surveying the pristine, peaceful scene bellow, sergeant Falcon thought back on the orders that had sent him, and the rest of his highly trained sniper squad, on this, their latest mission. He had been at the briefing with lieutenant Romerez, as was normal, and had read the sealed orders handed to the lieutenant by their company leader, First Lieutenant Wolf.

The orders read:

First Sniper Squad, Elite.

Destination: Planet Zaresith,

Region: Snargh mountains

Mission: Eliminate Zaresith rebellion leadership core. (holos enclosed)

Comment: You and your squad are to drop into the Snargh mountains and assassinate the leaders of the rebellion. No prisoners. They are known to be planning a spring attack on the capital city, Grithenar, twenty parabs to the east of the mountains. To do so, they must use the Hargle pass, the only pass from their base camps in the west through the mountains. This is where you will set your ambush. Good luck, fight well.

It had been signed by the chapter leader and couriered by special transport.

Sergeant Falcon had wondered about that. It was unusual even for an assignment such as this, to come from so high up. "They must really want these guys dead", he thought, giving the valley another sweep. He glanced at his chrono, time for shift change. Rolling onto his back and flexing his cramped legs to return the circulation, he gazed down to where the command vehicle nestled amongst a stand of hardy mountain pines.

This was their lifeline. It housed their survival gear, transported them over the rough snowy ground and served as command post and communications center. Also when the weather turned bad, they used it as shelter. But it tended to get awfully cramped with five heavily built men in there.

The men of First Sniper Squad Elite did not wear servo assisted armor like the rest of the warriors in their chapter. Battle armor was considered unnecessary and clumsy for their work. It was heavy, making travelling through deep snow difficult, and it left definite tracks. Instead the men wore light survival suits. These did nothing to enhance their strength or power, but it made travelling and camouflaging much easier. Once in position the men were invisible to all except themselves. Even if you knew where they were, it was impossible to see them, such was their skill.

It was a skill that had served Falcon well over the years. Many times irate warriors of many peoples had sought him out after a successful `hit', only to find that he had disappeared. If only they had known that he was right under their feet, but none ever found him. That was why he had lived to the ripe old age of forty two. Still in his prime and hungry for action, Falcon had no thoughts of retirement. In fact the addition of a bright young lad, Kestrel, to their squad had given him a new lease on life. Someone worth teaching the skills of a sniper's trade.

"That lad has what it takes to be the best", mused the sergeant as he waited for his relief to toil his way up the slope to the top of the ridge. "If he lives long enough".

Zaresith's sun, Solinare, dipped icily towards the horizon. It was the turning of winter. Soon spring would be upon the mountains bringing warm breezes from the lowlands flowing over the wooded slopes, wakening the creatures of the summer from their long winters death. The snow would be banished to the highest peaks, and the pass would once again echo to the sound of caravans rumbling from the towns in the east to the farms and wilds of the west, and back again. But not yet. Winter still held on tightly to her mountain realm, and as the light faded she unveiled herself to the mountains, exposing herself to all who inhabited the winter nights.

Sleek and beautiful she was, her pale skin shinning like moon dust beneath her long cascading locks of snowy hair. Her deep night-blue eyes lusted at the men huddled on the mountainside, imploring, begging, seducing. This was why these men were snow-snipers. All loved winter with a passion that would make a whore blush. They did not regard each other as rival for her affections, for she had enough for all, and romanced each personally. Well into the night she wove her charms around the men as they slept, safe in her cool embrace.

As dawn broke through the stark chill of the night, she covered her nakedness and lay in her own rest, scowling at the warm lowland winds that already threatened to send her to her high summering home. Solinare peeked above the horizon like a child not sure that it would like what it was about to see. But winter was abed and modestly covered, all was seemly. So with enthusiasm born of the promise of long balmy days, Solinare climbed joyfully into the morning sky.

The crunch of fresh snow alerted corporal Eagle to the presence of his sergeant. The non-com had gotten to within a few feet of the camouflaged sniper before the footfalls had announced his arrival. This shocked and annoyed Eagle, who prided himself on his sharp hearing. The fact that the sergeant had found him without too much trouble was not a problem. After all the sergeant had taught him everything he knew about concealing himself. Naturally he would know where the corporal was hiding.

"Morning Eagle", greeted the sergeant gruffly. "Breakfasts up. I'll take over". As the two men changed positions and Eagle rubbed the circulation back into his stiff legs, the sergeant called for a report.

"Nothing yet", was the simple reply. He sounded tired and disappointed, but that was not unusual. According to their code the first to spot their target had the right to first shot. Naturally the man on post during the day had more chance than the one on night duty.

"Don't worry lad", said sergeant Hawk, slapping him on the shoulder, "You'll get your chance. We have enough targets for everyone, even young Kestrel".

Eagle grinned as he ploughed his way down the slope towards the command vehicle, young Kestrel was the new bright eyed boy. A talented sniper but a little naive and the butt of many practical jokes. To his credit he suffered the constant send-ups and wind-ups with good humor. He was well liked by the members of his squad and although they poked fun at him, he knew that they were always by his side should he ever need them. That was how the unit operated, and why they were the best.

Corporal Eagle had played a particularly hilarious stunt involving a naked were-woman and copious quantities of jelly, into which the hapless young rifleman was thrown, a few days before this mission. It had been the talk of the chapter when they left. and Kestrels stamina and courage were being touted throughout the chapters companies.

Cogs whirled on cogs and wheels turned within wheels as Eagle planned his next practical joke. It had to be better than the last (if that was possible, and he wasn't sure that it was) and if possible he would charge people to watch it. Now there was an idea!

Back in the command vehicle sergeant Falcon and rifleman Kestrel were finishing their preparations for their patrol. They were to hike to the end of the pass and try to give the rest some warning of the approach of their targets. Eagle smirked as he ducked inside the vehicle to report to Lieutenant Romerez. Kestrel caught the smirk but said nothing. He would wait, bide his time, then he would have his revenge on the snickering bastard that set him up. But not yet, he had a patrol to do. Flinging his pack onto his shoulders with more force than was really necessarily, he stalked off towards the ravine that led down to the valley floor. Sergeant Falcon was right behind him shaking his head in mock dismay.

They trekked down a steep sided ravine that had been cut deep into the side of the valley by countless years of snow runoff. Already little trickles of snow melt tinkled merrily through cracks and crevasses in the ravine bottom. Presently they reached the valley floor and cautiously walked out into the sunlight. It had taken a good two hours to reach this spot and Falcon decided to call a rest. They sat down under a tall snow covered pine and gazed lazily out over the valley that wound westward through the mountains. Their slightly labored breath misted as they rested.

Finally Falcon said, "We should stay to the valley wall. Our tracks will be harder to see there". Kestrel nodded. That made sense. He liked the sergeant, and had a deep respect for him. He was one of the few who didn't torment him constantly, and he imparted his boundless knowledge freely. Kestrel made sure that he paid attention when the sergeant spoke, for he was a man of few words, so when he did speak, it was usually to say something important.

Their break over, the two men continued to trek towards the western end of the valley. Their boots crunched softly in the new fall of snow. The pass was deathly quiet and eerie. Nothing lived here in the winter, save winter herself, and she only greeted those who entered her realm, at night.

High on the ridge overlooking the valley sergeant Hawk watched the two men through his holo-scope. He could clearly see them clawing their way along the far wall of the steep sided pass. "Good", he thought, "They are thinking. Anyone coming up the pass will not see their tracks and be alerted to our presence". He did not envy them their task. They would be away from the command vehicle for up to a week, if the weather turned bad they would just have to tough it out and hope for the best. Also there was a chance that they might be discovered by the enemy. That was unlikely with sergeant Falcon along, but if the lad made a mistake, they could find themselves cut off and in deep trouble. Nonchalantly Hawk practiced a few shots at the moving figures using the simulator mode on his rifle. "How easy it would be ...", he murmured.

*****

Four days passed slowly for the two waiting near the lower reaches of the Hargle pass. They had trekked for two days, taking their time, and set up a watching post just out from the abandoned monastery that marked the pass entrance. Who built the magnificent edifice was a mystery, as was those who had inhabited it thousands of years ago. No-one lived there now. Its only visitors were the occasional animal and travelers making offerings to guard them safely through the pass. Its stout walls and domed roof provided a good shelter against the winter weather. Young Kestrel had been keen to `make use of available cover' and shelter inside the temple, but wisely Falcon had refused.

"If we stay in there we will leave some trace of our presence. Those we are hunting will be alerted". So instead they had moved off into the trees and set up camp under the cover of a sickly looking pine. It sagged under the weight of its burden of snow, occasionally dropping some of its bundle on the two snipers below. It became something of a game to see who could get out of the way first when the tree sent out a hint of a snowfall.

On the fifth day more snow drifted down from a slate gray sky. But it was wet snow. It clung to everything like a white fungus, all gooey and dripping. This was spring snow, and it was clear that winter would soon be sent into exile.

Through the white swirling curtain a small caravan toiled. Like a snake made of several separate parts it wound its way along the slushy trail towards the temple. The great lumbering vehicles made of wood carved crudely into shapes that only slightly resembled great beasts, rumbled and growled their way up the trail towards the sniper's post. They had seen them coming hours ago and were watching through holo-scopes as the entourage scrambled up the slope.

"Should we report this in?", asked Kestrel eagerly.

"Not yet. Let's see exactly what we've got before waking the others up", came the stern reply. Again Kestrel saw the wisdom in this. This caravan could be just traders hoping to get an early start through the pass, but then again it might not.

Eyes glued to their holo-scopes the two snipers waited and watched. The snow fell, covering them in their camouflaged survival suits with a light dusting of moist sticky snow.

"Not even a Warbelhog could sniff us out now", thought Kestrel.

The caravan continued its slow meandering journey oblivious of the two men lying under the blanket of snow. Eventually it reached the temple and stopped. The rumble of engines died away and exhaust fumes drifted lazily away on the early afternoon breeze. Hatches clanged open and grunting crumpled bodies heaved themselves out onto the fresh snow. Soon the caravan was surrounded by men stamping cold feet and swinging arms to get the circulation going.

A detachment of twenty men headed for the temple. They were heavily armed and to Falcon's eye, well trained. "These are no idealistic pop-gun revolutionaries", thought Falcon. "These are high powered combat troops. Interesting". To the lad lying still as a corpse beside him he said quietly, "Do you still want to be in the temple?". Kestrel grinned and signed 'no'. This was one time he was glad to be out in the open.

Kestrel returned his concentration to the machines parked in front of the temple. There was something strange about them. They had a familiar 'feel' to them although he had never seen them before. The wood shell was obviously made from the pines that were plentiful on this planet, and the carving, although rough and unfinished looking, was in keeping with the artistry known to be common west of the great Snargh mountains. But still something was wrong. Kestrel wanted to draw Falcon's attention to it, but could not think how. What would he say was wrong? There was nothing really unusual, it was just a gut feeling. Something just didn't add up.

Falcon was concentrating on the group that had now emerged from the temple and was milling around as if waiting for instructions. There was something strange about them. They didn't quite fit. They were too organized, too .... military for revolutionaries. If they were professional soldiers, what were they doing here, now?. He felt Kestrel stir next to him, something that annoyed him slightly. A good sniper must be able to remain motionless for long periods of time, like an Arroserpt. Waiting for the best time to strike. Invisibility is a sniper's greatest weapon. He would have to re-teach the boy that lesson, he thought grimly. He turned his head towards the boy to see him staring back at him, his eyes wide with discovery. Perplexed the sergeant whispered, "Well, what the hell is it?".

Kestrel looked past the sergeant to the wooden caravan and whispered back, "The caravan, it's not real. I mean it's not wood. It's just a shell, there are armored vehicles underneath them".

Falcon stared at the boy incredulously, then turned and looked through the holo-scope at the point indicated by his junior partner. Sure enough through a crack in the wood where the lead vehicle had encountered something hard and solid, he could clearly make out the structure of an armored vehicle, similar to their own.

They both looked at each other and swore under their breath at the same time, "Space Marines".

It all fitted. The orders from high up. The expressed order of no prisoners, not that they were in the habit of taking any anyway. The strange men who were too military for revolutionaries and the disguised transports. It all fitted perfectly. Another Chapter had been meddling in local planetary politics and had decided to start a civil war. The reasons were not necessary, they were many and varied. Money, power, revenge, the thrill of conquest, or more likely, domination of the planet’s mineral resources. They had been sent to wipe out an incursion group of Space Marines. Brothers who were the same as them. The only difference was their Chapter.

This was not going to be as easy as they thought. Falcon thought hard about what to do, resting his forehead on his wrist and staring down into the graying snow. They should report this in, but what if their radio channels were being monitored?. They could creep out from their hiding place and trek as fast as possible back to the command vehicle, but the caravan would likely overtake them before they could make it. Doing the hit themselves was out of the question, it would be suicide. Falcon was not afraid of death, it was inevitable in his line of work. But he was not that keen on experiencing it just yet either. Desperately his brain worked to find a solution.

He glanced up at Kestrel to find the boy sighting on the man who appeared to be the leader. Skillfully adjusting his holo-scope to give the clearest, most accurate picture of the man. The deftness of the kid's fingers and the ease at which the operation was completed gave the old sniper a sense of pride, then a sense of terror as shouts rang out from the assemblage. Men began running, shouting orders to those by the caravan, while the heavily armed Space Marines powered up their suits and fired up their scanners.

Falcon glanced at Kestrel who was staring stunned at the commotion below. Somehow they had been discovered. Even as he yelled to the lad to retreat, shells from the guns concealed by the wooden cloaks, burst all around them with uncanny accuracy.

Both men leapt up from their concealed position and ran for their lives. not daring to look back, they fled up a narrow winding path made by some animal that inhabited the region. What sort of animal they did not know, nor did they know where it went. But they didn't care as long as it got them away from the cannon fire that was raking the mountainside hard on their heels.

The Space Marines charged after them firing their bolters as they ran. Their servo assisted suits giving them incredible speed over the icy valley floor. Rounds ricocheted off trees and boulders as the two snipers ran from cover to cover. But always the cannon fire followed them. There seemed no escape.

Suddenly it stopped. All they could hear was the crunching of snow under the feet of Space Marine battle armor, as they charged up the hill. The cannons had stopped because the marines were closing in on the pair, and they did not want to be cut down by a stray 'friendly' round.

Now was their chance. Without even pausing to fire a single shot, the snipers took to their heels, moving quickly over the soft snow. Bolter rounds fizzed and whizzed all around them as they ran, sending plumes of snow up in miniature eruptions. But they were making it. Already they lead marines were bogged down in the deep drifts, the weight of their armour preventing them from continuing the chase. Frustrated they fired wildly at the fleeing pair until the mountain air reverberated with the sound of gunfire.

Loosened by the concussion of such firepower, tons of melting snow lost its grip on the icy walls of the pass and thundered down on those below.

Falcon was the first to hear the ominous rumble over his own ragged breathing. Looking up, his heart stopped as he saw the wall of ice and snow descending. A warning scream escaped his lips as he scrambled towards the edge of the snowfall. All thought of his mission forgotten as his strong survival instinct took over. His frantic searching gaze found what he was looking for, a small cliff that would provide some protection from the murderous wall of white sweeping down the slope towards him. Gasping a thankful sigh of relief, he floundered to the base of the small cliff and sank to his knees Panting heavily he looked back for Kestrel.

The boy was stumbling towards him, his face white with terror. But it cheered as he saw the sergeant grinning and beckoning to him. With renewed vigour he bounded towards the cliff. But the burst came too late. As the helpless sergeant watched, the white wave swept over the young rifleman carrying him off down the mountainside with the rest of the debris that had been caught up in the avalanche.

Snow poured over the cliff blotting out the pasty sun and turning Falcon's world dark. He hunched back against the rock and cursed. "What a waste. That kid had real talent. He could have been even better than me. Damn the spring! Damn it!".

Further down the mountain the Space Marines cheered as the snow swept over the two fleeing men. Winter had done what their bolters failed to do. But that was alright, as long as the job got done. Their cheers soon died as they discovered that they too lay in the path of the thundering wall of snow. Desperately they sought to free themselves from the sticky soft snow. But their thrashing only served to bury them deeper in the field of white. Their screams died almost instantly, muffled by the thick covering of the white tide created by their own thunder.

On down the slope the avalanche roared, but its fury was spent. It had exacted the toll for its disturbance and now craved rest. A low wave, just a mere shadow of its former self, flowed out onto the valley floor burying the vehicles up to their tracks, but doing little else.

Then all was still, as if nothing had happened.

*****

The rumbling had died away and the snow stopped trickling down on the hunched body of sergeant Falcon. Slowly, carefully he began to dig his way to the surface. It could be just a few feet above his head, or he may have to dig for hours to reach the top. But dig he had to. So with firm resolve he began shoveling the snow with his gloved hands, packing it down hard beneath his feet so he would have a firm platform to stand on as he tunneled higher through the snow. It was not deep however, and after about half an hour of shoveling, he managed to haul himself out of the icy prison.

The sun was setting again, casting long falorn shadows over the white landscape. Blue-grey blotches inched out from holes and crevasses and slithered across the ice to form deep blue pools in the depressions. Soon the whole valley would be flooded under the watery shadows and night would begin again.

Falcon looked down to where the Space Marines had been. They were gone. Covered over with a smooth blanket of snow as if they had never existed. Falcon knew they would be dead. With their armor on they didn't stand a chance. His gaze drifted further down to where the caravan had been. Fresh tracks marked its leaving. All evidence of its arrival having been obliterated.

Sighing sadly sergeant Falcon opened his communicator and called the base. The news of Kestrel's death was not welcome. Nor was the information that they faced Space Marines.

Lieutenant Romerez's voice was noticeably irritated as he spoke to the sergeant. "But how did they discover you? What went wrong?".

"I don't really know", replied the sergeant sadly. " We were well concealed, no-one seemed to have noticed us until....".

"Until what?", barked the crackly voice on the communicator.

"Until the lad sighted in on their leader", groaned the sergeant. "A telepath. He must have sensed us thinking out his death"

"But you are trained to block those thoughts from telpaths", rebuked the voice.

"But the lad was not", replied Falcon, choking back a sob. The communicator was silent for a while, then the voice returned.

"Try and find his body, then head back towards us on the opposite side of the valley. We'll try to catch these bastards in a crossfire".

"Understood", was the simple reply. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Right now Falcon felt really alone. Young Kestrel had been sort of a son to the old sniper. He was going to miss that gullible young kid. Sighing deeply again he started to pick his way down the debris strewn ice field looking for something that might resemble the body of the fallen sniper.

Winter smiled her icy smile as she gazed down on the crumpled form in the snow. At last she would have a man, and a handsome one at that. His square, proud features flecked with his blood, sent an icy fire rushing through her body as she approached the man stealthily. She could see the form of his physique beneath his survival suit, strong, muscular, just the way she liked it. A low moan escaped her trembling lips, it was echoed by the man in the snow. But his was a moan of pain, not desire.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open. Even slower they sought to focus on the image that hovered above him. A woman, one that he knew intimately, stood over him. Her soft pale skin glistening in the fading light. Unseen winds caressed her long hair, billowing it out like a silver cloud. Her eyes cold, yet burning with desire regarded him as a spider regards a fly. Soft bloodless lips beckoned to him, calling him to be one with his mistress. He could see the woman's shamelessly naked body quivering as she bent down towards him. Those eyes, those lips longing to take him. Yes, he would give himself to the winter. She would take him drain him with an ecstasy no mortal could endure. His life would end but it would be worth it. Gladly he surrendered himself to his mistress.

He could feel her icy breath tantalizingly close. It didn't mist as his own did. Her breath was too cold for that. For it came from the heart of winter itself. Her lips parted in a triumphant smile as he felt his loins swell to her touch.

Then rough hands hauled him from the snow, and his icy grave. A gruff voice pounded in his ears driving away the sweet murmurs of his lover. "You'll not take her before me lad. Come on you're not dead yet". Rough hands shook him back to life.

Winter shrank back, thwarted, but not beaten. She would have him sooner or later. She would have them all sooner or later. All she had to do was wait.

Kestrel's eyes cleared and instead of the sensuous queen of snows, before him stood Sergeant Falcon grinning from ear to ear.

"Welcome back boy. She's quite a woman isn't she. But like I say, you'll not take her before me". He slapped the young rifleman on the back, sending him sprawling in the snow.

Slowly his senses returned and he groaned softly. Then looking up at Sergeant Falcon he said, "You know, I don't know weather to be happy to be alive or disappointed".

Falcon laughed. "At least you know what you've got to look forward to. We have been lovers for many years me and her. Always seeing never touching. Someday she'll take me, and I wont fight it, well not much". He hauled the young man to his feet. "Come on we've got work to do. Do you think you can travel?". Kestrel nodded weakly, and stumbled after his sergeant up the trail that led to the top of the ridge.

Travelling as fast as they could the pair quickly caught up with the caravan. It had gotten itself bogged down in deep drifts. Cautioning the boy not to think about harming any on the valley floor, they hurried on towards their base.

The erotic wanderings of winter did nothing to lighten their mood as they rested that night. Both knew that tomorrow they would have to engage the rest of the Space Marines in battle. Although they had no objection to killing fellow marines, it did make the actual job of killing slightly more difficult.

The dawn broke clear and crisp. Winter obviously invigorated by her near encounter with Kestrel, had decided to stay awhile and watch her newest devotee. By early morning the pair were stationed on the valley wall opposite their command base.

The battle had been planned, the trail mined. All they had to do now was wait. The sun rose higher shining down on the valley as if blessing the battle that was about to take place. Winter scowled at its warmth, but stayed to watch anyway.

Then about midday the first of the vehicles lumbered into view. Black fumes spewed out from the rear ends as their drivers gunned them forward over the rolling terrain. All were thinking of the battle ahead. They would sweep down from the mountains and into Grithenar, weapons blazing. Then they would turn and head back where they had come from, melting into the mountains. The people of the east would blame the barbarians of the west and flood through the pass and attack all of the settlements west of Snargh. Then the 'Blue Devil Chapter' would descend and bring order to the planet, by conquering it.

Corporal Eagle fingered the buttons that would detonate the charges buried in the snow beneath the caravan. Soon, just a little bit further... He looked to Lieutenant Romerez for the signal, waiting expectantly. Romerez sat stone faced staring at the rumbling convoy, then looked over to the corporal and winked.

With a broad grin Corporal Eagle slammed his hand down on the buttons. A thunderous explosion ripped through the valley sending numerous avalanches down onto the unsuspecting men below. Terrified yells were swallowed up by the echoes of the explosions resounding through the pass.

Then the dull booming echoes were replaced by the sharp reports from high powered rifles. Panicked into flight by the ambush, skillfully laid where there was no cover from the deadly fire above, the men of the caravan fell like flappers in a cave shoot.

Kestrel concentrated hard on his holo-scope, firing whenever a target presented itself. He had already amassed a record of ten and was looking for eleven when the men below began returning fire. Heavy bolter rounds thunked into the ground all around their position as the two snipers ducked their heads and whispered silent prayers.

Those on the command side came under heavy fire also. It was nerve-wrackingly accurate, and lieutenant Romerez was just about to call a retreat to the alternative ambush site, when Falcon called in on the communicator. His voice was ragged and bolter rounds could be clearly heard blasting the ground around him.

"Can you draw their fire for about three seconds?", he shouted over the noise of the barrage. "Their fire is being directed by the telepath. If we take him out the rest should be easy". Romerez didn't like the idea of being a target just so the others could get a free shot, but there was nothing else he could do. He agreed.

Nervously Romerez, Hawk and Eagle, fingered their triggers. Eagle just hoped that Kestrel had forgiven him for that stunt with the were-woman, now would be a shit of a time to exact revenge. Trying hard to control their breathing the three counted down to the moment when they would jump up and hopefully draw the fire of all the survivors below.

On the opposite wall, Falcon and Kestrel prepared themselves to take out one man. Both knew who to aim for, they had programmed their holo-scopes so all they had to do was sweep the valley floor and the sights would lock onto the target as soon as it was sighted. It was agreed that Falcon would sweep left to right, Kestrel right to left. The old sniper grinned at the youth and mouthed, "Ready?". Kestrel nodded slowly. He was ready alright.

Lieutenant Romerez closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then launched himself onto his feet in full view of the marines below. He fired his rapid-bolter (a weapon modified by the Elite Sniper Squad to give maximum firepower. Used only for short range, and when you are in deep shit.) at the surprised troops who scattered under the unexpected onslaught. Two more bolters joined the barrage, and soon the marines on the valley floor thought of nothing but scurrying for cover.

One man was unmoved by the hot rounds screaming down from above. He stood ranting at his troops to return fire, pointing to the ridge from where Romerez and friends were emptying their magazines at them.

A flickering image of men scrambling for cover under a hail of bolter rounds played before Kestrels eager eyes. But these men were not the target he sought. He continued his sweep, twisting towards his left. Suddenly the pale blue image turned pink then red. His target was on screen.

The man was standing shouting at his troops, pointing up at the ridge where Kestrel knew his companions were. He could see the man as clearly as if he were standing right in front of him. The holo-scope projecting a three dimensional image that could be enhanced so that Kestrel could read the man's palm if he chose. But that was not what the young sniper had in mind. He quickly did the necessary mental calculations and transferred them to his scope. Then taking a deep breath he sighted the cross-hairs on the man's neck and fired.

He never heard the report nor felt the kick of the rifle as the bullet sprang towards its target. But he saw the man's head part company from his body just as another round tore through his chest. The leader of the would-be civil war, the leader of the clandestine Blue Devil insurgence and terrorist group, slumped to the ground in a bloody torn heap. His life oozed out onto the white snow staining it red. Seeping away from the body as if glad at last to be free from the evil being.

Without their leader the rest of the troop panicked and tried to flee. They were cut down by accurate fire from the Elite Sniper Squad. No survivors were left. No prisoners were taken.

'A difficult job well done' it would read on their commendations. A job that nearly cost them all their lives, but what else do you expect in an elite sniper squad? Firm friends that no longer played pranks on each other, but preyed on those weaklings in other squads, they left Zaresith and winter, knowing that sooner or later they would see her again. Just as sultry and seductive, and just as deadly. They could hardly wait.

© 1995, 1999 by T. S. George

Bio:I have been writing for several years now (because I am too broke to buy books) and have several "marines" stories as well as a fantasy novel. When I am not writing for pleasure or work (I teach at a secondary school) I climb rocks, or try denting them with my head by jumping off my mountain bike at high speed. I would love to hear what people think of my writing, good or bad. Any criticism can only make me better, so post a comment or e-mail me

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