"Bravo Actual to Chaos, the local convoy is under attacked from unknown assailants. Requesting order. Over."
When it rained, it poured. Not only Recon Team Bravo of Pacific – Asia Coalition found proof of intelligent human life on a new planet, they also had to see those humans under attack. Though considering that the assailants were also humanoid (and thus, highly likely human), it was not a big surprise. Humans and violence usually went hand in hand. Two World Wars and a lot of skirmishes proved that. Human history was a history of wars and bloodshed.
Vuong, call-sign Bravo-Seven and drone controller, was watching the feed intently. From heads to toes, the attackers were covered with black suits with camouflage grass and leaves. Just like the convoy, they were armed with cold weapons, consisting of blades, spears, bows, and such. It lent more strength to the idea that the technology here was a backwater compared to the Earth. But, being a netizen and otaku who had read enough military theories and history books, he knew better to underestimate anyone.
The feed was proving this idea. The assailants were throwing a textbook ambush. The whole ambush group numbered at least a company of more than 150 men. Arrows were fired from the bushes, puncturing the head and the tail of the convoy. Trees were quickly cut down, blocking the whole road on both ends. They also provided the covers for the archers and crossbowmen to deal even more damage to the two ends of the convoy.
Meanwhile, the main ambush group was dashing out of the woods, clamping on both sides of the convoy. The attack could be basically described as "rip and tear". The attack was highly efficient, using the element of surprise and cover. Basically, textbook ambush. Vuong was certainly impressed by this, though he might be more if there were no actual deaths and lives hung in balance.
"Chaos to Bravo-Actual, you have full authority to do whatever right and necessary."
The voice of the Colonel sprung up from the radio set, waking Vuong out of his own musing and casting his gaze on the diminutive commander. What would she do then? Years of non-contact had changed both of them a lot. Or just him. Those days were particularly painful for his psyche… they did not kill him, so they made him stronger. For his old acquaintance though, he had no idea.
"This is Bravo-Actual. Close in, we need direct visual contact. Cut through the jungle and follow those horsemen, but keep the distance."
She had grown up and matured. Not bad. Passive and at-distance observation had its own limits, mainly the incapability of gathering first-hand intelligence. Furthermore, well, if there were any conflicts against the locals in the future, it would be better to know about them sooner rather than later. That, and the pioneer and academic side in his mind were also curious about the local, up close and personal. Despite being in Engineering specialty, studying history was still a favorite past time of his. Sure, he was more inclined to study modern history, but the Medieval Age had its own charm. Whether it had any connection to the fantasy stories dedicated and catered to the young, hot-blooded, and horny male demographic would not be confirmed nor denied.
However, while his mind was still pondering on the order of the Captain, his bodies had already moved to follow her orders. The exoskeleton suits were switched to the powered mode, favoring output at the expense of efficiency or longevity of the batteries. Seven camouflaged figures rose from the ground and dashed towards the dirt road, blitzing along it to reach the ambush site. Time was of an essence…
Two separate groups were running on the dirt road, both with the intent to reach the ambush site as soon as possible. The forward group was a duo of light horsemen acting as scouts for the ambushed convoys. Noting the earlier firework and signals, they were urging their horses to run back fast to save their comrades. Behind them, about thirty seconds away, was the Recon Team Bravo, armed with powered exo-skeleton suits, advance optics, and assault rifles as well as being hidden from the knowledge of the two scouts. Perhaps that was for better, if the scouts noticed Team Bravo, they would probably assume Bravo as hostile, and then a firefight would break out.
Last time Vuong checked, a 5.56 full metal jacket round would do wonders to bones and flesh.
His mind whirled with the technical information, as well as the lush green scenery. It was quite a migraine, but he had seen worse during his days in the university. He finished three projects on his own, sure, simple, and quite mundane engineering/scientific projects, but considering the tedious amount of test and such…. Oh, and the internship, the thesis, the re-do of internship, and… After such ordeals, dealing with three jobs at the same time was relatively easy. Relatively, of course.
The green vegetation around him would not be out of place if one put it on a Terran tropical jungle. Emerald bushes of grass reaching his knees were dotted with white and yellow wildflowers. The meadows of seemingly peaceful atmosphere spread until it reached the edge of the forest, where tall trees spurred toward the azure sky. Under the shadow of theirs, vines and leaves coiled around the tree trunks. And then, to top it off, the few rare sun rays of mid-day speared through the thick leaves, shining the ground with glistening coins.
However, in contrast with that peaceful picture, the fight ahead of them was still swinging with full intensity. One hundred and fifty ambushers were being resisted by a surrounded and surprised convoy of five hundred men. Well, initially, of course, it looked like the cavalry attached to the convoy was not for show. At the head of the convoy, a horse was punctured by a hail of arrows along with its rider, but behind the duo was a trailed of dead bodies from the attackers' group. Pity that the rider was stopped short of the front blockade. Other horsemen had also already disembarked, fighting like footmen. And even with an advantage robbed away, they were still fighting fiercely.
Might be too fierce though…
"Is that fucker just jump three meters in the air to cockblock another fucker?"
"Yeah, and he is able to behead the other dude."
Vuong tried to contain his astonishment (and probably failed) while answering Bravo-Two. The entire team had access to his drone feed, and they were keeping an eye of their HUDs to obtain the latest intel. Even if it made them crying for a stiff drink. The native convoy and the ambushers were capable of delivering equal physical feats to the Terran. On the condition that the said Terran is at his peak physical condition and he was equipped with a powered exoskeleton suit.
After all, with no preparation, a single jump of three meters in the air… An Olympic athlete high jumper might be able to do so, but he or she needed a running period first. And the mark of 3m was still unbroken and conquered until the mid-21st century. That meant even with an improved nutrition program, specialized training, and dedicated technology, a Terran still had trouble competing against the native.
At least the Terrans had guns.
And why did Vuong start using "Terran" in his head to talk about humans? Well, humans from Earth… But yeah, it was self-evident then… Humans from Earth would be called humans, humans native to an alien planet, of an alien civilization, would be in another sub-group of the Homo sapiens. Assuming they were still Homo sapiens obviously.
In short, with a clear definite edge in physical prowess, CQC against the native would be pretty much "not a good idea". It was further reinforced when an ambusher sucker-punched a spearman and put the bastard out of commission by slamming him on a cart, knocking it over, and making the spearman's neck bent at a very uncomfortable angle. The ambusher was then speared by a few other militias, yet, even with four spears logged in his torso, he was still able to twist and turn, killing two more men before succumbing to his wounds. Another ambusher launched a spear, one that went practically horizontal and pierced through the shield wall around a cart. The sheer momentum of the throw knocked the cart over, crashing on a militia on the other side. However, the spear-thrower was then counter-thrown, and he was killed by another spear-user of the convoy.
The whole scene was quite surreal. It was as if it was taken straight out of a "wuxia" web novel from (old) China (and pretty much the whole geographical Pacific – Asia region). The term was loosely translated to "martial arts", which was somewhat better news compared to "xianxia". The later would be too OP (and featuring too much dickhead characters, and too much over-the-top power, the minimum threshold to deal with such would be WMDs, and no one liked the sound of that). Still, more intel would be needed for the final conclusion.
Ahead of Recon Team Bravo, the two scouts had already returned, cutting through the thin line of archers and trembled three spearmen from the back. However, they were flanked by arrows on both sides and fell down shortly. The sounds of battle were slowly getting louder, and now, the team could hear them. Sure, they could not make out the precise words to build up a rough sketch for the language, but they could hear the clashing sound of blades on blades as well as grunts or screams. Heck, the Malaysian marksman (Bravo Four) had also reported of noting a few glimpses of the battle through his scope. Nothing clear and conclusive, and definitely not enough for a firefight, but they were close now.
Vuong swallowed his saliva, quenching his rising anxiety. He was about to get into the fire. Sure, not literally to into a fight, but his past experience said that it would be better to be worried. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. He took a brief look at his rifle, or rather, the carbine rifle. It was unimaginatively named Model 4Pc. "Model 4" because it was the 4th model developed by the said manufacturer, P because it was built and sold mainly within PAC, and c denoted a carbine version. Compared to the original rifle, the carbine was incapable of shooting automatically, it had a lower overall quality, a lower lifetime of service, and generally use less-lethal ammunition. However, Model 4PcM1 was another story, it was capable of fully automatic fire, deeply modernized and improved, and reserved for some special force units.
Anyhow, Vuong hoped that his carbine was enough. His ammunition was limited. Just two magazines of slightly-more-than-half fill. To be precise, the maximum bullet count per mag would be thirty, but to preserve the life of the spring, he only loaded twenty. No one ever thought that he would need more than ten rounds, even if he would face a predator on Terra Nova. And clearly, no one saw the need to equip him with something more exotic than standard full metal jacket rounds. Well, at least he was delegated to a Recon Team, so it should not be too bad…
"This is Bravo Actual, shuffle the team. Four, Six and Seven, hold the middle. Five and Two, head towards the head of the convoy. Three, on me, towards the central and back. All call-signs, passive observation only, do not fire unless spotted and attacked. I repeat, do not fire unless spotted and attacked. Check-in. Over."
All the other six names in the team confirmed and acknowledged the order. Vuong was quite impressed, Tam had grown a lot, less gung-ho, less naïve, less knee-jerk reactions… Shame what had happened to have this. Well, whatever misgivings he had, he kept for his own. There were times for private shit, and this was not one of those times.
Team up with the Malaysian marksman the Singaporean bio-chem pioneer, the three of them hold the middle section of the team. They would act as the anchor of the whole team if the need arose. Furthermore, all three of them should be as far from the fighting as possible. Four was a marksman, and the other two were just civilians. Meanwhile, Bravo-Actual and Bravo-Three, carrying the most of the team's power, would be fit to deal with the high concentration of hostile as well as a higher level of danger. That left Five and Two as the remaining force to deal with the ambush at the head of the convoy.
Vuong and the two men in his section quickly hugged the ground and then crawled forward. At least he had been trained in basic maneuvers of the armed forces. While not enough to evade the sight of a drill instructor, it was probably enough to sneak up behind an ambush. It was further helped that the whole Recon Team was camouflaged, and Vuong's section was also enjoying the high ground advantage. It was a "short cliff", might be something like that. He studied engineering, not geography, and besides, a raised platform of earth and rock, being 5m higher to the ground, would surely be classified as "a short cliff", right?
Using a bush as cover, Vuong looked down on the road. To keep it short, it was… not good for the convoy. It was over for them. Even with very good martial artists in their ranks and the edge in numbers, they failed to break through the roadblocks and the suddenness of the ambush costed them dearly. By now, the convoy had collapsed. The head of the convoy had been overrun, with half of them dead or dying, the other being restraints and herded into a group by the ambusher. The middle part, where Vuong was observing with his own eyes, was not faring better. The carts had been turned over, there were fires, there were a lot of things broken, and definitely, there were a lot of dead bodies. Vuong wished that he was still wearing his snorkel mask, it would filter out the stench of death. At least his breakfast was not too rich or heavy.
Vuong grimaced. Despite being somewhat sanitized with violence (thanks to video games and good control over his emotion), seeing death up close and personal was still quite a shock. He kind of expected it before, but seeing a bent and broken body with his own naked eyes was still quite traumatized. Then the metallic stench of blood was hanging in the air. The spears were pinning some bodies onto the ground, next to the poor bastard being punctured by arrows and cut down by blades…
The fight was over, the whole convoy had been defeated, the sound of the battle was dying out. Then, the bio-chem pioneer spoke up with a clear tone of dread and fear. Unlike other members, he was practically unarmed, just carrying a multi-purpose knife, so he turned his attention to the drone feed. It looked like he had seen something back there.
And the scene made everyone's blood ran cold. From the few luxurious carts, presumably the main targets of the ambush, two figures were pulled out. One male, one female. The male one was barely a brat, probably five or six, based on the physical build as well as the chubby face. Meanwhile, the female one was older, probably late teens. The boy was wearing a dark blue shirt and a pair of white trousers… well, "shirt" was stretching it. It looked very familiar to the ancient shirt of Viet Nam, back in the imperial era. This specific model might come around somewhere between the 16th and 19th centuries. Even with a passion for history, clothes, jewelry, or culture was not his focus, he preferred warfare. That was also the same reason why he only regarded the white dress with some unintelligible patterns of the teen-girl as "beautiful". The girl was also fairly lean, light-skin tone, with her long, black hair tied into a bun. Her face was also rounded and pleasant to look at.
The hot-blooded part inside him was showing interest in her beauty, noting that if she was on a high school of Earth, she would be considered as a "hot girl". Potentially swarmed with letters and emails from fans and such too. However, the calculated side of his brain was drawing up a terrible scenario, considering that she was being led to the in front of a soldier of the convoy. The soldier was well-armed, well-equipped, and he was among the most ferocious defenders. Now, he was being impaled with a spear running diagonally through his belly.
Then, his worst fear was confirmed. The sleeve of the girl's dress was quickly torn apart, and a roar of laughter was heard from the ambusher. Amidst that perverted sound, there were two other noticeable cries of anguish, both males, one young and one old. The girl suffered another dress torn, this time, it was the foot of her dress.
She was about to be raped.
Vuong instantly got pissed. Sure, he was quite a (closet) pervert, but he had his own standards. Entertainment was just entertainment. All of those shows and doujinshi were just that, scripted, which implied an unspoken understanding that those were not real and thus they could be handwaved. It did not apply to real life, on the other hand. Those motherfuckers deserved to be burnt in hell.
Vuong pulled out the carbine from his back and quickly check it. Disengage the safety and then rack the gun, two soft clicking sounds were heard, and the same applied for the marksman. They were ready for combat. The Vietnamese pioneer checked the scene in front of him, in the immediate area, there was no hostile. Moreover, the ambushers (designated "bad guys" now) were now either at the front to taunt the captured convoy, or at the back to… cross the moral horizon. Vuong gritted his teeth, preparing to roll down the cliff when the radio sparkled with the voice of the commander:
"All call signs, get into position, target the ambushers. Count down from sixty, shoot to kill. Wait for my signal. On my mark. Mark."
Many people might say that the gun would suddenly feel heavier. However, Vuong was not one of them, he was actively suppressing his own emotions, focusing on a very tiny spectrum of it. The most prominent in his heart at the moment was simply wrath. But he did not lash out, he simply used it to focus himself, as a tool, not a crutch. His brain quickly drew up potential solutions, and then, he picked the best one when he had it. Thanks to his martial training, Vuong, or Bravo-Seven, quickly stood up and plotted a course to get to the feet of the cliff. Sure, he could jump, but a 5m drop was not only painful but also capable of breaking the stealth. In situations like this, to ambush an ambush, stealth was paramount. Not to mention that the Singaporean pioneer was not as martial as he was, so jumping from the third floor (or rather, lower than the third floor a bit) was not an option for him.
He was worried, but his rage and wrath were too great to ignore. All reservations about Prime Directive had gone out of the window. Thus, Vuong only felt his own eagerness to punish these killers and rapists. Sure, killing others was never easy or comfortable, but he had a job to do. He would accomplish his tasks first, then, and only then, would he stop and shed a tear in silence.
The three men quickly secured the middle section of the broken convoy. Luckily, it was cordoned off with broken carts and belongings, as well as dead bodies, giving the three Terrans some cover. The Malaysian marksman gave Vuong a small nudge on the shoulder, then pointed toward the end of the convoy (where that was about to happen), then, he slapped his own chest and then pointed toward the head of the convoy. The poor Huang Fu, the bio-chem engineer, was pushed down into a corner of a broken cart.
The team composition was simple, Vuong, or rather, Seven, would deal with the back group, creating the second pincer to support the assault of Actual and Three. In the opposite direction, with the presence of friendlies and hostages, Four would pick off targets to create a breakthrough for Two and Five.
A simple nod was what the marksman needed, and Vuong quickly rested his carbine on the frame of a broken cart, using it as the support. Luckily, his section was not spotted. Yet. It would change when all hell broke loose though.
Sighting downrange, he quickly located the presumable leader. It was around 100m between the two, give or take. Totally within the effective range. He (look like a male specimen) was quite tall and board, but other than a "big" build, nothing else could be gained about him because the ambusher was wearing a fully dark suit from head to toe. It was not important, what mattered was that he was about to die.
Actual would be probably targeting him. Three would probably aim at the bunch behind the poor girl, so he would probably pick another group. Well, there was another bunch of ambushers who were jeering and cheering on, forming an "L" shape with the one behind the poor girl. Thanks to the arrangement, they were forming up a straight line from his position.
Vuong took a deep breath, calming down his nerve… The first day on a new planet, and he had to take down someone, as in kill them. Sure, the bastards deserve that. Rape was an anathema, and it was also something being looked down upon on this new planet. Both the "guard" and the "boy" (who might have a close relationship with the girl) were crying out in anguish – probably, their tones were lost in the raging sea of those monsters, but their tears and struggle were visible from the drone feed.
The whole scene was focused on the "punishment" at the back, however, those ambushers had no idea that they were about to be punished. Or that they would not get out of here in one piece.
The "red dot" reflex sight was now sighted on the head of the nearest selected target. Taking a deep breath, he calmed down his raging heart. Two seconds of slow inhaling, two of holding it, and two for easy exhaling. It was a simple, but useful trick. Five cycles later, his heart had already stopped thundering, and it was just in time too.
"BANG-BANG!"
"RAT-TA-TA-TA-TA!"
The first was a double, and the second was a burst of five rounds or so. The double clearly came from Bravo-Actual, the "double shot" technique was adapted from the ubiquitous AK to the Model 4P. Meanwhile, Bravo Three opened up with short and controlled bursts. Not sure how many had killed, but from the corner of his eyes, Vuong saw the ambush leader suddenly jerked backward. He did not have the time and luxury to see more, he had a job to do.
The trigger was then squeezed, sending out a 5.56mm full metal jacket round at nearly 1000m/s, approximately Mach 3. At a distance of less than 100m, it took about 0.1 seconds to hit its target, in this case, a startled and surprised ambusher having no idea that his brain had been blown out from behind. His head exploded with a gruesome manner, splashing the red blood on nearby targets. Targets that were still shock and immobile, though not for long. Using the flush of adrenaline in his bloodstream, Bravo-Seven shifted his carbine to the left, targeting two more ambushers. One was shot in the right side of this body, and the other had his neck punctured and tore apart. It was as if their black suits were even made darker with the flow of red blood, though Vuong (or rather, Bravo Seven) was too focus on dissing out more punishment to care about such details.
By now, the ambushers had realized that they were under attack. However, by then, at least ten had been killed, with about a dozen more being injured. That only counted the group at the back of the convoy, maybe the group at the head would suffer the same degree. Long bursts of automatic weapons were heard behind his back, ones that signaled the advance of Two (the radio-woman) and Five (the medic). Mix in that was the thunderous barks from the marksman under the callsign Four. They were clearing out the group at the front…
Hopefully they could do that quickly. Seven had already blasted off half of his magazine by now. Ten rounds, scoring six hits. Two killed, two missed, two injures. Decent ratio… However, the more problematic part was that the ambushers were being re-organized… Or at least, they were trying. Anyone looked important (mostly the ones barking our orders) were immediately attacked. Bravo Actual had already claimed the leader of the group as well as two more lieutenants. Ten grunts have been killed under the hail of bullet from the light machine gun or Bravo Three, and the same man had injured no less than a dozen troops. Seven sighted someone raising his hand as if about to issue some command. He would be hidden from the sight of Actual and Three, thanks to the carts and the piles of dead bodies, but not him.
Two quick snapshots – he was getting the hang of using this carbine – were shot, both just narrowly scratched the target. Pity. Though at least they left a scratch. The targeted bastard quickly put a hand on his left shoulder and turned toward Seven, though it did not save him from being shot in the head. Blood blossomed in the air, spraying into a deadly and horrid cloud. In normal circumstances, he would be stunned by it… But he was temporarily suppressing all of his emotions. Puke and cry would be done later.
The scent of cordite filled the air. It mixed with the stung of blood and metal, bringing its own brand of dread. Sweat was on his brow, swirling with the heat of an alien sun. And his left eye was squeezed shut, allowing the right one to track any fast-moving or half-hidden targets. Ones that show themselves quite soon and quickly. About a dozen men had already noticed his positions, and they were about to rush him. At the distance of barely 100m, it would take them less than 15 seconds to reach him. Three snapshots, only one was hit, four rounds left in the magazine.
"Seven here. They are rushing me. Need back up."
He cried out and started walking backward while snapping off the last few shots. This one burst fared better, hitting one in the leg and one in the thigh. Both of those collapsed on the ground. However, there were still nearly ten combat-capable hostile left, and they were rushing towards him. Still walking backward to gain one or two more seconds, he pulled out the bayonet from his front pouch and tried to attach it on his carbine. Well, tried. He only had enough time to pull the blade out of the scabbard when a voice rang out, both from his ears and his headphone:
"Seven, duck!"
It was the voice of the marksman. He did not have the time to think about it and simply followed it through. Lowering his posture into a one-knee kneeling with the left one popping up, he kept his eyes forward, just in time and enough to see four black-covered ambushers collapsing on the ground. Those were the ones at the front of the charging group, which bought him a few more seconds to attach the bayonet on his carbine and to top it off with a fresh mag. Normal practice would require him to recover the spent mag and put it in a pouch. However, he did not have time to do so, which meant the spent magazine was dropped on the ground, saving three precious seconds. It was just in time, if barely because when he pointed the carbine back to the front, the first charger had already arrived.
He was screaming out some non-sense war-cry, with a blade raised high in the air. Seven did not have the time to observe and analyze. Purely out of reflex and being jolted, his eyes unconsciously blinked, his body jerked slightly, and he raised the carbine up, holding horizontally to block the sword. Luckily, the engineering development of the Coalition was not for the show. The lightweight and high strength polymer wasmore than capable of blocking it.
The ambusher was just covering half of his face, the lower half, so it was easy to see his eyes widening in surprise. Before Vuong recognized that fact, his arms had already moved, pulling the carbine (and by extension, the bayonet) downward and diagonally. The blade cut into the collarbone of the attacker, and then it moved downward, slashing the front of him. It could be considered a victory for the Terran pioneer if the ambusher was not superior close-quarter combat. He was kicked in the chin (considering that he was still kneeling on the ground) and knocked backward.
The next thing he felt was pure dizziness, the sounds of gunfire just kept echoing in his ears, and the yells of someone (using English) failed to be translated properly in his brain. Then, just a blink of an eye later, his brain recorded a new shadow stepping into his sight, this one carried a spear. Before his muscles were able to reply, he was jolted by a punch into his gut.
Well, not a punch, but a spear thrust. However, it stuck into the measurement sets he used earlier. Well, it was lucky that he decided to stash though into the front pouch and not into his backpack. Guess that his laziness saved his arse there. Considering that none of the Recon Team put on any kind of armor, any melee attack like this thurst of the spear would either be defeated by a dodge or luck.
Vuong was the one with a faster recovery. The attacker was probably surprised that the failed to pierce the "flimsy clothes", he did not saw his intended target pointing the "strange staff-like weapon" at him and pulling the trigger. The shot, being shot from the hip, scratched the ear of the attacker, which made him jerked back in pain. On the ground, Bravo Seven did not fare better, with the recoil went straight into his wrist – he shot it with one hand and no shoulder bracing. It was quite painful, but it was definitely better than being stabbed and bled to death. Still, the target was in front of him, and he was holding a carbine with its bayonet attached.
Thrust and twist, it was the basic usage of the bayonet. Still holding the carbine's pistol grip and the index finger on the trigger guard, Seven plunged the gun forward, thrusting the blade into the spearman's abdomen and then twisting it. Then, for good measure, he swung it outward, practically ripping the poor bastard out.
The ambusher let loose of his holding on the spear and fell backward, clutching his wound. Pulling out the spear (still connected to his front pouch), Seven glanced at his target before putting him out of misery. The bayonet was designed for maximum flesh damage, the combination of both cutting and thrusting power, simply patching it without modern medical supplies would be impossible. In addition, some of the vital organs might have been ruptured, which was even a death sentence to modern Terrans. And above all, there was a reason: this was a hostile figure. An alive enemy was a dangerous one.
Pushing himself back up to the one-knee stance, Seven finally noticed something… something warm and wet on his face. Blood. It was confirmed when he checked it with his left hand. Half of his mind was freaking out, but the other half was forcefully squashed it down. The fight was still going on, losing one's calmness at the moment would be a death sentence. Steeling himself, he doubled his focus into the skirmish. The fight was not over yet.
Three more figures were rushing toward him, though these ones were carrying shields. Those were the ones they picked and pried from the dead bodies of the convoy guards. Impressive, they were not too stupid after all. However, they did not know one fact: at the range of 100m, a 5.56mm full metal jacket round was capable of penetrating 2cm (or 20mm) of steel. These three were probably at… 30m distance, their shields were made of wood, with a much humbler thickness. It would explain why all three collapsed on the ground shortly after that, either dead or dying. Still, he spent half of his magazine to do so. Ten rounds left, in total.
"Two to Seven, friendlies from behind. Check fire. Don't shoot!"
That was good? Right?
The part where there was a major commotion behind his back was saying otherwise. He immediately moved his hands away from the carbine while turning his head to look backward. Just in case his body (somehow) reacted faster than his brain. It was a sound decision because the first thing he saw was a group of armed people rushing toward him. His hands were half-way to point the gun at these people when his brain finally caught up.
These were actually friendlies. Or to be more precise, they were the guards of the convoy, originally defeated and tied down by the ambushers. Look like Two and Five were able to defeat the guards and rescue them with the help of Four. And the guards were screaming at the top of their lungs while slamming on the ambushers. The five ambushers planning to rush at Seven's position had already cut their losses and ran away. A few arrows were able to convince them not to, and the weight of the guards finally put them to rest.
Hang on, did the guards actually yell out war cries? Well, this part would be… interesting and problematic within five minutes. But for now, he would use the time to wind down. How long did it last? One minute? Or two. Definitely not reach the mark of three minutes. The death toll within that short amount of time was way higher than the whole original ambush. Bravo Seven, or rather, just Vuong now… He single-handly claimed… what? Well, definitely more than five kills and ten injures.
And just thinking about it in safe conditions led to consequences. Mostly mental issues. The full knowledge of him killing other people had now fully caught up with his consciousness, and it was doing terribly for his stomach. He just had enough control to pull out the mag, rack the handle, and engage the safety.
Then he puked.
It smelled like crap. At least he did not lose the entire breakfast. And the waterfall of the puke was not a big one, it just came in gulps, ones just tasted bitter and sour.
Fuck.
At least he was able to recover when Four handed in the water canteen. The Malaysian marksman just had a nod of understanding while keeping his own silence. Vuong was thankful for that… Leaning his head backward, he poured the water in his mouth – no contact with the canteen, got to keep it clean and such. Taking a mouthful of drink to clean his rancid tongue, he let out a long breath.
At least he was somewhat better now.
"Thanks for the drink, Four."
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah, somewhat. I may need to talk to some shrink though."
"… We all do."
The sound of gunfire had died down, the only sound left on the road was the sound of blades meeting flesh. And that one was dying out quickly. The skirmish was ending with the victory belonging to the convoy. Though it was thanks to the intervention from the Pacific – Asia Coalition recon force. Furthermore, Recon Team Bravo only intervened because one member of the convoy was about to be raped. Well, at least lives were saved, and no Terran was killed.
For Vuong, it was victory alright.