Mark “Coop” Cooper
Location: Savannah City, New Savannah, United Commonwealth of Colonies
Coop had been correct in his initial survey of his area of operations. Because of where he was standing, compared with the rest of the buildings in the area, there wasn’t a great spot for snipers to take pot shots at his team. There was foliage cover for one hundred and forty degrees in front of him, the mass of the building blocked the one hundred and eighty degrees behind him, so that only left the sides. Even then, the buildings weren’t placed at advantageous angles, so it only left a tiny sliver of space where someone could take a reliable shot.
Based on how Coop was standing, the bullet came in on an inopportune angle, whose path was further complicated by the Dragonscales doing what they were designed to do. The armor registered the inbound round way before Coop reacted. The scales on his helmet slithered into action, and created a path of least resistance for the bullet to take. So, when it smashed into Coop’s head, just above his right eyebrow, it was easily deflected and went spinning off into the pavement several meters away. It never breeched the armor.
Of course, then there was the kinetic energy to consider. The bullet was fired from an ancient chemically-powered rifle. The low velocity of the round added to how pointless it was to take a shot at an infantryman standing guard in modern armor. If it had been a regular electromagnetically-thrown round, then Coop might have ended up on his ass and crawling for cover. Instead, all he had to deal with was the increasingly irritating ring in his ear and the dull throb just above his eye from the impact.
The end result wasn’t what the anarchist shooting that rifle wanted. It wasn’t a dead Commonwealth soldier killed in an election process they saw as tainted. What they got was a pissed off Coop, and even then they didn’t realize how lucky they were getting off. It was lucky because he wasn’t wearing a LACS with an artillery cannon that could take down the building.
“Contact!” Mike yelled through the net.
“Two hundred and eighty five degrees, two hundred meters, on the edge of the roof.” Nickelbaucher yelled from his position on the side of the building.
STRATNET immediately took the data, adjusted for Coop’s position, and displayed the red icon on his HUD. Coop didn’t even hesitate. “Motherfucker shot me in the head!” he roared as he pivoted and brought his weapon to bear.
Normally, infantry wearing Dragonscales were armed with the Infantry Assault Rifle Model Three, or M3 for short. The weapon threw out 1mm darts at a velocity of three thousand meters per second, which could turn an unarmored human into finely pureed mush. It could pump out two hundred rounds a minute on full auto, but most troops preferred to fire in single or three-to-five round bursts. That way you didn’t blow your whole load. The only reason you’d ever fire two hundred rounds in a minute was if the enemy was right in front of you. Coop had been in a couple of those situations in his year with the military, but he’d never been armed with an M3, and he wasn’t today.
The commander of Commonwealth forces on New Savannah might have been a total tool when he didn’t let the contingent’s HI troopers wear their HI armor while conducting security operations, but at least he let them keep their weapons. As such, Coop had been lugging around his larger and heavier Buss for the last few days.
The Blunderbuss, or just plain old Buss, was a bigger, harder-hitting weapon than the M3, with the added versatility of its four chambers. Like an old-school revolving pistol, those four chambers allowed the HI trooper wielding it to put down different types of ordinance on target. The go-to ammunition was 3mm plasma-tipped rounds. The bit of plasma at the end of the high-velocity round caused an explosion on impact that was designed to do damage to other armored troopers. Regular grunts didn’t stand much of a chance. Chamber number two was for 40mm grenades of all flavors. Anything from smoke to HE could be launched into the middle of an enemy formation for maximum effectiveness. Chamber three held an energy cell capable of firing a five-megawatt energy blast. It packed a punch that would have shot clean through the building the sniper was standing on. Chamber number four was dealer’s choice. Some HI liked to fill it with regular 3mm without the plasma-tipped addition. Coop thought that was a load of horseshit, and never did that. He’d either fill the fourth barrel with more plasma-tipped rounds or more grenades depending on what the mission was.
The mission parameters for this operation were to protect the voting centers without endangering the community around them. Chatter from anarchist, fringe elements within the population was light, but there was a possibility that what had just happened could happen. In that case they were supposed to fortify the position, call in the quick reaction force, and engage only if absolutely necessary. Coop counted getting shot in the head as falling into the latter category.
Coop completed his ninety-degree pivot and sighted the rifle instinctually. STRATNET helped by showing him where his bullets would go in a perfect world. It hardly ever worked out that way, because in what world did the bad guy ever stand still to be shot, but it was a good concept. The Buss was calibrated to his armored neural network, but Coop had found that it never really lined up perfectly. A Buss was supposed to be used with LACS armor, that was where it worked best. At the moment, Coop didn’t give two shits as he brought his optics to rest on the anarchist, who was repositioning for a second shot, and pulled the trigger.
The Buss burped out three rounds that seemed to cross the two-hundred-meter distance between Coop and the bad guy instantaneously. Coop caught the brief movement of the other guy pulling his trigger before the other guy, and the roof around him, exploded. The LT had suggested the regular 3mm darts for their detail, but Coop had respectfully disagreed.
Coop didn’t think it was a big explosion. Sure, a half meter of concrete had been pulverized, a small circle of fire about one meter in diameter expanded around each point of impact, and bits of debris were starting to rain down on the street below. Maybe it was because some of that debris was red and meaty that people were starting to freak the fuck out.
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Coop’s eyes were on the guy’s rifle as its half-burned husk smacked into the ground with a loud CLANK that had nearly dissipated by the time it reached Coop’s audio sensors. “Threat eliminated,” he let the rest of his team know even though STRATNET had already updated with the information.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Mike radioed back, just as Coop picked up the click of a second weapon being taken off safe much closer than he was comfortable with.
Instinct was a big reason Coop had only lost part of a leg so far in his military service, so he followed his gut. He went low, sweeping one leg behind him while he pivoted with the other. The move caught his attacker by surprise, while the attacker’s round, meant for Coop’s head, went into the concrete above him. Coop was a lot stronger than the average person, and that showed when the local cop tried to shoot him at point blank range did a complete sideways three sixty in the air. It was actually a little more than that, because the guy ended up impacting the ground with the side of his head. The force of Coop’s kick plus the man’s natural weight led to a sickening crunching sound. Coop only gave the possibility that they guy was still alive a quarter-second thought before his own Buss was back up and pointed at the four remaining cops. Or at least it was supposed to be four.
The cop’s squad leader had a still-smoking hole in his forehead, and another was down and screaming with a leg wound that was pouring out blood. Coop knew the artery was severed, but he didn’t move to help. His mission was to secure the voting center and that’s what he was going to do.
The third cop had his pistol out and was moving it to target Coop, so Coop didn’t make it easy. There was only about ten meters between them, so Coop pushed off at an angle. The cop was already committed to his initial action, pulled the trigger, and a round went screaming into the concrete where Coop had been. By the time the cop was turning to reacquire him, Coop was already arresting his motion and changing direction again after covering half the distance between them. A normal human’s leg would have shattered under the strain, but Coop’s reinforced skeletal structure just protested at the discomfort, which he promptly ignored. Adrenaline was pumping through his system and he doubted he’d feel getting shot.
After juking, and closing the distance, Coop went for a straight-on approach to finish it. He still came in low, so the cop would have a tougher shot. The cop squeezed off another round that clipped Coop’s armor around the collarbone area. The armor did its job again, but Coop felt some numbness spread down his left arm. That didn’t stop him from throwing that same arm out and slapping the gun out of the cop’s hand. Coop guessed he’d broken the man’s hand based off the pain on the guy’s face, but he only got a quick glimpse of it before he drove his armored fist through it.
The clear polyplast faceplate of the cop’s HUD exploded on impact, and it was more durable than the flesh and bone of the guy’s head. Coop stopped the forward progression of his fist after letting it go a few centimeters past the guy’s nose, which was completely flattened.
It occurred to Coop, a few seconds too late, that there might be something bigger going on here. Some of the cops had turned on each other and started shooting. Maybe it was just a few of these guys going postal, but all Coop saw was the threat in front of him that needed to be eliminated.
Coop could only think of a few things the cop could be doing, only one of them good, so he didn’t waste any time. He vaulted over the crumbling body of bad cop number two, past the screaming pleas of cop-shot-in-the-leg, and headed for the door. He didn’t slow down because it would just waste valuable seconds to open the outward-swinging door. Instead, he just went through it.
The polyplast-glass mix that the door was made of exploded everywhere as Coop jumped through it. People screamed, but they were already screaming. The space was normally a community rec center. It had a small vestibule area with an awards case sitting next to a large square opening in the wall. It looked like a receptionist normally sat there, and there was a door leading to an office behind it where the rec centers normal administration was conducted. Today, there were streaks of blood on top of the receptionist desk, a woman’s body on the floor in a growing pool of blood, and the door had several bullet-shaped holes in it. Coop gave it a quick scan, his armor gave him a flat-line reading from the woman on the floor, so he kept on going. A large set of double doors opened up and led to the main gym area. It was huge. They had a regulation football and soccer field sitting next to each other. On a planet as warm as New Savannah, it was a must to play indoors.
On those fields were dozens of sign-in tables in front of voting booths. The booths reminded Coop a lot of the testing blocks back in military section of the PHA. They screamed privacy, but right now they were being used as cover. Bad cop number three was advancing toward them, dual wielding two pistols, and firing indiscriminately into the crowd of a few hundred that were present to vote in the Primary.
The cop didn’t hear the glass break over his own guns firing, and he obviously thought his buddies were going to take care of Coop. What his plan was for the other Commonwealth troops on scene was beyond Coop, but Coop didn’t waste any time. Every second the guy was pumping three or four rounds into the voters.
Coop didn’t even bother bringing the weapon to his shoulder. The shot was easy, less than twenty meters, and the aiming function on his armor was good enough to make that work. Coop sighted the Buss in the center of the cop’s back and pulled the trigger from the hip.
The cop’s armor was weak sauce. It was effective against the Personal Defense Weapons the Commonwealth allowed civilians to own, but it couldn’t stand up to military ordinance; especially a Buss. Coop only had to fire a single round. The 3mm plasma-tipped projectile penetrated the back of the cop’s armor like it was recycled toilet paper. It even made it into the cop’s body before detonating. The result was the cop’s chest exploding in a ball of fire that severed both arms, legs, and his head. The force of the explosion threw them all away like some type of sick confetti surprise. Since the explosion ate up most of the internal organs and liquid in the man’s torso there wasn’t a lot of blood, but “wasn’t a lot of” didn’t mean none. If anything the civilians were screaming even louder now.
“Citizens, please remain calm. The situation has been dealt with. You are safe. Medical personnel are on their way to treat the injured.” Coop reassured, and then quickly changed frequencies to his team net. “Mike call for medics, fill in the LT, and forward the info from this to any other units around us. Who knows if this is just round one. If the local cops are in on it then this could turn into a planet-wide shitshow really quick.”
“Done…done…and done. QRF is inbound with medics, ETA ninety seconds, but you may want to look at this.” Mike sent a link and Coop opened it.
He recognized it immediately. It was a live stream of the chaos at the voting station…his voting station. The camera was panning around, showing the chaos, and came to rest on Coop. Coop watched him watching himself. He raised his arm, moved it back and forth, and watched the Coop on camera do the same thing. Then words appeared on the screen.
LIBERATION FOR NEW SAVANNAH