Read Hostile Territory (A Spider Shepherd short story) for Free Online

Six singing from the same hymn sheet either.’
    She gave a puzzled smile. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Shepherd. ‘But you can trust me on this – I’ll do what has to be done. You have my word.’
    Laurence nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
    * * *
    When Shepherd got back to the base, the others were discussing a plan to target the rebel arms dump. ‘I’m not sure how viable this is going to be,’ Jock said. ‘If we’re using the Hoplite, weight is going to be a major problem. We’re not going to be able to carry heavy weapons or major demolition charges.’
    ‘We don’t need either,’ Shepherd said. ‘What we need is already there; we’ll travel light and use the rebels’ own stuff against them.’
    ‘Right,’ Jock said. ‘So let’s get to it. Timers, detonators and det cord are no problem but what are we going to use in the way of explosives?’
    ‘We’ll steal it from the rebels,’ said Shepherd. ‘I have a plan.’
    ‘Good to hear,’ said Jock.
    ‘We’ll get the charges from their shells. A demolitions guy showed me how to do it in Hereford.’
    ‘Clever,’ said Jock. ‘But you’ll need something to force them open.’
    ‘There’s a blacksmith guy near the gates,’ Shepherd said. ‘We can get him to make us the tools we need.’
    ‘Get him to make one for Jimbo while he’s at it,’ said Geordie. He ducked as Jimbo threw an ashtray at him.
    ‘We’ll need some metal for him to work with,’ said Jock.
    ‘That won’t be a problem,’ said Shepherd.  ‘If you can get me the nose-cone of a shell, I’ll sort the metal.’ While Jock went to raid the base’s ammunition store for a nose-cone, Shepherd headed over to the firing range and gathered up a sackful of spent cartridge cases. He and Jock walked out of the gates and found the metal worker they’d seen the previous day, still turning scrap metal into cooking pots and water carriers.
    Communicating in a mixture of broken English and sign language, Shepherd drew the outline of the tool he wanted on a piece of paper. He mimed unscrewing the nose cone and showed the metal worker how it had to fit. ‘Use these,’ he said, showing him the brass cartridge cases.
    The metal worker gave him a dubious look. ‘Steel is stronger.’
     Shepherd nodded. ‘But steel makes sparks, so use the brass instead. You can keep the metal you don’t use. And I need a brass scoop, like a long-handled spoon. Can you do that for me?’
     The metal worker gave him a puzzled look until Shepherd drew another outline for him.
    Shepherd didn’t haggle over the price, but just showed the metalworker a $50 bill. ‘That’s yours when it’s done. And I need it today.’
    ‘Boss, for fifty dollars you can have it yesterday!’ Without taking his eyes off the bill, the metalworker poured some of the cartridge cases into a crucible and set it on his forge, gesturing to his boy to pump the bellows.
    When Shepherd went back a couple of hours later, the metal worker greeted him with a beaming smile and produced the tools with a flourish. Shepherd tested them, then shook the metalworker’s hand and handed him the $50 bill. Back inside the base, he rummaged through the stores until he found a wooden mallet. ‘There you go,’ he said to Jock. ‘Tool kit complete.’ 
    They had a final briefing, with Shepherd allocating specific tasks and identifying the RV points in the event of contact with the enemy. In any operation there were always three RVs, at progressively greater distances and time intervals from the target. When the attack was made, the first RV would be good for no more than an hour. The Emergency RV, further from the target, would be open until dusk, and the War RV would be good for a further 24-hours, until the following dusk. After that, anyone separated from the rest of the patrol had to make their own Escape and Evasion and, since there were no air assets to spare other than Jerzy’s