“We cannot stay here,” Japhara said.
“Agreed.” Taylor replaced the Aussie at the corner and blistered off a laser shower of his own. “Both of y’all get ready to run for the fence. We break on my signal.”
“What about the guards in the watchtower?” Smitty asked.
“I’ll handle it,” Taylor said. “Now get ready.”
Japhara presented his weapon. “Take this. By my count, it’s got 10 more rounds in the mag than yours.”
Taylor accepted the alien’s offer. “Much obliged.”
Japhara nodded and took his mark beside the Aussie commander.
“Go!” Taylor barked.
Smitty and Japhara launched into a dead sprint for the fence while Taylor laid down covering fire from the warehouse. Once he’d effectively pushed the ground Zuul back, he turned his barrel on the two manning the watchtower and let loose with a tight three-second spray of laser fire. After that, he took off running behind the others.
Pop, pop.
One gate guard fell.
Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop.
The other two followed.
Smitty was the first to cross the barrier and skid to a halt outside. “Where’s our bloody ride?”
Japhara met her in the sand, stabbing a finger to the southeast. “There!”
A lone cargo hauler roared into view, carrying three Rukori passengers. Two of them, Taylor didn’t recognize. The third, however, he most certainly did. “It’s Douron!”
“Ah!” Japhara stumbled back as smoke trailed from a fresh scorch wound in his shoulder.
Taylor threw up his rifle and fired back on the Zuul, only to see his mag go dark. Oh, no.
Hearing the lack of fire, the watchtower guards returned to their posts and took aim.
A thick bolt of energy sliced the southern sky and slammed the platform, exploding the entire tower to bits in a sudden wash of flames.
“Hell yeah!” Smitty decried.
Taylor stood back as the hauler ground to a stop ahead and Douron put away his K-bomb launcher.
“Get on!” the big Rukori ordered.
Taylor jumped over the side of the truck and into the bed, while Japhara and Smitty did the same.
“What is that?” one of the Rukori asked of the Sumatozou.
“He’s with us!” Taylor ducked as new fire pelted the sand nearby. “Now get us out of here!”
The pilot selected maximum acceleration, and the craft sped off west toward the mesa.
“We’ve got incoming,” Smitty announced.
Of course we do. Spotting a case of JXR-14s near the front of the bed, Taylor snatched one out and racked the slide. After that, he slid two more to Smitty and Japhara, then assumed a shooter’s crouch beside Douron as six Zuul sprinted on all fours in pursuit.
Round after round the group let fly with their weapons, as wave after wave of Zuul kept coming. Soon six Zuul became a dozen, then two dozen, then three dozen. Eventually, the group looked up to see a full-blown horde chasing them.
“These little wankers are like locusts!” Smitty snarled. “How far to—”
“Chief Van Zant!” Japhara shouted.
Taylor followed the alien’s motion to see a lone Zuul emerge from the pack, clutching a launcher like Douron’s.
“Get down,” Jack said in Taylor’s head.
“Everybody down!” Taylor screamed, watching the Zuul as he dove.
No sooner had he hit the deck than the Zuul’s head evaporated in a puff of red. A split-second later, the puff was followed by a distant pop-pow rolling in from the west.
“Tell that Rukori slacker to step on it,” Jack growled. “Me and Stan can’t take ‘em all.”
Another Zuul head stained the sand red, followed by two more. Over and over the long guns did their job, while Taylor and the others continued firing from the hauler.
“We’re not gonna make it!” Japhara called.
“Yes we are!” Taylor answered. “Just a few more yards!”
“But the mesa is still—” Smitty broke off when the pungent scent of hauler fuel hit her nostrils. “Oh, shit!”
A final surge of thrust shoved the transport forward as the frenzied Zuul drew in tightly on the vehicle’s tail.
You bastards never could mind your surroundings. “Jack, we clear?”
A pause preceded the sergeant’s reply. “Yes, sir!”
“Good,” Taylor said. “Show these fargin pricks how we party on the Fourth of July!”
A colossal woof rolled across the desert, accompanied by a blast of heat that caused everyone to shield their faces. Soon the pungent smell of fuel was replaced by the repugnant scent of seared flesh, and a chorus of howls swirled skyward as the ground behind the hauler ignited.
Interrogate that, assholes. Taylor climbed to a knee as the transport eased to a stop at the foot of the mesa. Jack, Stan, and Lisa were already there waiting, as were Retay and a dozen RFC troops, who picked off the remaining Zuul.
“Glad you could make it,” Jack said.
“You and me both,” Taylor agreed, hopping out.
“And you brought friends.” Stan nodded to Japhara.
Taylor gave a quick round of introductions. “What’s the story on our evac?”
“Valawn and his people are inbound now from Nyo Colony,” Lisa said. “They’ve called in a bandilaro to take everyone back to the Sanctuary.”
“ETA to dustoff?” Taylor asked.
“Five minutes, per the last check in,” Jack said.
Taylor turned to Smitty. “This little reprieve of ours ain’t gonna last long. Sadeed will circle the wagons, and when he does, all those Zuul who deployed to the depot blast are gonna redirect here.”
“Say no more,” the Aussie said. “I’ll shore things up as best I can with Retay and the RFC until our cab arrives.”
“Thanks, Smitty.” Taylor handed her a pair of extra magazines he’d taken from the hauler, then watched her trot off to her new post.
“Sir, if I may?” Stan asked. “What’s our plan after this?”
“Come again?” Taylor asked.
The Mississippi sergeant shifted with visible unease. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, Chief, but all signs point to the Osyrys bein’ blown away at the stargate. That leaves us marooned here. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t pissed about that. As mercs, we know the risks when we sign on for these contracts. I would, however, like to know what life for us looks like henceforth once we’re back at the Sanctuary.”
Taylor hadn’t had time to think that far ahead, so he wasn’t sure how to answer. He glanced to Jack. The old merc’s body language said he’d been wondering the same thing.
“One thing at a time, gentlemen,” Taylor said. “I know that ain’t the ideal response, but it’s all I got for now. You got my word, though, we’ll figure this out together.”
Both men seemed good with that.
“Coming in!” someone called from the lookout cliffs overhead.
Another hauler was inbound, this one carrying Valawn and a handful of other Rukori. The vehicle eased to rest alongside the mesa, and the RFC leader hopped out.
“It’s good to see you, Chief,” Valawn said. “Jack told me about what happened to you at the hands of the Zuul. I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“I appreciate that,” Taylor said. “Thankfully, all that’s over, and we’re here now.”
“Indeed,” Valawn said warmly.
“Excuse me, Commander?” Retay trotted over to join them. “Bandilaro Two just radioed in. They’re on approach, but they say there are three platoons of Zuul circling the fire zone toward our position.”
Valawn nodded, then returned to the Humans. “I’ve instructed my pilot to land in the clearing behind the mesa. Come, we must hurry.”
Taylor fell in beside Lisa toward the landing zone, then whistled for Smitty and Japhara to follow.
“I’ve got a visual!” the lookout Rukori said.
Taylor bladed his hand
over his eyes as the hammer-headed craft circled in over their position, then fired its thrusters to land. The ship was halfway through its descent when it vanished in a fireball of light.
* * * * *
Chapter 26: Dropped
Taylor wheeled backward as the object that had just been a bandilaro careened into the desert as a hulk of mangled steel.
“Damnit!” Jack snarled into his sleeve.
“What in the hell?” Stan murmured.
A Maki shuttle soared by overhead and peppered the ground where the group was standing.
“You didn’t honestly believe your paltry little ships could evade us forever, did you?” Sadeed gloated through the ship’s external speakers.
“Go!” Valawn shouted. “Everyone, back to the mesa! Now!”
Taylor sprinted for a row of boulders near the foot of the mesa as the ravaged remains of their former ride smoldered in a heap not fifty yards away. The entire scene devolved into chaos.
“What now?” Lisa called from the next boulder over.
Taylor racked his brain for ideas.
“Whatever we mean to do, we should do so now.” Japhara peered through his rifle scope. “A large contingent of Zuul have broken off from Nyo Colony and are approaching our position. Time is of the essence.”
Taylor turned to Valawn. “That hauler of yours. Is it fast enough to get us out of here, maybe to Nyo?”
“It is,” Valawn said, “but we just destroyed one of the colony’s largest assets without permission from its citizens. There are many there who don’t like us right now.”
“What about one of the other colonies?” Taylor asked. “Bartahl, maybe. Ain’t that the next closest settlement?”
Valawn shook his head. “Not with the hauler’s current fuel load. We’d lose power halfway through the trek, then be stranded in some of the roughest desert Rukoria has to offer.”
Sadeed’s shuttle screamed by for another pass, unleashing a volley of laser fire into the rock field. That sent everyone below diving for cover as calls for their surrender showered them from above.
“Ladies and gents, we cain’t stay here.” Stan coughed into his sleeve. “These rocks make us fish in a damn barrel for the Zuul.”
“I’m open to suggestions, Sergeant,” Valawn said.
No one had a response. They held there, pinned down by the shuttle, as more and more Zuul swarmed toward the mesa. Soon the Rukori began to panic.
“Chief?” Smitty’s tone trailed up in confusion. “Don’t hold me to this, but I think we’ve got another ship incoming.”
What? Taylor slid around the side of his boulder and followed her direction. Sure enough, a lone gray dot descended from the western sky. It was quickly joined by another dot, then another and another, until there were eighteen total, looming larger by the second.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lisa asked.
Taylor didn’t dare respond. Instead, he watched from behind his rock as the dots on the horizon gradually took on shapes.
Come on, baby. Taylor all but jumped from his skin when a new voice blared from the lead ship’s speakers. Unlike Sadeed, however, its owner didn’t call for surrender. Rather, it let loose with the fabled twentieth century battle cry of one Charlie Daniels.
“What this world needs is a few more rednecks!”
“Hell yeah!” Smitty erupted.
The Maki shuttle was already in retreat when the lead dropships roared onto the scene. It lurched to get free, but still took a hard cannon shot to its stern armor in the process of bugging out.
“Tomahawk, this is Corn Husker,” Billy said via comm. “Sorry we’re late.”
Taylor exhaled, then spoke aloud for the others to hear. “Better late than never, Husker. It’s damn good to hear your voice.”
Smitty blew out an exhale of her own.
“Likewise,” Billy said. “As promised, I took the liberty of inviting some friends to our little soirée. I hope you approve of my guest list.”
Taylor watched as the hulls of each dropship came into view. All told, there were three insignias between them, representing three different outfits. They were Swamp Eagle Security, the Steeldriver Defense Group, and the Iron Conquistadores.
Hometown heroes, united again. A wayward laser bolt smashed the rock near Taylor’s head, snapping him backward. “Billy, we sure could use some ground support down here if you’ve got it to spare.”
“Bulldog’s way ahead of you,” the XO said, referencing Quint’s callsign.
As if on cue, one of the Eagles’ dropships broke formation and unleashed a spray of weapons fire on the forming Zuul horde, scattering the aliens like ants. The beasts ran for cover, but were quickly cut down as streams of Human troops began dropping from the sky.
“Tell Bulldog thanks for that,” Taylor said.
“You can tell him yourself once this is over,” Billy said. “Now, if you’re done playing with those pea shooters down there, how about you grab Blue Devil and meet me behind that mesa for an upgrade.”
“What kind of upgrade?” Taylor asked.
Billy held coy. “You’ll have to come see for yourself. Husker out.”
Taylor leapt to his feet and tagged Smitty, callsign Blue Devil, on the shoulder. From there, the duo took off across the sand as the lead Eagles’ dropship fired its thrusters to land. After the vessel was down, she lowered her boarding ramp and Billy Dawson strode out, piloting a shiny new Mk 8 CASPer.
“Nice digs, Husker,” Taylor pointed to the arsenal covering the suit’s eight-foot-tall exterior. “Assault class, gen three?”
“Good eye,” Billy said. “Ron Carnegie felt we needed some better gear for this mission, so he spotted us a few Mk 8s from the Steeldriver reserve stash. His only request was that we return them in some semblance of working order when we’re done.”
Taylor cocked his head. “And you responded how?”
“I told him we’d do our best.” Billy aimed a thumb past his steel-armored shoulder. “You gonna stand there gawking all day, or are you gonna suit up?”
Taylor needed no further promoting. He scrambled up the ramp into the drop bay with Smitty, the latter catching a quick nod from Billy as she ran.
Once inside, Taylor shimmied out of his rags and into a haptic suit, which was required for CASPer operations. He then tied his hair back and changed out his pinlink before bounding into the cockpit. The clamshell canopy sealed shut around him.
“CASPer systems are active and online,” the canopy Tri-V read as he connected the leads to his haptic suit. “Welcome, Chief Van Zant.”
Thank ya, ma’am. I am damn glad to be here. Taylor flexed his arms and legs, then peered around his cocoon at the state-of-the-art tech at his fingertips. Like most everyone of his generation, he’d grown up idolizing these machines. He’d colored pictures of them as a kid, owned their action figures as a tween, then studied their actual specs while in the Duval MST program at Lee High School. Now here he was about to walk off this ship, piloting the number one model on the market.
Oh, yeah. Taylor keyed his comm. “From the top, Husker, gimme a situation report. Orbital first.”
“Orbit began a bit tricky, but I think we’ve got things in hand,” Billy said. “We brought five ships—EMS Stargell and Bradshaw of Steeldriver, the EMS Valiente and Desafio of the Conquistadors, and the Ryley Osyrys leading the way. We’d hoped that would give us the numbers edge once we emerged from hyperspace. Trouble is, the Krulig brought back four more ships of their own with that Behemoth.”
“Class?” Taylor asked.
“All frigates,” Billy said. “Pair those with the one already here, and that made it an even fight at five on five.”
“Any sign of the ship that attacked y’all at the stargate?”
“None so far.”
Neither Taylor nor his gut appreciated that assessment. He was about to ask something else but stopped short. “Wait, if you’re down here with Quint, then who’s in command of the Osyrys?”
> Billy’s response carried a tinge of a smile. “Frank.”
“You’re kiddin’ me,” Taylor said. “You left a Yankee Buma chef in charge of my flagship?”
“What can I say?” Billy chuckled. “The birdman stepped up when called upon.”
Taylor couldn’t lie. The thought of a four-foot-tall Buma from Brooklyn perched high in the Osyrys’s captain’s chair was a funny one. “Okay, so Frank’s got orbit under wraps. What’s the story on our ground forces?”
“We’ve still got Zuul stragglers trying to advance on the mesa, but most of the horde fell back to either their compound or Nyo Colony when our people arrived. Where they go from there is anybody’s guess at this point.”
“I take it you’ve got a plan,” Taylor said.
“Part of one, anyway,” Billy said. “Steeldriver has deployed their forces to the far side of Nyo in case the Zuul try to flee east. The Conquistadors are doing the same from the north.”
“You aim to squeeze the Zuul south into the open desert to minimize collateral damage in the colony.”
“That’s the notion,” Billy said. “I’ve redirected Quint east with Atlantic Company to shore up Carnegie’s line. Lieutenant Bishop, meanwhile, is holding down the fort beyond the ridge with Riverside Company until Smitty can resume command.”
The Aussie stepped forward in a CASPer of her own, this one a scout class. “Speaking of Bishop, he just radioed in. We’ve got a secondary pack of Zuul trying to bypass the RFC front. With permission, I’d like to rejoin my company and handle it.”
“Permission granted.” Taylor stood aside. “Happy huntin’, Blue Devil. We’ll see ya on the bus ride home.”
“Ayew.” Smitty bounded down the ramp, fired her suit’s jumpjets, and was gone.
“I really do like her,” Taylor mused aloud.
“Yeah,” Billy said. “I do, too.”
Taylor paused as the last of his weapons systems came online. “Billy, I think it’s high time we switch things up and play some offense for a change. What do you say?”
“I’d say I’ll bring the bats.” Billy grinned. “After you, Chief.”
Free Bird Rising Page 24
