Colin squeezed the trigger. The missile lanced into the air, striking the shuttle and blowing it into a giant fireball. Willis fired a second later, his missile taking down the second shuttle. There was no time to cheer. Colin threw the launcher to one side, then turned and ran as though all the demons of hell were after him. Davies was already beating feet into the jungle, running for his life. Colin sensed, more than heard, something fall behind them. The shockwave picked him up and hurled him forward, sending him crashing to the muddy ground. Panic - pure panic - ran through him. If he’d lost his mask …
He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised the mask was solidly in place. It didn’t look damaged … he told himself it was fine, that he hadn’t been infected. He’d have to check his blood when he got back to the defence lines, just in case … he pushed the thought aside as he rolled over and looked back at the firing position. There was a giant smoking crater where he’d been standing, only a few short seconds ago. The virus had reacted with astonishing speed. And yet, something felt odd about the whole scene. It could have dropped something heavier on them. It could have scattered bomblets all over the area, catching the marines before they got into cover.
“I’ve got more shuttles inbound, coming in low,” Davies said. “You want to make a run for it?”
“I want to know what they’re doing,” Colin said. The virus was up to something. He could feel it. “Willis, stay back. Davies, you’re with me.”
He felt his heart skip a beat as three more enemy shuttles flew overhead and landed in the settlement. The hatches slammed open a moment later, infected troopers deploying with commendable skill. They were humanoid, but it was impossible to tell if they were human or another infected race. The environmental suits they wore looked … wrong. He frowned as the alien soldiers deployed, unsure what he was seeing. It was uncommon to see the host-bodies in protective suits. Even boarding parties wore relatively little protection.
They’re trying to protect themselves against the counter-virus, he thought, as the alien troopers started to hurl grenades into the abandoned houses. He’d thought the settlement needed to be burned to the ground, but he hadn’t expected the virus to actually do it. The fire spread rapidly, flames licking from house to house. Do they think that can actually stop it?
“We’ve got trouble,” Davies said. “They’re coming our way.”
Colin followed his gaze and swore. A bunch of alien troopers were heading directly towards them, moving so openly that he knew substantial forces were following a little more stealthily or positioning themselves to catch the humans when the beaters drove them into their arms. It was an old tactic, older than space travel and even firearms … he rolled over, putting the thought out of his mind as they hurried back to Willis. They needed to move, now. The virus was coming after them.
“They might have gotten ahead of us,” Davies said, as they hurried into the jungle. “When did they even see us?”
“The drones, perhaps,” Colin said. He was surprised the drones hadn’t simply blown them away, if they’d caught a sniff of the marines. They weren’t important enough to capture … were they? He was the senior amongst the fire team and he was a mere corporal … it wasn’t as if the virus was trying to chase down Major Craig or Sergeant Bowman or someone else who gave orders. “Or …”
He looked at the trees. Were they infected? He could hear insects buzzing through the air, disturbed by their passing. He’d been told the virus couldn’t infect anything smaller than a rodent, but … hell, there could be infected rats within the trees, watching them and reporting back to their superiors. There wasn’t so much viral matter in the air now, and the infected animals should be dead, yet … he couldn’t afford to take anything for granted. They might have been made the moment they headed down to the settlement. The marine defence lines might have been made too.
And if they know where we are, he mused, why haven’t they nuked us?
The question puzzled him as he kept moving. Visibility was poor, at least for him, but the virus might be able to see through the trees. If it really had infected them … he remembered exercises where they’d had to avoid sensors so tiny they literally couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. They hadn’t had time to look for them either, not with the sort of gear they’d need to actually find them. It had been impossible to be sure they were being watched … he glanced back, hearing something crashing through the trees. The virus’s troopers were coming, making no attempt to be quiet. It only confirmed his fears that there might be an ambush up ahead.
His mind raced. Letting the enemy drive them into an ambush was a good way to get killed - or, worse, infected. Standard counter-tactics were to head sideways or turn in hopes of ambushing the beaters, as the beaters tried to drive them onwards. But if they were being watched, there was no way they could break contact and escape, let alone turn on the beaters. They’d see the ambush as it took shape, then … do whatever they saw fit. He felt a flicker of envy. The virus didn’t have to worry about the fog of war.
“On my mark, throw antivirals in all directions,” he ordered, curtly. He cursed under his breath. Was the virus listening to him? It would make it harder to give orders if the virus was listening too. He could make a hundred pop culture references that would be meaningless to any normal alien foe, but the virus? Would it understand a reference? He simply didn’t know. “As soon as they start to flash, follow me.”
He waited for their nod, then drew a pair of antiviral grenades from his belt and held them up. “Mark!”
Blue-white light flashed. Colin had no way to know how effective it had been, but it should have given the enemy pause. Their environmental suits might have protected them from the antivirals - he rather feared that was the case - but the grenades would have killed any viral matter in the air and, hopefully, turned the enemy force into a collection of individuals. They’d rebuild their network, he was sure, yet … he turned and ran west, hoping to cut across the road. If they were lucky, they’d manage to put enough distance between themselves and the enemy force to get back to the defence lines without further contact …
The ground heaved. Colin found himself flying through the air again, slamming into a tree hard enough to hurt. He heard a series of crashing sounds as he hit the ground, his arm twanging painfully as he rolled over. His ears hurt … it took him a moment to realise the enemy had called down KEWs on them. The strikes hadn’t been particularly well targeted, but it hardly mattered. They’d devastated the forest, knocking down trees and tearing up the ground. And …
“Shit,” Willis said. “Colin, you have to move. Now!”
Colin stared at him in numb horror. Willis’s mask was gone. His leg looked so crooked Colin knew it was broken. Willis had breathed in the virus and now … Colin swallowed, unsure what to do. The antivirals had been effective, but … had they been effective enough? He wanted to pick up his friend and carry him back to the defence lines, yet … horror swelled through him. It was just a matter of time until Willis became another host body. The marines simply didn’t have the resources to treat the infection.
He heard the enemy troopers rushing towards them, crashing through the remnants of the trees, and swore, inwardly, as he realised the truth. The virus hadn’t killed them because it wanted them alive. It wanted - it needed - to understand what the human race had done. The counter-virus needed to be countered … Colin almost laughed, despite everything. He didn’t know anything about the counter-virus, beyond the mere fact of its existence. None of them knew anything. The virus was wasting its time. And yet, it had caught Willis. It would catch the rest of them, given time …
Willis met his eyes. “Go!”
Colin drew his pistol. He couldn’t abandon his friend to a fate worse than death. Willis was doomed. The enemy would rush him off the battlefield and keep him somewhere safe, at least until the virus took full control. Colin knew there was nothing he could do, but grant his friend a merciful death. And yet, he felt as if he was crossing a li
ne.
“Do it,” Willis said. “Hurry!”
Colin pointed the gun at Willis’s head, bracing himself. The brain had to be destroyed, quickly. Willis didn’t know much, but some of what he knew could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands. And it would … Colin had never doubted Willis’s loyalty, but the virus made a mockery of everything. Willis couldn’t keep secrets, once he became a zombie. His brain would be drained and everything he knew would be used against his former comrades and …
“I’m sorry,” Colin muttered.
He turned his head, then pulled the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Fourteen dead,” Commander Donker said, quietly. “Seventeen more badly injured.”
Thomas said nothing as they sat in his ready room. It had only been a day - less than a day, really - since they’d been driven away from Brasilia, but it felt longer. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost crewmen in combat, yet … it never failed to hurt. He knew he’d have to say something at the memorial service, and write to their families, but … right now, he couldn’t think of anything. He felt as if he’d failed.
We let ourselves get tricked, he thought. He wanted to blame Captain Campbell, but - in truth - he knew he’d failed, too. They’d both failed. We didn’t see the virus as a serious threat and that blinded us to the truth.
He grimaced. “And the ship herself?”
“The damage control teams have patched the hull,” Donker reported. “We’ve reloaded our missile tubes, replaced the destroyed point defence weapons and suchlike. We had to dock two of the gunboats at the standard airlocks, as we can’t repair the gunboat docking ring without returning to the shipyard, but everywhere else …? We’ve done as much as we can.”
Thomas glanced at the report without quite seeing it, then lifted his eyes to look at the in-system display. The enemy fleet still held position near the planet, shuttles moving to and from the surface in a steady stream … he wondered, not for the first time, just how the virus had managed to put a reaction force together so quickly. It helped, he supposed, that the virus didn’t need specialised troops. Its host bodies could be missile techs one day and ground-combat experts the next. It made little sense in human terms, but it seemed to work for the virus.
He shook his head, tiredly. The marine report had made it clear that the virus was trying to take captives. It would be good news against almost any other foe. Against the virus, it was a very mixed blessing. On one hand, he supposed, the marines weren’t going to be blasted off the face of the planet. On the other, anyone who fell into enemy hands was going to be infected, interrogated and sent back to cause havoc. He gritted his teeth, cursing his mistake. There hadn’t been enough time to recall the marines when the enemy fleet made its appearance, but they could have either started to prepare an evacuation or dropped supplies to ensure the marines could hold out indefinitely.
We need to get them off the planet, quickly, he thought. They can’t survive forever.
He frowned. Major Craig had sounded confident, in a manner that suggested he really wasn’t. Thomas understood the importance of sounding as if you knew what you were doing, but there were limits. If the marines couldn’t accomplish the mission, it was better to point it out before they actually tried to do it. His hands clenched as a surge of bitter helplessness threatened to overcome him. The marines could get into space if they secured their shuttles and blasted off, but they’d be sitting ducks. The enemy would blow them to atoms before they even reached orbit.
Donker cleared his throat. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to return to my duties.”
Thomas nodded. “Do so,” he said. “And make sure you get some rest, too.”
He rubbed his forehead as his XO retreated. He hadn’t managed to get any rest either, not really. A brief nap on his sofa had left him feeling worse than ever. He stared at the display, his head starting to ache. They could fall back, but that would mean leaving the marines to their fate. Thomas knew the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, yet … he was damned if he was just showing his heels and running. He couldn’t leave the marines behind. And yet, he couldn’t see any way to retake the high orbitals long enough for the marines to escape.
And we can’t even call for reinforcements, he thought. By the time they get here, it will all be over.
His intercom bleeped. “Captain,” Cook said. “Captain Campbell is requesting a private conference.”
Thomas scowled. Unicorn was supposed to be holding position near the planet, keeping an eye on the alien fleet. And yet, what could she do if the virus decided to nuke the entire planet? Nothing but bear witness. The virus wouldn’t even care … Thomas put the matter out of his head. It was hard not to blame Captain Campbell for the disaster, even though Thomas knew there was more than enough blame to go around. He told himself to grow up. He might as well see what Captain Campbell had to say.
“Captain,” he said, as the younger man’s image appeared in front of him. “Has the alien fleet changed position?”
“No,” Captain Campbell said. “However, I believe it is only a matter of time before the marines on the ground are overwhelmed. We need to act fast.”
Thomas bit down a sharp remark about the dangers of teaching one’s grandmother to suck eggs. He knew the problem as well as Captain Campbell, perhaps better. Major Craig had been a friend … no, he was a friend. There was no way Thomas could leave him to his fate, yet … there was no way to get them off the planet either. Or … he leaned forward. Captain Campbell wouldn’t have called him to belabour the obvious. He might just have a plan.
“Agreed,” he said, curtly. He’d forgive the younger man a great deal if he got the marines out of the lobster pot. “So far, I haven’t been able to come up with a plan. Have you?”
Captain Campbell smiled, as if he’d scored a point. “Yes,” he said. “And I believe it represents our best chance to get them back before they’re overwhelmed and killed.”
Thomas kept his face under tight control. “Explain.”
***
Mitch allowed himself a smile as he started to outline his plan. It was risky, perhaps riskier than the older man would have preferred, but it would give them a chance to get the marines out and run before it was too late. And, if it failed, they wouldn’t be committed. They could back off and try to think of something else. He supposed that would appeal to the older man. They wouldn’t be staking everything on one throw of the dice.
Although we might as well be, if we return home now, he thought, grimly. The Admiralty will not be amused when we admit we’ve left a bunch of marines to die.
He spoke rapidly, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of guilt. It had been his failure that had allowed the virus to catch them with their pants down. Sure, Captain Hammond hadn’t spotted it either … but Lion had been considerably further from the alien fleet than Unicorn. The Board of Inquiry was going to have fun going through the records, the armchair admirals and generals pointing out little clues that - with the benefit of hindsight - had been missed at the time. He ground his teeth in frustration. Anyone with actual naval experience would know the people on the bridge often could and did make mistakes, if only because they were grappling with several problems at the same time, but armchair admirals tended to think they knew better. They never realised the people on the spot didn’t have the advantage of hindsight. They were too busy battling the fog of war.
“Risky,” Captain Hammond observed, when he’d finished. “And dangerous, if you get the timing wrong.”
“We can break off, if things go too badly wrong,” Mitch said. He had no intention of giving up as long as there was the slightest hope of success, if not outright victory, but he understood the need for an escape route. “We simply don’t have the time to try anything else.”
His eyes narrowed. “Unless you think we can just charge the alien formation and blow them away?”
Captain Hammond looked irked. He was a competent officer, even if h
e lacked the flair Mitch had seen in some of his earlier commanders. He knew as well as Mitch himself that they were short on options, that doing nothing was effectively condemning the marines to certain death - or worse. And yet, the plan might go disastrously wrong. Mitch had thought he’d covered all the bases, but the virus was dangerously unpredictable. It was quite possible it wouldn’t take the bait.
“No, I don’t think we can do that,” Captain Hammond said. Charging the enemy might work against a conventional foe, if only because they’d have the advantage of surprise, but the virus would simply blow the squadron to atoms. “The plan should work.”
He let out a breath. “How long do you need to get ready?”
“Five hours, assuming you let me borrow the manpower,” Mitch said. He’d calculated the requirements, then asked Staci to run the calculations herself. “There’s some leeway built into the planning, but - realistically - the marines don’t have enough time for us to make sure of everything.”
He let out a breath. The latest reports were grim. The marines were under heavy pressure. And, if the virus decided it didn’t want to take captives any longer, the marines could be effortlessly wiped out. Mitch’s gut burned with grim determination. They had to get in and get the marines before the virus ran out of patience. He cursed under his breath. In hindsight, sending all the marines to the surface had been a mistake. They could have tried to board the enemy brainship and shut it down.
“Quite,” Captain Hammond said. “Rejoin the fleet, then start preparing. We’ll move in” - he glanced at the chronometer - “seven hours.”
Mitch wanted to argue, but he knew it would be pointless. Captain Hammond was being smart. The timetable could be moved up, if they managed to get ready ahead of time, but it was well to leave some leeway. They weren’t doing something entirely new, he supposed, yet … he shook his head. Better to do everything in their power to ensure success. The crews would need some rest too. He’d sent half his crew to their bunks, but … he’d be surprised if any of them had managed to sleep. He hadn’t managed to sleep either.
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