Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “I worry about you, Kemp.”

  The time was now and Conway surged onto the level above. He heard the footsteps of the others as they came with him. They knew how to handle situations like this and he didn’t need to give them instructions. He chose left, into the heat smoke of Kemp’s rocket. If this was to be a success, the squad needed to reduce the enemy resistance to a manageable level and do it quickly.

  Movement came through the smoke and Conway fired. A shape tumbled and another one came. A gun cracked, the shot going wide. More Gilner fire and one more dead Ragger added to the total. The smoke was thick and the metal hot. It would disperse soon and the life support was already pumping new air into this space. A duct above thrummed and a strong breeze blew out.

  Conway stopped at a four-way intersection and listened for a second. He heard sound, coming from the right. A look around and he saw movement to go with it. He couldn’t see well enough through to judge how far the right-hand passage continued. An open door sheltered a Ragger and he fired, just as it moved out of sight. He swore – he’d scored a hit, though not a fatal one.

  “Time to move.”

  He ran towards the doorway, his eyes watching for hostiles emerging from cover. His squad gave impeccable support and Gilner fire raked against the metal walls, none of it threatening to hit Conway. The door closed a moment before he reached it. He swore and ran on, aiming for the next four-way intersection. At the corner, he threw himself left and tried to minimize the angle for inbound fire.

  “Rocket out,” said Kemp on the comms, sounding like he was having way too much fun.

  The projectile streaked across Conway’s vision and detonated too close for comfort. Kemp judged it well – or at least Conway was happy to give him the benefit of the doubt – and the explosion didn’t harm him or damage his suit any more than it already was.

  Lockhart arrived at full-pelt. He hurtled around the corner at the same time as a Ragger appeared to Conway’s left. All three fired at the same time. The alien went down and Lockhart took a shot in the balls. He collapsed, wheezing.

  “Man down!” said Conway. He stooped while keeping his gun ready.

  “Dammit, right in the cock,” said Lockhart, choking out the words.

  “Did it beat your armor?”

  “Don’t think so. Feels like it did, though.”

  Lockhart would live, though for the next couple of minutes he would probably prefer to be dead. Barron arrived, while Freeman and Kemp made it to the passage opposite.

  Griffin came onto the comms, bringing bad news. “We can’t hang back,” he said. “I just spoke to Captain Jostral – the Raggers came into his cell and he reckons they’re in the mood to give out some punishment.”

  “No need to ask what they mean by punishment,” said Dominguez.

  Conway offered his hand to Sergeant Lockhart and got the man to his feet.

  “Keep telling yourself it’s only pain.”

  Lockhart bared his teeth and Conway could see him attempting to exert the primacy of mind over matter. As long as he could keep up, it would be enough.

  “If the dogs die, we can’t fly out of here, Sergeant.”

  “Then what are we waiting for, sir?”

  The answer was nothing. Conway broke from cover and the hunt resumed.

  Chapter Ten

  The fighting was tense, but the enemy weren’t organized and they weren’t wearing armor. The Raggers had the numbers and that was their main advantage. Conway and his squad made rapid progress through this level of the spaceship. Every time they passed a door, someone would wrench it open to check for Fangrin prisoners.

  The contents of these rooms were varied – some were stores for pieces of equipment with unknown purposes. Others were maintenance rooms, filled with screens and consoles. One room contained tall cylinders made from a clear material, with thick fluids inside. It was the kind of place that many of the Unity League’s alien tech guys would love to spend their vacation, but Conway wasn’t too interested.

  Before they made it to the far wall, Kemp fired the shoulder launcher a couple more times – whenever he suspected the enemy were clumped. The rockets did a good job of reducing many aliens into cinders and the smell of burned Raggers was sickly sweet.

  “It’s putting me off sausages,” Kemp complained.

  “Have a drink of recycled piss,” offered Freeman. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  Conway wasn’t listening. The enemy resistance had fallen away rapidly and though he heard the occasional footstep, they were heading away rather than towards the squad. He guessed they’d had enough or been recalled.

  “The captain of this lifter will need to make a decision soon,” said Griffin. “Either drop out of lightspeed and head back to New Destiny for backup, or lock the doors and hope he can make it to his destination.”

  “Does it matter which?” asked Conway.

  “I don’t know.”

  The squad moved on. They didn’t have time for a full sweep – not if the dogs were about to be killed. Griffin spoke again to Captain Jostral – the Fangrin was alive, though the situation in his cell wasn’t clear.

  They came to the far side of the room and Conway judged they were above and about a third of the way along the main bay.

  “Still no prisoners,” he said.

  “Four visible exits,” said Lockhart, straining to see in the low light.

  “Steps down,” said Barron, checking out the closest exit, a little way to the left.

  “Gunfire!” said Kemp, pointing right. “Lots of it.”

  Conway heard it at the same time. “This way,” he said. The exit he aimed for was forty meters away and he had no idea what lay through it.

  “Something’s happening with the Fangrin,” said Griffin. He swore. “Captain Jostral’s gone off-comms.”

  The news alarmed Conway and he increased his pace from a fast march to a run. “Dead?”

  “Don’t know. I’m connecting to one of the other receptors.”

  At the corner, Conway stopped and looked around into another passage. Twenty meters away, it branched left and right, preventing him from seeing further. He ducked away to give his brain a moment to process the next move.

  “This way,” he said.

  Conway broke into a sprint, heading for the intersection. Lockhart was next and then Freeman, while the others waited just inside the passage for their opportunity. The sound of gunfire came – loud and close. Whatever weapon made the noise, its muzzle flash was completely suppressed and Conway couldn’t be sure if it came from left or right.

  At the turning, Conway stopped, sensing danger. A distortion appeared in the air in front of him, moving fast. The Ragger evidently wasn’t expecting to find Conway here and it crashed into him. He tried to get his rifle into position, but the alien grappled with him.

  “Can’t get a shot,” said Lockhart.

  A second shape appeared, this one broad, muscular and pissed off. The Fangrin snarled, showing canine teeth. It grabbed hold of the Ragger and tore it from Conway. Its huge fist thudded twice into the light distortion and then with a swing of its arms, smashed the Ragger into the wall with a crunch. The enemy lay still but Conway put a couple of bullets into it to make sure.

  Another Fangrin came from the left to join the first one. Conway saw others behind and they carried what he believed were Ragger guns. The lead Fangrin reached out and took one of the weapons, though he made no hostile movements with it.

  Conway stared at this first one and it met his eyes. The dogs - his enemy for so long, and he couldn’t remember seeing a living one from so close. This one was dressed like the others - in the yellow-grey armor of their soldiers but with no sign of a helmet. The dark fur covering its face was patchy and the skin of its muzzle looked dry and cracked. This one hadn’t thrived in captivity.

  Conway realized that the gunfire had stopped. In fact, it was the quietest it had been since his squad
emerged onto this level of the spaceship. “You escaped without our help,” he said.

  “Yes. Our enemies hoped to fill our cell with bullets and we overcame them.”

  Griffin stepped forward. “Where is Captain Jostral? We should try to reach the Gradior.”

  The Fangrin growled, deep in its throat. “Captain Jostral is dead. Most of us are dead. You came too late – the Raggers slaughtered us and now we are only six from the many that came here.”

  “I received a data packet from Captain Jostral,” said Griffin. “Less than thirty seconds ago.”

  “I saw him die to a Ragger bullet, human, along with the crew of the Gradior. There is nobody left who can pilot the ship.” He raised the weapon, careful not to aim it at Conway’s squad. “We will take this lifter and kill its crew.”

  “Where is your spaceship?” asked Griffin. “I can fly it.”

  The Fangrin narrowed its eyes and Conway felt his grip tighten on his rifle. The alien’s shoulders slumped and it made a rumbling sound. “The Gradior is a different way,” it said. “You say you can fly it. Not without the security codes.”

  “Captain Jostral gave them to me. I have checked the data transmission he sent before he died and they are within it.”

  Something gleamed in the Fangrin’s eyes. “In that case, we will fight together to escape this wretched place.” He revealed white teeth again. “I am Yeringar. Are our goals aligned?”

  Griffin nodded. “I am Jake Griffin. We are at peace. Our goals are aligned.”

  “In that case, we fight.”

  The Fangrin were eager to get started and Conway was forced to step aside as the aliens headed for the main room on this level of the spaceship. They had a sharp smell – wild and primal. Conway had learned to hate their scent but this time, the reaction didn’t come.

  “Easy,” he warned the others. He saw Kemp glowering at the aliens as they went past. “They’re with us, Private. I know you don’t like it, but this is what life, luck and war brings.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kemp through gritted teeth.

  The Fangrin were either incautious or too angry to tread carefully. They reached the end of the passage and vanished from sight.

  “Come,” said Yeringar. “The Gradior is this way.”

  It wasn’t a good time to establish a command hierarchy and Conway was ready to accept the Fangrin operating as an independent unit until he and Yeringar could speak. None of the aliens wore helmets but two of them were fitted with comms receptors and he brought them into a separate channel shared by himself and Captain Griffin. The names appeared on his HUD – Yeringar and Lonstril.

  Conway peered into the main room again. The Fangrin had advanced twenty meters towards the next exit which Private Barron said led onto steps. It wasn’t surprising to see how much discipline the aliens showed – they covered each other and moved quickly from place to place. One discharged his weapon at an out of sight target. The stolen Ragger weapon cracked twice and no more.

  “Done,” said Lonstril.

  “We can’t let them have all the fun,” said Corporal Freeman.

  The human squad followed at a rapid pace. Conway recognized that the appearance of the Fangrin might affect his soldiers and he spoke sharp words to make sure everyone was with him.

  “The Raggers sent their stealth soldiers to kill us,” said Yeringar on the comms. “I do not know how many they have onboard this vessel. We should be careful.”

  “They are difficult to hit,” Conway admitted.

  “We can smell them,” said Lonstril. “It is the stench of the dead.”

  The words struck Conway as odd and he filed them away to ask about later. At the moment, it wasn’t a time for conversation and he led his soldiers after the Fangrin.

  By the time the squad reached the top of the stairs, the Fangrin were halfway down, having killed another of the naked Raggers in the process. Conway didn’t want to move so fast, especially not if he was going to run into enemies wearing stealth suits. The Fangrin didn’t leave him much choice and the aliens descended the steps lithely.

  “They want to get out of here and they don’t want to piss about,” Lockhart observed. “Judging from the appearance of Yeringar, I can’t say I blame them.”

  “I agree.”

  Conway didn’t throw caution to the wind, but he did descend faster than his training told him was wise. He kept reminding himself that the Fangrin were, on balance, every bit as accomplished as a well-trained human soldier. Their methods weren’t always the same, which might be a positive in a situation like this.

  These steps were a mirror of the ones leading from the secondary bay, with the same intersections. The Fangrin hadn’t slowed much, but Conway was obliged to look after his squad and he paused at each turning to look out for Raggers.

  The enemy didn’t show up and Conway hoped the personnel onboard the lifter had been demoralized by the speed of the attack and the extent of their losses. The steps led to an empty passage, with an open door giving away the direction the Fangrin had taken.

  “We have arrived at a sealed airlock,” said Yeringar on the comms. “We require assistance.”

  Thirty seconds later, Freeman made a start with the laser cutter. The Fangrin took up a lot of space and didn’t leave much for the human squad. Conway used the opportunity to check the timer on the nuke.

  “Forty minutes,” he said.

  “You sound surprised, Lieutenant,” said Griffin. “We’ve been moving quickly.”

  “Time passes at its own rate, sir. Turn your back on it and you might find half your life is gone. Either that or you check your watch and it’s still three hours until dinner time.”

  “Don’t be dictated by it,” said Griffin, nodding to himself at the thought. “I like the idea.”

  “Nearly done,” said Freeman.

  Kemp had his eye on the corridor and he fired an extended burst from his gun. “I think I saw movement, sir.” He fired again and then ducked into the airlock to reload. Confirmation of a Ragger approach came when return shots hit the open door.

  “Best stay low,” said Conway. “Freeman?”

  “One second, sir.”

  “We’re running out of time,” said Lockhart, now more or less recovered from the shot to his balls.

  Freeman completed his work with the laser cutter. Yeringar didn’t wait and he slammed the gloved palm of one hand against the surface. The section of the door fell inwards and clattered to the ground. To Conway’s surprise, the Fangrin didn’t charge directly through the opening. Instead, Yeringar looked carefully to see what lay on the other side.

  “What can you see?” Conway asked, pushing himself into a better position.

  “The Gradior,” said the Fangrin.

  It was a mean-looking spaceship, Conway was willing to concede. He estimated it to be in excess of 500 meters in length and it filled much of the bay. Only the upper decks were visible above the top of the docking platform, which was enough to get a good idea of its overall shape. It was a heavily-armored brawler with a low profile and plenty of guns. Conway saw a row of four side-mounted chain gun turrets, each with eight barrels. The Gradior was also fitted with fifty-meter railguns - two were visible at the front and two more at the rear. Conway was sure the Fangrin heavy cruiser had other tricks up its sleeve.

  “Offline,” said Griffin. “I can’t hear the engines.”

  “You will need to start it up,” said Lonstril.

  Yeringar stepped through the airlock door, taking care to avoid the burning hot edges. Conway followed and immediately felt like a speck floating within an ocean of space. This bay was much bigger than the secondary bay, with several overhead cranes and the drone from the gravity modules in the ceiling was far more oppressive.

  The front section of the Gradior was close to the platform which Conway was standing on. The light in the bay was sufficient for him to see three other platforms further along the wall, with Ragger vehicles parked on each. He saw no sign of movement
and guessed the enemy had left this bay empty like they had with the secondary bay.

  “We’d better move,” said Lockhart from within the airlock. “I think I can hear them coming.”

  “Where’s the door into the warship?” asked Conway.

  “Come,” Yeringar responded.

  The Fangrin loped off towards the Gradior and Conway found it hard to keep up at the same time as he scanned the upper walkways for signs of the enemy. Each step he took towards the heavy cruiser made the spaceship appear larger and made Conway feel smaller. He grimaced at the wonders of technology.

  The Fangrin stopped at the edge of the platform and pointed at the faintest of outlines in the hull. “The door.”

  “And a two-meter gap,” said Conway.

  “No access panel,” said Griffin.

  “You must broadcast the access codes.”

  “There is no receptor.”

  “Trust me. Do it.”

  Griffin didn’t ask any more questions. Conway knew the other man had complied when a section of the Gradior’s hull sank inwards before sliding to one side.

  “In,” said Yeringar at the same time as Conway heard gunfire.

  He spun around, bringing up his rifle. He couldn’t see any Raggers, but he knew they were there, using their stealth suits to remain hidden. The members of his squad fired towards the airlock doorway, while return fire clattered against the side of the Gradior.

  “Up there!” shouted Conway. “Open door, third walkway up.”

  The Raggers had got themselves into a good position. A bullet hit Conway on the top of one shoulder and glanced off. Freeman fell backwards, with bullet marks on his chest. One of the Fangrin took a headshot and dropped dead to the floor.

  Kemp fired the last rocket from his shoulder launcher. The projectile struck the wall near to the upper doorway and the explosion created a flash of harsh white.