Ramos leads us off once our area is clean, me silently singing ‘heigh ho' as we go.
Chapter 21 – Among the Rocks in Space
Commander Shelby Perez was sound asleep in her cabin for the first time since she had taken command of Yorktown. Lt. Commander Rains and she were technically each taking 12 hour shifts, splitting time in the big couch that normally was Katana's, but he'd spent the past six days in the second officer's couch, with Shelby locked and loaded in the command station.
At scheduled shift change the day after receiving the message from the planet, she'd surprised everyone on the bridge by simply announcing, "Mr. Rains, you have the con. I'll be in my cabin if you need me."
A bell made her jump. Shelby never had trouble transitioning from sleep to awake, everyone who made it into higher command ranks it seemed to her shared the ability to go instantly from sound sleep to full attention. It was something she had worked on. She nudged the comm panel "voice only" button with a knuckle.
"Perez."
"Commander, we have another message from the planet."
"Read it to me, Rains."
"Aye, sir. Zero One Zero Zero Kay Aye Aa En Aa Zero Six One Three. That's it, do you know what it means, sir? I've asked McAdams to decode if possible."
"Yes, Jacob, I know exactly what it means." She looked at her clock. "I've got two hours more sleep coming, I'm going to take them. See if you can decode it without help before I get to the bridge."
"Sir, aye, sir." He didn't sound overly confident, Shelby on the other hand was confident he'd fail at the task he'd been given. Not that he wasn't bright enough to do it, just not sure enough in any answer he might get.
She flipped the comm panel off, adjusted herself in her couch, and was instantly back asleep.
Precisely two hours and thirty minutes after she had been awakened, Shelby Perez returned to the bridge, refreshed, showered, breakfasted, and ready.
"Rains, what did you find?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, sir, I was not able to make a definite conclusion."
"McAdams?"
"Commander, the Captain wants us in orbit around Libor Prime at zero one hundred hours, June 13, roughly 37 hours from now."
"Aye. Garcia, plot a minimum visibility course for the jump point that gets us on station, 500 meter circular orbit, appearing 1,000 clicks west of the enemy base at 0055 on the 13th. Let me know when you have it. Give me a couple options if you can."
"Aye, sir." Garcia's excitement filled her voice and transformed everyone on the bridge.
"McAdams, tubes one and two, program a launch immediately on our arrival, take out the two defense stations. Have tubes three and four armed and ready to go if needed. Target the enemy base with tube 24, hold for the Captain's orders on that one."
"Aye, Commander."
"Now, Lt. Commander, float over here if you will."
Rains did not acknowledge, but appeared swiftly at Perez's side.
"Do you see the message now?"
"Yes, sir, I do. I don't know why I didn't see it earlier, it's obvious."
"Jacob," Shelby put on her friend voice, something she didn't remember ever trying out from the command chair before, "You have all the skills, you're smart, you have to learn to trust yourself. The Captain and I both believe you can be a fine officer, but you have to believe it first."
"Thank you, sir, I'll work on it."
"Do that, Rains, do that."
Shelby turned to her screens, Rains moved back to his duty station.
Fifteen minutes later, Garcia had three courses ready. Shelby weighed them briefly, concluding as Garcia obviously had that the first was the best.
"Garcia, course one approved, go as scheduled."
"Affirmative, sir, course one approved."
With the ship still on silent running, Garcia did not have access to the usual horns, instead she made a muted ship-wide intercom announcement.
"Maximum acceleration in one hour, 17 minutes, secure all stations, repeat, maximum acceleration in one hour, 17 minutes."
Chapter 22 – On the Ground
I let Ramos take a calculated risk for the last day before our assault and hide us in trees only a couple hundred meters from the security zone around the base. We still haven't identified any security, but the 80 meter wide area without any trees between the tree line and the fence couldn't be thought of any other way.
Given occasional traffic near the fence on both the inside and outside, Weese has concluded there was no mine field in our path, but that conclusion can only be tested by our feet. I'm itching to go, double check my pack six times an hour until it gets dark, then 10 times an hour til it's time to go.
It's 2300 when we shimmy down the trees, not worrying about cleaning up after ourselves. In three hours we're dead, captured, or on board my ship, none of which require housecleaning. Weese isn't with us. He's had a project of his own to work on, he left at sundown and is expected back now.
We gather around Ramos, who goes over the details again, with a couple notes on what we'll do sans Weese if necessary. It isn't. He reappears at 2315, tells us his end is good to go.
We've picked the section of the fence Weese thinks has the most limited view from inside the base. Several buildings randomly scattered just on the other side of the fence, you'd have to be high up (like at the top of the building we were held in or in the control tower), or standing at the fence to see us. With no traffic in or out late at night, we're hoping the tower is shut down. We're also assuming that the top floor of the one tall building belongs to the bosses. Every time we've scouted after about 2100, all the lights have been off.
Midnight comes and we move out, single file, keeping low, but not slow. It still takes us at least 30 seconds to get to the fence. No motion from inside, no sign that they saw us, we crouch next to the rather unremarkable alien chain link for a minute, then Ramos silently signals Weese and Odoms to climb. They are quick up, over and drop to the ground. I'd give them a 10 for the landing, they are both into a crouch, weapons ready, as they touch down.
Another hand signal and Swenson and I do the same, except I keep my weapon inside my uniform, safety on, then have to extricate it after landing. By the time it's out, Ramos has joined us.
We pause again, listen, look, then start to move once we're sure we're clear. For days each of us has been staring at the photos of the base, plus making miniature mockups using stones and mud. Angle is everything in this movement, Ramos laid down a movement pattern designed to use the buildings to cover us as much as possible.
The five of us get through the field of small buildings, down the side of a large hangar, across to a set of warehouses (we think), until we're across a large open street and some decorative landscaping from our target. Ramos decided we're all going together.
We run, me in last place, not because we planned it but because I have the shortest legs, out from behind the last warehouse, onto the concrete road, up the other side between a tangle of small bushes, and find ourselves successfully crouching against the side of the building, apparently unseen.
Fortune has once again favored the foolish. Now we do the most foolish thing I have ever done. There's no question in my mind we could have made it unseen to the boats and be in the air by now. Instead, we're going in.
Though we haven't seen any insects in a week of tramping around the countryside, the Libor use window screens just like we do. A dozen feet from where we reached the building, we find a dark room with a partly open window, the occupant something who likes a breeze. Swenson cuts his way through the screen, lays it on the ground near our feet, and pushes under the open window, sliding it up. One by one, we slide in.
Assumption one is that, if they are keeping anyone in the building, it's not on the first floor where they could easily make a break for it. There's only three, we guess the second is the most likely. Quietly, we edge out into the hallway, Odoms leading the way. It's empty, every door with a window dark. The only room without a window into the
hall is the one we were in not too long ago, an unlikely place for the Senator to be.
There is a lighted sign over a door at the far end of the hall, the furthest door from the exit, I suspect marking the entrance to the stairs, and providing proof that alien OSHA exists. The stairs are empty and we gather at the door to the second floor. Without the video probes or other technology the Marines would normally have at their disposal, there's only one way to check the hall for enemies.
All five of us have our weapons at the ready as Odoms gently pushes down the handle and pulls the door open. Swenson and Weese move swiftly into the corridor, which proves to be just as empty as the first. We quickly move from one end to the other, opening each door to find only unoccupied space beyond. Ramos signals the return to the stairway, and we climb the last flight.
Once again, it's Odoms at the door, Swenson and Weese first through. And, once again, the hall is empty. Only four on the floor, we can check every door and be out of here quickly.
We surround the first door, open it, and find nothing. It's an office of some kind, lots of desks and computer terminals, weird framed photos of its and their children.
Second door is a conference room, big and empty, much like the one on the first floor. The entire south side of the building is now clear.
We cross to the third door, only to have it open toward us and a Libor step into view. Four Marines open fire virtually simultaneously. It's head almost explodes and the body crumbles to the floor in a sea of blood.
Weese and Swenson rush the room, Odoms and Ramos taking defensive positions, one facing the stairs, the other what I think is an elevator. More gunshots ring out from within, and the three of us follow quickly through the door.
Two more aliens are dead on the floor of what is a reception room of some kind, another door leads through the far wall. Odoms opens the lock with one shot from his weapon and throws the door open. Inside, four more doors all along the north side of a narrow corridor.
The Senator's Congressional flight suit is in the first one. Ramos signals for his team to check the other rooms, while he and I evaluate this one. There's a bed, a human-type head, a sink, a small table, and a chair. Everything metal, utilitarian, screwed into place, looks prison issue. Clamps on the bed, he was probably tied down.
"L-T." It's Weese, reporting back. "No people, just bottles of drugs in one room, others empty. We did get these." He and Swenson hold up nice looking rifles.
"Fine, let's move," Ramos responds.
We go out into the reception area, flight suit stuffed in my pack, and then into the hall.
A shot ricochets off the wall behind us, I turn to see two vest-wearing mocha Libor who have come out of the stairs. There's no cover, six of us, four humans and two Libor, stand eye to eyes, firing. The corridor fills with the acrid scent of gunpowder, and a little cloud of smoke. Seconds only before they fall, hopefully dead. Odoms is holding his arm, blood coming out, his face in a grimace, but he didn't make a sound.
Ramos is by his side instantly, examining.
"Only a flesh wound, Sergeant, you'll live. Keep pressure on it, we've got to move."
"Ooh Rah."
Ramos signals and I move with him toward the last door, Weese and Odoms in front, Swenson covering from behind. We don't bother to be gentle, Weese busts in and we follow. Another reception area, except this one is all wood, carpet, and elegance. Dark stained solid wood door to the connecting space, heavy lock that yields only to a couple nine millimeter rounds.
It's definitely the boss' office, by far the nicest furniture we've seen, a photo of a tiny Libor playing with a ball on one wall, a formal photo of an older Libor on another, a giant carved snowflake on a third. I grab the papers and what looks like a handheld computer sitting on the desk and stuff them in my pack, consider ripping into the files, but I wouldn't know what was good and what was toilet requisitions by looking at them. Ramos signals, I nod, and we retrace our steps into the hallway.
Staying in formation, we get back in the stairs headed down at warp speed. At the bottom there are two doors, one to the outside and one to the first floor, we don't even stop to think, Odoms barrels through to the great outdoors.
My ears nearly fall off as alarms reverberate into the small space of the stairwell. Out into the landscaping beyond, we can hear them clear as day. No pause, we're running toward the warehouses across the yard.
"Weese, fire." Ramos is running, yelling at the corporal. I don't get the meaning, then I do. Weese pulls a pad from his pocket, runs a finger across it, and we hear an explosion behind us. Now I know why he stole the fertilizer and where he was earlier in the evening.
I am also going to have to have a chat with Ramos about withholding operational details from his boss.
Lights are coming on across the base, we fly as best we can through the warehouses, Swenson in the lead this time, picking the least well lit paths. We're out of the cover of the dark warehouses and running beside a hangar, then across a road to another, cut behind it and then down its largely unlit side.
We aren't headed to the fence this time, we need to move west from our current position, across a now brightly lit tarmac to the spacecraft parked a kilometer or so away. We can see them, two Libor walking across the concrete toward one of them, no guards visible, almost no cover for us to use on the way there.
The hangars where we are are for aircraft. They border two long runways, with a large tarmac in front with perhaps 50 fixed and rotary wing craft of various sizes and vintages, none of which I find interesting. The target is home to the two 400 ton spacecraft, plus a dozen smaller four alien football shaped ships. They've separated the fueling station for those ships a good distance from all the structures, and they park them there after they're gassed up.
Ramos directs Swenson and Weese to go straight at the target, through the aircraft at first, then across the wide stretch of concrete. Odoms, Ramos, and I, the injured, the slow, and the boss, are going to cut across one runway and make our way up on the flank, in the grassy stuff on the outside of the two concrete strips. They get more cover at first, are more exposed at the end, but they should also be faster.
We can see and hear the sounds of movement across the base, most headed toward the central building, some far away at Weese's explosion site. Nothing at our spot, but they have to be coming if they have any sense at all.
Ramos signals, and we run, I've put my pistol in my uniform, knowing I can't keep up running with it in my hand, my k-bar, my compromise, stays in my right hand. Ramos and Odoms run with their nine millimeters, Swenson and Weese have the rifles we took from the Libor.
Our first sprint is north, we lose sight of the other two who have a straight shot to the west. We cover the 100 meters to the runways rapidly and then shoot west down the grass. It's easy in this position to spot our two comrades, well ahead of us and in the open.
For a couple minutes, I think we're going to make it unopposed. We're within 50 meters of the boats when Ramos, Odoms, and I lose visual on the other two behind the smaller Libor craft. We're coming around, passing the target and coming back in from the eastern flank, our comrades visible again.
Weese and Swenson are passing between a group of the smaller ships when two Libor leap at them from one side, and two more from the other. They have tools in their hands, not traditional weapons, but they have both surprise and numbers. Ramos and Odoms shift into another gear, one I did not know they had, leaving me far behind.
Two of the enemy have Weese strung between them when Odoms runs full tilt into one of them. The other two enemy and Swenson were a pile of bodies twisting across the concrete when Ramos arrives, yanking the closest Libor to his feet and driving a fist into its eye.
Now its an octagon match, four humans one on one with four aliens.
Odoms charges his opponent, knocking it to the ground, punching away with the largest fists in the known universe. Weese dances around his, dodging strikes from what looks like a crowbar, until he manages
to get within two feet of one of their fallen sidearms, dives, spins and comes up firing as the alien rushes toward him. Swenson takes his to the ground with a spinning round kick, then drives his boot at it's head repeatedly until it stops moving.
Ramos never lost his weapon, just needed room to get a clear shot, he starts to raise his sidearm when a fifth Libor, hidden, steps from the inside of the nearest boat, raises a rifle at the team leader from behind. I stupidly still have my sidearm in my uniform.
My arm shoots backwards, then snaps forward, every ounce of me behind the k-bar quickly winging its way outbound, while I yell at Ramos. The knife takes the alien square in the neck, his rifle drops and he follows it.
And, just like that, there are five humans standing, five Libor dead or out on the ground.
Libor: Katana Krieger #2 Page 19
