Lee raised her Slayer-equipped arm. “On it!”
A volley of KKCs and laser bursts disintegrated the enemy, opening an avenue for the featherweights to progress at speed.
Bang! Bang! Their metal feet sounded against the hard surface as they advanced with the light infantry, providing fire support to add early momentum to the charge. Their giant frames weren’t made for this terrain, and the few dozen Super Heavies halted at the ravine.
Braun turned around, raising both arms in front. “This is as far as we go. We got the general’s back.”
“Damn straight!” Lee clapped her hands, sending a clank through the air. “Bring it on!”
Boom! Boom! Enemy grenades peppered their position with sporadic fire. There weren’t many attackers, but they heavily outnumbered the thin rear guard.
“I’m hit!”
Braun jerked his head toward Lee. She was on one knee. “What is it?”
“Christ! A shot took out my joint. I can’t walk. Fuck!”
Boom! Boom! Boom! The attack grew more intense.
He hurried to her. “Whaa!” Bang! A direct hit on his shoulder knocked him to the ground.
“Braun!”
His armor screeched against the rock as he pulled himself to Lee’s side with his good arm.
She reached down and helped him to a knee. A scattered horde of silver approached. “I think this is it.”
He gulped air despite the fact he hadn’t actually moved his body. “Yeah...I think you’re right.”
“Together.” She gripped his wrecked hand.
“Together.”
They picked off drone after drone, never flinching in the face of certain oblivion. A volley of unseen energy slammed into their armored chests, melting the plating and destroying internal systems. Their machine to brain interfaces overloaded, kicking their consciousnesses back into their bodies where death took them together.
***
Frost pushed at a private’s back, spurring the man on. “Don’t let ‘em get away!”
Militia and legionnaires were crawling over each other to get at the enemy, who were desperately trying to disengage and attack in the other direction. The mass of human warriors wouldn’t allow it, though. They knew this was it and courage was in abundance.
He led a flood of soldiers into a ravine, slaughtering everything in their path. Rushing to the edge, he aimed downfield and cut the retreating Silver Horde to pieces. Wyatt was at his side. “Having fun yet?”
“Hell, yeah...”
An enemy grenade knocked him to the ground. The world spun as he forced himself up, blinking to focus his vision. “Wyatt!” Her mangled body, half covered with pink ooze, laid motionless. “No!”
He cradled her corpse, tears streaming down his face. A wave of troopers flowed around him. “Why you? Why? It’s almost over! We’ve almost won!”
***
“Sir, we’re linked up with the fighters. Ready to commence coordinated strike.”
DeWalt nodded at his com officer. “Bring us into low Earth orbit and send the word. Fire everything we’ve got. Weapons, give that bastard something to think about.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Missiles lunged downward. Invisible laser streaks flashed into existence once they hit the atmosphere.
Keep pouring it on! We won’t be ignored.
They weren’t.
A white bolt leapt from the surface, hitting the Bull Run. Its reactor lost containment and exploded brilliantly.
Another shot hit the Siege of Vienna.
Sweat soaked his body. The fleet kept firing.
The Little Big Horn was destroyed.
“Hold position!” DeWalt narrowed his eyes and scanned the bridge. “We’re making them expend energy, keeping them pinned to the ground. Our soldiers have to get aboard!”
“Sir, we’re out of missiles.” The baby-faced weapons officer stared at him. “And the fleet can’t keep this laser barrage up for much longer.”
The Bangladesh blossomed into a fireball.
DeWait checked on the ground assault’s progress. Okay, we can back it off. “All ships, make for high orbit!”
A parting shot nicked the aft section of the Finland. Its core was ejected and exploded seconds later.
“Get Captain Essa on the line.”
“Go, sir.”
“Captain, can you break orbit?”
“No, sir. Our power reserves were used up in the bombardment and an electrical surge fried our network. We’re trapped in the gravity well and losing altitude.” She sighed. “We’re abandoning ship.”
“Godspeed, captain.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Escape pods launched from the Finland. After the last of them departed, he noticed the navigation thrusters fired, lining up the battleship for a clean entry.
DeWalt’s eyes bulged. “Is someone still aboard her? Hail the bridge!”
“Captain Essa here.”
“What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!”
“Too late for that, admiral. Besides, my ship still has fight in her. Remember, I promised I’d never quit again. I keep my promises. I’m taking her in for a K strike. At worst, that asshole will have to send another shot at me, maybe give our guys on the ground a better chance.”
He wanted to yell at her but he swallowed that rage born of sadness. “Good luck and Godspeed, captain. It’s been an honor.”
“Same here, sir. Captain Aleah Essa of the battleship Finland, out.”
It plunged deeper into the atmosphere, burning like a shooting star. DeWalt smiled at the sight. Give ‘em hell.
***
The sky outside Susan’s cockpit was bursting with radioactive blasts sent from the fleet and fighters. Dissipating shockwaves rocked her Avenger as she banked hard left, hitting a silver wing dead center with a laser blast. She checked her sensor feed. The last of the enemy fighters were gone.
“Form up for double-K and nuke strike!” She was in command of a motley squadron.
Arching around, her four craft fell in line off her wing tips. She was the point of a spear, barreling directly for the enemy.
“Hit the deck! We’re gonna hit the fucker low. Unload your cannon once you level off. Then all your nukes. Bug out for rearming after!”
The squadron dove hard, heading almost straight for the ground. She mentally yanked back on the stick. A clear lane to the pyramid was open, but she couldn’t see the vessel itself. Red and yellow waves flowing across the shield obstructed her view.
This is for West! Her fighter’s nose flashed, spitting two thousand rounds at the pyramid. Missiles followed.
The lead strike peppered the barrier as she turned right and accelerated for base. Overwhelmed point defenses destroyed most of the squadron’s nukes, but three survived to unleash the miracle of fission. Flames licked the stressed shield.
I hope they’re doing all right, she thought of the ground pounders on the opposite side of the ship. I hope Great Gramps gets under that damn shield.
A streaking light overhead grabbed her attention. What the hell is that?
***
Simms slammed himself against a boulder. Dropping to one knee, he slipped around it to toss grenades at a pair of drones. More joined him and he emerged from cover to push onward, firing as he walked. The destructive hail obliterated their obstacle. “Keep moving!”
He gazed at the pyramid. The sky behind it was lit up like a fireworks display of supernovas. The intensity of the barrage was lessening, though. “Movement!” The Keeper was gaining altitude! Shit! “Hurry! It’s taking off! Run!”
A mass of troopers surged toward the target. Sporadic fire reduced their number, but the tide of humanity wouldn’t be denied. They just needed time.
We’re not gonna make it!
In the clearing sky he saw something in the distance. A shooting star? It grow closer, larger, and changed course. The fireball surrounding the object lessened to reveal the black hull of a battleship.
Its forward navigation thrusters fired, slowing its velocity, perfecting its aim.
“Keep moving! We’re going to make it!”
***
Fifty meters from the shield, Trent hunkered down and watched, slack-jawed, as the mighty warship impacted on the shield. A blinding light washed out everything, the earth rumbled, and a thunderous noise staggered him. Waves of red flowed over the barrier, but held firm. Nonetheless, the sheer weight of the kinetic strike forced the rising enemy ship down. A corner of the pyramid dipped into the ground, plowing a fresh trench through the rock. It wobbled for a few moments before finding its footing.
He sent an order to rally on his position. This was it. They had to penetrate the shield now or never. Soldiers rushed to him. He took stock of his once-mighty legion. Four hundred legionnaires were all that remained.
Not all were with him when he stood and waved at the target. “Charge!”
“Hooah!”
He reduced his speed to fall back into the group. They hit the barrier like a cresting wave. Nausea struck his gut. He sealed his lips and survived the bout. Others weren’t as lucky and doubled over to vomit inside their helmets. Passing through the energy field must’ve screwed with their bodies.
He glanced back at the shield. Dozens of troopers were picking themselves off the ground. Having been a microsecond late, they’d bounced off it. Others’ frustration at being out of the hunt boiled over and they drove their rifle butts into the barrier without making a sound on his side. Tiny ripples emanated from the impact points.
He whipped his head away from them. “Keep moving!”
The First Legion renewed its charge. Trent consulted his tac-map. Two hundred forty-one had made it inside the shield. For a moment, it looked like that would be enough. Nothing stood between them and the Keeper.
Silver poured out of the ship’s underbelly. The enemy was dropping reinforcements.
The last of the First Legion consolidated into a mob and surged with guns blazing.
Trent haphazardly gathered whoever happened to be near into the designated incursion team. He wasn’t even aware of whom he was choosing; they were just in the right place at the right time. It would be the grim duty of the rest to cover the chosen few’s ascension into the enemy’s dominion. He wished he had time to say good-bye to those he’d sentenced to death, but there just wasn’t time. A too common theme in his life.
***
Soldiers were dying all around Simms, but they kept pushing forward, wading into the heart of the disorganized drones, craving out a tiny piece of barren land for themselves. They were under the ship, they’d reached their objective. Now they just needed to hold onto it for a little bit.
No one was in command any more, but all knew what to do. He found a slight depression in the terrain and lay flat in it. Everyone took advantage of whatever cover they could find and stood their ground.
Drones threw themselves against the perimeter in piecemeal fashion. The attacks were easily broken up. Simms knew he’d be out of ammo soon and if he was almost out, everyone else had to be, too.
A warning flashed. “Last magazine.”
The end was near. Major Walter Simms would die soon. He didn’t curse his fate. He was a U.S. Marine, Red Baron, and soldier of the First Legion. He held his position until his rifle ran dry. He gripped his Bowie knife and charged the nearest drone, driving the blade deep into it.
The beast flung him off like a rag doll. He landed with a thud on the hard surface, forcing the air from his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw legionnaires rising into the enemy vessel. A smile crossed his face.
The wounded foe trained one of its wicked arms on him. He didn’t see it; he was focusing on a picture of Jane with his mind’s eye. I’m coming home, baby.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Staring into Eternity
Distant fire knocked troopers from the air, their bodies crumpling midflight before falling back to the Earth. Trent kept his focus straight ahead, blocking out everything except achieving the mission. Losses were irrelevant. All that mattered was beating the hangar door sliding shut, and right now they weren’t going to make it,
“All units increase power to a hundred and fifteen percent!”
“Warning, overload is...”
“Emergency command override!”
His personal anti-grav backpack whined as it pushed him faster. A pair of bright flares signified two unlucky legionnaires whose units overloaded. The toll grew by the second, but now they’d make it—most of them, anyway.
“Max break!” He was meters from the shrinking opening. Gees compressed his spine as he fought to avoid a collision with the ceiling. He managed it, though three didn’t, snapping their necks on the metal plating,
Floating to the floor, he whipped his rifle around, searching for opposition.
The door sealed, sending a booming clank echoing throughout the empty chamber.
Temporary shock overtook the group. They stood still, looking around, not totally convinced they’d made it this far.
Trent checked his tac-map. Thirty-two had made it inside, including Jones, Gabriel, and Amanda. Thank God. A quick wave of guilt hit and passed. Simms didn’t make it! Damn it! Focus, Maxwell, get your head in the game!
Jones’ voice filled his helmet. “I’ve got three entry points to the chamber. I’ve highlighted them one through three. I’ve reordered our units into new squads. Check your roster. Each has been assigned an entry to cover.” She faced Trent and switched to a private channel. “What’s the plan, sir? We can’t stay here long. A welcome party has to be on its way.”
“Agreed.” He examined the doors in the rectangular room. There was one on each end of the rectangle and one in the center of the longer wall opposite them. There didn’t appear to be any other difference. “Get the plasma cutters we brought working on the middle door.” It was their best bet to get to the center of the vessel, based on the information Hal had given them.
“On it.” Jones ran off to coordinate the project.
Flickering blue lights illuminated the dark space. The sparks danced off Amanda’s faceplate as she approached him. “What do you think they’re waiting for? The AI can’t be okay with us running around.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles were tight with tension. “I doubt it will let us keep going without a fight. I think it dropped what it had ready onto the ground, trying to stop us from getting aboard in the first place.”
She looked around. “That would explain the empty cargo hold.”
“Yeah but I wished we’d found their factories here. The AI is pumping out reinforcements somewhere, and I don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
“Gabriel here, you might want to hear this, sir.”
Trent jogged over to him at the left door. “What do you have?”
“Put your helmet up to the door and listen.”
Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to it. Bang, bang, bang. Oh, crap. “Are we getting the same thing on the other door?”
“Affirmative.”
“Colonel Jones, ETA on our exit?”
“Five minutes and we’ll have something to crawl through, one at a time.”
“I’d be shocked if we had three.” He whipped around. “Prepare to repel attack. Everyone not cutting, cover a side door.”
Soldiers scurried, spreading out to train their weapons on the doors from multiple angles. Trent took a knee, raising his rifle. A hand grasped his shoulder. He looked back to see Gabriel standing over him. “No, sir. You’re carrying the Pills. We need you by our exit so you can be one of the first out of here. I’ve got your back.”
He nodded and rose, knowing what his old friend was saying. Gabriel snapped into rigid attention and saluted. Trent held out his hand. They gripped each other at the elbow, pulling one another close for a tight embrace.
Gabriel patted his back. “We’ve traveled a long road together. It’s been an honor to serve with you.”
“Over a century of war together, From U.S. Rangers fighting on a South African beach to legionnaires fighting across the galaxy and back to South Africa. No other brothers-in-arms in history can say that.” He choked back tears.
Bang, bang, bang filled the chamber in stereo.
Gabriel broke free, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Go. I got this one. Maybe this moment is why you pulled my ass off that beach. Why we survived all we’ve been through.”
“Give ‘em hell.”
“Rangers lead the way,” Gabriel replied with the ancient war cry of the U.S. Army Rangers.
Trent sprinted for the blue glow of the plasma cutters. Behind him, he heard the heavy metal doors slide open and the world explode with violence.
Good-bye, old friend. Rangers lead the way.
***
Jones kicked a private in the ass. “We gotta go!”
A team of troopers pushed the freed section in and scouted the next corridor.
The call came back. “Clear!”
Two more troopers crawled in to secure the passage for Trent. “Your turn, sir.” Amanda pulled on him and pushed him in front of her, pointing toward the incursion point.
He dropped to his hands and knees, the rim of the hole glowing red hot. Total darkness greeted him on the other side, but his visor adapted. The walls were smooth and featureless, save for seams that likely identified doorways.
Amanda emerged from the molten tunnel amid a hail of fire just inside. Gabriel’s squads were wiped out. His stomach sank.
Diving through, Jones was the last in.
A private covered the hole. “Which way, sir?”
Trent pointed left. “That way, and take the third right.”
“Scout ahead.” Jones pointed at two troopers, who took off running,
Bang, bang, bang echoed through the hole.
The other two enlisted legionnaires, a corporal and private, held back as the group prepared to move out. “Corporal Elizabeth Longbow requesting permission to hold this position with Private Colt, sir. You need to get some distance between you and them, and they’ll be through that door in a minute.”
Trent wanted to argue with her, order her to come with them and have a chance, no matter how slight, to live. He didn’t have the time, though, and she was right. Someone had to stay behind to create separation.
The Last Charge of the 1st Legion (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 3) Page 28
