“We sure as hell do.”
Kralun of the Unity would gladly have waited for a Hryghr to arrive but his fellow Gryghr didn’t share his caution. The
They didn’t appreciate the sheer lethality of the battle suits.
“Stay close to me, bindmate,” Nilista said.
“Always,” Kralun said, although secretly he would rather flee. He should have remembered that she could feel his every thought.
“Do not despair. We are the Unity. We are strong. We will prevail.”
“There are two Hard Shells,” Kralun said.
“And we are many. With more on the way.”
Kralun was heartened to see Gryghr suddenly flow out of side streets and over nearby rooftops to join in the impending fray.
“Do you see, bindmate?” Nilista said. “We are never alone in the Unity. In our numbers is our strength. We serve the Source of All, and cannot fail.”
Kralun didn’t share her deeply spiritual nature. It was something to discuss another day.
The Hard Shells were on the move. Side-by-side, they slowly advanced. When they extended their huge right arms, Kralun thought they were going to fire missiles or darts or grenades. But no. Narrow beams of brilliant red light shot from their wrist gauntlets, slicing through everything the beams touched.
Lasers! Kralun realized. No one had ever told him the U.N.I.C. brought lasers to Mars. He yearned more than ever to get out of there but he was hemmed by his fellow Gryghr. He must do as they were doing. He must attack.
Earlier, at the Security Center, Archard had been loading grenades into his RAM when Private Everett hurried in from the armory with a big grin on his face. The Kentuckian was holding something behind his back.
“I thought I saw them and I wasn’t sure so I went to
double check,” Everett said. “You’re going to be plumb giddy, sir.”
Without stopping his work, Archard said, “I could use some giddiness right about now.”
Everett brought his hands out. In the palm of each was a compact rectangular unit with what appeared to be the nozzle of a spray gun protruding fifteen centimeters from an end.
“What…?” Archard said.
Everett turned one of the units over. The bottom was slotted in the same fashion as the dart and missile units that Archard had just got done attaching to the RAM’s wrist gauntlets.
“They’re for the RAM?” Archard said, trying to remember where he might have seen similar units before.
Chuckling, Private Everett held the side of one of the units up so Archard could see the serial number and the model type imprinted in red ink.
“Laser,” Archard read in amazement.
“Two of them, sir,” Private Everett said. “One for each of you.”
Quickly, Archard descended to examine one. Lasers were ridiculously expensive to manufacture, and were notorious for using too much power. But they were the crème de la crème of U.N.I.C. armaments, the deadliest weapon in their arsenal. And that was saying a lot. “I didn’t know there were any on Mars.”
“Do you want them fitted on the suits?” Private Everett said.
“Do you even need to ask?” Archard retorted.
It delayed the rearming but it was worth it. Now, with Burroughs at his side, Archard flew to within a hundred meters of the creatures milling around the tank and extended his arm. A good thing he did, because out of the side streets and over the rooftops flowed more Martians.
“Let them have it, Lieutenant,” Archard said. “Lasers, if you please.”
“With pleasure, sir,” Burroughs said.
Archard fired. There was a soft hiss, like air escaping from a tire, and a bright red beam shot from the nozzle on his wrist. The effect was spectacular. He and Burroughs cut the creatures into halves and thirds and spilled their insides. Martian after Martian after Martian. It didn’t matter how fast the things moved, they couldn’t outrun the speed of light. Methodically sweeping the beams back and forth, he and Burroughs slew the creatures by the hundreds.
He heard Burroughs laugh.
Kralun saw the reinforcements being laid low and tingled with an urge to destroy their slayers. That was the Martian part of him. His human self was screaming to get out of there, to run before it was too late.
“Be strong, bindmate,” Nilista said.
On all sides, Martians scrambled toward the Hard Shells, sweeping Kralun along. He tried to merge with the Unity to warn them to get out of there, but he was too rattled to concentrate.
The Gryghr were rushing to their doom and didn’t know it.
Then, around a building, came a Hryghr. At this, an inner pulse of support went up from the Gryghr, the equivalent of a resounding cheer on Earth. The blue warrior charged toward the Hard Shells, fearless, determined. Here was the toughest of them, the mightiest of them.
One of the Hard Shells moved an arm and sliced the Hryghr down the middle.
Dismay gripped the Gryghr. To a Martian, they slowed in consternation.
Surely now, Kralun thought, they would realize the folly of their attack. They would see that the wisest recourse was to retreat.
All the Gryghr began to shake. Even Nilista. He sensed that it stemmed from their communal consciousness, and merged to find out why.
“Brothers! Sisters!” a Martian was saying. “You have seen! Let us avenge those who have been lost! Let us rise up in our numbers and tear these Hard Shells apart. We can do it! We are the Unity! And in our union we are strong! Flow with me! Let us show these Blue Worlders that those who follow the Source of All are not afraid to merge with the Source should the need arise! Onward! To battle!”
Kralun couldn’t believe what he was sensing. The troops were being rallied, Martian style. “No!” he shouted. “It is a mistake! This is not the way!”
“They cannot sense your warning, bindmate,” Nilista said.
Once more, Kralun was swept forward by the press. He struggled to break free. He did not want to die. Not when the Martians had given him the priceless gift of a life span measured in thousands of years, if not longer. He wanted to live those thousands. To live forever, if he could. To hell with merging with the Source.
“Oh, bindmate,” Nilista said.
They were closing on the Hard Shells. Kralun saw the faceplate of the one on the right and recognition caused him to trip and almost fall. It was Captain Archard Rahn, his former U.N.I.C. liaison at New Meridian. Archard! he wished he could scream. Don’t shoot! It’s me! Levlin Winslow!
Another instant, and Winslow found himself staring directly into the laser beam. Bright red light filled his vision, his world, his universe. There was the red light and only the red light. He vaguely thought he felt Nilista, and then there was a searing season, and then nothing, nothing at all.
Archard and Lieutenant Burroughs killed and killed and killed some more. When the number of Martians dwindled, Archard switched to missiles and darts to spare the power cells in their RAM’s from additional drain.
At last, at long last, the sole remaining creature lay in fragments. For the moment, at least, the dome, and everything under it, was still.
“Heat sig, sir,” Burroughs said.
Archard’s helmet holo showed someone descending in the elevator in the Administrative Center. The other heat signatures were no longer there. Descending to ground level, he stepped over mounds of dead creatures to reach the entrance.
Out staggered Sergeant Kline. His EVA suit was torn and he was bleeding from a leg wound, but he tiredly smiled and said, “Good to see you made it, sirs.”
“What happened up there?” Archard wanted to know.
“Martians came in through the windows while you were fighting these,” Kline said, nodding at the heaps. “I tried to protect Chief Administrator Reubens and those with him. There were just too many of the things. I barely made it out myself.”
“Reubens is definitely dead?”
“I saw a Martian rip his head off and go running out a window with it.”
“Then we won’t see him again,” Archard said.
“Lieutenant Burroughs, I want you to take Sergeant
Kline to the Security Center. Both of you are to stay there until you hear from me.”
“But sir…” Burroughs began to protest.
“It’s the only way to get the sergeant there safely,” Archard said. “I’ll check on Corporal Arnold and the hospital and bring everyone still alive back with me.”
“Yes, sir,” Burroughs said reluctantly.
“You don’t need to baby me, sir,” Sergeant Kline said. “I can manage on my own. She can go with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Archard said. “When did this become a democracy? With Major Howard dead, I’m in command. You will follow orders, the both of you.”
At their mutual, “Yes, sir!” Archard stepped back, activated his thrusters, and streaked toward Dome One. He hoped against hope that when he got there, he would find Arnold and Niven and the hospital staff and patients still alive.
Once through the walkway, he cleaved the air like a bullet. He tried repeatedly to raise the corporal, without success.
Then he saw why.
The tank, or what was left of it, lay on its side near the emergency doors. Corporal Arnold’s torso and arms and legs were nearby, but not his head. Of Niven, there was no sign.
The hospital was completely dark, and quiet. Not a single heat signature showed. Archard resorted to the battle suit’s megaphone and rose from floor to floor, calling for survivors to make their presence known. None did.
Dejected, Archard climbed higher. No sounds issued from under the dome. He didn’t detect any sign of life.
Dome One had fallen. Every colonist in it had been lost.
Refusing to concede defeat, Archard returned to Dome Two and flew from end to end. It was more of the same. There was no life anywhere except for those waiting for him at U.N.I.C. headquarters.
One last time, Archard hovered and gazed out over the desolation. “Colony down,” he said to himself, and would have wept if he could afford the time for tears. There were still lives to save, and by God, he was going to save them.
EPILOGUE
The decision was a no-brainer. They were the only humans left. Just the nine of them; Archard, Burroughs, Kline, Everett, Pasco, Katla, Trisna, Behula and Piotr.
“We don’t stand a chance if we stay,” Archard summed up his assessment in the Security Center mess shortly after he’d returned. “We might try to hold out if we knew help was coming, but we don’t.”
“I’ve tried and tried to raise Bradbury, sir,” Private Pasco said. “They’re not answering.”
“Another blackout, damn their souls,” Katla said.
“Regardless, we still have our tank from New Meridian,” Archard reminded them. “Major Howard never got around to repairing it, but I think we can have it fitted to go by noon. Then all of you can pile in, and the lieutenant and I will take turns pushing it to Bradbury.”
“That will take weeks,” Trisna said, aghast. “Cooped up like before.”
“Hold on,” Lieutenant Burroughs said, lowering her legs from the table where she had propped them. “There’s a faster way. It will be just as crowded, but we can get there in half a day.”
“Are you fixing to pull a rocket out of your pocket, Lieutenant?” Private Everett joked.
“No,” Burroughs said. “A Thunderbolt.”
Looks of incredulity and hope spread from face to face.
Archard found his voice first. “You’re a pilot? You can fly that thing?”
“I am and I can,” Burroughs said. “I’m not the hotshot the major was. But I’ve taken the Bolt for a spin a few times, and I’m confident I can get us to Bradbury in one piece.”
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Everett said, and laughed.
“Oh my,” Trisna said, her hand to her throat. “We will live through this, after all.” She scooped Behula up and spun in a circle.
“Do you believe this, sir?” Private Pasco happily said to Archard. “A stroke of luck for once.”
“We were overdue,” Archard said.
“What happens when we get there?” Katla said. “Will it be Wellsville all over again?”
“Let’s hope not,” Archard said. “There’s only one colony left.” He meant it jokingly but everyone sobered and stopped smiling.
“They better not muck with us,” Sergeant Kline said. “If they try to pull the same thing at Bradbury that Reubens and the major pulled here, we’ll call them on it.”
“I hear that,” Private Everett said.
“Listen up,” Archard said loudly to get their attention. “It would be nice if we could take showers and enjoy a good meal and then have six or seven hours of sleep. But we don’t know when the Martians will return. It could be tomorrow. It could be five minutes from now. So here’s the drill.” He paused. “Grab whatever you want to take so long as it’s light and doesn’t take up much space. Then we’ll load the supplies we need and be out of here inside an hour. Any objections?”
“Are you kidding, sir?” Private Pasco said.
“Hop to it.”
Since Archard didn’t have personal belongings to take, he spent his time carting cases of water bottles and food to the hangar. He was on his third trip when Katla and Piotr showed up. She took the boy into the Thunderbolt and came back out alone.
“Have a moment?”
“Would that it were more,” Archard said.
Katla placed her cheek on his chest and her hand on his shoulder. “Let me stand here a bit.”
“It’s getting to you, isn’t it?”
“How can it not?” Katla said sadly.
“Once we reach Bradbury, everything will be fine.”
Katla looked him in the eyes. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Archard confessed.
“I do,” Katla said. “I believe in me and I believe in you. I believe in our new friends. I believe that together we can reach Bradbury. After that, who knows? So long as you’re with me, I don’t much care.”
Archard did something he hadn’t done in many days. He kissed her.
Later, their provisions stocked and everyone either strapped in or seated where they could brace themselves, Lieutenant Burroughs eased the Thunderbolt from the hangar and took to the air.
Archard felt a profound sense of relief. For a while, they would be spared the hideous perils of the Red Planet. Once they arrived at Bradbury, Governor Blanchard would impose a state of emergency and contact Earth for help. With any luck, more troops and tanks and RAM 3000’s would be sent. With any luck, the Martians wouldn’t attack before the reinforcements landed.
And with any luck, in the end, Earth would win the war of the worlds.
FINI
Read on for a free sample of The Lost Empire
Chapter 1
Command Carrier Dominance
Affiliation: Feng Empire
Fleet Admiral Fengus Utang sat in his chair on the battle bridge of his command carrier, assimilating thousands of points of data as they were gathered, as filtered by Captain Paxo Klingu.
“Sir, our battle group is exiting spacefold in the Humana System.”
“How far out?”
“One point seven three nine kilaparsecs, sir.”
Admiral Utang was about to initiate the final stage of his intergalactic scourge against the United Intergalactic Coalition. One by one, in his march across the known galaxies, overlooking the Uncharted Sectors, he had led the Feng Empire in its conquest to reclaim the glory of the Old Empire. In a vicious campaign, he toppled world after world, nation after nation, whittling away the overstretched United Intergalactic Coalition. From the Vampiri to the Homunculi, each member of the UIC was outmatched by the superior armada of the Feng.
The invasion of Humana, the seat of the United Intergalactic Coalition, was the end game in this great Intergalactic War 4.0.
“
The Humani have detected our arrival, sir.”
This was to be suspected as the deep cold of space made it impossible to mask the heat signatures of large vessels and battle groups.
“Captain, release the hunter-killers.” These hunter-killers were the first ships in the history of armada vessels to utilize the dark matter of space to conceal themselves from detection. Admiral Utang watched as they entered the Humani battle group’s outer screen, circumventing detection. In turn, they gathered data on enemy positions and relayed them back.
“Have them take out the passive Humani scouts,” ordered Admiral Utang.
The on-screen display showed the frail Humani scout satellites take fire and explode, as they were designed for detection rather than engagement. Within thirty micros, the outer screen of the Humani defense forces had been eliminated.
“Sir, the hunter-killers are breaching the Humani’s inner screen.”
“Mobilize the battleships and dreadnaughts just outside the outer screen, and dispatch Warmonger squadrons.” Every squadron in the invasion fleet launched and approached the now non-existent Humani outer screen, outnumbering the Humani Vortex fighters in the inner screen two-to-one.
As the Feng hunter-killers breached the inner screen, the Humani Vortex defenders buzzed around blindly, groping out into the cold darkness with their sensors, desperate to detect the smallest heat signature.
The stealth vessels, rather than engaging, reached out with their own sensors, reporting back on the Humani Vortex positions and formations. The quantum computers of the Dominance extrapolated data from prior Humani encounters, assessing the threat axis of the Humani defense forces.
One of the stealth vessels took a fatal hit, the explosion ripping through its cloak of dark matter. It quickly became a lifeless husk, its crew drifting out of its gaping wounds into the vacuum of space.
“Sir, the Humani have dispatched hunter-killers.”
Admiral Utang was stoic, entirely expecting this.
“Mobilize countermeasures.”
Colony Down: Battlefield Mars Book 2 Page 16
