Reclaim: Books 1-3

by J. A. Scorch

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  "Down here," Ward said. "Follow the sound of gunfire."

  Teve and his new team kept a tight gap on their CO's tail, making sure not to lose sight of the man leading them headfirst into an unknown battle.

  "How the hell did those lanky pricks get all the way out here?" Prescott shouted. "I'm gonna kill every one of them with my bare hands when I—"

  "Corporal. Keep your voice down. We don't know how many there are or how many more are on their way. Get your shit together, dammit."

  "Yes, sir," Prescott said, ducking his head down.

  Teve realized the corporal was more afraid than angry. Ward was only trying to keep one of his soldiers on the task before he got skittish and ran away.

  A silent fist raised into the air courtesy of the lieutenant. Teve, Bean, Red, Pocket, and Romeo all dropped down with their weapons ready as they formed up on a corner in the hallway. Prescott trailed behind and continued making noise. He received a quieting gesture from Ward again to further his point. The guard listened.

  Around the bend, the sound of something clunking along the surface of the concrete met Teve's ears. He gripped his rifle a little tighter than before. The weapon wasn't loaded with anything beyond standard issue rounds. He knew for a fact that only high-explosive ammunition would do anything against the tall Zeal soldiers.

  "What do you see, sir?" Prescott asked.

  A face full of twisted lines met the guard's question as Ward sent hatred toward the man.

  "You need to shut the fuck up, Corporal. I know about as much as you do, got it?"

  Prescott nodded as fast as he could as the disturbance up ahead fell quiet.

  Teve pressed himself flatter into the wall—not that he could conceal his lanky frame from whatever waited around the corner.

  Lieutenant Ward gave the signal for his team to prepare to strike and got them all on their feet. He positioned Bean and Romeo just behind him and whispered orders to them. "On three. One, two—"

  Before Ward got to the three, two bipedal creatures charged around the turn and slashed Ward's neck wide open in a single strike, spraying his blood all over the group. As the beast raised its arm to attack Romeo, Teve fired. He yelled as he shot off ten rounds into a hybrid's face. The creature flew back and landed hard on the ground as Teve shifted targets to hit the next one with a spray of lead. He slowed down its momentum enough for Romeo and Bean to duck under its attack and hasten back. The others joined in the firefight.

  "Keep shooting," Teve yelled as he stared at what he recognized to be perfect Zeal hybrids. The once human figures were now covered in the purple bladed armor of the alien invaders. He emptied his weapon on one of the intruders, reloaded, and fired upon the next one.

  The hybrids kicked about on the ground in defiance as the five privates continued to shoot. Purple blood sprayed out while half of the bullets splintered into pieces over the harsh alien armor.

  Finally, the two creatures came to a stop once enough rounds had passed through their sharp protection. The hallway was a mess.

  "What the hell are they?" Bean yelled, letting his rifle go limp by his side.

  Teve reloaded another magazine into his weapon as he stepped toward the downed enemy. "They're hybrids. Captured soldiers who have been successfully converted by the Zeal into killing machines."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I've seen one up close," Teve said as X clouded his thoughts. "Despite their appearance, I’ve seen one of them talk like you or me." He ducked down to one of the bodies and pressed a blade with the barrel of his rifle. Like a switchblade, the sharp spearhead retracted back into the hybrid.

  "This is what we're up against?" Bean asked. "Then we're screwed. Simple as that." Bean turned around and began to walk away.

  "Hey," Teve yelled after him. "Where are you going? We can't hide from these things."

  Red grabbed Bean by the shoulders and turned him around. "Listen to Tower. He knows what he is saying."

  Bean's eyes darted around the space, jumping from one private to the next. "Fine. Whatever."

  "Thank you, Red," Teve said as he stood and moved back toward the group. "We need to stick together. We've already lost one person."

  Teve glanced down at Ward. The CO's throat was slashed open. Blood covered the floor where his body had fallen. He reached down and yanked off his dog tags and placed them in his back pocket. "We better move. I can still hear gunfire in the distance."

  "Where do we go?" Romeo asked. "It's not like we can just run away from Pendle, can we?"

  She glanced at Prescott who couldn't take his eyes off the dead hybrids.

  Letting out a huff of air, Teve checked the ammunition that came with his rifle. Along with the full magazine loaded into the weapon, he only had another two spare. The other privates would be in a similar situation. Prescott hadn't fired his rifle, but his extra bullets would hardly make a difference.

  "We need to reach the armory and find something better to deal with these things."

  "Good idea," Romeo said. "I know exactly where to find it, too."

  Teve nodded his head at her. "That's a start. I think if we can obtain some heavy weapons, we might stand a chance of taking out a few more of these things. At this rate, we'll be out of ammunition in five minutes."

  "Well, we better hurry. Follow me, guys." Romeo got down low and motioned for the team to accompany her.

  The group moved out all except Prescott. "Hey," Teve said to him. "We have to go."

  Prescott continued to stare at the scene before him, oblivious to words. Teve charged over and shoved him in the shoulder. "Wake up. We're leaving."

  The guard turned his head sharply with broad, open eyes. "What?"

  "We're going to the armory. Come on. There's no point staying here. They'll kill us in no time, otherwise."

  "Okay," Prescott said, nodding for longer than he needed to.

  "And keep your weapon up, Corporal. We need you in this fight, okay?"

  "Yes, sir," Prescott said, not realizing he was addressing a private. The man was clearly out of his league. He had probably never spent a single minute in the field. Today he would be wetting his feet by fighting the advanced army the Zeal had developed.

  Teve continued to prompt Prescott to keep the pace while Romeo led the group toward the armory. More hybrids were running around as another scream echoed down the corridor causing the team to stop.

  "What's the holdup?" Teve whispered down the line. He scanned the area ahead to see an open section of the facility through a barred window. The space was like a centralized common zone.

  "That's the armory," Romeo said back. "The entry's been cut off by at least half a dozen of these things."

  "Shit," Teve muttered. He barely had time to think about their next move when Prescott began to freak out again.

  "We're done for. Dead," he said, backing away.

  "Hey, hold it, Prescott. Don't panic. You need to take a deep breath."

  "Don't panic? There are alien freaks in there that look like us. They killed the lieutenant in half a second." His voice was getting louder.

  With both arms raised, Teve tried to calm him down. "Keep quiet, dammit. You'll get their attention."

  "Keep quiet?" Prescott's voice boomed. "Keep quiet?" he shouted.

  "Shut up," Teve said as loudly and as quietly as he could. He grabbed at Prescott's shoulder. The two struggled for a moment as Teve tried to grab his arm. Prescott broke free and ran away in the opposite direction, dropping his rifle and a small pack in the process.

  "Goddamn it," Teve said after him. He moved a few steps and grabbed the small pack and gun, taking its magazine. The ammo belt that accompanied it was still attached to Prescott. The hybrids didn't detect the noise and continued to exist in the open area ahead.

  "There goes our commander," Bean said. He raised his hand and placed it on Teve's arm. "I think you just got a promotion."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Facing
the darkness of space, Porter sat inside his X90S Stalker, waiting for launch. A few lanes over, Briggs would be doing the same thing in the second stealth ship recently acquired. Porter tried to push the last mission out of his mind as thoughts of shooting a fellow MAF soldier in the face came flooding back.

  "Away team. This is Garcia Actual. Launch in three minutes. All systems are green."

  "Copy that," Porter said. He glanced down at the various consoles within his reach and honed in on the package controls. Sitting inside the small rectangle box attached to the underside of his ship were a team of six heavily armed Marines. How they all crammed into the tiny unit was nothing short of amazing. The soldiers were all in modified space suits with exoskeleton armor to boot.

  "Captain Murphy. This is Sosa. Report."

  "Sosa. Murphy reporting in. We are sardines in a can but otherwise mission ready."

  "Copy that. Two minutes until slingshot."

  Porter took a moment to close his eyes and focus his ability on not screwing up the op. It would be the second time he would venture inside a Cyclone, once again pushing his luck for the sake of the mission. How many more of these suicidal missions would he have to complete before death finally came? The thought plagued his mind over and over as he faded back to the nuke he set off inside the first Cyclone. By all accounts, he should have died during the op. But the thought of his brother made him time the nuke's detonation to perfection. It was nothing short of miraculous.

  He set off the bomb under the impression it would blow up the carrier along with himself included, but fate had other plans and allowed him to continue. Was he on borrowed time?

  The commodore popped up on one of the array screens in the ship. "Sosa. Garcia Actual. This mission is of the utmost importance. I can't stress enough how many lives this has the potential to save, so just remember what this is all about. You and Briggs need to fly in, let the Marines do their job, and pull them back out to safety. Simple as that."

  "Understood, Commodore. We won't leave a single soldier behind."

  "Good to hear. The decoy fighters will deploy immediately after you and force the hanger bays open. Don't waste a second thinking about those pilots. They won't be engaging the Zeal for more than a few moments. Seeing as communication is impossible within the carrier, we are giving you a window of five minutes to get the Marines into position, set the charges, and extract them back out again."

  Porter let that time frame run through his head. It sounded like the perfect amount of time. Not too long, not too short. "Understood, Commodore. We're in and out in five minutes. Back home for supper."

  Garcia nodded on screen as she lowered her head. "One more thing, Porter."

  "What is it, ma'am?"

  "I want to thank you for this mission, personally. I realize it can't be easy after everything that has happened in the last month."

  "Just doing my job, ma'am."

  "You've done more than your job. When you arrive back home, I am recommending you for a leadership role. We need more pilots like you at the top."

  "Sir, I don't know what to say."

  "Don't say anything. Like I said, this is a recommendation. Not making any promises. Now get out there and kick some ass."

  "Wilco."

  The slingshot tech counted the two X90S Stalkers down and launched them into space. Porter instantly felt the slight sluggishness of the stealth ship over a conventional Stalker once he took control of the bird. Briggs formed up on his flank and radioed over.

  "You weren't kidding about these things. She feels about twenty percent less maneuverable."

  "It's the stealth modules crammed inside. Speaking of, time to engage. Switch over to the stealth channel and begin the dark sequence." Porter flicked a series of settings to activate the ship's stealth package. His heat signature, radio signal, and active systems all disappeared from long range and short range detection. The last item on the list was the ship's cloaking skin. Porter looked outside of the X90S as the wings both turned to a bending glass that reflected the environment around it.

  "Stealth mode activated," Briggs said. "We are completely dark."

  "Roger that," Porter replied. He brought up a visual of the rear of his ship as twenty-four decoy fighters launched from the Andromeda. "Decoy team away. If everything goes to plan, we should be on top of the Cyclone as the hanger bays open up."

  "Understood. Wish them luck. They're going to need it."

  With a few minutes left before they arrived at the alien carrier, Porter asked his wingman a question that had been weighing on his mind for weeks now. "Briggs. I have to know: How the hell did you survive the last stealth mission? You were outnumbered a million to one."

  Briggs huffed over the comm. "It wasn't easy. But I guess I went in convinced I wouldn't come back. That gave me an edge. Enough to keep one step ahead of the Zeal, somehow."

  "You should have left me there," Porter said. "You shouldn't have risked your life to save me."

  "Hey. I was just trying to be a decent wingman. You would have done the same for me."

  Porter smiled, knowing how right Briggs was. There was something about getting the job done no matter what that made pilots sacrifice their lives. It was no wonder they had the lowest survival rate among anyone else in the MAF.

  "All right. Enough of this sappy stuff. Time to concentrate. You are going to see the inner workings of one of these bad boys."

  "Can't wait," Briggs said. "What's it like inside?"

  Porter sat in silence for a moment as he thought about it. The interior was like an oversized football stadium layered in an intricate webbing of support beams and columns.

  "Like stumbling into a cave with a million bats sleeping on the ceiling."

  "Sounds pleasant."

  "The Tritons inside will stay out of our way if the Marines don't trip any alarms."

  "They'll get it done. These people are the best of the best. They don't mess around."

  "Good to know," Porter said.

  The decoy fighters flew past Porter and Briggs on a headfirst charge toward the Cyclone.

  "And would you look at that." Up ahead, the alien carrier was responding to the small team of fighters headed its way. A single bay opened and spat out at least two hundred Tritons.

  "Time to swing around and avoid their attack. Break right." Porter banked hard to the right and pushed his ship away from the incoming Tritons. There was no sense going through the middle of a firefight. The best approach would be to sneak in the front door from an angle.

  Tracking the twenty-four Stalkers, Porter brought his ship into a long sweeping arc toward the open hanger bay while the team from the Andromeda scattered in all directions to piss off and confuse the Zeal. They would not be attacking the swarm but instead would bait them into a chase while Briggs and Porter went inside, unnoticed.

  "Approaching the hanger bay. She's wide open," Briggs said.

  "Watch for Tritons spilling out. We should have a clear run in, but you never know."

  The expanse of the hanger bay opened to a view of the inside of the Cyclone. The first thing anyone would see on arrival would be the thousands of Tritons all hanging from individual claws in a radial arc from every conceivable surface.

  "What the ...?" Briggs trailed off. "I knew they had a lot of fighters, but nothing could prepare me for this."

  "It's like staring into hell, isn't it? Keep your head down and follow my lead. I'll take us to the central spire. You can't miss it."

  Briggs confirmed his understanding and trailed behind to follow Porter into the belly of the Cyclone. Porter spun his ship on its side and kept level and to the right. A row of Tritons moved up to the entry for launch. The Cyclone was preparing for another wave, using as many fighters as were needed to deal with the threat at hand.

  "What the hell is that?" Briggs asked.

  Porter scanned the area, unsure what had stuck out to his wingman. "Are you talking about the spire?"

  "No, not that. Check to the left. Th
ey've got more than just Tritons down here."

  Porter leaned forward and saw what appeared to be the transport ships the Zeal utilized to infiltrate the Martian carriers.

  "Looks like this ship held the transporters."

  "Lucky us," Briggs said. "Let's just keep clear, I guess."

  "Agreed. No idea what kind of crazy those things might unleash if we disturb them. Keep a tight formation on my tail. We'll set down the Marines in a moment. Quick in and out."

  "Copy that," Briggs said as he closed the gap on Porter. The two stealth ships cruised with grace through the null gravity environment and arrived at the thick, tentacle spire that seemed to be holding up the entire lower deck of the Cyclone.

  Porter disabled his engine and came to a stop with the aid of his reverse thrusters. How the X90S was capable of remaining hidden was beyond his understanding. He settled the ship as close to the spire as possible and positioned the exit door of the package the right way around. Briggs swept around and stayed nearby, ready to take over if Porter failed.

  "Alpha One. This is Sosa. You are clear to disembark."

  "Copy that," Murphy said over a static-filled comm. The stealth ship did what it could to beam a radio signal out without alerting the Zeal. Before the Marines could exit Porter’s ship, the hanger bay to the Cyclone began to close as the Tritons returned.

  "How do you think the Stalkers are going?" Briggs asked.

  "Well, if the Tritons are returning, I'd say they're all scattered far enough away to no longer warrant a response. Either that or the whole mission is screwed."

  "Jesus, Porter. Don't say that. You'll jinx us."

  "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

  Briggs gave him nothing but silence for a few moments. "Uncool, man."

  Without much of a visual on the Marines' progress, there was little Porter could do while they waited. He radioed for an update. "What's their status? The hanger bay is going to open up again if they don't hurry."

  "I can see their hazy outlines working on the spire but not much else," Briggs said as he drifted around.