equipped to fight.” Jack replied.
“So we have no chance then?” Julia admitted with disgust.
“What the Earth Defense Marines did send, ma'am, is the toughest group of soldiers this side of Twalian. I'm well-trained,” he said, turning to his soldiers. “We all are. Survival is very much a possibility, but we are going to have to be smart about things.” Jack replied with a smile, his attempt to comfort her.
“Our chances of surviving greatly increased when you arrived, if nothing else. And for that we are grateful.” the general said.
“As you already know, we're just doing our job,” Jack replied with a nod. “But I do need to know of any other possible entry points into this building. Any venting systems, tunnels?”
“No,” the general replied. “All of our breathable air comes in through steel grating on the roof. It's then put through a filtration system and pumped inside using holes on the upper-walls that are smaller than an everyday coin. Our venting systems are safe. No tunnels, no windows. Just that single door.”
“Good, that's a start,” Jack replied. “Renaldo, you and Wesley stay with the door. We'll rotate shifts on it. Make sure it remains locked up tight at all times,” he ordered, gaining a nod from both soldiers. “Bronson, you and Twiggy find something to get cleaned up a little bit. Check your weapons and report back to me in fifteen.” he added.
“Anything?” Bailey asked, approaching the small bridge of their ship.
“Nothing sir,” Chandra replied. “They should have at least checked in by now.”
“I agree.” the XO commented, staring through the plated glass which overlooked the small moon.
“What should we do?” Chandra asked.
“Get Lincoln on the com, tell him to get his ass up here.” the XO replied.
“Yes sir.” Chandra replied, turning to digitally call throughout the ship using her com system.
“Yea, I've fought a lot worse than what's outside of this building.” Jack replied, answering the question directed to him by a near-starved six-year old.
Julia glanced to him with approval, knowing the children needed to feel hope.
“Fought against much worse.” he added.
“Will we get to see our mommy and daddy soon?” a young girl asked, catching the soldier by surprise.
“I,” he began to reply, doing everything he could to hold things together emotionally, eventually kneeling down to face the young girl. “I'm not sure sweetie. I'm not sure,” he added, turning to glance at Julia for a moment. “But I do know that your mommy and daddy stayed outside to fight for you. To keep you safe. And that's our job now, so if they are still out there,” Jack said, fighting back tears. “We'll find them.”
Thank you. Julia motioned with her lips, eyes crisped with tears for the children.
Jack replied with a nod, standing once more.
“Bronson, Twiggy, you guys swap out at the door. I need to talk with Wesley and Renaldo.” Jack ordered.
And slowly, not to mention very reluctantly, the two men swapped guard detail at the door.
“The children need food,” Lieutenant Jack Strong commented, both Wesley and Renaldo standing close by. “And they are going to need it as soon as possible.
“Alright boss.” Renaldo replied, both men agreeing, as were the general and Julia.
“The supply cache in the chopper...” Jack began to suggest.
“Bad idea boss.” Renaldo replied.
“What do you mean bad idea?”
“Bronson thought it best that we make the most of a short trip.” the sniper replied.
“Meaning?” Jack asked sternly.
“He thought it better to bring luxury items.”
Jack continued a stare of investigation, waiting for a further explanation from the stringy soldier.
“Vodka and chocolate bars, to be precise.”
“Are you fucking?” Jack began to ask, stopping short when realizing the children were close by.
Then, grabbing the sniper by his elbow, Jack led the man away far enough to question him as a soldier.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jack asked. “You mean to tell me that our supply cache, the metal box which normally contains rations for the field, is full of booze and chocolate?”
“Vodka actually.” the sniper replied.
“I don't give a shit!” the XO said with a growl. “He's an idiot for
suggesting it, and you're an idiot for doing it!”
“Yes sir boss.” the sniper acknowledged.
“Cut the boss shit Renaldo, this is serious. These kids have been here way too long without food.”
“Let me know what you want and consider it done.” the sniper replied, turning for a moment to glance at the children.
“That's the million dollar question,” Jack replied. “Everyone on me!” he demanded loudly, prompting his group of soldiers to hustle to attention.
“Hadn't heard from our team on the ground. They should have checked in by now,” Bailey said, a small group gathered on the ship's bridge. “Lincoln and Sayers will take the second copter down for a quick flyby. Recon only. You hustle your asses down below the hard deck and find out what's going on. Then you report straight back to me. Double time!”
“Yes sir.” Lincoln replied, the husky soldier resembling a street hooligan in appearance, black hair hanging just below his ears and a strong chisel of chin.
“I mean it Lincoln, recon only.” Bailey reminded him.
“I got it.”
It was a legitimate reminder, Lincoln's wrap one of being a hothead. More times than not, he would do what needed to be done, even against direct orders. A soldier, not a politician.
Red tape was not his strong suit, and most of those within Earth Defense ranks wanted no part of him on their team. But Lieutenant Jack Strong had been the exception. He could appreciate a man with values. And Lincoln respected Jack as a leader. Only part of the reason that Bailey felt inclined to remind the man of the sensitivity of the mission ahead.
Then there was Sayers. Typical soldier, though a bit on the scrappy side. Brush cut up top and a frame that filled out with the results of daily pushups. Though he was a good soldier, very solid with a battle rifle, his knack was reading digital equipment. He could literally see things through a monitor in a simple flyby that most others seemed to miss. He had an attention for detail.
And though Bailey worried a bit, he had no time to second guess his order. The two men had already boarded their chopper, prepping it for a hop. Doing it so quickly that most looking on began to wonder if their order had interfered with their routine. One that consisted of eating, sleeping...and not much else.
“Stay in contact throughout the flight. Make sure they stay on point.” Bailey commented.
“Yes sir.” Chandra replied, turning to exchange com traffic in order to test the equipment.
Then, without warning, the chopper dropped from the hangar back, free-falling through a large opening in the floor.
It exposed an empty hangar bay. One large room of steel walls with two openings in the floor, each of them normally home to a chopper held in place by extending arms of steel. Now, however, Bailey found himself looking out of the openings onto the glow of a moon below.
“Always hated this shit!” Lincoln yelled, both soldier strapped in tight as the chopper dropped like a stone into the planet's atmosphere.
“Well, the rain is knocking out all communication. Something else to hate.” Sayers replied.
“Fuck it, I don't like talking on this thing anyway. Just stay glued to the monitors and we'll do a quick flyby.” Lincoln said.
“You can count on that.”
“What?” Bronson asked with anger. “I just dried off!”
“Suck it up,” Jack replied. “It's your fault the ship is loaded down with vodka to begin with!”
“Either way, I think the hard part will be getting back to the chopper. You have no idea what we're dealing with LT.” Twiggy commented.
“Whatever is on the outside of this door has no idea who it's fucking with,” Jack said, hoisting a battle rifle onto his right shoulder. “I'm looking at a bunch of starving kids, and I'm a might-bit pissed off about it.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Bronson asked with a bit of sarcasm.
“Our jobs,” Jack replied sharply. “Renaldo and Wesley stay here with the survivors while we carry our asses to the ship. We get there and back it up to the door. It'll give us a chance to try and make contact with the others and provide whatever comfort we can to these survivors.”
“Jack, you don't understand. These fucking things outside...they're like nothing we've seen before. That short trip to the chopper isn't gonna seem so short if these bastards are still outside.”
“Then run fast,” Jack replied. “And if all else fails, shoot the bastards.”
“Yea.” Bronson said with disgust.
“Getting something.” Sayers said, the chopper doing a low pass over the colony, though they could see nothing but rain.
“What is it?” Lincoln asked.
“It's a com from ground team. Sounds like a looped message, but they're alright. The rain is just knocking out their communications to the ship, which is understandable.” Sayers replied.
“I hear that,” Lincoln said with a nod. “This shit is thick as thieves.”
Sayers agreed with a chuckle, continuing to monitor everything he could through the com system.
“I'll turn and do another pass, then we'll report back to the XO. Let him know all is well.” Lincoln said with confidence.
“Fuck!” Bronson yelled, turning to fire several shots into the blanket of rain behind him.
The man was strong, but greatly hindered, as he dragged a seriously wounded Twiggy with his left arm.
“Just get him to the chopper, it's up ahead. I'll do what I can to hold them back!” Jack yelled, his voice nearly overpowered by the sound of falling rain.
The men still had not seen what was stalking them, exactly, but knew Twiggy's injuries were severe. He had been severed through the chest, though none of the men had even seen the enemy. They were literally blinded by the rain, with only the faint outline of the chopper visible.
As a leader, Lieutenant Jack Strong felt horrible, having made it to the chopper with both of his men trailing behind. The soldier in him screamed for immediate return to help Bronson drag their wounded friend with haste. But the human being inside of him knew the children inside of the fallout shelter depended on at least one of them to make it back with the chopper. It was their only hope.
And so, after a moment of personal struggle, Jack decided to go back; help the men under his command. But only a couple of steps into the decision, he saw Bronson fall to his death, dropping a wounded Twiggy in the process.
It was a moment that would forever cement into his mind, Twiggy, the group's explosives expert, reaching out for Jack with desperation, only to be quickly dragged out of sight and into the thick of rain. Screams of soul-damning following very closely behind.
The soldier inside of Jack finally agreed with the human being in him.
Get inside the chopper.
Quickly pressing a sequence of buttons, the chopper's door opened, quickened by the pushing grasp of Jack's arms, which seemed to pop with such harsh use.
“Read you loud and clear ground team.” the voice of Sayers said, broadcasting throughout the chopper.
“Wait!” Jack yelled, quickly closing the rear door of the chopper. “Wait, wait!” he cried, grabbing the com in his hand.
“Just in the nick of time LT, we were just about to hit atmosphere, go ahead with your traffic.” Sayers replied.
“Oh God,” Jack said, thankful that he had reached them in time. “I need you to get a message to Bailey.”
“Alright sir, go ahead.” Sayers replied, his voice sounding calm even through the digital front of the com system.
“Tell him Bronson, Twiggy and Avery are all dead. So are most of the colonists.”
“I'm sorry sir, dead? Say again?” Sayers replied with a serious lack of belief, as though the com had become malfunctioned.
“Dead!” Jack confirmed loudly. “I need him to contact Earth Defense Command and get some damn help in here. I also need him to assemble a second ground team. Bring plenty of weapons and ration packs. The survivors are mostly children and haven't eaten.”
“Uh,” Sayers replied, taking a moment to relay the news to Lincoln. “Will do sir. What should I tell Bailey when he asks how the men died?”
“There is something here.” Jack replied.
“Something, as in what? Contamination? Animals?” Sayers asked probingly.
Up until that very moment, Lieutenant Jack Strong had been unsure himself. But, glancing to the shatterproof windshield of the chopper, he saw it. Several of them. Just as the surviving general had described them. Demons.
Very tall, each of them had a startling paleness about them, their faces seeming to mesh together a bit with pieces of flesh. It resembled a very serious skin-graft, with eyes of solid black. And though he had thought the general to be either mad, or a victim of prolonged stress, his description had been accurate. Tall wings made of a steel-type material, their edges appearing to be razor sharp, as did the massive claws poking from their fingers.
Worse, dozens of them seemed to appear behind the one closest to the chopper, leading Jack to wonder how many there actually were.
“Sir?” Sayers asked.
“Just check your video feed.” Jack replied, having the heads-up enough to lean forward and press a record button on the control panel.
A single pane of shatterproof glass separated the leader of a small Earth Defense Marine group from what appeared to be the devil himself, though it wasn't possible. Still, the monster began to drag his claws across the glass tauntingly, grinning a bit while staring at Jack with the pitch-dark of its eyes.
Firing up the thrusters of the chopper, Jack leaned close to the glass, placing their faces less than a foot apart. Offering it the universal sign of fuck-off as he raised his middle finger, slowly drifting the chopper in reverse toward the fallout shelter.
“That's the signal,” Renaldo said of the thrusters. “Open the door!” he added, prompting Wesley and the general to begin helping him open their slab of steel safety as the chopper swiftly approached. Eventually bumping up against the front of the shelter.
With a sequenced press of keys, the chopper door opened once more, this time exposing the interior of the fallout shelter, while providing a needed barricade from those who would see them dead.
“Hang tight sir, we'll get help to your position soon enough.” Sayers replied.
With that, the chopper passed overhead one last time, bursting back into the upper-atmosphere on its way to report the findings to Bailey, and ultimately, Earth Defense Command.
“Jesus man, what in the hell was that?” Lincoln asked.
“I'm,” Sayers replied, pausing to regain his wits. “I'm not sure. But we have to get this video back to Bailey quick.”
Acknowledging the truth of his statement, Lincoln began to force the chopper into a full-burn, which turned it into a machine capable of hauling ass while drinking fuel as if it were going out of style.
Lieutenant Jack Strong sat in the pilot's seat for several harsh moments, continuing his stare out into a pit of fog which partially hid those who lusted of murder.
He had never seen their race before.
All of the training, the wars, the grit of battlefield death; it had all primed him into becoming the soldier that he was. Solid, strong and without fear.
But as he glanced out to those who appeared demon-like, their eyes gleaming of the madness of slaughter, Jack felt himself shiver just a bit.
“Sir.”
Spinning back with haste, Jack immediately held Renaldo at gunpoint, his pistol dedicated to the draw.
“Whoa sir, it's me.” the sniper said easily, slowly lifting his hands
a bit.
“Sorry about that,” Jack replied, lowering his piece. “Fuck!”
“I take it whatever is out there is as advertised?” the sniper asked.
“I don't know what the fuck it is...what they are...but the old man was right. Looked like textbook demons to me.” Jack replied.
“Were you able to get a message out to Bailey? Heard a chopper flying overhead.” Renaldo asked.
“It was Sayers, and yea, sent him a video feed of the bastards. Told him to get in touch with command and get us some damn help out here.” Jack replied.
“How long before they get here?”
“We need to get everyone together about that.” Jack replied, turning to stare out into the pack of demons once more, the silhouette of their figures seemingly dissipating into the fog.
“The good news is I was able to alert my crew in orbit. They know we're here, stranded, and they have a video feed of whatever is outside.” Lieutenant Strong said, turning to look into the faces of each of them, including the children.
“What's the bad news?” the general asked.
“The bad news?” Jack asked with surprise. “For starters, three of my men are dead,” he said before pausing. “So are nearly all of yours.”
“How long before help arrives? Before we can these children off of this rock?” Julia asked.
A very good question in Jack's mind, further made important by her genuine concern for the young colonists.
“Good question,” he finally replied, his tone much easier with her compared to the general. “The remainder of my crew will surely be here soon enough, but beyond that, I'm not sure. It takes a lot of turning wheels to get real firepower here.”
“You're not telling me anything new.” the general commented, thinking of his years as a man of the uniform.
“There is something I wanted to lay out in front of the group,” Jack said, taking his time in sternly looking to the general. “We do have a fully-functional chopper.
“So we're saved?” Julia asked.
“Not exactly. There's a cargo limit in terms of weight, so we all won't be able to make the trip. I was thinking of packing it with a soldier who will pilot, yourself, and as many children as we can fit.” Jack replied.
“I appreciate the offer lieutenant, but I'd rather stay behind. I wouldn't feel right leaving and knowing children were still here. I couldn't live with it.” Julia replied.
“Alright,” Jack said, taking a moment to admire her bravery. “One soldier and as many children as we can possibly fit. Everyone else stays behind and digs in deep. We hold this position until help arrives.”
“We? You mean you're not going?” Wesley asked.
“Afraid not. I couldn't live with myself,” Jack replied with a grin, turning to warm the heart of Julia for a moment. “It'll be one of you two, and you'll settle it in marine fashion.”
The woman had thought of asking what marine fashion meant, but hesitated just long enough to have her question answered, both Renaldo and Wesley dropping down to the pushup position.
The two soldiers began to push themselves up and down slowly in synchronized fashion, waiting for the other to give out. And though it was an easy task at first for both, after several minutes, their faces told of a different story. One of twitching muscles
The Colony Page 3
