The swarm charged forward, and the officers shouted more orders to the platoon of outnumbered marines.
“Now! Return to ground! Move!”
The marines who heard the order dropped low in their trench again, pulling metal plates across the dusty ground over their heads for protection. The order wasn’t carried out in synchronization the way they had practiced. Some marines didn’t hear the order. Others were too angry and focusing too intently on firing their rifles at the aliens. They had to be pulled back down into the trench. One or two of the swarming aliens landed directly on an uncovered section of the trench, killing the marines close by before being dispatched by gun fire, usually from their rear.
Many of the swarming creatures that had jumped into the air landed beyond the trench, and continued toward the colony town. More air support was called in, but the Ramses only had six fighters, and four drones with heavy ordinance. The first two fighters raced in, their nose guns firing enough hot bullets to cut down a forest, but the attacks came in straight lines which the swarm avoided, the host flowing out of harm’s way, then reforming organized ranks when the danger passed.
The second wave of fighters launched missiles at the front ranks of the swarm, but as soon as the missiles were fired the alien horde stopped suddenly and back-tracking slightly. The fighter pilots watched as their weapons impacted the ground where the swarm should have been. The aliens weathered the flying dirt and rock, then carried on as the fighters raced by overhead. The drones came in low, hoping to hit the swarm before they could react to the danger of the falling bombs, but the operators lost control of the remotely piloted aircraft just before they reached their target. The drones raced by, only a few hundred kilometers overhead, before losing altitude and crashing into the barren landscape behind the aliens.
The marines in the trench heard the hordes of aliens approaching. They waited, believing they could sit tight, let their enemy march by overhead, and then rise up to attack from the rear. Captain Steward believed that perhaps the key to victory against the canny swarm was to hit them from behind. He never got the chance to find out.
The swarm consisted of heavy creatures with large plates of bone or exoskeleton that covered their face and head, not unlike a medieval knight’s visor, or the blade of a plow. It sank into the earth as they charged straight ahead, tilling the ground, unearthing vegetation and minerals that the smaller, less armored drones behind them would devour. When the chargers hit the trench line, their plow-shaped facial bones hooked under the protective metal plates, flipping them up into the air and exposing the marines below.
To their credit, the marines fought hard, emptying their rifles and clubbing the aliens or stabbing with their long bowie knives, but it only took a matter of minutes before the entire platoon was slaughtered. The observers in Springdale fell back as the horde of aliens converged on the trench, ripping the bodies of the marines to pieces, sucking up the bodily fluids and devouring flesh. The fighters returned, but their payloads were depleted. When they fired missiles individual aliens jumped to intercept the weapons in the air. The missiles were detonated before reaching the crowd feasting along the trench like hogs at a trough.
“Damn!” Commander Beauregard said, watching the carnage from the surveillance ship circling the battlefield. “Get everyone out of there. The city is lost.”
“What happens now?” Lieutenant Commander Harlow asked in a quiet voice.
“Those bastards will chew up the city,” Beauregard said. “They’ll devour it until there’s nothing left, just like on Cannis One.”
“Maybe the task force will get here soon,” she said, staring at the screen showing the aliens swarming around the trench.
“They bloody well better,” the commander said angrily. “It should take the devils three, maybe four days to rip apart that colony town. Perhaps if our reinforcements get here in time we can take the monsters out before we lose track of them again.”
30
C.S.F. Apollo, task force Olympus
Hyperspace
“Looks like you’ve got some bruising there, Staff Sergeant,” Chief Warrant Officer Beemus said as he helped Cash out of his ARC suit.
“That sergeant in the fitness area hit like a bull,” Cash said. “But I’ll be fine.”
“We’ve got some cream that will help,” Hays said. “Smells like the Grim Reaper vomited up a pig’s sphincter, but it works.”
“Oh great, the staff sergeant will stink up the whole barracks with that shit,” Ruiz said.
“Have a little compassion, man,” Van argued. “You didn’t have to fight those behemoths this morning. If you had we’d still be scraping you off the mats with a putty knife.”
“No way, man, I’m faster than the staff sergeant,” Ruiz said. “Those lugs wouldn’t have laid a finger on me.”
“They wouldn’t have to, dude, you’d have passed out after one flip,” BJ said.
“Very funny bra, like you could do better.”
“Alright that’s enough,” Cash said. “It’s like I’m babysitting my sister’s kids with you idiots.”
“What do you think the LT is getting for that stunt?” Bolton asked.
“I don’t want to know,” Cash said. “That was a ballsy move, though. She knew those guys couldn’t hurt me in the ARC suit.”
“No sense in risking the equipment,” Beemus said. “This stuff is high tech and must cost a fortune.”
“I like to think the staff sergeant is worth more than the mech suit he was wearing,” Bolton argued.
“All I’m saying is, perhaps it wasn’t very smart to risk the ARC suit that way. It wasn’t really worth it,” Beemus said.
“It was creative,” Cash said. “These numbskulls were about to pop a gasket with all the trash talk around the practice mats. People are naturally curious about the ARC suits. There is a video going around the ship of Lieutenant Murphy on the obstacle course.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard about it,” Senior Airman Rogan said.
“So she needed to give the squad a little mystique,” Cash continued. “They’ve seen her in action on the video, and now they’ve seen how dangerous the ARC suits can be. The whole ship will be a little more respectful after that.”
“Still, why didn’t she volunteer to fight those meat heads?” Beemus asked. “Why put you in harm’s way?”
“Because she’s smart,” Ruiz replied. “She’s an officer. She can’t be mixing it up with the enlisted crew.”
“I don’t like an officer who puts others in danger when she isn’t willing to face it herself,” Beemus said.
“Then you’ve got the LT all wrong,” Cash said. “She’s green, but she’s not a coward. She’s faced some adversity to get where she is.”
“Haven’t we all,” Joan Rogan said. “All we’re saying is she shouldn’t have volunteered you. That wasn’t right.”
“Maybe, but then again I told her up front I would help. And now she’s catching hell for it when she could easily just call me in to see Major Dixon and tell him the whole thing was my fault.”
He was about to say more but his flex pad vibrated with a new message. Cash expected to find a text from Angela Murphy, but instead it was a summons to Major Dixon’s office.
“Well, what do you know,” Beemus said as Cash stared at the data pad. “I guess she’s more about covering her own ass than you thought.”
Cash didn’t respond. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He pulled on a fatigue shirt and stuffed the flex pad into the pocket of his cargo pants. The others were still talking as he left the ready room, but Cash didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. It made no sense that he was being called in to see the major. Lieutenant Murphy had told him she would take the blame. Major Dixon knew that Cash wouldn’t start a fist fight without cause, or use his training to hurt a fellow marine. Surely someone had filmed the fight. He tried to remember if he’d seen anyone with a phone out, but the crowd had been a blur.
The
walk to his CO’s office was a long one, not in distance, but in stress and anxiety. Stepping into the suite of offices, he caught sight of the nameplate with Second Lieutenant Murphy glowing red just a few steps away. The door was closed and he guessed she didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t believe he’d been so wrong about her. How could he serve under someone who didn’t have the honor to look him in the eye.
“Staff Sergeant Cashman to see Major Dixon,” Cash told the staff sergeant named Callahan who was obviously the major’s gatekeeper.
“I’ll let him know,” the receptionist said.
Cash sat down in one of the waiting room chairs that were bolted into the floor. It always amazed him that the CSF Marine Corps could be institutional. The brass loved their offices and waiting rooms. He had been in his share over the years, usually reporting to a major or lieutenant colonel who disagreed with his report, or thought he might turn on members of his platoon in hopes of a promotion. Cash had considered applying for officers training. He knew he could get the required three recommendations from his superiors, but that would mean returning to regular forces. He would have to take charge of a platoon, and a sizable portion of his day would be spent on reports that no one would ever read or care about. It was better to remain an NCO than to deal with the headaches of being an officer.
“Staff Sergeant,” the receptionist said. “The major will see you now.”
“Thank you,” Cash said, walking to the door with Major Dixon on the name plate. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.
“Alright, let’s get this mess cleaned up,” Dixon said, as Cash snapped to a salute. “At ease, Staff Sergeant. Tell me exactly what happened in that fitness room today.”
Cash was surprised to see Angel in the major’s office. She was standing at ease, her hands behind her back, her eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. He couldn’t tell if she was avoiding eye contact because she was ashamed, of if she was simply doing what Dixon expected.
“Don’t look at her, she can’t save your ass,” the major snarled
“I’m sure the lieutenant has given an accurate report of the situation, sir,” Cash said.
“So you’re willing to stand by her story even though you don’t know what it is?” Dixon snapped. “You better think about what you’re doing here, son. That sergeant is concussed and won’t be able to deploy with his unit. He could bring charges against you, Cash. Is that what you want?”
“No sir!”
“Then speak up, man. Tell me what really happened.”
“Sir, I’m sure there was someone who videoed the incident. We never meant for anyone to get hurt. We were just displaying the capabilities of the ARC suit.”
“The two of you are as stubborn as elephants,” Major Dixon said. “Let me make one thing clear, you are not to leave the ready room in those damn suits until you deploy. And if you put on another unauthorized demonstration, I’ll throw you both in the brig. Now get the hell out of my office!”
Cash didn’t wait for Lieutenant Murphy, he hurried from the room like a child who had just survived his father’s wrath and was looking to be anywhere but there.
“Staff Sergeant,” Murphy waved Cash toward her little office.
They went inside and she dropped into her small seat. Cash was very familiar with the close quarters of a military ship, but Lieutenant Murphy’s office was almost embarrassing after being in the major’s.
“That wasn’t fun,” she said with a smirk. “He didn’t believe I ordered you to fight those two men.”
“Hell, I figured you told him it was my idea.”
“I told you I would take the blame, Staff Sergeant, and I did. I would never throw you or anyone under my command to the wolves for no reason. The whole thing was my fault.”
“Is that sergeant going to be okay?”
“I think so. I’ll go and check on him after lunch. I think what Dixon is really angry about are the rumors flying around regarding the ARC suits. They’re calling them super suits, have you heard that?”
“No ma’am.”
“Well be prepared. You made a big impression on the rest of the ship.”
“That was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” Cash asked.
“The point was to get a little respect,” Murphy said. “What happened was more like making you a celebrity.”
31
C.S.F. Apollo, task force Olympus
Hyperspace
The difference in attitude by the other personnel on board the Apollo was immediately noticeable. The enlisted marines gave Angel a grudging respect that she had not expected. The Naval and Air Force personnel greeted her warmly and spoke with her in an excited fashion. They wanted to know more about the mysterious ARC suits, and about her background. She wasn’t just a junior officer in the CSF, she was so new to service that no one knew much about her.
The fire team and the rest of Angel’s special platoon were also seen as minor celebrities. The marines that had been dissed for being stuck on an experimental tech platoon were suddenly seen as the luckiest men in the task force. Every marine on board the massive ship wanted to try out the ARC suits. The support personnel were peppered with questions about the new tech, and the lab technicians were sought out wherever they went for more video from the testing in Nevada before Angel and the rest of her squad were deployed.
The only people who seemed to disapprove of Angel’s actions in the fitness area were the other officers. Most turned up their noses when they saw her approaching. Others gave her dirty looks. She wasn’t sure why they disliked her so much, but she didn’t expect to make friends with everyone on board. All her life Angel had dealt with people jealous of her skills, or judgmental about her body size. She had long ago grown a thick skin.
Dixon remained furious, but treated her fairly. Not that there was much to be done. They spent the thirty-six hours of hyperspace travel in six-hour shifts. While on duty she put her fire team through PT, and spent time at the range. She had the airmen and Petty Officer Rhonda Daniels break the ARC suits down and put them back together. The suits were cleaned, charged, and ready to go. The lab techs taught the five airmen responsible for the ARC suits everything they needed to know, and the two apprentice seamen ensured that her people had everything they needed.
As soon as the ship dropped into the Tau Ceti system the tension rose considerably on the ship. Messages were coming in from the Emergency Alert Station and the C.S.F. Ramses. Dixon assigned each of his platoons to separate shuttles for the trip down to Neo Terra. Angel’s team would have to wait while the first two waves of marines were ferried down, and then they would be taken directly to their assigned position.
With only ten hours until the deployment would begin, Angel got a quick meal. Captain Reynolds and Lieutenants Smith and Archer waved her to their table.
“You hear the update from Neo Terra?” Smith asked.
“No,” Angel admitted, as she started eating.
“The swarm wiped out the platoon from the Ramses,” Archer said.
“Slaughtered the poor bastards,” Reynolds added. “And they’re destroying the city those marines died to protect.”
Angel felt her stomach tighten. She knew she needed to eat, but it was difficult to maintain an appetite when they were so close to danger. Fear was beginning to waft like an icy wind down her back and she suddenly wished she had her ARC suit on.
“What does that mean for us?” Angel asked.
“For us, nothing,” Reynolds said. “Dixon still has us stationed away from the Forward Operating Base at Port Gantry, but that’s where Hale will make his stand.”
“I just hope they have time to dig in before the bugs show up,” Archer said. “From what I hear, the swarm never rests. It just eats and eats and eats.”
“That many guns will turn it,” Smith said. “They can’t avoid that much firepower. My money says they’ll turn and run.”
“I hope not,” Reynolds said. “I hope they stay put and get slaughtered.”
“If they alter course, won’t they run into one of the positions we’ll be holding?” Angel asked.
“Possibly,” Smith said. “But a spec op platoon is pretty tough, I doubt they’ve encountered anything like us.”
“Well,” Reynolds said. “Not all Rogue Company platoons are equal. Murphy only has a single fire team and a few airmen.”
“They come your way, run like hell,” Archer said.
“He’s right,” Smith added. “No sense dying for nothing. Get your people as far away as you can.”
Angel knew the three officers were just watching out for her. Unlike most of the others on board the Apollo, the officers of the special operations platoons under Dixon’s command continued to encourage her. They had seen the footage from the ARC testing in Nevada, as well as the multiple videos of what Staff Sergeant Cashman had done in the fitness area. As special operators, they recognized the responsibility that Angel had been given and did their best to help. But, despite their encouragement, Angel couldn’t help but feel like they would never run from a fight. They didn’t expect her to be a warrior, which was both frightening and infuriating at the same time.
After her dinner, Angel checked in with her lab techs. They wouldn’t be going down to the surface of the planet, and were instead doing last minute diagnostics checks on the ARC suits. Once she was certain that everything was as ready as she could make it, Angel returned to her berth. The tiny room seemed more like a prison cell, and she spent as little time in her quarters as possible. Forcing herself to try and get some rest was difficult. She stretched, showered, and laid down on the narrow bunk, but sleep was elusive. She couldn’t get her mind off the possibilities that lay ahead of her.
She was new to battle tactics and everything military, but it didn’t take much knowledge to know that the swarm most likely wouldn’t run straight into the concentrated fire of an entire battalion of marines. She also knew that those same marines didn’t have enough mobility to keep up with the swarm.
ARC Angel (ARC Angel Series Book 1) Page 17
