“Are there any other people here in the compound?” Angel asked.
“No,” he replied. “They’ve all gone back to the city.”
“What city?”
“Oz,” the man said with a smirk. “That’s what we call it. Austin City.”
“They evacuated?”
“That’s right. Just kissed everything good-bye because the governor declared a state of emergency.”
“Let’s get him sobered up,” Angel ordered Gunny Bolton and Corporal Ruiz. “If things get dicey we might need him.”
“I ain’t leavin’,” he said defiantly. “This is my home and I’ll die to protect it.”
“We’re here to help with that. But you’re in no condition to do anything but sleep it off.”
“There’s a water hose in the corner,” Beemus said. “A cold bath won’t hurt.”
“We’re on it,” Bolton said.
“Looks like the compound is secure,” Cashman said as he and Corporal Billy Jones walked back into the garage.
“Fine, but let’s set a rotating watch anyway,” Angel said. “Two man teams. Four hour shifts.”
“There’s a comms relay on a platform on top of the roof here,” Beemus said. “Plenty of room for a lookout.”
“Excellent,” Angel said. “Let’s combine one marine with one airman. Staff Sergeant, you set up the rotation schedule.”
“Roger that,” Cash said.
Angel monitored the surveillance feed from Port Gantry. She could watch the marines digging in and listen in on the radio traffic. Hays commandeered a tractor and flatbed trailer, which he drove over to the barn. He and the other members of the marine fire team loaded the trailer with rectangular hay bales, then drove the trailer back to the garage. There was enough room on the trailer for all fourteen members of the ARC platoon to sleep on.
As night fell, the Air Force began dropping bombs laced with contrast medium around the remains of Springdale. The aliens hadn’t responded to the air traffic or the build up of troops at the nearby port. Spotlights were installed on the flight tower and used to keep watch on the northern perimeter of the port, just in case the alien swarm closed on their position in the night.
“What’s the rotation time of this planet?” Angel asked Lump.
“Twenty-two hours,” the now-sober farmer said in a gruff voice. “Usually twelve hours daylight, ten dark.”
He was sipping a strong coffee that he had brewed in an antique-looking coffee pot near the battery station. The airmen, along with Petty Officer Daniels, had to put on coats to stay warm through the chilly night, but Angel and the marine fire team in their ARC suits were immune to the temperature changes.
Angel kept two people monitoring the communications station, while she and Staff Sergeant Cashman took their shift on lookout. Angel was tired, but she felt like things were under control. She was in charge, but there wasn’t much to do, and so far nothing she suggested was out of the ordinary. Still, the strain of constant attention to their safety and ensuring that everything was done in a logical fashion had taken its toll. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t really slept before their deployment.
“It’s a quiet place,” Cash said, as they settled in on the comms platform.
“Feels like an alien world,” Angel said. “It’s too different.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time on Mars. Everything seems tinted with red there. The clouds are pink, the dust is red, even the sunlight seems more orange than white. And everywhere you look you see the domes. It’s completely strange and you never forget you’re on an alien planet. But here…” he collected his thoughts before continuing. “I think a person might forget they aren’t on Earth here.”
Angel leaned against the railing that encircled a three meter by three meter platform. There were a dozen antenna arrays and three satellite dishes mounted on stands in the center of the platform. Bundles of cable ran down through an opening to the garage, but there was plenty of room to move around the platform. Angel guessed it was built to allow for a person to work on the many pieces of hardware, but it also made for an excellent lookout. The garage was as tall as any building in the compound, and she could see the mountains to their north. There were no trees anywhere in sight, but thick clumps of scrubby bushes grew in patches on the mountains.
To the south of the compound, the land stretched out in a long, flat prairie. Through her night vision binoculars Angel could see cultivated fields with rows of crops, but she couldn’t make out what foods the co-op was growing. Still, she felt comfortable that anything approaching the compound would be spotted long before it reached the circle of buildings.
“How far to the mountains do you guess?” Cash asked.
“Three klicks according the maps,” Angel said. “You think they’ll come this way.”
“If they do, they’ll come through the mountains. I wouldn’t mind taking one of the ATVs up and just taking a quick look around.”
“Better to know what we’re dealing with, even if the chances of the swarm moving this way are slim. Make sure you get some rest before morning.”
“No chance that won’t happen,” Cash said. “I’m looking forward to hitting the hay.”
“Have you ever slept on hay before?”
“No, but I’ve slept in worse places and in worse conditions.”
After their watch shift, Angel found an unoccupied spot on the long trailer of hay and spread her sleeping bag. One of their many storage crates had sleeping bags, food rations, and water bottles. They ate MREs and slept till sunrise. Angel didn’t dream. She slept for four hours, then Beemus woke her at dawn.
“The swarm is on the move,” he said.
Angel went to the hose in the corner of the large garage, sprayed water over the short stubble of her hair, scrubbed her face, and went back to the communication console. A group had already gathered there.
“Is the staff sergeant up?” Angel asked Gunny Bolton.
“He’s prepping one of the ATVs,” Bolton replied.
“Tell him to hurry. I don’t want him caught out in the open if the swarm heads this way.”
“How fast are they moving?” Daniels asked as he watched the swarm moving south from Springdale toward Port Gantry.
“Reports are saying fifteen klicks an hour,” Beemus said. “They’ll be in range of the marine forces in less than thirty minutes.”
The roar of a combustion engine filled the garage and Staff Sergeant Cashman raced out of the garage. The vehicle looked like a cage on wheels, and sent a cloud of dust into the air as it sped across the compound.
“Do we have the staff sergeant on coms?” Angel asked.
“Yes,” Beemus said, handing her a radio mic.
“Cash, this is Murphy, do you read?”
“Loud and clear, Lieutenant,” Cashman said, his voice shaking slightly and the roar of the ATV’s engine almost drowning his words out.
“I want you on your way back in thirty minutes,” she said. “See what’s up in the mountains, then get back here.”
“Roger that,” Cash said.
“Thirty minutes,” Ruiz said. “I hope they wipe those bugs out.”
“More firepower and a better tactical position,” Bolton said. “There’s no way they can lose.”
“Unless they’re outmaneuvered,” Hays said.
“Or those creatures have tactics we don’t know about yet,” Vancini added.
“If they did, we’d have seen them by now,” Bolton argued.
Angel made a mental note about the sturdy gunnery sergeant. He was close-minded to possibilities he didn’t like to think about. She would have to remember that if they ran into trouble and she needed advice. Her job was to plan for what could happen, not for what she hoped would happen.
“Lump, do you have a map of the surrounding area?” Angel asked.
“Sure,” the old farmer said. “It’s pinned to the wall of the mess hall.”
“Would you mind to run and grab it for us.”
“I ain’t runnin’, but I’ll get the map.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Beemus said.
“Time moves slow when you’re waiting for the fight to begin,” Hays said.
“And fast if you aren’t prepared,” Angel said, keying the mic in her hand again. “Staff Sergeant, do you read me.”
“I’ve got you, Lieutenant.”
“What do you see, Cash?”
“Looks like a pass,” he said. “A wide valley running through the mountains.”
“That would be the cattle trail,” Lump said. “We run cattle up to Springdale and Port Gantry on that trail twice a year. Some for auction, some to the slaughter houses.”
“How wide is it?” Angel said, looking at the map that Lump was spreading out on the hood of an old pick-up truck.
“At least half a kilometer from where I’m standing,” Cashman said.
“It narrows here,” Lump said, pointing to a spot about halfway through the mountain range. “Down to fifty meters at the summit.”
“How far from here is that?” Angel asked.
“Eight, maybe nine kilometers,” he said.
“Cash, keep going, until you find the narrow point Lump is talking about. I want to know what the mountains on either side look like,” Angel said. “Then get your ass back here fast.”
“Affirmative.”
Angel checked the distance from Port Gantry to the mountains. It was just under thirty kilometers. If the swarm turned toward them, they would have two hours to get ready, and she was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.
34
Port Gantry, Hoover District
Neo Terra, Tau Ceti System
“Here they come, Colonel,” said a captain who was monitoring the video feed from a surveillance plane circling high above.
“It’s about damn time,” Colonel Hale said.
“They’re crossing the four hundred meter line,” said the captain, whose sole job was to update the colonel on the video footage.
Hale picked up his mic and gave it three quick taps, the signal that the battle was about to begin. Not that the marines on the front lines needed to be told, Hale was certain they could see the enemy racing across the open ground toward the port. He was high up in the air control tower, staring through the UV protected glass out across the eight round landing pads that were made of high density solar panels and linked to the main concourse of the space port. Behind him a small city lay empty, having been evacuated by the colony government before the CSF had even arrived.
“Snipers, target the center of the horde,” Hale said into his microphone. “I want concentrated fire on my command. Snipers, mortars, and belt fed high velocity machine guns, you are cleared to fire in three, two, one, mark!”
The sound of heavy arms fire filled the air. The flight tower was shielded to keep the roar of planes and rocket craft from shattering the windows or deafening the air traffic controllers, but Hale could still hear the reports. It was a satisfying sound to an old marine who had been waiting for a chance to test his tactical skills in battle. This was his moment. The engagement he had prepared for and would be remembered for.
Colonel Hale of the CSF Marine Corps had spread his battalion into three segments. Alpha group was to his right, laying low, waiting for the order to open fire. Charlie group was to the left. Both groups were made up of marines ready to resist any type of flanking maneuver by the swarm. They didn’t have the heavy weapons of the Bravo group who were set up along the edge of the space port and directly in front of Colonel Hale. Alpha and Charlie were prepared to hit hard and move fast. If the swarm turned on them en masse, Hale didn’t want his marines to get slaughtered. Better to let the enemy flee. He could chase them down from behind and destroy them. But his hope was that the aliens wouldn’t expect such a large force. When they turned from the concentrated heavy arms fire only to find massed small arms fire, they should panic, allowing his marines to wipe them out completely.
The swarm convulsed under the onslaught. Some jumped into the air, trying to draw the concentrated fire from the horde, just as they had done outside of Springdale, before the single platoon of marines trying to halt their advance had been massacred. But Hale had anticipated the move and had sharp shooters on the rooftop of the hangars along the edge of the port, who targeted the aliens as they jumped forty and fifty meters into the air.
“Sir, you’ve stopped them!” the captain monitoring the video feeds said.
“They aren’t turning,” Hale said, feeling as if the battle were taking an unexpected turn. He wasn’t sure what the swarm was doing, but they weren’t in a panic.
“Looks like they’re retreating,” the captain announced.
“Damn! Get the vehicles ready,” Hale said. “If they run we’re going after them.”
The swarm didn’t flee, and they didn’t go far, instead they retreated just beyond the range of the big guns mounted in the port. Hale watched, like a chess master waiting to see his opponent’s next move, but the swarm didn’t move. They waited. Most of their dead had been dragged back from the storm of heavy arms fire, but a few lay dead on the battlefield.
“Orders, colonel?” Asked the captain.
“Did you know my grandfather was a car salesman,” Hale said. “He once told me that the key to any negotiation was patience. Make an offer and wait for the customer to respond. Don’t talk yourself out of a strong position just because you’re anxious to make a sale.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” the captain admitted.
“We’ve made our opening move,” Hale explained. “Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait to see their next move.”
“Don’t you want to advance? You’ve got them on the run…”
“If we move now, they’ll just flee and we risk losing them altogether. Our victory lies in drawing them in. To do that, they have to feel safe. Let them advance again and we’ll crush them.”
***
“What’s he waiting for?” Angel asked.
“For the swarm to make a mistake,” Cash said, his face and ARC suit grimy from his race back to the compound.
“How many do you think got killed in that first salvo?” Ruiz asked.
“A hundred maybe,” Gunny Bolton said.
“There’s thousands of them,” Hays said. “The way they move it’s impossible to estimate just how many there are.”
“Where’s the queen?” Vancini asked. “I don’t see any that look different.”
“She isn’t recognizable, but in the past when we’ve targeted the center the swarm congregates around her,” Cash said. “I’ve seen the videos. The drones sacrifice themselves to protect the queen.”
“But we’ve never gotten close enough to identify the queen,” Beemus said. “You can bet our birds are getting close surveillance stills, but if she looks just like the others, how will we ever identify who she is?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Angel said. “Not if we can move in and disrupt the queen’s hive mind.”
“In theory,” Ruiz said. “We haven’t tested it yet.”
“Do you wish you were there, LT?” Hays asked.
“Yes and no,” Angel said. “I’m not in a hurry to run into battle, but I wish I could help somehow. Just watching the action is worse than being afraid.”
“I’ve seen what you can do in that suit,” Beemus said. “But even so, I don’t see how flipping and jumping will help anything. Better to bomb the swarm from orbit.”
“They sense the bombs coming,” Ruiz said.
“So nuke the bastards,” Beemus said. “It’s better than letting the bugs destroy our colonies and overrun the planet.”
“You really want to poison these pristine worlds,” BJ said. “Dude, we don’t have the right to do that.”
“What are they doing?” Vancini asked, as a score of the alien drones moved forward at regular intervals.
“Oh damn,” Cashman said. “They’re testing ou
r defenses.”
“What do you mean?” Angel asked.
“They know we’re there,” Cash explained. “They won’t send the swarm in to be slaughtered. Instead, they’re sending a few to ferret us out. Hale has units to either side of the kill box. They’ll have to respond if the aliens get too close, and then the bugs will know we’re there.”
“Okay, so tell me what the creatures in the back are doing?” Beemus said.
“Can we zoom in on that activity?” Angel asked.
“No ma’am, we don’t have that capacity,” Beemus said. “We’re passive observers and these small monitors aren’t really meant for high quality video.”
Cash was still wearing his smart helmet. He studied the activity for several seconds, a lump of dread building in his stomach.
“They’re smart,” he said.
“What is it?” Angel asked.
“The ones in back are digging a trench,” he said.
“Why would they do that?” Ruiz asked.
“Because they’ve studied us. They know our vehicles are faster than they are, but they can jump across the trench, and we can’t.”
“So, we’ll just go around the trench,” Hays said.
“Don’t forget that they burrow,” Cash said. “They’re making sure they can escape. My bet is that if we move troops in vehicles after the swarm, we’ll smash into a trench just under the surface.”
At that same moment, Major Dixon’s voice crackled across the comlink.
“Special Platoons, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar. Approach the enemy rear and attack at will. I repeat. Approach the enemy rear and attack at will.”
“What’s he doing?” Angel said.
“Calling in the cavalry,” Bolton declared.
“What about us?” Ruiz said.
“We’re too far away and out of position to be of use,” Cash said.
The standoff lasted another few minutes, and then from the wide angle video of one surveillance plane, four groups of vehicles were spotted racing across the open terrain. Neo Terra was a relatively young colony and one with nearly three times the land mass of Earth. Very little of the surface was cleared for roads, and most of the roads that did exist were nothing more than hard-packed dirt. The zips were fast, and rugged, but the terrain only allowed the transports to move at twenty-five kilometers per hour without shaking the occupants so hard they would be useless in a fight. And the special forces platoons didn’t ride in enclosed cabins, which meant the vehicles could only travel as fast as the swarm.
ARC Angel (ARC Angel Series Book 1) Page 19
