by Richard Fox
Elias reached back then punched a boulder, knocking it into the tunnel like a cork out of a champagne bottle. His treads lurched forward as he batted rocks out of his way.
High-pitched clicks came from beyond the barricade. Truncated bolts of lightning zapped through the gates and hit the opposite wall with a hiss. Hale swung his rifle around the opening.
Elias had a squirming Ruhaald in each hand. He swung one into the ceiling, killing it in a splatter of gore. He smacked the other against the side of the tunnel, crushing its helmet. He twisted his body around and beat the alien against the other side then threw the very dead alien down the tunnel and charged forward.
Shots from the Ruhaald energy weapons ended seconds later.
“Clear!” Hale waved to his charges and they clambered over the rocks and into the tunnel.
Hale went the opposite direction until he came to Vladislav at the back of the access way. Lieutenant Bolin lay strapped to a litter atop the armor plates over the Hussar’s treads.
Bolin opened his eyes and reached for the Marine. Hale gripped the man’s hand and touched his head.
“Hey, we’re getting out of here,” Hale said.
Bolin nodded slightly. Tiny black dots marred his face like a constellation. Hale saw more of the marks on Bolin’s hand.
“You take care of my boys. They’re dumb, smelly, but they’re loyal,” Bolin said. “Loyalty…it has to go down the chain of command more than up. Right?”
“You know your Patton. I’ll bring them home, I promise.”
Bolin squeezed Hale’s hand.
Yarrow jumped onto Vladislav and held his gauntlet over Bolin’s chest. The corpsman looked at the readings, then to Hale. Yarrow, his hand blocking Bolin’s line of sight, nodded toward their escape route.
Hale took the hint and headed back.
“Sir, I need to get him to a surgical facility,” Yarrow sent over IR. “He’s slipping away. Can’t say that in front of the patient.”
“Don’t you lose him.”
“Your lips, God’s ears.”
Steuben stood at the entrance holding a smashed piece of equipment that looked like it had once been an oversized bullhorn.
“A Dotok stone burner, after Elias ran over it,” Steuben said.
“You enjoy being right about everything?” Hale asked.
“We could use another. Digging through your planet’s regolith with my bare claws is inefficient and slow,” Steuben said.
“Good point. Keep your eyes open for one.”
The last of the Marines passed by and into the tunnel. Hale slapped them on the shoulder, calling a few out by name as they went. Caas filled the entrance and nodded to Hale. The armor would bring up the rear.
Hale and Steuben took off at a jog, broken light strips providing spotty illumination as they went. The captain saw something dangling from the ceiling near a sparking light and slowed to a stop.
Viscera dripped from a Ruhaald corpse smooshed against the ceiling like a bug against a car windshield. One intact arm dangled from the rest of the remains, a Dotok stone burner wrapped in the tentacles.
Bile rose in his throat at the thought of touching the gooey remains of the alien, but that device would prove useful.
“Steuben, lift me up. I think I can—”
Caas reached over Hale’s head and plucked the stone burner out of the Ruhaald’s death grip. There was a slurping noise, and the body fell off the ceiling and landed with a wet plop between Hale and Steuben. Dark liquid splattered on Hale’s visor. He backed away, wiping furiously against his faceplate.
“Ah…man.” Hale fought to keep his last tube of nutrient paste in his stomach.
“Is it functional?” Steuben asked Caas.
“Haven’t seen one in a while…the buttons aren’t in Dotok but the power cell and oscillation ring are intact. Should be good,” she said.
“Caas, what is with Elias?” Hale pointed to an armless Ruhaald body on the other side of the tunnel. “This isn’t like him.”
“We all grieve differently. You’re holding up the Hussars. Now, you want to get moving or you want to grease my treads?”
Hale raised a hand in surrender and took off down the tunnel.
****
The inner chamber of Firebase X-Ray was deathly silent. No curt commands from sergeants, no grunted responses from the doughboys that called the place home. The once ever-present whine of hydraulics had ceased hours ago.
Half-eaten food rations and overturned ammo cases littered the floor.
The only orderly object was a large case in the center of the chamber. There was no trash within four feet of the case, as if what was inside repelled garbage. A small piece of orange paper was stuck to a recessed handle in the middle of the case.
Sparks erupted around the heavy doors, flaring like a sudden fireworks display then fading away. One of the doors leaned back, severed from the hinges that connected it to the frame.
It tilted over and slammed to the ground, kicking loose paper into the air.
The scorpion tank that dislodged the door swept the tail-mounted cannons across the room, then backed away from the entrance. As dozens of Ruhaald soldiers rushed into the room, teams broke away and raced down the connecting hallways.
A pair of taller aliens, both their bodies under strain from the hormonal imbalance caused by absence of their scion, stopped next to the case.
“If the humans aren’t here, then where are they? How could First Tuk let them escape?” one asked.
“The search has just begun. Wait until we’ve swept the entire compound before we alert the First. This will knock him out of the contest. The mantle will be mine for the taking,” the other said.
“Not if I find the humans first…What does that say?” The first gestured to the note on the case. “Do you know their symbols?”
“The speaker cubes translate words, not images.” The second leaned closer to the note and examined it.
Had either of the Ruhaald been able to read English, they would have seen the words SURPRISE ASSHOLES! Both alien soldiers were too well disciplined to open the case and trigger the trip wire to the denethrite explosives in the case and rigged around the firebase. But when the timer counted down thirty-seven seconds later, what the Ruhaald could or could not understand was rendered moot.
****
The tunnel shook as the force of the blast rumbled through the earth like a sudden quake. Hale slammed his back to the wall and looked up, hoping the last thing he saw wouldn’t be the ceiling caving in, ending all the lives under his charge.
A wide crack cut through the ceiling and a few hunks of dense clay fell through. Hale took a tentative step away from the wall and allowed himself a sigh of relief.
Caas, following on his heels, revved her treads impatiently.
“Captain, need you to the front,” Cortaro said over the IR.
“Balls,” Hale said and took off at a run.
At the tip of the column, Elias idled next to a slight bend. His aegis shield bore a smoking crater in the center. Cortaro crouched behind the shield, his rifle pointed down the tunnel.
Hale slid to a stop.
“They’re in the bunker,” Elias said. “Heavy weapons trained down the tunnel. I might get ten feet before the shield fails.”
Hale swallowed hard. If the armor couldn’t get through, the rest wouldn’t stand a chance. And there was no way back.
“Rail cannons?” Hale asked.
“I saw energy shielding before they opened up on me,” Elias said. “Thibodaux’s toy can’t get through.”
“I heard that!” came from a Marine farther down the line.
“If I use my rail cannon in this confined space, the overpressure will kill you all,” Elias said.
“I bet the enemy’s on the radio right now, screaming for backup,” Cortaro said.
“If we cannot go through the obstacle, then let us go around it,” Steuben said, hefting the stone burner and pointing to the ceiling.
“I’m no miner,” Hale said as he backed away from Steuben, “but digging up isn’t a smart idea, right? How much earth is overhead?”
“Two meters,” Cortaro said.
“We’re six feet under, great. Won’t all of that come tumbling down on our heads?” Hale asked.
“Not if I disable the safety protocols.” Steuben tapped three buttons and a low whine filled the air. He angled the wide circular muzzle toward the ceiling and leaned away. Air shimmered between the stone burner and the ceiling like haze over fire.
As the ceiling disintegrated, layers of aegis armor stripped away, revealing light-gray clay mixed with rocks. Loose soil spilled into the column rising through the ceiling. The dirt flowed up the stone burner’s beam and dissipated into nothing. A tear in the ground opened up and Hale saw a dark sky, run through by streaks of tan.
Steuben shifted the beam aside and gnawed away at the opening, making it wider as he swept it around in a spiral motion. The device cut off, but the whining noise grew louder as it oscillated in Steuben’s hands.
Steuben hefted the Dotok equipment back, then hurled it at Elias. The armor ducked and brought his shield up as the device sailed over his head.
The burner exploded, spraying Elias’ shield with shrapnel and sending tiny razor-sharp fragments bouncing off the wall. Hale felt something ping off his armored pauldrons.
Elias lowered his shield and turned his helm to Steuben.
“Really?” the armor asked.
“I will now ask for forgiveness,” the Karigole said.
Elias rolled toward the opening and folded his treads back into his legs, then he jumped up and grabbed on to the edge of the hole. Hale watched as Elias’ heavy sabatons vanished up through the hole Steuben made. Loose dirt billowed through the hole and poured through the tunnel like a ruddy fog.
“Storm’s here,” Cortaro said. He went to the base of the hole and looked up. “Brought plenty of ammo and food, no rope.”
A thunderclap broke through the air. A wave of compressed air traveling from the bunker slapped Hale off balance and left his ears ringing.
“Elias!” Hale ran to the opening.
The Iron Heart bent over the top, his rail-cannon vanes glowing red hot as they slid over his shoulder and onto his back. Dark-red whiffs of sand swirled around the soldier like he was a demon rising from the fires of hell.
“I took care of the bunker. Get up here.” Elias stepped away from the hole.
“Alley-oop,” Cortaro said, lacing his fingers over a braced knee.
Hale got a running start and planted a foot in Cortaro’s hands. The gunnery sergeant lifted as Hale jumped off, the combined strength of two power armor suits sending the captain straight up.
Hale got an elbow over the lip of the hole and hauled himself out and into a sandstorm. Wind whistled over his helmet, blasting his face with grit and flakes of sand. Elias stood a few feet away, his helm nearly invisible in the gloom. The sky was a deep-brown abyss. There was no light, no mountains, no way to tell one direction from another.
He thought of the pocket dimension the Breitenfeld found itself in after leaving Anthalas, remembered standing on the edge of the flight deck beside Sergeant Torni and feeling a deep emptiness in his soul.
“Compass is shot,” Elias said. “We’ll get precisely jack and squat for comms in all this.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Strike Marines, we adapt and overcome.” Hale had to raise his voice over the storm. He looked at a map screen on his gauntlet. The bunker was a little over a hundred yards east of old Highway 87, which Hale knew had been rebuilt since the Xaros scoured the Earth’s surface clean.
Hale looked around and saw smoldering fires in the distance, a low yellow smudge against the blowing sand.
“Elias, that the bunker you destroyed?”
“No, it’s a Girl Scout cooking fire. Yes, that’s the bunker.”
“Turn on your floodlights. I might have us a way home.” Hale faced the fires, made a sharp left turn, and started walking. He’d learned basic land navigation in the forests of Virginia, and one of the first skills that came with that training was to learn his pace count. One of the hardest tests was to navigate at night.
Hale counted each time his left heel struck the ground. Every forty-third step meant another hundred meters. He glanced over his shoulder at Elias and saw a cloud of diffuse white light around the Iron Heart like a beacon.
After his ninetieth step, Hale stopped. The sandstorm had grown so thick that he could barely see his feet. The light from Elias faded to nothing with each gust of wind. Hale felt utterly alone and had an urge to abandon his idea and run back to Elias.
“No, not stopping here.” Hale took another ten steps, then his foot pressed against something solid. He bent down, wiped sand away and uncovered black glass.
The Ibarra Corporation patented a road surface that doubled as solar panels long before Hale had been born. Everything Ibarra built on Earth since the Xaros invasion ran off solar, and using Highway 87 as a resupply and power route was exactly the kind of synergy Ibarra was known for. Hale’d found the road that ran to and from Phoenix.
Turning toward Elias’ beacon, Hale pointed to the right, toward the southwest and to Phoenix, then he laid his rifle on his foot, the muzzle pointed to the right. He took a small flashlight off his belt and unleashed a powerful beam. He pointed it toward Elias and chopped his hand in front of the beam as a signal to everyone climbing out of the tunnel. All they had to do was walk toward his light.
A few minutes later, Steuben emerged from the sandstorm.
“Your planet,” the Karigole said, putting a hand on Hale’s shoulder, “I’m starting to hate it.”
“Is everyone out?” Hale asked.
“The armor allowed us to use them as ladders. The rest will be here soon.”
“Direct everyone to my right. Tell them to keep their feet on the road and it’ll get us back to Phoenix.” Hale waved to a line of Marines coming through the storm.
The hulking shadows of doughboys came next, each with a hand on the armor of the bio-construct in front. One broke away and grabbed Hale by the arm.
“Sir! No leave!” Nickel shouted.
“I’m fine, Nickel. Get back with the rest.”
The doughboy shook his head vehemently.
“Dark. Nickel stay.”
Hale wondered if the doughboy meant that Nickel would protect Hale from what lay in the darkness, or that Hale would protect him.
“Fine, big guy, just stand still.” Hale jogged over to a Hussar and told Ferenz how to get back to Phoenix.
“Sir?” came a plaintive wail from the darkness.
Hale finished his conversation with the armor and found Nickel, standing right where he’d left him.
The doughboy grabbed Hale by the hand, enveloping it with meaty paws.
“Sir no leave.” Nickel tightened his grip.
“Keep your feet on—umph.” Hale tried and failed to pull his hand away. “Just keep your feet on the black glass road and we’ll make it home.”
Hale started walking. One hand on his rifle, the other with Nickel.
****
The sandstorm had died down, leaving the night sky starless beneath a sheen of dirt streaking across the sky. Hale kneeled with one knee on the black glass, nervous as he checked over his suit’s systems. Visibility had increased, allowing Hale to see Elias and Caas at the front of the formation and the rest of the column.
A rocky hill rose just beyond the road, the slope disappearing into the dusty air. By his map, Hale knew the hillside extended into more uneven terrain and hilltops. That terrain feature meant they were near another vital part of Phoenix’s defenses.
Weiss and a pair of lower-ranked Marines walked a few dozen yards off the road, digging the toes of their boots into the dirt.
“Find anything yet?” Hale called out to Weiss.
“We ain’t found—” Weiss looked down. He kicked a tuft of sand into t
he air, then bent over and lifted a handle camouflaged as a coarse rock up on a hinge.
“That’ll take us straight to Phoenix,” Hale said. He waved to Elias and pointed to Weiss.
The Iron Heart rolled over to the Marine and opened a pair of heavy doors, their outer layers disguised to look like the desert floor, leading to the tunnel Hale and the rest of his team had used at the beginning of their mission.
“Wounded first,” Hale said to the Hussars.
The dust storm abated as the three armor soldiers rode down the ramp. Hale made out the distant lights of Phoenix, a wan glow on the horizon. He directed the rest of the column into the tunnel and stood up.
Keeping an eye on the nearby hills, Hale tapped a finger against his rifle as he waited for the Marines and soldiers to make their way off the road.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement along a hilltop. The captain raised his rifle and looked through the scope. Stones tumbled down a rocky outcrop, and the hair on the back of Hale’s neck stood up.
“Steuben, you see anything up—”
A lightning bolt struck out from the hillside and hit the road. A geyser of broken glass and rock knocked Hale off his feet and sent him tumbling through the dirt.
“Ambush!” Hale stopped his roll and saw the hilltop alive with Ruhaald weapons fire.
Another massive bolt streaked overhead and impacted between the doughboys as they scrambled for cover.
There was only one tactical option when caught in a close ambush. Hale charged up the hill, firing from the hip.
An alien raised himself over the hilltop and took aim at Hale, but a gauss bullet fired from behind Hale and blasted it off its feet, sending its energy rifle bouncing down the bare rocks. Hale kept moving, his boots propelling him higher up the hill with each step.
He snapped off a high-power shot that exploded a boulder and silenced part of the alien firing line. Hale looked back and saw a dozen doughboys racing toward him. Flashes of light from gauss rifles crept toward the base of the hill. The soldiers and Marines had joined his hasty attack on the ambushers, a dangerous move but a better option than sitting in the open with no cover.
