“Your side’s already had a look,” she snapped. “Killed every single soul down there, even children.”
Sheridan’s eyes grew wide. “What?” He waved a hand as if to distance himself from the facts. “If that’s true, it sure as hell wasn’t us. We only kill folks that try to kill us.”
“What do you have down on the surface, Captain Sheridan?”
He hesitated, possibly tempted to conceal the truth, but that might well make things worse for them. He sighed. “Forty-man surface party.”
“We’re coming over there to pick you up,” she told him. “You’ll accompany us down to the surface and let your men know you’ve surrendered. I’d rather avoid a fight if we can.”
***
The ride down was choppy and annoying. The annoying part was mostly due to the enemy captain.
Perhaps the sudden freedom from responsibility had loosened his tongue, or perhaps he just never shut the hell up. Either way, Julia was starting to toy with the idea of letting him get out before the shuttle reached the surface. She shifted uncomfortably, telling herself she was just joking.
Probably.
“If this planet’s even remotely habitable,” Sheridan shouted across at her cheerfully from where he sat between the armored forms of Rodrigues and Armstrong, “my lads would probably rather you marooned them here than take ’em back to Roanoke to live out their days in a prison hulk. I really don’t see them laying down arms.”
Paul pointed at the side hatch. “I’ll maroon you right now if you don’t shut your damned fudge-hole.”
Julia looked away to hide the smile. Sheridan clearly had taken the offer to heart and he was struggling mightily to keep his lips sealed. Paul wasn’t about to open the side hatch when seven members of Julia’s security detail sat next to them with no EVA gear, nor would he kill someone without having a specific purpose in mind.
Rodrigues and Armstrong leaned in on Sheridan with evil grins.
“I could just pop his head off,” Garfield, the Marine they’d picked up at Cerberus station, offered laconically. “Saw it done on a holo vid once.” He flexed an armored fist. “Pretty sure I can do it.” Kidding, of course, he added by text.
Paul leaned forward to raise an eyebrow at Garfield. “Let’s put a pin in that,” he temporized. He began to lean back but stopped and glanced back at Garfield. “Stay close to the prisoner when we get down there.”
It bought a few moments of peace as they descended, both from Sheridan’s endless prattle as well as from Julia’s own conscience. Clearly she hadn’t been the only one tired of the prisoner’s endless noise.
Her stomach lurched as the small craft rapidly slowed its descent and banked to slip into the deep canyon where the mine’s small landing platforms waited. The security detail got out of their seats and hooked their harnesses onto a rail running down the midline of the shuttle. They checked their weapons and each other’s harnesses before sliding the side doors open.
Two men stationed themselves at each of the two side openings, scanning the heavily vegetated rock walls that slid past. Three more opened the back ramp and leaned out as far as their harnesses would allow. They secured their weapons as they spotted a party of crewmen from the Ava Klum who were holding the landing pads.
Hale had already started sending down armed groups before Julia had even collected Captain Sheridan. The last thing they wanted was to get down here to find that a long-range shuttle had left for Spiria while they were dithering around in orbit.
“Banksy,” she greeted the man in charge of the small group. “I’m not surprised to find you back down here again. What’s the current situation?”
“About what you’d expect,” he told her. “Enemy took the elevator and went below as soon as they saw how many boots we were putting on the ground. We hold the habitat level and the landing platforms. They currently hold the mine.”
She nodded at the deep grooves cut into the landing platform. “What’s that all about?” She walked over to peer down into the jungle below. A jagged scar ran down to the river, nearly a kilometer below.
“Their shuttle was locked out and we needed the space for landing troops more than we needed an extra shuttle so we shoved it over.” He spat over the edge, watching the gob disappear in the haze of distance. “We had to get troops into this complex as fast as possible.”
“You’d make a good COG officer, Banksy,” she told him with a grin, “if you ever feel like a change of pace from engineering.”
Banksy frowned. “COG?”
“Commander – Orbit to Ground,” Paul offered. “The guy who puts us dirtside in good fighting order.”
“I’d rather be taking a team down to the overburden ramp so we can get the drop on those Spirians,” Banksy told them curtly.
“Even so,” Julia replied evenly, “you’re going to stay up here and look after the child you brought into a combat zone.” She leaned to look past the man. “Caleb,” she called out. “I can see you back there. Come on over.”
Banksy’s face turned a light shade of red as Caleb approached.
“What are you doing down here, young man?” she demanded.
Caleb looked past her to Paul for a heartbeat and then met her eyes. There was no hint of fear there, no sign of nervous hesitation. “This is my mine,” he said forcefully. His gaze dropped a fraction. “… Ma’am,” he added belatedly. His mine or not, he was still, technically, one of Julia’s crewmen.
“It’s only his mine,” Paul added respectfully, “if he’s here to enforce his claim.” He was being very careful about the tone of his voice. It was important that the rest should see he expected no special treatment as a result of his relationship with the commodore.
“If he’s not here when the mine changes hands from the enemy to us,” Banksy added, “he loses his claim. It becomes salvage.”
Julia took a deep breath. “I suppose you had a hand in this too?” She glared at Paul as an arriving shuttle from the N’Zim started stirring up dust on the platform.
She turned and waved at the incoming pilot, pointing at her ear. The man nodded and opened a channel.
“We’re going in through the overburden ramp,” she told him. “Follow our shuttle down and drop your troops behind us.” She cut the connection and turned back to Banksy.
“You can wipe that eager grin off your face,” she growled. “You’ll stay here and keep your protégé safe.” She gathered the rest of her force by eye and led them back on the shuttle.
They left the back ramp of the shuttle open for the short drop. Even if they hadn’t kept a detailed terrain map from their last visit, the long trail of rubble running down the mountainside would have been a dead giveaway.
“The lads would have found this right off,” Sheridan shouted over the sound of the wind and the whine of the engines, “but they’d have known to look for the upper entryway. Why waste time poking around down here?”
“You mean when any valuable minerals would be stored up at the habitat level?” Julia grabbed him as the tip of the ramp rebounded from the rocky platform. She leapt the gap between shuttle and overburden gallery, her HMA making light of Sheridan’s added weight. They landed near the spot where they’d taken their prisoner from the Walter Currie’s earlier raid. The air felt cool and moist after the open canyon.
She set him down as the rest of the team jumped in behind them. His eyes were wide and his jaw, for a change, hung open soundlessly. She nodded to Armstead and the Marine moved over to lay an armored hand on the prisoner’s shoulder.
Julia’s jaw moved as she subvocalized a command. “Shit!” She frowned. “My helmet isn’t deploying.” Julia knew that her suit had started breaking down since the previous trouble with the knee but she was dismayed to find that it was getting worse. The HMA circuitry was vastly more complex than an Imperial assault rifle and, despite the multiple redundancies, the repair cycle was almost the same duration. She looked at Paul.
“Can you do an auditory? I’d like
to know if we’re likely to see hostiles showing up from the lower levels.”
Paul’s jaw moved and his helmet snapped into place. Everyone stopped moving as he cocked his head down the spiral ramp. Sheridan began to mutter something under his breath but Armstead’s armored fingers gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze. The enemy captain gasped and fell silent.
Paul opened his helmet. “Not hearing anybody down below, but these rough walls pick sound apart like incisor birds. Too many uneven surfaces for heartbeats or voices to carry very far.” He pointed up to where the elevator was located. “Got about thirty-eight people up that way. Lots of magazines being pulled from weapons and reinserted. Sounds like nervous folk expecting trouble.”
Julia looked at the crewmen who’d piled in from the second shuttle. “You four,” she said, pointing. “Harris, Monoghan, Karkada and Jones. I want you to take cover behind that rubble and make sure no surprises come up on us from behind while we go deal with our unwanted guests.”
“The rest of you…” Her eyes swept the group. “… We have five armored Marines. Stay behind us as much as you can. Army…” She nodded at Armstead. “… try to keep Sheridan from catching a bullet.”
“What’s the plan, General?” Rodrigues asked. “Get close and deploy infrasonics?”
“In a mineshaft under a few million tons of randomly fractured rock?” Paul’s tone left no doubt as to his opinion of that plan. “I’d rather take our chances on a couple of flash-bangs. Still not ideal, but at least the effects won’t reach as deep into the rock.”
Julia caught Paul’s eye. “You think we can get away with flash-bangs down here?”
“Some places down here, I’d say no,” he admitted, “but the ceilings up by the elevator and the crypt were in good shape. We build our crypts in the most stable spots possible.”
She allowed a tiny smile. It was rare to hear Paul talk about his time on Hardisty and rarer still to hear him identify himself as a miner. “We’ll give Sheridan one chance to talk them down and then we stun ’em. I’d rather not kill them if we don’t have to.”
She activated her heads-up display and selected her flash-bangs. A small plate on her right forearm lifted up from the surrounding armor to expose four small launch tubes. She looked at the other Marines. They were doing the same thing. But it wasn’t just the choice of weapons they were copying.
“Close your helmets, you numbskulls,” she growled.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Rodrigues growled right back, “but if our general has to fight ‘hatch open’ then so will we.”
A look at Paul was no help.
“Time’s wasting,” he said simply.
Shaking her head, she led the way up the long curving tunnel. Julia stayed on the inside of the curve while Paul followed on the outside but farther back. Both of their weapons could hit the same point on the outside curve ahead.
Rodrigues and Garfield followed Julia on the inner curve while Armstead followed Paul on the outside. If the enemy tried to get cute and rush them, they’d run into an increasing gauntlet of fire as they came around Julia’s flank.
Even if they made it past the Marines, a comfortingly large group of armed crewmen and Julia’s seven security operators made it unlikely that the enemy would break through and escape.
They kept moving until they spotted an armed man. That alone was worth the trip back to this planet. The Spirian crewman had obviously expected trouble with Roanaokan privateers, but he probably wouldn’t have expected to see two Imperial Marines in HMA and certainly not at his lonely guard post.
He’d probably been placed there as a precaution, much like how Julia had left four men at the overburden ramp. His jaw simply fell open. The assault rifle in his hands drooped toward the rocky floor as he stared in shock.
Julia raised her hand to signal a halt and the eyes grew slightly wider as Paul repeated the simple hand sign. Seeing two Marines must have been a jolt but the signal being passed along could very likely indicate more of them. His jaw worked without sound for a few moments and he shook his head, ever so slightly, before common sense reasserted itself.
And he ran away.
With an exasperated sigh, Julia resumed the advance. The instant of contact was the most stressful and chaotic and it was frustrating to have to start over again.
They moved up again until they saw a corner of the wrecked vehicle that had provided cover to the mine’s original owners. A crowd of Spirian crewmen were behind it, looking down their sights at the Roanokan force.
Keeping their weapons aimed, Julia and Paul backed off, signaling to the rest to do the same. As soon as they were out of the line of fire she turned to where Sheridan stood with Armstead. “Tell ’em to lay down arms, Captain.”
“Takahashi,” Sheridan bellowed, “you up there?”
“Captain?” a voice yelled back, “what the hell?”
“These Roanokans would like you to lay down arms,” he shouted back. “They’ve got a lot more guns than we do so I’d recommend cooperating.”
“Screw ’em,” Takahashi yelled. “I’m not going to sit in some stinking prison hulk for twenty years. We’ll stay here.”
“Yeah,” Sheridan shouted, “I think that’s the idea, seeing as they don’t seem inclined to leave either so…”
“Screw you too, J.J.,” Takahashi cut him off. “We’re not falling for that bullshit story.”
As if to underscore the man’s point, the hum of a heavy rifle vibrated the walls and a shower of rock shards flew from the outer wall.
Paul heard a grunt from Rodrigues and looked across the tunnel to where he stood behind Julia. The half-spent heavy rifle round must have bounced from the outer wall to strike the man’s main thoracic plate. “My Emperor started a war and this was all I got,” he groused in the ancient complaint of every Marine since the advent of the Mark I. “Piece of gǒucàode garbage is completely shut down.” He reached down with his chin and hit the pre-arm button for the emergency eject. It lit up and he pressed a second button.
The light began to blink, faster and faster and Rodrigues grimaced as a series of small charges went off to blow the electromagnetic system’s backup batteries. The suit disintegrated into a shower of small parts and Rodrigues was a free man.
He was also completely unarmored.
“Take Sheridan,” Julia ordered, “and switch places with Armstead.”
Another round bounced off the walls, harmlessly this time, and Julia brought her right arm up. “We stun ’em,” she said.
Paul jumped forward to get a better angle and they both launched stun weapons at the enemy position. He shielded his head from return fire with his arm as the two darts lodged in the stone wall and detonated.
One hundred eighty decibels of sound and eight million candela of light washed over the defenders, many of whom had turned to stare at the unfamiliar weapons.
“Now!” Julia roared. “Rush ’em before they recover!”
The Roanokans poured forward. They had their weapons ready to fire but quickly realized the majority of the enemy were too out of it to offer resistance. The few Spirians who managed to point their weapons were killed quickly but two of them had managed to do damage before going down. One of them had sprayed wildly, killing two of his own crewmates and one of Julia’s security operators who’d pushed ahead to protect his commodore.
Paul had known a moment of terror as the wild rounds had bounced across the armor of her upper torso, only inches away from her face. He’d put a burst into the Spirian’s chest, but it was impossible to tell if he’d been the one to kill him. At least six others had shot him as well.
The other Marines were handing out binding strips for the prisoners and Paul started to look down to his forearm where the strip extruder was located. His gaze got halfway there when movement in the crypt entrance caught his eye.
A Spirian was in the narrow crypt entry tunnel, bringing his weapon up to point at Julia’s unarmored head. She was kneeling to secure a p
risoner, her back to the armed enemy. A look of rage and bitter triumph distorted the man’s features as he settled his aim and Paul knew he couldn’t save her.
Ever since the fight at Irricana, Paul and Julia had been fugitives from the law of averages. Both of them should have been killed several times by now but that was no comfort to Paul as he tried to reach Julia, tried to shout a warning. It was all happening too fast and it felt as if he were wearing heavy shackles.
Fate had finally caught up with her.
She was just noticing Paul’s approach when it happened.
Rodrigues, who had been securing the wrists of a dazed Spirian, was kneeling just to Julia’s left and he’d seen the man in the tunnel before Paul had. Without hesitation, he launched his body into the space between the enemy and his target and rushed him.
The round took him in the chest but his momentum carried him forward to knock the man back into the crypt.
It suddenly felt as if the shackles had come off and Paul raced forward, drawing his sidearm to put three rounds into the enemy’s chest where he lay, pinned at the waist under Rodrigues’ considerable bulk.
Julia was suddenly at his side and they turned their comrade over. Pink froth bubbled from his lips as he coughed. “Why’d you have to go and do that?” She demanded angrily, cradling his upper body in her armored limbs.
He smiled weakly. “S’better to die with honor than live with…” He broke off into a coughing fit, weaker than the last one. He was fading fast.
“You know what I mean,” he gasped. “Montgomery’s hairy ass, it hurts!” He half laughed, half sobbed. “They don’t tell you that at the ‘moons’.”
The crewmen who weren’t looking after prisoners gathered around the crypt entrance but Garfield and Armstead shoved their way through. They knelt by their fallen comrade.
“You goldbrick,” Armstead chided. “One little scratch and you think you can leave all the heavy lifting to us?” The tremolo in his voice gave the lie.
Beyond the Rim (Rebels and Patriots Book 2) Page 27
