Harden moved in beside her, the launcher cradled in his arm. “Ready.”
“Good. Think you can put one right through that hole in the bottom of that building?”
Harden snorted. “Give me something hard, Sergeant.”
She turned to Waters. “I want to know when two of them are on the ground floor.”
“One reaching it now,” Waters said over the commlink. “Another not far behind.”
“On my mark,” she said to Bradley.
She watched that hole like a cat watching a mouse hole. An Arrowhead missile exploding in the big, open, ground-floor area of that building ought to take out anything in the room, as well as do damage up the ramp system to those above. At least it was worth another shot. They’d only brought four Arrowhead missiles, but she figured this was worth the loss of one.
“Two on the ground inside,” Waters said. “Another on the ramp coming down.”
“Do it,” Malone said.
The next instant the Arrowhead was streaking at the hole. Harden’s shot was perfect, the missile almost seeming to duck under the top edge of the hole in the wall.
The next instant the hole looked like a dust-and-smoke geyser. The explosion’s muffled sound and the faint rumble from it reached them a moment later.
“That’s got to smart,” Raynor said.
Suddenly Malone caught a glint of something reflecting light out of the corner of her eye. About fifteen blocks over and above them.
The Pharon ship. Looking as fearsome as it was alien, it had a swept-down nose and was gold and black. It was like no aircraft she’d ever seen or imagined.
Two Union jets were on attack runs at it from above. But the alien ship was coming at them.
“Move it, move it, move it!” she shouted. “Into the staircase. Fast!”
She turned her back on the hole and took off at a run.
Harden and Raynor were a half step behind her.
If she wasn’t mistaken, that had to be the craft that had brought their Pharon friends to the island. Or maybe even a second one, for all she knew. And she had no idea how it was armed. But simply standing there and waiting for more information would surely cost them all their lives.
“Freeze and cover in the stairwells,” she ordered into the commlink as she ran. “Get the civilians down and covered.”
She was still twenty steps from the blocked open door. It felt like a kilometer.
“Cort, where are you?”
“Six stories below you,” his answer came back as she reached the door and waited for her men to get through before kicking the debris out of the way.
As the door swung closed she saw the Pharon ship headed straight at them. The two Union jets were never going to reach it in time, even if they could stop it.
Then she was through the door and down into the dark stairwell, following her men. The doors had just closed behind them when the explosion rocked the building.
It smashed into her back like a full kick, sending her tumbling with the debris, kicking her light loose and plunging the stairwell into blackness around her.
She managed to roll about ten steps, her helmet and suit taking the brunt of most of the impacts before she came up on her feet and slammed against a wall with her right shoulder.
Maybe she could brace there and ride it out. She pressed herself against the shaking and rumbling wall, working to get a purchase with her feet.
She managed to hold in that position for almost a full two seconds in the dark as the stairs and building around her shook and roared.
Then something massive smashed into her waist, sending her tumbling downward again with what seemed like an avalanche of debris.
She was bounced and jarred like a kid’s doll in the mouth of an angry dog.
Head over heels, her rifle flew from her grip.
The world around her seemed to explode.
She could feel one leg break as she smashed into fallen rubble, but she felt no pain.
Then something heavy smashed against her chest.
Huge.
Thick.
Too much to shove away.
It pinned her to something rough and hard, ripping at her Kevlon suit as if it were tissue paper.
The last thing she felt was the pressure as whatever was on her chest rolled.
Up her body.
Over her head, smashing her helmet like a thin-shelled peanut.
And sending her into the blackness that every good soldier knew might someday take her.
17
* * *
Time: 3:27 P . M . Pacific Time
13 hours, 56 minutes after Arrival
T he explosions from above felt to Hank as if some giant had taken the entire building and just shaken it. Hard. And for a very long time.
Hank and Stephanie had first gotten the warning that something was about to happen from Private Vasquez.
“Get down! Cover!” Vasquez shouted from the stairwell below them.
They were on the landing of the twentieth floor, so when he heard the warning, Hank pulled Stephanie over against the staircase wall, and both of them covered their heads, huddling together. Hank’s light was between them, Stephanie’s pointing upward over their heads.
The next moment a massive explosion shook the building, knocking them both to their butts. Hank dropped his rifle and held Stephanie close to him with one arm while keeping his head protected with the other.
The roaring and rumbling went on and on as the building shook.
Pebbles and small chunks of the walls pelted down on them like a hailstorm. Dust choked the air around them, getting into Hank’s eyes. He just hoped nothing bigger than pebbles and dust let loose over them. Or that no large part of the structure below them had collapsed. This building was so old, anything was possible.
The floor under them jerked upward at one point, bouncing them both hard enough to hurt.
Then slowly, the rumbling stopped.
Hank could barely see Stephanie’s face through the swirling dust, his beam of light nearly useless.
He coughed, then said, “You all right?”
“I think so,” she said. Her voice was shaky.
He felt the same way.
What had happened? It didn’t have the same feel as the earthquake, and Vasquez wouldn’t have known it was coming to warn them. More than likely, this was some sort of counterattack by the Pharons.
He pulled them both to their feet, then picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. Their backs were against the wall, but other than the choking white dust, that was all he could see.
He knew that Lee and Bogle had been about a half a floor above them, and Stanton and Edaro another half a floor above that when the explosion hit. Soldiers had been between them, and Vasquez had been just ahead of him and Stephanie, a dozen steps down the staircase. Clearly the explosion had been up a lot of floors higher. He just hoped everyone had gotten out alive.
Around them the dust was settling quickly. His light beam now could reach the other wall. “We’ve got to see if everyone is all right,” he said.
Vasquez came up out of the dust like a ghost, completely white and coated with the fine powder. Hank glanced at Stephanie and then at his own arm. They both looked the same way.
“We’ve got wounded up higher,” Vasquez said. “Lost track of the sergeant. Looks like the Pharons hit back.”
“Damn,” Stephanie said.
Hank said nothing. He didn’t want to think about Malone being killed. More than likely her commlink had just been damaged. And until he knew otherwise, that was what he was going to believe.
“Dr. Peters and I can work our way back up,” Hank said. “We’ll see if we can help with the wounded.”
“Good,” Vasquez said. “I’ll take the others and secure the tenth floor as the sergeant ordered.”
“You got an extra commlink?” Hank asked before Vasquez could move.
“Waters does, two flights up.”
“Ask hi
m if he could have one ready for me when we get there. And see if he can let one of your men stick with us.”
“Got it, Doc,” Vasquez said.
“One more thing,” Hank said. “Who’s next in the chain of command of this unit?”
“Private Cort.”
“Thanks.”
“Let’s go,” Stephanie said, turning and heading back up the stairs into the dust.
“Move slow and steady,” he said, securing his rifle better over his shoulder so he could have both hands free. “You don’t want to be gulping too much of this dust into your lungs.”
“Good point,” she said.
Hank followed her as they climbed.
At the next landing they ran into Bogle and Lee, with one of the soldiers, starting down.
“You three all right?” Stephanie asked, shining her light at each of them.
“Shook up,” Bogle said. “A mass of bruises, but otherwise fine.”
“Good,” Hank said. “We’ll meet you on the tenth floor.”
Bogle nodded, and the three of them moved off into the dust-choked air while he and Stephanie continued upward.
Stanton and Edaro, with Privates Waters and Hawk, were on the landing to the twenty-second floor. Stanton was sitting, his back against the wall, as Edaro used a first-aid kit to cover a cut in Stanton’s forehead. Stephanie knelt and did a quick check of the cut, then nodded.
“You’ll be fine.”
“How about the headache?” Stanton moaned.
Stephanie just patted Stanton’s arm and stood.
Hank glanced at Edaro. “Any chance that was another shift earthquake?”
“No chance at all,” Edaro said.
“Afraid you would say that,” Hank said.
Private Waters handed Hank a commlink and helped him get it on so that the earpiece fit and the microphone was against his cheek.
“Can you get them down to the tenth floor?” Hank asked Private Hawk.
Hawk nodded and reached to help Stanton to his feet.
“Who’s above us yet?” Hank asked Waters.
“Cort and Jenkins have reported in. They’re heading back up to see if they can help Sergeant Malone, Harden, and Marva.”
“No word from them at all?” Stephanie asked.
“No, Doctor,” Waters said.
Stephanie shook her head sadly. “Not good.”
Hank agreed with that completely. They were in an alien building and had just been attacked by aliens. Now they’d lost the leader of their mission. Not good was an understatement.
Hank quickly keyed in the commlink. “Private Cort, this is Dr. Downer.”
“Go ahead, Doctor.” Cort’s voice came back strong.
“Dr. Peters and I are headed back up to see if anyone needs medical attention. That all right with you?”
“Fine, Doctor. Thanks. I want everyone else continuing with the sergeant’s orders until we get back in touch with her. Waters, are you with Dr. Downer?”
“I am,” Waters said.
Hank heard Waters both over the commlink and in person. It was a strange stereo effect.
“Stay with Dr. Peters and Dr. Downer.”
“Copy that,” Waters said.
“What are you doing?” Stanton asked, looking first at Hank, then Stephanie.
“We’re going back up,” Stephanie said, glaring at Stanton through the dust. “There may be wounded up there, and they might need my medical help.”
“Keep them safe getting to ten,” Waters told Hawk, then turned and waited for Hank and Stephanie before starting up the stairs.
The dust slowly cleared as they climbed up the next fifteen flights of stairs, moving steadily. Saying nothing.
Hank could feel the dust clogging his nose and caking the inside of his throat. He just hoped that whatever this alien building was made out of wasn’t toxic to humans, because they were swallowing a lot of it.
At the landing of the thirty-seventh floor, Hank stopped them and took a drink from his canteen, then clicked the commlink on.
“Private Cort?” Hank said. “This is Dr. Downer. What’s your position.”
“Private Cort here, Doctor. We’re on the landing of the forty-second floor.”
“Any sign of the sergeant or the others?”
“None,” Cort said. “The staircase is blocked. We’re trying to dig our way through.”
“Understood,” Hank said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Stephanie took a long drink from her canteen, then put it away. “Five more floors.”
“Let’s do it,” he said.
It ended up taking them a lot longer to go the last five floors than it did the first fifteen. Massive hunks of wall material had fallen into the staircase in a number of places, forcing them to crawl and climb over it. By the time they reached Cort’s position, Hank felt more like he’d climbed a mountain than flights of stairs.
The moment he saw what Cort and Jenkins were digging at, just above the landing on the forty-second floor, he knew they hadn’t a prayer of getting through. The stairwell had been completely jammed full of debris.
Cort and Jenkins had made some progress clearing an area out of the top, but not enough. It would take a crew of fifty days to go two floors through that stuff, and even then he doubted it would make a dent.
Stephanie did a quick check of both the slightly built Jenkins and the dark-haired, wide-shouldered Cort and pronounced them fine.
“Private Cort,” Hank said, “do you mind if I try to find another way up?”
“Not at all,” Cort said. “Waters, stay with them. Report if you have any luck.”
Hank was impressed. Even with the sergeant only missing, the chain of command seemed to have immediately clicked into gear. Cort had simply stepped in as if he’d been in charge the entire time.
Hank led the way as they entered the large room. After being in the dark, dust-filled stairway, with only flashlights for light, going into the bright, open space was a shock. There was dust in the air there, too, but not as much.
A large chunk of the ceiling had collapsed on one side, and Hank could feel a draft, meaning there was now a hole in the side of the building somewhere on the other side of the collapsed ceiling.
He moved directly across to the other side of the big room. As he approached where he knew the building’s second utility core was, a door opened, showing him a dark, dust-filled room.
“Would you cover us from the door, Private?” Hank asked. “And keep it blocked open.”
“Not a problem,” Waters said.
With Stephanie behind him, Hank moved inside, clicking his flashlight back on as he went. When the group had first figured out that the alien buildings had two utility cores, Malone had decided they should stay in the one with the stairs, never exploring the other. But he was betting this one had some sort of lift or maybe even a second staircase that might not be blocked.
This level looked exactly like the one they’d explored on the other side. He moved to the corner where the up staircase, if there were one, should be, and pulled on the door. It opened to show exactly what he was hoping it would. A staircase. The cores were identical. Mirror images of each other.
He shined his light up it through the dust. There was a massive amount of rock and debris on the stairs, but it looked passable.
He clicked the commlink. “Cort, I think I may have found another way up. Directly across in the other utility core.”
“Copy that,” Cort said.
“Stay here,” Hank said to Stephanie, who was standing with him on the landing. Cautiously he climbed up ten steps, keeping his light above him to make sure nothing was about to come loose and fall on him.
“Don’t go too far, Doctor,” Waters said. “Cort is on the way.”
“Think you might be able to climb up there this way?” Stephanie asked from below as he eased his way up another few steps.
“Possible,” he said. “Better chance than the other stairwell at thi
s point.”
At that moment Cort and Jenkins joined them.
“Let’s go easy,” Private Cort said. “If I make it to the next floor, I’ll call for the rest of you to follow.”
“Understood,” Hank said.
He watched from his position as Cort disappeared around the corner of the staircase, climbing over piles of debris, knocking some rock-sized hunks loose.
A long minute later Cort said through the commlink, “I’m on forty-three. Come on up.”
Hank glanced at Jenkins.
“Single file,” Jenkins said.
Jenkins turned and led off. Hank followed him ten steps back. The debris was crumbling and loose, but he managed to scramble over it and make it to the forty-third floor.
Together, he, Cort, and Jenkins pushed open the jammed door into the main room and blocked it open with a hunk of debris. Meanwhile the others also arrived up there.
Hank was shocked at what he saw through the door. The forty-third level was completely destroyed.
A blast had cleared the floor of all debris, smashing it against the windowlike walls on the far side. A gigantic hole in the ceiling on one side of the building showed clear air up two more stories. Whatever had hit on the floor above had blasted through the walls and three floors of the building with more force than Hank wanted to imagine. In fact so much of the structure was gone, he was amazed the upper part of the building hadn’t just tumbled over.
“Were they up there?” Stephanie asked, pointing at the remains of the floor above them.
“They were,” Cort said. “Question is, did they have enough time to take shelter.”
Hank moved across the cleared floor to where the other staircase was. The door didn’t open as one of them usually did, but between him, Cort, and Jenkins, they managed to get it braced open enough to get inside.
It was there, right at the foot of the staircase, that they found Sergeant Malone and Private Raynor.
Both had been smashed under the hunks of ceiling and walls and rolled down the stairs. The sergeant’s helmet and upper torso stuck out into the open, but Hank knew it wasn’t necessary to see if she was alive. Her helmet was an unnatural shape for any human head.
Island of Power Page 13
