by Lee Stephen
“Becan, Donner, Grammar, Vause, and myself are going to infiltrate the Carrier and deactivate its main drive. Henrick’s going to assist Sasha with the wounded. Jay, stay where you are and protect the hospital. Just do your thing.”
“Yessir!” Jayden said.
Scott slammed a fresh clip into his assault rifle. “Let’s have some fun.”
6
Wednesday, April 6th, 0011 NE
0403 hours
South Wabash offered no resistance. Scott led the five-man team right on Harrison, as Grammar had instructed, and they worked their way toward Clark Street. One turn separated them from the Bakma Carrier. Combat echoed far away in the direction of Grant Park, though it was too distant to affect them.
They stopped next to a brick-red facility at the corner of Harrison and Clark. Scott pulled a spot mirror from his belt and slipped it past the corner. “Vause, do you know the way to the engine room?” Scott tilted his head to angle Clark Street into the reflection.
“Yes sir.”
The Carrier took up the entire Clark/Polk intersection. Its mammoth bay doors were wide open, and a metal ramp led into it. The Bakma defenders came into view.
“All right,” Scott said, “I count at least a dozen Bakma, possibly more. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He turned and spoke to Donner. “I want you to go back and get that van we used earlier, drive it here to the corner and stop. Go, now. Run.” Donner left, and Scott addressed Vause next. “Bring up the Carrier’s schematics.”
Vause handed Scott a small device with an embedded monitor. Scott’s brow furrowed as he examined the display.
The bay was square and deep. It ended against a wall with a single central corridor. It was almost laughably simple. “Does this hall lead to the engine room?”
“Yes sir, that’s where we were going to go. It’s the big main corridor—it leads to everything.”
“How wide is it?”
“About two meters…”
Two meters. That was wide enough. “We get in the van, and Donner drives us up the ramp. Even if they shoot the van, we should be okay. It’s a lot safer than storming it by foot.”
Grammar’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me he’s driving us to the corridor? Into the Carrier, to the corridor?”
“Right,” Scott answered. “We don’t have to drive down the corridor—all he has to do is get us to it.”
“Righ’, I see a problem,” said Becan. “How are we goin’ to get from the van to the corridor withou’ gettin’ reefed?”
“Because Donner’s going to drive the van backward,” said Scott confidently.
“And we stay in the back of the van! He’ll drive it righ’ to the corridor, against it even, an’ all we do is open the back door an’ there we are!”
“Exactly,” Scott said. “It’ll happen so fast, they won’t have time to think.”
Grammar laughed and shook his head. “That’s genius.”
“Get on the comm and explain the plan to Donner,” Scott said. “Make sure he understands exactly what he has to do.”
Grammar nodded and knelt to relay the plan.
The offensive on South Michigan continued, as the arrival of EDEN reinforcements shifted momentum in their favor. The Bakma that remained, now outnumbered, were in full retreat.
David and Henry, out of ammunition, had since returned to the landing zone. Wounded were spread across the ground, as the available medical crews hustled between those in critical condition and those more stable.
David stepped through them to reach Vulture-7, where the rest of Charlie Squad, also ammo-depleted, waited. “How’s the rescue team?”
Donald, unharnessed from the mini-gun, glanced to him. “They assaultin’ a Carrier.”
“What?”
“Scott found out about the other team. They was supposed to take out one of the Bakma Carriers. Scott got permission to continue the mission.”
Henry stooped to a kneel. “Wait, Scott‘s assaulting a Carrier? What happened to Henrick?”
“He’s out,” Donald answered. “I guess he got taken down, I don’t know if he’s dead or what.”
David looked at Henry and then turned back to Donald. “How many people does he have with him?”
Donald laughed under his breath and nodded to the rest of Charlie Squad. “Count who ain’t here. That’s how many.”
David gripped the back of his neck. “Can they survive that?”
Donald didn’t reply. He only feigned a smile and lowered his gaze to the street.
As soon as Donner pulled up, Scott swung the back doors of the van open. “Everybody check your ammo count, and make sure you’re fully loaded!” He slammed the door as soon as everyone was in, and he turned to Donner. “Do you get the plan?”
“Yes sir, understood!”
“Can you do it?”
“Yes sir, I can!”
Scott returned his attention to the others. It was time. “All right everyone, let’s do it right!” His gaze swiveled back to Donner. “Go!”
Donner slammed down the accelerator, and the van rocketed backward into Clark Street. The operatives grabbed the van’s support rails. Donner whipped the wheel around, and the van swerved around the corner. His gaze narrowed in the rearview.
“Ku’nessa te`mach naas,” the slender Bakma mumbled as he leaned against the wall of the Carrier’s deployment bay.
The smaller Bakma next to him grunted. “Kanaas. U`tekn no’las`tun.”
The conversation drew to an abrupt close. The two Bakma and their dozen counterparts turned to face the street. In the center of the road, a worn-out van rocketed at them—in reverse. The deployment bay fell silent.
The slender warrior started, leapt up, and trained his plasma rifle. “`Uman! `Uman!” The Bakma surrounding him scurried for their weapons.
Plasma soared toward the van. The vehicle wavered back and forth as several bolts ripped through its metal frame, though the operatives went untouched.
Donner white-knuckled the wheel as the metal ramp loomed nearer. “Hold on!”
Impact. The van slammed into the ramp, and the back end buckled off the ground and crashed against the metal floor in an explosion of sparks. Bakma defenders dove out of the way. Donner regained his focus and checked the rearview. The corridor was in sight. He whipped his head around and focused through the back window as plasma bolts rocked the van. They were on target. It was time to brake.
Donner readied his foot. “Open the doors!” Scott and Becan swung them open, and Donner slammed the brakes. A screech pierced the deployment.
The crash came like a train wreck. The van crunched against the metal frame of the corridor, and the operatives were jolted through the air. They slammed against the center of the corridor itself. It took a moment for them to regain their senses before they leapt to their feet and spun around. The van was in place. They were inside.
Donner slammed the parking brake and locked the doors. As plasma bolts crashed through the front window, he leapt over the console and scrambled to join the others. Inside the Carrier, a siren wailed.
The corridor was lit by a row of light down the center of the ceiling. Doors lined the corridor to its end, which came in the form of a two-way split.
Resistance hit them immediately. The door nearest them slid open, and a single Bakma rushed into the hall. Grammar raised his assault rifle and pulled the trigger.
Scott waved his arm forward. “Vause, take the lead! We’ve got to move!” Vause took the point position. As they ran, doors opened behind them.
Grammar skidded around and dropped to a knee. “Keep going! I’ll cover behind you!” His finger pressed against the trigger as he held position.
Scott turned to Vause as they reached the two-way split. “Which way?”
“Left! Then right, then there’s a door!”
“What’s after that?”
“Nothing! That’s it!” Vause said, reaching back to fumble with his tools.
Scott stifled a laugh. Fair enou
gh.
Vause darted around the left corner as they reached the split. “Someone should stay here! And one person come with me!”
Scott slapped Becan’s chest. “Go with him.” Becan disappeared with Vause. Scott and Donner fortified the split as Grammar rejoined them. “What’s the news?” Scott asked.
“I should be dead,” Grammar said as he caught his breath and reloaded.
“Did you get hit?”
“No, but I don’t know how! There’s a ton of them! When they storm this hall, there’s no way we’re getting out.”
Scott turned to Donner. “Go with Vause. Grammar and I have this covered. We’ll be there soon.”
Becan and Vause were outside the engine room door when Donner caught up with them. Gunfire erupted from the main corridor. Becan wheeled around. “Where’s Remmy?” he asked.
Donner pointed to the turn. “They’re back at the split.”
“How many Bakma are there?”
“A lot more than us.”
The door to the engine room whooshed into the ceiling. Becan and Donner jumped and aimed their assault rifles. But the engine room was empty.
Becan glared at Vause. “The hell was tha’? Yeh mind tellin’ us before you open important doors?”
“Sorry,” Vause said, shuffling through the doorway.
The engine room was circular with a metal platform at its center. Various controls flickered on it, where Vause inputted his instruments. “Sir,” he said through the comm, “we’re in the engine room and it’s secure. It’s probably safer for you here. I’m working on the drive now.”
Scott’s voice emerged. “We’re on our way!”
Scott ducked as plasma bolt soared over his head. Grammar was on his heels. “Come on!” Scott said as they rounded the corner to the engine room. “Vause, can you seal the engine room door?”
Vause’s voice was interrupted by static through the comm. “Yes, I can seal it and lock it from inside. I’ve almost got the drive deactivated.”
“We’re coming to you! Get ready to seal the door!”
Becan waved the two men on. “Hurry up!”
“Drive disabled!” Vause said, thrusting his hands into the air.
Scott skidded into the engine room. “Door!” Grammar entered a moment later. Behind them, a team of Bakma rounded the corner.
Plasma bolts whizzed into the engine room as Vause dashed to the door. Scott, Becan, Grammar, and Donner returned fire.
“Door, door, door!” yelled Becan.
Vause’s breathing intensified. His fingers tore at the controls. It wasn’t until the Bakma were within meters of the entrance that the door slammed down. “Sealed and locked!”
“How long until they figure out how to open it again?” Scott asked Vause.
“Uhh…”
“Okay,” Scott said, “I’ll take that as an urgent request for backup.” As the other operatives remained in defensive positions, Scott knelt and adjusted his comm.
Lilan barked commands as the throng of EDEN operatives charged the remnants of the Bakma attack force. The Bakma Carrier nearest them was airborne, and Lilan was ready to finish off whatever forces remained on the ground.
In the midst of the final charge, a static-filled voice cut through the frantic comm chatter. Though distorted, Lilan recognized it immediately. Remington.
“—activated the drive!”
Lilan dropped to a knee and placed his hand over his earpiece. “Please repeat, over!”
“This is Remington! We have deactivated the drive!”
Lilan paused as the battle continued to rage around him. His mouth hung open, but for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. “Private,” he answered, “am I correct in understanding that you have deactivated the Carrier?”
“Yes sir! Wings are clipped!”
Lilan laughed. “How in the hell did…what’s your situa—?”
Scott’s reply cut off the question. “We need immediate assistance, sir! We’re trapped inside the engine room!”
“How many wounded?”
“None!”
Lilan didn’t hesitate. “All right—I’ll dispatch a unit to get you out of there right now. Sit tight for a while longer.”
“Yes sir!”
Lilan cracked a rare smile. “Hey Remington…”
“Yes sir?”
“Nice work.”
“Thank you, sir.” The comm channel closed.
Lilan snatched a nearby officer. “Hey! You—whoever you are!”
The officer faced Lilan. “Sir?”
“You still got a unit?”
“Yes sir, we’re—”
“Shut up. We have a strike team inside the southern Carrier. They’re pinned inside the engine room. Take your unit, find a second unit, and go get them out. Fast. Got that?”
The officer nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Good,” Lilan said, “now go.”
David paced in front of Vulture-7. Henry, Michael, and Donald stood alongside him, all silent as they waited for an update.
“They did it!”
They all jumped at the sound of the jubilant voice. It was Tacker.
“They did it!” Tacker said as he trotted toward them. “They grounded the transport!”
“Are they okay?” asked David.
Tacker stopped beside him. “They’re all fine! We’ve got two units en route to assist them now!”
David thrust a fist into the air. “Hell yes!” The other men grinned.
“With five men, they disabled a transport! That’s unheard of!” Tacker eyed the barricade. “I’ve got other messages to deliver, but go find the others. Let them know everyone’s okay.”
“Yes sir.”
Donald shook his head and smiled. “They’s all right. I knew they’s all right.”
Scott, Grammar, Vause, Becan, and Donner knelt along the walls. Their assault rifles were propped against their shoulders, trained on the door. On the other side, the Bakma shouted at one another in their alien tongue.
Five minutes passed before anything changed. Footsteps were heard, and the Bakma broke into a mad holler. Gunshots—both plasma and projectile—erupted. The battle was short-lived, as a familiar word spilled from the Bakma defenders. Grrashna! Grrashna! The Bakma word for self-surrender.
Footsteps grew quiet as weapons clunked together and human voices emerged. Several minutes passed before someone knocked on the door.
“Everyone okay in there?”
Scott signaled, and Vause opened the door. There were no Bakma on the other side—only the relieved expressions of EDEN soldiers.
Scott let out a breath of relief.
The soldier who knocked smiled. “You’re actually in here…wow. There’s two jeeps out front waiting to take you back to the landing zone. How’d you guys do this?”
Scott laughed. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. More operatives filed into the engine room, and the five men stepped out.
As far as they could see, no Bakma remained in the Carrier. Several sweeper teams from EDEN were in the hallways, as were various other operatives, but no one else. As soon as they stepped outside, the reason became clear. Alongside Clark Street stood several rows of Bakma warriors, their purple, wrinkled hands clasped together as armed EDEN soldiers presided over them. Scott knew the aliens’ destination. Confinement. Each base had one, and Richmond was no exception. There, they would be prodded and probably tortured for whatever information they could provide. At the moment, Scott didn’t much care.
As promised, a pair of jeeps awaited the five men. The ride back to the safe zone revealed the battle’s aftermath. Bloodied soldiers walked the streets, and Bakma survivors were herded together. The skirmish was over.
When they arrived back at the barricade, Lilan and two other colonels were there to meet them. The jeeps stopped, and all five of the operatives leapt from them and snapped off salutes.
Lilan was first to speak through the wide smile plastered across his face. “Fellas, thi
s is Colonel Young of Hawk Platoon and Colonel Ledet of Gryphon.” The two colonels shot off salutes.
Young immediately surveyed the five. “Remington?”
Scott lifted his chin. “Here, sir.”
Young curved his mouth into a smile and extended his hand. Scott shook it. “Excellent job, soldier,” Young said.
“Thank you, sir.”
Young took a step back, turned to Lilan, and patted him on the shoulder. “Keep provin’ ‘em wrong.”
Lilan chuckled, “That’s the idea.”
Young and Ledet nodded to the five again and turned from the group. Lilan watched them leave before he refocused on his operatives. His smile surfaced once more. “You turned some heads tonight.” The operatives regarded him in silence. “Remington, McCrae, and Donner…catch a ride back with Hawk. The rest of Falcon’s already left for base.”
The three men nodded, exchanged handshakes with Grammar and Vause, and hurried behind Colonel Young.
Grammar waited for them to disappear before he cleared his throat. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Lilan glanced to him. “Go ahead.”
“You have the best commander in all of Richmond, sir.”
Lilan raised a brow. “What?”
“Commander Remington, sir.”
Lilan stared. Commander? “Wait…you mean him?” He turned around to indicate the barricade, behind which Scott had just disappeared.
“Yes sir,” said Grammar. “He is a Falcon…right sir?”
“Commander Remington?”
Grammar was silent.
Lilan shifted to face Grammar fully. “Wait a minute…you thought he was a commander?”
Still Grammar said nothing. Lilan broke into laughter.
“Sir,” Grammar said, “I don’t understand…”
“I just realized that, that’s why I’m laughing.” Lilan grinned. “Congratulations, fellas. You just got duped by a rookie.” Grammar and Vause looked puzzled. “Remington is an alpha,” said Lilan.
Lilan stepped away as Grammar and Vause dropped their jaws. Once more, he found himself laughing. Remington snuck into command. He pretended to be a commander, and he snuck into command. The crazy part was, the men under him had bought it. It had worked.
