The Buma winced.
“Jack, Stan, you’re with me,” Taylor said. “Ruiz, you have the con. Let’s roll.”
* * *
The descent to the planet’s surface felt like an eternity on account of the enormous amounts of wind shear and turbulence that slammed the Eagles’ dropships as soon as they touched atmo. According to Stan, a nasty storm had kicked up in the target’s vicinity, and while that hadn’t been enough to scrub the mission, it had made the already miserable experience of dropping 60 troops with supplies in a trio of air-tight tin cans that much worse. Eventually the ride came to an end when the thrusters for all three ships fired before easing their passengers down to the snowy landing zone.
“And we’re clear,” Jack called from the cockpit.
“All right, listen up,” Taylor announced. “Night has officially fallen outside, so I’d highly recommend you do not dally after you exit the ship. Once the APCs are unloaded, grab your trash and head straight to your designed transport. Is that clear?”
“Ayew,” 18 troopers chorused.
The rumble of vehicle engines fired beyond the bulkhead, then subsided once the craft they’d brought from the Osyrys had vacated the hold.
“APCs are clear,” House said via comms.
“You heard the man!” Jack barked. “Let’s mount up!”
The gust of wind that slashed at Taylor’s face once his boots reached the boarding ramp might’ve sawed a polar bear in two were it any more brutal. He winced hard, briefly hitting a knee, then shot to his feet and jogged through the snow toward the center APC of their three-vehicle caravan.
“A little brisk out today, huh Chief?” House asked once his CO had sealed the hatch.
“That’s one way to put it,” Taylor said, sliding off his balaclava. “I’ll tell ya right now, House. Southern boys like us ain’t cut out for this kinda weather. Never have been, never will be.”
An annoyed grunt huffed from the double-bundled Buma in the back.
“There’s a reason so many of us Yankees leave the North to come down South,” Frank said. “And trust me, it ain’t for the hospitality.”
Genovese shrugged beside his fellow New Yorker as the caravan started out. “He’s not wrong, ya know.”
* * * * *
Chapter 13: Under the Dome
If there was a benefit to leaving when they had, it was that the Eagles were nearing the final leg of their journey as the orange strokes of daybreak brushed the horizon.
The sight is incredible, Taylor thought. All those whites, grays, and blacks swirled together into a frozen kaleidoscope of tundra space, every inch of it perfectly balanced against the bright blue backdrop of the unblemished sky overhead.
It’d be downright gorgeous if it wasn’t so godforsaken cold here.
Static crackled over the comms as the specter of distant mountains appeared in the viewport.
“Sooner to Tomahawk,” Jack said via comms from the lead carrier. “Be advised. We’ve got about 30 more minutes of drive time before we go out on foot.”
“Copy that, Sooner,” Taylor said. “We’ll be ready. Tomahawk out.”
Thirty minutes came and went as the landmarks ahead turned from distant shapes to towering rockfaces that loomed skyward in all directions. Not long after, the caravan eased to a halt not far from the range’s tallest member.
“Report,” Taylor said, hopping out. Surprisingly, the morning temperature wasn’t bad. It was still cold, sure. However, between the lack of wind, and the warmth of the sun, the scene was almost bearable.
“Still no sign of the KzSha, or anybody else, for that matter,” Stan said. “I’ve assigned Sergeant Ballou to stay behind with the APCs and a pair of corporals in case we need an emergency evac. Aside from that, everybody else is set to move on toward the target.”
Strange. Taylor nodded, then lowered his balaclava. “Daylight’s wastin’, people. Time to pick up those feet.”
The march toward the mountain took a solid two hours on account of the terrain. True, the temperatures had warmed in the sun, and that had certainly changed things. However, as the hike drew on, the snow at their feet got deeper and deeper, and the hills near the target grew ever higher.
House gave the hold command with a closed fist in lieu of words from the front of the Eagles’ formation.
Taylor signaled to Jack and Stan, then jogged up the hill toward the corporal. “What have ya got, House?”
The Georgian shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea, sir. Whatever it is, though, it’s big.”
“Well, then.” Jack shouldered his rifle. “Let’s have ourselves a looksee, shall we?”
The trio followed Corporal Newhouse the rest of the way up the hill, then took cover behind the summit.
“Dear sweet Moses…” Stan broke off.
The massive round structure below went on for miles, consuming most of the valley at the foot of the hill, before eventually ending less than a mile from the base of the mountain.
“What in the hell is that thing?” Jack asked. “Some sort of colony?”
“Right now, your guess is as good as mine, partner.” Stan pulled a slate from his coat pocket and swiped the device active. “One thing’s for sure, though. Now we know why we couldn’t detect any life signs from orbit. I’m getting squat for readings inside that thing.”
Taylor gnawed his lip and studied the dome’s semi-opaque surface. “What can you tell me about the structure itself?”
“Not much beyond basic measurements,” Stan said. “All told, the surface area seems to span roughly 30 square miles in diameter. As for how expansive the colony is underneath, we won’t know that without puttin’ boots on the ground inside.”
“That’s assumin’ there’s something under there to begin with,” Taylor said. “For all we know, this thing is abandoned.”
House raised a shoulder. “Seems like an awful big waste of resources if that’s true. I reckon it could be, though.”
“Any clues what this thing’s made of?” Taylor asked.
Stan returned to his slate, while House ducked back behind the summit and eased to the other end to inspect their other surroundings.
“So far, I read traces of iron, oxygen, titanium, magnesium, silicon, and aluminum,” the Mississippian said. “According to this, whoever built this thing used the silicon to develop the glass that comprises the dome’s surface. The titanium, iron, magnesium, and aluminum meanwhile comprise most of the structural materials.”
Jack whistled. “I’d hate to see the construction bill for this place.”
“Agreed,” Stan said. “The transport costs for materials alone had to be staggering.”
Footsteps pressed the snow from behind, causing all three men to whirl with their rifles.
“Easy.” Genovese raised his palms. “I just came up here to find out what…” His eyes widened. “Holy Mother Mary, what is that?”
“Get down!” Taylor barked under his breath.
Genovese ducked into a crouch, then sidled up beside the others.
“We don’t know yet,” Taylor said. “We just know that it’s enormous, and sensors won’t penetrate its surface.”
“That’s it.” Genovese’s jaw tightened. “That’s gotta be where the KzSha took Paulie and the others. We need to get down there, now.”
Taylor grabbed the captain’s arm as the other started to rise. “Did you not hear me just now when I said we’ve got no clue what’s under that dome? What we do know is the KzSha are a hostile species, and that dome is big enough to house legions of the things. We do nothing until we’ve gathered more intel. Is that clear?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Is that clear, Captain Genovese?” Taylor stated.
The River Hawks’ XO answered with a grudging nod.
“I hate to interrupt, Chief, but I think we’ve got a problem,” House called from his crouch about 20 yards away.
Taylor picked up his rifle and hurried over to the corporal’s pos
ition. “What’s up?”
“I think we’re about to have company.” House pointed to the western tundra. “Have a look.”
Taylor accepted a pair of goggles from his trooper and put them to his own eyes. Sure enough, four larger vehicles were on approach.
“What are those things?” House asked.
“I can’t know for sure until they get closer,” Taylor said. “If I had to guess, though, I’d say they’re supply haulers of some kind.”
Jack, Stan, and Genovese hurried over.
“Well, now we know this thing ain’t abandoned,” the cowboy said. “That’s assumin’, of course, that the dome there is this caravan’s destination.”
Taylor turned his goggles back to the valley floor and spotted a narrow passage through the rocks along the dome’s westside perimeter. That’s where they’ll come through if it is.
“We have to find out what’s in that facility, Chief,” Genovese said. “That’s why we went through all the trouble to come here.”
Taylor didn’t disagree. How to accomplish that, on the other hand, was an issue all its own.
“Hey, Stan,” Jack said. “Remember that business on Yboure back when we worked for Asbaran? The one where our platoon got pinned down inside that Tortantula stronghold, so me and you slipped through security and tripped the gate?”
The Mississippian tipped up his fedora. “You really think we could pull that off here?”
“I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got an alternative?” Jack shrugged.
Genovese’s gaze darted between the two men. “Are you two old farts gonna keep the rest of us in suspense, or would you care to share this grand idea of yours with the class?”
Jack turned to his CO. “I think I’ve got a way to get us inside if you want that intel. If you’re interested, though, we gotta move now, before those transports get here.”
Taylor chewed his lip, then scooped up his rifle. “Brief me on the way.”
* * * * *
Chapter 14: Enemy Mine
“With all due respect to the folks at Hemming Arms, they really need to work on their uniform designs for non-human species,” Frank muttered. “All these layers are itchin’ the hell out of my feathers.”
“Something tells me gettin’ run over by an eight-ton vehicle might be even less comfortable,” Taylor said. “Just a thought.”
Frank grumbled a curse, then suddenly perked up. “Wait, I thought Jack said he and Stan had done this before and it was safe?”
“Sadly, bud, nothin’s safe in this business,” Taylor said with a grunt. He could hear the approaching caravan getting closer. “Now stop your spoutin’, or they’re gonna see us.”
Positioned in pairs—Taylor with Frank, Genovese with House, and Jack with Stan—the group waited on the road under cover of snow between the rocks Taylor had spotted from the hilltop overhead. There’d just been time to get there and cover their tracks before the inbound vehicles—heavy-duty carrier trucks with enclosed cargo spaces and six massive tires each—had rounded the last promontory prior to approaching the dome. At some point, the KzSha or earlier custodians of the dome had blasted an obvious path through the rock field. As such, there was only the one way through it, and Taylor was counting on the trucks slowing as they went through.
The ground rumbled as the caravan approached. Shortly thereafter, the rumbling turned into a shake, accompanied by the mechanized groans and wheezes of aging engines doing their best to power through rugged terrain.
Somebody needs to take better care of their equipment. Taylor felt the first truck reach them as its shadow passed by overhead in his goggles. “Now!”
Taylor wiped the snow veneer from his face with a quick brush of his sleeve as the truck’s bumper went past. From there, he leaned up and attached the magnets on the sling beneath his back to the vehicle’s undercarriage, then did the same with the magnets on his boots.
“Waaaaaa!” Frank yelped. The Buma had gotten one magnet attached but had missed with the second. Now he was being dragged by the sling.
In a couple of seconds he’ll be spit out the back and be seen! Taylor scrambled in his sling to shift himself around, then extended a hand and snagged a wing as Frank went by.
“Careful of the feathers!” Frank yelled.
“Quit squawkin’ already and pick up your ass to shift your weight!” Taylor lifted the Buma’s wing out of the snow and pulled, then seized the other end of Frank’s sling when the rig came free. From there, Taylor grabbed hold of a pipe running crosswise under the truck’s frame and braced himself for all the pull he could muster. Ah, son of a bitch! A shot of pain ripped through Taylor’s shoulder at the sudden torque on his extremity. Still, he hung on until the Buma’s sling magnets locked, followed by the foot magnets.
“Thanks, boss,” Frank said, panting. “I owe ya one.”
“No problem,” Taylor said, equally winded. “Don’t take this personal, brother, but you seriously oughta consider cuttin’ back on some carbs when we get back to Earth. Between pasta night in the clubhouse and all that stout beer you drink, you’re not exactly the paragon of Buma health you were when you signed on with us.”
Frank aimed a sheepish frown at the snow, while his CO worked to massage away the throbs plaguing his hyperextended shoulder.
I’m gonna feel that one in the mornin’. Taylor glanced up when it suddenly dawned on him that Frank wasn’t wearing a jacket. The garment had apparently been torn off during their mad dash to get the Buma’s sling hooked to the truck’s undercarriage. Now all the alien could do was sit there and shiver.
“You gonna be okay?” Taylor asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Frank said, wrapping up as best he could in his wings. “As an aside, I take back everything I said earlier about Hemming’s snow gear. Remind me to contact their sales rep when we get home to see if they need endorsements.”
The duo settled in for what proved to be about a five-minute ride to the base. In Taylor’s case, most of that time was spent wondering if their fellow team members had gotten hooked up to their trucks without issue. When the caravan didn’t stop, Taylor decided they had—or at the very least, they hadn’t been noticed. After that, he went on counting the myriad ways Jack’s plan could go wrong.
The truck’s tattered brakes let out an eerie whine as the massive vehicle rolled to a stop in the snow.
“Sounds like we’ve arrived,” Frank whispered over the idling engine.
“Yeah, sounds like,” Taylor said, risking a glance at his companion. The Buma was shivering out of control. Hang in there, brother.
A loud squeak sounded when the driver’s door swung open. After that, the snow in front of Taylor’s face crunched when two sets of feet dropped into view. From this vantage point, not much could be seen of the alien’s anatomy, save for its lower third. Still, that alone was enough to give Taylor pause. KzSha. Gotta be. He’d known coming in that the KzSha were an insectoid race, so he’d imagined them as being relatively small in stature. By contrast, the legs before him were anything but small.
Taylor cringed when a nasty stinger tail like that of a scorpion swung down into the snow mere inches from his nose. Yeah, I officially want no part of that.
Another door squeaked open and two more sets of alien legs wandered over, although none of the KzSha spoke. They just stood there in a huddle, observing a complete and total silence.
Are they talkin’ via text on a slate? Taylor’s mind scrambled for an explanation. If so, what are they sayin’? Have they figured out we’re down here? What about the others? Do the KzSha know about them?
Unsure of the answer, Taylor pulled his pistol in preparation for whatever came next.
The two extra pairs of legs walked back in the direction from which they’d come, while the driver climbed back into the cab of his own truck…still without saying a word.
It’s now or never. Taylor craned his neck to look back at the dome, fully expecting an assault. Instead, the driver put the truck i
n gear and eased forward on the throttle, taking the vehicle and its clandestine passengers into the dome, where temperatures spiked by at least 50 degrees.
“Oh, thank the gods.” Frank exhaled with clear relief.
As had been the case outside, Taylor couldn’t see much of his surroundings inside the dome on account of his low proximity to the ground. There were buildings, obviously, and other beings moving about. However, the latter seemed fairly sparse in number, based on the tiny bit of space Taylor could observe.
Eventually the truck came to a stop, where it was met by the industrial sounds of clinking chains and groaning metal.
Taylor shifted in his sling to look forward. They were stopped outside a large warehouse with two KzSha pushing open a large door. Once the entrance had cleared, the vehicle started forward again before coming to rest for good beside truck two of the convoy.
“Mornin’,” House mouthed with a wave as truck two’s engines quieted.
Taylor nodded, then looked away, only to do a double take. Where the hell is Genovese?
The River Hawks’ captain was supposed to be paired up with House under truck two, yet he was nowhere to be found.
Taylor raised his hands to pantomime the question, but a KzSha walked between the trucks before he could finish. A moment later, trucks three and four entered the warehouse, then halted beside the rest of the convoy. As before, each driver exited its vehicle and formed a close-knit huddle without speaking a word.
Taylor and Frank traded looks, then drew their pistols again. Obviously the Eagles had been brought to the warehouse so the KzSha could deal with them in a secure environment the humans couldn’t escape from.
Taylor, for one, wasn’t about to let that happen without a fight, and if Frank’s fierce expression was any indication, neither was the Buma. Both beings found the release button on their respective slings and waited for the inevitable.
The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) Page 11
