by J. F. Holmes
“Well,” said Agostine, “the Invy are going to be here in less time than that.”
Warren sat up and gripped his arm. “We have to keep them out for as long as we can!” His face was pale with fear and determination.
“That’s what I figured. I’ll do what I can. Ahmed is on the landing; the teams are retreating to the shuttle. If you want to run, you can.”
Warren stood up shakily and reached for his carbine. “I know what you think of me, but despite all of it, I’m no coward. We’re going to die here, aren’t we?”
“Scared?” asked Agostine, cruelly. “Brit was scared when she died.”
“Honestly, no. I should have died with my friends in the fleet eleven years ago. I lost someone I loved because of the stupidity of someone else, too. I know it doesn’t make us even, but I was trying to do the right thing when Ms. O’Neill died. At least give me that.”
The scout relaxed and offered his hand. “Well, here we are then, at the end.”
“Yes. Are you going to be able to fight?” said Warren, motioning to the blood on the floor.
“As long as I have to.” They sat and waited, having nothing else more to say to each other, for what seemed like eternity.
They both jumped when the radio keyed, “Nick, there’s an Invy battle fleet getting ready to jump through the Gate. We’re almost out of time.”
“Hal is in the system and doing the best he can. We’ll delay them as long as we can. Lost Boys Six, Out.” And then he took off his headset.
“Won’t be long now.”
Chapter 123
“Doc, we gotta stop for a second,” said Singh. The two civilians were carrying Jones on the stretcher, and she had a battle to run. She flipped over to the ship net and ordered Major Cowan to come out with his two aides to get Jones. The trauma surgeon responded with a quick affirmative, and Singh dropped back to command.
“Can I leave him with you?” she asked Hamilton, but he knew it was an order, and the look on his face showed it.
“I’d rather go back and help Nick and Ahmed,” he said flatly.
“I know, but I need someone here to coordinate getting back on the shuttle,” she said, meaning it.
He frowned but said nothing else. Singh ran to the side of the closest building and was surprised to find Corporal Abe and Sergeant Yimisha half-dragging, half-carrying Captain Ichijou. They seemed like they knew what they were doing, so she ignored them and looked to see what the tactical situation looked like.
Team Four was falling back in bounds, two men firing while the other two ran. Behind them by less than five hundred meters and moving rapidly was at least a company of Wolverines and a half dozen Dragons.
She flipped over to the command net and called, “ALAMO, ALAMO, ALAMO!” The only team to answer was Team Three, at the reactor. ‘Alamo’ was a code for ‘fall back and blow in place’. There had never been a plan to hold the crater; that would take a brigade of infantry with armor support. They’d only hoped to do as much damage as possible, on top of Hal seizing control of the networks.
She lifted her carbine and lofted a full magazine in the general direction of the Invy, even as one of the men from Team Four took a hit and fell. His comrade grabbed his harness and started to drag him toward the shuttle, but let go, probably realizing the man was dead. Singh reloaded and kept firing, now choosing individual targets.
There was a sudden disturbance in the oncoming horde of Invy, and they stopped, a wild melee erupting on their right flank. She whipped up her binoculars and saw the massive silverback gorilla charging into their flank, swinging a frigging broadsword of all things. Each two-handed swing cut down one of the Wolverines, and when he decapitated a Dragon, he turned and ran back into the jumble of rocks and moondust. He’d bought the humans some time; there was wild confusion in their ranks, with the Wolverines going wild and the Dragons trying to restore order.
Back on task. Where the hell was Team Two? The Gate Control building was a hundred and fifty meters away, but there was no answer on the radio. She took off running toward the building, cursing at how everything was falling apart. Coming closer, she saw the body of Sergeant Jonas, entangled with the lone Wolverine. She stopped, weapon raised, and knelt to check on him. It was quite obvious that he was dead.
Inside, she advanced cautiously, noting the plasma burns at one end of a T intersection. A quick glance down the corridor showed a blast door with firing slits. It was very similar to what she had seen on the bodycam footage of Major Ikeda’s fight in the orbital station. Cautiously, she called out, “Major Padilla! Petty Officer Devereux!” When there was no answer, and no burst of fire from the barrier, she called louder.
“COLONEL!” came back Padilla’s shout. “Come in through the demo holes, we’re in the control room!” She’d seen the rubble, and she moved forward, stepping through the cafeteria, ignoring the gore. The scout had seen it all before on her infiltration missions.
The scene she came across inside wasn’t what she expected. Specialist Roy sat on the floor next to what was obviously a control panel. His hand was on his leg, and a small pool of blood was growing on the floor. Padilla and Devereux stood on the opposite side of the room, guns aimed at Doctor Morano.
The scientist, in turn, had an Invy plasma pistol in one hand, pointed at Roy’s head. Between them, a holographic display showed a ring hovering in midair. On the right, a small globe that exactly mirrored the Earth hung at some distance. On the left, another planetary system, a large, grey- and blue-colored world. Heading from it toward the ring was something she instantly recognized from the data downloads of the fleet battle. It was a formation centered on a large blip that represented a full Invy task force. In the center of the ring, in Invy lettering, was obviously a rapid countdown.
“Morano, what the hell are you doing?” For once, the Doctor had a look of emotion on her face. It was of insane glee.
“I called them! Of course I can read and speak their language, you pathetic idiots! Don’t you understand what they represent? An intelligence comparable to my own! FOR ONCE!”
Rachel Singh lifted her rifle and shot her once through the head. The scientist crumpled backward, pistol discharging into the floor, and fell, a look of astonishment on her face.
“Sorry, boss,” said Padilla as Devereux worked to bandage Roy’s leg. “She just flipped her shit, hit a couple of switches while our backs were turned, and shot him.”
“He’ll be OK,” said the former SEAL. “Cauterized it and missed the major artery.”
“We have to go. Set charges and blow this place, it’s better to lose the Gate than get a fleet up our asses.”
“Ah, yeah, well, she told us that even if we did blow it, it won’t stop them,” said Padilla.
Singh growled in frustration, then said, “Blow it anyway, we have to get the hell out of here. There’s a full company of Invy coming down on us.”
“You got it!” said Devereux with glee, and she piled all four heavy packs by the control panel, while Padilla helped Roy limp out of the room. She started putting blasting caps onto bricks, and then said, “Screw it,” and started stacking them together in one giant pile.
“Just don’t blow US up,” said Singh, and keyed her radio. “Nick, there’s an Invy battle fleet getting ready to jump through the Gate. We’re almost out of time.”
“Hal is in the system and doing the best he can. We’ll delay them as long as possible. Lost Boys Six, Out.”
Chapter 124
When Major Ikeda had heard the broadcast from Team Four that they’d recovered Captain Ichijou, an electric shock had run through him. He looked at his men, and they looked back. There had been nothing to say, nothing to ask them. It was their duty.
Sergeant Major Shimada had detailed Technical Specialist Ito to set charges on the reactor controls, and to leave only when the recall was sounded. They had discussed earlier in mission planning actually cracking the reactor shell and setting off a chain reaction, but General Warren
had pointed out that they might want to come back someday, and a working, shut-down reactor might be useful. If Hal was successful, they would be able to control the reactor through him anyway.
It took him more than five minutes to strategically place the charges, guessing most of the time. With the call of “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” to an empty room, Ito set a 30 second timer and ran for the entrance. The charges went off with a dull crump, and, as hoped, the reactor itself went into shutdown mode, providing only minimum power to the gravity and atmosphere. Ito ran out of the building, hoping to join the rest of his team in the fight. Instead, he saw Abe and Yimisha almost to the shuttle with the Empress. He knew, despite the loyalty he felt for Major Ikeda, that his true duty lay in protecting his sovereign. Ito angled back toward the shuttle just as Major Cowan ran past with his two assistants.
“Ito, take the Empress to sick bay. Abe, you and I will cover the retreat from here,” said Sergeant Yimisha.
“The hell you will,” said Captain Ichijou. She pushed her way past the soldiers, made her way to the cockpit, and sat down next to Colonel Jameson. He said nothing, just continued to preflight, and handed her a checklist.
On the retreat, Major Ikeda grabbed Sergeant Major Shimada’s harness, but dropped him, realizing that the man was dead, a hole blown through his chest. He cursed at the gods for the death of his longtime friend and continued to provide covering fire for Vlonski and Atkins. When they started again, he took off running, going fifty meters and throwing himself down in a roll, coming up firing again.
“Let’s GO, Major!” yelled Vlonski, and Ikeda saw that there was some kind of brawl going on in the Invy ranks. Not a stupid man, he turned and hauled ass as fast as he could. The three men rounded the corner of the AI building and came across Doc Hamilton, heading back inside.
“Do you need help?” Vlonski asked the burly medic. Hamilton just shook his head no and continued through the hole in the building.
Ikeda led the other two men back to the shuttle and, together with the rest of the Japanese team, they formed a perimeter around the back of the ramp. Above them the crew Chief leaned on his minigun, chewing on a wad of tobacco. It made an ugly splotch in the moon dust when he spit it out.
Because of the angle they’d landed at, the soldiers couldn’t see the approaching Invy behind the building, and they grew even more nervous. Each drank greedily from their camelbacks. Killing was thirsty business, and the dust had covered them and gotten into their mouths.
The first sign of the renewed fight was several things happening at once. Inside the building to their front heavy gunfire sounded, meaning that the Invy were assaulting the AI building. Simultaneously, there was an earth-shaking BOOM! from the control building. Four figures appeared from that direction, two firing and a third carrying someone on their back. Then the crew Chief on the minigun was hurled backward as a sniper took a snap shot from around the building corner.
The CEF soldiers replied with a volley of small arms, but several squads of Wolverines ran from behind the building, headed for some rocks to set up an enfilading fire. The hull of the ship rang with ineffective plasma shots, and the humans returned fire. Sergeant Yimisha got up to reach for the minigun, and the hidden sniper hammered a round into him, blowing through his chest.
There were no words needed. Colonel Singh and the rest of Team Two ran as hard as they could, firing to their left while trying not to trip. Padilla stopped, took a knee, and fired at unknown targets around the building. Inside the AI facility, grenades were going off, accompanied by plasma bursts and rifle fire. Explosions flashed, and for a brief moment, human figures were silhouetted in the broken window. Then all was still. One of those weird, brief moments in combat where everything is bedlam and mayhem one second, tranquility the next.
It didn’t last. Chaos erupted. Major Padilla was blown backward, hit by three plasma bolts, his body crumpling in the dust. The Wolverines that had been firing at him came around the corner, and the shuttle was facing a double envelopment. Singh reached the ramp, followed by Devereux. The petty officer dumped Roy on the deck and turned to fire at the running Wolverines.
“GET ON!” yelled Singh, and the soldiers started to scramble on board. She grabbed the minigun, charged it, and started to let loose. A sniper round hit the gun, shattering it, and fragments blasted back into her face. Singh fell to the deck clutching at her face, and Devereux pulled her onboard.
Ikeda, the last man, turned to step aboard, and a Wolverine leapt from ten feet away. Ito shot at it, but missed, and the two crashed down to the ground. The Shuttle rose as hands reached for him, but it lifted too quickly. Ikeda stood, drew his kodachi short sword, and assumed a fighting stance. He and the Wolverine started circling each other, looking for an opening.
In the cockpit, Colonel Jameson yelled, “What the hell are you doing?” fighting with Ichijou for the controls. She hit him with a solid left hook, then swung the ship around, dancing like a fighter. “HANG ON!” she yelled into the intercom, and she slammed it back down on the ground, placing it between the advancing Invy and Major Ikeda.
Private Atkins leaned out of the ramp and yelled, “DO YOU WANT TO FIGHT HIM?”
“NO!” yelled Ikeda, and Atkins fired the Barret from the hip, an impossible shot that whipped past Ikeda’s head and blew the smaller creature over. The Japanese ran for the lowered ramp and dove aboard as the Empress hammered the throttle.
Dove and missed. The shuttle was drawing away, foot by foot, when Ikeda felt a powerful arm grab him around the waist and actually throw him into the air and through the lowered ramp. Then, with a huge bound, Thog leaped, caught the edge of the ramp, and pulled himself aboard in a flip as the ramp closed. Atkins hit the intercom and yelled, “GO!”
Instead of slamming the throttles forward, Colonel Jameson eased them gently, building up airspeed slowly, approaching the barrier just as a tank main gun blew off their stubby portside wing. The craft rocked violently and started warbling across the crater face, barely under control and open to the atmosphere.
“MAYDAY, MAYDAY!” called Ichijou into the open channel to the Lexington.
“Understood, nature of the emergency?”
“Lex, we’ve been hit, we can’t cross the barrier to open space.” Jameson was too busy fighting the fires on the wing, rerouting engine power, and the Japanese fighter pilot wrestled with the controls.
“I can get close! Give me a trajectory, and I’ll match.”
“I don’t know if I can control it through the barrier, but I’ll try,” grunted Ichijou. She flipped over to intercom as individual plasma hits rattled off the hull. “Listen up everyone, this is going to be rough. Prepare for vacuum. Hang on.”
She fought the controls to swing left, and Jameson wrestled with the throttles. They hit the barrier, too hard, and something crashed inside the engine, causing temperatures to shoot up. Jameson hit the emergency release, and they drifted, bereft of flight power.
In the cargo compartment, air tore out of the hole, grabbing at everything not tied down. It immediately started to become icy cold, and everyone started to feel the effect of low pressure. Thog suffered the most, since he wore no combat suit with an emergency supply of air. Instead, he’d placed an inboard ship system mask over his face, but he bore the pain stoically.
“Come on, Lex!” said Jameson, and he shouted into his helmet as the ship appeared in their rear-view display, engines thrusting to catch them. The bulk of the immense ship loomed over them, and then was past, and they were lined up with the hangar bay. The Lexington hit full reverse thrust, and the shuttle slid into the hangar bay, striking the side bulkhead and spinning crazily across the deck.
Chapter 125
Ahmed Yasser had come a long way in his life. As a teen, he had fought as a soldier in the losing Afghanistan Army, volunteering in defense of the corrupt regime in the sputtering end of the war. When the country had descended into chaos, he had hiked through the mountains, avoiding Taliban and Al Qaeda patrols, to
make it back to his tribal homeland.
When the Invy had come, he had walked the length of Pakistan to make it to the American Embassy. Once there, he volunteered for the CEF. A skills assessment, and he was soon on his way to America for training as a scout. Though he had spent much of the past eleven years on Team Four, he had worked with Team One often enough that a warm friendship had grown up between him and Sergeant Major Agostine. He had also grown to love the people of the US, the survivors, and now considered it his home. Ahmed had looked forward to helping to rebuild, to peace, but now it was not to be.
He lay on the staircase landing, shotgun pointed down the flight of stairs. Beside him were two grenades and a pistol. He thought for a moment of returning to the room, but fighting here would give Hal a little more time. They would kill him, yes, but they would be cautious.
Ahmed started when a figure appeared in the hallway, not from the direction he expected, and he almost fired before recognizing Doc Hamilton. The medic bounded up the stairs and looked his friend in the eye, respect only. They both nodded, and Hamilton continued up, knocking on the door, then opening it. Inside he found Warren and Agostine sitting with their backs to the wall beneath the shattered window. His team leader was pale, and blood had pooled under him, but he was still conscious.
“What…the hell…are you doing here?” asked Agostine weakly. “I gave you an order.”
“And I obeyed it. Now I’m back. Let me see your wound.”
The scout lifted his shirt, peeling back the bandage he had pressed against the wound, and Doc whistled when he saw the loop of intestine poking out. “Damn, Nick, you’re fucked.”
Agostine put the bandage back and said, “You went to medical school to figure that out? I’m dying, Rob. You can’t stop it.”
“Don’t intend to, but I can give you some time,” said Hamilton, and he took out a needle, slipping it into Agostine’s rib cage. His friend sat up and said, “HOLY SHIT!”
