Dead Force Box Set

by S D Tanner

  Something flew over his head, kicking his helmet as it passed him. Landing solidly between him and the mech, the clawed feet were protected by a shield. Grunt growled and roared, raising his arm in the same way he did with the invisible swords, only this time a red light lit up the platform.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: One-fingered Salute

  He was running faster than he ever remembered, shouting through his headset with every step. “Alpha-Six to Yankee-Six, send in the reserves. Alpha-Six to all battalions, grab a grunt and engage the enemy. Alpha-Six to Papa-Six, free fire.”

  This was the life, an impossible to defeat enemy in a no-holds barred firefight. Despite the danger, he was the happiest he’d been since waking. He was demanding chaos and bringing anarchy to the fight. Technically, a boxing match was won by the guy who landed the hardest punch, but that didn’t explain why sometimes the weaker man won. It all came down to attitude. Although the winner needed more than just a confident swagger and a good game face, both went a long way in a fight.

  Hawk was in the air, able to see what he couldn’t, and was keeping him briefed. “Papa-Six to Alpha-Six, Grunt’s guys have taken up positions in the openings on the cities.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Not sure, but I think they’ve got an EMP-style weapon. Whatever it is, the enemy don’t like it. It disables them, for a while anyway.”

  Although he hadn’t felt right about leaving Grunt to deal with the mechanical monster, he didn’t think he could add much to the fight. Grunt had his army and he had the Dead Force. If he expected the Dead Force to die for real, then he would fight by their side, it was only right.

  “If it’s an EMP then stay away from Grunt’s guys, they could take out your beacons.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Yankee-Six, have you got a fix on enemy numbers?”

  “Tallying now, but the count is unreliable. More keep leaving Delta’s city to attack ours.”

  Hearing Joker call them their cities made him even happier. Men fought best when their home was under attack, and the Dead Force needed to see the cities as something they already owned. It was how he felt about Earth; it belonged to him and not the freaky-assed aliens that had no business being on his turf.

  Joker’s usual amiable tone had taken on a hard edge. “Tag, I can’t give you any sensible numbers. More of the suckers keep coming out of Delta’s city.”

  For as long as Delta’s city stood, the mechs would keep using it to teleport. Joker hadn’t managed to get Delta’s battalion out, and he wasn’t hearing much radio chatter from them, if any at all. Just as he wondered if there was no one left, a weak voice sounded through his earpiece.

  “Delta-Six…”

  “Go ahead, Ash.”

  Before Ash could speak, Rok shouted, “Ash, man, are you ok?”

  “Fucked up.”

  “Joker, get him out of there!” Rok roared.

  “Nooo,” Ash replied, only it sounded more like a groan.

  “Robert will put ya in a pod, dude.”

  Sounding as if he was struggling to stay conscious, Ash groaned, “Nooo.” His next words were spoken in a creaking whisper. “Broken arrow.”

  He was calling for all assets to bomb his position, which was probably all that would stop the mechs. If no more teleported, then the firefight would be contained to the ones already inside the fire zone.

  “Yankee-Six, bomb Delta’s city.”

  “With what?” Joker asked, sounding genuinely confused.

  “No!” Rok shouted. “No man left behind!”

  Ash’s voice was much quieter than Rok’s, but his message was clear enough. “Broken arrow.”

  If he ever saw him again, then Rok would probably take a shot at him for his next order. “Alpha-Six to Yankee-Six, crash an ark into Delta’s city.”

  “What about the sleepers?” Joker asked.

  “Fuck ‘em!” Rok shouted. Unable to contain his anger, he added with genuine spite, “They killed and now they die!”

  “But…” Joker replied.

  Cutting off Joker’s unspoken objection, he said sharply, “You have your orders.”

  Anyone left alive inside the city would die, as would the sleepers on the ark. Like Rok, he thought anyone who lived by the sword should die by one, and he felt no obligation to people who had killed their own kind just to get inside a pod. It was the way of life for anyone willing to fight for whatever they got and every soldier knew it.

  “Good call, Tag,” Judge said, and he didn’t sound sarcastic.

  One way or another they had to bring the fight under control even if meant killing their own. Nothing was ever fair in war and the sleepers were collateral damage. Skidding through a gap in the wall, he reached the room next to where Jessica had been held prisoner. The Dead Force didn’t bleed like a human, but pieces of armor and flesh had scattered across the floor. Only one soldier remained and he was firing at the mech standing on the other side of the room. The shields made their guns useless and the bullets were pinging off it, so that all they did was spit back at the soldier. He had to give the man credit for not running away.

  Raising its enormous metal paws, the mech released a spray of blue light that bounced around the room like a hunter-seeker until it found its target. The soldier in front of him was dressed in full armor, but the glinting spray ripped his body open like buckshot from a hundred shotguns. Chunks of armor exploded into the air, taking pieces of the man with them. The flesh landed on the floor walls and ceiling with a wet sounding squelch. He had no idea who the soldier had been, only that he’d belonged to the Dead Force. Anger sharpened his thinking, and he glared at the mech now taking aim at him.

  If he could walk through the mech’s shield then, providing it penetrated slowly enough, so could a bomb. He pulled his last frag from his vest, flicked it open and kept the button depressed. With the round frag in the palm of his glove, his finger still on the ignitor, he drew back his arm and gently rolled it forward as if he were bowling. If the frag fell short it would explode outside the shield, but if it rolled too quickly it would be stopped by the invisible barrier.

  His gloves were too thick for him to cross his fingers, but as he watched the frag bouncing along the smooth, white floor, he muttered, “Lucky, lucky, lucky.”

  “Say again, Alpha-Six,” Joker said.

  The ball rolled unsteadily, bouncing in and out of invisible scars on the floor. Trundling along as if it had all the time in the world, it was six feet from the mech and then three.

  “Lucky, lucky, lucky.”

  “Tag?”

  Passing three feet and then two, it gently bumped against the square metal legs on the mech. The monstrous beast must have guessed something bad was about to happen. Lowering its arm, it managed to tip its square head toward the floor and then the frag exploded, smothering its face in shrapnel. Where a moment earlier the glowing red eyes had glinted, they turned orange and then went dark. The body sunk into the metal legs until it became a rectangular box topped with a square head.

  “Woo hoo!” Dancing from foot to foot, he shouted, “You can penetrate the shields if you go slow enough.”

  “Nice bowling, Tag,” Joker said.

  “Judge. Rok. Bowl a frag at it, or go slowly through the shield and shoot out its eyes.”

  “We’re low on ammo and frags, Tag,” Judge replied steadily. “We’re being overrun.”

  “These big suckers don’t stay down,” Rok warned.

  He might have found a way to break the mechs, but his joy was short-lived. A loud whirring was his first warning the mech had only been stunned. Rising on its legs again, the eyes lit up, glowing a fiery red as if it were annoyed. What was he supposed to do now? If he stayed then the mech would kill him, but if he left then where would he go?

  While he hesitated, unsure what to do next, the mech raised its arms and the blue light inside its metal hand flashed across his eyes. Although he couldn�
�t see it, he was sure there was a blue dot in the center of his face. Once fired, the hunter-seeker would chase him down, which meant running was no longer an option.

  Grunt yanked him back and the blue target appeared on his scaly chest. Raising his powerful arms, he released a red light at the mech. The light crossed the room like a snake slithering on ice, slowly penetrating the shield until it reached the mech. When it touched the metal, a spider web of red lines spread across the mech’s body, making it sink into its legs again. Striding forward, Grunt hacked at the mech with his invisible blades, but all they did was shave away small chunks of metal. Clearly it took more than one blade to open the thick hide.

  After turning on one clawed foot, Grunt stared at him with yellow, flinty eyes before walking through the gap in the wall. Following Grunt from one room to the next, every one of them contained evidence of the fight they were losing. Some of his men had been torn in half, leaking fluid from the broken tube that kept them alive, and others were so badly mangled, only pieces of their armor identified them as belonging to the Dead Force. His pace slowed not from fatigue, but the loss was wearing on him. Refusing to stand down had felt strong, but seeing what it was costing his troops brought home just how stupid he’d been.

  They entered a room drenched with so much blood it was still running down the walls. Meaty chunks of flesh decorated the room like the aftermath of a bad barbeque. A reptilian head was propped up on one of the white lumps emerging from the floor. The yellow eyes seemed to follow him as they walked across the floor toward it. Grunt stopped in front of the lonely decapitated head and, after pulling his arm from the harness, he placed one thickly clawed hand on it.

  The radio chatter in his earpiece had been constant, but now it was dying away to almost nothing. The Dead Force were growing as silent as the grave they belonged in.

  “We’re not going to win, are we?”

  “Noooo.”

  Grunt’s voice was no more than a sigh, but they stood looking down at the head. Ribbons of bloody flesh and sinew trailed over the white lump, staining the simple design and revealing a truth he didn’t want to know.

  “You can still leave.”

  Taking his hand from the reptilian head, Grunt slid it inside the harness, seeming to contemplate his offer. When Grunt looked down at him, his yellow eyes were glinting in a way he would have once thought was evil.

  “Noooo.”

  He heard the mechs before he saw them, the whine of their hydraulics was unmistakable. “We have company.”

  For a moment, the whine was lost under Grunt’s fierce snarling. At first, he couldn’t see what was funny about death marching through the door, but then he realized when everything was lost, all any man could do was laugh. It started as a chuckle and then gripped his abdomen until it burst from his mouth. If being alive was absurd, then being dead at the same time was beyond funny. Tears he didn’t know he could still cry leaked into the corners of his eyes. His nose grew stuffy and he snorted, unable to stop laughing.

  “Tag, is that you?” Judge asked, sounding bewildered.

  He tried to catch his breath between hiccups of laughter. “Alpha-Six to Bravo-Six…we are FUBAR.”

  “Ya don’t say.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You’re a pain in my ass, Tag.”

  Rok let out a good-humored snort. “Way to show leadership, Tag.”

  Judge had said they were low on ammunition and so was he. He’d bowled his last frag at the mech and it hadn’t stopped it for long, much less destroyed it. Gray metal was filling a gap in the wall, briefly making it look complete. The sides of the doorway bulged outward as it forced its way inside. Another was entering the room from the gap they’d just come through. Behind the first mech was another one, and it too shoved its way through the gap.

  Contemplating the mechs marching through the door, he said, “I think I’ve screwed the pooch.”

  “Snap to, Tag,” Judge barked.

  Grunt had raised his arms to fire his EMP-style disruptor, but it would only offer a brief reprieve. They’d need a missile to permanently take down a disabled mech and he didn’t even have a frag. He couldn’t blame the lizard for trying, but another mech was already shining a blue light at his face. The light grew in intensity and he resisted the urge to run. Where would he go? Every exit was blocked by a mech, and he didn’t want to die running around the room like a frightened chicken. It would only prove the aliens were right about them.

  Raising his hand, he gave the mech a one-fingered salute and waited for the blast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Dead Again

  His first death had been his best one. Surrounded by medics desperate to save his life meant he hadn’t died alone. Even as he’d drawn his last breath, someone had been talking to him and holding his hand, but every death since that one had irritated him. His world had turned white, and there was a firm pressure on every part of his body. It wasn’t squeezing him exactly, but was more like a full body hug, which would have been more fun from a woman.

  An image of Daisy drifted through his thoughts, but after having lived a life he would never know about, she’d gone on ahead of him, no doubt believing he was on the other side waiting for her. When it came to his family, he never could get it right. Lisa would have mourned him, visiting a grave he wasn’t in, and she’d probably gotten married again, maybe even to another soldier. It took certain type of hardy and independent woman to live their lifestyle.

  Jessica was an altogether different story. She wasn’t his wife for one thing and he hadn’t even heard her voice, not her real one. Although her robots were limited, he didn’t believe she would have been. Joker had refused his order, meaning she was somewhere near Earth, hopefully being healed by Robert. Where his never-ending death was an irritation, Jessica deserved to live just as Daisy had. Everyone should have a turn on the merry-go-round, it was only fair. He had a go and then a whole lot more, but now it was finally over. With the end came relief, and the rage and despair stalking him would have to find another home.

  “Tag?”

  For a moment hearing Judge’s voice made sense, after all they were both dead, and he couldn’t imagine being without him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are we?”

  The whiteness surrounding him was so warm and soft he could have been in bed, not that he had one anymore. “Heaven?”

  “Don’t be a dipshit.”

  Judge’s harsh tone was far from angelic and he wriggled against the softness hugging him. “Give me a better answer.”

  “I’m not dead.”

  “Aren’t we all dead?” Rok asked.

  Hearing Rok’s voice made him doubly sure he was nowhere near heaven, worse still his hellish dead life hadn’t even ended. “Dammit, Rok. Who invited you?”

  “To what?” Rok asked.

  It was a very good question and he kicked his feet. Meeting no resistance, he pushed out his elbows as if he were doing a lame version of a chicken dance. “Where are we?”

  “I was inside the production city and then I wasn’t,” Judge replied.

  “Err, I hate to break it to you, Judge, but according to my tracking screen you still are,” Joker said.

  Only half-listening, he began violently jerking his body, determined to free himself from the firm softness surrounding him. If he still had ammunition he would have shot at it, but buried inside the thick comforter he wasn’t sure he even had his gun. Punching at the surrounding sponginess, he twisted and turned hoping to free himself. He hadn’t asked for a hug and he didn’t want one either.

  “Then where the hell are we?” Rok asked, only now his voice sounded whiny.

  He understood how Rok felt. “Where are the mechs?”

  “I don’t know, but the cities are moving,” Joker replied.

  “Like how?”

  “Umm, I think they’re getting closer together, and lower.”

  “Which ones are mo
ving?”

  “All of ours.”

  The violent wriggling and kicking was having an effect, and the softness was pulling away. It would have been a good thing if there’d been anything underneath his feet, only there wasn’t and his empty stomach lurched. He was sliding downward and gaining speed with every foot.

  “Woah!”

  “Crap!” Rok shouted.

  The whiteness disappeared and all he could see was blue. Tipping head over foot, the color changed to a dirty brown, only to become white as his body flipped again.

  “Aww, that’s gonna hurt,” Joker said, but he didn’t sound sorry.

  His head was spinning faster than his body, but eventually his senses came online. Blue was clear sky, white was the underbelly of the city, and brown was the earth beneath them, only it was coming closer. The sheer brown became the outlines of broken buildings. Round shapes turned into helmets with faceplates looking up at him. Some were shielding their eyes while others were already running toward the buildings.

  “Shiiiiit!” Rok howled.

  Any worries about landing hard were lost when he tumbled again, catching sight of bullet-shaped mechs flying from the underbelly of the cities. They might be falling, but the mechs could go airborne. Flicking out of the cities, they were zeroing on the soldiers falling to Earth and firing blue sprays of light at them. A soldier falling next him burst apart so that pieces of his body broke away and began falling at a slower pace than his torso.

  Before he could even wonder how to deal with this new threat his body hit the ground. Had he been alive then he would have been dead. Even with that small edge his body felt flattened, and he lay on his back staring at the sky. His faceplate and helmet had cracked open on impact and a cool breeze fluttered across his cheeks. Sighing, he realized the fall hadn’t killed him and irritation clawed up his jarred spine.

  “Judge?”

  “Not now, Tag.”

  “Rok?”

  “Crap. Crap. Crap.”

  He wasn’t sure what Rok was swearing about, but it summed up how he was feeling. Never dying was a crapshoot from which he could never escape. The blue-suited alien they’d captured on the Extrema had said they lived as if it were a good thing, only he suspected it was an act of extreme cruelty. If he could have, then he would have crawled inside his coffin and stayed there.