While he ran at the head of Squad One, Duggan studied the closest buildings, trying to determine their purpose. They were tiny in comparison to the main power-generating structures, though many were the equivalent of three storeys tall or more. Mostly, they were featureless and cuboid. A few were cylindrical and others had corrugations on their outer surfaces. Whatever their purpose, they’d been placed in a haphazard manner, as if their position mattered not at all.
At three hundred metres, the suit detected a humming sound, which it relayed accurately to Duggan’s ears. He identified the sound at once – it was similar to the gravity engines of a space ship, though he couldn’t tell if the noise came from the main structures or from the smaller buildings.
The final two hundred metres was a treacherous scramble across dirty ice. Someone near Duggan fell over with a grunt, almost tripping up another soldier on the way. The trooper got up and followed without visible sign of injury. The space suits were tough and durable, but Duggan had seen them crack open under hard impacts before. It still put him on edge when he heard the sound of a suit helmet knocking against stone or metal – a breach meant certain death for the occupant.
At one hundred metres, Duggan was breathing hard. It wasn’t so much the outright speed of his run, as it was the effort required to move fast while not sliding or falling. The buildings seemed to beckon him invitingly. He noted with satisfaction that there was no ice in the wide passages between them and the ground had been scoured flat by machinery of some sort.
Then, he heard the words. “Something’s happening, Squad One - on the side of the building to your left.”
Ahead, a square of bright light suddenly appeared in the wall of the closest building. It was unmistakeably a doorway, large enough to permit the exit of a creature in excess of seven feet tall. A shadow appeared within the doorway, then something stepped out into the dark of the night.
Chapter Sixteen
The unsuspecting creature was met by a hail of gauss fire. Metal slugs fizzed from the barrel of Duggan’s gun as he fired three shots in rapid succession. He was too late – the snipers in Squad Four had already put half a dozen rounds into it before he could pull the trigger. The alien toppled headlong to the ground, making a crunching noise when it impacted with the unyielding rock.
The ice underfoot was gone and Duggan broke into a sprint, his feet pounding against the pocked stone.
“Squad Two hold position!” he shouted into the comms.
Forty metres ahead, the body lay fallen across the threshold and the light from the interior continued to spill outside. Duggan reached the dead alien, the others of Squad One close behind. They fell into a circle, their rifles aimed outwards. There were two Ghasts whom Duggan had learned were called Rastol and Braler. They stood upright, the barrels of their repeaters aimed into the doorway.
“Help me get him out!” said Duggan, pulling at the body. It was clad in a matte grey, flexible metal. Duggan could feel the material was incredibly thin and lightweight, though it hadn’t been proof against a volley of gauss slugs. The enemy’s spherical helmet had additionally been struck by three or four rounds, making a mess of whatever had been inside.
Stanton grabbed the creature’s other arm and between them they hauled it out of the doorway, leaving a thick smear of frozen blood behind. Duggan had time to look into the aperture and saw nothing but the inside of an airlock, the same as he’d seen countless times in spacecraft and on various outposts throughout Confederation Space. As soon as the body was clear, an alloy door slid across, sealing the building once more.
“Rastol, Braler, pull this body out of sight,” Duggan said, setting it down. “Get it around the corner towards the perimeter.”
Without speaking a word, they moved to comply. They had holsters strapped to their backs into which they tucked their repeaters, taking care they didn’t tangle the ammunition feed tubes. Once they had their hands free they pulled the dead Dreamer rapidly away, dragging it out of sight around the building which faced the perimeter.
“If you’re going to abort, now is the time, sir,” said Ortiz.
There was no other movement and nothing to indicate anyone else on the base had been roused.
“We’ll stick to the plan, Lieutenant. Bring up Squad Four. Once they’re here, we’ll split and make our way to the target.”
“Yes, sir!” she said, the relief evident in her voice. Ortiz didn’t like to back away once the fighting had started.
Squads One, Two and Three waited anxiously as the final group broke cover and came towards the perimeter. Duggan fidgeted, tapping the barrel of his gun with his fingers. He spoke to the other squad leaders – Red-Gulos, Lieutenant Ortiz and another Ghast known simply as Gax. They understood what was expected and none of them showed outward concern at the unexpected encounter with the enemy.
“This base is big,” said Duggan. “If we poke too hard, we could get out of our depths in no time.”
Squad Four joined the others. Duggan immediately ordered all four groups onwards, deeper into the installation. He spoke to his own squad directly.
“Keep your movement sensors on. We’re overlooked, so don’t fall into the trap of watching your feet.”
He strode away, keeping close to the left-hand wall of the nearby structure. Squad Two kept pace, twenty-five metres away next to the adjacent building. There was plenty of room, but it seemed best to travel independently. The last thing Duggan wanted was a friendly fire incident.
They reached the end of the wall and Duggan peered around. His breathing sounded loud in his ears – the imminence of battle had always heightened his senses. Whenever the fighting stopped, he told himself it was something he didn’t crave. The only person I ever lie to is me, a treacherous voice in his head told him.
There was an open space to the left, which led to a wide gap between two more square buildings. Squad Two was moving out to the right, their rifles aimed in all directions. One person in each squad carried a shoulder-fired plasma launcher in case things got really tough and Duggan noticed the soldier in Squad Two had the weapon in place and ready to fire.
“Rasmussen, take heed,” he said to his own squad’s launcher man. “We have no idea what’s coming.”
“Yes, sir.”
They sprinted across the space – eighty metres of hard running to find a wall they could put their backs to. Still there was no sign of the enemy and Duggan was sure this base had only a comparatively small number of personnel. On the other hand, sixteen square kilometres was enough to house a few hundred of the aliens, even if they were dispersed throughout the place.
“Door,” grunted Rastol, thumping his elbow backwards onto the surface behind him. The contact made a solid thud which was in no way suggestive of there being a door. However, when Duggan looked, he noticed a fine seam in the alloy that did indeed indicate there was a way inside.
“We’d best move,” said Duggan.
He led Squad One onwards, deeper into the base. The walls loomed above them to either side. The structures weren’t crowded, but they somehow felt close. Above everything were the towers and the main pyramid. At times they were all visible, at others, they were obscured by these low buildings. The buzzing in the air which Duggan had noticed earlier became more prominent to the point that it set his teeth on edge.
He brought the others to a halt at the corner of one particularly high building. There was an open area beyond and there were at least two hundred metres to cross in order to reach the comparative safety of the passage opposite.
“That noise is pissing me off,” muttered Byers while he waited.
“Your helmet can tune it out,” said Cabrera.
“Yeah, I don’t like to think I’m missing something.”
“We’ve got action,” said Ortiz on the open channel. The whine of gauss coils was audible in the background, their disturbance of the near-vacuum detected by her helmet sensor and converted into familiar sounds.
“Lieutenant, please repo
rt,” said Duggan.
“Three of the enemy down, sir. No casualties of our own and no sign we were heard.”
“We’re running out of time until we find someone who shoots back or raises the alarm,” said Duggan. “Move fast.”
The words hadn’t left his mouth when he saw a flash of movement, followed by the fizz of a rifle. “Got the bastard,” said Camacho.
“There’s more,” said Braler, leaning past Duggan to look around the corner. “Six.”
“Trust us to arrive in the middle of party time,” said Rasmussen.
“Have they seen us?” asked Duggan.
“No,” said Braler. “They show no indication they are aware of our presence.”
Duggan had a look. The movement sensors on his suit helmet highlighted the enemy with an outline of orange. Alongside the greens of the image intensification and whites of the heat detection, it was a sickly combination of colours, which performed an excellent job of pinpointing to the suit’s occupant things they might want to shoot.
The enemy were heading away from Duggan’s squad and he was content to wait until they were out of sight. His suit estimated the largest to be over seven and a half feet tall, with the shortest at seven feet. He didn’t know what he should call them – they were Dreamers, Ghasts and Estral. Stay focused! he thought angrily, realising his mind had drifted onto unimportant matters.
“We are under attack,” said Red-Gulos. “Estimate seven Estral soldiers.”
A muted roar accompanied the Ghast’s voice – it was his repeater, firing with the muzzle silencer turned on. It reduced the accuracy and velocity of the projectiles at the same time as it cut down on the noise.
According to his spacesuit’s positional overlay of the area, Lieutenant Ortiz was closest. “Squad Three, move to assist,” said Duggan.
“Yes, sir. Moving to assist,” she said, her voice business-like and crisp.
“The six enemy we’ve sighted are coming to investigate the noise,” said Braler.
Without waiting for orders, the Ghast took a large step sideways, the muzzle of his repeater level and the feed tube tucked under his arm. The gun shook as it launched hundreds of rounds from the alloy ammunition pack Braler wore on his back. There was no light, only the sound of perfectly-machined metal striking perfectly-machined metal as the weapon spewed out a cone of death into the coming enemy. Seconds later, the cacophony stopped and Braler ducked into the protection of the wall again.
“Pathetic,” he spat.
“Dead?” asked Duggan.
“Yes.”
“Next time, you wait. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” said the Ghast.
“Good. I say when you shoot,” said Duggan. He put the incident aside for now – it was a minor transgression, but he didn’t know if it was indicative of the Ghasts’ thirst to fight anything, or specifically this particular enemy. He was brought crashing back to the present.
“Enemy down,” said Ortiz. “We lost Fuentes.”
“Understood,” said Duggan. “Any movement?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“They’ll be coming. Let’s get to the target.”
In terms of maintaining surprise, the game was up. They were far into the base now and Duggan was determined to finish what they’d come to do. He got his head down and launched himself at the space between him and the next structure. According to his HUD, the target building was less than four hundred metres away, though there was no way to get a visual on it until they were right there. While he ran, Duggan spoke briefly to the Crimson.
“ESS Crimson, this is Duggan. We’ve met resistance. We are proceeding to the target.”
“This is Commander McGlashan. Need support?”
“Negative, Commander. I am not able to guarantee there are no air defences. Stay out of sight until you hear otherwise.”
“Understood. I’ll await further orders.”
There was a flickering hint of orange to the left. Duggan fired off a snap shot, sure he’d missed by a good two metres. Someone else in the squad aimed better and the orange shape fell into clear view. Duggan fired again and the movement stopped.
They entered the scant protection of a wide corridor between two structures. Duggan would have preferred to take stock of the situation and catch his breath. He had plenty of stamina, but his aim was better when his heart wasn’t pounding. Someone fired a shot and he spun around to see Camacho lower his rifle.
“Camacho gets another one,” the soldier said.
“You need to stop talking about yourself in the third person, man,” said Stanton.
“Camacho only does it when he’s in the zone,” joked Camacho.
“Quiet!” warned Duggan. “Squads Two, Three, Four, please report.”
“We’re approaching the target,” said Red-Gulos. “No casualties.”
“We’re sticking with Squad Two,” said Ortiz.
“Nothing to report,” said Gax. “No enemy sighted.”
“We’ve poked the nest,” said Duggan. “There’ll be more.”
Squads Two and Three reached the target building ahead of the rest. Duggan moved at a fast pace which nevertheless still allowed his own squad to react to the unexpected. There was something about his time within this installation that gave him an insight into the life of a mouse travelling around a maze. Everything was so totally alien, he wondered if he’d been knocked unconscious and left to dream about an endless succession of walls, filled with an endless series of enemies for him to fight. The voice of Lieutenant Ortiz came through his comms.
“No sign of a way in, sir,” she said.
“Any doors?” asked Duggan.
“Two that we know of, sir. Not a handle or a doorbell to be found.”
“Get Reilly and Bonner on it,” he said. These two were in charge of the explosives.
“They’re already looking.”
“What about the enemy?”
“They’ve gone into hiding.”
“The calm before the storm,” said Duggan. “I see you.”
Duggan’s squad came within sight of the target building. It was taller than he imagined it would be and perhaps three hundred metres long, with a brushed appearance to the exterior. Several other structures were close by, making this area fairly tight, with narrow alleys leading off. Squads Two and Three had arranged themselves defensively. They lay flat on the ground, or hid behind the walls of the other buildings nearby. The Ghasts were easily identified by their suits and their outright size. Duggan was pleased to see they’d fitted in well and the aliens had mixed with the humans, rather than keeping close to their own.
“Reilly, Bonner? We need to get in and fast.”
“Understood.”
“Got inbound to the east,” said Chan. “I’d estimate fifteen or twenty. They’ve got hardware with them.” The soldier’s voice varied not one bit with the pressure of the situation. He could have been reporting how many potatoes he’d found on his meal tray for all the excitement he betrayed.
“How long and what hardware? Plasma or coil?”
“Coil, sir and they’ll be here in thirty seconds. There’s me, Barron and Kidd to hold them. We need someone with a tube.”
“Rasmussen, get over there,” ordered Duggan. “Squad Four, where the hell are you?”
“Coming your way,” said Gax. “One minute. There’s movement to the north-west. Big numbers and organised.”
An inner voice told Duggan it was about to get tough.
Chapter Seventeen
The combat began. It started slowly, with the coil whine of sporadic rifle fire. Repeater fire joined – the harsh edge and clanking roar telling Duggan that the Ghasts no longer had their weapons silenced. More sightings of the enemy came in from the west and the east. The base personnel were on full alert and looking for the intruders.
“Get us through that door, or we’re going to be overrun,” said Duggan.
Reilly and Bonner continued to examine the metal, occa
sionally knocking at it with gloved fists. They had packs of explosives on the ground nearby, though showed no inclination to remove the contents.
“Do you want it to remain pressurised inside, sir?” asked Bonner, dead calm.
“I don’t give a shit, soldier. We need to get inside however it happens.”
Reilly gave the strange little jumping motion with her upper torso that indicated a shrug. “Get one of the plasma guys to shoot it. The walls here aren’t thick.”
“Berg, shoot this damned wall as soon as we get clear,” said Duggan.
“Aye, sir. You’d best run.”
Duggan didn’t hang around. “Keep clear of the door,” he yelled, charging towards a wall opposite.
Thirty metres away, the suited figure of Berg raised a plasma tube, positioning it on her shoulder like it was a natural extension of her body. The tube bleeped softly and its high-pitched whine cut through the metallic clattering of the other weaponry. She fired and the tube spat out its projectile. A split second later, the darkness was dispersed by a brief flash of plasma fire. Duggan’s suit registered an abrupt change in temperature. When he turned, there was a smouldering, ragged gap in the metal. The edges burned in fading whites and reds, causing the alloy to sag and drip. The suit registered a soft whooshing sound and informed Duggan there was a low-speed wind, which he knew was the internal atmosphere of the building rushing out.
“Watch out for anyone inside!” he shouted.
The vignette ended and the brutality of combat filled Duggan’s senses. His troops were pinned down, but had so far managed to keep the enemy at bay. The arrangement of the buildings allowed the Estral three approaches and they darted in and out of view, firing their rifles. Across the way, Duggan saw Rasmussen pre-charge his plasma tube and then fire it along a passage to the east. Orange movement was lost in a wash of white flame.
Then, something ripped through the fire – something which didn’t care what was in its path. Large bore, high-velocity slugs tore into the wall of the transmission building, leaving a series of indentations for fifty metres or more.
Terminus Gate (Survival Wars Book 5) Page 11
