“What’s your friend up to?” the researcher asked, gesturing toward the next airlock. There the soldier was, leaning against the corner of the door, motionless.
There must be a good reason, Scott thought. The soldier didn’t act like a recruit. “Maybe he doesn’t know where he’s going.”
Grant could still hear shots echo through the blast door. He checked the computer on his arm. Whatever system the Corps was synced to, he couldn’t see it. Grant shook his head. The mechanic who introduced himself as Scott Ryan approached.
“Waiting for something?” he asked.
“No,” Grant said, dismissing him. “The Corps’ first landing team is engaged in the next room. I can’t raise them and I can’t see them on scope.”
Ryan paused. “I can pull up the security camera feeds,” he said pointing at the control panel to the side and turned to the other engineer. “Are there any other ways into the concourse?”
He shook his head. “This is the only one. On the other side is the ground floor of the concourse. There are a few small stations spread about but it’s mostly open so they can move cargo from the landing bay to the east to the dig on the right. There are stairs on both sides of the door that lead to the upper floors.”
Grant thought the information over as Scott took the initiative and logged onto the security network from the door’s access console. “Here you go,” he announced a few seconds later. “The stations all use the same security protocol. I’ve got basic access to them all.”
Grant peered over at the glowing screen. “Where is this?” he asked.
The nameless researcher approached. “About twenty meters inside this airlock.”
Smoke wafted through the air and there were flashes of gunfire from every angle. Debris and bodies littered the ground. There were at least two levels of walkways above the ground manned by aliens, firing down on several teams of Space Corps soldiers.
From what Grant could tell, they had entered through the far airlock and pushed a bunch of crates and riot shields with them for cover. Three semicircles of them were now dotting the wall as they branched out. Considering the odds, Grant had expected to see more casualties. “How can I get to the catwalk above them?”
“Go to the edge of the hallway on the north side of the concourse, take the stairs on the left and hook back to the right at the top. You’ll pass the security checkpoint to the north dorms, and then it’ll open up.”
Grant could see the network of balconies and causeways crisscrossing the next few stories. He advanced through the security feeds. The aliens had barricades built up all over, but in their case, they used the base’s packing crates as well. “They didn’t plan for this.”
Scott looked at the feeds. “How can you tell?”
“They’re using the same crates as cover as our soldiers. They thought they’d have the run of the colony and that we wouldn’t be able to respond in time.” he said as he watched one alien kneeling over another, pressing on a wound to keep it from bleeding out. Another a few meters away desperately tried to clear a jammed round in its poor excuse for a human rifle. “Look at that; they’re in no better shape than we are. Open the door.”
“What are you going to do?” Scott asked the veteran soldier.
“Clear the second level,” Grant answered as the panels of the airlock slid apart. Shouts and gunfire echoed in the distance but none of the other fighters could be seen over the built-up concourse floor. Explosions rocked the floor and filled the room with smoke which the life support systems struggled to clean.
“How can I help?” he said, following up.
It was again strange, Grant thought. He hadn’t ever met a mechanic looking for trouble, but then again he hadn’t met many at all on his travels. He looked back and shook his head ever so slightly. “If I told you that you could die in a very bad way, would that stop you?”
Scott felt a pang of courage build within him. “Probably not. I’m already here.”
“Well, I can’t stop you,” Grant replied as he pulled out his pistol one more time and handed it over. “You know how this works?” The mechanic nodded as the soldier unhooked his mag pouch and passed it over as well. “Stay behind me and try to keep up. Return fire only. Don’t get us shot.”
Looking the weapon over, Scott felt his heart rate increase once more. “Sure thing,” he said, glancing up and Grant was already around the doorway. For all the armor, the guy could move fast.
He carried the handgun at the low ready, kept his head down, and dashed along. When Grant hit the stairwell, shots rang out, and an alien corpse tumbled down beside him. Scott stepped over the body, trying to block the gruesome image from his mind as the veteran fighter exited a floor above.
Grant paused and Scott caught up. They were at the edge of a clear, moderately sized landing with bridges branching off to the south and southeast. The next floor was about eight meters above their heads and from the shots was also populated by the aliens.
Scott’s attention was immediately drawn to the barricades stocked with more of the creatures he had seen on the security monitor.
“I’m going right along the wall,” Grant announced. “Keep those shits on the bridge from coming after us.” He switched radio frequencies. “This is Grant. I’ve got two friendlies on the second floor. Watch your fire.”
The soldier moved off again, keeping a low profile. Scott watched him approach the first barricade. The aliens all had their backs turned, firing over the edge. Grant put a line of automatic fire across them, and then dropped another burst into each center of mass. He hadn’t even paused.
Scott dropped to a knee behind the first barrier about a meter from the pile of smoking bodies. To his right he could see Grant continue down the side, tearing into the aliens who slowly grew wise to his maneuver. The second barricade saw him coming, but only one returned fire before being torn apart.
To the left he had a good angle on the aliens on the bridge. Scott prayed they didn’t see him. Without a rifle, he didn’t stand much of a chance. He checked the magazine in the pistol. Seventeen rounds. He backed off from the edge, farther into the open but trying to stay out of their field of view.
His luck didn’t last. The rightmost alien swung about as it spied Grant gunning down the rest of the landing party. Whatever fear or hesitation he felt before was gone. He had asked for a job and now he had it. Scott raised the weapon, and fired into the nearest alien before it could draw down on his fellow soldier.
Somewhere in a distant memory, tucked away in the corner of his mind, Scott remembered the half-day of training he had received before he left Earth years before. He let his eye catch the front sight, lined up his target, and pulled the trigger straight back.
The weapon kicked, and he lined up for another shot, getting a tighter grip so he could make a quicker follow-up. The first few rounds hit home in the middle of the mass of aliens. Two dropped quickly, the third twisted backwards, struggling from a shot to the leg.
The alien growled and caught Scott’s gaze. Blood poured from its leg but the creature suppressed the pain and slid up to its knees.
Scott lined up a shot to the alien’s face and pulled the trigger with zero effect. He shifted his focus. The pistol was empty with the slide locked to the rear. Had he just burned through eighteen rounds? It didn’t seem possible. His adversary saw his dilemma and his fear.
The creature got to its feet and slowly raised the unwieldy weapon it had been using to cut through the other human forces. Almost comically, it cocked its head and watched Scott struggle to switch magazines.
This is the end. Did I really just screw this up this badly? Scott thought, more embarrassed with himself than anything. He raced to replace the empty magazine, waiting for the fatal shock he knew was coming. He heard the sharp snap of a gunshot.
Instead of a wave of pain, half of the alien’s face disappeared into a mass of blood and tissue which splattered across Scott’s body. He looked back to the right. The soldier had
turned and given him one shot. One shot to live. Standing upright behind the third barrier along the wall, the lone man watched with a raised rifle as the alien crumpled to the ground before turning back and continuing to his next target.
Scott stared straight ahead in disbelief, having come so close to dealing with his mortality. His hands were shaking so violently that he dropped the magazine. Adrenaline continued to surge but Scott tried to regain his composure.
Forcing in a few deep breaths, Scott retrieved the magazine and got to his feet. He slid it in place on the second try, cycled the mechanism and took in his surroundings one more time.
“RYAN!” Scott heard the soldier shout. He looked back to the right and saw him waving his helmet above his head. “This level’s clear! Get back to the stairs!” The soldier was already running towards him. Scott threw off the fear and did as he was told.
“You alright?” the soldier asked without inflection. Scott nodded.
“Don’t worry, you did well. Keep watching my back so I can keep watching yours,” he said, switching on his radio. “Second level’s clear. We’re moving to the third!”
Ryan followed again up the next flight of steps. “Same plan. Let’s move,” he said and without a word more, he was off.
Scott didn’t have a chance to object or ask for clarification.
The third level had taken a serious beating from the human soldiers below. Scott could see multiple aliens that had been hit and had crawled back from their barriers before bleeding out. The floor around them was soaked with dark red slime.
He rushed the first barricade which still had two aliens with their backs to him. Aware of his shots this time, Scott put three rounds into each one. Someone might have had an issue with him taking them out from the back. But the hell with fair fights, Scott told himself, better to be alive. Plus, it wasn’t like they were human.
Grant put one final shot through the cranium of the last alien to turn and spy his approach. At maybe thirty meters, the high powered round didn’t even slow down as it passed through. It had been a long time coming, but Grant felt as if he was finally back in his element.
He had dropped forty-seven shots through the assault rifle, taking out the closest two bunkers before switching to the heavier weapon to avoid reloading. The edge of the ship’s hull curved in on the right but not so close as to obscure movement. The railings on the left had taken some hits but weren’t too worse for the wear. Hundreds of shell casings from the enemy’s weapons littered the ground. The weapons were misshapen amalgamations that were shooting something in the neighborhood of 7-10mm rounds. Hopefully, they’d be the most advanced weapons he’d encounter.
Again the aliens had constructed makeshift barricades with whatever was lying about. Stacks of packing crates, pieces of the station, anything they could find was piled up along the handrails. Grant still maintained the idea that they hadn’t planned for the fight. The sounds of gunfire ceased, saved for a few fleeting echoes.
“Clear on the third floor,” he radioed down to the ground.
A relieved but stressed voice replied: “Copy that.”
The squad leader returned. “Thanks for the save. We would have lost a lot more if you didn’t get here when you did.”
“How are you looking now?” Grant inquired as he looked over the edge towards their messy advance. Only a few had ceased moving.
“We’ve got five K.I.A and six seriously injured, but we’ve got the medics coming through the lock now. All of those plus a few more have suit breaches that need to be repaired before we can move.”
“What’s the next op?” Grant asked, already impatient.
“The major is coordinating with command. They are still in the dark to the Aquillian’s objectives. We need to clear the rest of the station if there are any more.”
Grant thought for a second. “I’ll start looking while you get yourselves around. I found a technician up here who might be able to help me out. By the way, behind the north airlock is a colonist I found on my way in.”
The sergeant stood, gave Grant a salute through his armor then went back to work on one of the injured. “Thanks. We’ll pick him up. Carry on and let me know what you find.”
18
“That’s the last of him,” the radio transmission said, coming in loud and clear as the rest of the confusion on the bridge subsided.
“Understood,” Commander Fox said, speaking into his headset from his position on the bridge. “Return to Orbit Over-Watch One and continue surveillance.” He watched as the friendly tags on the main radar display adjusted their vectors to comply with the order. He turned to the bridge staff and asked, “Mark all the crash sites?”
The final runner was the eighth and final ship that had been on the ground during their landing. It had also ducked out first and made it a few hundred klicks into the surrounding wasteland before the fighters caught up. Eight dots appeared on the map spreading out from the colony at the center. They had bolted in different directions but Fox didn’t think it was part of the strategy. If they were trying to draw his ships away from the base, they would have moved out quicker.
Either that or they had utterly failed at their objective, which was also a possibility given their history, but he still felt the fleet got the drop on them.
Beyond the radar image a panoramic glass panel gave a view of the entire glowing Martian surface with the pitch black field of space beyond. The last alien ship they had destroyed rotated slowly about on every axis, spewing fire and smoke into the darkness. The whole scene was barely the size of a finger held at arm’s length.
For the most part, the air battle had been won. There were no more active alien targets anywhere within range of the group’s sensors. “What’s the latest from the ground?”
“They took the concourse against heavy resistance and moderate casualties. They’re resupplying before they move out to clear the rest of the base,” Fox’s communications officer reported.
The commander nodded in approval. With a little luck, things would remain quiet for the remainder of their mission. He breathed a sigh of relief but remembered the hundreds of lives counting on him. The crew, the soldiers, the civilians on the ground and in the air.
Outstanding on the map remained the list of incoming civilian distress calls. “We’ve still got people counting on us. Dispatch the gunboats to pick up them up but be careful. Any abnormality and I want to know about. Every one of them needs to be ready to break lock for the surface if we get the call.”
* * *
“Stop,” Grant ordered and pointed at the one sub-screen. Scott let up on the key. “Go back one.”
Scott flipped back one security feed and maxed the screen. It was a camera posted in a guard post somewhere in the station. Five aliens had taken refuge behind the front kiosk and were now firing furiously at targets unseen in the smoke beyond. A sixth alien was on the ground, holding shut a massive wound to its abdomen.
A light security cage had been attached to the wall to the left. It had since been pried open and its contents removed by the invaders. Three of the aliens were holding modern HK-ZG1 rifles - standard issue for human forces.
“Not good, they’ve all got ZiGs,” Grant stated. “Where is this?”
Scott went through the menus. “Top floor of the south barracks,” he said, pointing. “It should be over the causeway. We going there?”
Grant looked back at him. For the first time, Scott saw the soldier without his mirrored helmet, which was now in his hand. He was no longer some unthinking machine and somehow the tinge of humanity bridged the gap between them. “‘We’? You think you can handle it?”
Scott nodded, his heart still pounding.
“You sure? You nearly let the first one get the better of you.”
“I won’t let it happen again.”
Grant saw the technician’s resolve yet again. He showed remarkable courage for someone he otherwise wouldn’t have considered an ally. “I know.” Grant stated, holdin
g up his spare ZG1 rifle. “Know how to use one of these?”
Scott nodded again. “We all got training before we left Earth.”
Grant handed the weapon over along with his remaining magazine. “You’ll need it. Tell you what, if we make it out of here, it’s yours,” he said and unslung the second which looked to Scott to be more of an antique hunting rifle than a serious contender in space warfare. Then again, it was that rifle that had saved Scott’s life only minutes before.
Before he opened his mouth to object, the soldier stopped him and said “Don’t worry; I’ve got my own. Plus, this is more my speed.”
“You never told me your name.” Scott watched the soldier’s reaction. It definitely caught him off guard.
He paused for a moment, seemingly to consider his words. “Private Jeff Grant, United Space Corps.”
“You’ve done this before,” Scott said. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
Private Grant nodded. “It’s okay,” he responded. “They’re not human. Stay out here long enough and you’ll kill your share,” he said for effect.
The technician looked satisfied and not completely overwhelmed. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, Grant figured. Besides, an extra gun was always welcome. “Alright, let’s go,” he commanded, replacing his visor. “We can’t leave those guys stranded.”
Scott chambered a round in the rifle.
“Be careful.” Grant observed. “I’ve got armor and, right now, you don’t. Don’t go getting yourself shot or it’ll be a mess.” “Got it,” Scott concurred and followed the soldier down the causeway, past the last alien position he had taken, and clear to the south side of the massive concourse. The ground was once again clear of brass and debris, and the pair reached the far wall without any additional surprises. “They should be at the far end of the central sidewall hallway,” he stated breathlessly.
Grant nodded. “There are a couple offices in the walls on each side. Short halls run through them and connect us to the other wings.”
MissionSRX: Ephemeral Solace Page 10
