Lost in Magadan: Extraterrestrials on Earth

by William Lee

  “How long till backup arrives, Major?” Davis asked.

  “Unknown.”

  “Bob scared it off with the mini gun,” Davis yelled.

  “I don’t think Bob scared it off. It took off to chase the NATT,” West said. “It will be back.”

  The team could hear an explosion and a plume of smoke rose from behind a snow-covered hill, just beyond their line of sight.

  “I bet that was our plane, being grounded,” West said, in a somber tone.

  “Get these containers back to the ship, they need to be hidden and protected. Unless I miss my guess, that was just the first wave,” Snap said. The squad grabbed the heavy containers and hurried them back to the Impegi wreckage.

  “Bob and Taylor, get off that ridge. When that craft returns with his friends, you won’t have any cover,” Snap ordered.

  “Roger that, Major,” Taylor said, as he began to use one of the dead paratrooper’s repelling lines to descend.

  The attack craft that took out the NATT did not return as expected. The men gathered on Level 7, the first level of the disgraced Impegi that was not obliterated upon impact. The crew had not spent much time on Level 7, as their instructions were to locate the Element 115 on Deck 12. Level 7 had sustained tremendous damage; the floors had buckled, bulkheads collapsed, and some areas were completely unpassable.

  Lightning Squad and Bob gathered in a circle inside the hull; the large containers stacked up behind them. Across all their HUD units, a voice boomed, “This is General Stone Byrd. It appears we have had a little set back. The NATT that was sent to recover you and the containers was shot down. It’s going to be awhile before we can get you an alternate extraction route.”

  “How long?” Snap asked.

  “Several hours. We have seven C-17s en route to your position.”

  “No way is that going to work. The Russians have a stealth fighter with an energy weapon over our position. As good, or better, than our TR-3B. It will wipe out those C-17s in 10 seconds flat,” Snap said into his COM.

  “We have been monitoring the action on the ground. I know they are operating an Antigravity Fighter in the area. I’m not saying it won’t be a challenge, but these are not ordinary C-17s. They too have optical stealth.”

  “Damn. You put optical stealth on a C-17?” Williams muttered.

  “Not just one, seven,” Byrd replied.

  “Okay. You have seven stealth cargo planes heading this way. I’m pretty sure the Russians aren’t going to lend you an airport to land them; and we can’t load them up in the sky,” Snap said.

  “We are working on a plan, Major. In the meantime, you need to dig in and survive until the C-17s arrive.”

  “How long do we have to hold off the Russians?”

  “Best case scenario – four hours. Looks like you got three Mi-26 helicopters heading your way. Three hundred and six Russians onboard. Stone out.”

  Snap looked at his men, “We need to set up defensive positions.”

  West said, “We could take the top of the ship, high ground.”

  “Negative. They have air superiority. That AG fighter could come back and chew us up. They could have several of them, we just don’t know,” Snap said.

  “Agreed,” Williams said. “The rooftop and ridgeline are too exposed. We could get trapped with our backs to that ridge and along comes that AG fighter with his laser cannon, and we are done,” Neal said.

  Then it’s settled. We make our stand here, inside the ship, where we have some cover between us and that fighter,” Snap said.

  “Anyone see any good spots to set up a defensive perimeter. This level, or should we go up to a higher level?” West asked.

  “I think we make our stand right here on Level 7. It’s the first level that is not destroyed; ground troops will have to come through here. We place two snipers on Level 8 for back up,” Snap said.

  “What about the rooftop? The helos may drop some of those Russians on the top and then they could move down the stairwells and get in behind us,” Johnson said.

  “Not going to happen. You and Williams are going to booby trap those stairs with explosives, all the way down,” Snap said. “How many laser tripwires do we have?”

  “Thirty,” Taylor said.

  “Alright. Johnson, Taylor, go set directional explosives in both stairwells. Make them pay dearly for each flight they come down.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Also, set up several video cameras. Position them on three of the upper levels, just so we can see their progress as they are coming down those stairs.”

  “You got it, Major.”

  “And this time, don’t set the fucking cameras so close to the explosives. Like you did in Kabul.”

  “Roger that, Major. Learned my lesson that time. Video cameras and high explosives don’t mix.”

  “Robins and Taylor, start moving some of this heavy steel debris toward the middle of the deck, set up some good cover for when the Russians breach,” Snap ordered.

  “Moore and Jackson, go up one level and dig in. I want you both picking the Russians off from a distance. Remember, you must have both sides of the ship covered. Coordinate with Taylor and Johnson. Make sure they don’t booby the level you are on.”

  “The rest of you, fortify this level. West and I are going to work our way through wreckage on this level and see if there is anything we can use to our advantage,” Snap said.

  Snap and West turned away from the gaping hole in the hull and walked toward the crumpled floor and crushed bulkheads. Unlike Deck 12 that was in fairly good shape, the cargo on this level had been mostly demolished. The two men could only see about 200 feet into this section of the ship due to collapsed bulkheads and piled debris.

  “Snap, what are we looking to find?” West asked.

  “Two things. First, I want to see if there is another way into this section that the Russians could use to flank us. Second, we have never seen this section of the ship. It could have weapons that we could use; you just never know.”

  They both flipped on their powerful LED spotlights which cut through the darkness. Unlike Deck 12, with thousands of manageable containers, Deck 7 was full of broken space craft and vehicles.

  “Shit, look at all these destroyed fighters. I bet we are looking at 100 billion dollars’ worth of junk,” West said.

  “More than that,” Snap mumbled.

  There was no clear path through the jumbled heap of fighter planes. Snap and West climbed over a pile and found a clearing near the overhead where they could push through to the other side of the pile of destroyed planes. Just past the wrecked planes were three tanks. The tanks had fared better than the planes, probably because they were locked down and had stronger armor.

  “I wonder if those tanks work?” West asked.

  “We will have to find out,” Snap said as he climbed down off the mountain of twisted metal and reached the deck below.

  “Look, we can see all the way to the other side of the ship,” West said.

  “Yeah, that’s a route the Russians could take to flank the squad.”

  “If we could get these tanks operational, we could use them to defend this side of the ship.”

  “Remember, this is alien technology. We may not even be able to operate them. They could have a bio identification ignition system for all we know. Hell, they may be thought controlled and only compatible with an alien brain,” Snap said as he approached the first tank.

  All three tanks appeared to be in good shape, but the floor had buckled up around one of them; so, moving them would have been impossible. Snap went to place his gloved hand on the first tank when a figure stepped out of the darkness behind him.

  “Drop your weapons, or we will shoot,” the stranger commanded.

  Snap froze, then glanced at West to his right. They both knew they had been had. There was no way they could spin around, spot the targets in the dark and fire their weapons before the strangers unloaded a whole magazine of God knows what i
nto them. It was possible their advanced armor would stop most of the bullets, but that would be taking one hell of a chance. For all Snap knew, the stranger could be toting an RPG.

  Snap nodded at West, detached his laser rifle from the Micro Modular Fusion Reactor on his back, and lowered the weapon to the deck. West followed suit, and they slowly turned to meet their captors.

  Raising his hands, Snap said, “My name is Major Morgan Slade. This is Captain Neal West. We have come here to recover the Element 115 onboard this ship. May I ask who you are?”

  Snap vaguely recognized the battle armor of the two men standing atop a demolished shuttle. Both had energy rifles pointed toward him and West. Their armor was clearly not Russian; it seemed like an older version of their own armor. Snap deduced that these were survivors of the Impegi.

  The men ignored Snap’s question and said, “Who are you with?”

  Snap, understanding the man’s meaning, and believing them to be on the same side, replied, “We are Americans. We have come to remove the cargo and rescue you. But the enemy is here too, and they shot down our plane.”

  The man that had been speaking looked over at his partner to see a nod. They both lowered their rifles. The one on the right said, “I’m Catrix and this this Fabris. We were crew aboard this ship. The others have relocated a few miles from here.”

  “There are other survivors? How many?” Snap asked, in a surprised tone.

  Fabris told him that the rest of the crew had taken supplies and valuable cargo offsite to hide it from the enemy. Snap explained that they had been attacked by local military and were expecting another assault soon.

  “So, any of these tanks work?” Snap asked.

  Catrix grinned. While technically he was not in their chain of command, it was obvious to both him and Fabris that Snap was the leader in this situation. Catrix answered, “Yes, Sir. We just found a fully functional tank with, what seems like, a clear path through the debris. I even took the liberty of arming it with 20 photon shells, all ready to go.”

  Catrix proudly pointed at the newly armed tank.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The tank was relatively small, only slightly larger than a Humvee. It had been unstrapped from the deck and appeared to be ready to roll. Fabris, using his exoskeleton armor, easily leapt onto the turret and disappeared inside. The other three men joined him.

  Fabris slid into the driver’s seat, which closely resembled that of a jet plane and said, “This machine is incredible. It can reach speeds of 125 miles per hour, track dozens of targets at once, and fire 25,000 rounds a minute.”

  “That sounds great, but can it target an invisible AG Fighter?” Snap asked.

  “Well, not exactly. But, if the fighter slows down enough to target ground forces, we may be able to hit him.”

  “What kind of range does this thing have?” Neal asked.

  “The laser canon has a range of about 1,200 meters, but the mini photon gun has range of two miles.”

  “Photon gun? Holy crap, we are going to vaporize some Ruskies today!” Neal said, slapping his armor-clad hands together.

  “Unfortunately, I think this is all going to be close quarters combat. We probably will not be able to capitalize on the two-mile range,” Snap said with a sigh.

  “I’ll take the photon gun, anyway,” Neal said as he climbed into the main turret.

  “I got the laser cannon,” Snap said, as he climbed to the top of the tank into the semi-protected turret. The laser cannon was similar in size to a large machine gun and was mounted on a turret that allowed for nearly 180-degree maneuverability.

  After a few minutes of Catrix explaining the controls, Snap and West felt they were ready for combat. Catrix and Fabris settled into the bowels of the tank from where they would navigate, and the four began to make their way through the wreckage of the once great interstellar craft.

  While Snap and West had been familiarizing themselves with the new tank, the rest of Lightning Squad had been setting up perimeters, booby traps, and digging into fortified positions. As the tank was slowly climbing over the last mound of rubble before it reached the frozen tundra three loud explosions were heard.

  “What was that?” Fabris asked over the tank’s communication system.

  Snap, who had been listening to his team the whole time, said, “That was the first wave of Russian paratroopers making their way down from the top decks.”

  Catrix asked, “Any idea of how many?”

  “They started out with about 300, minus however many just triggered that explosion,” Snap said with a brief chuckle.

  Three more explosions were heard, this time closer.

  “Another dozen gone,” West surmised.

  For the last several minutes, there had been radio silence from the team. Snap knew this was because they were bracing for the paratroopers to make their way into the kill box.

  Johnson and Taylor who were two levels up from the rest of the group, would be the first to see the paratroopers descending the stairwell. In a perfect world, the booby traps would have thinned out the Russian ranks before engaging the two men.

  Two more explosions.

  “They are one deck above us. Cam three is showing their approach,” Ryan Taylor calmly stated into his COMM so the entire team could hear him.

  “Good job on not setting the cameras too close to the explosives this time,” Williams added.

  “Looks like about 30 of them have made it this far,” Johnson said.

  “Anybody got eyes on the rest of them?” Snap asked.

  “Not yet, Sir,” Josh Miller responded from the main deck with the rest of the team.

  The last of the stairwell booby traps exploded, only one deck above Johnson and Taylor.

  “Three more down,” Johnson reported.

  “Twenty-Seven Ruskies, I like my odds,” Ryan Taylor said, as he fired his DE rifle at the first soldier appearing from the stairwell.

  The first couple of Russians fell in the stairwell, but the rest of them were able to fan out into the open hangar bay and find cover behind broken equipment and bulkheads. Johnson and Taylor had chosen their positions well and enjoyed the high-ground advantage, but now they did not have clear shots at the Russians. Most of Lightning Squad were two decks down and counting on Johnson and Taylor to cover this entry point so they could focus on the rest of the paratroopers that presumably would attack from ground level.

  The tank climbed over the last pile of rubble and broke free of the Impegi’s broken outer bulkhead. A twinge of fear washed over Snap as the tank fell to the hard tundra below, but the tank was undamaged.

  “Hell, yes, free at last!” West exclaimed, with a little too much excitement.

  “Maybe so, but now we are a sitting duck for that Russian AG Fighter,” Snap reminded him.

  Catrix interjected, “Did I forget to mention we have limited stealth?”

  “What does that mean?” Snap asked.

  “The tank is invisible beyond 100 yards when we are not engaging the enemy.”

  “So, we can sneak up on the bastards?” Neal asked, as he rotated the turret toward the unseen enemy.

  “Yes Sir,” Catrix replied.

  “Visual contact,” Williams exclaimed through the COMM, as shots were heard.

  “Enemy combatants advancing on our position,” Josh Miller said from the makeshift fortification. “Looks like about a one hundred.”

  “Should be more than that; where are the rest of them?” Snap muttered mostly to himself.

  The tank was several hundred yards away from the fighting, on the other side of the Impegi’s debris field. A rocket whizzed by and exploded several yards to Snap’s left.

  “Shit. Well, there they are,” Snap answered his own question; again, mostly to himself. “Ruskies, about hundred strong, advancing from the south,” Snap said into his COMM.

  “Everyone hold your positions. West and I can handle these guys,” Snap ordered, as he sighted in on the Russian that had fired the R
PG from nearly 100 yards out.

  “Major, they are spread wide and are not advancing directly on our position. I’m not sure they know where we are,” Fabris said.

  “But the rocket, they had to be aiming at us,” West pointed out.

  “Yes, but that guy is just barely inside the 100-yard range; we are still invisible to the rest, until we fire.”

  “He will tell his comrades,” West said.

  “Maybe, but having them suspect we are here is better than confirming it,” Catrix objected.

  “Hold your fire,” Snap ordered. “Can we stay just outside their line of sight?”

  “Yes, for a few more minutes,” Catrix replied.

  “How well will this thing hold up to an RPG, Catrix?” Snap asked.

  “RPG, Sir?”

  Snap realized the alien was not familiar with Earthly weapon terminology and corrected himself, “Rocket propelled grenade, shoulder launched explosive.”

  “Ahhh, I see. We could probably take four or five direct hits from an explosive matching the weapon that just missed us,” Catrix said, as he maneuvered the tank just outside the 100-yard mark, thus maintaining their invisibility.

  Snap had been studying the display on his forearm of his FALOS armor, which was marking the enemy as red dots approaching the Impegi. Very soon, all the red dots would be within 100 yards of the Impegi and there would be no place where the tank would remain invisible.

  Snap said, “The Russians are spread out over 200 yards and advancing toward the rest of the unit at the front of the ship. If they trap us against this bulkhead, we could easily be flanked, and surrounded, and tank or not, I don’t like those odds.”

  “Agreed, Major. Your orders?” Fabris asked.

  “Turn around, go back. Hopefully we can get behind them and have them trapped up against this bulkhead.”

  Fabris expertly turned the tank and quickly moved along the bulkhead, trying to evade the advancing Russians. Snap and West watched the red dots on their displays closing in, hoping they could get behind the wall of advancing Russians before they were spotted.

  Johnson and Taylor were holding off the Russians two decks above the rest of the unit, but they were not reducing the Russians’ numbers as quickly as they had hoped. The remaining paratroopers had all found positions and were exchanging fire. Ten paratroopers had started to flank Johnson and Taylor by hiding behind several large metal storage containers to their right. The other 15 or so had made it to a crumpled bulkhead to their left. Johnson and Taylor, holding the higher ground about 30 yards away, had stopped the Russian advance, but could not get a clear shot.