In the direction where Saul knew the water must lie, he saw a flash. A flare lit up the sky. Search lights aimed out toward the water, but were quickly extinguished. Perimeter security lights winked out one by one. Saul relaxed a little. J T was the master at remotely controlling multiple MMARV units. Four of them should be crawling up the beach and destroying anything that challenged them. The soldiers in the gun emplacements turned their attention to the water. Four shells, obviously fired from each of the MMARV’s single large cannon landed on four of the gun emplacements. Soldiers, alive, dead and wounded, flew out of the explosions. A second volley tore into the armored vehicles. Tracked mobile artillery broke out of hiding to face the MMARV’s they could not see. Coal black and invisible in the night except for the flash of their gun barrels, the MMARV absorbed the radar seeking to locate them for the big guns located around the spaceport’s perimeter.
The AARV’s returned from their helicopter demolition and dropped anti-personnel missiles between the block building and the soldiers gathered to protect it. Saul and the girls could hear the screams from where they were. A squad of four soldiers ran past their position. One of the fleeing soldiers turned and spotted them hiding in the shadows. Before he finished alerting his buddies, Saul cut him down. Without even thinking, the girls each killed a member of the squad before they had time to aim their weapons. Somehow killing ship-to-ship was not the same as what they had just done.
Saul and the girls advanced from one bit of cover to the next, slowly making their way toward the prison. They ran into several individual soldiers and small squads foolish enough to challenge them. They left a trail of bodies as they advanced toward the prison. They looped around so they could approach from the side away from where the MMARV’s were assaulting the ground forces. They found a gun emplacement guarding the entrance. They huddled in the shadows debating their next move. Realizing that radio silence was no longer as important as it once was, Saul called J. T. and asked him to deploy one of the MMARV’s to the other side of the building. They heard the familiar whoosh of the AARV, and the gun emplacement turned into a ball of fire. One soldier, apparently uninjured, ran panic stricken in their direction.
“We need to capture him,” Saul said calmly.
“And how do you propose to do that?” Fiona asked.
“Cover me,” Saul replied. He put down his rifle and crouched down behind a low wall. As the soldier came near, Saul sprinted out in front of him and tackled him around the legs. The soldier sprawled forward. Saul and the girls dragged him back to their hiding place.
“Do you speak Standard?” Saul demanded.
The soldier nodded.
“Do you know where the prisoners are?” Saul pressed.
“Some of them. I swear I don’t know where the rest are! Don’t kill me!”
“Take me to the ones you do know.”
“Please don’t make me do this,” the soldier cried.
“Do you want to die now or have a chance at living?”
“I’ll die either way. If they find out I helped you, they’ll kill me.”
“If you help us and we get out of here alive, you can come with us, and we won’t kill you,” Fiona assured him.
The soldier looked at her skeptically. “Promise you won’t kill me?”
Suddenly the soldier appeared to be younger than Saul and immature.
“I promise,” Fiona assured him. “Let’s go.”
A MMARV came around the building clearing a path in front of it. The young soldier shrank back in horror. “It’s a monster!”
Saul grinned. “It’s my monster. Lead on.”
The soldier pointed at the main door. The MMARV had figured that much on its own and with a single cannon shell blew the door open. The MMARV unit that Rachel had used in her first tour of duty was battery powered. This version carried a small fission reactor. As was typical of all fission reactors, it needed a huge heat sink. One of the engineers had developed a brilliant solution to the problem. Attached to the front of the MMARV was a plow, not unlike a snow plow. In addition to radiating the rector’s heat, this plow allowed the MMARV to break through debris that would have tangled in the treads of earlier units and to punch through any standard building wall. Obviously, thick armor plate or thick poured concrete would stop it, but normal building walls were no obstacle in the face of the bite of the plow. The plow also became a shield protecting the unit and any Marines that sought its cover from fire in that direction.
Narrow enough to fit through a standard door, the MMARV advanced through the remains of the double door it had blasted open. It lifted its plow a little and shattered the inner double doors behind them. Prison guards attempted to fire on the MMARV but their shots hit the blade and ricocheted around the confined space of the corridor. The MMARV, Saul and the girls returned fire. Saul reached behind the MMARV and keyed in his access code so he could take manual control. They advanced through the prison, breaking through barriers as they encountered them.
“That one,” the soldier said, “has the men.” He pointed down the hallway. “The women are down there.”
“Marine Lieutenant Terrance Rattigan back away from the door!” Saul shouted.
The MMARV’s laser cut a neat arc around the door lock separating it from the rest of the door. Careful to avoid the still hot edges, Saul pushed the door open with his foot.
The Marines were standing backed against the far wall still in their combat armor.
“Hey there! Little man!” Lt. Rattigan shouted.
“Hey yourself, big guy,” Saul replied. “Let’s go get the women.”
Lt. Rattigan looked at the MMARV. “Are there weapons in the stash behind that thing?”
Saul looked at him. “I don’t know. Are there supposed to be?”
Fiona and Rebecca fired on another prison guard.
Lt. Rattigan popped open a hatch and passed laser rifles to the rest of his squad.
Saul stood in awe of the big man. “Can you drive this?”
“Does a bear do his necessary in the woods?”
Saul opened his mouth to say something and closed it. He handed the MMARV’s control to Lt. Rattigan and said, “The women are that way.”
Lt. Rattigan smiled, patted Saul on the shoulder and said, “Move out!”
Keeping the youngsters and their prisoner protected in their formation, the Marines moved down the hall with practiced precision. They extricated the women Marines and quickly headed back the way they had come. When they reached the outside of the building the other three MMARV’s were waiting for them.
Once outside again, Saul turned to their captive. “Do you have any idea where the rest are?”
“I am not sure, but if I were to guess, I would say in the headquarters building. They say there’s a torture chamber in there, but I don’t know. I swear I’ve never seen it, but you hear stories.”
“Lead on,” Saul said.
The MMARV’s and the Marines formed a wedge and advanced across the open area adjacent to the building. The Marines on the ground took control of the MMARV’s while J. T. retained control of the AARV’s as they flew air support in the darkness overhead. Firing constantly, the small detail advanced on the headquarters building. Mobile artillery and gun emplacements blocked their path.
Lt. Rattigan surveyed the defenses with a set of night vision binoculars he found in the weapons stash. “We could probably blast our way in, but there has to be a better way. We can’t bomb it or we’ll kill the people we are trying to save.”
The captured soldier said, “There is a sort of tunnel. It’s like an open trench that leads out the back. If you can loop around that hill to the left you can drop into it and hit the loading dock. If they catch you in the trench you will be sitting ducks, but if you move fast you might make it.”
Saul asked Lt. Rattigan, “Can we keep a diversion going here and go that way?”
Lt. Rattigan thought for a second. “Two wings of flankers. You go to the right with Fiona, R
ebecca and Sylvia.”
He pointed to Madison and Lauren. “You go with them.”
He pointed to two of the male Marines. “You come with me. We’ll take the left side. We’ll meet in the trench. Make sure you take out anything you see that could hit us in the trench. I’ll take one MMARV. The rest of you keep them busy out front.”
He turned to one of the Marines. “Let the AARV’s know what we’re doing.” He turned around to see that everyone was ready, tossed a couple of grenades from the MMARV’s stash to Madison and Lauren and said, “Move out!”
Moving carefully from shadow to shadow, Saul and company followed Madison as she led them around the building. Occasionally she would stop to shoot out a security light, but their progress was unchallenged until they rounded the last corner. A gun emplacement stood guarding the trench. Had they only come from the one side, they would have walked directly into its line of fire. Madison fell to the ground and motioned for the others to get down as well. “When I stand, shoot out every light you can see. Then hit the deck!”
Madison slithered across the ground toward the gun emplacement. When she felt she was within throwing distance, she stood and lobbed two grenades into the gun emplacement. Within seconds every light source within range winked out. The explosion threw debris over a wide area, and Madison was wounded when some of it fell on her. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she worked her way back to the others. When Saul asked her what he should do for her, she said, “Finish the mission, soldier!”
Seconds later, another explosion ripped open the night on the other side of the trench answering a question that had been bothering them.
Supporting Madison as they ran, the group ran for the trench. It sloped downward as it entered the building. Saul paused long enough to agonize for the truck drivers who had to back trucks down that long narrow ramp before dropping into the waist deep trench. Lauren followed him down. Fiona, Rebecca and Sylvia lowered Madison to them, and they headed for the loading dock. They heard the MMARV approach behind them. It raced down the trench. They flattened themselves against the trench walls as it sped by with Lt. Rattigan in hot pursuit. The rest of his detail followed behind.
For a moment Saul was afraid that the MMARV would be stopped by the loading dock. The dock was a three foot high wall. Still racing forward, the MMARV raised its plow shield and placed it on the dock. It then pushed down on the dock until the front of its treads were at dock height. The forward motion pushed the treads to the point where they bit on the edge of the dock and carried the MMARV up and on to the dock. With a tremendous scraping noise as the plow bit into the concrete floor, the MMARV’s inertia carried it through the loading door and into the building’s shipping and receiving area.
Lt. Rattigan, imitating the MMARV’s technique, placed his hands on the dock and pulled his feet up between them as he raced to keep up with the MMARV. Saul followed right behind. The rest of the detail spotted the stairs and used those. A frightened soldier stood inside backed against the wall.
“Where is the torture room?” Saul shouted at him.
The soldier hesitated. Saul punched him in the jaw.
“Where is the torture room?”
The soldier pointed.
“Take me!”
Shots rang out from the corridor ahead of them. The MMARV automatically returned the fire which quickly stopped. Saul grabbed the soldier and pushed him in the direction he had pointed. The MMARV lead the way as the soldier directed them through a maze of corridors. They met opposition at several points. Most of the time the MMARV cleared the way without assistance. The soldier stopped at the head of a set of stairs.
“At the bottom. Straight ahead.”
The MMARV could not make the corner at the stair landing. The stairs did not look as if they would support the MMARV’s weight.
“Leave the rifles here,” Lt. Rattigan ordered. “Side arms only.”
“We don’t have side arms,” Fiona observed.
“Then keep your rifles, but you may find it will be most effective as a club. Move out!”
Leaving Madison seated on the MMARV’s rear seat provided for the purpose of evacuating wounded Marines, the rest of the team descended the stairs with Lt. Rattigan leading. The stairs exited into a corridor that ran perpendicular to the direction of the stairs. The Marines checked the corridors in both directions and found no resistance. Lt Rattigan pointed to the four who still had their rifles. “Burn out the lock.”
The four laser rifles cut a jagged hole in the door and the Marines pulled it open.
Saul was the first through the door. Dropping his rifle as he ran, he crossed the length of the room where so many of the women he loved were strapped naked to tables bruised and bleeding. Winthrop was on top of his mother raping her and beating her. Her blood was on his hands and the front of his naked body. In a blind rage, Saul ignored the four men raping and beating other women and the two that were torturing the men. He did not hear their screams nor the shouts as he and the Marines blasted into the room. With all the force he could muster he punched Winthrop in the face so hard that the man fell off the table on to the floor. As Winthrop tried to get up Saul pummeled him with his bare fists until the man’s face was a bloody pulp. Saul kicked Winthrop in the chest forcing him on to his back and leaped on top of him and continued to destroy the man’s face, beating back all of the man’s attempts to defend himself although Winthrop was enough larger than Saul that his additional reach should have been some advantage. Winthrop was unable to land a single hit on Saul as Saul rained blow after blow on the man pinned to the floor.
Lt. Rattigan was the second through the door. In quick succession, he grabbed two of the men on the tables and threw them head first into the wall crushing their skulls. The remainder of the Marines dispatched the rest of the soldiers in similar fashion until only Winthrop remained alive where Saul continued to thrash him. Lt. Rattigan lifted Saul off Winthrop and held him off the ground while Winthrop regained his feet.
“Untie them and get them to the surface!” Lt. Rattigan shouted. “Call a med ship! Get them out of here!”
As he said that, they heard the crash as the remainder of the MMARV’s broke through the building’s front entrance. Not wanting to witness the horror any longer, Fiona, Rebecca and Sylvia announced that they were going to lead the others down and raced up the stairs to the waiting MMARV.
Saul trembled with fury as Lt. Rattigan held him. Winthrop stood and backed against the wall knowing that if this giant of a man released this boy half his size, the boy would kill him. Saul watched as Winthrop’s blood mixed with his mother’s as it ran down his chest. Fortunately Rachel was unconscious. Had she screamed in pain as the others had when they were lifted from the tables, there would have been some doubt as to whether even Lt. Rattigan’s great strength could have kept Saul from attacking Winthrop again. Saul glared at the terrified Swordsman commander. He wondered how many he had tortured and killed in this room. How many had there been for whom there was no hope of rescue? What was wrong with a man to whom it was more important to attack his prisoners than it was to lead the defense of his city? How could this happen? Saul finally quit squirming and Lt. Rattigan put him down. Lt. Rattigan put his hand on Saul’s shoulder never taking his eyes off Winthrop.
“Justice is not ours, sayest the Lord.”
Saul took a deep breath and sighed. He nodded slowly. The three of them and the dead bodies of the Swordsmen soldiers were all that remained in the room. Saul noticed small cameras mounted up in the corners of the room and over each table. He wondered if everything that occurred in this room was recorded. He backed away so Lt. Rattigan could bind Winthrop’s hands. With his side arm pressed against Winthrop’s back, Lt. Rattigan forced Winthrop out of the room and up the stairs. Saul followed behind. He climbed the stairs slowly and heavily. They would still have to fight their way back to the flight line so that they could evacuate the injured, and he would need to return the prisoners he had taken that afternoo
n. Was it only that afternoon? It seemed so long ago. He was tired of fighting already.
They followed the trail of blood up the stairs and out to the front door. The MMARV they had left at the top of the stairs was gone. Saul assumed that Madison or one of the other Marines had driven it out the way they had come in. Judging by the distribution of dripped blood in the building’s lobby, they could see where the other MMARV’s had been loaded with the injured and had headed back out. They warily exited the building into the darkness and were totally unprepared for the sudden illumination of a half dozen camera lights from the mobile cameras of the Constant News Channel Combat News Specialist Team.
Saul blinked in the sudden light. Taking advantage of the surprise, Winthrop bolted, his naked feet leaving bloody prints as he tried to run. The camera crews backed out of his way while they made sure they got good shots of his face and bloody body. Lt. Rattigan sprinted after him and in half a dozen steps had grabbed Winthrop by the ties that held his arms. Saul, his face and hands spattered with blood, stood on the top of the steps and looked around bewildered. Were they to fight their way back to the flight line in view of a swarm of news cameras? How did they get here? Lt. Rattigan pushed Winthrop in the direction of the flight line. Saul could see the MMARV’s headed toward the flight line illuminated by the lights of the news cameras. There were no sounds of gun fire. There were no laser streaks through the misty darkness. Winthrop stumbled and Lt. Rattigan pulled him to his feet. Saul walked silently behind. Saul appreciated the fact that none of these reporters were shouting questions at him. He had seen the Combat News Team shout questions at dying soldiers under enemy fire as if somehow their status as reporters shielded from danger and from responsibility for their actions. Winthrop stumbled again and Lt. Rattigan picked him up again. Saul wondered what an outside observer might think of this parade as he dragged himself toward the flight line. Winthrop stumbled again and Lt. Rattigan released his hands so if he stumbled again he could get himself up. No sooner had he done that than Winthrop grabbed Lt. Rattigan’s service revolver from its holster.
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