Defenders (The Chaos Shift Cycle Book 2)

by TR Cameron

  “I confirm your assessment. It looks like it’s time to get loud. Remember, once we break into the computer room, no explosives and no shooting. Melee weapons or hand-to-hand if needed, but protect the equipment at any cost short of your life.”

  “Affirmative,” each member of her team answered, their voices stacking upon one another in her helmet.

  “Standby to move.” Murphy switched her comm back to the command channel. “We’ll breach the computer center in minutes, if all things go as planned.”

  “Affirmative,” Kate replied. “We’re keeping the door open for you.”

  “Watch out for their defense shields, and don’t forget your own,” said the cultured British accent.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Murphy quipped back at St. John. His snort of derision echoed through her helmet.

  She took one last look at the tactical situation ahead. “Move when ready, Char.” At her words, the squad moved, inching toward the enemy presence. With every step, Murphy’s doubts increased, and she wished once again that she’d put herself on point. This leadership stuff was for the birds. Heh. Birds.

  Finally, Alard stopped again, and her voice came over the helmet in a whisper, “Attacking in ten seconds from… mark.”

  Murphy’s eyes traversed her heads-up display, following a practiced path that had taken a long time to master. She knew her squad members would do the same thing—verifying their positioning and the status of those around them. Last in the pattern were telltales for their gear. Hers had unfamiliar icons as she and Wilkinson were equipped with enhanced technology to allow them to crack into the computer files.

  The chatter of Char’s rifle was audible through her helmet’s external pickups, and the trio of aliens in their path dropped one after the other, victims of precise double-tap head shots from the corporal. When she practiced on the range in the ship, Char was often asked why she chose the Marines rather than becoming a special forces sniper. Her response was always that she was impatient and preferred doing her damage from up close. It brought a smile to Murphy’s face every time she heard it.

  The corporal led the way, moving in a half-crouch down the passage. As they came upon an intersection, Char announced, “Going left.”

  Following protocol, Seco chimed in next with, “Going right.”

  Wilkinson called, “Forward overwatch.”

  Murphy, next in line, said, “Center support.”

  Alvarez finished the cycle by saying, “Rear overwatch.”

  The team was trained well enough to do without the verbal commands, but Murphy found them to be a useful checklist. Before Alvarez stopped speaking, Char was already spraying bullets into the left-hand hallway.

  Murphy stepped into the center just one step behind Seco as he moved to the right. She heard the thump of the grenade launcher and turned in time to see the sticky web grenade impact upon two armored aliens halfway down the corridor. As it exploded, it threw strands onto all the surrounding surfaces, filling a rectangle for two meters from the point of detonation. Seconds later the filaments hardened, rendering everything it touched immobile. Only a chemical solvent, extreme fire, or water could get rid of it with any speed. The Xroeshyn appeared to strain, but couldn’t break free.

  Murphy felt a laser blast strike the back of her armor and finished her turn with a slide down to her knees. She looked past Seco’s legs to see a trio of soldiers in a pyramid arrangement, the constant chatter of Seco’s machine gun driving the front most one backward into the others. The aliens sprayed bolts as fast as the guns could produce them, leaving scars on all the corridor surfaces and on Seco’s armor. She added her rifle to the battle and launched a web grenade. Finally, she reversed ninety degrees back to her right, and fired off two web grenades over Alvarez’s head. They exploded, creating a barricade, and just like that, the three routes to the computer room were inaccessible to the enemy.

  “Wilkinson, get the door, either way.”

  “Affirmative.” He moved forward to the door separating them from what they assumed was the data center and pulled out a multi-tool to remove the panel. He made short work of the electronics inside, and it slid open. He swore. “Sergeant, you need to see this.”

  Her helmet prevented the others from seeing her own frown, but Murphy knew the tone in Wilkinson’s voice didn’t bode well. When she reached him, she discovered why. Keying her squad unit communication, she said, “Standby, and remain alert.” On the command channel, she said, “The computer center is heavily defended by automated equipment. We’ll attempt to breach it.”

  She switched back to her squad’s channel. “We’re making a speed run, people. Destroy what you can as we go, but focus on getting through. If you’re under fire, trigger your shields. Char and I will take the defenses on the left. Seco and Alvarez, you have the right. Wilkinson, no time to be fancy. This door is bound to be more secure than the others. Use plasmacord to cut through it. But be economical.”

  Her Marines replied by checking their weapons and arranging themselves into an assault pattern consistent with the fields of fire she’d assigned. “Char, go when ready.”

  Alard was moving before she finished the sentence, advancing into the defensive zone at a run. Her rifle flicked up and to the left, targeting motorized emplacements rotating to aim at her. She selected web grenades and fired them, one at each emplacement she encountered. She succeeded in limiting the range of motion of the turrets, but there was nothing she could do against the recessed lasers hard-targeted on the catwalk they had to cross. Below was a sheer drop to what looked like the lowest deck of the ship. Worse, the metal at her feet caused laser bolts to ricochet, sending them up to the also-reflective walls. A redirected bolt struck Char in the back, and her shield shimmered into existence. She stopped for a moment, took careful aim and destroyed a housing. Before her protection vanished, she was again on the move, stopping in a crouch at the end of the catwalk and firing at the turrets again.

  Seco, steps behind her, mimicked her strategy on the other side and webbed the turrets. Murphy recognized that he was using a marching cadence taught in basic training designed to trick automated weapons. It was comprised of virtually unpredictable moves coordinated by a signal in his helmet telling him when to step, when to stop, and when to move laterally. It took a great deal of practice to get good at surrendering control of the body to the artificial intelligence of the suit computer. She’d never invested the time.

  Seco made it across the walkway without having to activate his personal shield and stood at the far side continuing to take potshots at the turrets. Wilkinson sped through next, just ahead of Murphy and Alvarez. He too moved with the strange bob and weave characteristic of computer instruction. The Marines had selected ammunition that would splinter upon impact, and now everyone but Wilkinson was firing a steady stream at the recessed weapons defending the catwalk. Even a close hit could spray fragments into the lens of the laser, scratching it and rendering it useless. By the time Wilkinson had gotten the plasmacord wrapped around the door’s perimeter, all the soldiers were in a defensive posture, and at least two of them still had shields available.

  They had a moment for a breath, to feel like they had it under control, before their helmets picked up the buzzing from below that heralded the next line of defense.

  “Faster, GeeWhiz,” Char breathed over the communication channel, “because that does not sound good.”

  "Wilkinson, or GeeWhiz to his fellow Marines because of his innocent demeanor and rural upbringing, replied only with, “Fire in the hole.”

  The plasmacord burned, showering them with sparks that their armor negated. Wilkinson kicked in the newly-made door, stepping into the next room just as the defense drones cleared the catwalk.

  “Shields,” Murphy snapped Then she and Alvarez stepped forward, protecting the others as they scrambled through the opening. The flying robots battered them with energy bolts and projectiles. The impacts were staggering. Once the other three were through, Alvarez dove t
hrough the hole, leaving Murphy alone on the catwalk. She finished with a web grenade for each drone, grunting as her ammunition ran out before she could target the fourth, and leapt backward.

  As soon as she landed, her team plugged the opening with the separated portion. Wilkinson deployed a small plasma torch and flux to weld it at several points. “It won’t hold,” he said, “but it will delay them.”

  Murphy triggered her command communication channel and reported back, “We’re in, and I can see the data port. I don’t think we’re leaving the way we came in though.”

  St. John’s voice was calm in her helmet, “Affirmative, Sinner. Objective reached, need alternate exit strategy.” Then the tone changed, dropping the formality, and she heard a rueful laugh inside it. “It just so happens that we have issues as well. And we won’t be able to use our primary exit strategy either.”

  Kate Flynn joined the conversation, “In other words, Sinner, we’re running toward you as fast as we can move. The damn birds cut off our retreat.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Surfer was on point and Kate followed as they moved through the darkened corridors. Each of them ran with their sensors on max, trying to find a path to link up with Sinner’s team and get off the ship.

  A grunt from behind startled her, and her heads-up display showed Hugo Gallano adjusting his carry position for Moya Candela. The Marine had been injected with enough painkillers to help her ignore the jostling she took as they hustled through the corridors.

  The backup squad followed Huge, with St. John as rearguard. All of their communications were being held in the open channel now, so that the members of all three squads would remain informed as they regrouped.

  Sinner’s voice sounded in her helmet, tense but calm, “Data transfer ten percent complete. The birds have a similar setup to ours. Although, without the pre-loaded translation stuff we did ahead of time, there would’ve been no way to get into the system. I think I understand the hardware enough to pull the storage drives when we’re done.”

  “Negative,” St. John said. “We don’t want to leave any trace to let them know we were here.”

  A clank came over the comm, and Private First-Class Julia Styler’s voice followed, “So that’s the reason we’re leaving explosives everywhere, Sergeant? I thought it was just because you didn’t like the aliens.”

  St. John responded, “Mission security is key on intelligence ops. If the information transfers as it’s supposed to, we’ll be fine. But since we don’t have decoys, we can’t leave missing components behind.”

  “Affirmative. Twenty percent complete.”

  “Sinner, what’s that ahead of you, toward the aft of the ship?” As they grew closer, the sensor sharing equipment improved the mapping in both quality and quantity.

  “Char and GeeWhiz have been trying to figure that out. We expect another defensive gauntlet on the other side of this room. Beyond that is something that looks a lot like a small shuttle bay. Without advanced sensor loadouts, though, it could also be a giant cargo hold.”

  “Do you think you can get through the defenses, or find a way around them?” Kate thought she had the beginnings of a plan.

  “My people say they’re up for it, Red. What do you have in mind?”

  “Our sensors are showing a lift ahead. We can descend to your deck and then parallel you all the way to the cargo bay using what looks like a maintenance corridor near the hull. All we’ve got beyond your location is a ghost reading, but even if there are no cross corridors, as we move toward the bow of the ship and it narrows there will have to be somewhere to cut over. Hopefully.”

  St. John gave a laugh over the channel, and said, “Pure improvisation, Sinner, just like always.”

  “Roger that, Saint. Thirty-two percent complete.”

  As predicted, they came upon the lift shortly thereafter. “How do you want to deal with this?”

  “Key, open it and verify local control. Everyone else, rest break.” Corporal Case “Key” Jamison double-timed it to the panel on the wall. Using tools embedded in his custom gauntlets, he quickly had it removed. Moments later, the door slid open, and he swung around to work on the inner panel.

  “Contact on sensors,” Private Julia “Thief” Styler reported. “Movement behind us. Looks like eight birds. IR suggests that some or all of them are wearing armor.”

  “Work faster, Key,” St. John replied. “Paris, Easy, join me in the rear.” Lance Corporal Pierre Gerard and private Isabel Styler, Julia’s twin sister, moved back. “Projectiles first, then grenades.”

  “Target the explosive packs we’ve left behind?”

  “No, Easy, avoid those. We need them to all go off at once. We’ll trigger them as soon as we drop the jamming. Try not to ruin the surprise.”

  Sinner’s voice broke the silence on the intercom, “Halfway there.”

  St. John fired web grenades to maximum range down the corridor, hoping to delay contact. Kate’s heads-up display, fed by information from the sensors of those closer to the enemy, showed her they were now very close to those flimsy barriers.

  “Key, status?” Kate’s voice held a tinge of dread. The initial thrill of running with the Marines was long gone. It had been replaced by the fear that they wouldn’t accomplish their objectives and might not even survive the mission. If I’d known that I was saying my last words to Cross, I might have chosen more important ones.

  “Good to go, Commander. Everybody in.”

  Hugo was the first to move, lifting his burden and carrying her into the back of the lift where she would be safest. The rest filed in according to their proximity, and Kate saw the aliens clearing the barriers with bursts of flame just as the doors closed and they dropped.

  “Clear of hostiles for the moment,” she reported into the channel.

  “Fifty-seven percent,” Sinner responded.

  “Sensors show clear ahead,” said one of the Stylers. Kate couldn’t tell their voices apart and failed to note the visual telltale that showed which one was speaking.

  When the lift stopped, the back slid open, providing access to the aft of the ship. “I’ve locked it here,” Key informed them. “It won’t hold them forever, but it should give us another minute or two while they have to reroute.”

  “Good job, Marine,” St. John said. “Double-time, people. If we get to the gauntlet before Sinner’s squad, we can assist. Keep it moving.”

  They continued down the dim corridor, thankful that their suits compensated for the lack of lighting. “The darkness of the ship seems to suggest that the birds operate in less light than we do,” Kate observed.

  “Sounds like a reasonable conclusion,” St. John replied.

  “Contact on sensors,” Thief said again. “Ahead, appears to be this deck, and if these echoes are correct, we have a cross corridor that should take us near Sinner’s position before we reach them.”

  “Faster then,” St. John snapped. “Try to get around the corner before they see us. Once we’re past, Easy and Paris can set up grenade traps for them. Surfer and Key, plasmacord the door, but do not fire it. Everyone else, overwatch, except Hugo, who protects Flame.” The others stepped a little quicker to avoid disappointing the sergeant.

  They made it through the intersection without detection. Isabel and Pierre deployed a mix of flash bangs and web grenades on proximity timers. They arranged them to cover all access points to the corridor that the team was navigating. Once finished, the two Marines rejoined the rest of the squad.

  “Status, Sinner?” Kate thought that St. John’s unflappable voice sounded stressed.

  “Almost there. Two percent to go. We’re getting ready to make our dash through the gauntlet.”

  “Acknowledged. Folks, let’s help them out a bit. Everyone with unused shields, line up in front of the door. After Char blows it, step in, aim at the defenses, activate your shields as return fire begins, then retreat to safety. Rotate to allow Sinner’s team to pass or until we’re out of shields.”
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br />   Kate stepped up, beating the others to the doorway. Murphy’s voice was triumphant as she said “One hundred percent. We have what we came for. Let’s get out of this place. Room exit in thirty seconds from… mark.”

  A countdown appeared in all of their helmets, and St. John added instructions for his squads. “Surfer, with five seconds left, blow the door. Targeting priorities: flying defensive drones, mobile weapons, static recessed emplacements.” He’d reviewed the take from Sinner’s cameras as they traveled toward the destination to assess the challenge that awaited.

  “Affirmative,” they all replied, including a fuzzy murmur from Flame that made Kate smile in spite of the situation.

  As the clock ticked down to five seconds, Char fired the plasmacord—the shaped charge causing the door to rocket into the room beyond. Kate stepped into the opening and counted four drones in the air, all facing the opposite way. She raised her rifle to her shoulder, took a deep breath and held it, then fired tight groupings of shots into the nearest drone. The robots used positional shields, and they were pointed at the computer room, leaving their backs open to Kate’s salvo. She destroyed one before the others turned to return fire. She activated her shield and fired several bursts to no effect, then jumped backward.

  The far door exploded outward and Sinner’s team followed it. Kate watched between Marines’ legs as all five members of the squad ran toward them at full speed, spraying weapons’ fire at the defenses. Two more drones went down before they could acquire targets. The third stitched projectiles across all of them, sparking off their combat armor and knocking Wilkinson to the catwalk. Murphy stopped, and four lasers intersected on her back as she bent down to grasp him. She cursed in pain but dragged him forward. The Styler twins jumped into the room, one of them launching the other into a twisting turn to vault over their injured comrades and landed on the opposite side. Activating their shields and marching backward, they guarded the others’ escape.