Joined In Battle

by Toby Neighbors

  The crawlers had abandoned reaching Dean’s platoon through the outpost. With only a few hours of darkness left, they began ripping at the piping exactly where Dean had anticipated they would attack. He felt a sense of pride flare up in his mind, but he immediately banished it. Nothing was more detrimental to good strategic planning than thinking he was always right. Scanning the MSV feeds, Dean could see that the crawlers had split up. One group was attacking the ventilation ports while another was trying to lift the hangar door. It was holding for the moment, but Dean knew if the creatures put enough force into lifting the heavy folding door, the lock would snap. Another group attacked the main door, but Landin had welded the door closed and the creatures only succeeded in tearing off the doorknob.

  “Here they come,” Adkins said.

  Dean heard a note of satisfaction in the huge HA Specialist’s voice. He knew his platoon would rather be fighting than waiting, but Dean didn’t share their enthusiasm. If he lost people in the fight, how would he justify it? They weren’t fighting to save anyone, or even to put down a threat. They were just fighting to survive, and he could have left the planet on the shuttle before the creatures arrived. Recharging the shuttle would have taken hours, which meant the outpost workers would have to survive on their own much longer—but if Dean’s platoon was slaughtered by the crawlers, they wouldn’t be able to help the workers, anyway.

  The sound of the metal wall being torn away made Dean’s TCU cut the audio feed to protect his ears. The hangar was a simple metal building consisting of an iron frame and sheet metal exterior. Once the crawlers were able to grasp a small section, they ripped it from the metal studs easily. Dean’s platoon opened fire at once, blasting the creatures that flooded in.

  Dean had faced hundreds of alien creatures in training, but seeing alien beings that were seeking to kill him always unnerved him. They scrambled into the hangar, most attempting to keep their armored shells down as close to the ground as possible. The computer-aided aiming allowed the HA Specialists to spray the creatures with flechettes, wounding them if not outright killing them. Still, the crawlers were determined, racing across the wide hangar. Dean was shocked that the creatures didn’t race straight for his platoon. Instead, they scurried toward the large hangar door, and Dean realized their plan. Just like the hallway, the opening they had managed to rip into the side of the building was too small to allow more than one or two of the creatures in at a time. If they could get the hangar doors open, they would flood in and overwhelm his platoon.

  “Damn, they’re fast,” Landin said.

  “And hard to kill,” Wilson said.

  “We brought the wrong ammo,” Adkins said. “I’m betting the plasma would have cooked these bugs.”

  “I do like me some crab legs,” Kliner said.

  “Should we detonate the charges?” Tallgrass asked.

  “No, not yet,” Dean replied. “They’re trying to get the hangar door open.”

  “If they do, we’re screwed,” Adkins said.

  “Just keep working,” Chavez said. “Don’t let them get to the folding door.”

  As if his words had supernatural power over their situation, a crack rang out from the hangar door locking mechanism, and the heavy door shuttered. Dean knew that all the creatures needed was a moment to get their thick pincers under the hangar door, and then they would be able to get inside.

  “They’re coming in the hangar door!” Dean said. “HA continue peppering the ones coming in from the south. Ghost, Chavez, take out the creatures holding the door. Everyone else, waste anything that gets through the door.”

  The hangar door lifted slowly. Dean knew that most creatures had strength for the tasks that they did on a regular basis—like an alligator’s powerful jaws that can clamp down with astounding force, while the muscles used to open their jaws is frail by comparison. The crawlers had powerful pincers and could yank with incredible power, but lifting the heavy door open was a challenge. It also required the creatures to raise their shells off the ground, making them vulnerable.

  Ghost shot first, his Vandamere long rifle roaring to life. The .50 calibre slug knocked his target backward. On the other end of the large door, a second crawler was nearly pinned by the door’s weight. Chavez fired his EMR rifle and the tungsten projectile shattered the creature’s pincer. The door, which had only been raised about a foot off the ground, slammed shut.

  “Good shooting,” Dean praised his platoon. “Tallgrass, Landin, reload the HA line while we’ve got a breather.”

  Dean could see the crawlers outside the hangar on the vid feed from their MSVs. It looked as if they were scrambling around in chaos, but Dean was certain they were coordinating their next attack. He wanted to send Harper’s MSVs through the opening they had torn in the side wall of the hangar, but he was afraid the blast might create a bigger opening, making it easier for the creatures to get inside.

  “What are they doing now?” Loggins asked.

  “Licking their wounds,” Adkins said.

  “Damn straight!” Carter cheered.

  “They come in here again, we’ll carve their asses up,” Wilson added.

  Dean hoped the HA private was right, but he had a feeling they hadn’t seen the last of the crab-shaped creatures.

  “Should we shoot, Captain?” Owando asked, as two of the crawlers reached into the hangar and began dragging their dead out.

  “No, hold your fire. Let’s see what they’re doing,” Dean said.

  “Maybe they eat their dead,” Adkins said. “Everybody likes crab legs.”

  “Damn, I bet Corporal Franklin could make us a feast with these bugs,” Kliner said.

  “You boil crab,” Harper said.

  “So?” Kliner replied.

  “Where the hell would you get a pot big enough to boil these crabs?” Harper challenged.

  “She’s got you there, Kliner,” Private Loggins said.

  “I don’t eat aliens,” the Swede said.

  “I’m with the Swede,” Ghost said. “I like wild game and all, but not these bugs.”

  “Would you look at that,” Harper replied, as two of the crawlers came slowly into the hangar, each pushing a dead comrade for cover.

  “They’re using their dead like a shield,” Adkins said in disgust.

  “Tactically, it’s a good move,” Dean said. “Tallgrass, blow the charges when they’re close enough.”

  The platoon instinctively hunkered down slightly. The hangar floor was hard-packed earth. The concussion ordinance set by the demo team was buried just under the surface, and each charge had been marked with spray paint. When the duo of crawlers crossed over the first charge, it erupted with violent force. The charges were more powerful than the MSV concussion ordinance, and the one charge was enough to flip all four crawlers, killing the two that were pushing the dead in front of them.

  “Damn, that works,” Adkins declared.

  “Check the hangar door again,” Dean ordered.

  The crawlers outside the hangar had varied their tactics as well. An entire row of the creatures was lined up outside the door. They worked together, heaving the door up quickly. Shots from Ghost and Chavez rang out to either side of Dean, who took aim and fired his rifle at a crab in the center. His tungsten projectile ripped through the creature’s soft flesh and it dropped to the ground, its heavy shell pinning the skinny arms that ended in large pincers. But unlike before, the creature had already stepped forward, and when the heavy door fell, it was stopped by the dead crawler’s shell.

  “Yours got in, Captain,” Ghost said.

  The sniper and Staff Sergeant Chavez had shot the others, four in total, but their companions were pulling their bodies back out of the way. Dean knew their plan but was helpless to stop it. The door was held open by the dead crawler, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Can they get through that opening?” Loggins asked.

  “I’m betting the answer is yes,” Corporal Landin replied.

  A
s if on cue, three more of the crawlers came dashing toward the hangar door. They dropped their shells and slid across the hard-packed earth, just managing to slip in under the heavy folding door. Bullets crashed into their shells, but they didn’t get up. Dean realized it was nothing more than a distraction as three more of the creatures came sliding under the door. Followed immediately by three more.

  “Save your ammo!” Dean ordered. “They won’t be vulnerable until they move again.

  More of the creatures were crowding into the large hangar: eighteen of the crawlers were inside, and more were moving around just outside the large hangar door. It was the big push Dean had been expecting. He checked his TCU and saw that only an hour remained until dawn. Dean wasn’t sure what the crawlers would do once the sun rose, but he was hoping they would retreat. He needed time to get his platoon safely onto the shuttle, where they could find and rescue the outpost workers. But first he had to deal with the creatures crowding in around them. He could only hope they would have the firepower to drive the creatures back before anyone got hurt.

  Chapter 18

  The crawlers rose up in unison, their short legs carrying their heavy shells toward Dean’s platoon faster than he thought possible. The Recon Specialists blasted out a wave of death, but they could only target the closest creatures. The ones behind the front line crowded in close, keeping their vulnerable underbellies hidden. When the front rank died, those behind came scurrying over their fallen companions.

  “Tallgrass,” Dean ordered.

  The Demolitions Specialist reacted instantly. The concussion charges blew all at once. Dean’s platoon ducked behind the shields of the Heavy Armor Specialists, while dirt, rocks, and chunks of crawler flesh flew into the air. Dean stood back up, peeking over the shields to see what was left. Most of the crawlers were dead or on their backs. He raised his rifle and began finishing off the survivors. It only took a moment for the rest of his platoon to join him. He was relieved to see that some of the shells were cracked and a few had even shattered from the blasts. The once hard-packed floor of the hangar was ripped to crumbling chunks and littered with the dead crawlers.

  His platoon began to cheer their success, when suddenly the huge hangar door creaked. The concussions had knocked the heavy door off its tracks, and the massive structure began to buckle.

  “Oh, shit!” Chavez shouted.

  “Look out!” Adkins echoed.

  The door fell hard. First one side, swinging out like a drunken man staggering down the street, then the other side failed, and the door flopped to the ground with a rumbling crash, crushing even more of the crawlers. But before the dust had settled, more of the crawlers came rushing in through the new opening. Dean wasn’t certain, but he thought the second wave of creatures were even larger than those who had slid in under the hangar door.

  The platoon opened fire, but the hangar was no longer a wide, open space. There was no killing ground that made approaching the platoon difficult. There was wreckage, mounds of dirt, and the carcasses of slain crawlers to hide behind. The creatures dashed from cover to cover, drawing closer to Dean’s platoon with every move they made. Dean dropped to one knee, using the vid feed from the HA Specialists’ shoulder-mounted utility cannons to observe the creatures. They were almost to the HA line. A few had even extended pincers, hoping to hook onto the hydrogen-titanium alloy shields, only to have their claws shot to pieces by the HA utility cannons.

  There were no sounds coming from the crawlers other than their feet clicking on the ground and their pincers snapping like mouse traps. Yet they were obviously communicating in some way. They rushed forward at the same time, more than Dean’s platoon could hold back. He flipped on the halogen lamps. Light filled the hangar, making Dean’s TCU tint so that his eyes wouldn’t be affected by the sudden blaze. The crawlers actually reared like horses, some falling backward in their effort to escape the sudden bright light.

  The Recon platoon took advantage of the opportunity, opening up with automatic fire that laid waste to the suddenly vulnerable creatures. Dean felt a surge of hope, but just as suddenly his hopes vanished as the power to the outpost failed. The halogen light disappeared instantly, and Dean’s TCU automatically switched to night vision. In the inky green lighting, he saw the crawlers regain their senses and turn back to attack his platoon again.

  “No more tricks—we have to hold them,” Dean ordered. “Conserve your ammunition. Don’t let them get close.”

  No one replied verbally. Instead, his platoon did what they were trained to do. Dean joined them, shooting one creature after another. The hangar looked like hell had sprung to life around the Recon platoon. The wounded crawlers were wailing in unearthly screeches that made Dean’s blood run cold. There were shadows everywhere, which aided the quick movements of the desperate creatures as the crawlers fought to reach the HA Specialists. One finally did, after what seemed to Dean like an eternity of fighting. It scrambled in from the right flank, forcing Harper to fall back. The crawler grabbed the edge of Adkins’ shield, but at the same moment Chavez jumped toward the beast and swung a massive kukri down in a vicious slash that severed the creature’s pincer at the joint. Then he jammed his EMR rifle toward the crawler, hooked it under its shell, and fired several rounds into the wounded creature.

  Dean tried to keep track of how many of the crawlers they had fought, but he soon lost count. So many of the creatures were scurrying on top of their dead and wounded that it felt like a nightmare. And all Dean could do was keep shooting.

  “I’m low on ammo,” Adkins said.

  “Getting low over here too,” Wilson added.

  “Landin, resupply the HA cannons,” Dean ordered.

  “How many of these godforsaken bugs can there be?” Cody Loggins wondered out loud.

  “How long until sunup?” Chavez asked.

  Dean shot another of the creatures, then glanced at the timer on his TCU display.

  “Half an hour,” he said.

  The fighting continued, each minute dragging by feeling like an hour to Dean. The enemy onslaught slowed, the crawlers switching tactics once more. The all-out attack became more of a precision strike, with the alien creatures taking a more concerted approach as they chose the best avenues to approach through the carnage of the hangar. Some moved in and out, or took positions of cover and simply waited as a distraction, while others made desperate charges against the HA line. The closer the crawlers got to Dean’s platoon, the harder it was to get the right angle of attack. Their large shells provided the perfect cover, even at close range.

  Several were able to close the distance, ramming the HA Specialists with their shells, but fortunately the crawlers weren’t all that powerful and the HA line held. Eventually the crawlers began reaching out from under the protection of their shells to attack with their massive pincers, but that only made them vulnerable. Ghost lay down on his stomach while Owando raised his shield off the ground a few inches. The sniper quickly shot the closest crawlers, taking out three and causing two more to drop completely onto the ground in the only defensive posture the creatures had.

  It was the last desperate act by the crawlers. The survivors dropped to the ground as if they had all been given a verbal command, their rugged shells covering them completely. Dean and his platoon didn’t move. They were wary of a trick, but relieved that the fighting was finally coming to an end.

  “What the hell?” Chavez growled.

  “They surrendered!” Adkins crowed.

  “I don’t think these creatures know what that means,” Ghost spoke up.

  “We’ve got fifteen minutes to sunrise,” Dean said. “Until then, we hold this position.”

  “There’s no movement outside,” Loggins proclaimed. “I can still see dozens of shells. They’re easy to spot once you know what you’re looking for.”

  Dean scanned the vid feed from the MSVs. He agreed with his FAS private. He could see the unmistakable shape of the crab-like shells too, and they were all down. Dean w
asn’t sure if they were trying to lull his platoon into complacency or if they simply dropped to the ground before the sun came up no matter where they were. As a warrior, his first thought was to find the survivors and kill them. But he knew lifting the shell of a living crawler was incredibly dangerous. If they had the right type of drones, they could dispatch the survivors, but they would lose a lot of drones in the process and that wasn’t Dean’s mission. He was tasked with helping the outpost workers, not annihilating a native species.

  “Let’s take stock,” Dean said. “Anyone hurt?”

  “I ain’t hurt, but I’m hungry,” Adkins said.

  “Adkins still has a pincer on his shield,” Chavez said. “Otherwise I think we’re all fine.”

  “Ammo?” Dean asked.

  “I’m out,” Landin said. “I still have my personal ordinance, but I have no resupply.”

  “I’m out of ordinance, but I have a full resupply of ammo for the platoon.”

  “Alright, the two of you divide your supplies,” Dean ordered his Demo team.

  “The sun is coming up, Captain,” Loggins informed Dean and the rest of the platoon.

  “Any sign of movement?” Dean asked.

  “Not outside, it’s quiet,” Loggins replied.

  “Not a peep in here, either,” Adkins spoke up.

  “The bastards have gone to ground,” Ghost said. “I can’t tell the living from the dead unless they’re flipped over.”

  “Chavez, Ghost—get that pincer off Carter’s shield. I want it bagged and packed on the shuttle. The geeks back home will want to take a look at it.”

  “Should we try to get an entire specimen?” Harper asked.

  “No,” Dean said. “I’m guessing those things are heavy and we aren’t here to collect it. Our mission is to save the workers.”

  “About that,” Landin said. “We may have a problem.”