by James Evans
They quickly made their way to the main building, coordinating their approach so that they hit both entrances at the same time. The building was squat and ugly, another bunker with a single storey above ground and more space below.
Marine X drew his standard-issue pistol and fitted a suppressor as Harrington reached for the door handle. Locked. Harrington made space for Fletcher, who pressed a mechanical pick against the handle. The machine buzzed briefly then the lock clicked open, and Fletcher stepped back. Warden shouldered his weapon and checked the grenade launcher. The silenced pistol would make short work of an unarmoured alien but wouldn’t dent power armour.
The door came open at Harrington’s touch to reveal a small room with a concrete staircase descending into the basement on the left and another set of doors opposite. To the right were benches and coats as well as breathing gear. Still no guards.
Warden wanted to check on Milton at the other end of the building, but she didn’t need his help and wouldn’t thank him for distracting her. Milton’s target, the main entrance, had a door for workers and a large roller shutter for forklift access. No carbine fire, so no serious contact yet. Warden nodded to himself and signalled his team to move in.
Marine X, or Ten, as he was known to the Marines, slipped into the room. Four other Marines followed, silenced pistols at the ready, to clear the way as quietly as possible.
The plans suggested the lower floor was mostly storage, but Warden wasn’t going to leave any part of the base unchecked, no matter how unlikely the enemy’s presence. The colonists’ inventory listed a workshop and dozens of containers full of solar panel spare parts and other equipment. That didn’t mean the aliens hadn’t barracked more soldiers down here or filled the place with weapons.
Marine X, Harrington and Fletcher headed down the staircase to the lower level as per the plan, so Warden ordered the bulk of the section forward. Lee and Campbell took the lead with their suppressed pistols at the ready. They were backed by colleagues carrying the more robust alien weapons. Two more quietly opened the doors and the lead Marines crept forward.
Like the offices at the hydroponics hall, the floor space was divided by thin partition walls, some of which had windows into corridors. There was an office area to their right, every wall of which was glazed along the upper half. No aliens to be seen, nothing to be heard.
Warden sent two Marines to check the offices. Lee and Campbell advanced down a corridor to the left and Warden hunkered down in the front room to watch the feed from their HUDs. They came to a windowed door and Lee risked a quick glance inside. A canteen.
Though Lee had only looked through the window for a fraction of a second, they replayed the video via the HUD. Three aliens were inside, two with wings eating at a table, the third at a coffee machine, waiting for it to dispense. It had scaly skin, completely different from the winged snipers’. None of them wore armour. Campbell sent a query to Warden.
The reply was a simple confirmation:
Lee and Campbell opened the door and strode into the room bold as brass. Nothing flashy, nothing dramatic, not like in a movie. These soldiers weren’t expecting an attack; they hadn’t even posted guards.
The winged snipers barely had time to react before Lee’s rounds punched into their skulls, one looking up in surprise over the slumping shoulder of his colleague before his head rocked back, shattered. The coffee-drinker slumped to the ground with two bullets in the spine and one in the back of the head. Warden nodded, grimly pleased. Textbook and swift.
He updated the kills on the HUD and sent a message to Milton. Her response showed her team on the north side of the bunker. They had found a barracks but no aliens and no sign that they had yet been detected.
Warden could imagine her contempt for their enemy’s lax attitude. Not that anyone wanted a fair fight, but Milton would surely also be experiencing the strange mix of embarrassment and pity that Warden felt. Then he shook his head. Bollocks to that; these bastards had invaded New Bristol and killed colonists and Marines alike. They deserved no sympathy.
Warden ordered Milton to hold as long as possible while his section made their way through this floor towards her and Marine X cleared the basement. Milton acknowledged while Warden checked in with Marine X, who merely confirmed they had found nothing of interest. They were heading towards the north wall where there was a staircase that would bring them out on the other side of the barracks area.
Warden updated the HUD and issued new orders. Section 1 would advance slowly and check each room, Marine X would come up from the basement, and together they would clear the barracks area after rendezvousing with Milton’s section.
The bunker had multiple rooms, some small and private, some larger bunks. They were probably only used when the colonists were moving across New Bristol from site to site or doing a maintenance run. There hadn’t been many people stationed here day to day as solar plants didn’t need much care and attention.
Terraformers liked to build plenty of capacity into their infrastructure. When the terraforming was done, population growth would consume any surplus and if the weather or atmospheric conditions changed, it was always good to have a backup. Bunker-like storm shelters were also popular, as was excess capacity in everything from food production to sleeping quarters to energy plants.
Warden was ready to declare the area clear, already heading back to join his section, when a door opened and a huge alien stepped into the corridor. Eight feet tall, heavily muscled and with scales for skin, the thing had to duck its head to avoid the ceiling. It stood frozen for a moment, caught between Warden and the Marines, nobody able to shoot in the narrow corridor.
Then it roared and took a step towards the Marines. Warden charged, pistol discarded and knife out, reaching for the alien’s head with one hand while the other swept round to chop out the beast’s throat.
But the alien was fast, much faster than Warden would have believed possible. It whipped around and batted the knife away with one huge fist, then hurled the other at Warden’s head. The lieutenant ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, but the beast was canny and cool, and a heavy cross caught him across the jaw, knocking him back and messing with his vision. Before he could move, another blow caught him and sent him sprawling, sliding along the corridor on his back.
As he lay there, dazed and half-senseless, he heard a long series of sharp pops. Then the alien slumped back against the wall and slid to the floor.
The Marines hurried forward and Campbell helped Warden to his feet.
“You okay, sir? Ya took a couple of good shots to the bonce, there.”
Warden shook his head, blinking as his vision cleared, then spat blood on the floor. Campbell pressed Warden’s knife and pistol into his hands.
“Mebbe next time ya let us shoot the buggers first, eh, sir? Save the fisticuffs for when we get home.”
The lieutenant nodded, rubbing his jaw.
Then the HUD lit up with a message from Milton.
8
Milton swore. Profusely. They had been approaching the barracks, as quiet as mice and as good as gold when it had all gone to shit. A squad of alien troopers had spewed from the room like a bad choice at a buffet. These ones wore body armour and they all carried the powerful rifles that seemed to be their main weapon. They might not all have shoes or trousers on, but that didn't mean they weren’t a serious threat.
The Marines had been forced back, abandoning the forward positions in favour of not being cut to ribbons. Milton hunkered down behind a storage locker, hoping it didn’t contain anything sensitive to high-velocity impacts. Mustn't grumble, she thought. The locker door was nice and flat, so at least her back was comfortable.
The corridor she was supposed to have taken, the one that was only inches past her left shoulder, was currently a horizontal hailstorm of death. That was a bit of a problem. She had to admit that they were in a spot of bother. Milton looked to her left, where Justine Barber was crouching on
the other side of the corridor.
Barber let out a huge sigh as if to express just how bored she was at having to wait her turn. She put her rifle in her lap, drew a pistol, passed it into her left hand and twisted at the waist. The suppressor was attached and she poked the barrel around the corner and pulled the trigger, randomly returning fire until the magazine was empty. Barber looked up at Sergeant Milton and shrugged.
It was worth a try, Milton supposed. It was certainly better than sticking your head out. They were at a T-junction, and the wall opposite the corridor was thoroughly peppered with bullet holes. On the plus side, if the aliens kept up that rate of fire, they would have to run out of ammunition soon. Surely?
Milton switched her gaze to her HUD, checked the status of her team and noted that, although the aliens had surprised them, only a few had picked up flesh wounds. It wasn’t her best day as a Commando but it could have been a whole lot more painful.
“The Lieutenant is on the way,” said Milton to Barber and Mitchell, shouting to be heard over the din, “he wants smoked kippers for breakfast so let’s stop buggering about, shall we?” Milton pulled a smoke grenade from her pouch. Barber copied her as Mitchell readied his rifle, standing up and turning to face the corridor.
Milton and Barber threw their grenades and a second later smoke began to pour into the corridor. Mitchell leaned around the corner, fired a couple of bursts into the smoke, then ducked back. That should give the buggers something to think about while Warden brings his group to bear.
Milton messaged the rest of her team, telling them to keep their heads down until backup arrived. Sporadic bursts of fire cracked nearby, but the aliens hadn’t returned fire down the smoke-filled corridor yet. Maybe they were waiting for the smoke to clear.
Milton turned around to her right and inspected lockers on the wall. Access was by key card, so she tried the one she’d taken off the enemy. None of the locks responded so they were probably meant for specific personnel or roles like engineering crew. Her pistol didn’t have any problems opening the lock, though. These weren’t safes, after all.
Inside she found boxes of spare parts. Barber looked at her quizzically and fired a short burst down the corridor while Milton rooted around in the boxes. She found what she was looking for and crouched by the corner again, facing the corridor.
The object Milton lobbed sailed into the smoke and bounced across the floor. There was a break in the firing around them and they could hear it rolling down the corridor. They heard footsteps and a few thuds. Someone had hit the deck. Barber grinned at her and Milton winked. She waited a couple of seconds then threw another.
There was more frantic scrabbling from the far end of the corridor so she bounced the third off a wall, high up, hoping it would find an open doorway. More shouting and a burst of fire. She lobbed one more, but they were wise to the game, now, and instead of dodging away they simply fired back, shooting indiscriminately down the corridor.
The arrival of the fifth fake grenade must have caught them by surprise when it exploded in their midst. It certainly sounded like someone was in pain.
“Nice one, Sarge,” Mitchell said with a grin and Barber gave a thumbs up. At least one enemy trooper was down, groaning at the end of the corridor. Milton lobbed a few more of her fake grenades then another smoke grenade. Then she hefted her rifle, listening for the sound of enemy movement.
At the other end of the barracks, Warden pulled the trigger and stitched a neat line across the exposed back of an alien trooper. He switched targets but the next one was already down, so he marked the point as safe on the HUD and saw that two more were already cleared.
Warden checked the HUD, examining the positions of his troops and the enemy. The Marines now had the aliens boxed in on two sides now, but the barracks could hold, what, another dozen troops or so? They could press forward and find out the hard way, but that wasn’t his only option.
Noise erupted around the barracks, as both Milton’s team and Warden’s directed fire at the points controlled by the aliens. Bursts of fire hammered the doors and hurtled down the corridors. No sane alien would poke its head out while that cacophony was going on.
Harrington and Fletcher advanced from the lower level, their guns trained on two targets. Marine X was between them, his attention on a third alien. All three of the enemy were shooting, their attention entirely on the hail of bullets that was suppressing them. Big mistake.
Marine X closed with his target, his hand clamping around the forehead and the blade of his knife sinking smoothly between the vertebrae in its neck. He wrenched the knife from side to side, completely severing the spinal column, then withdrew it.
On either side of him, there were soft coughs as Harrington and Fletcher discharged their responsibilities, their suppressed weapons inaudible over the exchanges of gunfire between the aliens and the Marines.
None of the aliens noticed until it was too late for them to react. The weapons of Marine X, Harrington and Fletcher dealt with five more enemy troopers before the aliens finally realised they were surrounded. Warden watched through his HUD and as soon as the aliens began to turn he ordered a full assault.
They all rushed forward, converging under cover of fire and overwhelming the remaining half-dozen aliens in seconds. A few additional shots were put into still thrashing bodies to make sure, and then there was deathly quiet. Warden stood breathing heavily for a few moments as he surveyed the scene and nodded in satisfaction.
“Commandos, log your kills, we need numbers,” he ordered, and a steady flow of data began to come in via his HUD. Twenty-eight, in total, since entering the base.
Warden switched channels.
Warden acknowledged the updates and walked over to the barracks, issuing orders as he went.
Warden surveyed the carnage in the barracks room. Maybe the aliens were nocturnal? They might come from a planet with a hostile daylight environment or predators. Or a variety of planets, perhaps. He’d spotted at least four types of aliens so far.
“Check the lockers, search the bodies. We’re looking for their dropship pilots so we can find their access cards or whatever they use,” he barked to the commandos standing around in the barracks.
Milton issued the same order to those near the individual bedrooms: look for a pilot or officers, bring everything you find back to the barracks room for sorting.
“Marine X – did you find an armoury downstairs by any c
hance? I don’t see anything but personal weapons up here,” Warden asked.
Ten grinned broadly. “Yes, sir. Want me to show you?”
He nodded and followed the Marine down the nearby staircase, signalling a few nearby commandos to join them.
“You might want to get someone to count the dead down here, sir,” Ten said as they descended the staircase.
“What? I didn’t hear anything. How many was it and why didn’t you say before now?”
“I kept it quiet, as ordered, sir. That’s what you pay me for,” replied the unrepentant Marine.
“Point of fact, Marine X,” said Warden pointedly, “you’re still serving at Her Majesty’s pleasure for that incident on Arcturus 4, so you’re not being paid at all. You have to complete another four deployments before you earn a salary again.”
Marine X shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “True,” he conceded. “And I didn’t log the kills, too busy. Sorry, sir,” he added, not looking even slightly sorry.
“Use your bloody HUD next time,” snapped Warden, “that’s what it’s for and you might have needed more backup,” he said, trying to get the Marine to understand. Marine X might be serving a penal sentence for his earlier breaches of military conduct but he was still a valuable commando.
Aside from discipline issues, Marine X was probably the most skilled and dangerous commando in Captain Atticus’s command, maybe even the battalion. But that didn’t explain why he had been deployed to the front line instead of serving out his sentence somewhere safe and boring. Warden shook his head. Marine X was an enigma for another day.
Besides, in this situation, Warden couldn’t afford to lose any Marines early, certainly not before they had an active cloning bay again. He doubted his point would make it into Ten’s brain, though. The man was incorrigible. Warden had heard that the only person who had been killed more times in action was Captain Atticus himself.