Beta Sector- Anthology

by Stephen A. Fender

  “It’s coming from the valley, sir. Just where we thought they’d land.”

  Flynn stepped over a small hill and produced a pair of laser binoculars from his side pouch. He aimed them down into the valley and set the magnification to full. As his field of view came into focus, Flynn visually verified what Elric’s sensors were telling him. The Kafarans were beaming down massive amounts of troops—whole battalions—one after another. Flynn’s communicator chirped again. It was from the Marine base, and the sequence of chirps that immediately followed the first signal indicated that the transmission was coming from General Kaeso himself.

  “Foxhound One here,” Christopher said softly.

  “Foxhound One, this is Delta One. Sensors are picking up landing craft coming down in your area.”

  Flynn didn’t need his binoculars to behold this revelation. Overhead—from above the clouds—came the whirring sounds of carrier engines. Then, like an apple falling from a tree, the Kafaran landing craft emerged from the low clouds and landed softly in the field. Each one looked to be capable of hauling a whole squad of hover tanks in their engorged bellies. “Yes, sir. We’ve got them on visual. We’re beginning our scans of the area.” Flynn then signaled his team on their communicators. “All right people, stay frosty.”

  * * * * *

  The war had at last come to the idyllic planet of Nescov III. This was not at all what Flynn had wanted—or expected—when he’d joined the 7th Marine Expeditionary Forces those many months ago. From their vantage point high atop the ridge, Flynn’s reconnaissance team witnessed the Kafaran forces amassing in the field below—and it all at once seemed surreal to him. He knew what the briefings and training missions had outlined, he knew what the fleet communications had told him and what the intelligence reports had to say, but it had all been numbers and statistics up to this moment. There, in the field below, was the real thing: wave after wave of Kafaran ground forces lining up in their ranks. Behind them was a squadron of attack personnel carriers and behind those were the groups of Kafaran hover tanks.

  Flynn crouched low, lying on his belly with his laser-binoculars held tightly to his eyes. The sun was already beating down mercilessly on the Sector Command Marines, and Flynn knew that any sudden movement on his team’s part could give away their position to the sensor sweeps he was sure the Kafarans were already performing on the area. Flynn could hear the rustling of shrubs to his right and turned slowly to see who the interloper was. It was Lance Corporal Gudel.

  “What is it, Corporal?” Flynn asked as he turned back to watch the Kafaran forces continue to form into battalions.

  “What do we do now, sir?” the Antosian asked, sounding more anxious than nervous.

  “We wait for orders from HQ and continue our reconnaissance mission, Corporal,” Flynn replied calmly.

  Gudel followed Flynn’s gaze into the field below. The descending landing craft had tapered off to a slow trickle. This was either all the forces the Kafarans had to commit—or this was just the first wave. Either way, it made little difference. It was probably all they would need to get the job done. Nearly the entire valley was covered in the dark-armored, ashen-faced Kafaran warriors.

  “What do you think happened to the vessels in orbit, sir? I mean—what happened to our ships?”

  It was a fair enough question, but the answer seemed just as obvious as the last one he had given the younger Marine. “Either they were destroyed, run off—or they are currently engaged with the enemy ships. Regardless, they don’t seem to have made much of an impact so far.”

  There was another brush of movement to Flynn’s left. It was Sergeant Ichiro.

  “Sir, incoming communication from headquarters. It’s General Kaeso,” Ichiro said, handing over the encrypted short-range communicator.

  Flynn grabbed the unit and placed it to his ear. “This is Foxhound-One. Go ahead, base.”

  “Foxhound leader, we have enemy forces attempting to form on our flank. We need you to return to base camp immediately. Do whatever you need to do to ensure the safe arrival of your team.”

  What can we possibly do? The Kafarans will probably pick us off from orbit the second we make a move. “Aye, sir,” was all Flynn could muster. He was about to hand the communicator back to Ichiro when another signal from the handset got his attention. “This is Flynn; go ahead.”

  “Lieutenant, this is Sparrow. I hear you could use a distraction, sir?”

  “Say again, Sparrow?” Flynn asked, although he was sure he’d heard the communication the first time.

  “This is Sparrow. Foxhound, prepare for dust-off.”

  Flynn didn’t really know what to expect, but he knew that the pilot in the lone fighter was one of the best on the base. If he had a plan to get the squad out, then Flynn would follow it through. There really wasn’t much of a choice at this point. Flynn signaled the rest of his team to form up, then had Ichiro signal the transport carrier.

  As their initial transport came in to land, Flynn was sure the Kafaran sensors were picking it up. As if Sparrow was reading Flynn’s mind, the escorting fighter pilot came in low and fast, then swooped over the Marines’ position and descended like a screaming banshee into the valley where the Kafarans were forming.

  Flynn picked up his communicator and screamed to the fighter. “Sparrow! This is Foxhound-One . . . abort. I say again, abort!”

  “Negative sir, I cannot comply. Get back to base. I’ve got your retreat covered—and good luck, Lieutenant.”

  As Flynn’s team scrambled into their landing craft, he turned and rushed back to the ridge. He saw Sparrow streaming into the valley from the ridge side, forward laser cannons firing in multiple directions all at once. Missiles streamed away from the sleek fighter, exploding seconds later and hurling Kafaran men and equipment into the air like discarded toys. The front lines of the Kafaran forces were sent scattering in every direction. The Marine pilot very nearly succeeded in breaking the Kafaran formation in two before an enterprising squad of Kafarans trained their heavy missile launchers on it. They unleashed a small salvo of warheads that instantly blew the attacking fighter into fragments. As two more Marine fighters appeared overhead, Flynn was pulled back from the action.

  “Sir, we have to go!” someone screamed, and Flynn turned from battle and beat a hasty retreat into the waiting personnel carrier. Moments later, the craft lurched forward and sped back toward the base.

  * * * * *

  On their way back to the camp, as the carrier sped over the same lush field it had crossed only a short time ago, Flynn ordered the carrier’s pilot to begin a mine-laying operation. The personnel carriers had been retrofitted with a limited supply of laser mines for just such an event. The mines, when triggered by an unsuspecting enemy agent, would send out high bursts of laser energy in a wide arc that covered several square meters. They were extremely difficult to diffuse, and Flynn had hoped they would slow down any advancing Kafaran force. Unfortunately, there were simply too few mines to cover the whole field in such a short time. Instead, Flynn simply laid them in what he assumed would be the most direct route the Kafaran forces would take on their way to the Marines’ camp.

  Once Flynn’s team was safely back at the base, he immediately bolted from the carrier hangar to the command building where General Kaeso and Colonel Randolf were waiting. After a quick salute, Flynn was admitted into the war planning room.

  “There’s no need to report, Lieutenant Flynn,” Kaeso said formally, not bothering to look up from the status display table. Flynn could see that the image on the holotable portrayed the Marines’ camp in the center of the topography, with the enemy forces virtually surrounding the base.

  “What are our options, sir?” Flynn asked, as much to Kaeso as to Randolf.

  “We’ve ordered grenade launchers to be placed on every square meter of available roof space,” Randolf said.

  “And the surface-to-air torpedo and rocket launchers are being armed at this very moment,” Kaeso added. “I’ll
need you and your team to protect the main gate to the camp, Lieutenant.”

  Flynn knew it was a suicide order. It was not the first, nor would it be the last during this day. “Of course, General.”

  Kaeso looked up from the table. “Arm each one of your men with as many pulsed laser rifles and anything else you can throw at them, Lieutenant. I want a high enemy body count out there today.”

  “Yes, sir,” Flynn said, saluting both officers and leaving to re-form his team near the camp’s main entrance.

  * * * * *

  Within minutes of his team arriving at the forward gate, Flynn could hear the air-raid sirens going off all over the base. He looked from tower to tower, from rooftop to rooftop, and saw that a team of heavy-laser grenade teams had capped each of them. He turned his attention to the ridge where he and his team had been stationed a short time ago, and saw that the tops were now being crested by Kafaran soldiers . . . hundreds of them . . . thousands of them. Following the first battalions were the hover tanks. They were slow and lumbering rectangular shapes of rust-red metal, with large turreted tops that swung from side to side in slow arcs.

  Behind the tanks were assault craft, not very different in shape and function than the one the Marines had at their own disposal. Each carried about twenty armed infantrymen—siege teams the Kafarans would use once the Unified camp walls were breached. All the other troops in the front lines of the Kafaran forces were the grunts. They were the regular infantry: the cannon fodder.

  Flynn ordered his men to take up their assigned positions. His team sniper took up position on the highest point of the main gate tower, about thirty meters up. Flynn looked up at the tower just in time to see the lance corporal squeeze off a few rounds from his highly focused laser rifle. The intended targets were too far distant to be seen with the naked eye, but Flynn was sure that Cameron had scored a few hits. Cameron had never been known as a power waster.

  As soon as Cameron’s victims hit the deck, the Kafarans responded by launching their own mortar attack on the base. Flynn could feel the concussive impacts all around him as the Kafarans tried to gauge accurate azimuth and elevation readings to ensure maximum damage with their rounds. So far, Flynn didn’t think the Kafarans had hit anything of value. That was until one of the carrier hangars erupted in a ball of flame at the far end of the base, the ensuing fireball radiating immense heat even at a distance of 400 meters.

  The Kafarans never stopped marching toward the camp. They were close now, only about 500 meters. The Sector Command mortars were firing almost nonstop at this point. There were now explosions everywhere on the once-beautiful field in front of the camp. Some were from the impact of the antimatter grenades and some were from the laser mines that Flynn had laid earlier. Flynn heard a whooshing sound overhead and turned to see the base’s surface-mounted projectile launchers firing barrages into the midday sky, their intended targets in low orbit high above the battlefield. Flynn hoped that more than a few of those torpedoes found their mark.

  Flynn saw Gudel out of his peripheral vision. The Antosian had taken up a firing position on the opposite side of the camp gate from him. Gudel had switched his laser rifle over to short burst mode. While this decreased the punch of each blast, it allowed for better consumption of power and more rate of discharge. Flynn could see the effect that the Antosian’s fire was having as line after line of Kafaran troops fell to the ground. Flynn could hear V’rot, the Zagradian private, scream some unknown obscenities as he fired salvo after salvo from his grenade launcher. Flynn fired off a few more rounds from his hand laser, taking out two more Kafaran foot soldiers, and then looked back to Gudel.

  “Corporal, what’s your status?” Flynn asked, yelling over the cacophony of war to the lance corporal who was only about three meters away.

  “Running low on power, sir,” Gudel replied in between firing rounds.

  At that moment a Kafaran missile found its target, striking the wall beside Gudel, obliterating both the wall and the Antosian in the same moment, and flinging Flynn onto his backside.

  For Flynn, everything began moving in a sort of slow motion. His hearing had gone and he could feel bits of rubble rain down onto his helmet and body as he tried to stumble to his feet. Out of nowhere, Elric, the sensor officer, rushed to the lieutenant’s side. He was saying something, his lips moving but not emitting any sound. It didn’t take long for Flynn to figure out the word that Elric was—in fact—screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “Move!”

  Elric grabbed him by the elbow and dragged the lieutenant to his feet just as the sound began to return to Flynn’s ears. Flynn could discern an enemy missile scream overhead and make its impact elsewhere on the base.

  “Marine, where are we going?” Flynn stammered as he regained his balance.

  “We need to fall back to the command center, sir. We have to protect the general.”

  Flynn turned and saw the gate that he and Gudel had been protecting had turned into an unrecognizable pile of debris and twisted metal. The lieutenant looked toward the tower where Cameron had been positioned, but the tower was now completely gone.

  A Kafaran tank punched through a relatively undamaged portion of the wall, sending bits of cement and plasti-steel chunks in a hundred different directions. At its present speed it would take only a few seconds before the tank landed right on top of Flynn. He withdrew his sidearm and, along with Elric, fired round after round into the vehicle without results. Suddenly there was an explosion just ahead of the tank that sent it spiraling out of control, flipping it over and back on its own path. Flynn and Elric looked at one another, then turned to face the sound of laughter behind them. It was V’rot—his grenade launcher still smoking from the round it had just fired.

  “Sorry, sir,” the Zagradian shouted through fits of hysteria. “I should have said, ‘fire in the hole’ first.”

  “Got any more rounds, Private?” Flynn asked.

  “Yes, sir. Five more,” V’rot responded as he picked himself up.

  “Good. See if you can take out any more of those tanks.”

  “And thanks!” Elric yelled as the Zagradian took off to find more targets of opportunity.

  “Come on,” Flynn said as the two officers ran toward the damaged command building. As they neared the main entrance, there was a barrage of disrupter fire that sent the two Marines sprawling for cover. Flynn jumped behind a ruined wall while Elric took up position behind an overturned personnel carrier.

  Flynn leaned his head out to try to locate the Kafarans, but as soon as he peered out there was another blast of disrupter fire. “Sniper,” he yelled. “Elric, maintain cover!”

  “That’s the best order I’ve gotten all day, sir!” Elric yelled back.

  There seemed to be silence in the immediate area. It was almost as if time were standing still. Flynn looked from side to side of his position, trying to see if he could get out of his predicament and crawl to another vantage point. It was not looking good. His pocket began beeping and he realized all at once that he had forgotten which pouch he had placed his communicator in. He fumbled with his rifle, then finally sat it down on the ground and withdrew the communicator from his right front pouch.

  “Flynn here,” he said softly—as if, were his voice any louder, it would give away his position.

  “Sir, this is Yoven. I have your sniper in my sights. Stand by.”

  After a tense moment there were the sounds of a struggle, then the unmistakable dull thud as a body hit the ground. Yoven appeared from behind an alcove with no weapon in his hands. Not that he really needed one. He was trained in more forms of martial arts than anyone Flynn had ever known. “I don’t think you’ll be hearing from the sniper any more, sir,” Yoven said with a smile.

  Flynn, Yoven, and Elric made their way into the command building uncontested. There were bodies of fallen Marines everywhere and the sounds of death and destruction rang out from all over the base. Flynn could hear explosions and the exchanges of laser and
disrupter fire seemingly coming from every direction.

  They entered the war room and found Kaeso still leaning over the status table. Colonel Randolf was either dead or unconscious against the far wall.

  “What are your orders, sir?” Flynn asked as the remainder of his team came to attention in the general’s presence.

  “I’ve set the base’s automated-destruct sequence to be activated on my next command.” Kaeso inclined his head to a computer terminal on the wall. One solitary red light flashed in slow sequence. “One of us will need to press that button.”

  “And then?” Yoven asked.

  “The furnace cooling valves will shut off, Corporal. Fifteen seconds later everything within twenty kilometers of this base will be leveled,” Kaeso said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We need to draw as many of those Kafaran devils into the destruction radius as possible. I’ve set the rooftop torpedo launchers to full automatic. They’ll keep firing until they run out of ammunition. Sensor reports indicate that we’ve already disabled two of their orbiting destroyers.”

  Flynn looked at his men, then back to General Kaeso. “We understand, sir.”

  The building began a slow rhythmic rumble, and then started to quake dangerously. Flynn, whether consciously or not, ran to the window to see what was happening. There, in the courtyard of the command building, were three hover tanks with angular cannons pointed directly at their position.

  “Take cover!” Flynn yelled as he pivoted on his heel.

  There was an explosion, and everything went black.

  * * * * *

  “General Oord, we’ve found something.”

  Surveying the destroyed base with apathy, the Kafaran assault commander turned to the voice. “Yes, what is it?”

  The Kafaran officer climbed over a piece of rubble that had once been a door and handed a computer display to his commanding officer. “Sir, it appears that they had the base wired for a self-destruct.”