Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4)

by Anthony James

  “How much seismic activity can we expect, sir?” asked Vance.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. I’m sure the worst of it passed before we deployed. We’ll have to steer clear of any loose wreckage.”

  A few moments later and Recker believed the platoon was passing the ends of the two construction trenches. They were travelling at a slight diagonal, bringing them closer to the western trench and he saw looming darker patches against the sky. The overhead view of the base on his HUD showed him that a gravity crane was over that way, alongside a couple of parked shuttles, all of which had escaped the shockwave unscathed.

  Another shock came at the same time as a series of much stronger gusts lashed the squad with dirt and gravel. Recker dropped low and braced himself. On the comms, Private Alise Haley shouted in alarm. With the ground jumping violently, Recker couldn’t turn to look without being dislodged or knocked over by the wind.

  The shock passed as quickly as the last and Recker jumped to his feet. He wasn’t sure if Haley had been hurt and he turned to find her. One of the Daklan – Unvak – was twenty metres away, hauling a much smaller figure upright with an ease that spoke of enormous strength.

  “I’m unhurt,” said Haley. “Just got caught mid-step and thrown onto my ass.”

  “Have Unvak check your suit,” Recker insisted.

  “I’m not letting a Daklan check out my ass, sir,” Haley protested.

  Despite the words, Recker could see from the movement of orange that Unvak was giving her the once-over.

  “Her ass is fine,” growled the Daklan.

  “It’s better than fine,” said Haley indignantly. “It’s real fine.”

  “That is not what I meant,” said Unvak. “The suit covering your ass is…”

  “Stop talking and move!” said Recker.

  The delay had only been slight and he was glad that Haley was uninjured. He set off again, leading the soldiers at an increased pace towards the personnel buildings. A few strides into the run, Recker heard a booming sound, muffled by the wind. It came again and was accompanied by a screeching that rose above all the other sounds.

  “What’s that?” asked Private Drawl.

  “Shifting debris, that’s all,” said Recker.

  “You’re on top of the bay doors now, sir,” said Burner on the comms. “I’d suggest you alter your approach a few degrees south. That should take you to the centre of the right-hand personnel building.”

  “Copy that.”

  Recker hadn’t noticed the change underfoot and nor had he noticed the seam which demarked the edge of the doors. He raised his head - the target buildings were darkly visible amongst the smoke, their outlines indistinct. Raising his arm, Recker wiped his visor with his wrist, leaving a clear track through the grime which had accumulated in the few minutes since landing. He wiped again and reminded the others to do the same.

  Now when Recker squinted, he thought one of the vertical edges of the adjacent warehouse was canted, like it had been damaged by the initial shockwave.

  “Shit! Movement!” said Vance. “Directly west.”

  Recker dropped to his haunches and turned sharply, bringing his rifle muzzle in line with his gaze. He was in time to see a flicker of orange, far enough away that a thinning of the smoke must have revealed it. A moment later and the orange of movement was gone, either concealed once more in the smoke, or hidden by some of the construction vehicles Recker knew were parked in that direction.

  “Stay low and still,” said Recker. “If it appears again, shoot it.” He opened a channel to the Fulcrum. “We spotted movement west. Four hundred metres from our position.”

  “I’ve got one of the underside arrays focused on that area, sir,” said Burner, his voice faint and scratchy. “I count three shuttles and a couple of other ground vehicles in that direction. They’re parked around a row of single-storey buildings. The only movement is debris, but we’re a little to the east and the angle isn’t perfect.”

  “Reposition.”

  “Commander Aston is doing so.” Burner’s voice drifted in and out of clarity.

  “My comms link to the Fulcrum is weak, Lieutenant.”

  “It’s likely the radiation will be screwing with the hardware in your comms module, sir. It shouldn’t be permanent and the signal strength might even improve once you get indoors, as counter-intuitive as that sounds.”

  “Understood.”

  Recker watched and he listened carefully. He sensed the Fulcrum passing overhead, like he was so in tune with the battleship that he knew exactly where it was at any given moment. Only once did he hear its engines and that was briefly when the wind lessened.

  “The sensors are not reading any troop movement, sir.”

  “There was something, damnit!”

  “All I can see right now is bits of crap being blown around in the wind.”

  “Keep watch.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Seconds passed and the shape didn’t reappear. Recker wasn’t tempted to dismiss it as a false alarm caused by a windblown object. A quality of the movement – the way it had flowed across the ground – made him sure it was Lavorix.

  “Nothing,” said the recently demoted Private Stoner Givens nervously.

  “It wasn’t nothing,” said Vance, his voice edgy and impatient.

  Ten seconds later, Recker ordered the group to their feet. If the Lavorix had spotted the platoon – an outcome which wasn’t certain – it would call others to this location. The Fulcrum could take care of any ground troops but in doing so might give away its own position. If that happened, the enemy spaceships would descend on this part of Oracon-1 and anything on the ground – human, Daklan or Lavorix – was likely to be incinerated.

  Breaking into a sprint, Recker headed directly for the right-hand building, which was larger than it appeared on the topographical map. He scanned left to the second personnel building and then left of that was the warehouse.

  “We’re due a first time lucky,” said Montero.

  The personnel building seemed to rise from the ground with each pace closer. At thirty metres high, the flat-sided structure likely contained four levels, though Recker wasn’t planning on taking any stairs that went upwards. He spotted three doors in the facing wall and headed for the middle one.

  “Sir, I’ve identified movement west of your position,” said Burner on the officer channel. “Two targets for certain. Maybe more. They went under a shuttle before we could activate the Maglors.”

  Recker shouted an order and the platoon dropped prone. “Watch west. Two targets. Private Gantry, Zivor, ready those repeaters – anything moves, cut it to pieces.” He stayed on his feet and covered the final few paces to the door, where he crouched and pressed himself against the cold alloy surface. His eyes sought out the access panel and he located it nearby, a red light indicating it was sealed against intrusion.

  “No sighting of the targets,” said Shadar. “We are vulnerable to explosives.”

  Death could come either from above or from a shoulder launcher. A well-aimed rocket would kill a few of the soldiers, but a plasma strike from a Lavorix spaceship would end the mission.

  “Lieutenant Burner, I’m worried our position is being relayed to an enemy vessel.”

  “The Lavorix suit comms won’t be any better than ours when it comes to handling radiation, sir. It doesn’t matter how loud they shout, nobody’s going to hear them.”

  “Unless a Lavorix ship flies in as close as the Fulcrum.”

  “That’s a possibility, sir. Eventually the enemy will get their act together and they’ll come looking in the smoke.” Burner stopped talking, though the background squeal and fizz indicated the channel was still open. “Ah crap,” he continued. “You might want to get your asses in gear, sir.”

  “Lavorix?”

  “Yes, sir. A bunch of them on the south side of that building you’re at. They’re using the wall as cover.”

  “Any way to be sure if they’re coming for us?
”

  “No, sir, but I’m sure you can reach your own conclusion.”

  Recker swore inwardly. An engagement with the Daklan ground troops had seemed inevitable - he only wished he could have had a little more time than this before it happened.

  “Hold fire and watch for the moment. We’ll handle it.”

  The channel went dead and Recker got Zivor’s attention. The Daklan wasn’t far and he had his repeater on its tripod, aimed towards the last sighting of the enemy. “Soldier, point your gun at this door.”

  Zivor shuffled around while staying flat and brought his repeater to bear. The alien tapped the side of his helmet in the Daklan signal to show he was ready and Recker returned a thumbs up.

  “I’m opening the door,” he said on the squad channel.

  He placed his palm on the access panel and the door opened. Recker braced himself but Zivor didn’t fire.

  “It is clear.”

  Recker stole a quick glance around the alloy doorframe and gritted his teeth when he found out it was either an airlock room or a security checkpoint. A couple of Meklon lay dead in front of the single exit.

  “Shit, what’s that?”

  The words, spoken by Private Ken Raimi, caught Recker unawares and he looked around in alarm. Another soldier asked the same question and then a third. Comms discipline was shattered and Recker shouted angrily for silence.

  “Tell me!” he ordered.

  “That, sir,” said Corporal Montero, lifting her arm from her prone position and pointing south-west.

  Visibility had not improved and Recker peered into the gloom. For a moment, he wondered what the hell had got the soldiers so worked up. Then, he saw a line of glistening movement on the ground, coming from the direction Montero had indicated. He couldn’t see how far it extended, since the building obscured some of his view, but this line came towards his squad faster than any human could run. Recker’s mind fought for understanding.

  Burner opened a channel. “You need to get out of there, sir. Now!”

  It’s water.

  The front of it washed against Recker’s boots, producing a wave that went as high as his knee. A moment later, it was everywhere around him and above his ankles. The weight of it forced the prone soldiers upright and though one or two tried to crouch, the water was coming so quickly that it pushed against their chests and threatened to roll them over.

  Faced with an enemy he couldn’t shoot and one which approached so fast it defied his eye, Recker knew this was a threat which might turn out to be far worse than anything the Lavorix ground troops could throw at him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Indecision was a killer and Recker snapped out an order.

  “Move! Get into the building! Forget about the Lavorix!”

  The unease amongst the soldiers was palpable and they began wading through the surging water, each stride an effort. Recker remained outside and locked the fingers of one hand around the doorframe, while the water tugged insistently at his legs.

  “Lieutenant Burner, what’s going on?” he asked.

  “You remember all of those spaceships we knocked out over the ocean to the south-west, sir? They must have created a tsunami. Maybe more than one.”

  “The coast was kilometres away from the base perimeter, Lieutenant,” said Recker. The first of the soldiers – Corporal Montero - splashed past him, clearly finding it hard to keep her feet.

  Burner didn’t bother spelling out how massive a spaceship was and how dropping one into an ocean at high speed might well be enough to cause the biggest damned wave Kavlon had ever seen. Recker didn’t need to hear it – the water was rising fast and the drag was becoming harder to resist.

  “Open the inner door,” called Recker, twisting so he could see into the lobby room.

  Montero wasn’t stupid and she was already at the access panel, her body angled so she could watch the entrance. She thudded her fist against the dark square on the wall and the second door opened. The rising water rushed hungrily into the space beyond.

  Other soldiers hurried past Recker and into the room. He turned his attention towards those furthest away and urged them to move faster. Vance and Shadar weren’t far from the doorway and they walked with a peculiar sideways motion. Already the water was above the knees of the human soldiers, though it came with such unstoppable power that it required an incredible effort to make any progress.

  Accompanying the wave was a rushing sound that possessed such a raw edge of nature’s fury that Recker felt it gnawing at his resolve, insisting he hurl himself through the doorway and close the door behind him. He guessed the noise was created by the thousands of tons of water crashing into the nearest construction trench and Recker didn’t like to think how bad the situation would be without that trench to hold some of the coming wave.

  Through clenched teeth he encouraged the soldiers onwards. It wasn’t going to be enough – those furthest away were struggling too much.

  “Form a chain!” he shouted.

  A sense of danger made Recker turn further, twisting his neck as far as it would go. He saw orange-highlighted movement over where the squad had initially sighted the Lavorix. The first shape was joined by a second and Recker guessed that two of the aliens had taken shelter on top of a shuttle or other vehicle.

  “Damnit!” he roared. “Lavorix to the west!”

  “Sir, we can’t…” started Vance.

  “Don’t stop, Sergeant. Keep moving.”

  Lifting his rifle one-handed, Recker fired a shot at the enemy and then another. Aiming was hard and the best he could manage was to point the barrel in the right direction while the water tried to pull him away from the door. His first two shots missed and he fired two more. One of the enemy was catapulted backwards out of sight. Immediately, the second dropped low, reducing its profile and turning a tough shot into an impossible one.

  “Sir, your hand,” shouted Vance. He was close by, his legs braced and his arm outstretched.

  In one swift movement, Recker flipped his rifle over his back and it snapped firmly against its magnetic clip, keeping it secure. He threw out his arm and grasped Vance’s hand. The man had a grip like iron and his other hand was holding one of the Daklan soldiers.

  The remaining soldiers had formed a chain, but in the chaos, Recker had lost count of how many had gone by and into the – hoped for – safety of the building. The chain seemed shorter than he expected and he didn’t want to imagine that half of his platoon had already been washed away.

  “Rocket out,” said Raimi on the comms.

  The soldier was just another dark shape amongst the others and his rocket whumped from the end of his shoulder launcher. The missile raced through the smoke and, to Recker’s astonishment, detonated exactly on target.

  “Shit, dropped the tube,” said Raimi.

  “Forget about it!” said Recker. From the corner of his eye, he could see the fading explosion of the rocket. The kill wasn’t confirmed, but he had no doubts the Lavorix soldier was dead.

  With everyone linked, the troops forged their way through the water, holding hands and bunching up as they inched towards safety. A few of the platoon made it near enough that they could throw themselves into the doorway, where willing hands dragged them upright and out of the wave. More followed and the members of the chain bunched up as the promise of escape gave strength to their limbs.

  “Come on!” shouted Recker. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were trembling with the strain and he was sure that without the Frenziol-13, his grip would have broken long before now.

  Another shockwave hit the base and he tensed in anticipation, feeling his hold on the doorframe being tested to the limit. He made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a snarl of defiance. Along the chain, the soldiers halted their progress and braced themselves. To Recker’s incredible relief, the shock passed quickly and the effort to reach the sanctuary of the building resumed.

  Private Raimi made it inside, then came Private Gantr
y, his MG-12 flesh-chewer hanging loosely in its harness. Somehow, the Daklan, Ipanvir had retained his launcher – the weapon was strapped to his back and the silvery tube stuck vertically over his shoulder. The end of it caught once on the upper edge of the door frame and then Ipanvir was through.

  After that came Corporal Hendrix, her face set and her medical box still strapped to her back. Recker caught her gaze for a moment and then she was beyond the doorway to join the others who’d escaped the wave.

  We’re going to make it.

  No sooner had the thought formed, than the head of Edox exploded in a shower of blood and bone. Recker shouted a warning at the same time as he hunted for the Lavorix which had killed his soldier.

  “Hold together!” he roared, unsure how the order could be obeyed with a dead link in the chain.

  His eyes found orange in the same place as the previous enemy sightings and he cursed the Lavorix bitterly. Another of the Daklan – Lerin – grunted and stumbled. He grunted again and dropped to his knees, falling out of the chain and face-first into the water. In moments, the body was gone.

  “Give us some damned support!” Recker shouted angrily on the channel to the Fulcrum’s bridge.

  That support arrived so quickly he realized it had been coming before he opened his mouth and asked for it. A streak of white pierced the smoke with startling and surprising vividness. The Maglor gun discharge lasted two seconds, reducing the enemy soldier to atoms and pulverising whatever the alien had been sheltering upon. As the light faded, the sound of the Maglor came as thunder over the roaring of the wave – like technology vying for supremacy with nature.

  The alien’s shots had done enough and the chain was broken. When Recker looked away from the smoke-shrouded enemy position, he saw that several of his platoon were separated from the others. The soldiers were only a few metres from the doorway, though it might as well have been a hundred times as much. They said little on the squad channel and Recker knew this meant they had no energy to spare on words.

  They’re gone.

  As if to spare Recker from the agonizing choice between attempting a futile rescue and letting his troops die, the group separated from the chain were knocked over as one and the water carried them away.