by Richard Fox
****
“I need a raise,” Duke muttered the moment he un-keyed his IR comm. He spat dip spit over the side of his perch, feeling the humidity stick to his skin. The air was so still, he wasn’t sure this environment was real. How lucky would it be to suddenly have a sniper’s wet dream once the humidity and local gravity was factored into his range calculations? He should’ve been set up somewhere he could see for miles, not a spot the instructors at Sniper School would’ve laughed at him for choosing.
The sounds of trees smashing behind him caught his attention. Duke frowned then remembered the other batteries on timers he and the team had seeded behind them. There was a roar and a shadow passed between trees, moving straight for him.
“Ah…shit…” Duke pulled the IR transmitter from his ear and flung it away, holding very still as the Beast emerged from the water, electricity crackling around a crater in its shoulder where Duke had hit it. The creature moved stiffly as its head swept from side to side over the swamp.
Duke reached onto the small of his back to the battery pack that powered his rail rifle and clicked the charge lever to DRAIN, feeling Ice Claw grow colder against his cheek. He slipped his hand into a pouch and removed a metal pin the length of a finger.
He’d heard of an old trick from Strike Marine sniper lore but never tested it. Something a hero of the Ember War had improvised on the battlefield. He pushed the pin into a port on the side of the battery pack and electricity zapped his fingers, leaving them numb.
The Beast’s head angled up, then swung toward Duke.
“Yeah, you see me.” Duke swallowed hard. “What’re you going to do about it, ugly?”
The Beast’s claws gripped the muck, then it sprang toward Duke’s tree.
He pulled the emergency release cord on the battery pack and tossed the overheating pack up into the higher branches. Gripping Ice Claw, he looked down to see the Beast slam its talons into the bark and climb straight for him.
“Fuuu—” Duke leapt out of the tree just as the Beast roared past him, landing on his side in the muck, knocking all the wind out of him. He clutched his sniper rifle to his chest and rolled into a stream.
The Beast bit down on the battery pack just as the cascading storage failure he initiated with the sabotage reached critical. The pack exploded with a fireball, annihilating the upper half of the tree and sending flaming chunks of wood out like shrapnel from an artillery strike.
Duke felt the concussion through the water and had a half second to realize he was being swept toward a rock. He managed to take the blow on the head and shoulder, protecting Ice Claw with his body. The hit sent a flash across his eyes and his body went loose. He felt like drifting away, surrendering to the quiet of the dark, when his rifle just barely slipped from his fingers.
Snapping back, Duke thrashed around, one foot hitting the weapon. He twisted over and grabbed one of the twin acceleration vanes, feeling it cut into the flesh of his hand as he kicked against the current, not sure which way was up.
Something gripped his ankle, and he realized one of those anaconda-analogs must have survived. With a yank against his leg, he was out of the water, hanging upside down as mud and silt-laden water poured off his body and across his face.
“My…my…” he sputtered, clutching his weapon against his body and kicking feebly. “My dip!”
“Told you he looked fine,” Max said.
Duke got one eye clear and saw Opal holding him up like a freshly caught fish.
“Put him down,” Booker said and Opal let Duke flop to the ground.
“Did I get it?” Duke asked, face down in the mud.
“Look,” Hoffman said as he slapped the sniper on the shoulder and pointed ahead of them. He craned his neck up and saw a hunk of the Beast’s leg embedded in a tree trunk, smoking. Duke flopped his head back into the muck.
“I hate this planet,” Duke groaned as Booker rolled him over and shined a light in his eye. “Hate hunting. Where’s my dip? Don’t let that thieving Dotty get it…”
“He’s got another concussion,” Booker said. “Lacerations to the scalp and face. Still ugly and stupid.”
“Is she OK?” Duke asked, running his hands down his rifle and breathing a sigh of relief.
“He was not this concerned when I got shot,” Max said.
“Movement!” Steuben shouted.
Duke tried to react as Marine weapons opened fire. He got to one knee, brought his sniper rifle up, and then lost his balance as the world went spinning. He fell on his side and laughed weakly. Looking up, he saw the hunk of the Beast was gone.
“It…came back for its leg?” Duke asked.
“It’s gone…” Hoffman said, putting a hand to Duke’s chest to keep him from getting up again.
“Grendel’s mother came for it.” Duke raised a finger. “Call me Beowulf…‘cause that’s who I am!”
“Severe concussion.” Booker shook her head.
“We’ve done what we can.” Hoffman pulled Duke up and threw his arm over his shoulder. “Return to base. I’ll call in a strike on this area soon as we’re clear.”
“My legs are all funny,” Duke said, slumping between Hoffman and Garrison as the breacher took the other shoulder.
“Let me carry that.” Gor’al reached for Ice Claw, but Duke managed a weak kick to the Dotari’s thigh.
“Hands off, dip thief!”
Duke kept hold of the rail rifle as the Strike Marines marched out of the jungle.
Chapter 14
Hoffman helped Duke into the bed of a cargo truck and climbed in after him. He swung the flap up, kicked the bed twice, and the truck lurched forward in a cloud of exhaust.
His team was muddy, beaten, and exhausted, but they were all there and they were alive. He set the muzzle of his rifle against the side of his foot and pulled a data slate from a pack. Knocking some mud off it, he switched on his IR transmitter.
“Hammer Six to Command, we need to break contact. Mission success in doubt.”
“What happened?” Colonel Fallon appeared on the data slate.
Hoffman gave a quick recap of the battle in the swamp as thunder from distant orbital kinetic strikes echoed through the city.
“It was hit by a rail rifle and then blown to pieces,” Yarrow said, coming onscreen with Fallon, “then it…reformed?”
“Our best guess,” Hoffman said. “This isn’t any flesh-and-blood creature we’re dealing with, at least not one we’ve dealt with before. It appears a good deal more resilient than the Xaros drones we’ve fought before.”
“That explains why it has no scent,” Steuben said. “It isn’t alive.”
“It may be pure Qa’Resh tech,” Yarrow said, stroking his goatee. “But if it’s inorganic, that may be a weakness. It’s like fighting the Xaros drones all over again.”
An idea formed in the back of Hoffman’s mind.
“Armor was effective,” Steuben said, “but the Beast can shut them down in a—”
“Wait, wait,” Hoffman said as he held up a hand. “What was that munition we had when the Xaros put siege to Earth? You both used it in that stupid movie.”
“I told you never to discuss that abomination,” Steuben said.
“Quadrium?” Yarrow asked. “Quadrium…it disrupted the drone’s control systems, left them vulnerable and stunned. That…that could work.”
“Don’t suppose you have any of those silver bullets lying around,” Fallon said.
“We have an omnium factory. We can have anything we need in a few hours.” Yarrow picked up a data slate and began tapping quickly.
“Get your Marines seen by the docs and get prepped to go out again,” the colonel said. “You may not feel like this was a win, Hoffman, but you’ve got us one step closer to victory. Fallon out.”
The screen cut off.
Hoffman let his head bounce against the back of the truck’s side rails and released a slow breath.
“This thing was made to stop the Xaros invasion,” Hof
fman said. “We’re just a handful of Devil Dogs with a mean streak.”
“You seem less than confident,” Steuben said.
Hoffman looked over at his Marines, who all were focused on Duke.
“Not too long ago, we were stuck in deep space on a Dotari ship full of Banshees trying to kill us…” Hoffman felt an ache in his chest from the sutures that had closed up his wound.
“You’d rather be back there?” Steuben asked.
“I know how that turned out. This is an open-ended mess. Was it ever this bad back when you were with Hale and on the Breitenfeld?” Hoffman felt a pang, mentioning the captured ship.
“The past has already been won or lost, Marine,” said Steuben. “This hunt will only end with us dead or victorious. Hale and Valdar looked at the fight as a struggle against extinction for all of humanity. What will happen if we fail here?”
Hoffman half smiled. “Who knows if what’s in that lab will turn the tide?”
“And if it does?”
Hoffman leaned forward and brushed grime from the stubble on his scalp. “Then this will be the most pivotal battle in the war against the Kesaht.”
“I went to Anthalas with Hale and Valdar. We did not know what we would find…but there we brought back the key to our final victory over the Xaros and set in motion events that led to my people being rescued and the Toth nearly annihilated. It was a good day.”
“Hindsight, eh?”
“Every fight matters, Hoffman. Every fight.”
“Hale made you his executive officer down the line, didn’t he?”
Steuben nodded
“Smart move,” Hoffman said as the adrenaline wore off and his injuries made themselves known.
The truck turned a corner to a hospital.
“Hey!” Duke pointed over one side. “Look at that penguin!”
“Where?” Gor’al twisted onto his feet and peeked over the rails. “What is a penguin? Are they dangerous?”
Duke reached into Gor’al’s cargo pocket and pulled out two cans of dip.
“I knew it! Taking dip off a wounded Marine.” Duke kicked the Dotari in the hip.
“Never! I stole those two wintergreen cans from you months ago. You only had peach blend and menthol in your pack when we went into the jungle,” Gor’al said, wagging a finger at Duke.
The sniper looked at the cans, then tapped them with his fingertips. “Oh,” Duke said and slipped the cans into his pocket.
“Then give those back!” Gor’al’s quills flared.
“You said you stole them from me,” Duke huffed.
“No, I meant to say I was holding them for you. In case of an emergency. Like this one. Enjoy them. Yes. That’s what I meant,” Gor’al said.
“Are they always like this?” Steuben asked Hoffman quietly.
“Duke’s going to start nabbing Gor’al’s coffee beans before too long. Dotari get a buzz off those too,” Hoffman said.
“Could be worse. Standish would steal anything that wasn’t nailed down, which was useful when we needed parts and equipment.”
“Don’t give them any ideas, yeah?” Hoffman rubbed a cramp out of a thigh as the truck stopped outside the emergency room.
Chapter 15
Lilith hadn’t been sleeping at her desk. Professionals didn’t do that. She’d merely been resting her eyes. Everyone else had gone to their quarters hours ago, so why shouldn’t she rest her eyes?
The analog phone on her desk rang. She stared at it, not sure how to interpret the harsh bell. A sip of cold coffee restored a portion of her analytic abilities and she lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Hello, Lilith, Lab 1, speaking.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad you answered. Do you have a team with you right now? One of the devices has activated.”
“Who is this?” Lilith asked.
“Masha. You remember me? The one you educated on spotting Qa’Resh fakes. I’m at Lab 3 on the south side.”
“Yes, of course. No one’s here. They’re trying to sleep…like I should be. What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly sure. It isn’t doing much, but…I was practicing some of the authentication scans you taught me and it started giving a power signature. I sent it to you through the tubes.”
Lilith almost dropped the phone. “You did what? You put an active device in the tubes?”
“You make it sound like a bad thing…”
Lilith whacked the receiver against the desk twice. “Yes, it is a bad thing, you—you know what? I’ll go get the device and you better pray to all the gods that it isn’t damaged. You’re going on report for a handling violation and you’ll be digging ditches by morning. I know the right people to make that happen.” She slammed the phone down and stormed out of her office, mumbling curses from several different languages.
Entering the tube room, Lilith came to a sudden stop. The large tube hatch was open, a canister waiting inside.
“What the—”
The door slammed shut and pain erupted against Lilith’s kidneys as a Taser jammed into her lab coat. Lilith went down with a pathetic cry. Masha tightened a zip tie onto Lilith’s wrists and put a knee to her sternum. With a hand over Lilith’s mouth, she shushed her.
“Your employment situation has changed,” Masha said. “I am not a lab flunky. I am an agent of the Ibarran Nation and if you—”
Lilith tried to shout and squirm away, but Masha kept a firm grip over her mouth.
“Scream and your husband will die,” Masha said. “Think I’m kidding?”
Lilith’s eyes went wide.
“There’s a small explosive device in the command center. Two pounds of denethrite explosive in the base of the coffee maker. Doesn’t sound like much, but denethrite’s a mean little bugger. Six ounces can take out the whole floor. Two pounds is just too much, but when I need to make a point, I’m not one for subtlety. Savvy?”
Lilith stared daggers at the spy.
“Up down? Left right?” Masha asked.
Lilith nodded.
Masha turned her arm around and showed an analog watch face to Lilith. “In two hours and…thirty-nine minutes, that bomb will go off. We can reach my ship in two hours. Soon as we’re there, I’ll tell your hubby about the bomb and everyone will live to see tomorrow. Sound fun?”
Lilith mumbled against Masha’s palm.
“No screaming,” Masha said. “If you make a scene…” She flourished one hand and a knife appeared. “You die and no one at HQ has a chance.”
Masha took her hand away.
“The Beast is out there. There’s no way you’ll make it to your ship,” Lilith said.
“I’ll worry about the Beast. You worry about being a good little helper for the Ibarra Nation. Because if you are anything but a peppy little go-getter, my agents on Eridu will see that your husband has an unfortunate—but very fatal—accident. Same with your daughter Mary on Barnard’s Star,” Masha said.
“You wouldn’t. If you hurt them, I’ll never help you.”
“I’m willing to bet your maternal instincts are stronger than your loyalty to whoever signs your paycheck. You wouldn’t believe what Lady Ibarra’s learned about the Qa’Resh since she left the traitors in the Union. Not at all a bit curious what she’s up to?”
“My husband. Tell them about the bomb before—”
“Time-conscious and goal-oriented. I like that.” Masha wrapped a gag around the bottom of Lilith’s face. “You get to ride the tubes first. I hear it’s a bit bumpy, but what’re you going to do, eh?”
Masha hauled Lilith up and manhandled her into the canister.
****
A truck chugged down a road, the engine straining as the transmission chugged from one gear to another. It jumped a curb and came to a stop outside the entrance to a tube station, where dozens on top of dozens of pneumatic lines rose out of the ground and plugged into one wall of the structure, all evenly spaced.
The passenger side door flew open and Max almost fell fro
m the cab.
“You are fired as driver!” he yelled.
Opal squeezed out to stand next to Max. The doughboy scanned the nearby buildings, eyes lingering over the setting sun.
“What?” Garrison stood up from the driver’s side and waved a hand at Max as the truck rolled forward. Garrison ducked back inside and the emergency brake cranked. The Marine got out and brushed his hands against his fatigues.
“And you’re fired as navigator,” Garrison said.
“So what if I’m used to just plugging an address into a car’s auto-drive and sitting back?” Max asked. “I got us here, didn’t I? You’re the one that has to explain all the new dents.”
“Dents?” Garrison glanced at the beat-up bumper. “What new dents?”
“Garrison hit two parked cars,” Opal said. “Three concrete obstacles. One—”
“They jumped in front of me! And those dents were there when we got the keys.”
“Garrison hit—”
“They were there when we got the keys!” Garrison wagged a finger at the doughboy. “Now let’s get inside and get those quadriceps rounds or whatever the LT said we need to mess up the Beast. Yeah? Better idea than sitting out here and laying blame for something that didn’t even happen.”
He motioned toward a loading dock and walked off.
“Don’t understand,” Opal said to Max.
“You don’t have a paycheck to dock, big guy,” Max said. “Just smile and nod if anyone asks about damage to the truck.”
Opal pulled his lips back to reveal slab-like teeth and bobbed his head up and down.
“Or not. Because that wouldn’t beg more questions from King or any of the REMFs on this rock.” Max pushed a double door open and whistled as he looked at the tube station.
Pneumatic tubes the size of coffins were laid out across the main floor, and stacks and stacks of smaller canisters were in racks against the walls. A skeleton of catwalks and exposed lifts were built into the receiving wall.
“My grandma told me stories about old-school office buildings and hospitals,” Max said. “How they’d shuffle around paperwork and stuff. Before everything went digital.”