by Rob Howell
“Good.” He bared his teeth. “Kin, prepare yourselves. We attack at dawn, day after tomorrow. It’s time for the followers of the Slyest Prey to learn what the Great Hunter does to those without honor.”
The Zuul officers growled back.
* * * * *
Chapter 19 – Lt (j.g.) Maxwell Jackson
Forward Base Maquon
Jeriasker, Maquon
Sergeant McChesney leaned back in his chair and stretched. He opened and closed his hand several times to relax it, then rubbed his bloodshot eyes. The night watches were always tedious, but even more so now that they were pulling so much stuff out of long-term storage.
I guess the rumors are true. That’s the only reason they’d want all that old ELINT equipment. Someone took down the electronics on Peninnah.
He yawned and rose from his chair to get a cup of coffee. Outside the window, the barest hint of dawn creased the eastern sky. McChesney had worked in this office since the Foresters built the forward supply base on Maquon over a decade earlier, but the odd color of the planet’s dawn, a blend of its specific particulates and the system’s F0IIIa star, had always bothered him. It felt wrong.
It took him a moment to realize the shadows flickering in the courtyard weren’t supposed to be there. He turned to slam the alarm button, but he was much, much too late.
Even so, his shack served, in a way, as an alarm.
A Zuul heavy rocket, almost ninety millimeters in diameter, smashed through the window, flew past his head, and exploded on the back wall of his office. It left no creature on the base asleep. Had McChesney survived, he would’ve heard more explosions as Zuul rocketeers took out their other targets.
The barracks, fortunately, were virtually empty, since most of the replacements had already gone to Peninnah. However, there were a few who hadn’t shipped out yet.
* * *
Lieutenant (j.g.) Maxwell Jackson’s eyes were open before he hit the ground. A product of the worst neighborhood of SoCal, he had slept with a gun for as long as he could remember. He had a GP-90 in his hand, safety off, ready to fire before his mind was fully awake. That was the good news. The bad news…
He slithered under and through the debris slowly. He saw inhuman black shapes silhouetted by the fire, but he couldn’t immediately determine what species they were. Not that he needed to know anything more than that they were attacking his base.
Shit! The GP-90 is the best gun I’ve ever had, but there ain’t no way it’s enough for what’s out there.
A fire team of four passed by his pile of rubble, and he froze. He wished he was with the platoon he had been on his way to take over, but he suddenly realized he was probably safer this way.
I’m a dumb, cherry el-tee when it comes to leading a platoon, but this ain’t the first rubble-filled, fire-bombed street my momma’s boy has seen.
He crept out from under the remains of his transit quarters. When he reached the corner, he saw that he had a perfect shot at a fire team, but another fire team, just down the street, stood ready to support them.
Too close. But now I can see they’re Zuul.
He paused.
And that fucking matters, idiot! Based on recent scuttlebutt, Edmonds would want to know. They’re not going to leave much. No evidence. No nothing. Certainly not me, unless I’m smart.
The base sat near the equator of Maquon in the middle of a jungle-like area of spiny, narrow trees and dense underbrush. It was on a flat, clear area near a large river, and the hills around it, while sizable, weren’t steep. Jeriasker sat along the river in the valley to the west of the base.
I got a better chance in the hills than in the city. I can hide up there if I can get food.
It looked like the Zuul had set up a perimeter around the main core of the base. Jackson didn’t know much about Maquon Base, but he had found the PX, and it was outside that perimeter.
Wouldn’t hurt to do some shopping.
The alley behind the PX ended at the loading dock. Above the dock, one of two lights on a security monitor still worked. The other light dangled by its wires. He crept around a stack of pallets and a trash dumpster. The aroma of old food and rancid grease attacked him, but he prowled around it slowly until he could see the back door.
Everything looked normal, and the small, square window was dark.
He waited, counting slowly to twenty, looking for any hint of movement.
None came, so he moved to the door and looked through the window. It was too dark to see anything, meaning there was probably no one behind it.
He tried the handle. Locked.
With a sigh, he stepped to the side, angled his GP-90 away from him against the lock, and fired one shot. The 10mm slug shattered the handle. The noise echoed through the night. He yanked the door open, slid through quickly, and let it close. With the door shut, the room was pitch black. He let his eyes adjust as he listened for any reaction to the shot. He glanced through the small window.
Nothing.
It took longer than his nerves could handle, but he sidled slowly around to an interior door. It didn’t have a window, and he couldn’t see any light under it, so he cracked it open to look at the sales floor.
Still no one. He released his breath. First, I’m getting some clothes. I’m not going into the jungle in my boxers.
After putting on a uniform, he picked up a backpack, extra socks, canteens, some communicators, extra batteries, a pre-packed survival kit, and all the food bars he could find. He then went to a display holding another GP-90 and four spare magazines which were leaning artfully against five boxes of ammo.
He hesitated.
Fuck it. There’s alarms going off all over place. Ain’t no one gonna notice.
He broke the glass and pushed everything into the pack. He glanced at the rifles locked against the wall. It would take too damn long to get the locks open.
What else? Energy shots. Them damn mutts ain’t gonna catch me sleeping.
He guzzled one and swept the rest into the bag. He topped the bag off with a few bottles of water.
As he started to move toward the door, he passed a display with expensive binoculars.
Those might really help.
He grabbed them and went to the front. As he passed the checkout counter, he grabbed a couple of lighters and several knives and shoved them into his pockets.
Outside, the dawn had taken hold. Fortunately, the Zuul seemed to have settled down around the warehouses and barracks. He couldn’t see any movement on the road.
The parking lot had a retaining wall on the uphill side. Above it was a tall fence topped by razor wire.
Climb the fence or get to a gate? He glanced around. Gate. It’s likely they’ll see me if I climb that fence, and I bet they already took out the gate guards.
He crept along the retaining wall until it reached the road. Across the street was a line of trees that would provide good cover, assuming he could get to the line without anyone seeing him. He didn’t see any Zuul on the road, so he took a deep breath and ran.
Once across, he dove into the underbrush. The local flora didn’t have thorns or rough bark, but it was protected with a mildly acidic sap. As Jackson slid under the brush, the sap touched his hand.
He barely restrained himself from cursing out loud.
I’m an idiot.
The PX carried cases of sap-resistant cream, but he hadn’t thought to grab any of it. He glanced across the road, but decided against going back. The sap would be irritating, but not enough to risk another shopping trip.
This tenacious and versatile shit sucks! Better get moving.
He tried to run through the brush, but it was too thick. Fortunately, the line of trees was merely landscaping. He could run along the line and remain generally hidden from the road.
Shots rang out ahead.
Dammit, those came from right in front of the gate.
He glanced up, but the fence looked harder to climb here than back at the PX. He slowed to creep along the tr
ee line. The shooting continued off and on as he closed to within twenty yards of the intersection.
He heard a whoosh as a spike of flame shot over the trees followed by a wave of heat that attacked him. He dove to the ground.
The shooting continued, and he crawled under the thickest of the underbrush. He poked his head out and saw a doggie fire team advancing across the street, toward the gate. He saw a man and a woman huddling behind a flipped-over car. Another car burned in the middle of the road. Parts of people surrounded it, along with a few whole bodies.
The Zuul didn’t seem to know he was there, and they made good targets as they advanced.
He stretched his arm out, resting it on the loam, and blew the rear Zuul away with two shots from his GP-90. The startled lead pair dropped and fired several small rockets in his direction, but they all went over his head. He started to flip the selector on his pistol to full auto and return fire but stopped.
This ain’t the right time to load another mag, idiot.
He heard one of the Zuul talking.
But it also ain’t the right time to do nothing.
Before he could do anything, the man behind the car broke cover and rushed the remaining Zuul, blasting with his GP-90.
He didn’t hit anything, but the Zuul turned toward him, and that gave Jackson a chance. He rolled out from the tree line and got an angle.
One Zuul started to turn around, but Jackson’s shot went straight into its belly. He hit center of mass on the next one, and it went down. He jumped up and ran over to the doggies, putting a shot into each one’s head.
The woman knelt by the tattered remains of the man who had given Jackson the opportunity.
Jackson grabbed her arm. “We have to go, lady.”
She glanced up. “Yeah. But where to?”
“Let’s get into the jungle. Then we can think.”
“Not the dumbest plan I’ve heard today.” She glanced at the man’s GP-90, but the Zuul rocket had blasted it to pieces. She let it be, pulled the pack off the man’s torso, and followed Jackson.
They ran through the gate and up the hill. The underbrush slowed them, but the roots were thick enough for them to use to pull themselves up some of the steeper parts.
Finally, they reached a ledge that overlooked the base from about three klicks away. It was a beautiful morning, which made the burning buildings look sinister in the odd morning light.
The sap on his skin started to really itch, and he started to scratch.
“Didn’t bring any of the cream? That’s a cherry mistake.”
“I’m a cherry el-tee from the fucking ghetto, what do you expect?”
She chuckled and handed him a jar. Her chuckle faded as she remembered the man at the gate.
“Where were you going?” Maxwell asked as he spread some of the cream on his hands and neck. He sighed as it provided immediate relief.
“Into the hills. Hadn’t thought much further than that.”
“That was my plan too.”
“Smart for a cherry el-tee.”
“Got lucky.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m Max. Max Jackson.”
“Sara Steele.”
“Steele?” He rolled over and narrowed his eyes. “They pounded that name into us when we were in the Bruce.”
“Yeah, well, that was his great-something-or-other grandson.” She pointed with her chin toward the gate.
“Your husband?”
“He believed all that crap. Had to die a hero.” She glared at Jackson. “Just like you, I bet.”
He snorted. “My momma’s son ain’t no hero. This wasn’t nothing different than walking to school.”
“Why’d you get involved, then?”
“How else was I going to get through the gate?”
She grimaced. “How else?”
He tried to hand her the jar of cream.
“Keep it. We brought a bunch.” She sighed.
“You got a weapon? I got a spare GP-90.”
She stared at the burning base for a long moment. “Yeah, I’ll take it. The Zuul rocket destroyed Sam’s.”
Jackson handed it over. “Ah, do you kno—” He shut up as she expertly checked it out.
“I was a corporal until I got tired of the bullshit,” she answered.
“Good, you can help me load these.” He handed her a box of ammo and two spare magazines. “We’ll have three mags each, and a goodly amount of spare ammo, but it ain’t much.”
“No, not against an entire Zuul merc unit. Better than nothing, I guess.”
“Yeah.” He pulled out a couple of food bars and handed her one.
“Now what?” she asked around a mouthful.
“I don’t know. They pounded the importance of intel into us at officer training, so I suppose I need to go somewhere and tell someone something.”
“That makes sense. What do you know?”
“We got attacked by Zuul.”
“That’s not much.”
“Corp, you got any idea how to learn more before they drop a nuke on the base?”
“They won’t do that. If they’re willing to do something that’ll get the Peacemakers involved, we’re screwed anyway.”
“I suppose, but they’ll burn the base to the ground before they leave.”
“Maybe, el-tee, but I think we’ll be okay up here if they do, as long as it’s just napalm.”
He glanced at the base. “You’re probably right.”
“If you’re serious about gathering intel for Edmonds, your best bet is to stay here and watch.”
“How long?”
“Until you get a chance to get word out. Speaking of which, how were you planning to do that?”
“I grabbed some comm units when I was in the PX.”
“Smart, unless you’ve already turned them on.”
“Nope, haven’t cracked the boxes. I did get external batteries so we’ve got enough power for a couple of months.”
“More if we can find a place to charge them. But let’s not use them yet.”
He glanced at her.
“What do you want to bet they’re tracking every emission in the area?”
“No bet.” Jackson grimaced. “I never had a chance, or I’d’ve fired one up. Idiot.”
“Hell, you got this far.” Her lips twisted. “Better than the great-whatever-son of the magnificent Sam Steele.”
Jackson glanced at the base. “I got a pair of binoculars, too.”
“Did you bring the whole damn PX?”
“I wish.” He listed his loot.
“Not bad, el-tee.” She glanced in the survival kit. “It’s got 500 water purification tabs. Would’ve been hard without them. We can stay out here for a while if we need to.”
“Water is a problem? We’re in a jungle.”
She laughed. “Now that’s cherry. You don’t drink Maquonese water. You do, and you’ll be surveilling the base with your pants down, crapping a trail no doggie could miss.”
Jackson sighed.
“Seriously, you did well, sir. You’re alive, not captured, and you have some supplies. How many others from the base can claim as much?”
He glanced down. The shooting had dwindled to an occasional rocket launch. “Not many.”
“We can’t do anything but watch for a while. Only one of us can really see anything, since there’s only one pair of binocs. Might as well get some sleep, el-tee.”
“Not likely. I’m jumpy as fuck, and I downed an energy blast.”
“Yeah, you probably can’t. I guess you’ve got the watch, sir. I’ll see if I can get some shuteye.”
Jackson nodded and turned back toward the base. Zuul prowled the street, and he settled in to watch them.
* * * * *
Chapter 20 – Kal’shin Tahnerif
Forward Base Maquon
Jeriasker, Maquon
Tahnerif awkwardly reloaded his rocket launcher. A Human bullet had grazed his shoulder, and he couldn’t quite lift h
is arm. One of his kin slapped a self-sealing bandage over the wound. The kal’shin touched paw to chest in thanks.
He clicked his comm unit. “Status, Fahrissthan?”
“Kal’shin, we have cleared the eastern armories and barracks. The vast majority of Humans in them have surrendered. We only lost three kin, though we have a number of wounded.”
“Good. Akuwin, what’s your status?”
“Much the same as Fahrissthan’s. The western barracks and armory are under control.”
Tahnerif released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Qarsh. What about the perimeter?”
“The squads assigned to the gates reported complete success, except for the southern gate.”
“What happened there?”
“The squad there took casualties, and multiple Humans escaped into the hills.”
“Mar’shin Grillaran?”
“Dead, sir.”
Tahnerif tightened his muzzle. “We’ll give his memory the weapons he needs to serve the Great Hunter. Speaking of weapons, what did the Humans take with them?”
“Only sidearms. No CASPers or heavy weapons.”
Tahnerif wrinkled his muzzle. “That is perhaps as good as we could’ve expected. However, we still need to be as vigilant as the Great Hunter. Assign another squad and rocket team to each gate. I know the rocketeers are out of rockets, but the Zuparti have released our dropships and shuttles, and resupply is on the way.”
“Yes, Kal’shin.”
“Akuwin and Fahrissthan, can you release any of your squads?”
“Two, sir,” replied Akuwin.
“Same here.” Fahrissthan paused. “I could gather a squad of walking wounded, too.”
“No, make sure all wounded see the medics. Send the extra squads around the ring road to clear the base’s civilian housing, then meet up at the south gate. Join them there, Qarsh.”
“Already here, sir.”
“Good. Remember, most of the residents in those houses will be Foresters and their families. Gather them up and confiscate their weapons. However, don’t kill them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”