Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Holy crap,” said Barron.

  Conway couldn’t have put it better himself. With the distraction of the two spaceships over, he looked – really looked – at the devastation around him. He thought the missile attack on the Graxol-4 mine was bad. This was a dozen times worse, not just because of the scale, but because he lived so close to Satra and he knew it was home to four million people.

  If there were any survivors in this area of the city, they were the luckiest people in the Unity League. Conway knew he was lucky as well – he was amongst the only five people in the entire city wearing a combat suit designed to withstand almost any environmental conditions.

  This street – the one upon which he’d recently made his phone call to his wife and daughter – was unrecognizable. The concrete was smeared with char and every one of the hundreds of vehicles he could see was turned to a blackened shell. Some of them still burned, though he could see the fires diminishing. The smoke blew thick and carried with it the stench of burned metal, plastics and flesh.

  If the vehicles were nearly burned out, the buildings were not. Many of them blazed fiercely and looked like they’d go on for weeks. Others had been reduced to mounds of rubble and even the most intact was only good for demolition.

  “Not a single damn window that hasn’t blown out,” said Freeman. “Strange what you notice.”

  “More smoke downtown,” said Lockhart. “Wind’s blowing this way.”

  “That’s where those spaceships went down,” said Conway. “Did you recognize the voice?”

  “Lieutenant Kenyon, sir.”

  “That means it was the Star Burner.” Conway tapped Freeman on the shoulder. “How come they got a signal out when our comms are dead?”

  “A spaceship and a combat suit comms unit aren’t remotely equal, sir.” Freeman went quiet, thinking of how to explain it better. “The Star Burner’s probably got the same capabilities as one of comms satellites. Your suit’s like a wind-up radio in comparison.”

  “Yeah, I get the message.” Conway turned in the direction of the crashed spaceship, wishing he could see through walls.

  “No way they lived through that,” said Lockhart.

  “They lived.”

  “Why so certain?”

  “Captain Griffin once told me I had a charmed life. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, maybe I can recognize someone who’s the same as me. Captain Griffin isn’t dead and we’re the only ones able to reach the Star Burner.”

  Lockhart wiped his visor with the back of his hand. “Your family, sir,” he said quietly. “We could pretend we never saw the spaceship and we could get the hell away from here.”

  It was what Conway wanted more than anything. He shook his head. “My family is either alive or they’re dead. Whatever we do now won’t change that. We can help the crew on the Star Burner, if any of them made it.”

  “And Lieutenant Dominguez is hot!” said Kemp. “It’d be a real shame if she got burned up.”

  Barron punched him in the arm, not too gently. “It’s not a time to be thinking with your balls, Kemp.”

  “Just saying.”

  Conway should have been angry with Kemp’s pissing about. In fact, the distraction was welcome.

  “We’re going for the Star Burner,” he said. “Kemp, put your cock back in your pocket. A nice officer like Lieutenant Dominguez won’t want to party with a nobody like you.”

  “She hasn’t seen my moves yet, sir.” Kemp made a few clumsy thrusting motions with his hips and Conway couldn’t decide if the soldier was pretending to dance or showing off for the bedroom.

  “That’s some real style, Kemp,” laughed Barron. “Maybe keep it to yourself for now.”

  The mood didn’t stay light for longer than a few seconds. Conway squinted into the distance, trying to work out the quickest way to reach the Star Burner. He knew this area of the city, but he had no idea how much of it was still standing and it was impossible to be sure if any of the ways were open or blocked off by rubble or fire. One thing was sure – Lockhart had been right about the smoke which was thickening by the moment.

  With a grimace to hide his uncertainty, Conway strode off at a pace that wasn’t far from a run.

  Chapter Four

  The city was gone. Whatever feelings Conway might have harbored to the contrary eroded with each footstep he took towards his destination. It was like walking through a scene dedicated to the futility of war. The smoke became so thick that it seemed as if late evening had come three hours too soon and the light from the flames created a thousand orange haloes in the gloom.

  Far from being silent, the ruins of the city were filled with noise. Walls cracked and fell, concrete snapped and the metal rebar in every building creaked or pinged with heat expansion. In every vehicle, the blackened remains of people sat in the places they’d been when the incendiary hit. After looking in a couple of cars, Conway didn’t do so again.

  It didn’t take long for the squad to become jumpy and everyone found it hard to remain calm. Conway just kept telling himself that he’d held onto his sanity on Graxol-4 and that Satra wasn’t going to break him.

  The path wasn’t easy. As Conway feared, the devastation was enough to make his existing knowledge near-useless and within the first thousand meters, he was required to reassess his method.

  “Dammit, I thought the main streets would be passable,” he said. He raised an arm towards a colossal mound of broken masonry and steel that loomed high above them in the smoke. Pieces large and small skittered and rattled, indicating that the fallen building wasn’t stable enough to climb over. “That’s the way I wanted to go.”

  “Do you know a different path, sir?” asked Barron.

  “Satra’s laid out in a grid. If this way’s blocked, we’ll need to keep going and see if we can get along the next avenue.”

  Conway set off again. The road was so congested with vehicles and rubble that he wasn’t able to maintain anything more than a fast march. Every few seconds, the squad were required to clamber over a broken vehicle, or squeeze through narrow gaps where sharp metal protruded. The combat suits were designed to take a beating, but every good soldier looked after his armor.

  “The comms are still dead,” said Freeman.

  “Could it be anything other than localized jamming?”

  “Could be a few reasons, sir. The Raggers might have knocked out the local satellites.”

  “If the local satellites are out, someone should be able to re-route? Even if it means hijacking surface masts?”

  “Assuming that someone you’re talking about is alive and in a position to work on the problem. It’s going to take time whatever happens.”

  Conway didn’t pretend to know the technical details of how the comms worked, but something didn’t seem quite right. “The suit comms can broadcast without a satellite or a mast.”

  “Yes, sir.” Freeman hesitated. “If the local routing station is knocked out, we might not be able to speak to any other receptors.”

  “Where’s the local routing station?”

  Another pause. “It’s in Durham, sir.”

  “Shit.”

  “It could be anything, sir. Really. Like I told you earlier - when whole cities get blown up, you expect things to stop working.”

  It wasn’t something Conway could fix and he let it drop.

  At the next intersection the left turn was the quickest route, except the left-hand turning wasn’t there anymore. Conway tried to recall exactly where this was in relation to everywhere else, but the chaos was such that he was no longer sure.

  “I think that was a movie theater,” he said, pointing into the smoke at a collapsed building. “Not much of it left.”

  Kemp took a few paces towards the building. “The Dog that Ate Broadway,” he said. “I can see part of the marquee.”

  “Let’s go,” said Conway, unwilling to immerse himself any further in the loss. That would come later.

  The next intersection was
n’t exactly clear of rubble, but the buildings to either side hadn’t collapsed entirely. Conway decided to chance it and headed left, keeping close to the center of the road. The apartment block on the right-hand side was covered in wide cracks and pieces of it tumbled to the ground every few seconds.

  “It’s about to come down,” said Barron nervously. “Maybe we should go back.”

  “We’re halfway,” said Conway. “We keep going.”

  He found himself glancing towards the block. A huge section of the upper floor detached itself from the surrounding brick and fell towards the ground.

  “Get down!”

  The squad threw themselves behind whatever was closest. Conway dropped into the cover of an overturned car, glad he wasn’t able to see the occupants. The slab of masonry landed on top of a row of parked vehicles with a tremendous crash. Bricks and shards of mortar flew and clattered against the metal roof of Conway’s shelter.

  “Up! Move!” he shouted. “The rest of the block’s about to come down!”

  They ran for it. Conway vaulted over the mangled hood of a car and dashed between two other vehicles. He could hear the mortar holding up the building crackle as it disintegrated under the weight.

  “Oh, shit,” said Kemp.

  With a final, rending snap, the entire front wall of the apartment block came down. Conway didn’t dare look in case he missed his step and fell. Instead, he kept going, trying to figure out from the footsteps behind if the members of his squad were keeping up.

  The toppling wall struck the side of the high-rise office block opposite. This second building was much higher and hardly more stable. The first building hit the ground and a great cloud of dust burst in every direction. It overtook Conway, enveloping him in darkness. He swore and switched on his helmet torch. The dust was so thick that the beam’s illumination diffused amongst the particles, making it harder to see rather than easier. He switched it off at once.

  “Everyone with me?” he shouted.

  A hard tap on his shoulder informed him that Lockhart was right behind.

  “Last man report.”

  “Private Kemp reporting, sir. I think the office block is going to come next.”

  On this day of shitty luck, Conway had no doubts that the office block was going to fall and probably bring another twenty buildings with it. He got his head down and focused on picking the clearest path through the dark shapes in the dust and smoke. An orange light glowed to the left and another to the right a little further ahead. The fires were the only navigational points available and Conway did his best to stay between the two.

  “It’s going to happen,” said Barron.

  Conway had no idea how much distance his squad had made from the office block and even less idea if it was going to be enough. He heard its structural supports give up. More snapping, more shrieking of overstressed rebar, more popping of masonry put under so much pressure that pieces of it burst outwards.

  He pictured the office block in his head and guessed that it was too much to escape. The street was too crowded and the squad wasn’t making enough progress. They drew level with the flames on the right. The dust wasn’t nearly settled yet, but Conway thought he saw an opening. A street, maybe.

  “This way.”

  He jumped onto the hood of a car and slid across to the far side. The sound of buckling metal told him that Lockhart had jumped on after him. The office block fell with a noise like a million tons of scree sliding down the side of a mountain. It was louder than Conway imagined it would be and it was all he could hear. His eyes weren’t doing much better and the dust was a pain in the ass. Underfoot, he could feel the vibration through the concrete. This part of New Destiny – his home - had become worse than any alien planet.

  He found himself in an alley between two buildings. The dust wasn’t so dense here and Conway could see how the walls to the sides were partially intact, though they leaned inwards, threatening anyone brave or stupid enough to walk underneath. Conway wasn’t stupid but he had no choice. He ran. The road wasn’t clear and he jumped over chunks of stone and darted around a vehicle resting on its side.

  “Last man report!” he yelled, in order to be heard over the continued sound of a huge building hitting the ground.

  “Private Kemp reporting, sir!”

  They kept going. Conway chose what he hoped was the most efficient route through the rubble and his squad followed. The sounds of the falling office block receded, while the dust became thicker. One of the leaning walls fell inwards and Conway was required to throw himself to the side to avoid being struck.

  At the end of the alley, he slowed for a moment and turned. Through the gloom, he saw the walls on both sides collapse. Had it happened a few seconds earlier, the squad would have taken casualties, or been wiped out. Conway didn’t put it down to luck – sometimes you made your own. If you tried your hardest, you could influence events. He’d always believed it and he wasn’t about to stop believing it now.

  The alley had taken them to another of Satra’s wide main avenues. The air was still thick with particles – much worse than when they’d first left the studio – and all Conway could see was shapes. He chose his direction and moved. At the same time, he adjusted the HUD feed, wondering if he could get something better by using the image intensifiers or the heat detectors. Any improvement was so slight that he couldn’t be sure it was an improvement at all, and he quickly stopped trying.

  “Bring back the dogs, that’s what I say,” said Kemp. “You can shoot the dogs,” he continued without being asked. “They were a good, honest opponent. And now look at the crap we’re in.”

  Kemp didn’t have a way with words and in this case, it wasn’t required. Everyone understood what he meant – they were used to aliens and explosives. It was something they could handle. Here, in the wasteland of Satra, the challenges weren’t the same.

  They received good news of a sort.

  “I’ve got a green light on the comms,” said Freeman. “It’s the Star Burner.”

  “Only the Star Burner?”

  “Yes, sir. I can’t find any other receptors.”

  “Do they know we’re here?”

  “Yes, sir. Captain Griffin wants to talk with you.”

  The Star Burner’s comms system opened a channel without Conway’s input.

  “Lieutenant Conway?” asked Griffin. “Where are you?”

  “I’d like to give you specifics, sir. We’re somewhere in what’s left of Satra and heading your way. What’s the situation?”

  “Most of us are dead. We were able to get out through the airlock and reach shelter, but I’ve got four people too badly injured to move. The comms are out – I’ve come back to the bridge to try and contact anyone who’s listening.”

  “And is anyone listening, sir?”

  “Only you, Lieutenant. I don’t know what’s wrong and my comms officer’s unconscious. Give me your updates.”

  Conway provided brief details. When he was finished, he said what he guessed Griffin already knew. “We’re not medically trained, sir. We can’t treat casualties.”

  “Listen!” the urgency in the word got Conway’s attention. “We came down close to a Ragger ship. If any part of it is still operational, we may be able to obtain tactical data on their capabilities.”

  “How many other enemy ships are here at New Destiny, sir?”

  “We got shot down by one and I’m certain there are more.”

  “What are they here for?”

  “They want us to surrender.”

  “And will we?”

  “I don’t know. Until we hear otherwise, our duty is clear.”

  “Yes, sir. Shoot the bastards.”

  “You’ve got family in Durham.” Griffin had a good memory – Conway had only mentioned it once in passing.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Whatever we do here isn’t going to change the outcome, do you understand that?”

  Conway wasn’t sure that he did. “No, sir. I
don’t understand.”

  “Trust me on this. Any invader expects resistance. When you find it, you keep to the main plan. The Raggers aren’t going to start dropping incendiaries until they hear from Durham about the surrender.”

  Conway tried to follow the logic and gave up. His mind wasn’t in the right place for thinking.

  “We’ll come to you, sir. Stay put.”

  “We’re going nowhere.”

  The comms channel went dead and Conway kept on going in what he hoped was the right direction. The comms unit in his helmet estimated the range to the receptor as 1200 meters – closer than he was expecting. With all this rubble, it might as well have been five thousand meters.

  That’s when he heard the noise. “Engine!” he said, turning to get an idea of the direction. It was hard to be sure – whatever made the noise, it was coming in low and not too far away.

  “Does that sound like one of ours?” asked Barron.

  “No. I think it’s a transport.”

  “Must be Raggers,” said Lockhart. “Come to check out the wreckage for themselves.”

  Conway smiled grimly. “Looks as if we might get a chance to shoot something after all.” He quickened his pace. It seemed likely the Raggers would land as close as possible to their crashed ship and he wanted to get to the landing site in order to say hello.

  Chapter Five

  The moment Griffin heard the approaching dropship, he knew the Star Burner’s survivors were in trouble. They were hiding out in a shell of a building a hundred meters from the wrecked craft. It was possible the cruiser’s ammunition might explode, but he didn’t want to move the injured any further. Their shelter had no roof, the interior was a mess of fallen steel beams and everything was covered in char.

  “What’s that noise?” mumbled Lieutenant Kenyon. He was in a bad way, drifting in and out of consciousness, with broken bones that Griffin lacked the skills to fix. The drugs from Kenyon’s micro injector were keeping on top of the pain. For how long, Griffin didn’t want to guess. Kenyon was the only man who might have an idea how to make the comms work better.