“Sir! Are you hit?” he yelled out as another alien projectile snapped by next to his face and another glanced off his chest with the force of a sledge hammer. “Sonofabitch!” Mason grumbled, ducked and blindly fired a line back into the darkness.
“No, it’s my gaddamn head!” Kael winced. “I can’t see a thing!”
Between the two of them, another soldier dashed forward to press the assault and took a round high on the chest. He dropped his rifle, clutching his throat and fell to the ground like a rock.
“Push forward! We can’t get stuck here!” Kael commanded and tried to shake the searing pain from his frontal lobe.
“Got it!” Mason acknowledged and pitched a grenade over the wall. In the ensuing explosion he saw a few more figures dive for cover and used the shift of fate to round the low crate providing his protection and ate the distance between them and the rest of the alien squad. He got a steep angle on the remaining defenders and fired across to their position, catching one and causing the others to cringe back.
“Stay back from the door!” Scott interjected from the bay. “There are at least fifty signatures lined up in the starboard bay. I think they’re waiting for you.”
“What was that?” Mason yelled over the rolling gunfire. Four remaining aliens fell back from their barricade to the rear door as another breaching charge vaporized the metal shield along with them. The blinding flash knocked the sergeant to the ground and a random, furious wave of shots exploded through into the confined space.
More rounds exploded above his head and took another soldier down with them. “They just breached the far door! How much longer do you need? We’re sitting ducks over here!” Mason shouted back.
“I said get back from the door! We’re halfway there!”
“Hurry up!” Mason added before getting back to his knees. “Cover fire and pull back!” he ordered and fired into the billowing waves of smoke and dust. The returning fire dropped off and he used the chance to pull the fallen soldier beside him back to the blown-out door and into the port landing bay.
“Get me a line at ten meters!” the sergeant shouted. “We’ll keep them at bay the same way. Where’s Major Kael?”
The loose formation looked among themselves during a lull between exchanges. The major’s armor was identical to the rest of them except for a series of subdued red stripes on his shoulders to set him apart as the commanding officer.
“I’m here.” The voice came through as a forced whisper. “They’re all around me; either they don’t see me or think I’m already dead. Hurry up and get out of here.”
“Sir, I can see you on the scope,” Scott broke in. “About three meters away on the rear wall is a circular ramp that leads to the upper level and back over to the bay. Can you get there?”
Kael lay on the ground, curled in the fetal position, wedged between the wall and the crate he used for cover. Slowly he arched his head back and stared through the dim light. Across the hall in a small alcove they had just been using as a fighting position was the ramp. It was dim, but he could see it branched out upwards to the left and down to the right, like a corkscrew running through the ship. “Yeah, it’s a couple meters away. There’re ten or so of them in here with me.”
“If you can get up a floor, you should be clear. You can cross over and get back to us.”
“Alright, hold on,” Kael silently gathered his feet beneath him and drew a knife from his armor. He stood and found himself standing face to face with a Cygnan firing out into the bay. It attempted to react but was too close for the elongated rifle.
The major grabbed the corner of its armor and pulled it close before punching the blade straight up through the seam in the alien’s throat and into its skull. It shook and silently went limp. Kael guided it to the ground, removed the weapon and quickly made for the ramp, trying to stay below the aliens’ lines of sight. He hit the edge and hugged the wall around the corner and moved into the darkness above.
Climbing up to the next floor, the air cleared out but the light stayed low and red. Hitting the next landing, Kael found a small storage area that looked to have sustained heavy damage from the previous bombardments. Equipment cases were strewn about haphazardly and the roof was buckled downwards, to the point of misshaping the door to his left.
“Can you see the door from your position?” Kael radioed down to the rest of the team.
“Yes,” Scott replied. “It’s in the center of a catwalk out here. We’re three-quarters through.”
“It took a hit from a Patriot strike; it’s sealed and crumpled in on this side. I need another way out.”
“Dammit!” Scott muttered and zoomed in on the picture. Sure enough, it clearly showed the damaged section of the wall above them across from the airlock. “Hold on… there should be another passage midway along the leading wall right under the dorsal. There are a series of similar rooms that will branch off to the bay again farther forward.”
“Copy that. I see it,” Kael whispered and maneuvered himself to the door without a sound. He cracked the seal and peered through, rifle barrel first. It was empty with a fraction of the damage of the last. “Next room clear. Moving on,” he announced and kept going.
The second room didn’t have side doors, but did have windows built into the ceiling above. A few meters ahead, Kael spied the spinning stardust slicing through outside as a grim reminder for how isolated they really were. At the next door he stopped again. “Any movement in front?”
“Negative.”
“Moving on.” Kael unlocked the door and passed through to the next chamber.
“You’re clear through one more room, then take the first door to the left to get back onto the catwalk. It overlooks…” Scott glanced above his head. “It’ll come out in the next room but I’ve got movement over there.” He looked about again. To his right, Mason and the other soldiers from the ground team were trading shots with the Cygnans piled in the doorway. To the left, Lieutenant Carter and the rest of the special ops team were stone still, covering both the forward entrance to the other bay and the ground doorway to the next support facility.
A fair amount of ground equipment and a number of boxes and crates looked to be strewn about the room, along with a number of moving signatures. “Carter, can you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?” the lieutenant asked without moving from his prone position.
“I need you to breach the forward door to the left. The major needs a diversion to get by on the second floor walkway.”
“Done. First team, on me. Second, keep an eye on the bay door.” Carter hopped to his feet and sprinted to the wall a meter back from the hatch with the rest of his fire team in tow.
“Kael, tell me when you’re in position. I’ll get their attention,” Grant’s voice broke in.
Scott looked back behind his shuttle. The commander’s fighter hung silently in space beyond the shield. “You can do that?”
“Sure can. Their shields won’t stop this. It might get drafty though.”
“I’m at the door,” Kael whispered and silently released the latch.
“Knock knock,” Grant announced and fired a single shot into the bay. With a heart-stopping wave of energy, the single round shattered half the bay wall and sent metal driving into the next room over.
Simultaneously, Carter breached the door and opened fire from the entrance along with the rest of the team. From the scope, Scott watched the major’s signature bolt from the doorway along the catwalk and into the bay, followed by a nonstop stream of curses and profanities.
He crashed through the upper hatch and leapt straight from the upper walkway and landed on his feet a story and a half below. He crumpled nearly to a crouch but dared not stop moving. “Finish up!” he shouted at Scott who instantly understood.
“We’re clear!”
“Break lock! Pull back to the shuttles!” Kael commanded and wheeled about to cover the retreat. His company moved slowly, pulling their three fallen soldiers along
the ground to the ramp. Moving to the front, he wrapped a hand around the scanner handle and pulled it aboard with Scott’s assistance.
He checked over his shoulder. “Carter! Get the hell back! That’s an order!” he yelled to the team still engaged at the door.
The lieutenant looked back at the shuttles which now seemed a day’s march away. “Copy. Breaking lock!” he acknowledged as half his team peeled off the blown-apart hatch. The fire team stopped twenty meters back and turned to cover the rest of the group’s retreat. Carter broke off next and dashed back in an arc to stay out the line of fire before turning to fire back.
“GO, GO, GO! WE’VE GOTTA MOVE!” Kael screamed back at them as the forward connecting bay hatch blew apart and more Cygnans appeared through the fire and smoke.
Carter picked himself up again and kept running. He was now over halfway back to the nearest shuttle along with his squad. He passed the last defender who took a round with a sickening snap and dropped to the ground. “Gaddammit!” he grumbled and picked the fallen soldier up by his armor and proceeded to drag him back to the ramp.
Scott watched the scene unfold in horror from the cover of the shuttle. It all happened silently in slow motion. The lieutenant made it another four steps before taking a glancing shot from the side that knocked him to his knees. He twisted across and fired wildly at a small contingent of Cygnans who had scaled the twisted metal walls Grant had blown apart only minutes earlier. He took two of them before another round hit him squarely in his right arm, sending him spinning to the ground.
A non-stop barrage of agonizing screams filled the radio channel as Carter writhed on the ground, spurred by the shot. Kael snapped Scott out of his stupor with a backhand to the side of his head.
“COVER ME!” he shouted at the engineer and made a dash for the two fallen special operators. He dropped his rifle, grabbed one in each hand and with a strain that dropped him nearly to the ground, pulled them back to the shuttle ramp. More shots rained in around him, but he was so far past caring that the major didn’t notice.
He reached the ramp where the rest of the operators were waiting who reached out and dragged them aboard. “ALL ABOARD! LIFT OFF!” Kael yelled out as the pilot pulled the shuttle forward and rocketed out of the bay before the platform closed.
Carter kept thrashing around on the deck, despite the others trying to hold him down. Kael removed his helmet as the pressure equalized and tossed it aside. “Med kit! Get his armor off!” he ordered the rest of the team who pulled the suit from the lieutenant.
The plates no sooner released than thick and bloody ooze pulsed out from Carter’s right arm. Kael slung the armor aside only to see that the soldier’s arm ended at his elbow except for the skeletal remains. Half the soldiers recoiled while the major tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Whatever was in the substance was still eating its way along, causing more of the skin to melt away.
“We have to stop it. Tourniquet!” he ordered and tried to keep pressure on the man’s arm to stem the bleeding. Turning, he pointed to Scott and the wall. “Get me the demo axe.”
The engineer stood, still half stunned and pulled the red epoxy-coated steel hatchet and handed it over. It was all a blur. Someone arrived with a medical bag and jammed an auto-injecting needle into Carter’s neck. His agonizing twisting slowed while another soldier strapped the nylon band around his arm below his shoulder and cinched it tight. With the bloody ascent only centimeters away, Kael swung hard and dropped the blade, severing the remainder with a single, powerful stroke. Scott cringed and looked away, only to see the soldier convulse one more time before passing out.
Silence fell on the small room for only a second. “Get him wrapped up,” Kael ordered and switched to the fleet channel. “We’ve got a critically wounded operator. Clark, clear your med bay for our arrival. You’ve got the only one staffed up.”
Scott’s hands were still shaking as the team bandaged what was left of Carter’s arm and lifted him onto a stretcher someone else had pulled from the wall. All he could do was stand back and get out of the way.
“We’re landing on Lieutenant Commander Clark’s Patriot,” Kael announced as he got back to his feet. “They’ve got a team standing by to take him. Both shuttles will offload there; my team will regroup and head back with Lieutenant Rans. Mr. Ryan, thank you for your assistance. You’ll be escorted in the second shuttle back to the Flagstaff.
The engineer nervously nodded and looked back through a small window to the side, in spirit trying to claw through and escape the grim reality of his surroundings. Beyond, the Cygnan cruiser continued to slowly tumble in the distance until a barrage of fire from Rans’ nearby ship rained down, perforating every surface and in a puff of fire, blew the heavily damaged vessel into nothing.
They landed on Clark’s Patriot in only a few minutes. The medical staff was at the ready and rushed Carter off to the Lyran equivalent of field surgery. Given what had occurred with Othello, Scott didn’t see a reason for the stabilized man to not make a fair recovery. Kael ordered the operators to stay at their leader’s side and regrouped with the rest of his team.
“Sergeant Mason, have everyone staged in the first shuttle. I need to report this to the captain.”
Leaving the group on the deck, Scott noticed the major’s rifle hung loose from its strap, forgotten as he carried another small, dark case that he hadn’t noticed before. Was that a piece of the scanner? He decided not to ask questions and watched the major’s exit. He stopped at the lift, almost in silent contemplation before stepping aboard. Scott couldn’t blame him, given the losses he’d just suffered.
***
“I think we’re clear,” Commander Fox announced over the radio as the last cruiser took one round too many from the Flagstaff’s cannons, ruptured and split in two, spilling its contents in a churning ball of fire. He leaned back in relief and sighed, brushing a layer of debris away from his console.
“That was too close,” Sebastian remarked.
“I agree. Tighten up the formation for a quick debrief while we sort out the ground teams,” Fox said, shaking his head. The preliminary report from the ground team on the cruiser was on his screen. He’d have never authorized such a risky mission, but at least Wright had the wherewithal to make a decision and see it through. A lesser leader would have been indecisive and pulled the plug at first contact, ushering in assured disaster. If nothing else, that was to be commended but he hoped the effort was worth it.
***
Scott sat on the rear ramp of his shuttle alone, waiting for whatever the other officers had planned before he would get back to his old post. He really didn’t belong with the special operations guys and at the moment was just as happy to not have to face any of them. A few meters away, the rest of the ground forces were similarly circled up on the shuttle, waiting for their orders.
Kael stepped off the lift a moment later and went straight for Scott. “Thank you again for your help out there,” he announced and shook the engineer’s hand. “We got what the Lyrans wanted; we’ll have to wait to get it all processed before we’ll know whether it was worth it.”
“Thanks.” Scott dropped back and stared at the ground.
“Hopefully that’ll be the worst of it. Keep your head down,” he advised before regrouping with his team.
Scott shuffled back up the ramp and settled into a jump seat, suddenly feeling very cold and alone. “All clear!” he radioed to the pilot and with a quick rumble of the engines they shot back into the vacuum and towards the human battleship, the closest thing he had to a home.
They made it back to the central bay and Scott could see Commander Grant’s fighter come in for a landing on the level above. He kept to himself, trudging slowly back to his small stateroom, where he quickly collapsed on the floor the second the door snapped shut.
***
Above, Grant exchanged a few words with Chief Robins whose crew had finally stood down after the assault. The twisted remains of the Cygnan shuttl
e were still rammed into the rear wall, too large to attempt disposal without significant support equipment.
“Hey, I’ll get back with you in a minute,” he said, trying to break the conversation. “I need to check in on the bridge before we can get on our way.”
“No problem. We’ve got enough to keep busy,” Robins smiled, nodding to the empty rails on the fighter as smoke wafted from every seam.
Farther up the hallway, Grant passed by the last stand of the Cygnan patrol that had tried to take the bridge. They still were crumpled in the same positions they took when they fell since cleaning up the mess was still of minimal priority. He hopped the barrier and jogged the rest of the way to the bridge, rounding the last corner and stopping at the scene of devastation by the central hatch.
Dead aliens were stacked against the wall, bullet holes riddled every surface, all the doors were gone and every surface was covered with dark soot. The conference room on the left looked to have taken a bomb blast and was completely destroyed. Grant peered through to the bridge and saw Fox seated with his back to the door, an unloaded ZiG rifle sitting on top of his console. His head was in his hands.
“You survived,” Grant stated.
“Amazingly,” Fox muttered. “That was way too close. We have got to keep our distance if this is how they’re going to fight.”
“I agree; we’re spread far too thin.”
Fox nodded. “I keep telling myself we’ve got one site left. After that, we can get a few more bodies, staff up the fleet and stop freaking limping along.”
“Yup. One more,” Grant said, nodding and staring off into space. Out of the vacuum on the far side of the glass appeared the next gate, which immediately deployed and began calculating the next jump. “Time to get going. Are your captains ready?”
MissionSRX: Deep Unknown Page 17