by Wayne Basta
Turning toward the others, Maarkean said, “We’ll have to either cram everyone into two ships or go in without air cover.”
“Either way isn’t good,” Novastar said. “Chimopori is damaged, so she’s no good as air cover. But it’s also doubly risky if she has to carry half of the troops. And Ar’cher’s ship can’t fit the other half, so you’ll have to carry them and leave air cover to him.”
“You also have three more guns to fit in,” Fracsid said, interjecting himself back into the conversation. Maarkean had intended to let the man and his crew recover instead of diving right back into combat. He eyed Fracsid and the other two and decided it was their call.
“Right,” Maarkean answered. “All right, we’ll load all three ships. One down won’t be as bad. None of us are really in any condition to fly cover anyway. We’ll all fly in and stay down until we’re dead or we win.”
The other captains nodded, and then they all turned to watch as the transports began arriving. Lahkaba, Pasha, Gamaly and Gu’od, forty Ronid special forces and about a hundred others emerged from the vehicles and walked over to join them. The senior Ronid officer, Kueff Kahl-Amarr, gave Maarkean a salute, which he returned without thinking about it.
“Slight change of plans. We have one transport down, so we’re going in without air support. Once we’re on the ground, we won’t be taking off again. We’re all going in. Get to your ships.”
To Maarkean’s surprise, the group let out a cheer. Their enthusiasm for their mission heartened him just as much as the thought that he was about to lead them all to their deaths gnawed at him.
Creeping through a war-torn city escorting a kid with no experience and a politician hell-bent on proving she could fight was not Zeric’s idea of good tactics. The front lines were holding, as far as he knew, but they were far from rigid. Three SPCs had backed up and could have found a way around the barricades, and there were too many side streets in the city to cover them all. There could be Alliance troops anywhere.
When they had first left the building, he had intended on heading back toward the hotel, but Lei-mey had insisted that they were fine and that Zeric was needed on the front lines. He had argued that they were not fine and that Kumus’ head wound was still bleeding, but the boy had tried to show he was tough by insisting it didn’t hurt. In the end, Zeric had relented because he did think his place was on the front. He could do nothing from the hotel but wait.
As they made their way through the city, moving as quickly and stealthily as they were able, Zeric listened to the sounds of battle. The ringing of blaster fire and the reverberations of explosions echoed through the air and the ground. Alliance troops were not pulling any punches, it seemed. Aside from aerial bombardment, they were using everything they had.
Zeric was relieved that Lei-mey and Kumus were remaining quiet. Talking would only raise their chances of discovery and annoy him. He felt bad for the boy, injured when he was supposed to be safe in a command post, although there was never any safe place in a war zone.
Approaching the main defense line, Zeric slowed. The barricades could be seen up ahead, and the sounds of blaster fire were getting louder the closer they got. Sneaking up on his own troops would not be a good idea. Even if half of them were wielding stun weapons, most weren’t trained and would likely fire if startled.
Something caught Zeric’s attention out of the corner of his eye. He immediately halted their advance behind a mobile food stand that had been left in the street. He turned to look down one of the side streets, but he didn’t see anything. He was about to dismiss it as his imagination when something on the street moved. It was too big to be an animal.
Looking closer, Zeric spotted what was either a collection of junk or an Alliance soldier’s helmet. From the position of the suspected soldier, he had a good line of sight on the troops defending the barricade. If there was one, there would be more.
Cursing to himself, Zeric considered his options. He was caught between the two groups with no experienced troops, aside from himself. Kumus had lost his weapon when the ceiling had collapsed. With all of the weapon fire, he was too far away from his troops to get their attention by shouting. If they continued to the barricades, they would likely be among those taken out in the opening volley.
“Why did we stop?” Lei-mey asked in a harsh whisper.
“Trouble,” Zeric answered simply. “We’re about to walk into an ambush.”
“Then we need to do something,” Lei-mey said.
“I’m thinking,” Zeric said.
He considered turning around and heading away from the fight. It wouldn’t be the most glorious or honorable thing for a leader to do. But it would be his best chance to survive and keep Lei-mey and Kumus alive.
“Ah, hell,” Zeric mumbled.
Standing up slightly around the stand, Zeric started firing indiscriminately down the side street where he had seen the figure. His suspicions proved to be true when blaster fire was returned from the street toward him. Suddenly blaster fire erupted from all around them, and Zeric realized there were several other soldiers sneaking around.
Diving back behind the food stand, Zeric pushed himself and the other two as close to the ground as he could manage. Glancing up, he was relieved to see that several of the defenders had turned from the barricade and were firing at the soldiers to their rear. After a moment, the rain of blaster bolts aimed at them shifted and was directed at those at the barricade.
“Stay down,” Zeric growled.
Crawling forward, Zeric watched the exchange of fire for a moment. He tracked where the blasts were coming from and eventually identified an Alliance soldier who was in his line of sight. Taking careful aim, he tried to slow his breathing as he waited for the soldier to move to where he could get a shot off.
The soldier shifted slightly, and Zeric fired. He was rewarded with the sight of the soldier dropping. Zeric immediately rolled sideways, hoping to avoid any retaliation fire. Coming to a stop a few meters away, he surveyed the scene.
Blaster fire around him had stopped, and there was a momentary lull in the noise of battle. Standing up, he took the opportunity to shout, “Watch the lines! Prepare for an assault!”
As if in response to his shout, a renewed barrage began from the other side of the barricade. The Alliance troops redoubled their assault. Zeric’s first shot had caused the ambushing troops to attack early, and the forward troops hadn’t been ready to make their assault. The delay in their attacks had been small, but it was enough that they could not strike simultaneously.
Zeric was starting to feel a sense of relief that the ambush had been stopped when the blaster bolt hit him.
Chapter Nineteen
“Coming into weapons range in ten seconds,” Owrik declared.
Maarkean could feel himself tensing. They were moving over the ground at high speeds. In a matter of seconds, if they were being monitored via satellite, weapon fire would start cascading up at them. If they weren’t, the weapon fire would still come, just a short time later.
The ten seconds passed, then more. Maarkean suppressed any sense of relief. They were merely past the first obstacle, which allowed them to face far greater obstacles. He readied himself for the next set of tricky maneuvers.
Owrik shouted that their target was on sensors at the same time as Maarkean saw it rise up on the horizon. He gave their flight path a slight upward angle and prepared for rapid deceleration. Seconds later, the barrage began.
The air around the Cutty Sark was suddenly filled with blaster shots and concussion shells. They had made it this far without being spotted. The remaining distance would be dangerous but short. It was better than he could have hoped.
“Shields weakening. We’re taking hull damage,” Owrik declared.
“Almost there. Just a few more seconds,” Maarkean half growled through gritted teeth. He hated flying through anti-aircraft fire.
The ship rocked from a nearby concussion wave that threatened to throw him off cou
rse. Maarkean narrowly avoided flying directly into a stream of blaster fire. Slipping the ship back on track, he rapidly increased their ascent angle and flew up over the walls of the Alliance base. Just as soon as the ship went up, he fired the retro thrusters and angled her back down again.
Coming up quickly, the ground filled the viewport. Maarkean continued firing the retro thrusters, slowing their descent. Deploying the landing struts, they made contact with the ground. With a rougher landing than he liked to make, the ship came to a stop.
It was time to make their assault.
Maarkean quickly unstrapped himself from the pilot’s seat and drew his pistol as he exited the flight deck, shouting an order for the bay door to be opened. Dashing through the crew quarters and down the stairs, he reached the cargo bay just as his men began streaming out of the open cargo door. There were twenty police specialty forces clad in riot gear, which offered them protection from shrapnel but minimal resistance to blaster bolts, and thirty volunteers less well equipped. In the rear, directly before Maarkean, with no protective gear, were Gu’od and Gamaly.
The two Liw’kel turned to Maarkean as he came down the stairs. Both wore determined expressions and were holding their rifles ready. He moved to stand beside them and watched the cargo bay empty out. After a moment, only the three of them remained, plus a Terran named Seesz Owwoke and a Dotran named Atoshi Dren.
“How long should we wait?” Gamaly asked.
“Until the sounds of blaster fire get further away,” Gu’od answered.
The police units were tasked with securing the base’s defensive emplacements. Their group would follow after that wave and head for the base’s command and communications center. The Chimopori and Durandal had, hopefully, placed their forces down in other areas of the base in order to secure the armory and vehicle bay.
In silence, the group of them listened to the sound of blaster fire coming from outside the ship. Maarkean didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching until Saracasi and Owrik were right behind him. Both were holding weapons.
“I told you two, you’re staying with the ship,” he growled.
Saracasi gave him the determined stare that only she could. “That was when we had air cover. You said it yourself: we’re all going in.”
Maarkean fixed a glare on his sister. She could be profoundly irritating sometimes, especially when she was defying him. The last thing he wanted to do right now was fight with his sister in front of everyone while others were out there dying. She knew it, too.
“All right,” Maarkean conceded. “But you do what I, Gu’od or Gamaly say immediately, without question. If I tell you to run, you run. No questions, no hesitation.”
Saracasi and Owrik nodded their consent. With luck, most of the fighting would occur elsewhere, and the communications center would be lightly manned, but Maarkean worried they had used up all their luck making it inside the base in one piece. The Alliance forces had not been monitoring the area around their base like they should have been.
“Sounds like things are quieting down,” Gu’od said.
Maarkean nodded. “Let’s go.”
Gu’od headed out first. As he left, he exchanged a message of love with Gamaly with his antennae. Maarkean, having picked up some of the antennae language, was embarrassed that he could understand their meaning, as it was obviously meant to be private between them. As Gu’od exited the ship, Gamaly watched him go with a worried expression.
Seesz and Atoshi went next, followed by Maarkean and Saracasi, leaving Owrik and Gamaly to bring up the rear. Sounds of warfare could be heard in the distance, but none here. The Alliance must have believed the transport empty now, or else they were more undermanned than Maarkean had hoped for. Either way, it was a good sign.
Moving as quickly as they could while maintaining some stealth, they dashed from cover to cover. After a short time, they came across unconscious Alliance soldiers who had run afoul of Gu’od. The soldiers were still alive, but it was the first sign they had seen that there was fighting occurring.
Approaching the command center, they saw their first active soldiers. Outside the door to the building, two soldiers were hastily stacking sandbags while two others kept a watchful eye. Maarkean’s hope of finding an undefended post evaporated.
They caught up to Gu’od at the corner of the next closest building.
“Frontal attack will be risky,” Gu’od said when everyone reached him.
“Have you scouted around?” Maarkean asked.
“There is another door on the other side of the building. Looks like a service entrance. There is also an emergency exit halfway between. No guards on either of them, but they are sealed tight,” Gu’od replied. “It will require explosives to get through the doors – they look pretty sturdy.”
“They’ll be reinforced and bomb proof,” Seesz said. “Any explosives we have on hand will just draw attention.”
Maarkean wasn’t sure what the man’s background was. He had been one of the few Terran volunteers, and when Maarkean had asked, Seesz had just said he was a load lifter operator at the starport. But he had checked out as a good shot with a rifle and appeared to know his stuff.
“It’s never good attacking a fortified position,” Maarkean said quietly.
“Then maybe we should attack soon, before they finish fortifying,” Saracasi suggested. “We have the numbers advantage.”
Casting a sharp look at his sister, Maarkean considered their options. If they didn’t secure the command post, the operation here would be for nothing. Of all of the possible obstacles they could face, four soldiers was the best one. He also knew that there might be more inside.
If they attacked, they would be going up against trained soldiers with inexperienced civilians. They would be attacking a fortified position without overwhelming numerical superiority. Their only advantages were surprise and the hope that the best soldiers had been sent to Perth.
An attack could get all of them killed. He was loath to lead his sister into a suicide mission, although he had to admit that this entire adventure was a suicide mission. The moment those first Alliance transports had been warned away, he had committed himself, Saracasi and everyone in Perth to a suicide mission.
“Seesz and Gamaly are our two best shots,” Maarkean began. “Gamaly, take Saracasi and Atoshi around to the other side of this building. You have five minutes to get there. In exactly five minutes, you and Seesz will each take out the soldiers standing guard. Once you do, the rest of us will make a charge and try to overwhelm them.”
Looking hard at Seesz and Gamaly, he said, “Success lies with the two of you getting kills on your first shots. If we can take those two out, we’ll have a chance.”
Gamaly returned Maarkean’s look with a determined expression that said he shouldn’t doubt her. Seesz looked nervous, but determined. Deciding that was the best he would get, Maarkean looked at his watch, and the others did the same.
“Five minutes… starts… now.”
With a final glance at Gu’od, Gamaly led her team in a run along the edge of the building away from the command center. Maarkean watched them go and tried not to think about all the ways things could go wrong. Despite his best efforts, the possibilities just swirled in his head.
While they waited, Gu’od squatted down against the wall and closed his eyes in meditation. Despite the danger his wife was in, the man appeared perfectly calm and at peace. Maarkean wished he could master that. He tried to emulate Gu’od and took several long slow breaths. The desire to know how much time was left and the worry that they would be discovered kept gnawing at him.
Maarkean’s effort to meditate was cut short by the sound of blaster fire. It was much closer than any of the sounds they had been hearing in the background. Wondering if he had missed the time, he looked at his watch and saw that only three minutes had passed.
Owrik, who had been peering around the corner of the building, turned back to the rest of them. “There are three Alliance sol
diers running toward the command center. They are firing behind them, and they are also being shot at.”
Standing back up, Maarkean glanced around the corner, quickly confirming Owrik’s report. The three soldiers were almost to their half-finished defenses. Work had stopped on the sandbag walls and the soldiers were retrieving their weapons. He didn’t know who was pursuing the soldiers, but their plan had definitely become outdated.
Not waiting, Maarkean started firing on the soldiers behind the barricades. The walls were not very high, and two of the soldiers were standing up, looking for their weapons. As soon as he started firing, his shots were joined by more from the rest of his team.
Caught in crossfire, two of the soldiers who had been running for the building were brought down. Deciding to seize the advantage, Maarkean charged out from around the corner and continued firing. He recognized the look of panic on one of the soldiers’ faces as he fumbled with his weapon.
To his amazement, Maarkean reached the sandbag barrier without being shot. Drawing on some of the lessons he had managed to learn from Gu’od, Maarkean leapt over the barrier and delivered simultaneous blows to two of the soldiers, knocking them from their feet.
Another soldier brought his gun up, and Maarkean was sure he was done for. Then the boy convulsed and dropped from a stun bolt.
Looking in the direction the stun bolt had come from, Maarkean saw Gamaly leading her team toward him.
It was a moment before he realized that the firing had stopped and that he was the only one left standing in the doorway to the command center. Everything had happened so fast, he was not sure how he was still alive.
While the others advanced, Maarkean examined the soldiers at his feet. He was relieved that most of them appeared to be stunned, not dead.
He found the highest-ranking one, a lance corporal, and searched the woman for an identification card. Finding one in her jacket pocket, he tried the building’s door with it. To his immense relief, the door clicked open.