Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  Nathen crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “Fair enough.”

  The commander turned and motioned to Doc, who glided in close to his side.

  “The Yew aren't going to go quietly,” Nathen whispered to his medic. “I'm afraid to leave them to their own devices when they're backed into a corner like this.”

  Doc glanced over his shoulder at Helen and Calico. “What are you suggesting we do?”

  “I don't know,” Nathen said, looking up at the ceiling. “I'm working on it.”

  Suddenly there was a ruckus on the far side of the room. Nathen, Doc and Donal all looked up as several soldiers issued exclamations as the heavy blast door ground open. Donal was moving first, with Nathen following behind.

  “Hey! Hey! Who ordered these doors opened? That's the Yew side, ya metalheads!”

  A heavy concentration of infantrymen gathered around an area, all speaking at once in excited yet confused tones, moving around something as the blast door started to close. Nathen was walking casually toward the noise, and then he was running. When he got there and pushed through the masses, he started shouting.

  “Doc! Get over here!”

  In seconds, Doc had pushed through the circle of soldiers as Donal looked over the source of the spectacle.

  “What in heaven's name...”

  Nathen pushed Donal away from the two men in Genesis armor, trying to buy them some space on the floor. Kyler Jeston was on his knees in his primary blue armor, barely able to support himself, with a limp Trenton Baxter in forest brown armor draped around his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Nathen barely reached the blue giant before Trent's body fell to the floor. Doc was next to the sniper in an instant.

  “Spit,” Doc hissed, rolling the sniper over. “Come on, Sharps. Come on.”

  Nathen looked over his hunter while Doc worked on the sniper. Kyler looked like he'd been blasted out the back of a turbine. He'd never seen the Genesis suit pushed so far. There were pocks and scars, the dermasuit looked like it had horrible burns all across it, and the utility belt was a mangled mess, as was the rest of his gear. The alloy was the only thing that appeared to have fully self-healed, and even that had lost its sheen. It looked a bit dim, and faded.

  Nathen couldn't tell if the suit was holding Kyler together, or if Kyler was holding the suit together. Either way, the symbiosis was withstanding the weight of the damage.

  Barely.

  Nathen leaned in close, trying to stare through the smooth helmet as if he could see his gunner's face. “Buckshot, what happened?”

  Kyler didn't respond, he just sat and sucked in air. All around them, bewildered Infantry stared with awe, studying the strange skin and alloy of the two mystery men.

  The heck is this?

  That's not... Is that their bones?

  Are they human? I dunno...

  That can't be a suit, it's seamless.

  Where did they come from?

  Donal moved in close to Nathen. “You know these characters?”

  Nathen stood with a jolt and turned on the sergeant, motioning to the crowding troops.

  “I need everyone to bug off! Now!”

  Donal sensed the tone in Nathen's voice and decided not to challenge it. The sergeant turned and waved his arms at the ogling Infantry.

  “Alright! Get back, you peeping toms! Never seen a military circus act before? Get going before I bust ya open for breathin' my air, ya slackdogs!”

  Donal slapped and shoved the soldiers back, who slowly retreated, still casting curious looks at the two brightly colored mystery men. As the soldiers drew back, Helen and Calico ran up, dragging some medical privacy screens with them. They popped them up around the two armor-clad ESCs while Donal worked to keep his men from getting too snoopy. After they were left alone, Nathen grabbed Kyler's helmet and lifted it back, forcing the hunter to answer.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Kyler brushed Nathen's hand away and cleared his throat, sounding as husky as a lifetime smoker.

  “Yeah, I'm fine, thanks mate.”

  Nathen glanced over at Doc, who looked over his shoulder at him. “Sharps is alive. He's practically comatose. Symbiosis has him sealed in like a cocoon.”

  “What the heck?” Helen said, kneeling next to Doc and touching Trent's arm. “I've never seen the Genesis suit do this before. It looks like it’s cooked.”

  “We used the Mojave,” Kyler said, coughing into his hand. “Gas sank into the armah like a sponge. Et's been trying to expel it, but foh a while, et was so close...”

  Helen grabbed Doc's shoulder and pulled the medic back, forcefully. “Doc, don't touch them. They're toxic.”

  Doc backed away, looking at the tortured symbiosis with a twinge of fear. By now, the gas might have neutralized, but if he interrupted whatever the Genesis armor was doing, it might still eject lethal gas, and kill them all. Which meant he couldn't pull his two injured—and possibly dying—comrades out of their armor to treat whatever wounds they had sustained. Nathen leaned closer to Kyler.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Kyler swallowed, throat crinkling like tissue paper, and exhaled like he had a mouthful of coals.

  “We were holding the axis on Deck Eleven,” he explained, slowly. “Between the machine guns, the Pennington, and the Mojave, they couldn't even get close to us. Then...”

  Calico leaned in. “What?”

  Kyler lifted his smooth blue visor to look at his teammates. “Then we got thrashed by a bloody Master General.”

  Helen started in surprise. “A Master General? Here? I didn't think this operation had that kind of backing.”

  “You're sure?” Nathen asked, clarifying. Kyler nodded, wincing as his neck audibly cracked.

  “Pretty sure,” he said, throat rasping. “Hard to mistake that armor foh anything else.”

  “How many troops did he have with him?” Doc asked.

  Kyler held up a hand, lifting his index finger. “One.”

  Calico frowned. “One squad, or...”

  “No,” Kyler said, gripping the back of his neck, arm trembling slightly. “He was by his lonesome.”

  Nathen actually looked surprised. “He beat you both, all by himself?”

  “Et was embarrassing,” Kyler said, ashamedly. “I'd take et as a personal favor if we just forgot et evah happened.”

  “Well,” Helen said. “At least you took him down with you, right?”

  Kyler looked at Helen with a groan. “We couldn't even lay a finger on im.”

  The group was silent for a moment, dwelling on the thought that two of Humanity's best heroes could be so easily bested. None fixed harder on that point than Nathen.

  There's a threat to us out there.

  “Buckshot,” Nathen said, arms crossed and staring at the floor. “Are you sure it was just the one?”

  “Yeah,” Kyler said, slightly confused. “What, you don't think I ken count?”

  Nathen chewed his inner cheek, pushing a hand through his hair. Helen eyed him, knowing what he was thinking.

  “A Master General,” she stated, just for the sound of it. “A tempting target, huh Boss?”

  Nathen dropped his arms and faced Helen with a shake of his head. “That's inconsequential. The Yew are in retreat, or they will be shortly. The real threat at this point is the Admiral.”

  Helen arched an eyebrow. “The Admiral? Why?”

  “What do you think is the first thing he's going to do when he gets back to his carrier?”

  Helen got the point. “Use those guns on us from space.”

  “Right,” Nathen said. “A bitter goodbye. If he can't have the Orbit Angel, he's sure not going to leave it intact for us.”

  “And then there's the reserve fleet that's coming in,” Helen added, following Nathen's thoughts. “Even if the carrier retreated, it could just return and finish the job then.”

  “Well, if that's the case, sitting around here waiting for the Marines is just marking time,” Doc said, clasping
his arms loosely around his middle. “And something tells me we can't count on our Infantry friends to hear us out on the possibility of an assault.”

  “Yeah,” said Helen. “I think they're pretty licked right now.”

  “So what?” Calico asked, shrugging. “What are we supposed to do?”

  “We do what we always do,” Nathen said, planting his hands on his hips. “What we do best. Win the bigger battle with a smaller victory.”

  Nathen looked around at the others. “Alright, Alphas. This is our last objective. Kill the Admiral, save the system. Any questions?”

  Kyler raised a hand from his knees. “Teacha. I contracted a flesh rotting bio-molecular gas into my living skin. Ken I go home?”

  Nathen nodded. “You're dismissed.”

  Kyler sighed and sat down next to Trent's unconscious form, head sagging against his chest alloy. Nathen crossed his arms and looked across the others.

  “Anyone else got any lethal deformities they want to complain about?”

  “Nope,” Helen said.

  “Then let's gear up and go kill us an Admiral!” snapped the commander.

  The three other Elite Stellar Commandos snapped to it, gathering equipment, weapons, and supplies as fast as they could. Doc made sure Trent was comfortable, arranging supplies to be at hand for when he woke up. Helen grabbed Calico and the two headed back to the weapons stash to select their loadout. Nathen watched them go, then knelt down next to Kyler, taking the weight off his injured left leg momentarily.

  “You gonna make it, Buckshot?” Kyler looked up and nodded, firmly.

  “Yeah. Got a bit of a bruised ego right now, but I'll be fine.”

  Nathen glanced at Doc, who looked like he was preoccupied. After a second, he turned back to Kyler.

  “Where did you say you saw this general?”

  Kyler's strained voice took on a vengeful undertone, low and grim. “Deck Eleven, central axis hub.”

  Nathen nodded, as if the information meant little to him, and started to stand.

  “Rest up,” he said. “It will be over with soon.”

  “Hold on theh,” Kyler said, straining to reach his right leg. “Foh you go... take this.”

  Kyler gave his wrist a jerk, and with a gasp of exotic leather the hunter's custom Pitbull shotgun peeled out of its leg holster. Kyler turned the shotgun over, gripping it by the barrel before handing the alligator-skinned grip toward his leader.

  “Treat 'er right,” the Paxtonite said. “She'll get the job done foh ya.”

  Nathen took the prized shotgun from his hunter's hands and cocked the handle, snapping a shell into place. Kyler relaxed, knowing that crisp action was the best reassurance he could ask for.

  Chapter 58

  Helen slid down the ladder and hit the deck below with her knees bent, absorbing shock and muffling any noise she made on impact. She waved her Coyote’s sights over the scene, making sure everything was safe for her teammates. Nothing moved, or showed signs of danger.

  “Clear,” she said, stepping away from the ladder. Nathen hit the deck next, followed by Calico, then Doc. Calico and Doc were armed with the two flashlight-equipped Caspers, ideal for the tight crawlspaces they were utilizing. Nathen carried only a very special, modified Pitbull shotgun, and his Denchura II. He also had Gordon's Karl 9, but that only had one magazine left, and it fired only custom-made ammunition. Once he spent the last of that ammo, there would be no more to be found on the station. Nathen fell to a knee and took a deep breath, letting the medivest measure his heartbeat and control his injuries. Once all the ESC’s were down, Helen activated her comm. unit.

  “Donal, what’s our position?”

  There was a slight buzz in the comm. before the sergeant responded.

  “We're tracking your signal on the grid. Doesn't look like the Alliance tapped the system yet. Cocky little spits. You’re right on target. About forty feet to the right of the water main there should be a series of closed crawlspaces. To find the one that gets you to the ambush point, take the one labeled D4. That’s about as close as you can get. Move fast.”

  “Copy that. Moving double pace.” Helen turned off the comm. unit and motioned to the others to move ahead. “Move out, fast and silent.”

  Forty feet later, just as Donal had said, were a number of crawlspaces. Two were unlocked, as was indicated by a pair of green lights above the entrances. The rest of the lights were red. Helen knelt down, taking care not to rest on her knees in case she needed to spring to her feet.

  “Crawlspace D4. This is it.”

  Helen hit the open switch and stepped aside as the hatch swung open, taking only a second to sweep the tight entryway with her Coyote. Nathen and Doc checked the other crawlspace for threats, but found none.

  “It's clear,” said Doc. “Now what?”

  “We move fast,” Nathen said, his breathing labored under the control of the medivest. “I'll take the lead. See anything move, shoot first, ask questions later. No one else is supposed to be down here. Also, keep your ears sharp. We don’t know how many Mauls they’ve unleashed in this area, and they love these tight passageways. Helenade, you take the rear.”

  “Right,” Helen said, slinking back. “And Boss?”

  Nathen looked back at her, arching an eyebrow. Helen's azure eyes glared back at him with a grim grin.

  “Don't call me Helenade.”

  Nathen nodded and took a deep breath, drawing his pistol and turning the way they were supposed to go. “Let's watch our spacing, and...”

  Nathen didn't finish his thought as he stumbled, falling onto his knees, barely keeping his pistol hand from hitting the floor. The medivest gasped as it reacted to his altered breathing. Doc quickly moved in to read the diagnosis on the vest's medical readout, but Nathen brushed him off, slumping back against the wall of the crawlspace and breathing heavily. Helen moved in, sitting on her haunches in front of Nathen, worriedly. Nathen swallowed, pulling air through his nostrils as he looked at his team.

  “Does it seem like the air is thinner down here?”

  Helen shook her head, grimly. Nathen sighed and let his head loll back against the wall of the crawlspace, waving her on with his pistol.

  “Maybe you should go first.”

  Helen nodded in agreement, turning and working her way through the cramped crawlspace, stretching her legs out in front of her so she could keep her Coyote pointed the right way. Doc lingered for a moment, uncertainly.

  “Knight?”

  “I'm fine,” Nathen said, unconvincingly. “Just needed to catch my breath.”

  Doc hesitated for another moment, looking back at Calico. The young speaker reassured the medic.

  “I'll keep an eye on him.”

  Still uncertain, Doc twisted around in the crawlspace and headed after Helen. Calico moved up and waited for Nathen to move. The commander shrugged his shoulders.

  “I'm fine,” he insisted, seeing Calico's look. “Why's everyone keep looking at me that way?”

  “In what order should I list the reasons?” Calico asked, skeptically. “Perhaps I should just recite your wounds ranging from head to toe.”

  “Never list the reasons to complain.” Nathen waved Calico past him like a friendly motorist. “You first. I'll take up the rear.”

  Calico sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue her commander's physical state. She prowled forward, her small frame taking up little space in the cramped quarters. When she was about a body length ahead, Nathen grunted and pulled himself onto his knees, following her.

  “Trast. Are you sure you’ll be okay for this mission?”

  Calico curled her lip, confused. “Me? I'm worried about you, sir.”

  Nathen just grunted dismissively. Calico shook her head, letting her red bangs droop in front of her face like a veil. The rest of the trip was spent in silence, everyone focusing on moving. That invisible ticking clock hovered in everyone's mind.

  It didn’t take nearly as long to reach their destination as th
e commandos had originally expected. Ten minutes later, they reached what appeared to be a deserted troop living quarters. The crawl spaces were likely rally points for all troops, in case certain areas needed fortifying and the main corridors weren’t options. It seemed no one had received enough warning to adequately use them before the bloodshed started. Helen entered the room and swept the dust from a bunk, frowning and activating her comm unit.

  “Donal, we’re in what appears to be an empty troop quarters. No weapons or belongings. Looks like it’s been unused for quite some time. Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  No answer. Helen looked at the comm unit with a look of disgust and switched it off.

  “Blast it,” she said, looking about the dark room. “Relays must still be down in this area.”

  Doc crouched in the entryway to the crawlspace and pulled out a datapad, calling up the static map he'd gotten from Central Command.

  “We're in the right place. I think these are the spare living quarters for when extra troops are moving through the system and need a place to stay. We should be very, very close to the rally point. If I’m reading this diagram correctly, there should be a door that leads to a troop ready room, which then leads to the hall. That door should be locked, but we should be able to manually open it from the inside.”

  “That’s good. We can open it just enough to see outside without giving away our position. We’ll be able to know just when our target is approaching. What other positions do we need to set up our crossfire?”

  “This says there’s another room directly across from us. It should be some kind of… I don’t know. It’s some kind of lab. Maybe not. Either way, we get ourselves in there, and we’ll have the best firing position we’re going to get.”

  “That's not enough,” Helen said, sighing and brushing her long hair behind her back. “At the first sign of trouble, that admiral will turn and run, and we'll be stuck fighting the bodyguards. He'll have an escape route.”

  “So?” Calico said, from the crawlspace. “Pop an Arcane grenade.”