by J. A. Scorch
"Do you think that's another soldier?" Mish asked. "Maybe an MAF pilot who doesn't realize how unsafe it is to be out in the open like that."
"I can't tell from here, but they are moving around in that building without a care in the world. Let's snake our way along the left edge and find out. Might be another clown that needs saving."
"We all need saving," Mish said. "We should just focus on helping one person at a time."
Teve turned around and pulled her aside. "Are you okay?" It was unlike her to ignore a fellow human being in need, no matter who they were.
"I'm fine. I just want to get out of here. I'm sick of fighting and trying to save everyone. They all die in the end."
Without wanting to, the list of dead soldiers Teve had lost flooded his mind. It didn't take more than a few moments to move on, but each of the faces began to speak. They all asked him the same question: why? One voice started to overlap the other as he found himself on the ground with both hands to his temples.
"Hey, what's going on?" Mish asked. She pushed on Teve's chest to jolt him awake. The voices stopped.
"Ah, nothing, sorry. I'm fine."
"Bullshit. You were having another episode, weren't you? What happened in that base?"
X's eyes came to mind. They floated around his brain, dominating his every thought until Mish slapped him again on the arm. "Wake up, Teve."
"I'm okay," he half shouted in defense. "I don't know what happened to me in the base, but something changed. I can feel the nanites controlling my body like they've stepped up production or something."
Mish went to speak, but Sutton interrupted. "What is going on here?" He had moved up to the top of the mound Teve and Mish had been using to scan the area.
"Nothing, sir. Just working out the finer details of our approach," Mish said.
"Sounds like arguing to me. Is there something you aren't agreeing on? Maybe I can weigh in."
"It's nothing you can help us with, sir. We were just discussing something a tad irrelevant."
"Jesus, Sergeant. Here we are in the middle of no-man's-land, and you two want to argue about your relationship?"
Teve went to defend Mish, knowing she wouldn't like an officer questioning her professionalism, but she got in first. "It won't happen again, sir."
Sutton nodded. "Good. I need you both focused on the task at hand. You can argue as much as you want when we get back to base. Now, what's the plan?"
Not wanting to give the lieutenant anything else to complain about, Teve decided to show him the man in the window. "Take a look through here, sir. I'll point you in the right direction."
A moment later, Sutton found the window and saw the man. At the long-off range, the scope on Teve's rifle could not give him the detail needed to assess the situation suitably.
"I think we need to head over there and see what gives," Teve said. "There could be a bunch of UEF soldiers who got cut off during the assault."
"Seems a little risky, don't you think?" Sutton asked.
"Risky is what we do. Plus, that building is on our way. We won't be able to avoid being seen by them the second we close the gap in the open space. Hell, I'd be willing to bet that person is watching us as we speak."
Sutton ran a hand over his chin as he assessed the situation for himself. Teve doubted the lieutenant could properly form an attack plan on the ground. His expertise was in the air or in space. That was a whole different game Teve knew little about. He thought about his brother Bradley and how good he was at fighting the Zeal from a cockpit. The two needed to catch up, but the war simply wouldn't let either one of them take a day off.
"Let's check it out," Sutton said. "I'm curious to see who this person is. Could be more soldiers, as you say."
Mish stepped past Teve and Sutton as she scooted down the rubble mound and gently walked toward the last piece of cover they had left before they would need to start crossing dangerous ground.
"Time to go, sir," Teve said. "The night is ticking away. Just keep on me and match my pace. We are going to follow Mish's lead and move from cover to cover as quickly and quietly as we can."
"Okay," Sutton said. "Take me there, Master Sergeant."
Teve gave him a brief nod and began to slide down the mound. He ventured up to the cover Mish was using—a thick piece of concrete that was once a footing for a highway support. She peeked her head over the top and scanned from left to right with her powerful eyes.
"Still nothing apart from the person in the window."
"That's good, I guess. We might stand a chance of crossing over in one piece."
She turned toward him and kissed him on the cheek. "Only one way to find out." Mish charged out and moved with purpose toward the next slim section of cover: the base of a street light that had long since been doused. With the limited cover, Teve would have to wait for Mish to proceed to the next section before he and Sutton could make their move. She would be on her own if anything happened.
"You ready, sir?"
Sutton exhaled. "Yes. Let's get this over with."
"Okay. On three. One, two—"
Mish's rifle rang out ahead. They had barely made it into the open space, and she was forced to engage, but Teve couldn't see what she was shooting at until he realized where her bullets were landing. She was firing on the person in the window.
Chapter Nineteen
It was getting late when Porter finally decided to rest his eyes and put Mackey and Michaels out of his mind. Michaels seemed to be less of a problem than Mackey at the moment, but they all had friends and fellow soldiers they had spent the last four years fighting with. That kind of camaraderie was a hard thing to defy.
Clay snored away on the bottom bunk, seemingly blasé to the threat on Porter's life and his own by proximity. The pilot was new to his combat role and didn't seem to take on the mental strain that war embarked upon a person's mind. Porter had seen too much in the last four years to be able to switch off his brain on command. Failing to fall asleep was another problem in the long chain of crap the war had thrown at him.
As he attempted to sleep for the next twenty minutes, his thoughts drifted to Nicole. He wondered if subconsciously he needed her there beside him to be able to fall asleep with ease. She never struggled to get some shuteye in no matter what chaos took shape around them.
The makeshift base outside of Atlanta was a converted maintenance facility attached to the old train lines that led in and out of the city. The rail network had been destroyed by the constant engagements between the UEF and the Zeal during the peak of the occupation. Now that the grip the aliens held over Earth began to falter, larger forces of human armies were being formed to retake the stolen lands. Porter couldn't even fathom the rebuilding that needed to occur once the last Stilt was cleared out of existence. The deconstruction alone of each major city would take years to complete.
His thoughts drifted to space. The MAF held the only Zeal carrier in the system in their possession after Porter, his wingman, and a small team of Marines disabled the oversized, round ship using stealth technology and a bit of luck. The Cyclones, as they were commonly nicknamed, made the biggest Martian battle carrier seem like a child's toy by comparison. Each Cyclone initially transported thousands and thousands of the Zeal soldiers to Earth, and recently the scientists who had spent the last year studying the broken ship discovered that the aliens held the capability to grow more soldiers on the carriers.
The insight gave the UEF a better understanding of how the alien occupation had been so successful up until this point. But without the three Cyclones orbiting Earth, no bridge existed to connect each Zeal base using technology no human had managed to master.
A year ago, with limited understanding of the Cyclone's communications, the first experts to step foot on the MAF's new toy realized the carrier had sent out a signal when Porter and his team attacked the core of the ship. Not only did that beacon make it all the way to its destination, but a return message was received by the Cyclone before it
was deactivated when Porter destroyed the ship's Orb.
A message came back: more ships were on their way. When they would arrive and how many ships would be a part of the next level of hell remained unknown. All the MAF and the UEF could do was wait.
The Martians lived on a planet that hadn't been destroyed by alien invaders. When the Zeal arrived, the MAF successfully held the aggressors back with their unified fleet. Earth, on the other hand, was destined to fail. The world's armies of the time could never work together as one, giving the aliens an easy victory as one force after the other fell victim to the power of the Zeal invaders.
Now, four years later, the United Earth Forces were beginning to take back lost ground and flush the Zeal from their home world. The cost, of course, was supplies, soldiers, and infrastructure. With little manufacturing backing up the front line, Earth relied on Mars to provide them with weapons, ships, and pilots. All the while, the MAF produced new battle carriers, destroyers, and stealth ships in preparation for the coming nightmare.
When the Zeal arrived—and there was no doubt in anyone's mind they would eventually come—Mars would be put to the test and have no choice but to face off with a new alien fleet. Every expert predicted the second wave would be two or three times as large, if not bigger. No one knew for certain how many Zeal were in existence. Their home world was just as big a mystery the claimed ship failed to provide them with.
A loud snore from Clay pulled Porter from his thoughts. His eyes flew open, not that he had been asleep. His attempt to rest had failed as expected, so he figured it was time to get up and move around.
The night air felt crisp and inviting once he left the warmth of his thermal sleeping bag. Without proper shelter, apart from the canvas roof above his head, the cooling air blew in and cut into each soldier like a knife.
Letting the light from the half-moon guide him along, Porter stared out toward Atlanta. The broken train tracks could still be followed into the city. He felt tempted to load up and head into the unknown to find Teve but thought better of the idea. He'd fought the Zeal only a handful of times on the ground and realized how tough they really were. Without the proper experience and weaponry, he'd be dead in five minutes.
To the left of the maintenance station, a temporary airfield had been created. Only VTOL ships could come and go, given the small space. It would have been nice to have a few MAF bombers for the next sortie. The troops on the ground could use the heavy firepower an MAF Snakefly could dish out from its racks. Instead, they had to contend with the autocannons of the Dragonette. The support class, VTOL hybrid gunship was all the MAF was willing to spare, given the pending fleet headed for the solar system.
Porter gazed at the closest Dragonette and wondered where in the line of birds Miller would place him during the sunrise assault to try once again to take the Zeal base down. Where Teve would be in the chaos of the attack left a rock in Porter's gut he could not shift. If he were still alive, another assault would not increase his odds of survival no matter how many nanites he had altering him from within.
"Can't sleep?" a voice asked from behind. Porter realized it was General Miller.
"Ah, no, sir," he replied. "What brings you out here?"
Miller's lip lifted slightly to Porter's question. Clearly, the man did not like being put on the defense.
"I could ask you the same thing, Captain."
Porter stopped moving and allowed the general to catch up to his pace. He waited for the next line of abuse to come flying out of Miller's mouth.
"I'm just yanking your chain. Mind if I walk with you?"
Porter took a quick glance around, trying to see if there were any UEF grunts around waiting to ambush him while Miller kept him distracted. The ground was quiet. "Go for it. It's your base, sir. I'm just a guest, after all." Porter resumed his random walk and moved beside the general.
"About that. I want to apologize for what happened today with the UEF corporals."
Almost falling with shock, Porter couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Don't mention it, sir."
"No, I will, Captain. I was angry and looking for someone to blame. You MAF pilots are easy targets. I only wanted those grunts to keep you in line and not actually try to kill you. Things are just on edge at the moment. I think the closer we get to victory, the more each death hurts us inside."
Porter knew the feeling. He'd seen hundreds of pilots die at the hands of the Zeal. Back before they managed to destroy the Zeal fleet, there wasn't a week that went by that didn't result in the death of at least twenty pilots on his battle carrier alone.
Coming to a stop, Porter gave the general what he wanted. "I get it. War makes you do things you would never contemplate. I know if it weren't for the Zeal, I'd have been executed now for any number of reasons. So please accept my apology also."
Miller chuckled a little and offered to shake Porter's hand. "Let's just agree that there are bigger things at play than a couple of pointless rivalries between Earth and Mars."
Porter accepted the handshake and again felt the surprise of Miller's grip. The sixty-something man had kept in shape. It wasn't hard to imagine him out in the trenches ripping the Zeal apart with his bare hands.
The two let go and continued to walk. Miller cleared his throat before continuing their discussion. "While I have you, I wanted to discuss Teve's condition with you."
"I'm aware of the alien nanites and their abilities. I'd just never seen it in action before back at the control room."
Miller half shook his head. "They take some time to get used to, these strange capabilities the UESF have, but damn this war would be hard without them. We have thirty-five other SF soldiers primed and ready for the sunrise assault. We had more on the last op, but too many transports got shot down. I'd trade ten regulars for the one SF grunt, but that's not what I needed to warn you about."
Porter stopped again. "Warn me?"
The general cleared his throat as he glanced around. His eyes seemed unfocused. "I was trying to tell you before about Teve and his condition. This isn't an easy thing to swallow, Captain, but there's no other way to put this."
"What is it? Tell me," Porter was about ready to grab the general by his lapels.
"Sorry, Captain, but he's dying."
Chapter Twenty
"Why the hell is she shooting?" Teve asked himself out loud as he charged toward Mish. He left Sutton behind at the small section of cover, not knowing what problem he would face when he reached the fight.
Up ahead, she continued to lay down one burst after the other, peppering the building with the person inside. The figure was no longer standing motionless but moving around from opening to opening with lighting speed. Teve knew why Mish had fired upon the target. It was a hybrid.
"What is that thing doing out here?" Teve asked as he arrived and dropped down by her side.
"Don't know; don't care," she replied as she slapped another magazine loaded with HE rounds into her rifle. "All I do know is that I'm going to kill it."
"Not from here, you won’t. We need to get in a lot closer; otherwise, we'll be out of ammo in ten minutes."
Mish didn't stop and fired another ten or so bullets at the building. She ducked back behind the cover and stared at Teve. "I'll club it to death if I have to." She went to fire again, but he stopped her.
"Wait a second. We need to do this right. Sutton is sitting back there exposed. If those Stiltz head toward this noise, they'll kill all three of us in a flash."
Mish let out a deflating huff and bobbed her leg up and down in anticipation. "What are we doing, then? I need this thing dead."
Teve registered something in her eyes he'd never seen before. She almost seemed afraid of the hybrids. Never had Mish showed the slightest loss of control to anything the Zeal had to use against them, half-human or alien.
"Before we do anything, I need to know what's wrong," he said. Mish's explanation would have to wait as his eyes picked up three hybrids making a run toward them from the
building. The blade-covered half-humans dropped down low with their arms spread out wide as they dashed like mad out into the open. They didn't have to fear a hail of superheated iron bolts being shot in their direction. This was their land, and the hybrids were free to run around it.
"We need to split up," Teve said. "Break left, and I'll go right. Hit the closest one from the flank while I keep it busy."
Mish was already gone by the time he moved out. She charged toward the wild beast that could cut a soldier down in one strike. Teve checked his rifle had a round in the chamber and held the stock in tight as he fired off short bursts to scatter the three hybrids. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mish shifting as far left as the area would allow while he headed into the open. He was an easy target that all three hybrids came after without a second thought.
Every shot Teve fired hit the first creature head on. The razor armor on the hybrid shifted and deflected the incoming rounds, causing each bullet to splinter and explode prematurely over its protective outer layer. The only way to kill these things was up close using as many rounds as needed to break through their dynamic armor.
Mish struck the lead hybrid from the side of its exposed skin, allowing her shots to penetrate and destroy the beast. The monster on point dropped sideways and ceased its movement. Its internal organs, whatever they might look like, would be a liquid mess of death.
Teve continued running sideways and right as he loaded up a fresh magazine. He drew the attention of the second hybrid, but the third diverted to Mish, not falling for the tactic.
"Shit. Mish, the third one's coming right for you. Hit it with a grenade round to be safe." Teve loaded up a forty-mil grenade into the under-barrel launcher attached to his rifle and lined up a sharp shot on the second hybrid. He fired even though the creature was less than 100 feet from his location. The projectile hit dead center thanks to the nanites inside his brain giving him the ability to calculate and anticipate such a move on the fly.