Sullivan Saga 1: Sullivan's War

by Michael Rose

  Geary frowned and pressed his intercom button. “Tactical strike on sector 27D.”

  Geary switched to a live satellite image of the city and zoomed in on that sector. After a minute and a half, the entire block erupted in a cloud of smoke and flame. When it had partially cleared, six apartment buildings had been demolished, and four more looked to have received extensive damage.

  He’d fired one missile just to see what effect it would have, but he still hoped the city could be retaken without extensive damage. And for a little longer, perhaps a day or two, he would revel in the spectacle of the war.

  THE BLAST ROCKED the subway station and sent chunks of concrete falling from the ceiling. Hunter took cover, but the explosion failed to penetrate down to the station. He had little doubt that the building above them was gone or nearly gone, but the reinforced concrete ceiling of the station had mostly held.

  “Damn it!” he said after clearing the dust and smoke from his face. “They’re using the big tactical missiles now.”

  O’Donnell nodded. “It was only a matter of time. We need to leave this area.”

  “No! They’ll think this sector is clear now. We might be able to have a bit of a rest before they send more troops back in.” Hunter glanced up the stairway leading to the street. “This entrance is completely blocked-up with rubble. We should be safe here for a while.”

  “All right. The adjacent stations are secure. I recommend we bring the majority of our men back here so they can respond more quickly to a threat from any direction. If they attack one station, we don’t want half our men two stations away.”

  “I agree. Set it up.” Hunter looked down one of the tunnels. “I think one of the shops down here is a convenience store. I’m going to try and find bandages, food, water, anything we can use.”

  “Good idea,” said O’Donnell. “But I have a feeling that before this is all over, we’re going to wish we’d prepared better.”

  “So do I, but we had to make our move when we did. Geary took power and would have cracked down on the protests, taken all the momentum out of the movement. We had to act before the people lost faith in the cause.”

  “I know. I just wish that someone—anyone—out in the universe cared about this planet.”

  “What we’re doing today will make them care. And if we can keep this going for a few months, if we can keep the military on guard through guerilla tactics or whatever else, help might arrive. Even if we have to fall back into the jungle before this is over, we’ll keep the pressure on and keep news of the rebellion going out to the other inhabited planets. Maybe the resistance on Faris is nearly ready to join the fight. Maybe they’re already on the way.”

  O’Donnell laughed. “If they are, that’d be a happy coincidence, to be sure.”

  Hunter smiled. “Don’t be so pessimistic, Kip. It’s not outside the realm of possibility. We know they were getting close.”

  10

  SULLIVAN’S FACE SANK as the reply came over the intercom. A few minutes after they’d dropped out of hyperspace, Dale Hammond had contacted Edaline’s port authority and requested permission to land.

  “Sorry, 485GD9. We’re in a state of war down here. I cannot authorize any landings at this time. Over.”

  “We’ve been having life support malfunctions,” Hammond lied. “We request permission to land as an emergency measure. Surely you must have a clear spaceport somewhere on the planet. Over.”

  “Negative, 485GD9. You’re on your own out there. Best of luck to you. Over.”

  Sullivan pounded his fist against the console. “You have any ideas?” he asked, turning to Hammond.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. But it’s risky.”

  “What is it?”

  “We can’t approach the planet, or they’ll send up fighters to intercept us. That is to say, we can’t approach in normal space.”

  “Hyperspace.”

  “Exactly. The computer will calculate a position near the planet’s surface to bring us back out of hyperspace, but the sensors will be disrupted by the planet’s magnetic field. We won’t know if we’ll be coming out on top of another ship, a flock of birds. Even a dozen medium-sized birds getting sucked into the thrust ports will block them enough to make us lose altitude. We’d be too low to recover at that point. And if we hit another ship, forget about it.”

  Sullivan nodded. “Do it. Plug in the coordinates I gave you. That’ll put us at the edge of the jungle just outside of Agrona. From there we’ll make our way into the cave system.”

  Hammond began entering the appropriate data. “By the way, do you even have birds on Edaline?”

  “We have a few native species that we call birds. Definitely big enough to cause us trouble.”

  Hammond finished programming the course. “Okay, Rick. You’d better go aft and prepare your men to jump out as soon as we get there. Once we come out of hyperspace, they’ll be all over us in a matter of minutes.”

  “All right. As soon as we’re clear, jump back into hyperspace. Head out to the edge of the solar system, and wait there for the rest of our ships to arrive. As soon as they come out of hyperspace, give them instructions to do as we did.”

  Hammond nodded. “Will do, Rick. Good luck.”

  Sullivan made his way back to the cargo area, and as the bay door of the freighter lowered, the swaying treetops of the jungle came into view. He clipped himself to the rope and rappelled down into the dense undergrowth. Within seconds, the next man followed him, then the next.

  As the last man cleared the ship, Sullivan radioed to Hammond. “All clear. Get out of here.”

  “Just in time,” said Hammond. “Bogeys on the way. Take cover.”

  Sullivan watched as the freighter moved away then disappeared into hyperspace in a flash of blue light. A moment later, two Edalinian fighter planes appeared above the treetops.

  “This way!” yelled Sullivan as the planes opened fire, strafing the jungle with bullets.

  Sullivan ran deeper into the jungle. If his memory served him correctly, he would find a cave entrance nearby. He only hoped it hadn’t been sealed up during the time he was gone.

  Sullivan glanced over his shoulder. A handful of men were near him, following his lead. He pressed himself against a tree as the shadow of a fighter plane darkened the sky, and automatic gunfire tore up the vegetation around him. The tube of a missile launcher fell to the ground beside him, followed by the body of the man who had been carrying it. Sullivan took it up, saw that it was loaded and aimed it skyward. He pulled the trigger and watched a trail of blue smoke follow the missile as it streaked toward the jet, automatically adjusting to the movements of the plane. It found its target, and the vehicle exploded, sending a rain of fire and shrapnel down into the jungle.

  Sullivan heard the engines of the other plane as it approached. “This way!” He weaved in and out through the undergrowth, trying to keep himself from becoming an easy target. After a few tense moments of running, he found the cave entrance, ducked inside and turned around. Eight men followed him in. He wanted to wait for the rest, but the second plane had found their location. His squad retreated into the cave as the plane opened fire, sending bits of stone raining down on them from the ceiling of the cave.

  “Well,” said Sullivan, turning on a flashlight and looking over what remained of his team, “it doesn’t look like the other ships are going to have an easy ride in. We’ll wait here for a while to see if anyone else manages to find their way to the cave entrance. If we don’t hear from them, we’ll move into the tunnel and head toward the city.”

  SULLIVAN SAT WITH his knees up, his back against the wall of the cave. They’d listened to the radio chatter as the other freighters made runs for the jungle, as the men rappelled from the ships and came under fire from the half dozen fighter jets that had flown into the area after Sullivan’s team had been discovered. From what he could tell by the reports, several of the freighters had been shot down. Many of the men who did manage to make it off
the ships had been killed on the ground.

  When the eighth and final freighter was shot down before anyone could get off the ship, Sullivan stood and brushed himself off. In all, just twenty-four more men had managed to make it to the cave entrance, helped along by Sullivan, who had made occasional reconnaissance runs out into the jungle. Of the original one hundred and sixty men in the first wave, only thirty-three had made it into the cave. From what he had heard, it sounded like four of the eight ships had been destroyed.

  “All right, men,” said Sullivan. We did the best we could, but the circumstances were against us. The ships that made it off the planet will update the rest of our force on Faris on the situation here. Obviously, our original plan won’t work, so if they decide to send more men, they’re going to have to come up with another way to get them on the ground.”

  He shouldered his rifle. “But we can at least make our way into the city and help the resistance. Let’s move out.”

  Sullivan waited for the rest of the men to stand then made his way deeper into the cave system. If his memory was correct, several branches of the cave connected to the subway system. When Agrona was being built, the ground below the city was found to be riddled with caves. Whenever a foundation for a building was dug or the subway system was expanded, the digging machines would often break through to large caverns. For the most part, these caves and caverns had been walled in with concrete, but the city’s planners left a few of them sealed only by steel gratings. The original intent was to clear and widen the cave system so it could be used to transport goods into the city without adding to traffic aboveground. This idea had never been fully implemented, however, and the caves had been neglected and largely forgotten.

  It wasn’t until Edaline’s military set about to eradicate the Squamata that these caves were opened up again and men, Sullivan included, were sent into them. Sullivan remembered the subway line that had led into the cave system. He hoped that his sense of direction wouldn’t fail him. If it did, they could wander the caves for days before finding an outlet.

  After walking for about an hour, Sullivan began to doubt himself. They’d come to five branches in the cave system, and Sullivan had chosen the way confidently so as not to worry the men. But he had to admit to himself that he didn’t know if all of his choices—no, if any of them—had been correct.

  He paused and checked his GPS device. They were still traveling toward the city, but at any moment the tunnel could turn in a different direction. In the tunnel ahead of him, Sullivan could see another fork. As he shined his light toward it, a scurrying sound accompanied a flash of movement. Sullivan killed his light and raised his rifle. He lowered the goggles he had on his head and turned on the infrared light on his gun. Two large eyes were staring at him. As he watched, the creature loped forward and cocked its head slightly.

  Sullivan smiled. It was a Squamata, no doubt one of the few remaining on the planet. They normally moved in bands of six to twelve, but this one appeared to be alone.

  Sullivan lowered his rifle and reached into his pocket for a granola bar. “Men, keep calm and quiet,” he said evenly. “I’ve never encountered an aggressive Squamata, but we don’t want to scare it away either.”

  He tore open the package and tossed a piece of granola to the Squamata. It shuffled forward, picked up the granola, sniffed at it then placed it cautiously into its mouth.

  “Good?” asked Sullivan, nodding. “Want some more?”

  The Squamata took a few more steps toward him. Sullivan broke off another piece and held it out in his hand. The creature came forward, cautiously reached out and took the food.

  Sullivan gently lowered himself to his knees so as to be at the same height as the Squamata. “Friend,” he said, tapping himself on the chest. The Squamata mimicked his gesture and let out a quick croak.

  “Good. I think we understand each other.” He pointed toward the ceiling of the tunnel. “Up there. Not friends.”

  The Squamata reached for a bag that was suspended around its neck. As Sullivan watched, it dipped a finger into the bag. It came out dark. Sullivan had seen this when he’d been in the military and had hunted the Squamata. They carried leather bags of soot with which to mark up the walls of the caves.

  The Squamata began drawing a simple but detailed picture on the wall. In rough form were depicted men and Squamata. The men were clearly in aggressive postures, aiming weapons at the Squamata.

  Sullivan nodded. “Yes, those men up there.” He tapped his chest again. “Us? No.” He shook his head. He handed the Squamata another piece of granola.

  “He doesn’t understand a word you’re saying,” said the man behind him.

  “How do you know that? They’ve shared this planet with us for three hundred years. Maybe they know more than we realize.”

  The Squamata nodded and croaked.

  “You see? He understands.” Sullivan handed the Squamata the rest of the granola bar. “We need to get to the city. We want to fight those men.” He pointed at the creature’s drawing. To make sure his intent was clear, he reached up to the wall and wiped out the images of the men. “We want to make them go away. No more.”

  The Squamata finished the granola and drew back its lips. Sullivan laughed. “Is that a smile?”

  The creature turned and began loping down the tunnel. “All right, men. Let’s go.” As Sullivan followed, he saw that the Squamata had taken up a spear. He’d left it behind before approaching Sullivan.

  They followed the creature for half an hour before Sullivan began to recognize his surroundings. The walls of the tunnel had been cut smooth and square. They were beneath the city. A rectangle of dim light came into view, and Sullivan halted as the creature stopped, crouched down and sniffed the air. Satisfied, it proceeded toward the grate and sat looking out as Sullivan caught up.

  He peered into the subway tunnel beyond the grate. It was illuminated only occasionally by dim, yellow lights, just bright enough for passengers to make their way off of a stranded train and to a station.

  “This is perfect,” said Sullivan. “According to my GPS, we’re in the southeastern part of the city.” He turned back to the Squamata. “Thank you. If we are successful, I promise that you and the rest of your kind will be left in peace.”

  The creature bowed its head. Sullivan handed it another granola bar. It took it, turned and loped back down the tunnel, past the line of men.

  Sullivan took a small laser cutter from his pocket and went to work on the grate. After a few minutes of work, he placed one hand on the grate and made the final cut. He gently pushed the grate outward and set it on the floor of the subway tunnel. There was no need to announce their presence by making a lot of noise.

  Sullivan poked his head out and looked both ways down the tunnel. Based on the brightness of the lights to his left, he guessed that in that direction would be found the nearest station. He stepped through, motioned for his men to keep quiet, and they marched single-file toward the station, hugging the wall. Before long, they’d be in the thick of it. Sullivan only hoped they’d be able to meet up with a group of resistance fighters before meeting with the enemy.

  III:

  REUNION

  11

  JOSHUA HUNTER HEARD gunfire coming from one of the tunnels. He gathered a group of a dozen men and raced toward the sound of the commotion. Coming to the end of the tunnel he paused, pressed himself against the wall and made a quick visual survey of the situation. The makeshift fortifications had his men well-protected, but Edalinian soldiers were streaming down the stairs leading from the street. Four bodies lay at the base of the stairs, but two or three of them had managed to make it to cover behind pillars.

  “Heads down!” Hunter yelled. He waited for his men to duck down behind the barricade then lobbed a grenade toward the stairs. The explosion caught the men behind the pillars as well as two more who happened to be descending at that moment.

  Hunter used the distraction to rush forward toward the staircase. He p
ositioned himself just around the corner and lobbed another grenade up the stairs. Panicked shouts a second before it exploded told him that it had found at least two victims. Hunter waited another second before peeking around the corner. The stairwell was clear. He counted the bodies. Nine men. Edaline’s military operated in ten-man teams. Where was the last man? Had he already been killed in the fighting?

  A flash of movement at the top of the stairs gave him his answer. A man had poked his head into the stairwell. A second later, the barrel of a rifle replaced it, and he began firing blindly down the stairs. Hunter flattened himself against the wall and waited for the firing to stop, hoping a stray bullet wouldn’t catch him.

  When the fire subsided and Hunter heard a tell-tale click as the gun’s magazine was ejected, he sprinted up the stairs and reached the top just as the barrel was swinging back around. He knocked the gun upward with his shoulder as it fired. A moment later, he had the soldier on the ground, blood streaming from his nose where the butt of Hunter’s gun had struck him.

  Hunter grabbed the man’s weapons and called down for help. As two of his men carried the injured soldier below, Hunter took a glance around the street. Seeing no further movement, he jogged back down the stairs.

  “Clear these bodies away. Put them down on the train tracks, out of sight. And cover over the blood with some of this debris.”

  As his men went to work, Hunter took another look at the station. They couldn’t hold out like this for long. If more than a ten-man team assaulted one of the entrances or if they assaulted any of their positions from more than one direction, the rebels would have to fall back. Hunter needed more men and more weapons. And he needed them soon.

  SULLIVAN AND HIS men had stalked Agrona’s underground for nearly an hour. They’d come to several subway stations and found them empty. Occasionally, an explosion in the distance would shake the tunnels and cause bits of concrete to rain down from the ceiling.