Frack! Dane rolled over and kicked himself off the floor in the low gravity to somersault in mid-air, grabbing at the first tool that he could.
With a scrape of metal, his Field Halligan came free, and Dane had flashed it across the space in front of him, connecting with the lunging head of the Exin as it bore down on him. There was an ugly sort of a snap, and then the Exin was being thrown to one side as Dane landed slowly on the floor.
FZZT!
A purple meson blast shot past his shoulder. Too close. The other two Exin were coming for him, and one was already firing.
Dane hurled the Field Halligan with an overhand throw that somersaulted the tool end over end straight for the enemy, before jumping to one side. The tool hit, there was a strike of sparks, but Dane was vaulting almost the entire length of the room in the lightened gravity. He hit the far wall and started to slide downwards, grabbing his pistol from his side and turning.
Just in time to see the third Exin level its own pistol a fraction quicker than he was . . .
WHAM! And then vanish backwards in a flare of solid orange pulse laser, as Hopskirk and Johnston emerged from the ladder shaft behind him.
“Thanks!” Dane spun on his heel, found the second Exin rising from the blow, and shot at him. He held the trigger down for a concentrated beam to hit what had to be the forehead of the creature’s helmet. The beam boiled and slid off as the creature turned. The Exin returned fire.
>Suit Impact! Lower left leg -30% . . .
Dane went down to one side with the blast that hit him, and his next shot went wild. But Johnston and Hopskirk were there. They were vaulting into the room, lancing the Exin with their rifles in a choreography of beams that soon punctured through scale suit and alien flesh.
“You did it—good job, Williams!” Hopskirk was panting. “Next time I need a distraction, you’ll be the shield wall I use!” He laughed.
“Get to the guns,” Dane groaned as he pushed himself up from the floor. “Disable that other gun emplacement.”
Johnston was the first to slide into the seat, easily discerning the controls and swinging the entire apparatus from where it had been hammering the habitats and turning it on the next gun. It didn’t last five seconds, as the other gun was apparently completely unprepared to be fired upon by one of its own.
“Now targeting the seed craft,” Johnston called calmly and proceeded to swing first one way and then the next, his chair rising, turning, and falling in time with the target and guidance system. It took him longer this time, but with a growl of frustration and determination, he scored the shots he wanted.
“Booyah! Luna colony saved!” Johnston shouted, and Hopskirk cheered.
“Congratulations,” Dane managed weakly, already patching through his suit comms to Captain Otepi, hoping that the narrow-band transmitter inside the Orbital AMPs would be enough to get to her.
“Captain? Captain Otepi—this is Lance Corporal Williams, Red Team of the Mechanized Infantry, requesting urgent —”
“Lance Corporal!” Dane heard her voice reply. She sounded flushed and uptight. “Situation report on Luna,” she snapped.
“We’re clear. Heavy civilian casualties, unknown marine casualties, but we should be a wrap soon . . .” Dane was saying, knowing that now that they had control of the guns, any remaining Exin would be easily scrubbed off of the face of the Moon.
“Excellent work, Lance Corporal. Finish the job and await further orders,” Otepi snapped back.
“That’s not what I radioed in for,” Dane was saying. “The attack on Luna was never going to be a bridgehead. The Exin here never wanted to pose a serious threat to Earth. It’s a distraction,” he explained.
And what Otepi said next only proved it.
“How on Earth did you know that!?” she said out loud. “I’ve only just had reports from the Hawkins Deep Radar Array. There’s been movement, a lot of movement, at the Jupiter Artifact. We don’t know what’s going on, but we’re picking up energy readings that are off the chart.”
Dane thumped his metal gauntlet palm against the side of his metal helmet.
>Suit Impact! . . .
The Exin were preparing for their next invasion. They were going to bring in another invasion fleet. And all that stood in their way was one prototype starfighter . . . and an already-battered prototype division of Orbital Marines.
13
The Jupiter Run
“The good news, gentlemen,” Captain Otepi said over the video link hastily thrown together in the remnants of Luna Habitat Dome 2.
The Exin had been defeated and the lunar colony was once again returned to human hands, but they had lost almost a hundred civilians in the assault and eight marines of the Mechanized Infantry Division. Everyone huddled in either Habitat 2 or 6, the only ones with still-operational atmospheric domes and airlock seals. But still, the power available from the backup generators was a trickle at best, and the civilians were close to freezing. It was going to take several hours to get the right equipment, shuttles, and transporters to the Moon from the International Solaris station, so the rebuild of the lunar colony could begin.
Several hours that we don’t have. Dane gritted his teeth. The captain had okayed him to tell the rest of the M.I.D. the situation at Jupiter. That the alien artifact—the mothership, the jump ship—whatever it was, had apparently woken up. Anything could happen, and everyone expected the worst.
“Is there any good news?” Dane heard Bruce mutter disconsolately to no one in particular. The big guy was several yards away, still with his Blue Team surrounding him. Dane got the distinct perception that Bruce still had a problem with the calls that he had made, splitting the marines in order to get them to medical when they could have been facing the Exin warrior caste head-on.
Which all turned out ridiculous, the lance corporal thought a little hotly to himself. If he hadn’t gone into Habitat 4, then he wouldn’t have been told about the illegal access chute to the stolen gun, and then wouldn’t have turned the tide of battle in favor of the humans!
But with a sharp sigh, Dane shook his head. No time for that now. He was proud of the decisions that he had made, and that was all that mattered. Especially if it looked like they were all making the last decisions that they might ever get to make.
“The good news is that the Jupiter artifact is just over an hour away if you travel in the Gladius,” Otepi said. “You can be there almost right away.”
“Then let’s go!” said a rather enthusiastic Copelli from another part of the huddled and shivering room. Most of the men had taken off their face-plates and relaxed their Orbital AMP suits tight plating after the battle, but their suits kept them in far better condition than the civilians here, who were physically bundled in silver blankets against each other as they waited for the relief effort to arrive.
“Your enthusiasm is welcome, Acting Corporal Copelli,” Otepi said, after a few seconds delay. “However, that leads us to the bad news. It would be only the Gladius, as she is the fastest craft in the fleet. The next fastest shuttle can make it in three hours, and everything else would get there in five.” The captain of the War Walkers paused. “You would be on your own.”
When are we not? Dane thought, as he saw a ripple of anxiety pass through the marines. They had just stumbled out of a battle. One in which the Exin appeared far more eager to die, just so long as they could spill human blood alongside their own. Dane could see that they probably needed to rest and to process their losses.
If they had time, that was . . .
“And there are signs of movement around the artifact,” Otepi appeared to look away for a moment, and then a series of images appeared on the screen. Dane saw the churning red dot of Jupiter’s Great Storm, along with a much smaller (but still vast, in comparison) wheel-like object with twisting organic spokes running from central hub to outer rim. It was turning, and as Dane watched, he saw flashes of purple-and-white light like lightning play across its surface.
And
there, scudding around it, were three much smaller oval objects—the seed craft of the Exin.
“Only three?” Dane heard one of the marines say, a sentiment he would have applauded if they had any more fighters like the Gladius. Their singular starfighter was larger than a seed craft and probably almost as fast. But the odds were still against them.
“I can do it,” Joey Corsoni, their engineer and pilot stood up to say. His voice had lost some of the devil-may-care attitude and was instead replaced with determination and certainty.
There was no argument or challenge from the captain, Dane saw. Otepi merely looked at him and nodded.
“You’ll have to, soldier.” A pause. “But even that is not the onerous task that I am asking of you.” The woman’s voice was steady. “What I have to tell you is this: our deep field satellites have been trying to analyze the energy readings to decipher what the ship is doing, and we know that it is at least partially similar to the propulsion systems that the Exin used. Our . . .” There was a flicker of uncertainty in Otepi’s eyes before she said the next words, “. . . new information on the matter . . .”
She means the Exin collaborator, doesn’t she? Dane clenched his jaws. That was a fact that she hadn’t shared with the rest of the Orbital Marines, and Dane got the distinct impression that there would be a lot of suspicion if it became general knowledge that they were relying on the words that fell out of one of their aggressor’s mouths (or nose, or brain, or however it was that the Exin talked).
“This ship is an Exin jump ship. Meaning that it acts as a fast anchor for the wormholes that the Exin create in order to get here. But such an event creates a localized and controllable black hole, which involves vast, vast energies . . .”
“It’s cycling up,” Corsoni interrupted, cocking his head to look at the image in a little greater detail. “And I bet that is why it parked its ass right over our Great Spot. All sorts of electromagnetic energy and discharges around that, which it must be harnessing, am I right?” he said with a flicker of his old glee.
Otepi nodded. “Congratulations. Yes, you are correct, engineer. Or at least, that is what we assume is happening.”
“Which means . . .?” It was Bruce’s turn to interrupt their captain. Apparently, protocol went out the window when you were standing on the hostile surface of the Moon, and the CO was a few hundred miles away.
“Which means that at any moment, that jump thing could activate, and a whole fleet of Exin seed craft could pour through it,” Otepi answered Cheng’s question. “And you and the Gladius would be the only ones there to stop it.”
Dane didn’t know if it was annoyance or whether it was the slight time delay between the Moon and wherever Otepi was that caught her expression in a tight-lipped frown.
Silence fell over them all as they considered this fact. To charge headlong against an enemy which already outnumbered them, and to try and dismantle a behemoth-like ship with completely unknown capabilities, with the very real possibility that they would be facing an entire fleet of overwhelming odds at any moment . . .
But what else are you going to do, Dane? a small voice was saying from somewhere inside of him. Dr. Heathcote says you’ve got four months, maybe six months, before her antigen stops working anyway . . . And then his life would come to a very short, pain-wracked end.
Just like countless hundreds and thousands were having down there on Earth already, he considered.
“If I may, Captain?” Dane cleared his throat and stood up to address the rest of the crowd. “Marines!” He raised his voice, turning slowly so that they could all look at him. “All I can say is this, today I saw my home world for the first time. A sight that I had never thought to see in my lifetime, and one that I am going to carry with me to the grave.” Dane heard himself say the words before he had even really decided what he was going to say.
“And I plan to fight for that image of the Earth in any way that I can.” He looked around the room and saw the serious and grim eyes of the battle-hardened men of the Mechanized Infantry Division around him.
“First in, last out,” he heard himself say. The unofficial motto of the Federal Marines.
“First in, last out,” he heard someone else mutter, and another—and then suddenly, someone took up the words of the M.I.D. Oath, the very one that each one had sworn at their promotion ceremony.
“My skin will be as metal . . .
My breath will be as fire . . .
My will is iron . . .
And my purpose undaunted . . .”
“BooYAH! MARINES!” Dane heard Bruce bellow, and suddenly everyone was standing up with one victorious, defiant, savage shout. A cry against the fear and the odds, a shout of rage against death itself. No matter what was going to be thrown against them and what travails and struggles they were going to face—this animal, savage honor was something that continued to burn inside of them. That Dane knew that they would take with them wherever they went—in this solar system or any other.
Dane felt a part of something larger than he was. He felt a part of a family, and for just a moment, it felt as if they were unstoppable. That their courage and will alone could overcome all.
“Thank you, marines,” Captain Otepi said in a quieter voice, but one that immediately captured everyone’s attention. “It is an honor to serve alongside you,” she said, which earned another cheer.
And after that, with that decision apparently reached by everyone, all that was left was the actual doing of the deed.
“We’ve already dispatched every ship that humanity has,” Otepi said. “But they’re still going to get there long after you do. Your job, quite simply, is to do everything and anything you can to stop that jump ship from reaching full power and allowing the next Exin fleet access to our solar system.”
But what she had left unsaid was just as serious, Dane thought—and everyone in the room could hear it . . .
Because Earth might not survive another fleet attack by the Exin.
“Lance Corporal?” It was Dr. Powers, pausing from her insistent rush between one wounded civilian and another, and wearing the same light fabric jumpsuit that she had been wearing when Dane first saw her. She had refused all offers of the emergency foil blankets, water, and rations which had been shared between the lunar scientists, instead passing them on to the community she shepherded.
“Your wounded men are stable,” she said, her eyes steady, “and the others in our care . . .”
She meant the dead, Dane thought, and nodded that he understood. “The Marine Corps will send pickups for them,” he said, having been told the procedure and only having seen it once—for Private Mahir.
“Of course.” Powers nodded. They were in the main avenue of Habitat Dome 2, which the Mechanized Infantry were using as their unofficial area to equip and suit up for the quick deployment to the Gladius and then beyond.
One hour to get to Jupiter. The words rang in Dane’s head. They had already spent at least another hour in the briefing with Otepi. Operations always seemed to draw out longer than anyone had intended, Dane was finding out. There were always a thousand and ten small things that needed taking care of—from the spot-repairs on the Gladius to the small systems repairs that each Orbital AMP suit required. But neither Dane nor anyone else had received any urgent update from Otepi or Lashmeier or anyone else—yet.
“I’ve made available every stock we have that might be useful,” Dr. Powers said. “Satellite drones, chemicals, fuel cells. Your pilot went through what I had and seemed pleased with some of it, but still . . .”
Dane nodded that he understood. They were flying on not-optimal supplies, with whatever they had. He had even heard Corsoni commandeer a few of the most able-bodied marines to sweep the dead Exin and their armaments for anything that they might salvage. He wondered if it would be enough.
“The main one probably being the guns,” the doctor stated. “A lot of them still had dischargeable cells, and the Exin had left a few of their pulse missile
s—not that I have any clue how either of them operates . . .”
“What about the defense of the Luna Station? Until aid gets here?” Dane frowned. There was no way of guaranteeing that they would be successful. The Gladius could easily be overrun, and then there would be nothing to protect the Moon if the Exin fleet came.
“You are our defense, Lance Corporal,” Dr. Powers said, her eyes searching Dane’s own as if she wondered herself whether this was a good idea. She seemed to make up her mind as she gave a very small nod of agreement, however. “You are all our…all Earth’s defense.”
And just like that, the doctor turned to leave, returning back to the people in her care, leaving the words ringing in Dane’s mind like the toll of a bell. It was a heavy burden.
“Williams?” It was Corsoni on his suit communicator.
“Here.”
“The Gladius is stocked and good to go. All we’ve got to wait for is the lady singing,” the engineer was saying.
“I guess that’ll be me, then,” Dane replied with a grin. He clicked off the channel and turned up his suit speakers, broadcasting on the public channel for the Mechanized Infantry.
“Time to go! Remember your training, fire teams! Be ready to depart in five!” His words were met with the usual round of muttered curses as various marines still struggled with the last-minute checks. But the lance corporal had already turned to go, leading the way to the airlock as his team, Red Team, fell in behind him. He wasn’t worried about the stragglers. He knew that they would be there, on time, and on his command. That was, after all, what the marines did.
Dane and the others stepped into the airlock, filled it to capacity, and waited for the door to cycle before hitting the release. Then they were off, bounding in giant leaps over the lunar surface past the shattered and ruined domes of the recent battle and into the waiting hold of the Gladius.
Metal Warrior: Steel Trap (Mech Fighter Book 3) Page 10