Marine Raiders: Strike Back (Blood War Book 2)

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Marine Raiders: Strike Back (Blood War Book 2) Page 15

by Rod Carstens


  Slowly, he stood and surveyed the area around him. The two armored hybrids he’d just found in hand-to-hand combat were sprawled next to him while the two unarmored hybrids were bleeding mounds of tissue on the makeshift barricade they had been using for cover.

  "Hey, Gras, give me a hand."

  Gras came over and looked down at the mangled helmet and said, "What did you use on this thing?"

  "My fist."

  "Fuuuck," Gras said slowly, with awe in his voice.

  Each man grabbed an armored leg and tossed the body into the courtyard between the dorms. Then they did the same for the other one. Hu and Gras then rebuilt the position with debris as the Charlie Company Marines began to fill in for the downed men and women in the first squad. A Marine from Charlie came down the line to hand out more ammunition. Right behind him was another Marine with grenades, and then another with more ammo. By the time they were finished, Hu had as much ammo and grenades as he’d had when the raid had started. Then a sergeant came down the line looking for NCOs. When he reached Hu, the sergeant handed him a portable scram.

  "Here you go, Corporal."

  "What am I supposed to do with this? Only sergeants and above got trained on them," Hu asked.

  "I don't fucking know, but point it that way," he said and pointed at the hybrid lines, "when you pull the trigger.”

  "Oh shit!" Gras said when he saw Hu sling the scram over his shoulder.

  "Shut up and shoot something," Hu snapped, laughing.

  Hu had no idea what he was going to do with a scram in an enclosed environment like this, but it made him feel good to have one handy.

  With their position repaired and ammunition passed out, Hu, Gras, and Bien took up positions again. This time they had Charlie Company Marines on both sides of them, filling in. Nani came up to their position. She was moving down the line, checking on all of them.

  "Your fire team good to go?" she asked.

  "Yeah. We got all the ammunition and grenades we can use."

  "Good, because the hybrids are amassing for another charge."

  "Roger. We're good to go."

  She moved on down the line, checking the other troops.

  "Here they come." Nani suddenly shouted.

  Hu turned and began to fire into the hybrids charging their position. They were rushing out of the line of buildings in front of him, over them, and around them. It was the largest attack yet. He heard the heavy rail above and behind him begin to fire. It had a distinctive thud, thud, thud cadence to it. A fifty-caliber rail machine gun was an awesome anti-personnel weapon. The 50's rounds tore into the first of the hybrids, literally ripping them apart. Hu fired and felt as if they just might be able to hold these fucks off long enough to get off this rock after all.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Xotoli Outpost

  Exoplanet 1123.567

  Von Fleet Planet 703

  Composite Platoon

  General Dasan Daniel Sand knew he should be back in the CIC, but he couldn’t let this opportunity pass. He had been chasing these aliens for over twenty-five years. He had been driven by the anger and frustration of not being able to save all the children at Choem. Having to fight the mutated descendants of those children on Rift had only added to his hatred of the Xotoli. This might be his only opportunity to face one in a fight. In future battles, he would not have this luxury. As he was essentially a passenger on this raid, he had to take advantage of this one chance.

  The SOC was buffeted again by the winds of the atmosphere.

  "Sorry about that, General, but we've been fighting these winds all day. One minute to drop. Good luck."

  "One minute, check."

  The drop seat extended and the drop doors opened below him. Sand could see the winds blowing snow beneath him. He assumed the drop position, crossing his arms over his chest with his feet together.

  "Drop, drop, drop," the pilot said.

  Sand was propelled out of the ship and into the violent atmosphere. The pilot had come in downwind. Sand glanced at his heads up. The pilot was trying to compensate for the wind by dropping them short of their planned drop zone and letting the wind push them into the correct position. Sand kept his drop position as he fell toward the planet’s surface. He could feel the wind pushing him, even through his armor. He watched as his readout showed his altitude dropping rapidly. It seemed as if the surface was trying to rise up and grab him. He monitored his downwind drift. The pilot was a real artist; Sand was going to come down right in the drop zone. The surface was rushing up to him now, getting closer by the second. This was always the worst part of a drop: the last seconds before his retros kicked in. The countdown for the retros began. Three, two, one…. They fired, slowing him until he made a perfect landing. He landed standing up, and the retros dropped off.

  Looking at his heads up, he could see that the rest of the ragtag platoon was in a nice tight formation. They were all moving toward his beacon. He looked around to get his bearings, but the blowing snow and ice restricted his vision. He flipped his view to a thermal image; he immediately saw a door-shaped outline in a rock formation about a hundred yards in front of his position. A hand tapped him on the shoulder. His group of ragtags was in position around him. His security detail was the best. He didn't know about the others, except that they were Raiders, and that would have to be enough.

  So far, there was no indication that the Xotoli knew they were outside their backdoor. All he could think was move, move, move before they were detected. They reached the black rock outcropping. The door had been integrated with the rock. You wouldn’t know it was there without thermal vision. It was huge, at least ten feet high and five feet wide. He signaled for the breeching charges. The marine who was to breech the door placed the charges on the hinges and on the door handle.

  Sand nodded, and the door blew open.

  Sand was the first one through the door. A long, wide stairway led downward into what was obviously an air lock at the bottom of the stairs. The stairwell was brightly lit and wide enough for three Marines to stand side by side. Sand was beginning to feel the sheer size difference compared to normal surroundings. It was as if he was a child in an adult world. He moved carefully down the stairs, two Marines a single step behind him, rails up and ready. The door at the bottom of the stairs burst open, and three hybrids came through it, running up the stairs to meet them. Sand and the other Marines cut them down with a concentrated burst of fire from their rails. They were not in the usual armor, but a much lighter version of what they had seen on Rift. The new more powerful rails chopped them into pieces.

  "Grenades out," Sand ordered.

  Sand, and the other two Marines beside him, tossed grenades down the stairs into the room below. They exploded just as more hybrids emerged from the door, trying to take the stairs. They were blown apart by the force of the exploding grenades. Sand knew they couldn't stay in the stairwell and let the Xotoli and hybrids get organized. He had to get his men down the stairs and into the room. Speed, speed was essential. He quickly moved down the stairs and was about to step into the room when a Marine grabbed his arm and jumped ahead of him. The second the Marine stepped into the room, he was blown backward by a very large explosive shell. If the Marine had not pulled Sand back, he would have been killed.

  "Goddammit, sir! Let us make the entry. We can't afford to lose you," one of his security team said and stepped in front of him.

  Sand knew they were right and that he had just gotten a good man killed with his impatience. Another marine pushed him against the wall and nodded to the marine across from him. They each reached into dump bags on their armor and pulled out a handful of mini grenades and flash bangs.

  "Now."

  They each threw the handful of grenades and flash bangs into the room together. Some burst in the air; others went deep into the room before exploding. It was done exactly as they were trained. As one, Sand and the other two Marines took a step back and then jumped into the room. Sand’s newly developed a
nd more powerful armor carried them across the room and under a balcony with little effort. All three made the crossing in spite of taking fire from hybrids hiding in various positions around the room. The room was a huge facility meant for some sort of assembly. Robot arms hung from the ceilings, monitors could be seen everywhere, and there were large yellow lines painted on the floors. Sand put his rail around the edge of the stairwell that lead to the balcony above. The rifle immediately gave him a 3D view of the room. He could see hybrids moving into firing positions at the far end of the room from where they had made entry. There were no Xotoli in sight, only hybrids. He wasn’t going to let the Xotoli get away while their hybrids covered their escape. He glanced across the room, looking at where they’d entered, where the other marines were waiting.

  "On my mark," Sand instructed over the platoon frequency.

  "Roger that," the Marine across the room said.

  Sand could see the other Marines getting ready to assault the room. When they were ready, Sand began the countdown.

  "Three, two, one. Go!"

  The days and weeks of testing and training showed. Instead of just running out into the line of fire, the Marines jumped, dove, ran, and flew across the room, using all of the armor’s power to confuse and frustrate the hybrids. Sand dove into the middle of the room, firing as he slid rapidly across the floor on his side. Hybrids went down, one after another as the marines attacked. Sand jumped to his feet. Then, realizing the control center for the room was on the landing above them, he jumped ten feet into the air, up to the balcony. He fired at a hybrid entering the room from the balcony’s side door. The rail’s rounds caught him in the helmet, and his head disappeared in a red mist. More hybrids were flooding the room, trying to protect the control room from the marines. The fighting quickly went hand-to-hand. Marines wielding battleaxes easily cut through the lightly armored hybrids. Sand and the others who had landed on the balcony, or other high points, fired down into the melee. It wasn't long before it was over. Two Marines were down, but their armor showed them as yellows: wounded but still able to function. The medical systems in their armor were already treating their wounds. They would be held together with nanos when their systems finished with them, but they would still be able to fight.

  "Yellows, once your armor has got you on your feet, stay behind and guard our exit," Sand ordered.

  One groaned as her armored treated her wounds and then said, "Roger that. Fuck that hurts."

  The other nodded and slowly sat up, reaching for his rail.

  A few yards down from the balcony was a control room. Through a huge glass window, Sand saw all manner of displays and control stations. The Xotoli had to work in there, as it was obvious the room was controlled from this point. Huge panel displays were attached to the windows that looked down on the floor of the facility. Sand ran down the balcony, followed by several Marines. Others were jumping from the floor to the balcony to follow Sand and the Marines. Some were also coming up the stairs at the other end of the control room. Without being told, they were positioning themselves for a simultaneous assault. Aijuba had them trained to a fine edge. In their new armor, they looked like hugely muscled humans with helmets instead of heads. After Rift, the armor was redesigned. Now it mimicked the muscular structure of the human body, making them look as if their skin had been peeled off, leaving a monstrous being in its place. The power servos had been better integrated into the armor so it was less cumbersome to move and manipulate. They looked like the fierce warriors they had become. Sand had helped develop the armor with this very goal in mind.

  The group at the far end of the control room was ready now. They stood behind a door that led deeper into the facility. Sand knew he couldn't keep going deeper and deeper into this facility without more troops. If they went much farther, they would have to run into a reaction force. If there was nothing behind this next door, he would have to settle for what they could take from the rooms they had captured. It was now or nothing. One of the Marines said, "Ready when you are, sir."

  "Roger. Again, on my count. Flash bangs and minis before entry."

  "Roger, sir."

  "Three, two, one."

  Sand and the other Marines threw handfuls of flash bangs and mini grenades into the room. The men followed them through the smoke and dust they had created when they exploded. Sand and the other Marines were literally stopped dead by what they saw. Three Xotoli were desperately working to disconnect a large crystal with red, blue, and green lights flickering on and off inside. Connections tied it to a number of the Von Fleet facility's computers. All three of the Xotoli were wearing armor. It was black and only emphasized their size and formidable appearance. They all had massive shoulders with that distinctive, small head and very long arms and legs that gave them their height. The tiny waist flared out into hips that seemed be all bone with no flesh on them. Their armor seemed to be just like Sand’s, forming a frightening enhancement of their physical presence. Huge rifles were slung on their backs as they worked on the large crystal-like computer. Startled, they turned to face the Marines.

  Sand was still bringing his rail up when a Marine to his right brought up her weapon and fired first. The rounds caught the nearest Xotoli squarely in the chest, and it staggered back, but it was not taken down. In a movement that was almost too fast to follow, it pulled its rifle around and fired at the Marine next to Sand. The round caught her full in the chest and blew a huge hole through her armor and her body, as if she weren’t even wearing armor at all.

  Sand had his weapon up now. He aimed for the head of the alien. Maybe he could damage its optics. His three round burst caught it flush in the face. It staggered backward, arms flailing and obviously blinded by the rounds. Sand had almost gotten himself killed on Rift when he had first seen the hybrids and had attacked a whole squad by himself. This time, he had told himself that he would be smarter. Yet the same rage overcame him. He could almost feel the worn blue handkerchief he carried into every battle sliding over his fingertips. That young girl had given it to him so long ago. It was a constant reminder that those children had faced these monsters. He wanted them, he had spent his life chasing them, and now he would have their deaths or die trying.

  More Marines poured in behind Sand. Soon it was a pitched battle in tight quarters. The first Xotoli was still staggering around, blinded, and in pain. Sand dropped his rail, and it snapped into the brackets on this chest as he reached for his fighting ax and pistol. He held one in each hand as he jumped onto the wounded Xotoli, raising his ax for a strike, but the Xotoli grabbed him in midair with one huge six-fingered hand and threw him across room against the wall. Able to see enough to fight now, it took one huge step, and then it was on top of Sand, reaching for him. Sand drove his pistol into the tiny waist of the Xotoli and fired. This time the round penetrated, it was staggered by the force of the round even if it wasn't badly hurt. Sand swung his ax with all the force and speed his armor could give him, but the Xotoli was quicker, and it moved out of the way. It swung its rifle at Sand’s head, but he had ducked as soon as he had completed his swing. He let his momentum carry him around in a circle, and the pick head of his ax drove deep into the Xotoli's side. It arched its back in pain and dropped its weapon.

  Sand dropped to the ground and rolled behind the alien. Sand swung the ax again. Even wounded, it was still too quick, spinning and grabbing the ax before Sand could connect. Then Sand remembered an image of Berk tackling the alien and getting him on the ground. The Xotoli was bringing Sand’s ax back around for a killing blow. Sand ducked underneath the wide arc and drove his armored body into the Xotoli with all of the power he could muster. Between the momentum of the alien’s arm swinging the ax and Sand’s shoulder driving into its middle, the Xotoli went down and Sand mounted the alien’s back.

  The wounds were beginning to take their toll. The Xotoli wasn’t nearly as quick or coordinated on the ground as Sand would’ve thought it would’ve been. Sand pulled out the laser knife he had taken of
f a dead hybrid on Rift and drove it, with all his might, into the base of the Xotoli’s skull. The alien convulsed on the ground. Sand drove his knife into the hated alien again and again and again, until he was covered in the pink white fluid oozing from its wounds. It spasmed one last time, and then relaxed under him.

  He had killed it. He had killed a Xotoli! Before he could celebrate, he was thrown off the body by a blow so powerful he felt his right arm break in spite of the armor. He also felt some of his ribs collapse as he was thrown to the floor.

  He was barely conscious and being watched as a Xotoli stood over him. It was raising a fighting sword for a killing blow. Desperately, Sand tried to move, but the impact of the previous blow had not only broken bones, it had disrupted his armor's system as well. He was locked in place. The nanos were repairing the damage to his armor, but Sand realized the repairs would come too late. Sand could only stare up at the alien. This was it. At least he had killed one before he died. That was all he had wanted. Two red lenses looked down at Sand from the Xotoli helmet. They were wider apart than a human’s and probably on the side of its head. It was a funny thing for a man to observe as his dying thoughts. The Xotoli deliberately straddled Sand and raised its arm for a final strike.

 

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