“Are they moving?” Corporal Davis asked.
“No, but I see movement beyond them. Looks like some MinSha are sneaking up on them. Top and Handley must be injured. Shit! There’s another group on this side of them. Stand by; I’m going to call Top on the command net.”
Tunnels Under Peskall’s Pretties, Planet Moorhouse
A voice called Mason back from the depths of wherever his sanity had gone. “Top! Top! Are you there? You’re about to get attacked.”
“Yeah,” Mason replied, recognizing Sergeant Kennedy’s voice; “I’m here, although my suit’s pretty messed up. All the cameras seem to be out and everything from the waist up has either a yellow or red light.”
“Your cameras are probably just blocked as you’re either on top of Handley, or vice versa. He may be blocking your inputs.”
Mason rolled back and forth. He was underneath Handley. He pushed the other suit off and, as he achieved some separation, got a look at Handley’s suit. One of the big MAC rounds had gone through the suit at the level of Handley’s head. Everything he could see was splattered in red and gray. He had no recollection of that happening, but Handley was on top of him; the trooper must have tried to pull him down and had gotten killed for his effort. Damn it.
“Top! Don’t move. You’ve got bugs on both sides of you.”
Tunnels Under Peskall’s Pretties, Planet Moorhouse
“I got Top and he’s okay, but he’s about to get overrun,” Sergeant Kennedy transmitted, switching back to the group’s net. “There are two groups of bugs; looks like three in each. We’ll have to shoot them off of him.”
“Any other enemy present?” Sergeant Freese asked.
“Not that I see. Form a firing line, and we’ll take out the ones on the far side of him first, then hit the ones close to us.”
As the group formed a line abreast, Sergeant Hannah Lewis’ shoulder dragged across the side of the tunnel, producing a loud screeching noise.
Everything stopped, and the two groups of MinSha turned toward the noise.
“Fire!” Kennedy yelled. Lacking a weapon, he charged the closer group. In a blast of jet fire, he jumped into their midst, the sword blade on his right arm coming down as he landed to behead the MinSha on the right. Spinning, he cut the arm off a second, and slashed through its thorax in an explosion of blue on the return stroke. Turning further, he slapped the laser rifle out of the third alien’s claws and stabbed his sword into the alien’s thorax all the way up to his fist.
He pulled down and out, eviscerating the MinSha, and turned to look for additional targets.
The heavy MAC round hit him in the chest, knocking him backward five feet and driving him from his feet. It killed him instantly.
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tunnels Under Peskall’s Pretties, Planet Moorhouse
From his vantage point behind the pallet, Mason saw Kennedy get hit by the MAC round, and he knew the trooper was dead. “Get back!” he radioed to the rest of the troopers and they scattered back into the tunnel. “Can anyone see any more MinSha?”
“Nope.”
“No.”
“Looks like we got ‘em all.”
“None here.”
Mason couldn’t see any of the aliens, either. The three Kennedy had attacked were either dead or soon would be, lying in large pools of blood and entrails. The troopers were safe, as was he, at least for the moment, although he was still trapped. With his suit as messed up as it was, there was no telling what was going to work if he stood up.
He went through the systems quickly, one by one, to determine what capability he still had to wage war. What the hell? Where had his right hand gone? Crap! Six inches higher and he would have lost his real hand. His weapons, what he had left, were inop across the board. His secondary weapon, a hypervelocity pistol like the one Breetar used had taken a hit from something during the fight. The barrel remained in the holster, somehow, but the handle was missing. The knife blade on his left hand was jammed and wouldn’t come down.
From a personal standpoint, he was exhausted and beaten up. His armor had stopped anything from physically damaging his human body, but he felt like he’d gone twelve rounds with one of the heavyweight fighters of old.
He was also mentally and emotionally spent. Although he didn’t know for sure, he was pretty sure he was responsible for Handley’s death, and he knew Kennedy had died trying to save him. He wasn’t sure how he could feel any worse.
One of the courier ship’s motors came to life with a backfire that echoed throughout the hangar.
The only way he could feel worse than he did right now was if he let the head bug, Tranayl or whatever its name was, escape. He could not allow that to happen. He would avenge Parisa, even if he had to throw himself into one of the ship’s engines to destroy it and crash the ship.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, but for the life of him he had no idea how he was going to get past the heavy MAC.
With a roar, the ship’s second engine started.
“Do any of you have missiles?” Mason asked. “The head of the MinSha is on that ship and we can’t allow him to get away. He is also the one who killed Parisa Shirazi.”
“I’ve got missiles,” Corporal Jen ‘Sparky’ Davis said. “Want me to step out and tag it with one?”
“Not yet. If you step out, you’re going to eat one of the MAC rounds like Kennedy did. Besides, the motors aren’t facing you; you’ll have a hard time hitting anything important. We’ll have to wait for the ship to take off, then I’ll distract the MAC crew while you shoot down the ship.”
“How are you going to distract the crew?”
“You leave that to me; you just be ready to shoot down the damn ship. How many missiles do you have?”
“Six, why?”
“Fire them all, as fast as you can. The ship is sure to have some sort of countermeasures and we’ve got to bring it down.”
The roar from the ship’s engines increased as the pilot brought them to full power. Mason risked a glance around the side of the pallet and saw the ship lifting. He ducked back behind the pallet as a MAC round went past him and slammed into a pallet behind him.
The engine noise shifted as the ship began to move. “Here we go!” Mason transmitted. He pulled a tire off the pile in front of him and threw it to the right. The MAC fired at the motion and tracked the tire as it flew; Mason rose to his feet and hobbled off to the left, dragging his right foot.
The MAC turned back to Mason and fired. The first round missed, but the second round caught him in the shoulder of his suit, spinning him around and throwing him to the ground. As badly damaged as his suit was, he didn’t lose any other systems, and he struggled back to his feet and lurched toward the MAC.
With a roar, the first missile launched at the courier ship as it cleared the hangar bay and began accelerating. The MAC crew spun to target the new threat, and Sergeant Freese pushed Sparky out of the way as it fired. The round hit Freese in the chest, killing her instantly and throwing her to the side.
Sparky’s second missile misfired as she stumbled, blasting the contents of a nearby pallet to shreds, but she reoriented herself and the third flew true.
The remaining troopers, Sergeant Lewis and Corporal Gibson, charged the MAC, firing as they went. One of the MAC loaders went down, shot through the head, and the MAC gunner shifted its aim. Lewis and Gibson both took rounds to the chest as the fourth missile raced after the courier ship.
A fifth missile roared out of its tube as the MAC reoriented on Sparky. The weapon fired, removing the suit’s right leg at the knee, and the last six inches of Sparky’s leg.
Sparky was spun around and thrown to the hangar bay floor. She tried to get up, but found her right leg wouldn’t respond. Looking down, she was amazed to find the bottom portion of her suit gone, along with her foot and the bottom of her leg; there was no pain, but the loss of the limb was interesting…and inconvenient. She still had a missile r
emaining, but she couldn’t stand up. Grabbing onto one of the pallets, she used her arms to pull herself up onto the top of it as the gun crew reloaded.
Mason staggered as quickly as he could toward the gun, but was forced to watch as the gunner charged the weapon and fired. Sparky’s last missile launched half a second before the round hit her in the chest, killing her.
The MAC gunner tried to spin the weapon toward Mason, but the trooper slapped away the barrel with the stump of his right arm and slammed his left fist down on the gunner’s head. The chitin shattered and blood sprayed across Mason’s dented suit as the gunner went down. The other loader scooped up a laser rifle, but Mason was on the creature before it could fire. He knocked the weapon out of the alien’s claws and grabbed the creature by the throat. Lifting it off the ground, Mason squeezed until the MinSha’s head popped off. The creature’s legs continued to kick sporadically, and he threw the corpse to the side.
Turning, he was just in time to see the sixth missile hit the courier ship’s right engine. The left engine had already been hit at least once, and that side of the ship was already engulfed in flames. The right engine erupted in a ball of fire, and the craft flipped over and drove into the ground, exploding on impact.
Mason turned away from the devastation outside and found the destruction inside the hangar, if anything, to be worse. Several small fires burned across the nightmarish scene, and human and MinSha bodies covered the area, surrounded by pools of red and blue.
Mason collapsed to the floor and threw up in his suit.
Cell Block, Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System
Nigel’s tear dripped onto the top of Parisa’s head. Too late. Nigel had been too late. Again. He had been too late to save Lieutenant Seville, he had been too late to save Second Squad, and now he was too late to save his sister. After all he had been through, it hadn’t been good enough. Like Mason had once told him, he hadn’t been good enough.
Was that all there was? To go back to Earth a failure, having been unable to save his sister? It wasn’t fair! The deck had been stacked against him the whole time. He had been shuffled off to the side of the fight while his family had been killed off. He’d never had a chance. His equipment was second-rate, the troops he led were under-trained, and he’d never had time to actually plan for anything; the Asbaran forces had been playing catch-up the entire time. Not only that, but he’d had to fight two races, not just one. If he’d had any advantage whatsoever, he might have pulled it off.
It wasn’t fair.
He leaned over to kiss Parisa’s brow one last time, and a flash of red fell out of his breast pocket. One of the red diamonds. He shook his head. If he’d had a few of those, he could have bought some of the newer Model 8 CASPers. Maybe they would have been successful with 8s.
It wasn’t fair.
He hadn’t had the diamonds before, or they might have made a difference…but he had them now. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he now had everything. He had lost Parisa, but now the enemy no longer had any control over him…he was free to do whatever he wanted. To go where he wanted and to kill everyone responsible for this debacle. And with all the red diamonds he was coming home with, he could buy some new equipment. New CASPers, new dropships…maybe even something to replace the Vindicator.
He could re-equip, hire new troops, and then…and then he could do whatever the hell he wanted. For the first time in his life, all the doors were open to him. He was in charge, and he would make the decisions, and the first thing he was going to do would be to make the last year of his life worthwhile. He would make his entire life worthwhile. And just like Mason had shown him the way in telling him he wasn’t ready before, Mason had also shown him what he needed to do now.
Revenge.
He would find out who had done this to his family, and he would make them pay. The Besquith were dead. All of them. They wanted to nuke humans? He’d see how they liked having it done to them. Their planet would burn. But they were only pawns. The MinSha had been running the whole thing. He would kill the MinSha, too; in fact, he would start with the MinSha. Maybe there was someone above them; if so, he’d find out who and kill them as well. Anyone involved in the destruction of his family was going to die, and he would be the one to to avenge their deaths. Hamasa demanded it. He would kill every alien involved. And he would start with the MinSha.
Mason limped into the cell, and Nigel looked up from smoothing Parisa’s hair. Despite the armor Mason had been wearing earlier, he was bleeding in a number of places and had more contusions than Nigel was able to count. He also looked like he had had thrown up on himself. Mason looked like shit.
“It’s done,” Mason said, his voice flat. “They’re all dead.”
“All of them?” Nigel asked, his voice equally devoid of emotion. He looked back down and resumed his task.
“Yes sir, all of them.” After the silence grew longer than was comfortable, Mason finally asked, “So, what’s next?”
“Next, we bury our dead, round up the living, and go back home. Oh yeah. First, we go see the Caroons and make them pay us more. They violated the terms of the contract in not telling us enemies were here; therefore, they owe us an additional 10 million credits.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. It’s all we can do at the moment. Most of our folks are dead, and I want to take Parisa home to bury her in the family plot.” He sighed heavily. He hated Chabahar, but he would go there one last time for Parisa.
“But…but sir, what are we going to do about the MinSha?”
Nigel looked up, and Mason could see that although his voice had been flat, Nigel was anything but non-emotional. The anger was there, burning in his eyes, but it was on a leash, held back, his face set in a scowl. “The MinSha?” Nigel asked, his control finally slipping. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do with the MinSha. We’re going to do what humanity should have done with them a long time ago. We’re going to pay those motherfuckers back for what they did to our planet and what they’ve now done to my family. We’re going to wipe those bastards out, just like they did to Iran during first contact. What are we going to do about the MinSha? We’re going to kill them all! This is war!”
* * * * *
Epilogue
Fleet Maintenance Yard “B,” Golara Prime Orbit, Golara System
The figure watched the battered warship ease into the space dock, surprised it still held together. Holed in more places than it was whole, even making it back to the shipyard was a supreme testament to the competence of its crew.
The figure removed its goggles so it could see some of the damage in a different light and shook its head. It didn’t make any difference; the ship was nothing more than scrap for the recyclers.
The ship’s crew was obviously aware they wouldn’t be returning; heads down and tentacles hanging limp, they shuffled down the gangway, their sea bags stuffed with all their worldly possessions. The last person off the ship was the captain, and the figure moved from the shadows to fall into step with her.
“Tell me about the battle,” the figure said.
“What is there to tell?” the captain asked. “We lost, and our fleet was destroyed. We alone made it back from the debacle.”
“Tell me about the humans,” the figure urged. “I want to know more about them.”
“They were crazy,” the captain said. “We were unprepared for their unpredictability. They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. We studied their doctrine and knew what they were going to do…but they didn’t follow their own doctrine. At all.” She stopped to stare at the figure. “If you’ve come with an offer of employment, it will be quite some time before I’m ready to listen.”
“I come for information only,” the figure replied, “although employment will not be long in coming. Something must be done soon, and war is coming.” It replaced the darkened goggles over its large jade eyes, careful not to catch the strap on its whiskers. Equipment on the h
arness it wore jangled as the alien turned and began walking again. “Now,” it repeated, “tell me about the humans.”
# # # # #
Asbaran Solutions Roster
First Sergeant Thomas ‘Top’ Mason
Sergeant First Class Robert ‘Turk’ Kirkland
First Platoon
First Squad
Staff Sergeant Donald ‘Murph’ Murphy
Sergeant Tom Beach
Corporal Cindy ‘Shrewlet’ Epard
Corporal Monica Creek
Private Steve Jernigan
Sergeant Sam Bush
Corporal Susan Cortez
Private Dave Parker
Private Sheila Jewell
Private Joe Branson
Second Squad
Staff Sergeant Dean ‘Horsey’ Wynhorst
Sergeant Hannah Lewis
Sergeant Jeremy ‘Gemini’ Crouch
Corporal Jen ‘Sparky’ Davis
Private TJ ‘Thunder’ Allen
Sergeant Stephanie Freese
Corporal Dan Gibson
Corporal Melissa ‘Otter’ Otero
Corporal Jim ‘Lucky’ Day
Private Jane Timm
Second Platoon
First Squad
Staff Sergeant Jill ‘Jillbo’ Cox
Sergeant Bob Cohen
Corporal Bernie Vitali
Private Justin “JR” Handley
Private Emma Holt
Staff Sergeant Elizabeth Kaine
Sergeant Charles Tucker
Corporal Donna Armitage
Corporal Chris Powell
Private George Todd
Second Squad
Staff Sergeant Jeb Bradshaw
Sergeant Todd Salter
Corporal Robert Keegan
Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2) Page 30