It sounded hollow, even to him, but he had other concerns. The living took precedence over the dead.
"Understood, Bravo." Rook's voice was tight with anger. Not at Optika, but at the Xan-Sskarn for putting him in this situation. Burnette's voice was just as emotional.
"Two minutes, gentlemen," Optika said as he started a countdown timer, watching as it began to tick away the seconds on his helmet's display. "Second, I want you to lead off with flash-bangs, then hit them with everything you've got and keep moving. Gentlemen, this facility's marines put up one hell of a fight, and still are. There were only twenty-five of them. Let's go and show the Sallys what a company of pissed-off marines can do. One minute."
Optika watched as the ammunition from the dead and incapacitated was redistributed, and as the wounded were prepared for movement. He didn't doubt that he would probably lose several of them before they reached the shuttles, but he would not leave them behind for the Sallys. He might have to leave his dead behind, but he would never leave his living.
The last few seconds of his timer counted down. When it reached zero, he shouted, "Go!"
He watched as grenades were thrown down the corridor, and he could hear the increase in the fire from First Platoon behind him. The grenades detonated, and before he could say anything, Lieutenant Burnette had his lead fire teams up and racing down the corridor, slowing down only long enough to put a burst of fire in any Xan-Sskarn they passed.
The rest of Second Platoon began to move out, and, as the last fire teams began to move, Optika called to Lieutenant Rook.
"First Actual, begin your withdrawal." He didn't wait for a response as he began to follow the last members of Second Platoon.
When he reached the next intersection, he stopped and knelt with the fire team providing cover. Lieutenant Burnette had his marines performing a fighting withdrawal. The first team to reach an intersection set up to cover the rest of the platoon as it came through. When the last marine passed, they would begin their own withdrawal. This was repeated at each intersection.
He knew this kind of maneuver could leave his platoons spread out too far, but with the galley being only a dozen intersections away, Optika was confident they would be able to make the journey without having to worry about exposing themselves too much.
First Platoon's first fire team had reached the intersection and exchanged places with the current team. He could see that Lieutenant Rook had things well in hand. Leaving the lieutenant to oversee the end of the withdrawal, Optika moved to catch up to the lead elements.
* * *
Lieutenant Burnette moved down the corridor at a fast pace. He did not want to break into a run and spread things out too much, but he did not want to lose the momentum they had. He began to think about what he was going to do if the captain was not in the lead when they encountered the Xan-Sskarn. As he rounded the last corner, he didn't have time to worry about it anymore.
Crowding the passageway in front of him were over twenty Xan-Sskarns bunched together, apparently trying to enter a side passage all at the same time. Burnette's finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle even before his mind could fully comprehend what he was seeing. Thousands of tiny projectiles flashed out of the barrel of his rifle, impacting the Xan-Sskarns closest to him. Flesh and bone parted in a spray of blood as the first of the enemy began to fall. Burnette's rifle, firing on full auto, had already expended its magazine by the time the next member of the lead team entered the passageway, opening fire without hesitation.
Reaching for another magazine, Burnette moved forward again. As more marines entered the passageway, the air filled with hundreds of thousands of flechettes, and the Xan-Sskarns had nowhere to hide from them. But neither did the marines.
The last half-dozen Xan-Sskarns, having been protected by their comrade's bodies, had time to refocus their attention on their attackers and bring their own weapons to bear.
Three more marines went down before the last of the Xan-Sskarns fell. Two dead, one wounded.
Using hand signals, Burnette directed his marines to spread out and cover the corridor as he moved toward the side passage that the Xan-Sskarns had been so intent on entering. What he saw there almost made him vomit.
The passageway was one point five meters wide, and it was packed from side to side and almost half a meter deep with shredded Xan-Sskarn bodies. He had just begun to pick his way toward the hatch at the end of the short passageway when the captain arrived.
"Looks like they earned their way into the Halls," Burnette whispered over a private channel.
"And then some, Lieutenant," Optika whispered back. "And then some."
Burnette had finally managed to make his way the ten meters to the hatch. The last meter had been mercifully clear of bodies, except for two marines and one Xan-Sskarn behind a pockmarked barricade. He bent down to examine the marines' bodies in the vain hope that they might still be alive when one of them, his body half covered by the Xan-Sskarns, gasped as his eyes flew open.
"Holy fuck!" Burnette jumped back, startled. Recovering immediately, he dropped to his knees and began to try and move the dead Xan-Sskarn while shouting for help.
"Corpsman up! On the double—I've got a live one here!"
* * *
At Lieutenant Burnette's shout, Captain Optika began to slog his way through the dead Xan-Sskarns as quickly as he could. He could hear someone following him and assumed it was the corpsman.
When he reached Burnette, he saw that the lieutenant had a pressure bandage pressed over the marine's stomach. It was almost black with blood. He put his hands beside the lieutenant's, then turned his head toward him.
"Lieutenant, get through that hatch," Optika growled. "There's got to be a surgeon in there somewhere. Find him and get him out here. Now!"
"Yes, sir!" Burnette had already started moving before the captain finished his order.
The corpsman arrived and took over for the captain, working rapidly. Optika moved up to the marine's head and cradled it in his lap as he watched the marine's lips move.
"Civilians," he whispered, almost too softly for the receptors in his helmet to pick up. "Have to protect the civilians."
"You've done that, son." Optika's voice was thick. "You just save your energy and let the doc here patch you up."
He looked at the corpsman and saw him shaking his head.
"It's his liver, sir. The Xan-Sskarn ripped most of it out with its talons," the corpsman said over the net, not wanting the marine to hear. "There's nothing I can do."
Optika looked over his shoulder at the hatch, willing a doctor to walk though it.
"Xan-Sskarns!" the marine shouted, blood beginning to flow from his mouth. "Can't let them get the civilians. Gotta stop them. Gotta . . . "
"You did, marine—you saved them." Tears ran down the captain's face. "You just sleep. We'll take it from here. You've done the corps proud, marine."
The dying man smiled up at him upon hearing that.
"Semper Fi . . . " His voice fell off as the last breath left his body.
The hatch opened, and Lieutenant Burnette came through, dragging a middle-aged-looking man by the collar of his lab coat. Behind the two of them was a severe-looking woman.
"There he is," Burnette said over his helmet speakers. "Help him."
The man pulled away from the lieutenant and began to kneel down.
"It's too late, sir," the corpsman said, shaking his head as he stood.
"Who's in charge here?" came a shrill voice.
"That would be me, ma'am." Optika came slowly to his feet and faced her. "Captain Stewart Optika."
"Well, Captain, I wish to register a complaint about your subordinate here." She stabbed her finger toward the lieutenant as she spoke. "He just came bursting in, scaring us half to death, then started demanding a surgeon. He was very rude and very vulgar, and I want him dealt with."
Optika stood, staring at the woman standing there with her dark hair in a bun, her clothes immaculate, a
s if she had just gotten dressed, and clean-looking except for a single smudge of dirt on her cheek. He looked from her down to the bodies at his feet. He saw the Xan-Sskarn, a combat knife buried in its throat. He saw two marines, both having died protecting her. He lifted his gaze and looked out at the mounds of Xan-Sskarn bodies those two had piled up in what they almost certainly believed was a vain hope, but never once giving up. He turned back to her.
"Fuck your complaint."
Chapter Twenty-nine
Hugin Research Facility
October 13, 2197
1925 z
Mars, Sol
"Well, isn't that just downright nice of him," Corporal Tracy Clark, Marine Recon team leader, said after cutting off from the command net and back into Recon's net.
"What's nice of who?" asked Lance Corporal Alan Lewis, the second and only other member of the team.
"Oh, the captain. He said we could proceed at my discretion."
"You know, Tracy, I've known you for all of twelve hours, and I must say, out of all the adjectives I can think of to describe you, 'discreet' is not one of them."
"Why, Lance Corporal Lewis, I am shocked that you would think that about your fire-team leader." Her voice was heavy with indignation.
Alan snorted.
"So, when do we go in?" he asked after a few minutes. "It's getting friggin' cold sittin' around out here."
"Things'll be plenty hot once we go inside. I'd say in another couple of minutes or so. We'll wait for Bravo to get the Sally's attention—then we can pop the door and get in without anyone the wiser."
"Sounds good to me."
They both fell silent as they maintained their observation of the small hatch they were going to use to enter the facility.
Tracy saw a pillar of smoke begin to rise from the direction of the company. Nudging Alan's elbow, she pointed.
"Looks like that's our cue."
They rose together, heading toward the hatch at a run as more smoke lifted from the company's position. They hit the outer wall of the facility at the same time, one on either side of the hatch.
Alan tried the panel, and after a few attempts turned to Tracy.
"It's dead."
"Override it."
She watched as Alan slung his pack off his back and rummaged through it for a moment before coming up with a small black box. He attached it to the wall, just beside the control panel. Opening both the panel and the box, he took leads from one and attached them to the other. After eight or nine connections, the panel's lights turned green, and the hatch cycled open.
"Grab it and let's go," she told him and stepped through the hatch and into the air lock. Alan disconnected the leads, pulled the black box off the wall, and followed her in.
Tracy looked over her shoulder to make sure that Alan was in the lock before she keyed the sequence that would let them enter the facility proper. The outer hatch closed, and she could hear the hiss of air being pumped into the small compartment. She pressed herself up against the bulkhead and saw that Alan was doing the same opposite her. They were not expecting company when the inner hatch opened, but there was no need to silhouette themselves.
A tone sounded as the pressure equalized. The inner hatch opened, and they both waited a handful of heartbeats before moving.
She pointed at Alan and raised one finger, then at herself and raised two. He would go through first, then her. Holding up three fingers now, she slowly began to fold them back into her fist. When the last one fell, they moved.
They both went through the hatch in a dive, rolling up onto their knees back-to-back, weapons pointed outward, seeking targets.
"Clear," she whispered.
"Clear," Alan responded, just as quietly.
Tracy took a moment to orient herself. Being a Recon Marine, she was accustomed to having to move quickly and assuredly in any kind of environment, so it had taken her only ten minutes back on the Valhalla to decide on primary and secondary routes to their objective, and to memorize them. She carried the complete facility schematics on her pad, but she wouldn't need them as long as they didn't have to take too many detours.
"Okay, the core is that way, two levels down." She pointed down the passageway she was covering with her rifle. "Let's go."
She rose to her feet and took a step forward before stopping and half turning to face Alan.
"Oh, and Alan?"
She waited until he was looking at her.
"Yeah?"
She held a finger up to the faceplate of her helmet, where her mouth would be.
"Shhhhh!"
* * *
Alan leaned out around the corner of the intersection and quickly looked both ways. When he didn't see anything, he beckoned to Tracy, waving his hand forward, indicating that she was clear to cross the open area. As she began to dash across to the other side of the intersection, he dropped to one knee, turning to face behind him as he went down. He covered their rear for the few short seconds it would take for his team leader to make it across. When he judged that enough time had passed, he looked behind him and saw her waving him onward.
They leapfrogged down corridors and through mechanical areas of the facility for what seemed like forever to Alan, though a look at elapsed mission time showed that it had only been fifteen minutes.
The two of them had managed to make it down to the computer-core level without being detected, but he didn't think that they would remain undetected much longer. They were entering the outer areas of the research labs themselves, and if the Xan-Sskarn were here for the same thing they were, they would be running into each other very soon.
He sprinted over to Tracy, and the two of them continued their silent way deeper into the facility. The passageway ended at a hatch, and they took positions to either side of it and prepared to go into the room, just like they had every other room they had entered.
Alan watched, and, as her last finger dropped, the hatch began to open. Bolting through, he came up, searching his side of the room, knowing that she was behind him doing the same. They had just finished their scrutiny of what looked to be a large lounge when she spoke.
"I don't like the looks of this room."
Alan dove for the floor behind a bank of computer consoles, weapon extended before him, looking for signs of anything out of place.
"I don't see anything—what've you got?" he breathed quietly, still searching.
"Oh, it's nothing like that. I just think it's tacky in here."
He got to his feet and stared at her through his faceplate.
"Don't do that. Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack."
"Mmm?" She seemed distracted as she slowly turned in place, taking in the whole room. "Oh, sorry about that. But really, why is it that the eggheads always have such ugly looking stuff? I mean, look at those paintings, and the furniture. It's as if the smarter you get, the worse your taste gets."
"Well, Corporal Art Critic, can we please get moving?" Alan began moving toward the hatch on the far side of the room. "This place is giving me the creeps."
"Me, too, Alan. Me, too."
Alan couldn't tell if she meant the room's decor or the eerily silent facility they were moving through. He thought it better not to ask.
They positioned themselves at the hatch as before, and, just as before, Alan watched as Tracy counted down from three. The hatch opened, and they went through it the same as before. What was different this time was the Xan-Sskarn three meters in front of Alan, bringing a flechette rifle to bear.
"Contact!" he shouted, stroking the trigger twice and feeling the slight recoil in his shoulder as the Xan-Sskarn in front of him came apart under the impact of multiple flechette bursts. Alan saw two more coming around the corner, weapons leveled.
He stroked the trigger again and watched his target drop as he heard Tracy's own contact report. A burst of flechettes chewed their way into the deck directly in front of him. His response was more accurate, and another Xan-Sskarn hit the deck, dead.
/> He waited for several long moments as Tracy dispatched her own targets. Finally, he heard her announce that her area was secure. He responded in kind.
"Clear."
"Okay Alan, let's get out of here before any more show up," Tracy said, still covering her section of the corridor. "We're almost there, and I expect that we'll have a few more run-ins like this, so stay sharp."
He looked at the broken remains of the Xan-Sskarn directly in front of him.
"You don't have to tell me twice," he said as he put a fresh magazine in his rifle.
Ragnarok-ARC Page 34