by JE Gurley
“Toward Atlanta,” LaBonner said. “They’ll reach the outskirts in a few hours.”
“We’ll be ready for them,” Caulder said.
On the way back, as the chopper flew over Jefferson, Georgia, LaBonner noticed an elementary school at the edge of the small town busily loading children onto a line of buses. A quick count showed more children than buses. A line of buses waited on the road, blocked by fallen power lines. A Georgia Power crew worked feverishly to remove the debris, but it would take time, time the school did not have.
LaBonner patted Caulder’s shoulder. “We have to help them.” At first, he thought Caulder would refuse, but as he stared at the children and teachers milling about the parking lot in confusion, he nodded.
“Set us down in that field just east of the school,” he ordered the pilot.
The pilot swung back around over the school and landed in a cornfield 200 yards away. The rotor wash flattened sun-dried stalks in a big swath, reminding LaBonner of a crop circle.
“Leave the nuke rocket launchers on the chopper,” Caulder said. “Bring extra ammo.”
They spilled from the chopper on both sides of the vehicle and fanned out. They had only minutes before the first of the Spiders would reach them. Two of the team carried modified Mk 46 machine guns. Gas-operated and belt-fed, the 7.62mm weapons had a maximum range of 3900 yards and fired 710 rounds per minute. Two men lugged EMG-148 Javelin anti-tank rocket launchers over their shoulders with SCAR 7.62mm rifles for backup. Four more formed two M224 60mm mortar squads. Caulder carried an M107SASR .50BMG sniper rifle, and LaBonner had his SCAR 7.62mm. The small arsenal that would have been effective against any human foes, but LaBonner wasn’t sure it would be of much use against Spiders. No one knew what the creatures were capable of or what it might take to bring one down.
They didn’t worry about the Wasps. The Blackhawk lifted off immediately after they disembarked and remained in the area to protect them, as did the F-18s. The sky above them filled with the streaks of Sidewinder and Sparrow missiles and the chatter of M61 20mm Vulcan cannons. Occasionally, one of the F-18s would swoop over the field low enough to rustle the corn stalks, the shriek of their engines sounding like banshees from hell. Cobra and Huey helicopters arrived and worked the fringes of the Wasp swarm with their GAU-17A Gatling guns, M60 machine guns, and 70mm rockets.
LaBonner followed the battle with one eye, as he scanned the fields for sign of the Spiders. The cries of the children crying and the frenzied yells of the teachers fought for dominance over the sound of the battle in the sky. Listening to their pitiful cries, the cold pit of fear in his stomach gave way to the burning desire to kill. His finger ached from its position on the trigger of his rifle.
“I see them!” Vance yelled out.
The two mortars began firing, raising geysers of dust and smoke four hundred yards away. The first Spider came into view, climbing out of a ditch and striding over a fence. Others appeared behind it, a phalanx of black obsidian monsters standing six feet tall and ten feet in length. Unlike the Kaiju’s segmented, angular body, the Spiders’ body was smooth and rounded. A dozen multi-jointed legs sprouted from the cephalothorax, each tipped with three claws for grasping. The most forward pair of legs were shorter and raised in the air near the vertical mouth, which was surrounded by four tentacles, each three-feet long. Two large red eyes dominated the oval-shaped head. LaBonner wondered if the resemblance to spiders was intentional to strike fear into the beholder. If so, it worked.
The Spiders ignored the mortar explosions, striding through them at a pace much faster than a human could run. One lucky hit ripped off one Spider’s leg, but the injury barely slowed it. Another creature, blown into the air by an explosion directly beneath it, landed upside down but quickly righted itself and continued. At three hundred yards, one of the rocket launchers fired. The Javelin missile, designed as anti-tank weapons, proved more effective than the mortars. The Kaiju armor-tipped missile destroyed its target. It at least proved the creatures were vulnerable. One man fired a second Javelin, but the Spider stepped aside from the missile’s path. The Javelin struck an embankment and exploded behind it.
“Get ready!” Caulder sang out.
The Spiders – LaBonner counted over a dozen – had reached the edge of the cornfield. LaBonner followed their movement by watching the tops of dried stalks divide and fall as the creatures plowed through them. Vance cut loose with the Mk 46 machinegun, hacking a swath through the cornrows like a scythe. He concentrated on the lead Spider. LaBonner was relieved to see chips of ebony armor fly from the creature’s head, as the Kaiju armor-piercing rounds struck. Finally, the creature tipped over and fell dead, its legs twitching in muscle spasms.
LaBonner picked up the Mk19 grenade launcher and fired six quick bursts into the midst of the Spiders, shattering legs and chipping away at their armor, but killing none. Caulder with his M109 SASR .50BMG sighted in on a Spider’s eyes and fired. Spurts of yellow blood proved he had hit his mark, but even sightless, it still homed in on them using sound. LaBonner emptied the grenade launcher and picked up his SCAR. The SCARs, Caulder’s SASR, and Mk46s were less effective against the Spiders than against Wasps, but they made a dent in the opposition. At close range, less than fifty yards, the armor-tipped rounds began penetrating the creatures’ Kaiju exoskeletons. Six more quickly succumbed to their overlapping fields of concentrated fire. The remaining creatures halted their charge and attempted to bypass them, sensing easier prey ahead.
However, one Spider suddenly veered back in their direction and broke through their line before anyone could stop it. It leaped forward and landed on one of the men, a young recruit named Nixon. Its weight bore Nixon to the ground, and then savagely attacked him with its legs, chopping him apart. The creature’s intense rage saved LaBonner, who stood only a few feet away from the dead man. He dove to the ground and rolled away, firing his weapon into its underbelly. Vance swung on it with the Mk46, standing face-to-face with the creature, and refusing to back down. Under the combined heavy assault, it retreated; then, swerved and charged a second soldier with his back toward it. He turned at the last moment. The Spider slashed at him with one of its clawed legs as he fell away. He went down with a deep wound in his chest.
The other Mk46 joined Vance. The two closed the distance with the Spider. Chunks of ebony armor flew from the creature’s head. They continued chipping away until bullets began to strike exposed alien flesh. The Spider tried to back away, but it had waited too late. Another burst from the machineguns, and its legs folded under it. It collapsed dead on the ground.
The three remaining Spiders tried to flee, headed away from the school. One of the men fired the last Javelin missile. It struck a Spider’s abdomen from the rear and killed it. The other two disappeared into an adjacent cornfield. The Blackhawk pilot, still circling overhead, noticed and went after them with its machineguns blazing. It returned a few minutes later. One of the gunners held out his thumb in a victory sign.
LaBonner strode over to the wounded man. The soldier clasped his hands to his chest, but blood seeped around the edges of his hands. “I’m hit,” he said. LaBonner slapped his hands away to check the wound. The gash was six inches long but not deep. The young man’s nametag read “McKay.” LaBonner grabbed a bandage from his med kit to staunch the bleeding.
“You’re lucky, McKay. You’ll live and have a nice scar to show the girls in the bars.”
“I’ll live?” he asked. The look on his face showed disbelief.
“For thirty or forty more years.” The answer seemed to satisfy McKay. He lay back on the ground and closed his eyes, as LaBonner sprinkled disinfectant powder into the wound and wrapped it with a bandage.
Caulder checked the dead man, Nixon. They could do nothing for him. The creature had slashed him so badly he was barely recognizable as human. Caulder reached down and took his dog tag, squeezing it in his fist.
“We got a dozen of them,” Vance announced, pleased with himself.
/>
“Another hundred or so are still out there somewhere,” Warski reminded him. Warski had come through the fight uninjured, but splotches of Nixon’s blood mixed with Spider blood smeared his uniform.
“They’ll head to Atlanta,” LaBonner said. “More people, more chance to do some damage.”
Caulder nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re going to need bigger weapons next time.”
“And more men. This isn’t a special ops detail. We’re facing a horde of giant Spiders instead of a single Kaiju. We need some armored vehicles.”
“I’ll call the chopper.”
LaBonner helped the wounded man to his feet. He moaned from the pain. Even with one dead and one injured, they had been lucky. Their first battle with the new Kaiju threat had not gone well, but they had saved the school. He watched as the last bus pulled away from the parking lot. He was certain that if the Spiders had been intent on killing them, they would have finished the job. They were just an obstacle between the Spiders and their destination – Atlanta. Next time, they would have to bring their A-game or the city would die. He had watched one city die. He did not want to witness a repeat on American soil.
17
August 16, USS Assegai –
Walker edged his way across the crowded room through the press of bodies, trying not to offend anyone. If not for the zero gravity allowing people to float horizontally above one another, traversing the space would have been nigh impossible. Each person wore their bulky space suit, further eroding any personal space, but with no room for both personnel and their suits, it was the only viable option. They did not wear their helmets. That might come later, as the air ran out and only suit oxygen remained. Walker did not care to think about that eventuality.
Fifteen hours had passed since disembarking the Javelin, just enough time for everyone to grow edgy and cranky. Neither he nor Sakiri could do much to alleviate the tension. It built slowly like ripples in a pond, but when it reached a crescendo, it would become a tidal wave. His own nerves were beginning to fray around the edges, but he could do nothing about that either. Presently, he was more concerned with Gate. They were nearing the time Gate had estimated it would take to intercept the pods. They would have no way of knowing if Gate and Peters had succeeded, or if the ten Kaiju pods had changed course on their way to destroy them or the Assegai. With no long-range detectors, any attack would be sudden and devastating. He tried to avoid that dark thought, as he searched for Costas. The sergeant could at least keep his team occupied to avoid any chances of conflict with the Air Force personnel.
He found Costas hanging onto a strap attached to the wall. “How are you doing?” he asked.
Costas’ face turned bright red. “It’s embarrassing floating around with a diaper load, but I couldn’t hold it any longer.”
“There are a lot of people here in the same situation. It’s better than passing around a bucket.”
Costas grimaced. “Whew! In Zero-G that would be nasty. It’s just that I can’t work up the balls to approach any of the women, not in my delicate condition.”
Walker suppressed a grin and patted Costas on the shoulder. “You’re a real hero, Costas, above and beyond the call of duty.”
“I’ll take my frustration out on the Nazir. When’s our ride coming?”
They had not heard from the Assegai for eight hours. She had increased speed by fifteen percent, the most the engineers at NASA would allow. He had to assume everything was still on schedule. Even then, it was only a best guess. The Assegai’s course was slightly different from the Javelin’s due to the launch time difference. In addition, they had to locate the tiny habitat module in the vastness of space. He gave Costas the only answer he could. “Thirty-five hours or so.”
“Tell them I’m pissed. Maybe that’ll speed them up.”
“Get our guys breaking down and reassembling their weapons. That might kill some time.” Breaking down weapons in Zero-G was a challenge. Small parts tended to drift away unnoticed. The purpose of the exercise was to impress upon them the differences in the environment in which they might be fighting.
Costas guffawed.
Walker raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Sergeant?”
“No problem, Major, but I’ve had these guys field stripping their weapons so often, they can do it in their sleep. It won’t keep them amused for long.”
Walker waved his arms in the air. “Have a weenie roast, sing some songs, anything; just keep their minds occupied, or we’ll have a melee in here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Costas drifted off toward Alpha Team. Walker hugged the wall, searching the room until he found Sakiri discussing tactics with another pilot. He stared pointedly at the second pilot until he floated away to leave the two men as alone as they could be in the crowded space.
“Are you sticking to the same plan?” he asked.
“In thirty hours, we’ll fire one of the Lance’s gravity drives for two minutes at intervals of thirty minutes,” Sakiri said. “It should help the Assegai home in on us but not attract unwanted attention from our neighbors. At the same time, we’ll try to detect the Kaiju pods.”
“Do you still consider them a viable threat?”
“I consider all threats viable.” Sakiri’s voice remained neutral, but Walker detected the edge of uncertainty in it. “If the Javelin fails, the Nazir can figure out where we are quickly enough. If they arrive before the Assegai … Well, the battle begins here.”
Walker understood that placed them at a serious disadvantage. In space, speed was important. If the Kaiju pods sought them out while they were stationary, it would be a short battle, at least for the men in the module.
Walker shook his head and smiled. “You don’t know Gate Rutherford. He won’t fail.”
“I wish I had your faith in him, I really do. I agreed to forward the plan to higher authority only because it offered a chance to alleviate some misery on Earth. If we fail in our mission, it will have become a moot point.”
“If it succeeds, the real battle on Haumea starts two days late. Eisenhower had to reschedule D-Day several times before we landed in Europe.”
“The Allies knew what to expect when they hit the beach. We don’t. We have no reliable intel. We don’t know if we’re facing a small Kaiju-building outpost or the buildup of a massive invasion force.”
Sakiri’s statement struck home. Uncertainty had been the U.N.’s big worry, that beyond the orbit of Haumea, an alien invasion fleet waited for the monster Kaiju to decimate Earth’s defenses before attacking Earth. Walker believed otherwise. He prayed he was right.
“Well, it sounds like a sage idea. I’m all for anything we can do to make it easier to find us.”
“I won’t make any new friends among this lot,” Sakiri said, frowning. “To use the airlock to man the Lances, we’ll have chase everyone out and cram them into the remaining available space. We can recycle the air, but tight quarters will heighten already taut tensions. We must stay on top of arguments and dissention lest it build to conflict.”
Walker understood that Sakiri was referring to his team. Sakiri did not believe his pilots would resort to such crude behavior. He allowed the insult to slide. “There won’t be room to do much but yell, but I get your point.”
To Walker, the worst part of waiting was the uncertainty whether Gate’s plan had worked or if he and Peters were still alive. He still regretted that he had let Gate go without him, but Gate had been right. His place was with his team. Even with the firepower of the Lances, he suspected it would take a boots-on-the-ground effort to stop the Nazir. Then, Allah willing, he and Costas could return to Earth to take on the Kaiju Gate could not stop.
* * * *
The Assegai arrived thirty hours later, nearly six hours ahead of schedule. After 45 hours of listless waiting, the crew of the Javelin welcomed its arrival with a spontaneous celebration. Sakiri and Walker allowed a few minutes of hugging, handshaking, and Zero-G dancing before herding them out the a
irlock to dock the Lances with the Assegai and transfer personnel. Sakiri insisted they attach the Javelin’s aft module that had served as home to the rear of the Assegai. “We might find a use for it once we reach Haumea,” he explained.
Walker didn’t argue. The task took his mind off Gate for a short while, but he was eager to get underway and begin the search for Gate and Peters. The Assegai started her gravity drive and pressed forward toward Haumea. He was glad to have near normal gravity once again. One thing he had learned during the ordeal was that his body did not like zero gravity. His mind preferred a distinct up and down for reference, and his legs preferred walking rather than swimming through the air.
Searching for Costas, he found him in the galley. The sergeant noticed Walker’s entrance and called him over.
“Man, even this crap beats that concentrated stuff. I was afraid to eat until I changed my diaper and took a real crap.” He jerked his thumb toward the bathrooms. “You might not want to go in there without your helmet.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He eyed Costas’ meal and decided it didn’t look good enough to risk eating. A knot in the pit of his stomach gnawed away his stomach lining. He would get no relief until he learned Gate’s fate. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
Costas lowered his spoon and looked up with a humiliated expression. “I was in a low spot. I felt like a senior citizen wearing my Depends diaper waiting for the nice nurse attendant to come around with my meds. I’m not cut out for this close-elbowed dumpster living. I need some space to move about and real air to breath, even that crappy, damp-assed Limey air at Lakenheath.”
“We’re on our way again.”
“Yeah, seven more days of this. I can’t wait.”
“Plus ten days for the return trip, remember.”
Costas ate a spoonful of his meal and looked at him sideways. “Yeah, well, I’ll count those days when it looks like I might need to.”