Into the Battle
Page 3
Royce brought his rifle to his shoulder as he joined his team.
“Frag out!” shouted one of the Deltas. A few seconds later, an explosion ripped through the air.
Shouts and screams of agony, presumably from a Zodark, echoed throughout the corridor. It sounded horrible to Royce’s ears. It was a shrill and dissonant noise he’d never heard, and it really unsettled him.
As Royce rounded the corner, he saw the hallway open into a large flight deck. There were a couple of shuttlecraft and what looked like a starfighter. He also observed numerous piles of containers or large boxes positioned along the walls in neat looking rows.
Royce spotted three of his soldiers propped up against some container boxes, using them for cover. A dozen enemy soldiers on the opposite side of the hangar were firing at them. Royce picked a container for his own cover and started shooting at the hostiles.
Then a second group of Zodarks appeared from another corridor further down the hangar. That group fanned out and added a volume of fire to the melee.
This is turning into a hot mess.
Royce pivoted his rifle toward this new threat and fired several of his 20mm smart munitions at them. The AI targeting computer built into his M85 configured the rounds to explode at just the right position to inflict the most damage possible. Royce wanted the enemy to keep their heads down while more of his team filtered into the hangar. If he took a few of them out in the process, that was a bonus.
“Keep that SAW going on that group at two o’clock! Gregory, I want that freaking HB firing yesterday!” roared one of Royce’s squad leaders.
Private Gregory, their M91 heavy blaster soldier, changed positions to aim at the cluster of enemy soldiers Royce had fired on a few seconds earlier. In seconds, the soldier had a near-constant stream of blaster bolts firing at the Zodarks, who were trying to move around their flank.
Flashes of light flew in Royce’s direction and toward his soldiers. It was definitely a chaotic mess. Royce ducked just as an energy burst impacted the containers he and Private Gregory were hiding against. The energy bolts blew the containers apart and the overpressure of the explosion threw the two of them backward. Their bodies skidded across the metal floor of the hangar until they thudded against the wall.
Private Gregory didn’t miss a beat; the young soldier rolled into a kneeling position with his M91 tucked in his shoulder and cut loose a solid three-second burst at three Zodarks who had charged toward them.
“Frag out!” yelled another soldier further away from Royce as he threw a pair of grenades at the Zodarks.
Royce caught a glint of something heading right for him. He rolled instinctively to his left just as two blaster bolts hit the floor of the hangar where his body had just been. He leaped to his feet and ran toward the starfighter, fifteen meters in front of him. With his rifle tucked in his shoulder, he squeezed the trigger, hitting one Zodark in the chest, another in the left shoulder, and a third one center mass in the face. All three of them went down, either dead or writhing in pain.
“Someone needs to cover that right flank!” yelled Sergeant Wagner, the leader of the second squad.
’Bout time they got up here, Royce said to himself as he took a knee behind the starfighter’s nose gear.
“Covering fire!” yelled one of the soldiers to Royce’s left.
Two of Royce’s soldiers jumped up and ran forward toward another object to hide behind, while a handful of his guys laid down a steady barrage of blaster fire.
Royce watched one of those balls of light fly out from the Zodark weapon and hit one of his soldiers in midstride. The soldier staggered forward, convulsing as if he’d been struck by lightning. Then his lifeless body slid across the floor from his forward momentum until it hit a container and stopped moving.
Several blaster shots hit the starfighter Royce was hiding behind, forcing him to roll and duck behind another piece of equipment, one that they likely used to service the craft. As Royce moved to the new position, he shifted his rifle, aiming it in the direction of the enemy fire. The AI targeting tool helped him zero in on two Zodarks near his position, and he squeezed the trigger. The first few blaster bolts hit the first Zodark several times in the chest; more slammed into his comrade, ripping two of his four arms right off. Then a third shot ripped open part of the second Zodark’s neck, spraying bluish liquid everywhere.
“They’re charging up the middle!” roared Sergeant Wagman as his squad rushed forward to fill in the gap.
The sound of battle was growing louder as more human soldiers filtered into the hangar. Two of Royce’s Deltas lobbed a couple of fragmentation grenades in the direction of the enemy while another three Deltas laid down covering fire, screaming and shouting as they did.
Crump, crump!
When the grenades went off, they tore into the remaining Zodarks, who appeared surprised by the power of these little devices. The charging soldiers managed to finish off the last of the enemy in the hangar.
As the shooting came to a halt, Royce jumped out from behind his covered position and moved forward with his other soldiers to make sure the enemy soldiers were dead. Approaching the dead, dismembered, and wounded Zodarks, Royce observed some of his soldiers double-tapping the bodies as they neared them. Royce did the same to the Zodark bodies near him as well. They weren’t about to let some of them play possum, and frankly, they had no idea if they were legitimately dead or just knocked unconscious.
Using the NL, Royce sent a quick update to Captain Hopper and urged him to get the rest of the company up to the hangar. This was a big place for him to hold on to with a little more than a squad.
Master Sergeant, how large is that hangar? Can you hold it with the soldiers you have while we work on securing another section closer to the Osprey’s breaching point? Captain Hopper inquired.
Royce shook his head in frustration. He’d already looked at the platoon’s blue force tracker, and he knew they needed help. Negative, sir, this place is too big for a single squad to hold. I’ve got six KIAs and three wounded. There are several corridors that appear to lead further into the ship—we’ll probably see some pockets of enemy soldiers moving to engage us from there.
A few tense seconds passed before Royce received a reply. That’s a good copy. I’m heading your way with the rest of the platoon. I’ve got the other three Ospreys swapping positions with ours to disembark the rest of the company. We’ll have more troops there shortly. Just hang tight.
Royce sighed as he took the pause in the battle to catch his breath. He watched the other soldiers double-check their powerpacks on their M85s and magazines on their grenade launcher. No one knew for sure when more Zodarks would show up again, so they were using the short reprieve to get ready.
Moments later, a new sound echoed throughout the hangar deck—a weird alarm similar to the general quarters alarm they’d heard on the Voyager and Rook. Then a Zodark voice spoke loudly and urgently over a PA system.
“This doesn’t sound good, Sarge. What’s the plan?” asked Sergeant Peckman, one of his other squad leaders.
Royce shook his head in frustration. It was taking too long for the rest of their unit to catch up. “Screw it, follow me!” he bellowed. “Let’s keep killing these animals. Hopper and the rest of them can catch up with us. We can’t stay here with our thumbs up our rears while we allow the enemy to regroup and attack us again.
“Wagman, stay here with the remainder of your squad,” Royce continued. “Guard the wounded and make sure no other Zodarks pop out of those entrances down there.”
With the decision made, Royce raised his rifle to his shoulder and moved forward down the corridor out of the hangar, taking the rest of the squad deeper into the bowels of the ship, with Sergeant Peckman taking up the rear.
The AI targeting system built into their heads-up displays sent out small radio pulses ahead of them. The HUDs acted like sonar as the radio waves traveled down the corridor and into any open spaces, mapping out potential threats and g
iving him a good view of what lay ahead.
What the HUD was telling Royce now was that a large group of Zodarks were forming up a few bulkheads in front of them. If he maintained their current direction, he’d lead his squad right into them.
He passed the word along to the rest of his team and shared the view he was seeing with them. After brainstorming a few options, they opted to form a firing line. Royce ordered them to flick their M85s from blaster to magrail as they readied their rifles.
The six of them stood there, rifles pointed at the next sealed-off bulkhead, ready for the Zodarks to enter the compartment on the other side. As soon as they did, they’d all cut loose with their magrails. Unlike the blasters, the magnetic railguns would send projectiles right through several inches of armor or steel. They’d punch right through the bulkhead, eviscerating everyone on the other side.
A voice chirped in Royce’s head through the neurolink. Master Sergeant, hold your position, Captain Hopper ordered. We’ve just entered the hangar. I’m sending another squad to back you guys up. The rest of the unit is going to fan out down the other parts of the corridor. We have Fourth Platoon swapping places with our shuttle right now. We got held up resealing some of the bulkheads so they could disconnect and the new shuttle could deliver our reinforcements.
Shaking his head in frustration, Royce replied, Good copy. We’ve got about thirty tangos heading toward us. When they enter the next corridor, we’re going to light them up with the magrails.
That’s a good copy. Just don’t go crazy with the magrails inside the ship. We don’t need any more hull breaches to contend with.
Royce noted that Hopper didn’t tell him he couldn’t proceed with his current plan. That was permission enough. Otherwise, his eight soldiers didn’t stand a chance.
“They’re moving into the next corridor now,” called out one of the soldiers nervously.
That was the cue. Royce nodded, then shouted, “Let ’em have it!”
In the next ten seconds, the six of them unloaded more than five hundred 5.56mm projectiles right through the sealed bulkhead in front of them and into the corridor behind it. The rounds sliced through the Zodarks, who had tightly grouped themselves together as they prepared to charge out of the hallway to attack them.
One of Royce’s soldiers fired his 20mm explosive penetrator into the torn-apart bulkhead door, and it exploded in the middle of the wounded Zodarks. Their screaming and wailing was utterly horrific. It was terrifying in its own right, but they couldn’t dwell on that. They had to push through and finish them off and then continue clearing the ship.
Just as Royce’s soldiers were about to move forward, one of the Zodarks flipped the body of one of his comrades off himself and fired his blaster at them. One of Royce’s soldiers took two shots to the upper chest and face. The man was flung backward from the blast, dead before his brain could register what had just happened. Another soldier charged forward, firing his rifle, but was hit multiple times in the chest before he could take the attacker out.
Chris, one of Royce’s soldiers and friends, ducked to the left, just in front of him. He was suddenly hit by two rounds that would have hit Royce but claimed Chris instead.
Master Sergeant Brian Royce watched the look of surprise cover Chris’s face, then he saw intense pain right before the light in his eyes faded out entirely. It all happened so fast, yet each second played out like a movie, with Royce in the audience, unable to stop it from happening.
Royce screamed with a primordial rage from the depths of his soul as he pushed past his now-dead friend. He charged into the piles of corpses and dying Zodarks toward the one beast that had played possum and killed two members of his platoon. He fired his magrail relentlessly into the enemy soldier, watching one of the projectiles rip a chunk of the monster’s face off as two more hit him in the upper chest. A third and fourth round struck him in the neck, practically severing his head. He fell backward from the blows onto a pile of bodies. Bluish liquid and gore splashed everywhere and pooled on the floor.
As Royce jumped into the middle of the melee, he struck one wounded Zodark in the side of the head with the butt of his rifle, fired a point-blank shot into the face of another, and then butt-stroked a third across the face as he brought his blaster to bear on him.
Three more Zodarks jumped into the bloody melee from the next corridor as they sought to stop these human soldiers from taking their ship. One of the Zodarks’ hands grabbed the back of Royce’s exoskeleton combat suit and threw him across the confined space until he hit a wall.
Royce’s rifle clattered to the ground from the hard hit just as a clenched fist connected with his abdominal armor plate. The punch practically knocked the wind out of him. If he hadn’t been in his combat suit, he was certain it would have killed him. Royce looked for his rifle, but it was out of reach. One of the Zodark’s other arms grabbed at Royce’s helmet and bashed his head against the wall, causing him to see stars.
Using his free arm, Royce’s right hand unsheathed his six-inch combat blade and jabbed it into the side of the Zodark’s throat. He twisted it briefly and then, using the added mechanical strength of his combat suit, yanked it hard, practically severing the beast’s head in the process. The Zodark dropped limply before him.
Another Zodark had drawn two shortswords in place of his blaster and was hacking one of Royce’s soldiers to pieces. Royce reared his hand back and threw his knife for all its worth at the back of the Zodark. The blade sailed through the air and dug deep into the creature’s back. The beast let out a guttural scream as he reached around to try and pull the blade out of his back.
Reaching down to his right thigh, Royce grabbed for his M72 Sig Sauer pistol and fired the hand cannon at the wounded Zodark. He then turned and fired several more rounds into the lone surviving Zodark, who had been rolling on the ground in a hand-to-hand fight with two of his guys.
At this point, Royce and the three remaining soldiers collapsed to the floor or sat against the wall, exhausted and shell-shocked from what they had just lived through. This had been worse than any of their previous battles with the Zodarks.
As Royce looked around them, all he saw was dead bodies. He turned around to where they had just come from and saw the bodies of five comrades killed in the confrontation.
A couple of seconds later, thirteen more Deltas from the second squad walked up to them, clearly appalled to see Royce sitting there, pistol in hand in the center of the corridor, completely surrounded by dead enemy soldiers.
Master Sergeant Royce looked down. Bluish blood and gore covered his body armor. The carnage that lay before them was surreal.
“Master Sergeant, are you OK?” asked the newly arrived squad leader in a tone of deep concern. The man was a staff sergeant, and one of Royce’s friends.
Royce only now fully realized that they had caught up to them. He nodded slowly, not saying anything as the alien blood continued to drip off his armor and pistol.
He shook himself free of the daze he’d been in, walked over to one of the dead Zodarks and pulled his knife out of the beast’s back. After wiping the blood off the blade, he placed it back in his chest rig. Then he holstered his pistol and reached for his rifle.
Royce paused for a second. When he saw everyone still looking at him, he was spent emotionally. But they still had a job to do. So, he turned away and called out loudly, “Come on! We have more of them to kill if we’re going to capture this ship.”
He then raised his rifle to his shoulder and pressed forward, deeper into the Zodark carrier, his soldiers following him.
*******
For the next two days, three companies of Deltas fought to clear and capture the massive Zodark vessel. The Zodarks put up a hell of a fight as they battled the Deltas at every turn. Ultimately, the Deltas’ superior tactics and the use of their magrail guns in certain instances subdued the remaining Zodarks. Eventually, the Deltas were able to hack into the ship’s onboard PA system. They started broadcasting an
offer to accept surrender in the Zodarks’ language.
“There is no more need to die or waste your lives,” the announcement began.
At first, the message seemed to have no effect whatsoever, but they stayed patient and kept trying. In the meantime, they stopped trying to seize the ship in hopes that their offer might be accepted. After several hours of playing their message, eventually, a Zodark called out to them.
“I’d like to speak with whoever is in charge,” he shouted. The translators in their helmets spoke the Zodark words to them in English almost simultaneously.
Major Cornelius stepped forward. “I’m the man in charge,” he announced, his translator spitting his words out in Zodark. Cornelius was the battalion commander for the 2nd Battalion, 1st Special Forces Group. He was the lead Special Forces officer in charge of this expedition. He’d flown over to the Zodark vessel a few hours ago, once they’d offered some terms of surrender.
The Zodark puffed his chest out a bit as he stood as erect as his body would allow. He stood a little over three meters tall and looked like a towering giant compared to the humans who’d boarded his ship.
“I am NOS Grakus. I am the commander of this ship,” the Zodark began, studying Cornelius’s body armor and helmet as he spoke. “Are you the commander of the starship that fought me? Who are you? Where have you come from?”
The major nodded and waved his arm to signal that the two of them should walk to the side of the hangar to talk. The beast didn’t move at first, but then he followed the lead of the soldier who had boarded his ship.
“Royce, keep the guys ready, I’m going to accompany the major,” Lieutenant Crocker said in a hushed tone so only the two of them could hear.