by T. D. Wilson
The particle energy salvo struck the top of the bunker, and Sanchez was thrown backward onto the muddy ground. Frantic, Maya was at Sanchez’s side and checked his body for any sign of injury. His helmet was scorched and blood trickled from his nose, but the dazed man waved her off and tried to stand. Still concerned for his health, she put her arm under his shoulder and helped him to his feet.
Toronaga wheeled his MACE toward the source of the attack. Maya helped Sanchez to his feet and looked toward the small hills to the west of their position. Another Shredder tank sat atop one of the hills, flanked by a dozen more Cilik’ti warriors. The Cilik’ti had held a reserve and were already on the move toward the Marine position. This group was different than the earlier attack force, with half of the warriors carrying shoulder-mounted particle cannons. These heavy weapons were far more powerful than the lances and would wreck what was left of the Marine position from a half kilometer.
Sanchez gave a heavy sigh and Maya’s heart sank with it. They couldn’t let that tank or those warriors get into range, or there would be nothing left to defend.
Toronaga didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go, Marines!” he yelled through his intercom. Maya steeled herself for a new round of battle, but worry for Sanchez consumed her train of thought.
Each of the MACE units turned toward the approaching Cilik’ti, raised their weapons and joined in the battle cry. Toronaga waved them on and sprinted forward, leading his mechanized troops into a charge.
Chapter Twelve
Cilik’ti Drop Zone
Cygni 4
Saturday, February 1
Earth Year 2155
McGregor was impressed with Cover Flight’s success. Of the original eighteen Cilik’ti assault craft headed his way, Nighthawk and Sandy, with some small help from the Marines’ air defenses, had reduced the number to four. But the last pass had consumed their remaining missiles, and both fighters’ cannon ammo was running low.
“Sandy, you still with me?” Nighthawk asked over the comm channel.
“I’m here, boss,” Sandy replied, but there was a level of concern in his voice that didn’t sound well to McGregor.
“What’s your status?”
“Uh, missiles gone, Nighthawk, but I think I caught a few rounds in my tail on that last pass. Primary hydraulic systems are down, but backups are still functioning.” There was a brief pause. “I think I might be leaking something, but I can’t be sure.”
“Hold your course and I’ll take a look,” Nighthawk said, and McGregor watched his fighter’s image trail behind his wingman. McGregor’s heart was in his throat and his hands gripped the edge of the command center imager tight. These pilots had given their all for him, and he hated to ask them to do more, especially in their fighters’ conditions.
“How’s your fuel?” Nighthawk asked.
“Fuel status shows green. How’s the damage?”
“Well, you got a little chewed, but your foils are intact,” Nighthawk said. “How are your controls?”
“Everything feels good. Just worried about that smoke, I guess.”
McGregor could hear more uneasiness in Sandy’s voice, which made it harder for what he had to ask them to do. “Cover Flight, I need one more pass. That enemy column needs a bloody nose, and it’s up to us to do it. Drop your bombs and slow ’em down. After that, pull back and fly emergency cover until we can get you rearmed.”
“Roger, Overlord,” Nighthawk responded. “We’re coming around now.”
McGregor waited until the fighters had completed their turn and grabbed his field glasses. He zoomed in on their position and saw Cilik’ti defensive fire peppering the sky. The fighters approached the column and released their bombs. A firestorm erupted on the ground, and the fighters sped on past.
He heard Nighthawk call out a warning. “Sandy, I’ve got four missiles closing fast. Break right and activate countermeasures.”
Both fighters twisted away from each other in defensive turns. One of the missiles followed Nighthawk and began to close, but the other three stayed with Sandy.
Nighthawk’s fighter reversed its turn and avoided the incoming missile. The missile trailed off and exploded on the ridge. Struggling to catch his breath, Nighthawk called to his wingman over the comms. “Sandy, you’ve got three bogeys on your tail. You’ve got to move, man!”
Sandy’s fighter dropped low to the deck and then pulled up hard, releasing a new set of flares as his Raptor soared upward. The missiles followed close and dove toward the flares. Two of the missiles exploded in brilliant blue energy fireballs, but the third flew past the flares, made a wide turn and continued the chase.
The Raptor finished its climb and inverted in the start of an evasive maneuver, but the missile cut inside his wider bank and maintained the chase. Sandy’s labored voice came over the comms. “Nighthawk. I splashed two, but I can’t shake this one. It’s on me good.”
As Sandy’s fighter leveled out, Nighthawk’s banked into a turn toward him. “I’m on my way to you, Sandy, but you got more smoke.” McGregor’s mind searched for options to help Sandy, but he didn’t have any and it made his blood burn in anger.
There was silence on McGregor’s comms for a few brief seconds, and then Sandy’s voice returned. “Nighthawk, I got a problem. Backup systems are failing. Controls are sluggish.”
Meanwhile, the missile completed its turn and now gained on the ailing fighter, approaching from underneath.
The damaged Raptor was losing altitude and its sensor image flashed a failure in the left engine. With the uncompensated thrust, the fighter’s tail began to slide, heading toward a flat spin.
“Sandy, you’ve got to get out of there! Eject, eject, eject!”
“I...can’t...” Sandy forced out. McGregor was certain Sandy was struggling with the g-forces in his cockpit.
Before Nighthawk’s fighter could close, the missile exploded behind Sandy’s fighter. More warnings flashed on Sandy’s sensor image and then the fighter was gone.
“Dammit, no!” Nighthawk yelled. “Sandy!”
McGregor tore himself away from the imager, not wanting to believe it. Silence filled the comms for several seconds until he broke it. “Cover Flight, come in. What’s your status?”
“Cover Flight is minus one,” Nighthawk said, his voice solemn and dejected. “I repeat, Cover Flight is minus one.”
McGregor tried to encourage the remaining Raptor pilot. “Send me coordinates for Search and Rescue, and I’ll dispatch a team.”
“Negative, Overlord,” Nighthawk answered. “He didn’t make it out.”
“Sorry to hear that, Delta eleven,” McGregor apologized, but he knew he had to get Nighthawk’s mind off his friend and back on the task at hand. “Give me a sitrep, Delta eleven. What’s headed my way?”
“Overlord, I still count four tangos in the air, but they are under fire from your defenses. The enemy force has forty-two vehicles, with one-third heavy tanks, supported by armored infantry. The column is headed westward in your direction. I estimate they should reach your position in about fifteen minutes at present speed. We hit the head of the column on our last pass, but I don’t have a damage assessment yet.”
“You did well, Cover Flight. How are your stores?”
“Missiles and bombs depleted. Guns are in the red and close to empty. I’ll need to rearm, but structure and fuel are in the green.”
“You’ve done your job, Cover Flight. It’s time for us to do ours.” Despite the loss of the Raptor pilot, McGregor was determined to make the man’s sacrifice count. “Get clear and give me some eyes to the east in case there are more Tikis out there. We’ll get ya rearmed when we can.”
“Roger, Overlord. Cover Flight is eyes only. Good luck, sir.”
“They’re the ones needin’ luck, Cover Flight!” McGregor boasted. “Ove
rlord out.”
* * *
The rain lessened around the Magellan camp, and McGregor studied the storm clouds that still swirled overhead. The storm was coming to an end, but it had already done its job and done it well. He raised his field goggles and surveyed the colony’s defenses. His two Force Recon platoons were in the small copses of trees about two clicks east of their position, but there had been no contact. The two platoons drove high-speed rovers that could get them clear if they were overmatched, but it was the blasted landers that were the biggest threat. Three of the landers were still in the sky and pounding what was left of his automated defenses. He needed to get them clear before he could bring out his assault shuttles. They were good for ground support, but those landers would swat them from the sky in a matter of seconds.
The lead lander was now on fire, but despite the pounding it received from McGregor’s missile batteries, it flew on toward the colony. The lander gained altitude and, in a surprising move, raised high in the sky against the winds. The lander’s weapons opened fire as it closed on the colony, the blasts striking the high ridges and perches to the rear of the colony near the Magellan. It was trying to take out the air defense batteries.
The pulse cannon turrets on the defense platform opened fire on the lander and blasted a hole in its port engine. The lander’s course changed and seemed to head right for the mountain wall. Flames spewed from several hits along its fuselage.
McGregor watched in brief triumph as the lander missed the mountain, soaring past it, and crashed on the far side with a thunderous roar. He was sure the Cilik’ti had sacrificed the lander. They needed to take out as many defenses as possible before they could launch a second strike, so McGregor checked his defensive grid. Only four of the mountain batteries remained and most of those with missiles were already running low on ammunition.
Cheers rose from the troops around the platform when the remaining landers succumbed to the Marines’ defenses and crashed into the forests below. The landers were down but the remaining air defenses were paltry. If any more Cilik’ti ships showed, they could drop their troops on top of them and blast his positions with impunity. It would be Mars all over again.
As McGregor put the thought out of his mind, he heard weapons fire coming from the far eastern positions. He raised his glasses again and maximized the amplification. His recon troops had indeed engaged the lead elements of the Cilik’ti column. McGregor steeled himself. His defense of the colony was committed now, and it wouldn’t be long before the bulk of the Cilik’ti force was within striking range.
* * *
The dusty cavern cast a green hue in the dim handheld light of the colonists. Gina Hood tapped her light to make sure it was working and scanned about the cave. It hadn’t taken long for the colonists to reach the first large cavern from the small caves near the Magellan, but the idea of spending an extended amount of time in the caves wasn’t sitting well with the colonists in her charge.
The lead elements of her group were the geologists who’d already explored this area. They’d just left with a good-sized group of the more adventuresome and the colony’s rovers to the next cavern. That left Gina still with over one thousand colonists swelling the confines of her cavern. Luckily, the supplies stored in the cavern could sustain even that number for several days and, for now, there was plenty of water. She took comfort in the knowledge that the nearby underground river could replenish their supply. But since the trip had begun, many spirits in the group were already turning sour.
The trek along the underground passages to the cavern wasn’t hard, but it resulted in a few minor injuries, mostly scrapes and a few sprained ankles. Normally, the situation wouldn’t have been bad, but the group hadn’t started with any medical supplies and the injured were forced to tough it out until they reached the first cavern. As with all groups of refugees, the semblance of comfort, food and shelter were paramount. The supplies stored in the cavern included several large generators capable of supplying enough power to light the cavern, but Jonathan and James had advised Gina not to use them for at least the first few days. The large power sources could be detected by Cilik’ti sensors. If the mission on the surface failed, their sacrifice to protect the colonists underground would have been in vain.
Without the large power sources, small handheld units were the only sources of light available and they needed to be rotated in their use to preserve battery cell life. The dimmer lighting would take some getting used to, but there was another problem. Without the power generators, there was no power to cook. The colonists soon realized their meals would be reconstituted rations, and the rise of complaints spread like a plague.
Above all, the colonists, and especially Gina, were afraid. The colonists were afraid for their friends, afraid for the Marines defending them, but most important, afraid for themselves. Gina, to her dismay, found her mind focusing on the worst. Over and over, she pictured Jonathan dying in horribly unspeakable ways as he stood side by side with the Marines. But even as she shut those gruesome thoughts out of her mind, she found new ones with Jillian and James being blown to bits in a huge explosion aboard the Armstrong.
As the unhappiness in the crowd began to mount, Gina found solace in a small alcove. A lone supply crate rested in the corner. It was the perfect size to sit with her feet still able to touch the ground. She closed her eyes and wished someone else were here to handle the situation. Jonathan, even with his calm demeanor, had always commanded respect from the various colonists. Then there was Jillian. She had the innate take-charge attitude that left few not knowing who was in control and what was going on.
Voices carried in the vaulted cavern, and Gina’s alcove was a perfect vessel to listen in on conversations, which seemed drearier as the minutes in the cave grew longer. Some of the colonists argued about who was chosen to leave the planet first, while others were convinced there was no real threat and their so-called protectors had been misleading them all along.
Gina tried to shut them out, but she couldn’t. After a few more minutes, the voices grew louder. Something inside her had had enough and she forced herself onto her feet. She ran to the nearest stack of supply crates, climbed to the top and turned to face the crowd below. She cupped her hands beside her mouth and yelled at the top of her lungs so everyone in the cavern could hear. “That is enough!”
Her voice overpowered the other conversations in the cavern, and it produced the desired effect. Whether she wanted or craved it, everyone’s focus was on her now.
She paced along the row of crates, using her gait as an amplifier for what she had to say. “I can’t believe you people!” She pointed up in the general direction of the Magellan camp and tears began to well up in her eyes. “Those Marines, our friends and, hell, our closest loved ones are up there now, putting their lives on the line for all of you. And yet you sit here and bicker and complain. We all had a choice—to stay up there and fight, or come down here and be safe.” But how safe would they be if the Cilik’ti took over the planet? She didn’t want to think about that anymore.
Gina sighed, bent over and slapped her knees in frustration. “I mean, come on! We’ve all traveled light-years from our homes and the lives we knew back on Earth, and hanging out in a cave for a few days is getting to us?”
The rest of the colonists didn’t speak. Instead they shared brief glances with their colleagues next to them and then looked back at Gina, waiting for her to say something else.
Gina wiped the new tears falling down her check with her forearm and pointed out across the crowd. “Listen, we all need to pull together, and the next few days aren’t going to be easy. Several of you have to step up and help. Anyone who wants to assist with organizing distribution of food, water and supplies just come up and be recognized. The rest of you, please be patient. We have a seventy-two-hour wait period before we can use our generators. If the battle is lost, I doubt the Cilik’ti will sta
y on this world very long. If they don’t find any more of us on the surface, we can survive down here until they leave. So we sit tight and wait for word. Do you understand?”
Nods of agreement multiplied throughout the crowd, and several of the colonists stepped forward to assist Gina in the task of organizing the supplies. She hopped down off the crates to meet them. She could see the same looks in their eyes that many of the colonists gave Jonathan when he spoke or gave direction. Inside, she felt a strong sense of relief that everything would be all right.
The moment lasted for about ten seconds, when a massive tremor struck the cavern. The lower part of the cavern near the entrance collapsed. Several large pieces of the cavern ceiling dislodged and began to fall, sending the frightened colonists scattering like ants.
Screams filled the cavern, and more of the ceiling came down. Clouds of dust filled the area, blotting out the colonists’ handheld light sources. Gina crawled back to the supply crates and found one of the lights on the ground. She scooped it up and tried to find her feet but was knocked back to the ground in the mass confusion. Another piece of the ceiling gave way and crashed into a row of crates a few meters away from her. Gina curled into a ball and avoided two crates that caromed off the stack and flew past her.
The tremors ended as fast as they began, but more rocks continued to fall. The screams of injured colonists echoed over the sounds of them smashing into the ground. Gina stayed where she was for another few minutes. The collapse ceased, but the cries for help amplified. She turned on her light and moved to the closest injured person, but the dust was thick and she tripped over something. She shined the light over it and almost screamed. It was the body of a colonist whose left side of his torso was crushed underneath a large rock.