by T. D. Wilson
McGregor sat up and checked on his rescuer. “Commander, are ya all right?”
Jonathan rolled to his side, shook his head and caressed his bloodied nose. “Yeah, but my nose is ever going to be the same.”
“Bah,” McGregor said. “Beauty’s the first thing to go in the service.” He stood and offered Jonathan a hand. “Come on. Let’s find out what the damage is.” He helped Jonathan to his feet, and the first stop they made was the passageway to the command center. Taking a quick peek inside, McGregor verified that Searcy and the other staff were fine, then ushered Jonathan inside to get treated for his nose.
The damage on the upper deck of the platform was superficial, but the round had managed to knock the north side pulse cannon out of commission. Both of the crew members manning the gun required first-aid treatment for burns to their hands and faces. One of the Marines had already returned to his station and was reactivating the huge cannon.
“Major, forward positions report Cilik’ti advance has entered the center of the grid and continues to close,” Searcy called out behind him. “They say their situation is dire and request reinforcements, sir.”
Another concussive round struck higher on the base of the platform, forcing McGregor to brace himself. The Cilik’ti advance was right where he wanted it to be. He reached back into his pocket for the small remote trigger, but it was gone. He patted down his BDUs in a frantic search for the device, but it wasn’t on his person. Then he remembered. It had been in his hand when Jonathan had tackled him before the attack.
He looked to the southern side of the platform and found the small device on the ground just a few meters from where they’d been, nestled against one of the deck railing armor plates. The large protective armor plates skirted the deck and provided excellent cover to the Marines on the top of the platform, but the previous concussive strikes had loosened one of the plates a few meters from where the device lay. The plate hung by a single rivet, leaving a large gap on the deck’s railing between two support posts. Successive rounds from the Cilik’ti struck their position again. The tremors sent the device skittering away toward the edge of the platform and right for the opening.
“No!” McGregor yelled. He raced forward and grabbed the device before it fell on the deck. He issued a sigh of relief and was about to active the trigger when another round struck the platform. McGregor tumbled toward the edge of the deck. On pure instinct, he reached out and grabbed a support post with his free hand. His body slid over the side, but his grip held. Stars danced in his eyes and he tried to focus. The muscles in his arm strained and he managed pull himself back up to the edge of the platform. He put the trigger on the deck so he could pull himself the rest of the way onto the platform, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the advancing Cilik’ti forces. They were all over his target zone.
A growl emanated from deep inside his chest. In an almost taunt to the approaching enemy, McGregor shouted over the railing, “All right, ya blasted Tikis. I got a little present for ya.” He flipped open the cover over the button with his thumb and pressed down hard, activating it.
Several of the Cilik’ti tanks were advancing past the light posts McGregor used as end points of his passive targeting grid in the valley. The lights flashed, and Shredder tanks and Cilik’ti warriors alike were tossed into the air like lightweight toys.
While he climbed back onto to the platform, McGregor saw Jonathan Hood emerge from the command center, patched nose and all. He grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder and pointed to the spectacle on the battlefield. There were no explosions, no energy blasts, but something powerful picked the Cilik’ti forces up as though they were weightless. McGregor had tied the small light posts’ generators to several of the colony’s magnetic lift pads. The Marines had buried the pads throughout the field and rigged them for one powerful surge, so powerful that one tank was thrown forty meters away and close to fifteen meters in the air.
“Yes!” McGregor screamed at the top of his lungs and pumped his fist in triumph. “Searcy, all artillery to fire on target grid now. Armor advance and engage!” he ordered.
Thunderous booms sounded from behind the platform as Marine artillery unleashed their fury on the disheveled and confused Cilik’ti below. Explosions and fireballs consumed the battlefield, blasting tank armor and Cilik’ti warrior apart without mercy.
One of the lead Shredder tanks had managed to navigate the field and emerged from the smoke caused by the artillery barrage, only to be met by two Marine tanks. The one to its left delivered a savage hit to its armor with a well-placed round at the junction point between its main body and turret. The impact of the round threw off the Shredder’s return fire, which grazed the smaller Marine tank, leaving a long orange melted line in its armor on the right side of its turret.
Both of the Marine tanks fired again, and this time their shells penetrated the armor of the larger Cilik’ti tank, spreading molten fragments loose into its inner compartment. Smoke billowed from the gaping holes, and the tank stopped, its weapons silent.
Artillery shells from the Marine guns continued to pound the area for several more minutes, and McGregor watched for any sign of enemy movement. Cilik’ti rounds poured into the Marines’ positions as well, flattening one of the bunkers below, but there was no sign of additional enemy activity close to the Marine positions.
Not wanting to be blind to their movements any longer, McGregor ordered a cease-fire from his artillery. He surveyed the battlefield while the wind cleared the smoke. “Searcy, what’s the status of Condor Flight?”
“Condor Flight has routed the enemy force into the woods and continues to pursue the last surviving remnants.”
“Good. Contact Cover Flight and have them make a low recon pass to our east. Patch the intel off to Condor and order them off pursuit. We have to take out those guns!” McGregor yelled back down the hallway to Searcy as more thunderous booms struck deeper into the Marine defenses. “We’re gettin’ pounded out here!”
“Roger that, Major!” Searcy responded.
From his vantage point, McGregor struggled to see the results from his trap. Several Cilik’ti tanks were upended or on their sides, while others had been blown apart. His exhilaration faded. Concussive rounds from the Cilik’ti artillery hammered his left flank. More blasts of particle energy streaked from the enemy positions, burning huge holes in two of his tanks and knocking them out of commission. Hundreds of Cilik’ti warriors emerged from the smoke and charged the Marine positions.
“Searcy! All artillery on far east grid positions now!” McGregor ordered.
Marines filed onto the deck to offer fire support to the defenders below. The large pulse cannons opened fire again and again at the oncoming wave of armored warriors, but it did little to hinder their advance, and Cilik’ti warriors swarmed over the forward bunkers.
More Marine tanks pressed forward followed by the remaining MACE units still at the Magellan camp. The reinforcements thrust like a wedge into the advancing enemy, splitting the force in two, but they soon found themselves surrounded and fighting for their lives.
Lieutenant Carney emerged from the command center with a spare M20 rifle and handed it to McGregor. He took aim, along with Jonathan and the rest of the Marines on the platform. The platform defenders opened fire in unison on a large group of warriors advancing toward their position.
Blasts from the advancing Cilik’ti pulse lances peppered the deck protective railing and struck a few of the defending Marines, but none stopped firing.
“Sir, we’ve got to get you out of here!” Carney yelled to McGregor. “I’ve got an escort platoon waiting below to take you to the secure bunkers in the rear.”
“Bah!” McGregor spat. “I ain’t leaving, and they ain’t winning!” He fired another set of rounds into one of the closest warriors below. “You get those Marines below into the fight. I’ve got no need for an escort.
Now go!” After firing a few more rounds, McGregor noticed Carney was still there. He reached out with his right hand and grasped the much smaller man on the shoulder. “Dammit, Carney! I told ya to get down there and get that platoon in the fight!”
The young lieutenant was still staring at the horde of Cilik’ti below and seemed frozen in fear. McGregor balled his hand into a fist and pounded the lieutenant’s armor over his left breast. The shock brought Carney back to his senses. “Yes. I mean, yes, sir!”
Below them, a large Cilik’ti warrior raced past the forward bunkers and hurled his lance high into the air toward the deck of the defensive platform. The lance arced high over the railing and pierced Carney’s right shoulder. The force of the blow threw the already backpedaling lieutenant hard in the bulkhead behind him and pinned him there.
McGregor dropped his rifle and went to aid his injured junior officer. That was when he heard the hum coming from the lance growing louder. The Cilik’ti had set the lance to overload, and it was nearing detonation fast. McGregor grabbed the lance’s shaft and, with a hearty tug, pulled it free of the wall and Carney’s shoulder. Carney’s scream of agony eclipsed the sounds of battle, and he slumped to the deck while McGregor ran back to the railing. The lance was long, like an oversize spear, but McGregor hefted it with ease. He issued an old Gaelic battle cry and hurled the lance out past the bunkers below. His aim found fortune, and the lance descended upon a large group of Cilik’ti warriors. A meter before the lance reached the ground, it detonated with resounding power. The blast incinerated four of the closest warriors and sent several others flying meters into the air.
“Corpsman! Get a corpsman out here!” McGregor ordered and kneeled beside his wounded lieutenant. “Ahh! Blasted Tikis.” Blood flowed from the folds in the Marine lieutenant’s armor, and Carney’s face paled. McGregor’s concern for Carney made him temporarily forget his anger. “Hold on, son, the medics are on the way.”
Two medical triage personnel arrived seconds later and started working on Carney’s injury. McGregor stood by but continued to check on the battle while they worked.
One of the medical team tapped McGregor’s leg. “Sir, we’ve got to get him inside. It’s safe to move him, but we must hurry.”
McGregor bent down and hoisted Carney’s limp form in a gentle fireman’s carry, resting the man’s wounded arm across his shoulder. With a few strides, McGregor bore Carney into the command center and placed him on a table near the left wall.
The medical staff started to peel off Carney’s torso armor, and McGregor stepped back out of the way. He started to walk back outside when Searcy’s voice stopped him. “Sir, Cover Flight has located the enemy guns, and Condor Flight is already en route to the coordinates.”
“Good,” he said. “Once they hit those guns, I need ’em to squeeze into the valley and cut off the enemy escape. For now, get all surviving forward units and reinforcements to the rear positions and the platform. The Tikis have overrun the forward bunkers. We have to make a strong stand now or they’ll mow us all down.”
“Roger that. Oh, one more thing. Cover Flight reports explosions and smoke at the lake site.”
“Have him circle back and get us more intel on the situation over there. I don’t know what scrap Sergeant Toronaga has gotten into, but I’m sure the lad can handle it until we can get to ‘em.” McGregor grabbed another M20 and headed back to the deck. As he exited the short hall from the command center, he passed Jonathan Hood, who was headed for the stairwell to the lower level. “Commander, where are you going?”
“You ordered a withdrawal to the rear positions. All my people are there and the fight’s going to get nasty,” Jonathan said. The stress in his voice was thick and he didn’t hold it in. “I should—no, I have to be there!”
“Go, lad,” McGregor said. “Rally your people and link up with my squads when they reach your areas. It might get rough, but we’ve got enough here to stop them, that’s for sure.” He tossed Jonathan the M20 and some additional ammo packs. “Take it. You’ll need it more, lad. Good luck.”
* * *
When Jonathan reached the bottom of the platform, several armored Marines moved up from their station near the Magellan to the rear defenses that lined across the valley and centered on the platform. This was the final battle line. If the enemy broke through, they could split the defenders in two and wipe them out. Not to mention there would be nothing to stop them from destroying the Magellan and reaching the colonists in the caves.
Gina was down in those caverns. The mere thought of any threat to her made Jonathan’s heart beat faster, and he ran for the bunkers to the right of the platform that held the colonist volunteers. He stepped to the back of the first bunker and opened the door just as massive new explosions lit up the eastern sky. Condor was hitting the enemy rear guns. He paused and waited for a few seconds. Marine weapon and Cilik’ti pulse lance fire was all around, but he could hear their distinct sounds now. The Cilik’ti concussive rounds had been coming in about every five seconds like clockwork, and the lack of their massive blasts was welcome indeed.
He opened the door to the bunker and was greeted by several smiling but concerned faces. He put on his best face, patted shoulders and lifted spirits. Peering out the front of the bunker, he could see more Cilik’ti warriors moving in the battlefield, headed their way. His people had already made a tremendous sacrifice just to come here. Well, at least some of them had, but this was their home now and he intended to make sure it stayed that way.
Heavy weapons fire erupted from the rear bunkers to his right, creating huge explosions in the ranks of the Cilik’ti warriors. Scattered groups of warriors survived the assault and skirted their way past the forward bunkers toward the hundred-meter span to the rear positions and the platform.
Backlit against the explosive brilliance, Jonathan saw five large Cilik’ti warriors move into view. Covered in jet-black armor trimmed in bright green down their legs and arms, these giants were a full meter taller than the other warriors they encountered. Their huge hands cradled lances that resembled massive cannons, and they walked together almost uninterested in or phased by the chaotic battle around them.
Jonathan activated his wrist comm unit and opened a channel to the command center. Searcy answered and patched him to McGregor. “Major. Take a look at bunker A4. Some new breed of Cilik’ti warrior just showed up. Ever seen these guys before?”
There was a brief pause over the comms. “Negative, Commander. The Tikis seem to be full of surprises these days,” McGregor said. “From the look of ’em, I’d guess they’re some sort of elite guard or field general.”
“Great. We’re pressed enough as it is down here. Any ideas on how to deal with them?”
“Frag ‘em,” McGregor laughed. “We can always find out how they tick after they’re dead. McGregor out.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes in frustration when the channel closed and readied his weapon. “How can he make jokes at a time like this?” he muttered, and several of the colonists beside him chuckled.
The brief moment of levity was short-lived as more warriors swarmed in front of the five Cilik’ti elite guards and advanced on the colonists’ bunkers. Jonathan and the others opened fire on the warriors, and pulse blasts from Cilik’ti lances ricocheted off the plating of the bunker en masse. Jonathan felt his heart in his throat and realized this might be his last moment alive. Would he ever see Gina again? He was sure the other defenders in the bunker had similar feelings, but despite the fear, no one ran. When one of the front defenders fell or was injured, another from the rear reserve stepped in and filled the gap.
The Cilik’ti warriors were close now, just twenty meters away, and weapons fire continued to pour out in both directions. Cilik’ti and human fell alike under the barrages, but then something unexpected happened. The Cilik’ti warriors in front of them stopped firing. Jonathan and his men co
ntinued to shoot, but he noticed more and more of the warriors down the line to his right stopped, as well. Some stood still, while others shook their head in confusion.
One of the elite warriors approached the group of Cilik’ti nearest Jonathan’s bunker from the rear. The large, dark-armored Cilik’ti struck one of the warriors with the butt of its lance. The warrior turned to bow at the elite unit in almost reverence and gestured toward Jonathan’s bunker. Not sure what was happening, everyone in Jonathan’s bunker continued firing, but many shrugged their shoulders in silent conversation with one another. Why have they stopped?
The huge, dark-armored warrior roared and fired a blast of blue particle energy at the bunker. The energy deflected off the lower blast plating and went up toward the ceiling, where it dissipated in an almost psychedelic shower. The crackling energy filled the bunker with the scent of ozone and scorched metal. Several of the colonist defenders dove for the more protected corners of the bunker.
To Jonathan’s surprise, the smaller warriors still had not resumed their attack. In a clear challenge to the warriors’ insubordination, the big Chi’tan warrior turned his lance on the warrior in front of him and fired. The blast left a gaping hole where its upper torso had been, and he repeated the act until all the warriors before him were dead.
Inspired by the surprising sacrifice of the other Cilik’ti warriors, Jonathan’s men opened fire on their dark-armored executioner. The flurry of bullets strafed over the giant warrior, but the colonists’ M20 rounds bounced off its armor, scuffing it, and angered the warrior even more.
The green lines accenting the warrior’s armor flared. It raised its lance over its head and charged the bunker. Out of defiance or pure terror, none of the colonists abandoned the bunker as the monstrous Cilik’ti closed the distance.
The warrior readied its lance for a point-blank shot when another figure dove into view and tackled the armored giant. The Marine MACE unit rolled free of its target and switched to its weapon. The large automatic weapon spewed a blistering assault of fifteen millimeter rounds at the warrior who was still sprawled on the ground, while more of the surviving Marine MACE units charged back into the fight, no longer pinned by the surrounding Cilik’ti forces. A few of the rounds struck home, and the roar of fury that arose from the warrior was almost deafening. With catlike grace, the elite warrior sprang back to its feet. The six armored legs were in motion before they touched the ground and it stormed toward the backpedaling MACE.