by Mark Wandrey
It turned out to be a conference table, not a desk after all. Through the surge of terror at seeing the table crash through the window above her head, causing an explosion of flying glass, she was amazed a dozen preteen kids could lift something that big!
Mika turned her head around and shielded her eyes, letting the QN-55 drop onto its sling again. Glass rained around her like an explosion. Because it was in a high-rise, the glass was the special ‘hard to break’ kind. Some of the pieces were as large as her hand, or bigger. All she could think about as they rained off her back and fell past her face was how sharp they were, and the thin composite rope above her.
She was just wondering about the conference table when she felt the rope being shoved and then began to fall. Little bastards! she thought. They were supposed to save her, not finish her off. It was the longest drop so far, at least three meters, and when she was jerked to a stop this time she felt ribs pop.
“Ahhhh!” she screamed. “Son of a bitch!”
“Are you okay?” Vince asked again from above.
“Do you even know what that question means?!” she screamed back. She craned her head back again, bits of glass cascaded off her back, some falling into her fatigues and cutting her. Fuck, what a stupid move! What she saw didn’t help the feeling. The conference table was half out the window, lying upside down on its top, her rope was tangled in the legs, and it was all that was holding her up! “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she cried. Wait, how is the table holding me?
Mika looked further and realized the kids were all standing or lying on the table. Their weight and the furniture half out the window were all that stood between her and a cold plummet to the street below.
“Miss Gruszka,” Vince said, “we’re sorry, it was the only way to reach the rope.” She didn’t speak, she was too terrified. “We’re going to pull you in now.”
“No!” she screamed. “Don’t move.”
“We have to, to pull you back.”
She was about to order them to stop when the conference table began to slide back inside. Oh God, oh God, oh God, she kept repeating in her mind. The little crazy bastards! She was certain the rope would come loose any second. Only it didn’t. After a minute they had the table all the way back in, except for the last few centimeters with the legs where her rope was tangled.
Sure they were out of ideas, she considered trying to climb back up. She’d been on the verge of another episode before they’d shown up. She doubted she could climb. Another rope was handed over the side and lowered to her.
“Here,” Vince called, “take this and tie it around yourself so you can be upright.”
To her surprise, it was already tied in a recue harness knot. She slipped it over her head. What else could she do? After getting it under her arms and past her head, she looked back up to see that Vince was watching her.
“Is it snug?” he asked. She nodded. “Okay, here we go.” Here we go what? she wanted to ask. A dozen sets of hands took the rope she was hanging by, and Vince pulled a knife. Oh, shit, she had time to think before he cut it.
The rope around Mika’s stomach fell slack and she gently swung down to hang from the one around her upper torso and under her arms. For a second it felt great, then the pain hit. Really hit. She’d been wounded more than once and knew a bad injury when she felt it. She’d ruptured something in her abdomen from the fall, and the rope’s tension had been slowing the hemorrhaging.
Her vision swam, and she knew her blood pressure was falling. “I’m going to pass out,” she mumbled.
“We got you, ma’am,” Vince said. She hadn’t realized she was being pulled up until all those pairs of little hands were dragging her in through the window. Her eyes fluttered, and Vince was looking down at her in concern. “Bleeding,” she whispered, as a hand went over her stomach. “It’s okay, you tried.” She didn’t know if the words came out, or she’d just thought them. The last thing she remembered was her fatigues being pulled open, a sting on her stomach, and liquid fire spreading through her body.
* * *
Murdock, Dod, and six surviving irregulars went into the HecSha barracks, the two old Mercs leading the way. Murdock’s CASPer was outside, too badly damaged to be useful. He was pretty sure he had a mild concussion and a sprained shoulder himself. Dod was missing his false teeth and had shrapnel in his left leg slowly dripping blood, and his right artificial leg barely worked. He’d flat refused to stay behind.
The light armor Murdock wore wouldn’t be much protection against the huge machine guns the HecSha used, and there wasn’t time to salvage any of the heavier stuff from the dead irregulars. He could have sent them in first, but he’d decided they’d soaked up enough of the dying and went in himself with Dod right behind.
The main barracks area was in disorder with gear and other stuff scattered everywhere. It looked like there had been a party. Murdock guessed there had been, after they’d killed Tully and Ripper. The dinos got tore up and had been completely unprepared for the attack. Sucks to be them. Problem was, there were still at least two squads of the fuckers unaccounted for.
They moved through the squad bay and into the ready area where the aliens would don weapons and armor. There were three of the troopers lying on the floor, passed out. Murdock kicked one and it opened its eyes, tongue lolling like a dog.
“It’s stoned,” he said. Dod leveled his battle rifle at its head. “No, wait.”
“Why?” the older man asked. “Fuck ’em.”
“Because a couple live ones might prove useful.” He gestured to an irregular. “Can you find some rope, tie these idiots up?”
“Sure,” the guy said, and got an irregular to help with the task.
Murdock headed into the next room, Dod behind him. It was at the end of a short corridor. These had been offices adjacent to the starport before the invasion. Maybe import/export companies. The next room looked like a dining hall. Three HecSha were having an argument.
“Hi, guys,” Murdock said and leveled his HP-4 at them. All three immediately put their hands in the air, a universal sign of surrender. Not troopers, he thought. Maybe techs? “What are you assholes doing?”
“How did you get in here?” one asked.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to ask questions,” Murdock said.
“Most of you guys are dead,” Dod offered, obviously feeling generous. He brandished his gun. “Now answer the question.”
“I am a medic,” the one who’d spoken first said.
“I repair electronics,” another said. Murdock gestured at the last one, the one who’d originally spoken.
“I am a pilot,” he said.
“What were you doing?” Murdock asked. There were several cases of equipment and bags at their feet. The other two looked at the pilot, who closed his mouth with a snap. Murdock stepped forward, jammed the pistol barrel against the pilot’s head, and clicked the safety off.
“We were preparing to evacuate!” the pilot yelled and flinched away from the muzzle.
“On whose orders?” The other two pointed at another door.
“Watch these assholes,” Murdock told the remaining irregulars. “If either of them so much as growl, shoot them all.” The three HecSha watched the ragged group of Human irregulars with obvious concern. Murdock gestured with his head toward the door, and Dod followed.
The door opened into what had once been a computer room and was now a communications and control center. A HecSha was using the equipment—an officer, Murdock guessed—and he had two troopers with him. They were probably there to guard him, but they were too busy listening to the conversation he was having. Murdock put his finger to his lips as Dod came in, and pointed. The old man got a predatory gleam in his eyes, and the two listened.
“…yes, the Humans have pulled off a deceitful ambush,” the HecSha officer was saying. “I am the last officer left.”
“What would you have us do?” the reply came. It was a series of yips and growls, not the hisses and snap
s of the HecSha.
Maki, if I had to guess, Murdock thought. He hadn’t had many dealings with the little monkey fuckers. They mostly worked on spaceships.
“I, Squad Leader Shisht, am taking charge,” the officer said. The two troopers looked at each other silently. “We are evacuating. The rest of my unit is gone. We’ll be taking off in five minutes.”
“What about the Xiq’tal?”
“To entropy with them!” Shisht bellowed. “Prepare for orbital bombardment of this worthless planet upon my arrival.” He turned the radio off. “Get the pilot to work prepping the dropship,” he said to one of the troopers.
“I don’t think so,” Murdock said. All three aliens spun in surprise, one of them bringing his gun around. Murdock’s HP-4 boomed twice, shooting the alien once in the neck and once between his beady eyes. The head shot rebounded from the thick skull, taking a chunk out of the bone. The neck wound fountained blood as the alien fell to his knees, gurgling and gasping, all thought of his weapon forgotten.
The other trooper was a little slower; he didn’t get his gun up before Dod unleashed a burst from his battle rifle, stitching the reptilian from waist to neck. The much more powerful rifle bullets tore the alien apart. He was dead before he fell back onto the electronics.
“What do you think this will accomplish, Human?” Shisht demanded, eyes darting around for options. “If we don’t arrive, the Maki will simply bomb the planet anyway! You are all dead if you kill me; you are out of options.”
“There are always options,” Murdock said. Shisht opened his mouth to say something, and Murdock put a round between his pointy teeth. The back of the alien’s head blew out, spraying brains and gore all over the wall. He fell in a twitching mass. “Skull isn’t as tough from the inside,” he noted.
“He was right,” Dod said, “those little bastards will just bomb us. Order 9.”
Murdock nodded. Dod was likely correct. The officer wouldn’t have helped regardless. It felt good to shoot him, and now they had confirmation the HecSha were done. Now he just had to figure out how to stop the ship in orbit from turning him and everyone on Valais into radioactive ghosts.
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Murdock and Dod walked back out onto the starport tarmac next to the former HecSha barracks after finishing a cursory search of the building. They found equipment and personal items, but no more aliens. The six irregulars escorted the defeated HecSha non-combat personnel. The men looked quite interested in shooting the aliens, especially after they found out Murdock and Dod had killed all the others.
“We still might need these three,” Murdock explained. The men looked surly, while the aliens appeared greatly relieved.
“Hey!” someone yelled. Murdock looked up to see Greenstein helping an obviously injured Dolan across the icy tarmac. The sun was up over the city now, and the storm was breaking up.
“You made it!” Murdock said.
“We figured you’d bought it,” Dod added.
“Naw,” Dolan said. It looked like he had a broken leg, yet he couldn’t stop grinning ear to ear. “When the excavator crashed, we weren’t strapped in. Didn’t think the tank could take us down.”
“Dumbass here broke his leg on my helmet,” Greenstein said. Dolan laughed.
“You had the time of your life, didn’t you?” Murdock asked.
The former tanker grinned even bigger and nodded. “It was fun. Makes me wish those Raknar were still around, man; I bet those are fun.”
Jim Cartwright could tell you a few things, Murdock thought. “We’re not out of it yet,” he said, and explained what had happened in the barracks. “We were just a little too late to stop it.”
“So after everything we did, we’re still gonna get nuked?” Dolan said, finally losing his grin. “Well, this fucking sucks!”
Murdock noticed the pilot had been looking at the wrecked HecSha dropship and was now staring at the intact one. The six surviving irregulars were the ones who’d run into the dropship, their objective to secure them. They’d found the craft unmanned and rode out the battle there. Wait a second, Murdock thought. “Is the dropship fueled?” he asked the HecSha.
“Yes,” the alien said, “we were ready to depart when you attacked the starport. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Kelso, you there?” Murdock asked over the radio he’d gotten from Dod.
“Sure,” the man replied, “we finished sweeping for the last of the crabs, and we’re just helping the detainees get back to their homes. You done playing there yet?”
“Get your ass here, ASAP! We got one more gig.” He looked at Greenstein, who looked back, confused.
Then the man looked at the dropship, and the lightbulb came on. “Oh, you’re insane.”
“Yup,” Murdock agreed. “You up for it?”
“You know I am.” The man beamed back at him.
* * *
“HecSha dropship, we have you on approach,” the sensor ops crewman said. “They will be docking in just a minute,” he said to his captain.
“About time,” the captain replied, hanging onto his command console via his race’s bifurcated prehensile tail. “Another ten minutes, and I would have begun nuking the worthless Humans.”
His tactical officer nodded his head, whiskers twitching in anticipation. How often did you get to fire on a planet from orbit? The action was horribly illegal and could get your entire race attacked. The merc guild were finally dealing with the upstart Humans, and he was glad to be part of it.
“Missile tubes report ready,” the tactical officer said. “We need a higher orbit to perform an effective bombardment.”
“Helm, as soon as the HecSha dock, move to the orbit Tactical is requesting.”
“Yes sir,” the helmsman replied. Some time passed as the Bloom-class frigate prepared for the dropship to dock, and the bombardment to begin.
“Report the HecSha have docked,” a tech reported.
“Changing orbit,” the helmsman reported, and everyone in the bridge felt minor acceleration.
“Order the HecSha officer to report to the bridge,” the captain ordered. Maybe after a successful bombardment he would be promoted and given a cruiser! To have a CIC instead of a bridge would be exciting. The technician looked confused. “What is wrong?”
“The docking crew is not answering.”
“Probably rushing to a viewport to watch the attack,” someone said. The captain looked at the crewman and nodded. Everyone on board knew what was about to happen. He’d had to yell at several of them to stay at their posts. Thrust cut off. It was too soon.
“I have lost helm,” the helmsman said.
“Get me engineering,” the captain said. Now he was getting mad. Minor disregard for duty was one thing; getting in the way of combat operations was unacceptable.
“There is no response,” the comms officer said, looking just as confused.
The captain felt the first twinge of concern. Something was wrong. A gasp and the unmistakable sound of a weapon being loaded made him turn his head toward the bridge exit. Two humans floated there with guns pointed into the bridge. They were a lot larger than his race, and it was a tight fit. Both looked bloody and wounded, their eyes as hard and intense as red diamonds.
“Hi,” the bigger one said and pointed his huge pistol at the captain. “Thanks for the ship.”
“One word from me, and we’ll begin our bombardment.”
“One word from me, and I’ll decompress the entire ship,” the human replied. “We have engineering.”
“Impossible!” the captain yelled. He pressed the comms button for engineering on his command pedestal. The Human’s hand tightened on his weapon. The captain spoke slowly. “Engineering, report.”
“Bryan Kelso here, formerly of Burt’s Bees. How can I help you?” The captain felt his blood turn to ice water.
“Order your crew to surrender,” the man said.
The captain looked around at his b
ridge crew. None of them moved, no one said a thing. There was nothing to say. The captain pressed the intercom again. “All hands, this is the captain. I am surrendering the ship.” Murdock grinned.
* * *
The body count was higher than Murdock thought. Eighty of the irregulars were dead, as were ten civilians in the detention facility, killed by the Xiq’tal when Kelso had stormed the wire. Dandridge had died saving Mika, who he’d since learned had been the one to take out the tank with a legendary shot. Wounded and hanging from a rope that was slowly melting, she’d nailed the tank’s rear deck right in the weak spot and wrecked the fusion power plant.
Then they’d almost lost her, as well, to internal injuries. After Vince had pulled her off the rope she was hanging from, he’d used a stolen medkit to stop the bleeding. She’d gotten more care at the reopened medical center.
Life in Atlantis was returning to a semblance of normality, as much as was possible after an alien invasion. Detective Tyrie was now temporary governor of an improvised governmental body. One good thing about the invasion, The Front and the movement that had given birth to them was dead and buried, along with more than a thousand Humans.
The civilians were largely in shock, with many blaming the very mercs who’d defeated the alien invaders. So much like Earth, Murdock thought. Greenstein had stayed on the alien frigate. Most of its crew were in detention on Valais. Twelve were still on the ship, teaching volunteers how to operate the systems. Not everyone hated Murdock and his friends. A few of the irregulars were volunteers, and they thought the mercs had done just fine.
He’d gone to see Sheela as soon as they’d landed after taking the spaceship. She was grateful for being freed. However, word had spread about him killing the Sharps.
“How could you?” she’d demanded. “They were your friends.”
“They turned on us,” he explained. “It got good men and women killed.”