by Chris Hechtl
“Beautiful,” Shane said with a grin. “Give that lady the brass ring,” he said just as the alien's subordinates came and saw what was going on. Some were Raptors, a few were Rexes. One or two had head crests like the Queen alien from the Alien film series. Interesting.
A few milled about and poked at the fallen Rex. Then one took a snap at another and it turned into a brawl. Shane nodded. “Good, good,” he said as the front dissolved before their eyes.
“What gives?”
He tried to martial his thoughts into something coherent the others could understand. Pappas was as confused as the others. “Look. It’s something Jen taught me. They are fighting for control. Alpha status. They are sorting out their chain of command by combat,” Shane muttered watching through night vision.
“Great then. Folks; lets thin the ranks,” the sniper said eagerly going back to looking in her scope.
“No.” Shane said as he put his hand on the rifle pushing it down. “No, let’s not. Let them do the work for us, conserve your ammo. Let them kill each other off and tire themselves out. When they get their pecking order worked out, then take out the new general.”
“Um...”
“Then they'll fight all over again. This way they become their own worst enemy. It'll take all night if we're lucky,” he ordered the sniper, smiling.
The sniper's face cleared. She slowly grinned. “Oh. I get it now. Sneaky,” was all she had to say. She went back to looking through his scope. Her spotter snorted. Pappas cocked an eyebrow his way.
“Now you have a graphic reason why you don't salute on the battlefield,” Shane explained. The captain's eyes widened and then narrowed thoughtfully. After a moment he made a small taciturn smile and nodded in appreciation.
“Right, let them focus on that instead of uniting against us. It buys us the most precious of all commodities, time,” the captain said in grim approval.
“Gotcha boss, I mean Captain,” the sniper said.
...*...*...*...*...
“We're completely out of OJ,” a section leader informed him a few hours later. He grimaced and nodded. He was walking the perimeter, Pappas and Hernandez had taken different directions. Wayne and Torres were down, Wayne had been injured and Torres was going to take over for Hernandez if it got quiet. Fat chance of that. He was surprised Newman had stepped up as an able sub leader. The guy was shaping into a surprising but quiet leader.
“I kind of figured. Gas?” The guy shook his head. “Damn.”
“Yeah. This sucks. If we had more we'd really toast their asses but good.”
“I know.” It would have been nice to of got some gas in yesterday. He'd have to call Jill and ask her to forward the request.
“We're not looking too hot on heavy weapons either. Each section has a couple. If they swarm us on multiple fronts we're in deep.”
“Hell we already are in deep. It can't get any deeper than this,” a guy said laughing nearly hysterically.
Shane glanced his way and then snorted softly. “Don't jinx us. I'd rather you didn't jinx us.”
“Sorry sir.”
“It’s all right son. I know you're tired, sore, and freaked. Just hang in there.”
“Freaked?” The guy snorted. “Way past freaked sir.”
“Just wait for the coming of the dawn.”
“Understood,” he yawned.
...*...*...*...*...
After several hours of infighting the aliens wised up and pulled back out of range to sort out their chain of command. He was glad of the respite. He ordered the crews to stand down at their posts, odds and evens. “Shit and eat folks, but stay at your posts. Try to get some sleep if you can,” he said over the tacnet.
“Like anyone can manage that,” Kyle said with a snort. Pappas shook his head but then shrugged.
Near one thirty AM the aliens got their shit together and a wave of Hell-bison and Hell-deer stampeded across the 215 and into the defenses. They must have sent a crew out to round them up right at dark, Shane mused.
The fighting was frantic. Some of the alien herbivores were ridden by Gremlins and Creeplings who leapt off the backs of their steeds and over the wall to wreak chaos among the human lines. When the Lowes wall was again breached he ordered another retreat under fire.
This time some of the aliens stopped to feed on the injured and dying herbivores, ignoring the alien Creeplings and Gremlins urging them on. He realized that some of them were starving.
...*...*...*...*...
The fighting on the wall was hot and heavy. They were low on heavy weapons and the aliens seem to realize it. The pressure mounted steadily as the night marched on.
Newman's funnies were called in wherever possible to fill a hole. Sometimes they worked, grinding the aliens into pulp. Sometimes they broke down spectacularly. Once they had bought enough time and plugged the hole with their metal carcass for reserves to arrive on scene to control the breach.
Eddy had been clawed the night before by a creepling that had gotten just a bit too close, but he was still there, damn near hoarse from roaring orders to the crews to keep fighting. It was die or drop time, and he was not going to drop while his baby was on the line.
Barretts cracked and roared regularly. So often that they had to stand down a few or they would wear the barrels out. The snipers weren't happy about it. A few took up smaller weapons while others pissed on the barrels in an effort to cool them off.
Kyle's bastard Vulcan rebuild tore into the aliens, tearing apart any that entered their lines of fire. This channeled the aliens who wanted to survive into other choke points.
The artillery pieces were fired from the parking lots, firing at nearly vertical because the aliens were so close. Walt tried to move a field piece to the wall but Jesse shook her head. “We don't have anything that can stand up to the beating man, it'll tear everything apart the first time we fire it,” she informed him. Reluctantly the field pieces were left in place.
...*...*...*...*...
Todd tried hard not to sob as he felt and saw his team falling around him. This was his fault; he'd brought this on them, on his children, on all of them. He watched Tom run out of gas for his flame thrower and angrily try to use the wand to beat back a Creepling pack. The man was swarmed in seconds but he went down, fighting valiantly to the last.
Ursilla and Quincy tried to pick them off, tried to get to their fallen teammate but they too were overwhelmed. It was happening everywhere. He turned in time to see a rain of barbs coming out of the sky. He ducked, trying to cover himself but felt one spear through his thigh and into his calf. Another hit him in the abdomen, knocking him off balance and off the wall, down thirty feet to the hard concrete below.
He lay there, feeling agony, wondering if he'd see Mary again. He'd rather be with the kids right now, he knew she'd understand. A medic came up and started slapping patches on him. He wasn't sure if they'd help or not. He closed his eyes shutting out the vision of fighting swirling around them. Chaos and death. That's all there was around them, chaos and death.
...*...*...*...*...
Around two forty five AM the battle started to get really ugly. On some sides it was desperate, almost hand to hand. The fuel dump that had been the former gas station on Day Street was on fire, blazing fiercely. Blazing away the last of their precious fuel. Every vehicle was sucked dry of gas or diesel to try to stem the tide. Hermes sent every container of anything flammable out. Jayne tossed in every cleaning agent they had left. It barely made a dent. It was enough to push the aliens back once but they knew they were losing the fight.
At three they heard a familiar rumble overhead. A Dragon ship entered the fray, helping to turn the tide. Air burst fireworks and rockets had torn down the air threat earlier in the night. When one Dragon ship ran dry it aborted and a second came in to take its place. The freeways were the perfect places to line up and kill the bastards.
The Dragon ship started firing into the enemy, savaging them from behind and above. When the enemy
broke off a bomber came in and sowed mines along the freeway. A second bomber cut off their retreat in a roaring wall of flame. The crews on the wall screamed and cheered until they were beyond hoarse.
“Damn, the cavalry has arrived,” he said with a grin as everyone around them slapped him on the back. F-18s were roaring around, turning and burning, firing into the largest pockets of aliens.
“'Bout damn time if you asked me,” a guy growled tiredly. He sat down heavily. “I think I'll sit my ass down right here and pass out. Wake me if you dare,” he said, lounging back. Shane snorted.
A bomber came in and they ducked instinctively as they hear the screeching whistle of falling bombs. They flinched as the South side erupted in fire and explosions. Napalm again lit up the night.
There was a lull for a moment and then they heard the familiar thrum of a cargo jet. The C-17s performed a high air drop, dropping parachutes of goods. One load at a time.
Some crashed into stuff in the parking lots, one or two hit thermals and overshot to land outside of the perimeter. The crews that go to the gifts from heaven grinned. They found more MREs, ammo, and heavy weapons which they immediately put to use.
...*...*...*...*...
Ben moved around, getting terrific shots of the battle and the cavalry effort. His video streams live on the network over the satellite link. He was grinning from ear to ear. They may not have a Pulitzer anymore, but if they did he was a shoe in. He felt bad that he got the shot of Captain Pappas getting torn apart by a Creepling. That sucked. Or the guys and gals who had been speared by Tribble and Hellhound darts. He knew he was going to have nightmares. Nightmares for years and years.
...*...*...*...*...
Hernandez sat there, holding his neck watching the men and women around him fighting for their lives. It sucked, it really did. Newman passed him, fighting off a creepling with a pole and one good arm. They moved out of his sight line. He breathed in and out as shallowly as he could, feeling the pain, feeling his chest heave, knowing every breath could be his last.
What bothered him wasn't that he was about to die, it was the timing. Hell, maybe not even that. It was the annoyance of a Tribble dart and its aim, yeah that was it. The thing had ricocheted off a wall to tear into his throat. He knew it was nicking his carotid arteries, and it had definitely torn up his voice box. He could feel air sucking in and out around the wound.
He was too weak, yeah, that was it too. Too weak to move, to do a damn thing. His boys and girls were fighting and dying around him and he was sitting on his ass like a lump, in the way. He closed his eyes.
Most of the battle was over, there were only the hold outs left, those too close for the jets to get to. They were rushing the wall in a last enraged effort to take some more of the Terrans down with them.
He felt a hand on his leg and opened them weakly, fluttering the lids as his vision swam. His brain wasn't getting enough blood and his vision was graying out. He could just make out a kid, maybe sixteen there. “Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! What do I do?! I've got to get it out!” the kid reached for the dart and Hernandez was too weak to stop him. He tried to croak out a warning but the kid's hand flashed in and yanked.
He felt the serrated edge of the dart cut, felt the kid wiggle it, and twisted it to get it out. Felt the blade cut deep into him. Blood spurted. His vision suddenly went black. The last he heard was the kid sobbing.
He tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, it was just... Nothing more... Nothing mattered... he drifted after that.
...*...*...*...*...
Eddy beat the damn monster's head in with the pole and then turned and stumbled over Hernandez. He checked, but his boss was dead. He closed the dead staring eyes and then turned to do what he could for the living.
...*...*...*...*...
Finally the enemy seemed to give up and go to easier hunting grounds as dawn broke and the sun started to rise. The retreat started as a trickle and then a stream of bodies limping sullenly away. The defenders were wary and a little shocked by the sudden early reprieve.
The cheer the civilians let out was tired, but heartfelt. It made its way around the perimeters as reports came in that the aliens were in full retreat.
“Going, going, gone!” a guy cried throwing his helmet into the air.
The military parachuted another platoon in at eight AM. The mixed group of Marines and army soldiers were there to secure a beachhead to take back March AFB.
Shane tiredly pointed out how working with the groups around them to fort up would secure the base better. The Major agreed. He took over Pappas' orphans, folding the survivors into his own command. The wounded were in the hospital. They planned to take back the buildings around the mall, then Cactus, and then the warehouses. Once a secure perimeter was established they'd take back the base.
Reports from the surrounding area were grim. Canyon springs plaza had fallen in the night. So had Home Depot and Home base. Lowes was barely a shell. Hundreds were dead or missing.
...*...*...*...*...
During his discussion with the Major Shane spotted Jayne come out looking wan. He went over to talk with her but she immediately teared up, hand to her mouth. “Jen?” he asked, hand falling. She nodded, crying into her hand. “Gone?” he asked again, sinking to a berm. She sobbed, nodding.
“I'm sorry. The doctors couldn't do anything. She just slipped away,” she choked out, trying to control her tears as she came over to hug him. He grunted, feeling like he'd been hit. Like part of his whole life, his whole world had been ripped away.
“Damn,” he said wiping his own eyes. “Damn.” He patted her back after a moment. “Do the kids know?” he asked. She nodded. “I'll check on them in a bit. As soon as we're set up here,” he said.
“You need to rest,” she ordered him firmly, dashing tears. He smiled tiredly. “Some work is never done. I'll get to that in a bit. Hang in their Jayne. Thanks for telling me,” he said, holding her arms. She hugged him again.
“What's going on?” the Major asked, nodding his chin to Shane and Jayne. Bob looked up and then grunted and slowly sank into his chair. He put his head in his hands and sighed. “Hello?”
“From the looks of it his wife has passed away during the fighting,” Wayne said gruffly, cheeks wet. The Major looked at him. The deputy sheriff looked like he shouldn't be walking; the guy looked like a mummy. But he was here. He hadn't looked bothered by the wounds before but now he looked like he'd lost someone. “She... she was something else. Real fighter. Cancer ate her alive,” he said coughing and then taking a handkerchief out and blowing his nose and wiping his face.
“Yes she was,” Shane said looking up from Jayne. She gave him another teary smile, sniffled and then got up. “I'll go check on the logistics before heading to check on the kids,” she said quietly.
“Thanks Jayne,” he said with a nod.
“You okay boss?” Bob asked. He looked at them and nodded.
“We knew it was coming,” was all he could say, voice choking off. The Major gave him a searching glance. “We've got work to do. Jerry's swamped, it’s probably why I haven't gotten a sit-rep yet. Bob you're working with the Major here to overhaul our defenses and the defenses of the other bases and then March right?” He fought for control of his voice. His people needed him. He owed Jen that. He'd grieve for her when he could.
“Yeah,” Bob said nodding.
“I suggest you survey what we have, get that rolling, then do a little prelim work with the maps we've got.” He turned. “Sparks!” he called waving to the nearest radio man. Kid really. The kid came over.
“Yeah boss?” he asked. His voice dripped in sympathy.
Shane nodded to him as the kid patted his arm. Obviously Jen's death had hit the rumor mill. His voice was rough but steady as he started to issue orders. “Get me a detailed check of all the others. Other satellite bases in town and around us. See if Home Depot and Maria survived. I know we're not getting any word, but send someone there. Maybe someone sur
vived. See if any are still kicking and how much. Find out if they want to do some clean up today.”
“Boss we're kind of petered out,” Sparks said. He held up his hands at Shane's look. “But we'll get it done. I'm going,” he said moving off at a trot. He had to find his boss, Jill and report in. If she was even still alive.
“Good. We need to coordinate the offensive with the other groups. How is the clean up going?”
“Slow. We're working on it. Bill thinks he'll have the Lowes area cleared and ready by noon. Art was already in there with him and volunteers. Towngate...” he shrugged. Towngate West, Winco, and Sams were hollow burned out shells of their former glory. The medical complex was gone, as were most of the buildings in that area. Total write off.
“The hotel is messed up. I don't recommend we use it until we've got it sorted out. We need to overhaul the entire defense for that area,” Bob said gruffly. “At least a week. We really need to work on our 60 side. It’s going to take time to fix this shit.”
“Agreed. We need satellite forts on the other side of the 60. Not just the Canyon Springs one. Get some plans rolling that way when you get a chance. We need to push back the perimeter.” He turned to the Major.
“You'll need forts on the East side, I suggest Rainbow Ridge Elementary and March Middle School as one, and the warehouses along Indian and the air strip as another. Major I suggest once we're secure here you head up the 215...”
The others listened intently as they fell into the business of living. It was the best thing they could do for Jen. It was what she would have wanted.
They checked the surrounding area and then coordinated with others to search the tunnels and flood canals. When everything was cleared they expanded the perimeter out of the city. March was secured in a day. The aliens had all retreated from the area. It was echoingly quiet. When it was finally secured the military flew in supplies and started to distribute them just before dark.