by Dirk Patton
There was movement, and the drones zoomed in, showing a dozen people moving amongst the rubble towards a large hole in the ground. They were armed with a mix of military weapons and civilian hunting rifles, and they looked gaunt and hungry.
“Looks like Gibbs found his mice,” Barnes said.
“Or they found him,” Williams replied. “That looks like a pretty neat trap, just right for alien swarms or walking machinery.”
Barnes nodded, jaw tightening in anger. They all expected to be killed by aliens one day, it was just a matter of time before their luck ran out, but to be killed by a bunch of civilians by mistake, that was just too much to bear.
The civilians circled the hole, looking into the darkness, and some of them uncoiled ropes and started to climb down.
At that moment the portals opened and the aliens spilled out, heading straight to the nearest lifeforms.
A handful realised they weren’t going to make it to cover and stood their ground, buying time for their comrades to finish their descent. They killed maybe a dozen before the swarm reached them, but it was never going to be enough.
Alien claws sliced through human flesh and bone, spraying blood everywhere to soak into the rubble. There was no precision to the attacks, just a frenzy of destruction that struck at whatever they could reach; arms were torn off as their terrified victims threw them up in a vain attempt to protect themselves, and then the long claws sliced deep into their bodies, organs spilling to the ground.
The scent of blood enraged the creatures more, and they jostled amongst themselves to reach something to kill, attacking with savage ferocity even after their victim was clearly dead. Their shrieks and howls drowned out human screams, until there were no human screams left to hear.
It was over in a heartbeat.
One of the civilians had the presence of mind to pull and prime a grenade before the aliens struck them. It wasn’t enough to save them. It fell from dead hands and exploded amongst the milling aliens, blasting a hole in the swarm the aliens barely noticed.
They had brought enough time, however, for their companions to finish their descent, and the aliens swarmed around the hole, looking down as their prey escaped.
They shrieked and clawed at the edges of the hole in fury; already weakened by the grenade blast, the edge gave way and sent another forty or so aliens to their deaths. The rubble around it collapsed in a landslide, turning one side of the hole into a gradual slope, and the aliens poured down into the depths, out of sight of the drones.
Barnes and Williams opened their eyes as the video feed ended.
“Command, where does that hole go?” Barnes asked.
“Subway line, heading north-south,” Piper replied. “Looks fairly intact from the air, no gaping craters or massive falls along its path.”
“Any exits?” Williams asked. “They could have cleared them by now.”
“There’s a possible exit to the south, about two hundred metres,” Piper said. “The northern route has some known blockages, but otherwise runs all the way north into the next sector, some five kilometres until the next known exit.”
“I want drones running along that subway route, looking for any signs they’ve exited,” Barnes said. “And get in touch with their sector command. I want to know if they have troops ready to deal with something this big.”
“Roger, Hunter One,” Piper replied. “Already on it.”
* * *
Sector Twelve, City North, 1st Platoon
Barnes and Williams made good time to the adjacent sector. There was an infantry platoon dug in not too far from the subway exit, and Command had authorised the two cyborgs to cross the boundary to assist.
His drones counted fifty soldiers, none of them cyborgs, dug in in four main locations, giving them a frontage of three sections and a section in depth. Heavy weapons were well sited, the three forward sections had interlocking arcs of fire, and there had been some solid effort put into making the approaches as difficult as possible. All in all, it was better than Barnes had expected.
The platoon commander was waiting for him, a female Lieutenant that looked barely old enough to be in uniform. The look on her face told Barnes she hadn’t had much exposure to cyborgs, which meant that she hadn’t seen real action at all.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Barnes said formally as he and Williams halted in front of her. “Sergeant Barnes, Sector Eleven, call sign Hunter, come to give you a hand.”
“Lieutenant Miles, First Platoon, call sign Aries,” the officer replied, coolly. “I’m not sure why you’re here though, Sector Twelve has this under control.”
Barnes and Williams stared at her. She was young all right, clearly sensitive about accepting advice, and they’d both known pig-headed junior officers who put their pride above their troops.
“You know the situation ma’am?” Barnes asked politely as Williams turned away in disgust. Miles nodded.
“Aliens headed our way,” she said. “I’m sure there’s lots of devils in the details, but that’s the gist of it.”
“There’s about eleven hundred devils in the detail,” Barnes said. “You can probably handle them the way you’re set up, but this started as a Sector Eleven problem, we’re just here to finish the job.”
Miles shrugged and led the two cyborgs back through the platoon position, and the dug-in troops all stopped what they were doing to watch the two men as they passed. Barnes had seen that look before, that sense of awe that gave way to terror as the watchers realised that being modified like that was the best thing that could happen if you lost a battle, and trying to decide whether surviving was worth the loss of humanity.
Barnes couldn’t blame them, he’d been a cyborg for over a year, and he still couldn’t decide.
* * *
City North Subway Line
Gibbs had travelled south, picking his way through the scattered rubble that littered the subway line. It made for difficult going, and he was in a foul mood after falling victim to a simple trap.
He’d almost travelled the two hundred metres his AI had mapped out for him to the southern exit, when he heard a faint noise behind. He paused and listened, turning up the microphones built into his ears.
He recognised the chittering immediately – aliens on the move. It took him a moment to realise they were moving away from him. He cursed as he turned around and quickly made his way back the way he’d come.
* * *
Sector Twelve, City North, 1st Platoon HQ
Barnes had toured the defensive position quickly, trying to work out where he and Williams would fit in. Miles had no experience with cyborgs and didn’t really want them there but let the two men position themselves where they’d do the most good – as long as they kept out of her way.
Williams set up to the rear of Three Section, on the platoon’s right flank, setting up his tripod on an elevated position with good fields of fire and limited approaches. It was well suited for a static heavy weapon, and Barnes left him to get himself acquainted with his new comrades.
Barnes expected the aliens to come barrelling out of the subway exit and straight towards the platoon position, and One Section in the centre was right in their path. Corporal Miller, the section commander, seemed capable enough, but obviously had no idea how to integrate Barnes into his position. Barnes decided he was best employed to the rear, slightly elevated so he could apply the weight of fire from his battle rifle to wherever needed it most. Miller seemed relieved to have him off the position, probably as much to ease any command issues as well as not wanting a cyborg upsetting his men.
“Hunter One, this is Command.”
“Go ahead, Command,” Barnes replied.
“Got all sorts of news for you,” Piper said. “Some good, some not so good.”
Barnes sighed. “All right, give it… if it’s general intel, patch Lieutenant Miles in first.”
“Already here, Hunter One,” Miles said. “I’m patched into your Command frequency, and vice vers
a.”
“Good work, Piper,” Barnes said. “Hit us with it.”
“First, the good news: we got a hit on Gibbs. He emerged somewhere south of the hole he fell in, was in range of a drone for a few seconds, then disappeared again. Best guess is he went back underground and is somewhere in the subway system.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Miles said. “If the aliens catch scent of him, he could be in trouble.”
“Gibbs can look after himself, ma’am,” Barnes said. “Any more good news, Piper?”
“I have some resupply drones headed your way, should be there in a few minutes.”
That was good news. Barnes and Williams had both fired about half their ammunition in dealing with their clusters and the outlying portals, and a stand-up fight like the one heading their way would use up the rest.
“Nice work, Piper,” Barnes said, and touched a stud on the back of his hand. “I’ve got my resup beacon on… there’s lots of troops around, so land it nice and gentle somewhere close by.”
“Roger Hunter One, picking up your beacon now,” Piper said. “And there’s Hunter Three’s beacon… drones should be coming in fast and low, landing, not dropping.”
“I’d better tell my men not to shoot them down,” Miles said. “It’s been an out-of-the-ordinary kinda day, and they’re mighty jumpy.”
Barnes felt Miles disconnect from the network.
“Alrighty Piper,” he said, “Miles has gone… what aren’t you telling us?”
“It’s not what I’m not telling you, it’s what she’s not telling you,” Piper replied. “There’s chatter all over the Sector Twelve network about portal signs. Lots of them, all over the place, but nothing from their command HQ.”
“Not something to keep quiet,” Williams said. “Anything confirmed?”
“Sector Twelve is a mess,” Piper said. “Their drone grid is shot, holes everywhere, and I think whoever was coordinating it has gone missing. Everything is being done visually, and they don’t have the resources to confirm any sightings at all.”
“Can you swing some drones this way, on the quiet?” Barnes asked. “These troops might be able to hold off a straight-line charge from a few hundred aliens, but this position isn’t built or equipped for a major assault.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Piper said. “But anything I send your way is going to weaken our own sector.”
“Chance we’re going to have to take,” Barnes said. “If this sector falls, it’s that much more for the rest of us later on.”
There was a soft ping as Lieutenant Miles rejoined the command net. “I’ve let them know to expect drones,” she said cheerfully. “Did I miss anything?”
“Just small talk while we waited, ma’am,” Barnes said. “Anything from your Sector Command we need to know about?”
There was a noticeable pause, which told Barnes plenty.
“Nothing worth passing on,” Miles replied. “I’ve arranged for a resupply of our own, after this battle is done, but that’s about all.”
“Good to know, ma’am,” Barnes said. “I’d hate something to come out of left field in the middle of this.”
Another pause.
“One hundred percent agreeance, Sergeant,” Miles said. “If I hear anything worth passing on, you’ll be amongst the first.”
* * *
Sector Eleven, Command Headquarters
Piper had only a limited number of drones at her disposal and lots of ground to cover, but she had friends in neighbouring sectors, and managed to scrape up four drones to send to Sector Twelve to help Barnes.
Other sectors had drones flying on tight sweeps, constantly looking for portal signs, and you couldn’t stick another drone over a sector boundary without setting off all sorts of collision alarms. Not in this case though. Her drones crossed the boundaries without causing a ripple, and she sent them, in pairs, on a programmed sweep on the area around Lieutenant Miles’ position, five hundred feet in the air and cameras recording everything. Visually, she couldn’t see much from that height, but the electronic sensors could pick up anomalies that might require a closer look.
And there were anomalies.
Plenty of them.
* * *
Sector Twelve, City North, 1st Platoon
Six men from Four Section were out in front of the platoon position laying mines, their rifles slung as they focused on the delicate task of setting their charges; the corporal in charge of the detail wanted it done quickly and figured that having half of his men as sentries would take twice as long, which increased the risk of being outside the position.
It was a poor decision.
One minute the area to the front of the platoon position was clear of aliens, the next it was filled with them. Hundreds and hundreds of them, pouring out of the subway exit fifty metres away from the mining detail. It took them fifteen seconds to cover that gap, and the detail lost much of that time taking in what was happening.
The corporal managed to unsling his rifle and start firing, and two of his men joined him a few seconds later, while the other three turned and ran.
10mm hollow-points blossomed on impact and shredded alien flesh as it tore through them. The three men fired rapidly, not really bothering to aim. For a moment the alien charge faltered, but the weapons only had thirty rounds in the magazine, and they emptied quickly. Before any of them could reload, the aliens closed the distance and tore into them.
Claws sliced through their bodies, spilling blood and organs onto the ground and shredding the bodies until there was nothing left but a bloodied pulp, the creatures behind them pushing around to close-in on the fleeing humans
The three men who ran died under a flurry of alien claws and teeth, their cowardice granting them an extra ten seconds of life.
The sounds of firing and their screams, however, brought the rest of the platoon to full alert. Machine guns opened fire, long bursts punching into the swarm – the nearest creatures were targeted by several fire teams and riddled by a dozen or more rounds before they fell, the combined weight of high-calibre fire tearing their bodies apart.
The carcasses formed a barrier, and the aliens pouring from the subway began to spread out to get around them. Some of them struck the leading edge of the thin minefield that had already been laid and paid the price, the small hollow-charge mines firing directly up into the bodies, turning them into a pale yellow-green mist that drifted on the strong breeze and wafted across the platoon position.
The minefield was only so dense however, and soon they were through it, not caring about their losses in order to get close and kill. They seemed to be endless, and each one that fell seemed to be a little closer than the last.
“All units, this is Aries One,” Barnes heard Miles say over the general platoon net. “Be advised: we’ve received authorisation for a reserved demolition, expect fireworks to your front.”
A reserved demolition was a previously set up series of charges, often used in very specific circumstances. Barnes hadn’t been briefed that one had been set up, and there weren’t many places where a controlled demolition would be useful about now.
“Aries One, this is Hunter One,” he said over the command net. “We weren’t advised of a demolition plan.”
“Hunter One, we have charges on the subway exit,” Miles replied. “We’re going to blow it, seal the aliens inside.”
“Ma’am, I have a man down there,” Barnes said. “You blow that and they’ll head right back to Sector Eleven and down his throat.”
“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Miles said. “I have my orders.”
Barnes felt Miles disconnect, and cursed.
“Williams… did you hear all that?”
“Sure did,” Williams replied. “Not particularly friendly of her.”
“Once she blows that exit, we’re heading back to Sector Eleven,” Barnes said.
“Roger that,” Williams said. “I can be ready to move in a few minutes—”
A ma
ssive explosion rent the air ahead, and Barnes looked up in time to see the subway exit collapse. The charges seemed well placed, with just enough force to close the exit without blowing everything to bits, and part of Barnes admired the demolition team’s precision.
It hardly had any impact on those aliens already out, however, and they kept coming, charging towards the dug-in platoon and into the furious weight of small arms fire that filled the approaches.
In the centre of One Section, Corporal Miller was doing his best to give fire control orders to his men and to stay alive. He was finding it difficult to do both. Aliens just kept coming, even after the subway had been sealed.
Three had avoided the bursts of machine gun fire and were bearing down on his position. Miller took careful aim, doing his best to ignore the shrieking howls that sent waves of terror over him. His first round went wide, but his second struck the alien centre-mass. The hollow-point exploded, tearing out chunks of alien flesh, but the wound did little more than stagger it. He fired again, blowing one of its front legs off and dropping it to the ground.
The other two kept coming, and Miller turned to the man next to him who was cowering in the bottom of the pit, his hands over his ears to block out the alien sound. Miller kicked him, hoping to nudge him into action, then gave up and turned back to the aliens.
They were too close now, and he switched to automatic fire, spraying quick bursts, doing his best to control the recoil and his nerves, and failing badly at both. One of them went down, a three-round burst hitting it in the head and torso, exploding it, and then nothing as the bolt of his weapon locked back, out of ammunition.
He pressed the stud and dropped the empty magazine to the bottom of the pit, reaching for a fresh one. The shrieks were getting closer and he looked up, freezing as he stared into the multi-faceted eyes of the alien only metres away. He screamed, his magazine falling from his shaking hands, and then the alien was in the pit, its claws and teeth tearing him to pieces before turning on the other man, who died crying with his hands still covering his ears.