They were ready, and decided to light all four bins at the same time, to force the Krall to have to watch all four openings at once. The crumbled thermite, in the buckets, was ignited with small welding lasers they had found in maintenance lockers. It flashed red and yellow in a burst of hot flames, and was promptly dumped into the larger bins holding water. The bins were actually the inside of freezer lockers that had their doors removed, then laid flat and filled with water.
They were heavy, and it required two TGs each to shove them quickly close to the deck openings for the stairs. Upward cover fire greatly increased while this happened, and when it lessened, the Krall fire grew heavy in return, assuming a human would be flying up through the openings.
For almost three minutes, nothing much seemed to be happening. None of the TGs wanted to risk being shot just to look into the bins to see why there was so little smoke drifting up from bursting bubbles of gas, and no steam. A glow reflected upwards from the bins proved ignition had started, and as it brightened, it clearly was spreading and increasing.
Carson was exasperated. “The spec ops guy had an image of large volumes of fume laden steam boiling up from his bucket. Where is ours? We have more shells burning than he had.”
Carol Slobovic said, “Stop watching the pot. Then it will happen.”
“What? What does that mean?” Carson demanded in annoyance.
“My mom says a ‘watched pot never boils,’ meaning only that you need patience. How long do you think it takes to raise all of that water to the boiling point? That isn’t just a bucket full of water. You should have used less water to start the steam faster.”
“Where was that helpful tidbit when we were setting this up?” he demanded.
“Waiting for the leader to explain what he was planning. By not telling us until you filled the bins with water and incendiaries, none of us could offer advice.” A tip of her tongue demonstrated a small level of insolence that only Carson could see.
He rolled his eyes, just when the bubbling and smoke levels started to increase dramatically from the former freezer bins. The water had finally reached a full boil. They had moved and wired fans from the thruster engine room, normally used to disperse possible fuel leak fumes. Now they were pushing the smoke and steam up through the stair openings in the deck above.
Not all of it went through the openings of course, and the volume of smoke and steam increased quickly in the area around the stairwells. Carson and Conrad, along with Carol and Peter Godwin, each one stationed at a stairway, slipped the mouth grips of the rebreathers between their teeth and attached the nose clips. They each slipped two of the grenades from their pistol belts and pulled the pins, holding the handles down to prevent the fuses from starting.
They waited as suppressive fire from other TGs continued at the same rate as before, so as not to alert the Krall above by a change in that pattern. At a signal from Carson, visible to all three at the stairs, standing high on the back edges of the bins, they simultaneously released the handles on the six grenades.
They counted to three as planned, and then they leaped up lightly, just high enough to roll the grenades gently over the rim of the deck above. They dropped down and bounced clear of the steps for the remaining count of two. The sound of Krall gunfire rose instantly from above, when the clatter of the rolling grenades was heard in the hot impenetrable mix of steam and smoke.
The Krall, following their usual aggressive practice, advanced on the noisy humans presumed to be hiding in the concealing mist. They were firing randomly into the billowing cloud that blocked their infrared senses as effectively as their visible light receptors. They moved closer to grapple with their equally blinded prey.
The near simultaneous six explosions blasted some fragments uselessly against the stairs and side bulkheads. Most went up or towards the center of the deck area above, hitting and ricocheting from barricades the Krall had erected. Many fragments embedded themselves in their intended targets, warriors who had rashly, and foolishly, rushed forward.
Less than a second after the blasts, four figures shot up undetectably through the hot blinding white fog at each opening. They took advantage of the suspense of shooting from the Krall, briefly stunned by the series of explosions and multiple wounds.
Even as the smoke shrouded wraiths flipped over, to place feet on the unseen ceiling of the next level, using muscle memory of the familiar action, they fired plasma rifles from one hand, and explosive rounds from pistols in the other. Just prior to pulling triggers, they listened for the expected roars of anger and pain, issued by warriors wounded by this latest in a string of human deceptions today.
The plasma and explosive rounds found ample targets among the accurately detected sources of screams of rage. Many of those were silenced instantly, because the source of the noise was exactly where a bolt or bullet could do the most effective damage.
Even as the four TGs dropped softly to the floor, they all swiftly moved to their right, and forward through the thick concealing mist, firing at any sounds of life or movement they detected. Carson was rewarded with a soft cough from directly ahead, which from his low crouch, he silenced with a palliative treatment consisting of a shot of plasma and an explosive pill. Patient cured, doctor.
Carson heard the faint swish of air of the next TG arriving behind him. He heard his shots as he settled to the deck on the left side of the stairwell. Orson moved farther to his left, directly away from Carson, another deadly doctor making house calls, curing cases of coughs and screams of pain in his sector. The next TG up would move straight away from the stairs towards the center of the deck.
That pattern was being repeated at all four stairwells. Carson was surprised at the rich number of targets he was hearing, and targeting. If his number of encounters were matched by the others, essentially all of the remaining twenty-five warriors were located on this particular deck. His eyes had started to burn when he opened them briefly, so they were shut again. The firing behind him was from Orson’s position, so he too was finding targets. The Krall level of return fire was dropping quickly.
He fired at a sound ahead as something scraped. Then he followed that up with another medicinal treatment to end the sounds of enraged pain he heard. He bumped against a vertical surface that memory said wasn’t there in a standard clanship layout for this deck. It had to be one of the cobbled together barricades. Aware he had made a slight noise, he instantly rolled to the side as the sound of a plasma bolt passed through his former space. He had opened his eyes as he rolled, and even through the heavy fog, the actinic flash and sound provided the target he needed.
The cut off attack scream and sound of splatter proved he’d found his target, but now his eyes were burning again. He continued to move low along the barricade, thinking how grateful he was for the Krall habit of voicing their displeasure in battle when a human managed to hurt them. He heard a vague sound of movement on the other side of the extended barrier, which felt like several upright food coolers or freezers, placed on their sides. That meant they were about four feet across.
He holstered his pistol and laid his rifle down softly. Detaching two more grenades, he pulled the pins and released the handles two seconds apart. He had pressed them near his chest as he released, muffling the sound of the caps striking, catching the handles in his lap to prevent that noise on the deck. He reached a count of three and tossed the first one, then on four, threw the second, using just enough force to clear the obstacle. Grabbing the handles in his lap, he threw himself flat, believing the barricade would protect him from the fragments.
It did block them, but he hadn’t thought about the kick from the first blast. It pinched his little finger as it slid on the hard smooth deck. There was a satisfying cry heard, and a second roar of rage seemed to have launched itself in his direction. That was why he had delayed the second grenade. It exploded, possibly with the second warrior passing over it in mid charge. The descending spray of wetness was proof of the effectiveness of an old
weapon. Carson had retrieved his rifle before the second blast, and had rolled away in case the warrior made it over the barrier. He did not.
Today, these warriors had learned about the maximum timing of five seconds for a thrown grenade. They also knew that they could blow even sooner if held for a short time before being thrown. However, they still thought it was safe to attack after one exploded, if the second grenade’s arrival was masked by the first explosion. The lesson learned here would not be passed on to a novice, if the silence on the opposite side were any indication. To test that notion, Carson threw the two handles over, and heard their clinking on the deck. No response this time.
He had heard diminishing gunfire elsewhere, and there had been other grenade blasts heard, but it was growing quiet. He didn’t want to move farther toward the center of the arc of the barricades because that was an area the third TG was assigned.
He’d heard shooting in the center area that he assumed was from Clayton, but blinded as they were, friendly fire was all too possible. To call out in a human voice was to make you a Krall target, and to become as reckless as they were.
To be fair, the Krall had always depended on their rapid halt of blood loss, redundant organs, and regrowth of limbs and organs to accept injuries their enemies could not survive. The accurate fire and reaction speed of the TGs had largely negated that tactic, because the Krall still only had one head. When the TGs encountered armored Krall, things might change.
In this assault, the thirty-two still unassembled Krall armor suits aboard were packed in cases on the third deck, waiting for a K’Tal or Prada slave to assemble, and then adjust them to fit individual warriors.
Carson risked another glimpse through watering eyes, and thought the white was a bit grayer now, and it definitely wasn’t any hotter than his body temperature now. His activity had raised his temperature via his high metabolism, and the air was definitely cooler. That meant the TGs would be visible to infrared vision before they could see the Krall, in what everyone called the visible light range.
The TGs definitely needed the vision enhancements that the ripper genes offered. For now, perhaps they could use what the spec ops troops had in the interim. He thought of a way to “borrow” that capability.
Carson was thinking of some way to contact the others by Link, but remain somewhat protected if overheard by a Krall. He moved back to the remembered barrier location, felt along the side of the freezers, and at the second one, he felt the recessed slot for a door release near the top. That meant the door was on his side, and the hinges on the floor. He gently opened the door and backed away to lower it softly to the floor, then moved inside the still cool large compartment. The spicy odor of Raspani meat still pervaded the now empty space, but he had a degree of protection on all but one side.
“Jakob, Link between all,” he said softly, his rebreather removed for a moment, then returned.
“Ready Sir.”
Taking a deep breath, he started. “This is Carson. Kill the fans below to stop the fumes. We need to see up here.” Fresh breath. “Only the Krall can see as the steam cools, but don’t anyone on the assault team reply and attract Krall attention.” Breath. “Captain Longstreet, are you Linked? We need IR surveillance up here.”
“This is Longstreet. My men and I just moved up to the deck below you. We have our own eyeball IR sensors, and all of us are on the Link. We also have some mobile spy bots with IR, to turn lose up there. Ask your people to hold their fire at noises by the stairs, and we can take a look over the edge to tell you what we see.”
“Good idea, Sir. Identify my stairwell as number one, and count clockwise to report the view at other stairs. Break! Assault team TGs, don’t react to sounds by the stairwell. Spec ops will look and tell us what they can see. They are sending spy bots, so please don’t swat the bugs.”
If the spec ops guys came part way up the stairs he didn’t hear them, but soon heard the faint skitter of one or more spy bot bugs on the deck. One came directly towards him.
“Hello Carson,” Longstreet’s voice sounded. “The bot in front of you spotted you inside that box. What is that, a freezer? Don’t answer. The Krall laying on top of your box is obviously dead, as were three others we can see on the deck close by the stairs. Wait while the bot climbs up to check the back side of the barricade.”
The six-legged little bug, currently the color of the gray deck, scuttled on padded feet to the edge of the freezer, where the footpads turned slightly sticky to let it swiftly run up the side to the top. There was a wait of a couple of minutes.
Longstreet’s voice returned. “Carson, at stair well number one, your own location, we see six dead Krall and none moving near you or the man closest to you at the center of the barricade. Hold on…, the other bot can see your third man, at the other side. He is also clear of any moving Krall, with a dead one beside him on the deck. I’ll see what our other bots have reported.” He was quiet for a moment.
“Conrad, over at stairwell three there is a wounded warrior, and both legs are apparently useless. It’s behind a table and a storage area, twenty feet towards deck center from your stairwell, where he must have crawled. He’s close to you, and armed with a rifle and two pistols. He’s looking your way and may sense your heat signature. To our spy bots, all of you kids glow like flames through that hazy and moist warm air. If you move, it will see the glow shift and provide a sure target.”
Conrad answered. “I hit him with my rifle after a grenade blast made him howl. I heard him drag himself, but had no shot that didn’t reveal my position as the air grew clear. How valuable is that spy bot?”
“Cheap, why?”
“If it can draw the Krall into shooting it, I can take him out when I see his flash or hear him fire.”
“Hold on, I’ll tell my man to move it closer, and then have it make a noise.”
Carson suddenly heard two plasma bolts fired in rapid succession from the opposite side of that deck level, where Conrad was located.
“Nice shot. Another good Krall,” spoke Longstreet.
“Good Krall, Sir?” was Conrad’s query.
“Yes. A dead Krall is a good one.”
“Right, Sir. How many others do you see?”
Longstreet was a half-minute answering. “A Krall head count of dead from all stairwells on that deck comes to twenty-five. How sure are your people that the original number had shrunk to that level?”
Carson stepped in. “We know from the clanship commander that there were a hundred thirty, including him. We’ve counted a hundred five bodies, including the fifteen dead at the other valley and the commander in that total. He had six K’Tal in brown suits. One of those he left on the command deck. We killed two brown suits on lower decks. How many do you see dead on this deck?”
Another brief pause. “There are four brown suits. Why does that matter?”
“Their commander helped me discover that the warriors were all novices and had no pilot training or clanship experience, so only a K’Tal would stay on the top deck. The last of them were all gathered here to fight us, since the ship could no longer fly or fire its weapons.”
“I’d be careful accepting his word before moving around until the smoke clears. I wouldn’t put a lie out of the realm of possibility, son.”
“Oh, he would have lied to me, if that were possible, Sir. But we can detect that attempt.” Realizing he was raising a question he couldn’t answer, he used a diversion. “We have him drugged, you know.” So far, Longstreet had not been provided access to the Krall, just allowed to see the captive. He didn’t know he was so paralyzed he was unable to speak.
Carson tested his eyes again, because the ship’s air filtration had been switched back on now that the smoke trick had run its course. The previous burning still left them watery, but the sting was less sharp now, and the air was clearing by the minute. He maintained awareness as he climbed out of concealment and looked around, keeping the rebreather in place. He could see the outline of the Krall
corpse right on top of the freezer where he’d been concealed. Another two feet away and he’d have seen only gray mist. That IR ability had to be the next mod they added.
In five minutes, he could see fifty feet through the thinning haze, and Longstreet told him that he wanted to come up, along with some of his men. Carson agreed, and he alerted Conrad by Link, and then called out the warning to Carol and Brian who had no transducers.
A couple of dozen TGs followed the spec ops up, without rebreathers, because Carson had only been provided twenty, some of which were spares the spec ops carried. He removed his own as Longstreet approached, Thad close behind. The air was tangy and acidic, but safe.
He handed Longstreet the nine inch wide, one-inch thick tube with attached soft mouthpiece and nose clip. “Thanks, this stunt would not have been possible without your man’s idea on incendiary rounds, and these gadgets.”
Thad added. “It is those ideas and gadgets we want, and want training in order to make use of them. With the proper equipment and know how, we might not have lost any of the six people we did today.”
Longstreet nodded, but looked around the area at the dead Krall, strewn around inside their clanship. “I would have thought an assault like this would be very difficult against a human ship. You kicked Krall asses the way they kick ours.” He seemed to think for a moment then shrugged.
“I know I’ll get the same answer if I ask how you did it, that you have mysterious abilities which you can’t explain yet. However, I can tell you things we obviously have seen, that you know we know from firsthand observation.
“You have strength well beyond what a high gravity world would furnish a human, because my men and I train on Heavyside. Your TGs display extreme reaction speeds, which easily exceed that of a Krall warrior. Their warriors benefit from thousands of years of breeding for those traits. My IR vision and our bots see your TGs as virtual heat torches after they have been in combat for a few minutes, demonstrating a greatly elevated metabolism. We also saw your TGs eat a mountain of high-energy food bars they carry with them, to keep fueling those bodies. We have some similar snacks that we use on missions, which serve the same purpose.
Koban: Rise of the Kobani Page 19