by Richard Fox
Jared ducked beneath the trench line as a Toth fighter screamed overhead, an Eagle in hot pursuit. The Eagle’s Gatling cannons lit up and the Toth fighter lost control. It twisted into a corkscrew spiral and slammed into the mountainside with a burst of fire.
“Sir, enemies!” Indigo poked at Jared hard enough to almost knock him from the firing stoop.
“I know, Indigo, but I told you we’re not shooting at the fast movers,” Jared said.
“Not sky. Water.” The doughboy pointed a meaty finger to the waves breaking against the beach. Jared scanned over the white-topped waves, looking for landing craft. Nothing.
Streaks of fire tore red scars across the horizon. The Eagles had been in one hell of a dogfight for almost half an hour, and Jared couldn’t tell which dying ships were human or Toth.
“I don’t see anything,” Jared said. He’d never encountered a lying doughboy, but they were easily confused.
“In the water, sir,” Indigo said.
Doughboys pointed at the ocean, grunting and pointing their rifles through breaks in the parapet. His doughboys wore little more than simple composite chest armor and open-faced helmets, archaic compared to his Marine power armor.
A doughboy hefting a thick tubed grenade launcher shifted from foot to foot at the bottom of the trench.
“Boom boom, sir?” it asked.
“Not yet, Magenta. I’ll tell you when,” Jared said. The only thing the doughboys ever got anxious over was fighting and eating. The platoon’s grenadier was a little more eager than most of the others.
“Sir, enemy!” Indigo slapped at the parapet.
“I’m telling you,” Jared said, looking back at the ocean, “there’s nothing there.” A shadow emerged from a cresting wave. Was that a shark? he thought.
“Black Six, this is Gold Six,” he said to Douglas over the local IR net. “My guys say they saw hostiles on the beach. You got anything?”
A bolt of energy snapped from between crashing waves and struck the lip of the trench a foot from Jared. Sand and pulverized duracrete exploded next to his head. Jared slipped off the firing stoop and fell into the muddy trench.
A doughboy picked him up and tapped at the side of Jared’s helmet.
“Sir, OK? Sir?” The doughboy shook him roughly enough that Jared’s head bobbled.
The Marine knocked the doughboy’s hands away.
“I’m fine, Slate. Let go of me.” Jared looked at the trench line and saw every doughboy staring right at him. “If you see the enemy, shoot it!”
Indigo’s rifle snapped. The doughboys’ rifles were sturdier than Jared’s gauss rifle, both to withstand more high-powered shots to wreck Xaros drones, and to keep the doughboys from breaking them.
“Boom boom?” Magenta asked.
“Put airbursts over the waterline!” Jared shouted over the growing cacophony of doughboy rifles. “Save ten rounds for final protective fire on engagement line delta.”
Magenta looked at Jared and grunted in confusion.
“Yes, boom boom!” Jared pointed toward the ocean.
“Boom boom!” Magenta angled the mortar launcher into the air and braced it against his hip. The recoil of the 60mm shell staggered Magenta back a step. It had enough force to shatter a normal human’s hip and femur.
They might not have been built smart, but Jared was thankful that the doughboys were built tough. He climbed back onto the firing stoop and looked over the parapet.
Toth warriors came ashore with the waves. Dozens of the six-limbed terrors charged toward the trenches, firing their energy weapons from the hip. Doughboy shots stopped the warriors dead in their tracks, striking with enough force to send shattered armor spinning through the air.
Jared glimpsed beyond the breaking waves and saw a tide of Toth warriors coming in. He slid his rifle over the sandbags and fired. A wave pushed a dead warrior ashore, yellow blood streaking through the salt water back into the ocean.
He ducked down and opened every commo channel his suit could access.
“All units, all units. We’ve got a massive Toth assault in sector thirty-seven. Requesting air, armor and orbital support.” A blast of energy exploded through the armored plates set up against the trench wall. A doughboy bounced against the ground, a smoking crater in his chest. Pyrite 221, the first doughboy that ever called Jared anything but “sir.”
Jared felt a spike of anger-driven adrenaline flow through his limbs.
“This is Gold 6 in sector thirty-seven. Does anyone read me?” Jared stood up and fired back at the Toth.
****
A Toth menial clutched an energy rifle close to its chest. It twisted one of its chameleon-like eyes at the great gemstone command bridge in the center of the chamber where its immortal master was safe, protected by tons of impervious armor and the brave efforts of the menial, its spawn-kin, and the hated warrior cadre who took all the credit for the menials’ hard work.
The command bridge nested against great metal rails. Massive treads connected the rails to the bridge, ready to take it through the ship and eject it into space if the threat to the overlord proved too great.
Of course, the menial knew it would die if the armored doors beneath the bridge opened to vacuum, but what was his sacrifice compared to the safety of the true immortals? It would continue its duty in the ancillary control section: monitoring wastewater production and treatment. The human assault teams had severed waterlines to several sections of the ship, secondary damage as they cut power lines running from the ship’s reactors. A forked tongue snapped out and licked dust away from its left eye.
Nothing of worth happened in the ancillary area. Menials kept to their stations, keeping minor systems up and running to keep the overlord content. Whatever was going on in the main bridge where Immortal Kren remained safe during the battle was far more important than the menial’s concerns.
Five different menial bodies had been tossed from the main bridge since the humans attacked. Whatever was going on in there, Kren was not pleased.
The smell of burning ozone and melted fiber-optic cables tickled the menial’s snout—not unusual, as parts of the ship were still on fire and the cyclers had spread the smoke throughout the ship. What bothered the menial was how strong the smell was.
It looked up with one eye. A burning circle glowed in the ceiling, growing steadily brighter.
The menial turned both eyes to the unusual happening. It clicked its tongue twice to alert the nearest warrior.
The warrior stomped over and gave the menial a customary blow to the back of its head. The blow landed hard enough to sting, expressing favor. The menial bared his throat to the warrior and pointed to the ceiling.
There was a pop in the air. A white-hot cord fell to the deck beside the menial. It jumped back and cowered behind the warrior.
A massive thump came from the dark circle in the ceiling. A second thump and a cut section of the hull fell toward the menial. The last things it saw were Elias crouched atop a cutout of the bulkhead between decks, and the soldier’s boot stomping down on its head.
Elias fired both barrels from his cannons into the warrior’s chest, and pulped organs and yellow blood exploded through exit wounds in its back. Bodel and Kallen fell through the hole in the ceiling and landed beside Elias as he mowed down the Toth warriors and menials surrounding the armored command bridge.
Command consoles exploded as gauss rounds ripped through them, the bullets embedding in the bulkheads, puncturing holes the size of a man’s thumb.
Hale fell through the ceiling, using his anti-grav linings to soften the impact as he landed between the Iron Hearts. The rest of the Marines followed him one by one.
“Secure the doors!” Hale pointed to a set of large sliding airlocks on the far side of the room.
Lafayette landed hard next to Hale, his cyborg legs and feet ringing against the deck.
“The overlord has to be in there,” Lafayette said. “Leave him to Steuben and I once we crack the shell.”
“Want me to knock?” Bodel asked. He kicked a dead warrior aside and walked up to the giant flattened gem-shaped command bridge.
“Wait.” Lafayette picked up a Toth rifle and tossed it at the bridge. An electric field embraced the weapon and burnt it to dust.
“I thought us being here would bring every swinging-tail lizard down on us,” Standish said. He looked around the control room full of dead Toth and wrecked equipment, then shrugged.
“Maybe he thinks we’re not a threat to him while he’s in that thing,” Bailey said.
“I’m insulted.” Elias grabbed a dead Toth by the arm and tossed it at the command bridge. It disintegrated just like the weapon.
“Any word from the other teams?” Cortaro asked Hale.
“I’ve got absolutely nothing on IR or radio,” Hale said, glancing at the beacon on his belt.
“They should’ve made their assault objectives by now,” Cortaro said. “What if we’re the only ones where they’re supposed to be?”
A holo emitter came to life on one of the pylons connected to the command bridge. Kren’s tank appeared, floating in the air above the humans.
“Ah, my baelor,” Kren said. “You came right for me. You have a flair for the dramatic. Impressive.”
“Surrender,” Hale said. “If I have to smoke you out, this won’t end well.”
“I think now,” Kren said, “my best troops are cleaning up the last of your kind as we speak. I will offer you this mercy: I will stop jamming your primitive communications long enough for you to demand that your last holdouts throw down their weapons. This is your last chance to leave this ship alive.”
Hale’s rifle snapped up to his shoulder and blew the holo emitter to dust with a single shot.
“He’s panicking,” Hale said. “Toth never negotiate when they have the upper hand.”
“The other teams must be close,” Steuben said.
Kren appeared again. “You insolent little maggot! I will—”
Standish shot the new emitter.
“Not that this isn’t fun,” Standish said, “but at some point more angry Toth will come looking for us.”
“I can hit it with my rail gun,” Elias said, “but in this confined space the blast would kill everyone who’s not in armor.”
“The overlords only fear death,” Steuben said. “If the Rangers succeed in disabling the ship, he’ll bolt.” His gaze went up and down the rails that lead into an interlocked portal beneath the bridge.
“So we trap him here,” Hale said. He picked up a shattered screen from the floor and tossed it at the nearest rail. It bounced off. “Gunney, wrap a blaze wire around that and slag it.”
“Yarrow, give me your breach kit,” Cortaro said.
“Sorry, Gunney,” the medic said, pointing to the hole in the ceiling, “I used mine three floors up.”
“Orozco?”
“Negative, used it.”
“Who still has a breach kit?” Cortaro asked. The Marines looked to each other, but no one said anything.
“Only thing worse than a crunchy is a jarhead crunchy,” Elias said. He held up a hand. It sunk into the forearm, to be replaced by a cutting torch. “Move.”
Elias fired up the torch. Hale had to avert his eyes from the blazing wedge of fire as Elias pressed it against the rail. A shower of sparks burst from the contact point. Kallen stomped over next to Elias and added her torch to the job.
“It’s slow,” Elias said.
“How long?” Hale asked.
Lafayette, his cybernetic eyes needing no protection, glanced over the Iron Heart’s arms at the rail.
“Maybe twenty minutes before they’re through,” he said.
A warrior ululation came though the walls.
“I don’t think we’ve got that much time,” Hale said.
A deep roll of thunder shook the deck plating. The groan of tortured metal filled the air and the Naga lurched to the side. Hale bumped against Bodel’s armored leg and grabbed on to keep from falling.
Marines locked their boots to the deck, swaying, as their inner ear and their eyes gave them very confused indications of what was “up” anymore. As lights flickered out, pale yellow strip lights activated across the ceiling and at the wall joins.
The only one unfazed by the change was Lafayette.
“The ship has lost main power,” the cyborg said. “Internal gravity is offline.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m about to slide off the floor?” Cortaro asked.
“I do believe we’re in Luna’s gravity well,” Lafayette said.
“Rangers blew the reactors,” Hale said. “We’re going to crash into the moon.” The beacon on his belt vibrated. A lit button pulsed red.
Hale grabbed the beacon. “Time to go,” he said.
“No!” Steuben pointed at the command bridge. “The overlord is still in there. We can’t leave until he’s dead.”
“He’ll die in the crash,” Hale said. He flicked the safety catch off the button.
Steuben grabbed Hale by the wrist. The Karigole bent slightly at the waist and locked eyes with Hale.
“Take your men. Lafayette and I will stay until the end,” Steuben said.
The treads powered up with a high-pitched whine. The iris beneath the command bridge opened slowly and it inched down the rails, slowly gaining speed.
Steuben let Hale go and ran next to the rail where Elias and Kallen still kept their torches burning. He drew his sword from the small of his back and jammed it between the rollers and the rail. The blade bent and squealed, but the roller and the rest of the command bridge ground to a halt.
The iris froze, barely open a foot in diameter. Air howled over the lip as it poured into the vacuum beyond the iris. The overlord’s bridge would have a straight shot to the safety of open space once it opened.
“Sir,” Cortaro grabbed Hale by the shoulder, “the overlord will be a sitting duck for our fleet. We need to leave.”
Hale mashed his finger against the button. Nothing happened. He looked around the room, then pressed the button several more times.
“I thought the Crucible would open a portal for us as soon as you hit that,” Bailey said.
“Ibarra sent us on a suicide mission, didn’t he?” Orozco asked.
“Every other team on this bucket is probably asking for an extraction at the same time,” Hale said, not entirely convinced by his own excuse. “We squat and hold until Ibarra gets the portal open for us.”
Steuben’s blade shattered and the command bridge began rolling toward the iris.
“Or until we’re smeared across the moon,” Standish said. “Everyone will look up at the wreck and think ‘poor bastards never had a chance.’”
“Standish.” Lafayette held a hand out to the Marine.
“Yes, I’ll shut up.”
“No, toss me a grenade,” Lafayette said. Standish removed a fragmentation grenade from his chest plate and chucked it through the air. Lafayette caught it and held it in front of Elias’ face.
“You cup your hand over it and tamp it against the weakened metal,” Lafayette said.
Elias nodded and offered his hand. Lafayette pulled the pin and set the grenade on the armored palm and released the spoon. It flew off with a ching.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hale yelled as he and the Marines ducked away from the explosive.
Elias lifted the cutting torch from the rail and slapped the grenade against the red hot metal, keeping his hand cupped over it. Kallen pressed her hand on top of it, servos whining in their shoulders as they mashed the grenade against the rail.
When the grenade exploded with a muffled whump, the heat-malleable rail proved weaker than the force of the armored hands. Explosive force follows the path of least resistance, much like water rolling down a hillside. The explosive force of the grenade reflected off the armor and went into the rail.
The rail buckled toward the still-opening iris. Elias shook his smoking hand and kicked the
rail, buckling it further. The command bridge twisted against the rails and ground to a halt.
“And to think my parents wanted me to be an artist, not an engineer,” Lafayette said.
A portal snapped into being twenty feet above Hale’s head, its surface roiling like a stormy sea.
“Time to go!” Hale shouted. His Marines ran for him as he looked around the room, searching for a way to get up and through the portal.
“I don’t think our boots can get us up there,” Orozco said. “Not with the crazy—”
Bodel’s massive hand grabbed Orozco by the waist and flung him toward the portal. Orozco vanished into the wavering disk with a ripple. Bodel snatched up Marines and sent them through the portal with little grace or patience.
Steuben and Lafayette stood next to the damaged rail, watching the Marines depart.
Hale stumbled toward the Karigole as the deck shifted beneath his feet.
“What are you doing? We need to leave,” Hale said.
“This is our fate, Hale. Leave us to it,” Steuben said.
“The hell I will.” Hale tried to grab Steuben by the arm, but the Karigole slapped his hand away.
“Elias,” Lafayette nodded at Hale, “would you please?”
Elias wrapped an arm around Hale’s waist and picked him off the deck.
“Steuben! Don’t!” Hale squirmed uselessly against Elias’ hold as the Iron Heart carried him toward the portal. “Elias, we can’t let them die!”
“Let go of me!” Cortaro slammed a fist against Bodel’s grip. The gunnery sergeant went flying into the portal.
“Elias, damn you!” Hale went limp and tried to slither away, but Elias tightened his hold into a vice. Hale jerked to the side…and fell to the deck.
A ramp extended from the far side of the command bridge, and Toth menials swarmed out of the opening and charged at the Karigole. Their gauss weapons cracked, slaughtering the menials without hesitation.
A Toth warrior swung his blaster barrel over the edge of the ramp and sprayed energy bolts, killing menials as the bolts stitched across the deck.
A blast caught Lafayette in the shoulder. The impact slammed him against the bent rail as his rifle went spinning through the air. It landed in front of Hale with Lafayette’s arm still attached.