Terminus Gate (Survival Wars Book 5)

by Anthony James

  “Keep your heads down,” said Bonner.

  There was the sound of footsteps, rapidly coming closer. A few seconds later, there was a crackling, spitting noise, which Duggan recognized as a limpet charge burning a hole into the alloy. This allowed a larger, secondary charge to rip open the door.

  “Here goes.”

  The secondary charge went off with a sharp crash, followed by a loud hissing that went on for a further ten seconds. Even though Duggan was a good distance away, the surrounding temperature climbed several degrees and the room was bathed in brilliant light for a moment. Then, the light faded to a sullen, distant glow.

  “Done,” said Bonner.

  “Don’t rush in!” called Duggan. “Check for hostiles!”

  He put his head over the top of the console. The explosives were smokeless but they generated an enormous amount of heat and light. His sensor took a time to adjust to the contrast. There was burning metal through the doorway, which made it difficult to determine if the enemy hid within.

  “Anything alive will have been burned to a cinder,” said Bonner, rising to her feet and advancing towards the doorway. “Come on.”

  Without warning, Bonner spun around in a grotesque parody of a ballerina’s pirouette. She fell to the ground behind another of the metal tables, out of Duggan’s sight.

  “Wait, I said!” he bellowed.

  “There’s something in there,” said Byers.

  A gauss rifle whined. “Camacho shoots an alien in the face.”

  “Stay the hell down!” said Duggan. “Bonner, where are you hit?”

  “In the shoulder. It looks bad, but the suit’s sealed it up nicely. Sorry, sir.”

  Slugs pinged off the wall nearby.

  “You didn’t get shit, Camacho,” said Byers.

  “Three more hostiles,” called Cabrera. “At least three more.”

  “I can get a plasma shot straight into there, sir,” said Rasmussen.

  “Hold!” said Chainer. “No more explosives!”

  “Do as the lieutenant asks,” Duggan ordered.

  The situation became a stalemate. The enemy were holed up in the room beyond, having taken cover behind some of the equipment which was installed in there. As the outer door cooled and hardened, the Estral became easier to see – their orange outlines appearing and then vanishing as they ducked in and out of cover. Duggan guessed them to have coil guns or something similar and was relieved they didn’t start throwing explosives. At the first sign of an enemy grenade, he’d be forced to order Rasmussen to use the plasma launcher to take them out, and that might well do enough damage to cut off the transmission they’d come to trace.

  As the seconds passed, the messages over the open comms gave away the increasingly desperate situation of the troops below. They were being pushed and pushed hard, and it was doubtful they’d be capable of holding off the enemy for much longer.

  A figure rose to its feet in the corner closest to the enemy. It was Rastol, having made his way across the room, keeping the angle too tight for the enemy to get a shot at him. On the other side, Braler climbed upright. Without hesitation, they ducked into the ante-room, Rastol first. The Ghast fired his repeater as soon as he turned the corner. The weapon produced no muzzle flash, but the noise was thunderous. He went down under a hail of enemy fire, only for Braler to take his place, pouring hundreds of rounds into the room ahead of him. The repeater stopped and a temporary quiet descended.

  “It is clear,” said Braler.

  Duggan broke cover and ran the length of the room. Rastol was dead, his body chewed up by a dozen slugs. Braler was hurt – he’d taken a shot in the arm and there was blood. The Ghast acted as if nothing was wrong.

  “Make your transmission,” the alien said.

  Duggan pushed past into what was unmistakeably a comms and control room. There were screens covering one wall, many of them damaged by ricochets from the repeaters. Two consoles were off to the side – big, complex affairs similar to the sort found on a warship or in a military base. There was damage to the equipment – a combination of heat and impact. To the left, a wide, grey cylinder reached from floor to ceiling. It had no markings – it didn’t need them for Duggan to know what it was.

  “Lieutenant Chainer, get in here. Bring Byers with you. She needs to see this as well.”

  Chainer arrived, lugging his pack, with Byers close behind and carrying her own.

  “Is this what you wanted?” asked Duggan?

  “This’ll do nicely, sir.”

  “Get on and do it, then.”

  Chainer practically jumped across to one of the seats and sat himself in front of a panel, his foot resting carelessly on the dead body of one of the enemy. Duggan was feeling the pressure and he took himself out of the room, pacing about as he waited.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I think I can use this stuff, sir,” said Chainer after a short time. “My old mother always said if you can read Ghast, you can read anything. The Dreamer kit clearly has the same origins.”

  “We’re in trouble here, Lieutenant.”

  “I’ll let you worry about that, sir. I won’t need long.”

  In the minute or two since Chainer had sat himself in front of the enemy comms, the squads below had been forced into an orderly withdrawal deeper into the building. Duggan was concerned in case they became separated, so he was relieved when Lieutenant Ortiz entered the room, bringing several other soldiers with her.

  “We’re facing the proper troops now,” she said. “They’re disciplined and show good order, which wouldn’t normally be a problem except that there’re so damned many of them.” She gave a command and those with her ran away to help fortify this part of the building. “Why haven’t they turned the really heavy stuff on us?” she asked.

  “It’s their base, Lieutenant. Why would they do that? It’s the only thing keeping us alive with that warship of theirs flying overhead.”

  Duggan had a growing certainty that this base was of profound importance to the enemy. What’s important to them is vital to us, he thought, remembering the adage from his training classes.

  A sound reached him through the many holes in the roof of the building. At first he thought it might be thunder, before his brain dismissed the idea. The noise built and he felt a vibration in the walls and the floor. It continued, increasing rapidly until Duggan feared the enemy had brought a new weapon into the attack. A shockwave struck the building from the east. The outer wall creaked and buckled, before splitting with a rending shriek. Wind rushed in, buffeting the soldiers inside. They dropped to the floor in alarm.

  “What the hell?” shouted Cabrera.

  “Stay down!”

  The building was huge and made from hard alloys, but it had been damaged by the Bulwark rounds. It flexed and groaned while the floor crumpled, leaving rows of irregular creases from one side to the other. Duggan’s HUD flashed up an emergency warning.

  “Gamma rays,” he said. “The Crimson must have dropped a nuke somewhere!”

  The shockwave subsided, leaving half of the outside wall torn open. Duggan waved the troops deeper into the room so they wouldn’t present a target to the enemy troops on the ground outside.

  “Commander McGlashan, please report,” he said, doing his best to keep the alarm from his voice. He got no response and he swore, wondering if the radiation was interfering with his signal or if something had happened to the spaceship.

  As he looked outside into the sky, something struck one of the corner towers a third of the way up from the ground. A huge plasma detonation shook the structure, the blast spreading for several hundred metres. The light faded and the tower remained standing, blackened in places and burning in others. There followed a series of further blasts in rapid succession, each new detonation adding to the ballooning cloud of plasma. Half of the tower vanished behind the roiling fury.

  For a brief moment, it seemed as though the combat nearby had ceased, allowing everyone in the room time to stare in a
we at this display. The plasma burned out, leaving the tower leaning at an angle and canted inwards towards the centre of the base. It was a wonder it remained upright, given the huge craters clustered across its side.

  “It’s going to fall,” said Camacho.

  It happened slowly at first, as if the tower was reluctant to submit to the relentless stresses it was under. The tilt increased and there was a grotesque screech of tortured alloy.

  “Shit it’s coming our way,” said Chan.

  He was right – whatever bad luck dogged them this day, it pushed its invisible hand against the tower, sending it inexorably towards the comms building.

  “Stand up and face it,” said Ortiz.

  Duggan attempted an estimate based on the tower’s height and the distance from their location, to see if they would survive. He gave up at once – it would take too long and ultimately, he was either going to live or die with no say in the matter.

  With increasing speed, the tower fell. It crashed into the ground, flattening everything beneath. The impact was far beyond anything the rock could support and the earth shook again. A couple of the soldiers staggered and grabbed for something to steady themselves, still unable to wrench their eyes away. The tower bounced a few metres into the air and slid along a few more, before coming to rest fifty metres from the split in the wall of the comms building.

  “I’m lost for words, man,” said Barron. “In all my years...”

  At that point, Chainer came from the inner room. “All done,” he said, affecting nonchalance. “What was all that commotion?” One of the soldiers pointed and Chainer looked over. “I see,” he said.

  A series of reports came across the open channel in quick succession from the troops guarding the lift and a nearby stairwell.

  “What’re the orders, sir?” asked Ortiz. “The enemy are gathering and we need to get out of this radiation.”

  “One moment, Lieutenant. I’m trying to reach the Crimson.” Duggan tried once more to get through. “Nothing!” he said.

  “There’re too many emissions for the suit comms, sir,” said Chainer. “They’ve got some big signal amplifiers through here. Come on, I can get you a piggyback.”

  Duggan followed into the other room. Chainer sat down and pressed at the console like he’d been using it since birth. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. Everything has a best way. Wherever you go in the universe, certain things will need to be done in certain ways.”

  “Indeed,” said Duggan, not really listening. “Will it take long?”

  “It’s done, sir.”

  “ESS Crimson, this is Duggan, please respond.”

  “Captain?” It was McGlashan and she sounded relieved.

  “Lieutenant Chainer has sorted out the beacon. Can you see it?”

  “Yes, sir. The AI’s analysing the feed. I’m sure Frank’s done what we needed.”

  “The problem is we’re stuck in the enemy’s comms building with an entire base worth of troops wanting to say hello. We need assistance.”

  “I’m still dancing with the enemy warship, sir. Since they know you’re there, I figured it couldn’t hurt to send a couple of high explosives into the vicinity. I’m a few minutes away now.”

  “Can you drop some armour at our location?”

  “That’s something I can manage. I won’t be able to stick around for long.”

  “Think you can put it on the roof?”

  “I can leave it wherever you want it, sir.”

  “Aim carefully – if it lands in on the ground instead it’s game over for us. And Commander? Make sure on your next flyover you do the maximum possible damage to this facility.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Good luck.”

  With McGlashan gone, he spoke his orders into the open channel. “We need to get to the roof. Things are really going to get interesting in the next few minutes.”

  Whilst he’d been distracted with other matters, the enemy had penetrated deep into the comms building. Duggan’s squads held them at two stairwells on the top floor, where they engaged in a deadly game involving grenades and small-arms fire. It was the sort of situation which could take a long time to play out, or one in which the balance might suddenly shift. If nothing changed, there was only going to be one losing side.

  “There’s no way up,” said Ortiz. “You’d think these alien bastards would have put in a ladder or something.”

  The sounds of gunfire came through her helmet speaker and Duggan assumed she was getting herself into trouble somewhere close by. “We don’t need a ladder, Lieutenant. There are a series of perfectly good holes in the ceiling.”

  “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “Braler, Glinter, break off and get here,” said Duggan. “I need some muscle.”

  Before the Ghasts arrived, Duggan, Chainer and Byers hauled whatever loose furniture they could find into position beneath one of the holes above. The ceiling was high and Duggan hoped he’d not been too cocky in asking for the armoured vehicle to be dropped on the roof.

  Braler entered the room, the barrel of his repeater glowing red.

  “We’re going out there,” said Duggan, indicating the ceiling. “Help us uproot a couple of these consoles.”

  “There’s no time. I can lift our soldiers high enough for them to get through.”

  “That means leaving you behind. I won’t allow that to happen.”

  The Ghast grinned, showing the first signs of humour Duggan could recall from him. “There’ll be no one left.”

  “You’ve been shot.”

  “It’s of no consequence. I’ll see the medic when we’ve returned to the warship.”

  That was what Duggan needed to hear and he gave an order. “Lieutenant Ortiz, Red-Gulos, Gax, please organize a withdrawal into this room. As quickly as possible.”

  In pairs, the troops came through the doorway. Braler put his repeater to one side and boosted the men and women up towards the ceiling, lifting them easily. The soldiers were strong and fit, so it was no great hardship for them to drag themselves out through one of the holes and onto the roof.

  “Watch the edges,” said Barron, the first one up.

  “Lay flat,” warned Duggan. “I’d like to avoid notice for as long as possible.”

  “Roger.”

  The next one due up was Glinter – he was a Ghast from Red-Gulos’ squad. Duggan was concerned the extra weight would cause problems. He need not have worried – with a grunt of effort, Braler lifted his comrade high enough that he could grip the edge. With a swing, the Ghast got one of his booted feet onto the rim and then it was a simple matter for willing hands to drag him through. One by one, the rest of the soldiers reached the top.

  “The last guys will need to move fast,” said Ortiz. “I don’t know how much longer the enemy are going to be fooled.”

  There were still six inside, plus Duggan and Braler – it was going to be a tough move to pull off without being overrun.

  “Berg have you got any ammunition?” asked Duggan.

  “One left in the tube, sir and zero grenades.”

  “Everyone fall back. Berg, you watch the door. Burn anything that moves.”

  With a clatter, the remainder reached the room. Braler had perfected the routine and he practically threw the first two human soldiers through the hole. Red-Gulos was a tougher proposition, but there were enough people above to pull him through in seconds.

  Berg’s plasma launcher bleeped and its final round whooshed out. The explosion was low and muted as the plasma engulfed the lift doorway.

  “That’s my last round,” she said.

  “Up!” Duggan ordered.

  Berg didn’t need a formal invitation. She dropped the launcher and was soon away onto the roof. Duggan came and then Ortiz. At last, there was only Braler.

  “Come on,” said Duggan, leaning across so he could look into the room below.

  Red-Gulos and Link-Tor lay flat on the roof, their hands stretched o
ut for Braler to grab, whilst others sat on their legs to stop them sliding into the hole. Braler jumped with his arms outstretched and got hold of Link-Tor’s wrist. The Ghast swung in the air and then Red-Gulos lunged forward, grabbing his other arm.

  Some of the troops lay near to one of the other holes, which gave a better vantage into the area below. Duggan heard them fire their rifles and he gritted his teeth.

  After a brief struggle, Braler’s head appeared and Duggan added his own strength to the effort, closing his eyes against the wounds he expected to see on the Ghast’s body.

  “Got him!” exclaimed Ortiz in triumph.

  Duggan dared to open his eyes and found Braler in front of him, alive and with no additional injuries.

  “ESS Crimson, this is Duggan. What’s your position?”

  “You’d best get down, sir. The fires of heaven are coming.”

  “Down! Now!” he shouted.

  A few seconds later, he found that McGlashan had not exaggerated her warning.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Twenty-four clusters of twelve Lambdas, four underside Bulwarks,” Duggan repeated to himself as he lay flat.

  The eruption of plasma told him at once that McGlashan had used everything available. Night became the shortest of days and the installation was engulfed. It started as a wave at the far side of the base – a wall of white flame which advanced at incredible speed, destroying everything it touched. Like an ancient miracle the wall parted around the comms building, leaving it completely untouched. When it passed, the wall became complete once more as it raced onwards. The corner towers and the central pyramid suffered greatly in the barrage, each taking a dozen or more direct hits.

  In the centre, the squad huddled, waiting for the cataclysm to end. When it died away, shards of stone began to fall, thrown up by the Bulwark fire which had raked unseen through the explosions. Duggan felt something catch him in the shoulder and he grimaced with pain. He stood, feeling suddenly, stupidly, invincible.