Climbing to his feet and dusting himself off he found Emerson was bent over Alan winding a bandage onto his knee. “How’s he doing?” he asked looking over the private’s shoulder.
“He’ll be fine,” Emerson said jamming a small needle tipped vial into his leg. “Doc sent some Pertransidol and insta-cast with the convoy.” Pulling his canteen, he began saturating the bandage. “The drugs should keep him out for a few more hours. With any luck we’ll be back at the base by then.”
“That’s a relief,” Jeff said spying a nearby litter. Grabbing it he allowed Emerson to roll Alan onto his side before sliding it in place. “The little guy’s important to me.” Stepping to the end of stretcher Jeff hunkered down prepared to lift his friend.
“I can get someone to take that Sir,” Emerson protested.
“From the sound of things Emerson, we’re going to be here for a while. I won’t be able to get off with just observing.”
Emerson laughed grasping the other end of the litter. “Captain Butler was right. You should have been a marine.”
It was a short jaunt, maybe forty meters. But as the two approached the waiting truck the wind decided to shift wafting the musty oily smell of the dead Drac towards them. Shaking his head and blowing a disgusted breath Jeff groaned, “Goddamn that thing stinks.”
“Heard that,” Emerson agreed before calling, “Yo Andrews, Daniels. If you’re done playing with the roadkill give us a hand here.”
The marine standing on the trucks bed finished throwing a canvas tarp over the carcass before sauntering over. Hunkering down and resting his arms on his knees the average looking private cracked, “That the banged up squid we came out here for?”
“Shut the fuck up Daniels and grab the poles,” Emerson chided. Adjusting his grip, he lifted the little above his shoulders allowing Daniels to reach down to help pull it up. The other marine, Andrews, was quickly at Jeff’s side taking some of the weight and the four slide the litter onto the bed wall allowing Emerson to climb up and ease Alan onto the deck.
Dusting off his hands Jeff once more heard the crackle of the Drac weapon. Excusing himself from Emerson and his retinue he made his way around the front of the truck. Another crater now decorated the far slope, larger than the first. “Marine,” he called to the man excitedly examining the weapon, “where’s Sergeant Pierce.”
“Right over there Sir,” the said pointing to a smaller vehicle that was hidden by the larger cargo transport. It looked somewhat like a mix between and golf cart and a humvee and a hard looking blonde woman was perched on the edge of the driver’s seat talking to the stocky sergeant.
“Sergeant Pierce,” he announced walking up to the two marines.
“Lieutenant Commanda Grant sir,” Pierce called turning about face. The woman dropped to the ground stiffening at attention.
“Thank you, as you were,” Jeff said acknowledging the implied salute. “What’s our situation?”
The gunnery sergeant spit. “I’ll let Corporal Speight fill you in,” he grunted turning toward the woman.
“Lieutenant Commander,” Speight said respectfully. “Private Rochelle managed to restore power to the operations tower at the base. Without the relay satellite we still don’t have communications, but surface effects are mostly intact.”
“Well that’s some good news at least,” Jeff cut in.
“It’s about all the good news I have for you,” the corporal continued. “He’s also tracking a weather system about twenty-five klicks east of our present position. He can’t make out the severity, but thinks it’ll be here by nightfall.”
“Goddamn piss storm of bad luck,” Pierce interjected spitting once more.
“I don’t think it’s so bad Sergeant,” Jeff said. Looking at the truck he added, “We should be able to out run that on foot and we have transport.”
“Out runnin the storm isn’t the issue Sir. It’s what’s on the med bird that’s sittin in its path.”
“Captain Butler,” Jeff broke in. Pierce stiffened in surprise or anger, Jeff couldn’t tell. He quickly tried to alleviate the sergeant by saying, “Emerson informed me of the captain’s condition. Don’t give me that look Pierce I forced it out of him.” Turning he said to Speight, “How far?”
“Fifteen klicks from present position Sir.”
Jeff pulled the pack of cigarettes Emerson had thankfully left with him muttering, “Shit.” Taking a deep drag, he looked at vehicle Speight was standing by and asked, “How much juice does that thing have?”
Speight leaned into the cab answering, “At least enough to get us there. Can’t say we can make it back.”
“All right then,” Jeff said in disgust. “Sergeant, let’s get everyone here moving out on the double. Speight, grab Emerson and an extra rifle. We’re going out there.”
“Belay that Corporal,” Pierce countermanded. Looking Jeff in the eye he said, “You ain’t going out there Lieutenant Commanda. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way Sergeant. But somebodies got to do it.”
“An that somebody ain’t you. Cap’n Butla would neva allow it.”
“Captain Butler is on a fast track to commanding a casket unless we get those supplies.”
Pierce tightened his fists with such force he knuckles groaned under the pressure. Arms akimbo, the dark gunnery sergeant stood toe to toe with Jeff casting a steely glare up into his face as if he were staring down a fresh recruit in boot. “If you wasn’t an offica, I’d lay yo ass down next ta yo hobbled up bunkmate,” he threatened.
“I meant no offense Sergeant,” Jeff tried to diffuse the situation yet a touch of heat tinged his voice, “but the Captain’s life lies in the balance and we don’t have time to argue.”
“Then I’ll go,” Pierce didn’t let up on the matter. “Speight, get Emerson ova here.”
“You stay right there Corporal,” Jeff said pointing at Speight. Taking another drag of his cigarette he ignored all propriety flicking the butt to the ground. “Sergeant, I need you more than you need me.”
Crossing his arms in a defiant stance Pierce spoke in a tone only a seasoned veteran could muster. “Lieutenant Commanda. You have no business leadin no expedition lookin for a bird that may just be a field of scrap. An I ain’t gonna be told no otherwise. You ain’t got no experience here.”
“Sergeant, I’m no stranger to roughing it,” Jeff defended against the slight. “Hell, I spent the majority of my childhood in the Pacific Northwest.”
“Hiking through the woods with a pack of boy scouts ain’t nothin like what we have here,” Pierce pressed. “There ain’t no water out there. There ain’t no cova. What you gots out there is sand, an rocks. Gravel, a wide open sky an furthermore you sure as shit ain’t dressed for this.”
Jeff saw the logic. Marching across the desert was about the stupidest thing he could do right now. That damn stubbornness of his had nearly blinded him to the reality of the situation. Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath. Briefly glancing at the sturdy woman leisurely leaning on the humvee he said, “Do you think Corporal Speight could handle this mission on her own?”
Pierce made a sound in his throat as if growling at Jeff’s persistence. Looking over at the corporal he said, “You heard the man Speight. Grab what you need at get movin.” Fixing his gaze back on Jeff as the corporal trotted off he added, “You always so contrary?”
Jeff barked a laugh. “You should hear what my XO calls me.”
***
“Dear God what is that smell?” Alan groaned coming out of his stupor. Reflexively placing a gloved hand over his nose he tried to blink the harsh light out of his vision. He also fought back the urge to wretch being compounded by a jostling motion. The pain in his knee thankfully had reduced to no more than a dull ache. But it didn’t help his countenance much.
A familiar laugh filled his ears followed by Jeff saying, “Good morning sunshine. I Trust you slept well.”
“Who can sleep with that stench and all t
his bouncing?” Alan complained trying to sit up. He found himself laid out on the bed of some oversized truck jouncing about the rough alien terrain. Jeff was sitting nearby leaning against side of the cargo bed idling puffing a cigarette. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. The last thing he remembered was emptying Jeff’s handgun into something huge.
Stark terror took hold as he recalled the events. Jeff being blasted off the hill, the blood curdling shriek, somehow wrenching the pistol off Jeff’s belt and unloading it into the sandy colored beast racing for him. “The Drac,” he cried in near panic whipping his head about.
“Easy Teak, easy, it’s dead,” Jeff said slipping to his side. “You put six rounds in it yesterday. It’s wrapped up back there.” He pointed to a large bulgy mound covered in a tarp at the back of the bed.
Scooting as far from the creature as he could Alan gripped his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm his breathing leaning his head against the back of the truck’s cab. “I thought I was dead,” he whispered.
“You and me both,” Jeff sighed settling down next to him.
Taking a shuddering breath Alan fought back nervous tears. “Jesus Christ Knight. What are we going to do?”
“Make the best it?” he said blowing out another streamer of smoke. “Wait for Victoria to send someone to check on us?”
“Fat chance at that,” Alan rasped, “From the looks of things when we hit the atmosphere I don’t think anyone’s left upstairs to report.”
“Don’t get all pessimistic now, we just got here.”
“Yeah, and we’re probably gonna die here.”
“Keep talking like that and you’ll find a way to make it happen,” Jeff chided adding just under his breath, “Besides. We’ve got enough bodies to deal with as it is.”
Pulling up his good leg Alan rested an elbow upon it pressing the heel of his hand to his brow. “You got another one of those?” he asked smelling Jeff’s cigarette.
“Since when do you smoke?” Jeff sounded surprised.
“Since I went toe to toe with the scum of the universe and lived to tell about it.” There was no response from Jeff. Alan’s thoughts swirled, constantly going back to the dreadful encounter. Finally, he pleaded in a weak voice, “Please.”
Jeff made a depressed sigh. Pulling his pack out he snapped his lighter drawing an ember to the end of the cigarette before pressing it into Alan’s fingers. He greedily sucked at the butt coughing uncontrollably for his effort.
“Welcome to the club,” Jeff said snidely.
Alan didn’t answer and a few drags later was smoking like a pro. While staring at the wrapped mass that was the dead alien his mind repeatedly wandering back to the dreadful encounter. The truck continued its lumbering journey and Jeff looked intently at the horizon. A haze was just beginning to form in the distance and the lieutenant commander climbed to his feet banging on the back of the truck’s cab.
“Are you still in contact with Corporal Speight?” he asked after Pierce slid open the partition.
“Lost her ’bout three klicks back afta coming down from the ridge,” he said, “There a problem?”
Jeff threw a thumb over his elbow saying, “I think that weather system is a bit worse than we thought.”
Leaning over to glare over Jeff’s shoulder the gunnery sergeant spit, “Well sheeit!”
CHAPTER 21:
MAKING THE BEST OF IT
The storm had caught up with a vengeance and ferocity no one had expected. The wind was picking up greatly throwing dust devils across the landing field by the time the transport had lumbered up to the base. Now it was whipping torrents of sand against the storm covers on the bases observation tower and the wind howled an eerie funeral dirge at its occupants. Jeff stood with his arms crossed gazing out the single window left unprotected from the savage winds. The airfield below was all but obscured and his mood matched the violent weather.
Punching the control to close the storm door the sound of their motors washed over him as he paced reluctantly across the room. The Drac had done a thorough job of rendering the complex near uninhabitable. Scorch marks marred the bulkheads, over half the water reservoirs were holed through or filled with what smelled like excrement. Main computer system smashed, food stores torched, it was as if Alex DeLarge and his droogs had rolled through on the way to their drug-laden traipse across London in A Clockwork Orange. Frankly he was surprised the observation tower escaped unscathed and partial power had been restored.
What happened to the poor souls who manned the station turned his stomach and landed far closer to home than he thought possible when he found Chuckles body among the dead. It felt a century ago when he was standing on Tungsten’s flight deck getting an abrasive introduction to Commander Simmons when Jeff spoke up in her defense. The thought brought him back to the present, and the three marines possibly weathering the storm in a beat up cargo loader that barely offered any shelter to speak of.
Lighting up a cigarette he dropped into a seat by the communication terminal to once more try in vain to contact Corporal Speight and her retinue. “Corporal Speight this is SD Two Six, please respond, over.” Given the elevation of the towers transmitter in relation to what was known of the crash site Speight should be receiving the transmission. But after hours of repeated attempts he was beginning to fear the worst.
“Ain’t no sense in worryin ’bout it Lieutenant Commanda,” Pierce said before spitting in a cup, “Even if we raise ’em we’s gonna have ta wait till this storm blows ova.”
“They’re my responsibility Sergeant,” Jeff sighed blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I don’t like sitting idly by while others do the work.”
“That’s the unfortunate weight of responsibility,” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “But they’s good men. Neva had to go toe to toe with no Drac’s before yesterday, but Speight an Emerson’s been in combat. Don’t Reckon no sandstorm’s gonna take them down.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” Jeff grumbled getting up to pace some more.
“Neva met a more pessimistic offica,” Pierce said depositing another brown hawker in his cup.
Jeff spun on the man saying far more forcefully than he intended, “I’m used to being in control Pierce!” Whipping an arm out he flailed his hand in a circle adding, “Not this bullshit!”
“You see here Lieutenant Commanda,” Pierce snarled jabbing a stubby finger at him. “I ain’t exactly a possum on the stump ’bout all this neither. But you best get it through your crackerjack head that we’s in this situation whether we’s like it or not.”
“Sorry,” Jeff breathed running a hand through his hair, “this is just new to me.”
Standing Pierce walked over to him. “Cap’n Butla told me once that part of command is fakin it. We’s been in tough scrapes like this before an he’s confessed that he wanted ta piss his pants on more than one occasion. But those boys out there,” he turned pointing towards the hatch, “They’s don’t need ta see that. They’s don’t want ta see that. They’s need ta know that you’re here. That you’re gonna pull them through this same as the Cap’n would.” Spitting the sergeant continued, “You can mope about all you want here, and lemmie have the harsh side o your tongue. But you let those boys out there see it and we’s gonna have some trouble.”
Jeff laughed snuffing out his cigarette in an old bowl. “Keep talking like that Sergeant and they’ll commission you when we get back.” Sitting down he thumbed open his pack counting how many he had left. “Speaking of,” he said looking over at Pierce, “why aren’t you commissioned? You’ve shown yourself remarkably resourceful. And the way things seem to be going we need people like you in a command role.”
“Ain’t no place for an old vet like me sittin at no desk Sir,” Pierce said with a smile. “Reckon I prefer gettin my hands dirty. If they offered, reckon I’d refuse.”
The communications terminal snapped a scratchy signal for a moment. Jeff turned rotating the knobs hoping it was Speight trying to es
tablish contact. He sighed finding it to only be atmospheric noise. “I could use a drink,” he mumbled pulling out another cigarette.
Pierce’s hand grabbed his before he could light the stick. “You’re stressed out Lieutenant Commanda. Get some rest, I can mind this for a few hours. Rochelle said this should be breakin up before dawn. If we don’t hear nothin we can move out at first light on whatever tub this place has that’ll bear us.”
Jeff blinked at the sergeant and smiled. “Guess I can go check on Teak.” Standing, he looked at his cigarette a moment before stuffing it back in the pack. “Thank you Sergeant. Inform me of any change in our situation immediately.”
“Aye-aye Sir,” Pierce said replacing him at the terminal.
Jeff gazed across the hold at the shuttered window before leaving the room. A few minutes later he was knocking on the side of the hatch startling Russell. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized realizing he’d woken the woman.
“No it’s fine Commander,” she said wiping the sleep from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have dozed off. Captain Butler’s still in critical condition.”
She bent down to the display on the desk before her studying the graphs that monitored the captain’s life signs. “How long have you been at this Corpsman?”
“Close to thirty-two hours,” she said glancing at her watch, “Do we have any word on the med bird?”
“Nothing yet,” he said stepping to her side, “And that’s a long time Russell. We can’t afford to have you strung out. We’re spread pretty thin as it is.”
“Who else is gonna do it?” she fired at him with a bit of sass.
“Point taken,” he said dryly looking over her shoulder. “How’s he doing?”
“I’ve got him sedated and pumped him full of clotting factor. It doesn’t seem to be doing any good and I’m just about out of IVs.”
In the Blink of an Eye Page 22