The troops didn’t simply rush forward as a mob after the Secaarans. The others leapfrogged past one another, covering one another until the various platoons made it to the sealed metal door of the closest building. Dragga bashed her warhammer against the door, several times, denting it. A flurry of blows bent it back inward. Dragga roared in pure rage, spun in place and using the added momentum of the spin, slammed her hammer into the metal door, which crumpled in half and clattered to the ground.
“Door is open,” she said proudly.
“Move!” Vok bellowed and transmitted over the comms. The soldiers all hustled forward continued their leapfrog movement. The Smash Pack surged inside.
Once inside, resistance picked up. Squads of personnel, armed with pistols and needlers, assault rifles and shotguns, crammed the corridors. Both sides were hampered by the three rampaging Secaarans, who were doing what they did best: smashing through the opposition with their melee weapons and shooting anyone out of range. The attackers were hindered because they didn’t want to shoot the angry friendlies accidently, but they took up half the main corridors with their bulk. The defenders were disconcerted when they discovered that their pistol bullets and needles failed to penetrate the Secaarans’ armor. In fact, it didn’t even slow them down. Cromm and Dragga, reluctantly, shot and killed anyone who stuck his face out from whatever cover was available. Then they sprayed bullets down the corridor to keep them pinned down. The Secaarans weren’t the best marksmen, but they were decent enough. They’d held down resistance long enough for Vok to move up with the rest of the platoon and take them out.
Chatter came in over the radio as other platoons in other buildings were coming under fire. That would explain why resistance here wasn’t as heavy as expected, as Verrikoth’s troops were assaulting five different entry points all at the same time. The Committee leaders didn’t have a clue what to do, where to defend. They had bodies to spare, so they were trying to be strong everywhere. Clearing out the hallway, Vok’s troops moved into the rooms beyond.
This building appeared to be offices and meeting rooms, loaded with desks, chairs, tables, and computers with still active virtual displays. They found a few people here and easily dispatched them, no prisoners, no questions. Anything resembling soldiers had apparently been down in the corridors. They cleared out the bottom floor; then moved through the two floors above. Eschewing elevators, the Secaarans took the stairs, surprising a quartet of what looked like lawyers in tailored suits. The humans looked far out of place here on a pirate base, but right at home here in this building, which was more of a law office than bunker. Stryx swept his flail in an arc and bodies crumpled before him, screams echoing in the stairwell. Two quick steps and another monster swing of the flail brought the others to the ground. He gave three more downward strokes, which elicited delightful crunching noises as the tungsten ball crushed their skulls. The screaming abruptly cut off.
“Move on,” Dragga ordered. Wordlessly, Stryx nodded and moved on.
A dozen more men and women in suits fled in terror from the oncoming soldiers and were easily caught and eliminated. Cromm only got to kill one of them; the rest were gunned down by the rest of the platoon.
“What are suits doing here?” Vok asked, surprised. “And why did they seem completely unfazed by the gunfire and screams from downstairs?” he wondered aloud.
“Floor secured, War Leader,” Cromm reported a moment later, his axe and breastplate gummed with blood.
“Good. Then let’s move, there are more buildings in this complex for us to clear.”
“War Leader,” one of the other zheen called from a nearby desk. He was standing and looking at a pile of flimsi documents haphazardly stacked on the desktop. Kreben was the platoon’s tech specialist (demolitions, bridge removing and door opening specialist) but it meant that he was among the most educated in the group, the one who was supposed to look into any intel assets that could be found when there was time. “I found some… documents. I just skimmed a couple, but there’s info about a number of different planets here. I’m showing Ulla-tran, Treska, Heb, Kazyanenko, Hecate, and others.” He tossed the flimsi he was holding down on the pile on the desk. “There are names, info on towns, businesses, local politicians, media outlets, all sorts of info here.”
Vok considered this. “We’ll send retrieval teams down later. Good work, Kreben. For now, our priority is clearing out this base.” Vok took several pages, scanned them quickly, then stuffed them under his thorax armor. Then he turned away, speaking quickly into his wrist comm. He ended with, “Understood, Warlord. I will obey.” The War Leader turned to the others. “Move out! We’re on to the next building!”
The Secaaran siblings growled in pleasure, and charged back down the stairs, their heavy feet crashing on the floor and stairs. The rest of the soldiers cheered and trotted along behind, their weapons up, ready for any threat.
((--[][]--))
The outer buildings were quickly cleared under Vok’s watchful eyes. The Secaarans drove the charge, but the shooters in the platoon were actually getting more kills, they just weren’t as extreme or gruesome. Still, dead was dead and thankfully, the humans Vok’s platoon was facing didn’t have any powered armor or heavy weapons. But, it allowed the trio to get in close and get their hate on and burn off some aggression, though by the looks of things, the further into this they went, the more of a rampage they were turning it into. All three of them were covered in gore but their eyes, behind protective armorplast face shields, were alight. They lived for this, even more so than the rest of the boarding troops and ground forces. Others were interested in glory or loot or even the power and respect their profession granted, but not these three. They cared little for riches and glory and nothing for what others thought of them. No, the trio was in this because fighting for Verrikoth meant they had a better chance to see actual combat. That was their joy, but anything else was simply a bonus.
The next building was a storehouse, little more than flimsy metal walls and roof, but stacked with barrels and boxes and crates of all shapes and sizes. A quick check inside a few randomly selected ones showed one barrel filled with steel ball bearings, a crate with military ration packs (data stamped thirty years ago, guaranteed freshness!) and a plastiboard box containing cold weather hats. None of it was terribly useful, but there were hundreds of containers here to search. Vok ordered them on.
The platoon rounded a corner of a row of shipping crates and ran headlong into a trio of men in khaki uniforms and armed with carbines. These men didn’t waste a second. They dumped their guns on full auto at the incoming soldiers. The Secaarans were not the focus of the attack, but four of the platoon went down in a spray of blood. Two more of Vok’s soldiers cried out in agony as they dropped to the ground, wounded.
Vok aimed his own assault rifle and fired, taking out the closest man with a head shot. Blood misted out from the hit, but the zheen didn’t so much as pause. Two more shots and the other two humans were down. “Move! I want this place secured.” The platoon broke into fire teams of two; the Secaarans went off by themselves and all of them moved through the stacks. A few roars, gunshots and meaty thumps and within minutes the large building was empty of defenders. The platoon moved on.
((--[][]--))
They are closing in. This shouldn’t be possible, the Chairman of the Committee thought to himself. His soldiers were falling in job lots under this onslaught, but there were so few of these attackers! The men train with their weapons. This whole ‘invasion’ should have been stopped right from the get-go! Eight, now nine, of the base’s aboveground structures have fallen, now including the power station. It was only a matter of time before they reached the command center. He cursed their speed and efficiency. Already the bastards disabled remote access to the power station. He couldn’t disengage the safety interlocks and blow them all to the world beyond. No, only a matter of time now.
The Chairman wondered where he’d gone wrong. Things accelerated quickly in just
the last two years, which was when the refit for Shield of Argos, the fighter carrier, was completed. Those fools on Federos didn’t know how to hold on to their resources, he thought savagely. We just walked in there, took the ship and her complement of starfighters and just walked right back out again. After that, when he’d begun his slow buildup, he’d been careful, he knew he had. Information was on lockdown, and none of the ships went out were to have any mention of either Alpha or Beta in their databanks. Nothing should have been available to the bug to lead him here to Beta.
And it was clear that the bug and his two ships were here specifically for the Committee. He didn’t seem to be aware of the defenses here, but arriving in a heavy cruiser with a destroyer escort, well… The Chairman didn’t like to admit it, even if Shield of Argos and her fighter wings had been here, it would have been a tough fight. And possibly one they would have lost anyway.
It didn’t matter anymore. At least Alpha is still out there. The Committee of Public Safety will be in the hands of Vice Chair Markaasdottir after today. With it, the bulk of the fleet. The good work will continue.
Yes, he thought. It will. He grabbed a case full of data cards and a pistol off the table, then looked to the rest of the people in the room, about a dozen loyal followers. They were support staff, techs, and paper-pushers, not soldiers. “Grab what weapons and any sensitive data you can and follow me. We’re going down to the bunker. We’ll have to hold out there.” They all nodded, grabbing up what they could. The looks of utter faith in him bolstered his own flagging confidence. They could very easily all die today. But the work will go on.
((--[][]--))
“Warlord, this is Vok,” the war leader called on his wrist comm. “We have secured the compound. Shuttle two is doing a flyover and a ground-penetrating scan of the surrounding area and is reporting at least 400 life signs below the surface. I am moving to pursue though I have taken casualties.”
“Undersstood,” Verrikoth replied, a moment later. “How many cazualtiez?”
“Twenty-four, my Lord,” Vok replied. “Eighteen dead, six wounded, spread out amongst the platoons.”
“Very well. Keep me informed. Out.”
The connection ended. “Very good, my Lord,” Vok said to the empty air. “Ready up, you larvae!” he bellowed, his mandibles and mouthparts clicking loudly with every syllable. “We’re heading down into the underground. Platoon leaders!” he barked, pointing with one blunt finger. “That elevator is the only way that we’ve found that leads down there. And they’re going to be waiting for us.”
The troops shuttled their feet, exchanging glances. The elevator was a cargo lift, with three-meter wide metal doors. Even considering that, it was a tight space. Not missing a beat, the Secaarans each took one step forward, melee weapons at the ready, their guns slung over their backs.
“Smash!” the screamed in unison; the sound was akin to rocks splitting.
Vok chittered to himself. They sound so infantile when they spoke like that. But he had to admit, sending them down first was a good idea. So long as the Committee troops down below didn’t open up on the elevator with rockets, the siblings could probably break through and get clear. After that, it would just be a matter of shipping down soldiers quickly enough to provide backup for the siblings. They would be down there all alone against stars knew how many soldiers for several long minutes and while he had full confidence in their skill and ferocity, potentially facing hundreds of soldiers would push even their strength to the limit.
But there wasn’t much of an alternative. “Very well. You three, in the lift. Proku, Tekre’ha, go with them, cover them. Once they break through, send the lift back up for us. I’ll get reinforcements down to you as fast as that thing can move.”
The Secaarans growled, dropping their guns to the ground, to be picked up by others, then limbered up their arms while they entered the lift. The two zheen followed them in, bringing their own guns to the ready. While the rock-skinned warriors looked to be psyching themselves up, the zheen were less than enthusiastic about this trip. But they didn’t complain, they just took up position in the rear of the elevator, off to the far sides.
Vok watched as the doors closed, then turned and ordered another squad forward, ready to go as soon as the lift came back up.
((--[][]--))
Alex Marston rallied his soldiers in the entryway which lead back up to the surface. The entryway was a transshipment point for cargo coming from the outside, a wide room forty meters in diameter, octagonal in shape. There were three exits aside from the elevator, one leading straight away from the elevator, and then two others that led to the right and left. Much of the underground, and especially those areas closest to the elevator, were made from metal, which was used to support the caverns and seal them. He turned to his men and silently cursed the Chairman and his refusal to acquire explosives. “No, Marston, we shall have none of that. I don’t want the men using those things, especially not in the underground. No, we have no need of them. Standard weapons and needlers will be all we need.”
The men were outfitted with pistols, rifles, shotguns, needlers, even a few stunner pistols. He had over two hundred men and women, well-armed and ready for the bastards to come for them. There were more Committee personnel down here, but they were the ones who tended the solar farms, repaired the equipment and assisted with the legal teams and the lab techs. He growled at this. Why in the hell do we need lawyers and legal teams here at Beta? Why aren’t they out on the planets we’re working with instead? What possible reason could they have to be here at a secret base instead of out there where the people are? He shook his head. Two hundred and sixteen effectives, all armed and ready to fire on that one small point? The one thing that the Chairman had done right (in Marston’s estimation) was to put the only entrance into the underground through this elevator shaft. Of course, that was just from a perspective of security. From one of safety, having only one way in and out of this place wasn’t perhaps the greatest of ideas. But that was a problem hopefully that would never need be addressed.
For now, it just meant that the invaders could only come down here using that one small elevator. And that gave his men and women a gorgeous target to shoot at.
“All right!” he shouted, getting all of their attention. He pointed. “Elevator’s coming down. That means we have about thirty seconds. As soon as the lift clears the ceiling here, and as soon as you have targets, get ready to fire. As soon as I have a target, I’ll give the order. Then we unleash hell,” he said, getting more than a few grins. “Go easy on the ammo,” he reminded them. “There aren’t going to be a lot of them in there, so we have to be prepared for more to come down.” Marston stopped to consider that. If the elevator was down on the underground level, they’d have to call it back up to bring more people down, but if the first batch just got slaughtered… Would the Warlord sacrifice his men in waves, just to hit the underground?
Well, if he’s found out about what we’ve got down here he might. And wouldn’t that raise a few eyebrows, or tentacles or whatever it is that those bugs have if the boss bug ever found out? Not his problem, certainly not right now.
“Here they come!” he roared, putting the carbine up to his shoulder and looking down the sights. His finger was over, but not touching the trigger, just waiting for the bottom of the elevator to clear the ceiling. He’d go for leg shots, then once those inside were down, or at least milling in confusion and pain, then the rest could take them out.
The elevator was twenty centimeters past the edge of the ceiling, and Marston saw five pairs of legs, two of them appeared to be zheen, the other three sets were unfamiliar. They were wide and gray and rugged looking, but he didn’t know what kind of species those belonged to. It didn’t matter. They’d be dead in a matter of seconds.
There was an audible click, followed by several more and a rising series of hums. One second later, a long, bumpy object was flung out through the growing opening in the elevator to fall a few meter
s before the elevator. It took Marston another two seconds to realize what that was.
“Grenade!” he managed to get out before the entire area was awash in light and a deafening cacophony. His world swam, and he felt slightly nauseous as his stomach churned from the noise. He couldn’t tell what was happening.
Then, as the piercing sound from the grenades began to fade, a roar straight out of Hades came from the elevator, overcoming the ringing in his ears. What was happening? He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear. On impulse, he pointed his weapon in the general direction of where he thought the elevator was and hit the trigger, spraying bullets. He didn’t know if he’d hit anything, but more importantly, his vision was beginning to clear. Bright and dark spots filled his sight, but he was starting to get a sense of what was around him again.
And then one of his soldiers slammed into him, and Alex Marston was hurled unceremoniously to the ground.
((--[][]--))
Traveling down the shaft in that horrible box, the Secaarans knew that a massive wave of enemy fire would be awaiting them at the bottom. They were confident, as always, that they would survive and prevail. But against that much fire? Even Cromm, the most obstinate of the lot had to admit; it would be dicey. They could be hurt or worse, and that would just be unacceptable. Getting chopped down by a bunch of squishy humans? Unthinkable.
“What do we do?” Dragga asked, angrily, gripping her long-handled hammer tighter. She hated asking for help.
“Use my shield,” Stryx replied, shrugging. He had his flail at his side, dangling from its chain, the links clinking as the elevator descended. “It’s always worked before.”
But Proku clacked his mandibles. “No, that won’t work on its own.” He, unlike many of the zheen males, did not speak the Standard tongue. He had a translator pack implanted into his head, just behind his right eye, tied into his auditory appendages and another into his neck, which translated the clicks and hisses into Standard. “But these might.” His voice came out flat, completely monotone and robotic. He gestured to the other zheen, Tekre’ha, who looked confused, shifting his own carbine uncomfortably.
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