“The first contact took out the communications array, General,” Graegen informed him.
The general alarm was not routed through that system. The ships above would have been alerted to the fact there was a problem even if communications between them were now severed, and that would only serve to heighten the battle-experienced captains’ alertness.
“And the second?”
“Receiving that now, Sir.”
The static of short-range radio crackled over the comm before Graegen spoke again.
“The north site generator, Sir.”
Damn!
“Prepare for ground and air assault, Lieutenant.”
Mhartak rammed his combat helmet on and left the office. The barracks trembled from impacts and for the first time in his life his heart trembled from fear.
Where was Sandrea?
Sandrea was well on her way to bludgeoning a Bluthen to death.
A Berserker rage incinerated every thought in her head but the need for revenge. She sprang forward on a surge of violence and rammed the butt of her rifle into the Bluthen’s jaw. Something gave beneath the force of her blow. He folded. Fury roared through her mind and she smashed the back of his head, again and again. Movement snatched her attention. Her eyes darted up and her arms froze mid-blow.
Shrenkner stood regarding her with mild surprise. “I thought I was the one to do the killing?”
Sandrea glanced down, the body by her feet quite evidently just that, and lowered her weapon. She took a step back. Reaction and unapologetic brutality quivered through her body.
“He killed my dog.”
“You recognized him?”
“Yes.”
Shrenkner’s eye ridges rose.
“I have no doubt, Shrenk’. One of the things I can remember is the cast of every one of those fucking mongrels’ features.” She toed the corpse. “This bastard killed my dog.”
“I see. You couldn’t have just shot him?”
Sandrea opened her mouth to respond, realized she had no defence for her actions, that the urge to kill the bastard with her bare hands had overwhelmed her, and closed her mouth.
Shrenkner’s lips twisted. “Perhaps then, you will explain to me what is a dog and why it is significant?”
Best creature God every made. Unconditional love, always forgiving, loyal to the end.
Unfortunately she’d found nothing in the Angrigan database to compare canines with. She used her imagination and did her best to satisfy Shrenkner’s curiosity.
“I take it the other Bluthen are taken care of?” she asked.
“Yes, they’re dead.”
Right, no euphemisms for this soldier.
“So what do we do now?”
“Now we keep this weapon secure.”
Shrenkner tilted her head to stare at something high in the dark sky then hissed.
Sandrea turned to follow her gaze. Minute dots of bright, white light appeared at high altitude.
“What are they?”
“Bluthen attack craft.”
“You can tell that from here?”
“It makes sense. You see, they’re firing on the base!”
Bolt after bolt landed on the barracks. A ripping, tearing, gut-wrenching noise sliced through the atmosphere and she watched as an enormous ship plummeted toward the moon.
“Christ! Tell me that’s not one of ours.”
Shrenkner shook her head. “No, it’s Bluthen.”
Vibrations shuddered up her legs as the ground quaked to the distant strike of the vessel and it exploded in infernos fury. The lightning of laser bolts blazed back and forth across the sky. Craft dived down out of the atmosphere to attack the base. The barracks defended itself, but they were taking a hammering. Her heart and stomach convulsed.
Eugen’s in that lot somewhere.
“Why aren’t we using this thing?” Sandrea flung a hand toward the weapon they’d captured.
“Can’t,” Shrenkner said. “The Bluthen are a much slimmer race than we. I doubt if even one of our cadets could get their arms into the firing recesses.”
Incredulity blistered through her.
“Shit, that’s it? C’mon Shrenk’, let’s not fuck around here.”
She ripped the protective headgear from the Bluthen Shrenkner had dragged from the cannon’s cockpit, shoved it on, and dived into the space where his body had been. Lying on her stomach, she threaded her arms into firing apertures. A soft clamp lowered to press against her temples. Her heart pounded a rapid tattoo. In front of her a screen showed a magnified impression of the view before the hill.
“How does this thing work?”
“Follow the target with your eyes.” Shrenkner’s voice was muffled by the density of the cannon’s casing.
Sandrea locked her gaze on an enemy craft and followed its trajectory. The gun swayed synchronously below her.
“Squeeze both the firing handles at the same time, but—”
Her hands clenched on the triggers. A thunderous roar punched her ears and the cannon bucked beneath her.
“Balls of fire, Sandrea!” Shrenkner’s curse filtered through the casing of the gun. “Have you any idea how loud these things are?”
“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” she screamed back.
“Hopefully wait until I had some protective head gear on.” Shrenkner’s voice came clear into her ear. Obviously the other woman had donned a headset. “Right. You’re going to have to lead the target more—”
“No shit?” Dad’s Shooting Rule Number 5, When firing at a moving target, aim just ahead of it.
“I’ve got a better field of view than you. Let me guide you.”
“I’m all ears.”
The gun jerked as Sandrea followed Shrenkner’s instructions and she swung her eyes up. Her hands and arms tingled. She conned the target, aimed, and fired. On her screen a Bluthen attack ship exploded in a minute flash of light.
“So much for not killing anyone,” Shrenkner said.
“Shut up.”
“I think we’ve been made. Incoming fighter, starboard top quarter.”
The laser cannon swung a touch more smoothly and she fired again. The near miss did not force the attack craft into a course alteration, but that just made it easier for her to bull’s-eye with the next shot.
Shrenkner hissed.
“What?”
“Ground troops have landed near the base.”
“What’s my target?”
“Take your pick.”
Sandrea aimed her sights at the base. Dismay coiled through her belly at the number of Bluthen soldiers advancing on the barracks. She peppered away in measured bursts at the attacking force.
“How’s our power?”
“Fine, continue what you’re doing and we’ll be able to keep this up for a while.” A harsh gasp grated in her ears. “Hells’ ball bangers! Northeast barracks. General Mhartak’s about to walk into an ambush.”
She directed the gun to the coordinates. Eugen and a squad approached a group of wounded Angrigan soldiers. Delighted relief flowed warm through her gut.
“What ambush? I can’t see one.”
“Bluthen can camouflage themselves into the surrounds, if you know what to look for you can see them. The General won’t be able to detect them from the angle he’s approaching and the laser fire refracting the air. The Bluthen are behind our wounded.”
“So I can’t fire on them?”
“Not without causing our injured further harm, no.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to fire on the General.”
“What?”
“Can I download the power of this thing?”
“Yes, but you
can’t—”
“Shrenk’.”
“Think about lowering the power, on your screen a graphic should reflect the reducing output.”
Okay, power down. Power down. Fuck me, it worked!
She aimed at a spot far enough in front of Eugen and his team to, she mentally crossed her fingers, do them no harm, but instead halt their advance.
She squeezed the triggers. The ground of her target exploded in a hailstorm of rocky debris. Her lips pulled back in a wincing grimace.
Oh shit! Is he, are they, alright?
Eugen hauled himself to his feet quite some distance from where he had been. Her anxiety eased from a rushing tide, then the remainder of the squad scrambled to cover as the Bluthen opened fire.
“You did it.” Awe and disbelief coloured Shrenkner’s words. “You actually fired on the General!”
“Yeah. Do think he minded?”
From the refuge of a partially destroyed wall, Eugen pointed his binos in their direction.
“Uh-oh,” Sandrea said.
“Indeed.”
“I guess we don’t have to worry about not telling the General then.”
Shrenkner failed to respond.
“Look on the bright side, Shrenk’, maybe we’ll be captured by Bluthen, then you won’t have to face him.”
“There is some merit in that thought. General Mhartak has signalled he’s sending reinforcements to help secure this gun. He asks that we don’t fire upon them.”
Smart-ass.
She resumed firing to the coordinates Shrenkner provided. The gun swung in smooth arcs back and forth, up and down . . . Motion sickness swelled in her stomach and she struggled to contain its burst for freedom. Her arms and hands stung with uncomfortable severity and an almost overpowering urge for release nagged in her bladder.
“Mark the vehicle leaving the compound,” Shrenkner said. “That is Sergeant Kulluk and I think he would be even less happy than General Mhartak if we fired upon him.”
“Right you are,” she confirmed, swallowing nausea. “No firing on the sergeant.”
She continued with her task, blasted a Bluthen armoured vehicle attacking Kulluk’s ATVEH, then another that came too close to the hill. She turned her attention back to the sky, and then to the barracks as Shrenkner classified the importance of targets and relayed their positions.
Exhaustion dragged at her senses before the attack ended. Her forearms felt like they’d been dipped in acid and she was close to throwing up where she lay. When Shrenkner finally declared an end to their participation with a, “We’re done, Sandrea,” she struggled to remove herself from the weapon.
She squirmed from the firing cockpit and hauled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the violent urge to vomit.
“Miss Sandrea,” Kulluk acknowledged.
“Sergeant, glad to see you’re in one piece.”
“Thank you.” His glance flicked to the body of the battered Bluthen. “Now that we have a moment, assuage my curiosity, what happened to him?”
“I happened to him,” she murmured, forcing back the pain-induced tears pricking her eyes.
“He killed her dog,” Shrenkner offered, proudly displaying her knowledge. “A very bad thing.”
Kulluk’s eye ridges rose ever so slightly. “So it would seem. Private, you have some explaining to do to the General.”
Ah, fuck, I really don’t feel up to that.
She barely made it down the hill on her own and a sharp cry tore from her as she bumped an arm getting into the ATVEH.
“I need to see one of Drengel’s assistants,” she groaned to Shrenkner.
No doubt there would be many in worse case than she, she’d just have to join the queue.
Shrenkner sent a glance over her. “You are unwell?”
“I’ve had worse,” she managed over a strangled moan, channelling the black knight.
“Sit tight, I’ll get you there.”
“Thanks, Shrenk’.”
Unconsciousness hovered like a dark, welcome cloud by the time they got back to base. Shrenkner reached a hand to aid her from the vehicle and she flinched.
“Sorry, Shrenk’, I don’t think I can cope with being touched.”
“Sergeant Kulluk,” Shrenkner bellowed. “We need assistance now!”
Sandrea awoke when she couldn’t scratch her nose. Well she could, but her hand felt like a hoof. Her weighty eyelids didn’t want to lift and she had to apply some serious resolve to force them open.
Bandages turned her hands into paws and covered her arms to the biceps.
Oh my God! I’ve turned into a mummy!
“Are you well?” a voice asked.
She glanced up.
“Hiya, Shrenk’!” she burbled. “Whatchaupto?”
A frown crossed Shrenkner’s face. “Is she sound?”
Drengel moved into her line of vision.
“Doc, ya gotta shtop shwayin’! Hey, I don’ feel shickan’more!”
“I may have overestimated the dose,” Drengel confessed.
“Dosey, dosey, dose,” she sang to herself.
“May have?” a deep voice doubted.
“Eugen! Yurarlive! Hoowah! Three cheers for Shzeneral Mhartak, three cheers . . .”
“Yes, General, may have. I have not previously used this anaesthetic on Sandrea. She was in considerable pain from severe burns. I could not fully predict the effect on her system.”
“So long as it is not dangerous,” Eugen growled.
“Oooo, I just lurve your voice, my Shzeneraaal.”
“Naturally I have continuously monitored her vitals,” Drengel replied, and she giggled at his funny tone. “They are normal. She is in no danger.”
“Dnger, dnger, dnger,” she added then promptly dropped off.
Sandrea’s first sight when she emerged back into the world was of Eugen receiving a report from Lieutenant Graegen. Memory offered up recent events.
Did we get royally screwed?
“What happened?”
Eugen turned and strode to her bedside.
“Good morning. We have repelled the attack.” He placed a hand on her thigh. “You are safe.”
She felt safe. “Morning?”
His head lowered in affirmation. “The attack took place yesterday.”
I’ve been out of it since then?
She slid a disgusted glance about the room. “I’m back where I started. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.”
“As much as I enjoy your company, Sandrea,” Drengel said as he walked through the doorway, “so do I.” He came to the opposite side of the bed to Eugen and checked her pupil reaction. “I’m afraid the gel dressings will have to stay on for a couple of days.”
“These?” She held up her mummified arms.
“Yes. You received significant burns from something in the Bluthen cannon.” He ran a quick scan. “You’re free to go and collect your things.”
“Thanks, Doc. Collect what things?”
“Private Shrenkner reporting, Sir.”
Sandrea tilted her head and peered around Drengel to Kendril standing in the doorway.
“Come in, Private,” Eugen ordered.
Sandrea braced her hands on the bed and pushed to sit up. Pain so fierce it strangled a cry in her throat lanced through her hands and arms. She whimpered and slumped back. Tears stung her eyes.
Eugen’s big, gentle hands eased onto her shoulders.
“Do not try to move, Sandrea.”
Burning waves echoed through her flesh.
Yeah, I got that, thanks.
“We suffered significant damage,” he said. “I’m afraid the base is no longer operational. I’ve ordered an evacuati
on.”
“We’re retreating?”
He smiled at her. “Not in so many words. A fleet has been deployed to protect this sector.” His beautiful eyes turned from her and narrowed at Shrenkner. “I would like some answers from you, Private.”
“Is this about the cannon? It was my fault, General,” Sandrea said, not feeling in any way assertive lying flat on her back.
Eugen’s eye ridges rose as his gaze returned to her. “It was your idea to attack the cannon?”
She cut short a snort of scornful denial, refutation of the fact would not clear Shrenkner.
“It was my idea to capture the cannon, General,” Shrenkner declared.
“And to use the weapon?”
“That would be me,” Sandrea owned up, raising a bandaged paw.
“And you allowed this?” Eugen speared his glance back to Shrenkner.
“She had n—”
Eugen spoke with smooth authority over the top of her. “That exhibited good resource management, Corporal. I congratulate you.”
She swivelled her eyes to Shrenkner.
Corporal?
Eugen turned back to her. “And thank you for firing upon me.”
“General?”
“To prevent my squad and me from being caught in that ambush.”
She grinned. “Pleasure was all mine, General.”
He touched a loose fist to the centre of his chest in a gesture she recognized as a thank you. “You are ready to collect your personal items?”
“Yes, if I can get up.”
“I will assist you.”
His hands slid under her shoulder blades and her body sprang to pulsing attention. She stared into his eyes and felt cocooned in an intimate wrap of safety.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
His biceps bunched and she rose. At the merest brush of his chest, heat spread in a blanketing wave through the hospital bag clothing her breasts. He settled her into a sitting position and ran a large hand down her spine. Her eager body traced its warmth and hungered for more.
Alien, Mine Page 8