by V. B. Larson
“Laserfire!” he shouted, throwing himself onto his belly. Major Lee followed suit, almost as fast. The young lieutenant, however, didn’t drop reflexively. There was another flash of heat and a hissing sound, and the lieutenant did join them on the ground, thrashing with a hole blasted in his chest.
More shots hissed into the snow. A blackened gouge appeared in the steel hull of the lifter overhead. Ari exchanged glances with Major Lee. Plumes of white mist billowed from Lee’s clenched teeth.
“We’re being hit from behind,” grunted Major Lee.
Nodding, Ari scrambled to his feet and threw himself into the open door of the lifter pilot’s cupola. Major Lee was right behind him. Together they climbed into the glove-like seats and hunkered down away from the exposed windshield.
Up about ten feet now, they could easily see their attackers. Bounding along the snowy road, a large number of bizarre animals poured in among the vehicles. Almost everyone was looking at the battle for the terminal; most were taken completely by surprise. A newsie man, speaking into a holo-camera, was gutted even as he paused to sip some hot caf. The man with the camera ran, but was quickly overtaken and decapitated by one of the things as it bounded high over his head.
The things. Running like ostriches, looking like small gray dinosaurs with hands and no heads, they immediately brought cold numbing terror into Ari’s gut. Handling weapons expertly in their three-fingered hands, they seemed as efficient at killing with their bladed feet as with guns.
The lifter whined and lurched. Ari looked over at Major Lee, who was flipping switches and pulling at slide-controls. The engines screamed into life and Ari felt his seat vibrate beneath him. “You know how to fly this thing?”
“No, but I can get us into the air on autopilot,” said Major Lee, his face pulled in a tight snarl.
Even as he spoke the lifter rose up and became airborne. Ari, finally getting his wits about him now that the immediate threat of death seemed more remote, ordered the waves of troops in the parking lot to pull back and attack the monsters pouring through the gates. Below them, he saw the fabric walls of the medical dome fall in shreds before three of the aliens. It was obvious that a terrific slaughter had begun inside. Holes from laserfire burned through the walls and dome. Wounded men staggered out the exits, falling and dying in the snow.
Another channel on his phone beeped insistently. With infinite irritation, he opened the link. “What do you want?”
“General Steinbach? This is Governor Droad.”
Major Lee, fighting the controls to keep the lifter hovering about a hundred feet over the battle, shot him a glance of surprise.
“What do you want?” repeated Ari, frowning. He had finally recalled his sidearm and pulled it out, releasing the safety.
“General Steinbach, you must listen to me. We must talk. Aliens are attacking both of us. It is ridiculous to proceed with fighting among ourselves,” said Droad.
“So, you think we should let you out of that terminal, do you?” began Ari, snarling. Then his face changed-became speculative. His thoughts turned to his satchel in the upper row of lockers in the arrivals section. “Perhaps you are right…”
“I suggest we fight together. There are more of them than just the ones hitting you from the rear. There are flocks of flying aliens coming at you-at us-from the trees, and more gigantic ones from the riverfront.”
“Hold on a moment,” said Ari. He pulled his field goggles over his eyes and gazed east, sure enough a lumbering horde of creatures, gigantic creatures, were moving up from the swampy shores of the river. To the west, tiny dark specks flitted toward them from the trees.
“What do you suggest?” asked Ari, deflated. Things were completely out of his hands. His first instinct was to run, but not without his satchel. Ari envisioned Droad as a cruel school bully, dangling his satchel just out of reach.
“Order your first wave and the troops in body-shell to enter the terminal, we won’t fire. Then land your lifter, load it with all the men you can from your second wave and bring them into the terminal, too. We need walls between us and the enemy immediately.”
Ari pursed his lips. He and Major Lee exchanged knowing smiles. Into the phone he said, “I agree, Governor Droad. You have my word that my troops will cease firing on you, at least for the duration of this much more significant situation.”
“Excellent. Move now,” replied Droad. Ari frowned in annoyance at the clipped tone of command that had entered Droad’s voice so quickly.
“Steinbach’s scared. I think he’ll join us, at least for now,” said Governor Droad. “Tell me what we should do with these aliens. They seem to be forming up ranks before they attack. At least that gives us a few minutes.”
“I detected the alien maneuvers that are up on the holo-plates now with the radio-scanner initially,” explained Jarmo. “For the last day or so the communications officer and I have noticed unusual traffic on several rarely used frequencies. After learning from Doctor Risi that the aliens used built-in radios to communicate, I simply set the air-traffic control computer to search for emissions in the proper frequency range and report them as traffic contacts. Here’s what I got,” he said, manipulating a keyboard with his stubby fingers. The holo-plate changed to a normal topographical view of the immediate spaceport, but on it were an incredible number of contacts. Hanging beside each contact were ghostly identification letters. There were a number of them moving up from the riverbank, larger groups coming from the trees and the main entrance to the spaceport. “They’re all classified as unknown, of course.”
“So, we can at least track their movements,” said Droad, nodding. “That’s quite an advantage.”
They watched as the flying aliens joined up with the ostrich-like ones at the main entrance. Together they advanced into the parking lots, while the giants from the river swung around to approach the terminal from the rear.
“Can we recall the Stormbringers? The aliens should be easy targets for them.”
Jarmo shook his head. “Captain Dorman has already scrambled his planes and has engaged the enemy attacking Grunstein.”
Droad nodded. “Well, we can’t very well call them back to save us while a whole city full of civilians is under attack. If he disengages, tell him to come back and give us a hand.”
Jarmo worked his phone.
“Put those river-things on the main plate,” Droad ordered the operator.
Instantly, massive creatures seemed to be running in place on the plate. They were huge, lizard-like things on four legs. Their backs and head were encased with what appeared to be natural scaly armor. Their broad, triangular heads weaved from side to side as they walked. Sprouting from the center of each triangular head was a long black horn of some kind.
“These things are so large that they were actually walking on the bottom of the river to sneak up on us,” said Jarmo, shaking his head. “Dorman says he’ll return as soon as he can. He also says that there are definitely aliens flying the rogue Stormbringers.”
Droad looked at him in amazement. Still looking amazed, he turned back to the main holo-plate. Whatever these things were, they were definitely intelligent. “It seems that they are preparing for a major attack. What about General Steinbach and my greatly delayed mechs?”
“General Steinbach appears to be complying with your directions. He’s using his lifter to transport his troops here. The mechs are also close, they will land in about two minutes.”
The image on the holo-plate changed again, this time depicting a militia lifter wobbling unevenly as it landed hundreds of troops onto the roof of the terminal building.
Droad nodded, then stood up. “It’s time we greeted our reinforcements.”
Leaving Jun and some of the security men on duty, Jarmo and Droad headed for the arrivals section. There they greeted General Steinbach and Major Lee, just coming down the steps into the building. There was a pause as the two sides met. Hundreds of militia riflemen were right there, facing a handful of
Nexus-loyal security people, giants and Stormbringer pilots. Weapons were held in white-knuckled hands.
“My good Governor,” said Steinbach coming forward with a falsely warm smile. “Let’s put aside our differences. Men should not fight men while these monsters destroy us all with indifference.”
“Do you swear your allegiance to the Nexus?” asked Droad severely.
Steinbach took a step back in shock. “Certainly, sir. I take pride in my loyalty to the Nexus.”
Jarmo snorted rudely.
“Do you swear allegiance to me as your duly appointed Governor?”
Steinbach turned white. His hands shook. For some reason, he kept looking over the Governor’s shoulder at the alcoves containing the restrooms and the rentable luggage lockers.
“Ah… I’m not closed to such a consideration, but this isn’t the time to debate your legitimacy. Let us fight together, and then decide matters of authority and legality at a later time.”
All eyes were upon Droad and Steinbach. Droad finally smiled. “Good enough, they’re almost upon us.”
Together, the men rushed to the barricades.
“For once they’re all pointing their weapons in the same direction,” said Droad, smiling at the sight.
“Let’s see what they do when it’s over, assuming we’re alive then,” said Jarmo.
Once inside of accurate rifle range, the aliens charged the terminal building with frightening speed. A horde of gray shapes came on, sailing over parked vehicles in single bounds. Zooming around and among them came the flying things, spreading their odd bodies into perfectly aerodynamic gliding shapes.
The men in the terminal building screamed and pulled their triggers until their fingers bled. Thousands of explosive rounds and lancing laser pulses ripped the air and the aliens. The fantastic bodies of the aliens flew apart. Some of them, blown nearly to fragments, continued to crawl, hop or creep forward, ignoring their missing body parts.
The flocks of flying things arrived first, immediately dropping shrades into the ranks of militiamen. Even less disciplined than the rank and file militia thugs that guarded the streets and gave out traffic tickets, the reservists were quick to rout. Ragged holes were torn in the line even before the headless killing machines with their deadly bladed feet could arrive.
“Sir, they’re hitting us from the rear!”
“What’s that?” shouted Droad motioning forward 1st tactical squad, which they had held in reserve to keep the line. The terrific din of battle inside the large echoing terminal building made it almost impossible to hear.
“The giant ones, they’re tearing their way into the jetways and the coming down the ramps from the gate areas!” roared Jarmo, his deep voice cutting through the clamor. “We should send half 1st tactical squad to deal with them!”
Droad nodded. “Take some of your men and join them,” he said. He gave Jarmo a look, which the other immediately interpreted. Neither of them wanted Steinbach’s men behind them and on their own.
“Good thinking, sir,” said Jarmo, trotting off with his plasma cannon unslung.
The fighting went hard in the main terminal. Droad observed that his men had the numbers and the firepower, but they lacked the ferocity and discipline of the aliens, who were clearly oblivious to death and pain. When perhaps a third of the men were down, they fell back in disorder, taking more casualties as they broke ranks. The aliens, however, fought on without change although more than half of them had been destroyed.
Soon, every one of their snipers on the roof had been killed. The battle raged on, pushing the men back. At the second barricade in front of the doors of the security center and still holding the tops of the escalators, they held them. Using his sidearm to good advantage, Droad personally shot two of the hideous slug-like things that the flying horrors had vomited in the midst of his men.
A firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him around. He lifted his laser pistol reflexively, but it was only Sergeant Manstein.
“Things are going badly in the rear,” Manstein shouted. “They can’t stop those things at the gates. They’ll be in here soon!”
Droad nodded. For a moment he stood panting, his face drawn and white with the stress of days of siege and battle. Then he ran to Steinbach, who was standing with Major Lee in the middle of a knot of men in body-shell. He relayed what Manstein had told him. Although Steinbach was reluctant, they were soon all heading for the gate area at a dead run.
Things were indeed going badly, thought Droad. Jun was killed, gored and trampled until his corpse was almost unrecognizable. Many men in black body-shell lay strewn about the scene. A dozen of the giant monsters were down, some of them only wounded. Trapped up on a catwalk in a construction area, Jarmo and the last of the men in body-shell were cornered and being stalked by the monstrous killers.
“Use concentrated fire to bring one of them down,” said Droad opening up on the leading monster. Surprised by this new attack, the rest pulled back into one of the gate areas, out of view.
Jarmo and his surviving men joined the others. Crouching behind a row of seats in the non-narcotic waiting area, a tense discussion began.
“Let’s pull back. These things can’t get us in the corridors,” suggested Major Lee.
“We can’t just let a pack of ten ton monsters roam around at our rear,” returned Droad in exasperation.
“What did you do to my tactical squad?” Steinbach demanded of Jarmo, livid fury on his face. “This must be the most frustrating day of my life.”
“We both took each other by surprise. I think they meant to sneak up on us while the other beasts hit us from the front, but that failed. Unfortunately, they did manage to ambush us.”
“Ambush you? Ambush you? How can a pack of dinosaurs ambush anyone?” asked Steinbach, beating one gloved fist into another.
“It was a tactical error,” admitted a Captain of the tactical squad, speaking up for the first time. “It was my error, not Jarmo’s. From the description, we were expecting a herd of elephants, something like that, but these things are intelligent. They stayed back in the dark and then rushed us from either side. At first our body-shells saved us, but then they simply knocked us down, planted one of their huge feet on our guns and gored us.”
Jarmo nodded in agreement. “They are faster than they look when charging.”
Steinbach made a rude sound of disgust. He walked away from the circle of men. “I’m surrounded by incompetence,” he muttered.
“What are they up to now?” asked Droad.
“They’re holding back, waiting for reinforcements, perhaps, or new orders by radio,” said Jarmo. Before he could say more, the sky outside brightened with an orange glare and the earth shook beneath their feet.
Droad looked at Jarmo and smiled. “The mechs.”
As Droad expected, the battle for Grunstein International had been going well for the humans up until that point, but the arrival of the mechs decided it. They came out of their jump-webbing at a dead run, weapons blazing. Two flitters came down in front of the terminal, hitting the aliens there from the rear, while two more landed in the blastpans and a terrific struggle began with the monsters among the gates.
Cagey and wary, the juggers knew they were out-matched by the combined forces of the humans, but they didn’t immediately attack in the berserk frenzy so common to the other types. These larger ones behaved more like hunters, more like men. They worked to sell their lives as dearly as possible. When it was all over, three of the mechs had been rendered inoperative.
Walking back to the security center through the smoking ruins of the terminal building, Droad noticed Jarmo, who came up and fell into step beside him.
“This is the time for caution, sir,” said Jarmo in a hushed voice. His ever-vigilant eyes flicked over every moving thing around them.
Droad nodded vaguely, almost too tired to care if the militiamen assassinated him.
They made it all the way back to the center before Sergeant Manstein as
ked: “Hey, where did Steinbach go?”
Droad looked around, surprised. He had just been there a moment before, hadn’t he? The last he could recall seeing him was sometime before the counterattack by the mechs. After that he had simply vanished.
“He couldn’t have run out on us, where is there to go?” remarked Sergeant Manstein.
“Go find him, Jarmo,” said Droad. “I don’t trust the good General. From now on, it is your personal responsibility to keep an eye on him.”
Jarmo walked away, smiling.
Eighteen
“Come on, you bastard! Come on,” Ari hissed. He twisted the handle again, but the door wouldn’t open. With an inarticulate sound of frustration he reinserted his identification card. He held his hands out before him, balled into fists, and pleaded with the locker door. “Don’t be broken, oh please.”
During the battles over the terminal building, the lockers had fared rather well, but they hadn’t escaped damage completely. Several bullet-gouges and black laser-scorings marked the casement. The stainless steel finish of Ari’s locker, in particular, was anything but stainless. A dark blotch of black and brown with a center of warped metal marked the heat of a deflected laser blast. The card-slot rejected his card again, spitting it out with a tiny electric whine.
“No, no, NO!” Ari howled. He pounded the locker around the hinges and the latch mechanism. Finally, something gave and the locker yawned open with dramatic slowness. His hand darted inside and drew out the satchel.
Placing the satchel delicately on the floor, he hunched over it like a hyena guarding its kill. Furtively, he flicked his eyes around the terminal building. No one seemed to be watching him. In fact, there was almost no one in sight of the locker area. A divider stood between him and the militia reservists who were taking roll and counting their dead in the main hall.
Careful to open the satchel with the precise movements that were safe, and making doubly sure that the anti-theft systems were disabled with a hand-held snooper, he checked the contents. A great, beaming smile of relief relaxed his pinched features. The codekeys were there, undamaged and still in their protective cases. Everything was in order.