Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2) Page 23

  The White Company, Barracks, Besquith Base

  “Top, take First Company down to the furthest building, and I will send one of my platoons to the second building,” Colonel Moretti said.

  The three-story barracks buildings were burning nicely. Each of them had been hit with at least two of the 55-gallon drums of diethylzinc, and it looked like the middle building had been hit by no less than four; the barrels ruptured as they hit, spraying diethylzinc all over the building, which then immediately caught fire as it was exposed to the air.

  100 years before, people might have confused it with napalm, but it was much, much worse; unlike napalm, it was a liquid. It ran into cracks, under doors, and anywhere else the enemy might be hiding. The screams when he had first arrived had been horrific. Several of the Besquith had stumbled out of the building on fire, trying to escape the flames. They had been shot down like dogs.

  It was an awful way to die, but it was evening the odds nicely. And if the Besquith had nuked Asbaran, they deserved it. As another Besquith stumbled out of the building on fire, Moretti changed his mind. No. No one ‘deserved’ to die like that, even the Besquith.

  With a roar, a missile lifted off across the starport. Moretti watched it go, thankful he was on the ground. That was at least the third that had launched. The missile exploded, illuminating the dropship it had just hit.

  “Looks like they just bagged one of the dropships,” First Sergeant Valenti radioed.

  “I saw it,” Moretti replied. “Obviously there are mutts over at the air defense positions.”

  “Want me to send a squad? I saw at least one parachute; we might be able to recover the pilot.”

  “No, we need to make sure we clean out the barracks first. Anyone that got out will have to—”

  The day turned to night as an enormous fireball covered the entire air defense site.

  “That ought to suppress the air defenses some,” Valenti noted.

  “No shit. Okay, let’s concentrate on the barracks, and then we’ll see if we can find the pilots.”

  “Movement!” Corporal Rick ‘Waldo’ Ewald shouted. “Here they come!”

  Moretti turned in time to see the pack come around the end of the building. Already in an arrowhead formation, the group of 10 Besquith fired light lasers as they raced toward his men.

  “Platoon, fire!” he ordered, sending the location of the enemy via a push to the other troopers still in company with him. “Light ‘em up, Waldo!”

  Moretti lifted his right arm, braced himself and began firing his arm-mounted .70 caliber machine gun. “Chunk! Chunk! Chunk!” The rifle fired three-round bursts, and two of his first three shots hit the lead Besquith as it charged straight toward him. The rounds could pass through a quarter-inch steel plate, and the first round had no problem going through the creature’s helmet, skull, and back out the other side. The alien looked like it had run into a wall; its head snapped down, breaking its neck, and its rush turned into a tumble. In a bit of overkill, the second bullet tore out the Besquith’s lungs.

  Ewald opened up with his minigun, sweeping the six-barrel rotary machine gun back and forth across the oncoming force. Thousands of .50 caliber hyper-fragmentation bullets scythed through the formation, and most of the aliens dropped. The rest of the platoon joined in, and the attack was destroyed. Only one Besquith remained alive. Shot through the spine, it continued to crawl toward Moretti using only its arms, saliva and blood dripping from the corners of its snarling mouth, its back legs useless.

  Moretti took two steps forward, flipped the alien over, and pinned it to the ground. One round through the head, and the Besquith stilled.

  “Hey, does anyone smell barbeque?” Corporal Hicks asked.

  Moretti turned to look at him. Even through the suit, his body language indicated displeasure.

  “Too soon, sir?” Hicks asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Second Platoon, First Company, Blood Drinkers

  “The base is under attack,” Sergeant Creg-An reported.

  “Is that what is happening?” Staff Sergeant Cahl-Ga, the First Platoon leader asked. “We saw the sky light up and thought there had been an accident. Where are you currently? Can you see who is attacking?”

  “We are approaching the starport from the north, but we haven’t made contact with any of the enemy yet. I suspect it is the humans but can’t confirm.”

  “That makes sense,” Staff Sergeant Cahl-Ga noted. “We are approaching from the east. I saw several missile launches, so it looks like the missile folks are active.”

  “They were. It looks like they just got hit with some kind of fire bomb. I don’t know how many of them survived. The humans also hit the barracks with fire bombs. They are on fire, and I do not believe we will receive much support.”

  “Understood. It is up to us to hold the base. Search out opportunities to hit them where you can do so without losing many troops. We don’t know how many troops they have, and until we do, we will want to minimize our losses.”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant; I will do as you instruct.”

  “Good. We will be there soon. Out.”

  “First platoon is on their way,” Sergeant Creg-An said as the platoon approached one of the outlying buildings. “We are to look for opportunities to hit the enemy.” He pulled out his night vision glasses and surveyed the surrounding area. “There is a ship on the starport,” he noted.

  “Why do you suppose it’s there?” Corporal Stel-Ca asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sergeant Creg-An replied. “Corporal Shah-Ca, are you in position to see the starport?”

  “Yes. A ship just landed.”

  “Can you see what’s going on around it?”

  “It doesn’t look like anything is going on. No one is offloading. The ship is just sitting there.”

  “The ship is our opportunity,” Sergeant Creg-An noted. He nodded to the vehicles surrounding them. “This is how we’re going to exploit it.”

  Asbaran Force, HQ Building, Besquith Base

  Mason was already giving orders when Nigel landed next to him at the side of the headquarters building. “Glad you could make it, sir,” he said. “I took the liberty of assigning some duties in your absence; here’s what I’d like to do. I’m not a big fan of opening doors when people know I’m coming, so I’d like to take Otter and Lucky with me and enter through the second floor. I sent Corporal Sparks and Privates Lewis and Freese to watch the back door, and I’d like it if you’d stay here to shoot any Besquith that tries to escape through the front.”

  “So, basically, I stay out of the way and let you do your job?”

  “I guess you could look at it that way, sir, if you had to. I’d prefer if you’d look at it like you were controlling the fight from a place where you could see the whole battlefield.”

  An enormous fireball engulfed the missile revetments to the southeast, adding to the light of the burning barracks buildings to the southwest.

  “See sir?” Mason added. “A good commander would want to know what just happened over there, since that wasn’t part of the plan. While you do that, we’ll just go take a look around inside.”

  “Damn it, Mason,” Nigel said. A second blast came from just north of the antiaircraft position, and Nigel sighed. “Okay, go ahead. But be careful, all right?”

  Mason smiled. “Vigilance is my middle name.” He turned to Corporal Melissa Otero and Corporal Jim Day. “Let’s go.” Without a further word, he jumped, rocketing upward to smash headfirst through a window on the second floor of the building. The corporals launched themselves through the air and crashed through windows on either side of Mason’s point of entry.

  East of the Starport, Besquith Base, Planet Moorhouse

  LT Seville checked her parachute. Good canopy. Well, at least one thing went right tonight. She looked down to check her landing area and found the whole area lit up from the fire burning at the air defense site. From what she could see, the drop tank had landed a little short of he
r aim point, but it had then burst and coated most of the area in whatever the hell the substance was. Most of the missile emplacements were burning merrily as their ammunition cooked off under the ferocious heat of the fire. The dropship had come down a little further north on one of the revetments. She smiled. Those were good things, too.

  The smile was fleeting. The fires lit the area so well she could see that there were still a number of Besquith soldiers running around. Some were trying to extinguish the flames in various places, to little avail. Others were trying to move ammunition away from the spreading flames. Unfortunately, there were still others who appeared to have decided to look for the people who attacked them and continue the fight. She could see them quite clearly as she rocked slightly in her chute…and if she could see the Besquith, they could see her.

  She tried to draw her pistol, and nearly passed out as a wave of pain lanced through her arm. Looking down, she could see that her arm bent unnaturally at the wrist; it must have been broken in the ejection and she hadn’t noticed it until then.

  She wouldn’t be able to fire or to even draw her pistol with her right hand.

  Damn it.

  She tried to reach over with her left hand, but the parachute straps were in the way. All she did was cause the parachute to sway, aggravating her arm. Damn it!

  She looked down, dreading what she’d see, but none of the Besquith seemed to have noticed her. They were all firing at something to the south of her. Holding her right arm as close to her chest as she could to protect it, she reached up with her left hand and grabbed the handle on the parachute risers. Slowly, the parachute turned, her right arm on fire with the effort.

  Finally she could see what they were aiming at. As she had feared, they were firing at LTJG Minion in his parachute. She strained to get her pistol again, but once again the risers kept her from reaching it. She drew a breath to scream and draw their attention, but saw she was too late. Dark had been riddled with both laser fire and some kind of MAC-like weapon. The Besquith continued to fire at the copilot, even though he was now slumped in his chute, laughing as they fired. One of the MAC rounds severed his left riser and that half of the canopy flew up, turning the parachute into a streamer. Dark fell the remaining 30 feet to crash into the ground where he lay unmoving.

  Bastards. They’d pay for that.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The White Company, Barracks, Besquith Base

  “Movement from the east!” someone radioed. “Holy shit! Armor! I’ve got armor coming from the east!”

  The radio went wild.

  “When did the mutts get armor?”

  “No one told me we were going up against armor!”

  “This ain’t happening, man!”

  “Everyone knock that shit off! Moretti ordered, using his command suit to override everyone else’s transmissions. “So they’ve got armor. We’ve faced armor before. Now shut the hell up so we can deal with it. Valenti, what have you got?”

  “We’ve got at least one tank and three APCs headed our way. We’re going to need assistance.”

  “Copy. The northern barracks building is pretty done. Everyone, head to First Company’s position on the double. Let’s go—shag ass!”

  Inside his suit Moretti shook his head as he activated his jets and jumped. Where had the Besquith gotten the armor? If they had it here, did they have more of it somewhere else? He shrugged off the thought; he’d deal with the approaching forces first and would worry about any additional forces afterward. If there was an afterward.

  Asbaran Force, HQ Building, Besquith Base

  Head down, Mason crashed through the window, pieces of acrylate splintering in all directions. Smashing the pseudo-glass didn’t make as much noise as real glass would have, but the slamming sounds of three half-ton suits landing above them was sure to be loud enough for any Besquith below to know the humans had arrived.

  Mason knew their time was limited.

  The interior of the room was much darker than outside, and Mason activated the suit’s low-light monitor. Nothing worthwhile. It was some sort of office space and the middle of the night; no one was there.

  “Follow me,” Mason said, heading to the door. He threw it open; the hallway beyond the door was just as dark; no light showed from underneath the other seven doors. The floor seemed quiet…except for the Besquith at the end of the hall. The enemy soldier had been aiming a weapon out a window on the front of the building; as Mason opened the door, it turned and fired back down the hallway.

  Mason dove back into the room. The Besquith was a split-second too slow; the cannon rounds narrowly missed the human and destroyed the wall at the end of the corridor.

  “Grenade, right,” Mason said as he picked himself off the floor. “One Besquith, 50 feet down the corridor.”

  “You got it, Top,” Otter said. She stepped to the doorway, pulled the pin from a grenade, and lobbed it down the hallway without looking. The grenade detonated, and she stepped into the passageway. The Besquith was already down, trying to hold its stomach together. She shot it through the head with her laser. “Clear!” she exclaimed.

  “Good job,” Mason said, coming out of the room behind her and heading toward the staircase. “Let’s go.”

  Asbaran Command, HQ Building, Besquith Base

  “Dropship One, Asbaran Command,” Nigel radioed. “Come in!” He had tried a couple of times, but hadn’t received an answer. Hopefully, the fireball at the missile revetments hadn’t been the dropship. They only had two.

  “Command, this is Dropship Two. Dropship One is down. There may have been a chute; it was hard to see.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. The White Company was facing armor, and Nigel had no idea if they had the weapons to deal with them. He felt completely worthless standing in front of the headquarters building waiting for Besquith that might try to escape. He didn’t have any help to send the White Company nor could he go look for the pilots. They were already spread too thin. Moretti would have to deal with the armor on his own, and the pilots, if they had even made it out in time, would have to take care of themselves. What else could go wrong?

  “Command, this is the Vindicator. We are having problems with one of our engines. We had to land on the south side of the starport and shut it down before it blew up.”

  Fuck.

  East of the Starport, Besquith Base

  “Ow, damn it!” Mama exclaimed through clenched teeth as she crashed to the ground. All the advances in alien technology, and parachutes still drop you like a ton of shit. A light breeze filled her chute and began pulling her along the ground, jarring her arm and making her feel like she was being dragged along a cheese grater.

  “Damn it!” she exclaimed again, trying to work the attachment holding her to the chute. “Better,” she gasped as the left riser came loose. Without it, the chute lost its ability to hold air and she collapsed to the ground. She would have loved to lay there until a medic arrived, but she knew the only medics on her side of the starport were Besquith…and they probably weren’t going to have the kind of bedside manner she was hoping for.

  Holding her arm close, she struggled to her feet and released the other parachute connection. The parachute tried to blow off in the breeze, but she stepped on it to hold it in place. She might need some of it.

  The terrain was rocky, with 15-foot hills of stone sticking up everywhere. She wouldn’t be able to see the Besquith until they were close, but they also wouldn’t be able to find her as easily. Hopefully, they didn’t have a good sense of smell.

  “Okay, think,” she muttered. “What have I got?” Not much. One laser pistol, which, in a combat environment where the enemy was armored, was more likely to annoy the opposing soldiers than seriously damage them. She also had the two grenades she had talked the White Company supply sergeant out of, but they weren’t going to be as helpful with her throwing arm broken.

  Maybe she could make a trap that would stop pursuit. She could cut some of her parachute co
rds to make a tripwire that would pull the pin out of one of her grenades. Tying it would be a bitch, but possible. She had sawed through two of the cords when she heard the sounds of someone coming.

  Well, shit. Tucking the cords under her bad arm, she pulled one of the grenades out of a cargo pocket and pulled the pin. The noises were closer, boots on rocks. She raced to the next outcropping and lobbed the grenade underhanded back toward where she’d been. The throw wasn’t going to win any distance competitions, but it was on target, landing near the outcropping where the noises had been coming from.

  She had just rounded the next corner when it detonated.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The White Company, Barracks, Besquith Base

  Colonel Moretti paused at the top of his jump to survey the battlefield. The tank was easy to spot on the starport pad in front of the last barracks building—its muzzle flash indicated its position. Unfortunately, the flash also indicated the tank mounted what looked to be a good size particle accelerator cannon (PAC), or at least some kind of energy weapon. The PAC was certainly doing a good job on the last barracks building; the last third of it had collapsed into a pile of bricks and ferrocrete.

  Madonna! He recognized the vehicle. New enough he hadn’t seen one yet on the Rim, he had certainly heard of them. The Besquith had a Zuul heavy tank! Almost 50 feet long, the massive war machine not only mounted the enormous PAC but also six smaller lasers and four missile launchers for close-in defense. The vehicle ran on a fusion power plant, so even if you presented it with enough targets for it to run out of missiles, its lasers and PAC had the power necessary to operate for years.

  The weapons on the APCs alongside the tank began winking at him, and shells filled the sky where his troopers were advancing. Great. There were five APCs, and it appeared all of them had an anti-air capability. One of the APCs began firing at him, and he willed gravity to work faster so he could get below the shelter of the rooftop. As he touched down, several of the men with him crashed and tumbled to a stop.