Starforge unsec space bo.., p.2
Starforge (UNSEC Space Book 3), page 2
Did they close them because they can’t cover them all? Did they booby-trap the rest of them? Once more she fired a few rounds at the open door. She was closer, but even with the enhancements of the visor she couldn’t pick out any details past the first few feet, darkness swallowing everything else. They must have turned the emergency lights off.
Shida signaled at her, asking if they’d be pushing up in another zig-zag. She shook her head. The boots have already learned to watch for it. The body bleeding on the street behind them was a warning of that.
My fault. Or maybe the term she was looking for was responsibility. Maybe. There’d be time to think about it later. And maybe curl in a corner somewhere with a drink.
After they pushed UNSEC off Glavere.
“Ma’am?” It was Andy, looking for orders.
“Hold,” she said. “Wait for Eijo.” Andy nodded, though that didn’t stop his fireteam from popping a few shots off back at the loading bay doors. The emplacement roared back, a dragon against their knights.
Come on Eijo. Be a wizard.
Another alert flashed in the corner of her hud, a high-priority broadcast. She told her suit to play it and ducked around the corner of the concrete once more, firing a quick burst before retreating from a hail of return fire. Probably another dropship launching with more boots running—
“This is an open broadcast to any listening UNSEC jackboots. The last capital air defense battery is now under the control of the free people of Glavere. If you fall back now, we will not fire on your remaining dropships and allow you to leave in peace. Say again, your final holdout is under attack. Pull out now, and we will not open fire on your dropships.”
She waited, glancing at the rest of her squad and noticing that they too seemed fairly fixed on their visors. Even the fire from the heavy emplacement had let up.
The voice’s message continued to play, starting over and repeating the message. The heavy gun opened up once more, spraying tracer fire through the air above Anara’s head. She glanced at Andy’s fireteam. “I guess that’s their answer.” And where the hell is Eijo?
As if summoned she spotted movement at the far side of the intersection, a figure in ragged, battered riot gear waving in her direction. One of Eijo’s fireteam. She gave a wave back as behind them, she spotted Eijo and his team moving around the edge of the loading bay docks, sticking close to the far wall as they moved for the bay doors.
They were halfway there when the door closest to them rolled up, gunfire pouring out like a wave.
Two of Eijo’s fireteam went down instantly, either from hits or from reflex, she couldn’t tell. The rest returned fire, scattering … but they were caught in the open.
Her decision was made in an instant. Her shout echoed down the street, swallowed up under the sudden torrent of automatic fire, but it no longer mattered. She darted out from cover, firing in the direction of the open bay as she sprinted.
Please let me not be the only one. Off to her right another member of Eijo’s team went down, but she could see something large and boxy flying through the air, hurled by one of the fireteam. Muzzle flashes lit the dark of the bay ahead of her, bullets streaking past her. Someone screamed, in pain or elation she couldn’t tell. Shida’s team was rushing forward as well, firing and yelling.
A titanic bang roared down the street as Eijo’s stolen satchel charge went off, light and fire illuminating the inside of the loading bay even as it ripped apart the door his people had been pressing toward. Anara slowed, sighting down her rifle at a boot who’d been hidden in the darkness and firing. She wasn’t sure if her shot found its mark or not, but the figure dropped back into cover, their fire ceasing.
She was in the intersection, and somehow she hadn’t been shot yet. Part of her felt almost detached, like she was watching the view from her eyes through a screen as she rushed forward, down the loading bay ramp and toward the doors. She could hear others rushing with her, but wasn’t sure which of them had made it. At least two members of Eijo’s team were breaching the bay door shredded by the satchel charge. Tracer fire from the emplaced machine gun began to sweep toward her—
And then it stopped, the gun going silent. Why she couldn’t say. She hit the backstop at the bottom of the loading dock hard enough to almost knock the breath from her lungs, even with her arms cushioning the blow, but she couldn’t stop. She scrambled up it and into the bay, her knees grazing the edges of the concrete and letting out faint whimpers of pain almost as distant to her as the faint roar of another dropship taking off and arcing into the sky.
And then she was inside, her rifle up and ready, visor adjusting to the darkened interior and giving her a view of what they’d been up against.
Four boots. All of them dead. Two had been inside an erected barricade of heavily pocked metal crates just past the illumination provided by the door. The other two—or at least what looked like the remains of two—had been part of the ambush that had eaten the satchel charge. There wasn’t much left of them.
“We’ve got a live one.” The comment came from a member of Eijo’s team as they neared the side of the barricade. “Gut wound.”
Reflex took over. “Stay back,” she warned, following her own advice and slowing. “Check for traps.”
“Damn boots.” She wasn’t sure who said it, but she couldn’t disagree with the sentiment as what was left of her squad carefully moved forward.
“Watch the doors,” she said, motioning toward the back of the facility. “Somebody keep an eye out. See if we can get the lights on.” Only when she’d gotten an affirmative that someone else was looking did she turn and see how many members of her squad had gone down during the final rush.
It was less than she’d feared. And yet still too many. Two bodies lay along the final stretch from their mad dash to the loading bay. Add to that most of Eijo’s team being wiped out, she thought as she turned, looking for the fireteam leader and not finding him.
Shit.
Six dead or wounded. All because of her charge. Her orders.
And the boots. The only reason more of them weren’t dead was because they’d only been up against four, and two of them had been shredded by Eijo’s satchel.
Her people were still fanning out through the loading docks, checking for tripwires, mines, and any other number of nasty surprises. They had a moment to breathe. Which meant it was time to call it in.
She keyed her comms, noting a large amount of chatter across a number of open bands used by the revolt. “Central, this is squad thirty-four, reporting wounded and one prisoner, also wounded, at the loading bay docks. Requesting new orders: push or hold?”
She waited, glancing around at the rest of her squad. What was left of Eijo’s fireteam had checked the defensive barricade and apparently found it clear of traps, now somewhat roughly tying up their wounded prisoner. One of them spit on the wounded boot, but she didn’t say anything. Ill treatment she could ignore, especially of boots that were home-grown Glavere citizens. Outright abuse she wouldn’t, and her squad knew that.
“Tripwire!” Everyone froze for a moment, glancing in the direction of the cry to make sure they weren’t within any possible blast zone. The call had come from up on one of the catwalks that crisscrossed the roof of the facility. “Trapped the lights. Give me a minute.”
The team relaxed, going back to keeping their attention on their own sectors of the shipping facility. Thankfully, most of it was open space for loaders and lifts arrayed along one wall. The doors at the back of the bay were the access to the storage and sorting facility for any shipments that arrived.
Her hud flashed, and a moment later a voice in her ear was delivering updated orders. “Squad thirty-four, UNSEC are in full-scale retreat. Push through the loading facility to the landing pads and hold position. Medical authorities will be routed to your current position.”
She blinked. UNSEC’s pulling out but we’re still pushing? Her confusion must have shown on her face, as a few of her nearby squad members gave her questioning looks. “Acknowledged, central. Pushing.” She dropped her hand, looking at the rest of her squad as the lights flashed into being, illuminating the loading bay and their small, war-torn corner of it.
“We’re pushing!” she shouted. “Through the sorting facility, and all the way to the pads!” Someone let out a cheer. “Form up on the back doors, check for traps, and we push the boots off our necks!”
“You,” she said, her voice more subdued as she turned her focus toward one of the remaining members of Eijo’s team, trying to recall their name. “Tova.”
“Yes ma’am?”
“When you’re done lacing that boot up, stay here and check our people for survivors, then hold the area until the doctors show up. Then rejoin us.” She could see a bit of disappointment in his eyes as he nodded, but he was the youngest member of their squad by far. Not that it was saying much.
He’s only eight years younger than I am, she thought as she headed for the back of the room, pausing only to grab a few magazines for her rifle from the boots’ defensive position. They wouldn’t need them anymore.
Shame we can’t take the machine gun, she thought as she neared one of the rear doors. But the boots had bolted the thing to the crate, probably with keeping it out of their hands in mind.
There were only nine members of her squad left, fanning out around the doors to the shipping center as she neared. Some of them were already calling to check for traps. One was even using a clearance camera off to one side of the controls, looking to see what was waiting for them. Probably nothing but traps.
“Looks clear, ma’am,” they said as she approached. “We taking the landing field?”
“We’re going to try,” she said, taking up a position beside the doorframe. “Central says UNSEC is pulling out at last. I saw another dropship take off, so there must only be one or two left.”
“If the boots are pulling out, why is command having us push in?” a member of Andy’s team asked. “Does it matter?”
“I’m sure they’ve got their reasons,” Anara replied. “Maybe they need a little pressure.”
“Oh, I’ll give ‘em that,” someone else remarked. “I’ve got a magazine full of pressure!”
She nodded as a few other squad members laughed. I guess none of them are worried about the bodies we’re leaving behind. Or maybe they were, and they simply were dealing with it or ignoring it in other ways. “Open doors in three … two … one …”
The heavy plastic button let out a faint smack as she slapped it, the metal roller door sliding upward with a loud metal cacophony only amplified by the three other doors doing the exact same thing. Anara leaned around the corner, rifle at the ready—
And ducked back as a muzzle flash lit up at the far end of the shipping facility, the wall at her back shaking as the cheap concrete transmitted the impact of several bullets.
“Contact!”
“We know!” Scattered fire broke out as her squad returned fire, and she ducked low, peering around the doorway once more.
The far end of the facility, where all the fire was coming from, was a tightly-wound maze of conveyors and sorting machines. The end her squad was on was little more than rows and rows of empty shelving. She’d been on a tour of a facility once when she was a little girl, to “remind her of the generosity and difficulty UNSEC took in making Glavere exist.” It hadn’t changed much. Save that the shelving was now empty, since shipments from Earth had stopped weeks ago.
Well, that and the return fire. It’s scattered and we could overwhelm it if we run past the shelving, but …
They’d already seen too many losses for her tastes. We need another approach. And … Her eyes snapped back to the loading bay. I think I see one.
“Hold!” she shouted. “Suppressive fire!” She knew she was getting questioning looks, but that was fine. As long as they follow my orders. “Vensly! Forklift!” She pointed in the direction of the loading Bay’s north wall.
For a moment Vensly looked confused, but then her face lit up, and she rushed away from the wall—keeping out of the line of sight for the door—toward one of the large machines. They weren’t as massive as the ones designed to pull cargo lifts from arriving dropships, but that didn’t matter. Each one was large enough.
And made of very sturdy metal. Lots of it.
With an electric whine that hummed beneath the sounds of gunfire, the forklift’s motors came to life. Large rubber tires rolled forward across the concrete, the vehicle rolling out of its dock and into the line of fire. Almost immediately the boots at the other end of the complex reacted, bullets slamming into the lift, digging into the metal but doing little else. Vensly had lifted the forks to protect the cockpit, granting herself a bit more cover, but it was still a risky move.
I hope it’s worth it, Anara thought as the forklift rolled through the bay, gathering half of what was left of her squad behind it before turning to plunge through the doors. We’ve lost enough today.
We need to clinch this win.
More bullets slammed into the front of the forklift as it rushed down one of the alleys between the shelving, accelerating. Anara broke cover, rushing out into the sorting facility alongside what was left of her squad, all of them sprinting for all they were worth as the lift drew fire.
The shelving area wasn’t large, given that it had been built to supply a world. A hundred feet from the loading bay to the start of the sorting equipment, really only temporary holding space so that something could be delivered to a truck.
Now it felt like a mile. The forklift continued to soak up fire, the cockpit glass cracking and breaking as shots made it through. Her own squad was firing back, halfway to the maze of conveyors now, their return fire bouncing off of the machinery and probably damaging a fair portion of it.
We won’t need as much of it once UNSEC’s gone anyway. She was three-quarters of the way to the conveyors, close enough that she could see the sources of the fire hitting the forklift. The latter of which, she noted, was … Accelerating?
With a crash that almost drowned out the gunfire, the forklift slammed into the conveyors, metal twisting and screaming as it was shoved aside. Her squad fanned out from behind it as it slowed, firing through the wreckage. One of the boots fell back, mouth open in what was probably a shout as a bullet tore through their shoulder.
And with that, what cohesion remained amid the enemy line broke, boots whirling out of cover and running for their lives toward the rear bay doors of the facility. Anara leapt up onto a conveyor belt, letting it guide her path upwards as she fired. She jumped a moment later, landing atop another lane and still rushing toward the rear of the complex. Her people were shouting and yelling now, firing with abandon, and another boot went down, falling to the ground even as the doors to the landing fields rolled upward.
“Push them out!” She was barely aware she was shouting as she jumped forward once more, firing at the retreating figures. “Push them!” All she could focus on was the clear, empty concrete of the landing fields, marred only by concrete barriers and the lone shape of the final remaining UNSEC dropship. Its engines were already on, those aboard waving to the boots that were running or returning the fire that seemed to be coming at them from all angles.
“Hold fire!” She wasn’t sure why she shouted it—and from the looks of her squad, they weren’t either. But they obeyed, their fire stopping as the few remaining boots ran as fast as they could toward the dropship. “They’re out.” She could see other scattered boots running from locations around the field, making for their last evac.
Then the whine of the dropship’s engines rose in volume, the aircraft rising from the tarmac. One of the closest boots put on a furious burst of speed and jumped, one hand catching the bottom of the still-open hatch and clinging for dear life. The boot right behind them made it too, only to slip and fall as the machine began to rise into the air. Someone from inside pulled the remaining boot up, and a moment later the door slid closed.
Those who were left slowed in stunned disbelief, dropping their weapons as their only way offworld roared into the sky.
“We did it,” someone nearby said as the roar of the distant engines began to fade. There was a new sound rolling over the city now, reminiscent of crashing waves. It took Anara a second to realize what it was: Cheering. “We won!”
And then her voice joined her squad’s, shouting and laughing as the abandoned boots turned and threw down their weapons, hands in the air. Already Anara could see other members of the uprising rushing out onto the tarmac, weapons held at the ready as they began detaining the discarded militia.
Right. There’s still work to do. She whistled and motioned toward the boots they’d been chasing. “Round ‘em up, lace ‘em. They can stand trial for everything they did. In a real court!” Someone let out a whoop as they rushed forward, and she turned to one side. Her hud was flashing again. A city-wide alert from the look of it. Probably a notice that we just won. Or a warning of some sort of parting gift from that destroyer in orbit. She keyed the channel.
“—again, they are putting out an SOS and are inbound. We need that landing field clear ASAP and people standing by with emergency equipment. Everyone on the ground, clear it and stand-by for a crash. We have a heavily damaged colony ship en route and broadcasting a general SOS, appears to intend to break atmosphere—”
Anara snapped her focus away from the general channel, the warm feeling of elation replaced by a cold certainty as hard as ice. There was no time to waste. “Squad move!” She could see other commanders waving and summoning their people over, getting them off the tarmac. “Area hot!”
To their credit, none of her squad asked. They simply ran, dragging or prodding their captives along with them as they bolted back inside the running doors. A few gave her the twisty hand signal for confusion, and she barked orders as soon as they were close, summarizing what she was hearing over the now extremely active comm channel.
