Swapship Troopers Page 7

  “Fall back!” Hardaway yelled as the Formids were nearly on top of them. The men turned and sprinted for the alleyway. The rest of the platoon was already there. Just inside the narrow pathway, Sergeant Prince had set a dozen Marines in a skirmish line. In front six men were down on one knee with their rifles directed at the entry to the alley. Behind them, six more were standing.

  “Fire!” Prince commanded once the last of Vanlanding’s squad were safe behind his line. All dozen rifles opened up at once. The knot of Formids trying to squeeze into the narrow alleyway was mowed down like grass. There were others behind those, however, and the attack kept coming.

  Lieutenant Hardaway set up a second line ten meters behind the first. As soon as those Marines were lined up and ready Prince and his men fell back. They slipped through the second line, giving a clear shot at the advancing Bugs. The concentrated fire of the second skirmish line blew apart dozens of Formids, but the Bugs kept mindlessly charging.

  Quantrill was pulled into a third line behind the second. He dropped to one knee beside Corporal Vanlanding. Jabara stood just behind Quantrill and swung his big SAW out over the smaller man’s head. “Don’t fire until all our guys are behind us,” the Corporal reminded them all.

  “Affirmative,” Quantrill agreed.

  “Thank God for caseless ammunition, eh Q?” Jabara chuckled. Quantrill just extended his middle finger back over his right shoulder.

  “Fall back,” Hardaway ordered. The dozen Marines of the second skirmish line turned and sprinted back down the alley with snarling Bugs hot on their heels. They squeezed past the third line. Hardaway was the last man to fall back. Once he had, the Lieutenant gave the command to fire at will.

  Quantrill and the others opened up with a deafening roar. Bugs were dropping right and left. The attackers kept coming, climbing over the bodies of their dead comrades with spooky agility. They began climbing up the vertical walls on either side to try to get closer to the humans. Just when Quantrill was hoping to hear an order to fall back, he noticed the Bugs weren’t moving. They had killed them all. He stopped firing and soon the others did as well. Silence descended on the alleyway.

  Hardaway stepped out in front of the skirmish line as the smoke gradually cleared. “Good job, people,” he said calmly. “Form up and let’s move.”

  Chapter 7

  Buzzards

  The platoon quickly got organized into their original squad formation. Each man seemed to wear an identical expression of happy surprise. They had fought off more than a hundred Bugs and hadn’t sustained a single casualty! All because of Lieutenant Hardaway’s heads-up command. How did he know a larger assault was coming from directly in front? Quantrill had no idea, but if he hadn’t they would have had their asses handed to them.

  Quantrill saw Sergeant Prince walk up to the Lieutenant and clap the commander on the back. Hardaway turned, gave his second in command a curt nod, and then the two men went back to organizing the platoon to move out. Quantrill wished he could do the same – just offer some small congratulations to the LT on his brilliant tactical maneuver. Prince, however, was a seasoned vet and a noncom. He could get away with that kind of familiarity. Quantrill was just a grunt.

  “We are on point again,” Vanlanding cut into Quantrill’s reverie. He followed the Corporal to the front of the column. Rather than climb over the piles of dead Bugs, Hardaway was leading the platoon further down the narrow alley. “Triple time it!” Vanlanding ordered.

  Quantrill and the squad took up the lead position and headed up the alley at a brisk jog. The men were in good physical condition, but with full packs and in the brutal Antioch heat they wouldn’t last long at that pace. Hardaway must believe they were still in immediate danger of attack. That thought put some extra spring in Quantrill’s step.

  After a few hundred meters, they emerged into another wide street. Quantrill was glad to be out in the open. Hardaway had been able to use the alleyway to concentrate fire on the Bugs, but in general, tight spaces favored the Formids. They could absorb a lot more damage than a human – even a human in battle armor – and keep on fighting. The biggest advantage the Marines had – that their rifles were lethal at a range of fifty meters or more – was negated in a confined space. Yes, it was very good to be back in the open.

  The platoon pushed up the wide street with Vanlanding’s squad in the point position. Every dark alley and side street was now a potential death trap, but the way was quiet. After keeping a back-breaking pace for two klicks, they reached the town square. Third platoon had built a rough fortification out of wrecked ground cars and jagged hunks of concrete paving.

  As they approached, several Marines in armor came out of the rubble fortress. Quantrill didn’t know who the other two were, but he recognized the man in the center. He was average height with sandy brown hair, small beady eyes, and heavy lips that seemed to naturally fall into a scowl. It was Captain Wakefield, the CO of third platoon. The small delegation walked up to Lieutenant Hardaway.

  “About damn time you got here,” Wakefield grumbled. “We need all the guns we can get. The damn Bugs are coming from all directions at once. There must be thousands of them.”

  “I see,” Hardaway nodded and scanned the defensive positions. “When was the last…”

  The Lieutenant was interrupted by two buzzards flying overhead. He turned and watched them with a frown. The shadows of the huge creatures darkened the whole street for several seconds, then they buzzed off. “Reinforcements?” Hardaway asked.

  “Nah,” Wakefield grunted. “Jericho hasn’t seen anything come out of orbit since we got here. We see the same three or four buzzards over and over. They’re just flying around.”

  “Why would they do that?” Hardaway pressed.

  “Who the fuck knows?” Wakefield said with annoyance. “So let me have your heavy machine gunners and …”

  “Hold on a minute,” Hardaway interrupted. “Van! Take your squad and follow those buzzards. I want to know where they’re going.”

  “Yes, sir,” Vanlanding replied. Quantrill groaned inwardly. After that mad dash across town, he was really hoping to take a load off for a minute or two before the next Formid attack. Chasing buzzards was the opposite of what he wanted to do at that moment. Even so, he wasn’t going to look like a wimp. He shouldered his rifle and prepared to follow Vanlanding out of the town square.

  “Hold it right there, Corporal!” Wakefield yelled. Vanlanding froze in his tracks. “Damn it, Bale! I need your men to repel the next assault.”

  “Get going, Van,” the Lieutenant ordered. Vanlanding stayed rooted to the sidewalk. He looked from Lieutenant Hardaway to Captain Wakefield and back with a wide-eyed, panicked expression.

  “Let’s go, Van,” Quantrill encouraged under his breath. He pulled at the Corporal’s arm.

  “But –” Vanlanding protested in a harsh whisper. “But a Captain outranks a Lieutenant.”

  “Fuck that,” Quantrill insisted. “I wouldn’t disobey the LT if Jesus Christ himself showed up and said so.” He stepped away from Vanlanding and marched off in the direction the buzzards had been heading. He didn’t look back, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Jabara turn and follow.

  He hadn’t taken more than thirty or forty steps when he heard Vanlanding come on over the squad radio. “Let’s go, single file. Travel overwatch. Twenty meter spacing with the man in front of you,” the Corporal ordered. “Q, you take point.”

  “Roger that,” Quantrill acknowledged with a small smile.

  Quantrill set a slow pace. It conserved their energy and maximized their stealth, he figured. As far as the Formids knew, the Marines were all back in the town square. He didn’t want to tell them otherwise.

  He was glad he had taken his time when he heard a distinctive whirring from the buildings behind. He turned to alert the men behind him, but saw they had already taken cover. He ducked under the awning of the nearest building and pressed himself up against the wall and did his best to look l
ike a harmless shadow.

  Seconds later, a huge buzzard flew overhead. Its gigantic wings stirred up little eddies in the dust of the roadway as it passed by. Quantrill watched as it banked slightly and then slowly disappeared behind a building. “Looks like it landed just up ahead,” he announced on the squad channel.

  “I’ll be right there,” Vanlanding replied. Ten seconds later, the corporal came up the sidewalk in a running crouch position. “Where did it go?” he asked.

  “Right behind that building,” Quantrill said. He pointed up the street at a low, gray building that seemed to be built from the familiar native mud brick material.

  Vanlanding looked up and down the street. Finally he craned his neck to look up at the building they were hiding beside. “Let’s go up there and have a look.”

  Quantrill nodded. He tested the door and found it was open. “We’re going to go upstairs,” the Corporal announced over the squad channel.

  The two Marines went into the building. As Quantrill’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he found they were in a small lobby area. A hallway led toward the back of the building and a stairway led upward. This was most likely an apartment building of some sort, he guessed. It looked familiar enough. It wasn’t so much different from the places he’d lived in back on Earth.

  Quantrill clicked on his light and crept up the stairs. Big, round drops of sweat rolled down his face. If anything, it was even hotter inside than it had been out in the street. Power must have been cut to the whole settlement. Surely they had air conditioning in these places under normal circumstances.

  The stale air got hotter and hotter as they climbed the stairs. The third floor was an absolute oven. Quantrill was relieved to find a narrow stairway leading up to the roof. He made his way to the top, but the path was blocked by a steel security door with a thick padlock. He turned the knob and pushed, but the heavy door didn’t budge. “It’s locked,” he said.

  “Don’t worry,” Vanlanding told him. The corporal raised his AR316 rifle. “I brought a key.”

  Quantrill ducked out of the way and Vanlanding fired a single shot through the lock. The thunder of the high velocity round echoed in the stairwell like a bomb, but hopefully didn’t carry far enough for the buzzards to notice.

  Vanlanding shoved open the heavy door and sunlight flooded into the dark stairwell. Quantrill followed the squad leader out onto the roof. He had his weapon at the ready, but they quickly established the small space on top of the building was clear. He took a deep breath of the clean, cool air – at least it was cool compared to the stifling atmosphere inside the building – and surveyed the area.

  They were at the highest point for several blocks and had a clear view of the nearby area. It wasn’t a defensible position, but no one would be able to sneak up on them. Vanlanding produced a pair of binoculars from his pack and crept to the edge of the roof. The roof was surrounded on all sides with a low wall about two feet high. The two Marines hid behind this and Vanlanding peeked over the top to see what had become of the buzzard.

  “Holy shit,” Vanlanding sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s unloading,” the corporal replied. He handed the binoculars to Quantrill. “There’s a whole crowd over there.”

  Quantrill grabbed the binoculars and peered over the wall. Sure enough, just down the block a huge crowd of Formids had congregated. There had to be at least fifty of them. And as he watched, more were dropping out of the belly of the giant buzzard and merging into the crowd.

  “Be advised. Bugs at our twelve o’clock,” Vanlanding announced on the squad channel. “Button up and keep it on a swivel.” If those Bugs found the squad’s position, they would be in the shit for sure. They could never fight off that many with just one squad. Their only hope would be to drop some grenades and run like hell.

  Except this crowd of Bugs didn’t seem to be on the attack. They weren’t even patrolling – they were just … standing around. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. Quantrill had only ever seen Formids running – usually in his direction. To see them standing around doing nothing was downright eerie.

  “What the fuck are they doing?” he asked softly.

  “I have no idea,” Vanlanding replied. “Maybe they’re lost.”

  “I don’t know,” Quantrill said. “It’s like they’re waiting for something. Getting ready to … oh, fuck me.”

  “What?”

  “Send this stream to the LT,” Quantrill insisted. “Right away.”

  “Well, yeah,” Vanlanding agreed. The corporal was quiet for a moment while he fiddled with his HUD. “What’s got your panties in a bunch anyway?”

  “I think those Bugs are massing for a sneak attack behind our line.”

  “What? That’s nuts,” Vanlanding scoffed. “Bugs don’t sneak attack.”

  “Looks like somebody forgot to tell them that.” Quantrill cocked a thumb at the small army of Formids down below. The Bugs were gathering for something and it probably wasn’t a disco dance party. Captain Wakefield had said the Bugs were coming from every direction. Maybe the buzzards they had seen flying around weren’t just aimlessly wandering. Maybe they were moving their warriors to new attack positions.

  “You’re being paranoid,” Vanlanding insisted. “Bugs aren’t smart enough to … hold on.” Vanlanding’s attention focused inside his helmet at his HUD. He listened intently for a while and then said, “Yes sir,” and turned his attention back to Quantrill.

  “Well, what’s our move?” Quantrill asked.

  “Looks like the LT agrees with your sneak attack theory,” the corporal announced. Quantrill smiled inwardly. The Lieutenant agreed! Maybe Hardaway was rubbing off on him – so to speak. “He’s calling in some Precision Guided Whoop-ass to take out those buzzards. We’re to mine the road and observe from a safe distance.”

  “I’m on it,” Quantrill replied. He hurried down to street level and set a grenade in the middle of the road. He dialed up the yield to 8 – he didn’t go all the way to 10 because he wanted something to be left of this block when the citizens came out of their bunkers – and attached a remote detonator pin.

  Vanlanding had gathered the rest of the squad and was moving to a squat, cement block building on the corner. It was a good choice – the walls looked solid and there were several escape routes out of the building if they needed them. Quantrill caught up with the squad and they settled down in the little building to wait.

  It looked like a land management office. Maps hung on the walls with pins marking various territories or mining claims or whatever. It was cooler than the apartment building had been – probably because of the thick walls – and Quantrill was grateful for that.

  “So what now?” Jabara asked.

  “Now we wait,” Vanlanding told him. “And if those Bugs make a move toward the town square we blow them sky high.” He gestured back at Quantrill who was holding his detonation control in his free hand.

  “And what if they make a move on us?”

  “Tactical withdrawal,” Vanlanding replied. “With extreme prejudice.” Run like hell, in other words. Jabara just nodded.

  Quantrill sat down in a rickety chair. Jabara went behind the desk and sat down in the big, leather armchair. Except for the carbon fiber body armor and large, fully automatic weapons they might have been sitting down to discuss a business deal. Potter was stationed at the rear of the building to keep watch on the back alley, while Vanlanding stood against the front wall and peered out the one window to keep an eye on the street. The rest of the squad found spots on the floor and settled in to wait.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Within half an hour, Vanlanding whispered, “Shit. Here they come,” and the squad collectively held their breath and gripped their weapons a bit tighter. They sat like statues, hoping with all they had that the Bugs would pass them by unnoticed. That many Formids could overrun their little, concrete building in under a minute. Anyone who couldn’t get out in
that time was Bug chow.

  Vanlanding kept his position, cautiously peering out a small window with just one eye. Quantrill wished he could get up and look for himself – not knowing was worse than anything – but he didn’t dare stand up or move around. Even that little noise could alert the Formids. Soon, he could hear the clicking of the Formids’ armored exoskeletons. They were right outside! And there were enough of them that the quiet clicking of their thick plates could be heard through the closed doorway.

  “Okay,” Vanlanding finally said softly. “They’re going past. Blow the mine in 5 … 4 …” The squad breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged nervous smiles. Quantrill grabbed his remote detonator and put a finger on the button. “3 … 2 … 1.”

  As soon as the corporal counted down to 1, Quantrill blew the grenade. It went up with a massive roar that shook the ground. The need for stealth had passed, so Quantrill got up and rushed to the window. He saw a huge cloud of dust and a few surviving Formids running about in confusion. There was a clatter on the roof from bits of rock and pavement falling down like rain.

  “Let’s get out there and clean this up before they regroup,” Vanlanding ordered. The Corporal led the squad out into the dust filled street. In the confusion they were able to engage the Bugs one at a time. By moving in a pincer formation and approaching each Formid from the left and right simultaneously they kept the Bugs off guard. Their insect minds couldn’t decide where to attack first. The Marines mowed down a half-dozen of the beasts in minutes.

  “Yeah!” Jabara yelled as he blew apart another Bug with his SAW. “Take that, motherfucker!”

  This exuberance was short lived. When the dust finally cleared they saw the surviving Formids had regrouped. A column of at least thirty Bugs was back on the march toward the town square and the rest of the platoon.