AMP Siege (10 page)

I jumped down and sprinted to assist the Marines on the west wall. I grabbed a blaster from a fallen Gonta while on the way. As they began to move the Tantric plates backwards, I did my best to keep the Hargets from reaching our position. Over the following few minutes, our compound quickly shrank to encircle the towers and our positions on the rocks. The Harget hordes continued to tighten the fields that surrounded us.

As I pulled the trigger, the Harget bodies and body pieces continued to fly in every direction. Their warriors had closed to within twenty meters of our walls in every direction. The tone, which was driving those in front to convulse and flail their arms, was the only reason we were still alive. The siege continued for two more hours before the Harget suddenly turned and fled from our sight.

As we mopped up the remaining stragglers who were unlucky enough to be overcome by the tone, the Gonta Marines began to cheer. I had only managed a slight smile when I took notice of the dark clouds forming on the horizon to the north.

I yelled to the captain, "Meecha! I think we have another problem!"

Goddard was soon standing beside me, his arm pad sensors gathering data on the coming weather.

Goddard spoke. "Crap, Sir. That is one nasty storm coming our way. And it's moving fast. I'd say we have about fifteen minutes to hunker down, Sir. Sensors show gusts up to one hundred eighty kilometers per hour."

I turned back towards the center of the compound. "There, we go in that hole. Frost! Start disassembling that cannon! Prep it to be brought down!"

I sprinted to the captain. "Meecha, that storm is coming our way. Have your men take down those lasers and that ion cannon. I'm not sure those towers are going to survive!"

The compound was scrambling to prepare for the coming dust storm. Two Gonta Marines continued to clear Harget from the opening of the hole as we began to lower our supplies and ammo.

I spoke to one of the Gonta engineers. "Any way we can secure these towers?"

The engineer looked out at the approaching storm. "I am sorry, Sir. We do not have the equipment or the time. The towers may withstand it, but those winds will be pushing them to their limits."

I could feel the ground beginning to rumble as the winds began to pick up. The last load of supplies was lowered into the hole as dust whipped up over us and the winds roared. Even through the deafening thunder, I could hear the steel of the tower legs whine as they began to twist in the fierce blow. As the first tower toppled, it took four that remained with it. They were carried off to wherever the storm would drop them. Only the sunken tower remained firmly in place.

The winds howled and the dust flew for twenty minutes before the skies opened up with a deluge of rain. Raindrops the size of eyeballs fell in a torrent of sheets and sideways sprays. Our hole of protection began to rapidly fill with runoff.

Meecha took command as the water began to rise. "Close every open container, then leave them. Crawl up out of here and keep on your bellies. We have to keep ourselves pinned to the ground out there so long as those winds are raging!"

The first of the Gonta Marines was boosted up to the hole’s edge before being lifted up and blown backwards, slamming hard into the wall of the pit on the other side.

York moved to the far wall and began to climb as she yelled, "Follow me out and keep your asses down! We go with the wind on this one! Those rocks out there are where we need to be, Sir!"

One by one we emerged from the hole and clawed our way along the soaked and flooding ground as the winds tugged at our bodies. Nineteen Gonta crewmen were lost in an instant. As one began to lift, he reached out to grab another, only to loose them from the earth that they gripped. Another dozen were lost when a crewman who had no helmet was overcome by the rains and dust. Three dozen more never made it from the hole.

We huddled as close to the back side of the rocks as was possible as the torrents of rain and wind peeled away at our numbers. Gusts would whip around the edges of our stone sanctuary, picking off those unlucky enough to be on the outside of our hunkering mass.

Then, almost as quickly as the storm had come, the tail end of it passed us by. The Gonta captain was the first to slowly stand. His crewmen now numbered only eight.

I stood and counted my own. York and Frost were huddled against the other rock. Goddard was nowhere to be found. As the others began to stir and stand to look about, the captain began to softly cry. Only a dozen souls had made it through the Targ storm.

Frost stood and looked around. "Yorkie, looks like we lost the lieutenant."

She looked over at me in silence as I looked back in vain. Goddard was gone. I could only hope that his death was painless.

As I looked across the fields in front of me, I had a sudden realization that they were clean. The storm had cleared the millions of dead Fergie and Harget bodies from our location. The landscape had been returned to its pristine state of low scrubs and flat red dirt that was now mud. Within minutes the sun was shining overhead.

The captain spoke. "We have work to do, Mr. Grange. The Targ will be returning shortly. Those Tantric walls will have to be moved in to form a circle around that last tower."

I replied, "You can't be serious about us sitting here and trying to defend ourselves any further, Captain. We have to move and hope we slip away before we are encircled again."

The captain shook his head. "And where would you have us go, Mr. Grange? The Targ will be no more generous with our lives if they catch us on the run. Here, we at least go out with a fighting chance."

I looked down at my arm pad. "Twenty-two kilometers from here are a series of holes that are about ten meters’ diameter. If we can make it to them, we should be able to defend ourselves from a single direction, up, until your ships arrive."

The captain replied, "These prairies run for hundreds of kilometers. Our mappings did not show any such detail other than these few odd rocks. That was the reason this location was selected."

I sighed. "Well, I guess I can let you in on a little secret, since you will find out anyway. The holes I am referring to are fresh mine holes. They were made by our craft that were mining the planet for iron that we were in need of. I was hoping to not mention that, as it would only make us look even more deceitful than you already think we are."

The captain spoke. "I have dealt with many species, Mr. Grange. They all have secrets, including my own. If the time comes when your mining in our space again matters, we will deal with it at that time. If we do not survive this, your transgression becomes moot."

We gathered what supplies we could carry and set the power generator of the shuttle to overload. As we slopped our way through the red mud that covered the fields surrounding the Gonta shuttle, I was startled when the generator finally exploded. A small fireball rose from our prior position, and seconds later the shock wave and thunderous sound whipped against our backs.

Sergeant Frost spoke. "Can't say I like the sound of that, Sir. I hope the Gonta show soon."

I replied as I stomped along with red clay hanging heavy on my combat boots, "You were wishing for a fight a few days ago, Frost. Isn't this everything you ever dreamed of?"

Frost smiled and winked as she stomped. "Not everything, Sir!"

The twenty-two-kilometer trek took us past sunset and deep into the night. York contended that the good thing about the mud was that it would slow down the Targ as well. My legs ached from the constant lifting and pulling. It was a condition where the gravity assist of our suits was little help, as we could not risk consuming the extra power from our packs.

When we arrived at the first of the holes, I rolled my eyes. "Great, collapsed. Next hole is another two klicks. What I wouldn't give for a ride right now."

York spoke. "Sir, I am not seeing any movement on my sensor. We are probably good for a fifteen-minute rest. I can keep watch if need be. These prosthetics aren't the least bit tired, Sir."

I looked around for a place to sit, only to finally plop my tired butt down in the red mud. The Gonta captain looked at me for several seconds before doing the same. His remaining crewmen quickly followed.

I spoke. "Well, Captain, what did you do before you were a captain? Do Gontas have such a thing as a college or university? I think you mentioned a military clan. Was that what got you to where you are?"

The captain replied, "I am the twenty-ninth generation in my family who joined the Federation Naval Command. By the time of their retirement, twenty-six of them had made captain, four commodore, and one admiral. I am four cycles away from consideration for a promotion to commodore. Of course the more likely scenario is that I am assigned to a larger and more powerful ship. The destruction of the
Jaarke
while under my watch will not be a positive, but it will be overlooked, as the infection was Colossun and I was able to keep her from falling into Colossun hands, or from doing further damage. What of your disposition, Mr. Grange, and why do you not have a rank and yet you command?"

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I will have to give you the condensed version of that, Captain. I was a Messenger; I delivered packages or people, whatever paid the bills. I had my own ship, just myself and another crewman. Well, one day I had an alien come up to me and offer me an engine enhancement. Man, it was really something. It gave me one of the fastest ships, if not the fastest ship, around. My Messenger business was soon booming.

"When I look back on it now, I can't come up with a good justification as to why the alien sold me the tech for so cheap. It was worth way more than I could ever afford, more than most governments could afford. Anyway, I ended up getting mixed up with a group of retired Marines, and as it wound up, we saved our world from being overrun by those same aliens that sold me the tech. Ever since, I have kind of been given free run to go where I want and do what I want."

Meecha replied, "And that is what brought you out here exploring?"

I offered a kind of half smile. "Well, not really. We were out here trying to keep watch over those iron harvesters that made these holes. And from there, you know the rest of the story. How about your early years, Captain? Any excitement there?"

The captain gazed at the horizon for several seconds while he thought. "Our community was big on hosting war games. When I was a child, there was nothing more exciting than being able to participate in those; it was, after all, the career that was coming to each of us. In my eleventh year, I maintained a virtual kill ratio of four point six to one. It was the highest ratio that year, and that was amongst children who went all the way up to fifteen. It was quite the accomplishment, and my parents were very proud. How about you, Mr. Grange, how was your childhood?"

I had backed myself into a corner. "Well, it was great up until I turned ten. My father was also in the military and was a high-ranking officer. His captain, however, betrayed him and his whole crew, turning them and their ship over to our enemies to never be heard from again. Several politicians tried to pin it on my dad, and, well, let's just say that things became very difficult for my mother and me."

The captain frowned. "I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Grange. That indeed sounds like a troubling situation for a youth. My childhood is nothing but fond memories. Our people had been at peace for a long time until the Colossuns began to raid our borders. At first I was all excited that I might get to use my training. Admirals are made during wartime, Mr. Grange. I had the notion that it might accelerate my career."

I replied, "It sounds like you aren't quite so excited about it anymore. What changed your mind?"

The captain gave a solemn look. "War, Mr. Grange. It is the manifestation of evil. It is run by those with evil intent who would murder innocent children and burn your homes to the ground. War with the Colossuns has shown me that it is not something to be revered or sought after. It is something, however, that you must plan for and something that you must hope never comes to pass. You mentioned enemies, Mr. Grange. Are your people warriors first? Or only out of need?"

I nodded. "Definitely out of need, Captain. Only a few years back, we defeated an enemy that had us on the run for the past thousand years. As it turned out, they were a good people who had fallen under the chemical control of another, very hostile species. We freed them from their dependence and routed their masters. We have our idiots just as every species does, but overwhelmingly we are peace lovers."

The captain sat forward. "Isn't it strange, Mr. Grange, that our perceptions of others can change drastically after only a few short conversations? Only a few days ago, I had a compulsion to just space you and your colleagues when you arrived on the
Jaarke
. And now, I feel that would be barbaric."

I replied, "When you spend some time down in the trenches with a fella, Captain, those things that felt like huge differences between you initially often wind up being trivial in the grand scheme of life."

The captain held up his muddy, gloved hand. "Trenches, Mr. Grange?"

I placed my arms around my kneecaps and leaned in to support my back. "Trench warfare. A long time ago in our history, we fought battles amongst ourselves where each side would dig a trench and then each jumped in and started shooting at the other side. Our weapons were more primitive, but from the descriptions of it, trench warfare was a horrible thing to be caught up in. You try to pick each other off and then storm the other guys’ trench. Very bloody war as it was described."

The captain responded, "Indeed it sounds horrific, Mr. Grange."

I looked back towards the direction we had come from. "I can't say that I any longer believe that it was more horrific than what we just went through back there. Here we sit with a dozen who are virtually unharmed while millions perished by our hand. Kind of takes the shine off of any glory that could be had from surviving."

The captain replied, "Indeed it does, Mr. Grange. Indeed it does."

After fifteen minutes of rest, we picked ourselves up and moved on to the next hole. To our dismay, each of them had collapsed due to the torrential rains that had fallen.

When we arrived at the last hole, I spoke. "Great. All full of mud."

I pulled up my arm pad and began to scan the surrounding area for any signs of somewhere to hide or at least a place where we could defend ourselves. The prairie around our position was flat for another hundred kilometers.

I pointed in the direction we had been moving. "We have mountains in that direction, about one hundred five klicks out. It's going to be tough slogging in this mud. But I don't see that we have any choice. I say we just keep moving, with a fifteen-minute break every four hours until we get there. Maybe something will pop up along the way. Or maybe your ships will drop into orbit before the sun sets."

Meecha replied, "We may have difficulty with our ships, Mr. Grange. We no longer have a beacon to alert them to our location when they arrive. Targ is not a large planet, but neither is it small."

York stepped forward. "Sirs, I was talking over this issue with Lieutenant Goddard yesterday. He had captured the Gonta beacon signal on his arm pad. He had interest in their transmit frequencies and such, something to keep him busy while we were resting. Anyway, he transferred that recording to me. He thought it might come in useful if we ever made it back to the
Granger
."

Meecha spoke. "Can your gear be programmed to broadcast that signal?"

York replied, "I believe so, Sir. Give me a minute and I'll check."

The captain spoke. "Your people seem to plan outside of the command structure, Mr. Grange. I would very much like to have a crew who took those initiatives."

I nodded. "As Humans, that is something we try to encourage. We are still to follow rules, but so long as we work within those rules, most commanders promote that type of initiative."

Several minutes passed before York spoke up. "OK, Mr. Grange, check your sensors and see if you are picking up the broadcast."

I replied, "Right there, York. Looks good. Hopefully your ships are sitting up there in orbit, Captain."

Frost spoke. "Sir, we have trouble coming. I did a scan back towards the rocks, and we have movement all around them. Won't be long before they are following our tracks."

I rolled my eyes. "Great. OK, let's get a move on, then. We have eighty kilometers to cross before we hit those hills out there ahead of us. Let's hope this mud lets up too, as it's sucking the life out of me right now with each and every step."

We continued to stomp through the mud on our way forward. Half an hour into our new journey, movement in our direction was detected.

Frost spoke. "Sir, I believe they are onto us. For the last ten minutes, we have not gained any distance on them, so they must be moving this way."

I replied, "Are they on foot or in vehicles? Or can you tell?"

Frost punched the buttons on her arm pad. "Scan doesn't detect any large metallic reflections, so I would say they are on foot. It's too early to tell if they are gaining on us, Sir."

The captain spoke. "I suggest we make every effort to pick up our pace. We are only twelve strong now. If they catch up to us, we will not be able to defend ourselves."

In an effort to follow the captain's advice, I began to high step. The mud sucked down on my combat boots on every attempt to pick up my feet. I set the gravity assist to maximum for a test.

I spoke. "I'm going to try using my suit to see what kind of pace I can set. We have a sort of gravity assist mode that we can set. If I can run with a foot plant every ten meters or so, I should be able to cover a lot of ground."

The captain gave me a dubious look as I took my first springing step forward. The suit worked wonders, and I was soon bounding away at fifteen meters per step. After several hundred meters’ distance, I returned to the group.

York spoke. "You do realize, Sir, that you will drain the power on your suit at a rapid rate if you do that. You may run it dry before you reach those hills."

I replied, "I am aware of that, Sergeant. I'm just trying to plan ahead for if the need arises."

Meecha pointed forward. "So, your plan is to run off and leave us to the Targs?"

I shook my head. "Well, no. I promise we won't run away until the last possible moment, Captain. If that makes you feel better."

Meecha replied, "In the spirit of strengthening relations, I will take that as a sarcastic remark, Mr. Grange. Unless you intended otherwise?"

I gave a half smile. "I have no plans to abandon you and your men, Captain. After all, I am hoping to catch a ride out of here. I don't think that ride would end up as a very pleasant one if you were not there to vouch for us. We are the invaders of your Federation's territory, after all."

The captain returned a half smile. "You are proving to be a wise Human, Mr. Grange. I will indeed attempt to put in a good word for you upon our rescue."

As we continued to trek across the mud-covered prairie, Frost issued another report. "They are gaining on us, Sir. I would say we only have eight hours before they overtake us at the pace they are moving. We won't make those hills in eight hours. We need to be working on a plan B."