Stark's Command (32 page)

"What if it's not? What if this is just part of an all-out assault?"

"Then we might have already lost, but I'd bet not. A large-scale attack would've generated some warning."

Warning.
Stark stiffened. "You mean like scan ghosts?"

Vic shook her head. "More than that. You can hide a few shuttles from scan, but not a full-scale assault. Do you know something about scan ghosts tonight?"

"Yeah. The civs at the spaceport spotted some and warned us."

"You're kidding." Shots echoed down the halls, reverberating from an encounter an indeterminate distance away. "We've got to assume the exits are already blocked. We'll have to fight our way out."

"No." Stark pointed down the corridor. "The Command Center is that way and we haven't heard gunfire from that direction."

"Maybe they've already taken it," Vic argued.

"Then we take it back," Stark snapped. "My job is to command and I can't do that when my comms and information are limited to line of sight." He took off at a fast trot, gathering more headquarters personnel as he went, Vic following last with her weapon trained back the way they'd come.

Warning signals flickered on Stark's HUD even as Vic's weapon slammed several shots down the hallway. "We got company," she called. "Higgens. Fournier," she designated two Privates in battle armor. "Help me hold them."

Stark reached the Command Center, feverishly keying in his access code, then instinctively aiming his weapon straight at the door as it slid open. The armored figure standing on the other side of the door also had a weapon, bringing it up and around to center on Stark. He hesitated for only a microsecond, knowing IFF couldn't do a challenge-and-response in the time he had, then Stark fired, his bullets hurling the other soldier backward. Stark stepped forward, crouched low, aiming and firing in one motion at a second armored soldier guarding the other door, his HUD outlining the figure in bright detail, targeting sight centered on its abdomen. He held his breath, firing with vicious precision. Two bullets gouged holes in the doorframe near Stark, then his own rounds hit, sending Stark's target flailing back and to one side.

"H-how'd you know they were enemy?" someone stuttered. "That looks a lot like our armor."

Stark glanced over at Jill Tanaka, crowding close behind. "They were trying to kill me. That was all the ID I needed." He eased cautiously farther into the Command Center, rifle barrel questing for targets, then stood and waved the others forward. "Get in here. See if there's anybody we can help."

"What do you mean?" Tanaka dashed forward, then cursed as she caught sight of the night watch-standers slumped over their duty stations or huddled against the walls, bright pools of blood spreading around them. "Those bastards."

"They paid. Have somebody check for survivors. Get some sentries posted to guard that other entrance." He watched, eyes fierce, as Reynolds and her two Privates backed into the room, firing as they came. "Vic, you hold this door."

"Roger." Higgens jerked a couple of times, his body sliding back along the floor under the impacts. "Damn. Fournier, aim your shots and keep your head down!"

Stark pivoted, one finger singling out another soldier. "Corporal Abrakis, see if you can help Higgens." The finger shifted. "Sergeant Tanaka, get comms going in here."

"Roger," she acknowledged. "Sergeant Tran, get on it. We're being jammed, Commander—"

"I know. Get through it." The lights flickered, steadied, then died. Emergency lights came to life, glowing eerily. "How much of this stuff can run on backup power?"

"A few terminals," Sergeant Tran confirmed. "I will do my best, Commander."

Vic fired several more shots, each round aimed with cool deliberation, then halted. "I think that's the last of this bunch."

"How many were there?" Stark demanded.

"Four. That's how many we hit, anyway. Maybe five, if I nailed one in the corridor."

"That's all? We're dealing with professionals, Vic."

"No kidding. Hold here, stay alert," Reynolds barked at Fournier, then eased inside, slapping the control panel to keep the door from sealing behind her. "How many others are there? Where are they?"

Tanaka slammed her palm onto her console in frustration. "I don't know. Most of our sensors are inactive and internal comms are blocked, but we can't locate any physical damage. They must have inserted a worm into the system from one of the security stations."

"Then get the damn worm killed! We need to know what's going on out there!"

"I'm trying, dammit! Guerrero, try to build some workarounds while the watchdogs are hunting down that worm. Kloster, put together a manual picture from whatever you can pick up."

Stark glared, his frustration easy to see. "Vic, I'm supposed to be giving orders, and I can't."

"Then we'll have to do what we can." She raised her weapon. "At least we're good at it."

"Hey!" Sergeant Tran suddenly shouted, drawing nervous rifle barrels his way. "Don't shoot, dammit. Jill, these guys hitting us have got to be using their own systems for coordination."

"Yeah," Sergeant Tanaka agreed tartly. "So?"

"So we've got a couple of sets of their battle armor in here. Maybe we can use it to tap into their comms until we get our own working."

"Maybe we can. Good idea." Tanaka knelt next to one of the dead enemy soldiers, pulling off the helmet. Dark hair rasped against the Command Center floor as the head flopped back, eyes staring upward, still fixed on the target they'd seen when death came. "Commander?"

"What?"

"This
is
American battle armor."

"That's not our . . ." Stark's voice trailed off as he carefully looked at the equipment. "It is, isn't it? What is that, the new Mark V suits?"

"Looks like it. They didn't even send any Mark Vs up with Third Division because they supposedly weren't available."

Stark stared at the dark-haired soldier lying on the floor, the soldier who'd tried to kill him and died in the attempt.
Are we fighting Americans?
He gazed around at the bodies of the watch-standers.
Did other Americans slaughter these soldiers?
"Vic."

She was already kneeling next to the body, studying it intently, then gestured at its shoulder. "Whoever they are, and wherever they got this armor, they're not American soldiers. The dogtag isn't where it should be."

Stark let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Every American soldier had what was still called a dogtag embedded near the left shoulder, carrying critical identity and medical information. "Thanks."

"I needed to know, too, Ethan."

Huddling with several other soldiers, Tanaka and Tran ran cables, scanned screens, and pulled other pieces of armor off the two bodies to plug them in as well in an effort to jury-rig a backdoor into the enemy comms. "Okay, Commander. We've got something. Apparently the worm the raiders inserted into our systems is not only blocking us, it's also hijacking our systems to relay the enemy comms. The worm's security subroutine is good, though. It keeps trying to kill our intrusions. We can get fragmentary vid, but only for one observer. I don't even know if it'll be real-time or Tactical records of recent activity, and it's going to keep shifting as the enemy worm figures out what we're doing and we have to tap into another data stream."

"Fine. How do I call it up?" Stark followed Tanaka's directions hastily, then triggered the vid feed.

Remote view, the vid from the spy tap grainy and dim. A big, elaborately furnished room. The Commanding General's suite. Vid shaking slightly as a weapon pumped rounds into the large bed, tearing smoking holes in the soft covers and revealing the absence of any occupant. Spinning now, moving rapidly, in the hall where the shocked face of one of the gardeners hung frozen for a bare moment before bullets hurled him back against the nearest wall. Disconnect. Gray static blurring in a chaotic mass, then the picture cleared on another enemy soldier's view.

A hall in the headquarters complex, the vid jerking in a manner that said the soldier was jogging rapidly. Unfamiliar symbology cluttered the HUD, then unmistakable threat warnings popped up. Stark watched, helpless, as a door slid open, the enemy soldier's weapon and combat system aiming at the gap. Brief glimpse of a woman staring wide-eyed, fancy civ hair marking her as alien to military headquarters, a vague figure barely visible over her shoulder bringing a weapon around, mouth wide open in a scream of warning.
Robin Masood? For the love of God, duck!
Vid broke into a million shards of static, then cleared into another view as Stark slammed a fist on his console in frustration.

"What happened?" Vic demanded.

"I don't know." The new view looked over the hunched shoulders of several other suits of battle armor. This raiding party seemed huddled behind a corner. Visible on the floor ahead were two bodies in the Mark V armor. Threat symbology snapped to life as several rounds tore small chunks of rock out of the corner, then the two nearest enemy soldiers leaned forward to fire, hurling bullets down the hallway around the corner. Vid bounced dizzingly as Stark's unwitting host jumped into motion, clearing the corner and charging down the hall, firing rapidly at a few figures just visible behind a doorway.
Is that Gomez? That might be the rec room she was in, so the other two would be the Mendozas.
The enemy HUD tracked the incoming fire, painting frantic warnings the soldier couldn't react to fast enough, then the view spun wildly up and down, back and forth, as bullets hit home. Vid shattered again, then went black. "Jill, I lost it."

"Sorry." She punched at her console frantically, then shook her head. 'The enemy worm ID'd the outfits we were using to gain access for our intrusion and froze them out."

"Damn."

"Ethan." Vic gestured angrily toward him. "What'd you see?"

"I tagged three groups of raiders, I think. One was chewing up the Commanding General's suite."

"There's nobody there."

"One of the gardeners was." Vic's eyes flared with fury at the obvious implication. "He didn't have a chance to fight, not that it would've made a difference, I guess. The second group was in some hallway. I'm pretty sure I saw Robin Masood and maybe Murphy. I dunno what happened to them." Stark had to pause a moment, getting his voice under control. "Then one more group, pinned down behind a corner. They were trying to get past some resistance. Gomez, I think, with the two Mendozas."

Vic thought for only a moment, then shook her head. "Gomez and the others can't have much ammo. Did Lieutenant Mendoza even have a weapon?"

"No, but he was shooting, if it was him. Probably Gomez's sidearm."

"Not enough weapons. Very little ammo. How long can they hold a hallway against a group of these guys?"

"I dunno." Memory of Stark's earlier eavesdropping came back. "She had extra ammo. But it's across the hall from them."

"How do you—?" Vic broke off as Stark's face closed down into stubborn refusal. "Never mind. Can they reach it?"

Stark remembered the enemy soldiers firing down the wide headquarters hallway, fast and accurate, toward the unarmored soldiers huddled behind the doorway. "Maybe. If somebody doesn't mind dying trying to get to it." He slammed one fist furiously into the other palm. "That vid didn't help. Just gave me enough information to scare the hell out of me."

"You couldn't have known that until you tried it," Vic reminded him. "At least we know parts of the attack are being held up."

"Yeah."
Held up by the lives of my friends. Don't think about Murphy and Robin. Whatever happened has happened, maybe even before I saw it. Nothing you can do right now. How long will Gomez and Mendo and his dad last? The raiders will push them hard. Holding them off will mean firing a lot. Pretty soon, no more ammo. Then they'll be toast. Be smart enough to run, Anita.
Even as Stark made that last, prayerful wish, he knew Corporal Gomez wouldn't run while she could still fight.

"I've got a sensor active," one of the watch-standers reported, face fixed with concentration as he scanned his data. "No. Dead again. It recorded firing in Corridor Six Delta before I lost it."

"Where in Six Delta?" Tanaka demanded. "Narrow it down."

"I can't, Sergeant! It was echoing. Without the main sensor grid I couldn't get a fix."

"Six Delta." Stark studied the map of the headquarters complex as Corporal Kloster manually placed a threat symbol in that corridor. "So maybe we have firing here, here, or here. Maybe. What're they after, Vic? Just this place, or something else?"

She stared intently, then shook her head. "I can't tell. All the corridors intersect, and some of the enemy groups ran into our people before they reached where they were going. They already nailed Security Central and the Commanding General's suite. I'd guess this is the last one of their main objectives."

"Yeah. And anybody who hasn't run into our people oughta be here by now." He switched circuits, calling the sentry in the corridor outside. "Fournier, you see or hear anything?"

"No, sir. Real quiet, except for a lot of echoes. I don't—hey! Look out!"

The thunder of firing reached through the door as Stark called up vid from Fournier's battle armor, catching a brief glimpse of armored foes almost hidden by the threat symbology streaming from them toward the sentry. Then the vid died as Private Fournier did. "Everybody get down! "Vic, main door."

"Got it." She was already palming the door closed, shutting off a swarm of bullets that battered against the barrier like angry hornets, then yanked a grenade from her belt, crouching next to the doorway. Stark brought his weapon around smoothly, kneeling behind the nearest console to steady his aim on the entrance. Vic waited a moment, roughly gauging the timing, then activated her grenade, holding up first one, then two, then three fingers. On the third, Vic triggered the door open, then shut. As it bobbled open half a meter before halting to slam back, she tossed the grenade through the gap, then shoved herself away to escape the flurry of shots crashing through the temporary access.

By the time the rumble of the grenade's detonation died, Vic was back near Stark, also in firing position. A few moments later, the door shivered, light suddenly appearing on all four sides as an explosive strip tore it free, then fell inward with slow majesty under Luna's weak tug. Wood splinters from the ornate paneling on the outside of the door spun dreamily through the air, shaking as they flew from the shockwaves of bullets ripping past them into the Command Center.