Stark's Command (33 page)

Stark fired, almost continuous short bursts, vaguely aware of Vic doing the same. He caught momentary glimpses of targets being hit and falling back, his HUD painting a chaotic picture of fragmentary symbology as its picture shifted too rapidly to follow.
They're coming in through one door even though they know we've got it covered. Dumb move. Desperate move. They must be really pushing their timeline. How many of 'em this time? Fournier took out some. The grenade took out more. How many left?
The console next to Stark shrieked in complaint as answering fire slammed into it. The emergency lighting rippled again, then steadied.

An object flew into the room, arcing too high, a grenade thrown by someone not experienced enough in lunar gravity. The grenade bounced off the ceiling, angling down toward Vic, who released her trigger just long enough to swing her right arm up and around and slap the deadly sphere back toward the door. It detonated, spraying shrapnel both outside the room and in. Stark ducked beneath his console, feeling it shudder as metal impacted it, then surged up again to fire.

"Ethan. Hold it. Incoming fire's stopped." He paused, finger poised over his trigger, as Vic cautiously scuttled forward, coming to rest against the side wall near the gapping doorway, her rifle ready. "What do you think?"

"Maybe they're all down, but I could use some reassurance."

"Right." Vic dropped two grenades into her hand, hooking fingers from the other hand to activate both, then paused, counting. Her hand came forward, flicking to right and left in one smooth gesture before she yanked herself back away from the door. "Fire in the hole."

"Watch it," Stark added to the other personnel in the Command Center, ducking behind his console once again as the grenades detonated in a twin thunderclap in the hall. He waited, rifle lined up on the doorway, as Vic eased forward again, sticking one finger gingerly around the edge, the fiber-optic camera in the fingertip scanning for movement.

"All the ones I can see are dead," Vic reported.

"What about the ones you can't see?"

"I know. Look's like we took out this group, though."

"Anybody else coming?"

Her finger tip wriggled in search, then paused. "Nobody visible. Ethan, how are we going to secure this doorway now?"

"Hey, you guys," Stark gestured to the two nearest soldiers. "Pick up that door and prop it back in place. You got anything that'll hold it there?"

"We got duct tape," one offered.

"That's better than nothing. See how well you can fasten the thing to the walls again. Sergeant Tanaka, any progress on the sensors or comms?"

"No. The damn worm's got everything blocked." She frowned in thought. "Maybe the worm's blocking access just from our consoles, though. Maybe if we tapped into the remote feeds directly . . . Vreeland, you know exactly where the feeds are located?"

"Sure do," Corporal Vreeland declared, enthusiasm lighting his face. "The main bundle is right outside here, in the hall." He pointed out the secondary entrance, where two Privates stood nervous watch.

"Okay, Vreeland. Let's get them." Tanaka dashed forward, pulling the Corporal with her.

It took a moment for Stark to realize what Tanaka was doing, a moment to understand that for all her time on the Moon, she'd been serving in headquarters, not on the front lines where a moment of carelessness or a simple mistake could cost a life in the time it took enemy systems to register a target and fire. Vic, occupied guarding the other entrance, understood a bare instant after Stark did, turning to yell even as Stark shouted a warning. "Tanaka! Not out the door!"

Jill Tanaka spun at the warning, sudden knowledge of her error draining blood from her face, grabbing at Vreeland to yank them both back inside. The maneuver came too late, as the hall erupted with the crash of shots, bullets impacting all around the door area. Tanaka, halfway inside, went flying sideways as the enemy fire slammed into her, her hand still locked on Vreeland even as he jerked in time to hits on his body.

The Privates on guard fired frantically, one hosing down the hall on full automatic until Stark reached him and slapped his helmet. "Aim, damn it! How many are there?"

"I think there were just a couple," the other sentry reported, her voice shaking. "I'm pretty sure we got 'em both."

"Assume you didn't and assume there's more. We're in combat, people! Guard yourselves from the hallways!" Stark stared down where a couple of personnel were frantically trying to apply medical aid to Tanaka and Vreeland, made a motion to join them, then walked slowly back to his useless command console.
Do my job. Let them do theirs. I can't do anything more for the wounded than they can, except delay treatment if I insist on horning in.

Vic's gaze met his, her eyes angry and frustrated. "Ethan, somebody's going to pay a big price for this," she vowed, her tone deceptively soft.

"Oh, yeah. One helluva big price. If we survive to make 'em pay." He looked from one entrance to another, face bleak. "They didn't expect to run into combat troops, Vic. They thought they'd be facing nothing but headquarters types without battle experience."

"You're probably right. Nice to know we surprised them, too."

Waiting had never been easy. Not when leading a squad. Not now with a lot more soldiers' fates riding on his decisions. Stark's hands moved restlessly, as if seeking some task, something he could do right now while others fought and died, then clenched in frustration. He glared at his blank, useless, command display. "I oughta be out there," he whispered. "Trying to relieve Gomez."

"You don't even know for sure where they are," Vic stated softly, drawing a surprised reaction from Stark. "Didn't know you transmitted that, huh? This is the hard part, Commander. Keeping yourself out of the action so you can command."

"It doesn't feel right."

"I know. I almost wish they'd hit the Command Center again so I'd feel useful."

"I'm not that desperate." Vic's words jabbed at his conscience, bringing up thoughts he'd tried to suppress. "How're the wounded?" Stark demanded of his makeshift medics.

"Tanaka's dead," Corporal Guerrero reported shakily. "We couldn't save her. I think Vreeland will make it."

"Damn." Stark brought a tightly clenched fist down on the panel before him.

"Commander?" Sergeant Tran gestured urgently. "The worm's been killed. We've got internal scan again."

"Thank God."
Why couldn't that have happened a couple of minutes ago, before Tanaka ran to her death? Why? Is anybody ever gonna figure out the answer to that kind of question?
Stark watched as the display flared to life, raising his hand to stab at the glowing symbology. "Vic, if I'm reading this right, if there's not another worm screwing up the picture, our own people are fighting their way in from the entrances."

"Yes. That's Taylor's company. They're rapid reaction for this area. Over here's . . . who the hell is that?"

"Scratch force," Stark decided. "Everybody who could get here fast." He clenched a fist in sudden elation. "Sanchez is in charge of 'em. He must have still been pretty close when the alarm sounded. Tran, we got internal comms yet? Yeah? Sanch, this is Stark."

"Roger." The response was weaker than it should be and riddled with static, but clear enough to be unmistakable. "Where are you?"

"The Command Center. We're holding it. We've got internal scan again. Can you tap in?"

"Wait. Ah. I have it. Shunting it down to my personnel. This will simplify our counterattack."

"Be careful, Sanchez," Reynolds cautioned. "These guys know what they're doing. We've taken a lot of casualties."

"Understood. We won't take unnecessary chances."

"Is anything going down anywhere else, Sanch?" Stark demanded.

"Negative. The perimeter is quiet and all other military sectors are on full alert, but report no activity. The Colony leaders have offered any assistance we require."

Vic smiled sardonically. "Guess they've decided we're going to win."

Before Stark could reply, Sanchez did. "Sergeant Reynolds, the civilians made the offer as soon as they were aware of the attack."

Stark nodded to Vic, enjoying the brief look of surprise on her face. "Thanks, Sanch. Vic, bring Taylor up to date while I try to see what's going on."

As Reynolds quickly notified Taylor and her company of the internal scan, Stark fumbled with his display, cursing as he tried to pull up vid. "I think Gomez and the Mendozas were in this area, and we've got a gap in our scan there where somebody's still doing short-range jamming. Here. Look." The picture wavered, bands of random pixels running through it as the remaining enemy soldiers tried to jam signals in their area. It was the same hall Stark had observed before, but seen from the other end. More battle armored bodies than he remembered, all splayed short of the doorway where Gomez and the Mendozas had made their stand. "They're still there, Vic. They're still there."

Reynolds stared in disbelief. "Amazing. How'd their ammo last?"

"I dunno. It's gotta be almost gone. Where's Sanch?" Stark scanned the display, an empty space growing inside him. "It's gonna take him a while to get there. Isn't it?"
So close. So damn close.

"Yeah," Vic agreed, frustration edging back into her voice. "Too long. The raiders have some guards at the other end of that hall they're in. Bet on it."

Bloody grass, waving before Stark's eyes in the red glow of the emergency lighting, intermingling with the multicolored patterns enemy jamming cast across the vid. Remembrance of help too far away and too late. Vid of the hallway trembled, steadied, then went back into its wavering dance. Stark eyed the figures in the doorway, then quickly tried to focus closer on them. "They're arguing. Why are they arguing?" Gomez had her hand up, pointing down and then across the hall, then back at herself. Lieutenant Mendoza shook his head, froze Gomez with a gesture, touched his son's shoulder. A moment later, the Lieutenant was gone. Stark watched, helpless, as Lieutenant Mendoza launched himself across the gaping hallway, body flat to minimize his exposure. Watched as the Lieutenant's body seemed to rock in midflight from impacts as the raiders poured fire down the hallway. "Ah, hell," he finally whispered, as momentum carried the Lieutenant on into the room his leap had aimed for.

Stark couldn't get audio from the rec room, but he could see Gomez firing and screaming in anger as she tried to cover the Lieutenant's movement. Then an object flew back across the hall, landing at her feet, and the Corporal dumped out ammunition clips, their shapes unmistakable even in the ragged vid, and began hastily reloading her weapon.

The raiders charged, figuring out moments too late why the Lieutenant had made his move. Gomez and Mendo cut the leading attackers down, a hail of bullets flaying chips from the rock walls, then vid blanked. "What the hell happened?" Stark shouted.

Vic punched her own panel repeatedly, shaking her head. "No response from the vid camera. It must have been hit by a stray round." She faced Stark squarely. "Don't worry. We saw what we needed to see. They'll make it."

Stark shook his head as if in denial of her words. "Two of them will. How bad did the Lieutenant get hit?"

"We won't know until Sanchez gets there. Lieutenant Mendoza did what he had to do, Ethan."

"I know that."

Vic nodded, clasped Stark's arm for a moment, then slumped back as if overcome with weariness. "Bad as it's been, I think we've won this one, Ethan. Any attacker still in headquarters is trapped, just like the ones Gomez has pinned down."

"Trapped animals can be real vicious, Vic. How can we be sure one last group won't try a real kamikaze on us here?"

"We can't. But maybe we can find out for sure who's still out there and where they were." Vic fumbled futilely at her console before turning to Tran. "Is there any system history for the last half-hour?"

"Uh, yeah. Fragmentary. The worm must have been shredding the system files when we axed it. Here it is."

"Look, Ethan." Now Vic's finger traced multiple paths. "They overran the sentry posts first."

"No warnings," Stark noted angrily, "except from Post Four."

"No. We'll have to find out why. Then some headed for the Command Center, some for Security Central, and some hit the Commanding General's suite."

Stark nodded grimly. "I saw part of that."

"Right." She indicated a motionless symbol. "Tran, can we get vid of this?"

"Yes. Got it."

The figure sitting against the wall seemed asleep, head hanging down on his chest, but the blood streaking his arms and chest told another story. "Damn," Stark breathed. "The gardener. I should have insisted on teaching those poor apes how to fight."

"It wouldn't have done that one much good if you did," Reynolds commented bitterly. "Okay, from there they headed toward . . . why that way?"

Stark indicated another section. "Rendezvous. They were gonna meet up with another group. These guys. But they stopped moving."

"Yeah. Let's find out why."

It took Stark a moment to grasp the picture even after it steadied. "Oh, God. That's Murphy. I did see him. He's down."

Vic nodded, adjusting the controls as quickly as her fingers could fly. "Scan says he's still alive. Barely. He's lying on something. No, someone. Protecting him?"

"Protecting her," Stark advised, his tone bleak. "That's his girl. See the hair?"

"Robin?" Vic glanced up, then down at the readouts again. "She's dead."

"You sure?"

"No question." Reynolds looked up, face drawn. "So are the attackers. Ethan, Murphy took out six of them."

"Yeah. He must have gone berserker when she got hit." Stark fought off a tight feeling in his chest that threatened to choke him. "Why in God's name . . . get some medical help to him. Can we get a medic there?"

"I'll go myself, if I have to. Taylor? Your people are closest to this location. We've got a soldier down, badly wounded, scan shows no threat activity between you and him."

"Roger. I'll send a squad there on the double with our medic. Be advised we're still hearing firing off to our right."