The Heart of Matter: Odyssey One (67 page)

“Won’t be fast enough,” Wilson mumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Roger that, Boss.”

“Hold tight, don’t get eaten, and keep that thing intact.”

“Roger. Wilco,” Wilson acknowledged.
I sure hope I didn’t kill it a minute ago.

He lay there on the ground for a moment, his hand firmly clenched around his prize, until he heard footsteps approaching and forced himself to sit up.

“Chief?”

Seran’s voice was uncertain, so he waved with his free hand.

“I’m alive. Bruised, maybe a little broken, but alive and breathing,” he said. “I can’t see a damn thing. Is this thing still alive?”

He held up the hand gripping the thing that had most resembled a spider the size of his head, hoping that he was extending it generally in her direction.

“It is…twitching,” she said with a hint of distaste.

“Good. There’s a team coming in,” he said. “They’ll get this cleaned up and hopefully get my suit patched up.”

“My men are covering the crater,” she said. “But if these are like the soldiers…”

“Then we can’t miss even one of the little bastards, yeah, I know,” he said before slumping in place.

A rumble in the distance separated itself from the background noise, growing in intensity rapidly. Wilson breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the sound of the big chemical rockets of the inbound shuttle.

“Master Chief Wilson, do you copy?”

“I copy.”

“Major Brinks, here. I’m going to dispatch Lieutenant Savoy’s technical team to your disposal. I understand you have a package for me?”

“Wriggly little bastard is right here in my hand, sir.”

“Excellent. Hold on, we’re coming overhead now.”

“I can hear you, sir. Can’t see you, but I can hear you.”

There was a pause. “What do you mean you can’t see us?”

“My helm systems are all dead. I’m looking at a black plate, sir.”

There was a long pause before Brinks came back, then he spoke again.

“Roger that.” The major didn’t sound confident. “Savoy is pulling a spare helm and a field kit for armor repair. Hopefully he can patch you up, Chief.”

“Thanks, sir,” Wilson said.

The roar of the shuttle had settled in over them, and Wilson imagined that he could feel his armor being buffeted by the blast of the shuttle’s thrust. Unless they were a lot lower
than the book called for, however, he knew that he was just imagining things, though. There were thuds and calls from others around him, and then he felt someone grabbing his hand.

“It’s all right, Chief. I’ve got it.”

Wilson let the little beasty loose into the hand that was on his, relieved to have it out of his grip. He felt someone pulling him back up to a sitting position, hands working around his helmet.

“Give me a perimeter around that crater! Someone pop a thermobaric down that shaft, damn it!”

“Damn, Chief. You really stepped in something pungent,” a new voice spoke up. “Hold with me here, I’m going to pop the seals.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heh, right.”

The hands twisted on the helm, hard, twisting his whole body until the helm finally gave way and the seals blew. A loud hiss preceded Wilson’s ears popping painfully as he swallowed and worked his jaw. The helm lifted clear, and he blinked in the daylight as he got his first look around since he’d taken the hit down in the crater shaft. He flinched as a low rumble shook the ground, but recognized the smell of a thermobaric cooking off nearby.

“Hey there, Chief,” another helm said, looking down at him.

He squinted in the light, managing to read the name stenciled on the helm. “Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Savoy grinned. “You beat the ever-living hell out of your kit, Chief. Never seen damage like this. Damn hit scorched the helm at least a dozen microns deep.”

It took him a few seconds to figure out what that meant. “You’re telling me that I couldn’t see because my face was covered in
soot
?”

“Pretty much.” Savoy nodded, scraping at the damaged helm with his combat knife. “Baked in, though. Helm is totaled. Must have been some kind of plasma blast. Laser wouldn’t have done it, not to this material.”

“It was bright as fuck, and it came from that little prick I grabbed.”

“Well, we locked it in some tough material. Should hold,” Savoy said. “For now, let’s get you back in the fight, Chief.”

The tech lieutenant held up a fresh helm for him, and he grabbed the helm and pulled it on, twisting it to seal the pressure locks. He held his breath for a couple of seconds as it linked into his armor, then breathed in relief as the HUD came online, showing the IFF and combat network.

“All right. It’s linked in. I’m good,” Wilson said, getting to his feet.

“Whoa, Chief”—Savoy slowed him down—“you took some hits.”

“What?”

“Look down.” Savoy pointed to his legs.

Wilson frowned, glancing down and tagging his armor diagnostics. He winced when he saw the state of his armor. The little bastards had obviously been chewing on his legs, and they’d all but turned the armored sections into swiss cheese. Luckily, they hadn’t gotten into the circuitry, so while it wasn’t going to protect him from squat, everything was still intact and he had full range of motion.

“I can still dance, Lieutenant,” he said, “Long as no one steps on my toes.”

“All right, then, Chief”—Savoy grinned—“best get to your feet, ’cause I’m pretty sure I hear Charlie starting to play the fox trot.”

“Roger that,” the SEAL chuckled, getting up. He unslung his gravity impeller and turned back toward the crater. “Let’s finish this dance before the dance floor gets too crowded.”

“Right you are, Chief.” Savoy nodded, hefting his battle rifle. “Yo! Burke!”

“Sir?”

“What’s the readings look like?”

“The TB shook ’em. We’re waiting for the aftershocks to ease up so we can see if there’s any movement down there,” Burke replied. “Crater walls look solid. I don’t think we collapsed anything.”

“Good news. I know how you like spelunking, Burke.” Savoy grinned.

“Me, sir? No, sir.” Burke shook his head. “Drop the squid back down there, he looks like he can’t be any more beat up.”

Wilson ignored the smartass, coming to a stop at the edge and peering down. “How long before we know if you got them all with the overpressure blast?”

“Won’t be long now,” Savoy said. “We’re establishing geo-sensors now, mostly reading falling rocks and such. When that dies down, we’ll get a good, clean reading. Then we’ll know.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait.” Savoy nodded.

SKIES OVER RANQUIL

▸THE SHUTTLE BANKED away, heading for the next impact site while Brinks coordinated with the crews they’d already dropped off. The Drasin assault this time was proving to be difficult to fend off, mostly because the defenses of the planet were designed primarily to deal with fleet assault. Granted, even those had proven ill equipped at handling the Drasin, but that focus made it all the more difficult to adapt quickly to handle the much smaller method the aliens had utilized this time around. Even a month earlier and they likely would have had better procedures in place, better trained forces, and better communications. Today, however, they would have to make do with what they had, as little as it was.

“Command and Control, this is Brinks. I’ve got the package.”

“Confirmed, Major. Deliver the package to our base of operations immediately.”

“Shuttle en route. ETA, ten minutes.”

“Roger that.”

The major leaned forward, tapping the pilot on the shoulder. “You’ve got clearance to break speed records, son. Make it happen.”

“Pleasure is all mine, sir,” the lieutenant at the controls replied, tapping the CM controls full open just before he pushed the throttle to the max and kicked off the afterburners.

Even with CM at max, the level of thrust the big bird put out was enough to slam Brinks back into his acceleration bolster as the afterburners lit off the waste fuel that escaped the primary burn. The added boost hammered the shuttle past hypersonic, the CM field being the only reason they didn’t start to ablate from air friction.

Crossing continents at that speed was a matter of minutes, and the shuttle actually shaved four minutes off Brinks’s ETA by the time they were slowing to an orbit of the landing field. The shuttle circled once, then settled into a taped-off section near the command base while the troopers remaining on board picked up the large munitions crate they’d locked the creepy crawly they were delivering in.

The crate was heavy metal, laser welded, and plated with ceramic inside to prevent any electrical discharges while transporting live munitions. It was about the most solid container they’d been able to scrounge up, but after less than five minutes of locking the creepy crawly inside, Brinks had begun to entertain doubts. The damned thing had managed to actually bounce the box off the deck of the shuttle, rattling around like loose change until they’d dogpiled it and strapped it down.

He’d be just as happy to get this particular menace off the bird he was currently entrusting his life to, thank you very much.

The shuttle dropped onto the dirt outside the temporary command center they’d thrown together, and the men jumped out, lugging the box clear as another three full squads piled in. Brinks saw them all strapped in, then slapped the back of the pilot’s helmet lightly to let him know it was time to move out again.

The shuttle lifted smoothly into the air, the whole maneuver having taken less than two minutes, and they were shortly winging clear to their next AO with a full load of troopers armed to the teeth and looking for a fight.

Just as well, since we’re almost certainly going to find one.

NACS ODYSSEY, UNCHARTED DYSON CONSTRUCT

▸“CAPTAIN TO THE bridge. Captain Weston, please report to the bridge.”

The voice was calm, and Eric didn’t break stride when he heard the call, but he stopped his casual strolling pace and moved up to a brisk military doubletime step. While he was certain that something was up—otherwise he wouldn’t have been called—Eric had no intention of making anyone skittish because they just spotted the captain running through the corridors.

It took him a little under three minutes to make the bridge, and when he got there, it only took a glance at the plot to see why he’d been summoned.