Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox (26 page)

“No! We cannot go out there,” Billork said.

“Why not? You heard what he said.”

“It will not be safe, for you – or for me.”

I smiled. “You don’t trust your own troops? I thought you were their messiah, the Zorphin who would free your people from bondage and lead them to the promise land?”

“I do not understand what you are saying, Jason King, but Hornus Rul may see this as an opportunity to advance within our organization.”

“Well, like I said, we live or die together. Let’s go and see what Hornus does. Everyone get behind us and stay close. There’s cover about twenty yards away, behind those power units. If the shooting starts head for them.” I then looked up at Billork and smiled. “You first, Billy-Bob.”

Fortunately it was easy to find cover behind the huge alien, although staying close became problematic because his reverse knee joints kept getting in the way. We moved out into the open.

“If they’re going to try anything, they’ll wait until we’re in no-man’s-land, between the opening and the power units. Be ready. It’s about ten yards away.”

Chapter 35

I hate always being right, but when the first bolt struck Bill in the left shoulder I was already halfway to the power units before he hit the ground. The kangaroo-like Vol’ox was there in three hops, while Miranda beat Quint by half a step. Shit! I had been the most-prepared and got the first step, yet I still came in a distant fourth.

There were bolts splashing all around us now, and it was all the four of us could do to keep our arms and hands inside the ride at all times. We were behind a metal box about three feet high by five wide that was some kind of power substation. There was another one just like it about six feet away, but with all the bolts hitting around us, we had to stay put.

Off to my left I could see Bill. He was alive but injured, writhing in pain while clutching his bloody shoulder. He was lucky the bolt just grazed him, because even a shoulder shot could have sent an overload of electricity into his system, killing him.

I knew his time was up, because even if we got away, Bill’s friend and associate Hornus would finish him off once the fighting stopped.

So how does it feel to be betrayed by a friend,
I thought.

“Movement on the right, Jason,” Quint cried out over the loud screams of the flash bolts. I knew they weren’t real screams, but rather superheated air reacting to the passage of the extremely dense concentrations of plasma energy. They still made a racket that it was hard to hear over the sheer number of bolts zipping by.

“Got any more caramel balls to throw at them, Jason?” Miranda asked. She was huddled next to me, holding her MK-17 close to her face and winching at every close strike of energy bolts.

I was about to make some snide remark when Quint’s shout got my attention. “They’re going to flank us.”

Behind the power modules and the troops firing on us was a grove of low-branched trees. They had been groomed, so there was still a lot of space between the ground and the branches, but at least the trunks were all about five feet in diameter.

“We’re going to have to get to the woods. Miranda and Quint go first. Vol’ox and I will follow as the two of you lay down cover fire.”

“Cover fire against a force of forty to fifty – from just two of us?” Miranda yelled, ducking from a bolt that hit a mere eight inches from her head. “That’s not going to suppress too many of the bastards.”

“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“I say we wait for that spaceship to land and then see what happens.”

I turned my head to her and then followed her gaze into the darkening sky. There was indeed a ship up there, making an approach. It was still a mile or so off, but even then I could see that it was a Marine L-16 landing craft.

My heart leapt, but then I thought: L-16’s only carried nine assault troops, and there were now over fifty aliens lining the barricades across the field and working their way to our right through the trees.

The aliens had seen the approaching spacecraft as well, and now their rate of fire was cut down considerably. Orders were being barked out across the field, and I chanced a glance around the power module in time to see about half the aliens load into two transport trucks and head off toward the anticipated LZ of the L-16.

The troops in the woods had also stopped their advance as they awaited orders. A minute later they were back on the march, and now only about fifty yards away.

Our S-33’s only had a maximum range out to about a hundred yards – far less than traditional projectile weapons – and even at fifty yards, their accuracy wasn’t guaranteed. And our power packs were also running low. Why anyone would use these damn flash weapons was beyond me? Yet the customers had flocked to Battlefield Vegas just to try them. We also had a mini-gun at BV, a multi-barreled Gatling gun that could shoot a hundred rounds a second. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those right now, mounted in front of me so I could hear the wiz of the gun and then the intimidating whirling down of the barrels after a firing.

My fantasy was cut short by the resumption of flash bolts exploding the ground close to my feet. I tucked in closer to the power box. We’d waited too long now to make a break for the trees. So Quint and I popped the last power packs we had into our S-33’s and then spread out on our bellies on the cold ground and took aim at the aliens in the woods.

Miranda actually shot first, taking out a Zorphin on the left.

“So what’s your score now, Miranda?”

“Closing in on Level Five. How ’bout you?”

“I’m sure I’m all the way to L-9 by now. Quint’s probably already earned some bonus games.”

Vol’ox had been vomiting for some time now – you know that putrid, acid-laced alien puke similar to the blood in the
Alien
movies. “Why do you jest at a time like this?” he blabbered between heaves. “We are all going to die.”

“So what’s your point?” Quint asked.

We continued to rain fire into the woods, which the fifteen or so aliens returned without pause. The gray night of Sylox had fallen around us, but the constant barrage of flash weapons effectively lit the scene like midday. And the sounds were deafening, from the mini-explosions around us, plus the popping of the S-33’s.

**********

But then I heard another sound, something out of sync with the others, yet familiar.

It was automatic arms fire – that of M27 infantry assault rifles – undoubtedly coming from the hapless L-16 and its overmatched nine-man assault team. I could tell the Marines were putting up a valiant fight, but unless there were more of them….

Just then the sound of the M27’s turned into stereo and the volume increased. There was a second front, and this one was coming from across the field.

I rolled over a couple of times and twisted my body so I could see across the field. There was a surge of aliens all moving to my right, and even as they hopped away I could see them looking back over their shoulders in a panic. The Zorphin were extremely fast creatures, able to hop not only about four feet into the air while running, but also another twelve feet down range with each jump. And now they were running/hopping away at close to fifty miles per hour.

But that still wasn’t enough.

The Zorphin are bug-like creatures, with a hard carapace on their backs and a near solid breast plate. But now their bodies were literally exploding as 5.56 mm NATO rounds tore into their bodies. In fact, I watched as what appeared to be a single round from an M27 ripped through three aliens in a row and still managed to blast a splinted hole in a tree trunk another thirty feet down range.

Miranda dove into the ground next to me and came up with a face full of dirt. She coughed, spit and blinked her eyes several times before she was able to speak. “Hey, I don’t do this for a living, so cut me some slack.”

“You don’t, huh? I would have never guessed it from what I’ve seen today.”

“Don’t jump to any silly conclusions just because a girl’s had a few self-defense classes. But on another subject, it looks like your girlfriend’s come through.
Wilma
, was it? That’s her name, right?”

“Jealous much?” I asked, actually with more sincerely than my eyes conveyed.

“You wish.”

“Dammit, you two, they’re still coming on this side.” I swear Quint looked like he was ready to shoot the both of us himself. I rolled back over next to him and proceeded to send another grasshopper to the happy hopping-grounds in the sky.

Another small spaceship soared overhead not much beyond the gravity limit and I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs as I suddenly became about fifty pounds lighter. Luckily, the ship was gone in flash.

“That’s not one of the L-16’s—” Miranda said before abruptly cutting herself off.

“Ah ha! I knew it. You’re a fake, lady, and if we ever get out of this alive, I want some answers.”

“That’s an Enforcer vessel,” Vol’ox said, finding his voice.

I looked at the vanishing dot in the sky. “I wonder what side
they’re
on?”

Finally, the few remaining Zorphins in the woods decided that discretion was the better part of valor and began to hop off in the opposite direction from Wilma’s advancing Marines. A wise move, because now a squad reached us and formed a parameter around our position. Corporal Hector Munoz was in charge.

**********

“Howdy guys, and gal,” he said, suddenly distracted by Miranda’s presence. Even covered in dirt and sweat, she was still a looker. Hector slipped off his helmet and offered her his hand. “It looks as though we may have a common ancestry, you know – brown all the way down and all-year round. I’d really like to discuss other interests we may have in common, after we clean up the mess Jason and Quint have made here.”

I envied the young man’s confidence – and impossibly white teeth. I saw Miranda raised an eyebrow as their eyes locked. I decided right there and then to never let him win at poker again. Next time, I’d be taking that bastard to the cleaners.

“Put your cover back on, corporal,” I ordered. “You don’t want Colonel Baskin to see you like that.”

“Once a Gunny, always a Gunny, huh Sergeant King?”

I ignored his sarcastic remark. “What’s your strength? There were probably about ninety hostiles, minus the considerable number Quint and I killed before you got here.”

“What about me? I killed some, too.”

“And she can handle a weapon, too….” Hector couldn’t take his eyes off Miranda.

“Mind in the game, Marine,” I said. “There are still alien bugs out there trying to kill us.”

“Not so much now, Jason,” Hector countered. “We came in with twenty-five, and the Enforcers with another fifteen of the natives. Even before I got over here, we were ripping through them pretty handily. There was another alien ship that came in about half an hour ago with more of the bad things aboard. They poked their heads out and we shot a few of them off, so they took off again.”

Hector lifted his Marine IAR – Infantry Assault Rifle – and kissed it. “Don’t know why the aliens haven’t embraced our weapon’s technology. My M27 here can shoot ten to one against one of their flash rifles and at three times the range. And we don’t have to worry about setting no ammo strength level. We just got the one, and it’s always set to kill.”

“Where’s the Colonel?”

The young Marine fingered the comm box on his collar. “Munoz here, requesting location of Colonel Baskin for Mr. King?” He listened for a moment, and then lifted his head over the power module. “Over there, near that big entrance. Looks clear, but we’ll escort. You’re our assignment.”

I looked toward the entrance to Bill’s underground lair and saw a number of Marines, along with a few Zorphin police. But then I noticed that Bill was gone, and no longer lying on the ground, writhing in pain. I could see traces of blood and a trail in the dirt as he had escaped off to my left.

“First things first, corporal. We have to go after Bill.”

“Bill? Who the hell is
Bill
?”

“He’s the mastermind behind this whole scheme. He’s been shot but he’s mobile. We can’t let him get away.”

“The mastermind is an alien named Bill? No shit?”

“Just bring your men. C’mon Quint. Vol’ox, you’re done. One of the Corporal’s men will escort you to the staging area.” I then looked to Miranda. “You can go with him, or come with us. The choice is yours.”

“No question. I’m going after Bill. I owe that son-of-bitch – or whatever he’s the son of.”

“Follow me, corporal.”