Metal Boxes - Trapped Outside (7 page)

TWELVE

Before he ran out of air, Jay leaped to her feet. Tuttle grabbed Stone by the collar and yanked him to his feet. A thick column of smoke stained the sky to the south where the marine shuttle and the missile had danced their last tango. Other than the small earthquake caused by the explosion, there didn’t appear to be any added damage to the compound than there had been from the first missile. The shuttle pilot had saved them by drawing the second missile away.

A third missile, or a fourth, fifth or sixth would do them in.

Stone pushed Tuttle trying to get her to move toward the east compound door. “Find Major Numos and help him search for wounded.”

Tuttle didn’t budge. “No, sir. Lieutenant Vedrian already told me to find you and stick by your side until she said different.”

“Allie? Where is she?” He didn’t need to ask as Peebee, following her earlier command, shot forward into the room they had exposed by clearing the wall. Half a dozen bloody marines lay on the floor.

Allie hovered over one man, jamming thick cloth pads into a gaping side wound trying to stop the bleeding, a can of anti-coagulant lay empty at her side. Any casual observer could tell she fought a losing battle, but she didn’t quit trying until the bleeding marine quit fighting and took his last breath. She glanced at the other marines. The wounded were helping other wounded. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Stone and nodded.

Stone could see the sadness in her eye. As he raced across the short distance, she turned the rest of the way to face him. A gash cut across her face from the middle of her forehead slicing down through her right eye, stopping at her right cheek. The blood didn’t flow, but more oozed down her jaw line to drip away. A ragged gash across the face should be gushing blood, but her marine nanites were stemming the flow, keeping her on her feet.

“Sit,” Stone commanded.

Allie shook her head. “We have people to help.”

Stone looked at Tuttle. “Find a dressing and bind this wound, please.” Tuttle turned and Stone noticed the previously unhurt Corporal now had scrapes and scratches from making contact with Jay’s sandpaper-like skin. Even her marine utility uniform had small tears and rips.

Allie shouted. “Belay that, Tuttle. Help these—”

Numos stepped out of the doorway, “Do as Ensign Stone commanded Corporal. No. Lieutenant Vedrian, we need you and you need to quit bleeding.”

Tuttle grabbed a first aid pack from a wall-mounted cabinet and rushed back to Allie. Tilting Allie’s head back, she sprayed a stream of liquid bandage across the cut. “The eye is gone, LT,” she said in a matter of fact voice.

Allie shrugged. “That’s why the marines issued me two. I’ll just get a new issue to replace it when we get out of this.”

Tuttle put a pad over Allie’s damaged eye and wrapped a strip of bandage around her head. The bandage was marine black, designed to match a marine uniform so as not to stand out. A quick press on the appropriate colored dot and the bandage cinched tight. A quick wipe with a cleaning pad and the excess blood was wiped away from her face, leaving her looking like a pirate from an old entertainment vid. A large, angry pirate, but Stone was glad she was upright instead of in pieces.

A quiet whir caught Stone’s attention. He glanced upward, shuddering slightly at the sight of all the open sky and caught a movement out the corner of his eye. A fist sized recon drone whizzed overhead. A dozen armored marines on parapets fired at the drone, but it zipped around as if laughing at their attempts to shoot it down.

PO3 Tammie Ryte raced from the south building. Carrying a small two-handed weapon, she slid to a stop and squeezed the trigger without taking aim. She spotted Stone and trotted over to him, ignoring the small anti-missile charge she had fired skyward. It tracked the recon drone, matching it zig for zig and zag for zag until it caught it in a fiery blast. Even in the middle of a business day, she wasn’t in uniform, but some skin tight, yoga-type thing.

Stone didn’t want to stare, however, the young petty officer had a small, tight, smoking body. The stretchy material covering her body did little to hide her attributes. It wasn’t cold, yet her nipples were poking hard against the material. He had to look away before he embarrassed himself. He looked at Allie. Her massive body twitched with anger, all she needed was a parrot and a cutlass to complete his fantasy of being ravished by a female pirate.

Ryte nodded to the small group assembled around Stone. “Ensign Stone, those were Hyrocanian missiles. So was that drone.”

There was a babel of shouting. Numos’s voice overrode everyone, “Hyrocanian? Are you sure?”

Ryte said, “The only other possibility is that someone is exceptionally good at pretending to be Hyrocanian. We could confirm it with pieces of those missiles or scraps from the recon drone, but we don’t have time to go looking for those pieces.”

Stone said, “The drone caught enough shots of us. They know we’re still alive. If they wanted us dead, then another missile is already on the way.”

Numos said, “If it is, there isn’t anything we can do. The shuttle they shot down was our last operational shuttle. We couldn’t get away from a missile blast if we wanted to.”

Everyone looked to the north sky. No more missiles came raining down to kill them.

Ryte said, “Good. Unlike some people here, I haven’t seen a Hyrocanian up close. Kind of looking forward to that meeting.” She elbowed Stone in the side and winked at him. Everyone knew he was one of the few humans who had ever seen a live Hyrocanian and lived to tell about it.

Allie said, “Let’s not get too familiar, Petty Officer.”

Ryte snorted, “Oh, the hell with this. Let’s dispense with that crap right away.” She pulled out a badge and identification packet from some pocket that didn’t have any right to exist in her outfit. The badge was clearly printed EMIS.

Stone said, “You’re an undercover Empire Military Investigative Service agent?”

Ryte laughed, “Well, yeah! That’s kind of the point of the badge, Stone. I had orders from the top to check on intelligence leaks. Someone thinks somebody else is sending military data to the Hyrocanians. I think—”

Numos interrupted. “Enough for now, Ryte. Without navy overhead, this compound is untenable. We have to move out. Ensign Stone, you are still in command, so it is your call. Nevertheless, if the Hyrocanians wanted us all dead, we would be all dead by now. They want us alive.”

Stone nodded. No one wanted to be captured by the Hyrocanians, least of all him. Their methods of information extraction were brutal, horrifying, and effective. No one had survived it to tell the tale and the Hyrocanians weren’t shy about broadcasting vids of their torture sessions. Somehow, in their teeny tiny minds, they thought it would make people more willing to talk when they were caught. What it did was make humans less likely to surrender and more likely to fight to the death rather than be taken alive. When all other options failed, suicide runs were becoming popular. Navy commanders had even revived the old sailing command, ramming speed, rather than give up.

Stone had seen Hyrocanians up close and personal. They were ugly enough he still had nightmares about them. They would have to catch him if they wanted him alive.

Ryte said, “You think they want us alive? Well, I wonder if we can turn about and catch a few for me to play with.”

Stone shook his head, “We shouldn’t hang around here.”

Ryte said, “The last missile tracked the shuttle. They will shoot us down again if we take off.”

Numos said, “It doesn’t matter. That was the last operational shuttle. The one in the north hangar is dust by now. The east and west hangars would take us a week to clear the debris to get a shuttle airborne again, assuming they are undamaged after the second story of the compound collapsed onto them. I suggest we hump the hell out of here and find us a defensible position. We can try to defend here, but they have us pinpointed and this compound has taken too much damage. What are your orders, Ensign Stone?”

“Those missiles came from the north, so I suggest we gather everybody and go south.”

Numos nodded, “Sir. Lieutenant Vedrian, are you fit for duty?”

“Fuckin’ A, sir.”

“Get Lieutenant Hammermill started at the north end of the compound and have him sweep south. Protocol Z-99. We have to be at least one mile south of here in one hour from now.”

Ryte said, “Wait. We can’t bug out and leave the wounded and all of this equipment for the Hyrocanians to capture. We can’t even leave the bodies for autopsy.”

Stone didn’t know what protocol Z-99 was, but it didn’t sound like the first option a marine would choose. Allie didn’t even slow up to listen to Ryte’s objections. She broadcast an order using her dataport for every able body in the area to meet Hammermill at the missile crater near the north end of the compound. She turned back to Stone and Numos waiting for additional instructions.

Tuttle didn’t race away. Keeping Stone in her sight, she pulled a small cube from the bottom of the first aid cabinet on the wall of the exposed room. Pushing a little button on the end, it popped open into a large bag. She quickly checked the pockets of the dead marine Allie had tried saving. She pulled off his ID tag, dropping it into a small bag along with any personal items from his pockets. The only useful item she found was a long knife that she slid into her own boot.

Rolling the marine into the bag, she pushed the tabs to seal it. One quick push of an end tab and the bag began to heat and smoke. Without looking back, she went to the cabinet and pulled out a dozen more bags. She tossed one to each of the wounded marines. “Zed-99, fellas.”

Numos nodded, “Sorry, men. Either get in a bag or get up.”

Tuttle walked back to the first bag. It quit smoking and began shrinking in on itself. It crumpled smaller and smaller, only slightly larger than its original size. She picked up the cube and dropped it into the bag with the ID tag and personal possessions of the dead man. “Six pounds, Major.”

Ryte said, “Well, I’ll be damned. Dehydrated marine.”

Stone thought the woman sounded cold, but Tuttle grinned. “They are working on a model where all they have to do is add water to rehydrate. Marines aren’t expected to have long expiration dates anyway. Okay, marines. Quit your lollygagging around. First man on his feet gets a blowjob from me.” She grinned at Numos. “At least, I'll live life fully, no matter the length of it.”

The wounded marines grunted and with various levels of groans, worked their way to their feet. They made their way north to meet up with the other marines searching for survivors and those not so lucky. Two of the marines, stopped, opened their bags and started picking up pieces of human bodies scattered around the parade ground. They put the pieces in the bags, not worrying about what part went with who, while gathering up any personal effects and identification they could find. If they could possibly help it, the marines wouldn’t leave anyone behind, alive or dead, when they bugged out.

Numos nodded at Stone. “Ensign, one mile south?”

Stone shrugged. “It’s as good a direction as any. Hyrocanians coming from the north means I want to go the other way. Should we move en masse, sir?”

Numos answered, “No. I think those who can go now should get out now. Corporal Tuttle, can you get your suit?”

Tuttle pointed at the south barracks. “I was Charlie Squad, Major.”

“Get suited up, Corporal. I will keep an eye on our commander until you get back. Grab—” He looked around and pointed at another marine. “Grab her and get suited up. Then find Ensign Stone. You cover his ass like it’s gold.”

Tuttle didn’t respond, turning to sprint across the compound. The other marine must have gotten the orders through an earbud because she stopped what she was doing and raced after Tuttle.

Ryte chuckled. “It’s such a nice ass, too, Ensign Stone. I might watch it myself.” Stone started to reply, but she stopped him. “Gentlemen, I do think the Hyrocanians are homing in on our electronics. Whether they can tap into them to gather intelligence or just triangulate on the signals, we should limit our communications.”

Numos looked at Stone. He shrugged back. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Numos shouted, “Silent running! Silent running! Silent running!” The call was taken up across the compound, passed voice to voice. Marines in combat suits shimmered and disappeared, their camouflage hiding them from all spectrums: visible, invisible, and electronic.

Lieutenant Hammermill raced up to them. “Sir. I mean, Ensign Stone. Z-99 protocol has commenced. One hour as specified. Fifty-seven minutes remaining on the countdown.”

Numos said, “I don’t think we have fifty-seven minutes. Hyrocanian technology is slow and mostly stolen from other species, but even we couldn’t move troops from the back of the planet to here at the rate of those missiles. Still, if they left at the same time as the missiles, they could be here in next to no time. Hammer, get all marines from your platoon suited up asap. Charlie Platoon is the least damaged.”

Hammermill pointed at the smoldering rim of the compound. There was barely half a circle left of the enclosed ring. “Sir, Delta Platoon was on watch. Their shuttle should have been on CAP duty. It must have been caught in the initial blast. Those are my people on deck now. The other half is looking for survivors. We can be suited in ten.” He shouted at a marine sergeant, made a few hand gestures and the man began gathering marines, sending them to Charlie’s barracks to get suited. “We can find survivors quicker in suits anyway.”