Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (47 page)

The door slid open. I knelt, peeked out. “Set the elevator for four-minute delay service. I don’t hear them so they’re not climbing down.” I checked again. “Come on, the balcony.”

A cacophony of sounding, cracking MP fire, and bursts of automatic gunfire increased as we approached the bay opening. I spotted the bodies of two passengers. One lay prone, acid having eaten through his abdomen. The other, doubled-over the railing, was covered with needles from Stegmar guns.

I crept forward to survey, using the corpse on the railing for cover. Smith and Muller were in a firefight with two dozen Stegmar and a Gar-Crax. Less than twenty yards away three passengers inexpertly covered their flank. Haxon and Watts were pinned down behind some crates about thirty yards from the shuttle. Shattered human and alien bodies littered the bay.

Thunk
! A pod. Its impact sounded close.

I looked again. An energy beam emerged, slowly cutting an arc through the shuttle bay floor. Two of the covering passengers were down with one falling back. I pulled two fragmentation grenades. “Smith, Muller, DOWN!” I hurled the old-style grenades in the path of the Stegmar swarm now hurdling toward Smith. Before they exploded, I threw a stun grenade to suppress the group pinning Haxon and Watts.

The sounding faltered for a second, but a hail of needles and acid rounds convinced me the bay ladder down was a bad idea. “We’ll go Plan B,” I shouted into the bay.

I dragged Skids from the balcony. “Skids, I just cleared the way for your mom. Corporal Smith’s down there.” I tugged at his shoulder. “He’ll get her out. We’ll go for the exploration shuttle.” I keyed the balcony’s door closed, and the sounding lost most of its grip on the boy.

“My mom?” He refocused his thoughts. “Why?”

I didn’t want to mention that in about 30 seconds there’d be a new boarding party climbing into the bay. Elite forces, as Lori Watts suggested. We picked up the pace and passed the elevator. I didn’t dare risk one again. I raced to recall the ship diagrams. Maintenance accesses had lines running. Some would be grated and some covered, but they ran along decks, not from deck to deck.

Then I remembered the leaking pipes installed in the colonist area. Mer brought me along to examine the repairs. They ran along a main vertical conduit and passed through the gravity plate. “I have an idea. Quick now.”

A blast nudged the
Kalavar
. “What was that?” A larger one rocked the ship.

“Don’t know, Skids. Maybe the
Thunder Child
got lucky.” We made it to the center of the ship. “Unlike the tube ladders, this has limited access.” I keyed and spoke my password. “Hope the system’s still up.”

“Did you almost forget your access code?”

Thud
. I did my best to ignore the fact that another breaching pod just attached. “No, incorporated a required pause for impatient I-Techs like you,” I teased. Despite the situation, Skids cracked a smile.

The thick titanium alloy access, disguised as any normal door, slid open. I peered in, shotgun ready. The standard three-meter-diameter tube housed hundreds of wires, pipes, and lines, among other things. What remained was a one-meter diameter area with varying degrees of lateral access. “They haven’t made it to this yet. If they do, they could sever a main artery of the
Kalavar
.” A platform descended. “Hop on, strap in.” I keyed the door closed. “Lift, elevate two meters per second.” I didn’t recall the deck number the water pipes split off, but I knew Mer had marked them with yellow duct tape.

I pulled my pen flashlight. “See, we follow the line with the yellow tape.” I handed him the flashlight before we reached the orange line. “Hold on.” The platform pivoted 180 degrees as we passed through the gravity plate. We continued up while I settled my stomach.

Skids slid the stun baton into a pocket. “Where to?”

“Colonist area. Those are the water lines to the lavatory.” Then, I thought better. “No, the wires running to the recessed surveillance equipment.” But I hadn’t inspected that and didn’t know for sure which cable bundle they were. “Damn, stick to the water line.”

“There, they go in,” Skids said, pointing.

“Good work. Lift, slow ascent to one half meter per second…stop ascent.” I collapsed Skid’s shield and unhooked him. “Crawl quickly but quiet. Follow the lines.”

He slipped the penlight between his teeth and took off like a tunnel rat. Toting my shotgun and equipment proved more difficult. I sheathed my bayonet and still twice I hooked my satchel or sling before catching up with Skids.

“The sounding noise,” he moaned.

I listened. That and automatic gunfire. “Can’t be helped. This way.” I led him to a section of temporary ceiling paneling. “Light off.” I pried up a panel with my bayonet to find we were above one of the colonist’s quarters. Nearby, the sounds of desperate fighting raged.

Skids gritted his teeth. I pulled my bandana and cut small strips and wadded them up. “If we get separated,” I whispered, “make it to the exploration shuttle in the cargo bay. You know where the bay door is?”

Skids shook, but was coherent. “Yes, Specialist.”

“Know where the access hatch is?”

Nervous sweat dripped down his face. “Nne--near the diesel engine work station.”

“Correct. You’ve been brave. Stuff these in your ears. It’ll help some.” I removed the panel, crawled over and then dropped. I signaled for my shotgun. Then Skids followed.

“This is Vargus’s room,” he said.

“We’re near the dining area.” A spray of bullets ripped through the temporary walling. I yanked Skids to the ground. I signaled for him to stay and crawled to the half-drawn curtain. Toward the dining area, about 25 yards away, stood three Gar-Crax, each with a Bulldog Beetle clinging to its shoulder. They were shielding ten Stegmar Mantis forming up for a charge.

The sounding intensified until it rattled my bones. I looked back to give Michael instructions, but he was curled into a ball, paralyzed. Before the aliens could move, I pulled my last stun grenade and sent it skidding across the floor. Then I stood and emptied my shotgun into the surprised bundle of aliens.

Crewmen from the other direction opened up, catching the aliens in a deadly crossfire. The sounding ceased. I turned to get Skids when heavy footsteps, metal on metal, caught my attention. Two huge Gar-Crax, suited in metallic armor, approached. Like an armadillo’s overlapping bands, the armor covered them from snout to tail, and each hefted an ornate halberd similar to its unarmored brethren.

I didn’t have to see the elite soldiers’ grins as they strode closer. “Holy crap!” Shotgun empty, I drew my revolver, wanting to shoot myself for not loading AP rounds. “Skids, don’t come out!” The Crax duo increased their pace. I backpedaled faster, and fired once, generally for the crystal eye slits. The headpiece jerked slightly at the impact, but the round ricocheted off without leaving a mark.

I knew Gar-Crax were faster than any human, even one running for his life. Maybe the armor would slow them down. I broke into a sprint, holding onto my firearms, who knows why. Maybe training—maybe stupidity.

I made it to the last set of quarters and hurdled the pile of fallen aliens, fully expecting to be bisected in mid-leap. As I landed, a temporary wall crashed into the pursuing Gar-Crax, knocking one flat while the other staggered through the opposite wall.

Chief Brold hauled himself up and drove his pike through the walling, through the armor, and into the chest of a fallen Gar-Crax. Its snarl curled to a screech when the chief energized the pike’s tip.

Chief Brold didn’t have time to gloat. The second Gar-Crax recovered and swung its halberd at the servo-armored human. The chief ducked and the alien’s molecular blade struck his pike. Somehow the chief retained his grip.

Unfazed, Chief Brold lowered his shoulder and drove into his eight-foot opponent, hauling the pike behind his churning feet. I took the opportunity to load lead slug rounds into my shotgun. They wouldn’t penetrate but might jar the alien a bit, if I got a clean shot.

The chief came around with a right fist to the head, toppling his opponent. The Crax got its left foot under the chief, kicked and sent him flying into the meal benches twenty yards away.

Blam
!
Blam
! I sent two rounds slamming into the Crax before it got up. That got its attention. Swell. “How ’bout another.”
Blam
! That one deflected off the faceplate.

“Keesay!” shouted the chief. “Get the hell out of here!”

“You look a little overmatched, Chief!” I circled to my right. The Crax would have to turn his back on the chief to face me. It leveled its halberd. Knowing what that meant, I dove and rolled. Three caustic pellets whizzed past, inches off target.

It turned back to face the charging human. The chief knocked aside the halberd and slammed his pike’s shaft into the Crax’s midsection, driving it back a step. The Crax swung its weapon, slashing just over the crouching human. Chief Brold responded by plunging the point of his pike through the armored abdomen, driving the elite soldier back.

The chief activated the tip, sending energy through the impaled alien, but not before it brought the halberd down, shearing through the chief’s leg and into the floor. I slid two buckshot rounds into my shotgun and scanned for more aliens. I spotted
Kalavar
crewmen climbing from behind a barricade.

“Chief’s down,” I yelled. When I got to him, the chief had thrown the alien aside. It lay stiff, with armor locked in place. I knelt next to the chief. His leg had been severed at mid-calf, down at a sixty degree angle.

Blood gushed out. “Lie back, Chief.” I examined the leg armor for the release catches. With it in place I couldn’t apply pressure or other first aid.

“Report. Where’s the boy?”

“Right there, Chief.” Michael crept forward. “See, now lie back.” The pool of blood spread. Chief Brold was going into shock. With two quick snaps, the armor fell back. Carver Potts shoved a cord into my hand. “Anybody have a first aid kit?” I asked.

Potts shouted, “Tahgs, hustle up!”

“Colonist Potts,” I said. “Post guard. Still aliens about.”

He checked his assault rifle. Changed clips. “Sure thing, Specialist. Knew that was you blasting away. Glad I never really tangled with ya.”

I looped the cord and tightened it over the leg stump.

Tahgs slid next to me. “Kra, not too tight. Hold the leg up.” She pulled a packet of synthetic skin. “Mer, open this.”

The old man peeled it open. Tahgs sprayed an antiseptic followed by a blood vessel constrictor. “Quick, Mer. Place it over the wound.”

When the synth-skin attached to the wound, blood proteins activated the bonding seal. Tahgs moved around and checked Chief Brold’s pulse. She reached in and pulled an emergency injection syringe and administered pain meds.

“He’ll make it,” Mer said.

“Kra,” said Janice. “Potts claimed you’re a brave SOB. I’ll have to admit, crude but true.”

“Did you miss the running part? Chief did all the work.”

She looked around. “And who shot those Crax and Stegmars?”

I looked to Mer who was holding a marine-issue hand radio to his ear. “I’ve got to get to the exploration shuttle,” I said. “Captain’s orders.”

He looked determined. “Club says we can expect company. Two decks below moving up. She’ll try to send help. And good news, four pods on approached, turned back.”

I searched my pockets, and switched loads in my revolver. “AP rounds,” I said to anybody who was listening, “for what they’re worth.”

“A couple of Crax with shields got past us,” said Mer. “Some Stegmars, too. Might’ve been heading for the cargo bay. There’s a squad of colonists up there.”

“Any marines?”

Mer shook his head. “Them and the shuttle crew. Might have been some gunfire, but hard to tell.”

“Engineer McAllister and Tech Gudkov, too,” said Tahgs. “Just before they hit us.”

“Skids, my shotgun. We’ll get by them.”

“Lefty got two of them,” Skids said, pointing. My sec-bot had deployed its stun net over two Stegmars before becoming an acid-pitted husk.

Mer ordered, “Colonist Potts, go with Keesay.”

“No,” I said. “You’re expecting company, remember? I’ll need you to hold them while I figure a way around the Crax.”

“Raccoon,” said the chief, propped up on an elbow. “Damn foolish of you. I’d been stalking them since they boarded. Chicher’s been shadowing them, too.”

“Glad to flush them for you, Chief.” I finished loading my shotgun and said to Potts, “Help me haul the chief to the barricade.”

Mer, Tahgs and Skids followed. “Get my leg,” ordered the chief. “Maybe Sevanto can sew it back on.”

Mer retrieved it, shaking his head. He wrapped it in a sack and set it in a dish tub.

“Thanks,” said the chief, and pulled his laser pistol.

Mer followed by slamming a fresh clip into an old-style .45 semi-automatic pistol, and holstered it before grabbing an assault rifle. “You ain’t the only one with Relic weapons, Kra.” He grinned. “We’ll hold’em.” Potts affixed a fresh laser module under the barrel of Mer’s rifle. Mer spoke into his hand radio. “Club, Keesay escorting package to expo.”