The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes (18 page)

Sanchez noticed one of the bodies on the ground was still moving. It was the Marine whose leg had been taken. The man’s eyes were focused on the ceiling and danced in a random pattern. The body convulsed, then the eyes went still and distant. He glanced back over at McGregor. “With all due respect, Major, I don’t think they were your Marines anymore.”

* * *

Hunger and the need for sleep gnawed at Hood’s senses, but he didn’t have time for either. The Chi’tan would be back, and the conditions in the planet’s atmosphere were getting worse. There were a few pieces of good news. Whitaker had managed with plans to create a rudimentary screen using particle energy. His team had worked around the clock to build it around the reactors, but there was no guarantee it would work. It was the best play he had if the Chi’tan’s weapon was still operational. Knowing how his luck had been recently, he was going to need every tool at his disposal.

“Captain, do you have a minute?” Aldridge asked from the Tactical Station.

“Sure.” He stood from his chair and tried to shake the cobwebs away from his thoughts. When he arrived at her station, he noticed several damage assessment images on her terminal. “What did you need?”

“I’ve been reviewing all the salvaged parts of our fighters to see what we could use for spare parts and I found an irregularity.” The image on the screen was the underbelly of a Stingray fighter’s fuselage. “This is a remnant of Raven’s fighter. It contains her transponder attached to its mooring on the inside.”

“I see it, but I don’t understand.”

“That’s just it. Raven’s fighter has two transponders. One is hers and the other is Lieutenant Commander Greywalker’s.”

“How is that possible?” He remembered how close the two fighters had been in combat. They’d maintained their formation longer than any of the squadron. He thought it was training and Kadin’s advanced skills, but this explained a lot.

“I surveyed most of the salvaged parts. So far there hasn’t been anything that indicates this is from Lieutenant Commander Greywalker’s fighter.”

He was dumbfounded. His list of questions dwarfed all the answers he had and were still piling up. Slowly he traced the events of the past few weeks. Pieces started to fit, but the puzzle was far from complete. “Keep looking. I want—”

A loud warning from Aldridge’s terminal interrupted him. Four new signals appeared on her screen just outside the planet’s gravity well. They were new space-fold events. Hood didn’t wait for identification and raced back to his station.

Aldridge routed the information from Tactical to the Command Station’s overhead monitor. The Chi’tan ship was back, and they’d brought three heavy cruisers with them. After entering the system, the three Cilik’ti cruisers formed a triangle in front of the larger warship. The formation was similar to their attack patterns against stations. The cruisers could provide superb firepower and protect vital assault vessels with their drones. In this case, the formation was wider than normal. Wide enough to give the Chi’tan elite cruiser a clear lane to strike the
Armstrong
with its energy beam and not worry about hitting their own ships.

Hood turned back to Wells at Communications. “Lieutenant, contact the
Jeffries
. Inform them of our situation and try to raise Sanchez at the colony.” He knew there was little hope of getting to his XO and the Marines on the surface, but he had to try to warn them. “How long until the Cilik’ti are in attack range?” he asked Aldridge.

“Two minutes to extreme range at present speed. Do we intercept?”

“Negative.” Hood stood and studied the Cilik’ti advance. He kept his breathing calm and even. He needed to focus. What he intended to do required careful timing. “Power all weapons. Put the gunships in defensive pattern beta and launch all fighters. Place us in a broadside to port and hold position.”

“Sir, if we stay here, we can’t maneuver,” Aldridge warned, her voice laden with uncertainty.

“I’d rather fight here than out there if their new weapon targets us again,” Hood responded with confidence. Five new signals appeared to the
Armstrong’s
starboard.

“I’ve got five new space-fold events! The Cilik’ti have us flanked.”

Hood stared at the screen and smiled. “Check your IDs, Lieutenant. Help has arrived.”

Exiting the blue flash from the first space-fold event was the
Jeffries,
and she was joined by four
EDF
Chimera Class Cruisers.

“I’m receiving a comm signal from the
Jeffries
,” Wells informed him.

“Route it to my station.” Moments later, a face appeared on his screen.

“Well, well, well. What have you gotten yourself into, Captain?” It wasn’t Lieutenant Commander Turnbow speaking for the
Jeffries,
it was Colonel Beckett.

Hood gave him an uneven smile. His earlier assumption about Beckett’s location in the fleet at Cygni was correct. He’d figured the
Jeffries
was the best place for the man to be. On board the reconnaissance frigate, he’d be able to keep tabs on Hood and act on any intelligence that came in. As far as his backup was concerned, it was simple. If Beckett was chasing the mysterious stealth frigate, he’d want a strong task force to take her down. Wherever he was, his strike fleet was sure to be right behind him. “Good to see you too, Beckett. Care to lend a hand?”

Beckett snorted. “I doubt there will be any trouble. We have them outnumbered.”

Hood’s terminal beeped. The Cilik’ti were still on approach. They’d just entered long-range for their weapons. “I don’t think they see it that way, Beckett.”

Beckett looked away from his terminal. His voice wavered. “They’re moving into attack position. What do we do?”

Fear wasn’t something he’d expected from Beckett, but Hood knew he was never one for frontline combat. “Have the cruisers sync operational control to my tactical officer and launch your fighters. It’s time to let the big boys play. Buckle up. It’s going to get nasty.” Hood opened the channel to Engineering he’d saved on his terminal. “Mr. Whitaker, it’s time for your contraption. Is it ready?”

“Yes. All connections are complete.” Whitaker’s tone was confident. Ever since he’d arrived on board, the
Armstrong’s
chief engineer had managed to redesign systems on the fly when it counted.

Hood’s faith in him didn’t waver. “Light it up.”

Chapter Eighteen

After securing the field dressing to the wounded Marine’s shoulder, Sanchez checked that it wasn’t too tight. The team’s medic had died in the clutches of the Razorclaw, but Sanchez had made sure to carry several med gel packs and bandages just in case. A few of the other Marines had nicks and contusions from the attacks by their former friends, but nothing severe.

“Where to now?” McGregor asked him. “Do we follow Lieutenant Greywalker?”

Sanchez walked to the alcove Maya had exited and gazed up the stairs. “No. I think Kadin was trying to lead us away from who’s behind this facility. Besides, whatever’s going on with her brother is personal. She can take care of herself.” He pointed to the metal door. “All the other alcoves lead to caves. I think this is where we need to go.” He approached the door and examined the flight suit hung next to it. He read the nameplate and his eyes widened. “This is Captain Styles’s suit.” He rushed to the door’s large handle and started to pull. “Come on, he could be down here. We need to find him.”

McGregor ordered the wounded Marine and one other to stay behind and guard Andrews and his team, who were in the Embrace chambers. If anything happened, they were to go back to the surface and contact Sergeant Toronaga and the other MACE units. They weren’t answering their comms, and McGregor figured the metal in the walls was causing interference.

The large metal door slid open, scraping the cavern floor.
So much for stealth.
Behind the door was a winding staircase that went down for several meters. Pale blue lights mounted on the walls offered fair illumination, but the Marines reactivated their lights under the barrels of their weapons just to be sure. Two of the Marines took point, and Sanchez joined McGregor in the center.

At the base of the stairs, the group entered a short hall, which ended in an open door. Beyond the door was an expansive room greater than thirty meters across. The lights were brighter than on the stairs, but the full length of the room was concealed in darkness. Finished smooth stone walls lined the room and the ceiling extended up and out of sight. Twenty meters from the door stood two men, both with their backs to the Marines as they entered. The one on the left wore a simple gray jumpsuit, while the other was dressed in black pants and a dark brown jacket imprinted with the logo of the
Cabot
. He was one of the colonists. Neither man moved but seemed to be staring into the thick of the darkness, oblivious to their approach. Sanchez could’ve sworn he saw the darkness in front of them shift.

McGregor used silent hand signals to fan out his team then readied his assault rifle.

Sanchez readied his as well and checked Kirtland to his left. The large Marine loaded his grenade launcher.
So much for up close and personal.

“This is Major Arlen McGregor of the
EDF
Marine Corp,” the large Marine bellowed. “Identify yourself!”

The man on the left spun around first, and Sanchez gasped. “Captain Styles?”

His former CO’s eyes narrowed into a stare that drove a chill up his spine.

The second man turned around, and Sanchez recoiled in horror. Arthur Grange’s face was drawn and wrinkled. That wasn’t the only thing. His eyes danced just like the other Marines who’d attacked them and the colonists back at the camp.

An invisible force slammed into Sanchez and pushed him backward toward the wall. A few shots rang out to his right, and he heard them ricochet off the wall. There wasn’t anything in front of him to grab or move out of the way. It felt as if a large stone was pressed against him. No matter how he tried to brace his feet, he couldn’t stop his slide across the floor. Desperate, he turned his head toward McGregor for help, but the burly Marine was in the same situation.

Seconds later he slammed into the wall. His breath was knocked from his lungs and his head banged into the wall. Stars filled his vision and he almost blacked out. He closed his eyes and took a few short breaths. Whatever invisible force had pushed him backward now had him pinned to the wall. He tried to slide his rifle sideways, hoping to find an edge to turn it in the direction of Grange, but it was no use.

Sanchez turned back to Styles in time to see him pull a sidearm from a holster on the front of his jumpsuit. The man took careful aim at Sanchez’s face.

“Captain, what are you doing?” Sanchez pleaded.

Grange, or whatever he was now, reached out and placed his hand on Styles’s elbow.

The
Cestus’s
captain lowered his weapon and gave Grange a respectful bow in return.

“That will be all, Captain. You may go,” Grange instructed in a deep and gravelly voice.

“Thank you, Great One.” Styles holstered his weapon and turned to walk away into the darkness.

“Captain Styles, please! Why are you doing this?” Sanchez called out to his friend.

Styles stopped and pivoted back to him. The dark glimmer in his eyes made Sanchez’s heart sink. The man he’d come to honor and respect, his friend and mentor, was gone. In his place was something sinister and twisted. “Good to see you again, Raf. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a new ship that needs her captain.” He offered a quick mock salute and disappeared into the darkness.

Grange took a few steps forward. “Your bodies are strong. They’ll be made to service us, just like your friends.” His horrid face scanned the Marines in front of him. “Rejoice! Your lives will be given a new purpose.” An evil grin crossed his face. “Your fear will feed our legions for years to come.”

“Psst,” Sanchez heard from his right. The whisper came from McGregor, and Sanchez tilted his head to look in his direction without alerting Grange.

McGregor eyes darted to his left hand. In the Marine’s grip was a small cylinder—a flash bang grenade.

Sanchez nodded once in agreement and fingered the grip of his rifle.

With a flick of his thumb, McGregor pulled the pin on the grenade, waited a few seconds and let it drop to the floor. The grenade’s metal shell made a loud clang when it struck the stone.

Grange’s head snapped in the direction of the grenade, and Sanchez closed his eyes. When the grenade exploded, Sanchez howled in pain. His eyes were fine, but the sound was deafening.

He wasn’t the only one yelling. Grange screamed in agony.

Sanchez dropped to his knees. He wasn’t sure if it was his equilibrium again, but his arm holding the heavy assault rifle went slack and he nearly dropped it to the floor. The powerful force that had been pressing him against the wall was gone.

He opened his eyes and brought his rifle to his shoulder. No longer standing, Grange was on his knees and bent over at the waist. His forehead touched the floor and his chest heaved as if out of breath. He raised his head, and bloodshot eyes stared at Sanchez. “Shoot!” the man shouted. “For God’s sake, shoot before it recovers!” His body writhed in pain and his eyes resumed their crazed motion from earlier.

Before Sanchez could take aim, two bursts from another rifle came from his right. McGregor’s rounds struck Grange in the chest and head. Grange’s body flipped over and landed on his back. He tried to roll himself over with his arms, but more rounds from the other Marines struck it in rapid succession. Bleeding from several wounds, Grange slumped to the floor and lay still.

A deep sigh of relief left Sanchez’s lungs and he set his rifle on the ground in front of him. His ears were still ringing. Despite the discomfort, it was manageable. McGregor walked over and held out his hand. Sanchez took it, and McGregor helped him to his feet.

“Next time, when the bad guy asks me to shoot, can you let me do it?” Sanchez joked.

McGregor’s laughter in return changed to a gasp. In the thick darkness behind Grange’s body, two bright yellow slits appeared several meters above the floor. Sanchez swore they looked like fierce eyes. They flashed bright, and everyone turned toward Kirtland, who started screaming.

Kirtland dropped to his knees and let his grenade launcher slip from his hands. In pure agony, he pressed his hands against his temples. Blood trickled down the sides of his face where his fingers dug into his skin. Kirtland’s wails went silent, even though his mouth was still open and waiting to emit the next painful chorus. Two Marines rushed to Kirtland, and he collapsed in their arms, his lungs heaving.

Helplessness gripped Sanchez’s heart. Kirtland was one of the strongest people he knew and whatever was lurking in the darkness in front of them had reduced the man to a quivering mess. Sanchez turned his head back to the yellow eyes and froze. They were gone. In their place were three pairs of glittering red eyes shaped in a V. Out of the darkness strode a creature with ebony black armor outlined in bright green tattoos. The creature raised its head to its towering four-meter height and roared a challenge.

Sanchez swallowed hard. If he had to go to the bathroom before, he was positive he didn’t anymore. Standing before him was an elite Chi’tan warrior. He’d never seen one up close before, but McGregor and Kirtland had. Facing regular Cilik’ti warriors in a stand-up fight was bad enough. One of these monsters was nothing short of a living nightmare.

The Chi’tan had no weapon in its hand and it didn’t need one. It stormed forward after Kirtland.

The two Marines beside Kirtland opened fire with their weapons, and the rounds bounced off its thick armor. The Chi’tan swatted them aside.

Kirtland staggered and glared up at the monster before him. “No! You’re dead! I saw you die!”

Counter to his point, the Chi’tan warrior grasped Kirtland around the throat with one powerful arm and squeezed. Bones popped inside the man’s armor. Kirtland cried out then went limp. The Chi’tan threw his body across the room and into the wall next to the entryway like a ragdoll.

Sanchez’s earlier feeling of helplessness and fear turned to rage that spurred adrenaline into his veins. He grabbed his weapon and rushed to one of the fallen Marines.

“Fall back into the tunnel!” McGregor ordered and unleashed a flurry of rounds at the hulking Cilik’ti. One of the rounds found its mark between the folds of its armor, and the Chi’tan whirled on him with a snarl.

Not taking his eyes off the huge Cilik’ti, Sanchez helped the downed Marine to his feet and nudged him toward the tunnel. Weapons fire and loud taunts continued behind him. McGregor had the Chi’tan’s full attention. He backed farther into the room toward the wall of darkness, throwing every vile curse he could think of at the beast.

The Chi’tan lunged at McGregor with its two large hands outstretched. The crafty Marine was ready. He rolled to his right and came up firing right into the Chi’tan’s face. It shook its head in fury. Two of its eyes were gone, and black ichor streamed down its face.

Leaving the Marines in the tunnel, Sanchez sprinted into the room and picked up Kirtland’s grenade launcher. The launcher had one round loaded, but he couldn’t fire it now. McGregor was too close.

McGregor continued his taunts, and the Chi’tan moved in methodically this time. It cornered the man. He managed to dodge being crushed by a powerful punch from the Chi’tan. The blow struck him in the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. The monstrous Cilik’ti towered over him, ready to deliver a killing strike.

Realizing he was out of options, Sanchez pressed the launcher to his shoulder and took aim at the Chi’tan warrior’s back. He hoped its armored body would shield McGregor from the blast.

Before he squeezed the trigger, a loud report came from the tunnel. The Chi’tan was flung to its right, and pieces of broken armor dropped away from its neck. Standing in the doorway was a MACE unit with a sniper rifle, and it pointed the deadly weapon at the Chi’tan again. Priest.

The Chi’tan spun and delivered a vicious backhand at McGregor.

Unable to avoid the blow, McGregor ducked into a ball, and the impact sent him into an awkward roll toward the tunnel. He flattened out and skidded to a halt just short of the wall.

Sanchez readied the launcher again. This time he had a clear shot. He steeled himself, placed the targeting sight on the Chi’tan warrior’s chest and pulled the trigger. Click! He pulled it again, and the weapon didn’t fire. He checked the weapon again and didn’t see anything wrong.

Priest’s MACE fired again, and the round drove the huge Chi’tan back into the wall. The round didn’t penetrate but left a huge dent in its chest plate. The MACE fired a third time, which only seemed to make the Chi’tan angrier.

Desperate, Sanchez looked for a weapon to take it down. Across the room, he found the answer. He crouched low and dashed toward the wall near the entryway. Another round from Priest’s MACE passed over his head and hit the Chi’tan. It stood there and took the hit as though the bullet was a BB striking a steel plate.

Sanchez reached his target, rolled Kirtland’s lifeless body over and slid the ammo belt full of grenade rounds off his shoulder. Blood oozed from joints in the man’s armor and the frozen look of terror on his face almost made him panic. With the grenades in hand, he spun away from the visage and watched the Chi’tan. Sanchez knew what was coming. With one hand he found the cap of one of the grenades and twisted the cover. His index finger slid inside the top and he felt the trigger button.

The next round from Priest’s MACE glanced on the Chi’tan warrior’s head. Its reaction was immediate. It charged.

Sanchez pressed the trigger button and slid the ammo belt toward Grange’s body. It snagged on the dead man’s arm and stopped right in the path of the charging Cilik’ti. “Move!” he roared.

Priest grabbed McGregor, who struggled to stand, and ran into the tunnel. Sanchez was right behind him. The grenades detonated after a few steps into the tunnel, and the blast pushed him into Priest’s MACE. He grabbed on to the running set of power armor with both hands and didn’t let go.

Priest’s MACE bounded up the stairs and into the main room above with the Embrace units. Sanchez let go of the MACE and slammed the metal door shut. “How’d you find us, Sergeant?” he asked Priest.

“Sergeant Toronaga and I discovered another passage that led us here,” Priest explained. “Corporals Wills and Chalis went back to the original cavern in case you came back out.”