Resistance (20 page)

“This is Echo-Six,” Hale said into his lip mike. “Let's saddle up. We're going in.”

Yorba spun in his direction, offered a grin and a quick thumbs-up before turning to follow his partner up into the machine that loomed above them. Kawecki signaled his understanding by clicking his mike on and off twice.

Ten minutes later Hale was piloting the Stalker up and over the ridge, watching carefully to make certain an alert Sabre Jet pilot didn't spot the machines and try to take them out. The last thing they needed was to be attacked by an American plane. But if any of the flyboys were still alive, they had their hands full off to the east, and the Stalkers were able to proceed unimpeded.

Once in the ravine below all he had to do was follow it to the point where it emptied out into a low-cut channel that meandered east. That was the point where he led the other Stalkers up onto a gently rolling prairie and began a high-speed run toward the town of Hot Springs.

“High-speed” being a relative term, because while extremely agile—especially over rough terrain—the Stalkers weren't very fast. In fact, any tank or APV could outrun the Chimeran machines on a reasonably flat surface. But that couldn't be helped, so all Hale and his companions could do was grit their teeth as they lurched along, and hope for the best.

Half an hour later they closed with the main highway and began to follow it north. Given the volume of southbound traffic it appeared that the battle was still underway, which was excellent news.

Their situation presented a new danger however, because no one really understood how the Chimeran command structure functioned, and Hale was worried that the equivalent of an officer would take notice of the fact
that three Stalkers were headed north, rather than south into the battle, and attempt to turn them around. If that occurred they would have no choice but to fight, thereby attracting all sorts of lethal attention and compromising the mission so many had given their lives to support.

But the Chimera didn't question such things, or so it appeared, as the Stalkers were permitted to pass through a heavily defended checkpoint approximately one mile outside Hot Springs. Or what was left of the town, since most of it had been reduced to little more than blackened rubble. Almost all the buildings had been gutted by fire, bullet-riddled cars lay every which way, and the only sign of human habitation was the bird-picked remains of a corpse that dangled from a lamppost.

It was a sight that filled Hale with both anger and determination.

“Okay,” Barrie said as she consulted an aerial photo, “take a right here, and follow this street to the main gate.”

As the Stalkers spidered their way along the side street, Hale saw that a strip of land around the Chimeran base had been leveled with heavy machinery, creating a free-fire zone through which attackers would have to pass before they could assault the nine-foot-high metal walls encircling the installation. All of which raised an interesting question.

Who where the Chimera afraid of? Conventional forces like the Rangers to the south? Or resistance fighters like the Freedom First group? The second possibility seemed more likely—since the U.S. forces had been primarily on the defensive until earlier that morning.

“This should be interesting,” Barrie said grimly as the Stalker marched toward a pair of heavy-duty gates.

“That's one word for it,” Hale agreed as he eyed the towers to either side of the entryway. “Echo-Six to Five
and Four … Watch those towers. If they fire, take them out. I'll take care of the gates. Over.”

There were two double-clicks by way of a response. Moments later Hale felt a profound sense of relief as the huge doors parted and began to rumble in opposite directions. “We're in!” Barrie said jubilantly, as the Stalker passed through the opening.

“Yeah,” Hale agreed soberly. “But will we be able to get
out?”

The question went unanswered as the Stalkers passed through a narrow corridor, took a left, and entered the open area that lay beyond. A scattering of Hybrids could be seen, but no more than fifty, thanks to the battle still raging south of Hot Springs. A watchtower soared above all else, with lesser structures clustered around it, one of which was the storage facility they hoped to enter.

But before they attempted that, there was something else they needed to do.

“This is Echo-Six,” Hale said grimly. “Once we enter the storage complex the Chimera will know we're here and they'll come after us with everything they can muster. So before we go after the fuel, let's do some housecleaning. Every stink you kill will be one less problem to deal with later. I'll take the towers, while you tidy the grounds. Over.”

Again two sets of clicks as the Stalkers split up and went to work. Kawecki fired first, using his machine gun to mow down a file of unsuspecting ′brids crossing the open area in front of him. The weapon made a loud rattling noise as tracers sought the aliens and tore them apart.

Meanwhile Hale turned his machine to face the nearest tower. It was about fifty feet tall. The top consisted of a reflective metal ball which housed two gang-mounted
machine guns that could clearly be brought to bear on aerial or ground targets. It was impossible to see the gunner through the chrome surface, but Hale could imagine a Hybrid ensconced in some sort of powered seat, surveying the area. From the ′brid's perspective, the Stalkers would have been part of the usual scenery, and of little or no interest.

There was a red reticle on Hale's heads-up display, and the moment it centered on the top of the tower, he triggered the missile launcher mounted on the left side of the Stalker's turretlike body. He felt the machine shudder as the weapon took to the air. It paused for a fraction of a second and gave birth to a sub-munition which accelerated toward the target.

There was a flash of light, followed by a muted explosion as the gun turret took a direct hit. The half-blackened gun-ball swiveled toward the Stalker, but didn't fire, as if the gunner was trying to figure out what to do. Was it taking friendly fire? Or had the attack been intentional? There was no way the ′brid could be sure.

The answer came in the form of a
second
missile, which blew a hole in the gun-ball, and detonated the ammo within. The secondary explosion blew the top of the tower clean off and left a blackened stump in its place.

Before Hale could enjoy his success, the gunner in the adjacent tower opened fire on his Stalker. Bright green tracers found the machine and converged on it. The Stalker shook madly as Hale sent it crabbing sideways in an effort to escape the incoming fire. Hale knew that if he turned, thereby exposing the back of his machine to the enemy, it would only be a matter of seconds before the incoming slugs tore through the mech's power core and blew the Stalker apart.

“I'll operate the turret,” Barrie said as she flipped a
cover out of the way and slapped a switch. Hydraulics whined as the turret containing two auto-cannons extended upward and she released her harness.

Hale felt conflicting emotions while she climbed up into the turret above. He was supposed to be in command, but it was difficult to pilot the machine and operate all of the weapons, too, so her willingness to act as gunner was welcome.

Plus it was nice to know that Barrie would fight when the need arose.

Meanwhile, as he took partial cover behind a pumping station, and Barrie poured cannon shells into the second tower, the other Stalkers prowled the Chimeran base, killing anything that moved. Then, having put dozens of Hybrids down, Kawecki and Yorba went after the gun towers on the other side of the base. Their combined fire proved to be more than any one tower could withstand, and it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of the gun-balls were out of action.

As Kawecki and Yorba returned to the area in front of the storage facility, Hale and Barrie won their engagement and were rewarded as the top half of tower two broke free and toppled onto a flat one-story structure, thereby crushing it. A cloud of dust rose, quickly followed by smoke when something caught fire.

“Nice one, Echo-Six,” Kawecki said admiringly. “That was good shooting! Over.”

“Thanks,” Barrie replied. “And Lieutenant Hale deserves some of the credit, too.”

The others were too smart to laugh with their microphones turned on, but Hale knew they were, as he brought the Stalker to a stop in front of the target building.

“This is Six,” Hale said. “It's time to bail. Don't forget
to bring your gear with you. Place charges on all three machines. Do you read? Over.”

“Roger,” Yorba replied. “I'm going to need ten minutes. Over.”

“The clock is running,” Hale answered as he hit the harness release. “Out.”

One of the reasons Hale had chosen to enter the Chimeran base on the ground rather than by air was the antiaircraft guns located on top of the storage building's flat roof. But the Stalkers weren't tall enough to attack the batteries, and the Chimeran guns weren't set up to fire on ground targets, so a stalemate was in effect.

The Hybrids stationed on the roof could use their Bullseyes and Augers to fire down on the invaders, however, and they hurried to do so, as Yorba went from Stalker to Stalker placing demolition charges on each machine.

So the moment Hale's boots hit the pavement he was forced to take refuge behind a huge crablike leg and return fire with the Marksman rifle. The idea being not only to kill as many Hybrids as possible, but to force the rest of the stinks to keep their heads down, thereby allowing Yorba to complete his task, without enemy fire to stop him. The rest of the team took cover in the building's entryway, where the Chimera couldn't see them.

Not directly anyway, although that didn't prevent the Hybrids from directing Auger fire down through the intervening structure.

Hale followed suit and began to pick off Hybrids like targets on a rifle range. They were head shots mostly, each of which was marked by a cloud of blood as the high-velocity projectiles flew straight and true. Soon the Chimera drew back, rather than accept more casualties. That allowed Hale to grab his gear, dash across open
ground, and join the others as they completed their preparations.

Kawecki was armed with an Auger, while Gaines, Pardo, and Barrie carried Bullseyes. The latter had requested two of the small Reaper carbines as well, which she wore pistol-style in specially designed clamp-holsters.

A choice which, like so many other things having to do with Barrie, left Hale mystified. Were the weapons an affectation? Intended to make her look more dangerous? Or were they the sensible choice for someone who wasn't very good with a pistol?

There was no clear answer.

“The charges are set, sir,” Yorba said, joining the group. He, too, carried an Auger. “They'll go off when anything larger than a cocker spaniel passes by. So don't go back for anything! You'll be sorry if you do.” He had black hair, brown skin, and a round face, and he was eternally cheerful, which was one of the many things Hale liked about him.

“Good work, Corporal. And thanks for the warning. Okay, let's get in there, find the fuel core, and get the hell out. Remember, the pick-up point is on the roof, and there's a whole lot of stinks up there. Corporal Yorba, please feel free to open that door for us.”

Yorba grinned happily, removed what he liked to refer to as a “door knocker” from the satchel at his side, and slapped a wad of plastic explosives onto one of the double doors.

“You'd better move back,” he suggested gleefully, and promptly took his own advice. As soon as he reached an appropriate distance, he turned and gestured.

“Open sesame!” With that, he triggered the charge. There was a sharp
bang
as the door knocker went off,
the right panel sagged, and smoke poured out through the newly created gap.

That was a sufficient invitation for Gaines, who tossed a grenade into the space beyond, and waited for the resulting explosion. It came quickly, after which he gave the bottom of the door a kick. It fell outward, missing him by a matter of inches and landing with a crash.

He was the first inside, with Hale right behind him. Both darted to the side to avoid defensive fire, yet there was no resistance. The lighting was dim—so dim that it was impossible to see the ceiling—and what illumination there was came straight from spots located high above.

The rest joined them in the open area beyond. There were two doorways separated by a twenty-foot-long section of wall. That, according to the plan agreed to back in Nebraska, was the point when Barrie was supposed to assume overall command. And she was quick to do so.

“We're looking for an elevator, stairs, or a ramp,” she announced confidently. “The fuel cores are probably stored in the lowest level. Let's go through the left-hand entrance and keep our eyes peeled.”

Hale nodded. “Gaines will take the point, followed by me, Dr. Barrie, Yorba, Pardo, and Kawecki. Be sure to watch our Six, Sergeant … I don't like surprises.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Gaines was six foot six. He had a big head, thin, nearly nonexistent lips, and a pugnacious jaw. Like all Sentinels, he was a good shot, and he possessed an almost spooky ability to spot Chimeran ambushes. Some people credited him with exceptional eyesight, others claimed he could smell the malodorous stink they exuded better than anyone else.

Whatever the reason, he was good at it. And that was all Hale cared about as they proceeded down a corridor flanked by seven-foot-tall transparent tubes. Each cylinder contained a Hybrid. They were hard to see, due to the pearly gas that surrounded them, but judging from a complete lack of activity, they were asleep. Or unconscious. Not that it mattered, so long as they stayed that way.

“I think they were damaged, and are being reconditioned,” Barrie offered. “Although they could be in storage, too … Especially if this is the equivalent of a warehouse.”

Hale hadn't seen anything like the facility before, but didn't like the feel of the place, which was eerily silent except for the soft
whir
of pumps. Some of the tubes were empty, but Hale figured that at least fifty of the life-support chambers were occupied, which equated to one hundred stinks, assuming the next aisle over was home to the same number.