The War Across the Stars (30 page)

I tried desperately to pick them off, but to no avail.  A hole was melted into the hatch and some sort of object was tossed inside.  The Praetorians dove off as I fired my last round into the head of the one on the hatch.  Seconds later an immense explosion blinded me.  Even through my armor my ears were left ringing.  When the smoke cleared, the Paladin was little more than a burning hull. 

Snow erupted rapidly around the Praetorians who were still near the tank as both Corsairs opened fire with their chin-mounted guns.  Messor then appeared at the top of the ramp, ascending onto the snow for the first time in ages.  His weapon in one hand he opened up a spray toward one of the Corsairs, which after taking several glancing blows to the belly began to veer off, as if it were leaving the fight.  I took this as a chance to drop Messor, while he was distracted.

I removed my SR-4 as quickly as I could and then crouched.  I placed the Oracle scope over his head and squeezed the trigger as fast as I could.  In a flash his hand shot up, activating its force field, and catching my bullet.  His reflexes were clearly far superior to that of a human.  I looked around, trying to get a read on everyone’s locations.  Only a few Praetorians remained, though the ground was littered with the black-clad Elonian Marines.  Only one seemed to remain standing.  It was Boone, presently engaged in a hand-to-hand brawl with one of the Praetorians.  I took the opportunity to help him, firing a 12.7mm round from the SR-4 through the Praetorian’s chest, causing Boone to spin from the sudden impact.  He regained his balance and shot me a thumbs up. 

Resuming my search I saw Nevin and Phil laying down fire on a few of the remaining Praetorians.  Then I saw Ryan charging across the snow, his rifle held in one hand.  Mere seconds passed and he dropped the rifle, then I realized what he was doing.  He was repeating the tactic that I had used during my first Praetorian encounter. 

He leaped forward, arms extended and tackled Messor, both him and Messor doing a complete roll across the ground.  Ryan punched him twice before he drew his pistol.  Messor’s arm shot up and activated the force field, sending Ryan’s arm flying upward and disarming him of his pistol. 

I readied my SR-4 and fired a shot to try to assist Ryan, though Messor’s insane reflexes caught the bullet in the field.  It seemed as if there was no way to beat him. 

Ryan brought his fist back into Messor’s face once again before being knocked to the side by the creature.  Messor returned to his feet swiftly, and then approached Ryan who tried to do the same.  Ryan then pulled out his combat knife and moved in a quick thrusting motion toward Messor.  The Praetorian grabbed hold of Ryan’s arm, twisted it back, then grabbed the combat knife.  In a quick action, it shoved the knife through Ryan’s stomach with incredible force. 

In response, Ryan head-butted Messor, then seized both of his arms tightly.  In an instant I realized the opening.  I peered back down my sight, calming myself as best I could.  I lined up the silver skinned head, aiming for a spot not guarded by the helmet on his head.  I breathed in, then held it.  Slowly I squeezed the trigger.  The crack of the gun was followed by a splatter of Praetorian blood from Messor’s skull. 

Ryan stumbled back, both of his hands coming in toward his stomach as Messor’s body fell limply to the ground.  I lowered my rifle and sprinted toward him.  When I reached him, his gauntlets were covered with blood, and the knife was still inside of him. 

“Ryan?  You alright?  Hang in there,” I said encouragingly, reaching for the knife. 

Ryan placed one of his arms around me, leaning heavily on me.  I eased him toward the ground slowly.  I observed the wound, the knife thrust clear through the softer, more flexible portion of the power armor.  I looked over toward the rest of the team, though they all seemed to be relaxing their guns.  We had won. 

“Nev!  Guys!  Get over here!” I called out.  “Ryan’s hurt!”

The group reconvened from their various places on the battlefield to Ryan and I’s position.  Observing Ryan’s face, he was growing pale, we had to do something.

“Phil, patch him up!” I ordered.

“10-4,” he replied, slinging off his pack with great haste. 

Phil then knelt down, immediately gauging the wound, trying to conclude the damage as he pulled bandages from the pack.  Already Ryan was looking bad, and I began to grow incredibly concerned for him.

“C’mon Phil, you’ve got him right?  He’ll be good?” I asked hurriedly.

“Yeah, yeah… well, Gah, I do not know.  Give me a few James,” he replied. 

Phil slowly pulled out the knife, blood gushing out rapidly as he slipped it from the incision in the armor.

“Curse it!  The Praetorian had to have nailed a fairly significant artery.  He’s hemorrhaging real bad,” Phil said.

I knelt down beside the two.  Ryan had yet to say anything.

“Ryan, you’re a Ranger.  Remember.  Inseparable, invincible, we can finish the mission!” I said intensely, my own face becoming strained to see Ryan this way. 

“James…” Ryan mumbled, coughing blood onto the inside of his helmet.  “You know… what needs to be done… It is up to you to finish the mission.”

“Ryan, hang in there,” I said, frantically glancing back at Phil, whose hands were moving as quick as he could to try to limit the bleeding.

“James… this is real war,” Ryan said, his eyes closing. 

“Ryan, hey, listen… we’re doin’ this together.  C’mon!  Ryan?” I spat, moving his head slightly side to side. 

I looked back over my shoulder at Nevin and Cass, both of whom looked as stricken by grief as I was.  He was gone.  Our most experienced soldier, our only pilot, our explosives expert, our jack-of-all-trades… our leader… was dead. 

We were all silent, Phil taking his hands off the wound.  There was no way to try to revive him in time, the armor over his chest was too thick.  I remained there, kneeling, for quite some time, everyone staying in their positions.  When I at last stood up, I looked back at our team.  Three others stood in power armor, each damaged in its own way.  Phil’s visor had been shot out, Nevin’s remained clawed up, and Cassidy has numerous marks across her armor from UED and Praetorians alike.  My own visor still had claw marks of its own impairing some of my vision. 

“Let’s go… We all suffer losses.  We… we need to move on.”

“We should take his body… for proper burial,” Phil suggested quietly.

“No.  We need to leave it.  James is right, we all suffer losses, we just have to move on,” Nevin said, stepping up. 

I gave a glance at Cass, thinking about what had happened to Max.  Then I added more to Nevin’s point.

“I know what it is like to lose family.  I know we are all family here, in our own way.  As our numbers may dwindle, we still have those who are left, and we always have the families of others to fight for.  Then there are always those who might still be out there, perhaps alive, perhaps dead… but that hope can always live on,” I said, my thoughts drifting to my sister, Amanda, who I hadn’t seen or heard from in the revolutions after that fateful day.

Phil finally rose as well, leaving the body of our commander in the cool snow.  He waved his arms toward the Corsair, and I took it as a symbol he was ready.  I too joined in, and soon the Corsair moved over, parking itself beside our small team.  Boone slowly approached us, having been watching from afar, avoiding any interference with our moment. 

The Corsair lowered its back ramp, revealing that it was Malum’s Corsair that had abandoned the fight.  We each stepped up and took seats in the back of the Corsair.  We remained there for another minute, uncertain what to do next, when I decided to speak to the pilot.  I rose and approached the doorway to the cockpit.  With a simple knock, I proceeded to open the door.  The pilot turned around, his face mostly obscured by his flight helmet.

“I’ve had no contact with Malum, he didn’t even say where he was going,” the pilot said.

“Boone, come here,” I said, waving Boone over from his seat.

“Yeah?” he asked casually.

“We need a plan.  We haven’t heard anything from Malum, which for the moment means we’re in charge.  I propo—“

“We?  I’m in charge Ross,” Boone replied coolly. 

“Right, uh, okay.  But I was going to suggest that we take advantage of this time to try to save Epsilon, or to find the Vorgians and finish this.”

“This is our one chance to go back for Epsilon without that loathsome rat Malum barring our path.  We’re taking it,” he replied. 

“All right, then let’s roll,” I said, looking at the pilot.

He nodded and assumed the controls, sealing the back hatch and starting the Corsair’s ascent.  The cockpit was tight, so I stepped out to let Boone in.  He watched out the window in search of the structure that they had taken shelter in.  We only had a general idea of its direction, and locating the structure could be difficult.  Equipment on board the Corsair would certainly play its part though.  As I looked around the hold of the aircraft, so few soldiers were still there.  With Boone now up front, only the Rangers remained in the back.  Nevin seemed to be in deep thought while Phil and Cass were using the time to try to catch up on some sleep, an understandable activity considering it had been well over a day since the last time we had slept.  I too found myself thinking though, about everything we had been through and all the lives we had seen lost, and those we had taken ourselves. 

Chapter 18

A Man In Armor Is His Armor’s Slave

As we scoured the wastes from above, I heard the COM crackle on up front.  I moved closer, wanting to see what Malum had to say.

“Gamma Two, you read?  This is Captain Malum.”

“Figured sir,” the pilot replied, almost sarcastically. 

“Soldier, we are taking anti-air fire from what appear to be Vorgian flak cannons.  I am led to believe we have located the—Shoot!  Steady!  Steady!  We have been hit, get your rear over here and give us some support Gamma Two!”

“Uh, sir, we’re presently on a SAR mission under 1
st
Sergeant Boone’s orders.”

“I don’t care!  Scrap the op and get over here!  We are losing control of this bird!”

I heard a pause as no voices spoke. 

“Stay the course,” Boone’s voice uttered.

My heart beat faster as I pondered what the pilot would do.  If he sided with Malum, Boone was liable to shoot him on the spot and take the controls himself.  If he sided with Boone, Malum could be all nature of furious when we did choose to go save him. 

“Uh… copy that sir, inbound,” the pilot said, cutting the COM.  “Sergeant, let’s find Epsilon.”

I smiled briefly at the display of wits by the pilot.  He now had Malum believing we were inbound to rescue him, while still sticking with Boone to find Epsilon.  Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we stumbled upon something.

“That’s it.  That has to be it,” Boone said. 

I felt the Corsair descend, landing softly on the snow.  The back hatch opened, though Cass and Phil didn’t seem to realize.  The door to the cockpit opened and Boone moved out in a rushed speed walk.  As he exited the aircraft he pulled his shotgun off his pack and held it ready.  Nevin and I followed him, noticing several dead UED bodies that weren’t there before.  They had been mostly covered by snow already, and all of our original footprints were gone.  I wasn’t entirely convinced we had found the right one, but the dead bodies had to come from somewhere.  We entered the building and looked up the spiraling stairwell.  Boone on point, we ascended, the stream of bodies as endless as the stairs. 

As we neared the top, Boone began to yell.

“House!  Sergeant House!  Wells?  Epsilon, status report!” Boone cried out.

Boone was first to have his head emerge, just as Phil’s had when we first encountered the two refugee Elonian squads.  I saw Boone’s speed go from hasty to a very slow trudge as he witnessed the room.  My heart sank.  When I reached the top as well, I saw blood spattered everywhere, adorned with the bodies of both UED and Elonian Marines.  Boone’s face held a firm frown, though he showed no other sign of emotion.  Against the wall, in the same location he was when we first passed through, was Sergeant House. 

“Malum,” Boone said through clenched teeth. 

He walked over to House, kneeling down and securing his tags.  He then proceeded to collect the tags of every soldier who lay dead on the floor. Next he approached Nevin and I, gave one last look toward Sergeant House, then began down the stairs again.

“We’re done here,” he said plainly.

As I looked around the room, I noticed that the naval personnel did not appear to be amongst the dead.  I dismissed him as a prisoner for the UED nearly immediately however, then carried on with Nevin and Boone back to the Corsair.  As we stepped out into the snow once more, I heard voices talking.  One sounded like Phil’s, though I didn’t recognize the other.  We hurried over to the back hatch to see the swabbie sitting directly beside Phil in the Corsair.

“Missed someone,” Phil said, looking toward me.

Boone said nothing and simply walked back to the front.  Nevin and I took our seats as the aircraft once more took to the skies.

“So what’s your name and rank?” I asked inquisitively.

“Ensign Lowell.”