AMP Siege (9 page)

The Gonta captain stood on the ground beneath my rock. "Mr. Grange, it seems we have triumphed again. Two nights of siege and not a comrade lost."

I replied, "Aren't we expecting their forces to possibly double again tonight?"

The captain smirked. "Yes, but they will now have the politics of two factions trying to make a decision. I expect the Harget to arrive this afternoon, and the discussions of what will be done will begin immediately. If anything, I think we will find that tonight will be nothing more than defensive probing, so the Harget can get a look at what they are up against."

I spoke. "Well, for what it's worth, Captain, Private Orfeo here really showed his worth. If we keep Sergeant Frost up in that chair, I would just as soon keep the private here with me."

The captain smiled. "Consider it done, Mr. Grange. Private Orfeo, you are now under the Human's command."

Frost climbed down from the tower, stretched her legs, and then made her way over to the rock. "Time for you to get some shut-eye, Sir."

I replied, "Oh, no, no. You first, Sergeant. You didn't sleep at all yesterday. I'm in good shape. Find some shade and stretch out."

Frost began to argue, so I turned my request into an order. She was soon sound asleep in the shade of our rock. The private moved to resupply our ammo, and I made my way over to York and Goddard. The lieutenant was already fast asleep.

I spoke. "When are you going to get some rest, Sergeant? I know your arms and legs don't get tired, but your brain will, and I need you sharp."

York too began to argue, and again I made it an order. As the others rested, I climbed back atop my perch and was soon joined by Private Orfeo.

I pointed at the shuttle. "How long have you been in the Gonta military, Mr. Orfeo?"

He replied with an answer that translated into forty-five years. The Gonta life span was much longer than that of Humans. A Gonta in the service could expect to be away from their home planet for up to seventy years.

I continued, "How many planets or systems in your empire?"

The private began to speak and then withheld. "I don't think it wise for me to be answering your questions, Mr. Grange. It could be looked upon in a very unfavorable light. Beyond this war, we are still adversaries."

I nodded. "Well, let's hope that changes, Mr. Orfeo. We don't seek war, or any hostilities for that matter. Everything that has transpired between our peoples up until now has been an unfortunate set of circumstances. When we are done here, I will attempt to explain that to your captain."

The daylight hours passed quickly, and we were once again faced with a setting blood-red sun. Several of the Gonta soldiers had fallen sick from the smell of decaying Fergie. The hot Targ sun had only sped up the process. My face shield stayed shut with the filtering on. Private Orfeo joined me on the rock.

I spoke. "I don't know how you do it, Orfeo—handle that smell, I mean."

Orfeo replied, "As a cook, I have had to smell rotting flesh many times, Mr. Grange. I suppose I have somewhat of a tolerance for it. My fellow Gonta back there, they are the ones who will struggle on this night."

I looked over the fields of rotting bodies. "I still can't believe they would send their own kind to slaughter so easily. There are several million dead Fergie out there."

Orfeo panned the macabre scene. "There are likely ten billion Targs on this planet, Mr. Grange. To the Targ, several million may be a trivial sacrifice. Should we lose one soldier from our compound here, that would be a greater percentage loss to us than all of these Targ are to them."

I replied, "I suppose that is one way to look at it. Not the Human way, but one way. Most of us view every individual as unique and as having the same worth as another. There are always some, however, that will march others to their deaths to forward their own causes. They are born with every new generation. We just have to be diligent in our efforts to keep them from positions of power."

The moment the sun dipped below the horizon, Orfeo pointed towards a small rise. "There, Mr. Grange. We have activity. They appear to be crawling."

York yelled out, "Here they come!"

This time, however, there was no charge, no onslaught of cannon fodder. Only a handful of Targ crawled on their bellies slowly down the rise where Orfeo had pointed.

I spoke. "Looks like a scout team."

Seconds later a low buzz could be heard that was followed by a
whump
. The remains of the handful of Targ scouts were soon flying through the air as an ion bolt found its mark.

Frost yelled, "Woohoo!"

I turned and yelled at Frost, "Hey! If you spot another small group like that, let them come on in! We want to know what they are up to!"

Frost yelled back, "They are just scouting us, Sir. I figured there was no sense in letting them gather intel on us if we can do something about it!"

I returned a reply. "OK, you have a good point! But let's just see anyway! You are probably going to have plenty of chances to fire that thing again tonight!"

Frost held up her hand. "Roger that, Chief! Will let the next ones go!"

Over the next several hours, five more scout teams appeared. Each team was lugging along a box that measured half a meter cubed.

York climbed up on my rock and spoke. "Any idea what that is, Mr. Grange? You don't think they are trying to sneak a nuke in close to us or something, do you?"

I replied, "If they had a nuke, York, they would have already put us down. It looks to me like they are moving around out there and taking some kind of measurements with them. I'm not sure what that would be, though. Orfeo? You have any ideas?"

Orfeo thought for a moment. "Those rotting bodies are producing methane. Perhaps they are attempting to determine if it is enough that if lit, it would consume us in a giant fireball."

I shook my head. "That doesn't sound likely. And that doesn't sound like something that would pop into a cook’s head, either. What kind of education system do the Gontas have?"

Orfeo continued to watch the Fergie scouts that were crawling in our sector of the field. "It is up to the individual as to how far they take their education. Most in the military clans only take the minimum because they want so badly to begin their careers. Cooks, maintenance workers, medical staff—they are the more educated of our clans, Mr. Grange. But to be a fighter is most prized."

I replied, "I'm always fascinated at how every species has their own quirks that just seem so bizarre to us. I'm sure we have some of the same, but the thoughts of them are so engrained in our culture that we don't stop to think about them."

The Targ scouts never presented themselves as a threat, and all five teams soon disappeared back over the horizon.

Frost yelled down from her tower, "I don't like those boxes, Chief! They are up to no good!"

I replied, "Yeah, we get it, Frost! Just keep your eyes peeled!"

I hopped down off of my perch and made my way to the Gonta captain. "Meecha, what do you make of those boxes?"

The captain winced as a wave of rotten Fergie wafted through the compound. "We have discussed this to no avail, Mr. Grange. The only information we have is that some of our equipment picked up thumping sounds. Those thumps could easily be coming from the Targ camps that are just over the horizon. Do you have any thoughts of your own?"

I replied, "The only thing we came up with was they were sniffing methane levels to see if it would be possible to turn this place into a giant fireball."

The captain thought for a moment. "Hmm. That is an interesting concept. And a real possibility given a few more days in this hot sun. I will pass that idea around for the others to dwell upon."

As I turned to head back to the rock, I stopped for a last word with the captain. "That little nugget, by the way—it came from Private Orfeo. I just thought you might want to know."

The captain replied, "Should we all be consumed in a giant fireball, Mr. Grange, I will be sure to give the private credit."

As I turned away, I could almost make out a smirk on the captain's face. I wondered if the Gonta were one of the few species who enjoyed sarcastic humor as I did. I made a note to myself to ask that very question should I ever have the opportunity in the proper setting.

Before I reached the rock, York let out a yell. "Here they come!"

I scrambled up, thumbed the safety on my blaster, and settled in for another wave of death-wishing Targ attackers. This time they came in numbers. Their progress was slow as they climbed over the dead that had gone before them. The buzz of Frost's cannon was soon followed by
whump
s as the ion bolts contacted solid materials and expanded rapidly outward. The laser light show crackled overhead.

This wave of Targ was the biggest yet, and the whistles were blown for all four directions. The Gonta soldiers who had initially moved scrambled to get back to their original positions. I squeezed the trigger on my blaster, and the first of what was to be thousands of bolts left the tip of my weapon and descended upon our enemies.

Again the fields of death were nothing short of complete chaos. Mounds of bodies would explode, taking out hundreds of Targ fighters at once. A full two hours of continuous attack ensued. My trigger finger was numb and my forearm ached. The Targ kept coming and coming. I had an almost sickening feeling from being surrounded by so much death. When the signal finally went out and the Targs retreated, nearly a million more had been sent to their deaths.

I turned and sat down on the rock while repeatedly opening and closing my right hand. "I could use a drink. You Gonta have any liquor in your supplies?"

Orfeo replied, "We are not a drinking species, Mr. Grange. Through the centuries, it was determined that drinking and gambling were a bad mix. It was outlawed in our culture a long time ago."

I looked up at the private with a sigh. "Great, marooned on a planet with the only dry species in the galaxy. Just my luck."

The remainder of the night went forward without another attack. When the sun began to rise on the eastern fields, I made my way back over to the captain.

I spoke. "Any chance your ships will arrive today? I get the feeling that the Targs let up after that one big wave because they are planning something else."

The captain replied, "By our calculations, they will be here just before sundown at the earliest. The low-power beacon on our shuttle is transmitting, but they will not detect it until they arrive in orbit. We will have no other contact with them."

I took the first shift sleeping that day and was awoken at high noon by a large rumbling sound. As I sat upright, I got a glimpse of one of the laser towers tilting to the left as the ground gave way underneath it. Seconds later a second rumble shook the ground under me, and the laser tower dropped five meters into a large hole that had opened beneath it.

Before I could get to my feet, Harget fighters came pouring out of the hole like water from an artesian well. I grabbed my blaster, flipped off the safety, and began to fire as the fur-covered vermin spread throughout the compound carrying pole scythes as their weapons.

York yelled down from her position on the rock, "We have incoming!"

Frost joined me, and we began to plow a trail through the emerging Hargets with our blasters. She was needed on the cannon if we were to have any chance at all of pushing back the current assault.

Private Orfeo set himself into a pattern of two blasts out into the field followed by one directly at the hole in the center of the compound. His efforts only eased the flow of Harget fighters. It was enough that Frost could make it up onto the cannon tower.

The air was soon full of buzzing sounds followed by
whump
s out in the fields as she began her brawl with the enemy. Her left arm hung down from the mount chair, and her blaster kept the tower posts clear of attackers.

Because of the extreme heat of the day, the Gonta Marines had been resting without their helmets. It was a move that would cost the lives of nearly a dozen before any control of the compound was restored. The dozen were fighters that were badly needed behind the Tantric walls. Five other Gonta Marines were lost from the fight in an effort to keep the Hargets in the hole pinned down.

As I turned to climb back up on my rock, a dozen Harget fighters rushed towards me. Two took a round from my blaster as the others sprang past and overtook my position. The hybrid battle suit protected me from the blows, but my blaster was soon in pieces. I swung my fists in fury, sending two more fighters sprawling, when a second group came around the rock to their aid. I was pulled from my perch onto the ground as the savages waled away at me with their scythes.

Frost yelled down, "Sir, turn on that sound we programmed into your arm pad! Set your volume on max!"

I struggled to get my arm from one side of my body to the other. The Hargets pulled, popped, bit, beat, and chopped at me with all the muscle they could muster. After several seconds of near panic, the button was pressed and the silent tone permeated the air. The effects were immediate. The Hargets fell backwards and began to convulse and writhe in pain. After standing, I was soon climbing up the rock.

I yelled, "Everyone! Turn on that tone generator and keep it on!"

I looked back for only a second, but it was long enough to see the captain and his men were struggling to keep the attackers at bay. If we couldn't get the attack under control, the Hargets would overrun the compound and our time on the planet Targ would come to a swift end.

I yelled at York, "Sergeant York! Jump down and go fight with the captain! Tell him to send two of his Marines to assist Goddard and Orfeo here. And then I want to start moving all of those Tantric walls in closer. Make this compound smaller! If we are lucky, we can use the tone from our arm pads to keep us from being overrun! They won't want to come past that last ten meters!"

York glanced back at the captain's position as she thought about what I had said. "Awesome, Sir! We might just be able to protect those towers that way!"