Earthfall (32 page)

All too easy,
Law thought again.

***

Andrews silenced the blaring alarms, content to allow Mulligan to do whatever he needed to keep the vehicle from being hit again. He thumbed through the engineering display and found the radar was, in fact, quite dead; there were warnings that said the dome was unlatched, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It had been destroyed by a hail of steel rain. More importantly, the sensitive components inside it had met a similar fate. More bullets raked across the SCEV’s back, making scattered pinging noises as they ricocheted off the rig’s armored hide. Andrews put the AMW system under manual control; without the radar, they wouldn’t deploy automatically. They could still be fired from the cockpit, just without the extreme precision of a radar launch.

“Stand ready on those things,” Mulligan said. “If your friend lobs a missile at us, it’s the only system we’ve got that’s going to matter. Can’t be sure that chaff will work very well in this wind.”

Andrews grunted, then spoke into his headset microphone. “Harmony Base, SCEV Five—we’re taking fire, rig status coming your way now! Over!” As he spoke, he transmitted the SCEV’s engineering condition to the base. There was no response, of course, as the storm’s static discharges were interfering with the communications, filling the frequencies with ululating bursts of white noise. He hoped the data burst would make it through, but there was no guarantee of that, either. He set the system to rebroadcast the rig’s status every two seconds, in the hope that one of the data bursts would make it through.

Another alarm sounded, one that Andrews had only heard in training: one of the IR receivers mounted on the rig’s hull had detected a sudden heat bloom, which meant a missile had been launched. The tactical display indicated the shot had originated approximately three hundred meters behind and to the left; he immediately deployed two bursts of chaff, waited a half-second, then popped off one of the anti-missile warheads. The unit leapt out of its niche and, a moment later, a dull explosion could be heard somewhere to the rear of the rig. Andrews held his breath for a couple of seconds, then released it in a rush. They were still alive. A Hellfire would have caught them by now if it hadn’t been destroyed by the AMW or lost its radar lock from the chaff.

Can it reacquire us in this?

He hoped the obscuration generated by the storm would work to their advantage. He knew the radar-seeker in each Hellfire’s nose would energize upon breaking target lock, and that the weapon would climb to reacquire the rig with its own internal millimeter-wave system.

Apparently not. Another alarm sounded, indicating a second launch. Andrews repeated the procedure, feeling a cold, clammy sweat break out across his forehead and scalp as his heart pounded in his chest. Mulligan muttered a curse, working the control column and sending the rig into a series of violent gyrations. There was another distant
thud
as the AMW exploded, but Andrews kept pumping out the chaff anyway as the radar warning receiver continued to trill its song. Mulligan cranked the rig hard to the left, almost seeming to turn it in the middle of the plain—

The world seemed to explode right outside the viewport beside Mulligan, and the rig lurched in an odd way, rising up on its left tires as something slammed into it. The horizon rolled, and the thunderous cacophony of screeching metal and shattering plastics filled the air. The displays flickered, and the master caution warning alert blared as Andrews reached for the control column on his side and pulled it hard to the right, only to find it was already contacting the control stop.

“
Fuck!
”

The SCEV rolled over onto its side and, victim of its own momentum, continued rolling until it skidded across the plain on its back, the view through the viewports dimming as earth and a cloud of dust washed across them, turning almost black.

T
he world had
turned upside down, and Andrews couldn’t quite make sense of it.

The cockpit was mostly dark, illuminated only by glowing warning annunciators and the anemic flickering of LED displays. Something kept going
beep-beep-beep
with a metronomic regularity, but Andrews couldn’t figure out what it was. He felt confused and disoriented, and there was a growing pressure in his head. The straps over his shoulders felt incredibly tight, as if the gravity reels had attempted to retract the entire harness, pulling him against the seatback. He blinked in the semi-darkness; all he could hear above the beeping alarm was the
tick
and
pop
of cooling metal and electronics. Outside, the wind howled, loud enough to be heard through the rig’s thick hide.

The wind blew away a coating of dust on one corner of the viewport, and Andrews knew that the world was actually right side up. It was the SCEV that was upside down.

Oh, fuck … we’re on our back!

“Come on, Andrews!”

Andrews saw movement beside him, and he looked over to see Mulligan brace himself against the cockpit overhead before he hit his harness’s quick release. He tumbled out of his seat and sprawled across the overhead, the weight of his body snapping off several plastic switches on the panel. He squirmed around on the panel until he was able to sit upright, and he looked at Andrews hanging down beside him like some ridiculous giant bat.

“Captain, are you hurt?” he asked.

Andrews considered the question, and decided he felt mostly fine. He shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here, sir. We’ve got battery power available, but that’s it.”

“What happened?” Andrews put a hand on the overhead—now below him—as Mulligan had done, and released his harness. He half-fell out of his seat, braced by his arm and his legs slamming into the bottom of the instrument panel. That hurt.

“Must’ve been a near-hit by that last missile,” Mulligan said. “I guess it broke lock, reacquired it, but couldn’t maneuver fast enough to put steel right on target. Must’ve hit the deck right next to us as I was turning, and the blast flipped us over.” Mulligan regarded the instrument panel, then flipped a switch to shut off the beeping alarm. “We’re not going any further in this crate, unless you happen to have a Triple A membership.”

Andrews extricated himself from beneath the instrument panel. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” Mulligan said dryly, pulling open the pressure door. It squealed in its track, then stopped suddenly when it was only halfway open. Mulligan tugged on it with both hands and wrenched it open a few inches at a time, until there was enough space for the two men to slide into the next compartment.

The lounge compartment was a mess. Lockers had burst open, spilling their contents. The rest of the SCEV crew lay on what once was previously the overhead. Laird and Leona lay in a bleeding, twisted heap just outside the cockpit door. Andrews reached for them and gently began to pull them apart.

“Jim? Lee? You guys all right?”

“I think so,” Leona said, blinking in the dim emergency lighting. She seemed dazed and unfocused.

Laird was anything but, and he shoved her in the shoulder. “Then get the hell off of me!”

Andrews found there was enough room to stand, so he got to his feet and picked his way past the pair as they unwound themselves with Mulligan’s help. Across from the dining settee, Rachel and Choi tended to Kelly, who lay quite still. The precious core supports sat next to her, having exploded out of their locker and shattering the dining table in the process as they hurtled from one side of the SCEV to the other. Andrews picked his way to Rachel’s side and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Babe? You okay?”

She nodded and glanced over her shoulder, looking up at him for a moment before turning back to Kelly. “I’m good, but one of the core supports tagged Kelly in the leg. I think it’s a bad break.”

“Christ. Can she be moved?”

Rachel watched as Choi gingerly felt along one of Kelly’s legs. Andrews noticed it was bent at an unnatural angle near the base of her thigh, the flesh there hard and mostly unyielding beneath Choi’s probing fingers. Choi looked up at Andrews, his usually affable features marred by concern.

“I don’t know about that, sir. This looks
severely
messed up,” he said.

“Make a hole, make it wide,” Mulligan snapped. Andrews stepped aside as far as he could, and Mulligan squeezed in beside Rachel. He knelt next to Kelly and examined her injured leg, and none too gently. “Choi, you have knife?”

“Yeah.” Choi reached around and pulled a folding knife from his pocket, opened it, and handed it to Mulligan. The sergeant major cut open her uniform over the injury site and ripped it open, baring her entire leg. Choi started to remove her boot, but Mulligan stopped him with a wave. He turned the knife back to Choi and continued exploring the wound. Sure enough, there was an angry red impact site on her leg, just above the knee, and it was swelling considerably. Mulligan shook his head with a sigh.

“It’s a closed break, so that’s better than her bleeding out. We’ll need to get a splint on her right now, and have something ready for the pain if she comes to. If we take it easy, she’ll be okay.” Mulligan turned and looked back at Leona as she pulled herself upright, wincing at the pain in her own leg. “Lieutenant Eklund, you’re a medical officer … What do you think, codeine?”

Leona nodded. “Choi, there should be some injectable codeine phosphate in the medical locker behind you.” The locker’s door was bent inward, probably from one of the core supports crashing into it. “If you can get it open, I’ll give her a dose right now. The vacuum splints are there, as well, in red bags. Pull out a medium unit and the pump.”

“I’ll treat her, Lieutenant,” Mulligan said. “I’ve done this sort of thing before, and the codeine’s an intramuscular injection, so that’s easy. Just tell me what dosage to administer.”

“Sixty milligrams should be enough for the next few hours, Sergeant Major,” Leona said. Her voice was curiously brittle, but if Mulligan picked up on it, he didn’t show it.

“So what else did they teach you at Fort Bragg, Sarmajor?” Andrews asked.

“A little of this, a little of that. You want to see something really special, remind me to whip up some of my famous five-alarm chili. It killed a Texan once.” He looked up as Choi yanked open the medical locker and pawed through the disorganized contents. He found the splint first, then the small bottle of pain medication. He handed them over to Mulligan, who looked at Choi expectantly.

“I need a hypodermic, dumbass,” he said finally.

“Oh. Sorry.” Choi turned back to the medical locker, rummaged through it a little more gently this time, and pulled out a plastic of individually wrapped hypodermics. Mulligan filled one with the prescribed medication.

“Mike, what the hell happened?” Laird asked. “Did we actually take fire out here?”

Andrews nodded. “Affirmative. Looks like Law and some of his pals are still in possession of my rig. The bastard must’ve been chasing us across half the country, then split off and set up an ambush when he caught up to us.”

Laird’s eyes widened. “But we’ve been averaging almost a hundred klicks an hour and had a day’s lead time, at least!”

“He must’ve stripped down the rig to increase its speed. Once we lost the differential, it was only a matter of time until he caught up to us—he just had to follow the e-nav. He’s still out there, too. We can’t stay here.”

Leona frowned. “Mike, there’s a storm front moving in. Even in full gear, the sievert count’ll be high enough to kill us!”

“We’re not going to survive in here either,” Andrews said. “We just happen to be the proverbial sitting duck.” He turned to Mulligan. “You’re the survival expert here, Sarmajor. Any tips?”

“Don’t look at me—I’ve used up my quota of miracles on this trip.” Mulligan administered the injection, then capped the used syringe and tossed it into the plastic box. “We’ll need to suit her up before I can put on the splint. Choi, you’re going to help me. We need to be careful, because we could pop an artery if we move her too much.”

“And I could scream,” Kelly said breathlessly. Even though her eyes were closed, she was coming out of it. She was sweating slightly, and her blond hair was stuck to her forehead. Deep circles were forming under her eyes.

“Hey, take it easy,” Andrews told her. “We’ll do our best to make sure you don’t get hurt any further, all right?”

“That’d be awesome,” Kelly said, her voice faint and weak.

“Don’t worry, XO,” Laird said. “I’ll bust heads if anyone does anything stupid.”

Kelly smiled vaguely, then seemed to drop out again.

“All right, let’s get suited up. We’re abandoning the rig,” Andrews said. “We’ll go with full environmental gear, including respirators. I don’t like the fact that someone might be shooting at us while we’ve got air tanks on our backs, but we’re not going to live very long without them.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Laird asked. “The supports?”

“Too heavy. We’d never be able to hump those things out of here and our wounded at the same time.”