Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned (28 page)

Leonid looked upwards. Five additional ships hung over his head, stacked on top of each other like bullets in a magazine, held there by a hastily built framework of steel. Would the jury-rigged conveyor mechanism feed the ships down onto the ramp quickly enough? Would the accelerator hang together long enough to fire them?

He looked down at the simplified control panel. Wires squirmed in and out of it like worms feeding on a corpse. The device had six ready lights, all of them green, and a box-shaped switch protector. Leonid flipped the cover out of the way. The button was red and pulsed to the beat of his heart.

 

The hatch disappeared, the twelve troopers who constituted Dagger Two of Arrow Five ran-shuffled down the ramp, while Arrow Co
mmander Imbom Dakna-Ba felt his legs turn to jelly. He willed them to move,
commanded
them to do so, but they refused. His aide, a tough old veteran named Forma-Sa, was tactful.

“Is there a problem with your equipment, sir?” Dakna-Ba
wanted
to answer, wanted to say yes, wanted to come up with an equipment malfunction that would keep him aboard the troop carrier, but the words froze in his throat. Dagger Three made their way down the ramp, angled left, and took cover in a crater. The officer waited for the almost inevitable hail of defensive fire and was even more frightened when it didn’t come. The humans had fought like Stath Beasts up till now ... something was wrong.

“Sir?”

Dakna-Ba tried to speak but succeeded in producing little more than a squeak.

Forma-Sa nodded understandingly, deactivated his implant, and placed his helmet next to the officer’s. “It’s time to disembark, sir. Make your way down the ramp or I’ll be forced to put a bullet through the back of your head.”

Dakna-Ba found himself in motion. The humans frightened him, but Dagger Commander Forma-Sa scared him even more. There were stories about the things he’d done, terrible stories, and the officer believed them. The ramp shook slightly beneath his boots.

He looked around. Now it would come, the searing light, followed by complete and total darkness. But it didn’t. What
were
the humans doing? Somewhere down below the level of the fear there was tranquillity, and within that tranquillity the ability to think, and the thoughts seemed to express themselves of their own volition.

“It’s a trap, Dag. Instruct our troops to keep their heads down.”

The noncom nodded his satisfaction and relayed Dakna-Ba’s orders to the troops. No sooner had he done so than all hell broke loose. There was no sound in the silent world of space, but the stutter of energy beams and the subsequent radio chatter told their own story.

He’d been right! Not only that, but he’d survived the first few seconds of battle and hadn’t lost control of his bowels!

Dakna-Ba felt strength seep into his legs. They were steady once more and responded when he ordered them to move. The officer activated his implant.

“Daggers Two, Three, Four, and Five advance. You know the objective ... let’s show the Dwarf what the fighting fifth can do!”

Crew-served automatic weapons began to fire as troopers emerged from the shadows, from craters, and from rocks to advance on their objective.

Light stuttered blue as the incoming fire intensified and tracers flickered around them. Forma-Sa watched approvingly as Dakna-Ba ran-shuffled along with the rest, shouting words of encouragement, his head swiv
eling right and left. The youngster would make a halfway decent officer one day
if
he learned quickly enough,
if
he managed to survive.

Dakna-Ba considered the task ahead. His orders were clear: force the air lock that intelligence had labeled as “O-12,” make his way into the heart of the human habitat, and destroy the computer located there. The computer had already played a key role in the asteroid’s defense and might otherwise continue to do so.

It was either an extremely important endeavor, entrusted to Dakna-Ba as a sign of respect, or a suicide mission assigned to him because he was the most junior officer around, and therefore expendable. Dakna-Ba wanted to believe the former but knew the latter was a good deal more likely.

The humans had dug in around the lock. Light flashed back and forth as both sides exchanged fire.

A scream ripped through Dakna-Ba’s mind as a trooper started to say something and was literally cut in half. Dakna-Ba saw him off to the left, the top half of his suit spinning away while the bottom half remained where it was. Blood and entrails shot straight upwards, stabilized, and floated away.

The officer turned back, began to issue an order, and stopped when something grotesque appeared. It was taller than a Hudathan, heavier, and equipped with weapons where its arms should have been. Energy beams seemed to have little effect on the thing and tracers bounced off it. A cyborg! Intelligence had warned him that such things existed, had told him that the humans had an entire army comprised of cyborgs, but he was surprised nonetheless. Though sufficiently advanced to field cyborgs of their own, the Hudathans had a deep-seated aversion to the concept involved, and didn’
t use anything more complicated than nerve-spliced artificial limbs.

“Hit the dirt!”

The order came from Dag Forma-Sa, and Dakna-Ba obeyed. He hit hard, bounced, and nearly broke free. Light flickered, tracers sectioned the darkness, and the Hudathans started to die. The thing was hunting his troopers the way a Namba Bak hunts gorgs, probing between the rocks, driving them out into the open. Shocked by the cyborg’s apparent invulnerability, and unsure of how to deal with it, some of the troopers ran. The cyborg liked that and picked them off with the precision of a marksman at the range.

Dakna-Ba activated his implant.

“Fight the cyborg as you would a tank ... fire your SLMs!”

The response was spectacular. The cyborg staggered under the explosive impact of at least six shoulder-launched missiles, continued to fire even as it fell to its knees, and didn’t stop until an explosion took its head clean off.

Shaken but victorious, the Hudathans fought their way through an amalgamation of civilians and legionnaires to reach the lock.
It was made of thick steel, reinforced with concrete, but yielded to some carefully placed explosives.

The violent decompression that followed came as no surprise to those within. They had expected it and were prepared to fight the aliens for every inch of the habitat’s hallway.

 

Red swung his boots down from the console and took a sip from the mug at his elbow. The coffee was fresh-brewed and tasted good. He had climbed into his suit as a precautionary measure, but the control area was equipped with its own lock, so it would be a while before he needed the helmet. He shook his head in dismay. The environmental display left no doubt as to the situation and the radio traffic confirmed it. The geeks were inside the habitat and headed his way. They wanted Spinhead and he couldn’t really blame them. The computer had played a key role in the asteroid’s defense and was abo
ut to defeat them. Red smiled, selected a frequency, and spoke into his mike.

“Hey, boss ... this is Red.”

Leonid checked the watch built into the left arm of his space suit. “Shoot.”

“They’re inside and headed my way.”

“That’s a roger. Shoot me the latest and bail out.”

Red touched a button. It took a fraction of a second for the accumulated data to make its way through a maze of cables, leap through the repairs, and enter the ship’s on-board computers.

“Sent.”

Leonid nodded, thankful that the star divers would have the latest data on the speed, position, and orientation of the Hudathan ships, and realized the technicians couldn’t see him.

“Thanks, Red. Now take a hike. Boss out.”

The technician chinned his mike and said, “Yes, sir,” but stayed right where he was. The Hudathans had done a pretty good job of sterilizing the asteroid’s surface but had missed a jury-rigged antenna or two. And those, plus Red’s skill, meant that the star divers could be steered for up to five or ten seconds after they were launched. The chance was too good to miss. Besides, the coffee was hot and tasted damned good. Red took another sip. He looked around. The control center was empty and would make a lonely place to die.

 

Seeger waited for the Hudathan patrol to pass, stepped out of his hiding place, and shot the last of them right between the shoulder blades. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t fair, and Seeger didn’t give a shit. Vapor out-gassed and pushed the already dead alien away.

Still moving forward, the rest of the patrol remained blissfully ignorant while Seeger killed them one at a time, until their leader was the only o
ne left. In fact, Seeger was taking aim, getting ready to fire, when the noncom turned. The cyborg would never know if it was a routine check or a sudden premonition of danger that caused the alien to turn, but the outcome was the same. The Hudathan turned, registered an expression that looked very similar to human fear, and died as Seeger burned a hole through his visor.

Seeger felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Six geeks down and a gazillion to go.

 

Leonid swallowed. His throat felt dry. “Cody, Hecox, Gutierrez, time’s up. Finish the weld you’re on and jump.”

The laser torches flared, then disappeared one after the other. The voice belonged to Gutierrez.

“Are you sure, boss? There’s some geeks headed this way.”

Leonid was anything but sure. He kept his voice steady nonetheless. “Yeah, I’m sure. Now, get the hell off this rig before I dock you a day’s pay.”

The toolheads laughed in spite of themselves, jumped free of the ramp, and drifted away. It was scary, but gravity would eventually prevail, and the further away the better.

Gutierrez thought of Leonid standing there, his finger poised above the big red button, and said what came to mind.

Leonid heard the words, swallowed his fear, and brought his finger down. The results were instantaneous.

Energy was drawn from Spindle’s massive accumulators, channeled into the linear accelerator, and translated to forward motion. It seemed as if the ship was there one moment and gone the next. Steering jets winked red as the star diver broke free of the asteroid’s gravity and the drives kicked in.

The ramp shook with the force of the ship’s departure and Leonid braced himself against a rail. How long would the ramp continue to hang together? Leonid looked upwards and saw that the next star diver had already begun its descent.

 

The words arrived via the Hudathan’s implant and were said so calmly, so routinely, that it took him a moment to appreciate their full significance.

“The humans have launched a ship. Initial analysis indicates the vessel is analogous in size and shape to one of our Class IV freighters.”

A launch? Analogous to a Class IV freighter? Niber-Ba’s mind hurried to catch up. Were some humans trying to escape? Hoping to avoid his battleships? No, they were smarter than that, so ...

The spear commander stared into the holo tank, sought the new spark of light, and gave a grunt of satisfaction when he found it.

The same voice, a bit more intense now, interrupted his thoughts. “The human ship is headed for the
Light of Hudatha.
”

A thousand words lined up and waited to be said but not a single one passed his lips. The
Light of Hudatha
’s shields were down in order to allow the returning troop carriers to enter her bays. Not only that, but the battleship was extremely close to the asteroid, which left no time to maneuver. A new sun was born, lived for a few seconds, and died. Fully one third of the Dwarf’s offensive power went with it.

Niber-Ba was still struggling to understand what had happened, to accept what it meant, when the voice spoke again. It was pitched a little higher this time and barely under control.

“The humans have launched a second ship. Initial analysis indicates that it will collide with the
World Taker
one unit from now.”

The Dwarf resisted the temptation to hurl orders towards the
World Taker
, knowing the ship’s commanding officer had heard the same information he had and was doing what he could to avoid the attack. No, his task lay elsewhere.

“Target primary weapons batteries on the point of launch. Fire!”

 

Red waited for the Hudathans with the patience of a spider sitting on its web. Most of the corridors boasted surveillance cameras and about 70 percent of them were still operable. That allowed the technician to watch as the aliens fought their way through the halls, stumbled into a variety of booby traps, and stood outside his lock. The moment had arrived.

The remote consisted of little more than a switch and some wires that disappeared into a dark corner of the control room. He picked it up, pushed the button, and heard the distant thump of explosives.

Dakna-Ba swore as the explosion brought tons of rock crashing down around them. The humans had extinguished all of the habitat’s lights. Dust swirled through the beam projected by his helmet. Bodies moved, headlamps danced, and casualties were counted. The news was anything but good. Three of Dakna-Ba’s troopers had been crushed. Three added to the what? Sixteen or seventeen killed so far? It made little difference. The debris blocked the hallway and left only one direction he could go. Forward. He motioned toward the lock.

“Blow it.”

A demolitions expert hurried to obey.

Dakna-Ba looked around. Forma-Sa? Where was Forma-Sa? Then he remembered. A human had stepped out of a hidden alcove, shoved a drill bit against the noncom’s chest, and pulled the trigger. Dakna-Ba had killed the human at the same exact moment that the sudden decompression had turned Forma-Sa inside out. It would have been horrible, except that it came during a day filled with horror, and seemed ordinary by comparison.