Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (52 page)

Another sniper shot rang out, followed by a pair of footsteps—Javon. E-35 ammunition dinging off the edges of his armor, the Falcon soldier grabbed Lilan by the good shoulder and pulled him out of the brunt of the fight. “Coach! You all right?”

“They got something different out there!” Lilan said as he scrambled to his feet. “That wasn’t no E-35 round.”

“I got it,” said Javon, pushing the colonel behind him. “Go back and help cover the sniper, coach. I got your boy, up here.”

Nodding as he hobbled back in pain, Lilan said, “Watch yourself, Quinton!”

Sliding into the colonel’s place, Javon leaned around the corner and fired a round toward the mounting advance. He looked across at Feliks. “This ain’t no little offensive!”

Feliks ducked back into cover after releasing another barrage. The slayer turned to Javon. “We alternate, you, then me, then you. We keep them under constant suppression.”

“You got it,” said Javon, kicking Lilan’s assault rifle in Feliks’s direction. “You gonna need that more than me!” As Feliks bent down to retrieve the weapon, Javon leaned out as instructed and laid down suppressive fire.

*
      
*
      
*

“Boris,” said David, “please tell me you’re making progress with that thing!”

The technician nodded as his fingers flew across the command console. “We are only minutes away! The system is rebooted and I am locating the files.”

“I am going into the fight,” said Valentin calmly. “Ensure he continues to work quickly.”

“Hey,” Boris said, whipping his head around, “where is my—” Valentin was already gone. “Helmet.” Sighing, he returned to the console.

*
      
*
      
*

“SO, WHAT’S DA plan, chief?” Marty asked Logan from behind the dish. All three of the men had been taking sporadic shots into the fight since landing, the bulk of the offensive temporarily left to the EDEN soldiers from the Vultures behind them, all of whom had spread out across the battlefield.

Turning his head skyward, Logan watched as Minh’s Vulture drew near to a radio tower at the far corner of the site. “Let’s get our pieces in play. We’ll go in as a unified effort.”

“Y’know, if you wanted to, you could jus’ let Chiumbo and I take ’em all out. We could do dat whole competitive thing where we all keep a kill count, and the one wit’ the least kills buys the other guy a drink.”

Ducking back after firing an effective round of suppression toward one of the demolitionists, Chiumbo chuckled. “I do not drink, my friend.”

“I know! Makes it kinda a win-win for me.”

“Look,” Logan said, pointing at the Vulture, “they’re putting Tiffin up now.”

Chiumbo and Marty followed Logan’s indication toward Minh and his V2.

*
      
*
      
*

Holding onto one of the rear bay door lift shafts, Lisa eased toward the end of the ramp as the Vulture floated toward the radio tower, the Essex sniper’s ponytail flapping in the wind. The tower drew nearer and nearer.

“Do you have enough room over there?” asked Sasha from behind her.

Lisa answered without looking back. “Plenty!” Letting go of the lift shaft, she charged to the end of the ramp, leaping out of the Vulture and snagging the tower’s lattice-like metal frame. Swinging around the tower, she set her feet down on what little foot space existed under her, gripping the tower with one hand as she unslung her sniper rifle with the other. Putting her weight against the tower, she swapped the sniper rifle into her other hand, grabbing the tower with her front hand then using that arm for the rifle’s support. Her helmet visor retracted upward, and she pressed her open eye against the scope.

From the front of the Vulture, Minh looked back into the troop bay. “She on there all right?” Pablo offered the pilot a thumbs-up, and the transport eased away from the tower, veering to approach the facility from behind.

Looking down at the metal framework beneath her, Lisa coiled her back leg around the beam nearest it for extra support and steadiness. Once again, she peered through her scope. The battlefield came into view.

From her vantage point, she could clearly make out the two operatives in black armor nearest her. Their backs were to her, completely oblivious to her presence. She observed them through the scope for a moment before gently easing it over, where she could see the front of the facility. None of the outlaws inside the entranceway were in her field of vision. Once more, she glided the scope upward, peering far across the battlefield at the other demolitionist and his counterpart, far away from where she was now. Despite their cover, enough of their bodies were visible to make them easy targets.

Into the microphone, the Briton said, “All four outside targets are in sight. Shall I engage?”

*
      
*
      
*

Speaking through his helmet comm, Logan answered Lisa, “Hold your position for a moment—can you verify whether any of these targets could be Remington?”

“Negative,” the sniper answered, “all four are in Nightman armor, though none appear to be fulcrums.”

Chiumbo looked at Logan squarely. “There is no reason for her not to—she could end this part of the fight very quickly. The likelihood that Remington is among those in the outside defense effort is low.”

There was no hesitation from the Australian. Jaw setting, he brought the comm to his lips. “Engage.”

*
      
*
      
*

“Engaging,” Lisa said. Eyes narrowing over the first of her targets, the demolitionist on the far end, the sniper narrowed her eyes and placed her finger on the trigger.

*
      
*
      
*

TOM WAS IN THE middle of slamming in a new magazine when he heard the impact, loud and ringing, from directly behind him. Whipping his head back, his eyes widened when he saw Donald topple backward like a tree, his cousin’s body slamming limply to the ground as his hand cannon fell from his grasp.
“Don!”
Abandoning his defense effort, Tom scrambled to the demolitionist’s side. Donald’s sentry faceplate was blown clear apart, the large black man’s face caved in in the center of his forehead. There was no room for question.
“Veck, he’s dead! My cousin’s dead!”

Spinning around, Tom darted for the cover of the dish’s base. Another gunshot rang out, and the ground behind Tom exploded a split second after he’d dashed from it.

*
      
*
      
*

William and Becan had both heard the sniper shots, and both men halted their efforts to pinpoint the source. By the time the second shot rang out, they knew it was coming from behind them. “Will, the tower!” Becan pointed, and William swung around with his hand cannon, raising it just in time to put it between the sniper’s line of sight and his face, his attempt to counter fire inadvertently becoming his saving grace. The bullet struck the hand cannon, blowing the weapon clear apart and knocking the demolitionist on his backside.

The Irishman didn’t bother to aim. Leaping in front of William, he aimed for the only structure high enough to give a sniper that kind of angle: the radio tower. Pulling the trigger, he sent a barrage of scattered suppression fire toward the top of the structure.

*
      
*
      
*

“VECK!”
SAID LISA as bullets zinged beneath her, pinging and ricocheting against the tower mere meters below her feet. Resituating herself, she peered through the scope to take aim again.

Her targets were already on the run.

*
      
*
      
*

BECAN AND WILLIAM were bolting to the next dish over, taking a sharp angle that put the frame of the dish between them and the sniper. Another shot rang out, this one slamming into the frame of the satellite scaffolding, followed by another that whizzed so closely past Becan’s head he could swear he felt his hair move inside his helmet. The dash had also attracted the attention of the EDEN operatives nearest him, from the Vulture that William had decimated at the onset of the fight. Bullets flew past the two men from both directions, some clanging against the corners of their armor while other shots zinged past against the satellite.

Pointing frantically, Becan yelled, “Up the stairs! Into the dish!” Built into the satellite framework was a zigzagged stairwell on the side opposite the sniper’s angle. Though they’d still be under fire from the EDEN soldiers, the sniper—undoubtedly the greater threat—would have no line of sight on them.

“Get up, get up,
get up
!” Leaping onto the stairwell, Becan flew up, followed closely by William. More bullets struck Becan, one of which caught a clink in his armor just on his hip, though it only clipped a part of his skin. Running to the short ladder that led to the dish, he hurried up its semi-protective circular mesh, zooming up the ladder rungs as he reached up to open the dish’s trap door. As soon as it was open, the Irishman scrambled up and into it.

William was right behind him, the massive Southerner barely squeezing through the hatch as bullets continued to pelt his sentry armor. There was no doubt that had either man been in their standard EDEN armor, they’d have been felled long before reaching the dish. Just the same, they were not without injury. Though Becan had escaped with a graze, the moment William was through the hatch, he fell flat on his back and cried out, blood oozing from a wound in his torso.

Scrambling to the hatch, Becan slammed it shut then searched for some sort of hatch lock. When he saw there was none, he readied his assault rifle and took a position just to the edge of the hole, aiming downward as he shot a quick glance to William. “Will, you all right?”

Moaning in pain, the demolitionist rolled over. “I’ll live.” Removing his pistol from his holster, he looked toward the rim of the dish. The sniper once again had no angle. Falling to his knees, William buckled forward and groaned.

*
      
*
      
*

“Tom, get outta there, now!”
shouted Javon through the comm, leaning out to fire at the collection of EDEN operatives headed in the soldier’s direction.

Quickly, Feliks intervened. “No! Stay where you are. You will not make it two steps with a sniper present.” Dropping back, he reloaded his weapon. “We will keep them from you until you can be retrieved,” he said to Tom.

Tom’s broken voice continued through the comm. “They killed him, man! They
killed
him!”

“Stay put,” said Javon, “so we don’t end up sayin’ the same thing about you!”

Farther back in the hall, Lilan pulled out his handgun and sat down next to Jayden, his breathing heavy as he leaned against the wall. Just to his side, Jayden continued to fire down the hallway and onto the battlefield, stating when a target was down and cursing when he missed.

Exhaling a hard breath again, Lilan looked back at Pyotr, who was still covering the rear. For the moment, Lilan had nothing to do. Sighing, he went still. “We may not survive this, Timmons.”

“We been through worse than this, colonel!” the Texan said following another ear-piercing sniper shot.

Lilan looked at him. “Worse than
this
?”

“Just wait and see, sir! We’ll get everyone out of here. Donald, too.”

The colonel said nothing.

*
      
*
      
*

BY THE TIME TIFFANY was within thirty miles of the first pair of Superwolves, six more aircraft had launched from
Hong Kong
—four more Superwolves and a pair of Vindicators, all of which were following the same trajectory, straight for
Hami Station
. Beneath her flight suit, the blond pilot was sweating bullets. Just the same, her hands were controlled on the joystick and throttle.

The lone advantage that Tiffany had was that she was undetectable from a transponder standpoint. Though she would undoubtedly appear on their radars when she increased her altitude in what was an impending dogfight, at the very least, her low-flying approach would come as a surprise. The enemy fighters
knew
she was somewhere—if
Hami Station
had informed EDEN about the attack, they surely would have informed EDEN that both a Vulture
and
a Superwolf came over the mountaintop. The question of where Tiffany was located would be the unknown.

Angling her Superwolf away from straight-on contact, Tiffany began a preemptive loop in anticipation of coming up behind the first two Superwolves. EDEN’s staggered attack worked in her favor, even if she was outnumbered. She could handle a pair of fighters. It was getting hit by all eight at once that would turn an already difficult feat into an impossibility.

Soaring over the Gobi desert in her wide arc, she caught sight of the first two Superwolves, both of which appeared as miniscule streaks far up in the sky. Based on their straight-line pattern, they indeed seemed to not notice her far off to their side. It was time. Turning the stick hard in their direction and pulling the nose of the fighter up, Tiffany curled up and around to come up at their rear. The moment her altitude rose above would-be treetop, the two Superwolves reacted, each breaking hard in opposite directions, forcing her to pick one of them. The immediacy of the maneuver made her wonder if they
had
seen her—or at the very least were prepared for the possibility that she could show up at any moment. Opting for the fighter that’d broken on her side, Tiffany had no trouble following his turn. The speed of her Superwolf was almost daunting. It was
far
faster than the older-model Vindicator. As Tiffany came in behind the fighter, a voice came over the universal comm frequency.