Her Brother's Keeper - eARC (43 page)

“That was awesome!” Wade said, pushing himself up.

“Nice work, kid,” Marcus told Azevedo over the radio. “The other trucks are running off to the north.”

“We’re tracking them,” Azevedo replied. Marcus watched them leave plumes of dust in their wake as they fled. “Okay, Wade, get that hatch open!”

“Already on it!” Wade said. He had dropped down to ground level and found the access door that led under the launch pad. “It’s a blast door, heavy alloy, but not meant as a security door. Prepping a shaped charge.” Marcus provided cover as Wade worked, expertly placing the charge and priming the initiator. He came scrambling up the short ladder a few moments later. He and Marcus both retreated so they were well away from the edge. “Fire in the hole!” Wade said, and mashed the trigger.

BOOM!
With a single blast and a puff of dust and smoke, the door was open. Marcus and Wade provided cover as the rest of the team made their way down the ladder, one at a time.

* * *

Hot air hit Marcus in the face as Halifax fired several shots from his plasma carbine. The heat and flash were searing in the close confines of the tunnel, but the terrifying weapon did the trick. The squad of Lang’s militiamen heading the other way up the tunnel didn’t even fire back as they broke and fled. Lights flickered and the air stank of ozone and burnt skin.

“God damn, I love this weapon,” Halifax said.

“Let’s move!” Marcus ordered. “Tight stack, guns up!” There was no cover in the tunnel, nowhere to hide. The mercenaries had to be careful not to be surprised by a shooter or a grenade. The service tunnels were run down, poorly lit and poorly maintained, little more than ceramicrete tubes with a metal walkway at the bottom. The mercenaries, with their vision-enhancing smart goggles, had the advantage, but they were badly outnumbered. You didn’t have to be good to win a firefight in a narrow tunnel, you just had to be lucky.

It was a long walk from the launch pad to the spaceport control center, almost six hundred meters, and apart from a couple of doglegs in the tunnel most of it was a straight shot. Advancing as quickly as possible, breathing hard through respirators, boots clanking on a metal walkway, the team made it to the end of the corridor without encountering any more hostiles.

Their destination was the spaceport control center. It was the only thing keeping the
Andromeda
from lifting off. The spaceport controllers had apparently fled, leaving the ship locked in to the landing tower, and spaceport control was where the landing towers were operated from. They’d already encountered Lang’s men, so Marcus was assuming the control center would be guarded. Moving through the service entrance, the team entered the basement of the control building, weapons up, trying to cover all the angles. Up a flight of stairs, around the corner, and they were on the first floor. The building was in the same dilapidated shape as everything else on Zanzibar. The walls were cracked, the lights flickered, and the air stank of dust and garbage. Nerves were on edge as the team moved through the building, checking every doorway, trying to watch every direction. Men could be heard shouting somewhere in the building.

“Contact front!” Hondo shouted, and opened up with his machine gun. The weapon’s roar was deafening inside the hallway. Three long bursts scattered the enemy squad while the mercenaries found cover behind corners and in doorways.

Ken Tanaka kicked in a door, trying to get out of the fatal funnel of the hallway, only to crash into a pair of militiamen inside the room. He shot one at point-blank range with his carbine, dropping the man, but the other tackled him and dragged him to the ground. The Nipponese mercenary struggled with the man, who seemed under the influence of drugs and was screaming incoherently. Ken was outweighed by the militiaman, who was trying to plunge a large knife into his throat. Gunfire echoed throughout the building, bullets zipped up and down the corridor, and Ken was effectively alone. At the last instant, he was able to get his sidearm clear of its holster. He stuck the muzzle of his 9mm pistol under the thug’s chin and pulled the trigger, splattering his brains on the ceiling. The dead man slumped down on top of Tanaka, leaking blood onto his gear.

Hondo appeared in the doorway a moment later, machine gun at the ready. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tanaka said.

Hondo rolled the body off of him and helped him up. “I’m sorry, we were pinned down in the hallway.”

Gunfire echoed throughout the building. Men shouted, and a fire alarm screamed. “Let’s keep moving.”

Marcus rallied the team. “On me, let’s move!” The control room was up another flight of stairs and at the end of the corridor.

The second floor was even more heavily defended. The team encountered resistance even before they got up the stairs, exchanging fire with Lang’s men at the top of the stairwell. The hostiles fell back when Halifax brought his plasma carbine to bear. White-hot plasma flashed in the confines of the building, burning men to ash and terrifying those who were lucky enough to get out of the way.

Once at the top, Marcus and Wade both tossed grenades around the corner before exiting the stairwell. The double concussion made their ears pop, and the team was moving before the dust had even settled. Gunfire ripped through the defending militiamen, most of whom wore no body armor. Wade snarled and fell to the floor. Hondo stepped forward, cutting down his attacker with his machine gun, while Marcus checked his partner. His vest had stopped two bullets. Marcus helped Wade to his feet and they pressed on.

The corridor stank of ozone, propellant, smoke, dust, and death when it finally fell silent. It was so smoky that it was difficult to see, even with smart goggles. At the end of the hall was a bullet-ridden security door that led to the control room. It was locked.

“Wade, prep a breaching charge,” Marcus ordered.

“Hold up a second, lad,” Halifax said, leveling his plasma carbine.

Marcus couldn’t see his team member’s evil smile, but knew it was there. He nodded, and the rest of the team retreated behind Halifax. The bearded, stocky mercenary shouldered the weapon and fired off a bolt. The weapon sounded like a tiny electric thunderclap in the confines of the hall, and the blue-white flash would’ve left them seeing stars if not for their smart goggles. The top of the door evaporated in a blast of searing heat; a second shot burned away the bottom. He raised the muzzle of the weapon and stepped back to cover the hall.

“Grenade out!” Wade said, throwing the frag through the doorway.
BOOM!
They flooded the control room, weapons firing, not giving the defenders a chance to recover. There was no cover, nowhere to hide. Doorways were lethal in a gunfight, and the only thing to do was to press through. Hondo fell with a pained grunt; Halifax dragged him back out of the room as the remaining three kept shooting.

“Clear!” Marcus said, carbine shouldered, breathing hard.

“Clear!” Wade agreed. His rifle was slung across his chest, the bolt locked back on an empty magazine. He had his revolver drawn and ready.

“Clear!” said Ken Tanaka, who held his carbine shakily in one hand while covering a bleeding wound on his neck with the other. The control room was large and open, and eight dead militiamen littered the floor.

“Wade, Ken, find the landing tower controls,” Marcus ordered. “Halifax! How’s Hondo doing?”

“Rifle round to the leg, chief,” Halifax shouted from the corridor. “Hit the bone. I stopped the bleeding but his leg is shattered. He can’t walk.”

“Leave me!” Hondo said. “Get back to the ship!”

“Horseshit, lad,” Halifax said. “No one is getting left behind.”

“You’re damn right we’re not leaving anyone behind,” Marcus agreed. “Wade! What’s the status on those controls?”

“I’m working on it!” he said. “I’m an explosive ordnance tech, not a goddamn space traffic controller!”

“Here!” Tanaka said. “I think it’s this…yes, that was it!” Warning lights flashed. A computerized voice announced that the emergency lockdown had been lifted. The screens had mostly been smashed in the firefight, but the computer confirmed it: all landing towers were being retracted.

“Outstanding!” Marcus said. “How can we rig it so they can’t lock us back in after we leave the room?”

Halifax raised his plasma weapon. “Will burning the controls work?”

Marcus looked at Wade. Wade just shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. It might buy us time,” Marcus said. “Everyone clear out. Halifax, burn it all down.” As Halifax used his powerful weapon to destroy the spaceport control stations, Marcus stepped out into the hall and radioed the ship. “
Andromeda
, this is Cowboy-6.”

“
Andromeda
standing by,” Captain Blackwood replied. “What’s your status?”

“Landing towers are unlocked. They’ll begin retracting momentarily. We’re headed back to the ship, over.”

“Any injuries?”

“Affirmative, two injuries, no KIA. Hondo can’t walk, though.”

“Be advised, more enemy forces are arriving at the spaceport control center from the city. The Enforcers are holding several key structures, like the power plant, but no help is coming to the spaceport. The Orlov refugees are unable to provide assistance. You need to get out of there ASAP or you’ll be cut off!”

“Understood. Cowboy-6 out.” Marcus turned to his team. “Alright gentlemen, you heard the lady. Somebody help Hondo up. We’re getting the hell off this rock!”

* * *

Devree Starlighter, from her vantage point on the bridge between the landing tower and the ship, had a wide view of the north side of the spaceport. A pile of spent plastic cases rolled around beneath her, as she’d been firing at targets of opportunity the entire time. The panicked civilians had cleared out once the shooting started. Devree had lost count of how many men she’d killed.

“Overwatch, Cowboy-6,” Marcus said over the radio.

“Send it!” Devree replied.

“Be advised, we’re coming out the front. We’ve got wounded. Cover us, over!”

“What? Negative, there are bad guys all over the place up here. Go back through the tunnel!”

“We can’t!” Marcus insisted. “We’re cut off. We’re taking one of the service vehicles. Watch for us!”

A warning light on the scaffolding began flashing, as did an annoying beeping alarm. “Understood,” Devree said. “I’ll cover as long as I can!”

Mazer Broadbent was at her side, slapping a new magazine into his 20mm rocket gun. “Devree, that landing tower will retract any moment now. We’ve got to get back to the ship!”

“I’m not leaving until they’re back!” she insisted.

Mazer sighed. “Damn it, girl. You two,” he said, pointing at Techs Oswald and Daye. “Get back on board. I’m staying with her!”

Daye protested. “But sir!”

“Go, damn it!” he snarled.

“You should go with them,” Devree said, looking through her scope as the crewman hustled back to the ship.

“You should too,” Mazer said. “I guess we’re both fools. I’ll spot for you.”

“Here they come!” Devree said. Hundreds of meters away, the door to a service garage opened up, and out rolled a six-wheeled utility vehicle. Marcus was driving, while Wade sat next to him, rifle at the ready. Behind them, Ken Tanaka had his carbine up, while Halifax sat in the bed with Hondo. They opened fire on militiamen in the garage as they sped off toward the
Andromeda.
Hondo’s machine gun roared across the spaceport, and the blue-white streaks from Halifax’s plasma carbine were impossible to miss.

“Top floor,” Mazer said. “Rocket launcher!”

“On him!” Devree replied. Her rifle bucked against her shoulder. An instant later, the round hit the man in the chest, blowing open his insides. “He’s down!”

“Garage entrance!” Mazer said. He fired off two rounds in rapid succession; the laser-guided rockets shrieked downrange, accelerating as they went, and detonated in clouds of dust and fragmentation when they hit. Devree followed up with a pair of shots of her own.

“All down,” she said. “Nice shooting.”

As the utility cart rolled across the spaceport, kicking up a plume of dust in its wake, another gun truck appeared from the far side of the control building. “Where the hell do they keep coming from?” Devree snarled, lining up a shot. She missed. The thing was swerving so badly, trying to avoid the fire from the mercs in the cart, that even her scope’s auto tracking was having a hard time compensating. Mazer fired off a couple more rocket rounds, both of which detonated just behind the truck, but it kept rolling on, its gunner firing wildly.

A moment later, the mercs’ cart swerved and slowed down. It had been hit! It came to a stop, and Ben Halifax jumped out, rolling on the rocky ground and coming up on one knee. He cut loose an fusillade from his plasma carbine, protecting his teammates, firing as rapidly as the weapon was capable of. The first shot missed the truck, the second hit it dead on. Its bolted-on, improvised armor plating was no match for the searing heat of a direct plasma blast. Halifax kept firing as the truck swerved off. It rolled to the side, burning as it came to a stop. Through her scope, Devree could see Halifax shaking a fist victoriously, before yanking the red-hot barrel out of his weapon. He didn’t seem to have any more spares.

The annoying beeping turned into a loud klaxon. Devree realized she was moving to the side.

“The tower is retracting!” Mazer said. “Come on, we have to go!”

“No! They’re not back yet!” She watched as Marcus and Ken each threw one of Hondo’s arms over their shoulders, helping the big man hop and hobble back toward the ship as fast as they could go. Halifax switched to a pistol while Wade fired off burst after burst from Hondo’s machine gun, retreating as he did so. Devree fired off another shot, then another, then another. Mazer stayed by her side, squeezing off rockets as fast as he could accurately place them. It seemed like there were dozens of militiamen swarming the spaceport now, using every available piece of cover to fire at the fleeing mercenaries and the ship itself.

“Mercenary Starlighter, come on!” Kimball shouted, motioning for Devree to come inside.

Annabelle Winchester was at his side, clutching a laser carbine nervously. “Devree, hurry!”