The Crucible (The Ember War Saga Book 8) Page 11

  The cannon swung toward Hale and their prisoner.

  “Down!” Hale twisted around and covered the prisoner with his body.

  Blazing heat cut through his armor as the scorpion let off another blast. A concussion shook the ground…yet everything was intact when Hale looked around. He lifted his head up over the edge of the berm.

  The entrance to the tunnel was a burning crater. A straight channel of collapsed earth ran through their escape route. The scorpion had destroyed their only way out.

  A flurry of bolts snapped over Hale’s head and smacked into the berm with a hiss of smoke. The Ruhaald had recovered from the initial onslaught and Hale realized that he had very little time to salvage the situation.

  Elias charged the scorpion, his cannons firing on the tank’s tail. The scorpion pivoted toward Elias and scuttled forward. The armor jumped to the side as the thin, jagged line shot from the cannon. Elias twisted in the air and dodged the next blast.

  A burning line of fire cut through the air as a rail-rifle bullet hit the scorpion’s tail. The severed cannon went spinning through the air. The scorpion charged toward Elias, heedless of the loss of its weapon.

  Elias’ fist retreated into the forearm and a diamond-tipped spike emerged. He dashed aside as an armored forelimb snapped out so fast Hale’s eye could barely follow the strike. The thick plate clipped Elias’ flank and sent him spinning.

  Elias’ cannons fired as he hit the ground in a cloud of dust, the bullets striking the scorpion’s exposed underbelly. It pulled back like an injured animal, then sprang forward, raising its forelimbs and slamming them toward Elias. The armor rolled aside, got to his feet, and backed away, peppering the scorpion with cannon shots that bored into the forelimbs and beat the scorpion back.

  Hale ducked as Ruhaald fire came over the other side of the berm. He looked up the mountainside, the only avenue of escape he could think of. Charging up hundreds of yards of rough terrain would make him and his Marines slow targets to every gun the Ruhaald had.

  Think. Think!

  An explosion smashed through the berm and threw one of his Marines against an antenna. Hale rushed to the new gap in their defenses and fired on a group of Ruhaald charging out of a small building. He cut one down before Mathias and another Marine finished the rest off.

  Hale looked for more enemies…and saw the base of the energy wall. A low wall of coral-like material stretched across the bottom of the wall, thick nodes dotting the line at equally spaced intervals.

  Hale switched his rifle to HIGH power and fired at a node. Hunks of coral crumbled from the impact and a section of the wall flickered.

  “Fire on my target!” Hale slapped the Marine next to him and pointed to the wall. He shot the node again, and a narrow band of the energy wall faded.

  A horn blast filled the air. The building the Ruhaald had charged out of broke apart as another scorpion tank emerged.

  “Elias?” Hale whirled around and saw the armor bashing his spike against the damaged tank’s forelimbs.

  Hale turned to face the new scorpion as a cannon-tipped tail rose over its shields.

  Light glinted off something between the Ruhaald tents and the scorpion shifted suddenly. Hale heard the thunder of heavy footsteps as a pair of armor soldiers charged into the open.

  The Hussars arrived, lances in hand and cannons blazing. Vladislav launched himself into the air and sailed over the scorpion’s armor. He thrust his lance into the sensor ball as he slammed onto the scorpion. He grabbed his lance with both hands and wrenched it aside, ripping through the scorpion with a metallic pop.

  Adamczyk jumped onto the scorpion’s back and grabbed the base of the cannon as energy coursed up and down the tail. He swung off the tank and twisted the tail to aim at the energy wall.

  A searing blast struck the coral base and sent chunks of rocky shrapnel zinging through the air. A hunk the size of a coin careened off Hale’s helmet and knocked him to the ground.

  “On your feet, sir!” Yarrow pulled Hale up.

  The energy wall now had a gap wide enough for two armor soldiers to fit through. Hale saw Firebase X-Ray in the distance.

  “Out! Everyone out!” Hale jumped over the berm and ran for the opening. The two Hussars that killed the tank backed toward the wall, laying down a furious barrage of fire on any Ruhaald that moved.

  Elias had his spike buried in the damaged scorpion’s left shield. The tank lifted the forelimb—and Elias with it—into the air and tried to strike at him with its damaged tail. Elias slapped the tail away and tried to hit it with his rotary cannon. Bullets stitched a line through the sand toward Hale as the scorpion swung Elias around.

  Hale dove to the ground and thumped against the coral wall next to the gap. He hit a button on the side of his helmet and activated his radio set.

  “Steuben? Steuben, take the ambush element and withdraw to Phoenix. You copy?”

  Hale waved to the Marines dragging the Ruhaald prisoner and a wounded comrade toward their new escape route.

  “I must respectfully decline,” Steuben transmitted. “We just came down the mountainside to rescue you. The opening you made to the firebase is a better tactical option.”

  The flash of gauss weapons flared between the base of the mountain and the middle of the Ruhaald camp.

  “Elias, we need to leave!” Hale aimed his rifle at the damaged scorpion’s exposed flank and fired. The high-powered shot kicked an armor plate loose and a splash of liquid burst from the impact. Hale reloaded his power pack as Elias’ duel continued without end.

  The third Hussar, Ferenz, roared toward the scorpion, propelled forward by his treads, his lance secured against his side. Ferenz slammed the tip into the scorpion and knocked it onto its side. The Hussar rode the momentum of the impact and shifted his treads back into legs. He used the impaled lance as a lever and twisted the scorpion onto its back. Ferenz pounded the exposed underbelly with his cannons.

  The scorpion twitched then went limp. Elias ripped his arm away from the embedded spike, leaving it buried in the scorpion’s forelimb.

  Fire from the Ruhaald slackened as the aliens retreated from the Marines and the armor.

  The Marines with the prisoner ran past Hale and into the open ground between the wall and the firebase.

  “They know we’re coming?” Matthias stopped next to Hale and looked across the desert.

  “I’m willing to bet they’ll see us and realize we’re not aliens,” Hale said. “Do you have a better idea right now?”

  “Nope.” Matthias turned and limped through the breach.

  Elias started toward the retreating aliens, but Ferenz grabbed him around the waist. The Iron Heart jabbed an elbow into Ferenz’s helm. The Hussar held tight, dragging Elias toward Hale.

  “Elias? What the hell are you doing?” Hale asked.

  “—me go! I’ll kill every last one of them, you hear me!” Elias’ voice carried over the IR.

  “You’re about to redline! You cycle down or you will answer to Carius for this,” Ferenz said.

  Elias stopped struggling. He backed toward the gap, taking potshots at the Ruhaald.

  Cortaro grabbed Hale by the shoulder. Alien blood and dirt caked the gunnery sergeant’s armor. Marines from the ambush team ran past them.

  “All Marines accounted for,” he said. “Can we get the hell out of here?”

  Hale looked over at the other Hussars. Caas was with them, an arm missing and half her armor fire-blackened.

  “Get moving, crunchy!” Vladislav called out. “We’ll cover you.”

  “Let’s move.” Hale followed Cortaro beyond the wall. Weapons emplacements around Firebase X-Ray slewed toward the gap. Hale breathed a sigh of relief as the big guns remained silent.

  Hale’s footfalls kicked up dust as he caught up to Matthias, who was barely moving faster than a walk with his wounded leg. Hale glanced at the blackened hole on the Marine’s thigh. Red streaks of blood ran from the wound.

  Matthias stumbled
to the ground.

  “Ugh…thirsty,” he said.

  “How bad are you hit?” Hale stopped next to him and pried away the armor plate on Matthias’ leg. A glut of blood splashed into the sand.

  Hale sucked air through his teeth. Matthias was bleeding to death. He found a shiny tag on the side of the pseudo-muscle layer of Matthias’ suit and pulled. The tourniquet integrated into the muscles should have tightened to shut off the blood flow to the wound…but nothing happened.

  “Suit’s…messed up,” Matthias said. His eyes fluttered beneath his visor.

  “Corpsman!” Hale pulled an emergency tourniquet off Matthias’ belt and wrapped it around the wounded Marine’s thigh. He pulled it tight and pressed his hand against the wound as Yarrow sprinted over.

  “What’ve we got?” Yarrow ran a line from his gauntlet to Matthias’ helmet.

  The clank of treads filled the air and Vladislav stopped a few yards away.

  “Put him on,” the Hussar said, slapping the armored skirt over his treads.

  Hale and Yarrow hefted Matthias onto the armor. Yarrow jumped on and held onto the casualty. Vladislav took off in a cloud of dust.

  Hale looked down at his hand. Bright-red blood dripped through his fingers and onto his boots. It was his idea to take one of the aliens prisoner. Now one of his Marines was bleeding to death and once he and the rest of his company made it to the firebase, they’d be backed into a corner.

  The last Hussar backed out of the gap, his rotary cannon sending out a fan of bullets to dissuade any Ruhaald from following. Hale ran into a dried-out creek bed and made for the firebase.

  The bam-bam-bam of an antiaircraft gauss weapon echoed through the valley. Flashes of light broke from the firebase and a white-hot tracer round zipped over Hale’s head. He took a look over his shoulder and saw rounds impacting near the gap in the Ruhaald energy wall. Ripples broke across the barrier as rounds went wide and missed the break.

  Hale lowered his head and ran faster. The defenders within the mountain would cover their tactical withdrawal across the desert.

  A tall metal door, its surface heat warped and pockmarked with craters from alien weaponry, stood ajar. Cortaro and Steuben waved Hale over to the opening, which grew wider with each heave of an armor soldier as two of them pushed and pulled it open.

  Hale ran through the opening and slowed to a stop within a maintenance bay the size of a basketball court. Hale bent at the waist and ripped his helmet off. He gulped down oil-tinged air and felt rivulets of sweat pour down his face.

  Taking a deep breath, he stood up and found his Marines sitting along the walls. They were all caked in dirt, their armor singed by energy weapons, and many bore smears of Ruhaald blood.

  Lieutenant Jacobs stood over their prisoner, which had its head buried within its arms and rocked back and forth over the wide tail curled beneath its body.

  Hale took out the voice box he’d recovered off the dead alien that nearly executed Nickel and offered it to the prisoner, who didn’t seem to notice. Hale tapped the box against the alien’s chest plate. A single black eye peeked through the many tentacles the thing used for fingers.

  It reached out slowly, stroking Hale’s wrist and hand before taking the box. It clutched the translation device to its chest.

  “My caste will pay dearly for my return, but only if I am alive,” came from the box.

  “We don’t know you.” Hale shook his head. “Don’t know your planet, your needs, but you sure don’t look like you breathe our air. How long will your suit keep you alive?”

  “Up to nine full rotations of this planet…if the power systems are recharged. Less than a full rotation otherwise. I will tell my pod of your fair treatment. There will be no blood debt if I am returned unharmed.”

  “Jacobs, you like calamari?” Hale asked the lieutenant.

  “In a cioppino, maybe. Better if it’s breaded, fried and paired with my granny’s marinara sauce.”

  “Why don’t you get our prisoner secured. Share more of your granny’s seafood recipes if it causes any trouble. Got a lot of hungry mouths to feed tonight.”

  The Ruhaald’s feeder tentacles went berserk.

  “I assure you my species’ resemblance to cephalopods does not—”

  Jacobs took the voice box away and grabbed the prisoner beneath its armpits.

  “Excuse me,” came from behind.

  An army corporal flanked by two doughboys stood a few feet away. The doughboys snapped to attention when they saw Hale’s face.

  The corporal, a line of sutures running down his face and a patch over his left eye, squinted at Hale.

  “Huh, well that’s funny,” the corporal said.

  “I’m looking for a Lieutenant Bolin,” Hale said, “Corporal…”

  “Montes, sir. The lieutenant’s in the aid station. Follow me.”

  There was a bang of metal on metal as the front door slammed shut. All five armor soldiers had made it inside. Elias, his armor stained to reddish-black by alien blood, slammed a fist against the door. His shoulders heaved up and down, as if he was breathing heavily. Two of the Hussars grabbed him by the arms.

  Hale saw the armor’s IR channel active on his forearm screen, but didn’t tap in. He had enough problems, and the armor could handle their own. He hoped.

  ****

  The aid station had seen better days. The ceiling had partially caved in, breaking the light bars and exposing the bare rock above. An auto-doc robot hung from the wall, its optic suite smashed beyond repair by fallen masonry. Wall lockers once full of medical supplies had been ransacked. A glass medicine case was riven by spiderweb cracks.

  Hale stepped around a gurney holding a sheet-draped body, the smell of dried blood and spilled urine wafting from the corpse.

  The captain found Mathias around a plastic partition. He lay on his side, stripped from the waist down except for a small towel for modesty. Dried red foam covered his injured thigh and bags of fluid ran into his arms.

  “Believe it or not, sir,” Mathias said, raising his head slightly, “I’m doing pretty good.” The Marine’s words were slurred, a testament to whatever painkillers Yarrow had given him.

  “Yarrow’s a good sawbones.” Hale touched Mathias’ shoulder. “He’s patched me up more than once. You get some rest and we’ll get you evacced soon as possible.”

  Assuming there is a way out of here.

  “The doc gave me something…good.” Mathias grinned a little and closed his eyes.

  Yarrow stuck his head around the partition.

  “Sir, a second?”

  Hale nodded.

  “Mathias is stable. Artery in his leg had a small cut. That tourniquet you got on him saved his life. I can have him up and around in a few more hours, got to let the nu-skin set. Bolin…” the corpsman continued as he glanced over his shoulder, “he’s touch and go. The firebase lost their medics in the initial attack. His soldiers did what they could, but not enough. I need you to keep him distracted while I work on him. I’ll lose him to shock if I put him under.”

  “Fair enough, let me see him.”

  Yarrow pushed the screen aside. Bolin lay on a gurney, stripped of his armor. His legs ended just below the knees in a mess of blood-soaked bandages. The lieutenant’s chest rose and fell with a slight wheeze.

  “Is that him?” Bolin asked weakly.

  Hale grabbed a stool and sat next to the head of the gurney. Bolin’s skin was deathly pale, his cheeks sunken. Hale looked at the man…and all he could see was his brother, Jared.

  “My God.” Hale put his hand on Bolin’s forehead. “What happened to you? How did you get here?”

  Confusion washed over Bolin’s face. “You’re another one,” he said. “Thought our line was spread out over the planet. What’s your name?”

  “Hale. What do you mean, ‘another one’? Don’t you recognize me?”

  “You’re the original? I thought he was gone.”

  “I’m Ken Hale…and you’re not m
y brother Jared.”

  Bolin strained his neck up. Hale saw him looking at a sheet propped up over his waist, blocking the view to his severed legs.

  “What’re you doing, doc?” Bolin asked. “Feel you tugging down there.”

  “Keep him distracted,” Yarrow whispered into Hale’s earpiece.

  “You know who Ken Hale is, right? Why do you look like him? Did Ibarra clone him?” Hale asked as he pushed gently against Bolin’s forehead and laid him back against a sweat-soaked pillow.

  “Officially, we’re Jared mark twos. After the Toth fight on Hawaii, Ibarra studied the battle and the doughboys that survived. Ken Hale organized the beach defenses, had a bunch of doughies following his lead. Doughies connected to Ken performed better than others. Braver, better shots, smarter even. I never heard why, but then Ibarra changed the doughboys’ programming to come off the assembly line keyed to that Hale as their leader. Then the proccie tubes pumped out a bunch of Hales. All in the name of efficiency.”

  “So you’re a clone? Do you think I’m your brother?”

  Bolin grimaced and the scent of fresh blood filled the air.

  “Not a clone. I’ve got my own life before all this. Grew up in Nevada. Fought off the Chinese incursion on the Aleutian Islands before joining the Saturn colony. Ibarra changed up my face and vocal cords before I left the tubes. Ghost bastard promised to give me my looks back after the war’s over. There are thousands of mark twos through the system, all leading doughy units. Hell of a job.”

  Hale sat back, a cold lump in his stomach. Relief, sadness, a torrent of emotions ran through his mind. The badly wounded man before him wasn’t his brother, but his brother was truly gone. Light-years away on a colony that would never come under threat from the Xaros.

  “So you know the guy?” Bolin asked. “I see him every time I look in the mirror. He a good man?”

  “Better than me…what happened to you?”

  “Forgot to duck. Still came out better than the others in battery three. Wait…if you’re here, are the squids gone? Should have asked sooner but things are a bit fuzzy right now.”

  “I’m here with some help, just not enough to break out of this mess. Again, why are the Ruhaald attacking this firebase and the doughboys? This isn’t happening anywhere else.”