“Wrong, animal,” Remwyr responded. “They already have.”
Temo was genuinely surprised. “ Really? How?”
“One group pretended to attack us while a second dug their way down to the tunnel east of here. Now they’re inside and headed this way.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Temo said admiringly. “Somebody has a brain.”
“Get your soldiers,” Remwyr said. “Follow Section Leader Sotim. You will stop them.”
“Or?” Temo said defiantly.
“Or I will kill you.”
Temo sighed. “That’s what I like about you Sub Commander Remwyr. You have a way with words.”
It was dark inside the tunnel. But the combination of the work lights thrown forward by the lead T-2s, and the less powerful spots projected by the helmets the bio bods wore, was sufficient to illuminate the next thirty feet or so. The passageway was so narrow that only two cyborgs could advance, with no more than a few inches between their massive shoulders. Santana and the rest of the troops followed.
The power conduit ran down the center of the tunnel. It was about the same diameter as a man’s thigh and had an oily appearance. The cable was shielded but caused Santana’s radio to crackle and pop. Shiny tracks ran to either side of the conduit. That suggested that the bugs could send some sort of vehicle up the line to carry out repairs on the conduit.
Rather than cut the cable, which would alert the forces on Headstone to the fact that something was wrong, Santana had elected to follow it back. The bugs weren’t going to like that. So he knew it was only a matter of time before the enemy attempted to block him and wasn’t surprised when a bright light appeared up ahead. “This is Alpha Four-Four,” Corporal Pryde said. “A vehicle is coming our way. It’s picking up speed. Over.”
That was bad news. What if they destroyed the vehicle but couldn’t squeeze past the wreckage? But Santana knew that was a chance they’d have to take. “Stop it,” he ordered tersely. “And do it now.”
Both of the lead T-2s fired, but it didn’t make any difference. The light kept coming, slammed into them, and blew up. The powerful blast ripped the cyborgs apart. But their bodies served to shelter Santana and the rest of the platoon to some extent. The blast wave threw him onto his back as Dietrich and the T-2s immediately to his rear opened fire. A dozen Ramanthians had been following along behind the sled. They jerked spastically as the bullets tore into them. Then it was over as more cyborgs crowded past and Dietrich paused to give Santana a hand. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Bruised, that’s all,” Santana replied. “We need to clear the tunnel and do so quickly.”
“I have a better idea,” a female voice said over the platoon push. “This is Major Temo. You might be able to save a few of your people if you pull back now. Otherwise, we’re going to kill every single one of you.”
Santana felt a sudden surge of anger. “Wait right there, you traitorous bitch… We’ll see who kills who.”
The answer was a burst of defiant laughter followed by a click as the contact was broken. Now Santana knew who had been responsible for sending the sledload of explosives up the tracks. Major Temo had a lot to account for, and the bill was overdue.
The replacement T-2s pushed what remained of their dead comrades aside, tore into the wreckage beyond, and ripped it apart. The resulting hole was large enough for a single cyborg to pass through. But that was sufficient, and the surviving members of the platoon began to stream through. “Ponco,” Santana said, as the recon ball appeared at his side. “Scout the tunnel ahead. Look for booby traps.”
Ponco didn’t want to do it. She’d been blown up before. But she couldn’t refuse Santana.
Ponco was about to move forward when somebody opened fire from the other end of the tunnel. Thanks to the lights mounted on the T-2s, Santana could see that a hastily constructed barrier had been thrown across the passageway. And judging from the number of ricochets that were zinging around him, the defenders were trying to bounce bullets off the walls as a way to score hits on the people sheltering behind the T-2s.
Ponco was forced to retreat, and the T-2s paused as projectiles pinged off their armor. They fired in return, but it appeared that the barricade was serving its purpose. “This is ridiculous,” Dietrich said disgustedly, as he stepped in between the cyborgs. His grenade launcher produced a ka-chunk sound followed by a couple of seconds of silence. Then came an explosion loud enough to deafen unprotected ears. The firing from the far end of the passageway stopped. “That’s better,” Dietrich said. “Stomp ’em!”
The T-2s went forward, with Ponco right behind them. They tore the barricade apart and kept going. Santana had to step over three human bodies all dressed in militia uniforms before he could proceed. None of them appeared to be female, so he knew Temo had survived and was on the run.
A steel door marked the end of the tunnel. It had been open but began to swing closed as somebody pulled on it. A T-2 made a grab for the handle as Dietrich fired a grenade through the gap. There was a flash, followed by a bang and the clatter of shrapnel hitting the door. Then the T-2s led the way into the staging area beyond the door. As Santana entered, he saw chunks of meat lying around, blood-splattered walls, and a wounded Ramanthian. The trooper raised a pistol, and Santana shot him.
Then it was time to call a momentary halt so that the rest of the platoon could catch up. And that’s where Santana was when Lieutenant Grisso prodded a militiaman into the room with her assault rifle. “This one was playing dead, sir. Jordin was going to kill the bastard, but I said you’d want to talk to him.”
Santana realized how stupid he’d been. It was a basic rule. Dead bodies aren’t dead until they’re proven to be dead. He’d been so eager to move forward that he had forgotten to check. He was lucky to be alive. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good work.”
Having turned to the militiaman, Santana frowned. “You have one chance to survive-and that’s to cooperate. Where is the control room? And where did Major Temo go?”
The soldier had lost his helmet. There was blood on one side of his face. Someone else’s probably-and he had a furtive look. “The control room is two levels below us. I can take you there. As for the major, I don’t know. There’s a landing pad on the roof. She might be headed for that.”
Santana turned to Grisso. “Take everyone but Lieutenant Ponco and Sergeant Major Dietrich. Go to the control room, place the charges, and meet us on the roof. If this man is lying shoot him.”
“Yes, sir,” Grisso said eagerly. “Come on people… You heard the major. Let’s rig this place to blow.”
“Okay,” Santana said as he looked from Ponco to Dietrich. “Let’s hustle. We need Temo alive if possible. If anyone can give us a status report on the STS cannon, she can. Plus, I want to see her hang.”
A Klaxon was bleating, bursts of click speech could be heard over the PA system, and the floor trembled as something exploded outside. Ryley? And the second platoon? Yes, Santana thought so. It seemed they were making good progress.
Ponco led the way, with Santana and Dietrich close behind. They followed a ramp up along the side of a wall. It led to a dead body. A Ramanthian body. Santana was determined not to make the same mistake twice so he stopped to check it. “Either Temo and her people killed this bug, or he committed suicide. My money is on the first possibility.”
“Mine, too,” Dietrich said. “It looks like the love affair with the bugs is over.”
That theory was borne out as the threesome followed a trail of bodies out into the main corridor, where they came under immediate fire from a group of Ramanthian troopers who were hiding behind an improvised barricade. Weapons clattered madly as bullets flew, and Ponco was forced to back up.
Dietrich threw a grenade at the opposite wall. The angle was such that it bounced out of sight and blew up. Santana followed the noncom’s example, heard a second explosion, and entered the corridor ready to fire. But there was no need. The Ramanthians were not only dead, but doubly so, as Dietrich put an extra bullet into each one of them. Meanwhile, having jerked some furniture loose, Santana made a hole in the barricade.
Then it was onwards and upwards toward the roof and the sound of fighting outside. “This is Alpha One to Alpha Two-One,” Santana said. “We’re inside the plant and about to exit onto the roof. Alpha Three is setting charges in the control room. Use fire from the T-2s to plow a path through the minefield and enter the building. Over.”
“This is Alpha Two-One,” Ryley replied. “Roger that. We’ll join you as soon as we can. Over.”
Santana heard a roaring sound punctuated by the sound of gunfire as Ponco led them onto a flat roof. A Ramanthian transport was parked at the far end of the space. Its engines were running, and a side door was open.
