then he felt the whole cabin shake and saw pieces of the front door flying over his head, blown out by a powerful shockwave that sent tongues of flame licking through the doorway and windows into the living room.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest, neck and head, McKay rolled to his left and yanked aside his broken faceplate, trying to see what was happening. Smoke was drifting across the lake from over the cabin, where… whatever it was had happened, but through the smoke he could still see four of the biomechs moving, their rifle barrels swinging to and fro in confusion.
He heard the whine of turbines first, then saw the exhaust spraying ripples across the surface of the lake, and then the sleekly angular grey bulk of the assault lander swung into view from overhead, bristling with weapons’ hardpoints, and a chin cannon swung around towards the surviving biomechs. The burst of fire was brief, just a “chuff” of smoke and a spark of muzzle blast that lasted an eyeblink, but the biomechs just… disappeared. There was an explosion of dirt and smoke and blood and the four artificial soldiers were gone, leaving in their place scattered armor and body parts.
The lander hung there in the air, its jets screaming in the night, then it lurched forward and swung back around towards the front of the house. There was the distinct sound of another burst from the chin cannon, then an explosion that made the roof timbers tremble.
Still half in a daze, McKay pulled his damaged helmet the rest of the way off with his good arm, then tried to get his feet beneath him to stand. Jock Gregory was suddenly there by his side, carefully helping him up and then pressing a smart bandage to the side of his neck. McKay abruptly realized that his armor was stained with way too much blood and that the neck wound had been much closer to being fatal than he would have liked.
“Valerie…” McKay rasped, looking around.
She was half-under a table just a couple meters away, with Sean Watanabe draped over her and blood staining the floor around them. McKay stepped quickly over and grabbed the armored man by the shoulder, rolling him off of her. Watanabe was clearly dead. He’d taken a burst through the neck and faceplate that had cut his jugular and taken off the left side of his face. Valerie and Natalia were lying motionless on the floor, covered in blood and McKay felt gorge rising in his throat… and then he saw her move, heard Natalia crying.
“Oh Jesus God,” he breathed, kneeling down beside her. “Are you all right? Is Natalia all right?”
Valerie didn’t answer immediately, her eyes blinking Sean Watanabe’s blood away. She seemed to have to pry her gaze away from his body to check on Natalia, slowly and lovingly patting at the little girl’s dress and making sure that she was unharmed. Natalia was sobbing, but seemed to calm down as she saw that her mother was all right. The little girl’s eyes went to McKay and got a bit wider-he must be a sight, he thought.
“Are you okay, Natalia?” he asked her, trying to keep his voice light.
She nodded, thumb going towards her mouth before Valerie automatically pulled it away.
McKay let out a sigh of relief and nearly collapsed, since the worry had been about the only thing keeping him going. He rose slowly from the crouch, looking around. Jock was helping Vinnie up from the floor, while Sgt. Timmons had his carbine up and was keeping a watchful eye out the back entrance.
“Timmons, check on Brent,” he told the man. “Then keep an eye on the Senator and her daughter. Jock, Vinnie, with me.”
McKay’s carbine was tight against his chest, pulled there by its retractable sling after he’d let it loose, but he left it where it was rather than trying to wield it one-handed. Instead, he reached around with his left hand to his right hip and yanked his sidearm from its holster, letting it hang at his side. The painkillers in the smart bandage were starting to take effect, but he still didn’t want to try doing anything with his right arm just yet.
He didn’t so much walk out the front door as step through what was left of the front wall, into a storm of swirling smoke still being stirred by the jets of the assault shuttle as it landed on the dirt road, next to the burning wreckage of the flyer and the tiltrotor transport that Dominguez and the biomechs had flown there.
The dirt road was cratered and torn, littered with bodies and body parts barely discernible in the flickering shadows from the fires, and the woods beyond the road simply didn’t exist anymore: a square acre of trees had been uprooted or blown apart by the KE barrage and a haze of black smoke and dust hung over them like a shroud.
“Over here, sir!” He heard Vinnie calling him from behind the wreckage of the small flyer and he turned and carefully made his way over there, trying not to step on anything squishy.
He found the Captain…
McKay shoved his pistol into his belt and pulled a flashlight out, then pushed the smoking remains aside with his boot, clenching his teeth at the sickly-sweet smell and the crunchy feel of the burned flesh under his foot. Kneeling down, he shone the flashlight beam on the tablet.
“Goddammit,” he hissed, feeling hope desert him.
The tablet was nearly ripped in half by shrapnel and what remained was warped by the heat of the explosion. Their only hope of regaining control of the defense satellites was gone. Without the tablet, it could take weeks to cleanse the system of the virus Dominguez had uploaded, and Shannon needed help
McKay stood, jogging over to the assault shuttle: it had touched down and the boarding ramp was lowering. Commander Villanueva stood at the top of the ramp, framed in the light from the interior.
“Commander,” McKay said as he climbed the ramp, “I distinctly recall ordering you to launch that Bunker Buster.”
“Reception was bad, sir,” she said, spreading her hands. “You were breaking up. I could have sworn you told me to come in low and provide fire support.” He saw her eyes looking past him to where Vinnie was coming up the ramp, and she smiled in a very unprofessional way.
“I’ll yell at you later,” he promised her, moving past her toward the cockpit. “Get us in the air and get me on the radio.” He glanced back and saw Vinnie grabbing her hand, squeezing it. “Vinnie, get in if you’re coming… tell Jock to call for a transport for Val and Natalia.” He waved a hand impatiently. “Let’s go, people… we still have a war to win!”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“He’s not making this easy for us, is he?” Drew Franks commented, watching the enemy cruiser changing course on the Tactical screen.
“If it was easy,” Captain Minishimi replied quietly, “they wouldn’t be paying us the big bucks, would they?”
Franks barked a laugh. “But why is he stalling?” the younger officer asked. “Doesn’t he
“Maybe he’s not as hardened as he thought he was,” Commander Gianeto theorized. “After all, it’s not like he’s ever done this before either.”
“Then let’s not give him any more time to get ready,” Minishimi said. “Lt. Bevins, accelerate to 1.5 g’s and set a collision course.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Bevins said, sounding the acceleration alarm. “Thirty seconds to field intersect.”
“Engineering,” Minishimi called to Commander Infante, “we will be intersecting fields in thirty seconds. Get your people away from the main trunk lines and get them strapped in.”
“I am way ahead of you, Captain,” Infante said, sounding satisfied with herself. “Engineering is good to go.”
“Maybe she’s as smart as she thinks she is,” Franks murmured. Minishimi heard it and raised an eyebrow at him, but he could see the smile fighting to emerge on her face.
