hide. This time, I planned to fight.
“Gold 2, report?” the mission leader asked.
“We’re pinned down outside the launch bay.”
“Can you break in?”
“Negative, mission leader. They have shooters on every side of us.”
“How long can you hold out?” I called over the interLink.
“Harris?” the mission leader asked.
“Reporting.”
“Where are you?” asked Gold 2 Leader.
“I’m on my way up,” I said. “I’ll have the doors open in another minute.”
They kept talking, but I did not have time to listen. The elevator doors opened. The launch bay spread out before me, with its gray walls and ceiling and its bright lights. I saw men crouched behind barricades pointing lasers at the hatch. They paid no attention as the elevator opened across the deck. It might not have mattered if they did.
I put the mobile firefighting unit in gear. It rumbled forward slowly on its own as I jumped out to the deck. Then I grabbed three grenades, pulled their pins, and tossed them. I ran for cover. The grenades exploded in rapid succession. The rumble of the first grenade did not have time to settle before the next grenade blew.
The damage those grenades made…I was a hundred feet away, hidden behind a ten-ton mobile fire unit, and I still felt the deck rumble under my armored boots. As I looked around the rear of the firefighter, I saw that the force of the grenades had tipped a forklift on its side.
White smoke as thick as a gauze hung in the air. I ran into the smoke, my laser ready; but there was no one left to shoot. As I passed through, I saw dead men and body parts. An inch-deep stream of blood ran down the drainage grooves in the floor. The first grenade had probably killed them all, leaving the second and third to pulverize the walls. The grenades had blown huge dents in the walls, and the shrapnel had chipped and gashed everything in sight.
“Get ready to run,” I called to the men on the other side of the hatch.
“Hurry,” one of them responded.
I opened the door. Diving through a cross fire of lasers, the thirteen remaining members of Gold 2 dived into the launch bay, and I sealed the doors.
“How did you get in here?” Gold 2 leader asked as he caught his breath.
“I came in through the back door,” I said, pointing to the elevator.
“What’s going on down there?” the mission leader called.
“We’re in.”
“Can you get the bay doors open?”
“We already have.”
Two SEALs hunched over the console that controlled the atmospheric locks. It only took them a moment to open the outer door of the locks.
The first group of three hundred men passed through the locks. These were the engineers, navigators, and mechanics borrowed from other battleships. They would be little use in capturing this ship, but we could not risk losing them on a spacewalk. Among these swabbies would be a few civilian pilots with experience flying self- broadcasting explorers.
Outside the ship, Marines and SEALs rushed the novices into the launch bay, making certain that no straggler fell behind.
The next seven hundred men to arrive were the SEALs and Marines—including the men from my platoon. They were the expendable ones.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“SEALs leader, this is Colonel Aldus Grayson, do you read me?” I knew Grayson. He was the pontificating bastard who had ridden on the explorer with me when I transferred out to the
“Yes, sir,” the mission leader said.
“I’m taking command of this shindig. Can you brief me on the situation?”
I could brief him on the situation. We had small groups of men in the bridge and a second small group of men in the engine room. They were holding on for dear life, while the perfectly capable man who had led us this far wasted time updating the windbag of an officer who wanted to seize control.
“We have twenty-three men holding the bridge and thirty men holding the engine room, sir,” the mission leader said.
“Opposition?” Grayson asked.
“Several hundred Mogats outside each position, sir.” The good news was that the Mogats needed the engine room and bridge as much as we did. They were not about to throw grenades into either area.
“How long can you hold out, son?” Grayson asked. I did not like the sound of that question. Officers ask questions like that when they only care about their own skin. A former boot-camp operator, Grayson had probably never seen combat in his career.
“They’re trying to cut through the doors with welding torches, sir,” the mission leader answered. “We need assistance.”
“I see,” Colonel Grayson said. As an officer, he had blundered into a situation way beyond his abilities.
“This is Blue Team Leader.”
“Yes, son?” Grayson asked.
“They’ve almost cut through the hatch down here.”
“I see,” Grayson said. He showed no signs of life. He was a chess player contemplating his next move with all the time in the world.
I could no longer handle watching this pompous inactivity. “Evans, Sutherland, Thomer, round ’em up. We’re breaking out of here,” I said on the Marine frequency reserved for my platoon.
“Glad to,” Evans said.
Only a minute later, my platoon started lining up in front of the hatch. I took my place at the front of the platoon. We would toss a grenade to clear the corridor, then come out shooting. I asked one of the SEALs to work the hatch.
“You, by the bulkhead. Where do you think you’re going, son?” came over the open frequency that could be heard by Marine and Mogat alike.
“Sir,” I shouted like a kid in boot camp speaking to a drill sergeant, “the sergeant and his platoon are simply lining up, sir.” Then, in a quieter tone, I added, “You are broadcasting over an open frequency, sir. The Mogats can hear you.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who can hear me, son,” Grayson yelled. “You can’t open that launch-bay door, there might be a thousand Mogats waiting to—”
He never finished the sentence. “Did anybody see who fired that shot?” I asked as I replaced my pistol in its holster.
“Wish I did,” Philips grumbled.
“Must be a sniper in here,” Evans said.
No one else responded.
“Mission leader, this is Master Gunnery Sergeant Wayson Harris from Platoon 103.” I called on a proprietary frequency that our men would hear but the Mogats would not.
“Where’s Grayson?” the mission leader asked.
