Battle: Los Angeles
Mission: Santa Monica
The way back is a hard road.
[Author's Note: This story takes place two days after the story Mission: South Central.]
"So," said Harris. "The counter-attack of the forces of Earth against the alien invaders is just the six of us, is it?"
"I'm not seeing any problem with it," said Santos.
Nantz gave a grunt. He didn't mind his men – and Santos – having a joke; not so long as they were doing their jobs, covering possible points of fire ahead as the Bushmaster slowly made its way westwards.
Lockett, in the driver's seat, brought the vehicle to a halt. "According to the map, this road is the shortest route to Santa Monica Community College," he said. "But ... "
Nantz grunted again. The road ahead was narrow, with three-story buildings on either side. Ambush territory. And this area had been in alien hands since the invasion, five days ago now. True, in the past thirty-six hours they had pulled back a bit, consolidating around their beachhead. Still ...
"Yeah," said Imlay, looking at the area with binoculars. "But."
Without another word, Lockett turned the Bushmaster back and began to look for another route.
Funny, I don't even have to give orders to them anymore, thought Nantz.
Many of the roads in the area were blocked by debris or abandoned vehicles but eventually Lockett found a way that looked fairly safe.
"Why are we going to this place, this Community College?" said Adukwu.
"Highest ground in the area," said Nantz. "And our mission is advance spotting for the counter-attack. There wasn't any fighting at the college, and Command believes that there will be operating landlines there, as well as an emergency generator. We can connect the field telephone that we've got to the existing landline."
"Sounds easy, when you say it like that, Staff Sergeant," said Harris.
"Why can't they use aerial surveillance?" said Lockett.
Nantz pointed to the haze that shimmered above the alien beachhead. "That stuff," he said. "The tech people don't know if it's a defence measure by the aliens or just something that they do, but one way or another you can't see much from above. So that means ground surveillance."
"They know that that's like, really close ... I mean, really close ... to the ETs, right, Staff Sergeant?" said Harris.
"I mentioned it," said Nantz.
"Well, how hard can it be?" said Santos.
They were in the grounds of the college now, moving slow. Nantz pointed to a building on a rise; there was a radio mast rising from the top of it.
"What's with that?" said Adukwu, pointing at the mast.
"A lot of colleges run radio stations," said Nantz. "That's often why they had emergency generators, so they could keep broadcasting if there was a disaster, an earthquake or something."
They hid the Bushmaster in a nearby grove of trees and went into the building. No sign of life.
"Harris, Imlay, go the basement and see if you can find the generator, get it started," said Nantz. "Santos, locate a landline, patch our field phone in. Lockett, Adukwu, we go to the roof, set up an observation point. We all meet there in twenty."
Everyone set about their assigned task, and met on the flat roof of the building. The generator had been activated and the phone line set up. The six of them looked at the expanse of enemy troops on the beachhead, with dozens of SAM sites, artillery batteries, and tanks.
"Whoa," said Imlay. "These guys are ready for a fight."
Lockett looked back, at the near-ruined city. One of the few large buildings still standing was 155 West Washington Avenue, South Central. "When the counter-attack starts, General Mama's people are going to want to be a part of it," he said. "That's good, it looks like we're going to need every gun we can get."
Santos pulled a long-range digital camera from her pack, and a laptop computer. She began to take photos and video of the alien emplacements, and, with the computer, connected to the landline and sent them to Mojave Command.
Nantaz was looking at the mother ship, in the ocean near Catalina Island. It was the size of an aircraft carrier, with batteries of SAMs and interceptor missiles on the upper deck.
"That's the first target," he said. "We have to call in the co-ordinates and provide damage reports. Once that's down, the Air Force will hit the aliens on the beach. Then the ground troops will come in."
"None of that is going to be easy," said Harris. "These guys are dug in and have got good organization, even without their C&C ship."
"Yeah, but once their officers are down, they don't do so well," said Santos. "When we were in Downtown, after I hit the Longlegs, the others didn't seem to know what to do. They kept coming, but there was no real strategy or tactical sense to them."
"Hmm," said Nantz. "So if we could take down their Longlegs, the attack would have a much better shot."
"Yeah," said Imlay. "But ... how would we do that?"
Nantz scratched his stubble. "The prisoners we got took back from South Central said that the Longlegs are connected by a cranial implant, a built-in radio. So at this range, maybe we can overload it. By putting out a big signal on the same frequency."
"Except we don't know the frequency they use," said Adukwu.
"Sure we do," said Santos, taking a pad from her pocket. "The techs at Mojave gave it to me so we could set up the South Central transponder right. I've got it here."
"But we don't know how to set up the radio for something like that," said Lockett. "None of us have got those skills."
"Uh, that's not exactly right," said Nantz. "I have. Back in the day, before I joined the Marines, I went to a college like this one, and I had a part-time job working at the radio station."
"What, as a technician?" said Imlay.
"No," said Nantz. "As a DJ. Had my own program and everything. Mike in the Morning."
They all stared at him.
"You ... have a first name, Staff Sergeant?" said Harris.
"And it's ... Mike?" said Lockett.
"There was a time when you were not a Marine, Staff Sergeant?" said Adukwu.
" 'Mike in the Morning'?" said Santos.
"Goddamn," said Imlay.
"Well," said Nantz. "There it is. The bottom line is that I can probably rig the equipment to send out a blast that will overload their implants."
"Blow their minds," said Lockett.
"Literally," said Harris.
"I don't get it," said Adukwu.
"Hey," said Imlay, pointing to the ocean horizon. "Something is happening out there."
Nantz checked his watch. "Right on time," he said.
There were two US Navy ships heading towards the alien mother ship.
"That's the Arleigh Burke and the Philippine Sea," said Nantz. "Firing Tomahawks." He picked up the phone – and then handed the handset to Santos. "Santos, you've got the better skills here. You've got the duty."
"Huh," said Santos, taking the handset. "And maybe you should try and find the radio studio, Staff Sergeant, and get back to the DJ thing."
Nantz nodded, and went to search the building, with Harris.
Santos began to feed the details of the sea battle to Mojave Command, along with video. The two ships fired a brace of missiles at the mother ships, and then another set. A wall of alien interceptor missiles was sent up by the mother ship, hitting the Tomahawks. The Navy ships fired another volley, and the alien missiles took them down again.
"So far, the Navy's drawing a blank," said Imlay. "Maybe two ships aren't enough to punch through. They need more."
"Just because you can't see others, that doesn't mean they're not there," said Lockett.
Suddenly, there was an explosion on the side of the mother ship, and a massive eruption of water. A few seconds later, another.
"Torpedoes!" said Imlay. "The Tomahawks were just a diversion!"
"Direct hits!" shouted Santos into the phone. "Tell them to keep it up!"
Nantz, in the broadcast room, was hitting switches and buttons. He found the frequency dial, and turned it until he found what he was looking for. The power began to increase.
"Harris, over there is an over-ride switch, a big lever," he said. "When I tell you, pull it."
He switched on the microphone.
"This is Echo Company, Second Battalion, Fifth Marines!" he said. "Hoo-rah!" He pushed all the switches to full power, and gestured to Harris, who pulled the lever.
All the dials showed red. A series of bulbs blew as the power built into a burst of static.
"Retreat, hell," said Harris softly.
"Look!" said Adukwu, pointing at the nearest alien SAM site.
The Longlegs had fallen to the ground, in convulsions.
Santos turned the binoculars towards other alien emplacements. The story was the same.
She turned her view back to the battle at sea. The Arleigh Burke and the Philippine Sea fired another brace of cruise missiles – and this time there were no intercepting missiles. The Tomahawks smashed into the mother ship. At the same time, another torpedo hit. Plumes of smoke began to come from the alien vessel, and it tilted, one edge dipping into the water.
"Their defences are down!" said Santos into the phone. "Hit 'em with everything!"
Nantz and Harris threw themselves down with the others. Imlay pointed to the alien batteries, where a number of Longlegs were out of the fight – probably for good.
"Blow their minds!" said Adukwu. "I just got it!"
"Staff Sergeant, we have alien soldiers coming up on both the right and the left," said Imlay, surveying the area around the radio station. "I think our secret is out. Damn, there's a lot of them. "
Nantz looked at the mother ship, now clearly burning. He took the handset from Santos.
"Mojave Command, the alien ground defences are compromised, their local command is depleted," he said. "Our position is about to be over-run."
"Then get out of there!" said Colonel Ritchie. "You've done everything you can!"
Nantz led them back to the Bushmaster. Alien rockets were already beginning to fall around them.
They piled in and sped along the road eastwards, Lockett driving. And then an alien tank appeared in front of them, flanked by dozens of soldiers.
The tank fired.
"Everybody brace!" shouted Nantz, from the passenger seat.
The shell hit them. Nantz had a sense of the Bushmaster careening sideways, and then rolling –
He awoke with a start, to the sound of firing. Adukwu was leaning over him, wrapping a bandage around his head.
"Take it easy, Staff Sergeant, you're bleeding and you've got a concussion – " said the corpsman.
"Concussion or not, we could really use you on that window over there, Staff Sergeant," said Imlay. "And you covering that doorway, Adukwu."
Nantz looked around. They were in a building, really just a single room, not large but with solid walls, looked like it had been some sort of food kiosk in a little park. Lockett and Santos were firing in one direction, Imlay in another. Harris, with the chain gun from the Bushmaster now mounted on a window sill, had another direction covered.
There was a vicious black globe in his head but he pushed the pain away. He managed to get to the window and hefted his gun. He was seeing double but he fired a burst at a group of aliens. They withdrew, sheltering behind a wall.
He looked around. There were dozens of alien bodies, as well as four burning tanks.
The Marine guns fell silent.
"Looks like they're pulling back to re-group again," said Imlay. "Everyone, re-load, do a shell count, check your firing positions."
Nantz saw that Imlay had a shoulder wound and Harris had a tourniquet around his thigh. Santos had a bleeding gash on her cheek. Adukwu, himself with a bandage around his hand, was treating an arm injury on Lockett.
"How long was I out?" said Nantz.
"Maybe ten minutes since that tank hit the Bushmaster," said Santos. "We managed to get all those ones, and the tank, but then these guys showed up. Dozens of 'em. We made it in here."
"Current situation is: surrounded, running low on ammo, everyone hurt somehow or other," said Imlay. "Good to have you back, Staff Sergeant, you had us worried there. Sorry the news isn't better."
"Sounds like you've made the best of a bad situation," said Nantz.
"What time does the counter-attack start?" said Adukwu.
Nantz checked his watch. "Not for a while yet," he said. "We're on our own."
"Us, and a couple of hundred ETs," said Harris.
Lockett was looking out the window. "More like a couple of thousand," he said. "Coming from all directions."
Nantz looked where Lockett was pointing.
"Damn, it must be the whole alien army," he said.
"I guess they're a bit pissed at us," said Harris. "Which is understandable."
"Lock and load," said Nantz.
It became a nightmare of firing and re-loading, taking down the aliens as they came forward. Without the Longlegs, the alien soldiers had only one tactic: advance. It made them easy targets. But there were many of them. Very many.
The chain gun gave out. The pile of empty clips in the centre of the room began to grow.
Finally, the alien line wavered – and fell back. But there were more of them coming. There was the sound of tanks approaching.
"I'm out," said Santos, fitting a bayonet to her rifle.
"Me too," said Lockett.
"Half a clip," said Adukwu.
"Same," said Harris. "And no more grenades."
Imlay was checking the clip of his pistol.
Nantz realised that his rifle was empty. He drew his .45.
"Their next push, we won't be able to hold them," he said. He looked around at the squad: battered and exhausted, but ready to fight to the end. "It has been an honor," he said.
"The honor, Staff Sergeant," said Lockett, "has been ours."
Nantz put his hand into the middle of the group. The others put their hands on his. "Hoo-rah!" said Imlay.
"And here they come," said Harris. They took up their positions again.
The aliens were storming towards the little building now, ready to take vengeance. The two tanks moved into position, aiming.
And then, out of nowhere, two RPGs slammed into the tanks. A fusillade of heavy-calibre bullets slammed into the alien soldiers.
A Blackhawk chopper swung low, hovering in front of the building. Its Gatlings fired, tearing through the alien ranks. On the 50-cal in the doorway, a gunner traversed and fired. He looked back at them.
"Yo!" he shouted. "We heard there were some punk Marines needed their asses saved!"
"Drive-by!" said Imlay. "Damn, that guy really is an asshole."
The Blackhawk swivelled, turning its guns on another troop of aliens. The Marines saw that it was Moped in the pilot's seat.
The chopper touched down, and a half-dozen of General Mama's soldiers jumped out and made for the building. Shooter was in the lead.
She was carrying a large satchel: in it were extra clips and grenades. "Present from the General," she said. "Hey, do you know why the aliens with the spider legs suddenly fell over?"
"Mike in the Morning," said Santos.
Shooter looked quizzical, but shrugged.
The Marines re-loaded. The alien attack had broken but there were pockets of them still fighting. The Blackhawk was circling, attacking, firing at whatever targets available. The Marines and the South Central soldiers began the mopping-up, driving the aliens back towards the beach, where the Air Force was hammering the defences. Only a few of the SAM sites were operating, and their firing was wild; without co-ordination, most were merely silent.
A flight of F-15s screeched overhead, zooming towards the alien beachhead. They were followed by a wave of A-10s. From the beach, there was the sound of Tomahawk missiles from the Navy ships exploding.
Moped landed, got out, and ran over to the group. "I'm heading towards the fight," he said. "You guys want a lift?"
The South Central soldiers began to pile into the chopper. Nantz looked at his squad, and at Adukwu applying fresh field dressings to wounds and injuries. He shook his head.
"We'll get patched up first," he said. "And then ... we'll see."
Colonel Ritchie climbed the stairs that led to the roof of the radio station of Santa Monica Community College. Nantz, Imlay, Lockett, Harris, Adukwu and Santos were there, sitting in deck chairs that someone had located, watching the operations on the beach, and the lines of captive aliens. They were drinking beers: Lockett had found them in a refrigerator in the college cafeteria: they were even cold, with the emergency power running.
Ritchie looked at them with a slight frown.
"Yeah, I know, drinking while on duty, and in a combat zone, is a serious infraction of Marine regulations," said Nantz to the colonel.
"We saved you one, sir," said Santos, handing him a chilled bottle.
"Well, I guess I can overlook it, just this once," said the Colonel, as he popped the cap. He surveyed the area. "Looks like we've won," he said. "Here, at least. You know, the intelligence boys want to de-brief you, see if this radio thing can be turned into a weapon of some sort. And the politicians and the generals want to meet you, give you some medals, take some photos, that sort of thing."
"Yes to the first, no to the second," said Nantz.
"But if they want to give us some sort of financial bonus, we wouldn't stop them," said Santos.
Ritchie laughed. "I'll see what I can do," he said.
Nantz allowed himself a smile. He looked out at the city. The war, he knew, was far from finished. But the Battle of Los Angeles was over. And it had been won.
END