Chapter Twenty Nine
Sergeant Ray Harper had his Marines, along with Dez, the Irken pilot, Captain Prizz, and their rescued pilot Lieutenant Colonel Gaz Membrane, had been hiking away from the Spittle Runner for about four hours, following the woods south, taking short breaks roughly every forty five minutes.
The snow was knee deep in a few spots, and it was slow going to be sure. Gaz had warmed up and refused to be pulled in the litter, though Harper could tell she wouldn't last much longer. The Irken wasn't faring much better, only in a simple dark violet jumpsuit surrounded in a black pilots harness and helmet.
Harper called the next halt, and they gathered below a stand of white spruce, hidden by the dense evergreen branches, while Gis and Tristan took off ahead to reconnoiter and report back. Szymanski was keeping an eye to the rear, which thus far had been clear of pursuing ground forces.
Gaz' survival kit had been left behind, but the Irkens began dogging them from the air, with the occasional Voot Cruiser passing over the forest, driving all of them into the snow for cover. Harper had been forced to break radio silence to get an update on his pickup, and they learned they had at least two more hours to wait until their bird arrived. They could shave off some of that time by continuing to head south.
Harper was qualified to guide in the chopper, but so was Dez, so when their taxi arrived, the Canadian had volunteered for those honors.
As they sat there, huffing beneath the trees, Harper offered up the last few pieces of his chocolate coated energy bar to anyone willing.
Gaz took a piece and said, "You look like you're freezing. You want the suit?"
He shook his head. "I've been accused of being cold blooded, so it all works out."
"I will take your suit," Said Prizz, wincing over his zipper cuffs.
"She's not offering," Snapped Harper.
"That's right," Gaz growled.
"Okay, okay. It was just thought that you should go clockwise when handing things around." Prizz scootched over to lean against the tree.
Harper turned back to her. "So, is this rescue everything you dreamed it would be?"
Prizz was heard making a sound of disgust as he mumbled something.
She glanced away. "They killed everyone at my base. Killed my wingman, killed this poor family who was trying to help me. Damn, Sergeant. If you didn't pick me up, I would be dead by now. Don't sell yourself too short."
"Thanks. I just, uh, I'm not thrilled by the prospect of two more hours of hiking."
"Me neither. And can I ask? Why are we dragging this guy along?" She flicked a dark glance in Prizz's direction. "Why didn't we just leave him back at the Runner? Or just shoot him and be done with it?"
Prizz turned to face Gaz. "Exactly, Thank you!" He exclaimed, turning to Harper next. "Indeed, human, why did you not just listen and shoot Prizz? Hm?"
"A POW's a bonus in my book. And he's an officer. Not sure my boys will ever get a crack at capturing an officer again."
Prizz smiled, almost as if to say: Someone thinks I'm special.
Gaz grinned crookedly. "I'm sorry I interfered in your little professional development project."
Her sarcasm stung. "Hey, relax. We'll get you out of here." Harper leaned forward to brush snow from his boot.
A discharge rang out, punched into the tree trunk at his shoulder.
He threw himself forward and cried, "Get down!"
They were finally rolling into downtown Calgary, Ninth Avenue Southwest, and Staff Sergeant Dax Rarik signaled his rifle squad seated inside the Stryker to make their final gear checks. Navy SEALs already in the city had asked that at least one Stryker platoon enter Calgary Tower, a tall column of concrete supporting a huge, conical shaped observations deck. The tower was the city's most identifiable landmark, and it had been seized by several squads of Storm Elites accompanied by Invader rank soldiers who were using it as an observation post.
After all, the tower was famous for offering the best views of Calgary, and those Irkens knew it'd only be a matter of time before someone entered to flush them out. And with no way to escape, they also knew they would be fighting to the death.
As Rarik sat there, waiting for the platoon to pull up outside the tower, he nervously flexed his gloved fingers. It had been an exhaustively long ride. With some shuffling after the bombs had gone off during their trip up 95, his platoon was now spread among three Strykers, down a squad, and certainly a little , no more bombs had gone off after the initial ones, and their road march had had proceeded without incident.
Thorough searches of every vehicle had turned up nothing. Most of the officers were convinced that the bombs in question had been cleverly disguised as Stryker parts and Carlton was on the intercom, discussing two civilian choppers that for some reason had been allowed to circle overhead, when Carlton suddenly broke off and said, "All right, Sergeant. We're here. Get ready!"
The Stryker rumbled to a halt, the ramp lowered, and Rarik and his men charged outside, onto the street, then up onto the sidewalk-
Where they were suddenly accosted by their Company Commander, Captain Joshua Harris, who was joined by a ground team of five civilians, two women, three men, all middle aged and being fitted into body armor by two vehicle gunners from the Master Sergeant's platoon. They each carried a heavy backpack.
"Sergeant Rarik, these folks have just put down and it's your job to get them up and into that tower."
"Yes, sir." Rarik's confused expression was hard to conceal. "But sir, they know we're coming. Power's been cut. No elevators. Got like eight hundred stairs to climb. They'll probably gas us, drop grenades, and-"
"You need to get them up top. Period. Do you read me, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir."
"We're putting snipers in the building next door, see if we can take some of them out from there, lob some flash bangs and gas inside the deck. We're going for a surgical removal here with minimal damage to the tower itself. Let me repeat: minimal damage. They've made that clear."
Rarik pursed his lips, gestured the Captain away from the civilians. "Sir, what's going on?"
The Captain sighed. "I got orders to get these folks up top and not destroy this beautiful landmark. I don't know any more than you right now. Off the record? take a look at these people. Geeks with backpacks, heading up into a tower heavily defended by Irkens. Think they might be looking for something?"
Rarik was no rocket scientist, but it didn't take him more than a few seconds to blurt out the word: "Nukes?"
Captain Harris gave him an ominous look. "They were circling overhead for thirty minutes before they put down. And they got carte blanche wherever they go. I asked for ID. They said they don't have to show us anything. There was a CIA XO here to vouche for them."
"Damn."
"Good news is I'm issuing all of you MOPP 4 gear and Cross-Coms, with access to a pair of small recon drones we'll fly up each stairwell. They'll walk point as you go up."
"Nice."
"Get your men over there, get on those masks and protective suits, and finish gearing up."
"Yes, sir."
Captain Harris thrust out his hand. "Good luck, Sergeant."
Rarik shook hands, then his gaze swept up the tower, toward the top, reaching the impossibly high observation deck. He stood there for a few seconds more, forgetting how to breathe.
Everything about this said: get those people up there, but you are expandable.
Rarik had never felt more uncertain about an operation. But he couldn't show that. "All right, Spartan team! Here's what's happening..."
"Stay behind me!" Shouted Harper.
"No, I see one right there," Cried Gaz. She knew that the next time that Imperial Trooper behind the tree rolled out, she'd have him. And she wasn't going to let Mr. Macho Marine rob her of a little payback.
"Colonel, get your ass back here! We didn't come this far to lose you now!"
The Irken appeared, raised his a Type-6 OE/CW, commonly refereed as to "The Sun's Ray," as the weapon harvested energy from the sun to fire an orange, transparent energy round, leaving nothing of you but a pile of ashes. Gaz fired first, two shots, striking the Irken in the left cheek, he fell to the ground and fired blindly, incinerating two of his brothers. She ran- Right back behind Harper's position.
"Jesus, lady!" He cried.
"I ain't no lady," She shouted back. "Not today!" She dropped down at his side and said, "Two squads. I saw a few of them shifting to our flank."
"I know," The Sergeant said. Next to Harper sat Prizz, who'd been gagged since he'd been screaming to the other Irkens after they'd fired their first shot.
The rest of the Marines were out there, somewhere behind them, engaging more of the Irkens. They must have been spotted by one of the Voot Cruiser crews, who'd set down and dropped their troopers.
"Any chance of our ride coming a little early?" She asked him.
"Yeah, right. Hold on." He got on his radio, began talking to the others. Outlaw this guy, Outlaw that guy. All Gaz wanted was to bail. Now. She'd drawn her blood, she was ready to go home now.
If it wasn't too late.
When he finished on the radio, he glanced sidelong at her and said, "We need to make a break for it. Ready?"
She nodded.
"Let's go!"
Major Klar stood in the hatch of his DMOV-3K RYS, the recon version of the infantry fighting vehicle, equipped with an over charged, nitrogen cooled, tripple barrel heavy plasma cannon, replacing the 100mm REP gun and came equipped with a radar. His was the lead DMOV of the entire battalion. And much to the chagrin of all the other officers, he'd insisted on riding at the tip of the spear.
The other officers were afraid of him, aware of his contacts on Irk, aware of his temper.
Of his rumored defective insanity.
He chuckled aloud as he glanced toward the sun lowering on the horizon. He took in some meager warmth, lifted his digital binoculars once again. The town of High Level stood just a kilometer away, with a pathetic road block strewn across the highway.
Ignoring the communications silence he had just given, he got on the radio and cried, "Great soldiers of the Empire, this is Major Klar. Tonight we expand our Empire! Tonight we make Canada bow down to our Military might!"
He thrust a fist in the air, glanced back at the vehicle commander in the DMOV behind him, who returned the fist.
Good man. If he hadn't, Klar might've shot him.
His smile grew even broader.
Someone would write this historical moment into the data banks underground on Irk. And Klar would lean over that someone, making sure his name was spelled correctly. K L A R. In Irken symbols.
"All right," He said into the vehicle intercom, "When we draw close to the obstacle, we will shift to the embankment and let the engineers begin breaching operations."
"But, sir?" Said the driver. "I thought you wanted us to blast on through. I thought you wanted the glory."
"Yes, but as I look at the obstacle now, I see a trap, not glory. The engineers will go first."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think me a coward?"
"No, sir. And my mate back home on Vaxis thanks you for this."
"I'm sure she does. Now pull over."
Klar waved on the DMOVs carrying the engineers, those great heroes and saints who would roll out a carpet stained with blood.
(End chapter)
