Extinction

-10-

They didn’t bother shelling the camp with mortars after two more tries. Sandra quickly and effectively returned fire. Each time the big green beam lit up the night, it burned its way through a few dozen trees, stabbing out into the darkness. Trunks of pines exploded. Wispy palm fronds ignited with the passing heat. The beams stayed on for several long seconds, burning their way through intervening vegetation. The results were always the same. The mortars were silenced. After a few seconds, the beam stopped firing and the only sounds were the shouts of my men and the crackle of burning forest.

What really screwed them was the geography of Andros Island. The highest elevation on the entire island was only about a hundred feet above sea level. The island had no hills, no gullies. In the area of my camp, it was particularly flat. There wasn’t anywhere for the enemy to hide, really. They had to come in under fire.

They could have used something bigger than a mortar, of course. Something with longer range, even a Tomahawk missile. But anything that big might destroy the precious factories, and no one wanted that.

At about one a. m., our fireteam returned to camp. I saw the big turret uncoil, tracking them as they approached. I winced, hoping Sandra hadn’t screwed up and ordered them burned down in a panic. But the big laser didn’t fire. I gulped air in relief. I walked out to greet them, recognizing the shape of their suits and their number. I hoped it wasn’t some kind of trap.

The marines halted, facing me. I halted too. I felt a presence at my side. It was Kwon, I could tell without looking. He was the kind of man who you could sense when he came near. He moved the air around him, or shook the ground, I wasn’t sure which.

“Scout squadron, report,” I said.

The men glanced back and forth amongst themselves. They were fully buttoned up in their suits, and I couldn’t blame them for that. The Corporal leading the team stepped forward two halting steps. I recognized him, he was the Indian Ghopak that I’d met at the gate hours before. Seven men stood behind him uncertainly.

“Colonel Riggs?” he asked.

“That’s me. Report.”

“Sir, we made contact with the enemy. Do you know who they are, sir?”

“I have an idea. Fill me in on the details.”

“They were human, sir. Army Rangers. We killed about twenty of them. Once we realized who they were, we broke off and retreated back to base. What the hell is going on, sir?”

I stared at them for a few seconds before speaking. “Okay. I’m going to level with you guys. And I’m not going to try to stop you if you decide to pull out of here. We are under attack by U. S. Government troops.”

There was a rise in the level of chatter all around me. I had a sinking feeling. None of these men had signed on for this.

“This is a tough spot to be in for all of us,” I said. “They seem to want to take us all out, and take ownership of all the alien tech.”

“But sir,” said the Corporal, his voice had a pleading quality to it. “Don’t we have a deal? Don’t they know we are all on the same side?”

I hesitated. “Men,” I began, not sure how to tell them what they were caught up in. “They think the aliens have gone, and now is the time to grab our tech. They think some other country will grab it, if they don’t. They are greedy and paranoid. I can understand that. In times of war, these things happen. If you know your history, when the French surrendered to the Germans in World War II, they formed a government known as the Vichy Government. They were puppets for the Germans. Many French died manning Vichy ships and fighting against Allied troops on the ground.”

I stopped. Everyone was listening. What was my point? “In times of intense conflict, things get confused. I’m not saying they are on the wrong side, or that we are. I’m saying the stakes are high, and they aren’t going to let us keep our alien tech and fight as a group for Earth unless we are strong enough to prove we can keep that tech. Most of you are Americans, the rest are from India. Both of those nations broke off from Britain, forming independent nations. Were your forefathers rebels, or freedom fighters? That depended on whether your side won or not. The same thing is happening today, but the stakes are higher. All of you, if you stand with us here, will have to decide you are on the right side. Do you think Star Force can keep Earth safe? Or do you think the U. S. politicians should have that responsibility?”

The Corporal walked past me into the camp. “I’m with you, Riggs,” he said. “The government boys will screw this up.”

In the end, all of them walked into camp and climbed into the trenches we’d been plowing up here and there. I’d chosen them well. I only hoped I hadn’t led them to their deaths. Even more strongly, I hoped I wasn’t screwing up everything somehow.

The big push didn’t come until about two a.m. We almost had the second turret working by then. Major Robinson was in the trenches, his nanites having repaired his body enough to fight. You could understand what he was saying now, as well. His cheek wasn’t a hundred percent, but at least he didn’t drool blood all the time. It cheered the troops to have a second officer walking around the camp shouting orders with me.

“Major, I want you to supervise the completion of the second turret. Kwon and I will shore up our defensive positions.”

Robinson agreed without an argument. He was still pretty shaky, and I knew from experience when you first got nanotized, you weren’t ready to operate your own body. He was likely to screw up in combat. He needed days to adjust. I figured he would be most useful under one of the turrets calling targets.

Kwon and I inspected the perimeter. Each shed sat on a concrete pad, but the pads didn’t extend out from the buildings more than a few feet. We had the men dig trenches between the buildings and piled up sandbags in front of the trenches, setting up good firing positions. The ground was cleared about a hundred yards out in every direction from the sheds. We had a spiral of concertina wire out along the tree line, marking the camp border. Our beamers and turrets would have to stop them in this open area.

“Short of blowing up the camp,” I said, “I can’t see how they can take us out other than using an overwhelming infantry force.”

“I agree,” said Kwon, stumping along beside me. “It’s going to be bloody if they try it.”

I didn’t answer him. We’d set up some reliable communications systems by now, nothing but open radio lines. The enemy didn’t seem to be jamming us, but they were probably listening. I told the men to assume the enemy could hear every word. We didn’t have the tech advantage in the communications.

I heard something about half an hour later. Something that rumbled and squeaked. I looked at Kwon, who was taking a break with me. Our backs were up against one of the innermost sheds.

“Armor?” asked Kwon, voicing my thoughts.

“Has to be,” I said grimly. I hated being wrong. This must be what they had been waiting for, the arrival of vehicles. How the hell had they gotten heavy vehicles down here so fast?

“Sounds like they are coming in from the east,” Kwon said. “They are using our own road.”

I nodded slowly. Had we lost the main camp already? Had Barrera switched sides on me? I had to assume the worst. “What kind of vehicle does it sound like to you, Kwon?”

He listened for a second or two. “Not heavy enough to be M1’s. Maybe Bradley fighting vehicles. Something like that.”

“Yeah. Something amphibious. Something they’ve kept out there offshore, waiting for a moment like this to deploy on my little island and run us off.”

Sandra spoke up in my ear then, on the open channel. “Kyle? I’ve got contacts on the road.”

“I know.”

“What do I do?”

“Hold your fire until they do something.”

About a minute later, the sounds of the advancing vehicles stopped. They were waiting for something. Nothing happened for about twelve tense minutes.

Then the smart-missiles came screaming down. The missiles were all coming for my new turret. A steady stream of them. They could have been launched from ships or subs off the coast, or dropped from high-flying aircraft miles out over the ocean. I wasn’t really sure, what I cared about was our programming, which took over and did a fantastic job.

The first thing I heard was the turret moving on its own. With spooky movements, it twisted and aimed upward.

“Kyle?” Sandra called. “This thing is doing something on its own.”

Then I heard the warm-up thrum and the singing sound. The turret had found a target and fired upon it. The sky split apart with light. Immediately, the turret retargeted and fired again. The machine repeated the steps twice more, burning down things in the sky I couldn’t even see.

“Out on the road, they are moving in,” shouted Kwon.

I breathed fast and thought faster. I could see it all now. They were engaging our turret, forcing it to target and destroy incoming missiles from the west. In the meantime, the armor column of vehicles would hit us from the east and probably fire shells at the turret. It could only handle so many targets at once.

“Get a dozen men out of their holes, Sergeant!” I shouted. “Don’t use the radio. We’re going to have to take those vehicles out before they break through the trees. We can’t let them get a clear shot at our only big gun.”

“Sir!” acknowledged Kwon. Without hesitation, he got his big bulk moving. Roaring at the men nearby, he got them moving, too. Somehow, his bass voice was audible above the growing din of whines and explosions overhead.

I followed behind at a trot. I eyed the forest line. If they were ready with an infantry rush, this might be a good time. But they didn’t come instantly. Maybe the enemy couldn’t run fast enough.

“Any new contacts, Sandra?”

“Only the missiles and the vehicles.”

“Keep firing at the missiles,” I said, knowing the enemy was listening. “You must stop them all.”

“It’s doing that by itself.”

Kwon had a hustling team behind him. I gestured toward the road. They set off in ground-eating leaps. I followed.

We met up with the first of the mechanized units as it did about thirty miles an hour right out of the trees. We had to stop the first vehicles from getting out into an open field of fire. They came in a column, of course. They really didn’t have any choice, as they weren’t heavy enough to knock down trees and the forest was too thick for them to drive between the trunks.

The vehicle leading the charge was an APC—an armored personnel carrier. I recognized the design immediately, it was a Bradley M2. It had a 25mm autocannon on top, which instantly began ripping fire at us. My men scattered and threw themselves down into the grass. One marine was hit right off, I could tell from the way he flopped and didn’t get back up.

It was the twin TOW missiles mounted on the side of Bradley’s turret that I feared the most. The missiles were designed to take out tanks. Given a shot at close range, they should be able to make quick work of my big laser.

“Everyone, aim high! Take out the cannon and the missiles!”

It was a close thing, but four beams stabbed out, then three more. The missiles never launched. When the crippled, flaming vehicle rolled to a stop, the back ramp fell open and two men squirmed into the grass. I felt a little sick. These APCs were loaded with infantry. I couldn’t do anything about that now, however. We beamed more M2s as they appeared, each time aiming high. Unfortunately, secondary explosions often caused the vehicles to explode. A few survivors managed to get out and crawl away. I ordered my men to let them retreat.

After we’d knocked out six M2s, they couldn’t get through into the open anymore past their own burning hulks. The crews must have figured out they were screwed and stopped coming.

Shortly after that, the missile barrage from the sea stopped, too. I’d lost several good men, but we’d won—for now.