Hell's Own Page 4

  A red light flickered into life on the screen. She leaned closer and tapped the surface. The light blinked, went out, and returned five seconds later. “Run system scans, all areas.” She brought her datapad up and pulled the information she needed during the scan. Last contacts had taken place on schedule, and nothing showed except one red light slowly blinking in and out of existence.

  A new bug to work out. Great. Just what she needed at the start of a shift.

  3

  Cora braced as the second wave hit, jaw set. “What the--”

  “Explosions, either something big blew sky high, or we’re in a whole lot of shit.” Gunny pushed away from the table. “Eyes here, Marines.”

  They obeyed when the Gunny used his parade voice you didn’t ignore it. No matter what rank you were. A lesson they all learned, or they paid for it.

  “Information, injured personal, weapons, and equipment.” The older man snapped out the order.

  Cora nodded as the rest responded with an Oorah. Not that she expected anything else from them. She pushed back from the table, gaze moving as she checked the men and women around her. A few scratches and bumps, one woman had stumbled only to be caught by the man at the bar. She shifted her gaze back to the man. Tall, well built, dangerous eyes, an air of confidence she couldn’t ignore and a face she knew. Couldn’t put a name to, but knew nevertheless. “You heard the man, get moving.”

  Futile, they were already on the move, but she couldn’t take back words she’d already given life to. She shook off her concerns and headed in the direction of the bar when the third one hit. The rumble struck the heavy door into the tunnels. The floor rippled beneath her feet, tipping her off balance as she bit back a cry and hit the ground. Her palms slapped the floor, knees a split second later. Shock knocked the breath from her body, pain replacing what was left as her mind struggled to catch up with the situation.

  Explosion. The only thing which could cause a reaction of this nature. She grabbed for her comm, snagging it out of one of her pockets. Her hands trembled as she rolled onto her back and forced herself to sit up. “Sergeant Bloodlaw checking in. What’s the status?”

  Static.

  “Ops, repeat, this is Sergeant Bloodlaw. Situation please.”

  Buzz and crackle of static.

  Dust filled the air, mingled with soft cries, and whimpers. A scream, then a second as people realized they were injured.

  “Ops?”

  “Un-- ack. Unknown -- bers.”

  “Repeat Ops, only got half of your words.”

  “Under attack.” The voice, male, trembling, broke through the background static. “Unknown numbers. Came from nowhere.”

  Her gaze found Gunny’s as the older man shot a look her way. “Understood.” Shit, there was nothing they could do from here, except getting their asses back to base. “You copy, Gunny?”

  “Yeah, every damn word. What there was of it.” He pushed to his feet, a small cut on his left cheek. “Up. Get on your feet. We’ve got a situation here. Don’t know how bad, but we can’t stand around doing nothing.”

  “Gunny, the civies?” Walker shoved the remains of two chairs out of the way as he dusted off his pants.

  Cora rose, her gaze now scanning the interior of the bar. Broken bottles, glasses, men and women blinking in shock or uncertainty, all except the one by the bar. He’d moved after the second wave, catching a server before she’d hit the ground. Not military though. Still, she added him to the potential fighters list. “Need to get those who can’t fight to a safer location. Hey, Jones, you alive.”

  The barman reappeared, holding a cloth against his chin. “Yeah, same can’t be said for half my stock.”

  “Stock can be replaced. Need you to get the civies, those who can’t or don’t want to fight, to safety. You still have the bolt hole?”

  Jones’ eyes widened. “How the hell did you know about it? Never mind, yes, still have it.”

  “Get them into the tunnels and down to the bunker. Don’t know who’s behind this attack, but I don’t want frightened civies in the way.” Friendly fire was an all too real risk in any situation, but it doubled or tripled when you had civilians in the mix. Men and women who had no clue how to follow orders, and less of one when it came to using a gun.

  “Shit means I’ll have to--”

  She cut off his complaints with a sharp stare. “Get it done.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sergeant. I’m not an officer.” No, she worked for a living.

  “Listen up. Anyone who isn’t coming back to base with us needs to follow Jones. If you’re hurt, pair up with one who isn’t.” Gunny called out, but only a handful of the dust-covered men and women obeyed. “On your feet, now. Unless you want to be left behind. And I can’t guarantee the seals will hold with another shock like the last one.”

  “He’s right. The place isn’t built for multiple shakes.” The man at the bar called out. “Come on people, you want to live, you follow Jones.” He helped two up to their feet before he turned his attention to the marines. “I’ll be with you. I need to find out how bad the situation is, and I know how to handle myself.”

  “Fine, but can you also follow orders.” Gunny pinned the man with a glare.

  A wry smile claimed his features. “When I need to.”

  Well, shit. This was going to prove interesting.

  Stone groaned as he sat up after the third shake, his back and ribs protesting at the way he’d hit the floor. Not quakes. He’d lived through the real thing several times, and the vibration and sound were both wrong. Had to be explosions. He scrambled for the handheld he’d lost when he’d hit the ground and swore. Cracked. But still working. Damn thing, it shouldn’t have broken this easily, but Murphy’s law was in full force, which meant he was lucky he hadn’t broken something when he’d been sent tumbling with the last wave of ground shakes.

  Data scrolled across the screen, the crack making it hard to read. Hard, but not impossible. Explosions, three points of attack, and it was an attack. Whatever had hit them, had done it from orbit. Ships? Or unmanned craft? Drones had been used on Earth from the late twentieth century, and full drone attack crafts weren’t unknown, though there’d been little need for them in the last century. Not since the various governments on Earth had finally accepted, they needed to work together.

  The uniforms were on the move, checking in with the men and women in the bar. More than a few were injured, but none of them appeared to be suffering from life-threatening injuries. It was a small blessing, but he’d take what he could get.

  “Sergeant. I’m not an officer.”

  He smiled at the words, his attention fixed on the woman with her short cropped black hair. Strength rippled through her body, but she wasn’t overly built. More like a woman who took care of her body and could match the men around her.

  “You heard the Sergeant. Anyone who isn’t coming back to base with us needs to follow Jones. If you’re hurt, pair up with someone who isn’t. On your feet, now. Unless you want to be left behind. And I can’t guarantee the seals will hold with another shock like the last one.”

  “He’s right. Place isn’t built for multiple shakes.” Stone rested one hand on the bar, mind racing. The bolt hole made sense. If the rest of the men and women followed Jones, there would be less to worry about. “Come on people, you want to live, you follow Jones.” He helped two up to their feet before he turned his attention to the marines. “I’ll be with you. I need to find out how bad the situation is, and I know how to handle myself.”

  “Fine, but can you also follow orders.” The woman held his attention, her voice calm, focused.

  “When I need to.” Which meant only when it benefited him.

  “It’ll have to do.” She glanced at the older man, silent communication passed between them with only the slight movement of eyebrows. “Sergeant Bloodlaw, Gunnery Sergeant Dobbs, Marine contingent.”

  “Stone,” he nodded to the older man.

 
“Armed?” Gunny asked.

  “Always.” He patted his hip, hidden beneath the heavy duster he wore.

  “Man after my own heart.” Gunny turned back to the other Marines. “Weapons check, we’re going to move out as soon as we can here people. Whatever else is waiting for us out there, we don’t want to keep it waiting and miss all the fun.”

  He has an odd idea of fun. All right, it was one he could jump in on, but not until he knew what was going on. Details they all lacked and would continue to be without until they made contact with the colony. It didn’t matter if the connection was via comm or in person. Information remained the key.

  Jones grabbed his get out bag, a shotgun over his shoulder. Or what passed for one out here. You didn’t fire the standard ammo here, or on the ship. Fast way of ending up with those around you dead or wishing they were. Flechettes or low energy weapons were the standard. But if the dome was damaged was there a point in keeping low impact weapons instead of grabbing more powerful options.

  “You should come with us, could do with the help.” Jones caught his gaze.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ve got things I need to see to back at the base.” Or rather the stash he had inside the protective dome. A dome which had already been punctured. Had his stores been damaged? What about his ship? He shifted attention back to the room, seeking out the one who had made contact with the colony. “Bloodlaw, you get anything from the base?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, pausing long enough to catch Gunny’s eye before she spoke. “They’re under attack, but I’ve no idea who’s behind it. Won’t know unless they establish communication, or we see for ourselves.” She was moving through the bar, helping those who still lingered, pushing the noncombatants toward Jones. With the other off duty marines he’d taken note of, and a handful other civilians ready to fight with them, they numbered fourteen, fifteen including himself. Not enough to fight off an invasion if one of the Earthbound governments had decided the agreements no longer applied to them, but more than enough to keep them safe as they moved through the tunnels.

  “Three ships, according to the information I’ve been able to gather. Multiple strikes to the dome, which means it’s likely fractured or punctured.” He tapped the datapad, but nothing more appeared on the screen. “Either this thing is dead, or they’ve taken out the communications relay.” Either was possible.

  She paused long enough to try her comm, then shook her head. “Static. Barely got through last time.” She paused, her grey eyes narrowed. “How did you get more information?”

  “Lucky, I guess.” If the marine believed he was going to share information, beyond what they all needed to survive, she didn’t understand how things worked. “If anything else seeps through, I’ll let you know.” Or he would if it wasn’t private, and the military needed the info to get them all safely out of this mess.

  “We’re on our own,” said Stone. He slid the pan into a pocket. “Supplies?” How much would they need? “Going to need suits, even if we go back through the tunnels, we’re going to hit spots which are no longer covered by the dome, and potential cracks in the tunnel walls.” Collapses were a possibility. If anyone had been caught outside, beneath the dome, when the protection had given way, would they have had enough time to get into one of the housing units? Or shelters?

  His mind raced. How many had died in the attack? Did he know any of them? Shit, of course, he would know at least a few of them. The colony wasn’t big, but it was growing, the dome added to every six months or so, but he’d been here for a long time. Five years now. The odds of there being a friend or acquaintance caught up in the mix -- he shook the idea off. Better to think of the loss when they were safe.

  “Gunny, we’re going to need protection. Dome’s cracked or worse. Might be the tunnels have been compromised.”

  “On it. Jones, the emergency suits?”

  “Storeroom. I’ve got a handful of them. Not enough for everyone.” Jones paused in organizing the men and women with him. “I’ll run a scan see if the route down to the safehold is in one piece. Hey, anyone have suits with them?”

  Most of the customers brought out the small boxes which held their suits. It was common practice to carry a suit with them at all times. The suits are enough to keep a person alive in the short term, moving from one area to another. Stone checked his belt, his was present, better quality, no doubt, than the backups Jones would have, or anyone but the military.

  “I have oxygen cylinders in the storeroom. Big ones, enough to use to deal with any leaks if we’re careful.” Jones continued, “I can get a few extra face masks, add them with gloves and tape, might be enough to get this lot to safety.”

  “Show me what you’ve got.” Stone gestured to the storeroom. Gloves over the thin suit would help if they had enough of them. Eventhen, it wouldn’t be strong enough to keep the chill from seeping in.

  “Hey, we’re going to need full numbers. Walker, go with them.” Bloodlaw gestured to one of the younger men.

  “Yes, sergeant.” The man inclined his head and joined Stone and Jones.

  “And then what?” Jones asked. “You head out with the military and get yourself killed.”

  “Yes on heading out, no about dying. Have too much to do to die.” He flashed a grin at the other man.

  “You hate the military,” Jones lowered his voice as he led the way to the storeroom. “Lug heads, obeying orders and not taking into account the lives of the others around them.”

  Walker growled. “We’re nothing like that.”

  “Right, a wet behind the ears newbie is going to lecture me on what it’s like?” Jones snapped back at the younger man. “And don’t try and tell me you’re not new here. You still have a shine to you, one which hasn’t been knocked off by a couple of tours.”

  Walker didn’t respond.

  “Thought so. You can always tell the new ones.”

  Stone smiled but didn’t add to the conversation as he followed Jones into the room, blinking as the lights turned on. Stacked shelves of stores, with some of the contents spilled across the floor, drew his attention but as Jones stepped over the worst of the mess and made his way deeper into the room, Stone caught sight of what the other man was heading for.

  Three large wire baskets filled with military grade oxygen tanks, suits, first aid kits, food, and water. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Doesn’t do any harm to be prepared.”

  He wasn’t about to argue.

  4

  Cora half glanced at the men as they vanished into the storage room, then dismissed what they were doing as she turned her attention to the rest of the occupants of the bar. The civilians mingled, their voices low, the occasional whimper of pain or fear filtered past their conversation to carry across the room. They’d be gone soon enough. She wouldn’t have to worry about them. Jones would see them safe.

  Or not.

  Either way, there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  “They’ll be fine.” Gunny placed one hand on her shoulder, the touch brief, vanishing before she had a chance to fully register it. “None of our people are injured, and we have enough, with a couple of civilians, to clear the path ahead of Jones and his people. We’ve got training on our side, and with Jones taking the majority of the civilians with him, we’ll be able to move quickly through the tunnels.”

  “Agreed. Then what?” She checked off her equipment as they spoke. She had everything she needed unless you counted the lack of heavy weaponry. Sidearms were useful, but if they were going to run up against real trouble, they needed better weapons. Rifles. Flachette rifles packed a better punch than their sidearms. Whatever they were about to run into, they’d deal with it.

  “We get to the base, see what the damage is, and kick ass. It’s what we signed up to do.”

  Could he read her mind? No, he was an experienced Gunnery Sergeant. He’d seen it all, done it all, and would pull them through. As long as she had Gunny with her, they could tackle anythi
ng thrown at them. Kick ass. Sure, it was one of the reasons she’d joined the Marines. “Understood, Gunny. But we’re going to have a problem without the right weapons. Don’t know about you, but I didn’t bring anything but the blazer.” She tapped the small handgun.

  “No, but there’s the emergency dump half a klick out from the base. If the tunnels are safe, I’ll be able to access it.”

  Emergency dump? Her eyes narrowed as she dug through the information she’d been given about the base and the supplies. “Something I didn’t know about.” If it wasn’t intact, they’d find other ways of arming themselves. Sticks, stones, torn off limbs. It was the Marine way.

  “Need to know basis, Sergeant. I need to know.” He smiled, but it didn’t last long. “If the tunnel is damaged, or the storage is breached, then we’ll deal with it and find another way to grab weapons. If we have to go in with side arms and fists, then we do it. No one is taking our home from us, and we have civilians to protect.”

  Hadn’t she decided the same thing? “Oorah.”

  “Weapons count, Sergeant. Get on it.”

  She didn’t reply as she moved through the bar, collecting anything they could use to defend themselves with. Ice picks, knives, half a dozen sidearms, mostly from the rest of her team, though the bar had a shotgun beneath it. Not the type used on Earth, but the energy shotguns many a business, both on Pluto and other colonies, used. Could make a mess with a human body, but did little damage to the shields, domes, and other structures.

  Not enough.

  “Sergeant?”

  “What is it, Corporal?”

  “What are we facing?”

  “You’ll know when I do.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man. Face pale, eyes wide, a nervous twitch beneath his left eye. Well shit, she was going into an unknown situation, facing attackers they had no information about, with a team who’d never encountered anything more than the occasional bar fight or rumble with a smuggler or two. “We’ve got this. Remember your training, listen to Gunny and me, and we’ll get through this.” The words should have offered comfort, but they remained hollow, echoing through her mind.