Prologue 12 page

Her reaction was knee-jerk terror. Experience had taught her that a burst of xeno blood on armor meant trouble.

Then her brain kicked in, salving her trained reaction with reality: this was a special suit.

Time to see if it worked. The guinea pig: herself.

The junk immediately sizzled and bubbled through the plastic lining. Like oozing pus, the neutralizing agent flowed out, and swallowed the acid.

Sizzle.

Bubble.

The plastic shell moved back over the hole and the suit was whole again.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of time to feel good about it. Already three more aliens were running her way underneath the lander. She picked off the right one. Knees. Head. Torso. The weapons these days were so good. The shells just cut through that damned exoskeleton like it was the thinnest of tin. So satisfying just seeing them burst like that.

Overripe gourds in a shooting gallery!

Another soldier was beside her.

The nametag readMAHONE.

No discussion. Just quick efficient drawing of a bead, and then her gun coughed off, dealing amazing damage to the beast to their left.

They swiveled as one, and their fire converged on the central alien, only five yards away now.

The strength of their blasting shattered the thing, and its blood blew back as well, among the tumble and tatters of its wasted body.

"He looked like my last boyfriend!" said Mahone over the radio, her voice sounding immensely satisfied.

"No," said Kozlowski. "Seems to me the others look more like boyfriends."

"Yeah. I think you're right. Let's waste 'em!"

Mahone's grin showed through her faceplate.

However, before they could go and look for any more, a voice crackled over Kozlowski's radio. "Colonel. We got one on the ship!"

"Damn," said Kozlowski. "Not good!" She turned to Mahone. "Stay here and cover me. I have to check this out."

"Roger."

She turned and started running for the other side of the ramp to gain a vantage point on the situation.

Intellectually she'd been aware that the gravity here was only.9 of Earth Standard. However, she was shocked at how quickly she was able to move. True, these suits were a little lighter than she was used to...

She didn't complain at all. She just had to adjust herself accordingly.

"Okay, hotshots," she said to a soldier she immediately recognized as Jastrow. "What's going on?"

Things looked pretty well contained. The rest of the bunch were killing either the last standing alien, or raking their weapons across the remains of ones already shot down, making sure they were dead.

Jastrow pointed. Sweat dripped down his temples and forehead despite his suit's air-conditioning. Kozlowski followed the direction of his forefinger.

The xeno had somehow leapt up to one of the gemlike pilot blisters. Its talons were scratching along the structural spokes and its tail whipped hard against the material, attempting to break through.

Even as she stood, considering, Private Ellis puffed up, raising his rifle.

"Hold on, soldier," said Kozlowski, holding out a halting hand. "Shoot the thing with that, we'll have bug blood all over the hull."

Bang! Bang!The tail whipped the blister. Probably giving the pilots fits.

"Jastrow! Haul the wagon over here," she commanded.

Speedily, the private obeyed, grabbing hold of the robo-wagon. Kozlowski punched open a latch, lifted the lid, looked.

Selected what she needed.

The thing was like a squarish grenade launcher, with various tangly things extruding. She picked it up, put it up against her shoulder, aimed at the offending alien, and fired.

The projectile that shot out progressed half the distance in a blur, but then at the top of its trajectory bloomed out into a net drawn by three guided bolos. Expertly directed, they whacked past the bug, scooped it up in the net.

Electricity arced and zapped.

The bug was pried off its hold, and carried off meters away to bounce hard upon the land. It rolled, and lay there, just a faint hiss and crackle emerging.

"Dead?" asked Jastrow.

"No way," Kozlowski said. "I doubt it. The electrical charge in the mesh is probably just enough to stun it."

"What should we do?"

Kozlowski considered.

Her first inclination was to just kill it. Quick. However, she well knew that Grant was watching the proceedings, and may want to imprison it with a force field in order that his scientist could examine it. She tongued her com unit, hating having to do it.

However, like a bolt out of the blue, before she could do a damned thing, a plasma blast fried the bug and the net.

She swung around to see the perpetrator of this, wondering whether to chew the soldier out or thank him.

Standing there, looking totally competent and unfazed, was Corporal Henrikson.

"It looked like it was about to break free, Colonel," the man said.

The colonel shrugged. "Yeah. Next time, though, check with me."

"Sure."

She looked around the field of devastation.

The bugs were squashed here, totally.

She took her helmet off and sniffed.

"Ah. What a stench," she said. "Nothing like it in the universe."

Soldiers, still helmeted and suited up, were carrying burnt and destroyed bodies of the enemy to collect them in a single pile. A vehicle was building a border of dirt around this pile, to prevent any possible spread of lingering acid.

Although he wore no suit, Daniel Grant had taken the precaution of donning acid-neutralizing boots. What with the lower gravity, though, he did not notice the extra weight or bulk.

On alien soil.

Grant had been born on a colony, but his own homeworld had not been that much different from Earth. His years on Earth had made him feel like a native. So it was an odd sensation indeed to actually be walking on ground so far from home, and so distinctly different in taste, touch, smell, and general atmosphere. Too, there could be no doubt that he was walking over a battlefield now.

Or that another war entirely was going on beyond the background buzz of the force-field perimeter.

Tune that out for now, man, he told himself. Take it a step at a time. Right now you're a lot safer here than you were back on Earth with that gangster Fisk breathing down your neck!

A couple of the troops were standing by the edge of the encampment, looking out past the clear shimmer of the force field to the events beyond.

Swarms of bugs were moving, dodging and sparring, occasionally dashing out and tearing one another to bits. Not exactly a melee, and the oddest battle that Daniel Grant had ever witnessed. Flashes of green and black. Fillips of splashed blood, limbs flying and occasionally crackling into the. field, bouncing back off in a spray of sparks, singed.

"Sun's up. Clouds are off," said Private Jastrow. "Feels good."

"What, you're enjoying a nice sunbath?" said Private Ellis, sarcastic. "God knows what land of deadly radiation is coming down from that sun!"

"like this whole planet is a health spa! Look, Ellis. You take your pleasure where you can get it! I'm taking mine here! Right now!" He held his arms outstretched. "Ah! Wonderful! I may come back with a tan."

"Just be happy if you come back."

"Actually, Ellis, I gotta tell you. I'm feeling relief. Great relief."

"Heaven's sake, why?"

"Everything is working great. That last bit wasn't so bad. Not too bad at all." Jastrow smiled. "Hell, this operation's going to be a cinch."

Ellis looked out at the mass of bugs, the hive, the stricken panorama. "Yeah... right."

Grant stepped up to them. "Hello, gentlemen. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your work today."

They spun around, slightly alarmed. "Mr. Grant!" said Jastrow.

"Sorry to creep up on you like that. I didn't mean to, really. I just want to personally congratulate you. I was watching you guys. All of you. On the screens. You operated like a well-oiled, absolutely brilliant machine. It's good to be working with such fine people like you."

The two could not help but break out into broad smiles. "Thanks, Mr. Grant," said Jastrow.

"You know, you two may not be in the marines all your lives. Whenever you're out, Grant Industries is probably going to have positions for guys like you."

"That's wonderful!"

"So just keep up the good work!"

He moved away, to go have a look at what was going on at the side of the Anteater. That little speech should help boost the morale. Those two would probably spread it among the others, and he would be happy to repeat it. It wasn't bullshit, either. He really meant it. He'd be happy to hire all of these people.

First thing he'd do was set them on that maniac Fisk.

On the side of the lander, a huge portion of metal had flipped down on hinges, exposing a bank of gleaming guns. A regular arsenal.

Grant felt a lilt to his step, a bounce to his walk as he approached.

In the command control area behind this array of weaponry, Sergeant Argento was doing a double check to systems.

"Looks like some mean machines here, Sarge," said Grant.

"That they are, Mr. Grant!" Argento said from beneath his drooping black mustache.

"What's the plan?"

"Pretty simple. We've got about seventy more yards to go before we can start thinking about getting into the hive entrance. Unfortunately, there's a lot of activity going on out there, what with alien species war going on."

"So I've noticed. Lovely to see them going at each other, instead of at us."

"Yes, sir. Well, we synchronize openings in the field to allow for explosive discharges. Then we bomb the territory between us and the top of the entrance, to clear off as many bugs as possible. Once the things are either dead or scattered, we blow out another PEH. Sink it in, turn it on—extend the force-field perimeter. Little trickier on this kind of rock but nothing harder than what we've just accomplished, really."

"And then we go for the gold."

"Exactly."

The silvery weaponry gleamed in the alien sun, sparkling with promise.

Grant gave the sergeant a thumbs-up sign.

"Here's to a campaign without a hitch."

"Yes, sir." Argento returned the gesture. "Without a hitch and then back home for the biggest party in one of your best casinos."

"You've been to one of my casinos, Argento?"

"Yes, sir. The Beach Blossom, last year. Lost my shirt, but I had the time of my life!" Argento was grinning, showing even, white teeth.

"You don't know how happy I am to hear that, my friend. Yes, an excellent concept. A party for you all... At my casino, the Beach Blossom at New Atlantic City!"

"Without a hitch!"

"That's right, soldier! That's pretty much what I promised your commanders before we started this trip—and now, thanks to the wonderful technology here, look where we are!"

He walked over and stood just meters away from a red and a black alien, slashing at each other.

It was like watching a movie.

He felt totally safe.

He put his hands on his hips and laughed.

Piece of cake!

They were playing horseshoes outside the lander.

Alex Kozlowski wasn't quite sure where they'd gotten the stuff. Probably fashioned it in the metal shop on board the Razzia for just such a possibility, and then stashed the stuff on the Anteater.

Clang!

Private Ellis's throw was a ringer, twirling around the post.

"Good shot!" said Jastrow.

Cheers arose from the audience.

Those two! What a pair! When they'd asked permission to set up the game, Kozlowski's first inclination was to say no. However, the pressures were so much that she not only assented, but went the next step.

Why not a picnic? The clouds had cleared and there was a sun shining through. They'd done the first part of the mission extremely well, and there was still a few hours till the rest of the operation could be properly set up.

So, instead of making her marines eat their meal inside the cold and antiseptic Anteater, she'd allowed the sandwiches and sodas to be set up on a folding table just outside the ramp. You had to be a little careful—if something went wrong with those force fields, you wanted to be able to make it back into the hold of the lander ASAP.

Jastrow finished his game, then moved to stand by the force field of the perimeter with his saxophone. He serenaded the aliens with John Coltrane-like free form squawking, with an occasionally more melodic passage thrown in for fun.

She was eating a tasteless sandwich layered with energy-rich Vit-C sauce for a boost, listening to Jastrow's jazz, and along with some heavily carbed macro-drink, when Daniel Grant sidled up, chomping confidently on his sandwich.

"Regular holiday."

"A bit bizarre, I agree," she said. "They need it though. There's worse ahead. Much worse."

"What? Things are going great."

"Grant. This is a war. Already we weren't quite expecting conflict on this level. Me, I would have preferred to wait until these things killed each other, then moved in."

Grant shook his head. "Not in the schedule. Things like fuel involved... money... time... Most especially time." His jaws worked thoughtfully around a mouthful of sandwich. "I don't have much time, back on Earth. Can't waste any hovering above this Hiveworld. Wonder what's going on back there, anyway."

"Maybe you better concentrate on this particular hellhole."

"Yeah right. But I came here because I need to talk to you a moment."

"You are talking to me."

"Alone, I mean. Not in earshot of the troops."

"Ah." She examined her wristwatch. She was out of her suit, taking the opportunity for a little bit of freedom. She didn't know how long she was going to be in next time she donned the thing. Probably too long. "How about inside the ship?" She wasn't that crazy about it out here now, anyway. Sun or no sun. Those bugs crawling and lumbering and fighting out there bothered her, dammit.

"That will be just fine."

She took another bite, another sip, nonchalantly gestured for him to follow.

Even as she walked into the locker room, she felt a little better. There was the smell of B.O. and gym shorts, sure, but at least it was human and familiar. The whiff of those bugs out there triggered all her inner alarms.

She spun on him, slapping her fingers clear of crumbs. "What's up, Grant?"

He sat down on a bench. "These troops... they're good."

"You're telling me something I don't know?"

"I'm sure they're going to pull this mission off, just fine."

"I sure as hell hope so. You dragged me in here to tell you that?"

Grant got up and began to pace.

"I don't know. That sabotage thing has got me worried."

"Consider yourself reassured. I think if they were going to strike, it would have been by now. Besides, think about this one, Grant. Right now, the numbers are down. They're in the same boat we are. We sink, they sink." She shrugged. "Besides, if there is a saboteur, I'd be happy to lay odds that it's one of your scientist bozos. Now there is a collection of premium losers."

"We do have a scientist along, remember. Begalli."

"Rat-face. Yeah. I'm watching him, don't worry. I'm watching everybody. But take it from me. I'm watching my own ass most of all."

"Me, too! It is a nice one."

She laughed out loud. "You're a hard case. Even while you're sober, and I smell like a horse after the Derby."

"You smell fine."

She nodded. "That's what Michaels used to say."

"Michaels?"

"Peter Michaels. Old lover. We used to fight together. Hell, we used to waste those bug hives, he and I. What a team." She shook her head. "God, we got into this incredible habit. After a gig, we'd come back. We'd be so hot, we didn't even bother to shower. We just stripped our suits and screwed. Sheesh. Couple of crazy horny kids."

She looked over at him. His face had turned a bright pink.

"Something wrong, Grant."

"Nothing. Nothing, Alex. Only..." He smiled. "I know women. Sorry about the old drunken stupor the other night, but you know, you're not bad-looking... And you're pretty damned tough and not exactly the most feminine creature I've ever encountered... I like you. Moreover... I think you like me. I can sense these kinds of things, kiddo. So I was wondering, once this is all over..."

"You touch me, you asshole, and I'll cut your genitals off and stick them up your nose."

He shrugged. "Just thought I'd try." He got up to go. "Well, off to my possible death."

She stepped over, spun him around, yanked his head down, and devoured his mouth with hers.

Just as the surprise wore off and Grant warmed up to the osculation, she pushed him away so hard he almost tumbled over the bench.

"God!" he said, catching his balance. "What was that all about?"

"Just don't let it go to your head, okay?" She smoothed her mussed hair and stormed from the room, enormously upset at herself.

She'd liked that a lot, dammit.

The troops were lined up and ready, their helmets back on and properly secured, their weapons cocked, primed, fully loaded and hungry for action.

A silence descended upon the troops, bordered by the buzz of the force fields and the snarling tumult of the fighting aliens between them and the entrance to the blacks' monolithic hive.

Kozlowski could feel their tension.

Or was it just her own tension, multiplied by twenty-five? This was going to be the make-or-break of the mission.

Thankfully, the ranks of the bugs had thinned somewhat. Whether many of them had simply been killed or crawled into holes somewhere she didn't know. She just hoped they hadn't gone into the hive.

She tongued her comm. "Troops ready."

The bounce-back from Control Central. "All set here." O'Connor's brogue. "Sergeant Argento?"

She looked back to where the sergeant sat, behind his banks of big weapons.

"Guns are sighted and ready," said Argento, fingers playing expertly across the controls. "I don't see a more optimum time."

Kozlowski looked up. She could have wished for a little more light. The clouds had closed back up, tight.

Oh, well, it didn't really matter that much. They had a good five hours till darkness. That would be more than enough time.

"Right," came O'Connor's voice. "Opening force-field apertures."

Kozlowski looked up toward the top of the force field. The field looked like a thin wavering skein of gray normally. It would open just—

There!

A wide hole sphinctered, and Argento wasted no time.

The big guns thundered.

The many millimetered shells sailed out perfectly, hammering onto the landscape. Whole clusters of bugs were destroyed, even more thrown back in the explosions.

More shells, differently directed, hammered out of the guns, exploded on the landscape.

When the smoke cleared, Kozlowski saw that a wide swath had been cleared. A trail of craters lay in the valley that led up to the opening of the hive.

"Harpoon away!" called O'Connor.

The appropriately aimed gun on the side of the lander thumped. Amid an explosion of gases, the harpoon launched. It sailed over their heads swiftly and majestically, trailing its cable like a kite caught in a gale. It threaded the hole in the force field easily and whooshed toward its target.

Even back here, many meters away, Kozlowski could hear the large harpoon thunk into place, burying itself in the ground right on target.

A hearty "Hurrah" sounded from the troops.

"We have a successful landing!" chirped O'Connor's voice. "Prepare for perimeter extension."

The troops grew quiet. Kozlowski braced herself, getting her rifle ready. Theoretically, when O'Connor pushed the right combination of switches and levers, the force field would move out like an arcing gate—only expanding as it did so.

Whacking all bugs en route.

However, in the activity, there was always the possibility that one of the aliens would slip through unharmed. That alien would have to be dealt with, immediately, hence the preparedness of the troops.

She could see the force field flicker erratically as it moved.

"Take it a little slower," she instructed.

"Can't," replied O'Connor.

With a whoosh, the force field was patterning out and then— snap! —was in place.

Leaving behind a scattered handful of aliens, in various states of disrepair and shock.

"Kill 'em," said Kozlowski.

The troops moved forward, bullets and plasma leaping out to smack into the survivors. It was all over in a matter of moments, bug pieces scattered to the winds of destruction.

And the force fields were buzzing away, the tunnel within easy striking distance.

"Yes!" Private Ellis's fist smote the air.

Cheers broke out among them all as they broke ranks and several broke out and headed deeper into the newly taken territory.

"Wait a minute, you assholes!" screeched Kozlowski. "I didn't order you..."

The force field wavered.

The troops all stopped in their tracks.

Kozlowski could feel something wrong before she saw anything.

But when she saw it, what was wrong was pretty obvious.

The newly planted harpoon was starting to list.

"What the hell—"

"Shit, what's going on—?"

"Oh, my God! We couldn't see it when it struck..."

"The thing landed on a couple of intact bugs."

That was the only explanation, and the veracity of it, and its implications swept through Kozlowski like electricity.

"Fall back!" she cried.

The alien acid must be eating through the base...

The upright harpoon shifted more, and the force field flickered again.

Then the thing toppled, its extended antenna breaking up.

The southern force field went down.

For a terrible moment she felt like an EVA astronaut with her suit ripped off.

"Get back to the original lines!" she screamed.

At first the surrounding bugs didn't seem to notice. But then, with the damnable speed of their breed, they perceived that the strange almost-invisible wall that had kept them from new prey had evaporated.

A few tentatively began to straggle toward the troops.

The soldiers who had gone the farthest out turned to run back. The aliens coming through seemed to sense their fear. They loped forward in the attack.

"Cover them!" screamed Kozlowski. She fired a volley as close to the troops as she dared, catching a couple of the bugs in their thoraxes, stopping them cold.

But others took their places.

"Okay!" she said after chinning her com. "They're past the original wall. Get that back up."

"Trying," said O'Connor. "Something's short-circuited!"

"Doit, dammit!"

"Argento!" said O'Connor. "Get that other harpoon off. That will do the trick."

By this time, Kozlowski had her hands too full to make commands, let alone comments.

The bugs were starting to come in.

Not the whole horde, thank God, or they'd be as good as dead.

She started blasting, just hoping her people had the sense to come in out of the storm.

"Shit!" said Daniel Grant. He pounded his hand hard against a bulkhead. "Shit shit shit!"

"Steady, Mr. Grant," said Dr. Begalli. "I'm sure they've got alternative plans."

O'Connor was leaning forward, stabbing at the controls. "Goddammit, Argento. Fire the thing! Manually!"

A voice crackled over the radio. "Can't. Can't find an opening. The things are swarming back into the crater."

"Then make an opening!" said O'Connor. "That's what you've got the starboard guns for. Blow 'em off!"

Grant watched disbelievingly.

Without a hitch.

Falling apart. Right before his eyes. If those troopers came out of this one without a casualty, it would be a miracle.

The point man—the one the farthest out—had to turn and blast with his weapons.

Grant watched with helpless horror as a bug scuttled up the backs of two of its fellows and leapt high into the air, landing directly on the man's back.