20

An hour later Mendenhall was in the hands of New Zealand army medics. They rushed him inside Camp Alamo for immediate emergency surgery. Sarah watched him being taken away as Anya took a deep breath beside her.

“I understand it was you two who rallied the workers and remains of our army to our defense?”

Sarah and Anya, with Farbeaux sitting down in the snow getting tended to, looked up to see a heavyset man in an expensive winter coat with three others standing beside him. They all had weapons that looked as if they had been recently fired.

“Pardon me,” the man with the bow tie and glasses said as he gave his smoking M-16 assault rifle to the burly and smiling man next to him. “Very rude of me. I am Lord Durnsford, of Her Majesty’s MI6; I am the person responsible for this … this … mess.” He gestured around the battlefield as SAS men and the rescuing Anzacs were busy dispatching Grays one at a time—there would be no prisoners taken, not after Mumbai and Beijing. “These men are Admirals Kinkaid, of the U.S. Navy, and Huffington of the Royal Navy. And this is my good friend, Sir Darcy Bennett, in charge of the Overlord Project.”

Sarah and Anya said nothing. Their faces were bloodied and looked as if they had nothing to say to the four men.

“I believe you two were on the Russian vessel which brought the alien power plant through safely?”

Sarah nodded her head and then looked at the sky. She only wanted one question answered. She looked directly at Durnsford.

“General…” She paused as the question caught in her throat; she tried again with encouragement from Anya. “General Collins?” she finally managed.

The silence from the four men who could not look them in the eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“The Garrison Lee, any word?” Anya asked as her hope remained even as Sarah’s was dashed.

Lord Durnsford was just about to say there had been no word as of yet when the high sky lit up. The battle in deep orbit between the moon and the Earth had started. All heads turned up as small, dot-sized flashes were seen in the crisp blue sky. It was almost like an illusion they were all witnessing. The dark of space was being inundated with small sparkles of gunfire as high as the human eye could see. Many more faces turned upward, as the powerful weaponry was bright enough to cut through not only the darkness of space, but the atmospheric blue of the planet’s air.

The battle for Earth had commenced.

BETWEEN THE EARTH AND THE MOON (MOON GAP)

The HMS Garrison Lee, with her powerful ion-based engines, had covered the seventy thousand miles to what would be forever known as Moon Gap in Earth’s history books in a matter of ten minutes. She was now facing the strength of the Gray invasion armada. If the Lee failed to stop this assault it was only the opening vanguard, as the rest of the Gray civilization would soon follow the initial assault element and inundate Earth until it was totally subdued.

The full 1,865-foot length of the Garrison Lee was side-on to the first of the small assault ships as they exited the orbit of the far side of the moon. They came on at fantastic speed as the battleship before them flew on, seemingly oblivious to what was coming her way. The enormous sixteen-inch guns of all six massive turrets were trained directly at the Grays, but the large-bore weaponry must not have been seen as a major threat, because instead of slowing, the first one hundred attack saucers sped up to meet the Earth’s last defense.

*   *   *

Commodore Freemantle watched as the small dots illuminated against the glare of the distant sun came at them without hesitation. He smiled and winked at the nervous female yeoman at his side. She was rapidly recording everything she was to be witness to in the upcoming battle. It would be her job and her job alone to back up the ship’s log if and when it was jettisoned after the battle. She nervously and bravely smiled back, but the commodore could see her fear and it was no less than he was feeling.

“Weapons status?” he said calmly to his fire control officer on the next lowest tier.

“Mounts one through six are fully charged with particle shot.”

“Close-in defensive weaponry, please.” Freemantle studied the fast-approaching saucers just as the largest section of saucers—along with the processing ships and the power distribution vessel—made their first appearance as they rounded the moon.

“Five-inch rail guns are manned and ready, they have individual fire control at their command. Ten-thousand-watt laser mounts are operating on computer control, all systems report ready.” The officer swallowed his fear and stated as clearly as he could, “Power plant operating at 100 percent efficiency.”

“Very good. Defensive shield status?” Freemantle proudly watched his people calmly go about their duties—knowing they were in for the fight of their lives, they all had resigned themselves to a grisly, but honorable death.

“Water tanks at maximum, smoke generators at 100 percent.”

“Thank you. It seems we’re as prepared as we’ll ever be.”

Commodore Freemantle looked at every face that he could on his, the highest tier of the bridge, trying to burn the faces of each of these brave kids into his mind. All nationalities, Russian, British, American, Middle Eastern, Canadian, Australians, and Chinese, he was proud of each and every one of them and the nations that bore them. He thought for the briefest of moments that his swelling pride in the youth, the very best of the planet, was going to swell so that he couldn’t give his next command.

“Attack element, arm your weaponry,” he said, warning the two attack shuttles they were now on their own and would be the judge on when to launch. It was dangerous arming the newly redesigned AMRAAM missiles while still in the bay, but he wanted those young men to have every advantage he could give them, as he knew they would never return from their mission.

He cleared his throat as he watched the telescopically enhanced view screen. The first one hundred saucers were at thirty thousand kilometers and closing fast. Evidently the arrogant Grays thought they could plow right through their ship without even slowing. The smile on Freemantle’s face grew and his anger was a match for that smile.

“For all the wars fought; for all the injustice quelled; for the men, women, and children of our world, we fight for what we call home. Ladies and gentlemen, we shall engage the enemy at Moon Gap. All guns to fire on my command.”

*   *   *

The HMS Garrison Lee, with the giant, aluminum, one-hundred-foot blue-colored flag of the United Nations flying at her stern, flew proudly and defiantly as she sailed to the exact center of space between the Earth and the moon—a place that would be forever remembered as the coordinates where the battle for Earth would truly commence.

*   *   *

Ryan listened to the Marine colonel as she slowly explained the attitude jets to him. Jason knew the maneuvering thrusters well, as they were the same design as the LEM that he had set down, albeit roughly, on the moon’s surface at Shackleton Crater. The Marine shook her head when Ryan accidentally tripped the inertial navigation system when he toggled the thrusters.

“Now look, Commander, you can’t have heavy fingers on this thing or it will come back and bite you in the ass and everyone else back in the crew bay, you got that?”

“Boy, you turn the nicest color of pink when you’re angry,” was all he said as he reset the inertial navigation system.

“Knock it off. You’re speaking to a United States Marine Corps officer, jerk!”

Jason only smiled as he corrected the order of firing the attitude jets without a single mistake the second time. The colonel shook her head in frustration. The crowded cockpit was lit like a Christmas tree and Ryan was afraid of hitting something that would send him and the attack crew hurtling into deep space.

“Okay sweet cheeks, I’ll take it from here.” Jenks maneuvered inside the shuttle and waited while she exited the second seat. The master chief watched as the colonel slid close by, knocking him into the bulkhead. He raised his eyebrows several times as he got a real good feel of her heavily clothed chest. He looked at Ryan and then back at the floating form of the Marine.

“Gladly. You two dicks deserve each other,” she muttered.

“She acts like she has something against the navy.” Jenks tossed his helmet to Ryan, who caught the floating cover and then held it while Jenks strapped in. He reached out and hit the monitor that showed the assault team as they stood against the interior wall of the cargo bay. Once near the power resupply vessel the bay doors would be blown free and the Delta and SEAL assault element would be strung together in a long line being pulled by the first two men with their limited-range jet packs.

“Well, Officer Meat, you think you can control this thing for the five thousand meters it will take to get there?”

“No, I don’t, but what the hell.” Jason grinned at Jenks, who narrowed his eyes at the commander.

“Typical jock. Just do as I say when I say and we’ll at least crash into that big bastard.”

“Check, crash, that I can do.”

“From what Toad told me a few years back you tangled with these boys before, that right?”

“Yeah, I got my ass shot right out of the sky.” Ryan pulled his helmet over his head.

Again Jenks narrowed his eyes as he wasn’t used to anyone returning fire on him. He soon shook it off and then placed his helmet on as Ryan turned and looked at the gruff old man.

“If it makes you feel better, Master Chief, I shot one out of the sky before I ejected. Does that count for anything?”

“No, because you’ll probably be running into the son of a bitch’s brother, cousin, and daddy out there in the next fifteen minutes—if, that is, this big-ass battlewagon doesn’t get shot right out of the sky with us inside her belly.”

“Does this assault really have a chance in hell of working?” Jason asked, finally getting serious.

“Look, Commander Shit-for-Brains, I got this contract because I said I could build the system used to get us from point A to point B. I never really thought we would get this far. So, no, we’ll probably get our asses shot off when we open those doors.”

“Hey, I’m brimming with confidence now.”

*   *   *

Jack and Tram floated along hand over hand on the traversing line between sections with the two SAS guards as best they could as the announcement was made that every hand should man their battle stations. Collins gave a sideways glance over at Tram and the two men stopped, holding on to the line just inside the thick girder system of the main deck. The large windows showed the nothingness of space and that made Jack far angrier that he could no longer do anything to help his friends.

“Look, I guess you’re going to have to shoot me, but as an allied general I sincerely hope you won’t.” Collins allowed a far more mobile Tram to pull him down from his free-floating status until his feet met the deck and the Velcro took hold. He slowly removed his helmet, as did Tram.

The two SAS men inside their red-topped helmets looked at each another and then pulled themselves down to the deck and joined the men they were supposed to take to the evac stations near the extreme bow of the warship. Many other crewmen shot past on lines above their heads as everyone had a duty to perform.

“Look, you men want to be with your unit. If I’m not mistaken you’re supposed to be standing by in case the Grays start to board the Lee, am I correct?” Jack wiped a line of sweat from his forehead.

The two British commandos didn’t respond; they just looked at the American general inside his ill-fitting spacesuit. The two men had heard the scuttlebutt about what this man had done during the assault on Camp Alamo while they launched into space. He had given his entire command to give this ship a fighting chance. Finally the SAS sergeant slowly removed his helmet, as did the other. He faced Collins and then held out his gloved hand.

Jack shook it.

“No, General, we were ordered to stay with you two and that’s just what we’ll do, but your orders will supersede any previous command we were given.” The sergeant looked at his partner. “And in the heat of battle we, like you, must overcome, adapt, fight from wherever we are at—wherever you are at.” The SAS men replaced their helmets and then waited as Collins and Tram did the same. “What are your orders, General?”

“Can you take us to the command bridge?” He gave the helmet a twist to secure it.

“That we can do, sir.” The sergeant gestured for Jack and Tram to get on the six-man tram that was situated against the interior bulkhead. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

For the first time in hours, Tram smiled as he adjusted the old M-14 rifle and the many magazines of 7.62 rounds.

*   *   *

“One hundred and fifty thousand meters and closing. Magnetometers are pegged in the red, the attack saucers are powering their weapons systems,” came the call from the third tier.

“Hold, hold,” Freemantle said into his 1MC communications. The order reverberated off the heavily reinforced hull plates throughout the Lee.

As they watched the view screen, the saucers maneuvered into a wide V formation as they came on. They were using this tactic so the rest of the fleet could get in behind the screen for protection. Freemantle knew the Grays were sacrificing the forward element to protect the power-distribution vessel and the processing ships.

“Main batteries one and three will concentrate long-range fire on the power-distribution ship. Obviously they don’t think we have the power plant. They must assume we will use long-range missiles.”

The commodore turned and saw four men enter the battle bridge. He was about to order the newcomers off when he saw one of them was General Collins. He nodded his head and gestured the men down to his station.

“I would have assumed you had enough of our Gray friends down on the surface, General.” Freemantle kept his eyes on the one-hundred-foot monitor.

“You have my apologies for not knocking more of these bastards out of the sky for you, Commodore.”

Freemantle finally turned and faced Collins. Jack could see that the man had changed in just the past ten hours.

“I think you and your command did an admirable job, my good man. Now let’s see if the navy can accommodate these buggers and give them the fight of their lives, after all.” He smiled for the first time since Collins had met him. “We’re not the Martians, are we?”

“Not at all, Commodore,” he answered as Tram strapped the injured Collins into an upright chair. “Permission to watch you work, Commodore?”

“By all means, sir, by all means.”

On the view screen the attack craft were nearing the point of full impact from the Argon particle systems.

“Turrets two, four, five, and six, target the head of the attacking formation and fire at will at targets of opportunity.”

Inside the six upper and lower sixteen-inch gun turrets, the fifty-six man crews closed their eyes and waited for the order. The last to load were underside turrets five and six. First the men placed the silk-lined particle bag of miniature ball bearings, a thousand pounds’ worth, into the thirty-inch breach. Then a two-inch steel-rounded plate designed to fit snugly against the non-rifled barrel followed the particle sacks. The plate would be used as a simple push-plate for the powerful Argon laser to slam into the particle bag. The resulting collision would jettison the short duration laser beam into the steel, spreading out and slamming it through the twenty-inch-thick barrel of the cannon. Once it hit the muzzle guides, redirected rifling would push the steel shot to form a circle as it passed by the expensively made crystal laser-enhancer developed by the British, tripling the power of the 1.67-second-duration laser, thus producing a blast of twenty million volts of power that would rejoin with the steel particles once outside of the barrel and hurl the shot toward the enemy. It had been tested many times at the cost of several nuclear reactors.

The men and women of the gunnery sections were sweating profusely inside their reinforced suits as they waited for the orders that would send the Lee to war.

*   *   *

The attack saucers came on arrogantly and didn’t break formation as they broke six hundred miles.

“Open fire!” Freemantle called, far more loudly than he intended.

On the upper deck, the first to fire was the number one gun turret, followed a split second later by number three mount. The two were separated by a higher and lower platform, just like the battleships of World War II. The blast of all six guns rocked the Lee and propelled her on her side by more than two thousand feet just as turrets two and four let loose. The maneuvering jets activated to keep the Lee straight and then push her back to her original station keeping. The underside guns let loose their salvos at the closer ships flying in their V formation.

The first to hit were the guns of two, four, five, and six turrets. The particle beam, which actually looked like a short duration blast instead of the long-lined laser systems of the enemy, tore into the first three saucers, blowing them to bits and slamming their remains back into the widening formation. It was as though the remaining ninety-six attackers didn’t know what had hit them. They kept coming in their suicide alignment instead of breaking apart and scattering. The Earth ship had caught the Grays napping.

After the discharge of the large-bore sixteen-inch guns, a burst of over five hundred kilos of liquid nitrogen burst from the cannon. The steam curled to almost nothing as it hit the vacuum of space. The Lee was only momentarily inundated by the nitrogen particles as they rapidly dissipated, sliding by the speedy warship to its rear. The men inside the gun turrets quickly reloaded before the attackers broke formation, and before the enemy knew what was happening twenty more exploded.

The six particle beams of the upper six guns hit one of the processing ships trailing far behind the vanguard of attackers. The shot caught it on the right side and the large craft started spinning crazily until it slammed into six of the surrounding saucers, also knocking them into a fast-decaying orbit over the moon. The seven ships vanished almost immediately. Three particle beams hit the larger power distribution ship but all it did was punch a hole in its forward section; the damage was short lived as the powerful saucer started to heal itself immediately. The scab was clearly visible on the monitors on the Lee’s battle bridge. The power-replenishment ship immediately took evasive action and slowed, allowing the bulk of its protectors to front the important vessel.

“Damn,” Freemantle said angrily as he saw the large target fall behind a screen of over seven hundred of the smaller attack ships. Still, it was satisfying seeing the main guns of the Lee reload and start pummeling the attackers in front and at a distance. Over a hundred of the attackers were burning in space as the giant battleship continued on.

“Incoming!” one of the techs shouted. Freemantle reminded all to be calm.

Jack Collins and Tram, along with heir SAS escort, saw the bright flashes of over a thousand incoming streaks of laser light. They were also of short duration. The crewmen hung on as the first tendrils of light slammed into the broadside of the Lee. The jolt to her was wild. The ship banked hard right as fires erupted in the interior spaces. She rolled as she brought her underside to bear against the enemy fire. This was intentional, to give her main batteries time to reload.

“Defensive measures, now,” Freemantle said.

All along the length of the enormous ship, one hundred and twenty thousand gallons of ionized water was released into space, where it froze instantly into tiny crystal beads. The lasers of the enemy hit these and the powerful light weapons were fractured and defused before they hit the armored underside near turrets five and six. Three of the smaller twenty-millimeter laser cannon were knocked free of their mounts and thrown into the void of space with all twenty men and women inside. Then before the water dissipated the Lee rolled back to zero bubble and fired another powerful salvo from all sixteen-inch guns. The fire was devastating to the enemy formation as they finally got the hint and started to disperse in a wide arc.

The Lee stayed upright this time as her smoke generators were now assisting the water jets in weakening the Grays’ laser weapons. The beams still contacted the Martian steel but her damage was light compared to what it would have been. The vanguard of enemy saucers was now closing to close range of the Lee.

“Close-range batteries, open fire!” the commodore shouted purposefully this time.

The twin-barreled rail guns opened up. With the alternating poles of current they hurled a solid steel projectile weighing three hundred pounds straight at the closest saucers. The impact was tremendous as the saucers crumpled from the inside out from the electrically charged kinetic weaponry. Then the twenty-millimeter 1,000-watt laser cannon opened up on the streaking and closest saucers, slicing them into pieces. The rest backed away as they realized the weapons of the Earth ship had been vastly underestimated.

*   *   *

Inside the two attack shuttles, the pilots and crews felt the impact of the enemy weaponry. The bay shook and sparks flew outside the cockpit windows. Admiral Everett looked at the young faces around him in the shuttle’s crew bay. The men had their eyes closed for the most part as they waited for their section of decking to be blasted away. He just prayed that the Lee could get them close enough.

*   *   *

“We’ve just lost water tanks six, seven, and eight, smoke generators six and nine!”

Freemantle felt the large explosion amidships.

“Helm, hard over one hundred degrees, bring us bow on, all-ahead flank. Let’s close the distance, gentlemen, before we lose anymore countermeasures. Turrets one, two, and five, continue fire, clear us a path straight for the heart of their rear formation. All rail guns and laser cannon take the enemy as they close. Attack shuttles, launch in approximately three minutes—all nonessential crew to their evac stations.”

The Garrison Lee fired her aft and starboard maneuvering thrusters, bringing her into a head-on flight toward the largest enemy formation, and centered on the two-mile-wide power distribution saucer.

The 4,000-man crew knew this was the moment of truth for the Garrison Lee as she made her way through the densest part of the enemy formation. They were going to take a pounding.

*   *   *

The Garrison Lee shot forward with her six powerful blue-flamed ion engines firing full. The enormous warship rammed everything that got in her way as her powerful sixteen-inch guns continued to clear a path of destruction as she charged forward. The small mounts were blasting saucers as they came in to attack the exposed side of the battleship. Saucers were struck at close range by the powerful Argon-based particle cannons and disintegrated as their debris peppered the thick girder lines of the ship. Still she came on at full speed.

A saucer slammed into the lower section of deck fifteen, knocking out number five turret and her fifty-plus-man crew above and below the guns. The men and women passing particle bags were jettisoned as a massive hole burst outward as the destroyed saucer entered the girder protection and exploded deep inside. Fires were now raging out of control, licking against the lower bridge section. Freemantle ordered the lower reserve bridge abandoned as the flames became untenable. Damage control crews had to give up in frustration as they lost all pressure to the foam firefighting equipment. The Halon 1301 gaseous firefighting tanks exploded, taking out three hundred of the lower sections’ precious damage control crew. The lower decks were now awash with flames as they curled into the now exposed lower bridge. Still the number six gun kept up her fire, her gun crew refusing to leave their station.

*   *   *

Jack grimaced as he heard the emergency calls coming in. His frustration was only equaled by Lieutenant Tram as he gripped his safety harness with his gloved hands as he watched the Lee coming apart around them. Large cracks formed in the five-foot-thick plastic composite glass of the bridge as Freemantle ordered her steel shutters closed. Jack felt claustrophobic as the outside battle raged on unseen with his real eyes. The view screen at the front of the battle bridge rocked and went askew but held on as the enemy fire increased in effectiveness. Water and smoke discharge was down to 30 percent effectiveness with the loss of more water tanks and kerosene dispensers. The Lee rocked as the mixing chambers of maneuvering jets eight, ten, and twenty exploded outward, luckily taking out five saucers as they attempted to get close to the speeding battleship.

Jack frowned as the large power-regeneration saucer looked no closer than it had been when the Garrison Lee started her run at full speed one minute earlier.

“Stern section has taken an indirect atomic strike. We’ve lost two of the engines!” The Lee seemed to whiplash as the enemy started to play dirty in their fear of the battleship.

“Close-in batteries, I need those damn saucers off my ass for two minutes, don’t let them launch again. AMRAAM stations, fire everything you have.”

All along the centerline of the Lee, missile tubes opened wide and fired three hundred specially designed AMRAAM missiles. The American-made long-distance, dry-fueled antiair missiles were specially equipped with fifteen-megaton warheads. They cleared the superstructure and sped to thirty miles’ distance before their small warheads detonated. The resulting explosion rocked the Lee and the surrounding void of space. The pressure wave backfired into the girderlike superstructure and started three hundred different fires. But the real damage was done to the attackers. The AMRAAMs caught over a hundred saucers as they maneuvered toward the sides of the Lee to come into port and starboard attack profiles. They never stood a chance as the weapons melted their special skins and blew them inward, crushing and burning to death the Grays inside. The debris field was far and wide as the battleship barreled her way through. The giant plow at the far forward section slammed into damaged and burning saucers, knocking them clear.

“Good show, targeting, that’s the way to hold off and draw the bangers in. You got quite a few of the buggers with that one,” Freemantle said just as an enormous explosion threw him and the rest of the bridge crew forward, even snapping the safety harnesses of some.

At three hundred miles the processing saucers and the power-distribution vessel opened fire with their vastly superior laser cannon. The forward number one gun blew up as the first strike hit the Argon delivery system. The resulting cataclysm engulfed the battle bridge and the superstructure from frames twenty-one to forty. The HMS Garrison Lee was now a hurtling ball of flame as she approached the largest ships at the center of the armada.

Before anyone could realize it, six of the smaller attack saucers made a suicide run for the stern of the Lee. They slammed into her graceful and curved fantail where the United Nations flag stood out straight, and exploded into the thinly armored rear. A catastrophic explosion rocked the Lee from her stern section all the way to her forward areas. The remaining four engine bells blew outward as her power plant was struck. The ripple effect of so much energy traveled to the areas of least resistance, downward into the bowels of the great warship. The resulting explosion snapped the Lee’s hardened back in two as her bow sank fifty degrees. Her large deflector plow was now at a downward angle as the battleship continued to push forward in a blind desire to hit the power-replenishment vessel, which was now helpless to get out of the way. One of the five hundred crewmen ejected into the freezing void of space was Captain Lienanov, who died bravely with the men he had been assigned inside the power plant section.

Freemantle was assisted back down to the deck by Jack and Tram as they fought to get the commodore to his station. The ship was rocked again as turrets four and five exploded from the immense heat buildup after the cannons were refused the coolant they so needed to freeze the hot barrels. The resulting backlash of energy traveled throughout the ship and she shuddered under the stresses of coming apart. The great battleship heeled to port and then seemed to magically correct its trajectory, as if with a mind of its own it was intent to finish the task.

The estimation by Matchstick, that the Garrison Lee could only last fifteen minutes against the Grays, magnificently exceeded his prediction. The Lee had lasted twenty-five minutes and had destroyed well over seven hundred of the invincible armada.

Commodore Freemantle was seriously injured as Jack and Tram strapped him back down. The noise inside the bridge was nearly unbearable as the venting of O2 started in earnest. Men, women, and debris were flying around as if a tornado had erupted inside the enclosed spaces. Freemantle hung onto Jack, his face shield misting over with escaping gas and blood.

“Maneuvering thrusters to full, ram the bloody bastard!” he said as loudly as he could into his 1MC mic.

In the vacuum of space it’s impossible to feel the forward momentum of any hurtling object, but the surviving crew of that day would swear they felt the Lee, with her last remaining working thrusters, shoot forward. The power-replenishment saucer actually saw the Lee bearing down on it from six miles but could do nothing about it as the downward-angled deflector plow slammed into the strange metal skin. The resulting deceleration threw every surviving crewman forward and killed many of the remaining men and women. Jack Collins lost his handhold on both the commodore and Tram as he was tossed like a flying rocket into the now blank view screen. The Garrison Lee and her sharpened deflector plow were now lodged deep inside the two-mile-wide saucer. The giant battleship would never move again.

*   *   *

Everett saw that there was no use in checking the vital signs of the Marine colonel and her copilot. The large girder had pierced the windscreen of the number one shuttle, impaling both. They sat in their seats, never knowing what hit them after the destruction of the engine room spaces. Everett saw that the damage the attack shuttle sustained was beyond repair, and floated back to the men in the cargo bay. Two of the insertion team was wounded as the thick-tiled skin of the shuttle had been penetrated by flying metal. Their suits had vented and they had almost succumbed to the harsh environment before adhesive patches could be placed over the punctures in the outer skin.

“What a mess,” the admiral said as he started getting the remainder of his men moving. “Sergeant, you and Haley get to the rescue stations and jettison, that’s an order. Your suits are too damaged. I’ll ingress with the assault team.”

Carl looked around at the shaken men as he searched the wreck for the special weapons that had broken free of their restraining straps. He saw them floating toward the rear bulkhead and ordered them secured.

“Lieutenant, get on the comm link and find out how number two shuttle is. If we’ve lost her too, we’re truly fucked.”

“Aye, sir.” The SEAL officer hastily unstrapped after the massive explosion only three hundred feet above their shuttle bay. “Tell Jenks we’re dead in the water over here and two men short.”

“Done. The rest of you get the special packages out of here before this entire bay breaks loose. We need cable, lots of it.”

“Jenks reports they’re shaken and stirred but not broken, Admiral.”

“Good, the number one shuttle must have shielded them from the main blast. Inform the master chief there’s been a change of plan. We need to hitch a ride.”

The remaining twelve men looked at the admiral for the barest of seconds.

“Move, damn it, before we’re vented out of the damn ship!”

Before Carl realized it, Jason Ryan was in the open hatch, gesturing for the men to step it up.

“Hurry, gentlemen, hurry, we have Grays docking with this wreck. We’re out of time. The rest of the Lee’s crew is evacuating. Move, move, move!”

Jason assisted each man with their loads of weapons and ordnance from the wrecked bay of the first shuttle. He waited on Everett and assisted the big man free, then turned to help the men find added cable for their ride on the remaining shuttle. Jenks had quickly explained Everett’s makeshift plan, as they both thought along the same lines in a split second of consideration.

“The rest of you get to number two shuttle, now!” Carl said into his internal microphone. “Duct tape those packages to your suits; we can’t afford to lose any of them.”

The men were again shocked at the order. This was turning into a real high-tech endeavor. Another explosion rocked the stern of the Lee as three of the ion gas-mixing chambers burst and sent a high-heat energy wave outward, engulfing two saucers as they tried to dock with the flaming battleship. The men were knocked around and one of the Israeli weapons broke free of a SEAL’s grip and headed straight at Ryan’s faceplate. He batted at it and slammed to the deck in the zero gravity. He cussed and then easily tossed the two-hundred-pound yellow box back to the SEAL.

“Try and hang onto that damn thing, okay?” The SEAL took the package and started hand over hand for the undamaged bay thirty feet away.

Everett floated up to Ryan, tossing him a five-hundred-pound coiled cable. Ryan caught it, but the force of the blow almost sent him through the large hole that looked out onto the oxygen-fed burning superstructure.

The minute they gained the access port to the bay Everett started unreeling the thin cable. “Hook to your backpack harnesses. We’re going space skiing.”

Jenks was leaning out of the forward hatch of the number two shuttle with his gloved hands taking a tight grip of the frame.

“In case you boys didn’t realize it, we have a shitload of ugly bad guys breathing down our necks. Now get hooked up and be sure you’re clear of the main engine bell and the thrusters.” He eyed Everett. “And don’t think I’ll forget you fucked up another one of my boats, Toad, you shithead!”

The master chief vanished before the middle finger of Carl’s gloved hand shot up.

“And to think I almost forgot what a lovely man he was.” Ryan hooked up the last Delta man to the lifeline. “Now for God’s sake, take a firm hold on the running rail of the dorsal or we’ll lose the bunch of you!” Jason slapped Everett on the top of his helmet. “Good luck, buddy.” He shot off toward the cockpit just as the inducers kicked in for the main engine.

Everett floated to the top of the shuttle and then made sure his team was secure. He knew they had just cut their chances by half as the second shuttle would have to travel twice the distance with the same amount of fuel, and that wasn’t enough.

Before he could think further the attitude jets started pushing attack shuttle number two toward the still-closed bay doors.

“Goddamn it, Jenks!” he screamed. He knew the master chief was just showing off. Ten feet before the crumpled doors smashed the shuttle’s stern, the doors slowly creaked open and the shuttle was free.

Attack element Pershing entered a kill zone of saucers.

*   *   *

The commodore was dying and Jack could see that. He and Tram lifted him to his station once more as the fifth explosion of the number three armory went up.

“We have to cover the assault element,” Freemantle said in a barely audible whisper. “We have to order the remaining rail gun and laser cannon crews to remain at their stations.” He pushed his way along the rail toward the damage control station. He harshly shoved a dead technician away as he floated over the shorting-out computer boards. He looked closely at the computerized silhouette of the Garrison Lee. He quickly saw that they had little hope of covering the assault teams as three quarters of the giant battleship were awash with flames that blazed even in the vacuum of space. “General, order rail guns six and ten to cover the remaining shuttle.” Freemantle hopes quickly dimmed when the computer told him shuttle number one had been disabled. “We have to give those chaps all the help we can.”

Jack pulled the commodore away and said into the command mic the orders the commodore had spoken. He felt a shattering vibration rend the ship as the two remaining rail guns opened up on the six saucers that were tracking the fast-departing shuttle. He prayed that Carl and Jason were onboard the surviving craft. Round after round of high-strength tungsten steel blasted the saucers before they knew they were being targeted.

“Gentlemen,” Freemantle hissed through broken teeth. “Get my people clear now. The remaining gun crews will stay their post and cover the shuttle and the escape pods.”

Collins looked around and saw that most of the bridge crew was dead or just gone, vented out through the large holes in the pressure hull. He quickly gestured for the survivors to get out. He looked at Tram and then helped the commodore back to his command station.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll be staying with my ship and crew. Tell them down below how they performed, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Jack and Tram looked away from the dying Englishman. He watched hundreds of six-man pods eject from their small tubes as the crew abandoned ship.

“That’s my good chaps.” Freemantle leaned forward, unable to stay upright any longer. “Now, it’s time for you to leave the Lee. Good show, by the way.” And then Freemantle died.

As the remainder of the bridge crew went to the escape pod underneath the battle bridge, Jack looked at Tram.

“I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you to get the hell out of here, would it?”

The Vietnamese lieutenant frowned as if he didn’t understand, then tapped his helmet, pretending a short in his communications.

“That’s what I thought, you’re just like Ryan and Mendenhall.” Jack shook his head inside his helmet. He quickly reached for the plastic laser rifle once owned by the dead SAS sergeant. “Well, let’s go and see if we can get a few of those pale-skinned bastards.”

Tram smiled, clearly understanding that order.

Collins looked out of the large hole in the bridge where the view screen used to be and saw the deflector plow dug deeply into the two-mile-wide saucer as smaller craft buzzed around it.

“Feel like taking a walk out there? Maybe we can find some targets inside. After all, we put the hole in the son of a bitch.”

Tram removed the M-14 from his back, charged the weapon, and nodded his head.

*   *   *

“Jenks, we need a place where there’s already a hole, got that?” Carl could swear he felt the speed of the shuttle as Ryan fired the main engine just as the two remaining rail guns took out the six saucers at their rear. The men inside the shuttle didn’t realize how close they had come to being destroyed a few seconds out, but the men hanging on for dear life had a front-row seat and stared with wide eyes at the expanding destruction around them.

“I thought I would tell Ryan to pull into the drive thru, Toad. Of course that’s what we’re doing, we’re dropping you off at the front door of this fucking thing!”

“I swear I’m going to kill that mean bastard if we live through this!”

Inside Ryan was trying desperately to avoid the saucers that zipped in and out of the burning superstructure. He rammed some of the floating debris and thought for a moment he had holed the shuttle.

“Now you get on my shit list, all right?” Jenks grimaced at the loud bang as a large chunk of destroyed saucer bounced off the nose of the small shuttlecraft.

“Master Chief, I’ve got an idea. This big bastard doesn’t have the shielding to defend against anything this small.” Jason used the small joystick on the left-hand armrest to avoid another large chunk of steel from the Lee. He tried not to notice the hundreds of floating bodies from the Lee as he dodged them the best that he could, but still heard the occasional thump as one of the crew would bounce off the shuttle’s tiled surface.

“Your point?” Jenks used his body to turn the shuttle as if his added weight would drive the ship farther to the left. “Damn it, do you have to hit every piece of crap in space?”

“We use our six AMRAAMs and punch a hole in her skin right here, and then get our asses over to the hole the Lee made in her and enter from there. If we stay out here much longer we’re not going to be mistaken for floating debris.”

“You’re the fucking pilot, what in the hell are you asking me for?”

Ryan cursed and slammed his stick as far right as he could, praying the men attached to their roof stayed right there.

“Firing braking jets,” Jenks called out as the shuttle approached the silvery skin of the enormous power replenishment ship. The forward thrusters fired, using up precious JP-5 fuel. Jenks shut them down even before the shuttle stopped. Still drifting forward and before they got too close, Ryan flipped up the cover for his weapons selection and hit the switch six times. Under the stubby wings of the shuttle, six large AMRAAMs slid off their rails and went straight for the saucer. The small weapons would do relatively light damage to the behemoth, but maybe it would be just enough to create the hole they needed.

The missiles struck at one time, creating a straight line of destruction and making Ryan fearful of not concentrating the powerful conventional warheads close enough together. The resulting detonation rocked the shuttle and pushed it away from the saucer. Jason saw a thirty-five-foot hole had been blasted into the material—but the hole started to repair itself. Ryan saw the material start to scab over a foot at a time.

“I’ll be damned,” Jenks said as he saw the first of the SEALs and Delta team start moving toward the hole. Everett was the last, using his little bit of fuel to propel himself after his team. He turned on his back and gave Ryan and Jenks a thumbs-up. For once Jenks didn’t have anything to say as he saw his old student head into the damaged section of saucer, just as the material completely covered the hole. Jenks hit the forward OHMs engines and the shuttle quickly backed away. “Good luck, Toad.”

As Jason backed out he didn’t see the small saucer waiting for the shuttle.

CHATO’S CRAWL, ARIZONA

Gus, wrapped in a blanket, smiled at Matchstick as the small alien sat next to him. Denise Gilliam kept a close eye on the prospector as they neared the compound.

Pete Golding and Charlie Ellenshaw dozed in the seat facing the trio as the large Black Hawk circled the old house and the two-story Victorian before setting down. Pete awoke and looked at Corporal DeSilva, the lone security man onboard, as he looked out the wide window. The old Marine looked troubled as the helicopter slowly started to settle.

“What’s the matter?” Pete asked as he nudged Charlie awake.

“Half of the compound security lighting is dark,” DeSilva said as he continued to study the grounds.

“Partial blackout, you think?” Pete asked as Charlie leaned over and also looked at the ground far below.

DeSilva got on his helmet mike and called to the pilot. “Get ahold of gate security or the main house and find out what the deal is. I haven’t worked with these retirees before, and I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

The pilot nodded his head. He banked the Black Hawk into a wide turn and remained at altitude.

“Sienna One, to Crow’s Nest, Sienna One, to Crow’s Nest, what’s the deal down there?”

“This is Crow’s Nest, we have a power line down between here and Chato’s Crawl. We’re running on generators but expect to have the power up in fifteen, over.”

“Look, Doc, I don’t like this.” The old corporal leaned closer to the window to study the two houses below. “Our gennies can run the two houses, the security lights, and the whole damn town if we have to.”

Gus frowned as he listened to the men speak. Matchstick placed his long-fingered hand on Gus’s and then smiled. He then looked at Denise.

“Look, fellas, I don’t pretend to know your business, but we have to get Gus inside pretty quick. I was against this little foray from the beginning.” Denise looked at Pete and raised her brow, asking him to overrule any security concerns. Gus was exhausted and just getting him home would do the man wonders as far as recovery went.

Pete shook his head as he raised his glasses and looked out over the semi-dark compound. He looked from that to Gus, who laid his balding head against the padded support of the Black Hawk.

“Ask the gate guard to show himself, DeSilva,” Pete said.

The pilot relayed the request and as the helicopter banked once more the guard stepped from the darkened booth and waved. DeSilva sat back and cursed under his breath, then looked Gus, who wasn’t looking that well. He had the cold chills and Matchstick was staring at the Marine like it was his fault.

“Look, I want our friends up front to stay with us until we can confirm what’s going on.” DeSilva nodded toward the pilot and the copilot of the Black Hawk.

“Whatever you think is best, Corporal,” Pete said, relaxing somewhat.

“Okay, take us down,” DeSilva said, not really happy with the compromise.

The burly gate guard lowered his waving hand and then turned to the man hidden well inside the gate. The man who had been a bartender a day ago was satisfied as the Black Hawk started to settle onto the pad. He turned away from the blowing sand as he eased the shotgun free of the shack. His brother, hiding near the bodies of the six-man security team they had killed earlier, smiled as the helicopter touched down.

Hiram Vickers watched from the darkened window of Gus’s old shack as he slowly pushed the screen door open. The taking of the compound had been too easy as the fatal flaw was quickly found in the replacing of the normal military security team. That flaw was about to cost the strange group under Nellis Air Force Base their asset.

The tall redhead smiled as he thought of Daniel Peachtree and the now-disgraced President Giles Camden.