“I got no targets, Major,” Davis said.
“Yeah, we got the easy ones dangling on the side of the cliff. The rest have taken up defensive positions along the ridge,” Snap replied.
“Bob, where are you and Taylor? The Russians have retreated behind the ridgeline where we can’t see them.”
“We are making our way into position behind the Russian line.”
Taylor, on the ridgeline with Bob and the remaining Russians, switched his FALOS suit to invisibility mode. The thousands of light-emitting diodes and electrochromic panels displayed images of a snow storm across his heavy plate armor. His titanium, exoskeleton frame made wielding the minigun and thousands of rounds as easy as picking up a bowling ball.
He walked the ridgeline, boulder to boulder, shooting unsuspecting Russians. Bob, who did not have the advantage of invisible armor, stayed behind Taylor, taking out any survivors. A few Russians were able to fire off a couple of shots before being pulverized by the rotating multi-barrel machinegun, but they missed by dozens of yards. At no time did Taylor feel like the enemy could even see him, much less effectively target him.
A quick squeeze of the modified trigger on the M134D-H sent dozens of rounds into the soft Russian targets, leaving nothing but a bloody mess where an enemy solider once stood. A few Russians decided to take their chances with the ridge, but Snap and the men on the ground made short work of them. A few minutes later, the last Russian was dispatched to meet his maker. The minigun in Taylor’s hand was not even warm.
“That’s the last one,” Taylor said into the COM.
“Roger that, what’s your status up there?” Snap asked.
“Bob and I are fine. Between the two of us, we just spent about 1,800 rounds of ammunition.”
“Shit. You only had 60 targets,” West said as he headed back over towards Snap.
“Yeah, well, they wouldn’t hold still,” Taylor said, as he surveyed the bloody carnage along the ridgeline. Taylor walked the cliff’s edge with a Desert Eagle pistol in his hand, making sure there were no survivors.
“What did these Russians do to deserve this? I mean, they came out here to check on a crashed ship or asteroid, and this is what they get for their efforts? Hell, we are in their country,” Taylor said, as he lined up a head shot on a Russian that was struggling to breathe with a bubbling hole in his chest.
“It’s not fair, or right. It is what it is. We all know the risks when we put on the uniform and pick up a weapon. Today, we had the better weapons, tomorrow – who knows?” Snap said.
“The helo is destroyed. Flight crew is dead. It looks like they were unable to get a message to Russian command,” Bob reported in his abrupt manner.
“Bob, Taylor, stay on the ridge. The rest of you get back to Deck 12, we need to get that cargo to ground level for pick up,” Snap ordered.
“We don’t have long before the Russians come looking for their missing helo,” West said.
“Bring them on, with these FALOS suits and laser rifles, fighting Russians is as easy as stepping on cockroaches,” Chris Johnson said into the COM.
“Those Russians thought they were looking for an asteroid or something. We caught them completely off guard. I’m sure the next ones that are sent will be more prepared,” Snap warned. “Let’s not get too cocky.”
“Hopefully, we can get the hell out of here before the next wave of Russians comes around.”
“Flying City is sixty minutes out,” General Stone Byrd reported.
“Anything can happen in an hour,” West muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Magadan Airport
Nox Bellator hurried down the ramp of his antigravity fighter. Once on the ground, he spun around to examine his favorite craft. Nox had diverted from his course to the crash site when the warning alarms sounded. The last few minutes of his trip had been like flying a toaster through a tornado; now he could see why. Nox stood in a private hangar, which appeared to have been rapidly cleared for his arrival. The forty-foot-wide disc shaped craft was covered with ice and snow; it would need to be deiced before he could take off again.
“General Bellator, I am General Kotov, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” said the older man in a trembling voice.
Nox turned around to the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He could see the fear in the General’s eyes. This is why Nox preferred to only deal with Generals he knew, or at least officers that had been properly informed of his features.
“Do not be afraid, General. I too am Russian. I was first commissioned by Stalin himself after WWII. I assume General Popov has given you instructions.”
“Yes, Sir. As you can see, we have cleared out this hangar for you. There are guards posted at the door, with instructions not to allow anyone to enter.”
“General Kotov, you understand that you and your men were not supposed to see me or my ship.”
“Yes Sir. These are my best men. They know not to tell a soul.”
“General Kotov, do you believe in souls?” Nox asked.
“No Sir, not particularly so, Sir. It’s just a saying.”
“General, if I ever hear of you, or your men, mentioning this encounter, I will see to it that, not only you, but your families’ souls are immediately relieved of their mortal coil. Do you understand me?”
“Yes Sir. No one will ever mention your presence.”
“How long until my team gets here?”
“Couple hours, Sir.”
“Two hours? I don’t have two hours. I need to get to the site. General, when was the last time you and your officers actually did some manual labor?”
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“I need you and your officers to deice my craft. No one else. Deice my craft now. I want reports every fifteen minutes from the units deployed to the crash sites.”
Nox turned to enter his craft, when General Kotov spoke, “Would you like your action report now, Sir.”
Nox slowly turned, reminding himself that there were good officers in the Russian Air Force that were not aware of his existence, “Yes, General. Now would be fine.”
“We have landed troops at each of the impact zones. Five helos have reported back, all with the same findings; big craters, minor radiation and little else. Multiple attempts to contact the sixth helo have failed.”
Nox sensed this was the break for which he had been waiting. “Which helo failed to report back? Which site was it?”
“The Mi-26 that did not report was sent to Site Four, Sir.”
“Is that the site where the MiG pilot reported an anomalous impact crater?” Nox asked, with masked glee.
“Yes Sir, that’s the one.”
Damn. If it were not for my craft icing over, I would have already been there.
“How long until my craft is deiced?”
“Sir, it will take about 40 minutes to deice and apply anti-icing chemicals.”
“Make it happen. No one other than you and your staff officers are allowed in this hangar,” Nox said, as he hurried up the ramp into his craft.
Nox plopped down into the chair in his cockpit. It was set up similarly to the cockpit of a modern jet. It never shocked Nox that humanoids of all different planets had equipment that looked the same. After all, humanoids had similar features: arms, legs, heads and hands. It made perfect sense that they would arrive at the same solution to a scientific problem. Nox’s craft had been upgraded several times to be able to interface with human technologies. In addition to the otherworldly features, Nox’s craft had command and control functions for most Russian military assets, including communications.