Droad returned his attention to the monitors. The men in body-shell had reached the terminal entrance already. Behind them, the line of riflemen was even more ragged, but still moving forward. One of the monitors went dark as a security camera was hit and rendered inoperable.
“I don’t think we have ten minutes. They’re going to overrun us.”
“Governor-ah, there’s something else, sir. Something is coming up the river.”
“What?”
“The river borders the spaceport, sir. There’s nothing down there but some reeds and a chain link fence, but the security system is monitoring a fault of some kind, a violation.”
“Are they coming at us in boats, too?” demanded Droad with a hint of exasperation in his voice. He felt himself losing control of the situation. It was slipping from his grasp like a handful of water. What an ignoble way to end his short term in office, hunted down and slaughtered by a pack of jax herders with laser rifles, hiding beneath a desk. At least the previous Governor had lasted nearly a month.
“Not boats, sir. Here, I’ll patch it through to the main holo-plate.”
The riflemen vanished and an image of the riverfront shimmered into existence. It zoomed into focus. Wide and sluggish, the river was cold-looking and littered with floating debris. Droad squinted. No, not debris-upside-down boats, that was his first impression. Then one of the boats raised up out of the water, turning into a gigantic head. One mammoth dark eye swiveled about, and then the head sank back down. From another of the submerged heads fountained a fine white mist. Droad was reminded of an extinct earth species, what were they called? Whales?
“What the hell are those?”
But Jarmo was too busy bringing up more strange images to answer him. Set beside the riverfront view, the angles of other cameras shifted and focused automatically, panning with sickening speed. To the left of the giant heads in the river was now a flock of odd, stingray-like things in the air, flying out of the cover of the trees. To the right of the river scene, and most alarming, a column of humanoid creatures where depicted running up, no bounding up the colonial highway toward the spaceport’s front gates.
“What the hell are all these things?” demanded the Governor. He slammed his fists against the console. This was intolerable. The situation was getting completely out of control. “What in the hell is going on?”
“There’s more sir, Fort Zimmerman is firing its missile batteries on the city. Stormbringers are joining in the attack, bombing the downtown section,” said Jarmo. He looked at Droad, waiting for orders.
“Unbelievable. No time to think about it.” Droad paused, thinking despite his words. Were the aliens with Steinbach or against him? If they were with them, they had little hope of survival. If they were against him, they were in such numbers that he needed all Steinbach’s men plus his men and the mechs to face this new threat. It occurred to him that leading the militia and his own men in a joint effort to stop an alien attack was an excellent way to cement his position as the new governor.
“Jarmo, you said that the column of humanoid creatures were coming from Fort Zimmerman? And that the Fort is firing on the city?”
“Yes sir.”
“It seems clear then that the aliens are attacking both sides. Set off all the car-bombs immediately.”
“But sir, the enemy aren’t in optimal position yet.”
“I don’t want to kill them all, just to slow down their attack. If I’m right about these aliens, we’re going to need all those men out there alive.”
Outside, the bombs that Jarmo’s demolition team had spent much of the night planting in the cars nearest the terminal went off. The resulting firestorm erupted between 1st tactical squad and the leading elements of the militia. The tactical squad, invulnerable in their body-shell, were knocked to the pavement and tossed about like leaves in a thunderstorm. Behind them the first wave of riflemen fell back, many of them screaming and rolling in the slush between the vehicles.
Deciding not to face the terminal’s defenders alone, 1st tactical squad pulled back amongst the burning vehicles, firing their waist-cannons to cover their retreat.
“Tell the front line not to use their plasma cannon against the men in body-shell. Just use smallarms to keep them retreating,” ordered Droad. Sitting down again and leaning close to the flickering holo-images, he felt he had regained some of his composure. No new threats had materialized for nearly two minutes. He put his hand to his earphone and said to Jarmo, “It’s time to get in touch with Steinbach.”
“They’re pulling back!” screeched Ari in frustration. “They were right there at the doors and they’re pulling back. Those bombs only singed them! I don’t believe this!”
Literally hopping mad, Ari had to struggle to not destroy his field goggles against the steel side of the lifter. So close! He could almost feel the weight of his satchel in his hands, the way an amputee could feel the ghostly presence of the absent limb.
Major Drick Lee came up, smirking. “Looks like we’ll have to use the mortars after all.”
Ignoring him, Ari wheeled to direct his goggles toward Fort Zimmerman and the city beyond. The missile batteries continued to snap and whine, smoke now obscured the entire downtown area. Stormbringers burst from the roiling white clouds of smoke, then wheeled and vanished into them again, beginning another strafing run.
“And what about that?” screeched Ari, pointing toward Grunstein with a trembling finger. Major Lee’s smirk faltered as he followed Ari’s gesture.
A lieutenant appeared beside them. He cleared his throat apprehensively, but with an air of determination. “Sir, begging your pardon, but what are we doing fighting men in the spaceport while aliens are destroying the colony?”
Ari looked at him in confusion, as if he had spoken in a foreign dialect. Then all at once it hit him. The boy was right. He had been so intent on regaining his satchel that the vile realities of the situation had failed to dawn on him.
There came an odd hissing sound from the snow near Ari’s left boot. He looked down, seeing a widening black streak of asphalt materialize from a patch of snow that had vaporized into steam.
“Laserfire!” he shouted, throwing himself onto his belly. Major Lee followed suit, almost as fast. The young lieutenant, however, didn’t drop reflexively. There was another flash of heat and a hissing sound, and the lieutenant did join them on the ground, thrashing with a hole blasted in his chest.
More shots hissed into the snow. A blackened gouge appeared in the steel hull of the lifter overhead. Ari exchanged glances with Major Lee. Plumes of white mist billowed from Lee’s clenched teeth.
“We’re being hit from behind,” grunted Major Lee.
Nodding, Ari scrambled to his feet and threw himself into the open door of the lifter pilot’s cupola. Major Lee was right behind him. Together they climbed into the glove-like seats and hunkered down away from the exposed windshield.
Up about ten feet now, they could easily see their attackers. Bounding along the snowy road, a large number of bizarre animals poured in among the vehicles. Almost everyone was looking at the battle for the terminal; most were taken completely by surprise. A newsie man, speaking into a holo-camera, was gutted even as he paused to sip some hot caf. The man with the camera ran, but was quickly overtaken and decapitated by one of the things as it bounded high over his head.
The things. Running like ostriches, looking like small gray dinosaurs with hands and no heads, they immediately brought cold numbing terror into Ari’s gut. Handling weapons expertly in their three-fingered hands, they seemed as efficient at killing with their bladed feet as with guns.
The lifter whined and lurched. Ari looked over at Major Lee, who was flipping switches and pulling at slide-controls. The engines screamed into life and Ari felt his seat vibrate beneath him. “You know how to fly this thing?”