“Grapp you!” he shouted, reaching down and ripping out the pins on all four of his frags. “Eat ma—” The rest of what he might have said was cut off as one of the beasts ripped out his throat.
“Conn, Two-Alpha is down,” Lieutenant Berisford said. “Containment is breached. We’re trying to stop them in corridor…” There was a burst of fire and the circuit went dead.
“Lifting now,” the pilot said. “Max G.”
“Where are the other Marines?” the CO asked.
“Two-Bravo is securing engineering,” the XO said. “Two-Charlie is at the door of the conn.”
“What’s the word on—”
“Conn! Conn! Security Team Four! We can’t stop these things! They’re headed for—”
“Team Four is in the mess,” the XO said.
“Conn, Team Nine. We’ve got them stopped in the Torpedo Room. We welded extra cover on the hatches and they just turned away. Torpedo Room is holding.”
“Conn! Team Six! They’re coming up! Headed right for control!”
The firing could be heard through the deck, coming closer.
“Only how many indicators of alien activity?” Torpedoman Joseph Olbinski screamed, firing his shotgun at the charging Demons. A member of the sub’s security team, he was trying to hold the corridor directly beneath the conn. And losing.
“There wasn’t anything in the area!” Jeff Waggoner shouted, the 9mm rounds from his MP-7 bouncing off their armored forequarters.
“I hate intel!” Olbinski screamed as the first Demon reached him.
“Conn!” Waggoner shouted into his comm. “Demons at… urk!”
Then it was cut off.
“That was missile control,” the XO said. “Right under us.”
“Get the Marines in here,” the CO said. “If these things can tunnel right through steel, I want to have security inside the compartment.”
“Aye, aye,” the XO said.
Runner watched as the Demons ran past and then shook his head inside his armor.
“Ain’t that a thing?” he asked as they started ripping at the door of engineering. There were seven of them, ugly beasts like bulked up Komodo dragons. But from the scores in the deck and the way they were tearing at the door, their bite was much worse than their bark.
“Kris, you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yep.”
“On three,” the master sergeant said. “One, two… three.”
The 7.62 mm Gatling guns fired almost simultaneously. While the 7.62 mms might bounce off the forward armor of the beasts, they had no problems with their thickened skin, ripping three of the Demons to shreds in less than a second.
The remaining four, however, turned towards the Wyverns and rounds started skipping off their fronts. One had been hit in the withers and its back legs were shattered, but it continued forward.
“Spread,” Runner said, ducking backwards around a missile tube.
That started a game of cat and Demon in the missile compartment as the Wyverns ducked in and out around the tubes, fired at Demons and ducked back. The team had fought similar actions before in countless “games” and they worked well together. They dropped the Demons before one came near any of them.
“I wonder if we can get them to all come to us?” Kristopher said.
“Oh, I think there’s gonna be plenty for everybody,” Runner replied. “Engineering…”
“Remember,” Lady Che-chee said, donning her gloves and taking a spear from one of her retainers. “They are only vulnerable on the sides. And they can jump.”
“Yes, Mother,” Cha-chai said.
“Bi-lateral sweeps, just as they teach you at the regiment,” Lady Che-chee said, donning her board. “Strike, then return for another spear. Get them chasing us while the Breeders and pups are evacuated.”
“Yes, Mother,” Cha-chai said, sighing.
“I think you’d better start saying Colonel, sonny,” Lady Che-chee said. “Right, Sergeant, you take left, I’ll take right. For the Regiment!”
Josh Lyle looked up from his workbench at the scrabbling under his feet and sighed.
“You just had to get busy in here, didn’t you?” the armorer said, walking over to the rack on the wall. He considered it, finger on lips, for a moment. 7.62 mm skipped right off, eh? He plucked a weapon from the rack and pulled out a pre-loaded magazine.
The Demon’s head poked through the deck much as a newborn alligator opens an egg. And the squeal that came from it had a similar sound, if much deeper. One deep-set red eye rolled and spotted Lyle. Then a claw came ripping up through the steel, opening the hole.
“Really?” Lyle asked. “You really want to get busy in here? People never learn.”
He lifted the “modified” carbine to his shoulder and settled the laser pointer just below the eye.
“Let’s see how you like this.”
The .50 caliber scramjet round barely had time to accelerate before it hit the Demon’s head. While it didn’t punch through, the head snapped sharply to the side. Whether it was the snapping of the Demon’s spine or the fact that the deck had cut half way through its neck that killed it, Lyle wasn’t sure. But he’d take that as a kill.
“Next?”
Berg took a spot by the CO’s chair. It gave him all around views of the conn compartment. He noticed that all the conn personnel had strapped on side arms but he didn’t think .45s were going to do much good. The COB had his in a two-handed grip, pointed at the rear hatch.
“Son, why do you have two pistols strapped on your sides like a gunfighter?” the CO asked calmly.
“Sir, that’s PFC Berg,” the XO said just as there was a scrabbling at the rear hatch. “The one you signed the award authorization for.”
“So you can fire two guns at once?” the CO asked as a Demon head appeared in the ripped-apart hatch.
“No, sir,” Berg replied, drawing both pistols. “Only one.”
“Oh,” the CO said as the Demon’s head became fully visible. “Pilot, elevation?”
“Holding at Angels Nine,” the pilot said.
“Engineering?” the CO said, punching the comm.
“Engineering,” the Eng answered. “We’re holding. The SF team took out the Demons that were attacking us.”
“Conn, Tactical. I have eyeballs on the Demons that were attacking on the ground. There’s a large cluster of them on Lady Che-chee’s lawn…”
“Open fire with Laser Two,” the CO said as the Demons tore through the door. “Engineering, Tac, in the event Conn is taken out, try to maintain the fight. Good luck.”
As the first Demon’s head punched through the door, Berg looked for a vulnerable spot. The whole head and front was armored, but just under the jaw it flexed. He faintly heard firing around him but he ignored it, waiting.
Finally, the thing lifted up to tear at the top of the opening and he fired one round. The demon’s head nearly blew off as it flew back in a welter of crimson.
“Damn, boy,” the CO said, holding up his smoking pistol.
Another Demon immediately took its place but the next problem was on the starboard side of the hatch, low, where Demons were tearing through at deck level. One was squeezing its way through the hole and Berg noted another flex point at the juncture of shoulder and neck.
“I’m just going to stop bothering,” the CO said as the Demon began convulsing in the opening.
The Demons had broken all the way through the door and for the next few seconds Berg sort of lost track. All he could recall was beaks and claws and muted shots like everybody was using silencers.