Mech

Seventeen

“Lieutenant Ferguson, main doors, are you ready?”

“Affirmative, Chief.”

“Team A, aft doors?”

“Check.”

“Auxiliary portals?”

“We’re ready, sir.”

“All right, let’s take back our hold,” said the Security Chief, moving down a steep service shaft behind a squadron of his green-suited troops. Beads of sweat matted his hair inside his helmet and made his face and neck itch intolerably. It was with great trepidation that he led his men into the hold in search of the mech platoon. His right hand, healed over with nu-skin, still pained him, but it wouldn’t keep him from pulling the trigger.

On close-range intercom, one of his sergeants tapped his shoulder and said, “I’ve got a full load of grenade-launchers right behind us, sir. The Lieutenant Ferguson’s Marine weaponeers are packing their mortars as well, just in case.”

“I hope we won’t need them.”

“So do I, Chief.”

The Chief hoped they wouldn’t have to use explosives even more than his men did. The Captain had used the direst threats in conjunction with even carrying such things near his precious cargo. The Chief had ignored his orders and brought them along. He wasn’t about to send his troops against combat mechs without everything available in their hands.

For the first hour or so, the hunt in the great hold was relatively uneventful. Except for pre-arranged, tightly-beamed communications between the teams, communications were kept to a minimum. Closing on the mechs was extremely difficult in the miles of equipment. Tracking them with sensors, the original plan, was impossible, as the mechs had immediately destroyed them all.

Crouching beneath a giant packing crate containing a construction crane, the Chief activated his phone. It was time to find out how the other teams were doing.

“Main doors? How’s it going, Lieutenant?”

“Check, we’ve moved in about a mile, nothing to report.”

“Aft doors?”

“No contact, sir. Are we sure they’re still in here?”

“Auxiliary portals?”

Silence.

“Auxiliary portals? Report your status.”

Due to the perfection of the technology, there wasn’t even the hiss of static to entice him. The Chief began to sweat profusely.

“All teams, head for the Auxiliary portals. Back-up teams head for the flitter bays. We may have a breach.”

The mech lieutenant slid his optics carefully over the corpses, looking for signs of resistance. There was none. Silently, he ordered his platoon forward. Padding past the dead men and through the auxiliary portals and into the service shafts, the mechs moved with unnatural speed. They were little more than a pack of massive gray shadows, nightmares of flesh and metal.

They didn’t head for the flitter bays, however. Instead, they ran through the dim-lit shafts of the Gladius to the engine rooms. Brushing aside the panicked engineers who fled for their lives, they took a few hostages, trained their weapons on them, and dictated their terms.

A white-faced comm officer signaled desperately, trying to get the Captain’s attention. Sitting comfortably in his quarters, the Captain ignored his efforts for several minutes. He was viewing a particularly good erotic holo and grew angrier by the second as the damned intercom kept chiming. Finally, he paused the holo and activated the intercom.

“What? What is it now, man?”

“Sir, we have an emergency.”

The Captain groaned, heaving his great bulk erect. Even the half-standard gravity, provided by centrifugal forces as the Gladius rotated, was becoming an annoyance. He would have to consider lowering it to one-third standard, and damn the health regulations.

“What’s the problem?” he barked.

“It’s from the engineering room, sir-”

“Just put it on the holo, will you?” he said, slamming down the handset.

The comm-officer clittered at his keyboard. A shocking image flickered into life in front of the Captain’s easy chair. It was the mech lieutenant. Implanted in the steel head-encasement in the midst of a face of waxen flesh, the thing’s optics slid about disconcertingly.

“What is THIS?” demanded the Captain. Thinking that a horror-holo from the ship’s library had somehow been patched into his personal system, he hammered his fist on the control console.

“If this is some cadet’s idea of a joke, I’ll have him doing radiation inspections of the aft exhaust ports until he’s nothing but a mass of tumors,” he vowed.

“We do not require the surrender of your ship,” said the apparition on the holo-plate, “but you will give us four flitters suitable for a combat descent.”

Slowly, the reality of the situation dawned on the Captain. “What are you talking about? Are you one of those mad-dog machines?”

“I am Lieutenant Rem-9. I am assigned to Lucas Droad, Planetary Governor of Garm. My mission is to-”

“I don’t give a frig what your mission is!” shouted the Captain. “What are you doing in my engine room?”

With an air of tried patience, Rem-9 repeated the end of his statement. “My mission is to locate Lucas Droad and defend him from an unspecified emergency situation. You will provide me with four flitters, or we will perforate the stern engine cupola. The resulting lack of lift will cause the Gladius to sink into the atmosphere.”

“You’re mad! The ship would tear apart! It isn’t built for atmospheric pressures. We would all be crushed!”

The mech gave no sign of concern. “We will encapsulate ourselves in packing foam and eject during the reentry. Some of us may survive to achieve our mission.”

The Captain argued further, but the Rem-9 was adamant. He provided video feed proving his claims. High explosives taken from the dead security men were already wired into place. Remote control detonators were ready for use. The heavy blast shielding that surrounded the engine rooms had been lowered and sealed; there was no safe way to get at them in there.

Within minutes stark fear replaced outrage on the Captain’s face. If they wanted to, these crazy machines could bring down his ship. For the first time in many centuries of cyro-sleeping between star-systems, he saw the possible end of his career, even his life.

“I should never have come to this miserable system,” he lamented into his phone. “Give them the flitters.”

As soon as the order had been given, his fears redoubled. He sealed off his quarters and refused entry to everyone, including his Security Chief, although he dearly would have loved to discuss the high explosives with him. Foremost in his thoughts was Mai Lee’s reaction to all this. Vengeful and cruel, she had long arms and her agents were renown for showing up at the crucial moment. He put nothing beyond the reach of that cold witch.

“The Militia reservists are here, sir,” the orderly repeated for the third time.

General Ari Steinbach snorted, then rose up blearily. The coat he had been using as a blanket slipped off his chest and onto the floor of the limo. With a heavy sigh he blinked red-rimmed eyes at the setting sun outside.

After the abortive attack on the spaceport last night, things had reduced to the level of a slow siege. Neither side had made any serious moves toward resolving the issue. Ari had spent much of the night and the early morning calling up the militia commanders he could find, ordering them to mobilize every unit in the province. His alarm had increased steadily as he realized that most of the officers could not be found. In fact, every officer who had attended the Militiaman’s banquet last night was absent.

“Have any scouts returned from the Fort? What’s the situation up there?”

“Still unknown, sir. The earliest scouts we sent out last night disappeared, as you know,” said the lieutenant, absently sipping a cup of steaming hot caf. A light blanket of slushy snow coated the limo. Overhead the skies were still dark and pregnant, although there hadn’t been any snowfall in hours. “The most recent reports indicated that no one can get into the gates. Sniper fire has killed everyone attempting to enter the compound. KXUT claims the Fort, like the spaceport, is in the hands of Lucas Droad the ‘Pirate Governor’.”

“Well, it isn’t,” snapped Ari irritably. He took a proffered cup of hot caf and tossed it down. Donning his coat and stretching he marched for the lifters.

“Major Lee!” he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to increase his volume. “Come out of there.”

Major Drick Lee slowly opened the pilot’s cupola and eyed the General with distaste. It appeared that he too, had been asleep.

“I need you to call that witch of an Aunt of yours and get some answers.”

Major Lee appeared disinterested. “Why don’t you call her?”

“Because she isn’t responding to my attempts. I know you have special methods.”

Major Lee gave him a dark look. “Are you accusing me of spying, sir?”

“Forget the semantics. We’re in a serious and incomprehensible situation. Who is in control of Fort Zimmerman? What are all these reports of animal attacks and alien invaders? What is going on out in the Slipape counties? Who is fighting whom, Major? I want answers.”

A tall man with severely short red hair and cold blue eyes crunched up through the snow to join them. An antiquated pipe stuck out of his mouth, inside it a stimulant burned, producing a cloud of bluish smoke.

Ari regarded him with little enthusiasm. “Yes?”

“Are we planning to assault the new Governor, sir? Because if we are, I can’t say that my men and I much like the idea.”

“No, we’re planning to take out one terrorist and self-proclaimed dictator,” replied Ari with sudden fury. Why was it that no one showed him the respect his uniform deserved? “And just exactly who are you?”

“Madison, sir. Militia reservist Captain, Company C, Group Five reporting sir,” answered the man in an unhurried fashion. “I’ve just come in from Hofstetten, and I couldn’t help overhearing that you don’t grasp the situation.”

Ari and Drick both looked at him in askance.

“They’re aliens, sirs,” the man said simply. He sucked on his pipe for a moment then relit it before continuing. “Aliens are all over Hofstetten, that’s why we were already mobilizing and why we got here ahead of most of the other units. Killed a lot of good people last night and today, cut off all our communications, too. The nets are down all over the colony.”

“And what do these aliens look like, commander?” asked Drick contemptuously.

“Sort of like fast air-swimmers, mostly, but they can drop snake-like things out of their bodies. There are other kinds, too, but the worst are the dinosaur-types. They run like ostriches and carry weapons like a man.”

Drick laughed.

“I must say that is a rather amazing story,” said Ari. “It seems remarkable that KXUT hasn’t reported any of these sightings, doesn’t it?”

The man pulled out his pipe, examined it closely, then placed it back in his mouth. “Not really. KXUT’s been off the net for hours. All they are playing now is pre-recorded stuff. It’s not even the right stuff, just yesterday’s daytime programming. No news reports, no live stuff at all.” The man turned and crunched back through the snow to his unit.

The officers frowned after him.

“Whatever is happening, we need to get this business with Droad over with so we can go handle it,” said Ari, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, I’m beginning to wish I’d called in sick this week.”

Major Lee nodded in agreement. “I’ll try to contact the senator. She may know something.”

“If she doesn’t, then no one does. I’ll gather up the men. We have an army of militia troops now and the 1st tactical squad is up to full strength, although God only knows where the 2nd squad is. Let’s finish this thing with Droad.”

He moved off and soon had two ragged lines of six full militia companies formed up. He ordered them to attack in waves, the first leading the second by two minutes. Ahead of the first wave was the 1st tactical squad, eager for a rematch with Droad’s giants.

Hundreds of men moved through the parking lots, firing as they came. The fresh white snow was trampled to gray slush, then splattered red in places as return fire found targets.

“We have overwhelming numbers. We can’t lose,” whispered Ari, half to himself. He eagerly trained his goggles on the area of the baggage lockers in the arrivals section. Already he was planning how to get back his satchel in a smooth manner that would arouse no undue suspicion.

Drick, standing at his side, commented, “You seem unusually eager to see this battle through, General.”

“It’s my job,” answered Ari.

“Yes, but it just doesn’t seem like you-”

He broke off at the screaming sound of missiles in flight.

“The missile batteries have finally opened up!” shouted Drick exuberantly.

“No, damn it, no!” hissed Ari through clenched teeth. He hunkered down and focused his goggles on the front walls of the terminal building, fully expecting to see them disintegrate in a fireball. But instead of falling on the spaceport, sounds of explosions erupted from downtown Grunstein. He looked that way and his mouth gaped in amazement. The top third of the KXUT building, including the dish and the transmitter had been blown completely away.

His surprise increased into shock as he saw a squadron of Stormbringers lift off vertically from the Zimmerman field on the fort grounds and turned northward. Two of them broke off and zoomed over the city, where they began methodically bombing the commercial district. The rest headed off in the direction of the Slipape counties.

Then, explosions rocked the heavy struts of the lifter he was leaning on, causing him to jerk his gaping head around the other way. The cars in the parking lot were blossoming into red flowers. The leading militia riflemen of the first wave dissolved, like insects caught by the sudden gushing of a blowtorch.

With a flourish, the doctor removed the sheet covering the thing on the table. “Quite a monster, eh?” said Doctor Risi with something akin to pride. He watched their reactions while tapping his right forefinger against his teeth.

Governor Droad grunted and Jarmo wrinkled his great nose.

“So, it is your belief that this creature is alien to Garm?” asked Droad. His eyes moved up and down the disgusting mess that covered the stainless steel table. At the damaged head section, an incision began that ran the length of the thing’s brown, fleshy belly. Bizarre organs and thick rubbery muscles lay exposed to the harsh glare of the doctor’s surgical lamp. He was reminded distinctly of the parasitic worms and sea slugs he had dissected in college.

“Absolutely. There is no record of anything like this organism in the colony files, nor in the Nexus Cluster records,” replied the doctor. He was short, wiry little man with odd fingers that seemed overly long and delicate even for his small hands. The tips of these fingers tapered to elfin points and each of his fingernails was precisely cut.

“What is it then?”

“I haven’t come up with a name for it yet, but when I do I’ll let you know,” said the doctor, smiling. Droad shot him questioning side-glance, but he seemed not to notice. “I can tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t a snake, nor any kind of reptile. It’s more like a hot-blooded caterpillar with an extremely large brain and a lot of organs that I’ve yet to analyze.”

“What about the radio emissions?” demanded Jarmo, intrusively leaning over the mound of twisted flesh on the table. “That’s what interests me most. Have you discovered yet how they do it?”

The doctor raised one fingertip between himself and Jarmo’s looming face. He was clearly not intimidated. “I was just getting to that. The thing definitely has a built-in organic radio, just as we surmised from the security system records.”

The finger dived downward like a pointer, aiming into the damaged head area. “I found it here, near the brain, just below where the ear would be on most earth species. Fortunately, the crude methods used to kill the creature didn’t destroy it.”

“And so Jarmo was right? This thing can use radio waves to communicate the way we use sound waves?” asked Droad, shaking his head in amazement.

“An assumption, but probably a safe one. With only the crudest of lab equipment available here at the spaceport, I can’t tell you much more. Certainly it can receive such transmissions, and it would only make sense that it should be able to transmit them as well.”

Droad stepped back from the table and urged the doctor to continue his research. Together, he and Jarmo headed back toward the security center. “What do you think Jarmo?”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. It would seem most likely that our opponents set this thing to spy on us or to assassinate you. We know little about how powerful the elite on Garm really are. Do they have a source of bio-weapons like this? I would give a lot to know where it came from.”

“There is another possibility,” said Droad. “Recall the earlier declarations made by the newsies. All that talk about an alien invasion up in the hills.”

“That sort of thing makes good video,” replied Jarmo.

“Yes, but that thing on the table is quite real.”

The two of them reached the security center and settled down to rest a bit. Soon it would be nightfall again, and as the militia units outside were growing in strength, they expected an attack soon after dark. The primary topic of conversation, even more vital than the alien from the restrooms, was the disposition of the mechs in the hold of the Gladius.

“We have to assume they aren’t coming,” said Droad, sitting with his boots on Major Lee’s desk and sipping another mug of hot caf. There was a special flavor in the Garmish variety that he couldn’t quite identify, but which he was beginning to appreciate.

“Although I am generally the conservative one here,” said Jarmo, “I wouldn’t count them out by any means. Rem-9 is intelligent, experienced and more than competent. More importantly, they’re mechs. A bunch of security men and sleeper agents on the ship should not be able to take them out.”

Droad frowned into his steamy mug. “One well-placed explosive on each of those shipping capsules would do it, though. We checked them right before we came down, but it’s obvious now that the rulers here were onto us from the start.”

Jarmo opened his mouth to comment further but was stopped by an echoing explosion from the front of the terminal. The men leapt to their feet and went out into the main room. Sergeant Manstein was there, looking over the shoulders of an operator.

“They’re coming back for more, sir,” he said as Droad entered the room.

On the main screens a wave of riflemen, led by a knot of men in black body-shell charged through the parking lot. Gun muzzles flashed and plasma bursts blossomed.

“They’re serious this time. Sergeant, take everyone you can gather and head for the arrivals level. Jarmo and I will take over here,” said Droad. “Jarmo?”

Jarmo was working with the radar techs. He turned around at the Governor’s call. “I don’t know for sure, sir, but I think the mechs may finally be coming down.”

For the first time in hours, Droad felt himself smile. It felt good.

“You see their jump-flitters?”

“No, but we have picked up four flitters, coming right on us from the Gladius. Unless the Captain has decided to join the battle, I think it’s a safe bet that the mechs will add their weight shortly.”

Droad nodded. “How long until they get here?”

“About ten minutes.”

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?”

“No, but I can get us into the air on autopilot,” said Major Lee, his face pulled in a tight snarl.

Even as he spoke the lifter rose up and became airborne. Ari, finally getting his wits about him now that the immediate threat of death seemed more remote, ordered the waves of troops in the parking lot to pull back and attack the monsters pouring through the gates. Below them, he saw the fabric walls of the medical dome fall in shreds before three of the aliens. It was obvious that a terrific slaughter had begun inside. Holes from laserfire burned through the walls and dome. Wounded men staggered out the exits, falling and dying in the snow.

Another channel on his phone beeped insistently. With infinite irritation, he opened the link. “What do you want?”

“General Steinbach? This is Governor Droad.”

Major Lee, fighting the controls to keep the lifter hovering about a hundred feet over the battle, shot him a glance of surprise.

“What do you want?” repeated Ari, frowning. He had finally recalled his sidearm and pulled it out, releasing the safety.

“General Steinbach, you must listen to me. We must talk. Aliens are attacking both of us. It is ridiculous to proceed with fighting among ourselves,” said Droad.

“So, you think we should let you out of that terminal, do you?” began Ari, snarling. Then his face changed-became speculative. His thoughts turned to his satchel in the upper row of lockers in the arrivals section. “Perhaps you are right…”

“I suggest we fight together. There are more of them than just the ones hitting you from the rear. There are flocks of flying aliens coming at you-at us-from the trees, and more gigantic ones from the riverfront.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Ari. He pulled his field goggles over his eyes and gazed east, sure enough a lumbering horde of creatures, gigantic creatures, were moving up from the swampy shores of the river. To the west, tiny dark specks flitted toward them from the trees.

“What do you suggest?” asked Ari, deflated. Things were completely out of his hands. His first instinct was to run, but not without his satchel. Ari envisioned Droad as a cruel school bully, dangling his satchel just out of reach.

“Order your first wave and the troops in body-shell to enter the terminal, we won’t fire. Then land your lifter, load it with all the men you can from your second wave and bring them into the terminal, too. We need walls between us and the enemy immediately.”

Ari pursed his lips. He and Major Lee exchanged knowing smiles. Into the phone he said, “I agree, Governor Droad. You have my word that my troops will cease firing on you, at least for the duration of this much more significant situation.”

“Excellent. Move now,” replied Droad. Ari frowned in annoyance at the clipped tone of command that had entered Droad’s voice so quickly.

“Steinbach’s scared. I think he’ll join us, at least for now,” said Governor Droad. “Tell me what we should do with these aliens. They seem to be forming up ranks before they attack. At least that gives us a few minutes.”

“I detected the alien maneuvers that are up on the holo-plates now with the radio-scanner initially,” explained Jarmo. “For the last day or so the communications officer and I have noticed unusual traffic on several rarely used frequencies. After learning from Doctor Risi that the aliens used built-in radios to communicate, I simply set the air-traffic control computer to search for emissions in the proper frequency range and report them as traffic contacts. Here’s what I got,” he said, manipulating a keyboard with his stubby fingers. The holo-plate changed to a normal topographical view of the immediate spaceport, but on it were an incredible number of contacts. Hanging beside each contact were ghostly identification letters. There were a number of them moving up from the riverbank, larger groups coming from the trees and the main entrance to the spaceport. “They’re all classified as unknown, of course.”

“So, we can at least track their movements,” said Droad, nodding. “That’s quite an advantage.”

They watched as the flying aliens joined up with the ostrich-like ones at the main entrance. Together they advanced into the parking lots, while the giants from the river swung around to approach the terminal from the rear.

“Can we recall the Stormbringers? The aliens should be easy targets for them.”

Jarmo shook his head. “Captain Dorman has already scrambled his planes and has engaged the enemy attacking Grunstein.”

Droad nodded. “Well, we can’t very well call them back to save us while a whole city full of civilians is under attack. If he disengages, tell him to come back and give us a hand.”

Jarmo worked his phone.

“Put those river-things on the main plate,” Droad ordered the operator.

Instantly, massive creatures seemed to be running in place on the plate. They were huge, lizard-like things on four legs. Their backs and head were encased with what appeared to be natural scaly armor. Their broad, triangular heads weaved from side to side as they walked. Sprouting from the center of each triangular head was a long black horn of some kind.

“These things are so large that they were actually walking on the bottom of the river to sneak up on us,” said Jarmo, shaking his head. “Dorman says he’ll return as soon as he can. He also says that there are definitely aliens flying the rogue Stormbringers.”

Droad looked at him in amazement. Still looking amazed, he turned back to the main holo-plate. Whatever these things were, they were definitely intelligent. “It seems that they are preparing for a major attack. What about General Steinbach and my greatly delayed mechs?”

“General Steinbach appears to be complying with your directions. He’s using his lifter to transport his troops here. The mechs are also close, they will land in about two minutes.”

The image on the holo-plate changed again, this time depicting a militia lifter wobbling unevenly as it landed hundreds of troops onto the roof of the terminal building.

Droad nodded, then stood up. “It’s time we greeted our reinforcements.”

Leaving Jun and some of the security men on duty, Jarmo and Droad headed for the arrivals section. There they greeted General Steinbach and Major Lee, just coming down the steps into the building. There was a pause as the two sides met. Hundreds of militia riflemen were right there, facing a handful of Nexus-loyal security people, giants and Stormbringer pilots. Weapons were held in white-knuckled hands.

“My good Governor,” said Steinbach coming forward with a falsely warm smile. “Let’s put aside our differences. Men should not fight men while these monsters destroy us all with indifference.”

“Do you swear your allegiance to the Nexus?” asked Droad severely.

Steinbach took a step back in shock. “Certainly, sir. I take pride in my loyalty to the Nexus.”

Jarmo snorted rudely.

“Do you swear allegiance to me as your duly appointed Governor?”

Steinbach turned white. His hands shook. For some reason, he kept looking over the Governor’s shoulder at the alcoves containing the restrooms and the rentable luggage lockers.

“Ah… I’m not closed to such a consideration, but this isn’t the time to debate your legitimacy. Let us fight together, and then decide matters of authority and legality at a later time.”

All eyes were upon Droad and Steinbach. Droad finally smiled. “Good enough, they’re almost upon us.”

Together, the men rushed to the barricades.

“For once they’re all pointing their weapons in the same direction,” said Droad, smiling at the sight.

“Let’s see what they do when it’s over, assuming we’re alive then,” said Jarmo.

Once inside of accurate rifle range, the aliens charged the terminal building with frightening speed. A horde of gray shapes came on, sailing over parked vehicles in single bounds. Zooming around and among them came the flying things, spreading their odd bodies into perfectly aerodynamic gliding shapes.

The men in the terminal building screamed and pulled their triggers until their fingers bled. Thousands of explosive rounds and lancing laser pulses ripped the air and the aliens. The fantastic bodies of the aliens flew apart. Some of them, blown nearly to fragments, continued to crawl, hop or creep forward, ignoring their missing body parts.

The flocks of flying things arrived first, immediately dropping shrades into the ranks of militiamen. Even less disciplined than the rank and file militia thugs that guarded the streets and gave out traffic tickets, the reservists were quick to rout. Ragged holes were torn in the line even before the headless killing machines with their deadly bladed feet could arrive.

“Sir, they’re hitting us from the rear!”

“What’s that?” shouted Droad motioning forward 1st tactical squad, which they had held in reserve to keep the line. The terrific din of battle inside the large echoing terminal building made it almost impossible to hear.

“The giant ones, they’re tearing their way into the jetways and the coming down the ramps from the gate areas!” roared Jarmo, his deep voice cutting through the clamor. “We should send half 1st tactical squad to deal with them!”

Droad nodded. “Take some of your men and join them,” he said. He gave Jarmo a look, which the other immediately interpreted. Neither of them wanted Steinbach’s men behind them and on their own.

“Good thinking, sir,” said Jarmo, trotting off with his plasma cannon unslung.

The fighting went hard in the main terminal. Droad observed that his men had the numbers and the firepower, but they lacked the ferocity and discipline of the aliens, who were clearly oblivious to death and pain. When perhaps a third of the men were down, they fell back in disorder, taking more casualties as they broke ranks. The aliens, however, fought on without change although more than half of them had been destroyed.

Soon, every one of their snipers on the roof had been killed. The battle raged on, pushing the men back. At the second barricade in front of the doors of the security center and still holding the tops of the escalators, they held them. Using his sidearm to good advantage, Droad personally shot two of the hideous slug-like things that the flying horrors had vomited in the midst of his men.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him around. He lifted his laser pistol reflexively, but it was only Sergeant Manstein.

“Things are going badly in the rear,” Manstein shouted. “They can’t stop those things at the gates. They’ll be in here soon!”

Droad nodded. For a moment he stood panting, his face drawn and white with the stress of days of siege and battle. Then he ran to Steinbach, who was standing with Major Lee in the middle of a knot of men in body-shell. He relayed what Manstein had told him. Although Steinbach was reluctant, they were soon all heading for the gate area at a dead run.

Things were indeed going badly, thought Droad. Jun was killed, gored and trampled until his corpse was almost unrecognizable. Many men in black body-shell lay strewn about the scene. A dozen of the giant monsters were down, some of them only wounded. Trapped up on a catwalk in a construction area, Jarmo and the last of the men in body-shell were cornered and being stalked by the monstrous killers.

“Use concentrated fire to bring one of them down,” said Droad opening up on the leading monster. Surprised by this new attack, the rest pulled back into one of the gate areas, out of view.

Jarmo and his surviving men joined the others. Crouching behind a row of seats in the non-narcotic waiting area, a tense discussion began.

“Let’s pull back. These things can’t get us in the corridors,” suggested Major Lee.

“We can’t just let a pack of ten ton monsters roam around at our rear,” returned Droad in exasperation.

“What did you do to my tactical squad?” Steinbach demanded of Jarmo, livid fury on his face. “This must be the most frustrating day of my life.”

“We both took each other by surprise. I think they meant to sneak up on us while the other beasts hit us from the front, but that failed. Unfortunately, they did manage to ambush us.”

“Ambush you? Ambush you? How can a pack of dinosaurs ambush anyone?” asked Steinbach, beating one gloved fist into another.

“It was a tactical error,” admitted a Captain of the tactical squad, speaking up for the first time. “It was my error, not Jarmo’s. From the description, we were expecting a herd of elephants, something like that, but these things are intelligent. They stayed back in the dark and then rushed us from either side. At first our body-shells saved us, but then they simply knocked us down, planted one of their huge feet on our guns and gored us.”

Jarmo nodded in agreement. “They are faster than they look when charging.”

Steinbach made a rude sound of disgust. He walked away from the circle of men. “I’m surrounded by incompetence,” he muttered.

“What are they up to now?” asked Droad.

“They’re holding back, waiting for reinforcements, perhaps, or new orders by radio,” said Jarmo. Before he could say more, the sky outside brightened with an orange glare and the earth shook beneath their feet.

Droad looked at Jarmo and smiled. “The mechs.”

As Droad expected, the battle for Grunstein International had been going well for the humans up until that point, but the arrival of the mechs decided it. They came out of their jump-webbing at a dead run, weapons blazing. Two flitters came down in front of the terminal, hitting the aliens there from the rear, while two more landed in the blastpans and a terrific struggle began with the monsters among the gates.

Cagey and wary, the juggers knew they were out-matched by the combined forces of the humans, but they didn’t immediately attack in the berserk frenzy so common to the other types. These larger ones behaved more like hunters, more like men. They worked to sell their lives as dearly as possible. When it was all over, three of the mechs had been rendered inoperative.

Walking back to the security center through the smoking ruins of the terminal building, Droad noticed Jarmo, who came up and fell into step beside him.

“This is the time for caution, sir,” said Jarmo in a hushed voice. His ever-vigilant eyes flicked over every moving thing around them.

Droad nodded vaguely, almost too tired to care if the militiamen assassinated him.

They made it all the way back to the center before Sergeant Manstein asked: “Hey, where did Steinbach go?”

Droad looked around, surprised. He had just been there a moment before, hadn’t he? The last he could recall seeing him was sometime before the counterattack by the mechs. After that he had simply vanished.

“He couldn’t have run out on us, where is there to go?” remarked Sergeant Manstein.

“Go find him, Jarmo,” said Droad. “I don’t trust the good General. From now on, it is your personal responsibility to keep an eye on him.”

Jarmo walked away, smiling.