Read Online M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance) by Doug Hoffman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Doug Hoffman
Tags: scienc fiction
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one of the lieutenants pushed forward with a status report.
“Captain, our main body has advanced to just short of the fuel storage bay and are heavily engaged with the alien demons. Those left as a rear guard report more demons advancing from the control section.”
“Did they say how many?”
“No, Sir. They must have been overrun—I can no longer reach them by communicator.”
“Then time is of the essence. To the aft end of the ship and quickly. We must fight our way as close to the ship's fuel cache as possible.”
BP-1 & BP-2, Inside the Destroyer of Worlds
Lt. Westfield's squad closed on the remaining aliens from the bow of the ship while Capt. Rodriguez and company served as a blocking force, keeping the retreating crew from gaining access to the antimatter storage spaces.
“Well what ever you might want to say about these creatures, they are not cowards,” commented Sgt. Aurora to no one in particular. The aliens had repeatedly charged her squad's position, swarming forward firing projectile weapons at the Marines. Unfortunately for the aliens those weapons were ineffective against the Earthling's armored suits.
“Hey Sarge, looks like they're coming again!”
“It's going to get noisy again, Lads,” called Sgt Tuttle. Since they were fighting in vacuum it was really not going to get noisy, but the Marines of 2 nd squad knew what the former SAS operative meant.
Swarming out of holes and hatches in front of the Marines' positions the alien crew made one last, all out effort. More than a hundred of the cold life crustaceans surged toward the twenty eight Marines of BP-1, trying to overwhelm them by shear weight of numbers.
“Captain, I don't think we can hold the fuel bunker and the shuttle at the same time!” Sgt Aurora yelled, loosing another burst from her multi-barreled railgun. She, like all the Marines, was starting to worry about running out of ammo before they ran out of aliens.
“Right,” replied Capt. Rodriguez, emerging from the fuel store. “Shuttle One, take what you have on board and head back to the ship. Now!”
“Aye aye, Ma'am,” Lt. Lawson responded from the flight deck. Almost as the words were uttered the shuttle began to back out of the hole it had made in the hull during the initial attack.
“1 st squad, fall back on the AM store. The rest of 2 nd squad, reinforce 1 st squad. We need to stop these critters before they can get to the remaining antimatter.”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
“BP-2, BP-1. Come in Lt. Westfield.”
“Go, BP-1” came Westfield's voice, clipped by the comm circuit.
“What's your position?”
“We are about 200 meters in front of your position, directly behind the alien swarm.”
“Move to their flanks so you don't take friendly fire. Then give 'em everything you got.”
“Roger that, BP-1.”
“Use your suits' IR vision,” GySgt Washington broadcast over the common frequency. “The ambient temp in here is down around -170 but the sand fleas register -50 or so. Just don't fire at anything hotter, it's one of us.”
“Gotcha, Gunny,” someone replied.
Green streaks from 5mm flechette tracers laced the girder crossed interior, with counterpoint provided by explosions of various sizes: rolling waves of fire from 15mm cannon shells, orange blossoms from 20mm grenades and the even larger flares of the last few breaching missiles.
* * * * *
In the midst of the surging crew, the alien Captain advanced carrying the antimatter bomb in a sling. At first it looked like the massed attack was going to work and give them access to the fuel cache. But then their advance faltered.
“Charge!” the Captain cried, urging his crew on. “Think of your brood-mates! Think of our beautiful, blessed world!”
They surged forward with renewed purpose but again progress soon stalled in the face of withering enemy fire. “It's no good, Captain,” his first lieutenant said plaintively. “The attack is failing, we will not gain the fuel
“Captain, our main body has advanced to just short of the fuel storage bay and are heavily engaged with the alien demons. Those left as a rear guard report more demons advancing from the control section.”
“Did they say how many?”
“No, Sir. They must have been overrun—I can no longer reach them by communicator.”
“Then time is of the essence. To the aft end of the ship and quickly. We must fight our way as close to the ship's fuel cache as possible.”
BP-1 & BP-2, Inside the Destroyer of Worlds
Lt. Westfield's squad closed on the remaining aliens from the bow of the ship while Capt. Rodriguez and company served as a blocking force, keeping the retreating crew from gaining access to the antimatter storage spaces.
“Well what ever you might want to say about these creatures, they are not cowards,” commented Sgt. Aurora to no one in particular. The aliens had repeatedly charged her squad's position, swarming forward firing projectile weapons at the Marines. Unfortunately for the aliens those weapons were ineffective against the Earthling's armored suits.
“Hey Sarge, looks like they're coming again!”
“It's going to get noisy again, Lads,” called Sgt Tuttle. Since they were fighting in vacuum it was really not going to get noisy, but the Marines of 2 nd squad knew what the former SAS operative meant.
Swarming out of holes and hatches in front of the Marines' positions the alien crew made one last, all out effort. More than a hundred of the cold life crustaceans surged toward the twenty eight Marines of BP-1, trying to overwhelm them by shear weight of numbers.
“Captain, I don't think we can hold the fuel bunker and the shuttle at the same time!” Sgt Aurora yelled, loosing another burst from her multi-barreled railgun. She, like all the Marines, was starting to worry about running out of ammo before they ran out of aliens.
“Right,” replied Capt. Rodriguez, emerging from the fuel store. “Shuttle One, take what you have on board and head back to the ship. Now!”
“Aye aye, Ma'am,” Lt. Lawson responded from the flight deck. Almost as the words were uttered the shuttle began to back out of the hole it had made in the hull during the initial attack.
“1 st squad, fall back on the AM store. The rest of 2 nd squad, reinforce 1 st squad. We need to stop these critters before they can get to the remaining antimatter.”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
“BP-2, BP-1. Come in Lt. Westfield.”
“Go, BP-1” came Westfield's voice, clipped by the comm circuit.
“What's your position?”
“We are about 200 meters in front of your position, directly behind the alien swarm.”
“Move to their flanks so you don't take friendly fire. Then give 'em everything you got.”
“Roger that, BP-1.”
“Use your suits' IR vision,” GySgt Washington broadcast over the common frequency. “The ambient temp in here is down around -170 but the sand fleas register -50 or so. Just don't fire at anything hotter, it's one of us.”
“Gotcha, Gunny,” someone replied.
Green streaks from 5mm flechette tracers laced the girder crossed interior, with counterpoint provided by explosions of various sizes: rolling waves of fire from 15mm cannon shells, orange blossoms from 20mm grenades and the even larger flares of the last few breaching missiles.
* * * * *
In the midst of the surging crew, the alien Captain advanced carrying the antimatter bomb in a sling. At first it looked like the massed attack was going to work and give them access to the fuel cache. But then their advance faltered.
“Charge!” the Captain cried, urging his crew on. “Think of your brood-mates! Think of our beautiful, blessed world!”
They surged forward with renewed purpose but again progress soon stalled in the face of withering enemy fire. “It's no good, Captain,” his first lieutenant said plaintively. “The attack is failing, we will not gain the fuel
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