Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [55]
Then the heavy machine gun opened up again, spitting slugs across the valley floor, shattering rock and pulverizing snow. Jackson once again pressed his face to the ground as the stream passed. When he raised his head, he saw the shots pounding the snow nearby and heard Coxswain Grafton curse.
They were in a hell of a pickle, the LT knew. They couldn’t advance and couldn’t retreat without exposing themselves to that lethal barrage.
He could only hope that Chief Harris and his team would get up the hill and take out that gun, right about now.
Twelve: Shelter from the Storm
Harris led his fire team in a sprint up the steep slope of the valley’s side wall. He thought longingly of the .1 gravity of the asteroid, realizing that this moon’s mass rendered their weight close enough to Earth’s that it didn’t make any difference. Between his suit and his gear, he was carrying some two hundred pounds up the hill, and he was beginning to feel every one of them.
Still, the four SEALS already had climbed several hundred meters, and they continued to make good time. They were nearly as high as the heavy machine gun emplacement, which continued to be revealed by the flashing muzzle blasts every time the gunners directed another barrage into the men pinned down on the valley floor. Harris glanced to the side as the gun fired again, considering a path of approach that might bring them around to the high side.
As a result of his focus, he almost stumbled into the massive white-furred alien that abruptly reared up in front of him. The chief found himself staring into the barrel of a gun so large that it looked like a piece of field artillery, and he did the only thing his instincts allowed: He threw himself backward, landing flat on his back as the alien’s weapon discharged. He felt the concussion of the blast against his helmet but had his G15 up even as he fell; with a single squeeze of the trigger he pumped a controlled burst of three rounds into the alien’s chest.
Unfortunately, that only seemed to make it mad. The creature pumped the loader on the underbarrel of his gun, which appeared to be very similar to a typical shotgun—albeit with a very large barrel—and uttered a bellowing roar, displaying a muzzle full of sharp white teeth.
“Fuck it,” Harris muttered, flipping the G15 to fully automatic. Before the beast could pump its round into the chamber, the chief fired a whizzing stream of rounds into its belly, sweeping the barrel upward to the wide throat. The magazine emptied quickly as the alien dropped its gun from nerveless fingers and started to topple forward. Harris rolled out of the way just before the corpse, which probably weighed six or eight hundred pounds, could land on top of him.
“Christ, Chief. What the hell is that thing?” Falco demanded, kneeling next to the bloody shape.
Harris saw the apelike muzzle, the deep-set eyes sheltered under a craggy brow, and the long fingers, each the size of a bratwurst. The teeth were sharp but not as long as a big dog’s fangs, and the body was lankier than he had first thought; it merely looked like a bear because of the thick coat of hair.
“It’s a goddamn yeti is what it is,” Teal said, coming up with the G-Man.
“Huh?” LaRue demanded.
“You know, the Abominable Snowman,” the corpsman explained impatiently.
“Yeti, sure,” Harris agreed, turning to eye the machine gun nest again. “Let’s make some more dead yetis.”
Another burst of flame emerged from the big muzzle as the automatic weapon spewed a series of rounds into the valley. The machine gun was still active, and Harris knew that the big slugs could wreak havoc among his Teammates if the aliens got the range down.
“Falco, do you think you can take out the gunners from here?” he asked the sniper.
“I dunno, Chief,” the sniper replied. “In this visibility, it would take a bit of luck. I can’t even see who’s shooting the damned thing.”
“Yeah, I know,” Harris grunted, wondering if they should simply charge the emplacement.
“Uh, Chief. What about Baby?” LaRue asked. “We can’t see