Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [109]
“Ensign!” he shouted down, the familiar word penetrating the rising clamor as only a master chief’s voice could.
Sanders looked up at once and raised his fist with a whoop of triumph.
“Stay put!” Ruiz cried, emphasizing the request by extending his palm. “We’ll be right there!”
Rodale already had flagged down the other SEALS. Sanchez fell back to rejoin his partner at the outer door, and the other four men descended the nearest stairways, joining the stream of fleeing Assarn until they reached the floor. They had to fight through the crowd to make their way to the four Earthlings. They approached the cell, which was cleaner and better lit than those of the Assarn prisoners, and Ruiz ordered his three Teammates to watch the approaches while he stepped inside.
“Damn, Chief, am I glad to see you!” declared Ensign Sanders, wrapping his arms around Ruiz in a hug that broke about five regulations.
“You, too, sir!” the master chief replied, disengaging only to be hugged by Dr. Sulati while the normally aloof director pounded him on the back and Dobson, in a momentary flight back to his native Alabama, shrieked a rebel yell.
“We’ve got to get out of here pronto,” the chief urged, delighted at the reunion. “We’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest on this planet, but if all goes well, we’ll be able to hop the next bus out of town.”
“Lead the way, Chief,” Sanders said. He was still clad in his olive cammo uniform, though he looked rather naked without his equipment harness or weapon.
“Here, sir,” Rodale said, extending his assault rifle butt first toward the young officer. He passed over a pouch on a shoulder strap containing the last of his half dozen spare magazines.
“I can always crack off a shot or two with this,” the gunner’s mate noted with a grin, pointing to the rocket launcher on his shoulder as he pulled out the VP90 10-millimeter caseless pistol from the holster strapped to his thigh.
“Let’s move,” Ruiz said, glancing out to see that the mob of Assarn had thinned considerably.
“We got company, Chief,” G-Man reported grimly, looking deeper into the pyramid. Men in white uniforms, dozens of them, were advancing at a trot along each side of the fourth-story causeways.
The Eluoi aimed downward, and shots zipped out, ripping streams of slugs into the fleeing prisoners. A young woman, her blond hair suddenly streaked in crimson from a head shot, fell to the floor a dozen paces away. More of the Assarn tumbled, shouting and screaming in pain, as the two columns of Eluoi soldiers moved forward along the catwalk, raking the defenseless crowd with lethal fire.
“Bastards!” Ruiz spit. Pointing to the approaching reinforcements, he shouted, “Take out that far catwalk, Rocky.”
As Rodale shrugged the rocket launcher off his shoulder and brought it to bear, Ruiz screamed “Down” at the Assarn behind Rocky and then hit the deck, hoping they’d have the sense to get the idea. Many of them did.
In a searing burst the missile exploded from the tube, climbing on a straight trajectory toward the first of the Eluoi on the left catwalk. The projectile hit the metal grid and exploded in a burst of fire and shrapnel, killing a half dozen of the enemy in the blast. The heat was so intense that the catwalk buckled, dropping twenty more soldiers precipitously onto the lower catwalks or, for the less lucky, all the way to the floor.
As Ruiz got back to his feet, he noticed that at least a handful of Assarn didn’t get back up. But the building worry about how the Assarn would react to the unfortunate collateral casualties was quickly washed away as the Assarn gave out a ragged cheer
The SEALS kept returning fire with their small arms as well. In one smooth motion, Rodale released the grip on his M76 Wasp and brought out his pistol again. Thumbing the safety over to full automatic, he held the weapon steady with his strong right arm as it blasted out a stream of slugs. All the SEALS were putting out a storm of high-velocity slugs from their weapons. In the odd hissing