Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [37]
“Not for long,” Jackson declared. Already the four sacks had been carried into the shuttle. The last man was carrying Ruiz, and he started up the ramp while the two guards remained at their posts, their attention directed toward the air lock.
“Falco. Take out those two.” The sniper was all but guaranteed a kill at that range. “The rest of you, follow me!”
Jackson burst around the curve of the dome, sprinting in long, leaping strides through the low-G environment. One of the guards spun and went down. Eerily, there was no sound from Falco’s shot, but the spray of blood and escaping air from the man’s suit indicated a hit to the heart. The second guard saw his comrade fall and raised his gun, spinning toward the approaching SEALS.
The officer was already halfway to the shuttle—each stride seemed to cover five or six meters—when the second guard went down, fatally hit.
“Watch the air lock!” Jackson warned, not sure if some of the intruders were still in the station.
Chief Harris had been doing just that and sprayed a burst into the hatch as two more figures emerged into view. They both went down, gas and fluids escaping from numerous holes in their perforated pressure suits. Another came after them; his crystal helmet shattered when Harris loosed another burst, and the man thrashed horribly as he tried to suck a breath from the virtually airless atmosphere.
That target was still twitching as Jackson reached the base of the ramp. He held his weapon at the ready and sprinted aboard the shuttle, looking for targets, mindful that an unconscious Ruiz was somewhere ahead of him. Nothing moved, and so he charged up the ramp, confident that the other SEALS were following him.
He found himself in an air lock, with a sealed hatch before him leading, obviously, to the interior of the ship.
“Breaching charge!” he called, and Harry Teal tossed him a small pack of C-6 explosive.
Catching it, Jackson saw Falco charging up the ramp behind the others—logically enough, since the lieutenant had not ordered him to stay put. He was moderately surprised to see Sanchez, Marannis, Dobson, and Robinson also emerge from the station, the two fire Teams sprinting toward their fellow SEALS in the shuttle bay.
“Watch the station air lock—there might be more of them!” Jackson barked, and Falco and Harris immediately knelt on the ramp and leveled their guns at the station’s entrance.
Jackson slapped the explosive against the hatch; the magnetic coupling held it fast. Only then did he hesitate for a second. There were ten SEALS in the relatively spacious air lock, but even in the large chamber, there was too much risk to set the charge off while they were there.
Yet the only way to put some distance between themselves and the blast would be to head back down the ramp and out of the shuttle.
Jackson had the soldier’s view of a hard-won position: Don’t give it up unless you have to. He held off on setting the charge. “Chief! Got any idea how to work this hatch without blowing it to hell?”
Harris came up and studied the mechanism. “Looks to be a mechanical latch, LT. But this box here—that’s some kind of electronic override. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before, and pretty tough to—”
His words were blocked out by a piercing shriek so loud it was like a pair of daggers stabbing into Jackson’s ears. The others bolted upright. Clearly, the electronic attack was affecting all of them. Immediately Jackson snapped off his communicator, and the squeal stopped.
“They’re jamming us!” he shouted, pointing to his ears; the others quickly disabled the comlinks.
But that was the least of their problems. One glance at the ramp confirmed that the platform was moving. It snapped upward quickly, nesting into a tight gasket around the base of the air lock.
The SEALS were trapped.
Seven: Tezlac Catal
“Drop and flatten!” Jackson shouted as the shuttle lurched abruptly.
He forgot that the Team’s communicators were shut off, but the men clearly didn’t need any prompting: All ten SEALS dropped flat on the deck as the