Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [68]
“It’s Zaro, that son of a bitch!” snapped Sanders. “Damn, LT. Look at that!”
It was indeed the treacherous agent who had betrayed the Martian outpost. He stretched casually, spoke to several white-clad Eluoi of the ground crew, and then entered one of the hangar-type buildings.
“Let’s drop in and see if we can catch him at the office,” Jackson declared.
Falco nodded and tried to mimic the smooth landing approach made by the Eluoi pilot. They watched as a small tractor pulled Zaro’s aircraft off of the landing circle. Char-Kane took over the controls, slowly settling them toward the same place.
The lieutenant touched his mike and addressed the rest of the Team. “We’re going to be touching down in a few minutes. I want everyone standing by, ready to move, but wait for my orders. Except you, Dobson—keep a finger on the trigger up there and be ready to cover us. Acknowledge.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” he heard, repeated multiple times from the passenger bay. Dobson, up in the turret, leaned down into the cockpit and gave him a thumbs-up.
The approach went smoothly, the engine rising to a high pitch as the jetcar came to a stop in the sky and slowly settled straight down. The landing zone Char-Kane had suggested was currently empty of aircraft, though there was a hangar to one side that was closed. A few Eluoi in the unadorned white suits stood back to watch as the aircraft gently touched down with barely a bump.
One of the ground crew advanced toward the aircraft as the jet engine slowed to a whine and then settled into silence as Falco cut off the fuel. Another Eluoi emerged from the hangar hauling a long hose, obviously a fuel line.
The first person to approach the machine looked up at Falco in the pilot’s seat and touched his throat mike, obviously asking something that wasn’t coming through the machine’s comm system. Falco shrugged and pointed to his earphones, then indicated the fueling port on the side of the jetcar.
The ground crewman nodded and gestured to his comrade, who brought over the hose and inserted it into the port.
“Now we’ve got to move fast. I want to get inside and take out their alarms before they know what hit ’em,” Jackson said. Peering into the shadowy hangar, he didn’t see any other people moving around, a sign that he took as very encouraging. “Everyone ready?” he asked.
“Aye, aye, LT,” came Master Chief Ruiz’s reply from the passenger bay. “Just drop the ramp and we’ll roll.”
“Dobson, stay up in that turret in case we need some cover,” Jackson said to the SEALS gunner. “Those of us in Eluoi uniforms will go out first. The rest of you get ready to come charging out if we need you.” He nodded at Falco, who pushed the lever to open the hatch.
The shot took them all by surprise. It came from a small building to the side, a structure he barely had noticed. A wall had fallen away to reveal a small gun with a crew of three Eluoi. A projectile struck the front of the aircraft with a heavy punch, rocking the nose to the side and dropping it heavily to the ground.
“Shit, they knocked out the landing strut!” Falco shouted. “We’re grounded, sir!”
The two ground crewmen were racing back to the hangar. Dobson let them go and directed the fire of his weapon against the Eluoi gun. A stream of slugs spewed from the turret gun, knocking out the gun crew and perforating the small shed that had concealed the weapon.
“Drop the hatch! Move out! Go!” Jackson bellowed.
Falco already was lowering the exit ramp. The lieutenant, Sanders, and Falco ducked into the passenger compartment. “You two stay here,” he told Sulati and Parker. “At least until the coast is clear. You SEALS—move out!”
The SEALS automatically split up by shooter pairs and went on the attack. Falco and LaRue darted toward the doors on the east end of the pad. Chief Harris and Harry Teal ran to the west. The other two pairs closed in on the disabled battery, spraying it with their G15s as more white-uniformed Eluoi tried to advance out of the shed.
Ruiz and Rodale took up stations