Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [71]
“Sir?” It was Harry Teal. “I put a patch on your shoulder that should help cut down on the swelling and some of the pain. I can give you a shot of endorphin for the pain if it’s bad. Would that help?”
“It sure as hell would if I was gonna lie down and take a nap,” Jackson replied. “Thanks, but no. We’ve gotta keep moving, and I don’t want anything that might slow me down.”
“Just give the word if you change your mind, sir.”
“Thanks, Harry,” the lieutenant said seriously.
It was damned tempting, but he wouldn’t allow it. These were his men, his platoon, and he was responsible for them. Christ! What a clusterfuck this mission had turned into! Four men lost in the first action. The rest of the Team captured, stranded, lost somewhere in the galaxy, with two good men—not to mention the civilians who were also Jackson’s responsibility—still in the enemy’s hands.
Roughly he forced the wave of self-pity away, recognizing the emotion for the destructive force that it was. He tried to lift his arm and failed, but the resulting jolt of pain was like a shot of common sense. They still had their weapons, their wits, their skills. They were SEALS, dammit!
And they were far from finished.
The reduced Team made its way through the murk. Chief Harris was on point, followed by Falco and Rodale. LaRue and Teal accompanied the lieutenant—despite his bravado, Jackson was grateful to have the strong man’s shoulder for support—while Sanchez, Marannis, and Robinson came directly behind and Ruiz brought up the rear.
They finally came to a four-way intersection where a crossing alley led to the right and left. From there they couldn’t discern the nature of the buildings rising up on each quarter of the crossing, but Harris turned right, leading them away from the base of the structure where they had landed the jetcar.
“Got something back here!” Ruiz declared curtly.
A sliding door on the side of that structure, some ten meters above ground level, slid to the side, and one of the Eluoi soldiers leaned out. He was carrying one of the battery-powered firearms they first had encountered on the ship, and he immediately spotted the master chief.
Ruiz dropped him with a quick suppressed burst, and the fellow toppled out of the doorway to fall all the way down to the muddy ground. A pair of soldiers stuck their heads out, squeezing off a flash of electrical energy that went high, scouring the wall overhead and leaving the stink of ozone lingering in the air.
LaRue was being even more miserly with the ammo for his big weapon than Falco was with his sniper rifle. The big SEALS was husbanding the remaining copper slugs and the power cells on his back until he encountered another target that really called for them. For this situation, he kept Baby strapped to his back and pulled up his G15. He still had plenty of 30-millimeter grenades and the launcher to send them flying after the enemy.
Falco snapped off a single shot from his underbarrel grenade launcher. Pressing a control on the launcher switched the fuse in the grenade over to impact. When it smacked into the ceiling of the corridor revealed by the open door, the explosion of his round was more than enough to drive the remaining Eluoi back into shelter.
The SEALS moved quickly away. Ruiz held his weapon ready, snapping off another burst at the first glimpse of one of the white turbans. Something rolled out of the open doorway, clattering down the walls, and they saw that the pursuers had dumped a decidedly low-tech ladder down the wall.
“Wait!” Jackson barked as the coiling ropes dropped all the way to ground level. “They just opened the door for us. Master Chief, close in.”
Ruiz was already charging toward the dangling ladder. Pulling a grenade from its bandolier, the rangy Puerto Rican grabbed one of the rungs with his free hand and started clambering