Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [73]
Sprinting forward, Jackson and Rodale joined the two men of the advance guard.
“I’m taking one of those plasma guns,” the lieutenant said. “Harris and Falco and I will check out these rooms—I don’t want any nasty surprises coming up behind us. You men keep pushing forward. If you find a side passage, look for a place to set some C-6. I want to give these bastards the impression that they’re getting attacked by a whole battalion.”
“You got it, LT,” Ruiz said, and then turned to LaRue. “Cover me.”
The big man merely nodded as the master chief dashed down the corridor that led deeper into the Eluoi building.
Jackson pulled one of the plasma guns off a dead Eluoi soldier—the fellow had taken the burst of one of Ruiz’s grenades full in the face from the look of him—and strapped the heavy battery pack to his back. The controls were the same as those on the weapon he’d used on the starship, and he wasted no time setting the power dial to the Eluoi hieroglyphic he had deduced meant “maximum.”
With Harris and Falco covering him, he quickly seared through the heavy metal doors that were near the doorway through which the SEALS had entered the building. The first two rooms he discovered looked to be simply garrison quarters, with two double bunks, some chairs, and a small table, as if four men lived there. The next room was a weapons locker, with several cases lined up against the wall and standing open, as if the Eluoi had grabbed their guns out of there and hastened to the attack without waiting to secure the room behind them.
But none of them showed any indication of an ambush party lurking in the rear. By this time, the sounds of the firefight were moving deeper into the massive structure, and so the three SEALS hastened after their comrades.
Jackson heard another explosion and found Ruiz and LaRue crouching, moving through a large room where six corridors converged in this single circular chamber. Rodale came jogging in from one of the side passages. Sanchez snapped off careful suppressing shots down the other side corridor, the rounds making little noise as he shot but sparking and skipping off the stone floors and walls.
“Looks like a big storage locker down there, LT,” Rodale reported. “Might be a good place to set off a charge.”
“Make it happen,” Jackson replied. “The rest of you, let’s find a place to move upward. Sanders and the others are probably still up there, unless they’ve been taken away by aircraft.” He remembered the shot that had knocked out their gear when they had landed and imagined a silver lining. “With a disabled transport on the landing pad, it might be a little while before their flight ops are open for business.”
A moment later Ruiz reported back. “Elevator shaft over here, LT. Do we risk it?”
Jackson considered it for just a moment. The risk was not trivial: If they entered an elevator and their progress was being tracked by the defenders, it might be easy to shut off the car and isolate them. Or even, as he remembered the savant’s tactic on the spaceship, to pipe in immobilizing or poison gas.
But they had to keep moving. Right now they had the initiative, and the defenders were clearly taken aback by the humans’ aggression in charging into a fortified structure with such a small group. The SEALS had taken the pursuit by the garrison force and shoved it right down the enemy’s throat. The only thing to do now was to keep up the pressure.
“We’ll take the chance. Hold the car and we’ll take it as soon as Rodale gets