Ponco was about to move forward when somebody opened fire from the other end of the tunnel. Thanks to the lights mounted on the T-2s, Santana could see that a hastily constructed barrier had been thrown across the passageway. And judging from the number of ricochets that were zinging around him, the defenders were trying to bounce bullets off the walls as a way to score hits on the people sheltering behind the T-2s.
Ponco was forced to retreat, and the T-2s paused as projectiles pinged off their armor. They fired in return, but it appeared that the barricade was serving its purpose. “This is ridiculous,” Dietrich said disgustedly, as he stepped in between the cyborgs. His grenade launcher produced a ka-chunk sound followed by a couple of seconds of silence. Then came an explosion loud enough to deafen unprotected ears. The firing from the far end of the passageway stopped. “That’s better,” Dietrich said. “Stomp ’em!”
The T-2s went forward, with Ponco right behind them. They tore the barricade apart and kept going. Santana had to step over three human bodies all dressed in militia uniforms before he could proceed. None of them appeared to be female, so he knew Temo had survived and was on the run.
A steel door marked the end of the tunnel. It had been open but began to swing closed as somebody pulled on it. A T-2 made a grab for the handle as Dietrich fired a grenade through the gap. There was a flash, followed by a bang and the clatter of shrapnel hitting the door. Then the T-2s led the way into the staging area beyond the door. As Santana entered, he saw chunks of meat lying around, blood-splattered walls, and a wounded Ramanthian. The trooper raised a pistol, and Santana shot him.
Then it was time to call a momentary halt so that the rest of the platoon could catch up. And that’s where Santana was when Lieutenant Grisso prodded a militiaman into the room with her assault rifle. “This one was playing dead, sir. Jordin was going to kill the bastard, but I said you’d want to talk to him.”
Santana realized how stupid he’d been. It was a basic rule. Dead bodies aren’t dead until they’re proven to be dead. He’d been so eager to move forward that he had forgotten to check. He was lucky to be alive. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good work.”
Having turned to the militiaman, Santana frowned. “You have one chance to survive-and that’s to cooperate. Where is the control room? And where did Major Temo go?”
The soldier had lost his helmet. There was blood on one side of his face. Someone else’s probably-and he had a furtive look. “The control room is two levels below us. I can take you there. As for the major, I don’t know. There’s a landing pad on the roof. She might be headed for that.”
Santana turned to Grisso. “Take everyone but Lieutenant Ponco and Sergeant Major Dietrich. Go to the control room, place the charges, and meet us on the roof. If this man is lying shoot him.”
“Yes, sir,” Grisso said eagerly. “Come on people… You heard the major. Let’s rig this place to blow.”
“Okay,” Santana said as he looked from Ponco to Dietrich. “Let’s hustle. We need Temo alive if possible. If anyone can give us a status report on the STS cannon, she can. Plus, I want to see her hang.”
A Klaxon was bleating, bursts of click speech could be heard over the PA system, and the floor trembled as something exploded outside. Ryley? And the second platoon? Yes, Santana thought so. It seemed they were making good progress.
Ponco led the way, with Santana and Dietrich close behind. They followed a ramp up along the side of a wall. It led to a dead body. A Ramanthian body. Santana was determined not to make the same mistake twice so he stopped to check it. “Either Temo and her people killed this bug, or he committed suicide. My money is on the first possibility.”
“Mine, too,” Dietrich said. “It looks like the love affair with the bugs is over.”
That theory was borne out as the threesome followed a trail of bodies out into the main corridor, where they came under immediate fire from a group of Ramanthian troopers who were hiding behind an improvised barricade. Weapons clattered madly as bullets flew, and Ponco was forced to back up.
Dietrich threw a grenade at the opposite wall. The angle was such that it bounced out of sight and blew up. Santana followed the noncom’s example, heard a second explosion, and entered the corridor ready to fire. But there was no need. The Ramanthians were not only dead, but doubly so, as Dietrich put an extra bullet into each one of them. Meanwhile, having jerked some furniture loose, Santana made a hole in the barricade.
Then it was onwards and upwards toward the roof and the sound of fighting outside. “This is Alpha One to Alpha Two-One,” Santana said. “We’re inside the plant and about to exit onto the roof. Alpha Three is setting charges in the control room. Use fire from the T-2s to plow a path through the minefield and enter the building. Over.”
“This is Alpha Two-One,” Ryley replied. “Roger that. We’ll join you as soon as we can. Over.”
Santana heard a roaring sound punctuated by the sound of gunfire as Ponco led them onto a flat roof. A Ramanthian transport was parked at the far end of the space. Its engines were running, and a side door was open. And there, with their backs to Santana, three humans could be seen. They were crouched behind a pile of cargo modules, firing at a group of Ramanthians who had taken cover behind a waist-high blast wall. “The bug pilots are waiting for someone,” Santana shouted. “A VIP of some sort, and Temo is trying to hijack his ride. Dietrich, watch our six. Ponco, circle around. See if you can enter the transport from the other side. Take control of it if you can.”
Dietrich turned back toward the ramp, and Ponco flew away as Santana raised his weapon. The CA-10 wasn’t a sniper rifle. Far from it. But the range wasn’t too bad, and he was a good shot. The key was to leave Temo alive.
He looked through the scope, selected the man on the left, and fired. The target toppled forward and collapsed. Temo was in the process of turning in that direction when the man to her right fell. Having realized where the fire was coming from, the renegade turned. Santana was waiting. The bullet flew straight and true. Temo’s left knee exploded in a spray of blood. She made a grab for it and fell over backwards.
Santana heard a couple of explosions as he ran forward, knew that Dietrich was taking care of business, and figured that the VIP was dead. Bullets whipped past his head as the Ramanthians fired at him. The projectiles sounded like angry bees.
Temo had managed to sit up by that time. She was trying to bring her weapon to bear on him when Santana arrived to knock it away. “Oh, no, you don’t!” he said, as the rifle clattered onto concrete. “Stay where you are.”
Then he was down behind the cargo modules as Ramanthian bullets hammered them. Temo pulled her belt loose and began to wrap it around her leg just above the knee. “I suppose you’re Alpha One,” she said through gritted teeth. “Congratulations. I don’t think Antov could have accomplished what you have.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Santana said, as he raised his visor. “Now tell me about the STS installation.”
“What do you want to know?” Temo said as she pulled the tourniquet tight.
“I want to know what kind of backup power supply they have.”
“Smart,” she said. “Very smart. What’s it worth to you?”
“Nothing,” Santana said coldly, as Dietrich arrived and ducked down beside him. “But you could save the other knee.”
Pain was etched into Temo’s face. Her eyes were locked with Santana’s. “You wouldn’t.”
“He would,” Dietrich put in, as a series of loud reports were heard from the direction of the transport. “If not, I’d be happy to do it for him.”
Temo closed her eyes and opened them again. “The head bug is a fanatical bastard named Commander Dammo. He has a fusion reactor on Headstone. Chances are that he could fire two or three shots without using power from the geo tap.”
Santana felt his spirits fall. He’d been hoping that if the power plant went off-line, the STS cannon would be rendered useless. “This is Alpha One-Three,” Ponco said over the radio. “The transport is ours. Over.”