Starcross

Chapter Five - Part lV

            Spinnaker couldn’t hear anything so he did like Javier and closed his eyes to improve his hearing. At first he didn’t notice anything different but then his ears picked out a deep, baritone, two- tone oscillating noise coming from in front of them. He was about to ask what it was, possibly an animal that he didn’t recognize, but then the radio in his helmet crackled to life.

            “Alert! Alert!” The voice said with hints of panic. “We have aircraft inbound.”

            “Marines!” Spinnaker shouted immediately after hearing the communique. “Lock and Load!” He sat on his foot and raised his body high enough to allow his head and shoulders to poke over the top of the sandbags, then leaned his rifle over and propped it up, aiming down the sight. Up above, he knew that the heavy machine gun Fitzgerald had pulled out of storage was racking a round into the chamber and the gunner was aiming somewhere at the sandy ground split by a road and dotted with concrete.

            The noise, sounding like someone blowing on an empty bottle, continued to get louder along with the feeling of fear in Spinnakers gut; the same kind of fear that came along every time he went into combat. Fear of, not only dying but, having his men die, of failing and knowing that he did something wrong.

            As it always did when he prepared himself to kill someone, time slowed slightly and his senses sharped. Four large, black, Delta shaped craft appeared over the hills in the distance and drifted at a cautious speed toward the main research building that the men were entrenched around. Shaped like a three dimensional rhombus with the points facing outward and with short, stubby wings with tubes facing downward, blue flame glowing from the bottom keeping it aloft. As each craft got close enough he saw the tubes twitch in different directions to direct the thrust in an effort to slow it down and keep it steady; more than once Spinnaker wished that his unit wasn’t only on reservist duty if only so they would have been carrying a few surface to air, or SAM, missiles.

            They were on reservist duty for training when the order came down to assist the Druidth colony, which was now attacking them, only carrying in their rifles and a small amount of ammunition to protect themselves in case some of the terrorists showed up again or riots broke out. Problem was if they had been on active duty then chances were very good they would have been dust right now like so many others.

            The first and second ships lowered to the ground and part of the sleek frame popped open with gull wing doors on either side as black armor clad troops jumped out into the dust, the figures spreading out and diving to the ground. In a true testament to how well his men were trained no one fired yet, knowing the enemy was out of range of the rifles they carried. Instead, when the first and second ship lifted off and the third ship was coming down, the big .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the roof began barking.

            A cacophony sounded off behind Edward and a gentle whipping sounded above him as the 13 millimeter rounds streaked down range, red beams streaked through the air as every fifth round, which were phosphorus coated tracer rounds, ignited and showed the gunner where the bullets were landing. Those still standing when the bullets started falling danced like marionettes and collapsed, a pink mist puff out from behind them. If we’re lucky, Spinnaker thought to himself, the Fifty’ll take care of them for us.