Forever Until Tomorrow (War Eternal Book 5) (36 page)

Stoker raised his hand, counting down with glove-covered fingers. When he reached his fist, the side door slid open, and the three jumpers hurried out. A blast of arctic air sent a chill through Mitchell despite the protective clothing, his arms starting to burn. He shook them out while the door slid closed again.

"Better buckle up, Colonel," Stoker said. "This part's going to be fun."

Mitchell hurried to the side of the craft, taking a seat between Michael and Max and strapped himself in.
 

"Hoo. It's been a few years since I was involved in a DFA," Max said, laughing.

"DFA?" Michael replied. The flight hadn't been kind to him, though he had taken it like a real soldier.

"Death From Above, bro," Max said. "Enjoy the ride."

Michael's face paled even more. The humming of the VTOL's engines stopped.

Then they began to fall.

The craft wasn't completely out of control. It had been designed for the maneuver as a way to quietly unload a team of soldiers into hostile territory. While Mitchell didn't think the area around the Dove was hostile, he didn't know it wasn't either. Watson had been making plans for years, while he had only been himself for days.

The VTOL rocked against rough spots in the air, the specially designed and painted surface allowing it to plummet with barely any sound. Mitchell glanced at Daisy, Lyle, and Cooper across from them. Lyle looked the most uncomfortable, his eyes closed as though he were praying.

The repulsors kicked on, howling as they fought to break the descent. Stoker took that as his cue, standing up and heading for the weapons rack. Max was close behind.
 

Mitchell unbuckled and stood, checking Michael one more time. He was the only one not wearing military gear, his frame too large for standard issue. Daisy had told them to expect a large friend, and they had provided an insulated jacket and pants. Even so, the plan was for him to stay on the VTOL with Verma while the others went inside.

Mitchell was sure Michael would vomit as soon as they did. He had his head resting in his hands, and refused to look up.

"We'll get what we came for, and then we'll find Katherine," Mitchell said, kneeling next to him.

Michael nodded. "Be safe, Colonel," he said softly.

"You've got a lot of guts, Michael," Mitchell replied, clasping his shoulder. "Thanks for helping us get this far."

Michael looked up then, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, sir."

The hatch opened a second time, and he climbed onto the wing and then to the ground with the rest of the soldiers. Koos, Dawes, and Damon had snuck up on the two guards, holding them at gunpoint while the cavalry arrived.

"UEA soldiers, sir," Koos said. "Lieutenant Murphy and Captain Ribisi. They said they aren't authorized to tell us anything else."

"Did they give you any trouble?" Stoker asked.

"No, sir."

"You checked them?" Mitchell asked. The soldiers were wearing what looked like an earlier version of the exoskeletons he was familiar with. The suits were bulkier, but they looked plenty destructive. He noticed the ammunition feeds had been disconnected from the firing mechanism.

"Yes, sir. No resistance and they're clean."

"This area is supposed to be clear," Stoker said to them. "Who did you come with, and what are you doing here?"

The two soldiers didn't answer.

"Lieutenant Murphy," Stoker said, approaching the one on the left. "My name is Lieutenant Colonel Stoker, Fifteenth Infantry, Drop Division, United States Army. What are your orders?"

Murphy was holding his helmet in his hands, his pale face emerging from his insulated headpiece. He glanced over at Ribisi, who shrugged. Then he looked at Stoker. Then he looked over Stoker's shoulder, directly at Mitchell.

"You're too late to save her, Mitchell," he said. "Boom."

Mitchell didn't hesitate. He threw himself at Max, who was standing closest to him. "Get down," he shouted.

He didn't see the explosion, but he saw the flash of light and felt the rush of heat from it. He heard the echo of the detonation and the cries of the others nearby.

Then he was face down in the snow, still holding Max. He felt a line of cold air and warm blood on his leg where a piece of debris had cut him.

"Shit," Max said, lifting himself up. Mitchell gathered himself and rose on unsteady legs. Half the squad was down, and the purity of the ice was ruined with bits of metal, blood, and body parts.

"Geezus," Lyle said from his knees nearby.
 

Corporal Cooper was beside him, alive but wounded, her arm hanging loosely at her side, nearly sheared off by the blast.

"What the heck just - oh man," Mitchell heard Michael say from the VTOL.
 

"There are medkits near the cockpit," Damon said. She was the only one of the Fifteenth still on their feet. She reached Damon, helping her up and leading her toward the VTOL. "We walked right into a trap, Colonel. We need to get the frig out of here before things get worse."

Mitchell looked at her, and then back at the entrance to the ship. When was he going to learn to shoot first and ask questions later? When was he going to start treating everyone as an enemy?

Never, that was when. He would rather die himself than gun down innocent people because they might turn out to be suicide bombers.
 

"Things are getting worse," Max said, raising his rifle to his shoulder.

Mitchell followed the muzzle toward the pavilion. Four machines had made their way from its confines. He recognized them immediately, though he had never seen a whole one. He remembered looking at the pieces of them, back on Asimov. Asimov? He felt a chill. Millie. Another one he had lost.
 

He got to his feet, bringing his own weapon up. The machines charged, their spider-like legs carrying them forward in a hurry. They didn't have guns and didn't need them. Their weight and the sharp edges of the metal they had been assembled from was more than enough.

"Michael, get back inside," Mitchell shouted, aiming at one of the machines. It was headed right for the VTOL. In fact, they all were.
 

Watson had gotten here first, and he didn't want them to leave.

Max opened fire, his bullets pinging off the alloy shell of the creations, leaving dents but not stopping them.
 

"Aim for the legs," Mitchell said, adjusting his sights. He blew three legs out from the first, slowing it down.

Lyle joined the fight while Damon continued helping Cooper toward the VTOL. It was still safer inside the craft than out. Two more legs vanished from his target, and it lost the ability to move.

There were still three more, and they weren't going to be able to stop them before they reached the ship.

Or at least, Mitchell thought they wouldn't until a panel opened on the bottom of the craft and a pair of high-caliber chainguns dropped down. They started firing, tearing the machines to pieces within seconds.

"Hoo. That was frigging close," Max said.
 

"Are you hurt?" Mitchell asked.
 

"Just my feelings."

"Lyle, are you hurt?"

"Negative, Colonel."

Damon had reached the VTOL. Michael helped her get Cooper back on board and then returned to the hatch.

"Are we leaving?" he asked.

"You're too late to save her," the Lieutenant had said. Did that mean Katherine was here? Had these soldiers come with her?

"No. Tell Verma to get the VTOL somewhere safe and wait for my signal. Katherine may be in there, and if she is, she's in more trouble than I thought." He looked at Max. "We're going to get her out."

"Affirmative, Colonel," Max said. "Oorah."

Michael disappeared into the VTOL again. Sergeant Damon appeared in the hatch as first repulsors came online, and then the jets.

"How is the Corporal?" Mitchell asked.

"I don't know. I patched her up, but she's losing a lot of blood. She might die if we stay here."

"More people might die if we don't."

Damon jumped down. "Then let's make this quick." She glanced at the bloody ice. "I owe these assholes."

Mitchell turned back to the Goliath once more. He would never be able to think of the ship as anything else. "We all do," he muttered.

"Wait up," Michael said, landing heavily on the ground next to the aircraft's wing. "I'm coming with you." He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the mess on the ground.

"Michael," Mitchell said. "It's not a good idea."

"Because I'm not a soldier, right?"

"That's one reason," Max said.
 

"Because I'm fat?"

"There's nothing wrong with fat, bro," Max said. "Except when you're getting shot at. Bigger target, you know what I mean? There may be running involved, too."

"I'll hold my own, or I'll get killed, okay," Michael said. "I told you Colonel, Kathy is my only real friend. There's nothing more motivating than that."

"Do you know how to shoot?" Mitchell asked.

"I'm in the top 10 on the XenoTroopers international tournament ladder. It's VR, but the engine's won awards for its realism."

"Fine. Max, find the man a gun. Michael, I can't worry about trying to protect you."

"Don't, Colonel. I'll take care of myself."

Mitchell nodded. Then he raised his arm, waving Verma and the VTOL away. It rose quickly, dipping a wing in salute before heading from the site.

Max wiped down one of the discarded rifles, fired a shot to make sure it was still functional, and then handed it to Michael.
 

"This was Daisy's," he said, as seriously as Mitchell had seen him. Max bit his lip and clenched his jaw. "Shit."

Michael took it, holding it as if he had more experience than any of them. In some ways, maybe he did.

"Let's go," Mitchell said, heading toward the hole in the Goliath.
 

Watson had been expecting him. Had he been expecting Katherine too?
 

He was sure the rogue intelligence believed it was in complete control.

This time, they were going to prove otherwise.

They made their way into the ship, moving in a standard formation, with Mitchell taking point. He glanced back a few times every few meters to make sure Michael was keeping up but quickly relaxed when he saw that the man at least knew how to stay organized. Apparently, XenoTroopers was a team game.

Entering the Goliath brought with it a heavy mixture of sadness and relief. The memories were often hard to ignore, the pain of them lingering at the edge of Mitchell's consciousness with every second that passed, every step that he took. Relief, because after his long wait, he was back in action, moving forward on the plan that a past version of himself had concocted with a prior Katherine and what he assumed was the current Origin. He wasn't able to believe that all of their planning had fallen to waste, or that Watson had outmaneuvered them so completely again. Even if he had found some loophole to insert agents at an earlier place in the timeline.

Not after everything he had sacrificed.
 

Not after the years he had lost.

Not after the wounds he had suffered, the scars he bore, or the blood that even now was leaking from the gash on his leg. If he and Katherine were both here, together, he had to believe that this was their plan, not Watson's. Especially after how hard the Tetron had tried to kill him before he made it this far.

Watson had been here before them, but maybe the big talk was because the intelligence was afraid? Maybe Mitchell hadn't taken the intelligence completely by surprise, but that didn't mean he hadn't gotten the drop on him.

"There's nothing in here," Lyle said, sweeping his rifle across another corridor. "I was expecting Xeno War Two after the shit we ran into outside."

"That was to let me know he was here," Mitchell said.

"He's got a damn frigged up way of saying hello," Max said.

"You have no idea. Keep your eyes open. If he has the facilities he can use any of the materials in here to make more killing machines."