"Aaaaahhhhh!!!" Sergeant Bobby Christophson closed his eyes, squeezing tears past the lids as he heard the anguished howl of pain. He knew that Private First Class Beach had just been maimed yet again. There weren't many from the platoon left. PFC Abercrombie hadn't been coherent since arriving in the penal asteroid. Gunny Lundsford and Lieutenant Czymczyk hadn't been brought along, so Bobby was sure that they were dead. Bobby was the last surviving NCO of 3rd platoon, Alpha company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Fleet Marines. There were a few other troops scattered around within the prison, but Christophson had never been able to talk to them.
The jailers/ torturers dragged Beach's limp body back into the filthy cavern that the remnants of Bobby's platoon shared. They dropped him on the rough ground, not even pausing to chuckle as Beach's head bounced off the rocks. One did pause long enough to spit on the unconscious Marine, and then they turned their attentions on Abercrombie. Christophson was desperate to protect the kid, but all his shouting got him was solid hammer blow to his head. Bobby laid on the floor, arms twisted in nearly unnatural positions as he vomited over and over again from the head wound. In one last, frantic attempt to buy Abercrombie a few moments more, Bobby kicked at one of the torturers. For his efforts, he was set upon and beaten thoroughly.
Some detached portion of his mind saw awareness return to Abercrombie's one good eye, and the broken toothed smile sent a shiver of fear up his spine even in the middle of the beating. The guards finally finished with Christophson and returned to the PFC. As they lifted him up, difficult due to his missing an arm at the shoulder, and having knee that had been broken several times, Abercrombie waited until he was close enough to lunge. He sank his broken teeth into the throat of one of the guards, ripping it out. As the men jumped back, the Marine launched himself forward on his good leg. He never reached his target as a spiked club was slammed into his maimed shoulder, reopening the major arteries there.
As Abercrombie fell for the last time, the entire cavern danced crazily with emerald light, the snapping of energy bolts burning tunnels through the air overwhelming all other noise. The two guards exploded as the laser bolts sawed through their torsos. Bobby tried to sit up, but all he could do was convulse and retch as his body rebelled against the treatment it had just taken. Tears began to flow as he saw ISA Marines flooding into the cavern and heard their weapons killing the men who'd been hurting the prisoners so badly for so long. Cries of "Medic!" could soon be heard as the new arrivals began to sort out the prisoners. Two were called for Abercrombie, but it was already too late.
A lone Marine knelt down next to the dead PFC and carefully turned his head to look at his features. The man removed his helmet and stared. He looked up and then around and finally, back at the prone figure. Bobby heard a sob and then the whispered words, "I'm sorry, Joel. I thought you guys were all killed at Ganymeade."
The words and voice parted the clouds in Christophson's mind, "Gunny?"
It took the rasping voice three times to make the word audible to the crouching man, but finally he spun around, his eyes locking with other man's, "Bobby? Oh, dear God, Bobby, you're alive?"
Colonel Lundsford turned and scuttled over to the prisoner, gently helping him upright. A nanite impregnated cloth was in his hand and Jason Lundsford was wiping the sterilizing and wound knitting applicae gently over his best friend's face. "Jesus, Bobby... I had no idea..."
"It's... it's good... to see... you... Jason," Christophson gasped as his stomach tried to heave again.
"Medic! Hold on, Bobby. We're getting you out of here. Medic, God Damnit!" Jason was shoved aside as a Marine slid onto his knees to stop next to Christophson. The man checked Bobby over and nodded. He injected a large dose of medical nanites, called nanodocs, into the injured man and moved on, leaving Jason to do the basic first aid that was required.
"Colonel!! The Wogs know we're here, and they ain't happy!"
"Hold what you've got, Gunny Takata! We're getting the survivors together, now."
"Aye, sir. But make it quick!"
"Bobby, can you walk?" Jason looked his friend in the eye.
"To get out of here? Try and stop me," the man's strength was returning, and Jason gave him a protein and carb squeeze pouch as he administered a stimulant. Moments later, Christophson was feeling more alive than he could remember and was climbing unsteadily to his feet. "Got a rifle and some ammo?"
Jason rested his armored hand on Bobby's shoulder for moment and then called to one of the medics, "Fujikama! Your rifle and spare ammo."
Jason made a makeshift bandoleer out of some cloth scraps while Bobby continued to regain his strength, and the medics collected every Marine they could find, alive or dead and got them ready to move.
"COLONEL!!"
"Marines, let's go! Gunny Takata, First squad is moving up to assist you. Keep that door open."
"Aye, sir! Be advised that the enemy is moving up heavy munitions."
"Understood. Right now, don't worry about accuracy. Volume will work to keep their heads down."
"Copy that, sir. We're already doing it. All the same, you'd better move fast."
"Copy, Gunny. We're on the way. First squad get up there and help 2nd platoon hold the way open. Go."
The Marines took off at a trot, their heavy, 6-barrelled laser gatlings held out in tactical present, while the rest were slinging huge, 30mm belt-fed shotguns. The procession of wounded followed, those that could either carrying the weapons the medics were too busy to use, or helping other Marines along. Bobby looked down at Jason's right arm, just now noticing that he also had a laser gatling attached there.
Jason and Bobby were with the point men, only a few places back. The heavy squad had gone on ahead. No one paused to think that a tunnel that Takata had already blown closed would be reopened so quickly. The first two point men disappeared in shower of armor shards and bloody mist. Jason slammed up against the corridor wall, pulling Bobby with him.
"Satchel charge, up!"
Another Marine sprinted forward and heaved a canvas wrapped bundle of high explosive down the corridor. The detonation rocked the tunnel and a quick peek showed that the corridor was well and truly plugged. "Move out, Marines! Gunny Takata, be advised that the plugs may be failing faster than we had hoped. We've just had to restop one tunnel."
"I copy, Colonel. We've got the main intersection pretty well bottled up. We're taking heavy fire, but we've got cover now."
"Understood. We're not far from you. Can you send some of the heavy weapons troops back to ensure the cross tunnels ahead of us are closed?"
"I can spare a couple, sir. I'd be hesitant to risk more."
"Ok. Do it. Tell them we're only a few minutes away. Tell them, also to do a head count as we pass. We picked up 17 Marines, 4 are on stretchers, 6 are assisting each other, and 7 are carrying extra weapons."
"God bless the Marine Corps, Sir."
"Oorah, Gunny. Let's just get 'em home."
The line of Marines moved forward, the sounds of the fire fight Gunnery Sergeant Takata and his men were in getting louder with every step. Finally, just as the procession was about to reach the intersection of corridors the Marines were fighting for, a tunnel plug was breached and a muzzle of a weapon was pushed through. The hail of osmium flechettes blew through Lundsford's left arm and chest, spinning him around. He extended his right arm and fired the laser gatling, shock precluding him from even knowing he was so badly hurt. The horizontal rain of laser light splashed the plug and the emergung enemy troopers, driving them back. A satchel charge spn down the corridor and went off, the shockwave sending Jason skidding on his back the opposite way. The suit had closed down over the neatly amputated shoulder to seal in the blood, but the bone was another matter. As Jason tried to regain his feet, the bone in his shoulder grated against the concrete. Bobby, who was trying to get him to stay down, saw Jason's eyes roll back in his head as he toppled forward.
"Medic!" Christophson shouted. Two of them shoved him aside and rolled the wounded Colonel onto his back. The suit's med suite was not responding, so they had no choice but to crack the chest of the armor open. Christophson sobbed as he saw the damage to his friend's chest. Even through his tears, he reached into a pocket in the Medic's backpack and began rigging emergency IV's to assist them.
"We have to move him. We've got to get to Takata and pull out!"
"Stabilize him first, Doc!"
"Listen to me, Marine, if we don't move, we risk losing everyone. We have to move him to consolidate our position!"
Grudgingly, Christophson nodded, and helped the medics close Jason's armor back up. As the lifted the Colonel, Bobby recognized that the way his head hung meant he was already all but gone. Tears flowed, unnoticed and unchecked.
When the Marines finally got to the rally point, Takata turned to see the Colonel laid out on the ground. He raised up just a bit too high, and the back of his helmet bulged out as his head exploded within it.
Recognizing the ensuing disorder, Bobby realized that the chain of command had been broken. He grabbed a trooper and yelled, "Help me get the gunny out of his suit!"
"What?"
"You need a combatant more than you need an invalid. Do it!"
Hearing the command tone in Bobby's voice, the man cracked Takata's suit open and dragged the headless corpse from within. Christophson had already taken Lundsford's helmet and was tinkering with the mechanical setting controls to neutralize the brainwave records it had stored for Jason. Bobby crawled into Takat's suit, ignoring the cold, slimy leavings of the dead body, and trying not to smell the voided bowels. His headache redoubled for a moment as he settled Jason's helmet onto the armor's neck ring. Gradually, the pain receeded and Bobby rolled over onto his hands and knees.
The troops were on the barricade and firing continuously, a quick inventory showed no satchel charges left. Bobby fired off a few rounds as his nausea resettled and he was able to think again.
"Marines, keep up the cover. Break. Command net. Who do I have?"
"This is Captain Petree. Who are you?"
"Sergeant Bobby Christophson. I was one of the POW's that you're trying to pull out. Captain, we've had a complete breakdown in command here. I don't know the withdrawal plan. What do I do?"
"Sergeant, eh? You'll be a lieutenant after this. Ok, listen up. We're going with our go-to-hell plan. Sit tight. You're about to get reinforced in a big way."
"Understood, sir. How about the evac?"
"We've got it covered, Lieutenant. By the way, how long have you been in there?"
"I don't know for sure, sir. Since Ganymeade."
"Oh... You're gonna love this. You're about to see a pair of the only squad of BAD suits we have yet."
"Bad, sir?"
"Battlefield Area Denial, Lieutenant. Those things are awesome."
A fe minutes later, the sound of heavy, rythmic thumping could be heard approaching. Christophson looked through the baricade he was crouching behind and was stunned at what he saw. Walking tanks, larger than a Marine's armored battlesuit, sporting four cannons over its shoulders and two of what Bobby assumed were the laser gatlings. The hulks stomped their way into the intersection, fire sleeting off their extemely heavy armor. They took up a position back to back, and each deployed stabilizer pads from his boots. The big shoulder guns lowered into position and the arm gatlings began to spin. Suddenly the world was noise and light as the big quad guns spat 2cm osmium chunks at hypersonic velocities and the arm guns spewed forth their streams of death.
"Colonel."
Bobby didn't realize that they were talking to him. Jason's rank was still plastered on the ear pieces of Bobby's helmet.
"Colonel. Sir, you sould get everyone moving."
"Me? I'm not Lunsdford. I'm Christophson."
"Of course, sir. You should get everyone moving to the shuttles. We'll cover your withdrawal."
And cover they did. The rest of the trip was uneventful, the BAD suited Marines rejoined the evacuees, only firing the occassional shot down the long corridor. The shuttles sealed up and Bobby sat next to Jason as the medics tried frantically to save him. The shuttle pilots warned of excessive G forces and hard accelleration, but Bobby was lost in a world of memory.
Jason died just before docking with the Fort Wagoner.
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