COLD WAR: Alien Siege: Book 2 Read online

  He clamped down the angry words that rose to his lips. It was a fucking desert, what did she expect? Keenan inhaled deeply, reminding himself that the earnest scientist didn’t deserve his anger.

  Bells strode up, her athletic frame towering over Beaufort. “This ain’t nothing Doc! Just wait till summer!” She gave a snort of laughter and a grin, her teeth a feral flash of white against her onyx skin.

  Her cheerfulness, normally endearing, now grated on Keenan. He turned to look for the other two members of his contingent. Kekoa and Bennett humped the remaining gear, the shorter Kekoa taking the brunt of the heavy equipment because of his cybernetic legs.

  Bells bounded up to the entry gate, her long strides eating up the walkway. “Hestia, we’re home!” she said as she waved her bracelet at the scanner and the speaker crackled to life.

  “Greetings, Corporal Chan. ”

  Keenan stepped to the scanner and smacked his bracelet against it. “Hestia, I have Dr. Beaufort with me, please notify Colonel Phillips we have arrived.”

  There was a short pause as the base AI no doubt searched for the Colonel.

  A moment later, “Yes, Lieutenant Flynn., please escort Dr. Beaufort to the main lab in the lower levels. Colonel Phillips will meet you there in 10 minutes.”

  Keenan turned to Bells. “Get the gear unloaded and I’ll get Doc down to the lab.”

  She nodded, her dark curls bobbing with the movement. “Sure thing, boss. I’m starving too so you can find us in the mess hall after.” She turned to head into the bowels of the enormous base. “C’mon fellas! Coffee and bacon are on me!”

  Bennett took off his black cap and ran his fingers over his closely shaved skull before tagging in and scooping up his rucksack and gear. Kekoa grumbled a bit, dropped all the gear but his ruck and then tagged in with a quick swipe. “See ya later, Doc!” He scooped all the bags and made a beeline for the mess hall, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

  Keenan drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly and reminding himself that she wasn’t there. Cam’s not here. You won’t see her ever again.

  That grim thought must have bled through to his face because Beaufort, ever direct, placed a hand on his forearm. “Are you alright, Keenan?”

  He shook his head. “No, doc. I’m not. But the Colonel is waiting.” Keenan gave her hand a squeeze in thank you and escorted her into the entryway. Mission first. Questions for Phillips burned inside him like a hot coal. His grieving could wait just a bit longer.

  ***

  Dr. Abbé appeared just as Keenan remembered from their voyage years ago to the Arctic Circle, energetic and fast moving. The scientist’s hands gestured constantly, his features tugged into a frown. His mood certainly hadn’t gotten sunnier despite his time here in the desert climate. He merely grunted at Keenan in greeting.

  For Dr. Beaufort though, the dour little man gave an effusive hug and European air kisses, followed by a rapid-fire exchange in French between the two. Figures.

  Phillips walked in and made a beeline for Keenan.

  Years of habit pulled Keenan out of his funk as he stood at attention and snapped off a crisp salute. “Sir.”

  Phillips nodded abruptly at Keenan and then pulled him away from the scientists. “Son, I know you must have some questions.”

  Keenan looked into those searching blue eyes, and gave a small shake of his head. Now that he faced the Colonel, he slumped, finding himself at a loss. “I don’t even know where to start, sir.”

  The Colonel pursed his lips as if holding back his words. Finally he seemed to come to some decision. “Mack was the only one who made it back. He’s probably got more answers for you than anyone else about how it went down.”

  Keenan nodded, mentally searching to place a face to that name.

  Phillips helped him out. “Mack’s back in the field with Kennedy. There’s a lot going down right now. The shit hit the fan with Segovia and we’ve been shoveling ever since.”

  Keenan leaned in a little closer. “More Ringheads?”

  Phillips’ eyes slid to a secured door on the side wall. “Step inside the video room with me, Flynn.”

  Surprised the Colonel would be imparting something that the scientists wouldn’t be privy to, Keenan stepped into the video room with Phillips.

  Rows and rows of screens lined the back wall. Phillips pressed his hand into the scanner and the central row of screens flickered to life from their electronic sleep. Keenan watched in silence, wondering why Phillips thought a video was necessary at this moment.

  Phillips keyed in a few strokes and then turned to Keenan. “None of this leaves the room. Dr. Beaufort is not cleared to see this.”

  Keenan nodded, feeling uncertain. “Understood, sir.”

  Phillips scrubbed a brisk hand over his eyes. “These vids were downloaded from Operation Eagle Eye. When Jonesy needed his sight restored, we had prototypes of the neural networks implanted with his new eyes. It’s not perfect, but when it works, it can give us extremely detailed intel.”

  Keenan’s eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline. He knew Jonesy well, but had never understood the full extent of his cybernetic implant.

  Phillips began to speak more rapidly now, as if finding the right cadence to deliver this information. “Dr. Abbé decoded this after Mack returned. We have had no further transmissions since then. Only Abbé, Gunny, and I have seen this. And now, you.”

  His curiosity rising, Keenan tipped a chin at the screen. “Ok. Hit me.”

  Phillips swiped two of the central screens and monochrome footage began to play. At first, Keenan couldn’t make out what he was seeing. Shortly though, his eyes began to recognize the sinuous alien lines of the background.

  The seconds dragged on as Keenan watched the feed in stunned silence. At the final bit of footage, he blanched and turned to Phillips with a snarl. “That’s Cam.” His heart pounded and he felt his neck flush with the heat of anger and fear. “Where is she? When was this taken?”

  Phillips pointed to the bottom corner of the feed where a small series of numbers was displayed. “Abbé thinks this feed is about six hours after last contact in Segovia.”

  Keenan could feel the fire of hope coursing through him and had to take a calming breath before repeating the latter half part of his question. After some quick mental math, he came to the unpleasant result that two weeks had passed since this footage. “Do you know where she is?”

  Phillips nodded. “Abbé believes she’s here.” He pulled up a holographic map of Antarctica. Then he spun it slightly before tapping a spot high above the Earth.

  Keenan blinked. “She’s in space?”

  Now Phillips paused and when he spoke, his words came slower. “Abbé manually did the calculations. That’s all we have and it’s two weeks old. We don’t know if she’s still there. But Jonesy’s signal data indicates the last transmission came from somewhere directly above the Needle.”

  Keenan collapsed into the nearest chair, staring at the blurry video frozen on Cam’s face. Her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was strapped upright into some kind of machine. His gut rolled over and fell off a cliff, a wave of helpless, impotent anguish crashing over him. “She’s been going through god only knows what these last two weeks.”

  Phillips laid a firm hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly. “Steady, son. Stay with me here. I need you to keep your head in the game if we’re going to have a chance at bringing her back.”

  Keenan nodded slowly. He looked from the screens into Phillips’ hard gaze. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back.”

  ***

  Stepping back into the lab, Keenan saw that Abbé had pulled up a full sized three dimensional rendering of a Ringhead Hunter. Dr. Beaufort was pacing beside it, looking small next to the seven foot long monster.

  Abbé pointed to the claws and elbow spikes, “I have been working on the armor to withstand these, and await data from one the material engineers.”

  Beaufort nodded a
bsently, then tapped and swiped on her tablet. “I confirmed with Corporal Chan that in addition to the softer flesh here at the neck, there is a vulnerable spot here.” Beaufort tapped at the lower belly of the holographic image.

  Keenan snorted. “Bells only found that out because she fell under one the first time we encountered those bastards.”

  Looking up, Beaufort’s lips quirked. “She is very resourceful.”

  Keenan approached the Ringhead image and gestured to the claws. “It’s important to stay out of reach of these. They like to gut us with these spikes.” He kept his voice dispassionate, the same way he talked to his students at the training center. However, unlike his soldiers, these scientists didn’t need to hear about how Ringheads would stab a soldier in the throat and the arterial spray would coat everyone within a five foot radius.

  He cleared his throat. “When they aren’t stabbing us, they crush us in the rib cage area, or shake us the way a terrier does with rats.”

  That’s how Cam had gotten hurt before. Some Ringhead Hunter had picked her up and squeezed. And kept squeezing. Keenan shook away the memory of those scary moments in the medical ward with her afterwards. That’s over now, man. Shut it down.

  He looked at Abbé. “But I gather they’ve found a new way to kill us now, right Doc?”

  Abbé looked startled for a moment, but gave a short nod in response. “Yes, the icers, yes.”

  Keenan hadn’t been on base, but he’d read the after-action reports. “What do you make of it, Doc?”

  Abbé looked over at Dr. Beaufort. “Honoree, I’ve been waiting to go over this with you too.” He pulled up a few more holo displays. Images began to scroll and Keenan recognized them as Segovia.

  Finally Stan zoomed in on an interior shot. “This is the kitchen footage from Sergeant O’Neill’s helmet cam.”

  Keenan was afraid that he was seeing something ripped from his nightmares. “What’s going on, Doc?”

  Stan poked at the image, then gestured at a series of alien structures jutting out of the tiled floor of the kitchen. “These cylinders were found in the kitchen, by the pool, and also over by the lake. They generate a massive freeze effect, chilling the atmosphere around them.”

  Keenan took a moment to process this. “Jeezus. It’s the Needle.”

  Beaufort gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth in distress.

  Stan frowned. “It’s worse than than, Lieutenant--it’s an armory for the Ringheads.”

  ***

  Keenan leaned against one of the cool walls of the lab, barely listening to Beaufort and Abbé chatter on. Apparently the Ringheads used these cylinders to encase themselves in some kind of super ice armor, making them nearly impossible to kill.

  He’d blooded himself in combat with the Ringheads over the mega monolith dubbed “the Greedle” over in Greenland. He’d lost too many men that day and he knew he would never forget the horrible sensation of severing Kekoa’s legs with a plasma knife.

  Two years later, when he’d found out Cam had nearly died at the hands of another Ringhead, Keenan realized that as bad as losing his own men had been, it was a special kind of agony to watch your love lying pale and still in a hospital bed, each breath hardfought. They’d made it through that and Keenan had started to hope for a future together. At least, until a message from Phillips two weeks ago crushed those hopes.

  Now Cam was back to possibly alive, but captured and being tortured on an alien ship. Oh, and the Ringheads had figured out a way to breach the green zone. The hits kept coming.

  His breathing had shallowed out. Bad. He needed to pull his shit together, he couldn’t let his team see him fraying like this. Keenan concentrated on regaining some control, slowing his breaths before he passed out. The good old standby of inhaling for four counts, holding for four counts, exhaling for four counts. His eyes drifted to half mast, the fatigue of the trip piling onto him at last.

  As he watched from his spot in the lab, one of the doors slid open to admit a trim blond man in a dark suit. Abbé turned to the newcomer and a sour expression marred his face. “Oh, it’s you Agent Harding.”

  Keenan found himself amused despite his fatigue. Abbé looked at this new guy like something he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoes.

  Agent Harding ignored Abbé and stroke over to Beaufort. “Dr. Beaufort, I’m Eli Harding, US Liaison for the IWC.” He held out his hand.

  Beaufort peered down her nose at his hand and with a pause, she shook it briefly and then dropped it like a hot rock.

  Huh. That was strange. Keenan had never seen Dr. Beaufort be anything but courteous. First Abbé, now Beaufort. Who was this guy? He studied Harding, seeing a clean-shaven and neatly attired man, maybe a decade older than himself. Not a scientist. Taut and fit, but not in uniform so Keenan ruled out military. What does he do for the IWC?

  Abbé drew a breath and puffed out his chest. “Honoree, Agent Harding has been waiting for you.”

  Beaufort stared at Harding, her normal warmth missing in that gaze. “I had no idea why I was being summoned down.”

  Harding gave her an easy nod and turned to Keenan. “That’s right, Lieutenant Flynn was not cleared for that information.”

  Keenan straightened from the wall. “I’m just following orders, Agent Harding, was it?”

  Abbé snorted, interrupting the brewing tension in the room. “I don’t see why Keenan wouldn’t be cleared seeing as how he recovered the item in the first place!”

  Harding’s nostrils flared in annoyance but his voice was mild. “Nevertheless, I’m going to have to ask the Lieutenant to vacate the lab while Dr. Beaufort and I discuss the reason for her visit.”

  Keenan didn’t know who the fuck this guy thought he was ordering him around, but reined in his surge of temper. He had bigger fish to fry right now, namely, tracking down Mack. He tipped his head to the doctors. “See ya, doc. Catch you later in the mess hall.”

  Beaufort blinked in surprise but gave a slow nod. “Yes, okay. I’ll meet you there, Keenan.”

  With that, Keenan stalked out. It was time for some answers.

  ***

  With a satisfying click, the latches to his gun case switched up and Keenan popped open the sleek black case to reveal his babies. Two experimental plasma rifles were nestled within their foam cutouts. The majority of Keenan’s life as a soldier had been as a rifleman with standard ammo. Now he had these directed energy weapons and he definitely liked their stopping power. Nothing like a seven foot tall blue alien bearing down on you to give you an appreciation for plasma bolts.

  Mack had been out on patrol so Keenan had halfheartedly shoveled down some grub at lunchtime while trying to organize his questions into some semblance of order. He’d given up, both on eating and reasoning and decided to hit the range. Beaufort had been a good sport, eating with him in a companionable shared silence. Keenan felt bad, he knew he was lousy company. To his surprise, she asked to join him at the range.

  She pointed at two weapons, asking “Are they the same?”

  Keenan shook his head. “Hell, no. This is Unique and this is Monique.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  He tried again. “No, they do look very similar but this one is hotwired to speed the bolt charging. More rapid rate of fire. A little heavier.”

  Keenan lifted the other one out. “This one is a bit lighter, more stopping power but the bolt chamber is smaller so bolt formation takes a fraction longer.”

  Beaufort’s eyes lit up with interest. “Light enough for me to use?”

  Keenan’s mouth curved into a slight smile. He really liked the doc. Her toughness made her a standout in the civilian pool he normally dealt with. She had saved that Marine over in Antarctica three years ago, and that was saying something.

  He walked over to the shooting station, and handed Beaufort a set of goggles. No need for ear protection with these. “Abbé is working on a backpack to power these longer for us. These work pretty well on the Ringheads, or at least they did
before this Icer armor.”

  Keenan made a few swipes at the console and re-set the gallery. A grisly alien replica loomed in front of them on the landscape.

  He checked her stance. Falling into teaching mode felt good. Familiar. Though he rarely had to teach basics like proper rifle form. “Always assume every weapon is loaded. In the case of a plasma rifle, that will be true as well.”

  Beaufort nodded, her face set in tight lines as she concentrated.

  Keenan pointed to the rifle he was holding. It was currently pointed away from both of them. “Always point your weapon in a safe direction.”

  Since Beaufort was already squared off with the target, he didn’t adjust her. “Your stance is good. Are you right handed or left handed?”

  She lifted her right hand.

  Keenan pointed at her legs. “What about your legs? Stronger side?”

  Beaufort thought for a moment, then shifted her right foot forward. “This one is better for me.”

  Keenan tilted his head. “Huh. Goofy foot. Ok, move your stronger foot about 15 centimeters behind the weaker one.”

  She adjusted her stance. Keenan then went on to show her how to line up the buttstock of the rifle and how to adjust her grip. With each instruction, Keenan felt more like himself, more in control. Beaufort was a good student, careful, and she asked good questions.

  When she was ready, Keenan took back the rifle and pressed a sequence into the stock.

  Beaufort’s brows drew down in confusion. “What are you doing?”

  He double checked the power gauged. Locked and loaded. “This rifle is keyed to me. Experimental Projects only authorized a few of these.”

  Beaufort gasped, her fine brown eyes brightening with an inner fire. “That’s it. That must be it.” She took a step back from the platform and yanked off the goggles. “I have to go back to the Vault. Thank you, Keenan.” Then she dashed off.