Chapter 75

We're too fucking late, Lieutenant Richardson thought as he heard gunfire. "Move up. Move up," he commanded on the main channel.

"Now, Kayla. Now!" Jeff had yelled to Kayla.

But Vasquez turning his weapon in the general direction of Jeff was all the Ship needed for the protocols involving defense of its Master to take effect. An antipersonnel turret formed high up on the side of the Ship, locked on and fired in a space of time almost shorter than anything a human mind could register, the women and the ship firing as one as Vasquez swung his weapon over the wall.

The weapon type had been refined over many centuries and many battles. Not only was it efficient as an antipersonnel weapon, but it was also designed to bring a lasting fear to any battle survivors who might have observed the weapon in action. A clap of thunder followed as the beam superheated the air from the plasma bolt traveling through it at near light speed, but that was only part of the effect. The disruptor beam also associated with it, added its unique sound as well. The beam wasn't designed to disrupt the bond between all the molecules it struck — just some of them. Having your buddy explode, sending gobs of his cooked flesh, not to mention his blood, splattering all over you, was something that would bother most any being, to understate. Plus, the weapon sounded like the crack of doom, anyway.

The Ship alone would know if her beam beat the hail of bullets to Vasquez. Jeff was the only one who could talk to her, and he wasn't interested in anything right now except getting Arlene to the healing tank before the last of Little One's energy was used up and the stasis field collapsed.

Vasquez didn't even have time to realize he was dead as the hail of bullets from the women, for whom he had so much contempt, ripped into his head and the beam from the Ship exploded him in a reeking circle of carnage. If his demise bothered any of the women, they didn't show it. Jeff didn't even slow with Arlene, but just hugged her tighter to himself and kept going. Diana added her strength to Laura's to help Helen increase her struggling gait.

As Jeff and his women left the plowed-out parking lot and reached the deep snow of the range, Jones tossed his rifle to Carter and scooped Helen into his arms. The rest of the team surrounded Jeff and the women, escorting them to the Ship. Jeff, followed by the others, crashed up the ramp and into the Ship where three chambers awaited.

Lowering Arlene gently into the first chamber, Jeff stood to watch the mist form over Arlene and Little One. Diana went to her knees beside the chamber. Looking back up at him, "Jeff, do you think..."

"She'll live," he emphatically started. Then as the Ship filled his mind with updated information, he said again, "She'll live. I guarantee it."

Diana leaned against the chamber and sobbed with relief as Jennie and Melissa knelt to hold her.

"Good," Laura said to her husband as she pointed, "now get your ass in that chamber."

"What ... No way. I'm going to wait right here with Diana until Arlene comes out of the chamber. Then we can talk about my arms. They aren't bad, anyway."

"Bullshit," Kayla said to her mate as she stared at the ribbons of skin hanging down from his wrists and the matted blood on the back of his head. "Get in that chamber like Laura said, or so help me, I'll get the team in here to put you in there."

Jones stood back grinning, watching his colonel get a dressing down.

"Look, Kayla," Jeff tried to reason. "I can wait for Little One to come out. She'll fix me up just fine."

Whitworth walked back in. "He never could take an order worth a shit," he joked. "Son, why don't you get in that chamber before I have to see if you will obey a direct order or not?"

Jeff looked at his General, but now that things were calming down, the pain was starting to really manifest itself, and the dizziness he had been fighting from the blow to his head was getting harder to control. Sighing, he eased into the chamber and lay back. "I want to know when..."

But the mists covered him and the sentence was cut off.

Jones had already put Helen gently down. "You're next," Kayla said to her.

Helen tried to chuckle, but the tears rolling down her cheeks told a different story. "That little jog up here really started the rib back up," she gasped out, holding her side. "I won't try to be macho." Turning to Jones as she held a hand tightly to her bandaged side, she thanked him, then shrugged off the coat draped across her shoulders and let it drop to the deck. Jones and Ann helped her into the chamber, her body soon disappearing under the mists.

Jones and General Whitworth had rejoined the team. Kayla looked at Jeff's helmet as it lay where Lieutenant Richardson had left it on a seat. Putting her coat back on, she slipped the battle helmet on. She wondered if she could figure out what Jeff's activation code was. He wouldn't make it something hard to remember; he might be under attack and need the helmet instantly. What would he use? She said aloud all his wives' names, then several other things, with no success. What would it be? Hmmm. All his wives, except Diana, came about recently, so whatever he used would probably predate their names. But Arlene and Diana would always have been with him — well at least for the last sixteen years. "Arlene and Diana," she said aloud. Nothing. Then, "Diana and Arlene."

Its systems came online, the faceplate closed and the helmet adjusted to her head. She tongued to the command channel, curious to hear what the General, Lieutenant and Sergeant were saying as she walked down the ramp and stepped out into the deep snow. The combat specialists' battle helmets could be mentally controlled, not by any type of mind reading, but the helmets were sensitive to changes in the brain as the wearer concentrated. Just as a cursor could be controlled in this manner on a computer, the wearer could also control various helmet functions if he/she were trained properly. Kayla's regular helmet did not have this function, and not having the training, she was forced to use the manual backup system on Jeff's.

Shorts and a coat with low-top tennis shoes and no socks won't cut it out here. Crap, I must have skinned my knee during our little match with Vasquez, she thought as her right knee stung when she stepped into the snow. Not bothering to look at the knee she had skinned, she followed a path one of the team had forged through the deep snow.

Stopping as she got to the parking lot, she glanced at her visor to see where everyone was. Two were positioned well away from the retreat at opposite ends of the building, obviously stationed as guards against a merc sneaking out during the search. The Sergeant was inside directing the search. "Sergeant, this is Kayla. I'm extremely familiar with the building..."

"Good. On me," he abruptly said.

She started to tell him where she was and it would take a couple of minutes to get to him, but stopped before she could embarrass herself. As soon as she had activated Jeff's helmet, everyone on the team would know at a glance where the helmet was, and they would also know it was her wearing the helmet, since it would identify her from its database.

She, and everyone at the base had battle helmets, but she seldom had hers on, since her job as an archaeologist certainly didn't require it. Kayla was, like everyone who went off-planet, required to be minimally proficient with them, and re-certify every six months. But a combat officer's battle helmet was an entirely different thing, having more channels for the radio, more sensing equipment and more computing power. Frustrated that she knew how to use so little of the helmet's capabilities, she also knew this would be her last chance to use one.

Shortly, in the mudroom, she stamped the snow from the tread of her shoes, but the shoes were sodden and filled with melting snow. Stripping them off, she stepped barefoot onto the carpet of the hallway, the feeling delicious after wearing the snow-filled shoes. Hanging her coat by the door, as usual, she jogged down the hall to join Lieutenant Richardson and Sergeant Gomez by the first dead mercenary.

Gomez and Kayla opened their faceplates so they could talk without using the radio. Gomez glanced down at her bare feet, but seemed to realize what had happened. Instead of commenting on her feet, he tapped the dead mercenary with the toe of his boot, "Who got this guy?"

Somehow, Kayla felt a bit embarrassed. "Uh, I stepped out of the theater right into him."

"That where you got that ugly little piece of shit?" Gomez mock-sneered at the silenced submachine gun Kayla still carried. But before she could answer, he went on with a grin, "Still showing off those reflexes, huh? Well done, Lieutenant."

"Thanks Sarge," she said, taking his comment as high praise, indeed.

Gomez paused to look down the hallway where Kayla and Jeff had taken down the guard, bent over and picked up two casings, one a .45 and the other a 9mm.

"What happened here?"

Kayla pointed at the body 40 yards down the hall. "I saw him first and clipped him in the shoulder. That gave Jef ... uh, Colonel Matthews, time to get around me and finish him."

"You beat the Colonel to the shot at that range?"

"Never. He didn't have a clear shot because I was in the way."

Gomez nodded knowingly. "Because you were standing between him and a possible threat, guarding him per the General's orders."

Kayla didn't respond but the Sergeant knew he had been right.

Richardson, preoccupied with his helmet readouts, finally opened his faceplate. "Give us a rundown of what happened, Lieutenant."

Kayla did so as precisely as she could without wasting time.

"You know how many of them there were?" he asked when she had finished.

"Not really," Kayla answered. "Other than they would have had to come in the van that's still by the back door. With the one we killed outside, that would have been six, plus the two Hagewoods that Diana and Jeff killed in their suite. Couldn't have been many more than that, judging by the size of the van."

"Nothing showing on IR, or any of our other scans," Sergeant Gomez said, "but we're checking the whole building to be absolutely sure. Gonna take a while. I need you to stick with me, Lieutenant. I don't want to miss anything because we're not familiar with the building."

"Sure thing, Sarge."

Whitworth walked up holstering his .45, his faceplate retracting into his helmet. "Shit, what a fucking mess," he said, looking at the dead mercenary lying in the puddle of blood. "There are three in the halls, one in the classroom, and one in the living room, plus what's left of that one by the end of the building outside. Blood and crap on the walls and floors, not to mention bullet holes."

"Two more guys down that way in what I guess is Colonel Matthews' bedroom," Sergeant Gomez said. "Both of them are buck naked and deader than hell. Blood and brains everywhere. Guess they pissed off the Colonel," he grimly joked.

Whitworth stood and looked around for a moment. "Shit, I want my own forensic cleanup people. Take them a while to get here, but if I call in another agency to clean up, it will be too hard to keep things quiet." After thinking a moment, he looked at Kayla, "Where is everybody today?"

Kayla rattled off where everyone was.

"So they'll all be back late today?"

"Except for Captain Madison and his women, and Mr. Wainwright and Margaret."

"Only one we have to worry about is ... what's her name?" Whitworth said. "The woman who is just living here for a while. She's the only one we haven't used the blocks on."

"Alesha," Kayla supplied, "And Jesse, the county deputy, if he decides to come eat with us."

Whitworth frowned.

Kayla thought for a minute. "Look, I think I can call her and ask her to stay with Jesse tonight. She might wonder, and might even get her feelings hurt a little, but we can make it up to her later."

Whitworth looked around him for a moment, thinking. "All right. Do that. I need to get in touch with Major Bailey and get a cleanup crew on the way." Turning to Lieutenant Richardson, "Finish up the search, Lieutenant, and if you find any more of them, try to take one alive for interrogation, but do not risk any of your people. If the merc resists, just kill him. I think I pretty much know what's happened and everyone who was involved, anyway."

"Yes, Sir."

Turning back to Kayla, "Lieutenant, do you suppose Diana would mind if I made a pot of coffee in her kitchen while I make some calls?"

Kayla smiled at him. "I think she would be proud for you to do that, Sir. I'll be glad to make a pot for you, though."

"Nonsense," Whitworth said with a grin. "I'll take care of it. Even a general can make a pot of coffee." Turning back to Lieutenant Richardson, "When you're done with your search, pile the bodies by the end of the retreat, out of sight, and cover them with a tarp or something until the cleanup crew gets here to take care of them."

"Yes, Sir."

Whitworth turned back toward the kitchen as he fished out his sat phone.

Kayla scanned through the images coming from the various members of the team, then turning to the Sergeant, "There's another door out of that storeroom in the basement that Ward and Torres just entered. Someone could go out the other door and circle around behind them."

Gomez snapped out an order to Ward and Torres on the radio, then motioned to Kayla. "Let's go, Lieutenant. You lead the way."

ON THE SHIP

The mists cleared and Jeff sat up in the chamber, then quickly checked out his healed wrists.

Diana, leaning with her head against Arlene's chamber, sat up as well. "She's still..." Diana started to say.

"I know," Jeff broke in. "The Ship says she's fine. Her heart was ... damaged. That's repaired. Her lung and the other damage will be ... repaired soon. My words are only a gross approximation of what's going on. Suffice it to say, she will be perfect again, and soon," he finished as he stepped out of the chamber and without saying anything more, scooped his Queen up.

Walking over, he sat with Diana in his lap, hugging her to him.

"I let everybody down," Diana sobbed. "After Arlene was shot, I just ... couldn't think. I..."

"Hush," Jeff quietly said, his lips gently touching hers for a second. "You let no one down," he emphatically said, staring her in the eyes. "You took out someone who outweighed you three times over. In another second," he continued as he hugged her and stroked the back of her head, "you would have killed the asshole who was after Arlene. You have united our wives into a group that for all practical purposes acted almost as one being, and acted with ... valor. I have literally seen combat troops who did not act as disciplined under fire. And believe me, that's an understatement."

Diana sat back a little and wiped her hands over her eyes to brush the tears away enough to see. "Jeff, I thought I would die when I saw where that bullet struck my baby. I knew it had to be near, if not through her heart. Jeff, I..." The sobs started again as she hugged herself to him.

Helen sat up from her chamber and rubbed her healed side with her hand, a smile touching the corners of her pretty mouth. As she stood and stepped out of the chamber, she saw Diana crying. "Arlene..."

"Is fine," Jeff broke in before she could begin to worry. "My Queen seems to think that being upset over her daughter, not to mention almost being raped and killed herself, has somehow given her feet of clay."

"She what?" Helen said, the incredulity in her voice evident as she hurried over.

Laura, already sitting close to Diana, hugged her from behind. "I've told her over and over, but she won't listen."

Kneeling by Diana, Helen took her Queen's hand. "Now what's this?"

Diana took a shuddering breath. "I let everyone down. Instead of leading, I just knelt there by Arlene. I prayed to God. I..."