“Yes, sir.”

  Before Maxwell could put the retreat in motion, Corporal Barkley spoke on the open channel. “Captain Grisham, Sergeant Maxwell, you might want to change your plans,” he said. “Analysis of the resistance test results indicates this comms antenna goes a long way underground. There might be one or more subsurface levels to this tower.”

  “How will going underground help us, Corporal?” asked Grisham. “The Kijol will flush us out eventually.”

  “It might not help us at all, sir. Sergeant Maxwell, do you remember that installation on Colias-V?”

  “I remember, Corporal,” said Maxwell. “That place was a Kijol warren.” He fixed his gaze on Grisham. “It’s possible when the enemy built this place they linked some of the critical buildings with underground tunnels.”

  “And you’d prefer to take your chances looking for a way down?” asked Grisham.

  “Yes, sir. Above ground, we’re going to die - it’s only a matter of when. If we find a way beneath the installation, we might stay lost for so long the Kijol start thinking they killed everyone when they destroyed our shuttle.”

  “Then let’s find a way down,” said Grisham.

  Maxwell got on with the organization. While he was giving orders on the comms, he used sweeping motions to urge Fine and Chau to the stairwell. They stayed low until they were beyond sight and then descended to the floor below.

  “I’ll take the Marauder’s crew to the eastern stairs,” said Barkley on the comms.

  “What am I doing, Sergeant?” asked Grisham.

  “You know spaceships better than any of us, sir,” said Maxwell. “I’d like you to stay here and keep an eye on that cruiser. And holler if that transport sets down.”

  Grisham nodded and raised the extendible sensor again. The feed from it was grainy and his HUD wasn’t the ideal medium for viewing detailed content, but as far as Grisham was concerned, it was much better than having to poke out his head and then being turned to carbon by a Kijol missile.

  For a time, the transport did little other than rotate slowly about its vertical axis, as if its crew were looking for something. What they thought to achieve that the Achirus could not, Grisham didn’t know, but the longer they kept rotating about that vertical axis, the happier he’d be.

  Far above the transport, the Kijol cruiser was motionless. It was a vast construction, though the sands reduced it to a menacing shadow across the base. Grisham guessed it was sixteen hundred metres from nose to stern and with a mass touching on three billion tons. Its flank blades were visible, jutting two hundred metres from each side and curving backwards. They served no purpose, yet Grisham realised those blades were one of the first things that jumped into his mind when he thought of the Kijol. Maybe that was the intention.

  While he watched the sensor feed, Grisham listened on the squad comms. The tower wasn’t enormous and the ground floor contained only a few main areas, but as the search continued, the soldiers discovered numerous smaller rooms.

  Five minutes in, the search had uncovered no way underground and Grisham was beginning to wonder if the comms antenna had simply been set into deep foundations. He’d got it into his head that this mission was a bad one and it was affecting his outlook. Grisham couldn’t let that happen and he forced out the negativity. Luck happened, good or bad, but it could be influenced as well, and that’s exactly what the mission personnel were attempting to do.

  The building creaked again, louder than before. The noise of it built and stretched out until it was louder than that of the cruiser’s Charos drive. Grisham felt the wall and floor shift and he looked frantically around. He heard the ping of metal, sharp and clear, and a narrow crack appeared where the floor met the north wall.

  “Sergeant Maxwell, I think this building is on the verge of collapse,” said Grisham. The crack widened in front of him until it was five or six inches across and it went all the way through the east and west walls of the room. “We have to conclude this quickly.”

  The search continued, but Grisham’s job of keeping watch had become suddenly harder. The crack was slowly widening and as the seconds went by, his position at the window became more precarious. He could still keep watch on the enemy, but soon he’d have to find another vantage. When he placed his hand on the wall, the movement was far more noticeable than before – like that of ocean-going ship crossing rough waters.

  A couple of minutes later and the updates on the squad comms were becoming increasingly negative. The soldiers were losing hope, while Grisham was convinced either the north wall would collapse, or the entire building would fall down.

  “Captain Grisham, I’d like to keep searching for another five minutes,” said Maxwell.

  Just as Maxwell spoke, the Kijol transport accelerated south, towards the comms tower. As Grisham watched, the vessel began a rapid descent.

  “Even if this tower holds together, we might not have five minutes, Sergeant,” said Grisham. “That shuttle outside is about to land.”

  The situation was going downhill fast and the slide continued.

  “I’ve got movement outside to the south, Sergeant,” said Vaughan on the comms. The man was stationed in the south entrance airlock with his XR repeater. “I reckon ten or twelve Kijol. Do you want me to cut them down?”

  “Damnit, they must have landed a second shuttle nearby,” said Maxwell. “Are they coming our way?”

  “Not yet, sir. It looks as if they don’t know which way to turn.”

  “If they head towards you, kill them,” said Maxwell.

  “Private Lyles has found a hatch in the floor!” said Lowe. “It’s in the innermost room, north-eastern quarter.”

  “What’s underneath?” asked Maxwell.

  “It’s stuck, sir,” said Lyles. “Something melted on top of it – that’s why it took so long to find.”

  “Can we blow it open?” asked Maxwell.

  “It’s manually-operated with a handle,” said Lyles. “There’s no failsafe lock to blow. If Private Chau laid charges, he might seal it worse than it is already.”

  “Private Chau, check it out anyway,” said Maxwell.

  “Yes, sir, I’m on my way.”

  “I think we can scrape it clear,” said Lowe. “It’s just burned plastic and some other crap. There’s a security panel and the light on it is green.”

  “Get started while you wait for Private Chau,” said Maxwell. “I want everyone who isn’t on defensive duties to move into that room and do what you can to help. Captain Grisham, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay put. Private Vaughan, you don’t move either.”

  “Sergeant Maxwell, the transport has landed about two hundred metres from the north wall,” said Grisham. “Its visible flank door isn’t open yet.”

  “It won’t be long,” growled Maxwell. “I’m going to check out the hatch.”

  Private Chau got there first. “I wouldn’t recommend laying explosives, Sergeant,” he said. “The hatch isn’t locked and my charges aren’t designed to clear debris.”

  “Damnit,” said Maxwell. “We need a break.”

  Grisham listened to the comms and he watched out of the window. He hoped the soldiers would have the hatch open soon and he didn’t want to be left stranded up here when it happened. The building shifted again and the crack on the floor widened to half a metre. With a shrieking noise, the east wall of the room tore open vertically and the west wall did likewise a moment later.

  Shit.

  He stayed at the window for another few seconds, which was just long enough for him to see the flank door on the armoured shuttle open and watch the first of the Kijol soldiers emerge with their jerky, insect-like movements.

  “The Kijol troops are on their way, Sergeant Maxwell,” said Grisham. “I’m coming downstairs. The gap in the floor is becoming too wide.” He remembered the initial approach to the building. “I might be able to push this extendible sensor through the gap in the northern doorway.”

  “We should have this hatch open in another couple of minutes,” said Maxwell.

  Under the circumstances, two minutes sounded like a lifetime. Grisham had an idea. Maybe it wouldn’t be needed, but perhaps it would buy the squad some time.

  “Sergeant Maxwell, I have a suggestion,” he said. “If Private Chau laid charges on the inside of the northern wall—”

  Maxwell grasped the plan before Grisham had finished his sentence. “Private Chau,” he snapped. “Think you can bring down this building?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Plant those charges, but don’t detonate them until I give the order.”

  “I’m on it, Sergeant.”

  Grisham hurried down the stairwell. The steps shook like a rope bridge and he wondered if the north wall would fall down before Chau was finished laying charges. At the bottom, he crossed one room and then entered the airlock leading to the partly sealed northern entrance. Private Chau had already been here, and a fist-sized explosive charge was attached to the wall near the floor. Silvery stress marks indicated where the wall was close to fracturing.

  Turning his attention to his own task, Grisham approached the outer door, which was open but looked as if a thick grey curtain of alloy had been drawn across the gap. Grisham discovered an irregular hole, head high, through which he could aim the extendible sensor.

  What he saw was not good.

  “The Kijol are coming fast, Sergeant Maxwell,” he said. “I’d estimate their numbers at two hundred or more and they still haven’t finished exiting the shuttle.”

  “Private Chau, how are you getting on with those explosives?” asked Maxwell.

  “I’m setting the last one, sir.”

  “Get your ass here when you’re finished.”

  “I’m done and I’m on my way, Sergeant.”

  “What’s happening at the south entrance, Private Vaughan?” asked Maxwell.

  “I can’t see the first bunch of Kijol anymore, Sergeant, and I don’t want to put my head outside to look for them.”

  “Stay where you are,” Maxwell confirmed.

  “The first enemy troops are approaching the north entrance,” said Grisham. “It won’t be long before they realise they’ll have to search for another way in.”

  Suddenly, a Kijol face appeared in the opening. Grisham hadn’t seen the alien approach and it took him completely by surprise. He saw its pale eyes staring in and then it disappeared from sight. Grisham swore – while he wasn’t visible, the enemy soldier might well have noticed the extendible sensor.

  “The enemy are right outside the north entrance,” he said.

  At the extreme edges of the extendible sensor’s viewing arc, Grisham saw rapid movement. For a split second, he thought the Kijol were sprinting for the side alleys leading to the south entrance. Then, he saw the real reason for their behaviour – they were moving clear. Near the shuttle entrance, one of the Kijol raised a long tube to its shoulder.

  Grisham knew what was coming his way and he turned to sprint away from the entrance, the soles of his boots slithering on the thin layer of sand which covered the airlock floor.

  TEN

  “Rocket!” he yelled. “North entrance!”

  Grabbing the corner of the airlock exit with one hand to aid his rapid left-hand turn, Grisham accelerated for the next passage. He was less than halfway along when he felt the concussive burst from the rocket detonation and the sound of the blast was low and thumping. Plasma roiled out of the airlock and the heat sensor in Grisham’s suit registered a spike in the air temperature.

  The explosion itself didn’t reach Grisham. Doubtless it had been mostly contained by the airlock walls, though he was sure there’d be a nice big hole through that alloy blocking the northern entrance.

  “Private Chau, avoid the northern wall on your way back,” Grisham yelled. “The Kijol are going to be coming through it any moment now.”

  “Roger that.”

  The groaning from the comms tower walls had stepped up in magnitude following the rocket blast and Grisham wondered if the Kijol knew or cared how close to collapse the building was. Sometimes, the enemy would do whatever was required to achieve victory, even if it meant taking big risks. Maybe this was one of those times.

  “Sergeant, the Kijol tried to enter the south airlock,” said Vaughan on the comms. “I didn’t get them all.”

  “Leave your position, Private,” said Maxwell. “Before they start throwing grenades.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Grisham entered the hatch room through its northern doorway. Franklin and Diaz watched him pass, their guns trained along the passage.

  The hatch itself was about a metre square and raised a few inches off the floor. A group of soldiers was hacking at a lump of charred matter - which had spilled from an unrecognizable piece of tech - using what appeared to be metal legs torn from some of the surviving Kijol furniture.

  Meanwhile, Sergeant Maxwell had a two-handed grip on the hatch handle and was straining hard. The hatch wasn’t budging.

  “Come on, you piece of shit,” he said.

  Private Chau entered through the western doorway and immediately ran towards the hatch to see if he could assist.

  “Detonate those charges, Private,” grunted Maxwell as he hauled at the unmoving handle.

  “Yes, sir,” said Chau. “Remote command sent. Good job I’m too close for those Kijol assholes to jam the signal.”

  Grisham didn’t hear the detonations, but once again the complaining of the overstressed walls increased in volume. Metal shrieked.

  “Incoming!” said Private Diaz. She fired her gauss rifle at an unseen target, the sound of discharge lost in the comms tower’s final moments.

  The floor beneath Grisham’s feet shuddered and then he heard a pinging sound from overheard. When he looked up, a massive east-west opening had formed in the roof. The tower creaked and groaned some more. Grisham spun round at a new noise and was just in time to see the south wall of the room break apart right across the middle. The east and west walls went too and the ceiling was suddenly higher at the southern end than it was at the northern.

  Grisham realised the flaw in his plan. If the comms tower snapped at ground level, the soldiers would be revealed to the cruiser overhead. The idea had been a spur of the moment one, to make things difficult for the Kijol. It was looking as if the plan was about to backfire.

  The fact wasn’t lost on Maxwell either. “Come on!” he roared. “Let’s do this!”

  “Private Diaz, what’s the situation north?” asked Corporal Fine.

  “We’ve shot a couple and the others have taken cover. We don’t have long.”

  At that moment, Private Vaughan entered at a sprint through the ruined east entrance. “This building is going over,” he said, turning and deploying his XR repeater with its barrel aimed the way he’d just come. “And the Kijol are right on my tail. Shit! Incoming!”

  The repeater droned and spat out projectiles. Private Diaz shouted another warning, while the soldiers at the hatch redoubled their efforts. Grisham caught sight of his bridge crew. They were keeping out of the way and looked out of their depths. Hating the thought that he might be an impediment to success, Grisham crouched behind a burned-out console and kept watch through the north entrance. A Kijol soldier sprinted across his view, too quickly for him to react and fire.

  With a final, long groan of distress, the comms tower began toppling northwards. The tear along the east wall became suddenly much wider, while the ceiling above the west wall sagged. Sudden compression in the north wall made Diaz and Franklin sprint away and, in a moment, the doorway went from seven feet high to five and the alloys around it bowed dangerously.

  The Kijol continued to press their attack on the room’s western entrance. A couple of enemy grenades went off in the passage, but the firing rate of Vaughan’s repeater made it difficult for the aliens to arc a throw far enough to cause problems. Still, it wouldn’t be long before they figured something out.

  And then, Vaughan reported that the aliens had withdrawn. In other circumstances, it might have been a positive development. This time, it wasn’t.

  “Those Kijol soldiers will have communicated our position to the cruiser,” said Grisham.

  Before he could finish with expect a missile strike on this tower, a huge explosion shook the falling building. The northern wall of the hatch room buckled further and the south ceiling rose faster. Searing heat from the blast swept through the passages, carrying sand as it came.

  With one final, desperate wrench, Maxwell tore the hatch free. Off-balance, he stumbled. The hatch lifted to the vertical and almost fell closed again, but Lyles was quick enough to push it all the way open with her shoulder.

  “A ladder,” she said.

  Maxwell ordered the mission personnel to climb down the ladder, while he straightened and looked around. His expression was one of absolute focus.

  Grisham’s crew descended with the soldiers. Maxwell and Diaz covered Vaughan while he gathered his repeater and ran for the hatch.

  “Private Vaughan, you next!” shouted Maxwell. “Captain Grisham, you as well!”

  Grisham stood at the shaft edge while Vaughan climbed rapidly down. The soldier slid a few rungs before arresting his descent and then repeated the process. Blue light exuded from the alloy-clad shaft walls and the bottom was somewhere far below.

  “Down goes the tower,” said Diaz.

  The slow fall of the comms tower became a fast one. The ceiling lifted ever higher and suddenly, Grisham could see the planet’s sky through the widening gap in the south wall. The wind blew in, bringing red sand with it.

  Grisham dropped into the shaft, grabbing the topmost rung with his hands, while his feet found purchase lower down. Voices on the comms had already given him advance warning that the view at the bottom wasn’t going to be any prettier than the one at ground level.

  He used the same slide-and-stop technique to make fast progress downwards. Now he was in the shaft, he guessed it was twenty-five metres deep. He glanced up, wondering if he might see the Achirus cruiser. All he saw was grey.