Читать книгу Dark Star - Don Pendleton - Страница 11

Fayetteville, South Carolina

A cool rain fell across the sprawling military base, washing the red clay dust from the side of the stout brick buildings.

“Here we go!” a burly sergeant shouted, gnarled fists resting on his hips. “You have five minutes, then we leave without you!”

Bursting into action, the elite troop of Marine specialists dived off their bunks and scrambled across the barracks, grabbing duffel bags and yanking on unmarked jackets to cover the handguns riding in their shoulder holsters. There were no sirens to announce the intentions of the combat troops, only a small red light flashing above the exit to signal the call to war.

Through a rain-smeared window, the sergeant could see the brilliant columns of combat searchlights sweeping the stormy clouds, and he knew that a dozen radar globes were probing the sky far beyond the range of visible sight. The balloon had gone up only minutes earlier, but already the gate to Fort Bragg was closed and locked, a full platoon of armed soldiers in body armor standing guard, along with a pair of Bradley Fighting Vehicles. The Bradleys were angled toward one another, forming a narrow channel too small for any truck or car to get through, and spike strips had been laid in case somebody tried to ride a motorcycle through or around the imposing the blockade.

Located near the artillery range were half a dozen long-range cannons, their barrels pointed at the sky. Everything the base had was primed and ready for battle, big antiaircraft shells set to explode at different heights to fill the sky with a deadly maelstrom of shrapnel.

Massive Abram battle tanks were parked on the parade grounds, positioned back-to-back in a large circle for fast deployment. Wearing slickers and “hot com” helmets, grim soldiers walked the flat roofs of the PX and library, carrying Stinger missile launchers and lugging cumbersome, four-barrel, HAFLA multirocket launchers.

“One minute!” called the sergeant, checking his watch. “Move it or lose it, people!”

“About time we finally saw some action,” a private said, grinning as he lay his black letter on a shelf. Everybody going into combat was strongly urged to leave a goodbye note for his family in case he didn’t come back. That was just standard operational procedure for the U.S. Marines.

“Don’t get too excited, kid, until we find out what we’re fighting,” a corporal replied gruffly.

Whenever some boot heard that they were being trained to fight in space, a specialist in zero-gravity combat, they always started to make jokes about Space Marines as if nobody had ever thought of it before. Nine times out of ten that started a fight, but it was often held behind a barracks or in the motor pool after reveille, where such matters could be settled with quiet and decorum. What the CO didn’t know couldn’t get you cashiered.

It confused and offended the troops that so many people thought it was odd that America had taken steps to protect its interests in space. A paratrooper was specially trained to fight while falling out of the sky. Commandos did it behind enemy lines, snipers did it from a mile away, scuba divers did it under water and Navy SEALs could fight anywhere, hanging upside down from mountain peaks if necessary. The United States of America had thousands of satellites in low-Earth orbits and a fledging space station in high-Earth orbit, and was planning to expand it, even build another one, before going back to the moon. The same as the Red Chinese. It would be foolhardy for the Joint Chiefs not to make plans to protect those stations with troops.

“Time!” the sergeant announced, throwing open the exit door.

Forming a rough queue, the men walked neatly into the rain. Across the road was a line of nondescript Hummers waiting to take them to Pope Air Force base as the first step in their rapid journey to the Cape. The vehicles were parked near a large bronze statue of General Bragg, the soft rain blurring the features of the officer so that it almost appeared as if he were crying.

Shaking off the unnerving sight, the men of the Special Space Combat Unit started across the road when they paused and began to shudder. Dropping their duffel bags, several of them bent over and started vomiting onto the gravel. Clambering out of the Hummers, the drivers rushed to aid the fallen men when they also started to shake violently, then topple over, foaming at the mouth, streamers of red blood pouring from their eyes.

Utterly horrified, the sergeant standing in the doorway of the barracks took a step toward the rain outside, then changed his mind and turned to sprint for the emergency button on the wall. Smashing a fist through the thin glass, he hit the switch and a strident siren began howling above the barracks. Knowing help was on the way, he went back to the doorway. Fighting the urge to rush outside, he looked over the fallen men, twitching on the ground. What in the holy hell was going on here? he thought. Wild screaming came from all over the base and, squinting against the rain, he could see a gunner topple limply off the roof of the PX, and then another from the library. Bloody hell! If he didn’t know any better, the sergeant would have swore that this was a—

Suddenly a sharp pain filled his lungs, and the Marine lunged forward to try to shut the door, but it was already too late. His fingers felt like jelly. The soldier slipped to the floor on boneless legs, his eyesight dimming even as his mind recognized the deadly symptoms of VRL nerve gas. No. Impossible! VRL was banned by every civilized nation in the world.

Struggling to drag in a lungful of air, the sergeant could hear the sirens of an approaching ambulance. Throwing himself forward into the rain, he cried to wave off the others, struggling to shout out a warning. But there only came a horrid burbling from his dissolving throat. Suddenly a terrible cold filled his body and the man felt himself falling forever into an inky blackness darker than space.

H OVERING A MILE above the rumbling storm clouds blanketing South Carolina, the pilot of the X-ship waited until the canisters of VRL gas were completely empty before boosting the engines and streaking away for a quick refueling on the tropical island of Fiji, and then on to his next target. At last, the preliminaries were over, and now Dark Star could begin its real mission.