Destin's Hold (The Alliance #5)(66)

“I do not know what a flea’s locker is, but I will trust you can pick the lock to Mason’s living quarters,” Sula responded. “I need my weapon.”

“I’ll get it. I’d love to go, but Doc Patch is going to need help when the wounded start coming in,” Chelsea said, regretfully.

“You stay here,” Mary said with a nod. “Beth and I will protect her.”

“There is a transport in the third building to the left. It was given to Patch and me as medical transport,” Chelsea instructed.

“Maybe you should stay here, Sula,” Beth said, biting her lip. “Grandma and I can go. I can take one of the jeeps. We know what we are looking for and you… well, honestly Destin would kill us if anything happened to you.”

“I like that idea even better,” Chelsea replied.

Sula started to protest, but Beth had placed the idea in the other two women’s minds, and in all honesty, she knew she would be more of a liability with her injured shoulder. All three women winced and ducked when an explosion hit near the building and it shook.

“Go, find the ring and get back as soon as you can,” Sula said.

“Find cover,” Beth instructed. “Come on, Grandma.”

Sula bit her lip and watched Beth and Mary hurry down the corridor. They both turned when Patch came out with a grim expression. This was not the healer from last night. This was a warrior.

“I’ve got reports of casualties coming in,” Patch stated. “Get the operating beds ready.”

“Right away,” Chelsea said with a curt nod. “Sula….”

“Go, I will help with the ones I can,” Sula promised.





21





Destin watched the shuttle lift off the ground carrying Jag back to the Star Raider. High up in the sky he could see large flashes of light even through the clear blue skies. General Baker and Thomas jumped into a jeep that pulled up. The general was barking out orders. All around him, Trivator warriors moved with the skill of years of training.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel like kicking some serious ass,” Mason said, glancing up at the rain of pod-shaped vessels descending through the air. “Shit! It looks like a fu—a damn horror movie.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve already lived through one. I don’t want to live through another,” Destin retorted. “You drive, I shoot.”

Mason’s eye lit up when he saw where Destin was looking: an armored Humvee with a .50 caliber machine gun mounted to the top. The two men ran to the vehicle. Destin climbed inside, followed by Mason.

“Here, put these on,” Mason said, tossing a pair of headphones up to Destin. “This way we can communicate and you’ll still have your hearing when we’re done.”

“Thanks,” Destin replied, sliding the headphones on and turning them on. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Mason replied, starting the vehicle. “I love being on a base where they are always ready. Do you remember how to work that thing?”

“Shut up and drive. I’ve got this,” Destin retorted, locking the clip in and releasing the safety.

Destin braced himself in the swiveled seat. There was a short protective barrier around him. The seat allowed a full three hundred and sixty degree rotation with his body, giving it motion while his feet operated the brake and power to rotate around. Destin aimed at a pod and fired.

The force of the bullets didn’t penetrate the metal capsules, but it was enough to knock it off balance. Realizing he was going to need more fire power or a better strategy for destroying the falling capsules, he continued firing until the one he was aiming at struck another capsule. The two careened out of control and crashed into the ground.

It was when they stopped spinning that Destin noticed an opening in the bottom, probably part of the capsules way to slow down before it struck the planet. Destin aimed at the engine openings and fired. The capsule exploded in a brilliant flare of flaming debris.

“Oh, yeah! Now that is what I’m talking about,” Mason yelled.

Destin didn’t need any more encouragement. He quickly fired on the second capsule just as a metal panel exploded and a creature unlike anything he had ever seen crawled out. Destin immediately fired multiple rounds, striking the creature and the vessel it had exited. The horrific sound of screeching reverberated through the air before it was cut short with the capsule exploded. Mason and Destin watched the fiery remains of the creature burn for several seconds before they refocused their efforts on the fight above them.

Transports flew low overhead, firing with precision at the capsules. They were discovering, like Destin had, that the metal was too dense to penetrate. He needed some way to communicate with Cutter or General Baker so he could let them know where on the capsules to strike.

“We need to find Cutter,” Destin growled.

“I saw him heading for the command center,” Mason replied. “Hang on.”

Destin swiveled around in his seat. He aimed upward at the incoming capsules. Mixed with them were additional fighters. These did not appear to have the same type of metal as the egg-shaped pods. The problem was the Trivator fighters were engaging with the attacking forces and not the pods.

Destin destroyed four more of the pods before one of the alien fighters realized what he was doing. Adrenaline poured through him when they turned toward him and Mason. Gritting his teeth, he continued firing at the two pods.