The Spitfire had aced every test of the exercise, surpassed every expectation. Smaller, more dependable than and twice as effective as its predecessors, it was without doubt the baddest bad boy in their arsenal.
Right now, it was their only hope of survival. If this failed, if those alien juggernauts were missile-proof as well as bulletproof, they’d have to fall back to base camp and call in reinforcements.
It was a nightmarish run down the rocky slope, over cracked rocks and loose earth, jumping and dodging uprooted bushes and other debris while the alien darted after them with light-footed agility and deadly intent.
Brennan slipped and slid down a couple of yards on his ass in a cloud of dust. He didn’t let go of his weapon, didn’t let it slow him down, merely threw his weight forward, got back on his feet, and kept going.
Sergeant Baker and Private Boone were the first to reach the jeeps.
Brennan saw them snap open the flap and dive into the weapons stash just as he noticed a flash of silver from the corner of his eye. Seemed like the alien had already realized the potential threat of whatever new weapon its enemies were about to bring into play and was trying to head them off at the pass. It rushed past Brennan without so much as a glance in his direction, intent on the two men getting the grenade launcher ready to fire. Ignoring Brennan was a mistake, and Brennan didn’t hesitate to use his advantage.
He knew tackling the creature was suicide, but there was more than one way to skin a cat and Brennan was highly motivated.
It was a beautiful slide; Brennan’s old baseball coach would’ve been proud. The angle was perfect. The thick-soled, army-issue boots hit the alien’s ankle and knee so hard and fast the armor didn’t have time to grow spikes long enough to stab through the firm rubber, and their combined momentum pushed the alien sideways and off its feet. The little fucker
bounced off the ground like a cat—it hissed like one, too—then tripped over a net of roots and went down again. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
A bellowed “Cap’n!” was all the warning Brennan got and needed. He scrambled up and away from the alien. The sound of a grenade launcher being fired made him hit the dirt, cover his head, and hope the extraterrestrial fucker wouldn’t be able to dodge the missile. The boom wasn’t particularly loud, but the heat that rolled over him with the shockwave was intense. Brennan pressed himself against the ground, wishing fervently he’d gotten farther away and praying his BDUs{4}
wouldn’t catch on fire. He rolled as soon as he dared, sitting up and scooting back as his gaze skittered over the incline, searching for the alien with his weapon at the ready. His best-case scenario had consisted of the creature being torn apart and his worst-case scenario of the creature being merely a little stunned and fully operational. What he got was a burning, smoldering heap of clumped matter, seemingly in one piece but definitely not about to get up again.