Exfil – Containment Protocol-Part 37 (of 38)
Will they make it? Fiction. 2100 words, 11-minute read.
Home is so close for the men of Bedrock Patrol, and the refugees.
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 36 (previous episode), Part 38-the last episode (coming soon)
Exfil – Containment Protocol-Part 37 (of 38)
By Ray Tabler
“Send a drone through, now!” Colonel Shaylton pointed at the technician in charge of that section. “Have we got any response on the radio yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Well, keep trying.”
“Base to Booker... Base to Booker, come in.”
Shaylton gripped the railing of the balcony overlooking the expanse of the gate staging area. The vertical wave-filled plane of the open portal rippled enigmatically, filling the cavern wall opposite the control room. As he scowled at the portal, a drone launched and penetrated the gate. Shaylton spun about and dashed into the control room, hustling over to the screen repeating the visual feed from the drone’s camera.
“What’s going on? What’s all the excitement about?” Senator Harshaw burst through the doorway, moving as fast as his stumpy legs would carry him. Harshaw was clad in a bathrobe. Pajama pants covered his legs below the hem of the robe. Boney ankles were visible above slipper-shod feet.
Shaylton looked like he’d been sleeping at his desk in the adjoining office. Jacket off. White shirt wrinkled. Tie loosened. Stubble on his chin.
“We got an emergency signal to open the gate from the patrol.” Shaylton swept a hand at the open portal.
“In the middle of the night?” Harshaw tried to smooth his sleep-rumpled hair.
“What part of “emergency” don’t you understand?” Shaylton was having a lot of trouble controlling his irritation at the senator. “Operations don’t run on a nine-to-five schedule, senator.”
“We’ve got something, sir.” The drone pilot’s interruption stifled whatever angry retort Harshaw had warmed up to fling back at Shaylton.
Shaylton and Harshaw both squinted at the grainy, black-and-white video feed from the drone sent through to the other universe. The point of view dipped and swayed as the pilot banked and guided the small, remotely-controlled aircraft back around for another pass. Shortly, the drone circled above the platoon, keeping it more-or-less in frame continuously.
Shaylton’s lips moved, silently counting. “Only four vehicles. Did they lose two?”
“Are those dinosaurs?” Harshaw gasped. “Looks like they’re chasing our boys.”
“Not chasing” Shaylton pointed. “Look. People are riding those things. It sounds crazy, but I’d say the vehicles are escorting the dinos.”
“That is crazy.” Harshaw crossed his arms.
“Fessler to base... Fessler to base.” Static nearly drowned out the signal.
Shaylton grabbed the microphone and mashed the transmit key. “Fessler, this is Shaylton. What the hell’s going on over there? We see a convoy of four vehicles approaching the portal, with... I don’t know what coming with you. they look like people riding dinosaurs. Where’s Booker? Over.”
Static made Fessler’s reply difficult to listen to. “We have refugees with us. The el-tee and sergeant Mulroney are distracting the Godzillas while we hightail it through the gate. Over.”
“Godzilla? What the hell’s that boy smokin’?” Harshaw scoffed.
“Colonel, you’re going to want to see this.” The drone pilot steered his craft away from the gate and the approaching platoon.
“God damn! Godzillas.” Harshaw at least had the decency to sound apologetic.
As Shaylton and Harshaw watched, the drone overflew first one, then the second monstrous dinosaurs. Toy-like in comparison, Fred and Barney wove and dodged a frighteningly short distance ahead of each beast. Both tanks had turrets reversed, firing at the dinos. Spouts of smoke rose from multiple impacts. Which only seemed to make the monsters even more angry.
“Those are the same type of big critters what tried to climb through the gate last time.” Harshaw gulped.
“Yeah, and there’s two of them now.” Shaylton began issuing commands, sending crews to weapons emplacements, and technicians to the emergency shutdown devices for the gate.
“What are you doin’, colonel?” Harshaw reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the drone video feed.
“Following protocol, senator. The base is sealed.”
“Sealed? Maybe I could just slip out the side door before you do that.”
“Too late, senator. It’s already done. I’ll recover the platoon, and keep the portal open as long as I can so the last two tanks can escape. But I’m not going to risk another one of those big bastards climbing in here with us. Let alone two of them.”
“What if the gate don’t shut down this time? Like what happened before?”
Shaylton simply fished the key for the nuclear trigger from inside his shirt, and let the bright, shiny piece of metal hang by its chain around his neck.
Harshaw turned pale, and sat down in an empty chair. “I knew I shoulda got myself on the agriculture committee instead of this. It’s boring, but the bribes are bigger.”
Down on the cavern floor, Pebbles sailed through the gate, treads spinning at full speed. Bam Bam followed, full tilt. Shaylton lost count of the number of swahldets which came next, laden with tribespeople, and galloping in that odd gate which somehow kept the riders rock steady. Wilma and Betty brought up the rear of the column, emerging from the vertical plane of the portal as if propelled from a sideways pool of quicksilver.
The vehicles skidded to stops on the vast, concrete slab of the staging area, spinning and squealing as treads desperately clawed to shed momentum before slamming into the far wall of the cavern. The Bradleys managed to avoid collisions, leaving long, ugly marks on the smooth paving in the process. Wilma and Betty, burdened with more mass, didn’t fare as well. Wilma slewed broadside into Bam Bam hard enough to knock the poor Bradley five feet closer to the wall. Betty, fighting to slow down all the way, t-boned Wilma square under the turret ring. There was a sickening metallic crunch, as Betty’s low prow crumpled Wilma’s track covers, and savaged her road wheels.
The swarm of swahldets, nimble for all their size, flowed like water around the piled-up vehicles. The dinos crooned, as if sensing the distress of the platoon’s vehicles. Fellow beasts of burden, flesh and metal bonding across that divide.
“Wilson, you okay down there?” Thibodeaux, Betty’s gunner, checked on his driver.
Wilson stared at the twisted mass of ragged metal inches from his face. He couldn’t tell where Betty left off and Wilma’s violated flank started. “I think I need a change of underwear.”
Barkley, Betty’s commander, leaned forward in his hatch, peering down at the damage. “He’s fine.”
Shaylton and Harshaw had run to the balcony to witness the return of the platoon. Both gripped the railing with white knuckles as the vehicles careened across the floor and into each other, expecting the swahldets and riders to be spread like lurid jam under tank treads across the cavern floor. Instead, a breathless silence welled up from below in the aftermath of the platoon’s chaotic entrance. Men slowly climbed from hatches, to stand leaning against armored flanks, legs wobbly in the sudden serenity. Still clinging to the backs of swahldets, refugees stared about in fright and confusion at the utter alienness of the vast volume of the cavern, under the glare of bright flood lights in the lofty ceiling.
“The last two tanks are still out there.” Harshaw breathed, spinning about to dash back into the control room.
Shaylton shoved the senator unceremoniously out of his way in the door way. “Have you made contact with Booker yet?”
“No sir.” The radio technician twisted knobs and worked his screen, desperately trying to punch a signal through. “There’s a hell of a lot of interference.”
“I’m barely in control of the drone, sir.” The drone pilot added. “Every time I get close to one of those big dinos, I almost lose control completely.”
“Crap!” Shaylton slammed a fist down on a console. “I was thinking a few more drones might distract them from Booker and Mulroney. But they’d probably just crash instead.”
On the screen, Fred and Barney led the dinos a merry chase, twisting and weaving all over the prairie. Small plumes of dust marked the passage of the Abrams, quickly overwhelmed by the dust storms following each monstrous pursuer. Try as they might, neither tank seemed to be able to evade well or long enough to make a break for the gate.
Static erupted from a speaker, words in English barely audible amid the noise. “Sir, I’ve picked up on Booker’s signal. It’s weak. I don’t know if they can hear us.”
“Booker, Booker. Can you hear me? Shaylton here!” He shouted into the microphone. “The rest of the platoon, and your refugees are home safe.”
Static roared from the speaker. “...memory sticks...”
“Memory sticks?” Harshaw blinked. ‘What the hell does he care about memory sticks at a time like this?”
“Shut up, senator.” Shaylton was not in the mood for nonsense. “Booker...Booker...” Only static issued from the speaker.
“Oh crap!” Harshaw looked up at the drone video feed. “Looks like they’re boxed in.”
The grainy, staticky black-and-white video showed Fred and Barney driving straight at each other, the pursuing dinos all but nipping at their heels. It looked bad. Even if the tanks didn’t collide head on, each would be running straight into the teeth of another monster.
“Oh, I can’t watch!” Harshaw covered his eyes.
At the last possible moment, the two tanks made right angle turns, one left, one right. After almost sideswiping each other, Fred and Barney raced along side by side, a few feet apart.
Possessed of much more momentum, and blessed with much less brainpower, the two dino piled into each other. There was a momentary tangle of enormous legs and torsos. One dino swiped at the other.
“Oh my God!” the drone pilot gasped.
“What’d I miss?” Harshaw peeked out between his fingers.
For a minute, they squabbled, allowing the tanks a critical head start. Soon enough, though, the monsters had sorted themselves out, and were after Fred and Barney again.
The tanks ran straight for the portal now. For the first time they had a clear shot at safety. If they could only reach it.
“I think they’re gonna make it!” Harshaw pounded the pilot on the back, momentarily causing the drone to bobble in the air.
Fred and Barney seemed to crawl across the prairie, bouncing with every, small swell of the ground. Gradually, Barney pulled ahead of Fred. Booker’s tank was clearly falling behind. It wallowed with more amplitude than Barney at jolts from the uneven terrain. Dirty smoke leaked from one of Fred’s flanks. And the dinos thundered ever closer.
“Get ready to slam the portal shut as soon as Booker and Mulroney are through.” Shaylton snapped at the technician running he inter-dimensional controls.
“Yes sir.”
Both tanks rotated their turrets to the rear. First Fred, then Barney fired their one-hundred-twenty-millimeter guns at the monstrous dinos. Despite the unstable platforms the fleeing tanks provided, round hit on target. That might have been due to the relentlessly shortening range.
The tanks fired repeatedly, probably as fast as their loaders could shove rounds into breeches. The aiming points seemed to be the dinos’ eyes. Which was as good a target as any other. Multiple hits were scored, with no visible effect. Perhaps the beasts could follow the tanks by smell, if nothing else. It looked like no force on Earth, or off Erath, would deter them from stomping Fred and Barney to dust.
Without warning, something rolled from under Fred, and bounced away. The tank slowed even more.
“What was that?” Harshaw pointed at the object exiting the field of view.
Shaylton squinted. “I think that was one of its road wheels.”
“Sounds like an important part.”
“It is.”
“Can Booker keep rolling without it?”
“Good question.” Shaylton shook his head. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Barney reached the portal, and passed into it on the video feed. Without discernable delay, Mulroney’s Abrams roared down ramp and across the cavern floor, turbine engine whining in overdrive. Barney barely stopped before plowing into the other two tanks.
The video feed from the drone showed Fred barely keeping ahead of the monsters. More, darker smoke poured from the tank’s right suspension. It was going to be close, very close.
Fred disappeared into the portal. And emerged in the cavern.
“Shut her down!” Shaylton bellowed.
The last tank’s engine howled. Suddenly, the right-hand track shot out from the road wheels, snaking in front of the vehicle like a living thing. Another road wheel popped loose from its mountings, bouncing across the floor. Fred’s right side dropped, gouging a furrow in the concrete.
The gate technician pulled the plug. Immediately, the portal dissipated, spiraling out from the center in a rapid cascade of instability.
Jackson had been drawing a bead on one of the dinos’ eyes as they transited the gate. The shock of Fred’s collapsing suspension caused him to jerk the trigger. CRACK. Fred’s gun spat with an ear-splitting percussion in the enclosed volume. The round blasted a crater into the granite cavern wall behind where the gate had been.
END of Part 37.
Final episode of Containment Protocol next Tuesday, Part 38 – The New Pipe.
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 36 (previous episode), Part 38-the last episode (coming soon)
A new serial will start after Containment Protocol concludes. Tuesday after next, tune in for the next story, Planets 4 Sale.
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Photo finish!
Nothing left now except to pick up the damaged tanks and explain to the boss what the Hell that last chase was all about. You can shoot the useless senator too!