MECH - By B. V. Larson Page 0,79

at Major Lee, who was flipping switches and pulling at slide-controls. The engines screamed into life and Ari felt his seat vibrate beneath him. “You know how to fly this thing?”

“No, but I can get us into the air on autopilot,” said Major Lee, his face pulled in a tight snarl.

Even as he spoke the lifter rose up and became airborne. Ari, finally getting his wits about him now that the immediate threat of death seemed more remote, ordered the waves of troops in the parking lot to pull back and attack the monsters pouring through the gates. Below them, he saw the fabric walls of the medical dome fall in shreds before three of the aliens. It was obvious that a terrific slaughter had begun inside. Holes from laserfire burned through the walls and dome. Wounded men staggered out the exits, falling and dying in the snow.

Another channel on his phone beeped insistently. With infinite irritation, he opened the link. “What do you want?”

“General Steinbach? This is Governor Droad.”

Major Lee, fighting the controls to keep the lifter hovering about a hundred feet over the battle, shot him a glance of surprise.

“What do you want?” repeated Ari, frowning. He had finally recalled his sidearm and pulled it out, releasing the safety.

“General Steinbach, you must listen to me. We must talk. Aliens are attacking both of us. It is ridiculous to proceed with fighting among ourselves,” said Droad.

“So, you think we should let you out of that terminal, do you?” began Ari, snarling. Then his face changed—became speculative. His thoughts turned to his satchel in the upper row of lockers in the arrivals section. “Perhaps you are right...”

“I suggest we fight together. There are more of them than just the ones hitting you from the rear. There are flocks of flying aliens coming at you—at us—from the trees, and more gigantic ones from the riverfront.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Ari. He pulled his field goggles over his eyes and gazed east, sure enough a lumbering horde of creatures, gigantic creatures, were moving up from the swampy shores of the river. To the west, tiny dark specks flitted toward them from the trees.

“What do you suggest?” asked Ari, deflated. Things were completely out of his hands. His first instinct was to run, but not without his satchel. Ari envisioned Droad as a cruel school bully, dangling his satchel just out of reach.

“Order your first wave and the troops in body-shell to enter the terminal, we won’t fire. Then land your lifter, load it with all the men you can from your second wave and bring them into the terminal, too. We need walls between us and the enemy immediately.”

Ari pursed his lips. He and Major Lee exchanged knowing smiles. Into the phone he said, “I agree, Governor Droad. You have my word that my troops will cease firing on you, at least for the duration of this much more significant situation.”

“Excellent. Move now,” replied Droad. Ari frowned in annoyance at the clipped tone of command that had entered Droad’s voice so quickly.

* * *

“Steinbach’s scared. I think he’ll join us, at least for now,” said Governor Droad. “Tell me what we should do with these aliens. They seem to be forming up ranks before they attack. At least that gives us a few minutes.”

“I detected the alien maneuvers that are up on the holo-plates now with the radio-scanner initially,” explained Jarmo. “For the last day or so the communications officer and I have noticed unusual traffic on several rarely used frequencies. After learning from Doctor Risi that the aliens used built-in radios to communicate, I simply set the air-traffic control computer to search for emissions in the proper frequency range and report them as traffic contacts. Here’s what I got,” he said, manipulating a keyboard with his stubby fingers. The holo-plate changed to a normal topographical view of the immediate spaceport, but on it were an incredible number of contacts. Hanging beside each contact were ghostly identification letters. There were a number of them moving up from the riverbank, larger groups coming from the trees and the main entrance to the spaceport. “They’re all classified as unknown, of course.”

“So, we can at least track their movements,” said Droad, nodding. “That’s quite an advantage.”

They watched as the flying aliens joined up with the ostrich-like ones at the main entrance. Together they advanced into the parking lots, while the giants from the river swung around to approach the terminal from the rear.

“Can we recall