Battle Stations

“THE KHARDIS ARE COMING! EVERYONE TO YOUR POSTS!”

Andy jolted out of his cot. All around him, soldiers were getting their uniforms on, grabbing their gear. It was effortless on their collective parts. Andy, however, had not been continuously drilled for this situation, so when he rushed to put on his pants, he tripped and hit his jaw on the adjacent cot’s frame. He lay there rubbing his hurting jawline for a moment. He exercised a bit more care after that, getting to his jacket when most everyone was already gone.

“Crusader!” Sanders came up to him.

Andy looked up from his jacket’s buttons.

“Never mind the jacket, we need to get to Sarge and the others.”

Andy snatched up his weapons and ran with Sanders down the corridor. “Where exactly are Sarge and the others?”

“Front with the mortars.”

Andy fumbled his pistol into its holster. The rifle he kept tucked under his arm as he buttoned up his jacket.

#

He knew the sound from all those old war movies his dad and granddad were so fond of. Biplanes. What really caught his attention was in the distance: the shadow of a Zeppelin, and he could just make out what looked like two cannons sticking out on either side. That must be the Warmonger, he thought. As though reading his mind, Sarge handed him binoculars. With them, Andy was able to see one of the other guns. He also made out several compartments lining the canvas balloon’s bottom seam. Before he could process it, he felt someone tackle him to the stone floor. A burst of bullets hit the wall they were on.

“Keep your head about you, eh?” came Coulson’s voice.

Andy looked up to see a plane flying up alongside the neighboring cliff. More gunfire sounded from below. “How many of those are there?” he asked.

“Looks like just the two,” Coulson answered.

Andy looked below at the line of machine guns and mortars. Like he saw earlier, every station had two men. The mortars were currently not in use. The men at those were taking potshots at the planes with their rifles. Right now, the mission was to protect the mortars for the airship, and the men to operate them. So, the machine gunners were firing very liberal bursts into the air. Other soldiers were on the wall, too, following the mortar men’s potshot example. Another plane came at them, firing off another burst. Andy watched one guy go limp. Even under the red glow of the moon, he could tell the blood on sight. Immediately another burst came raining down from above.

How the hell do they figure there’s only two? Andy could barely make the planes out. He also wasn’t exactly calm enough to count them. He also couldn’t keep track of either once he saw them. They seemed to vanish into the night.

“Sanders! Polski! Crusader!”

“Sir!” The only voice absent was Andy’s, but he was grateful for Sarge’s distraction.

He pointed at the airship. “We never saw what they loaded up on that damn thing. I want you to head inside to cover, Polski, and keep in contact with the dock and the shoreline. Sanders, did you get that job done for Spartan and the Commandant?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. I reckon our escape routes are on their way to everyone. I want you to go in with Polski. And I want both of you to take Crusader with you. His aim’s not good enough for out here and I know Spartan wants him to stay alive.” Sarge did not say it, but he also noticed Andy shaking. As far as he was concerned, that boy was far from ready for a combat zone.

“Why not keep everyone out here with us?” Coulson asked. “Surely we should have all the guns we can get on those planes?”

“Only person I trust to give everyone the play-by-play is Polski,” Sarge answered, firing off a few shots as he did. “I want you doing that, too, Polski. And with his knowledge, Sanders is far more valuable than any escape route we get. I’ve already explained the alien.” He nodded toward Crusader. “Besides, we’ll be fine out here.”

“Sir!” They all saluted. Andy’s was a bit half-hearted.

The three men ran inside just as one of the planes did another run.

“I’m surprised they’re both still up,” Andy panted.

“It’s not like the radio dramas or the books,” Sanders said. “Hitting a moving target is hard enough when it’s an enemy soldier running around.”

Polski sat in the corner fiddling with his radio. Andy sat on the floor while listening to the sound of war outside.

“Is this really the best place to be?” he asked.

“For now,” said Sanders. “Until the Khardis decide to bomb us. Then we’re gonna have to move.”

Andy swallowed. His heart was racing in his chest, and it felt like it would give out any second. He glanced out a window. The view was not as wide as outside, but it was enough for him. He could make out the two planes now. It was much easier to evaluate the circumstances now that he was safe from their repeated onslaughts. The planes looped around in a synchronized dance, heading toward the castle again. More bursts of gunfire, accompanied with muzzle flashes. One of the planes was smoking near the propeller. Obviously it wasn’t too damaged since it stayed in the air, but it was comforting to know someone landed a hit.

“Sure you don’t want to get down?” Sanders asked.

“I... It’s weird. Seeing it for real.”

The planes were making another run. More gunfire. Fire burst out of the one that was smoking, and it drifted to the side away from its ally straight into the side of the cliff to Andy’s right. A loud boom sounded as it exploded on impact. The surviving one was queuing up for yet another run. It sounded like there were fewer guns being shot, but he couldn’t tell. His view only allowed him to see Sarge and the other men atop the wall. He crumpled back to the floor. The man falling limp lingered in his mind. How many more out there fell just like him? How many more would?

Please just be a dream. Please just let me wake up at home. Please, don’t let this be real.

Despite his internal screaming, he knew very well it was all real.