Post by Lorpius Prime on Oct 11, 2023 21:30:01 GMT -5
The EFMS Zhukov pushed gently against the surface of the arkship. The moment would be remembered as punching into the Tadpole vessel like an armored fist. But any violent impact would have crushed the marine ship like an empty aluminum can. The violence came after impact.
Tendrils of exotic polymers sprayed from the Zhukov's front end. A gelatinous blob formed around the contact point between the assault shuttle and the arkship. Then, prompted by an electric signal, the material darkened and hardened, sealing the two ships together more securely than welding steel.
From inside the seal, more alien substances were deployed against the bare metal of the arkship's surface. Russia had conducted open trade with the Charterlings for just under a decade during their boycott of the OES. In that time they had acquired an eclectic arsenal of tools and materials with military applications.
Whirling nanofibers flayed a great hole through the arkship hull. The metal of the great bay door was over a meter thick. Nearly all of the Zhukov's reserves of the breaching material were used to clear the way.
"We're through," the pilot announced. "Negative atmosphere."
"Acknowledged," Colonel Borzakov said. "Platoon check seals and oxygen." He waited a moment for each marine to acknowledge ready, then, "Breach."
The heavy exterior hatch at Zhukov's fore swung inward. Gas and metal dust billowed inside the assault shuttle as the pressures equalized.
"Troop, forward!" the Colonel barked.
Nadia was the first, lunging two steps forward and then leaping through the hatchway into open air. 19 marines followed single-file behind her. Borzakov was the last out, leaving only the pilot to re-seal the hatch and hold the ship.
This component of the operation had not been part of the original plan. Zhukov and her complement of marines had accompanied Task Force One simply for completeness. Chief Molinas and Admiral Kozlov had expected armed infantry would be necessary at some point, but could not have anticipated the exact circumstances of use or deployment.
Commodore Lee and Colonel Borzakov had developed and finalized Zhukov's mission between themselves over the last two months. Lieutenant Yatskaya's participation in the tour of the Tadpole arkship had convinced them an aggressive, direct assault was both feasible and valuable.
The arkship docking bay was enormous, like everything about the vessel. The line of marines drifting in from their shuttle were gnats in a cathedral. They had over a kilometer of empty space to cross with suit thrusters to reach the receiving structure that shuttle Taffy-Eleven had docked at previously.
A Tadpole transport was docked at another berth on one side of the bay. If its masters realized what was happening, it could wipe out the entire marine platoon with a few shots of its defense lasers. The marines' instructions in the event one of those ships was present was simply to ignore it, cross the bay as quickly as possible, and pray for success.
None of the marines said anything about the ship as they closed on the destination structure. Nadia was sure all the others were trying just as hard as she to not think about it.
The Tadpole ship did not act, and the marines reached the boxy docking structure. It was still built up to interface with the Task Force's personnel shuttles, like the one the Tadpoles had been told was bringing a tour group of NMC scientists.
The marines did not have time or desire to waste on a clean breach of the structure's airlock. Corporal Marinin, who had taken point position, fired several cannon rounds through what he hoped were hingines, anchored himself to the metal exterior, and then ripped the hatch outward, flinging it into the great chasm of the bay.
Nadia could hear wind rushing through her audio pickup. The Tadpoles liked their air pressure even higher than Earth's at sea level, and the gasses eagerly escaped into the vacuum of the bay. The column of marines stormed inside, locking boots to the metal floor to secure each step. The wind died down quickly inside, but created enough force at the small breach to toss out anyone reckless enough to come close without an anchor.
Several Tadpoles were inside the receiving chamber. They were wearing the parka-like outfits Nadia had seen before, and appeared to have scattered to the outside walls when the airlock was destroyed. Upon seeing the marines, one of them shouted or wailed something in its own language.
"Step back!" a marine private shouted, sweeping his cannon across two Tadpoles already backed up against the wall.
"Move away!" other marines added their voices, doing their best to menace the Tadpoles and discourage them with body language. One of the major obstacles the Colonel and Commodore had identified with the mission was the difficulty the Humans would have communicating. Without good solutions, they had opted to simply accept the consequences.
The Tadpole who had first stepped towards the marines took another step, and Corporal Marinin shot it.
The Tadpole's parka did a remarkable job of hiding the wound, but some flecks of yellow ooze appeared on the wall behind it. The alien toppled forward and did not move again.
The other Tadpoles in the chamber wailed even louder, and marines continued waving their weapons and shouting for them to stay put.
Colonel Borzakov ignored the chaos. He stepped deeper into the receiving chamber, gestured for Nadia's attention, and pointed. "Lieutenant, is that it?"
Nadia checked her memory and the map projection on the tiny display in her helmet against the rail track the Colonel was indicating. "Yes sir."
"Marinin!," Borzakov shouted and pointed at the rail which descended from the distant ceiling to a platform protruding from the entry chamber. "Hook and go. Lieutenant, second position behind him. Marines! Hook and go. Vetrova, Shulkin, last behind me."
Nadia unclipped the special equipment that each member of the platoon carried from her suit's back rails. It was essentially a motor scooter with a long handle and clamp which had been manufactured in the EFA Archimedes' machine shops for this mission. The far end locked around the rails used by the arkship's tram system, and the marines could clip a short tether to their suits or hold onto the handle. This way, they could follow the paths Nadia had recorded from her tour, bypassing the need to call and control a tram car while still moving at high speeds.
Corporal Marinin hooked his scooter onto the track, then waited for Nadia to do the same. His role at point would be to watch the way ahead with his weapon trained forward. Nadia just behind would navigate, leading the rest of the platoon. So long as the scooter motors worked, their biggest challenges would be managing forks or switches in the tracks, which might require them to pause to detach and reattach the devices, and encountering actual tram cars along the way.
It only took thirty seconds before the whole platoon was hooked to the tracks and on their way, the last two marines holding their weapons on the cowering Tadpoles until the very end. None of the aliens made any further moves to approach or interfere. Nadia cranked the motor on her scooter to its top speed.
It felt very much like riding a zipline. Only no zipline could have supported the weight of the marines' hoplite suits
They did not have to wait long before encountering a tram car. Marinin put several armor piercing rounds through its attachment points, and the car fell from the track in the low gravity of the arkship. It was only a dozen or so meters to the bottom of this stretch of corridor, and the tram car spewed a trail of sparks as it skidded along the metal. Nadia thought she had spotted Tadpoles inside the window, but she was not sure. The marines only slowed briefly to ensure their scooters could still pass over the damaged tracks, and then were on their way again.
The marines made good progress. But it was a long way to their destination. The arkship was hundreds of kilometers in diameter, and their route was almost certainly not the most direct. Their map was very limited outside of what Nadia had recorded directly. And though they could make some intelligent conjectures about the rail system's branching paths, Colonel Borzakov had decided to stick to the path they knew for certain.
So far the Tadpoles had not put up any noticeable resistance. Perhaps they were still reeling from the shock of the attack, and were scrambling to organize one. Perhaps they had defensive positions prepared and waiting, and the marines had simply not reached them yet. Or perhaps the aliens had simply reached what Nadia believed would be their wisest choice: not to resist. Much as she hoped, however, the Lieutenant did not believe their mission could be that easy in the end.
* * *
Pascual Molinas was reaching the limits of his patience. He didn't know what was beyond those limits, but he knew he could not take much more of this. The Barn Swallow's rapid maneuvering seemed to have stopped, but the shipwide order to don suits and wear restraints had not yet lifted. No one on the ship's command staff had responded to Pascual's inquiries in over thirty minutes.
He was contemplating sending another when his PDA blinked a notification. It was an e-mail from the ex-NMC director, Dr. Poplawski. The message was very short.
Ambassador are you receiving this? Do you know what is going on? No one in the task force is answering me. Are we fighting the Tadpoles?
Pascual did not like using voice controls for his PDA, but the bulky spacesuit gloves made hand operation flatly impossible. So many Earth Fleet devices had controls that looked like oversized children's toys, and now he understood why. He held the device against the bubble of his helmet and tried to speak as softly as it could register.
What's happening? I'm told it's a readiness exercise.
Poplawski did not immediately reply. Pascual felt a tightening in his stomach, but had no idea what to do with the feeling. He tried pinging the Barn Swallow's command staff again.
The marines reached the command complex after half an hour on the rails. It was a tense journey. At one point, they encountered a stopped tram car. This time, Corporal Marinin had been unable to blast it off the rails, and instead crashed into it before his scooter's brakes could stop him. The corporal's scooter had been damaged beyond use. The platoon had halted for several minutes so that Colonel Borzakov could pass his scooter forward while the Colonel doubled up to ride with a private.
The complex halls were empty, just as they had been when Nadia first passed through. This time, the quiet set her even more on edge. The marines spent a minute or two regrouping and stowing their scooters before proceeding onward.
There were far too many doors for them to perform proper clearing procedures. The deeper they went, the more acutely aware Nadia became of just how reckless this entire operation was. They had neither the time nor the manpower to advance methodically and post sentries along the route. Instead they were gambling on a straight dash to the arkship's control center.
Their only consolation was that the marines were expendable. Even if they were all killed, Task Force One still controlled the space outside.
They reached the doors to the colony operations section, which Nadia and the Colonel speculated was also the operational heart of the arkship itself. If not, they would have to find a Tadpole who could guide them.
When Nadia first saw these doors, the arkship's captain, Pakpeden, had greeted the human tour group outside. Now the Earth Fleet marines saw no one. The door to the center was indistinguishable from any of the others they had just passed.
The platoon gathered up around the door, most taking position around a nearby corner, while four stood against the opposing wall, weapons leveled ready to sweep inside. Nadia pressed against right side of the door frame, while Corporal Marinin took the left.
The door had no visible controls, but Nadia smacked an armored hand against the bare door frame in the same spot Captain Pakpeden had one to open it. The door did not move.
This was not unexpected. Next, Corporal Marinin stepped straight in front of the door itself, spread his fingers against its surface to maximize the surface area in contact with his gloves. The palms and finger pads of those gloves were coated in a Charterling adhesive that could be activated with a small electric current. Marinin activated the adhesive, and then tried to slide the door into its housing by force.
The powered joints of the marine's exoskeleton easily overcame whatever mechanism held the Tadpole door closed. Marinin did not have a chance to celebrate his success, however. A blue blade sliced effortlessly through his armor, separating his head and right shoulder from the rest of his body.
The marines on the far wall did not hesitate. Before the pieces of the marine corporal had hit the floor, they opened fire.
Nadia did not need her external audio feed to hear the individual thunk sounds of armor-piercing cannon rounds impacting their target. The tungsten cores of those projectiles could penetrate several centimeters of hardened steel plate. Now they were pancaking against a shimmering blue carapace and falling to the floor.
When Nadia had encountered the Charterling before, it had seemed hulking and clumsy. Now it sprang through the door in a sleek crouch. It bisected another marine with the bladed appendage below its wrist. Then with its other arm it wrenched a third marine up by the helmet and flung her into her comrade standing beside.
Four more marines leapt from the corner into the hallway and poured fire into the Charterling. It rounded on them, and its mouthparts wobbled like it might have been speaking, but if so Nadia's microphones picked up nothing above the cannon fire. The alien seemed entirely unaffected by the heavy fire falling upon it from very close range. It didn't even flinch from the momentum of the impacts.
Fire was clearly not going to work. And at this range, the larger explosives they carried were as likely to kill the marines as the alien. So without any more sensible ideas, Nadia shouldered her own weapon, and leapt onto the Charterling's back.
The alien's huge, grasshopper-like legs dipped slightly. The Charterling flailed its arms, but seemed unable to reach behind itself even as well as a human could.
Good.
Nadia wrapped her legs around the alien's waist for support, and then grabbed either side of its dome-like head. The Charterling lurched to one side trying to slam Nadia into the wall, but its legs and abdomen were too much in the way. Nadia raised her elbows, and then squeezed her hands toward each other.
The Charterling's skull cracked like a walnut in a vice. Nadia squeezed again, and its head collapsed with a crunch.
The alien's carapace was blue, but its innards were slightly pinkish white. Gore slopped over the forearms of Nadia's armor. The Charterling's legs gave out and the enormous alien sank straight downward, its center of gravity was too low to topple over.
The marines moved quickly to check their status and situation. Marinin was dead. So was Private Aliyev. The two marines who had been thrown into each other were uninjured, but their hoplite suits were damaged and no longer fully mobile.
Six marines had passed through the door and were training weapons on the crowd of Tadpoles just inside. Nadia could not actually read their expressions, but if she imagined a human crowd in the same position, they would be frightened and anxious. A few seemed to recognize the human weapons for what they were, and tried to back away each time a barrel swept over them.
It took Nadia a moment to recognize the one Tadpole who was not backing up, and who stood more or less at the front and center of the packed crowd. His jaw was slightly crooked and his posture was slightly straighter than the rest, which made him appear a little taller than he was. It was Pakpeden, the arkship's captain. Nadia highlighted him in the platoon's networked information system.
"Colonel," she said.
Borzakov finished helping one of the suit-crippled marines into a position from which she could cover the platoon. Then he gave Nadia a nod and stepped past her into the doorway.
He stopped after only a few steps inside toward Pakpeden. He held his weapon pointing to the floor, but ready.
The Marine Colonel faced the Tadpole commander for a moment, then activated his external speakers.
"Captain. I require the complete surrender of your ship and all forces under your command."
Tendrils of exotic polymers sprayed from the Zhukov's front end. A gelatinous blob formed around the contact point between the assault shuttle and the arkship. Then, prompted by an electric signal, the material darkened and hardened, sealing the two ships together more securely than welding steel.
From inside the seal, more alien substances were deployed against the bare metal of the arkship's surface. Russia had conducted open trade with the Charterlings for just under a decade during their boycott of the OES. In that time they had acquired an eclectic arsenal of tools and materials with military applications.
Whirling nanofibers flayed a great hole through the arkship hull. The metal of the great bay door was over a meter thick. Nearly all of the Zhukov's reserves of the breaching material were used to clear the way.
"We're through," the pilot announced. "Negative atmosphere."
"Acknowledged," Colonel Borzakov said. "Platoon check seals and oxygen." He waited a moment for each marine to acknowledge ready, then, "Breach."
The heavy exterior hatch at Zhukov's fore swung inward. Gas and metal dust billowed inside the assault shuttle as the pressures equalized.
"Troop, forward!" the Colonel barked.
Nadia was the first, lunging two steps forward and then leaping through the hatchway into open air. 19 marines followed single-file behind her. Borzakov was the last out, leaving only the pilot to re-seal the hatch and hold the ship.
This component of the operation had not been part of the original plan. Zhukov and her complement of marines had accompanied Task Force One simply for completeness. Chief Molinas and Admiral Kozlov had expected armed infantry would be necessary at some point, but could not have anticipated the exact circumstances of use or deployment.
Commodore Lee and Colonel Borzakov had developed and finalized Zhukov's mission between themselves over the last two months. Lieutenant Yatskaya's participation in the tour of the Tadpole arkship had convinced them an aggressive, direct assault was both feasible and valuable.
The arkship docking bay was enormous, like everything about the vessel. The line of marines drifting in from their shuttle were gnats in a cathedral. They had over a kilometer of empty space to cross with suit thrusters to reach the receiving structure that shuttle Taffy-Eleven had docked at previously.
A Tadpole transport was docked at another berth on one side of the bay. If its masters realized what was happening, it could wipe out the entire marine platoon with a few shots of its defense lasers. The marines' instructions in the event one of those ships was present was simply to ignore it, cross the bay as quickly as possible, and pray for success.
None of the marines said anything about the ship as they closed on the destination structure. Nadia was sure all the others were trying just as hard as she to not think about it.
The Tadpole ship did not act, and the marines reached the boxy docking structure. It was still built up to interface with the Task Force's personnel shuttles, like the one the Tadpoles had been told was bringing a tour group of NMC scientists.
The marines did not have time or desire to waste on a clean breach of the structure's airlock. Corporal Marinin, who had taken point position, fired several cannon rounds through what he hoped were hingines, anchored himself to the metal exterior, and then ripped the hatch outward, flinging it into the great chasm of the bay.
Nadia could hear wind rushing through her audio pickup. The Tadpoles liked their air pressure even higher than Earth's at sea level, and the gasses eagerly escaped into the vacuum of the bay. The column of marines stormed inside, locking boots to the metal floor to secure each step. The wind died down quickly inside, but created enough force at the small breach to toss out anyone reckless enough to come close without an anchor.
Several Tadpoles were inside the receiving chamber. They were wearing the parka-like outfits Nadia had seen before, and appeared to have scattered to the outside walls when the airlock was destroyed. Upon seeing the marines, one of them shouted or wailed something in its own language.
"Step back!" a marine private shouted, sweeping his cannon across two Tadpoles already backed up against the wall.
"Move away!" other marines added their voices, doing their best to menace the Tadpoles and discourage them with body language. One of the major obstacles the Colonel and Commodore had identified with the mission was the difficulty the Humans would have communicating. Without good solutions, they had opted to simply accept the consequences.
The Tadpole who had first stepped towards the marines took another step, and Corporal Marinin shot it.
The Tadpole's parka did a remarkable job of hiding the wound, but some flecks of yellow ooze appeared on the wall behind it. The alien toppled forward and did not move again.
The other Tadpoles in the chamber wailed even louder, and marines continued waving their weapons and shouting for them to stay put.
Colonel Borzakov ignored the chaos. He stepped deeper into the receiving chamber, gestured for Nadia's attention, and pointed. "Lieutenant, is that it?"
Nadia checked her memory and the map projection on the tiny display in her helmet against the rail track the Colonel was indicating. "Yes sir."
"Marinin!," Borzakov shouted and pointed at the rail which descended from the distant ceiling to a platform protruding from the entry chamber. "Hook and go. Lieutenant, second position behind him. Marines! Hook and go. Vetrova, Shulkin, last behind me."
Nadia unclipped the special equipment that each member of the platoon carried from her suit's back rails. It was essentially a motor scooter with a long handle and clamp which had been manufactured in the EFA Archimedes' machine shops for this mission. The far end locked around the rails used by the arkship's tram system, and the marines could clip a short tether to their suits or hold onto the handle. This way, they could follow the paths Nadia had recorded from her tour, bypassing the need to call and control a tram car while still moving at high speeds.
Corporal Marinin hooked his scooter onto the track, then waited for Nadia to do the same. His role at point would be to watch the way ahead with his weapon trained forward. Nadia just behind would navigate, leading the rest of the platoon. So long as the scooter motors worked, their biggest challenges would be managing forks or switches in the tracks, which might require them to pause to detach and reattach the devices, and encountering actual tram cars along the way.
It only took thirty seconds before the whole platoon was hooked to the tracks and on their way, the last two marines holding their weapons on the cowering Tadpoles until the very end. None of the aliens made any further moves to approach or interfere. Nadia cranked the motor on her scooter to its top speed.
It felt very much like riding a zipline. Only no zipline could have supported the weight of the marines' hoplite suits
They did not have to wait long before encountering a tram car. Marinin put several armor piercing rounds through its attachment points, and the car fell from the track in the low gravity of the arkship. It was only a dozen or so meters to the bottom of this stretch of corridor, and the tram car spewed a trail of sparks as it skidded along the metal. Nadia thought she had spotted Tadpoles inside the window, but she was not sure. The marines only slowed briefly to ensure their scooters could still pass over the damaged tracks, and then were on their way again.
The marines made good progress. But it was a long way to their destination. The arkship was hundreds of kilometers in diameter, and their route was almost certainly not the most direct. Their map was very limited outside of what Nadia had recorded directly. And though they could make some intelligent conjectures about the rail system's branching paths, Colonel Borzakov had decided to stick to the path they knew for certain.
So far the Tadpoles had not put up any noticeable resistance. Perhaps they were still reeling from the shock of the attack, and were scrambling to organize one. Perhaps they had defensive positions prepared and waiting, and the marines had simply not reached them yet. Or perhaps the aliens had simply reached what Nadia believed would be their wisest choice: not to resist. Much as she hoped, however, the Lieutenant did not believe their mission could be that easy in the end.
* * *
Pascual Molinas was reaching the limits of his patience. He didn't know what was beyond those limits, but he knew he could not take much more of this. The Barn Swallow's rapid maneuvering seemed to have stopped, but the shipwide order to don suits and wear restraints had not yet lifted. No one on the ship's command staff had responded to Pascual's inquiries in over thirty minutes.
He was contemplating sending another when his PDA blinked a notification. It was an e-mail from the ex-NMC director, Dr. Poplawski. The message was very short.
Ambassador are you receiving this? Do you know what is going on? No one in the task force is answering me. Are we fighting the Tadpoles?
Pascual did not like using voice controls for his PDA, but the bulky spacesuit gloves made hand operation flatly impossible. So many Earth Fleet devices had controls that looked like oversized children's toys, and now he understood why. He held the device against the bubble of his helmet and tried to speak as softly as it could register.
What's happening? I'm told it's a readiness exercise.
Poplawski did not immediately reply. Pascual felt a tightening in his stomach, but had no idea what to do with the feeling. He tried pinging the Barn Swallow's command staff again.
* * *
The marines reached the command complex after half an hour on the rails. It was a tense journey. At one point, they encountered a stopped tram car. This time, Corporal Marinin had been unable to blast it off the rails, and instead crashed into it before his scooter's brakes could stop him. The corporal's scooter had been damaged beyond use. The platoon had halted for several minutes so that Colonel Borzakov could pass his scooter forward while the Colonel doubled up to ride with a private.
The complex halls were empty, just as they had been when Nadia first passed through. This time, the quiet set her even more on edge. The marines spent a minute or two regrouping and stowing their scooters before proceeding onward.
There were far too many doors for them to perform proper clearing procedures. The deeper they went, the more acutely aware Nadia became of just how reckless this entire operation was. They had neither the time nor the manpower to advance methodically and post sentries along the route. Instead they were gambling on a straight dash to the arkship's control center.
Their only consolation was that the marines were expendable. Even if they were all killed, Task Force One still controlled the space outside.
They reached the doors to the colony operations section, which Nadia and the Colonel speculated was also the operational heart of the arkship itself. If not, they would have to find a Tadpole who could guide them.
When Nadia first saw these doors, the arkship's captain, Pakpeden, had greeted the human tour group outside. Now the Earth Fleet marines saw no one. The door to the center was indistinguishable from any of the others they had just passed.
The platoon gathered up around the door, most taking position around a nearby corner, while four stood against the opposing wall, weapons leveled ready to sweep inside. Nadia pressed against right side of the door frame, while Corporal Marinin took the left.
The door had no visible controls, but Nadia smacked an armored hand against the bare door frame in the same spot Captain Pakpeden had one to open it. The door did not move.
This was not unexpected. Next, Corporal Marinin stepped straight in front of the door itself, spread his fingers against its surface to maximize the surface area in contact with his gloves. The palms and finger pads of those gloves were coated in a Charterling adhesive that could be activated with a small electric current. Marinin activated the adhesive, and then tried to slide the door into its housing by force.
The powered joints of the marine's exoskeleton easily overcame whatever mechanism held the Tadpole door closed. Marinin did not have a chance to celebrate his success, however. A blue blade sliced effortlessly through his armor, separating his head and right shoulder from the rest of his body.
The marines on the far wall did not hesitate. Before the pieces of the marine corporal had hit the floor, they opened fire.
Nadia did not need her external audio feed to hear the individual thunk sounds of armor-piercing cannon rounds impacting their target. The tungsten cores of those projectiles could penetrate several centimeters of hardened steel plate. Now they were pancaking against a shimmering blue carapace and falling to the floor.
When Nadia had encountered the Charterling before, it had seemed hulking and clumsy. Now it sprang through the door in a sleek crouch. It bisected another marine with the bladed appendage below its wrist. Then with its other arm it wrenched a third marine up by the helmet and flung her into her comrade standing beside.
Four more marines leapt from the corner into the hallway and poured fire into the Charterling. It rounded on them, and its mouthparts wobbled like it might have been speaking, but if so Nadia's microphones picked up nothing above the cannon fire. The alien seemed entirely unaffected by the heavy fire falling upon it from very close range. It didn't even flinch from the momentum of the impacts.
Fire was clearly not going to work. And at this range, the larger explosives they carried were as likely to kill the marines as the alien. So without any more sensible ideas, Nadia shouldered her own weapon, and leapt onto the Charterling's back.
The alien's huge, grasshopper-like legs dipped slightly. The Charterling flailed its arms, but seemed unable to reach behind itself even as well as a human could.
Good.
Nadia wrapped her legs around the alien's waist for support, and then grabbed either side of its dome-like head. The Charterling lurched to one side trying to slam Nadia into the wall, but its legs and abdomen were too much in the way. Nadia raised her elbows, and then squeezed her hands toward each other.
The Charterling's skull cracked like a walnut in a vice. Nadia squeezed again, and its head collapsed with a crunch.
The alien's carapace was blue, but its innards were slightly pinkish white. Gore slopped over the forearms of Nadia's armor. The Charterling's legs gave out and the enormous alien sank straight downward, its center of gravity was too low to topple over.
The marines moved quickly to check their status and situation. Marinin was dead. So was Private Aliyev. The two marines who had been thrown into each other were uninjured, but their hoplite suits were damaged and no longer fully mobile.
Six marines had passed through the door and were training weapons on the crowd of Tadpoles just inside. Nadia could not actually read their expressions, but if she imagined a human crowd in the same position, they would be frightened and anxious. A few seemed to recognize the human weapons for what they were, and tried to back away each time a barrel swept over them.
It took Nadia a moment to recognize the one Tadpole who was not backing up, and who stood more or less at the front and center of the packed crowd. His jaw was slightly crooked and his posture was slightly straighter than the rest, which made him appear a little taller than he was. It was Pakpeden, the arkship's captain. Nadia highlighted him in the platoon's networked information system.
"Colonel," she said.
Borzakov finished helping one of the suit-crippled marines into a position from which she could cover the platoon. Then he gave Nadia a nod and stepped past her into the doorway.
He stopped after only a few steps inside toward Pakpeden. He held his weapon pointing to the floor, but ready.
The Marine Colonel faced the Tadpole commander for a moment, then activated his external speakers.
"Captain. I require the complete surrender of your ship and all forces under your command."