The Final Countdown (The Range Book #6): LitRPG Series, page 1
The Final Countdown
a novel
by Yuri Ulengov
The Range
Book#6
Magic Dome Books
The Range
Book #6: The Final Countdown
Copyright © Yuri Ulengov 2023
English translation copyright © Ksenia Akulova 2023
Cover Art © Vladimir Manyukhin 2023
Published by Magic Dome Books, 2023
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-80-7619-747-3
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Earth Federation, Orion System
Rhapsody
The Orange Zone, a.k.a. the Verge. Limbo border
Thunderbirds Clan fort
THE CREATURES ARE COMING in waves.
The turrets are rattling. Plasma grenades are exploding one after the other, casting a deathly pale light on the fighters and turning them into characters in a holographic horror movie with dead faces. The overheated barrels of pulse emitters are glowing crimson.
But the creatures keep coming.
Just a little longer, and the Xenos will crush our positions, at best, pushing back the defenders or, at worst, tearing them to pieces or trampling them to death.
The perimeter is bursting at the seams. It’s hard to predict how much time we have left. Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten. Or maybe as much as there are cartridges left in our magazines.
I extend the Hornet’s barrel, aim at a dementor hovering over the battlefield, and open rapid fire at the monster.
Incendiary rounds. These creatures can only be taken down by incendiary rounds. Or plasma. Just like most of the others. But the others at least have a brain that can be destroyed, and most of the time, you can guess where it’s located. These creatures, though... All they are are pieces of flesh. So yes, only incendiary rounds.
The flying meatball bursts into flames, makes a sharp turn, and crashes into the ground. The Xenos’ ranks falter, having lost their coordinator, but immediately straighten up and push forward with renewed vigor.
Man, how many of you are there?
Suddenly, a nimble creature charges at us from the darkness. A quick burst of gunfire — and the spider-looking Xenos twitches and freezes on the spot, its chitinous body riddled with bullets. However, it still manages to achieve its goal — one of the fighters, pierced by its blades, freezes next to it. And then another one.
“Altai!” someone’s desperate screaming comes through ComLink. “The turret!”
I empty the magazine, jump back to replace it with a new one, and glance over to where a red dot is flashing on the tactical interface.
Crap!
One of the turrets holding back the Xenos on the right flank has gone silent — the creatures must have gotten to the gunner.
Damn it!
“Hold your ground!” I bellow.
I grab one of the two remaining grenades out of my tactical vest, set the delay, and toss it into the abominable mass of clattering blades, claws, and fangs. Without waiting for it to go off, I sling my small-arms system behind my back, pick up my pulse emitter with the last power cell in it, and rush to the turret.
An ugly shape flashes ahead. I fire a plasma bolt at it without aiming. The creature screams, thrashing about in agony.
I run around the dying Xenos and accelerate, realizing it’s too late.
The aliens have breached the perimeter, sweeping over our positions like a tidal wave. Screaming wildly, someone’s still trying to shoot back, but it’s clear that this is the end.
The screaming stops. Growling, I raise my pulse emitter.
A shot! Another one! One more!
Flashes illuminate the surroundings. I bite my lip so hard it starts bleeding, but I can’t even feel pain.
Our positions no longer exist. I knew this before I opened fire as I watched the dots go out one by one on the tactical screen.
Each dot is a human life. Interrupted.
Looking at the icons on the combat interface is one thing, but seeing it with your own eyes is quite different.
A solid mass of ugly quasi-flesh is swarming where people fought just a minute ago.
My brothers in arms. My friends.
With a roar of rage, I switch the pulse emitter to fan-beam mode and pull the trigger, slowly moving forward. Each plasma bolt drives back the Xenos’ ranks, leaving charred corpses on the ground, but the success is temporary. Once the power cell runs out...
I’m not going to wait until that happens, though. As I keep firing, I approach the silent turret and quickly inspect it.
Realizing what happened, I curse through my teeth.
The turret is powered by the same power cells as the hand-held pulse emitters, except it takes much longer to recharge after replacing the cells. Apparently, the system failed to keep track of the charge level and ran out of ammo at a critical moment. And charging the last remaining battery took longer than the gunner had expected.
Crap!
The last power cell rattles on the concrete.
I leap towards the turret, discarding the useless pulse emitter, grab the rubberized handles, and press the trigger button.
The drive howls.
The readiness bar slowly creeps to the right.
Too slow…
The gun signals that it’s ready for battle when the first creatures are no more than a dozen feet away. Grinning rapaciously, I turn the turret, aim it at the advancing Xenos, and pull the trigger again.
The twin barrels of the pulse emitter spit out plasma bolts, sweeping away the first ranks of the Xenos. I laugh triumphantly. My brain, not knowing how to respond to the adrenaline storm raging in my system, is trying to save my sanity as best it can, but I still feel like I’m on the verge of a breakdown.
Fire! Again! Again!
I fire quick bursts, moving the gun from left to right, clearing the perimeter of the approaching Xenos like a gardener armed with a hose cleans a path of dirt after a rainshower.
Fire! Again! Again!
Yes! That’s it! Perfect!
Wait! What’s that sound?
Ah, who cares!
Fire! Again! Again!
All of a sudden, I hear beeping. As I emerge out of the veil of rage that shrouded my mind, I try to understand what the hell is beeping here.
Then I curse.
The power cell. The last battery is running out. And with it, my lifespan.
Two magazines in the Hornet are enough to make my way back to the other fighters. But they’re not enough to hold back the creatures rushing forward. If I leave the position, they will sweep over the perimeter, breaking through its depths, to where...
No! I can’t!
Something’s beeping again.
What the hell?
And that’s when the sky gets torn apart.
At first, it seems as if the vault of heaven has become as hard as steel, broken into two parts, and collapsed onto my head. Then I start thinking that one of the creatures has gotten to me, and what is happening is nothing more than the agony of my dying brain.
But the rumble turns into a howl. Something flashes above my head, a blood-red bubble of an explosion thundering far ahead.
I finally realize what it is.
A multipurpose orbital assault aircraft.
With its engines howling, the Harpy passes overhead at a low altitude, nearly brushing its bottom against the fortifications, before rapidly rocketing back up into the low clouds. In its wake, an entire fleet of aircraft rushes down from above: three predatory, elongated silhouettes carrying twelve doses of highly concentrated, densely packed d
An explosion. Another one. And then another one.
The ground trembles, making me lose my balance. But all this is just a warm-up, an overture to the main part.
Fiery flashes cut through the sky. Several dozen meteors are hurtling toward the planet’s surface at breakneck speed, aiming to become meteorites as quickly as possible.
Contact! Contact! Contact!
Night turns into day. This time, the ground doesn’t just tremble; it bounces, so much so that it knocks me off my feet.
Lying on my back, I look up at the sky with a stupid smile on my face, staring at the blooming flowers of the reverse thrusters. Soon, there are so many of them that I feel like I’m watching a Federation Day fireworks display.
Landing ships. A lot of landing ships.
The fleet.
The fleet has come to the rescue.
We’re saved.
* * *
Startled, I opened my eyes and sat up.
For the first few seconds, my addled brain desperately tried to figure out what was going on and why it was so dark and quiet around when just a second ago, the explosions were hurting my ears, and the flashes were burning my eyes even through the helmet’s filters.
And then it dawned on me.
It was a dream. Just a freaking dream.
Yeah, I hadn’t dreamed of Caliban in a long time. I thought I had long left it all behind, but nope, the past had caught up with me.
I turned around and reached out to hug Skyler, but all I felt was an empty bed.
Wait a minute. Was that a dream too?
No way! You couldn’t dream of something like that, and the pleasant fatigue felt in every cell of my body was perfect proof of that.
I remembered last night and couldn’t wipe a happy smile off my face.
Sex with Skyler was very different from sex with Margot and Vicky. While Vicky was gentle and submissive, and Margot would take the initiative sometimes but still preferred to be led, Skyler was the same in bed as she was in everyday life: wild and fierce, as if she were fighting a sworn enemy.
I also found myself being very different around her. Then, at some point, I unconsciously turned on Psi Scanner and drowned in the ocean of emotions. Our bodies and minds would intertwine into a ball that exploded over and over again like a supernova. When it was finally over, I felt completely drained. I hadn’t felt this empty even after using my abilities.
Wow!
Shaking my head, I got to my feet and sent a command to the control unit to turn on the lights.
I felt great and elated until a sudden thought of the latest events sent shivers down my spine, as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water down my scruff.
It was like waking up as a kid in the morning; everything was wonderful and you wanted to laugh and enjoy life. And suddenly, you remembered that you had forgotten to tell your mom that the school principal wanted to talk to her.
Sure, it wasn’t the best comparison. Although... When I was a kid, having to tell my mom, who was always tired and had no time for anything because of her work, that she had to go see the principal seemed like a major catastrophe. So, there was still something in common.
Alright, if I could still crack a joke, things weren’t that bad.
I picked up my clothes off the floor, tossed them into the ultrasonic cleaner, and headed for the shower.
* * *
I found Sanders in the garage.
Work was in full swing: the fighters bustling about like ants, welding sparks flying through the air, cutting torches blazing.
The clan leader, a bit rumpled, was standing off to the side, talking to two guys who looked like mechanics.
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure! Just add some extra mounts under the tank. That’ll do. Alright, go! The clock’s ticking!”
Sanders let the mechanics go and waved to greet me.
“Finally! Got enough sleep?” the Thunderbirds’ clan leader asked. “Although… Considering the pretty face who jumped out of your room this morning, you didn’t get to sleep much.”
I let the bawdy remark slide.
“What have we got here?”
Sanders shrugged his shoulders.
“We’re getting ready, as you can see. I talked to the guys. Almost everyone agreed to go to Elysium.”
“Almost?”
“I can’t force people to go to their death,” Sanders shrugged again.
His tone made me uncomfortable.
“We’ve got seventy men,” he continued, “four armored trucks and three harvesters. Four, with yours. My guys are converting the harvesters into additional armored trucks, installing weapons and trying to make cargo compartments at least look like troop compartments.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered. “So, about the weapons… Heavy weapons, I mean. Do we have anything more formidable than machine guns?”
“We do,” Sanders nodded, “but... You know. The corporations are no fools. They never sold us anything too dangerous. They were too afraid the people would storm the Green Zones. Which, by the way, is what we plan to do. But there’s still something. My guys have taken a lot of interesting stuff off the mechs. We also invented a few things ourselves. The Xenos are not gonna like it. Neither will Sly if we can get to him through that freaking force field. Come on! I’ll show you.”
With those words, Sanders turned around and headed deeper into the garage. I had no choice but to follow him.
The force field...
If that Miller dude had bribed Diss by promising to evacuate him from Rhapsody, why were they still on the planet? Why hadn’t they left? Why hadn’t they launched into orbit, at least? After all, there must have been some kind of aircraft in Elysium that could reach the station, right? Sure, communication was cut off on Rhapsody, but you could definitely contact NewVision’s headquarters and request an evacuation from orbit. So why weren’t they there yet? Or were they?
On, man! So many freaking questions, and the only way to get answers was to get to the Green Zone.
“Look,” Sanders pointed to one of the armored trucks, on which several fighters were installing a large metal tank, grunting and swearing profusely. Another fighter was mounting some kind of extra nozzle on the twin-barreled machine gun on the turret.
“What is it?” I looked at the master sergeant blankly.
“You can’t tell?” Sanders grinned contentedly. “A flamethrower.”
Intrigued, I looked at the tank closely.
A flamethrower? Loaded with napalm? Hmm… How much of it was there? About seventy gallons? Interesting, very interesting…
The Xenos were afraid of fire. In the army, sweeper teams used flamethrowers to torch nests, and they did it quite effectively. Unfortunately, flamethrowers were useless for assault teams — they were too big and heavy and ran out of ammo too quickly. That was why here, on Rhapsody, I didn’t even think about flamethrowers, especially considering that fuel was almost worth its weight in gold.
