Gears of War

by Jason M. Hough

  The other survivors were all there on the ledge. Most were crouched and getting ready to move. A few were sitting, still catching their breath. One retched, throwing up a mouthful of seawater onto the rock. Gian was tending to him. Gabe sat up and got on his comm.

  “This is Diaz. Squad leaders, report.”

  “Orange squad,” a voice said. “Gavin here. Posada was killed, sir. I’m sorry. We’re working our way up Gatka Ridge.” Green, Black, and White all reported in, too. They’d made Scabbard Cove and moved up onto the ridge, but no farther.

  “The enemy were clustered around Cathedral,” Gavin said, “but I don’t think they were dug in or even guarding it. They were working.”

  “Working on what?”

  “Best guess, getting inside.”

  Gabe thought of the fake containers of toxic waste, and wondered if the UIR had realized they’d been tricked.

  “Acknowledged. Stick to the plan, for now.” They had to get a solid foothold on the ridge, then keep the enemy busy. He switched the comm off and raised his voice for those who were gathered on the rock. “Listen up. We lost two boats, but we still have four. We can do this. Remember the plan.”

  They nodded. Grim, determined faces stared back at him. Then Blair scrambled back down the ravine.

  “There’s a way up,” she said, pulling her goggles up.

  “What’s waiting for us?”

  “A bunch of UIR.” She shrugged. “Maybe a couple dozen, but shouldn’t be more than we can handle.”

  “Good,” he said. “We’ll go now, while there’s still a chance. Everyone, fall in.”

  They did so, and Blair led them up the ravine. To Gabe it felt like the world’s worst stairway. Uneven steps of mismatched size, slick with water and hidden in shadow. The placement of each foot required total concentration. In several places, Blair stopped to help Gabe up, then Gabe would turn and do the same for the person behind him. And so on, down the line.

  When they were at best halfway to the top the flares burned out. Instead of deep shadows and orange-lit rock, everything was dark. They paused to let their eyes adjust. Those who still had their night-vision goggles pulled them back on. Then everyone continued up the treacherous path.

  At the top he found Davis. She lay on a stone slab about six feet across, the barrel of her Longshot poking through a gap in a natural stone wall maybe twenty feet long and, in places, as much as three feet high.

  “I count at least forty of them,” she said, her voice low. “Seventy-five yards dead ahead.”

  He lay beside her and took a look through the same gap.

  Sure enough, roughly forty Gorasni guerillas were arrayed around the entrance to a cavern at the base of the huge, sheer face that was Knifespire. The area around the entrance was a circular depression about thirty feet in diameter. Water splashed at the feet of the soldiers moving in and out of the cave. The ones coming out carried the air tanks. So, Wyatt’s decoys were no longer fooling them. At least a dozen had already been brought out and dumped into the shallow pond.

  Gabe ground his teeth. The odds weren’t in his favor, numbers-wise. Numbers weren’t the whole picture, though. The UIR had taken a strong defensive position, and had the Cathedral for shelter if their position was compromised. Still, Gabe’s group had surprise on their side.

  That counted for a lot.

  “Everyone be ready,” he said, once his people were out of the ravine and crouched behind the rock wall. Into the comm he said, “Gavin, I want a coordinated assault the instant the next set of flares lights up. Pin them down, keep their attention on Gatka Ridge. We’ll flank them once they commit to fending your squads off.”

  “Understood,” the sergeant replied.

  “CNVs, give me flares in exactly one minute.”

  The patrol boat pilots acknowledged.

  Gabe switched off his comm. “Listen up. We get as close as we can. Bull rush. No one fires until they realize we’re coming.”

  Nods all around.

  “Davis?” he called out.

  She turned to him.

  “I want you—”

  “This is a solid overwatch position, sir,” she said before he could ask her to move.

  “I know that, soldier, but I have something else in mind for you.” She eyed him suspiciously, but once he explained himself, her concern had transformed into a sly half-smile.

  “Understood,” she said when he’d finished.

  Gabe pointed toward a spot on the massive rock formation that gave the island its name. About two-thirds of the way up there was a narrow section, as if some massive hand had squeezed the rock together. “There,” Gabe said. “There will be a flat spot for you, plus the overhang will shadow your position.”

  “It’s a long climb,” she replied.

  “If you can’t handle it—”

  “Oh, I can handle it, sir. I know you go running in the mornings. Guess what I do?”

  He grinned at her. “Did you get a pair of night-vision goggles?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Can’t use them with a rifle scope.”

  “But you can for a climb. Take someone else’s and stick to the north face, you’ll be practically invisible once we light up the ridge.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Get going.”

  Davis saluted, and moved away, grabbing a pair of goggles from Blair as she went.

  Gabe’s two squads divided themselves at either end of the low, jagged wall. The sailors, sidearms in hand, waited several feet behind, ready to act as a reserve or to cover a retreat, depending on how things shook out.

  Orange lights erupted in the sky.

  One, two, then a third.

  Dizzying shadows began to sway and twist around the landscape as the flares slowly drifted back down.

  Then an RPG hit the UIR position.

  “Go!” Gabe hissed into his comm.

  The UIR soldiers took aim in the direction the Longspear’s RPG had come from, firing back in small bursts. In response they received an all-out barrage from the COG forces moving onto the ridge, pushing them back behind their cover positions. More rockets exploded around them. Bullets tore into trees and rock alike. One grenade sailed past the front line and slammed into the side of the spire, sending a shower of rock and debris down on the Gorasni grunts who had been trying to clear the cavern of the air tanks.

  Gabe was up and running, five steps behind Blair, the rest of her squad all around him. Off to the right, Akino’s squad moved through a maze of trees and vines, using their night-vision goggles to pick through the dense undergrowth with relative ease.

  So far none of the Indies had spotted their approach.

  He could only hope Davis wouldn’t be spotted climbing the spire. While Gabe’s flanking maneuver used the frontal assault to cover their approach, she was relying on darkness, or barring that, on the enemy not bothering to look up.

  “Incoming frigates!” one of the pilots shouted in Gabe’s ear, and through the comm he heard their deck guns fire. Four booming thuds Gabe felt in his chest, despite the island in between. A series of flashes lit the clouds from somewhere to the south.

  “Back off,” Gabe told the pilots. “We lose you and we’re all stuck here.”

  “They’re not firing at us!”

  Gabe felt his stomach tighten. If they weren’t taking on the patrol boats, that meant their guns were trained on Scabbard Cove, and the ridge above.

  “Gavin!” he called into the comm, but the link had turned to chaos. Chatter from all over the place. Then Gabe had his own problems to worry about. Ahead, one of the Gorasni soldiers hauling air tanks from the cave mouth stopped, and looked up. He stared straight at Gabe.

  Blair saw him, too. She dropped to a knee behind a bush and brought her Lancer up. Squeezed off a quick controlled burst. The man fell where he stood, his mouth open to cry alarm but no sound escaping. Unfortunately, the air tank fell from his lifeless grip, landing atop another that had already been removed from the ca
ve. The two metal tanks clanged together, and the resulting gong could probably be heard for miles, even over the battle.

  Gabe surged ahead. The element of surprise was gone. His decoy force was being pummeled by UIR frigates that, while close to the shore, were safely out of range on the other side of the tiny island.

  Well, not quite out of range.

  “Davis?”

  “Almost in position, sir.”

  “Forget stealth, they’re onto us. I need you up there five seconds ago.”

  “Affirmative.”

  He raced up to the edge of the pond, firing on the line of UIR soldiers that had taken up positions to defend against the force coming up the ridge. They were totally exposed, and most scrambled for new cover instead of returning fire. Several made it. Most did not.

  “Akino,” Gabe said, “take the cave.”

  She acknowledged, and led her squad off toward the mouth of the cavern.

  Meanwhile, Blair pulled up behind the pile of air tanks. Unwittingly, the enemy had created great cover for the incoming Gears. They rushed up at a crouch and dove behind the tanks as the Gorasni soldiers finally managed to organize a line of their own. This forced them, however, to turn their backs on the force coming up Gatka Ridge.

  If there still is a force on Gatka Ridge, Gabe thought. The way those deck guns were going—

  “I’m in position,” Davis said in his ear.

  “How’s it look? Good roost?”

  The reply took a few seconds. “The view is excellent, but I’m not sure about the spire. Stress fractures everywhere. If they spot me, shoot back with those cannons, it’s all likely to come down around me.”

  “Don’t let them spot you, then,” he said, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

  “No intention to, sir.”

  “Good. You know what to do,” he replied. Moving to the pile of air tanks, he took up a position next to Blair. Together they popped over the top of the makeshift barrier and rattled off shots. Already the rock formation behind which the Gorasni now hid was riddled with bullet holes, and crumbling in places.

  “Get some grenades on that,” he told Blair. She nodded and relayed the order to her Gears.

  From somewhere above, the first round from Davis’s Longshot ripped across the landscape.

  “One gunner down,” she said, matter of fact.

  Gabe couldn’t help but smile. The Gorasni frigates might have some damned powerful artillery, but the vessels were old and weren’t designed around modern equipment. Instead of being below-decks, targeting enemy positions on computer screens, the UIR gunners had to sit at mechanical controls attached to the guns themselves, peering through scopes to study the results of their efforts.

  Given a proper vantage point, a skilled sniper could exploit that. It had been years since such a skirmish had reared its head in the Lesser Islands, though, and Gabe had hoped the enemy had forgotten this danger.

  He’d been right.

  “Another gunner down,” Davis said. “Fish in a barrel, sir.”

  “Stay focused, soldier,” he replied. Already the rate of shelling from the enemy ships had diminished. Two more shots sounded, and the enemy guns were silenced altogether.

  Gabe ducked as a haphazard spray of machine-gun fire rattled across the pile of air tanks. Some of them hissed as rounds punctured their thick metal walls. He glanced at the cave mouth. From within, yellow light flashed across the rocky tunnel walls. Gunfire. Lancers and Markza assault rifles intermingled. Then a lull in the blasts, within which Gabe heard the sound of bayonets plunging through flesh. Someone screamed, instantly silenced by a wet, dull crunch.

  “We need more people in there.”

  “We need more people everywhere,” Blair shot back, eyes wild.

  “Get a grip on yourself, Sergeant. Just hold this position. Move up to their wall when you can. I’ll take the sailors and we’ll reinforce the cave.”

  She took a second to wrap her brain around his words. Finally she nodded, renewing her grip on the handle of her rifle. Gabe clapped her on the shoulder and pushed away from the stack of air tanks. He ran hunched over along the line of Gears until he found Mendez and Gian at the edge of the jungle.

  “With me,” he said in a tone that he hoped broached no argument. Moving to the cave mouth, he took up a position just outside on the left. Mendez, who wasn’t a soldier and, as far as Gabe knew, had never done anything in his career except steer a ship, instinctively took the right. Gian fell in beside him. Their eyes met Gabe’s.

  He nodded and rounded the corner, gun up and ready.

  There was a dead Gorasni in the entrance, his Booshka grenade launcher lying beside him, smoke curling from the barrel. Gian holstered her sidearm and grabbed the unfamiliar weapon. An expression of curiosity crossed her face, but she quickly fought it back.

  “Enclosed space,” Gabe said to her, shaking his head. “You’ll bring the roof down on our heads.”

  Gian grimaced and tossed the weapon aside. Then she found a Markza—the sniper variety—and picked it up. Her eyes went to Gabe, seeking approval.

  “In here it’ll be more useful swung like a club,” he said, “but you decide.”

  She kept the weapon.

  The fighting was ahead of them, deeper in the cave. He wiped the sweat from his brow and rushed forward, through a narrow gap in the twisting tunnel. Gian and Mendez ran after him. They were sailors, he reminded himself, untrained in this kind of thing, but they were still COG, and damned smart from what he’d seen. So he threw his trust in their ability to watch his back. This needed to end quickly, before those frigates found safer waters from which to fire their guns. They’d pulverize this island if allowed, he had no doubt.

  “The boats are moving,” Davis said in his ear, as if reading his thoughts.

  “South?” South made sense. They could take on the patrol boats, strand the Gears on the island, and pick them off at their leisure.

  “No,” she said. “North.”

  “North? You sure?”

  “Very,” she replied. “I’m losing sight of them… they’re gone.”

  He put this information aside for the moment, because from around the next corner came the sound of Lancer fire.

  Gabe took the corner at speed.

  A large chamber lay before him. Fifty feet across and at least as high, coming to a naturally domed ceiling free of the stalactites he’d expected to see. Cathedral, indeed. Part of the ceiling was hidden in shadow, implying the ledge Wyatt had described where the antenna had been installed. A pair of cables hung down from the darkness, and Gabe thought he could see the corner of a gray metallic box just poking out from the ledge. The equipment was still up there.

  Gabe ignored it for now. Take the island first, then deal with the antenna, he told himself.

  In front of him was a scene of chaos and carnage, lit by shoulder lamps that twisted violently. Men and women—COG and UIR—all embroiled in melee combat. Akino was on the ground. Above her, a UIR grunt hefted a pilfered Lancer over his head. He held it like a stake, bayonet blade pointed down.

  Gabe shot him in the back of the knee.

  The soldier buckled and toppled over sideways. The stolen gun clattered across the dirty, blood-soaked ground. As the man fell he twisted, drawing a sidearm. Gabe dove to his left as the shot rang out. He heard it hiss past his ear, and then heard a grunt behind him as someone else took the round.

  No time to see who. He landed in a sideways roll and tried to stand, but someone kicked him back to the ground. The Indie grunt. He pressed Gabe into the dirt and aimed his pistol at Gabe’s face. He never saw the butt of the Markza.

  Gian swung it so hard into the back of the man’s head that his skull caved in. Gore splattered across the ground. The man fell, eyes rolling back as he hit the ground next to Gabe.

  “Thanks,” Gabe said, reaching up. Gian was too stunned to help him up, though. Her eyes were locked on the fallen enemy, her hands still tight on the barrel of the rif
le.

  Then Mendez was there, next to her. He grasped Gabe’s outstretched hand and hefted him to his feet. He’d lifted Gabe with his left hand, and winced while doing so. Gabe saw the blood splotch at his right shoulder, then. It was growing larger by the second.

  Around them the sounds of fighting died out.

  Glancing across the space, Gabe found Akino and helped her up. She had a nasty gash across her forehead, but seemed otherwise unscathed.

  The enemy were all dead, or had vanished. Four COG were dead, too, and several more were wounded. Gabe glanced at Mendez.

  “Find a medic kit,” he said, “get that patched.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mendez replied.

  “Do it anyway. Go.”

  The pilot nodded, turned, left. With a glance at Gabe, which was all the permission she needed, Gian followed her crewmate.

  “There another way out of here?” Gabe asked Akino.

  Her brow furrowed. “A passage on the north side. Not sure if it’s a way out, though, or just goes deeper.”

  He nodded. “How bad is that?” he asked, eyeing the gash.

  “It’ll heal.”

  “Good. You’re with me, then.” He gestured toward two Gears standing just behind her. “You two as well. The rest of you, hold this room. Once the area’s secure we’ll see to that antenna.”

  Nods and acknowledgements greeted his words. Satisfied, Gabe crossed the space to the tunnel on the north side, Akino and her two Gears right behind him. It was barely wide enough to squeeze through. Gabe went first, his rifle slung and pistol in hand.

  He scanned for traps, or at least enemies lying in wait. Expected a twisting tunnel that might take him down deep underground, or up into the reaches of the spire. Instead, he navigated two more corners and found himself in the jungle, on a narrow bluff at the northern tip of the island.

  Below him ocean waves crashed onto a rock-strewn shore. UIR soldiers were pushing out into the waves, swimming. Inflatable landing craft were streaming toward them, and beyond, but far too close for comfort, were the two frigates. One had already turned toward the north, powering off into the night.

  The other, though, waited for the rafts that zoomed toward it, bouncing off whitecap waves that reached ten feet high and crashed down violently. They were evacuating, Gabe realized, but that didn’t mean—