Gears of War

by Jason M. Hough

  “Back!” he shouted.

  The first shot from the frigate’s deck gun went wide, glancing off the side of the spire. Gabe ignored it, ushering the Gears into the cave again. They all moved in. All except Akino.

  She’d turned toward the sea, and lay in a crevice in the rock. Somewhere along the way she’d found a Longspear rocket launcher—where, Gabe had no idea—and was aiming it at the frigate. Two steps into the cave, Gabe turned to go back for her.

  Akino fired.

  The frigate fired.

  Her rocket zipped across the space between, just above the waves, but Gabe never saw the impact. A heartbeat later the ground where Akino lay erupted in fire, smoke, and jagged chunks of rock. She vanished instantly. The ground where she lay was thrown up and out in all directions, spraying against Gabe’s armor, his face. He turned away from the shrapnel and heat, the shockwave throwing him back.

  When Gabe found his senses again, he forced himself to stand. Someone was helping him, a hand under his armpit, lifting. It was so quiet. Just that high-pitched ringing to go with the stars that swam in front of his eyes. He closed them, shook his head. When he opened them again his vision had cleared, and he could hear someone shouting at him, but they sounded miles away.

  He saw the part of the cliff where Akino had been. A half-circle chunk of ground around her position had vanished. Even as he stared at the spot, more chunks of loosened rock and dirt crumbled away, disappearing below the lip of the cliff and crashing into the sea below.

  Then he saw the frigate.

  Fire and smoke billowed from her bridge, out through shattered windows. UIR sailors scrambled all over her deck, throwing water on the fire or spraying it with extinguishers. One figure on the deck stood still, though. He was facing Gabe. Even from this distance Gabe knew it was the man he’d seen on his first visit to the island. The tanned skin, the clean-shaven scalp. A bandaged shoulder.

  Their eyes locked. Then the man grinned, lifted a hand, and gestured.

  The deck gun fired once more.

  Gabe closed his eyes, expecting to die, but he was pulled backward, deeper into the tunnel. The shell sailed just a hair too high. It pounded into the spire just above the northern entrance.

  The tunnel mouth collapsed, completely blocked off.

  “They’re leaving,” Davis said in his ear. “We did it, sir.”

  Tell that to Akino, he thought.

  7: WAITING GAME

  The shelling of the spire, and the combat within it, left the interior chamber full of choking dust and soot. Gabe had no choice but to gather everyone outside on Gatka Ridge until the dust cleared.

  All except Davis, whom Gabe asked to stay in her perch halfway up the spire. He sent Orange Squad’s sniper to join her there, to act as her spotter, or just to give her a break.

  “Squad leaders, report,” he said, once everyone had assembled.

  One by one they did so. Blair went last. Her situation was similar to what the other squads reported.

  “Blue lost two Gears, plus one incapacitated and in need of medical attention,” she said, battling back the emotion in her voice. “We’re low on ammo too, sir.”

  “Aren’t we all,” he said. “I’m sorry for your losses. We’ll lift a glass to all of them when we get back to Vectes.” She just nodded. It was part of the job, but never easy, especially for someone in command.

  “What now, sir?”

  Gabe had been thinking about that. “That depends on a lot of things, primarily the status of the antenna. We may have secured the island, but who knows what state the equipment is in. Once the air clears in there, we’ll find out. For now, I need to know what shape we’re in. Pilots, report.”

  The sailors had grouped together, standing on the side of the circle closest to Scabbard Cove. When the four pilots glanced at one another, Gabe knew the news would be grim.

  “All six CNVs were sunk,” Mendez said. A heavy bandage had been wrapped around his right shoulder, and there was a sheen of sweat on the man’s forehead, but he seemed otherwise okay.

  “All of them?” Gabe asked.

  The pilot nodded. “Afraid so.” Despite the dashed hopes of all those around him, he managed to keep his voice steady and clear. “One of the Indie frigates must have targeted our patrol craft from the moment we hit the beach. We didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Bastards wanted to strand us here,” someone said. “If they get a blockade set up, we could be here for months. They’ll starve us out just to save some ammo.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Gabe replied. Even as he said the words, though, he realized just how dire their situation now was. His instinct was to keep the concerns to himself until he’d had a chance to think them through, but Blair’s mind worked a lot like his, and she preferred to talk things out.

  “Sir,” she said, “with the patrol boats gone we have no long-range communications capability.”

  “I know, Sergeant.”

  “We’ll have to wait for Vectes to consider us missing, send a recon—”

  “I know, Sergeant.” He glanced at her, his glare stopping her more than his words. “Gian?” he called out.

  “Sir?” She was next to Mendez, and stepped forward.

  “We may have lost the boats, but we might still have an antenna.”

  Gian raised an eyebrow.

  “The one inside the spire. The one we came here for.” Gabe rubbed at his stiff neck, just one ache of many after being rocked by artillery twice in two days. He needed to think. He needed coffee.

  “Sir,” Gian said, “as I understand it, that’s a listening post.”

  “True.” He nodded. “But listening doesn’t do much good if no one can review the intercepted transmissions, and they weren’t planning to do it here. So there’s gotta be some kind of broadcasting capability.”

  “It’s a top-secret spec-ops kit, sir,” Blair said. “I don’t think they’d leave a manual lying around.”

  “Good thing we have some skilled engineers with us.”

  “I fix engines,” Gian said. “Totally different thing.”

  “You’re an engineer of the COG Navy, and a damned smart one.” The woman bit back her protest. More gently he added, “I’m not asking for a miracle, I’m just asking you to go take a look. Who knows, the UIR might have dismantled the thing already. But if not, maybe we can find a way to wire it in to one of our comms and boost the signal.”

  She looked highly skeptical, but didn’t argue.

  “We need to determine its status regardless, per the mission objective,” he said, “and you’re the most qualified to do it. So have a look, will you? The air should be clear enough by now.”

  Gian nodded, then glanced at her fellow engineers and jerked her chin toward the spire. Five of the six CNV engineers had survived the battle, and they trooped off together, already talking in low voices about how to tackle the task before them. Gabe turned back to the others.

  “I don’t plan to be on this rock more than a day or two, tops,” he said. “So let’s cut the chatter about being stranded. Understood?”

  They expressed their agreement, some of them loudly, and for the most part seemed to mean it. It was the best he’d get, Gabe knew, and he left it at that.

  “Squad leaders, I want half your people to gather what supplies can be found. Ours and the enemies. Be nice to know what we have to work with.” He took a breath. “Everyone else should take up defensive positions around the island. Set up shifts, get some shuteye when you’re not on watch. We’ve got three hours until dawn, and I don’t want any Indies to land on this rock without us knowing well in advance, is that understood?”

  Another chorus of agreement.

  “Get to it.”

  They began to break off into squads, and then separated further once the sergeants or corporals gave them their assignments. Everyone dispersed except the remaining pilots and navigators.

  “Problem, sailors?” Gabe asked.

  Mendez spoke
for them. “We lost our boats,” he said. “Our engineers have a job to do, but we weren’t sure—”

  “You were included in the general orders,” Gabe said, then saw the hesitation in their faces. He stepped toward them, and put a hand on Mendez’s shoulder. “We’re all in this together, and the only way we’re going to get off this island is if we act that way.”

  They shifted.

  “Look, maybe I’m nuts, but I’m guessing you all don’t want to just sit around here and be protected by a bunch of meat-head grunts. Am I right?” From the way they glanced at him, and one another, Gabe saw that he was indeed correct.

  “This,” he said, stomping on the ground, “might be the Army’s natural habitat, but when the enemy returns they’re going to come from the sea, and that’s yours. You’ll recognize their ships and their tactics long before any Gear would. So join in. Pick up rifles, machetes, or whatever you can find, then embed yourselves with the squads on the perimeter and supplement their watches.”

  He repeated his instructions into his comm, for all the squad leaders to hear. “Whatever you might be thinking, don’t forget that we just won a battle. The first major skirmish in the Lesser Islands since… I don’t know how long it’s been. For the moment, at least, Knifespire is a COG island, and until we’re told otherwise we’re going to defend it like we would any other piece of our land.”

  Maybe he was laying it on a bit thick, Gabe thought, but the words seemed to have the desired effect. Mendez saluted him with his good arm. Soon the pilot-navigator pairs were heading off into the darkness, finding Gear squads to join. He left them to it, and went to check on the engineers in Cathedral Cave.

  * * *

  “We’re up here, sir,” a voice called from above.

  Gabe stood in the center of the Cathedral, for a moment ignoring the rope ladder that hung down from above. His focus instead locked on the bodies that lay all around him. The scene would give him nightmares, of that he had no doubt. So much blood. So many lives ended in the blink of an eye. People with families, wives, husbands.

  “Is the antenna in one piece?” he replied, regaining his composure.

  “Seems to be,” Gian replied, her voice echoing in the natural chamber.

  “Be right there,” he said.

  Going through the room he closed the eyes of the slain—COG and UIR alike. From the Gears he collected their tags and any personal items he could find, putting them in a backpack. He did the same for the fallen enemy, too, though those items he put in a separate bag, which he left in a dark corner off to one side. Someone would find it, one day. Maybe they’d be grateful, or maybe not. At least he’d done his part.

  That grim task finished, he checked the north side of the chamber. Sure enough, the shelling had completely collapsed the narrow passage. They’d done it to stall any pursuit, but they’d also removed the second entrance, leaving only one way in or out. The room would be easier to defend as a result.

  It’d also be easier to die in.

  Gabe plucked a chunk of dirt from the wall of earth that blocked the tunnel, and rolled it between his fingertips until it crumbled. Scenarios played out in his mind, none of them good.

  “Sir?”

  Yanked from his train of thought, he let the dirt fall to the floor and turned to see Gian standing behind him.

  “What is it, sailor?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you, up there.”

  “Give me the highlights. Is the antenna usable?”

  “It’s easier to explain if you come and look.”

  He followed her back to the rope ladder and, despite his arms being exhausted from the earlier swim and the battle that had followed, Gabe followed her up. By the time they reached the ledge some twenty feet above the chamber floor, his hands and shoulders felt as if they were on fire.

  Gian stood next to a rectangular metal box, about two feet to a side and eight high. Other than a small green status light, it was just a slab of gray metal. No logo, no anything.

  Only, that wasn’t entirely true. When the engineer gestured, Gabe moved around to the back of the device. The metal here had horizontal slats—cooling vents—and a small cable ran into the lower left corner, snaking off toward the wall of the spire.

  “Power?” Gabe asked.

  She nodded. “Solar cell is my guess. They’ve hidden it well, and as far as I know the place is unreachable from the outside.”

  “What about the box itself? Learn anything?”

  “Only that if we try to open it, we’ll probably destroy it. Turns out Special Forces don’t want their shit being messed with.”

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.

  “Davis,” he said into his comm.

  “Hmm?” she replied. The sniper sounded half asleep.

  “Still with us up there?”

  “Yeah. We’re here. I was taking a break. What’s up?”

  “Have a look down the spire from where you are. Spec ops put in a power cell or solar panel somewhere. Can you see it?”

  Nearly a minute passed before she replied.

  “Yeah, I think so. Thought it was a rock at first, but the shine on it looks too even. It’s nestled in a little depression where a few jagged sections of rock meet.”

  “Can you get to it?”

  “Maybe?” Then she added, “There’s a spot on the route I took up here where I could jump to it, I think, but I’d be pretty much stuck there.”

  “What if I sent someone with a rope?”

  “That would help.”

  Gian was beside him, a highly skeptical look on her face. “Cutting the power won’t do anything about the booby traps, sir. They’re chemical—”

  “I don’t care about the traps,” Gabe replied. “We cut the power, it stops transmitting. We turn on the power, it starts again, yes?”

  She understood at once. “A distress signal.”

  “Exactly.”

  All at once the glum mood on the ledge changed. Gabe ordered two engineers to stay with the box and make sure the power cycling worked. The other three went back down the rope ladder with him, and he ordered them to get some rest.

  “It’s not going to do me any good if all of you are too tired to stand come morning,” he said to Gian.

  “Yessir,” she replied, saluting. “But first I think we should get these bodies out of the Cathedral.”

  “It’s not sacred ground, sailor.”

  She frowned at his gallows humor. “It’s the best cover we’ve got, and it’s going to stink by noon tomorrow if we don’t do something.”

  Nodding at her logic, Gabe helped them move the bodies. The dead Gears were laid in a row beneath a tree on the northwestern edge of the island. The Gorasni slain were rolled over the low cliff, the weight of their equipment and armor—that not worth looting, at least—gradually taking them to the bottom, out of sight. By the time they were done with the somber task, Davis had reached the antenna’s power supply.

  “There’s no room to stand here, sir,” she reported. “I can see why they picked this spot. No one would ever think to look here.”

  “Are you able to see if the thing is hardwired in, or if it has a switch of some sort?”

  “Checking.” After a series of grunts and frustrated curses, she finally had an answer. “There’s a switch.”

  “Good. Listen up, Davis. You’re going to click it on and off in a standard distress pattern. Long, short, long. Got that?”

  “For how long? I’m hanging on the side of a rock wall.”

  “Long as you can, Private.”

  “Understood.”

  He left her to the task, and the others to their rest. Back on Gatka Ridge, Gabe began a walk of the island’s perimeter. It was a warm night. Moonless, but also clear, and once his eyes adjusted the stars provided all the light he needed to navigate the rocky terrain. There were portions of jungle, but he decided to avoid them until the sun was up. It wouldn’t be long.

  He visited each group of Gears and
sailors, ordering them to sleep in shifts and complimenting, or critiquing, their choice of position.

  “High ground is fine, but don’t let their spotters see you silhouetted against the sky. Put your backs to a rock, or trees. Anything but sky.”

  Most had chosen well, though, and it made him proud. Despite serving in a backwater theater of little strategic value, those stationed at Vectes had held their own here. Battled a dug-in enemy and sent them packing.

  All it cost us was six patrol boats and as many Gears, he thought. Always that damned devil sitting on one shoulder, pissing on his parade. Gabe almost laughed. It was his nature, he supposed, to never be too happy about anything.

  The circuit took an hour, and by the time he returned to the spire at the northern tip of the island he felt dead on his feet. Davis had managed to keep up the SOS signal for forty minutes before the rope lashed around her arm began to cut off circulation to her hand.

  “You’ve done well,” he told her. “Rest up. The sun will be over the horizon soon.”

  Gabe sat next to the entrance to the Cathedral, and leaned back against the rock. He folded his arms across his stomach and let his chin fall to his chest. Sleep found him almost as quickly as the insects.

  * * *

  It could have been an hour later, or it could have been a second, when the explosion tore him away from his dreams.

  8: WITH DAWN COMES THE DEVILS

  “South side, south side!”

  Gabe scrambled to his feet, bleary-eyed and confused.

  “Report!” he growled into his comm. “Anyone!”

  Discipline was in shambles. They all started to talk at once, and it was really only the fact that so many were speaking that told Gabe one important piece of information: most, if not all, were still alive.

  “Blair, talk to me,” he said. “Everyone else shut the hell up.”

  “An enemy frigate on the south side,” she said.

  “South? You sure?”

  “Damn sure, sir.”

  It was the last approach anyone would expect them to take, which was of course exactly why they’d done it. Gabe, though, had anticipated something like this. It was why he hadn’t amassed his force on the northern part of the island around the spire.