“This is all of ‘em?” Ellen asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Goddamn, man,” Wallace said, “guess that means we won’t need as many exos.”
The two of them started opening crates, using their grip strength to easily break them open. Wallace reached in and pulled a helmet out of the Styrofoam.
“The hell’s this?” he asked, “this ain’t no aught three nine.”
“No,” Ellen said, pulling the arm out, looking at the weaponry, “it’s an import.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah,” Ellen said, grinning, “these boxes contain XSS-080s. Newest design from Sovereign.”
They continued opening crates, getting through three more before the others – clad in B-024s an B-039s presumably stolen from the Utah military – started coming in from the sales floor, led by Savita and Rocky. With Emma, Victor, Álvarez, Manny, three of Savita’s people and two LP people left in addition to Ellen, Wallace, and me, there was enough XSS-080s. They immediately went about exchanging their fresh B-024s and B-039s for the XSS-080s, giving the older models to refugees.
“It’ll take them a while to mobilize without their communications,” Savita said, “but they’ll be coming down on us like the hammer of God soon.”
“What about that one?” I said, pointing to the EXO:B-128 assembled across the room.
Savita looked over her shoulder at it and then back to me. “Do you know how to operate it?”
“No,” I said.
“I’ll use it,” Victor said, setting the XSS-080s leggings down and walking over toward the mech, “I may need some assistance getting into it.”
There were thirty-three refugees. Sixteen of them were able to suit up in EXO:B-039s, the remaining grownups taking EXO:B-024s. It was at least enough to get everyone mobile. Aveena had Yukiko wrapped in the Kevlar of several double aught nines, cradled in the arm of her B-024.
It took almost forty minutes to get everyone situated, tension rising as a counterattack became inevitable. Yet the Utah forces continued to bide their time.
The people in XSS-080s towered over the others, standing at almost eight feet tall. I opened the GUI for my exo, seeing what weapons it had available. The right arm had a 50 mm gun with thirty cartridges, the left had a 25 mm fully automatic chain gun with one thousand rounds and a grenade launcher with twenty-four 40x74.5 mm grenades.
Savita and Rocky helped with the final adjustments on Victor’s B-128, finally letting him start walking, heavy footsteps stomping on the smooth concrete floor.
“We’re heading northeast to The Capital,” Savita said, “I wish I could say how much resistance we can expect, but I would’ve guessed we’d already be attacked by now, so…”
Nobody said anything. Savita stood for a moment more and in that time, I could tell she was nervous. As much about having to be the leader as she was about what Utah might be up to. For all her confidence, she depended on Sachi’s leadership. Sachi had said Savita was a weapon – deadly when wielded by a good leader, but not effective just on its own. Savita now no longer had Sachi to wield her.
We began moving, out onto the sales floor. The command center had been destroyed, servers reduced to rubble, cables severed, and the commanders lying dead. They hadn’t had anyone in exos, making them a pigeon shoot.
Our heavy footsteps crunched across debris. Outside, the sky grew dim as afternoon gave way to evening.
And aimed toward us were the headlights of dozens of APC:B-021s and APC:B-032s, hundreds of Utah soldiers in B-039s waiting for us.
Chapter 66
“We’re surrounded…” Rocky said.
“Go!” Savita shouted.
Everyone took off, the XSS-080s staying in front. The sound of gunfire exploded from every direction. Bullets clamored against my armor as I pounded across tile, smashing through the remaining glass window, and opened fire. My 25 mm chain gun roared, bullets eating through the lightly armored vehicles.
Victor’s surface-to-surface missiles whistled into the air, arcing overhead as his railgun charged. I fired a grenade, exploding on the front of an APC:B-032, lifting it off the ground and flipping it backwards. The missiles slammed into the ground behind the armored vehicles, sending Utah soldiers cartwheeling into the air. The thrumming railgun thundered, the APC:B-021 in front of Victor vaporizing, transport vehicles fifty feet behind it exploding, shards launching into the building across the street, crumbling it inward as the front wall collapsed.
“Push through!” Savita shouted.
Rocky took the lead, his XSS-080 becoming the target of 30 mm fire, the bullets gouging deep into the armor, but not penetrating. The sound of fifteen 25 mm chain guns erupting was deafening even with the helmet on. A ferocious shock-wave hit my chest when Victor’s 75 mm cannon fired as he rushed through the opening made by the railgun. The shell exploded through another APC:B-032, flipping it onto its side as debris sprayed across the parking lot.
The Utah forces began pulling back, quickening our breakthrough. The gunfire died down to just a few cover pops.
“Ignore them,” Rocky said, “just keep going.”
We moved as fast as we could over the parking lot, limited by the speed of Victor’s clunky B-128 moving at about seventeen miles an hour. The large mech looked unwieldy as its thick legs pumped, footfalls cracking pavement.
We made it only about a mile down the street when we heard the hum of a railgun.
“Get the aught eighties in a perimeter around the refugees,” Rocky said, “only cover fire. We gotta keep-”
The railgun charge was joined by another. Then another. Then another. Shouts came over the radio. Refugees started scattering, firing blindly into the air. I looked up, unable to see anything until the Iron Tempests were nearing the bottom of their dive.
I opened up with my 25 mm, the railguns all firing off in quick succession. Concussive blasts knocked me around as the projectiles exploded in every direction, chunks of pavement clattering off my exo. I fired a grenade as the last UAV slowed from the recoil, the grenade hitting its tail and exploding as I fell to my knees.
Ears ringing, vision blurred as blood pooled in the corner of my remaining left eye, dribbling down from my ears. The UAV crashed into the earth, somersaulting down the street with smoke streaming behind it. Its railgun started humming again for a moment before it exploded into a vibrant fireball.
I staggered to my feet, ground chewed up, pocked by ten-foot diameter craters. Pieces of exoskeleton lay scattered. Victor climbed back to his feet, the mech covered in soot and ash, but mostly undamaged.
“Keep going!” Savita shouted.
The disorganized cluster started forward again. More of our scattered refugees joined back with the group as we went on, keeping our eyes on the sky.
This time the assault came from the ground. All at once the houses on either side of us opened up with gunfire from second story windows. APC:B-032s and APC:B-021s poured out in the street from every garage, stopping in the driveways. Their mounted .50 cals clattered as they opened fire. SABERCATs pounded down the road toward us from both sides.
I opened fire with every weapon I had, the 50 mm on the right and 25 mm on the left going fully automatic. I lobbed a grenade in the path of the approaching SABERCATs, the explosion rocking the street in front of them, the UGVs leaping through the smoke.
A railgun hummed. I looked up, but realized it was Victor. I continued strafing fire across house fronts. Siding splintered, fragments of window flung from windows. Smoke filled the air, obscuring my targets. I aimed for muzzle flashes, firing constant bursts. Bullets glanced off my armor, sparked over pavement, and churned up soil.
Shouts came from both soldiers and refugees. A SABERCAT ran full speed by a refugee, their B-024 crumpling under the point-blank gunfire exploding out his back. Another SABERCAT took a 50 mm slug, tearing it in half. Dizziness gripped me through the cacophony, blurring the vision in my one remaining eye. Sounds continued to-
V
ictor’s railgun drummed. An APC:B-032 hurled backwards, the house behind it fractured, chunks of debris erupting into the air. Two more APC:B-032s exploded from a volley of grenades. Victor fired missiles, streams of smoke arcing back down, slamming into the circling SABERCATs. The front of the closest house crumbled from gunfire, smoke billowing across its front yard into the street as the structure collapsed, taking several soldiers with it. A grenade burst right by me, the shockwave knocking me backwards, skidding across pavement.
More railguns vibrated.
“Smash through!” Savita shouted.
I turned over, pushing myself to my feet, everyone running. I looked down, seeing gashes cut into the surface of my armor from the explosion. I took off running, the railguns closing in. I jumped onto the hood of an APC:B-032, the soldier manning the .50 cal pointing it at me point blank. The driver looked at me in panic. I fired my 25 mm into the windshield, seeing his chest explode like a watermelon.
I ran forward, the feet of my XSS-080 crushing the roof of the cab. The gunner ducked back inside as I tore the gun off, tossing it aside, and ran over top of the vehicle. I jumped off just as the railgun volley roared, the APC:B-032 lifting off the ground in the explosion, tossed to the side.
I was thrown forward, my helmet visor smashing into the ground, the force rushing blood to my face, spraying out my nose and empty eye socket. Through pure adrenaline I leapt to my feet, vision obscured by the spray of red inside my visor, and kept running, bullets pinging off the back of my exo.
I didn’t take any time to see who was still alive. Shouts came over the radio, but the only words I could discern were keep going.
And so I did. Panting. Lungs burning. Injured leg piercing with pain. But I kept going.
It was a rout.
The sound of gunfire faded behind me as I ran, not sure where I was going but making sure I continued northeast. Toward the train station. The only shred of hope left. There was only a faint voice in back of my mind asking why I even bothered, but the biological instinct to stay alive overpowered any sort of higher thought.
I made it two more miles at full speed, about twenty-five miles an hour, when I heard more gunfire close by. I tried to ignore it, but it grew closer as I ran. I stopped in an intersection, seeing a unit of ten APC:B-021s down one of the streets in a firefight with people in a convenience store. Grand Junction citizens. An explosion engulfed one of the APC:B-021s, soldiers screaming.
I kept running. Somewhere in the distance I heard the cresting of a railgun followed by the rattle of its projectile. I looked over my shoulder, seeing a column of gray debris falling back to the ground somewhere maybe a mile back.
More Grand Junction citizens ran down the street going the opposite direction, heading into the action, all carrying 3D printed rifles. I rounded another intersection, running into a group of five soldiers in B-039s. I raised my 50 mm to fire, but the five of them put their hands up.
“It’s us,” someone said, muffled by their visor.
“Marlina?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Come on,” I said.
The six of us continued on. They had to slow themselves down for me, but seemed comforted by having heavier armor with them. Part of me wished I hadn’t found them. More people made us a bigger target.
In the distance behind us more and more gunfire popped. Explosions echoed through the city. A cloud of smoke inflated like a growing specter over the streets. Tires screeched, people shouted, smoldering buildings crackled into flames, but my radio had gone quiet.
Ahead I saw a group of people piling out onto the street. They took cover behind a parked car when they saw us coming. More Grand Junction citizens. Armed. But they posed no threat to us. We passed by the parked car without paying them any heed.
“Liberate the LoC!” one shouted after us as we kept going.
“There’s a lot of them coming out,” Marlina said.
“They think we’re here to lift the occupation,” I said.
“It’ll at least provide some cover,” Evita said.
Railguns thrummed to life somewhere behind us again, further away this time. They mostly care about Victor. The train station was coming into view now. A caravan of citizens in trucks and cars turned a corner and drove past us, people leaning out the windows with M16s and shotguns, cheering when they saw us.
“Where is everyone?” I said over the radio.
There was no answer for a moment until Savita said in a somber tone, “I’m leading some refugees to the station. Victor stayed back with a few volunteers to hold them off.”
I didn’t respond back, knowing that meant he was making a suicide stand. My group approached the station, rounding a corner into an alleyway between two station buildings. As soon as we did, I spotted a garrison of four SABERCATs and six quadcopter MV-S Recon Drones near the terminal. I stopped, signaling for the others to find cover. They spread out, taking cover around corners of the buildings. I stood my ground.
“Don’t fire until they’re close,” I said, “don’t hit the train.”
The MV-Ss pulled up into the air as the SABERCATs began stalking into the alleyway.
“When I say, I want everyone to fire a grenade at them,” I said.
The UGVs seemed almost timid for a few moments, moving slowly, condensing into the narrow alleyway. And then they bolted forward, opening fire with their .50 cals, all of the bullets clattering into my armor. The MV-Ss hovering above us started firing with 5.56 mm fire, coming down like rain.
“Now!” I shouted.
Only two of the refugees dashed across the opening, launching grenades before getting back to safety. I added my own, the three explosions building on each other. I opened up with my 25 mm, strafing side to side down the narrow alleyway, one SABERCAT tumbling forward. I jumped out of the way as it scraped past, coming to rest a few feet back.
“Go, go! Get on the train!”
The refugees piled down the alley, firing up at the MV-Ss. The small recon drones darted out, difficult to hit, but their weapons weren’t powerful enough to penetrate our armor. The entire train came into view as we moved down the alleyway – all nine cars of it. A recon drone came crashing to the ground near me.
“They’re firing on the tram,” Marlina said.
“They want us to use up our ammo on them,” I said. “They’re going to send more-”
I didn’t have time to finish as more gunfire opened up down the alleyway. Two UGVs that looked like motorcycles – Motorbike Reconnaissance and Assault Vehicles, or MBRAVs, containing MX196 miniguns – were being dismounted by soldiers in XSS-080s. All Sovereign imports. Reinforcements.
“Get in!” I shouted, turning to fire my 50 mm at them as the refugees forced the rear car’s door open and scrambled in.
The two MBRAVs accelerated forward as the soldiers took cover around the corners of the alleyway, laying down 25 mm cover fire. I scrambled into the train behind the refugees. Bullets riddled the siding of the train car, refugees ducking down as sparks, shards of glass and chunks of metal sprayed over them. I tried crawling the clunky XSS-080 across the floor, scraping its thick armor across the thin carpeting. The refugees followed suit, able to move with more agility in their smaller exos.
The hail of bullets stopped. I lifted my upper body, looking through the chewed-up siding, seeing the MBRAVs spread out in front of the two buildings, the two soldiers now creeping down the alleyway. I raised my arm and fired a 50 mm slug, both soldiers dropping to the pavement. The MBRAVs MX196’s began spinning again, the bullets flying a couple seconds later. I continued strafing fire across the two soldiers. One raised their left arm, a grenade rocketing forward and slamming into the top of the train car, exploding about ten feet away, throwing scorched metal off the roofing. The other soldier shouted out as my 25 mm penetrated a thin area at the neck of their suit.
Bullets continued furiously tearing through the train car, glancing off my thick armor. The refugees had managed to get into the next ca
r up. I climbed to my feet, hunkered under the low ceiling, and stomped across the debris covered floor to the door. The remaining soldier opened fire with both his weapons. Almost the entire side of the train car was dissolved away by gunfire, which followed me forward to the next car.
The six refugees were waiting there for me when the door closed, another explosion rocking the car I’d just left. Almost immediately bullets started in on the eighth car. I ran to the window, already firing both my 50 mm and 25 mm at the MBRAV close to it, the bullets making quick work of the lightly armored UGV. This time the other refugees joined me at the window, raising their arms and firing.
The soldier was now taking cover in the alleyway, able to stay out of sight behind the corner after we’d moved ahead. The other MBRAV had disappeared, but the way the soldier laid down cover fire told me it was most likely trying to flank us.
I stepped away from the window, going to the other side of the car, letting the refugees hold the soldier down. Nothing on the other side. I punched the window, breaking through the strong polymer, and peered out. Still couldn’t see it.
“The other car,” Evita said.
I turned back around just as the large motorbike crashed through the door into our car, its mini-gun already spinning. Bullets immediately began spraying, hitting a refugee, the projectiles tearing through his suit, spraying blood onto the rows of seats behind him. I spun around, unloading a hail of bullets on the UGV, the 25 mm fire going right through it and hitting another refugee, her screams muffled by the helmet. Behind the spray of blood on the bullet riddled windows, the soldier in the XSS-080 was already peeling polymer window shards away, trying to climb into the car.
I charged forward, clambering over the ruined MBRAV, still firing at the soldier, my shots pushing him back away from the train car. He stumbled backwards, firing off a grenade as he fell, the explosion thrashing across the side of the car. The shockwave threw me backwards, smashing onto the other side of the train car, the polymer windows crunching from the force before I fell back down, landing on rows of the seats.
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