“Eight mechs.” Shane corrected. “There are four more crab-walkers currently ripping us to shreds. Beside them, there are two more Vindicators and two gun drones. But the two gunners were offline pending a refit of some kind.”
“Fine. Other than a metallic apocalypse of our own making, what do we have?”
Shane brought his head up from the ground. He touched it with his fingers, seeing that bleeding from the scalp wound had stopped seeping into the sand. “I'd been listening when I was conscious. Our supposedly unbreakable Battle-net got broken into. AIs connected to the net got scrambled and convinced to turn against us. They're trying to beat us up and take our lunch money. Part of that included putting our armor into shipping mode to make us easier targets. D'Marco has first squad up. They're trying to clean this mess up.”
“Any word on Striker Company?” Bolaji asked.
Panting was the only thing that made any sense at the moment. Breathing had to be controlled if he was going to get out of this. He wouldn't be able to see anything if his helmet lens fogged up. Hyperventilation was also a concern.
Captain Gerard had gone down hard when his armor locked up, face first in the tall grasses. Their gentle sway and sound was lost on him as he focused on two things. He needed to know how far away the shooting was and he needed to get out of his armor.
He had tried to strain against the locked servo-motors and struts in his suit. The most he had managed to do was rock slightly so that one of his eyes could see through the face shield of his lid. The multiple screens and displays common to the helmet were all offline, leaving a bit of the visor above the sand for him to get glimpses of his surroundings. He could see a streak of color here. A blur of a runner there.
He heard the ffft, ffft of someone walking through the grass. A few sheaves bent in front of his visor, indicating someone had stepped beside him. Whether it was friend or enemy, he began to shout. He wanted the world, or at least whomever had walked up, to know that he wasn't dead. He was very much alive and ready to do something, anything if it would allow him to fight to save his lancers.
He felt his chest being raised. There was some movement at his hip. After a thick pop, the struts and servos released, allowing him to move. As he struggled up to his hands and knees, he felt the release catch on his helmet open, bringing in the cool morning air.
“Sir? Not sure what academy you attended on Elysium, but this ostrich tactic you have going on is highly ineffective.” A silky feminine voice said with more than a bit of mirth.
Gerard hit the release on his armor, coming out of it like a snake shedding his skin. He turned to see Marshal Truveau, grinning like a cat happy with its kill. “I figured ear to the ground would give me an advantage. Poor tactical choice. Where are we?”
“Got word from the Tac-Center in the fort that one of Tom's techs was running a black bag and set all this up to slow us down.” Mara said with more seriousness. “They're working to unscrew it now. Lancers are dying out there due to your heavy weapon bots doing some major damage. The ones from your vehicle are making their way to the fort now. Brand and the commander are trying to slow them down.”
Gerard hit the reset on his helmet. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk like a lancer? How many men have we lost?”
“Hard to tell, but Striker Element is giving as good as they get. We're holding.”
Gerard heard an audible chime in his helmet signaling a hard reset was complete. He grabbed for his rifle and load bearing vest. Swinging it over his shoulder, he snatched up the lid and dropped it on. Immediately, internal com chatter from across the company lit up. It was a running gun fight between the lancers and the mechs. This was not good. They had little cover, the APCs were hacked into bricks, and their armor would need a reset in order to function. “Do we have any good news?”
Mara looked over her shoulder as she guarded the captain. “Only more bad.”
“How does this get 'more bad'?” Gerard said, emphasizing the last bit.
Mara held up her comms device. “Just got an alert on my cell-com. The virus doing all this just sliced an OWL.”
Gerard cut through the waves of data in his lid, finding the company NCO's and alerting them he was back in the fight. “Well then. Seems like we better regroup, reset, and revenge!”
“How do we do that?” the marshal asked with a smile.
“The way Striker Company always does, Marshal. Constant forward pressure to the enemy and no slack.”
Twenty-Four
Sister Leeuwen grabbed Savoya's shoulder and squeezed. She let out a little whimper but remained still. Everyone in the room knew what cyborgs like Leeuwen were capable of. No one wanted to see it in person. “No more talking from you. Speak only when spoken to. Nod if you understand.”
The corporal did as she was instructed.
Leeuwen was quick to lay down orders to Tom. “Lieutenant, I am getting a tight beam signal from Commander Hylaeus. They are in trouble. Our friend here has used some sort of virus to subvert the Battle-net. Connected AIs are attacking the lancers outside. We need to fix this.”
Tom stared toward the sister and then back at the corporal. He looked at the ICOM like a gambler weighing all the possibilities and luck that might go into the next hand.
“Tom!” Leeuwen shouted, breaking him from his indecision.
“Sorry. I just... Corporal, can you undo this command?” The lieutenant stuttered.
Leeuwen squeezed the shoulder again. Bones creaked. Her face bent in anguish. “Answer him,” Leeuwen said ominously.
“The virus has to run its course. Once the objective is complete, the AIs will shut down to reset,” the corporal croaked in a small voice.
Tom leveled questioning glances to both women. “What was the objective, Corporal?”
“If I was compromised, they would pull me out so I couldn't be questioned.”
“With me holding you, that is probably not going to happen.” Leeuwen said. “Tom, I need you to get into the ICOM and see if you can reverse what she did.”
“Sister, I'm a tactical analyst. I don't have her skill as a tech.”
Leeuwen made a face. “Fine. Hold her at gunpoint. If she moves or speaks, I need you to shoot her.”
Tom pulled his pistol. His expression showed the shame he felt in failing the young trooper. Aiming a loaded blaster at her seemed to be an indictment of him instead of her. He stowed his feelings and aimed the weapon. He reached across and pulled the pistol from her hip, placing it on the table among the various MRE wrappers and spent water bottles.
Leeuwen went to work. A thin wire came from a port on the bottom of her palm. The wire end blossomed like a flower before suctioning onto the exterior of the ICOM. Her hands pulled slightly at the wrist, becoming segmented. Five fingers per hand became ten. She lightly tapped on the table where the ICOM rested, clicking a holographic display and sounding like an army of beetles marching angrily across it. “I'm in. Working now.”
Tom felt worse than helpless as he stared at Savoya. He was a tactical officer in the Elysian Army, reduced to guard duty. He was also an officer that had failed a trooper he was responsible for. In a regular unit, she would have had an NCO above her who would have helped her. He would have made the lieutenant listen. Working for the lancers, it was Tom and the two techs. She was right. He didn't want to know about their personal problems. He just wanted them to excel as a unit. To be as good in the TOC as the lancers were on the ground. He had forgotten that people had lives outside of this.
It was far easier to look to his left and see what Leeuwen was doing.
“Tom, eyes on the prisoner, please. Besides, I am working in Virtual Display. There is nothing for you to see,” the sister admonished.
Feeling the sting of another failure, Tom turned back to his charge. She sat with her head down, staring blankly at the floor. Each time she sighed or held a lengthy blink of her eyes, it was a signal to him that this was his fault. He might not have made all the choices that led t
o this, but he chose to ignore the signs of her asking for help.
“Oh no,” Leeuwen gasped.
“What?” Tom turned.
Leeuwen's eyes focused back to the here and now. “The virus has triggered an automated response from an Orbital Weapons Locker. Three more AIs just went online to the Battle-net and were subverted. This algorithm just triggered a Heavy Drop. Our boys have incoming.”
Tom turned to see Corporal Savoya plunge an auto-injector syringe into her leg. The pshttt sound they made was all too clear as it pushed its payload through her fatigues.
“That's not the only problem you have,” she said coldly.
Three shots rang out from the CR-18 blaster pistol. The model was one of the latest production runs from Cyre Rondeau, one of the major suppliers of weapons to Elysium. The quick fire bolts rent the back of the chair and two walls. The last shot scattered a multitude of MRE wrappers from their resting place.
Each shot missed by a hair's length as Corporal Savoya moved faster than she had any right to. “Whoa! Is this what it feels like to be a marshal? Let's see what else I got!”
She projected a palm into Tom's chest. Even with the pistol aimed at her, she moved by Tom's attempt at defensive shooting. His body caved in, his shoulders almost meeting in the middle. He flew back two meters into the opposing wall. Striking the adobe, he crumpled at the base of it, wheezing and holding his chest.
“Now, Sister. I need you to uncouple from that ICOM and let the mechs do their job. Once I'm gone, this all stops.” Savoya said in a polite tone that contrasted with her actions.
Leeuwen was calm. She turned slightly and glared at Savoya. “Interesting. Swarm Tech is highly dangerous. Especially if you have never used it before. Are you sure you want to go this route?”
“Sister, I've been waiting months for this nightmare to be over. I'm pretty sure I'm going to wreck whatever route I have to, to get out of it.”
Savoya moved like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Punches rained down at the cyborg. A few attacked high before switching to low. Straight became circular, becoming flicking and then back to direct. Sister Leeuwen stayed connected to the ICOM, her free arm reconfiguring to deflect each blow. Outward, inward, and circular blocks blurred, one into another, frustrating the empowered corporal.
Sister Leeuwen saw an opening. An outward block she executed was pulled by Savoya. But as her arm straightened, Savoya reversed direction on the pull, turning a tug into a straight punch aimed to break the sister's face. It was a clever move. The sister anticipated the motion, allowing the movement to turn her slightly, avoiding the punch and landing one of her own into Savoya’s stomach.
The corporal wretched, spewing blood and half-digested protein bars all over the floor. She stumbled back until she hit the wall opposite Tom. Screaming punctuated the space. Savoya teetered and bounded from multiple surfaces in a struggle to keep her feet.
“The thing about Nanotech Swarm Enhancers is that they are unlike any other combat-modifications available,” Sister Leeuwen informed her. “They take some level of training to use effectively. While they are better than other battlefield injectables on the market, it takes the body some time to become accustomed to them. Stay down, Corporal.”
“It was strange that no one noticed someone just under two meters tall and weighing in around sixty-five kilos, constantly wolfing down these MREs, nutrition bars, and energy shakes. I've been at this for a bit, pounding calories to fuel the mighty mites. I'm far from new and far from done.” The anger in the corporal's voice was apparent. It was also clear that she seemed ready for this.
Lurching forward, she came at the sister. Leeuwen dodged, letting the corporal get caught in the chair. The sister threaded her free arm between Savoya's arm and ribs, then up around her neck. Grabbing the back of the woman's skull, she slammed Savoya through the table while simultaneously grabbing the ICOM.
“Tom? I could really use a hand here,” Leeuwen said, risking a glance at the tactical officer. “Lieutenant! I need you up, now!”
A blaster bolt stole the gravity from the room. A smoking ruin of a hole had burned its way into the fatigue shirt worn by the corporal. With her face shattered and bleeding, she looked down at the hole in disbelief. Once again, she stumbled back into the wall, using it for support. “You shot me!” Her words came out in a slur through a damaged jaw.
Tom was still wheezing from the impact of the first hit. He was sure there was a rib or maybe all of them that were broken. Even though he had combat training as part of the Officers' Basic Course, he had never been hit that hard. He was also sure the next one would kill him.
“Lieutenant, thanks for the test. Good to know these things are as good as they said.” Savoya righted herself back to standing, as the smoking crater in her stomach began closing. Charred flesh turned back to pink as she brushed the wound. Flecks of ash and burnt uniform came away, showing a midriff that was unharmed. Her face straightened, bones snapping back into place as flesh worked to cover the holes left by the table.
“Interesting,” Leeuwen said. “I've never seen Swarm Tech do that before.”
“Slight problem!” Leeuwen yelled as she blocked another punch leveled by the nano-enhanced corporal.
“I'll give you slight!” Savoya yelled back. She throttled a hole in the wall meant for Leeuwen's head. The corporal whirled, ripping her fist out while turning into a back elbow strike with the other hand. The cyborg danced away, the spot she vacated spider-webbed under the force of the corporal's attack.
The sister continued her defensive maneuvers, shielding the lieutenant from further harm as she blocked the corporal from leaving the room. “Tom. I purged the virus from the Battle-net so the lancers can use it again. The infected mechs are off the net, acting like a mini-network of their own.”
Tom's head began to clear, even though he was having trouble moving. He was up and running behind the Vernai monk keeping Savoya at bay.
“Take the ICOM outside. We have a clever corporal of our own who can shut this down.” Leeuwen said.
Tom wheezed, struggling to find the air to speak. “Can't they just slice in from their own machines?”
Leeuwen pushed the corporal across the space, cracking the wall she landed against. “That ICOM has all the virus data and system entries used to start this mayhem. He can use it to stop it.”
“No you don't!” The corporal took a feinting step toward the duo, cutting to another direction before launching off of a wall. She bounded several meters into the air before landing behind the lieutenant.
As she went to strangle him, Leeuwen grabbed her by both wrists. Tom was in the middle of the strange tug of war, sandwiched between the two combatants.
“Down!” Leeuwen roared, twisting one of the corporal's wrists, shooting the arm away from the tactical officer. The sister's arm traced an orbit around the offending limb, chopping into the side of Savoya's neck. The chop became a grab, pulling her close, like two wrestlers at the start of a match.
The blow had stunned the corporal, giving a moment of pause. Leeuwen used the side of her shin to slide the ducking Tom to one side. Savoya was quick to recover from the hit. She tried to kick a hole through the squatting lieutenant. Leeuwen was a hair faster, rebounding the kick, using her shin through another orbital movement. While the technique saved Tom from death by punting, it put the sister off balance.
Savoya stepped into her, pivoting her hip to sit across from the sister’s. She rotated at the waist, bringing Leeuwen up and off her feet to slam her into the floor. The body drop of several hundred kilograms of combat cyborg ruptured the structure, embedding her through it, almost into the one below.
But Leeuwen held on to the corporal, making it near impossible for her to move. “Tom, the wall downstairs. Take it there now!”
Tom was transfixed by the combat. He had watched action vids depicting a fight between two enhanced soldiers, but they all paled in comparison to being centimeters from the real thing. Bits of stone hitt
ing him in the face, the wet slapping sound of the hits, the smell of blood and vomit, all coalesced into a symphony of sensation that was overwhelming him.
“Tom!” Leeuwen yelled.
He got up, clutching the ICOM like a player during a Mylosi rugby match. He stumbled more than ran from the room, colliding with the walls of the hall. A quiet fwoosh sound of the door closing was in stark contrast to the grunting and pounding going on in the room.
“He won't get far.” Savoya said.
Leeuwen choked up on the corporal's arm, using the off balance posture to keep her from running after the ICOM. “Neither will you.”
Savoya smiled. Holding on to one of Leeuwen's wrists while being held by the other, she kicked down straight into the cyborg's abdomen. One kick became ten as the speed and power of the nano-enhanced force pounded on her. There was a loud cracking noise.
“There it is.” The corporal sighed in triumph, right before they both crashed through the floor into the one below.
Warning indicators and internal alarms flickered in and out of Sister Leeuwen’s vision. Her bionic frame was more than sufficient enough to be blasted through an adobe floor and be instantly ready to bring the fight. Her squishy human parts needed a minute to recoup.
“That was interesting.” Savoya said while standing over her. “All sorts of new sensations on this stuff. Cybernetic overlays in my vision are telling me I need a booster, one to augment the prolonged time it is taking me to get out of here.” The phsssht sound of the injector was unmistakable at this point. “Let's not forget a bit of nutritional hyper-supplement to keep the little guys happy.” A second injector. “They really can't have me getting caught.”
She walked over to stand above the Vernai sister. The cyborg rose to face her attacker. “May the stars light your way...”
The dark room lit up in a spectacular flash of blue. Multiple surges rang out from the sounds of blaster fire echoing in the room. Savoya was pummeled by fifteen successive shots. Flash after flash illuminated her rage, despair, and desperation, finally dropping her to her knees, panting.
The Mongrel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 1) Page 24