by Hugh Taylor
Lang was about to respond, but Carter interjected. “For almost two years, right up until the Odyssey departed and the captain was transferred to Logistics.”
Lang’s face flushed. “You’re really going to go there, now, and with my new XO?”
“Oh, come on; you’re practically famous.”
Apparently, Weiss put two and two together. “Wait, you’re the guy—”
“—Yes, I’m the guy—”
“—who got caught with Major General Davenport’s daughter?” Weiss finished asking.
“Oh yeah, that’s him,” Carter said, smiling ear to ear. “A real lady-killer, this one.”
“I heard she was underage,” Weiss said.
“She was not!” Lang protested.
“She was twenty,” Carter said.
“Twenty-one!” Lang corrected.
“By how many days?” Carter asked playfully.
“Look, we were two consenting adults—”
“—in the major general’s house,” Carter added.
Weiss’s jaw dropped. “So he caught you in the sheets with his daughter in his own house?”
“… there weren’t any sheets,” Lang admitted.
“Oh, man,” Weiss said.
“Yeah, you can’t un-see some things,” Carter teased.
“So that’s how you got shitcanned from the Odyssey mission, Captain?” a familiar voice asked from behind him.
“Yeah, Gunny—I mean First Sergeant—that’s the real story,” Lang answered without turning around.
Clark burst out into laughter that felt like it shook the whole restaurant. “That’s what you’ve been feeling so guilty about, sir? Heck, I thought you failed a PT test or accidentally blew something up.”
“You don’t understand, Sergeant,” Carter began to explain. “Lang comes from a small town … a really small town. He’s sort of a hometown hero.”
“Was; I was a bit of a hometown hero, yes,” Lang admitted. “Not many people from my town go to college, let alone Annapolis.”
“… and then get scheduled to ship out on the first interstellar ship,” Clark added, putting it all together. “You really are a Boy Scout, aren’t you, Captain?”
“Not with women, though,” Carter added. “Always out charming someone new.”
Lang knew it was true, which made him flash back to the man he’d killed before arriving at Pendleton. The woman had been through what was possibly the worst experience of her life, yet he couldn’t help but check her out. Carter seemed to sense his change in mood. “Relax, Captain. You’re not a bad guy, even if you do break a lotta hearts.”
As First Sergeant Clark took his leave of them, Weiss said, “But you made captain again, clearly.”
“End of the world and all …” Lang responded.
“That and the general was KIA at the beginning of the invasion,” Carter said, which only increased Lang’s guilt. Again sensing his mood, she quickly added, “not that you wanted that or anything.”
Lang shot her a look, but said nothing more on the subject. Weiss smartly decided to switch gears. “I don’t want to jinx anything, sir, but it looks like we might be in for a quiet night.”
“It’s tomorrow that worries me,” Lang agreed.
“I know the city is a mess, but we have them encircled and on the defensive,” Carter said.
“Most of our fighting force is old main battle tanks and howitzers, though,” Lang responded.
“Which have been good at actually killing Drasin,” Carter countered.
“No argument there, but how much time have any of us spent training in a combined assault with MBTs against alien invaders?” Lang asked rhetorically, before realizing that he was killing his own unit’s morale. “Look, we’ll adapt; we always do. I’m just worrying now because it helps me prepare. Speaking of that, you two should watch as much of the vid as we could get from New York and other cities.”
“Yeah, the intel briefs were a little light,” Weiss said.
Lang had also watched as much video as he could in between emergencies, and he was already largely agreeing with Intel’s assessment. “Our first priorities have to be any Drasin trying to flank the MBTs, not just to the sides, but above. They like to climb buildings and get above the maximum elevation of the tanks’ main guns.”
The two lieutenants nodded and the tactical conversation continued for a while. Lang realized that, for the first time in weeks, he was starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t help but wonder why it took the end of the world for that to happen.
Chapter 9
Digital alerts and orders flashed across the Terrans’ combat network. There were no bugles or fiery pep talks by men on horseback, but it was preparation for a large assault just the same. The night had not been completely quiet, but Lang was both proud and relieved that Bravo Company had sustained no casualties. Reports coming in from other sectors, and other parts of the world, were not so benign. The rows of main battle tanks and self-propelled artillery staged in the pre-dawn light were a huge boost to morale, though. Even if the technology was dated, there was still something about tons of steel on tracks with some of the largest terrestrial projectile weapons that made people feel a little invincible.
“Captain Lang,” an Army major said as he approached.
Lang immediately saluted and asked, “How can we be of assistance, sir?”
“Apparently, you’re going to be escorting us,” the man responded, and the irony was not lost on Lang. The tank was originally created as an infantry support vehicle, to help break stalemates in trench warfare.
“Happy to be of service, Major Hall,” Lang responded, now close enough to read the nametag that accompanied the slight Texas drawl.
“Way I see it, aside from your recon unit, we’ll take lead and your infantry can take cover behind us until we get closer to downtown. But once the streets get narrow or the buildings get tall, we’re gonna follow you,” Hall said before pausing a moment. “Video from New York shows that you don’t want to drive one of these into an intersection blind.”
The reminder was sobering, and Lang briefly reconsidered whom he had assigned to scout duty. He had asked for volunteers, but true to his experiences in the Corps, almost everybody had chimed in. Lieutenant Weiss had informed him that Echo Platoon had the most experience with urban assault, so they ended up assigning a few fire teams from Echo to the task.
“What are you thinking, son?” the major asked, bringing his mind back into focus.
“That I want my EXO-12 units embedded with the forward scouts.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not entirely, sir. But we only have four drivers,” Lang added, as they’d picked up another one overnight, “and I’m one of them.”
The major seemed to digest that before responding. “I’ve got over half a battalion here, and I need you focused on protecting them.”
Lang nodded. He knew that the mechanized infantry portions of the combined arms brigade had been over a thousand miles away on training when the attack occurred, leaving the two tank companies essentially on their own. “I won’t let you down, sir, but I don’t want my riflemen going up against these things without some type of armor backing them up. Besides, we’ll lag a couple of blocks behind the scouts to let them do their thing. I just want to be close enough to react if something goes south.”
Major Hall seemed to sense the pathos in that, if not the logos, and slowly nodded. “Alright, Captain. We move out at oh-four-forty, as planned.”
“Roger that, sir,” Lang said as they exchanged salutes.
Lieutenant Weiss approached as Hall went back to his soldiers. “Everything go okay?”
“Yeah, just a minor change,” Lang said as he brought his XO up to speed.
“Respectfully, that’s not a minor change, sir,” Weiss said once he’d heard the plan.
“You understand why I’m doing it.”
“Yeah, I do; but first of all, Sergeant Clark is going to s
hit a brick,” Weiss countered.
“That’s your first reason for thinking this is a dumb idea, Lieutenant?” Clark asked, always seeming to be able to appear in the middle of conversations.
Weiss wasn’t used to Clark’s demeanor, and though it wasn’t yet dawn, Lang could see his XO flush. “Both of you need to calm down,” Lang said before the conversation could get truly heated. “If I weren’t one of the EXO-12 drivers, would you agree with the change?”
After a pause, they both nodded. “But you are going,” Clark reminded him.
“Can you just send the other three?” Weiss asked.
“I’m not leaving a viable EXO-12 out of this attack,” Lang countered.
“So don’t forward deploy,” Clark responded.
Lang sighed. “Bryan, you know that the front line is exactly where we need it,” he said to his first sergeant.
Clark slowly nodded. “Fine, but under one condition.”
“What’s that?” Lang asked.
“Since you’ve gotta stay focused on the ‘bigger picture,’” Clark said, using air quotes, “I’m coming along to watch your ass.”
Lang considered it and shrugged. Clark usually knew where he needed to be.
“Sir?” Weiss asked.
“Yeah?” Lang responded.
“You run one weird fucking company.”
***
Bravo Company’s four scout teams were spread as far as they could be while still being close enough to assist the nearest team in a hurry. Any gaps in their sensory coverage would be filled by Charlie Platoon’s drones. So far, all was quiet, but Lang knew that it would not last. He just hoped that they could identify any Drasin before the Drasin found them. Because of this, he was focused almost entirely on the data streaming through his NICS interface.
His scout team was carefully but quickly leapfrogging up the street a few blocks ahead of him, intersection by intersection. The tank companies and the rest of Bravo Company were matching their progress a few blocks behind Lang. He wasn’t an expert on Drasin biology, nor did he know any humans who were, but he worried that they could hear or otherwise detect the vibrations of the large war machines slowly churning down the streets of San Juan Capistrano, putting the scout teams at risk. At the same time, he wanted the tanks close enough to assist the scout teams if they ran into serious trouble. Striking the right balance of risk management was weighing on his mind when a voice broke through on the radio.
“Contact.”
It was the word that Lang was both dreading and anticipating, but he was surprised that they had made it as far as the Laguna Niguel and Mission Viejo area without any previous sightings. Nevertheless, per the pre-assault briefing, all of the teams held position while the threat was evaluated.
Partly due to both training and software, he immediately retrieved that area of the tactical map and saw that it was the team directly to his east who had found the Drasin. Lang’s team was the center-west team, since he wanted to stay to the middle; plus, he’d figured they would encounter more enemies from the west, as it was closer to downtown Los Angeles and other more populated areas. Fortunately, that meant that he was close enough to assist if necessary. A closer look at what the other team had found revealed that there were approximately half a dozen Drasin taking apart a strip mall. Lang reviewed all of the data coming in from the drones overhead, but couldn’t find any additional threats. “Take them,” he ordered.
“Wilco,” came the reply.
Not more than two seconds had passed before the team moved into action. The riflemen all moved forward, finding the best positions from which to ambush the aliens. Once they were ready to engage, their team’s EXO-12 driver vaulted into action, which the Drasin noticed. During the invaders’ subsequent moment of indecision, the riflemen opened fire. The first four succumbed quickly and the other two were easily dispatched by the EXO-12’s tri-barrel cannon.
It felt like the entire advance held its collective breath, but when there was no further movement after thirty seconds, Lang got them moving again.
“Make sure to clear that shopping center,” Lang added, worried that there might be a nest. Not wanting to slow the advance down, he had Echo Platoon assign different fire teams to scout that path, while the current team—sans EXO-12—would fall in behind the approaching armor once they had completed their task.
“Well done, son,” Major Hall said in a direct message.
“Thank you, sir,” Lang responded as he started moving, following his team. There wasn’t time to waste basking in the compliment, as they had a schedule to keep. Though this attack was significant by itself, it was part of a much larger assault. Brigades slapped together from multiple services were advancing toward Los Angeles from every direction except the sea, but the Navy had that aspect covered. Any Drasin that attempted to enter the water were destroyed by overwhelming, offshore firepower, while seismic sensors had been installed to detect any tunneling activity that might lead to the sea.
Friendly units were moving again on the tactical display, so Lang started advancing again. He did reduce his lag behind his scout element to two blocks, since he figured that stealth might no longer be a viable option. He’d once heard that worrying was like praying for bad things to happen, and his concerns were justified, unfortunately. The first contacts occurred toward the west, as he’d expected, but before he could evaluate the threat, red icons started appearing all across his scouting lines. There were too many to count, and before he knew it, his own unit was engaged.
His Marines’ rifle fire was all he could hear as he moved into position and started designating targets for his tri-barrel cannon. He let rounds loose on the fly, though he couldn’t hear those, as the EXO-12 was programmed to cancel noise he was making in order to increase his awareness of other events on the battlefield. Most of his rounds hit, destroying the first Drasin, but more kept coming. He was practically on top of his recon team now; they were fighting for their lives at an intersection, with the Drasin approaching from the left, right, and straight ahead.
“Take cover!” Lang yelled as he leaped onto a corner rooftop, hoping to utilize the tactics that had worked well before. In midair, he was able to look down and start selecting targets this time. He felt the satisfying thump of the EXO-12’s feet on the roof and mentally toggled the stick to open fire. Much to his surprise, the rounds missed.
Even more to his surprise, he was falling.
While he was trying to determine what was happening, he lost his sense of balance and ended up facing the sky. When he hit the ground, it was amidst the rubble of the building upon which he had landed. The awkward impact knocked the wind out of him, but he forced the machine upright anyway. Regardless of his efforts, the Drasin were immediately on him.
Two had rushed toward him and knocked him back into the rubble. Falling backward again and in a panic, he opened up his cannon on full auto, somehow managing to keep it aimed mostly level. He landed somewhat in a seating position amongst the remains of the building as Drasin body parts went flying around him. His display informed him that the two closest to him were now dead, but that four more were quickly approaching his position. He wanted to check the overall tactical situation to see how the entire battle was going, but he didn’t have time because he had to leap to safety before the first particle beam hit.
The first attacks missed him and struck the building that he had partially destroyed, but Lang made it around the corner to what he thought was relative safety. It didn’t take long for him to realize that his scouts had been forced to retreat; there were at least seven Drasin in the street where his Marines had been before. He immediately opened fire with both the laser and the tri-barrel as they identified his presence and turned to attack. Simultaneously, his sensors also let him know that the four Drasin from whom he had just escaped were about to come around the corner, so he sacrificed accuracy for survival and started taking long, running strides back toward friendlier territory.
His EXO-12 th
en warned him of threats approaching from his front, which completely confused him, but Lang took the software’s advice and hit the deck. Only a few seconds afterward, he could feel as much as hear the booms of the big tanks’ guns. Using his three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, he watched over a dozen Drasin get blown to bits by the anti-armor rounds as the tanks charged full-speed toward him. He was literally being rescued by the cavalry. Lang realized that he’d probably never live this moment down, assuming the planet still existed in a few days.
The MBTs blew past his position, their commander apparently not wanting to lose the momentum. But when the first one entered the intersection, it was hit by multiple particle beams. The secondary explosions temporarily blinded some of Lang’s sensors, but he was back on his feet in no time and headed in that direction. He finally took the time to check the tactical situation and saw that similar events had happened all along the front, and the tank assault was being stopped dead in its tracks. From a distance, Lang could see the Drasin quickly climbing three- and four-story buildings in order to evade the MBTs. “Marines, advance!” he yelled over Bravo Company’s channel.
Without thinking, Lang made a rocket-assisted jump into the intersection, just behind the burning tank. He didn’t feel it, but his suit’s sensors warned him of the intense heat. It was within the EXO-12’s tolerance, so he ignored it and searched for targets. Unfortunately, due to the inferno, his infrared advantage was lost, so he quickly maneuvered around the tank to get a visual.
Lang got more than he bargained for, as there were almost twenty Drasin coming down the side street toward the intersection. The remaining tanks started backing away from the intersection, firing as they went. Lang spun the cannon up and let rounds fly as he backpedaled to fall in with the retreating armor, but the next thing he knew, he and the EXO-12 were lying on their sides. Lang was still facing the Drasin, though, so he kept selecting targets for his cannon, adding the laser for good measure, as he tried to identify what was wrong.
For better or worse, it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened; the bottom half of the EXO-12’s left leg was lying on the pavement in front of him. Knowing that the machine would be off balance if he tried to get back up, he started crawling toward the corner of the intersection to use the building as temporary cover, so he could exit the maimed machine. He’d made it about half the remaining distance when a flash of light was accompanied by more alarms, and the EXO-12 lurched forward and to the right. Lang quickly realized that he had no use of the machine’s front-right arm, but he did his best to continue on to the intersection.