Magnus swore that if he was ever promoted to the position of an officer, he would treat the Marines under his command differently. He wouldn’t play with their lives over some vain attempt to impress his commanding officers.
The worst part, at least as far as Magnus and the others were concerned, was that none of the islands could be strafed by fighters until after they’d been cleared. A lot of good that does us, he’d thought when he heard the news.
Apparently, islanders were reported to be dug into the hills in an attempt to wait out the fighting. And since sensors were having a hard time distinguishing between friend and foe, the Marines had to sort the good from the bad. This meant liberating survivors and dominating the enemy. But so far, in over six weeks of intense fighting, Magnus hadn’t found a single islander—at least none who were alive.
“Three ’kudas moving along our left flank!” Deeks yelled.
“And I got two more converging on our right,” Chico said.
The battle was getting hot. They’d made plenty of progress, bounding from boulder to boulder, fighting a true uphill battle with every step. But the ravine’s steep walls gave the enemy a clear tactical advantage. The best Magnus and his fire team could do was to catch the ’kudas before they flanked his team from above.
Magnus’s helmet AI identified the targets with compass-heading indicators and distances. He used his eyes to select the next nearest one behind Deeks’s target and sighted in along the barrel of his MC90 blaster. The Repub had promised that a new neural interface was coming down the pipeline for their helmets. The tech claimed to rid operators of the optic command protocols that they’d mastered in basic training.
Wouldn’t that be nice, Magnus thought. The Marines on the ground had yet to see anything in the field, but he looked forward to the day that the new interface was a mainstay in the Corps.
Thirty-eight degrees up and to his left, Magnus zeroed in on a ’kuda taking cover behind a palm tree. His helmet’s red-hued thermal-imaging system was working like a charm, showing the enemy combatant as a white blotch resting its back against the trunk. The ’kuda seemed to be fiddling with the battery pack for its main weapon. Magnus put the reticle in the dead center of the tree trunk and squeeze his trigger.
A single blaster round flashed in his HUD as the bolt streaked up the ravine. It split the trunk in two, shooting splinters in all directions. Magnus ducked under return fire from other elements but managed to watch the combatant he’d hit slump on the far side of the tree. It collapsed in a heap with its weapon and battery falling from two scaly hands.
“Scratch another one for me,” Magnus said, recharging his MC90 and sighting in the next target. The MC90 wasn’t the latest or greatest in the Repub arsenal, but it was standard Marine issue for a reason. Magnus had grown to appreciate its ruggedness and subsequent reliability. Other blasters promised to offer better fire superiority and more features, like the prototype MAR30 that the spec ops Marines were said to be getting in a few years, but that was a long way off. And as far as Magnus was concerned, the MC90 did just fine at killing ’kudas.
The Akuda were a native species of Caledonia—just not the ones that lived on land. While the planet’s islands’ inhabitants consisted mostly of humans and other humanoid species, its underwater citizens were what the Marines called “fish with an attitude problem.”
The attitude-ridden aquaticans preferred to live underwater, but they were able to extract needed respiratory gases from both water and air. This, combined with powerful hind legs that had evolved over the millennia, allowed them to move on land when the need arose. And, apparently, the need had arisen when the Akuda decided they wanted to be the only species to inhabit Caledonia.
Because it was a member of the Galactic Republic, the planet’s civil war required the Repub military to be called in. At first, every Marine had relished the idea of deploying on the paradisiacal planet. The elite came to Caledonia to bask in endless sunsets and get drunk on fifty-credit cocktails. But any dreams of sunbathing and frolicking in the surf had disappeared when the Marines realized just how badly the ’kuda wanted their genocide.
Magnus squeezed his trigger again, taking out the third fish Deeks had spotted. Chico and Franklin cleared the right side, then Magnus gave the order to leapfrog farther up the stream. Each Marine took a turn advancing, dodging incoming enemy fire, then hanging back to cover the others.
Their boots—standard issue for Mark IV armor—did little to help them along the wet rocks. They slipped constantly, bashing their knees and wrists on the rounded rocks. The ’kuda, on the other hand, moved at a dizzying pace, gliding across the rocks with the ease of Tanglothian banshee lizards.
“Incoming!” Franklin was on point and leveled his MC90 on a pair of ’kudas that leaped off a short waterfall at him. Despite their speed, the fish lacked fire discipline, and their blaster bolts went wide. But what Franklin lacked in agility, he more than made up for in blaster superiority. Magnus watched him aim, squeeze, and follow through. The Marine turned to the next target—still in midair—and repeated the pattern. In less than a second, two scaly bodies crashed in the shallows beside Franklin and rolled to a stop.
“No time to take pictures, boys,” Magnus said over TACNET. “Let’s get over that waterfall.”
The four Marines helped one another over the rock ledge and onto the next landing. More boulders provided cover while the sides of the ravine grew taller and steeper.
“Gettin’ pretty tight through here, Corporal,” Deeks said. “Did brass give you exfil coordinates yet?”
Magnus shook his head. “Not yet. Trust me, you’ll be the first to know when I do.”
Chico spoke up next. “It’s just we’re getting pretty deep up here. Grid shows…” Magnus could tell the private was checking the TACNET map. He knew it didn’t look good. “Splick, it shows us pretty much out here on our own. The other fire teams are well to the west and east of our position.”
“Copy that,” Magnus replied. “I see it too.”
“No backup then,” Franklin concluded.
Aren’t you just Captain Obvious today, Magnus thought, holding his tongue. Best to save insulting these noobs for after they survived this. “No backup,” Magnus repeated. “Which means we gotta own the field, Privates. You copy?”
“OTF!” they repeated as one.
Magnus tapped the side of his helmet. Five more targets flickered to life on sensors, way too close for comfort. Apparently, his rig needed a tune-up.
“Contact!” Magnus barked. “Five, coming right down the stream!”
His Marines took cover, leaning around boulders with their MC90s charged and at high ready position. Approaching like blue wisps of water vapor, the ’kuda materialized ten meters ahead, weapons blasting water and rocks on full auto. Magnus pulled back, narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the head. Then he leaned out again and targeted the nearest fish. His blaster bucked against his shoulder as the bolt sizzled through the damp air and struck the enemy in the throat, flipping it backward. The ’kuda corpse splashed into the stream and flopped around in death throes.
Deeks took out two ’kuda that tried running up the side of the near-vertical ravine. They made it high enough to turn and point their weapons at Deeks. But that was all they got to do. The Marine fired a short burst of full auto, stitching the side of the rock wall and tearing both fish in two.
Chico and Franklin, meanwhile, took out the remaining two fish, firing from a cluster of boulders along the bank. They poked their MC90 between gaps in the rocks, striking the enemy before they even had a chance to spot the Marines.
With the wave of enemies put down, Magnus walked up to the fish he’d hit. It was still thrashing. He fired a second round into its head, and the churning water went still. “Clear.”
Magnus examined its bulbous eyes and long teeth glistening in the moonlight. Scaly blue skin covered its blaster-riddled flesh. “Ugly as hell,” he whispered.
“What was that, Corpora
l?”
Magnus waved Deeks off. “Next level, boys. Up and over.”
The four of them scampered up another small waterfall, but Magnus could tell the incline was getting steeper. The topo map confirmed it, showing that the tallest waterfalls were just ahead. There was no way they were climbing those in the dark. He cursed Vanderbilt under his breath. This was a stupid line to take.
Chico started waving an arm. “Corporal,” he said, tension rising in his voice.
“What is it?”
“We’ve got…”
But Magnus saw it too. Apparently, the fish knew the Marines were climbing into a dead end.
“We’ve got six coming down the ravine, eight to the west, another eight to the east—no, wait… Make that ten to the east—”
“And we got five more on our six!” Deeks yelled. “I don’t know how they crept up on us, but they did!”
This is bad, Magnus realized. This is real bad.
“TACNET’s reading contact in forty-five seconds. Let’s take cover against that waterfall.” Magnus pointed twenty meters ahead to the next feature in the stream. The Marines followed Magnus as he slid across the boulders and stumbled over the round stones.
“I count six more to the south,” Chico said over comms.
Dammit. The Akuda smelled blood in the water; that was for damn sure.
Magnus jumped around the last boulder and found himself wading into a pool up to his knees. The waterfall above him was easily ten meters high—the tallest yet. It would at least provide cover from the ’kuda approaching from above. His fire team would also get a clear line of sight on the ones approaching from the south. The only combatants that really worried Magnus were those flanking them from the ravine edges.
“Corporal Magnus, you sure this is a good—”
“There’s no good position for this one, Franklin. The Corps doesn’t pay you to be sure; they pay you to fire.”
“Copy that.”
Magnus double-checked the TACNET map. “Contact in ten seconds. Rack a charge, boys.”
Magnus heard the energy whine of the MC90s and watched as his men took a knee in the shallows, water splashing hard at their backs. If it was to be their last stand, Magnus was proud of them. They had looked fear in the eyes and stared it down, shoving their blaster barrels in its mouth and pulling the trigger all the way to the grave. He doubted history would remember their names—hell, he doubted the Corps would even find their bodies after the ’kuda had feasted—but he would at least die knowing they’d done their best to follow orders and own the field.
“OTF, boys.”
“OTF!” they replied as one.
Magnus watched in his HUD as the red dots converged in their location, forming a solid ring around his team. Magnus’s thermal sensors showed the first ’kuda as it leaped high into the air, vaulting over the lower falls and into the rock bed twenty meters downstream. It fired wildly. Blaster bolts splattered into the waterfall behind Magnus. He squeezed two rounds and struck it center mass.
A second ’kuda jumped over the ledge and took the first’s place. This fish’s aim was far better, and Magnus narrowly missed being shot in the helmet. He returned fire with another two-round salvo and dropped it. But in that time, five more fish had climbed up and moved toward the waterfall.
Deeks, Chico, and Franklin were busy covering the flanks, firing on anything that moved. And plenty of things moved. The sides of the ravine seemed alive with otherworldly objects. Fins, sinewy arms and legs, glimmering teeth, iridescent eyes—it all scrambled down the steep sides in a slide of mud and rocks. Blaster fire lit up the narrow ravine, flashing off shiny scales and plate armor. Bodies careened through the air and splashed into the pool at the Marines’ feet. Some of the bodies still moved, the claws on their webbed hands grasping for the Marines’ legs. Magnus fired several shots into the growing piles of bodies, keeping the groping limbs at bay.
Despite their best efforts, however, Magnus knew they wouldn’t walk away from this fight. His HUD showed more reinforcements filling in from all corners. Even if his fire team had enough energy magazines and accuracy to take down the current wave, there was no way they would have enough to fight off the second.
“Don’t let up!” It was all Magnus could think to say. That and: “OTF!”
Deeks and Chico mumbled a response between shots, but Franklin didn’t answer at all. Bodies were falling down on top of them, and their MC90 barrels glowed white in his HUD.
This is it, Magnus realized. This is our last stand. Damn ’kudas.
Magnus fired on several more that crept up the center stream. His energy mag went flat. He reached for a new one on his hip and slammed it home, then he unloaded on two ’kudas crossing the pool. He drilled both of them. But it was the third and fourth that he didn’t have time to shoot. They flew through the air, claws and teeth bared in the moonlight.
A blast of water erupted behind Magnus and pushed him forward. He would have slammed into the oncoming ’kudas were it not for the fact that they, too, had been thrown away from the waterfall. His HUD went bright white as several trails of light and smoke propelled enemy bodies a dozen meters over the stream before consuming them in a massive explosion.
Magnus pushed himself off the pile of corpses and strained to look behind him. He was blinded again, however, when a sputtering strobe of blaster fire spewed from the waterfall and raked no fewer than eight ’kudas. Magnus watched in awe as limbs flailed, heads snapped, and teeth shattered. Finally, a projectile so massive it could only have been fired from a Gauss cannon blew out from behind the waterfall and struck the streambed. The sound spiked his audio sensors; even with them temporarily muted, the thunderclap still made Magnus’s ears ring. The concussion decimated ’kuda bodies, flinging dozens of them skyward while Magnus and his Marines were thrown into the waterfall.
Magnus felt a hand grab his shoulder and wrench him down. His body hit something hard—the ground, he was pretty sure. His HUD flickered from the impact, and he could feel his armor’s servos dim.
What in the hell was going on?
Whatever hand had grabbed him let him go. Magnus rolled over and looked up. There, standing over him, was a… Is it a teenage boy? Magnus blinked then activated his external speakers.
“Kid, what are you… what are you doing here?” Even asking such a thing felt surreal. To be talking to a teen. In a cave. Behind a waterfall. Holding a…
What the hell are those?
In his hands, the teen was holding what looked to be arms. Robot arms. With weapons on them. Magnus saw micro rockets, along with the guts and barrel of what looked to be a prototype XM31 blaster.
Magnus blinked several more times. How bad was I hit? He couldn’t be sure. Maybe this was just some weird version of the afterlife.
“You’ve got to get up,” the young man said. He looked maybe seventeen or eighteen. Small. An islander with narrow eyes. Maybe a Nimprinth? He was wearing a backpack overflowing with odd metal parts. “That won’t keep them away for long. You’ve got to move, soldiers.”
Magnus grabbed his MC90 and gained his feet. His helmet bumped into the low ceiling. Deeks, Chico, and Franklin had been blown into the cave entrance too, but each of them was standing.
“What the hell is going on, Corporal?” Deeks asked, his voice sounding as bewildered as Magnus’s had. “What’s this splick about?”
“Seems we found our first survivor, Deeks.”
The other men looked at the teen; Magnus could practically guess the expressions on their faces as they took in the thin young man and his assortment of robot parts and black-market weapons.
“What the—”
“Come on!” the kid said, motioning them toward a small tunnel. “This way!”
“Fine by me,” Chico said. He darted after the kid, followed by Franklin and a still-dazed Deeks.
“Keep on him,” Magnus said over TACNET. “Seems to know his way around here.”
“And around an XM31,” Chico
added. “I like this kid.”
Magnus switched to optical sensors and turned on his armor’s exterior shoulder lights. The rounded tunnel looked as though it had been carved by hand. Magnus followed Deeks’s rear end, hunched over, boots plodding through ten centimeters of water. The tunnel meandered deeper into the mountainside until it opened into a vaulted room. As soon as Magnus had stepped in and straightened his back, a door slammed shut behind him.
“This way,” the young man said, continuing to motion Magnus’s fire team forward.
Magnus marveled at what he saw. Aside from a small bed mat and cooking area that doubled as the young man’s heat source, the rest of the room was littered with racks and work benches. Every square centimeter of space seemed overtaken with wires, cables, tools, and parts. How the young man had acquired so much stuff Magnus had no idea. That he’d gathered it in this peculiar place was astounding. The kid must have been a genius—a savant. That is, of course, assuming he’d built something notable. But if the display of firepower at the waterfall was any indicator—he had.
“Hurry! You have to keep moving!” The kid stood at the far end of his hovel, pointing toward an exit tunnel.
“What about you, kid?” Magnus asked.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’d really feel better if you lead the way.”
“No, no. I have to do something here. This tunnel is easy to follow. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Now, go!”
Magnus nodded at Chico, who then ducked into the tunnel, followed by Franklin and Deeks. Their shoulder lights waved back as they ran in a crouch. The ground was dry, and Magnus felt the cave begin to head downhill. Whoever had carved it—presumably the kid—had done a masterful job. And it had probably taken a very long time, even with the right equipment.
The tunnel snaked through what Magnus figured was the north side of the mountain. His TACNET link had gone offline when he entered the cave, and nothing but local sensors were feeding data to his helmet’s AI. Audio sensors continued to feed the clip-clop of their boots and the scuffing of their armor against the tight walls and low ceiling.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 33