35
Amazingly, the street advance felt exactly like the simulations—the ruined stonework, vines, vegetation, smudged windows, and moss-covered buildings. It was almost uncanny how good the hard-light holo-projections had been. Magnus’s gladias wouldn’t feel surprised by a foreign environment, which was good. The downside, of course, was that they’d be too comfortable with it and forget that here, when they got shot, they were dead forever—no resetting the scene.
“Stay sharp,” Magnus said. “Eyes peeled.”
“Great mystics!” TO-96’s voice erupted over comms. “They’re peeling your eyes with sharp utensils? Of all the insane—”
“Ninety-Six, shut up!”
There was a brief pause. “Ah, I’m terribly sorry, sir. That was… my mistake.”
“Yeah. It was. Now, don’t interrupt like that again.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Magnus rolled his eyes, unsure how they were going to make it through the day. They were a nine-year-old wonder kid, two advanced but socially inept AI robots, and a barely trained company who were decked out in ultra-advanced tech that they’d never trained in. What could go wrong?
Magnus shook off the bad vibes. “Dutch and Abimbola, I want you entering that plaza from the south.”
“Roger that, sir,” Dutch said.
“Titus and Rohoar, you’ve got the east entry point.”
“Shouldn’t one of us take the other two points of entry?” someone asked.
Magnus looked at the speaker’s title tag. It was Baker. He was new. “Negative. Too much friendly crossfire. Better to leave them an exit than risk getting our own killed—at least until we understand their position better.”
“Hey, stick to the chain of command, Baker,” Titus said. “Run those comments by me first, copy?”
“Copy. Sorry, sir. Sirs.”
“Listen up,” Magnus said, reining the conversation back in. “Platoon leaders, use your best judgment. Titus, don’t be afraid to use those buildings as you did in training. Just remember—”
“To verify layouts and building junctions before committing.”
“Good. Same for you, Rohoar. If you go high, look for those turret emplacements. Call everything out, share the load, and cover down. Granther Company, move out.”
* * *
The next several minutes were tense. Magnus could feel himself trying to control his breathing. Even he was getting a bit nervous. He couldn’t help feeling that the enemy had seen them land. Maybe they were tracking them at that very moment with advanced sensors, and all this was a trap. Maybe they had snipers trained on them, just having some laughs before squeezing the trigger.
Or… maybe the plan was going exactly as it should, and the gladias’ suits were keeping the entire company hidden. Or maybe, given the hopeless scenario that Kane’s unit found themselves in, they’d utterly given up hope of being discovered and saw no point in setting up—let alone defending—a perimeter.
Yeah, right. Magnus remembered the cardinal rule of what happened to plans when they met the enemy. Plus, Azelon had already detected a localized shield. They wouldn’t use that unless they thought someone was watching.
Magnus advanced behind all four platoons, marveling at how well they moved—not to mention how ridiculously nonapparent they were. Azelon had truly outdone herself with all this new tech. If Kane’s forces were watching, the Gladio Umbra sure were making it hard for them to spot anything.
For Magnus’s part, he remained at the rear of Titus and Rohoar’s columns, escorting Awen and Piper toward the enemy’s suspected base camp. Awen held Piper’s hand as the little girl looked around at all the ruins.
“Hey, Piper,” Magnus asked over a restricted comms channel—Awen and the bots were the only other ones allowed on.
“Yes?”
“See anything new?”
“New?”
“Yeah, you know, like any change in how the bad guys are moving? Maybe something new they’re fiddling with?”
“Hmm,” she said. “Nah, they’re still busy just going in and out of the tunnel.”
“Let me know if that changes, okay? As soon as it does, I need you to tell me.”
“No problem.”
“And, Azie?”
“Yes, Magnus?”
“Is there a reason the Novia Minoosh felt their resources were in imminent danger but none of you can see exactly what the recon team is doing? I guess I’m not getting how your sensors in the city work.”
“That is a valid question,” Azelon replied. “The Novia’s sensor network—while vast—is limited to certain sections of the city. Worse still, it seems that the enemy’s shield is somehow disrupting the Novia’s sensor array.”
“Then, going back to my original question, how do they know Kane’s team is knocking on an important door?”
“I’m afraid that is proprietary information, sir.”
“No, no, it’s definitely not proprietary. We’re down here risking our asses for you and the rest of the galaxy. That’s need-to-know intel, and right now, I need to know.”
“Very well. The approximate location of the tunnel that Piper has identified happens to be directly over one of the main power centers for the entire city.”
“Power centers?”
“That’s correct. While the main access doors to the plant are highly secure—arguably impenetrable for the technology found in your protoverse—the recon team has discovered an alternate way into the center which bypasses the main entrance.”
“And you guys didn’t plan for something like this?”
“In short, no.”
“Some super-intelligent alien species you are.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind. Listen, how would they have gotten plans for the city? I mean, how would they have even known where to dig?”
“I think I know,” Awen said.
Magnus looked over at her. “And?”
“The temple library.”
“That is one hypothesis, yes,” Azelon replied.
“Okay,” Magnus said, waving Awen off. “You can tell me all about that later. Right now, I just want to make sure I’m putting all these pieces together.”
“Contact!” someone whispered forcefully over the companywide channel. Magnus closed the restricted channel and joined in.
“What d’you see, Robi?” Titus asked.
“He’s taking a piss, sir,” Robi replied. “Damn!”
“A what?”
“Yeah. I’m up here behind some columns bordering the square, and this guy in black armor, three stripes painted on the shoulder, just steps out from behind their blue shield wall and starts relieving himself on a boulder—right in front of me. Damn!”
“Splick,” Titus said. “You getting this, Magnus?”
Suddenly, a video window appeared in Magnus’s field of view. He wasn’t sure which surprised him more—the fact that the comms system had live video support that he hadn’t known about or the view of a rogue Recon trooper taking a leak, up close and personal.
“Sure am,” Magnus replied. Seeing the trooper and the shield wall that close to Robi gave Magnus an idea—a splicking crazy idea.
He started running and sent a text order out to the entire company: Rush enemy location on my command. Then he followed it with a second message: Watch for auto-turret fire when the shield comes down.
“What do you want me to do, sir?” Robi asked.
“How close is that shield wall to you?” Magnus asked, examining the blue dome.
“Can’t be more than a meter, sir.”
“Then I want you to stuff him, Robi.”
There was a brief pause. “Stuff him, sir?”
Magnus couldn’t believe he was saying this, but it was a tactical opportunity they couldn’t afford to pass up. Charging the shield head-on without any real glimpse of what lay behind it would make for a long day. And he hated long days. People died on long days.
�
�You’re giving him a third ball, Robi,” Magnus said between breaths. “VOD, electromagnetic pulse, in the shorts.”
“Mystics, are you serious?”
“Robi, this is a direct order.”
“Splick, he’s finishing up.”
“Stuff him!”
“Dammit!”
* * *
Robi shoved the trooper back behind the protective wall moments before the EMP in the man’s pants detonated. He survived, of course—EMPs were not fatal. Should the trooper last the day, however, it was doubtful he’d ever procreate.
The shield wall flickered. And then, just like that, it was gone.
Did we really just get the jump on an entire recon unit? They’d gone from atmospheric entry to securing a shuttle to advancement all the way to a hostile base of operations, and all completely undetected. That’s just impossible, Magnus thought. But it was true nonetheless, and he’d take the point.
Standing like a bunch of guys with their pants down, the recon team looked around in abject confusion as they spotted Piss Boy rolling on the ground, trying to pull an expended VOD from his pants. They also looked for an approaching enemy.
But you ain’t gonna see a thing.
The first shots came from Dutch’s platoon as she called out enemy targets. There were too many to count. Magnus slid to a halt on the square’s east entrance just in time to see all eight of Alpha Platoon’s NOV1s open up on the unsuspecting troopers. The weapons belched torrents of high-pitched bright-blue light into the enemy encampment. One trooper’s body was blown apart so forcefully that his limbs twirled away as if a giant animal had shaken him to shreds.
A second trooper managed to raise a personal wrist-mounted shield before a stream of high-joule energy slammed into him. The blast’s intensity was so powerful that the trooper folded and flew backward, colliding with two others. Magnus could hear bones crack from his position on the east side.
A third trooper got several rounds off, aiming randomly in the direction of fire. Magnus couldn’t remember ever seeing a recon team member miss so horribly. Apparently, the gladias’ suits were doing their job. Unfortunately for the trooper, his last rounds downrange would all be misses. NOV1 fire tore through him, transforming his body into a puff of mist and meat.
“I—like—these—blasters!” Dutch yelled over comms.
She always did have a thing for firearms, Magnus thought as he raised his own weapon to join the action. But no sooner had his sights acquired a target than the blue dome reappeared over the enemy’s camp.
“Splick,” Magnus yelled. “Take cover!”
He knew what was coming next. He suspected auto turrets would be activated from inside the shielded area—maybe even from locations around the square if they’d brought enough with them. What Magnus hadn’t anticipated, however, were auto turrets placed along the streets leading up to the encampment.
As soon as he gave the order to take cover, blaster rounds filled the street behind him. The rounds indiscriminately crisscrossed between buildings from somewhere above. Magnus lunged for the protection of a ruined doorway and hid in the shadow of a massive column. His eyes instinctively looked at the company roster and team map, waiting for casualty indicators to ping him. Instead, all he noticed were elevated heart rates, elevated blood pressures, and a frenzy of neural activity.
“Platoons, report in!” Magnus ordered as blaster fire peppered the street in front of the column. All the leads confirmed their positions and statuses. Amazingly, they were good to go. “Anyone have eyes on those turrets?”
“I can see one,” Silk reported.
“Me too,” Saasarr replied. “Just under an overhang.”
“If you can get a shot off, take it.” Magnus knew that the enemy was regrouping behind their shield, thanks in no small part to a backup generator that they’d kept offline—precisely in the event of a naturally occurring or hostile EMP blast. System redundancy was standard Repub procedure. Magnus just hadn’t expected them to have a second damn generator.
“Got one,” Rix said.
“Me too,” Silk added.
Three more gladias reported taking out turrets, but still, the blaster rounds kept coming. Damn. This recon team was better supplied than he’d imagined. Even though the machines couldn’t see the gladias’ heat signatures—a testament to Azelon’s suit design—they were still in blanket mode. The turrets laid down low-energy covering fire, which meant they could keep up their current rate of fire for several minutes while the recon team got their splick together behind the shield wall.
And they don’t need minutes. They need about another thirty seconds before that wall comes down and they start advancing toward us.
Magnus had to get those turrets offline. “Awen,” he said over comms.
“I’m here.”
“Any chance you and Piper can do something about these auto turrets?”
“We’re checking now.”
By checking, Magnus hadn’t expected the two women to step into view at the end of the street some one hundred meters away.
“What the hell?” Magnus’s heart lodged itself somewhere in his esophagus. “Get back behind cover,” he roared.
But Awen and Piper stood as calmly as if they’d been casual observers of a training exercise back on Ni No. The gladia mystics balled their hands into fists and closed their eyes as if concentrating, deep in thought. Then, at the same time, their eyes opened, and their suits glowed an even brighter yellow.
Up and down Magnus’s street, the auto-turret fire was interrupted by mechanical whines and metallic shrieks. Gearboxes ground to a halt, groaning against a far superior force. Blaster barrels curved, causing unexpended bolts to back up into firing chambers. Chain reactions of unreleased energy exploded out of turret housings, ripping against seams and blowing off panels.
One by one, the auto turrets popped like giant firecrackers, billowing out sparks and smoke as Magnus looked down the street. He counted no fewer than fourteen emplacements—far exceeding his estimations. He imagined the other streets leading up to the enemy’s base camp having just as many.
“You seeing this on your street?” Magnus asked Titus and Rohoar.
“If by this you mean spontaneously combusting turrets,” Rohoar answered, “then yes. We are seeing lots of this.”
“I can confirm that too,” Titus added.
Within another few minutes, Magnus’s street was clear. He looked across at Awen and Piper as burning debris fluttered down from above. Awen’s helmet suddenly looked directly at Magnus even though he knew she couldn’t see him. Or can she?
The woman gave him a small wave. “How’s that?”
“That’s…” Magnus’s brain kicked back into high gear. “Good job, mystics. Platoons, direct all fire on that shield. Rohoar, I want you hanging back until I say.”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“You want us to hit it like we’re taking down an armored tank?” Dutch asked, referring to Magnus’s earlier stipulation about using full-auto mode.
“Like taking down a splicking armored tank, yes.” Magnus selected Full-Auto on his own NOV1 and stepped into the street. “Let’s introduce ourselves, gladias.”
36
Awen watched in amazement from half a block away as the Gladio Umbra converged on the enemy position. Their new assault blasters produced a piercing scream that even her helmet had a hard time filtering out. The sound reminded her of Sqwillian forest banshees during mating season. But the blistering torrent of blaster fire was unlike anything she’d witnessed.
Steady streams of intense blue light poured from the weapon receivers, appearing in midair and racing toward the shield wall. The two energies collided in a dazzling display of color and sound, emitting red, yellow, and blue sparks, while the ultra-rapid strikes sounded like rivets popping from the trusses of a collapsing bridge.
On and on the assault went until Awen was sure either the weapons would fail or the shield would. Still, however, the NOV1s raine
d hellfire on the fortification. Awen saw several streams cease while, in her second sight, she watched gladias pop out expended energy magazines and reload fresh ones. A few of the more seasoned fighters were able to swap out one energy mag while firing from the other—a feat made possible only because of the NOV1’s dual-mag feeding system. Awen wasn’t into guns, but that seemed pretty cool even to her.
When the shield finally came down, the enemy forces were nowhere to be seen—by the naked eye, at least. She felt herself starting to panic. Awen was sure Magnus’s sensor suite was able to make out the same thing she was seeing, but just in case, she said, “They’re in the building… and… behind the, the—”
“Behind the barriers,” Piper interjected over comms. “And in the tunnel, and some are running down side streets and into some buildings!”
“Copy,” Magnus yelled as his NOV1 started firing on a concrete barrier not ten meters away. The force of Magnus’s semiautomatic fire blew chunks out of the berm and began sliding it along the ground. Finally, as it gave up under his assault, the barrier fell backward, pinning the trooper beneath it. Magnus moved forward and finished the combatant with a single round to the helmet. Awen watched in her second sight as the trooper’s head ceased to exist.
“Piper, don’t watch, okay?”
“Watch? That was awesome!”
“Piper! That was not awesome!”
“Yes, it was!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Awen insisted, stressing each word.
Piper glanced up at her, seeming to register Awen’s tone. “Not awesome. Okay, shydoh.”
“Good.”
Apparently, the little girl had more of a stomach for war than Awen did. Somehow, that just seemed wrong. To Awen, people dying were people dying, and that should never be celebrated—certainly not by children. But if killing one life to save more lives was the only option, Awen could at least tolerate it. For the moment. That was the only real reason she was able to be a part of this entire mission. Bad people had to be stopped from doing bad things to good people. It was as simple as that.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 98