by J. F. Holmes
As Andrew stood in shock, the Elai soldier on top of the destroyed mech looked up and froze in surprise, then pointed at him. The others on the ground immediately turned. One of the closer figures raised its rifle and fired, sending a red bolt streaking at Andrew’s mech. The red flash startled him. Acting on instinct, he tapped the thumb control, selecting the rotary cannon under the chin of the mech, and squeezed the trigger. With a muted roar, a stream of red-orange fire reached out for the figures. Catching the one with the rifle, the multiple impacts shook the enemy soldier for a second before it collapsed, its smooth black armor holed and smoking in a dozen places.
His shock turning to fury, Andrew turned his attention to the other figures, now desperately attempting to scramble for cover behind the mech they’d been stripping. Ramming the throttle forward, he moved his damaged Humpback into the valley, firing as he went, the chin-mounted gun spitting fire at the running figures. A few tried to fire back, but the light rifles were ineffective against the mech’s armor, even as damaged as it was. A few moments later, they broke and fled. Methodically he shot them all as they tried to run or move from cover. Moving around the damaged mech lying in the dust, he walked the lascannon bolts into each of them in turn, then released the trigger and stopped, his eyes searching for any more of them. After a few seconds, he moved the mech up across the small depression in the terrain and peered over the other side.
Satisfied that there were no more Elai soldiers on the far side of the small hill, he returned to the small depression. Tapping the controls a few times, he set the auto defense mode on the mech, activating the smaller Mark 30 on top of the right arm. It turned alertly, scanning the immediate area, prepared to fire on anything that wasn’t tagged as friendly. He then knelt the big machine and pulled the latch on his door. It didn’t open, so he had to hit the latch several times. The door finally popped open, and Andrew climbed out, grabbing his M45 carbine as he did.
Rifle at the ready, he cautiously moved over to the closest enemy body. Giving it a push with his boot, he rolled the corpse over, exposing half a dozen holes burned completely through its body. Its helmet had taken several of the powerful lascannon blasts as well, destroying part of the helmet and the head underneath. Andrew could see the leathery brownish skin, a single pupilless black eye staring sightlessly, and a pool of dark blood clotting around the enemy soldier’s head. Satisfied it was dead, he swiftly checked the others closest to him. All were similarly disfigured and thoroughly dead.
Moving back to the two human bodies lying next to the ruined mech, he knelt for a moment, working up his nerve, then slid the visor up on the first body’s helmet. It was a young woman, her delicate Asian features locked in a grimace as if she was in pain, her eyes open and staring. She had a large burn covering her left shoulder, a ragged hole in her neck, and her gloves were dark with blood. Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, recognizing his friend and the pilot of Renegade Three-Two, Sergeant Tracy Chan. After a moment, he reached up and gently closed the woman’s eyes.
“Sorry, Tracy,” he murmured. Reaching around her neck, he retrieved one of her dog tags and slipped it into his pocket. Grimly he turned to the other soldier, knowing he was going to see Sergeant Charlie LaFleur, Tracy’s gunner. Retrieving Charlie’s dog tag, Andrew stood up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. Making another scan of the area and not seeing anything moving, he brought his rifle up and moved quickly toward the wreckage of the three mechs a dozen yards away, dodging spent missile casings and broken, blasted pieces of machinery.
Approaching the pile of wreckage, Andrew could see that the Elai soldiers had removed two more broken bodies from the wreckage and laid them neatly next to the broken machinery. Andrew knelt next to the fallen soldiers and quickly felt for their tags as well, trying not to look at their faces, though he knew who they were. Jonathan, the pilot from Three-One, and the new kid, Sean, who had actually been with them for over a year now, and wasn’t new at all.
Pressing his lips together, Andrew stood and looked at the smashed-together pile of mechs and the way they were positioned. The other two mechs were lying face down, their cockpits crushed badly and tangled together. Approaching the wreckage, he lay on his stomach in the dirt and tried to see if he could reach into the cockpit. After a moment spent futilely reaching, he stopped and slowly got back up.
Andrew stared at the wreckage for a moment. He knew who was inside; he’d trained with them, deployed with them, and lived with them, but now they were dead, trapped under twenty tons of immobilized armor plate.
He looked down at the two soldiers at his feet, then back up at the wreckage. There was nothing he could do for the the crew inside. Renegade Three and Four were going to have to lay where they’d fallen.
Looking down at the bodies again, Andrew’s expression hardened. He couldn’t get the four inside the pile of wreckage out, but he’d be damned if he’d let the Elai do whatever they were planning on doing. Turning back to look at his battered mech, the lascannons were steadily scanning the area around the ruined remains of Renegade Lance. Andrew thought for a moment, then started back toward the mech. Reaching around behind the cockpit, he accessed the storage compartment. After a moment of rummaging, he came up with a standard-issue nanofiber camouflage tarp. He then opened another compartment, undid several thumb bolts, removed the emergency locator beacon for his mech, and tucked it under an arm. He then picked up a standard-issue entrenching tool and walked a dozen steps to the base of the small rise. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his side, he hacked at the dusty ground.
Fifteen minutes and several stops to cough and spit up bloody phlegm later, he had a hole dug, about six inches deep and five feet wide. Andrew doubled over, coughing, and retched. Fighting to catch his breath, he fell to his knees, seeing black spots dancing in his vision. After a moment, his vision cleared, and he struggled to his feet. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, he set about the grim task of dragging the bodies of his friends to the hole and getting Mikey out of his seat. Trying to work quickly, but slowed down by the coughing, he moved the bodies of the four soldiers to the shallow hole, gently placed the locator beacon under Sergeant Chan’s arm, then wrapped the bodies in the nanofiber mesh net. Tacking the net down firmly and tapping the edge of the net, it turned brownish grey, perfectly matching the tone of the ground around it. Pushing soil around the edges of the tarp and weighing it down with rocks, it soon resembled nothing more than another terrain feature. Standing up and breathing heavily, Andrew nodded grimly. Unless you were looking, it would be very difficult to find.
Pausing at the side of the makeshift grave, he tried to think of something to say, anything, but again nothing came to mind except memories of his friends. The time Tracy had gotten drunk and ordered two dozen pizzas sent to their barracks for eight people. The time Sean had met a redheaded girl on Mars in a bar who’d turned out to be a man. The constant shit they’d given him for his love of ancient rock music. The time they’d had a bachelor party for their lieutenant, a skinny kid named Johannes, and all of them had gotten thrown out of a strip club in New Berlin. So many memories, and he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Andrew shook his head hard and roughly wiped his eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice the only sound save the wind.
“I’m sorry, guys. I’ll come back for you. You hang out here, and I’ll be right back.” After another moment he turned and limped back to his mech and climbed into the seat. Strapping his helmet on, he looked at his dirty, blood-covered hands for a moment, then grimly put them on the controls and started moving the mech forward, once again following the footprints.
As the mech moved forward, he toggled his radios to receive on all channels. He might not be able to talk, but he could listen. The steady static was broken only by a chirping sound he’d never heard before. Even the fleet frequency was silent, save one young, frightened-sounding voice who repeated the same words over and over on a loop.
“This is
the UEAN Katana, requesting immediate assistance from any ship in range. Our life support is failing, we’ve lost main power, and we have many wounded aboard. Please, send help.” There was a pause, then the message repeated, “This is the UEAN Katana, requesting…”
Shaking his head, Andrew turned off the fleet frequency radio. There was nothing he could do. He thought about the sailors trapped and dying in the hulls of the ships above him, and a cold shiver shot through him, chilling him to the bone. Looking around, he realized he was actually cold, not just a feeling. He turned the cabin heater up as far as he could, feeling a momentary warmth as the hot air blasted out of the vents.
Distracted by the radios and the heater, he hadn’t seen that he was climbing another small hill. Noticing the angle indicator on the control panel, he slowed down and carefully moved the mech just below the crest of the hill, then hit the control to raise his sensor mast.
When the screen flickered on, Andrew grunted in surprise that it was actually working, given the damage to the sensor platform. Grasping the small control knob, he panned the view around and froze. Centered in the middle of the screen was a standard Earth Alliance general purpose truck. It had canvas over the rear, and looked like it was set up to carry troops. Grinning, Andrew panned the camera forward and back. There was another vehicle there, this one a medium tactical vehicle with antennas, and loaded with equipment. Behind the tactical vehicle were several more trucks, all stopped.
Grinning even more broadly, Andrew panned the camera back to the first truck, then froze. Something was wrong. The doors of the truck were standing open, and the headlights were on, though it was the middle of the day.
With a wrenching feeling in his gut, Andrew flicked the magnification and looked closely, then felt his breath catch. On the passenger’s side there was a body slumped in the dirt. The door of the vehicle had multiple large holes in it, and was scored black with multiple hits that hadn’t penetrated. His grin gone, he panned the camera back further, seeing the tactical vehicle and its occupants, all still in their seats. His inspection of the other four trucks revealed the same findings—bodies, bullet holes, and nothing moving.
Pressing his lips tightly together, Andrew retracted the sensor mast and checked the radar, which remained maddeningly silent. Looking down at the controls and instruments that showed the damage to his mech, he thought about his options. Renegade Lance was gone except for him. The Fleet…well. Andrew didn’t know much about the Navy, but he knew a fight going badly when he heard one. The convoy in front of him had clearly been shot to hell. Looking again at the picture of his wife and son taped to the console, he shook his head. Taking a breath and triggering another coughing fit, this one ending in him spitting blood onto the floor of the cockpit, he made his decision. He was going to make one fast sweep of the convoy to look for survivors, then continue on the azimuth toward the operating base.
Speaking to himself in the quiet cockpit, Andrew muttered, “Fuck.” The act of speaking triggered more coughing, leaving him retching and gasping for air. When it had subsided, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, leaving more blood on the already filthy flight suit. Activating his targeting sensors, he moved the damaged mech rapidly over the hill.
Pushing the damaged mech as fast as he could, he covered the hundred yards to the convoy in seconds. Reaching it, he throttled back, then stopped. Up close, it was worse than he’d thought. The backs of the trucks were filled with dead soldiers tumbled into piles, making it hard to see where one soldier stopped and another began. All their equipment and uniforms were scorched and soaked with dark blood. They’d been gunned down where they sat, never even having a chance to get out of the trucks. Clenching his jaw, Andrew methodically moved down the line of trucks, peering as best he could into each vehicle, hoping to find survivors, but not finding any.
Reaching the end of the small convoy, Andrew turned and regarded the ruins of the column and its silent passengers. His teeth chattering from the cold, he turned and lined up his mech in the direction of the operating base, and glanced at his gauges. Staring at the indicators, he tried to make sense of them, then wiped his eyes roughly, then blinked again. The battery indicator was at 17%, and with the reactor in emergency low-power mode, there was no recharging them. The core temperature had also risen by 200 degrees, to 1400 degrees centigrade. When had that happened? He was losing control.
“Keep your shit together, Andy.” The words sounded strangely alien in the silent cockpit. Shaking his head hard, he tried to clear his mind, when the radio, previously silent, hissed static, and an incomprehensible voice could be heard.
Reaching over to the radio and turning the reception power all the way up, he caught a young, high-pitched voice speaking rapidly but calmly.
“Repeat: This is Gunsmoke Six Two, requesting immediate assistance from any UEA units in range. We’re cut off and surrounded by a battalion-sized element of enemy infantry with heavy weapons.” The radio spit static, obscuring the next few words, then clearing back up. “…have multiple wounded, and low on ammunition. Please. If you’re out there, help us. I don’t know how much longer we can hold.” The distinctive barking sound of Earth Alliance rifles could be heard in the background.
Andrew stared at the radio for a moment, then back at the battery percentage. If he went looking for them, he might not have enough to make it home. Not with the reactor overheating like it was. When it hit critical levels, it was going to shut down entirely, and what little power it was providing would stop, then…Well, then he’d be fucked. Since he didn’t even know where he was, let alone where the soldiers on the radio were…
Crackling again, the voice on the radio spoke as if reading his mind, “Talon Seven Nine, this is Gunsmoke Six Two. We’re at grid three nine six break alpha zero six, approximately one hundred meters west of the white-topped hill. Be advised, we have multiple concentrated assaults in progress on our position, with heavy weapons observed in the enemy units.”
Andrew stared at the radio, trying to figure out what this meant, when he looked up and noticed the dark bulk of a UEA Skyhawk circling in the distance, and to his surprise, a white-topped hill several hundred meters in front of him, and realized where he was. Looking back at the battery gauge, he frowned. The radio spluttered again and said, “Talon Seven Nine, we understand. Uh…” There was a pause on the radio, then the soldier continued, “If we can break out, we’ll call for evac.” There was another pause as the aircraft pilot replied, then the soldier responded, “Not your fault, Talon Seven Nine. We appreciate you trying to come for us. We’ll…we’ll see you in a little bit. Let our guys know where we are, ok?” A last, long pause, then a laugh. “Ok, we will. Gunsmoke Six Two, clear.”
Andrew blinked hard, realizing that his eyes were streaming with tears, and wiped his face roughly. He looked at the battery indicator, now at 15%. He looked at the picture of Sarah and James taped to the instrument console, then at the quote by Tecumseh.
He muttered under his breath, “Sing your death song, huh? Ok, you old bastard. Let’s do this.” He wiped his nose again with the back of a hand. Tapping his console, he keyed the radio and spoke, not knowing if they could hear him, “Gunsmoke Six Two, this is Renegade Three-Zero, two hundred meters west of your position. Pinging ident and IFF codes now. Keep heads down, fellas. I’m on the way, and I’m coming in hot.”
Glancing at the core temperature indicator, he smiled grimly, and thought, Literally, coming in hot. Staring at the core temp and the power percentage, he suddenly made a decision and reached over and tapped the system override sequence that withdrew the emergency control rods from the reactor. Hearing the whine as the increase in power from the damaged reactor hit the system, he grinned. The mech was a loss anyway, might as well ride it into the ground.
Pausing a moment to access his music player, he tabbed through his playlist and selected an old rock favorite of his, piped it through the external speakers, and cranked the volume up as far as it would go. The guitars and backg
round chanting filled his ears as he murmured along with the lyrics. Ramming the throttle as far forward as he could, the big mech lurched toward the hill, accelerating smoothly despite the heavy damage.
“Thunder…ah-a-a, ah-a-a, ah-a-a…thunder… ah-a-a, ah-a-a, ah-a-a …thunder.” He tapped the weapons systems and watched the twin Mark 30 cannons come to life on top of the mech. Bobbing his head, he toggled the chin-mounted multi-barrel lascannon and continued singing. “I was caught…In the middle of a railroad track…” A solid ka-chunk followed by a whine as the massive plasma cannon on the right side of the mech loaded its deuterium round. “I looked ‘round…” Coming over a small crest in the landscape, he saw a small hill with power-armored figures on top of it, prone and behind hastily-placed barricades, pouring the bright blue of UEA phased plasma bolts down at the Elai. The black-armored figures below were pouring a murderous red return fire toward the beleaguered human force above.
Keying his radio, he spoke again, “Gunsmoke Six-Two, Renegade Three Zero. Hitting them from the west. Recommend you attempt exfil to the east. Engaging.”
As Andrew moved toward the enemy, rapidly picking up speed, he could see the dark-armored figures trying to rush the hill. Several of the enemy, hearing the music, stopped and turned in confusion.
“And I knew there was no turning back…” As the guitars and drums throbbed, Andrew tapped the jumpjets, taking the fast attack mech airborne, aiming for the largest mass of enemy infantry he could see. As he hit the peak of the jump, he opened fire. The twin Mark 30s spat blue fire, and toggling the chin gun, he added its red stream of lascannon blasts to the smoky air. Spying what looked like a crew-served weapon, Andrew made a split-second decision and tapped the jets again, giving him just another few seconds of flight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to target and fire the massive plasma cannon. The ball of blue-white energy raced down, then the weapon, its crew, and a good-sized chunk of the ground underneath them vanished in a searing white explosion.