MissionSRX: Deep Unknown

by Matthew D. White

  Through the various filtered scopes, it was difficult to determine the original color of the structure. Over the years of standing against the unforgiving landscape, the dirt and grime had made its way into every crevice, giving the appearance of the outer stone being indiscernible from the ground beside it.

  The cannon was another mystery. Although a thousand instruments existed in the Space Corps inventory along with undoubtedly a million more for the Lyrans, Scott hadn’t seen an energy weapon as effective as the tower, being able to pierce their shields at such a far distance.

  Its properties concerned him on several levels. First being the power conjured from the weapon itself. Without the mix of armor the Lyrans had provided, there would have been no way for them to approach the facility. Second was the layout. The towers looked forgotten this far out in the wasteland. There were no roads nor any tire tracks or vehicles above ground at all. Additionally, how did they generate the power for the defenses?

  Scott paused. Unless they were connected underground.

  It was entirely likely, he decided, since the surface was so inhospitable. Even if they destroyed the surface defenses, they’d probably seal the passages and still would likely have the means to move soldiers and materials around a significant portion of the grounds. They likely had an entire ant hive drilled out beneath their feet.

  “Othello,” he asked the column commander, “are we considering them having underground access to the towers?”

  “We didn’t talk about it much but it makes sense; it’s what I’d do.” The miner responded. “I’m not sure how much we can do about it right now but it’d be prudent to keep it in mind. Are you volunteering to investigate?”

  “No!” Scott shot back instantly before thinking about it again. “Well, maybe. I’d like to get a closer look at some of their equipment.”

  “We’re a little early for a science expedition.” Othello added, “Once we clear the ridge and we’re not taking direct fire maybe you can check out the situation. Is that reasonable?”

  “Sure thing.” The engineer said as his brain slowly caught up with what he had just signed up to do.

  25

  Grant’s stone expression was unchanging as the ground became rockier and his battalion started to ascend into the rolling foothills of the first mountain range. The craggily peaks now filled the horizon in the distance above their heads, giving the appearance of a jagged row of broken pickets in contrast to the relative serenity behind them.

  The range was the last correction of the tectonic plate before it broke hard and plunged downward under its neighbor, likely reaching halfway to the planet’s core. Their orbiting satellites had done nothing to help find a pass through the impenetrable wall of stone and the commander began switch his focus to the possibility of using the tanks and artillery to create their own. Blasting a path would be dangerous and time consuming, but still wouldn’t be as bad as driving all the way to the edge beyond the outer perimeter just to turn around. An extra ten hours on one side versus maybe twenty on the other, neither option was particularly appealing.

  Now in the lower altitude, the changing angles of the various rock formations were enough to fully articulate the Lyran tank’s suspension and despite their size and girth it was enough to slow them down. Although they had reached highway speeds only minutes before, the column had quickly lost their speed, causing them to fall continuously farther behind.

  The alien sun now burned higher above the horizon, blanketing the landscape in illuminated smog from beyond the long but shrinking shadows of the mountains. As it crested the summit from Grant’s position, the screens around the command deck compensated their displays, showing both the details of the swirling gas and the obscured but still hyper-spectrally defined ground underneath.

  Their tank pitched violently forward as an outcropping of rock gave way below them, nearly throwing the commander from his feet. “Jesus! Watch out!” he growled at the driver, “Don’t take us out of the fight this early!”

  He switched to his radio, “Fox, we’re gonna fall behind our pace if the ground stays this unstable. Have you found anything through the mountains yet?”

  “Negative.” The commander’s response came back a few seconds later. “Perimeter forces just checked off their second targets and are moving to the third. I haven’t seen anything up here to make me think they called for reinforcements so take your time and get it right. We’ve got all the time you need and no, no luck for an easy way through the range.”

  “Can you run any simulations using the artillery to break through?”

  “Sure.” Wright spoke up first, “I’ll set us up to watch your next engagement. Once we get some measurements of their performance here we can feed that into the simulator and know what sort of damage the shells do.”

  ***

  “In range, open fire!” Othello ordered his gunner as they crossed into range to the first target on the mountain chain.

  With a jolt to the cabin the round left the barrel and sliced through the air, leaving a corkscrew tail of smoke in its wake. It scored a glancing hit on the tower but skimmed off the energy shield and slammed harmlessly into the mountainside below, sending a cloud of vaporized rock skyward.

  “No good. Shields held.” His crew announced, “Recharging for follow-up.”

  “Standby on that,” Othello replied, “Wait for the rest to get in range.” He paused as the rest of the column reached their position.

  The tower fired randomly, a heated blast skimming the ground twenty meters before their treads and turned the patch to glass. The dust cleared the tanks in a rolling wind as Othello gave the command to fire once more.

  The Cygnan installation deflected four more shots in the volley before overloading and taking the last eight across its center of mass. The silhouette against the sky grew a mushroom cloud from the blast, carrying with it the last potential for the structure to defend itself. The turret, now unsupported by its crumbling base, rolled back, twisting in agony and falling into the shadows below.

  “Third Battalion, first tower is down on the ridge!” Othello announced over the radio.

  “Perfect.” Grant responded, “Keep moving. We got bogged down by some soft ground but we’ll catch up as quick as we can.”

  Othello switched over the radio and shot back to Scott. “The commander’s falling behind. We can take our time. He’s also having Fox run sims for blasting a route straight over the summit.”

  The engineer nodded to himself, “copy that.” He looked up at the looming ridgeline as they moved up into the foothills. The sheer cliffs weren’t passable for light equipment but in his eyes it didn’t look insurmountable. “Can you drop me before you cut south? I want to go up to look at the tower.”

  Othello’s face flinched. “That’s probably not the best idea. Why?”

  “I want to get a better look at the guns and see what’s underneath.”

  “I’m not going to stop you.” He looked over his command screen, “I’ll drop you along with a three-man security team; Sergeant O’Hare’s Hotel squad’s in CQB One. What do you want to do for extraction?”

  “Thanks. I’ll worry about getting out later.” Scott got to his feet and retrieved a small scanning suite from the wall, letting another operator take his place in the tank. The box was a scaled-down version of the ones he had used on the Cygnan ships but only a fraction as powerful. Only slightly bigger than a defibrillator, with any luck it’d be enough to sample the internal workings of the alien systems.

  Once the tanks got in position, Scott swung his weapons across his chest and with a deep breath, cycled the airlock and listened to the alien wind whip by outside. Stepping out in the caustic environment, he saw the three soldiers were already grouped up along the nearest rock wall.

  “What’s the plan, sir?” O’Hare asked first when he saw Scott emerge.

  The engineer got his first unobstructed look at the towering blade of rock extending high above their heads. The grade wa
s north of eighty percent with only minimal cracks and holds. “We’re going up. According to the satellite feed, the dome’s in a cleft about a klick in. The foundation is another half above that.”

  O’Hare shook out his arms and strapped down his rifle to his back. “Outstanding. I was afraid this’d get boring. Lead the way, sir.”

  A brief pang of fear caught in Scott’s throat as he glanced up once more. The only definitive feature he could see was a single crack running up and to an outcropping at a significant height. He grabbed at the edge, flexed his palm and with the aid of the armor, pulled himself aloft. He cleared the first few meters before looking back to check on the soldiers who were still waiting on the ground. “You coming?”

  The three shared an unseeing glance between them before following up the stone face. Quickly Scott found himself halfway between a smog-filled sky above and an unforgiving plain far below. The rock wall seemed to stretch on forever in all directions. Whatever thoughts he had about it being an ill-conceived idea he left to himself as they continued upwards.

  ***

  From distant orbit, Fox and the rest of the bridge crew watched Grant’s initial strike against the first tower on the ridge. “Direct hit. Tower’s down.” he reported from the satellite feed, “Follow with your artillery; we’re recording.” The wave of shells peppered the ground up and down the mountainside, each taking a few cubic meters of rock with them.

  “That’s it. It’s looking like each one is punching out a five to ten meter radius of impact.” He looked to the analysts beside him, “Find the closest split in the wall and see how much they need to fill it in. Same thing to the south; they need a clear line of approach to the base. Commander Grant, how’s the crew?”

  “The column’s still behind par but we hit some solid rock so it’s looking up. Just give us a plan to get through the pass.”

  “We’re on it. I think there’re a couple possibilities already.” Fox watched as his team continued to find a solution to the problem. He put himself in the shoes of their adversaries.

  The aliens had undoubtedly been on the planet for an extended period of time, maybe long enough to have been forgotten by their leadership and likely didn’t expect a coordinated attack of the type they were receiving. The Cygnans weren’t known for being ones to surrender or back down from a fight so he didn’t want to assume they’d give up so easily. With the force from the Lyran tanks plus the additional soldiers fresh from Earth, they could have made a calculated decision to not even step onto the field.

  Unfortunately, that meant it was more than possible they were coordinating a defensive strategy below ground. If his team had been in the base, it’d be what he’d do. They’d have an advantage since they’d know the layout in detail but their backs would be against the wall. There’d be no rescue and likely no method of escape. The best they could hope for would be to tie up as many of the invaders’ forces for the most time possible, make them pay dearly for every step and misstep forward and then render the sacrifice moot.

  Fox stopped. That’d be it, of course. Drag them through the base maybe while waiting on reinforcements only to destroy whatever technology or intelligence they had access to or the base as a whole. It was a discussion he was not looking forward to having with Commander Grant. At least they still had some time to formulate a plan before they had to commit.

  ***

  Scott strained on the last few meters, looking up at the ledge that laughed at his ascent just above his face and hoisted himself onto the small outcropping. Pain surged down his arms but quickly subsided while he looked about his new surroundings. Similarly, the trio of soldiers filed into place as well.

  The ground was anything but level, however it did provide a respite from the climb and enough of a target to collect the severed remains of the turret as it rolled off the high ridge. Scott looked between the alien wreckage and out over the landscape, for the first time being able to see more than a few meters unobstructed by the layers of deadly smog.

  Higher up and later in the day, he could see a fair distance south down the crags of the lower mountains while others still stretched upwards above them. The ground was far enough below to lose all definition and now looked like nothing more than a greenish-brown smear, stretching out to infinity in all directions.

  He turned his attention back to the turret while the soldiers caught their breath and unhooked the small scanning box he had included for the task. Looking from the underside, he saw the contraption was tightly packed with unknown boxes and devices between thick panels of solid metal. Scott wedged the scanner as far in as he could and hit the start button before turning his attention to the cannons for a visual inspection.

  The system was in excess of three meters across with a protrusion of at least quadruple that. Six small tubes with solid caps on the leading edges were affixed around a large central barrel, which was open to the elements. Even through now twisted from the fall, Scott could make out thousands of tiny etchings and indentations on the inside surface, scoured black from usage but in some way likely critical to the weapon’s performance.

  The leading caps on the ancillary barrels resembled radomes or other protective covers, which made Scott instantly think they had a function in aiming the device and weren’t by themselves kinetic. The metal was lightly pitted from extended exposure to the atmosphere but didn’t look any worse than a variation of light rust. No cables were exposed, leading him to assume they were protected underneath.

  His scanner let out a series of beeps and a notice in a Lyran script popped up in his helmet’s display. Scott didn’t understand the message but assumed it meant the job was completed. Walking back around the narrow ledge, he retrieved the box and replaced it on his waist after looking over the small digital display on the side. Unlike the full size model, this one didn’t give the full mapping of the environment and instead gave a dim outline of its surroundings. If he had the time, Scott figured he could pull out the data if it was really needed, otherwise he’d wait until they got back to a Patriot.

  At the edge of the overlook, he caught the first glimpse of their destination, a long, tall rock face far in the distance that spread across the horizon. It wasn’t clear enough to make out any of the alien structures or installations but it gave him a sense of the magnitude of their work ahead. If they could go in from the ground floor or the embankment on the far side, although it was out of the way, such an attack might be easy but a climb up the wall would be impossible for hundreds of armed soldiers.

  His mountain peak. Scott looked up, remembering they still had nearly another thousand meters of suffering to go to reach the tower base. The wall above them was closer to vertical and damaged from the exchange of cannon fire, not to mention the passage of the turret as it tore down the mountainside to end at its current location. There was no split in the rock to guide them along. Rather, a smattering of tiny handholds and minor splits were all that existed to buoy them up to their destination.

  “Alright, let’s keep going.” He announced to the others, chose a set of cracks and pulled himself up once again. The slope was steeper and his fingers burned but slowly and methodically Scott continued upwards.

  26

  “The drop at forty five hundred meters? That’s the target?” Grant looked at the screen and out through the side of the tank towards a small flat area between two higher peaks, the one to the right until moments prior being the location of the third defensive tower on their target list.

  “That’s right,” Fox replied, “Set your artillery to hit the upper slope to the right, between the tower’s base and the pass. You’ll need to cut in at least twenty meters all the way down to give the tanks enough space, plus a base flat enough to fit through without hanging up.”

  “Confirmed.” Grant relayed the coordinates to his artillery pieces, waiting a short distance behind their firing line. “You’re cleared hot.” He gave the order to fire.

  A steady barrage of shells leapt out and arced abo
ve the foothills before slamming hard against the mountainside, taking clouds of rock flying into the air around them. By the third volley, Grant could see through the smoke that they were carving out a significant portion of the stone face. As Commander Fox had predicted, more began to shear away and crumble into the gap beneath. It was in no way settled sufficiently to support a tank, but with a fair amount more he imagined they’d be able to carefully maneuver their way through.

  ***

  Much to his relief, Sergeant Allen’s column had encountered little resistance on their route across the northern road around the basin. With each tower they engaged, there was a brief moment where the Cygnans attempted an attack before being jammed out by the defensive vehicles. They only lost one front-line tank so far with six towers down and given their situation, he considered that to be acceptable.

  Although he heard occasional chatter through the radio about the central assaults through the mountains over treacherous terrain, he found little more than rolling hills, whatever subterranean faults existing to the south had not made it far enough north to impede his advance. It was probably part of the equation that had directed the aliens to build their godforsaken base out here anyway.

  Like a burning oil rig belching black smoke in a featureless desert, Allen passed by the next target, crossing another off his list on their tour around the field. Although he felt lucky for their success thus far, he couldn’t shake the uneasy sensation that they were doing so at the expense of something or someone else.

  ***

  There wasn’t much left of the tower on the summit, Scott determined as he peeked over the edge of the cliff. Again touching his feet to stable ground, he allowed himself a moment’s respite to catch his breath and consider the team’s next move.