by C H Gideon
A flare from the far side of the cavern preceded a direct railgun hit to Roy’s forward armor. The enemy heavy weapon’s tungsten pellet splashed as superheated, hyper-velocity plasma against Roy’s robust defenses, turning the impact site a fiery red.
“Armor’s holding,” Styles reported as Roy drove over the ruined enemy position. No sooner had a fresh wave of Arh’Kel soldiers revealed themselves than Chaps lashed out with the forward coilguns. Twenty enemy troops fell with Roy never breaking stride as the battlefield behemoth tore through their meter-tall rubble barricade, a wall likely intended to slow Jenkins’ advance.
The rock-biters had clearly never seen assault-grade Republican armor in action.
Blowing through the pile of loose rock like it was made of sand, Chaps extended Roy’s legs and raised the mech’s main chassis while raking left and right with his coilguns. Another flash from the far side of the chamber preceded a second impact, this one turning Roy’s forward armor a furious yellow-white.
“Forward armor’s down to seventy percent,” Styles reported.
“Silence those heavies, Chaps,” Jenkins commanded.
“On it,” Chaps replied tersely, activating Roy’s primary targeting system and zeroing in on the fortified railgun mounts. Chaps unexpectedly piped his normally-private music into Roy’s overhead speakers. The song was Exciter by Judas Priest, which in recent weeks had become something of a company anthem, though Chaps’ favored version was a cover by Gamma Ray.
Jenkins felt like he should object, but he’d always had a soft spot for the classics, so he let it slide. There was nothing like heavy metal while riding in heavy metal in the middle of a firefight. Or anytime. Jenkins shook his head. He was growing soft. Or metal hard.
“On the way,” Chaps called out with relish, and Roy’s pop-up missile launchers sent six armor-piercing rockets streaking toward the enemy railguns.
The rockets skewered their targets, flinging them apart in a shower of jagged debris which sprayed a hundred meters in all directions. The far side of the cavern erupted into a raging inferno as some of that debris touched off a hydrocarbon fuel tank, and soon the cavern was filled with choking, black smoke.
Jenkins gritted his teeth as Roy continued to charge across the huge cavern, laying into enemy infantry formations as the command mech pushed ever-deeper into the fight. They had cleared the mouth of the cavern of hostiles and were continuing toward the center of the chamber, blazing a trail through fighting positions and makeshift barricades as they went.
“Local air supply,” he grunted as Roy shook from another railgun impact, this one to their left flank.
“Copy that: local air supply,” Styles replied before relaying the shorthand order to the battalion’s infantry. With all the smoke in the cavern, they would need to use rebreather masks when they arrived. Styles and Jenkins had developed a good working rapport while building the unit, which was an invaluable asset in battle.
After the order was acknowledged, it was 2nd Company’s turn to join the fray.
Captain Murdoch’s eight-legged Flaming Rose burst into the cavern, banking right and laying into the enemy as soon as its pilot sighted a rubble wall hiding a dozen enemy soldiers. More short-legged octopus than spider, 2nd Company’s command vehicle still struck an imposing figure as it lurched forward, trampling the enemy barricade with its front legs. Sweeping left and right with those legs, Murdoch cleared the enemy position without firing a single shot, until he spat white-hot plasma fire on the enemy’s trampled remains to ensure the threat had been neutralized.
The position dealt with, Flaming Rose moved fifty meters wide-right of Roy’s path before turning and running a parallel course to Jenkins’ mech.
While the eight-legged Flaming Rose went right, the task of forging the left-hand path fell to the track-mounted Rammer, a throwback vehicle with a low, wide profile, four distinct tracks on each side of the chassis, and a fifteen-kilo cannon as primary armament to go with two chem-fueled chain guns and a bizarre, wedge-shaped ram on the prow.
Rammer’s chain guns whirred to life, each spitting a hundred rounds per second as they sprayed projectiles into a nearby formation. Splitting a stone barricade with its namesake, Rammer charged through a dozen enemy soldiers hunkered behind the shattered rampart. Some were cut in two by the razor-sharp ram’s lower edges, others were crushed under the ancient war machine’s legs, and still others were flung aside like grass through a lawnmower.
Despite its archaic design and badly-outdated arsenal, Rammer’s armor had been upgraded during its refit and was theoretically able to withstand multiple direct hits from a high-powered railgun.
That theory was soon put to the test.
An enemy railgun sent a bolt of hyper-velocity tungsten straight into that upgraded armor on the upper-glacis, the left portion of its angled armor. Had Jenkins not insisted on Rammer’s armor being upgraded, which came in spite of Fleet Command’s stated priorities, the venerable mech would have been destroyed outright by that first shot.
As it was, it took two shots to put the old tank down.
From the far side of the cavern, a second railgun sent a hypervelocity projectile into Rammer’s right flank. The tracks on that side were obliterated, and the mech’s forward momentum halted completely. Its three-man crew died before they knew the second shot hit them, and Rammer’s flaming remains were scattered as ammo quickly began cooking off from inside.
Without missing a beat, the four-legged Babycake moved from its position on the formation’s centerline to replace Rammer. Stomping past the exploding wreckage of the ancient vehicle, the relatively high-profile Babycake was one of the few multi-role vehicles in Jenkins’ battalion. It was equally at home wading into the enemy as it was standing off at ten clicks and delivering ballistic strikes on hapless targets.
With a coilgun situated between each of its legs, it raked nearby unarmored rock-biters with savage ferocity. Delivering vengeance for its fallen comrade, Babycake swiveled its top-mounted artillery gun to the right side of the cavern and sent a fifteen-kilo slug into the mobile railgun that had killed the ancient Rammer.
Flaming Rose and Babycake widened the spearhead, paving the way for the rest of the column to clear the cavern in an ever-expanding fan formation. As the rest of 2nd Company supported the initial gains, Roy barreled across the cavern’s mid-point and tore down another railgun mount with a trio of AP—armor-piercing—rockets.
“Commander,” Styles called out, “I’m receiving word from 1st Company. They’ve engaged the enemy in Bravo Tunnel.”
“How?!” Jenkins demanded, knowing that without 1st Company to reinforce in the next sixty seconds, he would risk being surrounded. The fire lance formation required two groups, the tip and the shaft, in order to take-and-hold a position like the cavern. 2nd Company was the tip, with 1st Company adopting the role of the formation’s shaft. Without the support of 2nd Company, 1st might shatter on the enemy’s inevitable counterattack.
“A cave-in four hundred meters up-tunnel from the cavern,” Styles explained. “Blue Lotus, Priscilla, and Forktail are on this side of the collapse. Racetrack was trapped under the rubble, and the rest of 1st is on the surface side of the barrier.”
Jenkins bit back an angry retort and gritted his teeth. “2nd Company: execute final protective fire and reverse course six seconds after my mark. Mark!”
“Orders acknowledged,” Styles reported as the quickly-erected countdown clock reached two seconds left. Then, with a measure of precision which would have struck terror into any sane soldier, Jenkins’ mechs halted their advance in perfect unison. Their weapons, which had been firing precisely and in short bursts, began spewing fiery wrath in all directions ahead of the column.
Tens of thousands of anti-personnel rounds spat from dozens of mech-mounted guns in five seconds’ time, laying waste to anything that moved, and then some. Even one of the railgun platforms was taken down by a concentrated barrage of chem-rounds, but most of the ammunition
tore into the cavern’s walls. Man-sized slabs of stone fell free from the walls, and ceiling, as the granite cavern was shattered by the onslaught.
Then the artillery thundered, sending fifteen-kilo slugs into suspected enemy heavies. Rockets screamed from launch tubes, their impacts causing two smaller tunnels on the far side of the cavern to collapse entirely. Even Kamehameha, the battalion’s lone railgun-armed mech, added to the devastating barrage.
Standing upright in its humanoid configuration, Kamehameha’s twin railgun arms sent slivers of hyper-velocity tungsten into the stream of enemy units emerging from one of the mid-sized tunnels on the cavern’s southern edge.
At least four more enemy railguns were taken down by the high-output barrage before, moving as one, Jenkins’ column reversed course at maximum speed and withdrew behind the cavern’s mid-line.
Then the rock-biters counterattacked.
A dozen enemy railguns spat from positions nestled within adjoining tunnels. Triple Threat, a dedicated artillery mech near 2nd Company’s rear, lost one of its three legs from a direct hit. The crippled mech tilted and fell toward the cavern floor. Before it landed, its central chassis was skewered by railgun cross-fire and exploded.
Paul Harris, a mech of similar design to Triple Threat but with close-range flamers and chain guns instead of artillery, took rapid-succession railgun impacts to its central hull. One of its legs flew off and its external flamer tanks lit off, spraying burning fuel across the cavern floor. Paul Harris’ crew fought desperately to withdraw with the rest of the company, dragging the crippled mech on two legs toward Bravo Tunnel, while dozens of rock-biters cartwheeled toward it, in their peculiar way, faster than it could withdraw.
Jenkins gritted his teeth so hard, he chipped a molar. There was nothing he could do for them but divert Roy’s coilguns toward the encroaching enemy infantry. Chaps was already doing so without needing to be ordered. He sent every possible anti-personnel round Paul Harris’ way, but it was a foregone conclusion made official a few moments later: the Paul Harris was dead.
Babycake was struck in the forward hull by a hypervelocity dart, and her robust armor held while flaring an angry orange. Monsoon, Jammer, and Blue Balls also suffered hits, but were able to maintain course and speed as the company withdrew to the mouth of Bravo Tunnel.
“Target those railguns!” Jenkins snapped just as those very weapons thundered into Roy’s front and flanks with lethal precision. “I’m authorizing use of Roy’s HE rounds in the next barrage to fire on my mark,” he added as warning lights appeared all around the command center.
Using HE—high explosive—ordnance underground was dangerous in the extreme, but the enemy was dug-in better than he expected and 1st Company had been cut off from the advance. What might have been a textbook sweep across the cavern had turned into a messy, bloody affair when the enemy demonstrated they were far less disjointed than they initially appeared.
So the choice was simple: use ordnance, which was nearly as dangerous to Jenkins and his people as it was to the enemy, or let the affair devolve into a process of attrition where his hope for victory, let alone survival, was pinned on him having more material to lose than the enemy.
To Jenkins, or any other warrior fit to bear arms, that was no choice at all.
After Roy’s AP ammo had been swapped out with HE, Jenkins gripped the rail before him and barked, “Fire, fire, fire!”
Guns thundered and rockets screamed, filling the cavern with a deafening barrage that struck every enemy-occupied edge. Thousands of enemy infantry died and a dozen railgun platforms were scrubbed as the column’s fury was delivered like a steel-toed boot to the teeth.
The cavern went quiet, and none of the cave-ins on the far side had caused damage to his people as they withdrew. But in spite of the relative calm following the HE barrage, Jenkins knew there were plenty more Arh’Kel down there.
The only question was whether or not he would be ready for them when the rock-biters regrouped.
3
Back in Black
Xi awoke to a blinding light and instantly clamped her eyes shut. “Fucking rocks!” she snarled, reaching out for the manual controls and finding her arms somehow restrained. “Fire another pulse missile, Podsy!” she screamed, thrashing against the straps around her wrists. “What the hell?!” she cried in alarm, forcing her eyes open and looking down at her arms.
“Bao, it’s me,” she heard Podsy say, and felt a hand on her wrist. “Calm down. We’re at Battalion HQ.”
“Battalion HQ?” she repeated, squinting to protect her eyes as she tried to focus on his badly-blurred features. “What the hell are we doing there?” she demanded before screaming at the top of her lungs and straining with all her might against her wrist-cuffs. “AND WHY THE FUCK AM I TIED DOWN!?”
“You just got out of major surgery, LT,” Podsy explained calmly, and as she blinked away the blurriness, she saw he was white as a sheet. “The pulse missile worked,” he said, gripping her hand tightly in his own. “We held the breach long enough for the commander to arrive and move down with the rest of the battalion. They’ve been down the hole for over an hour now.”
She shook her head, feeling a strange wave of numbness wash over her. It was similar to the sensation she experienced when linking with Elvira’s systems, but there was none of the endorphin rush which usually accompanied that process.
“We…we held?” she asked disbelievingly. “Elvira?” she pressed hopefully, prompting Podsy to shake his head.
“She’s counted out,” he replied grimly. “Most of her peripheral systems were fried by the e-mag pulse. She’s not going to fight any time soon.”
She heard a soft snort from behind her, and Bao craned her neck to see the unit’s lone physician stroll into the room. “Good, you’re awake. That means we can get you out of that bed.”
“Why did you restrain me?” she demanded.
“I had to chemically-induce a number of mild seizures to revive you on short notice,” Dr. Fellows replied with a smirk. “You would have hurt yourself worse without the restraints than you did with them,” he explained as he undid her left wrist’s cuff, revealing a raw and bleeding ring where the metal cuff had bit into her skin. “This way, you’ll be able to get back out there, if that’s what you actually want,” he added with a pointed look in Podsy’s direction before undoing the other cuff.
She took the doctor’s meaning plainly enough and nodded affirmatively, “You did the right thing. When can I move out?”
“Physically, aside from these abrasions and a few torn muscles, you’re fine.” Fellows shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend initiating another neural link any time soon, though,” he warned half-heartedly. “We managed to reset your implants, but your neurochemistry is badly imbalanced. Another spike like the one you experienced, or even half as bad, would be fatal on the spot.”
“Good.” She nodded, ignoring everything after ‘you’re fine’ and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Before she could stand, a sudden wave of vertigo washed over her and stopped her from standing.
“Easy there,” Fellows deadpanned, “you just got a full CSF transfusion and your meninges are a little stiff from the high-dose epinephrine and hyper-oxygen treatments. Any sudden head and neck movements and you’ll risk serious injuries, including a subdural hematoma.”
Xi steadied herself for a second attempt at getting out of bed. With Podsy’s assistance, she managed to stand on wobbly legs before nodding curtly. “Thank you, Doctor, but I need to get back in a mech.”
“Don’t be foolish.” Fellows snorted derisively. “You’ve done your part. The way I hear it, you two are lucky your mech was positioned beneath the remains of the cavern’s roof. Without that extra protection, the e-mag would have killed you both.”
Xi jutted her chin defiantly. “The commander led the battalion down that spider-hole and they’ve been out of contact for an hour. That means they’re operating in enemy territory; they need every last Jock a
nd Wrench they can get.”
“Your mech’s out of commission,” Fellows observed, and Xi thought she saw the hint of a smile playing just beneath his eyes. “What’s your plan, to throw rocks at them? Obvious irony notwithstanding, I don’t...”
“Devil Crab is the same design as Elvira,” she interrupted, “and with just a few transplants of Elvira’s hardened components, we could get her back up under manual control. But it’s going to take time, time the commander doesn’t have, so if you don’t mind…" She made to push past Dr. Fellows, but Podsy surprisingly restrained her.
“Calm down, Xi,” her teammate urged.
“I will not calm down!” she snapped. “The commander is out there bleeding right fucking now, and you two cowards have the audacity to tell me I should calm down?!”
Fellows stifled a laugh, which led Podsy to do likewise.
“What the hell is so funny?!” she demanded, tearing her arm free of Podsy’s grip.
“You are, LT.” Podsy grinned as Fellows erupted into a mocking belly laugh. “Before operating on you, Dr. Fellows ordered Koch to bring Devil Crab to the cavern instead of bringing Elvira here. The transplants should be mostly completed by the time we arrive in the Vultures,” he explained, popping open the APC-turned-field-hospital’s door and gesturing outside to the two landed Vulture-class drones.
Xi went red from the collar up, realizing she’d just been played by both of them as they continued their laughter at her expense. She bitterly schooled her features. “I hope you two got your money’s worth.”
“We did,” Fellows assured her, “but in truth, I also needed to assess your neurological function with a series of responsive tests, and you passed, barely. Now get the hell out of my hospital.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve got work to do, as do you two.”
Xi nodded, feeling a thrill as she and Podsy made their way to the Vultures. Each one had a wingspan of three-and-a-half meters and was fitted with vertical take-off or landing, VTOL-capable turbines. Situated beneath the Vulture’s spindly landing gear struts was a coffin-like basket. Podsy helped strap Xi into one basket before a corpsman did likewise for him, and soon the duo lifted off aboard the remote-controlled drones.