“Roger. This is OP 3. Since we forgot to bring the hot dogs and marshmallows, we are moving.”
While topside had been getting rambunctious, things also got interesting down the rabbit hole.
“This is Lily 1,” Megan’s computer said on net. “Back Door, you have hostiles five minutes out.”
“Understood, Lily 1. We will engage them one minute out.”
After serious consideration, involving a lot of input both from the deck and orbit, the break in the track had been set up three kilometers away from the first Marine fire team. Closer might have been better, but the shock or air wave traveling ahead of the maglev train was a major concern.
Most human underground maglev trains operated in a vacuum. The Iteeche models did not. They’d tried it several thousand years ago and had an incident where several important people, along with thousands of not important people had suffocated when an accident halted a train. Now, there were vents along the tracks to shoot air from the front and suck it out behind the train.
Sensors had done their best to discover the vent holes, but to no avail. There had been no traffic, and the vents had stayed unobservable. Reports from orbit now were tracking the approaching train by the venting air before and after it.
Now that it was not necessary to know where the vents were, they were being mapped easily. Such was the way of war. Still, Megan set up some fans at the bottom of the vents to blow air up. That got a breeze coming down the main rabbit hole and started clearing the smoke and gas out of the tunnel.
As planned, the track break had been arranged in the middle of a gentle curve. That meant the LT’s helmet camera had a good take of the break but saw nothing further down the track.
“Two minutes out,” Lily said. She never got to say, “One minute out.” The LT’s camera handled that announcement perfectly.
The train came in sight around the curve, racing toward them. Then, in less than a blink of an eye, it shot off the track. The lead car kind of disintegrated against the wall of the tunnel, then careened forward, propelled by both momentum and the cars behind it, to spear itself on the other end of the track break. In a moment, the train was nothing but a heap of small fragments, crashing together, bouncing off the deck, bulkhead, and overhead. Large pieces became medium pieces, and those were soon reduced to tiny bits of metal.
Somewhere in all that mess, were likely Iteeche bodies. However, with all the flying metal, the flesh and blood was reduced to an insignificant amount.
All of this passed in a second or two while everyone on net was too shocked to breathe.
“Lily, could you slow the video down and run it again?” Megan said as the dust of what had once been a moving structure began to settle.
Now, the horror ran on the command net in slow motion. The LT’s camera had been enhanced to 120 frames per second, well above what the human eye could track. Now it was played back at 12 frames per second. The 3 second crash now took half a minute.
Megan still found it hard to breathe during it.
“Bird Dog 6 actual to Back Door. Extend your perimeter at least three more clicks. Look for a good place to cut the track.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Thus ended the first battle of Back Door. No doubt, there would be more.
“Lily, do you have sensors on the other side of the track?”
“Megan, I’m getting reports from fifty clicks down the track. There’s another curve nine clicks farther out. Should I begin cutting the track there?”
“We’ll need an hour and a half to get there,” the LT said. “However, if your computer says it’s a nice curve, I’d suggest that we use it. Hitting the wall at three hundred klicks an hour really does a number on these things.”
“Lily will begin the cut,” Megan said.
“They’re on their way. We should have a solid cut in fifteen minutes,” her computer reported to the humans on line.
“This is Bird Dog 6 actual. Do we need to go nine klicks back? Could we do it closer?”
“That depends on what you’d do if you commanded a follow-up strike team, Sir,” Megan said. “You know the first team went off the air suddenly. You have no report back from it. When would you slow the train and possibly deploy your troops?”
The major chewed on that question for a while. “You say you can have the cut in fifteen minutes?” he finally said.
“That includes travel time and time for the nanos to chew up the track,” Lily said. “I have them working to chew a wedge out of the track first. That way, even if we haven’t got a full break, the train will take a nose dive into the track ahead. We should have that in eleven minutes, including travel and initial destruction.”
“Very good. Proceed. Bird Dog 6 out.”
SOME BOSS’S TOES GOT STEPPED ON, Lily said.
WE WERE BOTH GOOD, TACTFUL LITTLE SUBORDINATES, Megan answered.
I DON’T LIKE BEING DOUBTED.
DON’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY. HE WAS DOUBTING ME AS MUCH AS YOU.
I’LL TALK TO MOM ABOUT GETTING YOU A PROMOTION.
NO, LILY. I’VE STILL GOT TWO YEARS IN GRADE AS A LIEUTENANT. I DON’T WANT ALL THE EXTRA BOSS TIME I’D HAVE TO SPEND IF I WAS A LIEUTENANT COMMANDER. REMEMBER, KRIS HAD A SQUADRON WHEN SHE WAS THAT RANK.
OH, RIGHT. STILL, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO ANSWER TO KNUCKLEHEADS LIKE THE MAJOR.
DIDN’T HE HAVE A GOOD POINT?
OF COURSE. I WAS ALREADY DOING IT.
SO, YOU WERE BOTH RIGHT, AND WE DIDN’T WASTE ALL THAT MUCH TIME MAKING SURE WE WERE RIGHT. LILY, THE NAVY LIKES TO CHECK AND DOUBLE CHECK STUFF. IT’S JUST THE NAVY WAY.
YEAH, YEAH. THE RIGHT WAY, THE WRONG WAY, AND THE NAVY WAY. MOM IS ALWAYS SAYING THAT.
The idea that human foibles were a regular topic of conversation between the Magnificent Nelly and her kids brought a smile to Megan’s lips. She often wondered how this symbiotic relationship between super computers and Kris Longknife’s command team was going to work its way out.
With luck, she’d be around to see all the fun.
Meanwhile, Megan had a battle to track ahead of her. So far it had been quiet.
Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.
21
“We have noise on the track ahead of us.” Lily reported on the command net. “I make it a maglev warming up in the target redoubt station.”
“This is Bird Dog 6 actual. Initiate rail cut three klicks ahead of our advanced position.”
“This is Lily 1. There is a small curve at four klicks. May I recommend it for the break?”
“Bird Dog 6 actual. Affirmative. Go ahead with the break four klicks out. Front Door, advance one more klick, then . . .” there was a pause as the major reconsidered ordering the team to dig in. “Establish defensive positions.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” came back from the platoon’s LT.
“Captain Sung, how close to the fun do you want to get?” Megan said on a private channel she selected for just the two of them.
“Megan, your guess is as good as mine. How close do you want to get?”
Megan hefted her M-12 carbine. Below the 4mm rifled barrel was the gaping maw of a 25mm grenade launcher. If push came to shove, Megan wanted to be as pushy as she could. Still, her job was to command an army of nanites. She and Lily also had to keep control of the Iteeche communications net. If they slipped up, those autocannons could become very nasty.
“What do you say we stay two klicks back. It may not be as much fun, but it may let us put the most hurt to our beloved Planetary Overlord.”
“I’m all for that,” the captain said, agreeing with the lieutenant.
They advanced cautiously. Problem was, in a tunnel with solid concrete all around and just one large magnetic rail in the middle, there was not a lot of places to be cautious behind. The rail stretched forward, as far as Megan could see without increasing the amplitude of her faceplate.
Clearly, if it came to a fire fight, it was going to be a short and bloody affair.
“Lily 1 h
ere. From the noise I’m getting from the rail, a maglev vehicle has departed the station in the target redoubt,” the computer reported on net.
“Any idea how soon it will get to us?” the major asked.
“Ten minutes at most. Longer, depending on how long it takes them to get up to full speed, assuming they don’t keep their speed down.”
“A lot of variables,” Megan added. She didn’t want the major coming back with some crack about her computer being indecisive.
“Understood. The situation topside is getting a bit warm. The OPs are falling back to the base. I’m moving non-essential personnel down the rabbit hole. Do you have plans for closing the hole?”
“Ask the engineers if they dropped with enough Smart Metal. I can use nanos to collapse the walls of the shaft, but it would be best to do it slowly, and have a solid dome down below to catch the rubble and stop any explosives that come our way.”
“This is Eager Beaver 6 actual. We’re ready to plug the hole. We’re dropping down now and will prepare that effort when we’re down there.”
“Thank you, Eager Beaver,” the major said to all his engineering platoon.
Megan was beginning to be curious about her situation. “Back Door, was your train preceded by wind and over pressure?”
“Affirmative. I noticed dust coming my way even before the train came in sight.”
“We’re not getting any of that,” Captain Sung remarked.
“Nope. I think our train is advancing with a lot more caution than the last one.”
“We don’t want that,” Quinn said.
“Nope.” Megan trotted over to the wall and leaned her forehead against it. She knew the Iteeche data cables were just a few centimeters away from her helmet, but she was getting no feel for the net.
She chipped off a few nanos from what was left of her Smart MetalTM belt (her satchel was long gone), and had them drill through the wall to the comm line.
Still no access.
“Captain, will you help me get my helmet off?”
“Are you crazy?”
“No. I’m just a Longknife,” Megan said, with resignation in her voice.
When the Navy captain didn’t move to help her, she added. “I’ve got to do what I do best, and that means getting my helmet off. Please?”
The officer looked at her like she was crazy, but she did as Megan asked.
As soon as they popped the helmet seal, Quinn hit Megan’s neck with a broad-spectrum antidote for most known gases that disabled humans.
Meanwhile, Megan was tasting stale air and smoke. She coughed, and her eyes teared up. One of the extra modifications she’d had done on her suit was an additional oxygen line leading from her suit. She settled it against her nose and put the cord over her head.
Now, at least, she didn’t have to breathe that stink, although it still seeped in through her mouth no matter how tightly she kept it closed.
She coughed, again. Likely she’d be coughing a lot.
Now, Megan leaned her bare forehead against the smooth, cool concrete and let her mind, or maybe just her imagination, wander. Her first image was of many segmented insects, skittering through a midnight landscape.
She blinked twice, both to work the smog out of her eyes, and to change her vision.
Now Megan was in the data stream. Lily was quickly converting the Iteeche data into something that a human could understand.
In another blink, it all came into focus.
Now Megan could see through the Iteeche cameras scattered up and down the tunnel. Lily overlaid the input from the human nanos and the picture jelled into one seamless vision. Another blink and the picture highlighted the autocannons as well as the claymores. Everything that Megan controlled was there for her to use.
She spotted the train, still well down the track and out of view of the Marines.
“Longknife 2 here. The train is coming,” Megan reported on net, and got the taste of metal, acid, and crap for her reward. “It’s coming a lot slower than the last train. Wait one.”
For fifteen seconds, Megan tracked the train. “It’s slowing. They aren’t going to go slamming off the track a second time.”
“Bird Dog 6 actual. Roger. Front Door, prepare to receive an infantry assault.”
“Front Door. Roger.”
The train went into the curve at a speed that still sent it off of the track and slamming into the tunnel wall. This time, however, there was no smashing into little tiny pieces. Instead, the lead car just slid along the tunnel wall, screeching like the devil’s own fingernail on hell’s chalkboard. When it reached the other end of the break in the track, it quickly came to rest.
Just as quickly, troops began to pour out of the train. Officers gave orders, NCO’s shouted commands, and the infantry formed up into squads and began to cautiously make their way toward Megan’s Marines.
There was no cover. No cover for either of the forces. If they got into a fire fight, there would be blood all over the place. The side with the deepest reserve would be the one to win.
From the looks of all the troops dismounting that wrecked train, the Iteeche had brought a battalion to fight her small platoon.
“Front Door, this is Longknife 2. May I suggest that you fall back a klick from your present advanced position?”
“Bird Dog 6 actual. Longknife 2, you want to explain yourself?”
“The force on our front appears to be battalion strength. They are shaking out into what looks like three companies forward, with one well back. I intend to engage the battalion when they are all fully committed and advancing toward us. Until the reserve gets away from the train, I can’t effectively engage them.”
There was a bit of a pause on the net while several Marine officers mulled over what a Navy lieutenant had just told them. That this lieutenant was a Longknife probably weighed heavily in their consideration.
“Bird Dog 6 actual. You sound like you intend to wipe them out all by your lonesome.”
“Longknife 2 here. That is exactly what I intend, sir.”
There was only a brief pause before, “Bird Dog 6 actual to Longknife 2. Proceed.”
In one part of Megan’s visor, the humans withdrew. Unfortunately, withdrawal did little to provide them cover. The tunnel stretched long and straight both in front and behind them.
In the distance, armed Iteeche in light blue field dress began to work their way around the curve that their train had not been able to complete. They moved at a low crouch.
The range was almost three klicks, a long shot even for a trained sniper. Iteeche NCO’s ordered trigger-pullers to keep advancing. They gave a quick kick in the butt to any young private that went to ground.
On the human side, the NCOs walked backwards slowly, making sure this retrograde did not turn into a running route. The professionalism of the human soldiers showed. They, too, walked backwards. At least two-thirds of them did. The other third was facing to the rear, eyes open for any unexpected surprise.
Back at the train, the last of the troops had dismounted. They formed up behind a pair of rocket launchers. A driver brought the wheeled vehicle forward at the pace of the infantry. Mounted behind his head were two stubby rocket launchers. Gunners sat beside each launcher, sighting them down the tunnel. Between the launchers, a vehicle commander sat on an upraised seat, peering down range, hunting for a target.
If Megan let either of those rigs get around the bend in the tunnel, their rockets would slaughter her force.
Megan began to plan her attack carefully. She had autocannons under her control as well as claymores. Which weapon would get rid of this threat most effectively and most efficiently?
Megan chose the claymores. She also chose only those on the right side of the tunnel. She had a hunch that that would give her an advantage.
The battalion commander was a pretty savvy guy. He had his troops spread out, both across the width of the tunnel and well back. His main body was spread along a lot of the tunnel.
&n
bsp; However, whoever built the defenses of this thing had not spared on cost. There were a lot of claymores.
For the main force, Megan chose two daisy chains. One started aft and moved forward. The second started forward and moved aft. They met in the middle. The poor sods there would know what was coming for them. They would have time to scream, but not much more.
For the reserve, including the two rocket launchers, Megan activated four claymores all at once.
The claymore darts were much more crude than those used by humans. Megan only lost ten percent of the nanos she had in the blast area. The same could not be said for the Iteeche.
The heavy darts slammed into flesh and bone. They crushed, slashed, and smashed. The left wall of the tunnel became a horrid modern artwork of blood, gore, and chunks of bleeding flesh. Here and there, a skull hung nailed to the wall.
Only a psychotic serial killer could have taken pleasure from this macabre work of art.
Megan wanted to puke.
“Megan,” came a soft, almost motherly voice. Not what Megan would ever have expected from Kris Longknife. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes, Admiral,” the lieutenant managed to get out as she struggled to swallow down what wanted to come up.
“You likely need to throw up. Go ahead. Your helmet is off, isn’t it?”
Megan tried to answer “yes.” However, her mouth was too busy emptying her stomach. Said mouth had no spare time for talking, even to give an admiral an answer.
While Captain Sung pulled Megan’s air line out of the way, as well as her hair, the lieutenant just let her stomach take control of her entire body. She retched from the tip of her toenails to the longest hair on her head.
She’d gotten sick from being drunk just once in college. She’d sworn never again. Now she had the vomiting without any of the fun of the partying or drinking.
It didn’t help that her nose piece had come loose, and she was breathing in the acrid smog of the tunnel. That smog that was now heavy with the sharp tang of explosives, the stink of ripped bowels, and heavy with a mist of blood.
She vomited until she had nothing more to bring up, and still her stomach retched.
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