by Chris Hechtl
“Aye aye,” Pam replied.
Jethro nodded. He was jogging her elbow a bit, but this was a decision for him. Now he had to focus on the next step and the one beyond that he reminded himself.
<)>^<)>/
“I don't think they'll come straight back,” Gunny Brillo said over his shoulder to Lieutenant Sng. The lieutenant was the only officer to come forward to the front so far. “We need something to entice them to come down memory lane,” he said.
“Give them more resistance. They'll think we're protecting something here,” the lieutenant said as he aimed and then fired his underslung rocket-propelled grenade launcher down the corridor. The grenade went off when it hit the far wall.
“With respect, sir, you need to get back. This is going to get warm very fast,” the gunny replied as he too fired a round. “But if we make this too hard for the cloaked suits, they might just sit on us on that front, then try to flank,” he warned. “Not that I don't mind that but …”
“I know. If they go down another path, we'll adapt and go back to Plan Charlie,” the lieutenant said as he reloaded his launcher and fired a second shot. “Wait …,” he turned. “Call up the robots. Get the ones below 80 percent up here. Give them one or two clips of ammo and some suicide packs, then we'll have some fun with them …”
<)>^<)>/
Sergeant Scornlan felt a moment of triumph as he got the last damaged suit more or less functional and off. They weren't pretty, half were barely functional, but a suit was a suit he knew. They needed every one on the line.
He wasn't thrilled about arming and sending ten of the robots off, but an order was an order. They took off as fast as they could. Some were limping; he'd cannibalized a few for parts. “Now it's my turn,” he growled as he set his wrench down.
Which was why he turned to get his own suit on when the first of the walking wounded came in. He groaned when he saw the damage. Instead of swearing, he just shook his head and picked up a wrench. “Who's first?” he demanded.
<)>^<)>/
Their first warning was the sounds of gears and hydraulics moving, the soft whine of servos, then lights. Their vision wasn't obstructed though; as Pam neared the corner, she recognized that the enemy had released robots up the main tunnel.
“Romeo Baker One to Alpha. They are trying to distract us,” she murmured. “We've got what looks like robots, most of them in rough shape,” she said. “Some have suicide vests.”
“Take them out,” Jethro replied.
“Roger,” she murmured. She unslung her rifle and then took aim. She took down the first; the round went through its neck tearing its head off. The body toppled backwards into another robot, entangling it.
Her round had also hit that robot, partially damaging it further. It flopped around under its deactivated colleague until Roarack finished it off with a head shot.
“Good idea,” Pam murmured. “Try not to …,” suddenly one of the robots exploded. She grimaced as the corridor filled with smoke, fire, and debris. The fire licked up and outward.
“Cut the lights,” Pam ordered as she moved to smash a light. She took the LED light out, then another. She knew with the lights out the cameras in the corridors would lose some resolution.
Zako reached in with one of her hands and grabbed the exposed wiring. She wondered why until she felt him send a surge of current through the lines. The lines were set up to run low voltage DC current through them. The spike of energy went through them and popped the lights in the area. She looked around to see lights blow out down each corridor like a string of fire crackers.
“Cool,” she murmured.
<)>^<)>/
“There goes the lights,” Trig said as he looked up to the light as it pulsed and went off.
“Frack, what next,” Tray muttered. “How are we supposed to hit what we can't see … and someone makes it harder by cutting the damn lights!”
“Stow it,” the gunny growled.
“I'm just …”
“Stow. It. Soldier,” the gunny barked. Tray froze, then went back to looking at his sector.
<)>^<)>/
Roarack could see the muzzle flashes in the dark. Thermal bloom of the muzzle flashes was in his vision but they didn't blind him.
Each side was affected by the muzzle flashes and their own night vision differently. For the Horathians with their limited computer support, it partially blinded them. For the Cadre, they had A.I. who overlaid the various sensor feeds in the suits to give them a better picture and even filtered the flashes preserving their host's vision. Each flash exposed the surrounding area for them to see. They could build 3-D maps off that like a bat sending out pulses of sound waves. To the Cadre they could see beyond anything anyone else dreamed of.
Dave used that to his advantage to pick off the guns firing on him. He took out two of the troops before the rest fell back.
Roarack hesitated, then moved forward behind Dave once more.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro grimaced as he recognized the problem he was in. He started to seriously regret not bringing the shooters and other troops in. Hell, he should have brought anyone and everyone. This was going to turn into a slugfest fast. He only had so many warm bodies. If he wasn't careful, they'd get flanked.
<)>^<)>/
“I shall walk in the valley of death and fear no evil,” Gunny Brillo murmured under his breath as he watched the corridor in front of him. “Come on you, bastards,” he murmured, hoping and praying they'd take the bait and come after him. The corridor that he'd just retreated through was their best Sunday punch other than the few remaining heavy weapons. It might stop them; in fact, he hoped and prayed it did. They needed a win. He was fairly certain morale was beginning to crack under the relentless pressure.
“The valley of death? More like the corridor of death. A gauntlet of death and destruction. But something tells me it's not going to be that easy,” Trig murmured.
<)>^<)>/
Corporal Dave Phillips saw the sensor probe feed up ahead and paused. Instinctively, he held up a closed fist even though he was cloaked and couldn't be seen. He crouched as he studied the feed. It looked like there were dozens of what looked like holes in the rock on either side. The rock walls were thin near the middle but thicker at the top and bottom. There were thick wooden beams supporting the roof every three meters. “Got what looks like murder holes up ahead,” he murmured as Osiris opened a whisker laser to Roarack. “Some claymores too. It looks like they really don't want us going down this corridor,” he said.
“Roger,” Roarack replied as he got up close to him. Dave noted the whisker laser pan until the black wolf's signature was right alongside of him. “What do you want to do? Spring the trap?”
“I'd rather go around myself,” Dave said. “It is after all a trap, only a fool and a damn fool walks into a trap when they know it's there,” he said shaking his head.
“And which one are you?”
“Well, you've got me there,” Dave admitted with a Cheshire grin. “But then again, my momma would kick my ass if I did something foolish. So, I think we need to take them out.”
“How?” Roarack asked curiously.
“Got me,” the chimera replied. “Wait … Osiris?” he asked as Osiris cocked his bird head at him. “You got something?” the A.I. nodded. “Go for it,” the chimera said.
He felt his probe ports open up, and then noted movement near him as Roarack's suit did the same. After a moment, a bunch of probes winged out. The probes moved along either wall.
<)>^<)>/
Gunny Brillo watched the corridor with narrowed eyes. Then, suddenly there was movement along either wall. “There!” he said, firing on the signature. The others did the same.
“No there!” Trig said, swiveling to fire on another target. He grimaced and hit the guns when nothing fell.
The guns opened up, filling the corridor with rail gun and shotgun blasts. Pellets and explosions also went off from the claymores. They were more
or less angled at a 45 degrees facing the attacker so they wouldn't hit each other.
However, the probes that Osiris and Fenrir had sent out were set to mimic the signature of a partially cloaked suit, ones right in their midst. The servos in the automatic weapons swiveled their guns as far to the right as possible sweeping their fire. The rounds tore into their own emplacements, tearing each other apart.
<)>^<)>/
Dave and Roarack ducked instinctively, laying flat as rounds ricocheted around them. Some hit their armor in the back, some rained down on them, their energy spent. Many somehow burrowed into soft bits or in the wood beams lining the cave tunnel.
One of the beams splintered from an impact near a knot. It creaked, groaning under the sudden stress.
“Well! That was fun,” Dave said with a laugh as the guns went silent.
“Okay, just for the record, the next time you tell them to go for it, maybe you should have them tell us what they are planning first?” the wolf growled.
“What's the fun in that?” Dave demanded as he made a push-up and tucked his legs under him. “I like surprises,” he said.
“Sure you do,” Roarack drawled as they checked the damage. There was the occasional single shots but no more automatic fire.
<)>^<)>/
“Plan Charlie is out the lock,” Gunny Brillo growled over the radio. “I don't know how, but they got around us and set the guns off,” he said.
“Roger that. Leave a force to cover that section, then have your people break down in pairs and secure the intersections,” the captain ordered.
“Frac …,” the gunny made a face then stopped himself. “Yes, sir,” he replied over the network instead.
<)>^<)>/
The cloaked suits took out the enemy cameras and sensors as they spread out and moved along the corridors. But a few of the cameras had no betraying energy signature. An optical camera in the ceiling fed by a plastic ODN line was missed. Captain Zhukov saw the marine's heavy weapons fire team move up to the first intersection and then hold there. As he watched, he saw the massive heavy weapons suits change from exterior camo of white and branches to gray and green rock camo matching the inside of the cave.
The captain grimaced at the idea of fighting cloaked troops. He finally hit on an idea as a counter. It was simple, but if he remembered right, effective. The troops needed to use smoke grenades to expose the cloaked suits.
<)>^<)>/
“Here,” the gunny ordered, moving aside to let Tray and the others swing in metal shields that had been stacked against the wall. Legs were kicked out and then used to prop the armor plates up at an angle. Rocks were thrown in behind them to help keep them more or less upright once they took fire.
“Gunny,” a voice said over his radio. Gunny Brillo paused what he was doing to look up. “Yes Delta Baker One?” he asked as he moved to sling another rock in place. “If you haven't seen, we're down to four effectives here including myself. Backup might be in order, sir.”
“The enemy is using cloaks. We need to counter. Use smoke grenades. When they move through the smoke, they'll disturb it and give themselves away,” the captain stated.
“We've only got so many,” Gunny Brillo warned from his place near the frontlines. His left hand went down to his ammo belt. By feel he found the right grenade.
“Use them. Work on setting up smoke pots too,” the captain ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the gunny said as he primed a grenade and tossed it. It bounced, then landed with the top upright. After a moment, it began to spew smoke. In the confines of the underground corridor, it quickly filled it.
<)>^<)>/
“Good,” Captain Zhukov murmured as the other blocking forces followed his order. The smoke rose though, which was natural but also not quite what he had in mind.
“Shut off the AC and heat so the smoke will stay and not get vented by our system to the outside exposing the vents,” the captain ordered. Private Askdall looked up at him and then complied.
<)>^<)>/
“Smoke grenades are going off. That's going to make forward movement hard for the RECON suits,” Bast warned.
“They figured it out and went with the obvious counter,” Jethro noted. “They are adapting quickly.” Faster than he'd like to see he left unsaid.
“Yes, sir.”
“Move Jasper's heavy weapons forward to untangle any knots we run into. Clear the smoke. They can't have many of the things. Stay low, smoke usually rises. Pass that on.”
“Yes, sir,” Bast replied, doing so.
<)>^<)>/
Gunny Brillo knew he had nothing but problems. It was his job to solve them, but he wasn't finding any easy solutions. For him and his people, one of the biggest was the appropriate ammunition. They had little armor-piercing rounds left; they'd used most up in their previous engagements as well as in the valley of death corridor. Thanks to Sergeant Scornlan, they had plenty of nails for their rail guns however. He made sure there was at least one person spraying rounds down range at random intervals.
When the gunny realized the cloaked suits were stymied, he considered the options of the enemy from their side. They might try to go around … in fact he suspected they would. So far they hadn't tried to use conventional shooters. He made a mental bet they would as he ordered Trig to pull anything flammable to create torches and smoke pots. He passed on the order for the other blocking forces to do the same.
If he was lucky, the enemy might not have any conventional suits at all. If they abandoned or held on their end, he might be able to draw off some of his forces to reinforce one of the other blocking forces when they were hit.
Trig got the first one done just as the enemy's answer came in the form of a cluster of guided missiles. The missiles hugged the ceiling above the barricade and then went down to explode in their faces.
<)>^<)>/
Jasper watched Nia empty her box launcher. The missiles went down, around the corner, navigating along the ceiling, hugging it until they found what they were looking for. They dropped down fast and onto the enemy forces tearing them apart.
“Charlie Baker to Alpha One and Baker One. Main blocking force is pretty torn up,” Jasper reported. “I think you've got your hole,” he said as Nia set the box launcher aside against the wall.
“Roger,” Jethro replied. Pam sent two clicks back.
“I need more of those,” Nia murmured, hefting another box launcher. “So many enemy, so few missiles,” she murmured.
Chapter 63
Tray was shielded from the missile warheads by Trig and the gunny's suits. He was, however, damaged; one arm refused to work, as did his left leg. His face mask had shattered against something, most likely the stone. His nose was broken, and he had a head wound that was dribbling blood. His right eye stung and then closed from the damn blood. His right ribs felt like they were broken.
He crawled out from under their shattered bodies. “Medic!” he groaned as he moved to get clear before the enemy showed up.
<)>^<)>/
Captain Zhukov saw the gunny's vitals go flatline and swore. He checked the corridor, but the feeds were offline. Finally, he picked up one wounded suit crawling away.
“Back the feed up on the gunny. What the hell happened?” he demanded.
“Missiles,” Lieutenant Zevaya said. He turned to look at her. “I saw it just before they went dark.”
“Frack.”
“Directional warheads. If they had been more explosive, we would have felt it or they might have caused a cave-in,” the lieutenant said absently as she checked the other feeds. “We need someone to get in there before they move past that smoke. Plug that gap,” she said.
“Get …,” the captain grimaced. “Rick. Move forward with what you've got. Get to that gap. Plug it.”
“Roger that,” Lieutenant Sng replied.
<)>^<)>/
Lieutenant Sng moved in quickly to take over the leadership of the front and fill the gap. As he moved, he spotted
Tray on the ground, slowly crawling forward.
“Help,” Tray said weakly.
“I can't spare someone to carry you, Private. You're on your own. Suck it up and get to the medic or lay there and die, your call,” he said as he stepped over the private.
“Well thank you for nothing, sir,” Tray muttered as his entire body wracked with pain. He managed to get to one knee, then propped himself up against the wall with one shoulder as he wrapped his bad arm around his abdomen and limped down the hallway to the morgue.
<)>^<)>/
Dimitri shook his head as he thought about his losses. He'd started with sixty-five suits. Through whatever herculean effort you wanted to describe, James had scrounged up enough parts to get the remaining seven suits more or less functional.
He'd just lost a squad, twelve suits including Gunny Brillo. Six more injured suits were on their way back to the morgue. That left fifty-three effective suits and seven partial suits he was keeping in the reserve. He'd lost ten robots for no return. He had thirty left but six of them were canines and four were air drones. The air drones were all but useless in the cave.
He didn't know how many suits the enemy had. So far he had only seen a squad, but he could factor in another fire team or possibly another squad just from the sensors that were going down. The downed sensors told him where the cloaked enemy was.
Not good, but not too bad either. He doubted he would get any of his personnel out of the trap they were in. If that were so, he wanted to suck as many enemy suits as he could in and get them in as deep as he could before he went with his final option.
<)>^<)>/
Lieutenant Kinoshita nervously shifted from side to side. He wished the captain had allowed him to lead from the front even though he wasn't a line officer. He was an officer, and damn it, he was an engineer. He knew where it was safe to blow the roof down to close a passage!
But an order was an order. He couldn't and wouldn't jog the captain's elbow while he was trying to focus on the battle. He just had to suck it up and play his part.
Even if it was just standing around with a dyspeptic-looking pilot.
<)>^<)>/
“Nia, you are up again,” Jethro said as he noted the enemy fire team setting up another barricade. They had robots there, what looked like robot dogs, and a sentry gun. The gun looked plenty mean, and from the crates of ammunition nearby, it would have plenty of ammo to stall any forward advance for some time.