by Chris Hechtl
He was still considering his options when something came flying down the corridor like a Frisbee. He looked up and tried to take aim on it but it went off.
The device was a gravity mine. It sent out a bubble of force that shattered objects in its path. The barricade took the brunt of the impact, throwing Lieutenant Sng back. His right arm was up when the device went off as was the top of his helmet. A part of his helmet was crushed while his right arm was torn up.
The cave ceiling above started to collapse, raining rocks and debris down.
“Get back!” one of the surviving privates snarled. “Fall back!” A hand gripped the bar on the back of the lieutenant's backpack behind his head and pulled him along as weapon fire sprayed the corridor around them, lighting it up in a surreal display.
Rick felt his pharmaceutical implant kick in, but it didn't do much, just gave him some pain killer. He managed to have enough presence of mind to reach over and grip his shredded right arm with his left hand to try to staunch the wound before he bled out. He had trouble seeing though, and he had one hell of a headache. His neck and shoulders were compressed. “Get this thing off me,” he said as the person who had been dragging him dropped him.
A hand reached out and detached his helmet then yanked it off. “Better,” he said as he relaxed.
“You could have spinal injuries. A broken neck,” a private said.
“I'll deal with it,” the lieutenant said as he tried to sit up. The private … he couldn't recognize him, his vision was still blurry, pulled Rick's hand away and then applied a fast tourniquet to the shredded arm, then sprayed it. “You've got to get to doc. You are bleeding bad, LT,” the private said.
“I can …,” the lieutenant struggled to one knee but his suit started to make high pitched sounds from the servos, a clear sign of strain and imminent failure. He didn't have his helmet on so he couldn't see the HUD flashing warning signs.
“Frack!”
“Get to the rear and get sorted out. We've got this. That thing caused a minor cave-in,” the private said as he scanned the area.
“Frack,” the lieutenant said as he managed to get up gingerly. He leaned against the wall, cradling his destroyed arm and drunkenly walked to the rear lines. Another trooper tucked in under his good arm. “Get back …,” he realized the trooper was also injured. “Oh frack it,” he muttered.
<)>^<)>/
“Note to self. Don't do that again,” Cocoa muttered. “Charlie Two here. Cave in. Unknown damage to Tangoes. The way is blocked though,” she said.
“Roger that,” Jethro said. “Cover the other axis points.”
“Roger.” Cocoa said. She tossed a sensor in against the rock fall to keep an eye on it, and then turned to the last two hallways. One good thing about the cave-in, it simplified things for her.
Chapter 64
Dimitri grimaced as he looked at the status board. Things were definitely not looking good. He had sixteen dead, another eleven wounded including Lieutenant Sng. That any of the wounded had managed to limp back to doc and hadn't yet died was something of a minor miracle. He had forty-five troops left including himself, Zevaya, and the two privates manning the consoles. The wounded troops James and Doc had gotten more or less back on their feet formed something of a reserve, but he knew their time was limited. Some were barely staying upright.
So far the enemy number estimates were light. Two squads perhaps. Even though his people had taken out at least one of the enemy, he still didn't like the odds. Not at that loss ratio. His troops were low on smoke grenades and couldn't take the time to make torches or smoke pots. Not everything was flammable in the base … with good reason.
His people were holding seven choke points. Half were stone tunnels but a few were not. They were all that stood between him, the reactor, James, and the wounded and the enemy.
His eyes roved the camera feeds. That was the downside of the smoke; they obscured his camera feeds. He grimaced. Not that they mattered, the enemy's use of cloaked suits made the idea of one of the people in the control room spotting something laughable.
“Another one,” Private Askdall said, pointing to a camera feed that went out.
“Bravo One, you've got movement coming your way,” the captain rasped.
“Roger,” Sergeant Jensen replied.
<)>^<)>/
“Come on now. I'm going to get me some,” Sergeant Jensen murmured as he hefted the Gatling gun. He had it pointed upwards to the ceiling and was holding onto it with both hands. He'd grabbed the gun instead of his normal rifle. He wanted to get at least one of the bastards before he went down.
“Only one in the pipe,” Corporal “Tex” Winters murmured as he checked the ODN cable snaked around the corner. He still had his trademark cowboy gear on and his six-shooter pistols, but he also had a Gatling gun matching the sergeant’s, so did Corporal Victor Isurita. Isurita was on mop-up detail, however.
<)>^<)>/
Jasper didn't see any resistance down the long corridor. He hand-signed to Nia to hang back at the corridor as he moved closer to send a series of probes down it. Something bothered him about the long path.
It finally came to him when a pair of heavy weapons suits came out into the open at the end of the path, leveled their guns and opened fire.
“Shields!” he snarled, firing back until Banzai spun his shield emitters up and cut his weapon fire off. He tried to back up, but he was stuck. The shield bubble around him filled the corridor forcing him to stand there. He set himself for the onslaught and hoped he could weather it, realizing the tunnel was one hell of a fire trap. He raised his free arm in front of him.
Rounds that hit the walls around him did one of two things. Those that hit a hard stone ricocheted off with a spark, leaving a slight molten piece of metal behind. Those that hit a softer stone or dirt burrowed in, sometimes shattering the stone in the process.
The rounds that hit his shields sparked like fire. His shields glowed bluish white as Banzai threw everything at them to keep them online.
<)>^<)>/
“Jasper's taking heavy fire!” Nia said from her position. “His shields are already down by half! I can't support him; the hallway's too narrow. I can't get around!” she radioed back.
Blue Eyes arrived on the scene. He looked around the corner. “We need to get him out of there.”
“I've got an idea,” Nia said as she started to open a port on her armor. “Get in there; I'll toss it,” she said.
“Right,” the fox said as he moved in at a fast lope. He hoped and prayed he'd get there in time.
<)>^<)>/
Jasper started to take shots on his shields; the tempo picked up until it was so heavy it was like a horizontal rain of metal. His shields took it all, but the energy reading and thermal warnings went off, alerting the PFC that he needed to get out of the hail fast.
Blue Eyes saw what was going on, saw Jasper's feed, and then stacked up behind him suddenly.
“Get out of here! There is nothing you can do!” Jasper snarled. There was no way to get around him, not in the narrow confines of that corridor. The fox was small, but the shields weren't designed to intersect. The node interference would short them both out.
“Get ready to move!” The arctic fox said as he turned and clapped twice and held his hands apart. Jasper noted a box was tossed to the fox, and then the fox primed it and swung around in time for his shields to fail. Blue Eyes slammed the device and its bottom two stakes into the ground hard, not hard enough to go deep given the ground was rock, but hard enough for it to stay put for a moment. Two additional legs came out to prop it up right. Then an energy shield erupted from the box.
“Move your ass,” Blue Eyes snarled, wiggling backwards then moving to retreat down the corridor before Ox's shield failed totally.
When they got around the corner, Jasper sighed in relief. Banzai was making certain his shields were recovering. “Thanks,” he said.
“De nada,” the fox said as he wiggled his ar
tificial ears.
<)>^<)>/
Sergeant Don Jensen snarled as a fresh energy shield erupted just as he was certain the enemy was going to go down. “They've got shields!” he said as he saw two gray suits move backwards and then around the corner. When the box failed, he fired at the corner, taking chunks away from it. “Near dry!” he said, swiveling around the corner to let Corporal Victor Isurita step up.
“Repeat, they've got energy shields!” he said over the radio. He wasn't certain if it would punch through the thick walls. “Can anyone read me?” he demanded as he and Tex stepped aside to reload while Victor stepped up to fill the gap. Victor fired but he had better trigger discipline. He fired in short three-shot controlled bursts as the others unshouldered their ammo packs and then belted on fresh ones, then worked to feed the belts into the waiting guns.
<)>^<)>/
For Dimitri, the last pieces fell into place with sudden clarity and the entire picture presented itself to him. He realized the shields and cloak meant they weren't up against just any opponent; they were up against the mythical Cadre. He stood there in awe for a moment as his mind wrapped around the idea.
“Order the plasma weapons and the last of the heavy weapons forward. Conserve ammo but don't be shy,” he grated out.
“That's suicide, sir!” Lieutenant Zevaya stared at him in shock and dismay.
“This is Death Ground! This is the Cadre! Do it!” Dimitri snarled.
She blinked at him and then tapped Mackie to pass the order on.
“Get out there and do what you can,” the captain said. She nodded once and moved out.
<)>^<)>/
Sergeant Jensen and the two corporals took turns firing at different times and angles. They kept their weapons on three shots but made sure to ricochet the rounds down the corridor. Occasionally, they'd toss a smoke grenade. For ten long minutes, they held in place, watching their ammo counters drop slowly downward.
They had no idea why the tunnel hadn't collapsed. A few of the beams had been shredded but still it held. Wonder of wonders, Don thought.
Victor tossed their remaining smoke grenade out, but there was a hump mid-way in the tunnel, just a slight one, but enough to make the damn thing roll back instead of flipping up on its end and spewing the smoke where they wanted. It sprayed the smoke back at them, obscuring their view except through their thermal imagery.
“Crap,” Tex muttered.
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, I mean I need to crap,” Tex said. He burped. “Damn it, I shouldn't have had that chili burrito. It's tearing me up.”
“Stick a plug in it, soldier,” Don growled.
Tex grunted over the com. “Too late,” he said after a moment.
“I ain't cleaning that suit,” Victor said.
“Yeah, well, if we live through this, which I very much doubt, I doubt I will be able to either,” Tex said. “You two know we're screwed, right?”
“Screwed blued and tattooed. Story of our life,” Don said. “Got a problem with it?”
“I just liked being on the winning side. This side sucks ass, Sarge,” Tex replied.
“Yeah, yeah, it does,” Don said as he clocked down to ten rounds. “I'm nearly bingo on ammo.”
“Me too. “Time to OOD,” Tex said as he fired until he was out. “Okay, I'm done,” he said.
“Keep the weapon. Move,” Don said. “Fall back to the next spot,” he said.
Tex grunted. The direction he was falling back in happened to be towards a series of dead-ends and the barracks. There was no way to circle back to the back entrance, and they knew it.
“I guess this is it then,” Tex grunted.
“I guess it is,” Don said, wondering if Tex was going to follow the order or not.
“See you in hell,” Tex said as he turned away.
“Not if I don't see you first,” Don replied as he turned back and went down the corridor with Victor on his heels covering their retreat.
<)>^<)>/
Lieutenant Singh did his best to handle the wounded. Fortunately for the moment, there were few, just three that had come to him. Two others had come in their suits; he'd managed to get them out of their suits and treated them, patching them up with biofoam and bandages before he dosed them with pain killers and amphetamines to send them back into the fight.
Most would do best to stay out of the thick of it and just move ammo to the others. Some shouldn't move at all, like the private with the head wound. Lieutenant Sng was out; he had a fractured collar bone, some spinal damage, the fractured skull, and a missing arm. He could barely see and was trying to rest while the Quickheal did what it could.
When he heard the news over the intercom, he looked up, shook his head, then brushed sweat out of his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He left a smear of blood on his forehead, but he was too busy to care.
<)>^<)>/
Jasper noted the signals at the end of the corridor were retreating on his HUD. “I think they are gone.”
“Test it,” Nia said. “They might be pulling just out of sensor range to come back when we're halfway down that corridor again,” she said.
“Probes away,” Banzai said, releasing a set of probes from Jasper's armor.
Jasper leaned against the wall. His energy reserves were slowly recharging. “I don't want to go through that again. Nice to know the shields can stand up to it, but damn!” he said.
“It's clear,” Nia said.
“I'll go,” Blue Eyes said, pushing past Jasper. “Give me a thirty-second head start. When I get to the intersection, I'll let you know if it's really all clear.”
“Right. Watch for traps,” Nia warned.
“Roger that,” the phantom fox said as he moved out.
<)>^<)>/
V'n'r had set up probes and relays all over his sector and was as ready for anything. But nothing was happening. He felt a level of impatience he had rarely experienced. It was hard to sit there and watch his friends and comrades die down below. “How are we doing?” he asked.
“So far so good,” Jethro replied.
“Stats? I know you've got to be running low on ammo,” the Veraxin said.
“Not quite yet. So far we've been doing good. Alpha hasn't engaged at all yet. That'll change shortly,” he said.
“What about them? Did anyone get a nose count? See how we're doing?”
“That is a good question. Bast?” Jethro asked.
“We don't have a hard count on the enemy numbers. One hundred was mentioned, a platoon. ONI had thirty-six observed suits. We've accounted for six of those and at least four more got away. So far we've got sixteen Tango KIA confirmed,” Bast reported.
“Hmm,” Jethro rumbled.
“I'm curious where their breaking point is and exactly what their GOTH plan is. If I were them, I'd be willing to bring the house down on you, sir.”
“We'll watch for it,” Jethro replied. “Alpha One out.”
The Veraxin nodded silently, then went back to watching his sector. It was all he could do.
<)>^<)>/
The news that they were up against the Cadre hit the survivor's morale like a hammer. Private Askdall looked up at him. “Sir, people are talking about the shield report. It's out,” he warned.
“Put me through,” Dimitri ordered. When the private nodded, he cleared his throat. "This is Delta Baker One. Frack it. This is Captain Zhukov. We're in the stick, people; yes the rumors of who we're up against is true. It's the Cadre.” He waited a beat for that to set in and then continued. “The fight in caves just got a whole lot nastier."
“Energy shields mean frontal assaults eventually, so expect them. Plasma weapons and heavy kinetic weapons can overwhelm them. Keep the fires on them. Don't let them get behind you. If you have to fall back, do so towards the back door,” the captain said.
“Remember, they might be the Cadre, but we're the Death's Head Brigade. We deal in death. We are death incarnate. Let's show them that and make them regret eve
r tangling with us,” he snarled as he cut the channel.
<)>^<)>/
James looked up in shock at the captain's voice when he mentioned the Cadre. His eyes went wide. “Oh, I have so got to get me some of that,” he muttered. He'd pressed the troops who had damaged suits into work as his helpers—those that were still on their feet. The ones who'd been badly injured had limped off under their own power to doc down the hall.
“Good luck,” Tray said weakly from the open door. Two of the soldiers went and pulled him in. He left a streak of blood and other fluids behind.
“You are out of it,” James said critically, eying the suit.
“Come on, Sarge, put me back in the fight,” Tray said.
“Your suit's power supply is ruptured. You are done. Get him out of that thing and over to doc. I'll cannibalize his suit for parts,” he said.
“You will not!” Tray said as they rolled him onto his back. A hand reached out behind his neck and hit a panel release. The panel opened, and the private pulled the grab bar inside to release the armor.
“Damn it!” Tray said as his armor went slack and then powered down. “I can still fight!”
“No, you canna die. You be out of it,” James growled as he bent over and started taking parts off with lightning-fast actions. He stuck the nuts and bolts in a pocket as he worked.
“You wanna die, you go ana take a rifle and do it. Or you go get patched up. Make no bones with me,” James said as he worked.
“Come on, Tray, your suit will fix four others,” a private said. “I want to get back into the fight too,” he said as the sergeant took Tray's gauntlet off, looked it over, and then fitted it to the private's suit.
“Vultures,” Tray said as he got to his feet. He cradled one arm against his abdomen to stifle the pain and blood loss there. He leaned against the wall with one arm and then limped out.
“Bloody hell. The Cadre,” James muttered as he finished the connections, then used an impact gun to bolt the assembly together. The suits weren't quite compatible but close enough. The private raised his gauntlet, flexed his fingers, then nodded.