by John Ringo
"Easy enough for you to say," Wendy snapped. "Those were my friends."
"Wendy, with the exception of you, and Shari, and the kids, and . . ." She stopped and counted on her fingers then nodded. "And Papa O'Neal and Cally and Mosovich and Mueller, the people we just buried are all the people I know in the world. We, I, just buried all my nurses, all my doctors, all my therapists under a billion tons of rubble. They'll probably never be pulled out; they'll just put up a monument with a list of names. I did that. With my hands. And if you think I don't have some problems with that, you're not the friend I thought you were. But if I had it to do over again, I'd do it over again. Because it was the right decision. Morally and tactically."
"You're so sure," Wendy said quietly.
"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Elgars said with a snort. "It's your turn for guard anyway. Go ahead and think it over for the next few hours. Then get some rest; it's a long way to Georgia."
* * *
Orostan had found that patience was like a tool with the Indowy. It was clear that the engineers were going as fast as they could, so simply being there and watching patiently was his best bet. But with the coming of dawn, the bridge, a hastily constructed span of I beams torn from buildings and wooden planks, was nearly complete.
"You have done well, thresh," the oolt'ondai said. "There will be other bridges to build; there is one to the north that will be more difficult. I want you to look at the human maps and make plans to create one more swiftly there. Understood?"
"Yes, lord," the Indowy replied.
"Your clan yet exists," the Posleen commander said. "Continue to serve me well and it will be permitted to continue. Fail me, and the last of your clan will be eliminated. It shall be as if you were never born. Understand?"
"Understood, lord," the clan chief replied. "We will need maps and any pictures of the next bridge that are available."
"I will ensure you have them," Orostan replied.
Cholosta'an's head came up as there was a rumble to the southwest. "What was that, lord?"
"I'm not sure," Orostan said. "Perhaps this area is prone to earth movements," he added, forgetting that Cholosta'an was a native-born.
"Not that I'm aware of, lord," the Kessentai said. "And . . . I hate to say it, but that is from the direction of the underground city."
"Arrrrrh!" the oolt'ondai shouted, pulling up his tactical net. "Telenaal fusc! Aralenadaral, taranal! I will eat these humans, body, blood, bone and SOUL!"
"The city is gone," Cholosta'an said, looking at his own display in disbelief.
"I CAN READ THE NET! Gamasal!"
"Yes, Oolt'ondai?"
The younger Kessentai had been waiting impatiently the entire night; at one point Orostan had wondered if he would have to order him removed when he threatened an Indowy. Now, with the sun coming up and the host about to move again, it was time to release him.
"We can handle bridges, but when these humans get dug into passes they are impossible. Take an oolt'poslenal and oolt'ondar. Move carefully forward, staying away from both the heavy defense points and this damned gun, to take and hold this position." He brought up a human map. "This is Balsam Gap. . . ."
CHAPTER 34
Betty Gap, NC, United States, Sol III
0747 EDT Sundy September 27, 2009 ad
"Oh, shit," Reeves said calmly and threw the giant tank into reverse as a shudder rumbled through the ground. Then he slammed the accelerator to the stops as it started to slide.
The first part of the descent had been uneventful; the SheVa had started down the steepest part of the slope, towards the upper end, and handled it quite well. But just at the top of Betty Branch, where it first issued forth from a shallow spring, Reeves had had to traverse the tank slightly to negotiate the bluff above the spring and the slope had given way.
Now the SheVa had started to ski down the mountain and there didn't seem to be a thing to stop it.
"Oh, I don't like this," Pruitt whined. "I don't like this at all."
"Reeves . . ." Major Mitchell said, but he knew there was nothing the driver could do to stop the slide that wasn't already being done; the treads were tearing up the bare rock of the hill and not getting any traction at all.
"SheVa Nine!" Captain Chang called. "Warning! Posleen landers, three o'clock!"
"Shit, shit, shiiit . . ." Pruitt said slamming sideways as the SheVa hit a solid chunk of rock and bounced. "Our center of gravity is going to shift if I rotate the turret!"
"If we haven't fallen over by now, we're not going to!" Indy said.
"Go for it," Major Mitchell called, starting the rotation.
The crew compartment was in the base of the turret, so the ride just got stranger as the tank went one way, jouncing up and down on the rough slope, and they turned another.
"Oh, shit," Reeves said in a muffled tone. "I'm gonna ralf!"
"What happens when I fire this thing?!" Pruitt yelled, locking in a round.
"I don't know," Indy said tightly. "We're on a forty degree slope, sliding downward in max reverse, firing sideways at about forty miles per hour. We're not designed to do any of those at all!"
"Shit," Mitchell muttered.
"I'm losing it here, sir!" Reeves called. "We're headed for a bluff!"
"TARGET! Lamprey, two thousand meters!" Pruitt sang out.
"Danger close!" Mitchell called, indicating that the explosion of the gun's own penetrator could potentially damage it; the minimum recommended distance for a SheVa to engage was over three thousand meters. "Fire!"
* * *
"Take the pass, he says," Gamasal complained. "Where is the honor in that? Where is the loot?"
"We get a higher cut," Lesenal replied. The two were nest mates, an unusual occurrence in Posleen society, and instead of taking individual oolts had chosen to colead a single company. It was perhaps this oddity that had led them to attach themselves to Tulo'stenaloor; compared to a Posleen trying to make himself a general, coleaders of an oolt was nothing. "A cut specifically of everyone who uses the pass."
"But once they swing around and open up the other passes, everyone will use those," Gamasal grumped and adjusted the oolt'pos to clear the ridge as low as possible. "I still say we could take that other gap, the one the humans call 'Newfound.' "
"Ah, but the way there is too easy to close," the coleader pointed out. "In those hills the humans and their snipers can pick off the Kessentai like so many abat. The way to Balsam is clearer. And with us in place, the humans will be scrambling to find a way to escape. Follow the plan. And watch out for that gun. We were lucky yesterday, I don't want our luck to run out."
"Oh, fuscirto uut," Gamasal replied. "You mean that gun?"
* * *
The round from the SheVa gun hit the Lamprey high and silver fire jutted from every opening. The skyscraper-sized ship dropped out of sight immediately, but there was another right behind it.
The second Lamprey was, however, the least of SheVa Nine's problems.
"Aaaaah!" Pruitt screamed as the overstressed vehicle slid sideways on the slope, bounding off a bluff and hitting at an angle with a sound like a thousand junkyards being dropped from the sky.
Major Mitchell opened his eyes to red emergency lights and swore. "Indy!"
"I'm here, sir," the warrant officer said. "We just blew every breaker in this thing; if this was a Star Trek episode, Pruitt would be flying across the compartment. But we didn't lose the tracks!"
"I got nothin', sir!" Pruitt called. "And we had another Lamprey up!"
"I saw," Mitchell said. "Are we functional? What's our status, Indy?"
"I'm working on it, sir," she said. After punching a few buttons lights started coming back on. "So far, everything is working. But if you want me to certify the gun as functional, I can't, sir. We just took a hell of a beating; we're almost sure to have stress damage on the supports."
"I'm up!" Pruitt said. "Where's the Lamprey?"
"I'm not!" Reeves said, gunning the SheV
a as his treads spun in place. "I think we're stuck!"
* * *
Gamasal slammed the Lamprey down through the trees and opened the assault door. "Let's go!"
"Why are we doing this?" Lesenal asked. "Our mission is to take the pass!"
"The gun is in the way!" his coleader said. "We'll cross this ridge and destroy the gun. Then continue on our mission. Oh, and since we're here and have taken out the defenders . . ."
" . . . The net will designate it as our fief," Lesenal said. "Clever. You realize, of course, that we could just drop below the level of the ridge and fly around. And so will Orostan."
"We are but simple oolt-Kessentai," Gamasal replied with a flap of his crest. "How could we have thought of that?"
* * *
"No, no, NO!" Orostan swore. "Go around!"
"And miss a chance to kill it on the ground?" Cholosta'an said. "Not to mention getting that as a fief for taking out the defenders? No chance."
"Besonora!"
"Yes, Oolt'ondai?" The Kessentai had been with him from before he joined Tulo'stenaloor and Orostan preferred to have him available. But he was running out of trustworthy Kessentai that could handle ships. "Take an oolt'poslenal. Gather the best of the local forces. Take Balsam Gap. Hold it until I get there. Do not fail, do not get distracted and do not get high; there is a heavy defense center nearby."
"Yes, Oolt'ondai," the Kessentai replied. "I go."
"All other ships," the oolt'ondai called over his communicator. "Get that GUN!"
* * *
"Major Mitchell?" Chan called. "What's your status?"
"Oh, we're stuck," the SheVa commander said calmly. "We're jammed between two bluffs, stuck in a ravine. There's a company of Posleen on the ridge above us. We expect they'll be attacking any time now. And there are, presumably, other landers around. They should be showing up just as soon as it goes from bad to worse."
"Any chance of you getting out?"
"Oh, sure," the major said sarcastically. "If we had an engineering team to blow up the cliffs."
* * *
"Jesus! What was that?" Kitteket said. The concussion of something had echoed across the mountains.
"SheVa gun," Major Ryan answered. "I'm pretty sure anyway; nothing else sounds quite the same. It think it's down by Betty Creek. How in the hell did a SheVa gun get down by Betty Creek?"
The night had been a long series of tiny roads on knife-edge ridges. It would actually have been easier in a smaller vehicle than the Humvee; one of the old Army jeeps would have been perfect. But the Humvee was what they had. Often the team had had to unload and either rapidly widen the road, under the major's expert direction, or even in some cases make temporary bridges across otherwise uncrossable gaps. At each obstacle the major had been right there, blowing up the rocks, cutting down the trees and filling in the holes; nobody could complain that he was a hands-off officer.
Now the engineers were past the worst of the ridges and on the downhill. And apparently driving back into the battle.
"I thought the SheVa blew up," Kitteket said.
"I heard they were bringing in another one," Ryan said in thought. "Let's head towards Betty Creek," he continued, scrolling up his map-board. "There's a forest road that turns off to the left up ahead. Take it."
"We're headed for a SheVa," the specialist said wonderingly. "In the middle of a battle."
"Oh, by the time we get near it the battle will be over," Ryan said. "One way or another."
* * *
"Major!" Chan called. "You have two more landers coming over the hill: a Lamprey and a C-Dec. From where you are pointed they'll be at two o'clock and eleven!"
"Got it," Mitchell said calmly as the first railgun rounds punched into the stranded SheVa. "I don't think we're going to have to worry, though; we're about to be nibbled to death by Lilliputians."
"Don't worry about the dismounts, sir," Chan answered with a grin that could be heard over the radio. "We're coming in on their flank."
* * *
"Look, it's stuck!" Gamasal chuckled. "Easy meat!"
"Yes," his coleader said. "But how do we kill it without having it blow up? This is a nice valley; I would like it more or less intact."
"Hmm," Gamasal said, waving to the oolt'os to cease fire. "That is a good question. Perhaps we should board it?"
"That is probably a good idea," Lesenal said, pulling out his boma blade. "I prefer the blade anyway."
* * *
"Mommy," Reeves muttered. "They're pulling out their swords."
"This is a good thing," Mitchell pointed out in a too calm voice. "That gives us a few moments more to maybe survive the landers."
"There's only two of them," Pruitt said tightly. "I can do this." He set the radar to max gain and pointed the gun at the two o'clock position. "Come to Poppa."
* * *
"All Storms," Captain Chan called as the company crested the ridge and began negotiating the narrow path downward. "Engage Posleen as they bear. When you're shot out, try to get off the trail to let following units engage."
She could see the SheVa out her left vision blocks and the first of the landers no more than a thousand meters away through her right vision blocks. It suddenly occurred to her that if the lander exploded, or if Pruitt missed a little low, say from the gun being knocked askew by their wreck, things were really going to suck.
And in just a few seconds she was going to have to fire the Storm. She knew intellectually which would be worse, but she'd never been killed before and she'd had to fire the Storm way too many times. Being caught in a nuclear explosion, as an alternative, had its positive aspects.
"Glenn."
"Yes, ma'am," said the gunner, peering through her sight for the first look at the Posleen dismounted company.
"I have to agree with you. I need a transfer; this job sucks."
A moment later the tank rounded a corner and the Posleen company, spread out across the ridge and trotting downhill, came into view.
"Fire," she said, slewing the gun onto the group of Posleen.
"Aaah," said Glenn, grabbing the trigger and setting the MetalStorm to "Full." "AAAH!"
The slope was lightly wooded, but that didn't really matter; the penetrators tore the trees apart without being appreciably slowed. They also tore into the Posleen without being appreciably slowed.
And the true test of how bad the system was to use was that the Storms never even noticed the SheVa firing right over their heads.
* * *
"Target C-Dec! TWELVE HUNDRED METERS! TOO CLOSE!"
"FIRE!"
"TOO CLOSE!"
"IT'S KNIFE-FIGHTING RANGE! WE'RE BUN-BUN! FIRE THE DAMNED GUN!"
The round tracked straight and true into the top of the ship, actually punching out the back side before exploding.
The detonation was the equivalent of ten thousand tons of TNT, but both it and the flash of gaseous uranium and spalling would have been survivable by the C-Dec; the explosion wasn't actually in contact and wasn't at a particularly vital or vulnerable point. However, the compression wave was above the lander. And that drove it downward into the hard and unyielding ground. C-Decs were designed to survive much, but slamming into North Carolina mountains at over a hundred miles per hour was not one of them. Internal compartmentalization gave way throughout the ship. Not from the acceleration, but from the deceleration.
A ten pounds per square inch compression wave, strong enough to damage or destroy heavily constructed buildings, also washed across the MetalStorm tracks. But compared to the damage they took from firing their own weapons . . .
* * *
"What was that?" Glenn groaned.
"What was what?" Chan answered, pulling herself out of her fetal crouch.
"That last 'bang,' " the gunner answered. "Did we break something?"
"I don't know," Chan said. "It wasn't that bad, though. Brandon, get us out of here, we need to open up the way for the rest!"
"Ma'am, I would, but I ca
n't," the driver answered. "Look at the road."
Glenn straightened up and looked through her vision blocks then whistled. "Wow, did we do that?" The entire slope was covered in fallen trees. "Nah, we couldn't have."
"You sound disappointed," Chang said scanning for Posleen. "I think the lander must have blown up."
"And we survived?" Brandon called over the intercom.
"Either that or this is hell," Chang said. "And I'm beginning to wonder."
* * *
"TARGET LAMPREY SIXTEEN HUNDRED METERS!"
"This is hell, right?" Reeves shouted with his fingers in his ears; at this distance if the lander exploded there was no way they would survive. "Please tell me this is hell!"
"FIRE!"
" 'Cause it's gotta get BETTER!"
* * *
The round entered through the lower quadrant, but was travelling upwards at a sharp angle and missed the fuel bunker. However, it, too, exited through the rear of the ship and exploded above it. This time, though, the smaller Lamprey was effectively killed by the kinetic energy of the depleted uranium warhead passing through its engine-room. With the loss of lift and drive it dropped like a rock onto the ridge, toppling sideways and began to roll. Straight towards the stuck SheVa.
* * *
"NO!" Pruitt screamed, aiming the gun down as the SheVa rocked in blast-wave.
"DON'T!" Major Mitchell screamed, but it was too late; the gunner had already fired.
The DU penetrator had barely had time to shed its boot when it entered the soil of the mountain. Pruitt had been aiming at the Lamprey, but he had fired low and the ten kiloton round penetrated almost two hundred meters into the gneiss and schist of the mountain before detonating.
* * *
Major Ryan was still blinking spots out of his eyes when he saw the top of the mountain erupt skyward; with a Lamprey mixed into it. "GET OUT AND UNDER THE HUMVEE!" he yelled, putting words into action as he grabbed the detonator kit, kicked open the door and piled out.
* * *