The Lost (The Maauro Chronicles Book 3)

by Edward McKeown

  The mule crested the hill, just behind the crabs and we pulled into a scenic overlook to the valley below. On another day it would have been a beautiful view. Today it was a vista to a nightmare.

  The road below wound into the valley, for all its width, most if it was forested, the open area by the road was jammed with thousands of fleeing people and some vehicles. We could hear their screams and cries even from here. A pair of artillery pieces from the city’s guard were unlimbering to stop the behemoth, or at least draw its fire off the civilians

  The source of their terror reared up on the ridge opposite us. I snatched up binocs to get a better view of the towering mass of metal that stood like an armored knight looking down at the pitiful, fleeing mass. I saw a madman’s dream brought to life, a humanoid shape, but distorted: a barrel-shaped body with legs and arms too short and thick, the head, large as an aircar, was crested, as if wearing a medieval helmet of some sort. A snarling face of metal glared out at the world.

  It was a figure out of a child’s nightmare and I couldn’t help but cringe back as the giant machine surveyed the scene. From under the crested helm, a beam of light shot out, striking the fleeing Seddonese on the valley floor. Dirt fountained and moments later the crash of the explosion reached us.

  The artillery began cracking out rounds. These detonated against the Destroyer to no evident effect, but the same weapon in the monster’s shoulder flashed and chattered in response. The crew of the nearer piece fell about the primitive weapon.

  Civilians ran now, trampling each other, flinging aside their burdens and abandoning carts as panic whipped them. The beam flashed again and more civilians died.

  Maauro raced back to the mule, snatching her armspac out of the back of the mule’s cargo bay. “I will take the crab-robots and try to stop the machine.”

  “We’ll help,” I said, opening the door to the mule.

  “No,” Maauro said. “All you have is a light machine gun and the LAWS. It would be suicidal to get close enough to use either. Get the people out of the valley and across the bridges before they’re blown.”

  Before we could begin to argue with her, she sped off, kicking up dust and stones. The crab-robots deployed: two to the right and one following far more slowly in the wake of the speeding android.

  “God damn it,” I shouted. “Wait, Maauro.”

  “No point,” Olivia said, from the ring where she held onto the LMG. She had it aimed down the valley at the Destroyer for all we were well out of range. The monstrous form, blued by the distance, continued firing down into the fleeing crowd. “We can’t catch her. Even the crab-robots can’t keep up with her. We’ll do more good following her orders.”

  I looked at Maauro, already disappearing into the woods on the other side of the stream that she easily leapt. I cursed, but Olivia was right, catching Maauro was impossible.

  “Wrik,” Pape banged a fist down on my shoulder. “We have to get down there!”

  I slammed the mule into gear and raced down into the Valley of the Dying.

  Chapter 20

  I move to attack for all that the tactical situation is appalling. The crab-robots cannot maintain station on me, forcing me into a piecemeal frontal attack on an enemy whose power I have not yet assessed. A horde of noncombatants and ineffective Seddonese military are trapped between us on the battlefield. If I await the arrival of the crabs, the reduction of noncombatants will easily exceed 60%.

  The Destroyer detects me and ceases firing into the panicked crowd, even ignoring the fire of the remaining artillery piece which cracks away impotently. I detect with relief that Wrik and Olivia, now far behind me, are following my directions and moving into the valley to get the column moving. I hope Olivia is clever enough not to use the LMG and attract fire.

  I leap up into a tree then fling myself into the air, armspac extended in front of me. The bole of the tree snaps behind me as I fire a HEAT missile and my weapon stutters out a dozen AP rounds. I aim for the Destroyer’s head where the beam weapon sits. Maximillian, if he is alive, is likely in the armored chest of the massive machine and I will avoid striking that if I can.

  I send a wave of virus at the massive machine, but I have not had time to develop any form of interface, or study how the enemy processes data. In essence I am sending a message, but with no surety of its receipt. I hope it will respond in kind as I am sure my quantum brain is superior and it will merely provide me faster access to my enemy’s CPU. It does not do so. I detect scanning and ECM. I disrupt its scanning of me and its ECM is useless against my systems. However both allow me to begin to process an interface that will let me to infiltrate its systems. But both means are slow and guarded by anti-virus. I doubt I will be able to infiltrate this unfamiliar system in any useful time frame. It appears today’s contest will be with physical weapons.

  The Destroyer raises its massive forearms with their armored greaves. The AP rounds sparkle off them, defeated by the depth of the armor. The HEAT round slams in and penetrates, but clearly does not get through the greave. It drops the arms, uncovering the beam weapon in the armored skull, above the giant snarling face some designer gave it to terrify biologicals. The beam licks out.

  But I am not new to this game. I have judged my air time and the ground well. I land behind a hillock as the beam raves over my head and blasts part of the hillock. Fragments of rock and super-heated trees flash through the air. A forest fire ignites instantly, just as I hoped.

  I speed to the left, keeping below line-of-sight. My enemy has obligingly generated heat, smoke and flying debris that must degrade his sensors. Excellent. Between that and my own ECM, his odds of a hit are very poor at this range. Still, the beam is some form of positron weapon, very powerful. A few seconds exposure even at this distance and I will be slag.

  I leap vertically in a spinning motion and fire additional ordnance at my enemy, now only five hundred meters away. Again my fire is ineffective, blocked by the massive greaves.

  His return fire fares no better, trailing me by a good margin. Clearly my speed is too much for his targeting sensors.

  I order the crab-robot trailing me to take to the road now that it has passed the rear of the refugee column. It speeds down the improved road – its guns and missiles ripple out in an extended volley. Both are heavier than my armament, but it is slower and less durable than I. I want to make sure that’s it is not destroyed with its weapons unused.

  The Destroyer reacts to this new threat by squatting. Its knees, like its forearms, have armor on them. Between arm and shin greaves it is well protected. From its shoulders, missiles ripple out in response. I order the crab to take evasive action, using its chain gun for defense. I leap upward to fire again, hoping to split the fire of our towering enemy. I use two of my remaining three HEAT rounds.

  But my opponent shows skill now. He disregards my fire, though it costs him a hit from a HEAT round on his upper arm and AP hits on his top missile rack. In return, his fire brackets Crab 2. This slows the robot, which, unlike me, can only move in two dimensions. The Crab, impeded by the craters around it, is hit square by the beam. Crab 2 staggers then explodes.

  Its sacrifice is not in vain, Crab 2 has bought time for its steel brothers to come down the opposite flank and into range. They open up with chain guns and missiles.

  The Destroyer rises, beam and missiles flowing from it, but it staggers under the combined hits from the Crabs and I add in my last HEAT round. Crab 1 is singed by a beam hit and half its systems go off line. I order it to withdraw, firing as best it can.

  The Destroyer begins to back away, toward the crest of the hill over which it had marched to the attack. I rejoice. Our enemy is retreating at the moment of his victory. All our heavy ordnance is expended. We have done no major damage, but the Destroyer has been made cautious at our unexpected display of ferocity. I order Crab 3 to move up and cover Crab 1 as it retreats. I consider whether t
o press the attack, but decide against it. I must cross too much open ground to come to grips with my enemy, now that it is clear my long-distance weaponry is useless. I have still not been able to access his systems with a viral attack and the high-speed maneuvers have caused me to heat up. It is manageable, but if I extend the engagement I risk overheating and losing maneuverability which would be certain destruction.

  I turn my attention to the column. Crab 1 has limped up to the rear of the column reaching the rejoicing artillery crew, who should be properly amazed at their survival. Wrik and Olivia are still toward the front, urging the refugees onward. Each holds a LAW rocket. I am so glad they did not intervene.

  The armored helmet of the Destroyer vanishes over the hillcrests. Now the terrain favors him. If we pursue we will be sky-lined. I am uncomfortable with this new found caution in me, but perhaps it is the most sensible course of action. Now I too retreat. We must get out of this valley before our enemy decides to reengage.

  The stream of refugees reached the foot of the hill below the overlook where we’d begun our descent into the valley. We’d pulled up at a small rise which would protect us from direct fire. Olivia and I unlimbered the LAWS rockets and hit the ground at the crest of the hill. I put three of the of the single-shot rocket launchers on the moist ground next to me and pulled out my field glasses. Olivia snapped down the bipod of her sniper rifle. She had the other two rocket launchers. I’d placed Pape in the mule’s ring mount with the MG. All he had to do was hold down the butterfly trigger, for whatever little good it would do if the Destroyer came on. I doubted we’d last long enough for him to burn out the barrel.

  The first refugees, the youngest and strongest, made it to us and collapsed. It was painful to urge the exhausted and traumatized survivors to continue down the other side, but Pape shouted himself hoarse doing so. “Help is just a little further,” he yelled in Seddonese. “You’ve got to get out of the Valley!” People recognized his uniform and started moving.

  We watched the battle, what we could see of it. Maauro was a tiny shape even at high magnification. The Destroyer was barely in the valley, still on the far slope. We were well out of range with our weapons and either the Destroyer was too busy with Maauro and the crabs, or it did not regard us as enough of a threat to merit long range fire.

  “Mother of God,” Olivia said, staring through her scope. “She’s hitting it. Look!”

  “Dammit,” I added as one of the crab-robots exploded. A rain of rockets and chain gun fire from the others slammed into the Destroyer. I spotted Maauro in the air, firing furiously.

  “Be careful,” I shouted, knowing the foolishness of it.

  But the great machine had enough of fighting its darting, tiny enemy. It headed back over the far ridge. Shouts and cheers momentarily drowned moans and screams. More refugees flooded toward us. Some actually turned back, seeking friends and loved ones lost, separated or abandoned in the smoking valley.

  “Maauro drove it off, Wrik.” Olivia said in disbelief. “God, she’s everything you said she was. I saw it and I can’t believe it.”

  “But she didn’t hurt it much,” I added. “What do we do if it comes back? We’re down to one operational crab and a cripple. Most of their armament is used up.” I looked at the tube of the LAW rocket in my hands. It seemed a ridiculous thing to oppose the Destroyer with.

  “Pape,” I shouted. He looked down from the mule’s gun at me. “Are there combat engineers in that reinforcement column?”

  He stared at me. “Combat Engineers…do you mean sappers?”

  “Yes, he does,” Olivia snapped, waving at the mob of refugees and ignoring complaints and pleas.

  “Yes, surely there will be some.”

  “When they get here, get them to mining this pass with all they have. If we can bring down this ledge,” I gestured to the broad ridge above us, “it shouldn’t be able to climb all the loss earth and rock. Either it will have to dig its way through, or march around this range of hills.”

  “Nice,” Olivia said. “Pretty good tactical sense for a flyboy.” She turned to Pape. “Have a forward observer team set up so they can see this area, once we blow it, if the Destroyer starts digging we can call down arty on it.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  She grimaced. “Forgot you guys only developed radio recently, I’ll explain about calling for indirect fire when they get here.”

  “Whatever you say,” Pape said, staring at the flooding refugees. I knew he was looking for one face. I hoped to God he would find it.

  I could see the refugees parting, some crying out in fear as the two crab-robots, one burned and with part of its upper works torn off, came up the road. Then I saw a welcome sight, Maauro running back toward us. She leapt into the creek between us and a cloud of steam immediately erupted. I knew she was dumping heat as quickly as she could. She emerged on our side, armspac slung across her back, looking none the worse for fighting a machine that outweighed her by nearly a hundred tons.

  The refugees looked at her as she climbed out of the creek and easily jogged up to us. Most hadn’t seen her fight the Destroyer at the far end of the Valley, or if they had seen her at all, it had been only as a tiny, speeding shape. They seemed to have fastened on the crab-robots as their saviors, patting the scorched machines as they passed them.

  “Wrik,” Maauro said, as she climbed over a guardrail. “We must expedite our retreat. I was unable to reach the Destroyer’s systems by cyber- attack. My physical attacks accomplished little more.”

  I explained my idea of creating a landslide.

  She smiled, pleased as ever by my being clever. “Excellent. The enemy is big but needs solid ground.”

  “Then how they hell did he get through a swamp?” Olivia demanded.

  “I would have to examine the area to be sure but several methods occur. It could have used debris or the forests to essentially build a corduroy road. Its nuclear reactor and that beam weapon may have been used to evaporate swamp-water, or it may have detected harder ground and simply picked its way across. Likely all three methods were used. But it determined that a flanking move was worthwhile. That implies two things, first that the enemy is not simply a mindless automata, and second, it does fear massed shellfire from the Seddonese and opted for a surprise attack.”

  Pape nodded. “We’ve never been able to concentrate enough guns on it. Either we didn’t have enough, or they didn’t last long enough to do any good.”

  “Olivia,” I said. “You’ve got to teach them indirect fire by map and quickly.”

  She nodded.

  Maauro turned toward Pape. “Your voice is almost gone from shouting. What do you wish me to say? I will have the crabs broadcast it over their speakers in an imitation of your voice.”

  He thought. “Have all military personnel report to me here. We’ve got to search the valley for wounded. Tell the civilians to keep moving down to the other side of the hill so we can get everyone away from here and blow the valley entrance.

  “And,” he hesitated, “tell Corra Pape and her family I am here.”

  Moments later, Pape’s voice began blasting out of the crab-robots, startling everyone nearby but getting them moving.

  Pape went over to the mule’s radio, vastly superior to anything the Seddonese had but he was unable to reach the approaching Seddonese military for some reason and was reduced to sending a mounted rider ahead. The artillery piece, with its lucky crew, gained the ridge and were sited by Olivia. Maauro placed the crab-robots, still blasting their exhortations.

  “Enso!” a woman’s voice called Pape’s first name.

  Pape leaped from the mule looking about frantically. A Seddonese female and an older male, learning on each other, came toward us. Pape ran to meet them. “Corra! Father!”

  Maauro and I were on his heels. Corra was crying, older man looked in shock. I supported him, w
hile Pape threw his arms around Corra. It seemed that Seddonese processed pain the same way we did. She looked as grief-stricken as any human.

  “Thank, God,” Pape said, holding the sobbing woman.

  I pulled the canteen I belatedly remembered I had and gave it to the older man, who looked at me numbly and said something in Seddonese. He drank in deep swallows then seemed to focus on the world around him. He spoke again.

  “He wants you to give the water to his daughter.” Maauro said.

  I handed it Pape who held it to Corra’s lips. She too drank deeply then said something that drew a sound of anguish from her husband.

  “Corra’s mother is dead,” Maauro translated. “They have not seen her brother. He was fighting with the Army. Many are dead.”

  I looked at my feet, then up. “Maauro, let’s get Olivia and use the mule. Maybe we can help get some wounded out while we’re waiting for the Army to show up.”

  She nodded decisively. We headed for the machine, leaving Pape to console his wife and father-in-law. Pape made as if to join us.

  “No,” I said. “Keep these people moving. Get those sappers working on blowing this pass. You have plenty to do here.”

  “Where will you be?” he asked.

  “Rescuing anyone we can in the valley,” I threw back over my shoulder. “Send stretcher parties as soon as you can.”

  Chapter 21

  If I thought the scene in the valley a nightmare, than descending into it was a journey into the depths of Hell.

  The beam fire had done tremendous damage. The trail all the way back to the valley entrance was lined with dead and dying. The injuries of some were horrendous, especially the burns. I quickly lost whatever I had eaten that day. Even Olivia became nauseated when one poor woman’s arm came apart as we tried to lift her. The flesh had been cooked off. She died with a shriek I knew would wake me on many nights in the future. I sagged to the ground, retching.

  Olivia staggered away, leaned against a tree and screamed “son of a bitch” in a voice that must have torn at her throat. She stood that way for a minute then came back to me, shook me by the shoulder. “Get up, flyboy. We got work.” Hours passed in slow horror. The worst were the children, some dead, many beyond any medical help available on this world. After a while I stopped looking at faces.