Exodus: Empires at War: Book 05 - Ranger

by Doug Dandridge

The group rode the current out of the grotto, then moved to both sides of the stream on the narrow shoreline, two Maurids to a side, with the Prime Hunt Leader to the right. He really didn’t like the towering walls on each side of the narrow gorge. If they were attacked there was nowhere to go but back to the grotto, where they would be trapped. After a while the gorge widened, and they started to see more scrubby vegetation.

  “She came this way,” said one of the Scouts, sniffing the ground.

  As they came around a short bend in the widening gorge, to a section that looked like a small valley, with trees and everything, it became very apparent that their quarry had come this way, and that she was armed. On either side of the river were still smoking plantimals and pieces of such, as well as some shattered tree trunks.

  “So, she has a particle beam,” said the Prime Hunt Leader, baring his teeth. That was bad news. Projectile weapons could possible bounce from the impact armor of their suits, and if they penetrated would cause a wound that might not be fatal, depending on where they hit. Monomolecular blades would cut through suits, but the wielder would be outnumbered by warriors who had similar weapons, if they didn’t just stand back and shred her with projectile weapons, or let the one particle beam gunner he had brought down here take the human out. But particle beams were a different story. One of them hitting the suit would blast through in microseconds and vaporize a good deal of flesh beneath.

  Maybe I should have brought the other beam weapon down, he thought, looking at the carnage. They had brought a heavy laser with them, but that weapon was with the team still at the top of the cliff. Lasers were not quite as effective as particle beams, but still packed a punch. Or, should he say, a burn.

  They moved on, walking for several more minutes before the cliffs on either side ended and they found themselves in the jungle proper. All of the Maurids were nose to the ground, trying to pick up the scent and determine which way she had gone, now that there were again multiple possibilities. One of the Scouts flashed a hand signal and moved forward. The Prime Hunt Leader hoped the male had a good track. That worry was no longer a concern as something boomed over the plains just out from the jungle.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Secret operations are essential in war; upon them the army relies to make its every move. Sun Tzu.

  AZURE. MAY 30TH, 1001.

  Cornelius pulled the rocket launcher off his shoulder and set it to his side, then did the same with the particle beam rifle. He expanded the launcher to its full length and pulled the sights up to their full extension. Next he unpacked the munition from its container and looked at the directions. He had a superficial knowledge of how to use the nuke, but there was no room for mistakes at this point, with only one of the munitions. Glancing up he saw that the three gunships were heading directly at him. An object dropped from one of the ships and sped his way. At the last second it veered just a bit, locking on the tree at the top of the hill and sending a big ball of fire into the air.

  Must have been a radar lock, he thought, putting his hands over his head as wood splinters rained down. I don’t have time for this, he thought, reaching over and switching the particle beam rifle on. He picked up the rifle, put the sight on the lead gunship, and squeezed the trigger.

  He had thought about just firing the rocket, but the ships would have had a very good chance of knocking it down from above. Having it downed before it hit the target would be a waste, both of it and his life. And if on the off chance the fusion warhead worked, it would really ruin his day if it exploded within a kilometer of his position. So he sighted in on the lead ship and tried to make them go into evasive maneuvers, where they might not be able to hit the missile.

  He pulled the trigger and the rifle bucked hard into his shoulder. Grabber units had extended on the barrel and pulled against the recoil, lessening it. My fucking God, he thought as the beam seemed to link the rifle instantaneously with the nose of the gunship. Who the hell built this bitch. That it was much more powerful than a rifle its size should be was evidenced by the nose of the heavily armored gunship exploding into molten fragments. He moved the beam upwards and sliced into the windscreen, which, though also armored, was slightly less so than the nose had been. The cockpit exploded out, blowing the windscreen and both doors into the air. The gunship continued on for a couple of moments, then tilted over at went down to the grassland, hitting hard and sliding forward in a cloud of dirt and grass.

  The other gunships to either side veered off, the reaction Cornelius had been hoping for. What he hadn’t been hoping for was that they would recover fast enough to come around and open fire so quickly. A particle beam hit the dirt several meters to his right, splashing molten dirt and the ashes of grass into the air.

  One of the gunships let loose with another missile, and Cornelius cringed at the sight. Missiles were smart weapons, and a miss was rare. There had already been one, and he didn’t think the odds would continue to favor him. I should have taken the rocket shot already, he thought as the missile bore in.

  The missile passed overhead, missing by three meters, continuing on until it hit the jungle in a fiery blast. Cornelius couldn’t believe it. He looked at the rifle he had taken from the cabin with dawning understanding. Where in the hell did this guy get this tech, he thought, realizing that the rifle had a seeker head jamming system, a very powerful and sophisticated one.

  Aiming the rifle at one of the remaining gunships he took another shot, wondering how many this rifle had. The shot missed as the gunship by chance veered to the left. He swept the beam into its wing stub and watched as the craft twisted in the air. I think I got a fan. That would keep the pilot from having full control of his craft. It could stay in the air on three fans, but it wouldn’t fly steady.

  He switched his fire to the other ship, which was coming in and firing away with an automatic mag gun. The unguided pellets were not the most accurate, the pilot had to try and walk them into the target by feel. With the jammer on his rifle though, they were the best weapon to use against him, and as the gunship drew closer it would get even more accurate.

  He placed the sighting reticle on the windscreen of the ship and squeezed the trigger. The beam lanced out and hit just above the windscreen, splashing molten metal into the air. He started to move the beam back down to the windscreen and a killing shot when the beam flickered and died.

  “Shit,” he yelled, looking at the gauge on the side of the rifle. He still had a half charge in the battery pack, but the proton store was empty. The rifle was powerful, but it was a material hog, and he really didn’t have time to reload it.

  The craft he had been targeting veered off for a moment, then turned back toward him. He could only hope that the battery pack was still powering that jammer. The rocket launcher fit comfortably on his shoulder, and he tracked in on where he thought the bunker must be in the jungle across the grassland. A cluster of dots filled the infrared scope and he knew he had his target. He pulled the first trigger, and the rocket seeker head looked at the target and locked it in. He pulled the second trigger, and the rocket popped out of the tube, going out twenty meters before the motor cut in.

  The rocket accelerated at a furious rate, hugging the ground to avoid any antiair weapons the enemy might have deployed. The Gunship that was heading for him turned in space, its nose moving onto the rocket’s track. Cornelius shouted out in dismay, grabbing his chemical powered rifle. But it was too late to do anything, and the gunship fired at the rocket with every weapon it had.

  * * *

  Rebecca looked through the telescopic sight of her particle beam pistol and scanned the hill where she thought the Ranger was. She had difficulty picking up anything at all, and remembered that he wore active cammo with his survival suit, just like hers. There was movement, or was it imagined? No, a face flashed her way for a moment, and she knew where he was.

  The tree on the hill above him was a smoking ruin, and she knew where that blast sound had come from. As she watched a red beam
came from the spot she knew the Ranger was lying, something boomed across the plains, and she looked up from the gun in time to see an aircraft falling into the ground with a shower of dirt and grass.

  One of the gunships was firing at the Ranger, and for some reason missing. He fired again and damaged that craft, but not enough, as it was still airborne. He fired at the third one, a direct hit, but the beam cut out before he could sweep it down. He ran out of protons, she thought with a frown. The one he had just fired at veered off for a moment, but was coming back at him with minimal delay, firing all of its weapons.

  Rebecca really wasn’t sure why the ship was missing, but it was getting closer, making the chance of a hit increase with each meter that range decreased. And the damaged aircraft was starting to come under the control of the pilot, and would certainly soon be back in the game.

  The Ranger fired the rocket launcher, and the weapon shot forward in a cloud of smoke, hugging the ground and moving around another hill. The firing gunship swerved and turned to follow the rocket with its guns. And as far as Rebecca knew, it had a very good chance of downing it.

  Not on your life, she thought, sighting through the optics of the pistol and tracking onto the aircraft. She pulled the trigger and held it down, sending a continuous beam into the tail of the craft. The beam didn’t seem to be having much of an effect, until something exploded with a shower of metal and the craft started to tilt, its shots arcing upward as the nose rose. Her pistol stopped putting out the beam, the proton store spent, and the barrel was putting out tremendous heat as it glowed almost white hot. The heat reached back to her hand and she dropped the hot weapon into the grass with a cry. Grass browned, shriveled up, and caught on fire, and she crawled back a bit, hoping that the pistol was not damaged. She had extra proton packs and batteries, but if the pistol was burned out then they were just dead weight.

  She heard something behind her, and rolled over to see the terrible sight of Hunters moving toward her. And then the world turned white.

  * * *

  “General,” said the panting messenger, running up to the regional commander as he stood outside the bunker. “We have reports of human soldiers on the plain.”

  “How many?” growled the General, looking at the smaller male.

  “We’ve spotted one, but there could be more. We have gunships headed out to engage him.”

  “I doubt they are much of a threat,” said the General, giving a hand gesture of dismissal. “But keep me informed.”

  Some faint sounds came to the General’s ears, small explosions in the distance. “It sounds like the gunships are taking care of the human problem,” he said with a toothy grin. There were some more explosions, then something rising up briefly into the sky overhead caught his eye. His mind told him what it was immediately, and he knew there was no way he could get under cover. He wasn’t sure if that would have made a difference. That was his last thought as the object flared brilliant white, and the General and everything around him burned to ash.

  * * *

  Cornelius saw the one gunship hit with a particle beam. Why didn’t she stay where I left her? he thought, knowing who had to have fired that weapon. The thought made him mad, even as he realized that she had saved his life and allowed him to make the shot with the rocket launcher. The gunship that had been trying to shoot down the rocket continued after it. But it was now a wobbly platform, its accuracy much degraded. The other gunship was starting to head his way, its skillful pilot keeping it steady on three fans while its guns took him under fire.

  Now, thought Cornelius, putting his face into the ground and his arms over his head. And then the plain turned brilliant white, followed by a deafening crack.

  The warhead was a ten megaton enhanced fusion weapon. It went off a hundred meters over the bunker, sending its blast of heat, twenty million degrees worth, and radiation into everything within five kilometers, most of which were vaporized. Plants, animals, vehicles, Ca’cadsans out in the open, all were sucked into the fireball, their molecules and larger burnt pieces climbing into the air. The General died in a microsecond, along with hundreds of Ca’cadasans who were working or lounging outside the command bunker. Animals had no time to even register that they were dead, and the Ca’cadasans in the inner perimeter were killed by heat and blast.

  The bunker itself, being made of superstrong modern materials, would have weathered all but a direct hit. Unfortunately for the occupants, all of the doors and window shutters were opened, including a pair of large vehicle doors. This allowed the firestorm to push deep into the structure, killing hundreds more of the big aliens. Not everyone in the bunker was killed. Large automatic blast doors closed off the lower levels, and the hundred or so Cacada technicians and clerks working in the depths survived, albeit trapped for some days until rescue crews could dig them out.

  The airfield was three kilometers from ground zero. All of the techs out in the open were killed, along with those working in the thin metaled hangars. Those in armories and heavy storage buildings survived, for the most part, except where doors had been left open for ventilation, which happened to be almost half of them. The infantry barracks to the north also took considerable damage, hundreds of Ca’cadasan infantrymen killed, many more injured. The infantry occupying fighting bunkers lived or died according to their luck. The same was true of those on the outer perimeter in the jungle.

  The grass on the plains caught fire in a circle ten kilometers out from ground zero. The animals were knocked over onto their sides or suffered terrible burns. Those that survived would be radiation casualties within the next couple of days.

  Cornelius could feel the heat through his survival suit at the range of twelve kilometers from ground zero. He had his gloves on, but could still feel the flesh on his body burning a bit. He held his bush hat in place, protecting the crown of his head, though the flesh on his neck crisped and blackened. He grunted in pain, keeping his eyes closed and his head down. The blast wave roared over, and heavy objects flew by or struck the ground around him. One of the gunships smacked into the ground about twenty meters to his right and started a rolling trip over the ground, going up the side of one hill and taking out the couple of burning trees on top.

  The Sergeant could feel the nausea of radiation sickness, and knew that he had received a killing dose. The EMP had most likely taken out all of his nanites, and damaged cells would now be dying. As the wind dropped to a stiff breeze as he looked up to see the mushroom cloud climbing into the sky. The fringes of the jungle were on fire, a nascent storm of flame. There were burning vehicles and other unrecognizable objects burning where the bases had been. Some buildings were still standing, but overall the scene was one of total devastation.

  Cornelius rolled over onto his side and reached into his shielded med kit, pulling out a syringe of nanites. Placing the nozzle against his throat he injected billions of working robots into his system. His implant was still working, EMP proof as it was, and it soon had the nanites working to clean up the radiation damage.

  Rebecca is out here, he thought, picking up the particle beam rifle, checking it quickly for damage, then slamming another proton pack into place. She’s gonna be scared and sick, and I need to find her and get her some treatment.

  With that thought he was on his feet, rifle in hand, walking north in search of the child whose stupid thinking move had allowed him to complete his mission. He hadn’t moved more than ten meters when something hit him in the leg and he jumped to a covered position behind a piece of gunship that had come to a rest. Something hit the metal and melted a hole, and he could see the track of the laser beam through the dust.

  “Fuck you,” he yelled, aiming the rifle to the point the laser had originated from. He saw two of the dog like Hunters, laying on the cliff top, frantically working on a heavy laser. He aimed in on the gunner and pulled the trigger, sending a relativistic beam of protons into that Hunter, then swinging the beam onto the second.

  I need to find her, he tho
ught again, getting to his feet and moving again, hoping there were no more of the creatures up there sighting in on him. A damned nuke couldn’t kill me. Gunships couldn’t kill me. So some damned aliens on a cliff aren’t going to kill me.

  Chapter Thirty

  The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war. Douglas MacArthur.

  AZURE. MAY 30TH-JUNE 7TH, 1001.

  The bright light caught Rebecca by complete surprise, and she turned to look into the blast, realizing at the last moment that she had made a terrible mistake. The pain in her eyes was searing, as was the crisping of her skin by the wave of heat. She cried out in pain, while her mind reminded her that there was another threat nearby, one more immediate than the radiation that was sleeting through her body.

  The blast hit, a hurricane wind roaring by, carrying debris, trees, even some animals that had been closer to ground zero. Something clipped Rebecca on the shoulder, her suit going rigid with the strike. Another object struck her in the head, a glancing blow that still knocked her senseless for a moment.

  Her ears were ringing from the blast as she lay on the ground, blind and in extreme pain from the burns. She couldn’t hear the Hunters, didn’t know where they were, until a hand grabbed her arm and turned her over.

  “Where is the one who did this?” asked a voice she could barely hear. She knew it must be yelling at her, but to her impaired hearing it sounded like a whisper. Her stomach turned and she vomited, the smelly liquid rising up and running onto her face and body.

  There was a sharp pain in her right arm, like the point of a knife had been pushed into her flesh through the survival suit. She wasn’t sure if it was a claw of some other blade, and she thought it really didn’t matter. They were obviously willing to hurt her as much as necessary to get what they wanted.