His suits alarm chirruped, letting him know that the five minutes were up. Sighing, he gave the signal and started to run, keeping a pace that limited the amount of dust they threw into the air.
#
'Drone away, sergeant.' Hoffmeister immediately patched himself into the drone's feed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Carrell's skill, but he wanted to see things for himself. That way, if things went to hell and back, it was his fault, not that of his subordinate.
Video showed what looked like a sleeping village. Cars parked up outside houses, the odd cat wandering the streets, returning home after a night on the tiles. Smoke rose from a couple of chimneys and he grinned at that. Most people didn't use fossil fuels anymore, but there were the odd one or two that clung to tradition, as well as those that had fake fires burning fake logs. Still, it made the quaint-looking village even quainter.
It's like something off a bloody calendar. Or a chocolate box, he thought. Using the feed from the drone, he sketched a route through the village, ending it at a large 6-wheeled lorry. Get that, and we'll blend into the scenery. I hope.
If he was honest with himself, the odds of them getting away were getting lower with each passing minute. They'd given the knackers a bloody nose, but now it was the enemy's turn, and they would be getting more and more determined to track him and his people down as the losses mounted. Probably a shit-ton of side missions that people are grabbing now.
'Good to go, boss.' Snapping back to the present, Hoffmeister realised that the others were all waiting on his word. Checking his chrono, he cursed silently as he realised that he'd locked for nearly four minutes. It was a side-effect of stim use. One of the side-effects he reminded himself.
'Move out people.' He stood and they started to move through the village, working in pairs and a three due to the losses that they'd suffered. They moved as silently as they could through the early-morning quiet. The time on his chrono showed that most people would still be asleep, only bakers and those that really had to get up at that time in the morning would be stirring. We'll be out of the damned village by that time, he thought.
Moving around the corner of a building, he pulled back as he heard someone speaking in a language that was most certainly not Spanish.
'Hold.' He dropped to a knee, then slowly poked his rifle around the corner, using his sight to show him the speaker. There were two of them, vaping, rubbing their hands in the chill air, the warmth of their breath mixing with the clouds of vapour they'd just exhaled. 'Two knackers.'
He zoomed in slightly, taking a look at the cut of their uniform, the colour of the edging on their collar insignia, the collar insignia itself. Shit, they're mech engineers.
'There's a mech in the village.' Saying it hammered the point home. Somewhere, hidden from the drones by stealth and camouflage, was a mech. And they still needed to get through the village. There was no turning back now. Behind them, were their hunters.
No wonder there was no activity here, they probably thought that we knew the mech was here and wouldn't attempt to push through the village. Fuck!
Leaving the rile pointed around the corner, he chinned his map to see if there was another route that they could take. This one was the optimum. If they changed it, they would have to dogleg back on themselves. Not knowing where the mech was, he didn't want to deviate and therefore bring on bad luck.
'Weapons silent.' Trigger finger stretching out, he tapped the suppressor button on his rile, configuring it so that it would be nearly silent. 'We're going to take these two, enter the building, and kill all mech personnel we can find. Stack up.'
The Sappers joined him, linking into a line of keyed-up soldiers, ready to the storm the building at his command. Gently squeezing the trigger, he sent two three-round bursts into the enemy engineers, dropping them both in less than a second.
'Move.' Rifle tucked tightly into his shoulder he rounded the corner, moved swiftly along the pavement and then entered through the front door. He was in a long corridor. Stairs just before him, with the corridor going back to what he presumed was a kitchen. Immediately to either side of him was a door. Moving left, he opened the door and flowed into the room beyond. It was a lounge, filled with the detritus of military occupation.
Pffft, pffft, pffft. Three, three-round bursts, three enemy soldiers dead.
'Clear.' There was a door at the opposite end of his room. Staying where he was, he covered a pair of sappers as they moved through the room he had cleared, opened the door and disappeared into the room beyond, audio pick-up catching the sound of their weapons firing, and yet more bodies falling to the floor.
'Clear.' He and the sapper with him were up and moving in less than a second, stepping through their room and into the next, where yet another door led from what looked like a dining room into what he was sure was a kitchen. There was the sound of cooking, and what sounded like someone trying to sing badly. They were experts.
'Moving.' Reaching for the door handle, he was surprised when it suddenly opened towards him, hitting his foot and causing whoever was behind the door to drop the load they were carrying. The operation's silence was shattered as the sound of china, glass and metal hitting the hard tiled floor, as well as the 'Fuck!' that accompanied it, filled the house. Hoffmeister paused for less than two heartbeats before firing through the door, ripping it back open and stepping through into the kitchen. There was another engineer, hand held to his mouth, eyes wide in horror as his brain refused to parse what was happening. Hoffmeister put an end to that with a round to the face.
'Clear.' There was no other sound from the house, and he breathed out in relief. They'd got away with it.
'All clear. House is clean.' Hoffmeister called up his tactical map, reading off the enemy killed stats. Twelve. That was a lot of mechanics for anything but a light-heavy to heavy mech. We've really got to avoid getting tangled with that!
He smiled as he saw that they'd completed another side mission by killing the enemy engineers. This one came with [influence points], and would win them a more favourable relationship with the locals. No up votes though, the operation had been too mundane for anything like that. Shame, could have done with a VTOL to get out of here.
'Two minutes to scan for information and papers. We need to know where the damn mech is.' His comm channel clicked as his people acknowledged the order.
#
Drones up, Hoffmeister and his people continued to move through the village. Having found no sign of the mech's location, everyone's stress levels were up. Looking at their life signs, he made a couple of mental notes to stand down certain sappers once this mission was over. They were close to complete mental and physical breakdown.
'Something odd about that church, sergeant.' Hoffmeister looked at the drone's feed. The church was undergoing extensive restoration, and had scaffolding practically covering the whole building.
'What's odd?' He cursed himself for being too slow to see it and needing the sapper to spell it out for him.
'The scaffolding. It extends beyond the church tower way more than it should. The woman was right. Hoffmeister guided the drone closer and started to cycle through the visual modes. Still nothing, but now his gut was telling him something was definitely not right.
'It's the mech!' Gasped another sapper, quickly tracing an outline on the scaffolding.
'Okay, they've camouflaged it well. Doesn't look like there's any crew around. We'll just circled around the square and move past. They'll never know we were here.' Heart beating fit to burst, Hoffmeister sent the drones zipping to the edge of the village. And that's when his heart nearly stopped. Mechs, a platoon. They were heading to the village at full speed, throwing huge clouds of dust up into the air as they pounded along at a 60mph.
He counted three light mechs, a platoon's worth, most likely deployed to close the gap and act as wingmen to the heavy that was hidden in the village.
'Role changes people. If you've got DPs to spend, do so. We've got a mech force coming. I ne
ed two anti-mech crews. The rest of us will act as support.'
Calling up his weapons menu, he cycled through the heavy weapons available, finally settling on an automatic 10mm grenade launcher with a mix of armour piercing and thermite rounds. For extra firepower he selected Magnetic mines, despite the fact that he'd have to get close up to use them.
'Contact!' Hoffmeister cursed as the alarm came over his comms channel, interrupting his chain of thought. Swearing in a constant stream of words, he quickly changed the role of his drones from recon to bomb.
Dropping out of the menu, he saw the last of the enemy soldiers being dropped.
'They were grenadiers!' Gasped a sapper. Grenadiers were a higher class of soldiers than normal, often tasked with guarding important heavy units.
'Where did they come from?
'White house, top left of the square.'
'Get a drone on that building.' As he spoke he sent his own drones whizzing towards to enemy mechs, which had now slowed down to enter the city. 'We need to destroy that heavy. Now!'
There was no way that they could fight mechs on two fronts. They were heavily outnumbered as it was. If it wasn't for the fact that they were gorillas, this would have been an impossible mission. Now it was just an improbable mission.
'We're too late.'
Hoffmeister groaned as the scaffolding started to fall away, the behemoth beneath it flexing, pushing the camouflage away.
'Stealth up! Into the buildings I'm marking. Launchers open fire when ready.'
Not waiting for an acknowledgement he took a deep breath, reached around and plucked a magnetic mine from his webbing, then charged forward.
With nearly 100m to cover, it was vital that covered the distance as quickly as possible. Giving his suit a boost, he ran faster than he ever had before. Arms pumping, legs pounding he watched as the mech fully emerged from the scaffolding, his HUD identifying it as Sword of Justice, a janissary.
It was huge, a heavy. Heavily modified it was hard to pick the type, the pilot and crew having tailored it to their preferences well beyond what it was originally intended for.
I'm going to need more mines! He thought as the mech stepped forward. A missile streaked through the air, explaining uselessly on the thick armour of its shoulder.
'Use your Precision Shot skills if you have them! Use every damned skill and bonus you can. Now!'
Keying his own Weak Spot skill, he kept running as he scanned the mech, using his HUD to identify the perfect spot for him to place his mines.
Another missile struck the mech, shrapnel flying away where it had struck, the mech's BPs diminishing slightly.
'They've buffed the damn armour boss.'
'Doesn't matter. Fire and move people. Fire and move.' That was the only way to fight a mech. Strike from a concealed position, move, strike again. Staying put meant certain death.
The mech fired. A 105mm auto cannon blasting heavy shells into the buildings behind him. With his people stealthed, it would be raking that whole side. NPCs would be dying by the truckload. Still, he thought, when they start running it'll make the knackers' job harder.
A gigantic foot slammed into the cobbles of the square, the shock felt through his feet. Throwing himself the last few feet, arms outstretched, he crashed onto massive foot nearest him.
Taking a second he scanned his map. None of his people were down, their blue dots moving to different points, trying for flanking shots. The light platoon was still a couple of hundred metres away.
Gritting his teeth, he started to climb towards the nearest weak point. It was the knee joint, and his HUD was telling him he that the mine had a 90% chance of causing it Severe Damage. Slowing it down considerably.
Two missiles hit in quick succession, the mech instantly answering with yet more 105mm rounds, coupled with numerous 30mm miniguns, the stream of tracer nearly solid as the heavy slugs tore through another set of buildings.
'Shit!' One of the missile crews disappeared, blotted from the map as the buildings shattered under the weight of the mech's fire. They were down to just five.
Climbing faster than was safe, he reached the knee joint just as the mech took another step. His foot slipped, and suddenly he found himself dangling metres above the ground before the leg he was on descended once more.
Taking a shaky breath, he climbed up and over the knee before placing the mine. When he triggered it, a shaped charge would be driven deep into the weak point causing untold amounts of damage. Selecting the next point, Hoffmeister started climbing once more.
#
'Move out 1st platoon.' Hotston stepped forward with a shit-eating grin he knew he shared with the men and women following him. The new suits were an absolute God-send, and he was looking forward to seeing just how fast they could.
'God's speed people,' said Devon over the platoon comms channel.
'Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast,' he replied with a voice full of bravado as he broke into a run. Every stride he took carried him three metres, the suit's system adding a spring to its gait so it looked exactly like the old videos of the astronauts on the moon. Only much deadlier, and much faster he thought.
His brow furrowed as he called up the mission parameters. Save the Hoff was the title, the objective to rescue as many of the beleaguered sappers as possible. Given that there were only five left and they were facing overwhelming odds even as he and his people thundered to their rescue, he didn't hold out much hope for the success of the mission. All attempts to contact and warn the sappers had failed, his signals people unable to pierce the jamming covering the entire area of operations.
Hold on Hoff, hold on, he thought, kicking his suit past the 40mph mark.
#
Hoffmeister screamed in pain as shrapnel burned into his shoulder from the remaining missile launcher's latest attack.
Scrambling over an enemy mech was, at the best of times, dangerous. Doing do whilst your own people were doing their best to kill that mech was, if he was honest, a bloody stupid thing to do.
His suit pumped a cocktail of painkillers and stims into his system, a claiming warmth replacing the burning agony from a second before. Snarling he finished climbing to the last weak point and slammed the final magnetic mine into position.
'Get ready!' Uttering a short prayer full of expletives, he threw himself into the air, aiming for the roof of a dwelling I the left and beneath of his position. As soon as he was clear he detonated the mines, four massive explosions adding their shockwaves to gravity's force, flinging him even faster through the air. With time for one last expletive he smashed into and through the roof in an explosion of tiles and beams. Pain exploded over his entire body and then everything went black.
#
He wasn't sure how long he was out, his HUD flashed, static washing across the screen, illegible warnings popping up.
'Thank fuck you're awake!' Slowly, painfully, he turned his head to the source of the voice. Corporal Glen's face filled his vision. 'Don't move too much. You've,' Glen paused, gulping in air, 'hurt your leg.'
'My whole fucking body hurts.' Turning his head back, he looked up at the Hoffmeister-shaped hole in the ceiling.
'Yeah, you fell through the roof, the ceiling of the first bedroom and the floor as well. Lucky you landed on this bed. Well, some of it anyway.' Said Glen.
'How are the others?' Hoffmeister croaked.
'All dead. They'll be back at base chucking down the beers!' Glen grinned, smiling to hide the lie. Three of the team had been 49ers. There was no coming back for them.
'A beer would be good. The mech?'
'Dead. What with the damage you did on the Weak Points, and Smiffy using a Hellbore missile as soon as the mech's body points dropped below 25%, the damned thing didn't stand a chance.'
'How did Smiffy die if he killed it?'
'The mech fired just before he did. They killed each other. Three of the crew ejected. I killed them. Oh, congratulations by the way Lieutenant.'
Hoffmeister smiled, too tired to say or do much more. A quick blink showed that his overall body points had been increased, with all other skills gaining a 2% bonus.
'We need to move. The other mechs were only a couple of hundred metres away when I tried to fly.'
'It seems that they've been engaged by another force. Not sure who as the bastards are still jamming the area.' Glen said as pulled out a dressing, fussed around Hoffmeister's groin and placed the new dressing on it.
'You could at least buy me a meal first!' Gasped Hoffmeister as pain pierced even the painkillers.
'I'm way out of your league, sir!' Explosions sounded in the distance, and Hoffmeister could hear the crack of lighter weapons.
'We need to hook up with whoever's doing that and get the hell out of here.'
Glen leaned over him again, 'if we do, it's going to really hurt. You're fucked up sir, I think that you're going to lose your leg. Mid-thigh.'
'Fuuccckkkk.' There wasn't much kite that he could say. He was going to be joining the ranks of the cyborgs If he ever got out of this war alive.
Glen patted his shoulder, then held up a medpack, 'want me to fill you with painkillers?'
'No, I need to be able to fight. Stims only.' He gasped as Glen jabbed a needle into him and ice-water filled his veins.
'Let's go.' Glen said, reaching forward and pulling Hoffmeister to his feet. Hoffmeister shrieked as his weight landed on his damaged leg for just as second, tears blinding him. 'Sorry sir, sorry. Lean on me.'
Slowly they made their way out of the ruined house, Hoffmeister counting every step taken as a small victory.
#
Hotston bared his teeth as he opened fire with his shoulder-mounted .5 calibre anti-mech auto cannon. The tungsten-tipped rounds chewed chunks from the light mech he had targeted. His other shoulder-mounted weapon unleashed a stream of high-velocity, super-heated glass, the projectiles burning their way through the ceramic armour. His attack did little to the overall BP value of the mech, but added to the other attacks from his people, it all added up to a devastating weight of fire. Each squad was tasked with taking on a mech, and before they had set out every suit of armour had been tasked to the Anti-mech role.
Devon's Demons: A Permadeath LitRPG LitFPS Novel Page 7