Devon's Demons: A Permadeath LitRPG LitFPS Novel

by Matthew Sylvester

  'Sorry sir, no sir, I mean.' Stammered the junior NCO.

  'Fucking spit it out!' Roared Hotston, his patience well and truly at an end.

  'I keep getting a return from just outside of the perimeter. I think,' the man gulped, 'I think that a drone managed to follow you back to the base. They know where we are.'

  'Fuck. Me.' Hotston said, wishing he could have been more eloquent, but realising that those two words summed it up far better than anything else in the English language ever could. It took two strides for him to reach a ridiculously large red button and slam his hand down onto it. As soon as he did, red, blue and even amber lights started to strobe throughout the base, whilst an old-fashioned air-raid siren started filling the corridors and open spaces with its banshee-like wail.

  'All command cadre to command control now!' He barked into a microphone that stood proud from the main control console, 'All personnel, action stations. Prepare to repel attackers.'

  #

  'How the hell this little bastard managed to get past our own drones, I'll never know. They must have set it to auto to follow Hog 1, then piloted it in manually to get past the outer perimeter of drones.' Said Hotston marking the enemy drone on the tacmap.

  'Why don't you destroy it then sir?' asked Lieutenant Carter, the commanding officer of second platoon.

  'Because right now, they know where we are, but don't know that we know that. They might suspect it, but they don't know. And we're going to have to play this carefully. The drone was detected approximately thirty minutes after we returned. Whisk.' Hotston waved the techy forward.

  'Based on the speed of Hog 1, and the top speed of the drone, we estimate that it arrived approximately five minutes after the VTOLs. They just about managed to keep Hamilton and his people in sight due to the fact that Hamilton had to fly low enough to avoid sensors, and slow enough that his craft wouldn't kick up dust trails and alert any fighters. It was pure bad luck that the drone was just fast enough to keep up.'

  'Thank you,' said Hotston taking the briefing over again, 'That means that they've had twenty-five minutes to scout out this base. We have to assume that they are going to launch a full-scale attack on this base in an attempt to eliminate us and take over the base, and the schematics for the battle suits, themselves.'

  Devon took the lead at the point. Despite still moving somewhat awkwardly on her new limbs, she projected an aura of grace that was plain to see. 'As you all know, there are essentially only two ways into the area before the base. The first is the same way we entered; along the defile. The second is to drop troops into the canyon and then attempt to blow the doors, create a beachhead and hope that they can hold long enough for reinforcement to reach them.'

  There was a ripple of comments at that. Such a mission would be suicide, but all present knew that the NAC forces weren't averse to suicide attacks if they served their purpose.

  'We believe that they're going to try both approaches simultaneously. With that in mind we're going to deploy our forces in depth,' she paused to pull up an overhead of map of the area, 'Myself and my platoon are going to place ourselves at this dogleg in the defile. It's well hidden by the overhand, and estimates are that it would take a very serious amount of explosive to drop it. Katana is going to deploy just on the inside edges of the defile. They'll be best placed that way to engage any enemy mechs or vehicles that manage to get past me and mine. The Angels are to deploy within the cavern under these overhangs. They'll then deal with anyone dropping in directly. And then, finally, Mtube and his people will be at the end of the tunnel. Anything with penetrates that far will then have to fight through a continuous bombardment?'

  'Sorry sir,' interrupted Cartwright again, 'but why not deploy them outside of the base?'

  'Because they'd be high value targets and their presence on the field would be so short that they wouldn't be able to effectively take part. Infantry will play a supporting role within the base.'

  Hotston took the lead again, 'If the enemy manage penetrate that far, it will be because the Demons have either been destroyed, or have been forced to retreat to the confines of the base. If worse comes to worst, we'll set the base's self-destruct, abandon the mechs and retreat out through the sally port.'

  There was a chorus of responses along the lines of 'fat chance', and similar less polite terms which managed to convey the feelings of all present.

  'Hog 1 and his people will provide air support for as long as possible, but we expect NAC forces to hold air superiority. Therefore, we'll only be deploying them once the enemy have fully engaged us, and they'll be used against the rear ranks unless we absolutely need them to help out with the front lines of attacks. They'll respawn as quickly as they can, but won't be returning piecemeal in order to maintain unit cohesion and do the maximum amount of damage. All infantry are to configure their suits for close-combat. I want a flamethrower in every squad. Let's send these fuckers to Hell!'

  #

  'Sir, estimates of enemy strength are being supplied by the Spanish. They're sending air support, and have elements of the good'ol 5th on attempting a flanking attack.' Reported a signaller.

  Hotston looked up from the console where he and Devon were spending as many base development points as he could. There hadn't been a requirement previously, as the improvements appeared as soon as they were selected, and all of the missions they had carried out had also had sub-rewards of additional development points. 'How's it looking?'

  'Spanish Intelligence have reported intercepting signals that the NAC high command have ordered that the 4th Corps is to move up from the south, where they were holding a line from Gibraltar through to Almeria. They've been tasked with our destruction, as well as assisting in closing off what they've called the Cordoba bulge.'

  Devon reached out and closed Hotston's mouth by gently lifting on his jaw. 'An entire corps? Well, aren't we the lucky ones?'

  Hotston was absolutely stunned. A NAC corps stood at around 45,000 personnel. Granted, not all of them were front-line combat troops, but the numbers were still overwhelming.

  A company of mechs, and a company of infantry a total just shy of 200 personnel were expected to face over 10,000 combat-ready troops who were out for their blood at all costs.

  'When the term target-rich environment is bandied about, you really don't think it's this sort of thing.' He laughed, not knowing whether he wanted to keep laughing or burst into tears.

  'Focus, iCaptain please. We still have a task to do. We've got a little of 5000 points to spend on the base. I'd say that reinforcing the armour isn't important, as the NACs most likely want to capture the base and will attempt to eliminate us through frontal assault followed by close quarter combat. Agree?' She cocked an eyebrow at him whilst waiting for him to answer.

  'Unfortunately yes.'

  'Which makes out choices simple. We spend points on anti-air turrets; guns and guided missiles. With regard to ground defences, I think we should put a field of smart mines along the defile as far as we can. Then we mount a series of heavy weapons on the defile and around the top of the canyon. That will hopefully prevent them from thinking they can just drop over the edge. Although the drop is a long way.'

  'And then we spend the rest on automated defences, additional bots and manned gun turret and fortifications on the inside?' He asked.

  'Exactly. We're going to make these bastards pay for every step they take. Even if they win, this is going to be a victory too far.'

  'Sir, we have details of the mission parameters. This is a HOLD AT ALL COSTS. Respawns will be every minute. If we survive, we get a bonus two lives.' It was clear what the signaller thought of that.

  'Right, let's get things sorted then.' Smiled Devon as she absent-mindedly scratched at her false arm.

  #

  'I bloody hate waiting.' Muttered Kirton after over an hour's not-so-patient waiting. Due to the distance that the enemy needed to travel before it could launch its attack, they'd had plenty of time to make the changes requir
ed, whilst the Spanish Intelligence Corps updated them with the enemy's movements.

  General Garcia had personally contacted her to issue the HOLD AT ALL COSTS order and reiterate just important it was that they do so. He had also confirmed that the Spanish forces in the Cordoba Bulge were going to launch a second offensive as soon as the 9th Corps was committed to the attack on the Demon's base.

  Their conversation had left a bitter taste in her mouth as it had essentially reinforced her belief that they were being hung out to dry as a cheap - for the Spanish - way of distracting the NAC forces.

  At least he granted me permission to send a message home and speak to Clark. That last conversation had been especially hard. The 49ers were being kept busy fighting in Cartagena and had been refused permission to redeploy to the base in support. The look on Clark's face as he told her that had been more than she could bear, she knew just how much telling her hurt him.

  #

  The sight of the enemy force bearing down upon them was awe-inspiring, despite the many counter measures that the NAC forces deployed in order to prevent them from being targeted.

  'You know, I'm glad you let Hotston persuade you to go for the artillery copulas, those 350mm howitzers are going to be very useful.' Kieron said as they both looked at the feed from the drones.

  'Agreed. Let's get them working now. Might as well let the NACs know they're not wanted.' She tagged the lead elements of the mechanised infantry battalion that seemed to have been picked to be the spear point of the first attack. 'Fancy being picked to be the first ones to die, just so that they can work out where we are.' She murmured, almost to herself.

  'Hey, they're dying for their beliefs. This is part of their revenge for the Last Gasp.' There wasn't anything she could say about that, so they sat in companionable silence. Right up until the first howitzer shell struck home. It landed directly on the lead platoon, which had been bunching up in order to enter the defile.

  'Bloody hell!' She spluttered as the huge explosion completely destroyed an armoured fighting vehicle and caused catastrophic damage to another. The enemy barely had time to register that they were coming under fire before shell from the rest of the battery struck home. In less than a few seconds the armoured vehicles were reduced to smoking wrecks, huge craters now pitting the ground

  'That was a set of bloody good shots!' Cried Kirton happily. 'Let's see what the follow-on unit does.' Devon found she couldn't resist craning forward as if to get a better view, despite the fact that the battle was being played out on her HUD.

  More shells landed amongst the lead elements and the effects were just as devastating as the first time. Tanks and other armoured vehicles were smashed to smithereens by the shells so quickly that she was forced to tag more after her initial targets were wiped from the face of the earth.

  There was no let-up in the attack, wave after wave of armoured vehicles thundered towards them. Overhead jets and VTOLs raced through the air, Devon and her people helpless to stop them.

  'God, I really don't envy Hotston and his people, that's looking like an entire airborne regiment!' Laughed Kirton, in a choppy manner that gave away his nervousness. Devon couldn't blame him. It didn't matter that they were fitted with catheters every time they entered the mech, she still felt like she needed to pee as she watched the 9th Corp's approach.

  'Where are the damned mechs?' She whispered as they tried to get her drones closer. Enemy drones and counter-measures made it hard for her to get a clear picture now, and she did the best she could to mark as many targets as possible.

  'Activating the ground sensors.' She leaned chinned the activation signal that would bring to life the sensors that had been planted in the defile. Not only would they alert the base to the presence of enemy vehicles, they would also be able to identify them by type, allowing the base gunners to prioritise their targets.

  Even though the sensors were hundreds of metres away from the howitzer's next salvo, the readouts for them spiked into the red, error messages popping up as the sensors were unable to cope with the massive explosions.

  'Going to have to turn the sensitivity down on those until the howitzers are destroyed, boss.' Murmured Kirton.

  Devon agreed, there was no point having sensors that could pick up a gnat's fart, if all they were then deafened by a thunderclap. Entering the recalibration menu, she set to work, tweaking the sensors as quickly as possible.

  'First enemy have reached the entrance. Should be hitting the mines in ... boom.' Kirton clapped his hands, laughing, 'Man that's going to piss them off. They get through the howitzer shells, only to be killed by a dumb anti-tank mine.'

  Devon smiled grimly as she watched from a drone within the defile. The enemy vehicle had been a tank. Now it was a burning wreck, one set of its tracks ripped off, the barrel shooting flames and smoke rather than shells. It completely blocked the entrance to the defile, enemy drones zipping over to give their controllers a better view of what lay beyond, EMP and other counter-measures active in an attempt to set off any other mines that might have been nearby.

  'They're going to have to bring up an ARV to clear that.' Said Kirton. Devon didn't envy the crew of the armoured recovery vehicle, the tank equivalent of a tow truck. They'd have to expose themselves to the incredible heat of the still-burning tank, as well as any enemy weapons that might have been nearby. Such as the anti-personnel sniper mines set up over 500 metres away from the entrance, but with a clear line of sight.

  Devon paused before she activated just one of them. She didn't want to give the game away too soon and lose of the mines. Watching the feed as it slowly rose up from the ground where it was buried, she overrode the automated targeting system and slewed the barrel of its hyper velocity sniper rifle around so that it was pointing in the general direction of the ARV.

  Hatches popped open on the ARV as its crew started to reply. A light command vehicle had also joined them and a group of other soldiers deployed from that, fanning out to provide some form of security.

  I almost feel sorry for the bastards, she thought as she placed the mine's sights onto what looked like an officer. Making a finger pistol, she 'pulled' the trigger, the command reaching the mine a split second later. The bullet hit her target almost instantaneously, his head exploding in a puff of blood, brain matter, and skull fragments. Due to the distraction of another salvo of howitzer rounds landing in the waves of vehicles that were now impotently waiting for the defile to be cleared, the other soldiers didn't notice that they were under fire until it was far too late.

  She tagged every member of the ARV, then tagged the security team, and left the mine to do its job, the first kill having satisfied her blood lust for the time being. Adding Kirton into the mine's feed, she watched with grim satisfaction as it opened fire, switching to the next target even before the previous had finished falling to the floor.

  'Man, I bloody love these mines.' Breathed Kirton as the mine entered standby, all available targets now marked as dead. 'Bet the squishies shit themselves when they know one of these buggers is in the area.'

  I bet they do, I bet they bloody do, thought Devon, wondering how the base was doing.

  #

  'Keep those AA batteries firing for as long as possible. Task the repair systems to deal with them as priority and stick some AA bots up there as well.' Enemy artillery rained down on the base's defences as Hotston and his people desperately tried to keep them up and running.

  Although castles and forts looked spectacular, they had one massive disadvantage; they couldn't move. That meant the enemy would always know where they were, they couldn't dodge enemy fire, and the enemy could pour as much ammunition in to cracking the armoured shell of any fort as it liked. It had happened throughout history, with the most famous battle for a for being Verdun.

  Hotston's mouth twisted at the thought of Verdun. The idea of fighting the enemy in the dark as they used gas and flame throwers to clear him and his people out made his stomach flutter. Still, they're going to p
ay for every bloody inch they take.

  Reviewing the maps of the base, which had been populated with objective points as soon as the enemy attack commenced, they'd been relieved to see that all of the reinforcement points were inside the base. The enemy would have to force their way into the base and then hold and take the first reinforcement point before they could start to recoup their losses.

  As such, he and his people had identified the points that the enemy were most likely to move to once they had managed to fight their way through the defile, across the canyon bowl and down the tunnel.

  With reinforcement points throughout the base, Hotston and his people would be able to keep respawning for as long as they had lives. Again he felt a fluttering in his stomach at this. Being the 49ers meant that he and his people didn't have too many lives to lose.

  Fucking Spanish! He thought. Once again his pleas for support in the form of reinforcements had gone unheeded, General Garcia claiming that he needed all of his forces to push their attack from the north whilst the enemy was focussed on wiping out the 49ers. Still, can't blame the old sod. If I had Spanish soldiers to throw at the enemy whilst keeping my people safe, I bloody would.

  'Sir, we're down to less than 50% body points on all of the installations now.'

  Spinning to face a large console, he waited for the virtual keyboard and controls to appear before 'placing' his hands on them. A map of every anti-aircraft position appeared, each one tagged with its type and hull points. As he watched a ripple of missiles were sent skyward from one as it achieved – and held – lock. Tapping it, he started a repair routine on it by tapping an icon with crossed spanners. Even as it started to regain hull points, another enemy shell struck it, wiping those hard-earned points off.

  'Bastards.' As a fast as he could he selected every one of the installations, setting them to repairing themselves. Calling up another sub-menu, he looked at the upgrade options currently offered. In order to reach the first level of upgrades, they had to kill another five enemy aircraft. 'This is bloody impossible!'