Pursuit of Valor (The Tarvaax War Book 1)

by Tripp Ellis

  “Crusher 1-Actual, operation Storm the Castle is a no go,” Willoughby said. "Repeat, operation Storm the Castle is a no go. How copy?"

  Sutton was still back at the drop point, cowering his mech behind a berm.

  “Are you sure?”

  "Ask November platoon," Willoughby said. Then he corrected himself, “Oh, wait. You can't. They're dead."

  There was a long pause.

  “Fall back to the rally point."

  “Be advised that we lost over half the platoon advancing this far Willoughby said. “I’m not inclined to move without good reason.”

  Sutton began to say something, but he was cut off mid-sentence. Static screeched over the comm line. Willoughby looked back to Sutton's position—all that remained was a plume of black smoke and dirt hanging in the air. An enemy artillery round had pummeled his position. Willoughby's eyes scanned his heads-up display for the platoon status indicator. The entire platoon was networked together and could share data—location, vital statistics, and even field-of-view imagery. The LT's icon was flashing red. It indicated that a particular unit was off-line and no vital signs were being reported. Willoughby wasn't exactly sad about it.

  “If anyone's willing to listen now, I think I know a way into the city,” Zack said.

  47

  "Where's your CO?" Major Kathryn Malone asked.

  She and another Maverick had scampered to the relative safety of the depression in the terrain where Crusher Platoon had taken cover. Malone had a Marine Special Operations Command logo emblazoned on her cockpit.

  "In about a dozen pieces out there," Willoughby said, pointing to the battlefield behind them.

  Malone surveyed the ragtag group of Marines. "Is this all that's left of your platoon?”

  "Yes, Major,” Willoughby said.

  "Well you're part of Kilo Platoon now."

  "Yes, Major,” Willoughby replied.

  “Any word from the fleet, Major?” Diesel asked.

  “The Endeavor and the Saratoga have been destroyed.”

  The platoon deflated.

  “This has been a real Charlie Foxtrot. My unit got dropped on the wrong side of the AO.”

  Major Malone pulled up a map on her display. She shared her screen with the rest of the platoon. She highlighted a section of the map. “The shield generator is located here. That’s our objective. It’s not far from the internment camp.”

  “Internment camp?” Zack asked.

  “They’re holding several hundred thousand,” Malone replied. "Those that weren't slaughtered in the initial invasion."

  It gave Zack a fleeting moment of hope. Perhaps Honor, and his foster parents, were still alive? It was doubtful, but there was a chance. “If we can get to the container terminal, we might be able to get into the city. The main outlet for the storm drain empties into the bay. It runs through the heart of the city. We can go underneath the force-shield.”

  Malone’s interest was piqued. "And you think a Maverick is going to fit in the storm drain?"

  “It's the central line. It's massive. We used to explore down there as kids.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for,” Malone said. “Let's move out.”

  The platoon followed as Malone fell back toward a more secure position. The battle was still raging, and any movement drew fire. Zack and the others crouched low as they crawled on all fours. The mangled carcasses of tattered mechs lay strewn about the field. Smoke and haze filled the air. The sounds of fighting in the distance rumbled.

  Zack, Willoughby, Magnum, Diesel, Cosmo, Apex, and Knuckles were all that was left of the original Crusher Platoon. They marched fro 20 minutes with Malone and Corporal Nunez to the container terminal. It was a massive port with seemingly endless stacks of shipping containers. Towering gantry cranes almost looked like mechanized warriors. There were dozens of them for loading and unloading cargo ships. The terminal was capable of handling any size commercial shipping vehicle. One section was dedicated to seafaring vehicles, and the other was a dedicated spaceport. Oceangoing vessels were an economical method of transporting heavy goods across the globe. It just took considerably longer.

  The port was far enough outside the city that it wasn't contained within the energy shield. It looked in pristine condition, having remained untouched during the initial Tarvaax invasion.

  The platoon held up several hundred yards away to survey the area. It appeared that only two mechanized vehicles and a handful of infantry soldiers were guarding the location.

  Malone sent Apex and Diesel to the right, and Knuckles and Cosmo to the left to flank the sentries. She ordered Zack and Willoughby to stay with her, and assault up the middle.

  They sprang into action, attacking with ferocity. Weapons fire pelted the unsuspecting enemy forces. The squad moved with tactical precision, devastating the aliens. Parts of mech units lay scattered about the port. Blood oozed onto the concrete. The enemy had been neutralized before they knew what hit them.

  Malone and her newly formed platoon rallied in the terminal near the carnage. She cautiously surveyed the area, looking for any lingering enemy warriors lurking in the shadows.

  “Now that's what I'm talking about," Nunez shouted with glee. "I was beginning to think I wasn't going to get to kill anything all day."

  "Stay frosty," Malone barked. It was a precarious situation. Any number of enemy forces could've been loitering among the rows of containers. Just because they had only seen a handful of troops, didn't mean there weren't more.

  Malone regarded Zack. "Where is this drain outlet?"

  "This way." He led them to a large culvert that ran underneath the terminal and poured out into the blue water of the bay. There was a marked difference in the color and contents of the water emptying out of the storm drain. It was scuzzy and dirty.

  Zack climbed down the incline and made his way to the mouth of the storm drain. It was smaller than he remembered. It seemed so large as a child. Now, in a mechanized vehicle that was 2 stories tall, the drain looked tiny.

  Malone had a skeptical look on her face. "Are you sure about this, Corporal?"

  Zack dropped his Maverick to all fours and crouched low. He crawled toward the opening. If he was going to make it through, it was going to be a tight squeeze.

  48

  Zack edged the cockpit into the storm drain. The rim of the mouth was a little smaller than the rest of the tunnel. Zack moved forward cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was get stuck in the storm drain. Memories of childhood flooded back. His heartbeat skyrocketed, and sweat covered his body. In a flash, he was back to being 12 years old—the terrified kid that was stuck in a storm drain. It felt like the world was collapsing in around him. Like an elephant was stepping on his chest.

  Zack took a few slow deep breaths to calm himself down.

  “Is everything all right, Corporal?" Malone asked.

  “Yeah. I'm fine." He inched forward, and the thick torso of the Maverick cleared the opening with less than an inch to spare on either side. The shoulders were the widest part of the vehicle. The rest was smooth sailing. Once inside, the passageway was considerably wider, though not spacious by any stretch of the imagination.

  Zack kept crawling through the drain. The platoon followed behind him. Like it or not, he was going to be on point for the duration of their journey. There wasn't enough room to pass him by. And if one of the vehicles malfunctioned, the whole train would stop.

  The light from the opening quickly faded, and the passageway became pitch black. But the Maverick’s night vision could amplify imperceptible amounts of light, displaying a full-color image that looked almost like daylight.

  Zack sloshed his Maverick through the tunnel. Smaller tributaries emptied into it at junction points. For the most part, it was a straight shot, a steady incline upward of only a few degrees. The passageway adjusted course every now and again, but it was easily navigable—until they reached a section of the tunnel that was blocked. A bomb blast must have collapsed the
passageway.

  "What's the holdup?" Malone said, bringing up the rear. She was too far back to see the obstruction.

  “Minor problem,” Zack said. “Back up, I'm going to need some room. I'll try to blast a way through this."

  "Whoa, wait up," Cosmo protested. He sounded nervous. "That could cause this whole thing to collapse on top of us.”

  "You got a better idea?" Zack took a few steps back and blasted the pile of debris. A small portion of the rubble incinerated. The force of the impact sent rocks and debris scattering in all directions. But more tumbled into place to fill the gap. At this rate, it would take days to dig their way through the blockage.

  A small shaft of light shone down from above. There was a tiny opening at the top of the pile that led to the surface.

  Zack took another few steps back and aimed his plasma cannons at the ceiling. He unleashed plasma bolts at the small opening. Chunks of concrete and rubble tumbled down.

  When the dust settled, the opening was wider, but not near enough to fit through. He kept firing until it was large enough to accommodate a Maverick. "Let's just hope we've made it past the shield."

  Zack climbed his mech up the pile of rubble and emerged in the middle of the street. He scanned the area, trying to get his bearings. The street sign read Norfolk Avenue. The roadways were pitted and scarred. The once sleek and pristine skyscrapers were now cracked and splintered. Some of them were demolished completely. Steel beams, rebar, and wiring hung from buildings like spaghetti. The tops of the skyscrapers vanished into the thick gloomy clouds. Glass and bits of debris lined the streets and sidewalks. There were burned-out shells of demolished cars at parking meters. He saw a Bulvari Vega, a once sleek and elegant sports car, now nothing more than a beater—a 4.5 million credit beater.

  Zack climbed out of the hole and took cover near a demolished building. The platoon followed after him. Zack looked at his positioning data on his heads up display. They were just barely a few blocks inside the shield perimeter. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Malone had an ear to ear grin on her face. "Nice work, Lance Corporal.”

  But the moment of triumph didn’t last long. Attack fighters rocketed overhead, patrolling the skies. One swooped down beneath the haze, threading its way between the canyon of buildings. It strafed the platoon, spitting a flurry of plasma bolts. The sidewalk erupted with bits of concrete and dust as the platoon of Mavericks dashed for cover.

  Zack could hear the enemy fighter circle back around. It came in for another strafing run. Zack had ducked into an enclave at the entrance to a building. He angled one of his weapons around the corner and targeted the incoming fighter. His plasma cannon fired, then recoiled, then fired again. Over and over again, he lobbed bolts of plasma into the sky. One of them slammed into the fighter’s thruster. It exploded in a blinding flurry, showering sparks down to the ground. The wing tore off, and the vehicle tumbled out of control, smashing into one of the skyscrapers. Shards of glass and debris showered down to the sidewalk. The attack fighter plowed through three floors, finally coming to a stop, lodged into the side of the building.

  “Impressive, Ice Pick," Diesel said.

  “I had a good teacher.”

  “That you did.”

  The platoon pushed forward. Nunez took point, leading the way. The ragged platoon of Mavericks fell in line and marched through the ruins. The bulk of the Tarvaax forces were at the perimeter, leaving scant patrols to guard the interior of the city. The Marines were moving toward the objective, unopposed until Nunez tripped a proximity mine.

  The blast sounded like a crack of thunder and echoed off the buildings. The explosion ripped one of Nunez’s Maverick’s legs off, and the vehicle tumbled to the ground. The hot metal popped and pinged, and hydraulic fuel sprayed from a severed hose.

  Nunez slid open the cockpit and crawled out. He surveyed the smoldering wreckage. "Son-of-a-bitch!”

  Shrapnel had torn through the cockpit. It was a miracle Nunez had escaped unscathed.

  “You're one lucky bastard, Nunez,” Malone said.

  “If I was lucky I'd be on a beach somewhere, sipping a piña colada."

  He held out his thumb like a hitchhiker. “Anybody want to give me a lift?”

  “Grab your weapon,” Malone barked. “Looks like you're on foot from here on out.”

  Nunez grabbed his M7 from the rack in the cockpit. “Somebody else needs to take point now. I met my daily limit of booby-traps."

  “I'll do it," Zack said. He marched ahead and proceeded cautiously.

  Nunez waited for the mechs to pass him by. He glanced around to make sure nothing was coming up behind them, then fell in line. He had to jog just to keep pace with the long strides of the Mavericks.

  A section of the sidewalk ahead had been cratered by a bomb blast. The Mavericks stepped over the pit with ease. But it was far too big for Nunez to traverse. He dashed into the street and ran around the crater, trying to keep up. He only made it a few steps into the roadway when he tripped another proximity mine. This time he wasn't so lucky.

  The explosion shredded Nunez into unrecognizable chunks. The side of the Brookfield bank building was painted with his crimson blood. Chunks of bone and meat littered the sidewalk. Smoke wafted over the carnage.

  Malone's face tensed and flushed with anger. Her eyes brimmed. She had lost everyone in her original platoon. They had done two deployments together, and the entire unit was tight.

  "Nobody move!” Malone shouted. “They must have seeded this area.”

  “I'm not picking up any mines on the scanner,” Diesel said.

  “We’ve got movement ahead," Zack shouted.

  Plasma bolts blasted down the street, whizzing all around the platoon. The MAVs scrambled for cover. The behemoth’s heavy feet clamored against the concrete.

  Zack crouched low behind a burned out vehicle and returned fire. Others slipped into alleyways or enclaves.

  An enemy tank was several blocks ahead, along with several mechs. They unleashed a torrent of weapons fire.

  Zack lined the tank up in his sights and fired a missile. It blasted from the launcher and blazed down the street, leaving a thick trail of smoke in its wake, spitting sparks and fire. The glow reflected in the cracked and tattered windows of the buildings.

  With a blinding explosion, the missile slammed into the bucket of the tank. The stout walker-tank plowed forward without so much as a scratch.

  A flurry of plasma bolts whizzed over Zack's head from behind. He flipped his HUD to display the rearview. Another enemy mechanized unit was approaching from behind. The platoon was cut off, and there was no telling how many proximity mines had been scattered in the vicinity.

  49

  The Tarvaax weaponry was more powerful. There was no doubt about it. The enemy advanced, swarming in Zack's direction. The tank’s massive gun aimed and fired an enormous plasma projectile.

  Zack ran toward an alleyway for cover, narrowly avoiding the bolt. It incinerated the car he had been crouching behind, and the blast overpressure sent his Maverick tumbling to the concrete.

  Zack scrambled to get the machine upright, then sprinted into the alleyway.

  The massive tank spewed more fiery projectiles at him.

  Zack entered the safety of the alley as the plasma bolt slammed into the corner, showering brick and debris in all directions.

  Zack hugged the wall and angled one of his weapons around the crescent shaped cut-out the blast had made. It was charred and still smoldering. Zack fired several blasts at the encroaching enemy forces.

  The air was dotted with chaotic weapons fire, streaking back and forth. Zack heard the distinct sound of Tarvaax fighters approaching. The roar of their engines grew louder as they rocketed through the canyon of skyscrapers. There were four of them, and they flew with technical precision in the narrow space. Rockets launched from sub-wing pylons. They hissed through the steel canyon, pummeling the platoon.

  Multiple explosions lit up the aven
ue, creating a wall of fire. Amber balls of flame mushroomed into the sky. When the smoke cleared, the street was littered with Mavericks. Bits and pieces were strewn about. Struts, actuators, armored panels. The mangled carcasses smoldered. Apex and Knuckles were dead. So was Willoughby.

  There was no time to grieve. The enemy was closing in on them.

  "Fall back!" Major Malone yelled over the comm line.

  Zack watched as the major charged toward him. He blasted at the enemy, covering for her.

  Diesel and Cosmo filed into the alley after Malone.

  Zack stayed at the mouth of the alley and laid down a stream of cover fire as the rest of the squad moved deeper down the passageway. He followed after them, deploying a slew of proximity mines as he fell back. They were black orbs the size of tennis balls, with dozens of sensor prongs. They looked like sea urchins, and the grunts referred to them as such. They could detect micro vibrations, identifying gait patterns and vehicular movement. They had the ability to differentiate between a stray dog and an enemy platoon. An IFF transmitter gave the devices the ability to distinguish friend from foe, and they could be remotely deactivated at the end of a conflict. The safety features had been mandated by the Galactic Convention in an attempt to avoid the pitfalls of traditional landmines, which had plagued conflict zones for centuries. There were over 310 million active landmines scattered throughout the galaxy from previous wars. 30% of the casualties they inflicted were civilian.

  Diesel and Cosmo provided cover fire for Zack as he fell back to their position. They leapfrogged down the alley as they searched for an escape route.