by Isaac Hooke
“TJ, Cyclone, Fret, take point!” Rade ordered.
Bender, Manic and Praxter flattened themselves to the ground. TJ, Cyclone and Fret clambered over them as they continued to fire, and then placed their shields down in front, joining them to form a solid wall. They raised the shields ever so slightly to allow the former point men behind them to fire past the small gap on the bottom.
Raid also aimed past the left side, and was able to target one of the tangos. He aimed at the leftmost turret on its head, and squeezed the trigger of his cobra. Several bore holes appeared in the surface, disabling the weapon.
TJ was using his cobra as well, since his plasma cannon had overheated, while Cyclone and Fret yet employed stingrays. With Manic, Praxter and Bender firing at the enemy from below the shields, they quickly brought down the closest Nemesis robots.
However, the robots that came behind them used the same strategy as the SKs, and dug in behind the wreckages for cover.
The SKs caught up with them from behind, and once again Snakeoil, Bomb and Skullcracker defended.
“Press forward!” Rade said. “Ram your shields into those wreckages! Push them back! We can’t stay here all day!”
TJ, Cyclone and Fret hoisted their shields a meter off the ground and switched to a run. The rest of the platoon followed behind them, while the drag men continued to fire at the rearmost SKs.
The point men rammed into the wreckages of the Nemesis robots and shoved them backwards. A sound like a backhoe shovel scraping against raw asphalt filled the air.
“Gah, it’s worse than scraping your nails down a blackboard!” Bender said.
TJ, Cyclone and Fret met resistance as the fallen Nemesis units crunched into those that were still standing. Manic, Praxter and Bender slammed into the point men from behind, lending the strength of their electroactuators. All the other Jupiters, except those on drag, advanced and contributed in turn.
The platoon gradually shoved their way forward in that manner, pushing the Nemesis robots backwards. Rade kept an eye on his map, and watched as the penetration point approached painfully slow. He and the others occasionally crushed pieces of debris that had torn away from the wreckages blocking their path.
Finally, they were next to the tunnel that Praxter had collapsed earlier. Because of the way the ceiling had collapsed, the upper portion remained partially unblocked, while the rocks filling the lower section spilled onto the current passage.
“Kicker, Pyro, place the drill,” Rade ordered.
The two platoon members in question sidled up to the wall and placed the drill in front of the rock pile that overflowed from the sealed tunnel.
“Don’t put it there!” Snakeoil said.
“Why not?” Kicker asked.
“If you start drilling through the collapse, there’s a chance you’ll reach an area where the ceiling hasn’t finished falling in,” Snakeoil replied.
“What are you talking about?” Kicker pressed.
“I mean, the drill will disintegrate stone, but then rock from the ceiling will fall down to take its place!” Snakeoil said. “So, the advance will stagnate… you could end up drilling through twice as much stone as we did on the way in.”
“Position the drill slightly to the left of the collapse,” Rade said. “Snakeoil, mark off a suitable area.”
On Rade’s HUD, a blue ellipse overlaid the wall next to the caved area. Pyro and Kicker repositioned the drill directly in front of it.
The circular frame at the front began spinning rapidly, and those treads rotated, sending the drill forward.
As the contraption worked, Rade and his platoon continued to defend against the attacks that came from both sides.
The Nemesis wreckages in front of the point men proved a double-edged sword for the enemy, because the fallen alien robots protected not only the enemy from attack, but the Jupiter mechs as well: TJ, Tahoe and Fret’s ballistic shields were in relatively good condition because of that. On drag, however, Snakeoil, Bomb and Skullcracker didn’t have it as good, because the pursuing SK mechs had clambered over or shoved aside any fallen members in their midst, so that the shields of the Jupiters there took a beating.
“Pyro, Kicker, swap with Bomb and Snakeoil,” Rade said. “Skullcracker, I’ll take your place.”
“Can’t let you do that, Chief,” Skullcracker said.
“Your shield is down to fifty percent integrity,” Rade said. “Mine is still at a hundred.”
“That’s as it should be,” Skullcracker told him. “You’re our chief.”
“He’s right,” Tahoe said. “We can’t put you at risk. You’re staying where you are.”
Rade ground his teeth. “Fine. Lui, take Skullcracker’s place.”
In front of Rade, other mechs dropped to allow Pyro, Kicker and Lui to clamber over them. Rade merely stepped aside, as he didn’t have anyone standing abreast of him at the moment. The trio replaced Bomb, Snakeoil and Skullcracker on drag.
As the platoon defended, the drill continued to do its work; unfortunately, while progress was good at first, it hit a snag near the middle, because it ceased advancing. Its rear section protruded a short distance from the opening.
“Snakeoil, the drill!” Rade said.
Snakeoil rushed forward, and gazed into the opening. He activated his headlamps for a moment.
“Looks like we placed it a bit too close to the collapsed tunnel,” Snakeoil said. “We’ve got some leakage of rocks from the adjacent chamber. We can keep going, and hope that the leakage subsides, or we can reposition the drill again.”
Rade glanced at his clock. Twenty minutes left.
“You’re the one who approved the drill placement!” Fret said.
“Yes, I did,” Snakeoil agreed. “To be honest, I think it’s only a small snag. We’re probably safe to leave the drill where it is. It should tunnel through in a couple of minutes.”
“I know you’re trying to save face,” Fret said. “But if you’re wrong, we’re all dead.”
“Your call, Chief,” Snakeoil said.
Rade hesitated. They couldn’t really afford to reposition the drill. Then again, if that snag lasted more than a few minutes…
Rade decided to risk it. “Keep drilling.”
To his relief, the drill began moving again after only thirty seconds.
It took another ten minutes for the drill to approach the surface. The shields of Kicker, Pyro and Lui were down to around forty each by then. On point, Tahoe, Fret and TJ still had relatively high shield integrity, courtesy of the Nemesis wreckages that had accumulated in front of them.
“Breach imminent,” Rade said. “Get ready to retreat. TJ, I want at least one HS3 through first.”
The drill broke through and sunlight poured in from outside, adding to the illumination from the overhead lights. It moved forward without any encumbrance, and it wasn’t shot up—both good signs.
“TJ!” Rade said.
An HS3 swooped into the freshly dug tunnel, and emerged from the opening.
Rade switched to the scout’s viewpoint, and saw at least three platoons of mechs defending outside. The first was composed of Brigands, the second Titans, and the third Hoplites. They formed a large half circle around the entrance. Their shields were all red hot, and close to failing.
A bunch of new blue dots appeared on Rade’s overhead map.
“Chief Rowlock,” Rade said. “It’s good to see you!”
“You late fuckers!” Rowlock said. “Our shields are about to fail! Let’s go!”
“You heard the man,” Rade said. “Out, all of you!”
Rade allowed Skullcracker and Bomb to take the lead, and then he followed after them. The Jupiters could only fit the drilled tunnel at a crouch, and they moved in single file. Behind him, the other mechs followed, retreating from their defensive positions. Pyro was the last one in, and took up the rear, retreating backwards. Behind him, the Nemesis robots were shoving the wreckages of their companions across the opening, obviousl
y hoping to reach the drilled tunnel before the platoon fled.
Rade emerged and went to Chief Rowlock, who was standing in the middle of the circle directing the action alongside his two colleagues.
“Chief!” Rade said.
“Fuck you!” Rowlock said. He turned toward the others. “Chief Ballsey, LPO Shitface, move your platoons out! We’ll be right behind you!”
The half circle became two lines of Brigands as the mechs of the other platoons broke away and raced toward the jungle five hundred meters from the shoulder.
On the left was a thick line of tanks and mechs that spilled into the jungle beside it. They were scattered amidst the wreckages of their companions. Those tanks lobbed shells, which the defending Brigands detonated with their zodiac electrolasers and cobras. The enemy mechs meanwhile fired plasma cannons, grenades, and lasers in return.
On the right, the wreckages of Nemesis spheres, some with tentacles and some without, littered the mountainside. The large blast craters in the ground told Rade that they had been hit with an air strike. Other spheres were attempting to approach, wending around the debris of their companions, but the defending Brigands on that side were quick to strike—they targeted the dish-like gamma ray generators, destroying them before the enemy could fire.
“Why doesn’t CentCom just pick us up here?” Manic asked as he emerged.
“Probably too hot!” Pyro said, taking up a position on the left next to the defending members of Bravo.
“We got an enemy air strike coming in,” Chief Rowlock said. “Can’t stay any longer. Alpha, Bravo, let’s go!”
Pyro, the last member of Alpha, emerged just at that moment, and joined in the retreat as the others broke away from the rock face and raced toward the jungle. The HS3s accompanied them, giving the Sino Koreans extra objects to target.
The other two platoons had already reached the jungle eaves, and were opening fire at the enemies, covering Alpha and Bravo on both flanks.
As Rade neared the edge of the jungle, he leaped over the broken trees that had fallen in the attack. He kept running when he reached the defending platoons, following close to Rowlock.
He glanced at his rearview camera feed, and as the last members of Alpha and Bravo passed the defenders, the other two platoons began their retreat as well, bringing up the rear.
So far, there was no resistance directly in front of them, just those thick branches clawing at the weakened exteriors of the mechs. He weaved between the thick trees that thrusted like javelins from the undergrowth; around him, branches broke away constantly, issuing loud cracks.
Above the sound of their passage, Rade heard the roar of an aircraft.
“Is that our pickup?” Fret asked hopefully.
“Negative!” Snakeoil replied. “The acoustics match up with an SK bomber! Xian H-9 class.”
“I don’t see it!” Tahoe said.
Rade glanced up, but couldn’t discern the bomber through the thick canopy of leaves, either.
He heard the keening of dropped bombs.
“Incoming!” Chief Rowlock said. “Scatter, boys!”
As Rade swerved away into the forest, he asked his AI: “Nicolas, are you able to calculate a blast zone, based on the acoustics of those bombs?”
“Xian H-9 bombers usually carry eight-hundred-pound bombs,” Nicolas said. “Based on the acoustics, I can estimate their path, yes, and blast radius.”
A moment later, the forest around Rade was painted a bright red, courtesy of his AI’s calculation: he and the others were in the heart of the blast zone.
“Pick up the pace!” Rade said as that keening rapidly increased in volume while dropping in pitch. He shared the blast zone with Alpha and the other platoons.
He reached the area where the bright red zone became dark red, which indicated damage falloff. A moment later he was engulfed in orange flames. His speakers automatically muted the terrible sound generated by the blast, but he could still hear the softer sounds, such as the rat-a-tat of branches repeatedly pelting the hull. He was tearing through those branches in the front, while being hit by them from behind.
And then the orange faded away. Rade found himself hurtling through the air a short distance above the tree tops. A glance at his rearview camera feed showed the huge cloud that was forming behind him, courtesy of those bombs.
And then he was passing downward, through the treetops once more, breaking them away. He fired reverse thrust so that he wouldn’t smash into the trunk of a tree just ahead, and then released a burst from his aerospike thrusters just before hitting the ground.
He glanced at his overhead map to get his bearings. The platoon’s dots had frozen. As had his own. According to his map, his position still corresponded to where he had stood before the bombs hit.
“Cyclone, do you read?” Rade tried. “Bender, Manic? Anyone from Alpha. Anyone from all platoons?”
No reply. He heard only the intermittent clicks that issued from his speakers for echolocation purposes.
“Nicolas, are we really out of range of the platoons?” Rade asked.
“We might be, or we might not,” Nicolas replied. “Our comm node has taken shrapnel damage.”
“Shit,” Rade said.
He heard wood cracking nearby as several unseen units approached. Probably SK, or Nemesis, because the United System platoon members would have been thoroughly scattered after that bomb—this sounded more like an organized group of at least twenty to thirty spread out through the trees. He couldn’t quite determine the direction, thanks to the way the sound echoed from the surrounding trees.
He shut down his echolocator immediately—it would only draw the enemy. Also, it wasn’t as effective without the other mechs providing data.
Then he turned toward the cloud of smoke he saw rising beyond the treetops, and raced through the foliage, hoping against hope that he’d find his platoon mates.
Rade glanced at his clock. Five minutes to the nuke’s detonation.
17
The branches whipped at Rade’s mech, tugging at his arms and legs. Though the foliage wasn’t alive like in the cave, the sheer density of it still made the going slow. He weaved between tree trunks and ducked underneath boughs.
Even though Rade was outside the cave now, he knew he wasn’t safe. During the briefing, the lieutenant commander had played simulations—based on the nuclear yield of the warhead—showing the mountain breaking apart upon detonation. The jungle would be sprayed with molten rock fragments in all directions. Very likely Rade’s Jupiter would be crushed. Then again, it was a hardy unit… however, even if he survived the blast, he’d succumb to radiation poisoning shortly thereafter. Nicolas, however, would live.
That thought wasn’t really reassuring.
As he grew closer to the smoke plume that was eating up the sky, he heard the sound of jet engines overhead.
He fired his jumpjets, wanting to reach the treetops in order to signal the passing aircraft—assuming they were friendlies. But he got snagged in the branches, and when he broke free, decided to climb the rest of the way up.
The branches thinned out, becoming flimsier, and it became questionable whether or not the higher boughs would hold his weight. So, he fired his jumpjets again, enough to break through the treetops.
He shut down his jets, and as he hovered there in midair, during that brief moment where gravity was canceled-out by his upward force vector, he saw several transport shuttles leaving the area. United Systems models. That they were leaving told him he must have been thrown farther than everyone else by the explosion. Or maybe the blame lay entirely upon his damaged comm node, which would have forced the lieutenant commander to assume he was dead. They didn’t have time to wait for him. Not when that nuke was scheduled to detonate shortly.
He released a LIDAR burst in the vague hope that one of the transports would turn back for him, but none of them stopped. He was detecting other LIDAR emissions out there, no doubt from enemy units—his own would have been lost ami
d the confusion.
As he descended beneath the treetops once more, he also spotted United Systems fighters escorting the transports. Some circled back to intercept incoming SK jets. Further south he saw Sino Korean helos and drones also racing to pursue, along with Nemesis spheres. Some of the latter rose to higher altitudes in order to challenge some of the United Systems jets, and fire was exchanged.
Even if the fleeing craft had detected his signal as friendly, there was no way they’d be able to come back for him, not now. The pursuing vessels, combined with the impending detonation, made rescue impossible. Rade was resigned to his fate. He also realized that, given their trajectory, he had been running the wrong way: away from them, rather than toward.
If only his comm node hadn’t been disabled…
He hadn’t been paying attention to his descent: branches broke away around him, until suddenly he smashed into a particular thick bough, which held him in place. He slid off it and clambered further down the trunk, leaping off when he had a clear view of the ground.
He swiveled toward the direction he believed was north, based on the flight of the transport carriers, so that the rising smoke plumes were to his east. He hurried through the forest, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the mountain as possible. He thought of his platoon mates. Hopefully, all the members of Alpha and the remaining units had made it safely aboard their designated carriers.
Tahoe would be beating himself up over leaving Rade behind, but Scotts would have ordered the Navajo onto the craft regardless of his feelings. Rade could only imagine how heartbroken his friend must have been right now. Not just Tahoe, but the entire platoon.
As he continued running, he realized the timer had reached zero a while ago. He just hadn’t noticed.
There hadn’t been a detonation.
The SKs had disarmed it after all.
“Well, that part of the mission was for nothing,” Rade commented.
“You’re referring to the nuclear detonation?” Nicolas asked. “Or lack thereof?”
“Lack thereof,” Rade agreed.
“We did destroy the Anarchist,” Nicolas said.