by C H Gideon
Then, just as before, the enemy counter-blew from directly above the momentary breach in the barrier. Hundreds of tons of rubble fell, with a few boulders slamming into some of Jenkins’ mechs. Jammer suffered minor tread damage, but other than that, the unit remained intact, and cut-off from 1st Company.
“Dammit,” Jenkins swore. “They must have prepped a dozen of these collapses at each tunnel.” Jenkins needed to reconnect with 1st Company, soon, or the enemy’s inevitable counterattack would see them fighting with their backs to the wall. Hardly ideal for any military formation, but for a unit like Armor, which relied on mobility and range, it was a worst-case scenario.
Fleet brass had known that this would be a subterranean engagement and had sent Jenkins’ unit in well in advance of the Marines and other ground-force elements. If he was being charitable, he’d say the admiralty was stress-testing his unit. If he was being cynical, he would say that he and his people, consisting mostly of convicts and castoffs, were being served up as fodder, thinning the enemy ranks to make it easier on the so-called A-Team. Not the Marines, they could hold their own and were probably miffed at not being first.
First to fight was their motto. They probably wouldn’t join the fight at all. Sloppy seconds wasn’t their style. Fleet Ground Force’s main body. Those guys would arrive en masse and clean up the scraps, claim victory, and give themselves medals for their bravery.
All the while, Jenkins was knee-deep in dead bodies and rubble, his retreat cut off.
“Seismics are picking up increased activity from the northern rim of the cavern,” Styles reported urgently, snapping Jenkins’ attention back to the moment. “Enemy platforms detected four hundred meters from the northern tunnels.”
“Chaps, load HE shells,” Jenkins barked. “Close those tunnels off, now.”
“HE up,” Chaps acknowledged, and a moment later declared, “on the way.”
Roy’s cannon spewed hellish destruction, sending a rocket-assisted HE round screaming across the cavern.
When it hit, it delivered like the Founders’ Holiday.
A riot of flame signaled a direct hit on an enemy fuel supply, one which was likely attached to a railgun platform. The tunnel behind the explosion collapsed, though not as spectacularly as the Arh’Kel counter-tunneling efforts which kept 1st and 2nd Companies separated.
“More seismics, sir,” Styles said calmly. “The southern edge…Echo Tunnel.”
“Reiterate our stance to the enemy, Chaps,” Jenkins ordered.
“HE up,” Chaps acknowledged, “on the way!”
Another high-explosive round belched forth, this one to the opposite side of the cavern. Unfortunately, even Chaps’ superior targeting solutions were unable to send this one all the way to Echo Tunnel. The shell exploded midway to its target, bringing a shower of granite collapsing from the cavern’s roof.
Jenkins instinctively sucked in a breath, knowing even as he did so that it was a fooling gesture. If the cavern was unstable enough to be caved-in by a few high-explosive shells, the Arh’Kel would never have used it for a major transit hub. This planet had an extremely active tectonic plate network, resulting in frequent and major volcanic eruptions. This strata of bedrock was incredibly resilient after enduring millions of years of violent earthquakes.
Still, regardless of what the science said, it was unwise to send explosive shells into the roof of a cave one was trapped in. But when faced with making a possibly unwise decision or no decision at all, Jenkins opted for the former every time.
“Two platforms emerging from Echo Tun...” Styles began, but was cut off when Roy rocked viciously from left-to-right. Even the mech’s robust shock-absorption systems, normally used to counteract the mech’s artillery recoil, was unable to keep two of Roy’s crew from snapping against their harnesses.
“Return fire, Chaps!” he snapped. “2nd Company: fire all rockets at Echo Tunnel.”
“On the way,” Chaps snarled, and after walking Roy a few dozen meters to the right, he was able to send an HE shell down-range. It missed the tunnel’s mouth by thirty meters, but the wave of HE and AP rockets which soon followed filled Echo Tunnel. Anything which had thought to emerge was annihilated, but Jenkins knew he could only send another volley or two of that intensity before 2nd Company’s supply of rockets would be exhausted.
Caved-in roof in front. Cave-ins behind. Ammunition was critical. And a determined enemy was coming. It was the textbook definition of a shit sandwich.
Two railgun mounts had managed to clear the tunnel before the rocket barrage effectively closed it, and those railguns spat fire into the 219, a mobile SAM—surface-to-air missile--platform with limited complementary armaments. Both railguns struck true and the 219 exploded, but thankfully, her ordnance did not.
The humanoid Kamehameha took aim with its own railguns and returned fire, skewering the left railgun mount through its capacitor bank. The enemy vehicle died without so much as a whimper, reminding Jenkins yet again just how badly he needed to update his battalion’s arsenal.
Fighting with two-century-old weapons left a lot to be desired.
“Kill that second railgun, Chaps,” Jenkins growled.
“On it, sir,” Chaps replied, sending one of his last HE shells into the enemy vehicle. It was no bulls-eye, but even an indirect hit with explosive shells was enough to scrap the Arh’Kel railgun.
“Anything on the seismics?” Jenkins asked.
“Nothing at the moment, sir.” Styles shook his head. “But our sensor range is limited without a link to Silent Fox’s suite. I can only see them when they’re a few hundred meters from the cavern.”
“Do what you can to clear up the readings,” Jenkins said, knowing that if Styles couldn’t do it then nobody in the battalion could. He was a good officer. Smart, ambitious, and possessing the rare ability to know when to seize the initiative. The only reason he’d fallen into Jenkins’ lap was because he had the wrong last name, not that Jenkins would ever complain. He could never have gotten the battalion any further than a back-of-the-napkin dream without Styles’ help.
“Commander…” Styles said hesitantly. “I’m reading something…”
“What is it?”
“I…I’m not sure…” Styles replied in frustration. “There’s a signal down here. At first, I thought it was local EM interference, or maybe some kind of feedback from our own comm systems. But now…I think I’ve found some sort of enemy comm channel.”
Jenkins’ brow furrowed. “Arh’Kel don’t make a habit of hiding their comm chatter.”
“I know, sir.” Styles shook his head as he methodically worked the controls of his station, “But I swear I’ve seen this type of wave form before. It almost looks…” he trailed off before shaking his head bitterly. “I’m sorry, Commander.”
“Record everything you’re reading,” Jenkins ordered, knowing that it was unlikely Styles would bring something trivial to his attention in the middle of an engagement. “Maybe we’ll be able to sort it out once we get back to HQ.”
“Yes, sir,” Styles nodded.
“In the meantime, get more demo charges placed on Bravo Tunnel,” Jenkins barked. “The rock-biters aren’t going to give up that easily. They probably don’t know how little ammo we’ve got left. If their next attack is anything like their previous, we’ll have a rough time of it. Redeploy the column while the Pounders set the demo,” he continued, glancing at his wristwatch and seeing that the infantry only had another two hours of local oxygen left in their personal air supplies.
The choking smoke that filled the cavern was going nowhere, which meant that the only open passages leading out of this cavern went deeper underground instead of to the surface.
If they didn’t get out of here in the next two hours, his FGF would suffocate and die.
Minutes steadily ticked by, and soon the demo charges were set. But before Jenkins gave the order to blow Bravo Tunnel yet again, Styles’ board lit up like a Christmas tree.
“M
ultiple contacts!” Styles reported in surprise.
Jenkins instinctively checked the seismic sensors, finding nothing on them. “Show me,” the commander urged, moving to Styles’ side.
“I localized that signal I found, sir,” Styles explained, adjusting one of his displays to show an overlay of the cavern and its adjoining tunnels. The battalion’s armored units showed up as green triangles, the FGF infantry as yellow dots, with both allied forces tightly clustered near Bravo Tunnel.
Every other tunnel, however, was soon filled with thousands of tiny red dots and larger, blue squares—enemy railgun mounts.
“Holy hell,” Jenkins muttered, “are they advancing?”
“Negative, sir.” Styles shook his head in confusion. “They’re moving, but not toward the cavern. They seem to be milling around, even the HWPs are just moving back and forth.”
“How did you find them?” Jenkins demanded, his eyes snapping across the tactical plotter as he realized the magnitude of what they had stumbled upon. This was nothing short of an enemy headquarters complex. Fleet Intelligence had estimated Arh’Kel strength on this planet at no more than fifteen thousand infantry and two hundred railgun mounts, with a dozen anti-orbital platforms capable of sniping anything smaller than a dreadnought as far out as high orbit.
Jenkins’ battalion had already uncovered at least half that many enemy units during this advance alone.
“Fan out the column,” Jenkins ordered. “We can’t let them catch us in another crossfire. Move Sword of Damocles and Monsoon to the northern and southern flanks respectively, then take Roy north and Babycake south to support them and maximize our artillery’s effective range. Cluster the rest of the battalion inside, centered on Kamehameha. Those railguns are our best weapons down here and can reach any point in the cavern, unlike our fifteens.”
“Orders acknowledged,” Styles confirmed.
“You found them by monkeying with that signal,” Jenkins concluded as Roy began rolling to the northern flank in support of the Sword of Damocles. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“It’s some sort of distributed, P2P comm network, Commander,” Styles explained. “In fact, the reason I recognized it is because it bears striking similarities to the Solarians’ One Mind network.”
Jenkins snorted derisively at the mention of the Solar humans, a branch of humanity which the Terran Republic had little practical relationship with these days, “The Solarians?”
“Yes, sir.” Styles nodded. “The Solarian system connects nearly every human mind on Earth, forming a kind of gestalt intelligence system...”
“I’m aware of the framework, Chief,” Jenkins interrupted. “I’m also aware that such direct links are strictly regulated in the Terran Republic for security reasons, no matter what our ‘enlightened’ Solarian cousins think.”
“Of course, sir.” Styles nodded sheepishly before rallying. “But I was studying the system’s architecture back at the academy, and the similarities between this Arh’Kel system and that one are obvious now that I cracked the code. The rotating frequencies used to encrypt all data transfers, the procedurally-generated data nodes, even the self-limiting blockchain appear to be similar to the system used in Sol.”
“How did you crack it?” Jenkins asked warily.
Styles hesitated before making pointed eye contact. “I’ve got friends who theorized about a potential way to hack the One Mind gestalt.”
Jenkins’ eyes snagged on the tactical display as Roy finally arrived at its position in support of Sword of Damocles. Thankfully, the Arh’Kel did indeed appear to be stationary. “These friends of yours,” he mused aloud, taking Styles’ meaning clearly enough, “they didn’t happen to give you a copy of their work, did they?”
“Not a complete one, no,” Styles replied with a tight grin, “but with a few days’ study of their transceivers, I could probably come up with an approximation.”
“Every Arh’Kel has one of these?” Jenkins pressed.
“It appears that way.” Styles nodded. “But if they’re anything like the Solarians’ devices, they’ll be rendered inert after their bearers’ vital functions cease.”
“Fine.” Jenkins nodded. “Order the Pounders to examine rock-biter corpses near Bravo Tunnel. Tell them what to look for and see what they come up with. But first, they need to blow that...”
“Movement!” Styles interrupted. “Rock-biters in the western tunnels are advancing in force.”
Jenkins nodded, watching as the enemy consolidated and advanced with mechanical precision on the cavern.
“Signal the column,” Jenkins barked, “prepare to receive the enemy. Concentrate railgun fire on the western tunnels. I want Kamehameha cycling its capacitors no more than twelve seconds apart. Roy and Babycake are to focus artillery on the north and south. The rest of the column is to hold fire until eight of the railguns are in range before clearing all AP rockets. Once the APs are gone, load HE and await my order to fire.”
Styles related the commands before reporting, “Orders acknowledged. Arh’Kel will breach the cavern in fifteen seconds. Twenty railgun mounts and four thousand infantry inbound.”
Jenkins grimaced. “Have the Pounders blow the tunnel, now, then order them to hunker down behind their barricades. This is about to get messy.”
“Five seconds,” Styles called out. Despite the mounting tension in Roy’s cabin, Jenkins was pleased to find everyone attending to their duties with a high level of professionalism. Concern and sweat, but no one had lost their nerve.
“Here we go,” he grunted as the first icons streamed into the cavern’s opposite side six kilometers from Bravo Tunnel. That tunnel exploded with the last batch of demo 2nd Company had at its disposal, and before the dust had settled, the two sides were furiously exchanging fire.
Kamehameha stabbed a pair of railgun bolts into the emerging railgun mounts, scratching one and damaging the other’s drive system. Four more railgun mounts drove through the western tunnel, callously brushing past their predecessors before unleashing fire on Jenkins’ mechs. Roy took a thunderous hit to its forward armor, which thankfully held, while a second strike struck one of Roy’s four legs. Alarms went off on Chaps’ station, but it seemed they had weathered the first strike.
On the other end of the crescent formation, Babycake fared worse. Taking two direct hits to its armored left flank, the mighty mech was nearly toppled as its crew struggled to turn its relatively fresh right face to the enemy.
Arh’Kel units soon began pouring through the northern and southern tunnels, and when eight railguns were in firing range, Jenkins gave the order, “2nd Company: empty launch tubes at your assigned targets.”
A devastating wave of eighty-three AP rockets tore across the smoke-filled cavern. A line of Arh’Kel infantry advanced a few dozen meters ahead of their railguns. Considering fifteen of the AP rockets struck rock-biters, one could be forgiven for thinking the Arh’Kel were throwing their bodies in the way of the barrage. But Arh’Kel reflexes and senses were no better than that of humans, so it was merely a numbers game as thousands of rock-biters advanced ahead of their heavy weapons platforms, the HWPs, faster than any human soldiers could move without mechanical assistance.
All eight railguns were torched by the rocket barrage, which was the last ‘safe’ salvo Jenkins’ people could deliver. At least ten more rock-biter HWPs were moving into the cavern, which meant that he’d soon be rolling the dice on HE shells.
“Commander, I’ve got a theory,” Styles said urgently.
“Let’s hear it.” Jenkins nodded as a horde of cartwheeling rock-biters drew nearer.
“I think the pulse missile Elvira launched in the collapsed junction shorted out the rock-biters’ P2P comm network,” Styles explained. “The EMP was more powerful than anything we can generate down here, but if I’m right about this network’s architecture, we might be able to generate something practically comparable.”
“Elvira was armed with our only pulse warhead.” J
enkins shook his head grimly, recalling just how difficult it had been to sneak that one missile into his battalion.
Styles nodded. “I understand, sir, but Kamehameha’s got an old-style micro-fusion generator that could produce an EMP if overloaded. The mech would be destroyed, but it looks to me like we would render the remaining rock-biters as lethargic and confused as the ones Elvira hit with the pulse missile.”
Jenkins sucked in a breath. Decisions between ‘bad’ and ‘worse’ seemed to be the only ones he got to make any more, and this was no different. Kamehameha was easily his most potent mech in a subterranean setting, with its railguns capable of direct-fire unlike the artillery that required significantly raised fire angles to reach ranges greater than two kilometers, angles which low cavern ceilings precluded.
“All right…” Jenkins nodded, his decision made. “Send Centipede and Kamehameha to the cavern’s center at maximum speed. Kamehameha’s crew is to initiate the overload on a time-delay, set the mech on autopilot to the center of the cavern, and then they’re to transfer to Centipede. Centipede’s systems are the oldest in the battalion, so the only thing the EMP will fry is her comm gear and automated fire control systems.”
Styles seemed reluctant to relay the orders. “This is just a theory, sir.”
“I’m in command, Styles,” Jenkins said firmly. “This is my call. Relay my orders.”
Styles nodded and did as commanded, and soon the two mechs were moving toward the center of the cavern at best possible speed, as a surging tide of Arh’Kel soldiers advanced ahead of the emerging railgun platforms.
“New fire orders,” Jenkins barked. “Clear a hole for Kamehameha. I don’t want those rock-biters tearing it down before it delivers its surprise.”
Roy took a direct hit as an enemy railgun sniped it from across the cavern. Chaps was unable to return fire with non-HE shells, but the closer Babycake returned fire and scratched the offending vehicle from the field.