by J. N. Chaney
“Tell me about the icon I see on the map. About twenty kilometers east of here.”
He seemed to think about it for a few seconds before answering. “The one with the warning icon? Corps shield with crossed bones?”
“That’s the one,” said Warren.
“Do not be stalling,” growled Lukov.
“It’s a military base,” Brinn blurted. “Commonwealth. They’ve got humans, troops, mechs, the works. No air as far as we know, but plenty of everything else. Tanks, walkers—“
“Walkers?” asked Warren.
“Yeah, they’re like tanks, but… different. Almost like mechs. They walk around like mechs, but they’ve got a crew. You must’ve seen their tracks by now.”
Warren had, and though it was a new threat, at least it wasn’t some crazy indigenous beast. He almost laughed in spite of himself. An animal might be easier to kill.
“Any idea where any others from First Corps might be?” Warren asked Lukov. “I’ve got Hendrose and a few other techs holed up at the village General Kaplan’s command center is located in. Other than that, I haven’t seen anyone else.”
Lukov shook his head. “We are not to have found anyone else, which is why it brings me many joy to see you and others. We were worried might be last of the First Corps. Did not want to do anything too big until we are knowing for certain.”
“Why were you attacking the tanks?” asked Warren.
“Same as you. We discover they are jamming communication. Hoping to make destroy, find other, begin war. Now that you are found, it is much easier I am believing.”
“It will be,” said Warren. “But if we start blowing these things up, they’ll only reinforce the others. I don’t think the tankers bothered calling for support. They probably thought they had your team on the ropes until we showed up. Then I ripped the antenna cluster off.”
“I did the same to the other,” said Cooper. “And, I’m not seeing or hearing anything coming in. So if we’re not gonna blow up the antennas, what’s the plan? We’ve got to find more of First Corps.”
“There’s a pair of cables headed east,” explained Warren. “We’ll stop and check a couple of times, but I’m certain they all head back to a military base about twenty kilometers from here. We find the source of the transmission and destroy it, then maybe we shut down all the antennae at the same time.”
“There’s no way that’ll work,” whispered Brinn. He pushed on, even with everyone’s eyes on him. “They have tanks. Walkers. I’m sure they have comms, so they can call for more help if we show up and start blowing shit up. There’s no possible way we can do it. There just aren’t enough of us.”
“Do you think General Kaplan would commit troops to it?” asked Rigby.
Brinn scoffed. “Not a chance. We need to start working our way toward the capitol so we can take out Governor Kinsley personally. Stick his head on the end of a pike and march around the city with it. That’s the plan. You’re going to mess everything up.”
“Some plan,” said Rigby. “Sit around planning, then planning some more, then talking about planning, but not actually doing anything.” She turned to Warren and continued. “Everything you’ve done so far has worked. We didn’t have all the info about what kind of defenses Turano had, but I doubt King knew about them. On the way in, he was deep inside his ship. On the way out, he was locked in a box. Still, you got us through it, and here we are. We’re ready to follow your lead, Warren. Point us in a direction, let us know what we’re doing, and we’ll do it.”
“Agreed,” said Lukov. “But what of this one?” He gestured toward Brinn with the muzzle of his rifle. “I am thinking if we are to be letting him go, he will return to his general and tell of our plan. This general does not seem to be the kind for making change. He will attempt to make us stop. He is for making plan, not action. Maybe shoot Brinn, bury frame, and continue without?”
“Or maybe Brinn comes with us,” said Rigby. “Maybe he fights alongside us.”
“He will run,” said Lukov, his tone dark and threatening.
Warren studied the three for a few seconds, deciding on what to do. Each of them had their points. “What do you say, Brinn?” he asked.
The sergeant looked surprised by the question. He glanced at the others, eyes lingering on Lukov, then returned his gaze to Warren. “Lukov is right. If you send me back, I’ll have to tell General Kaplan. He’s right that the general might send someone to try to intercept you before you get there, but if you move fast, you’ll be there long before I can possibly make it back. I hate to say it, but I like your plan. I want to end this just as fast as anyone, but I have an obligation to General Kaplan. He’s the leader of Second Corps. I’m Second Corps. I don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t you?” asked Rigby, stepping directly in front of the other cyborg. “I thought your compulsion chip was disabled. Did I misunderstand?”
“No,” said Brinn as he took a step back and rubbed a spot under his chin. “I’m free just like you. It’s not about my compulsion chip. It’s about honor and integrity. The only reason I’m still alive is because of the general.”
“And because I have not killed you,” Lukov reminded.
“Give him his rifle back,” said Warren. “We’ve wasted enough time arguing about this. He’ll either come with us, or he’ll head back to Second Corps. He’s free to make his own choice. He’s also free to understand that if he brings Second Corps back to attack us, nobody is going to get out of this alive.”
Warren watched Sergeant Brinn carefully as Lukov retrieved his rifle and handed it back to him. He looked like he was uncertain of whether he wanted to take it from the angry cyborg, but after a moment’s hesitation, he relented. He stared at the weapon, then his feet, then to the east.
“Form up!” Warren ordered. “Lukov, your team is now fourth squad. You’ve got our six. Squad wedge, fireteam wedge. We’re heading east. We’ll stop every two kilometers for a quick check to make sure there’s still a powerline somewhere underground. Once we’re within sight of the base, we’ll take a peek and form a plan. Let’s avoid hostilities if we can help it until we get there.” Lukov nodded and the rest of the squads hurried to their places in the formation.
“Where do you want me, sir?” asked Brinn. He had his lips pressed tightly together in a frown.
“First squad,” replied Warren. A few seconds later, the sergeant found his place and they headed out at a fast run.
The platoon stopped every two kilometers. Warren checked the first time, but it had taken him several minutes to locate the power cable. After that he assigned the task to each of the squad leaders to speed up the process. About halfway to their destination, they encountered a power distribution box. It hummed with electricity, and though it was a tempting target which would allow them to take out at least five of the antennae, Warren avoided destroying it. It wouldn’t be wise to let the enemy know they were so close. Not when so much was at stake.
Someone in first squad signaled for the halt, then for everyone to go low. Warren saw why a second later. A Commonwealth fighter—one of the big ones that had threatened the Ruthless as First Corps was attempting to get through the minefield—was slowly flying across the landscape. It was still four or five kilometers away, and since it wasn’t designed for atmospheric flight, was using its thrusters to maneuver. Its current speed might be as fast as it could go without putting itself at risk. It looked like they were using some kind of spotlight to illuminate the ground in front of it.
Warren wondered if the local forces had somehow learned what they were up to. The ship could be looking for them if the base anticipated an attack. Then again, even Commonwealth fighters had sensors, so there was no need for the spotlight unless they didn’t know what they were searching for.
Once the ship finally disappeared into the distance, Warren signaled for the platoon to begin moving again. The last leg of their journey brought them within visual range of the Commonwealth military base. The sight
of it made Warren wonder if he’d made the right decision, or if General Kaplan might’ve been on to something with his wait-and-hide tactics.
The site was sprawling—at least four kilometers wide. There were enough lights to blur everything past a few hundred meters past the fence line, so it was impossible to tell how deep the base extended. Every few hundred meters, a watchtower, probably manned—though Warren couldn’t see anyone—kept diligent guard over a section of the three-meter fence. Beyond them were dozens, maybe hundreds of buildings. He picked out warehouses, hangars, and living quarters.
Warren scanned the horizon for threats—especially the fighter—but noticed none, so he signaled for his squad leaders to join him. They huddled close together and whispered.
“This is a big place,” said Rigby. “Really big. Any idea where to begin?”
“I think we’re going to have to figure it out when we get there,” admitted Warren. “How are we looking on grenades and ammunition?”
“Fourth squad is not very well on them,” admitted Lukov. “Down to dregs for the bullet. Six grenades.”
“First is almost full, so we’ll share,” said Poulton, First Squad’s leader.
“And we’ve got plenty of grenades,” added Rigby.
“We’re a little low on everything,” said Maler. “Third squad would help, but I think you’re set.”
“We are,” said Lukov. “What is plan?”
Warren turned his attention back to the base and zoomed his vision in as far as it would go. They were still several kilometers away, so he wasn’t able to get a lot of detail. “Doesn’t look like we have many choices,” he replied. “The fence is about three meters high, based on what I can see. One option is we close on the place as we did with the tanks. At the last moment, we rush the fence, vault it, and kill everything in sight.”
“Effective,” noted Lukov.
“And slow,” added Poulton. “Boss, we’ve got to penetrate deep into that place. We can’t spend a lot of time at the fence line, and standing there, trading blows with CoWs seems like a bad idea. I recommend we split into squads. Each side approach the base from a compass point. We all hop at the same time and boom, we’re in, and we’ve essentially got everyone surrounded.”
“How do we signal when to move?” asked Rigby. “No comms, remember?”
“We pick a time, or Warren does,” replied Poulton. “When the timer runs out, we rush.”
“This is not good,” said Lukov.
“Agreed,” replied Warren. “Here’s the plan. We’ll sneak as close as we can. If someone gets spotted, we’ll move. If not, first squad will take the left flank. Fourth will have the right. Second squad will have point, while third provides cover. Once we’re in, it’s got to be balls to the wall. No holding back. Move, shoot, move.
“Our target will be anything that looks like a command center. There’s probably a powerplant here as well, being a military base. That way, they don’t have to rely on an outside source. Shut it down if you can, but it’s likely fusion, so don’t breach it or you’ll take us all out. The moment someone takes out the computer running the jamming signal or the power plant, comms should be restored, and we can coordinate from there.”
“And if the worst should happen?” asked Maler, the third squad leader.
“We meet back where you had your confrontation with Second Corps,” replied Warren. “From there, we’ll figure it out. Any objections?” Nobody said anything for several seconds. “Fine. Get back to your squads and pass the word. When you’re ready, get on comm. I’ll give the signal. Godspeed.”
As the platoon crept closer to the fence line, Warren regretted not being able to set the target the Ruthless had aimed for himself. The other facility was almost definitely a military base, but had he seen this one, it would have been the primary target.
The closer he crept, the more details he could make out. There were people inside. Many stood around, while others performed one minor duty or another. He spotted a military-style hovercar buzzing down a street loaded with polymer boxes. A pair of guards walked along the fence line carrying heavy rifles, and for the first time, Warren thought he spotted what the sergeant had referred to as a ‘walker.’ He could only see part of the machine, but it looked to be about seven or eight meters tall. He only saw two legs, but there were probably four—maybe six. What was most disturbing was the barrels of the rotary machine gun. Back in his day, they were always called miniguns, regardless of the caliber or manufacturer. Capable of delivering six thousand rounds per minute, they were a sobering sight.
The platoon was too close to warn them about it. They’d be on their own to exercise caution and be observant. It was almost time to breach the perimeter.
Another two guards turned a corner and approached from their right. They’d be problematic if they weren’t taken out right away. But there were only two, so it would be quick. With only fifteen meters left to cover, Warren stood and charged the fence.
29
The guards reacted quickly, which surprised Warren. Most sentries worked hard to look busy but didn’t actually pay attention to their surroundings. Maybe opening the box at the transmitter building had set off some kind of silent alarm. Or maybe the tanks they’d fought had actually had enough time to warn the base of trouble.
Warren vaulted the fence, firing as he did, and was surprised when one of the bastards managed to shoot him in the forearm. A damage alert appeared on his HUD, but he dismissed it with a thought and focused on his opponent. Two other cyborgs began shooting at the guards who rolled and leaped out of the way… all the way to the top of the guard tower. It was impossible, but Warren knew he’d seen it. His eyes were cybernetic. They didn’t play tricks on him. They either functioned, or they didn’t.
“They’re Ghosts!” shouted Warren, his voice barely audible over the alarms that had begun to ring.
Troops began shooting from the corners and roofs of nearby buildings. There was no way for Warren to help while at the same time protecting the backs of those who were fighting the Commonwealth cyborgs. Second squad would have to assist, and from what Warren could hear, they were doing just that.
Warren dropped two humans who thought they could sneak up on him by coming across the flat roof of a small nearby building. They both dropped their rifles and fell forward onto the pavement with hard, wet cracks. The next got a shot off at him, but Warren snapped his rifle up, took careful aim, and emptied a good portion of the guy’s brains out the back of his head. With no other enemies in sight, he shouted an order. “First squad, move forward. See if you can take out their walkers and tanks before they activate.”
It was too late. The walker he’d spotted earlier began stomping from its hiding place. “Take cover!” shouted Warren as he took three bounding steps and joined Poulton behind the building the Commonwealth troops had fallen from.
“Those must be the walkers,” noted the first squad leader.
“Sure looks like it,” replied Warren. “Just a second.” Someone was trying to sneak around the far corner of the building. Warren shifted his rifle to his left hand and waited for them. When the soldier got close, Warren stepped from hiding, shoved the grenade he was holding into the man’s open mouth, pressed the button, then stepped back behind cover. The crack of the detonation was followed by a sloppy wet sound. A second later, Warren peeked around the corner. When he saw that it was clear, he grabbed what remained of the corpse and dragged it behind the building with him. He took the three remaining grenades and shoved them into his pockets.
It looked like the Ghosts were dead, but there might be more fighting against fourth squad. They were pinned down behind a long building, and Lukov was issuing orders. An explosion was quickly followed by another, then fourth squad was moving again. They reversed course and took cover behind the warehouse a split second later when the walker opened fire on them with both miniguns. One cyborg went down, and by the time Lukov grabbed the cyborg by the arm to pull him to cover, all he was
able to retrieve was the upper half. The rest had vanished in a storm of bullets and sparks.
The one who’d been shot up was still alive but probably wouldn’t be for long. The lower half of his chassis was missing, which meant his spinal cord would be exposed. If he didn’t die right away, he would when the cerebrospinal fluid drained out and his brain shriveled like a sun-dried tomato. Or when infection set in. Either way, he was a goner.
Even though it was likely the cyborg knew it, he held on to his rifle. After speaking with Lukov for a moment, the Russian propped the remains of his body against the side of the building, allowing him to cover their rear toward the fence line. He’d keep fighting until the end.
Warren checked around the corner. The walker was marching toward them but had its guns pointed at the building fourth squad was taking cover behind. They were talking among themselves, but it didn’t look like anyone had a plan to escape. Suddenly, two stowed their rifles and began tearing at the building’s concrete wall with their hands. It would be a good plan if it worked. Going through the building, rather than around it, might give them enough cover to stay alive. The concrete looked like it was giving them trouble. They needed more time.
“Cover me,” Warren said to Poulton.
“What are you—“ he began to say when Warren leaped on top of the building. It only took him a second to realize the grenade he was reaching for wouldn’t be enough, at least not from a distance. There were no open ports on the thing.
Two pods on the outside, likely housing the power supply and computer components sat stationary on each side of the armored cockpit. On top of it sat an armored bubble, and on each side of that were the miniguns. There was only enough room for one person inside unless the CoWs had gotten creative with the setup. From where Warren was standing, he couldn’t spot a viewport, but there were plenty of other protrusions that might be serving as periscopes. Warren had to act fast before he was spotted.
