The SATURN – Standard Assault and Tactical Unmanned RecoN vehicle – were somewhat clunky looking Unmanned Ground Vehicles on caterpillar tracks. I opened the specs for the SATURN on my bionic eye. SATURNs were designed as rough-terrain vehicles. They carried a belt-fed 5.56 mm rifle and a Milkor MGL on a turret. Their maximum speed was 30 miles per hour, but performed optimally at 15 mph. They were 3.2 feet long, 250 pounds, with a bullet resistance rating of 008.
The SABERCAT was more streamlined, looking somewhat like a robotic cheetah with no head. This was a new addition to the house, along with the moat. I pulled up specs for the SABERCAT on my bionic eye. The SABERCAT – Special Assault Biomimetic Engineered Reconnaissance and Containment All-Terrain unmanned vehicle – could either run fully automated or be manually controlled. They carried a forward-facing .50 caliber fully automatic belt fed machine gun, and two 4.45 mm rifles with RPG launchers on two independent ball-in-socket turrets angled 45 degrees off the robots back. They had a maximum speed of 60 miles per hour, with optimal performance up to 40 mph, on land. They stood 3 feet tall and 5 feet long with a weight of 450 pounds. They were coated with a thin layer of the same polymer as our exoskeleton suits, giving them a bullet resistance rating of 019.
As I scanned across the property, the water stagnating in the moat caught my attention. Spectral analysis done by my bionic eye – which wasn’t terribly accurate unless done in very particular conditions – indicated that more than just water filled the moat.
“Assholes used a years’ worth of drought rations to fill that fucking thing,” Major Riviera said as I came back down.
Everyone’s armor was equipped except the helmets, making them several inches taller.
“I think they’ve laced that water with fertilizer or something,” I said.
“Sorta like that vegan shit Ross eats,” agent Cooper joked, pointing at Coleman Ross, a tall black man. He and all the other security agents laughed.
“It’s called kale, shit-for-brains,” Ross said, “eat a goddamn vegetable once in a while.”
“Let’s keep it down,” Colonel Reynolds said in a hushed voice as he placed the exoskeleton helmet on, completing the sleek, camouflaged suit.
Darren walked into the garage, followed by the medic Ellen Malloy. She had a pale face covered in freckles, head topped with a short, brilliantly red mop of hair. Her striking green eyes and bright hair clashed with her drab, dark blue LoC Security medic uniform.
Darren announced in a matter-of-fact tone, “They have a drone.”
“Them little ground shits?” Ross asked, “we know.”
“No,” Darren said, “UAV.”
Everyone fell silent, looking up at the dark, cloudless sky out the garage door as if it were coming right for us. Nothing.
“What makes you say that?” I broke the quiet.
“Seen it pass in fronta the moon,” Darren said, stepping back out into the driveway, “watch.”
The team shuffled outside, looking up at the moon. Everyone stood silent for a few moments. Finally, an unmistakable shape passed in front of the large waning moon. A few agents sighed with exasperation.
“What kind ya think that is?” Coleman Ross asked, turning to look at us with wide eyes.
“Based on the make of those UGVs,” Major Riviera said, pacing back into the garage door before turning back around, “probably a Benecorp MV-U Hellraiser Drone.”
“They carry what, twelve of those LVT-Hellraiser missiles?” agent Brie, a tall, black woman asked, folding the fingers of her exoskeleton clad hands across the top of the red handkerchief wrapped around her head.
“Yes,” I said, looking at the specs for the MV-U Hellraiser on my bionic eye.
“You thinkin’ of lettin’ that shit fire at us till it runs out?” Ross asked.
“They were expecting us,” Colonel Reynolds said, looking to me, jaw clenched so tight it shook.
“They aren’t fully prepared, though,” I said, “nobody else has reported these new additions. It looks like they put everything into this one house.”
“We can focus all of our attention on the less guarded houses,” Reynolds said, his grim gaze still on me.
“I think we need to proceed,” I said, “the longer we wait, the more prepared they’ll get.”
And tackling this one will be great marketing…
“Do you think they even have any of the kids at this one?” Ellen Malloy asked.
“They brought in transport trucks,” I said, “but they haven’t taken them away yet,” I shrugged, “if we find out they don’t have the kids here anymore, then you can target the house without worrying about injuring them.”
“That moat won’t be any trouble,” Major Riviera said, her gaze across the flat yard to the trafficker’s house in the distance, “it’s what, six feet wide? These XDS-023 exos can clear that easy.”
“That’s not the problem,” I said, “If the kids are still there, then we need to get them across that thing, too. All I could see was a single flat-bottomed boat sitting near the driveway.”
“I’m mostly worried about that UAV.” Colonel Reynolds said, “and the SABERCAT. Don’t think a few folks with pea-shooters’ll be much of a problem. The SATURNs might slow us down, but with these exos, I’m confident we can take ‘em out without much hassle.”
“Is there anything that can be done about the UAV?” I asked.
Aaron Reynolds pondered the question a moment. “Never gone up against one. Might blow it outta the sky if we could hit the damn thing.”
“They’ll be usin’ the same tech’s us,” Darren said, looking to me.
“That’s right,” I said, “it’ll have that zero-day exploit,” I looked to Reynolds, “if you can get me in there, I can get on that tech and override the UAV.”
“Alright then,” Colonel Reynolds said, “now we just gotta wait for everyone else to be in position.”
By six thirty in the morning every unit was in position. Beams of sunlight spread across the horizon, lifting the dark. No commotion stirred within the bulky house.
“Corporal Roman said their target surrendered, too,” Aaron Reynolds said.
Of the twelve houses we were hitting, four surrendered to our people without putting up a fight, coming out and setting their weapons down and letting the security agents go in and take the children out. The traffickers had no reason to fight back.
“Everyone givin’ up so easy, maybe we oughta just go knock on the door,” Agent Brie said over my earpiece.
“You volunteering, Beebee?” Ross asked.
“Not with that fuckin’ robot flyin’ around,” she said.
“Everyone good to go?” Aaron Reynolds asked.
All the team leaders checked in and Reynolds gave them the go ahead. As soon as he did, all six suited agents bounded across the yard at astonishing speed in their exoskeletons. Darren and I sat in our transport van, waiting for the signal to come disable the UAV. I watched, zoomed in with my bionic eye.
Gunfire went off. The suited agents fanned out. Popping M16 fire from between slats on the boarded-up windows joined the SATURN’s rifle cracks. The small caliber bullets had little effect on the exoskeletons, all six zigzagging toward the moat.
An echoing blast reverberated as one of the agent’s arm-mounted 20 mm guns decimated a SATURN. Shards of metal hurled out the back end of the robot, blasting holes in the house’s wood siding. Three of the security guards easily jumped the moat, the other three kneeling to fire from across. Two more booming discharges rang out, another SATURN knocked back into the house, a chunk of the wall crashing in.
“Careful!” Reynolds said.
The SABERCAT came sprinting around from the other side of the house. Major Riviera leapt back as an RPG exploded in front of her, another exploding near the moat and sending chunks of earth into the tainted water.
“Take it out,” Colonel Reynolds said.
Agents Cooper and Culver flanked in opposite directions around the UGV. Brie and Mo
ore continued with 5.56 mm bursts at the house. The SABERCAT accelerated, sending chunks of dried dirt flying behind it.
“Shit!” Cooper said, seeing the UGV come toward him.
Cooper jumped as the .50 caliber opened fire, bullets spraying past him. An RPG exploded, sending Cooper skidding across the parched lawn. Culver fired his .20 mm, the blast ringing above the sound of trafficker’s M16 fire, just missing the UGV.
The SABERCAT circled around with astonishing speed, opening up with the .50 cal again when it spotted Reynolds. The Colonel fired a grenade, the SABERCAT juking around the explosion as it charged, legs pumping, firing an RPG. Colonel Reynolds howled as the explosions threw him back like a rag doll.
“Over here, you fuck!” Major Riviera shouted, launching a grenade from the side, scoring a direct hit.
The SABERCAT went tumbling over the packed earth, stopping near Agent Brie. It tipped back onto its three remaining legs, stumbled and fell. The left turret turned, firing another RPG, widely missing Major Riviera. Agent Brie turned, firing her 20 mm into the flailing UGV, knocking the turret off. Agent Cooper sprinted over, pumping another 20 mm into it before sliding to a stop next to it, using the powerful grip strength of his exo suit to crush the UGVs legs.
“It’s down,” Major Riviera said, “Darren! Get in the fucking house and-”
The world seemed to stop and hold its breath as a strange hum surged to uncomfortable volume, vibrating the van before an earsplitting explosion erupted across the farmhouse’s yard. Preston Culver disappeared in the savage burst, chunks of earth and body parts soaring above the roof of the house. The other agents were thrown back. The siding of the house splintered, transport vans lifting several inches onto two wheels before crashing back down.
The shockwave shook our van, cracks snaking across the windshield.
“What the fuck was that?” Riviera shouted.
“Jesus Christ!” Brie screeched.
“Oh, God,” Ross moaned, “Oh, fuckin’ hell!”
The yard where Agent Culver stood was obliterated, a crater surrounded by burning grass. The UAV swooped past, barely enough speed left to get back up into the air. Pieces of dry dirt and exo suit debris clattered down onto the roof of the van. One of the agents, still laying on the lawn, fired at the UAV as it struggled upward, the 20 mm missing and blasting a hole out the roof of the house.
The specs on my eye said that the UAV was actually a new Benecorp model MV-X Iron Tempest Drone.
“Christ, it has a fucking rail gun!” I shouted as M16 fire picked up again. I looked to Darren. “Fucking go! We gotta stop that thing!”
More jumbled shouting sounded over my earpiece. Darren looked numbly to me, shaky hand working on automatic as he started the van and accelerated forward.
The vehicle bounced across the lawn, careening toward the house. Several bullets bit into the roof, screeching through metal. Darren yelled something. I ducked in my seat, more cracks webbing across the windshield as bullets rained down.
Darren jerked the wheel, throwing me against the door. Tires bounced near the edge of the smoldering crater, filling our vehicle with smoke. Darren veered back the other way, tossing me body into the center armrest. More bullets rent through metal. Another 20 mm shot streaked through the air as Darren skidded to a stop near the driveway.
“How do we…”
“Oh, shit,” I said.
Both of us looked in horror as men in old Kevlar EXO:B-009 exoskeleton suits, holding .45 caliber rifles, poured out the back of the transport trucks. Around twenty of them.
Darren accelerated. Rifles thundered. Bullets chewed the back of the van. People shouted over my earpiece. Gunfire rang out in an almost demented unbroken sound, as if it were the world’s ambient noise.
At least two people followed us. Darren zigzagged toward the back yard, dodging around two LoC security agents. The seat belt dug into me as the van bounced. I lurched, Darren attempting to maintain control as a tire blew out. I held on as the vehicle fishtailed onto the corn field, stalks thrashing against the van. Tires slipped over muddy terrain, sprinkler water tapping against the outside as it struggled to keep traction.
The window beside me shattered. Chunks of glass sprayed over my lap. I clumsily drew my pistol, looking out at our two pursuers rushing through the two-foot corn stalks. Their legs were nimbler in the mud than our tires. Behind them the chaos of the battlefield raged, the agents engaged with the new flood of suited guards.
Darren spun the van into a U-turn, throwing my view off, almost flipping it over as we slid across mud. The two guards skidded to a stop, surprised as Darren accelerated toward one. The van fishtailed, throwing back a geyser of muck.
The guard fired his.45 caliber, completely collapsing the shattered windshield. I shot blindly out my broken window at the other guard, the spraying water and bouncing van rendering my aim useless. Darren’s target dove to the side. As if anticipating which direction the guard would go, Darren veered over, the side of the van sliding into him. He cried out as tires rumbled and trounced over his body.
Darren stopped the van, panic in his blood-masked face. Without thinking I jumped out, feet landing in thick mud. The other guard advanced. His .45 caliber cracked, another hole biting into the van’s side. I fell to the ground. Another shot. I rolled under the van. The guard Darren hit shouted something. I pointed my pistol to his panicked, mangled face and pulled the trigger, blood spraying out the other side of the van.
“Holy shit!” Darren screamed, blood spattering his feet.
I grabbed the guard’s rifle and pulled. It was tethered to the suit. More shots went off. The rifle rent loose, but didn’t come off. Darren fired his pistol in panic. Bullets tore into the van. I tugged the rifle. No luck.
I swung my legs over, jamming them onto the frame at the corpse’s shoulder and pulled up, hearing a creak. Splashing footsteps grew closer. The rifle budged. Darren shouted. Finally pulled it free.
Gasping from effort, I rolled out from under the van. The other guard’s mud-caked feet stood right in my face. He swore. I thrust the .45 caliber rifle up into his crotch beneath the Kevlar chest piece and fired. The kickback threw the gun into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. The guard reeled back, blood erupting from the top of his torso.
The surging hum of the MV-X’s rail gun echoed out across the field again.
“Watch out!” Reynolds shouted.
Everything quieted for a moment before the monstrous explosion. The shock wave prevented air from entering my lungs. Ears ringing. I sputtered, eyes bulging. Chunks of earth clattered down around me. More shouts and curses came up over my earpiece, demanding us to fall back.
Gasping, I tried scrambling to my feet. Lungs burned. I slipped, falling backwards in the mud. Air finally reached my lungs. I coughed, moaning with pain. I pushed myself up again, covered in mud, still coughing. I picked up the .45 caliber rifle and jumped into the van, not caring about the glass covering my seat.
Darren looked on in shock until I yelled to him. He shakily pulled himself into the van and started it, accelerating forward toward the house. I set the barrel of the large caliber rifle down on the dashboard, aiming it out the missing windshield, resting the butt on the seat back. A guard came into view, pursuing one of the agents, and I fired, recoil absorbed by the seat. The guard’s torso blew apart and he tumbled to the grass. Darren swerved around him, cursing.
We drove back into the neighbor’s yard. There were now two railgun craters, both at least fifteen feet across and two feet deep. The grass for five feet around them vaporized, another five feet around that burning. Splinters and holes pocked the side of the house from the shock wave.
The security agents regrouped at the neighboring house. The remaining traffickers hid behind the transport trucks just outside of the moat, taking shots from around their cover. The LoC Security agent’s arm-mounted 20 mm guns could easily penetrate the vans, but the house behind them provided their main cover – the agents didn’t want
to accidentally hit any children inside. Other traffickers took potshots from the second story of the house.
A stalemate.
Darren looped the van far around the trafficker’s house, back into our base’s yard, to stay out of the no man’s land. As we approached, I saw only four of our people, their exo suits dirty and beat up. The fighting had wound down to a few stray bullets being fired off just to ward people away.
“We need to hurry up and get rid of that fucking thing,” Major Riviera growled.
“We’re going to need cover,” I said.
“We ain’t equipped for this kinda shit,” Agent Ross said.
“Somebody ask for cover?” an unfamiliar voice said.
“Major Ellison? Is that you?” Major Riviera said, “Christ, I’m glad to hear your voice.”
His laughter came over my earpiece, “we came as fast as we could after our target surrendered. All of the houses are surrendering.”
“Sept ours,” Ross said, “ain’t that a sunuvabitch.”
“Good,” Major Riviera aid, “we need to get our people into that house.”
“Roger,” Major Ellison said, “Colonel Reynolds is already sending us the specs.”
“You ready?” I said, looking to Darren.
Face pale and sweaty, streams of blood drying to his skin, he nodded, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands.
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter 17
Crackling gunfire ignited when our newly reinforced team advanced. LoC Security agents clad in desert camouflaged XDS-023 exoskeleton suits spread over the side yard of the trafficker’s house, weaving through the rail gun craters. Darren drove the bullet riddled van toward the driveway, bouncing over dead grass. The ten suited agents engaged the traffickers, their 5.56 mm rifles tearing the two transport trucks the enemy hid behind to ribbons.
Bursts of bullets rained down from the gaps of boarded up windows on the second floor. Darren zigzagged over the parched lawn as new streams of light came shining down through holes in the roof. Dry air and dust blew into the open cab. I gripped the .45 caliber rifle, keeping it aimed through the missing windshield.
Incarnate- Essence Page 30
