Matt was having a hard time keeping a straight face when he heard that. He turned to Mace, who seemed oblivious to the sparring match taking place behind him while he drove. Matt figured this must have been a common ritual between his soldiers. Perhaps some type of pre-op banter they engaged in before every mission.
“What was her name again?”
“The correct term is exotic dancer,” WarBarbie replied as a matter of factly. “And her stage name is Crystal Clear.”
Now it was Lord Gunny who burst out laughing. “Oh, man. That’s gold.”
“Sorry I asked,” Tractor replied.
WarBarbie looked at him and shrugged. “Can’t choose family, unfortunately.”
“No, but you can choose to stay away from them if needed,” he said.
“That’s what I’m doing. I hear she’s nice, though. Not that I’ll ever get to meet her.”
Tractor nodded in agreement then turned to Matt, who was now trying to appear as if he never heard any of the previous conversation. “Don’t worry, greenie. We only talk smack until we reach the outer perimeter.”
“Don’t mind me, I was enjoying it.”
“You should try and catch some sleep while you can. If anything goes down, it won’t be until we pass the green zone.”
“How long until we reach that?”
Tractor shrugged while switching on a small portable gaming console. “About an hour or so.” He looked up from his screen to see Matt fidgeting with the harness across his chest, trying to loosen it a little. “So, enjoying yourself out here yet? Having fun?”
“Way too much fun,” Matt replied with a sarcastic smirk. “Guess I’m still settling in.”
Tractor and WarBarbie shared a look across the aisle and sniggered. “Settling in?” WarBarbie said under her breath, scrunching her face up to imply bewilderment.
Matt gave a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to deflect their reaction. “I’ve been told the hardest part is the first few weeks.”
“That’s a crock of horseshit,” WarBarbie replied with a lacing of venom. “The hardest part is the last few weeks when you’re counting down days, hours, and seconds. You can’t wait to climb into that cryo-pod, knowing the next time you wake up, you’ll almost be home.”
“You’ve been home?”
“Not yet. I was set to rotate out but extended my tour. I’m a Bog lifer.”
Matt watched as she started taping some of her ammo cartridges together with pink gaffer tape before shoving them back into her oversized supply pouches. “Greenie, my advice is to take Tractor’s advice. Catch a nap while you can. It’s the only sleep you’ll be getting for the next two days. That’s not a suggestion either. Consider that an order.”
Matt gave her a nod and gently leaned against the headrest of his chair, allowing the cushioning of his helmet to press against the back of his skull. Before closing his eyes, he gave the retinal command for his HUD to darken the translucency of his faceplate.
But as he went to close his eyes, heavy rock music started pounding through the TAV’s intercom system, courtesy of Lord Gunny. It suddenly sounded as if he’d just been dropped into the middle of a mosh pit at some metal concert. The music was violent and relentless; the perfect soundtrack for driving through a war. Their very own battle anthem.
Matt sighed and turned to the small viewport behind WarBarbie, watching Camp Rhino’s fence line shrink into the morning heat. Sleep might just have to wait a while, he thought.
Nineteen
When Matt sensed the TAV was slowing down, it dawned on him that somehow, with the relentless throb of music blasting through the vehicle, he had still managed to doze off for a while. For exactly how long was unknown, but he figured it must have been for at least an hour. But upon hearing a barrage of excited commotion in place of Lord Gunny’s music, his groggy eyes snapped open, and instinctively, he reached for his rifle.
But as he did so, he could see WarBarbie and Tractor down with Lord Gunny in the turret basket, whooping, and hollering. Mace was standing next to them. They were all observing something through the three slender viewports that encased part of the turret.
Matt quickly unbuckled himself and moved along to see what all the fuss was about.
Tractor popped his head down to see Matt moving towards them. He excitedly ushered him along. “Check this out, greenie. We’re taking bets if you want in.”
Matt crouched as he entered the basket and slithered up past the gunner seat to join them.
Outside, just off to the side of a rocky crevice, a thick cloud of dust swirled like a mini-tornado. Matt could just make out two, dark scorpion-shaped masses churning inside. They were battling each other relentlessly. As they continued to writhe, he began to understand what he was looking at. He had read about these dangerous creatures on the trip out.
“Hellstings get really horny this time of year,” Lord Gunny informed him. “Once a suitable female is found, the males must fight for the honor of mating with her. It’s a kinda slay-to-get-laid type deal.”
“I’m sure you know all about that,” Tractor chuckled dryly.
“Pick your horse, greenie.” WarBarbie sounded as if she was now the galaxy’s shadiest bookie. “Ten creds is the minimum buy-in. Winner takes fifty. You in?”
Matt watched as the five Praetorians from Spear Tip 1-7, and the two truck drivers behind it stood perched against the viewports of their cabs, watching the brutal fight unfold below them with intensity, egging the two beasts on like ringside coach’s. These were box seats to an alien deathmatch, and they were all enjoying every second of it.
Matt pivoted his attention back to the fight, watching the hideous creatures gore each other with their huge pincers and needle-like stingers that cracked like bullwhips. “OK, I’ll put twenty down on the one with the blue abdominal markings.”
“Good call,” replied Lord Gunny.
“Done!” confirmed WarBarbie. “Better start transferring those creds to me now, greenie. Your boy’s about to get rocked.”
“How can you tell?”
“Only grubs have those blue markings, which means the other Hellsting is a brood elder. The stupid grub’s thinking with his dick and not his brain. Too young and dumb to realize he already signed his own death warrant.”
“You seem pretty sure about that.”
“Just keep watching, greenie.”
Matt turned back to watch the fight outside, now a little worried he did just back the loser.
“She’s bullshitting you, greenie,” snickered Mace. “Grubs can hold their own against elders. That’s why they take them on… although, in this instance… oops.”
Matt watched in dismay as the young grub was suddenly flung onto its back, lashing madly as the brood elder viscously stabbed it in the chest with a glistening stiletto of venom.
The occupants of Spear Tip 1-7 roared with whoops and hollers again, like they were all backing their favorite racehorse. But Tractor, Matt, and the Axe brothers over in their rigs fell silent. Their horse was beat.
Matt grimaced as the brood elder proceeded to gnash its huge pincers, disemboweling the dead grub like it was filleting a freshly caught fish.
WarBarbie whooped like she’d just won the lottery. “Damn, no pussy for your boy tonight, Tractor. Pay up, bitch.”
“You still owe me forty creds from last time.”
“That’s a negative. You know that was called too late.”
“Well, I ain’t paying you shit.”
“You don’t pay up, next time you fall asleep, you better make sure your back is against the wall.”
“Go eat a bag of dicks!”
WarBarbie laughed even louder. “You first.”
Tractor turned to Mace with concern. “Cap, I think she’s off her meds again.”
Mace laughed as he turned away from the viewport. “Then it might be best to pay up what you owe, Tractor.”
As the others laughed in agreement, Tractor shook his head with denial,
WarBarbie turned to Matt with a victorious smirk. “You too, greenie. We make it back to Rhino; I better see you standing in front of a cred console making that transfer.”
Matt raised his eyebrows and sighed with defeat. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”
“You bet your ass you will.”
“Well, you know where I live. It’s not like I can run off anywhere.”
Mace grinned as he brushed past them and began to climb out of the turret basket. “Greenie’s catching on quick. WarBarbie never loses.”
WarBarbie slowly nodded her head. “You know it, cap.”
Mace barked his order as he moved towards the bow of the vehicle. “Hustle up, Praetorians! I want your heads back in the game.”
As the others exited the basket, Lord Gunny hopped back into his gunner chair, bringing his HUD and targeting systems to life with a wave of his hand.
When Mace reached the troop cab, he spoke through the internal comms unit of his helmet. “Fun’s over, kids. Let’s saddle up. We need to reach Maruka Ridge by nightfall, otherwise, we’ll be up to our necks with Dupes.”
“Roger that,” replied Sanchez on comms from the lead TAV. “Moving out now, cap.”
“Solid copy. We’re moving,” replied Casper from the drivers’ cab of his rig.
Matt followed Tractor and WarBarbie back into the troop cab, watching Mace climb into the drivers’ cab and take his seat, flicking switches and gauges on the overhead panels. He looked like he was born for this – an iron centaur, half-man, half-armored vehicle. “Hurry the fuck up, greenie! Get your ass plugged back in!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Matt quickly hustled to his seat and began fumbling with the harnesses again as the convoy lurched to life once more, a metal serpent slithering towards the heart of an unforgiving enemy.
Through a viewport behind Tractor, Matt spotted the enormous sun sliding closer to the horizon. They’d been traveling for the better part of a day, and although mostly uneventful, Matt could tell by the sudden shift of tension inside the vehicle that it was now game time. Night was approaching. He could feel the difference in mood. Even the landscape had taken on a more menacing appearance.
Twenty
Matt sat there watching WarBarbie perched against her own viewport, scanning the passing landscape with thermal binoculars.
Next to him, Tractor carefully watched a real-time satellite feed on his handheld console, only pausing occasionally to switch the feed’s thermal spectrum to infra-red.
Suddenly, Sanchez’s voice crackled to life on everyone’s comms. “Cap, we’ve got something up ahead. A structure off our nine.”
“Copy that,” Mace replied. “Tractor, bring it up please.”
“Aye-aye, cap. Link’s up.”
“Tell me what you see.”
Tractor tapped his screen and a large holographic 3D map bloomed to life in front of Matt. There was a partially destroyed structure in the middle of it. Rough and pock-marked from some previous battle, it appeared to be an abandoned base of some kind. Matt could tell by the structural design that it was not human.
“It’s an enemy base, sir. Or at least it was… looks like it’s abandoned… already bagged and tagged.”
“By whom?”
“Marines. Part of a joint recon element between USMSC, and an ASIF Mobile Exploration Team with the 73rd. They were looking for bioweapons and chems. According to this, it was locked down on the twenty-second of June last year. Approximately seventy enemy soldiers were nested inside. After cleaning house, they discovered an extensive trench network in a broken star pattern. They concluded Wraith command in this region had decided to dig in and use it as some type of staging area to attack Rhino. According to these declassified op-logs, there was also one railgun position, and no ground or air vehicles. Looks like they caught them early… oh, wait— those sneaky sons of bitches…”
“What is it?”
“Says here the Wraith techies even managed to tap into one of our relays – about fourteen klicks from Rhino. They dug a tunnel, dismantled security protocols, then used our own reactor to power one of their railguns... the balls on these guys.”
“Anything else?”
“Negative, sir. She’s a donut.”
“No such thing in the Bog, Tractor.” Mace switched back to the encrypted convoy channel. “Spear Tip 1-7, I want heads on a swivel as we pass these coordinates.” Mace tapped some numbers on the console of his dash. “We’re going to veer slightly away from that base and alter our course. Once we pass it, we’ll return to our primary route.”
“Roger that,” Sanchez responded over comms. “Punching in new coordinates now.”
“Casper, how are we looking up there from your rig?”
“Nothing but an ugly desert, boss. We’re clear.”
“What’s your field of view?”
“About a mile in each direction.”
“Copy that,” Mace replied. “Keep those eyes open.”
Matt caught Tractor and WarBarbie share an uneasy look before going back to their monitoring tasks. Feeling the vehicle begin to vibrate even more now, he craned his head down the aisle to look through Mace’s windshield.
The rig in front of them was spewing black exhaust and dust into their path, making it almost impossible to see. Matt could tell the convoy was speeding up.
“What’re you thinking, cap?” WarBarbie yelled to Mace; her fierce brown eyes still glued to her thermal binoculars.
Before answering her, Mace turned away from the convoy in front of him to look out over the rocky expanse.
There were dark trees and patches of scrub that looked like mesquite. It had grown so thick over some areas; the desert floor was no longer visible.
“What am I thinking?” he mused with a deepening frown. “I’m thinking how nervous the term abandoned enemy base is making me feel.”
“I hear you,” WarBarbie responded, performing one final sweep with her binoculars. “Tip of the spear’s a lonely place, cap.” She flipped her faceplate back down and tucked her binoculars away to ready her assault rifle, tilting it slightly to check the digital readout on the side of her ammo cartridge.
Even over the roar of the TAV’s engine, Matt could hear Mace’s voice getting tenser by the minute. This was a man who did not startle easily in the field, so the fact that he wasn’t even trying to hide his concern was a clear indication something bad was coming their way.
“Talk to me, Sanchez. Anything?” Mace barked into his comms, his eyes darting across the foreboding terrain. The sun was also starting to fall, causing shadows to appear more elongated and threatening.
“Negative, cap. We’re still clear.”
“Listen, push those needles to nothing lower than seventy. Casper and Marcus, that goes for you too. No stalls, and no dead pedals until we’re clear of that base.”
“Roger that,” Marcus replied on comms from the second rig.
Mace was now gripping the steering levers like he was holding on to them for dear life. “This shit’s already starting to feel like a cursed op.”
Tractor briefly looked up from his tablet with a smirk. “Epsilon is a cursed op, cap. It’s one giant cursed op. Just look at this fucking place.”
Mace curled his lip upon hearing that. “That’s why I want eyes open. That goes for you too, greenie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lord Gunny!”
“Yo!”
“What’re you seeing back there?”
“Nothing but rocks and dust. Sun’s getting low, though.”
“Any sign of that base?”
“No, it’s over yonder. The rock shelves here are too high. I can’t see any sign of it.”
“Tractor, where are we now exactly?”
Tractor glanced down at the holographic map he had now shrunken. It was hovering just above his forearm console, lazily rotating. “Yeah, we’re passing it now… on our ten o’clock… about three klicks to the west of us… still picking up zero activity. Whateve
r that place is, it appears to be Dupe-free.”
“Those Marines must’ve locked her up good,” said WarBarbie. “Spooked ‘em from coming anywhere near here again.”
“Don’t shoot your load just yet,” cautioned Mace. “There’s a reason why they call this area near Maruka Ridge, the Gore Barrel.”
“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “I lost a friend out here in the barrel during my first year.”
“Then you must know what that makes us now, right? The fish.”
“Cap, have you forgotten why they call me WarBarbie?”
Mace nodded without taking his eyes off the convoy. “Ah, huh. She who has the most scalps. But you gotta admit, this all feels a little too easy. We’ve spent the last nine hours traveling deeper into enemy territory, and we’ve seen nothing except sand and rocks.”
“That might be the only thing out here,” Tractor added. “This area has been swept prior. Maybe we should be grateful for that. I’m totally OK with a non-eventful trip.”
“Again, no such thing in the Bog. All this easy driving has my bullshit meter pinging off the hook right now. Feels like an ambush waiting to go down. I can almost taste it in the air.”
Matt kept his eyes on the viewport behind WarBarbie. The endless spires of rock that loomed in the distance only caused his nerves to increase. And despite the cab’s AC blowing down on him, along with his combat uniform’s own internal cooling systems, he could still feel sweat rolling down his face. The anticipation was becoming unbearable.
Matt suddenly jolted with fright from something loud and hard impacting the windshield in the drivers’ cab with a sharp crack.
There was a tiny spiderwebbing in the upper right-hand corner of the ballistic glass, like a small bullet hole. They had just been struck by a powerful object.
Suddenly, Mace ripped the steering levers and swerved as the big rig in front of them began to fishtail.
Matt and Tractor were thrown against their restraints. WarBarbie nearly went tumbling down the aisle like a runaway boulder, catching herself on a support girder.
The Soldier Page 15
