by B. V. Larson
She put her head on my shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure. I just do what I feel like in these situations.”
I could understand that, so I relaxed and tried to sleep, because that’s what I felt like doing. I actually managed it for a few minutes before she started talking again and woke me up.
“This bag really is luxuriously warm,” she said.
“Yes, it is. Now why don’t you pipe down and let me sleep?”
She fell silent for a time, but it didn’t last.
“Don’t you want to have sex?” she asked finally.
There it was, out in the open.
“Not if you’re still married.”
She sat up and looked me over curiously in the dim light. “You really are a strange one, James McGill.”
“You don’t know the half of it, lady,” Carlos said. His froggy voice came out of the darkness nearby, alarmingly close.
That kind of killed her mood at last. Della crawled out of my bag, gave me a tiny kiss on the forehead, and left. She went back to her own bed, and I sighed tiredly. I was out like a light after that, but I had troubled dreams for the few hours that remained of the night.
-32-
The gray stillness of dawn was split open by the roar of incoming fire. A bombardment began, one that consisted of green-lit falling objects. They reminded me of the globes they’d dropped on us back on Dust World. Those had been gas attacks. These globes couldn’t be gas—we were all enclosed in vac suits so gas was pointless.
I made my way out of my tent into the cold of early morning. I could feel that cold, even through my suit. It cut lines across my body wherever my suit folded up and allowed me to sense what it was really like outside my tiny enclosure.
“What do the squids think they’re doing?” Kivi demanded, coming up to stand next to me.
We watched as the green balls popped and liquid splashed the rocky walls of our shelter. They smoked there, melting the methane snow.
“I don’t know what that stuff is,” I said, “but I doubt it’s meant to refresh us. Everyone saddle-up! Get inside your dragons, now!”
This announcement was met with a general chorus of grumbling.
“I haven’t even taken a piss yet, Vet,” Carlos said.
My people scrambled to obey quickly enough, however, when they saw one of the green globes wobble into our sheltered area and touch our big tent.
The material smoked for a moment, then the tent disintegrated. It sagged like a popped balloon.
We climbed into our machines and got them moving. All around us, the infantry were ducking for whatever cover they could find in the cracks and crannies of the gully we were hiding in. I pitied the poor bastards. They didn’t have a nice temperature-controlled vehicle to hide inside of. They had to live like cockroaches exposed on the surface.
The genius of the squid attack became obvious when a rivulet of the green stuff ran down under the butts of a half-dozen crouching soldiers. There they were, one minute trying to look in every direction at once, then in the next, their suits were unraveling, exposing them to the brutal elements of Machine World.
People howled and hobbled. Their boots burned away, their legs smoked white. Any exposed skin quickly blistered due to the acidic liquid then froze to a purplish-gray as the frost had its way with them.
Before I could request orders from Centurion Graves, he gave them to me.
“McGill, it’s time to advance again. The enemy has zeroed our position and they’ll burn us out of here one way or another. I think it’s time we took the fight to them.”
“Right sir—which way?”
“Check your HUD map. Follow the tactical display. You’ll move straight upslope with Belter’s unit behind you. The rest of the cavalry will flank.”
“Uh…thanks, sir.”
I checked on my orders. There was no clear endpoint to our advance. If I was a betting man, I’d say Graves had tapped a likely spot for the enemy position then just ordered me to attack it, hoping there’d be someone to kill when I got there.
“What kind of intel have we got on the enemy positions?” I asked.
“Precious little. Natasha and about a dozen other techs flew buzzers uphill last night, but they were all knocked out before they were a kilometer out. We should have at least that far to go before we encounter serious resistance. It’s my opinion that the squids have retreated farther upslope and are bombarding us now to keep us pinned, stalling for time.”
“Your opinion, sir?”
“That’s right. Have you got a problem with your orders, McGill?”
“Not at all, sir. I’ll let you know when I find the slimy bastards.”
I closed the channel and sighed. I decided to relay our waypoint to the squad, but not to pass on the rest of Graves’ vague ideas. It was best if the squad believed we knew where the hell we were going.
This march was different. The enemy didn’t fire at us with small arms. Maybe they’d realized those attacks hadn’t been all that effective yesterday. In fact, they’d only served to pinpoint their locations for the bombardment Turov had launched at the end.
Instead, we marched into the blustery frozen silence of Machine World without facing resistance. It was eerie not knowing what might be a hundred meters ahead. The dragons to either of my flanks were churning uphill, scrabbling on the slippery rock. They were like dark shadows shrouded by mist.
Behind each dragon marched a dozen or more foot-soldiers. Now and then one fell and had to be helped up. I knew some were already injured but terrified to tell their commanders. Under these circumstances, a lame soldier was a liability that would best be put down to start over again at the legion bases at the bottom of this endless mountain.
“Vet?” called Kivi, who was on point. “There’s something—come look at this.”
I goaded my machine’s legs into a faster step. Soon, I was at her position.
What I noticed immediately was the mist. It was thinning out. There were gaps in the white sheets of stuff, like drifting breaks in a thick fog.
Not since I’d landed on this world had I found conditions so clear. I immediately communicated this fact to Graves.
“That’s only to be expected,” he said gruffly. “You’re in a high-altitude zone. You’ve passed beyond the fog layer, that’s all. Now, advance to your assigned coordinates and report in.”
Ordering my squad to hold their positions and to be ready for anything, I advanced into the open alone.
It was a strange feeling, walking out of a fog bank that covered most of a planet. For the first time since I’d set foot on Machine World, I saw the sky itself.
The heavens were blue-white. Another cloud-layer, higher than the one that we’d walked up out of, hung overhead. Those clouds looked fluffy and white. I found them strangely normal and inviting. After getting a good look, I retreated back into the mists.
“McGill?” Belter called. “I’m getting reports of the mist breaking up.”
“That’s right, Centurion. We’re getting up out of the fog layer at last.”
“That’s not good. Not good at all. Hold your position, please.”
“I’ve been ordered to advance to the point on your tactical display, sir. My orders are from Centurion Graves.”
“Hold your position, please,” she repeated crisply.
I hesitated then did as she asked. I ordered my squad to hunker down in the last shreds of mist.
After about a minute, Centurion Belter got back to me. “Do you know that your centurion is a callous prick?” she asked me.
“You must be talking about Graves,” I said. “And yes sir, that’s a fair assessment by any measure.”
“We’re going to do this, but we’re going to do this our way,” she said. “I want you to charge to the designated coordinates. My infantry will follow as fast as they can.”
“Uh…why the change of plan, sir?”
“Because I think the enemy is in the clear up there, waiting to ambush us. They
’ll cut my unit to pieces in the open air.”
“Your people did all right when we advanced on forces at the foot of this molehill. You can hide behind our hulls, just like before.”
“Listen McGill,” she said seriously. “They couldn’t see us before. Now, they’ll be able to use their scopes. We’re walking over bare rock and most of my people are wearing the equivalent of pajamas. They’ll shoot right through your legs and take my troops out, shields or no.”
“In that case why do you think Graves gave us these orders? Doesn’t he understand the danger?”
“Of course he does. He thought of this long ago—I think his techs knew about the break in the fog. The sensors from the ships overhead should have given him a warning. He wants us to attack so we’ll hold the enemy’s attention while the bulk of his force comes around a spur of rock and flanks.”
Thinking about it and looking over the maps in my cockpit, I had to admit she was probably right. We were decoys, distractions.
“You’re saying as long as we attack,” I said thoughtfully, “we’re doing our part of this mission for Graves—just not exactly how he’s ordered us to do it.”
“That’s right.”
I thought about it, but after about ten seconds of thinking, my com light was blinking again. It was Graves.
“McGill, what the hell are you doing up there? Get off your ass and get moving!”
“Yes, Centurion. Moving out now.”
After closing the channel, I opened my squad channel and added Belter to the list.
“Cavalry, it’s time to charge,” I said. “The enemy might not be exactly where the map indicates they are. When we take fire, we’ll veer toward that fire, and we’ll destroy the enemy when we meet them.”
Della spoke up. “Permission to engage shields, sir.”
“Denied. They’ll slow you down too much. You’re going to be left in the dust as it is with your heavier load-out. If you get in close enough to engage, you can turn the shields on at that time, at your discretion. Sound off, squad! This is it!”
They sounded off. No one seemed happy, but they were grimly determined. That was good enough for me.
We transferred power to the legs of our machines and switched off everything else except for basic sensors and weapons. Charging in a dragon was really a matter of resource management. You had to put as much power into the legs as you could without crippling the machine’s effectiveness when you reached the target.
“CHARGE!” I roared, my voice distorting over the com-link.
My dragon’s legs began to pump and all around me more than a dozen other vehicles did the same. We thundered about ten sweeping strides upslope before we were out of the fog and in the open.
How we must have looked to the enemy. Lumbering like giant predatory animals of metal, we tore up the slope with abandon. Titanium claws sparked and screeched on stone. Inside my cockpit, my vision bounced and lurched as we crossed uneven ground.
The infantry were racing behind us, but they were lost in the dust almost immediately. My lighter cavalry moved directly upslope at about sixty kilometers an hour over rough ground. This fact gave me a surge of pride. I wasn’t aware of any ground force in history that could advance faster under these conditions.
Some small part of me had been holding out hope that the officers were wrong. That the enemy wasn’t waiting for us to break out of the fog and become instant targets for everything on the mountain. I dared to think that the green acid-globes hadn’t been dropped on us to goad us into attacking. But these faint hopes were shattered almost immediately upon exiting the roiling fog.
“Incoming fire!” shouted one of my squad mates. I didn’t have time to look over my displays and identify him.
A storm of small-arms fire swept over my vehicle a second later. At first, it was all snap-rifles, I was pretty sure of that. They splattered us, pitting our armor, but they didn’t know enough to concentrate and penetrate—not yet at least.
More green acid-balls arced and fell. They had little effect on my cavalry, but I knew that the infantry in our wake would suffer. We charged on.
Inside my cockpit, it began to feel a little warm. The engine was revving and had gone from a purr to a steady roar.
“Break right, two o’clock!” I ordered. “Up on that snowy ridge—see them?”
We’d all spotted them by now. My HUD outlined them in red and drew little arrows that pointed down to them when they came into direct view. Squid infantry, I was sure of it.
As a group, we veered toward them. Their fire became almost frantic. Still, they weren’t focusing enough rifle fire on any single dragon to bring it down.
I began to think this wasn’t going to be suicide after all. We were only about three hundred meters from the enemy, and already my comrades were chugging out grenades. Enemy contacts blinked out when we scored a kill.
“Incoming missiles!” Della called. “We’ve got seven seconds! Six…five…four…”
“Spread out!” I ordered. “But keep advancing. If we get into the ranks of the infantry, they won’t be able to pound us with artillery without hitting their own troops.”
With a whoosh and boom, the first missile landed behind us, sending up shattered rock in a spray. A half-dozen more landed a second later. They were smart mini-missiles. The later members of the missile swarm learned from the hits or misses of the first ones.
Two dragons were taken out, struck dead and sent rolling down the mountain in a cascade of flame and fragmented metal. I didn’t even know who died—I didn’t have time to worry about that.
We reached the snowy ridge moments later. The squids, to their credit, rose up to meet us without showing an ounce of fear.
It was an uneven contest. We were encased in titanium with limbs powered by fusion. They were only determined balls of muscular flesh. We man-handled them, tearing off tentacles and throwing the writhing limbs down to steam in the snow. It was a slaughter, but I reminded myself it would have been just as grim if squids had caught and abused our light-troopers.
A dozen of the enemy went down before they got smart. They backed away, spraying concentrated fire at our legs. One machine went down on one knee—it was Carlos. I could see his nameplate. He stopped advancing, but he didn’t fall. He balanced painfully on his knees and used his grenade launchers to great effect. The squids tried to close with him to finish him off, but he stopped every attacker that loped in his direction with a well-aimed grenade in the guts.
The rest of them we tore apart. A full company of enemy squids were wiped out.
The troops cheered, and smoke roiled around us. “Centurion Graves,” I called, puffing inside my helmet. “We’ve met and defeated an enemy formation. We lost two dragons, and one more is damaged.”
“McGill,” he said, “I’m checking on your stats—you’re out of position. You left your infantry behind. Worse, you fought the engagement without my flanking troops to help.”
“Sir, would you have rather have had me stand on the slopes and wait? We were taking fire from every direction.”
“Right—those mini-missiles… Fine, I hereby approve of your tactical decision. In fact, I want you to repeat it.”
“Pardon me, sir?”
“Take the next ridge. Look upslope, man.”
I craned my dragon’s chassis back to gaze uphill. Now that we’d exited the fogbank, the mountain looked more imposing than ever. I could see it in all its pristine glory. The mountain was formed like many others but with the vertical look that all geologically young mountains had. A series of sweeping ridges and stair-stepped plateaus rolled upward seemingly to touch the sky itself.
Centurion Belter’s troops straggled in as I looked upward. They were puffing and spent. They’d covered the rough ground as quickly as they could, but I couldn’t expect them to keep up if we pressed onward.
“Sir,” I said to Graves, “Belter’s people can’t run any farther. They’ve reached us, but they need a rest. My dragons have
power-levels that are halfway down to the red, too. Besides, I just lost three vehicles, twenty percent of my force.”
“Are you complaining, Veteran?”
“I suppose that I am, sir.”
Graves fumed for a few seconds. “All right. Wait for the rest of the column. We’ll regroup and decide how to proceed. Hide your dragons under an overhang. There are more mini-missiles appearing on the screens now.”
These final words goaded me into action. I shouted for everyone to disperse and hug up against a chunk of solid rock.
We rode out the next storm of missiles and then endured out three more waves before Graves arrived with his much larger force.
Seeing what we were up against, Graves requested support from above. Turov launched an attack, and the mini-missile battery was silenced.
-33-
When we finally began moving upslope again, we had a lot more troops. There were about seventy dragons, nearly half Winslade’s remaining force, and about a thousand infantry.
Strung out in a long, ragged line, my dragons led the ground troops as before, providing them with cover. Graves still wanted to charge again if we ran into enemy resistance, but so far there wasn’t any.
Probably the strangest thing about our new formation was the personal presence of Primus Winslade himself. He was riding a dragon around in the rear ranks. This surprised me as I hadn’t known he’d been trained to operate one of the vehicles.
Carlos beeped my private channel, and I opened the connection with a sigh.
“What’s up, Carlos?”
“You know what’s up. I’m screwed.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I agreed.
This time, Carlos had a serious reason to complain. His machine had been too damaged to fix in the field. The techs had looked it over and shaken their heads. They left it behind in the snow, and he was transferred into the infantry. This had resulted in an unending fountain of complaints.
“This is what I get?” he demanded. “This is my legion’s idea of a hero’s thank-you?”
“That’s right,” I told him. “Only in Varus, it’s more of a heroic kick in the pants.”
