The two marines reached the zip lines and in addition the hooks on the handlebars they also clipped on their own carabiners. Each of the marines had a small spool of high tension wire on their hip belts that fed to the bottom of the clips, as a failsafe in case the hooks gave out under their weight.
Nearly three stories down were several safety nets, but neither of the marines had any interest in finding out if the nets would break their fall before hitting the fetid, oily looking water below.
Samuel wrapped one hand around the bars and flexed his arm to limber it up for what came next as he observed their future landing zone.
Presently, there were only a handful of corpses, presumably Reekers, from the look of them. The Reekers, or most of them that Samuel could see clearly in the semi-darkness of the settlement, were bald. Male and female alike had shaved pates and wore heavy raincoats, along with gloves, boots, and crude handmade re-breathers.
The Reaper helmet display showed low-level toxins in the air and water, both organic and inorganic in nature, which explained the Reeker 'uniforms'. The heavy jackets protected them from the continuous precipitation falling from above, most of it a combination of condensation from the handful of heated tunnels and the organic life in the gigantic chamber. However, some of the light rain was actually dripping from various micro-abrasions in the pipes and containers, all of which fell from above onto the settlement.
Perhaps the shaved heads were some manner of hygiene management in the dank environment, or it was possible that it was simply their hair falling out as a result of some substance in the area. The re-breathers no doubt aided the Reekers in daily existence since the stench would be overwhelming were one to remove their mask or helmet.
The marine could see that there was no obvious weapon type amongst the Reekers he could make out, much like the Haggard Sons; they fought with anything they could get their hands on. Such was life and war in downspire.
George Tuck was cutting loose with his flamer and already a huge swathe of the outer settlement, one story above them, was a smoking blaze. Samuel could see Boss Lucinda fighting her way through a series of shanties, barely stopping in her push towards the Basin hatch.
Samuel nodded at Spender and lifted his legs as he used his hand to throw the release on his zip line. As Samuel sailed across the open air space between the launch pad and the landing zone he could see that he was passing over a great interior lake of sewage three stories down. The settlement was built around it, with some buildings and platforms jutting out over the lake. A crisscross of zip lines and single file rope bridges also connected the circular settlement.
Most of the Reekers were too busy engaging the other marines or the remaining cor-sec troopers to spare him any attention, though as Samuel flew through the air he could feel and hear errant rounds whizzing past him.
Both Samuel and Spencer were holding onto the bars with one hand while they used the other to hold their combat rifles up so that they could fire from the hip as they approached the landing zone. While he had seen no sentries posted at the zone when he and Spencer first reached the launch pad, Samuel could see now that a lone Reeker had taken up position and was attempting to shoot them down.
The two marines bracketed the Reeker with semi-automatic fire and pushed him out into the open, where more rounds of continuous fire riddled him with holes as he flopped to the ground. Spencer held his rifle at the ready and continued to fire at another Reeker who appeared from a makeshift doorway while Samuel de-coupled himself from the line. The Reeker caught a round in the throat and fell back through the doorway choking.
Spencer only had two rounds left in his magazine, but he dared not lower his weapon until Samuel had de-coupled him and then re-loaded his own rifle. Once Samuel was locked and loaded, he stepped forward and covered the area while Spencer slapped in a fresh magazine. In a matter of seconds Spencer was ready and Samuel took the lead.
As the two marines plunged deeper into the more sturdy sections of the city they could tell that there was a raucous firefight going on ahead of them. The sporadic pot shot weapon signatures that filled the outer edges of the city, nearest the water, faded into background noise as the marines followed a trail of carnage towards the thunder of a more concentrated conflict.
The marines came to a gangplank dead end and were forced to go into the shanty buildings. Once they had passed through several buildings without having to force a door or break a lock they began to see that the Reekers lived a somewhat communal lifestyle. Samuel moved through what appeared to be a bedroom, though it was a wreck. Bullet holes had chewed up most of the room, and near the back of the room was the body of a cor-sec trooper.
Samuel was about to pull aside a ragged canvas drape when he was stopped short by the sound of voices in the shack beyond. The marines shared a glance and Spencer took up position on the other side of Samuel. Sliding his boarding knife free, Spencer used it to gently part a section of the canvas enough to partially see inside the room. He looked at Samuel and displayed three fingers for three shooters and then pointed at his knife, eliciting a nod from Samuel.
The Reapers slung their rifles and prepared their blades, then held their position until the sound of the Reekers guns going empty gave them their cue. Samuel flung aside the canvas to make room for Spencer, who rushed into the room, charging straight at the three Reekers inside.
Samuel followed closely and in seconds he was plunging his blade into the neck of a woman who had been attempting to chamber a shotgun round before he reached her. Spencer buried his knife to the hilt in the midsection of a man, with the tip angled upwards so that as the tall marine went from crouching to standing, the enemy's heart was pierced.
Unfortunately, the third Reeker had not paused to reload, but only stopped shooting long enough to clear a stove-pipe jam in his weapon. The rifle's action had clamped down on a spent shell's tip instead of ejecting it. The Reeker pointed his rifle at Spencer as the marine jerked his knife from the first enemy and turned to rush the shooter.
The Reeker reacted swiftly, chopping his hand over the action of the rifle, dislodging the spent casing and sending it bouncing off of Spencer's faceplate. The impact was nothing, but it distracted Spencer for a split-second which gave the shooter enough time to lift his boot and stomp kick the marine.
Spencer did not fall, but the force of the blow halted his charge and put him off balance. The Reeker fired his weapon at point blank range, his shots pounding into Spencer's armor mercilessly, dropping him to the ground in a shower of sparks, armor fragments, and blood.
Samuel shouted and slammed his boarding knife through the back of the Reeker's neck, the point emerging through his throat. The Reeker kept firing wildly as blood fountained from the wound. Samuel used the handle of his knife to pull the shooter to the side before letting his corpse fall to the ground.
On the other side of the shanty Samuel could see what appeared to be a sort of plaza filled with containers of every shape and size. Scattered among them was a group of roughly ten cor-sec troopers, most armed with pistols and shotguns, locked in a desperate shootout against Reekers who had taken up position all around them.
It was little wonder the cor-sec troopers were being mowed down, having had no training in general battle tactics, let alone urban warfare specifics. They had allowed themselves to be driven from their entry point to this kill zone by a superior force who knew the terrain.
This was Reekertown, and from what Samuel had seen as he and Spencer sought out the troopers, the marine knew that the Reeker defenders had been giving up ground to lure the cor-sec troopers deeper into the settlement. The cor-sec troopers had probably thought they were doing well, considering that there had been several Reeker corpses strewn about as the marines honed in on their position.
Spencer coughed up a mouthful of blood as he dragged himself over to the far wall. Once the Reekers realized enemies were flanking them, they began to fire into the shack.
Samuel moved to the opposite w
all, emptying an entire magazine in an attempt to suppress the Reeker shooters so that he and Spencer could recover. The marine knew that his comrade was wounded badly, but not so grievously that he couldn't be helped. Samuel crouched behind the splintered wood to reload and gave silent thanks for the metal sheeting that he could hear repelling many of the bullets sailing towards them.
"So much for flanking them unawares!" shouted Samuel as he reached for his med kit and then slid the compact little box across the dirty floor within Spencer's reach.
The wounded marine wasn't able to speak, though he did manage a weak thumbs up before cracking open the box and rummaging through it for the adrenal stims and nu-skin.
Samuel could see that even at close range, Spencer's stout combat armor had blunted much of the firepower. Though his chest plate was intact, his more articulated abdominal plates had been horribly mangled. The Reeker had been using what looked like a homemade weapon and likely hand-crafted ammunition, so at worst Samuel figured a handful of rounds had made it through. Then again, as he knew all too well, it took only one well placed bullet to bring a marine down, often for good.
Spencer's hands were shaking he worked quickly to hit himself with a series of injections meant to keep him going for a short while until the platoon medic arrived. Samuel had been the medic for several years, but since the recovery period after his spinal injury that duty had been shifted off to Holland, who had served admirably in keeping the bodies of Squad Aiken stitched together and the duty was never returned to Samuel.
Samuel's rifle scope was burdensome in such close quarters fighting, and he flipped it down so that he could rely on the iron sights. The marine toggled his rifle over to a single shot setting and began swiftly pelting multiple hostiles with rounds. He was firing mostly on instinct, allowing his training to take over and moving from target to target as quickly as he could. His accuracy was reduced and in just a few seconds he emptied the magazine.
He crouched back into cover, positive that he'd seen at least one or more of his targets jerk and react from hits. He was hoping that by making a big show he could draw fire away from the cor-sec troopers, and he prayed that they could take the initiative to seize the opportunity to counter-attack. At the least, he hoped they would manage to break out of their position and push through one of the weaker points in the enemy cordon and get into the relative safety of the narrow alleys and gangplank streets, well away from the kill zone that the small plaza had become.
A new Reeker must have joined the fight, because hard rounds suddenly began to punch through the metal and wood walls of the shack. A few of the rounds struck Samuel in the thigh and shoulder as he reloaded, though they only served to knock him off his feet as his armor held. The slugs had been slowed by penetrating the wall, but the marine knew that it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot hit him just right and ended the fight for him.
Samuel risked taking a quick peek around the now nearly obliterated wall and saw a tall Reeker on a rooftop across the plaza reloading what appeared to be a homemade, heavy machine gun. The marine looked across the way at Spencer and saw that he had removed his helmet and his face was covered in blood. Samuel could see that despite the drugs, the marine was still coughing up a lot of the precious red and had removed his helmet to keep from swallowing it again accidently.
"Gunner on the roof, can you shoot?" asked Samuel, waving to get Spencer's attention. The marine looked back at Samuel with glassy eyes and managed a weak nod. "Then you bracket him and I'll drill him when he makes a run for it."
Spencer groaned in pain as he used his legs to push himself up against the far wall enough that he could shove his helmet beneath his butt and as it as a seat. The improvised stool gave him just enough elevation that he was able to raise his rifle with his right hand and rest the barrel against the open window space. The marine spotted the gunner and began firing in his general direction.
Samuel did not expect Spencer to actually hit the gunner. He was hoping that the bracketing fire would push the Reeker from his position and give Samuel a clean shot. As it was, the gunner was mostly safe behind the cover of a heavy metal plate that was stopping much of Spencer's fire. After a few seconds of sustained fire from Spencer, however, the gunner was either hit by one of the rounds that managed to penetrate the metal or finally lost his nerve. Either way, he rose from his position.
Samuel had guessed, wrongly, that the gunner was right handed and would rise on the left. Apparently, the gunner was left handed and he rose on the right with his weapon at ready.
The machine gun barked as it sent a salvo of projectiles ripping through the shack. One destroyed Spencer's gun, the rest hammering his armor and sending the already wounded marine sprawling across the floor from the multiple impacts.
It took everything Samuel had not to drop his rifle and attempt to move Spencer away from the fighting, but he knew that the only way out of this fight was to push through. The marine looked down his v-shaped iron sights and found the gunner as he toggled over to a three-round burst. He squeezed the trigger twice. The gunner jerked backwards as the first burst tore through his upper torso and then awkwardly toppled off of the roof and into the alley as at least one round from the second burst tore away his left knee.
The Reeker shooters that had previously been enjoying the shooting gallery of the kill zone were starting to fall back in the face of the increasingly stiff resistance from both cor-sec troopers and the two salvage marines.
The brief reprieve from the punishing crossfire had given the remaining cor-sec troopers a chance to break out of the kill zone and spread their numbers into several of the shacks and canvas covered structures around the plaza. The high pitch cracks of the cor-sec pistols and the stout barks of their shotguns added to the cacophony of Reekertown.
Samuel continued to use his iron sights to swiftly spread fire across the plaza, hitting any point he either saw or suspected a hostile shooter, until his magazine clicked dry once more. The marine swiftly reloaded and checked his mag pouches to discover that he was already down to his last two.
Close quarters urban warfare always consumed more ammunition, given how important suppressing and sustained fire was in advancing position, as well as bracketing fire for eliminating enemy snipers.
Samuel scampered across the shack over to Spencer's body, relieved to find that the marine still clung to life, however weakly.
Spencer's armor was cracked in several places and he was bleeding from multiple wounds. Samuel swiftly dosed the marine with more booster shots and affixed a quick pressure patch on all the most obvious wounds. There was little that Samuel could do without the squad kit, though he knew that Spencer would need a med-evac and soon if he was going to survive, even with the squad kit.
Samuel dragged Spencer's armored form into the furthest corner of the bullet-riddled shack and then stripped the marine of his remaining magazine. The shooting outside had died down so Samuel depressed the med-evac indicator tab on the side of Spencer's helmet before leaving the marine alone in the soft red glow of the tab.
Samuel emerged from the shack and was greeted by four cor-sec troopers, each of whom looked like they'd been handed a firearm only yesterday. Their faces had that battle-shock look to them, dilation in the eyes and tightness in the shoulders that most soldiers struggled with during their first few engagements. Samuel knew that these men needed a leader and badly.
"Troopers report," barked Samuel as he approached them and when no answer was forthcoming he pointed at the least haggard looking of the group and said, "You, trooper, report. Where is the rest of the unit?"
"Me? Um, sorry sir, yes," stammered the man in a thick upspire accent until he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, doing his best to get his nerves under control, "Our unit commander was killed in the descent, so we've been just hanging on as best we could. Once you shot the Reeker with the machine gun everyone went in different directions, it’s just us four that waited for you."
; "So you did.” Samuel nodded, looking the bedraggled group over. “We'll move as a unit. I want to push towards the Basin gate and reinforce that position," He readied his rifle, gesturing at one man. "You, with the shotgun, I've got a wounded Reaper in the shack behind me. Hold that shack until the medic arrives, it could take him a while to fight through, but he'll have a ping on his system and know where you are.” He swept the other troopers with a look. “Let's get this done." Without waiting to see if the remaining three actually followed, he began striding deeper into the city.
Samuel and the three cor-sec troopers slipped out of the plaza and made their way down a series of gangplanks that angled towards the center of the settlement. There were several cor-sec corpses that they passed along the way, in addition to a few Reekers. While the noise of the fighting had died down the battle was far from over.
Above them, the settlement was ablaze as George Tuck torched buildings level by level while he too worked his way towards the Basin gate.
Samuel reacted with lighting fast reflexes, putting four single shot rounds into the chest of a Reeker who leapt out of a burning shanty. Whether it was an attempt to ambush the Grotto soldiers or simply escape the fire, Samuel could not tell. The shots caught the Reeker in mid-flight and sent him spiraling out and over the gangplanks.
Samuel and the troopers kicked down the door of a shack at the end of the gangplank network and shot the two Reekers hiding within.
The salvage marine couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like on the other side of this battle. The Reekers, regardless of what kind of reputation they had as a vicious downspire scavenger clan, were defending their homes from him, the armored invader from upspire. Samuel saw it in the eyes of the woman who lunged at him with a crude axe before he put a round through her throat and watched her tumble off of the plank, landing lifeless in one of the safety nets hanging below them.
Dead Worlds (Necrospace Book 2) Page 5
