“Here comes another round,” said Kidd. “Whoops!”
Duggan didn’t have time to consider her use of the word whoops, before a missile detonated off the Gunther’s armour plating. The explosion tore a huge hole in the metal and ripped the main turret away. Plasma spilled across much of the upper section, softening the plating and pouring heat into the gravity engines. A siren started up in the cockpit.
“That’s the main armament gone,” said Vaughan. “The engines are running warm.”
“Both Last Chance batteries fully functional,” said Kidd, her voice raised above the peal of the interior alarm.
“Can we target those launchers?” asked Duggan.
“Negative, sir. Not without a clear line of sight.” She paused. “Five more enemy missiles taken down.”
They were now close enough to see the installation clearly on the sensors. The brightness of the sun highlighted the buildings in stark relief against the blackness of the sky. Shadows danced in the heat and the wind.
“They’re going to have another three or four shots at us,” said Duggan.
“Assuming they stop firing once we get amongst their buildings.”
“They’ll stop,” he said, hoping his confidence wasn’t misplaced.
“There’s small-arms fire coming from somewhere,” said Kidd.
In this instance, small arms turned out to be a type of gauss repeater, mounted on a roof. The low, cube-shaped emplacement had escaped notice until this moment, owing to the poor quality of the sensor feeds. The gun was also well-camouflaged and looked as though it was part of the building itself. A short barrel jutted through a dark slot and poured out metal at the Gunthers. Three more repeaters joined in, their bullets clattering as they deflected away from the front of the tank.
“Not what I’d call small arms,” said Vaughan.
“Yeah well, it’s not going to stop us, is it?”
The tanks were designed to repel this exact type of attack. There were many types of heavier gauss emplacements which could ruin tanks larger than a Gunther, but those on this base were little more than a distraction. Their sound filled the interior, drowning out the alarm. After a few seconds, Duggan ordered his helmet computer to attenuate the racket. He felt instant relief.
“Tank Two has taken one direct hit and we’ve just had a near miss,” Kidd continued.
“What’s the status of Tank Two?” asked Duggan.
“Still moving,” she said.
“We’ll cross the perimeter in twenty seconds,” said Vaughan. “Sixty klicks per hour and holding.”
Ahead, there was a wide gap between two of the enemy structures. The overhead scans from the Crimson showed the gap narrowing, before it opened up into what Duggan mentally referred to as a plaza, even if the word didn’t seem appropriate in a place as barren as this. After that, there were a series of twists and turns until they reached their destination. Vaughan was going to have his work cut out.
They almost didn’t make it to the perimeter. All bar one of the final volley of enemy missiles were destroyed close to their zeniths. The last missile plunged with inevitability towards Tank One. With only a few metres to spare, a slug from one of the Last Chance batteries tore through the missile’s housing. The complex machinery within was destroyed, preventing detonation. However, the bulk of the heavy alloy propulsion section crunched into the Gunther’s damaged upper plating. The noise was tremendous and Duggan thought the damage was surely terminal.
“Give me a damage report!” he shouted.
“Two burst ear drums!” shouted Vaughan in return. “They built these tanks to last!”
The ringing in Duggan’s ears faded and he checked the status of the tank’s hull. In spite of Vaughan’s words, the final missile had nearly penetrated the interior of the Gunther and had knocked out ten percent of the gravity drive’s output on its way through.
With its speed scarcely diminished, the lead tank entered the space between the two metal-walled structures. The clanking of enemy gauss rounds against the hull diminished at once, though it didn’t stop entirely.
“They’ve stopped firing missiles,” said Kidd.
“This going to be tight enough without having to dodge incoming explosives,” said Vaughan.
The soldier was right – the gap between the two buildings closed up and when the tank burst through into the plaza, there was little more than a metre spare to each side.
“It’s not going to get any easier,” said Duggan.
Belying its size, the Gunther turned sharply to the left, scrubbing away a fraction of its speed in the process. The plaza was only a hundred metres across, with machine-levelled ground and five of the enemy structures crowding in from the sides. The tank was a bulky piece of kit, but the walls stretched high above its broken turret.
“There!” shouted Duggan.
“I see it,” said Vaughan, guiding the tank into another opening, this one tighter than the last.
There were shapes ahead – Duggan saw a group of figures dressed in a mixture of flexible alloy and grey polymers.
“Grenades!” said Kidd.
The front sensor went fuzzy for a second when a plasma grenade exploded in the vicinity. To Duggan’s relief, the feed steadied and continued to operate as normal. The tank didn’t slow. Several of the enemy threw themselves to the ground and the tank sailed over them. Two of the Estral weren’t quick enough and the front of the tank knocked them high into the air, their broken limbs flailing as they tumbled to the unyielding stone.
“Too tight,” said Vaughan.
The passage narrowed to the point where the tank was wider than the available space. Vaughan kept it pointed straight down the middle and the Gunther collided with the adjacent buildings. The alloy walls of the base structures screeched and ruptured, releasing their air into the near-vacuum. Tank Two followed a moment later, crushing the walls further with its unstoppable bulk.
“Left here!” shouted Duggan.
Vaughan did his best to turn the Gunther in the direction indicated. The impact with the buildings had knocked it slightly off course and it was difficult to correct at a speed in excess of fifty kilometres per hour. The tank’s right flank connected with the flat wall of a building. The vehicle’s life support struggled to keep the interior stable and Duggan had to grab the side of his seat to stop himself being hurled onto the floor. Pain flared and he realised he’d used his partially-healed broken arm by mistake. He gritted his teeth to stop from crying out. Kidd wasn’t quick enough to grab a hold of something and she landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor, swearing loudly.
The Gunther’s engines hauled it free of the wall and the tank continued on its course, leaving the structure behind crumpled and at a tilt. Something exploded ahead of them, flaring into white. The tank surged through the blast, leaving the plasma dissipating in its wake.
Kidd scrambled onto her seat. “More hostiles,” she said, studying the console screens with her visor only centimetres away. Greens and blues reflected from the mirrored surface, giving the bizarre impression that her suit helmet was the source of the data.
Several grenades struck the tank and soon the top section was awash in flames. Something larger hit the Gunther’s flank, cutting through the armour and blowing out a chunk of the plating. A second projectile hit close to the first.
“Shoulder launcher,” said Duggan. “We don’t want to take too many of those.”
“Should I divert from our course?” asked Vaughan.
“Negative, soldier. Ignore them.”
“Tank Two has fired its main armament,” said Kidd. “Crap, would you look at that!”
The building to the right shook under the onslaught of high-calibre slugs. A line of enormous holes traced its way the length of the closest wall. The surrounding metal was buckled and crushed. Such was the power of the Gunther’s main gun that the slugs travelled through several of the buildings beyond the first. A tank was a shitty opponent to face if you had no way to c
ounter it quickly.
The flames which embraced Tank One faded, dwindling until they left patches of the hull a deep red colour. The Gunther collided with another building, shunting it to one side as it barrelled through. Duggan heard the renewed clattering of gauss rounds against the exterior and he did his best to ignore the sound.
“There!” he said.
“I see it,” Vaughan replied. “I’m taking us straight towards it.”
The target building was dead ahead, a short distance away. At eighty metres tall it was much higher than the surrounding structures. It was also longer, with sides close to one hundred and fifty metres in length. There was a cylinder protruding from the roof, which was capped with what looked like a fifty-metre, bulbous glass lens that had all-round vision. Duggan was sure it was made of something more advanced than glass, though he didn’t know exactly what the material was.
In front of the building there were a few enemy soldiers visible, though nothing that resembled an organised response. Some chose to run, whilst others were foolish enough to stand and fire guns or throw grenades. These foolish or brave ones were knocked contemptuously aside by the tank as it headed towards the building.
“Down to thirty-five klicks per hour,” said Vaughan. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”
“Don’t forget to knock!” Kidd said.
The Gunther smashed into the side of the main building. The alloys of the wall were exceptionally strong and designed to withstand harsh conditions on a hostile world. They were not, however, designed to withstand an intentional collision with one of the Space Corps’ mid-sized tanks. In the blinking of an eye, the wall flexed, crumpled and then split. The Gunther tore through the gap, leaving a monstrous tear as evidence of its passing. A second later, Tank Two struck the building thirty metres to the right. The result was similar and a second enormous hole was ripped through the exterior.
Once the whole of the tank was inside, Vaughan brought it to a rapid halt, the deceleration inducing a fleeting nausea in many of the passengers.
“Tank Two, please report,” said Duggan.
It was Ortiz who responded. “We’re inside, sir and hidden from eyes in the sky.”
“Excellent – if the enemy spacecraft knows we’re in here, the plan won’t work,” he said.
With the first part of his plan a success, Duggan barked out an order for everyone on the tanks to disembark, leaving only a crew of two on each. The troops didn’t need to be told twice and they scrambled out through the narrow doorways, their rifles held ready. Duggan followed, being one of the last to exit his vehicle.
He looked around him and discovered he was in a vast, open room which took up a large part of the building’s ground floor. Pale blue light came from an unknown source, permitting excellent visibility of the carnage. The tank had caused immense damage on its way in and the escaping air made a low thrumming sound as it was sucked through the jagged hole.
Nearby, the second Gunther was at a standstill, its cargo of troops spreading out as they sought cover amongst the array of overturned consoles and metal cabinets. There were banks of screens on the far wall, some of them blank, while others continued to display whatever updates they’d been programmed to show. The turret of Tank Two was still in place and its additional height had opened a furrow through the ceiling.
Duggan heard a metallic ping from close by and he crouched low, keeping his shoulder pressed against the burning hot side of the tank. His suit duly informed him of the temperature extremes and he moved away, keeping a wary eye out for whoever had fired the shot. Elsewhere in the room, the other soldiers frantically searched for the sniper.
“Up there in the ceiling!” shouted Barron.
Five or six of the troops fired their gauss rifles. The delicate fizz of their projectiles was drowned out by a hammering roar when two of the Ghasts unleashed the ferocity of their hand-held repeaters through the gouge in the ceiling.
“More coming from outside!” shouted Chan.
Only a few moments had passed since they’d broken into the enemy building and they were already under pressure.
“Squad One, with me!” Duggan said loudly on the open channel. “Lieutenant Ortiz, ensure the enemy stays outside.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Enemy sniper eliminated,” said McLeod. “We’re clear!”
The sound of repeater fire tailed off and Duggan waved his squad over. They broke from their places of cover and dashed towards him, where they stooped in the shadow of Tank One.
“Where will we find the comms gear?” Duggan asked, fervently hoping the tanks hadn’t destroyed it when they broke through the wall of the building.
“It could be anywhere, sir,” said Byers, one of the two comms experts he had with him.
“This isn’t pieces of it on the floor around us, is it?” asked Duggan.
Byers’ response was as a reassuring as it could be in the circumstances.
“I don’t think so.”
“If this is a monitoring station, the comms kit could be integrated with the main sensor panels,” said McLeod. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
Duggan took the hint. “We need to move.”
“Yes, sir,” they responded.
The room was a mess, but it wasn’t hard to locate an exit door. There was one about forty metres away from them, currently closed. There was text stamped on the door, visible even from this distance. Duggan was pleased to find it was something his Ghast language modules recognized. KEEP CLOSED it said. He shook his head at the mundanity and headed over, doing his best to keep low. Four humans and three Ghasts followed, quickly yet warily. In the vast expanse of the room, the pilots of the two Gunthers began the task of reversing the tanks close to the penetrations in the exterior walls, in order to make it hard for the enemy soldiers to enter.
Duggan reached the door, took a deep breath and made the swiping gesture necessary to open it.
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WAS a corridor on the other side of the door. Wide and with a high ceiling, it stretched away into the distance, before turning sharply to the right. There were other doorways to the sides, all sealed with slab-like alloy doors. The light in here was a more intense blue and it cycled smoothly through a variety of different shades. Duggan waited a few moments but there was no sign of movement or any sound which might indicate the presence of the enemy.
“Not much air coming through,” said Bonner. “The building is depressurizing quickly.”
“Good news for us,” said Duggan. “Come on, let’s move.”
They entered the corridor cautiously, with McLeod and Bonner remaining in the doorway to provide cover. Without much in the way of a breathable atmosphere to carry the sounds, the squad’s footsteps were dull on the metal floor.
As he advanced, Duggan half-expected the doors in the walls to open simultaneously and for enemy troops to pour out. It didn’t happen and the six of them were able to reach the end of the corridor where it turned to the right. Duggan looked carefully around – the passage continued for another few metres and then it opened into another large room, which he guessed was exactly in the middle of the building. There were banks of screens and several complex-looking consoles visible, with bodies slumped across them.
“Byers have a look at this,” he said.
He stepped a couple of paces back and Byers took his place. “This is what we’re looking for,” she said at once. “It’s the main control room.”
The certainty in her voice made Duggan breathe a sigh of relief. He’d already prepared himself for an extended and bloody scrap to capture this building. “Right, we go in,” he said. “If anything moves, shoot it. McLeod, Bonner, get up here at the double.”
The pair of them sprinted along the corridor, keeping their rifles at the ready. Duggan didn’t waste time and made a quick run to the next doorway, where he chanced a look deeper into the comms room. It was forty metres to a side and with a ceiling twenty or more metres above. A thick, white column
rose from the floor and joined with the ceiling above. The base of the column was circled by a single matte-green console which Duggan assumed went all the way around.
Everywhere he looked, there were bodies. Some of the Estral had died where they sat dutifully at their screens. Others had tried to extend their lives by running for the doors. They lay in twisted poses indicative of the agonising pain and fear they’d suffered as the vacuum took their lives. He didn’t know how the room had depressurized so abruptly – it was a big building and it should have taken a minute or two before the oxygen had fled the room.
“Up there,” said Red-Gulos.
Duggan looked upwards. There was a series of holes through the wall, close to the ceiling. Each hole was nearly half a metre in diameter.
“Stray rounds from Tank Two’s gun,” whispered Rasmussen. “They came in at an angle and went through the ceiling.”
“Their bad luck,” said Braler, without emotion.
“It looks clear, get inside,” said Duggan. “Find the doors and cover them. I don’t want a squad of suited Estral taking us by surprise. McLeod, Byers, do your stuff. I want to know how this kit works and I want you to find that spaceship above us.”
McLeod and Byers knew they were out of their depths the moment they laid eyes on the equipment and they said as much.
“I don’t care if you don’t like the look of it. You’re the comms specialists, deal with it,” Duggan said, kicking himself for not having the foresight to bring Lieutenant Chainer along on this mission.
They hurried off to get started. Duggan took the opportunity to check in with Lieutenant Ortiz.
“We’re holding them, sir,” she said. “We took them unawares and I don’t think they’ve recovered yet. Either that or they only have a small garrison.”
“It’s a mixture of both, I suspect,” he replied. “I reckon we’re so deep into their territory they’ve forgotten how to respond to unexpected aggression.”
“Have you found what you wanted, sir?” she asked. There was tentative expectation in her voice, reminding Duggan that even the hardest of his troops had no wish to perish out here.
Guns of the Valpian (Survival Wars Book 6) Page 4
