He set his stance defensively as a precaution and started broadcasting microbursts every thirty seconds. They were only detectable within a five hundred metre radius and he’d seen no sign of enemy ground activity so far. There… He heard the audible ping and saw a dot appear on his HUD map, which popped up on his contact lens display. He was relieved to see it was Fuzzy, who established short-range radio comms a few seconds later.
“Fuzzy, glad you made it. Protocol is to stay in stealth until full complement. Report?” asked Motor, getting the formalities started.
“All good, Motor. Landed half a klick north of here. Weird place. Not like any forest I’ve ever seen. No enemy activity, just some massive bloody bat things flying about. Scared the shit out of me when I first saw the thing!” exclaimed Fuzzy.
“Saw something zipping around the place too, but didn’t seem a threat. Also no enemy. Came in from two-point-two klicks to the southeast. Wait, hold on…” said Motor, picking up Crier’s signal.
“Hey guys, am I glad to not see you!” joked Crier, referring to the invisible battlesuits and rifles.
“Report, Crier?” demanded Motor.
“No enemy, walk in the park. Came three k’s from the south. What the hell happened to the droids’ ship? How’d they ping them yet not seem to track our manpods?” asked Crier.
“None of us were stealth, of course, when burning into the atmosphere and the ruse was that they’d mistake us for a meteor shower. If they were looking carefully enough on visuals they could have worked out we weren’t lumps of space rock. Distribution wrong: three objects all the same size. Also the burn would’ve gotten increasingly smaller as a meteor lost mass, which is something the manpods were specifically engineered not to do. Looks like they tracked only one of the pods and we’re damned lucky it wasn't ours,” said Motor, only then fully realising how close they’d come to death. They’d played a game of Russian Roulette, even if they hadn't known it at the time.
The three men waited for Chip, waiting and watching under the eerie glow below the forest roof. The sound patterns of the constant clicking noises ebbed and flowed. There were distant howling conversations of unseen alien fauna and the freakish darting things, which now seemed bigger and more frequent than before. All-but-invisible, they sat tight and waited for Chip.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived and his walk in the woods had not gone so smoothly.
“Jesus Christ!” cried a breathless Chip, bending at the waist, hands on knees.
“What happened?” asked Motor.
“Bloody thing attacked me. Stabbed it with my survival knife then ran here for about a k,” he said, pointing west.
“Are you wounded?”
“Nothing serious—bruise on the shoulder at most. Just bloody hard slog running in this heavy gravity. Bastard thing tried to bite me, but could get through the armour.”
“Let’s take a last minute sweep… Ok, looks all clear. Let’s go visible, but stay alert, guys,” ordered Motor.
They were all within feet of each other and Motor took a look at Chip’s shoulder. The armour was very slightly buckled, which was in itself a show of how strong the alien bats could bite. The stealth cells – the source of the invisibility function – were only damaged over a tiny area.
“So how did it know where you were, Chip?” asked Crier, concerned.
“I have no idea, mate, but can’t be just a chance encounter though, can it?”
“Must be using sound like a bat,” theorised Motor. “Logical when you look at how dark this place is. And we know the suits still reflect sound waves. They’ve never needed to consider this as enemies on Earth tend not to use sonic detection in land warfare.”
“So where’s the dead bat?” asked Crier.
“Wasn't bloody dead, mate! Flew off. But look at this freaky blue blood on my knife!” he replied.
“Not so freaky. There are Earth creatures that have blue blood too. It just means that copper is the cofactor instead of iron like in red blood. Haemocyanin not haemoglobin,” said medic Fuzzy.
“Alright, thanks for the science lesson, Fuzz. Let’s get moving. We want to get the job done, in and out quickly,” said Crier.
“Right. Stealth mode back on, guys. We can’t scope out the route—the Hummingbird drones were destroyed with the battledroids. Crier on point. Let’s move out to recon point Sheffield,” instructed Motor as they began to advance the eight kilometres to the northwest, which would take them right to the doorstep of the alien base. Motor’s concern with the alien bats was not so much that they were fast and had a seemingly powerful bite, it was more that they may need to resort to unsuppressed weapons fire and give their position away to an unseen enemy. Their HK750s were all on noise-suppress mode; that was normal for covert operations. The shoulder pod rockets and laser were, on the other hand, inherently noisy. In a life or death situation, they may have little choice, he concluded.
***
The forest terrain was flat and uniform until, in the distance, through a slight haze, there seemed to be a distinct absence of the bioluminescent light-spots across a swath of forest in their intended path. The dark band extended from left to right as far as they could see through the clutter of towering tree trunks and haze; although above a certain height the alien glow-worms, or whatever they were, appeared unabated.
“What do you think it is?” asked Fuzzy quietly.
“Not sure, but let’s keep our eyes about us and keep advancing,” said Motor.
“I think it’s a wall or fence. Maybe a security perimeter or something. It’s only a kilometre out from what the probes mapped as the base,” said Chip.
“Could be, but why wasn't it picked up by the probe?” asked Motor.
“No heat signature or radar reflectance? Passed straight overhead? Radar return scattered by the forest? Could be any number of reasons. Depends what it is,” said Crier.
“Okay, let’s proceed with caution,” ordered Motor with an ominous sense of danger lurking somewhere in the reptilian part of his brain.
As the stealthy squad approached the light-barrier, its nature began to reveal itself through the mist. Motor’s HUD told him it was twenty-one-point-five metres high—about three stories. It was completely vertical and completely smooth and devoid of surface features. The pitch-black edifice gave not the barest trace of reflectance. They approached to within a few paces of the wall and Motor hazarded a touch with the barrel of his HK750 battlerifle. Solid, as expected, and nothing happened... Until it happened and the reason for the wall suddenly became clear.
First a rumble, then a roar like a stampede of wildebeests, drowning out all semblance of background noise. Seconds later a herd of solidly-built, quadruped creatures came into view from between two tree trunks as the four men flattened themselves as flush against the wall as they could manage to get out of the way. At the same time, they got ready to power-jump away from danger with their suit thrusters. They reminded Motor of elephant-sized rhinos but with a beak-like mouth and massive eyes the size of dinner plates. Their skin was leathery and jet-black, which would make them hard to spot with the unaided eye when not powering forward with carlike velocity. Motor counted at least twelve creatures in the herd and noted their long tails replete with sharp, black appendages at the end. Probably for protection, thought Motor. But against what? Nothing was in pursuit and Motor didn’t want to hang around to find out what it was the herd was running from.
“Let’s get over this wall, guys. Jump at will. We’ve no idea what’s on the other side, so be ready to find cover and engage immediately in case this is the boundary of the alien base. Okay, let’s go, go, go!” cried Motor to his men.
The four soldiers, still transparent in their battlesuits, only betrayed their presence with the whoosh of exhaust air expelled from their leg and arm thrusts as they ascended. It was a controlled climb allowing a peek over the top of the wall during a short hover. The wall was less than half an inch thick and had no obvious supports or joins; yet i
t was also remarkably rigid, given its three story height. It was as if an enormous piece of plate metal had been placed into the ground and somehow affixed there. The cushioned landing on the other side had to be some distance from the wall because of what they saw directly below it: a vicious-looking area of upward-pointing spikes, obviously designed to impale anything that had made it over. They landed past the spikes and fanned out, having to advance some distance over open ground before taking cover behind the thick tree trunks. Once again, the glowing points of light extended from ground level up to the towering height of the roof-like canopy, illuminating the forest and scattering light off the mist.
“Looks like the outer perimeter wall. Designed to keep something out looking at the break in the forest and the spikes,” said Motor.
“Can hardly blame them with herds of those rhino-things charging all over the place,” commented Crier.
“Let’s look lively. We’re near recon point Sheffield, one kilometre northwest. Let’s move out,” commanded Motor.
They advanced, shrouded by their stealthy battlesuits, the forest bathed in a dim glow all around. A short time later, “Patrol, does that glow look brighter up ahead?” said Crier, gazing to the northwest through the haze.
“Hard to tell,” Motor replied, “let’s keep going.”
“Copy that.”
They advanced another fifty metres northwest.
“Yeah, definitely brighter and different colour too,” agreed Chip.
“Okay, looks like lights from the alien base. Coming up on recon point Sheffield in one hundred metres—” said Motor as Crier interrupted him.
“Cap, I’m picking up a noise on audio sensors. Sounds like a vehicle. Hold on... Position fixed at four hundred metres and closing in on us,” he reported.
“Split and find cover, guys,” said Motor just in time as the six-wheeled vehicle powered over rocks, giant fungi and tree roots alike. Its rocker-bogie suspension make easy progress over the rough terrain. Then it stopped right where the triple-S squad had been standing seconds earlier and started raking the surrounding trees with a glowing plasma fire.
“Hold fire, boys,” ordered Motor breathlessly, having had to dive behind a more distant trunk at the last minute. His confidence in their stealth battlesuits had been shaken. How the hell could they have got a fix on them so quickly?
The plasma fire was tearing chunks out of the peripheries of the enormous tree trunks and in places boring deep into them. It was only due to their sheer mass that the trees were not felled. The rate of fire was immense and terrifying. The million-degree-hot pulses of charged ions poured from the twin-barrelled cannon on the armoured vehicle’s single turret. The vehicle was matt black and sloped from its turret towards the four sides of its rectangular base and protective side-skirtings, which partially covered the six wheels. The wheels themselves had pyramidal metal grips dotted all over them for grip. The racket was deafening for Motor and his men as the now slowly advancing alien armoured fighting vehicle – AFV – crept forwards. The turret was bombarding the tree trunks in a systematically sweeping arc, reciprocating from left to right. Its advance was changing the angle of attack, causing the men to shift positions to maintain cover behind the protective tree trunks.
“We’re pinned down and sooner or later they’re gonna fell one these bloody trees and I don't wanna be around when that happens,” shouted Crier. “Permission to take this thing out, Motor?”
“No! Hold fire. Retreat towards the next tree back then we’ll try to flank around to recon point Sheffield. The aliens don’t have a fix on us or they would’ve tried to change direction and get a bead. Let’s move,” Motor said.
While running for new cover, Fuzzy asked, “What if they send reinforcements? Aren't we better off dealing with them one by one?”
“And confirm our presence? Then we’ll have the whole bloody alien army hunting us!” cried Chip to his younger squad mate.
They ran in a wide flanking arc around the approach path the AFV had taken, nearing recon point Sheffield, which was located on a narrow, steep-sided stream running parallel to the base’s boundary. Laying prone up the slope, they took cover on the southeast bank, putting it between themselves and the AFV as it continued to spew plasma from one-hundred-and-fifty metres away.
“Welcome to recon point Sheffield, boys. Chip, scoot over to the northwest bank and keep eyes on the base,” instructed Motor, ensuring their backs were covered, training his shoulder pod and HK750 battle rifle on the AFV. He knew, though, that he’d probably need his shoulder pod’s missiles or laser to have a chance against the AFV, assuming it was armoured, which he felt was a fair assumption.
“Shit, Cap, we’ve got another AFV coming from the direction of the base ... hang on ... make that two!” reported Chip.
“Fuzz, join Chip on the northwest bank. Patrol, if AFV two or three open up on our position we know they can see us.”
“Confirmed,” Fuzzy replied.
“Got it, Motor,” said Chip.
Armoured fighting vehicles two and three coming from the northwest advanced on their position with turrets sweeping left to right before they suddenly stopped.
“Shit, they’re both pointing right at us!” Fuzzy exclaimed, a hint of fear in his voice.
“Fuzz, get right down in the dirt. Lock on to the turret of AFV two on the left with your shoulder pod launcher. I’ve got AFV three on the right. Soon as you see that thing open up, take it out. Motor, Crier, suggest you take cover on this side. Our new friends are pointing their barrels right at us.”
“Okay, moving,” said Motor with Crier following him into the cover of the northwest bank.
“Crier, keep your shoulder pod launcher trained on AFV one behind us in case—” continued Motor, cut short by Crier.
“Too late, skip, he’s headed this way. We’re running out of options here. We’ve gotta take out one of them. There’s no time to get to any other cover. We’ve can’t stay here with them coming from both sides!”
“Yeah, I know, I know! Okay, on my mark, Chip and Fuzz, let rip with your launcher on AFVs two and three. Crier, on my mark, take out the turret on number one and let’s hope it works. Mark, let ’em have it, boys!” cried Motor, raking the two AFVs to the northwest with laser pulses from his shoulder pod.
The mini-rockets accelerated inhumanly fast – one from each of the three men’s shoulder pods – each finding their target. Fuzzy’s warhead exploded on impact with AFV two’s turret, ripping it clean off. Chip’s blew the twin plasma cannon off the turret of AFV three and caved in part of the turret itself. Motor’s laser fire had inflicted some damage on the wheels but little on the armour; it was slow going. Crier prepared to launch on the target—AFV one’s turret. But as he did so, the AFV accelerated to the left. He fired and the small, deadly missile sped southeast towards the first fighting vehicle, still moving. The rocket covered the hundred and fifty metres in less than two seconds, actively guided towards its target. The path to the AFV was eclipsed by a tree milliseconds before the rocket arrived and it exploded against the trunk, ripping a huge chunk out of it. Trunk material was propelled high and wide before impacting surrounding trees and raining down in the following seconds. The AFV was now fully hidden behind the weakened trunk where it stayed.
“Damn it!” shouted Crier. “Bastard’s taken cover! Probably calling his mates to join the party now!”
“Alright, copy that, Crier. We’ve neutralised the other AFVs. We’ve gotta deal with him quickly before they send reinforcements,” said Motor excitedly, launching himself into cover on the southeast bank where Fuzzy and Chip joined him.
“Right, here’s the plan: Fuzzy, Crier, stay here with me. We’re gonna pour on some covering laser fire and keep him put and maybe stick a rocket up his arse if he shows us anything. Chip, flank him wide from the west; get a bead on him. Turret first, wheels seconds. Got it?”
“Copy,” said Chip as he set off along the stream bed until there was a solid composit
e of tree trunk between him and the alien fighting vehicle. He turned south, then southeast, then east, all the time hearing the sporadic volleys of laser fire his squad was pumping out in the direction of the pinned enemy. The reflected flashes of the red lasers produced a light show in the forest with diffracted light scattering in the misty alien air. Chip jogged at double speed, trying to minimise the time the aliens had to call the cavalry. His legs felt heavy and ached with the build-up of lactic acid; it was hard going in this heavy gravity. And no good for the joints, he thought, bizarrely shutting out the situation for a few moments as he ran on autopilot.
The First Exoplanet Page 23
