Quickly, Obi opened the van door and took off in a sprint down the remnants of the old highway, his head down and tucked into his chest. Ajax followed closely behind, his rifle at the ready. They found the perfect refuge under the belly of an old semi-trailer on its side. The trailer looked like the skeleton of a large whale, with metal ribs poking out from the torn canvas.
He took a knee at the edge of the trailer where the twisted metal created a cage for them to set up position. The canvas clung to the metal columns like skin and provided the perfect camouflage.
“This gives us little protection if the Scorpions find us,” Ajax whispered, taking a knee next to Obi.
“Don’t worry, their heat sensors won’t be able to pick us up in this storm. And besides, I’m not going to give them that opportunity.”
“What do you have in mind?” Ajax asked, with a strained look of concern.
“I just need some bait,” Obi said, surveying the stark landscape.
Time: 8:24 a.m. January 28, 2071
Location: The Wastelands
A mile away the three remaining Scorpions regrouped, their gunners anxious to start a search and destroy mission. Their engines humming, they sat paused in the dry gray ash.
In the middle of the unit Captain McNeill stood on the hood of his tan Scorpion. He was covered from neck to toe in gmetal, the polished silver armor glimmering naturally under the gray sky.
His men watched from the comfort and safety of their vehicles, wondering why he would risk making himself a target on the hood of the Scorpion. But the rookie Knights had not heard the stories of how Captain McNeill gained the respect and loyalty of his superiors. It certainly wasn’t by hiding his face behind the armor of vehicles or the walls of bunkers. He rose to the top of his unit by fighting the rebels face to face for over two decades.
His skin was a canvas of scars, like a battle map; peppered with red streaks, each scar revealed a different story. It was his bravery, which appeared to some new recruits as foolishness, that earned him the rank of Captain from Commander Augustus personally. His wounds were a constant reminder of all the injuries suffered over his years of service; from his left cheekbone wrinkled and dark from radiation exposure during the Biomass Wars, to his prosthetic knees—they were all medals gained in the loyal service of a Royal Knight.
A blast of wind tore into his armor, whistling across the gmetal. He grimaced as his leg began to ache. The memory of the TDU ambush that had caused it slipped into his mind.
He could recall it vividly, almost able to taste the smoke from the bombs Squad 19 had planted in an apartment building. The trap had wiped out half of his squad.
Squad 19.
McNeill snarled. He had hunted the squad and Commander Obi for years, trailing their scent into the tunnels snaking deep beneath the cities and into the Wastelands.
Are they out there? he wondered, massaging the metal skin of his robotic arm and staring into the distance.
He shook the painful memories out of his mind and glassed the horizon for the rebels. His eyes read the landscape like a hawk searching for its prey, combing the dark gray ground, dry and peppered with ash. There was no sign of the people who once lived here, save for their charred vehicles and bones. The Wastelands were a graveyard, and disgusted him almost as much as the rebels.
As his eyes continued to scan the terrain he came across a rock structure jutting out of the ground like the spikes on the back of a prehistoric monster. Underneath the formation were the remains of an old highway. He could scarcely make out the shapes of ruined cars, but there was no mistaking it. He instantly knew it was where the rebels would be hiding. He knew because this was where he too would be hiding if he were them.
He jumped off the hood of the Scorpion; his assault rifle clanking on the back of his armor.
“Hand me your radio,” he commanded, reaching into the vehicle’s open window.
“Base this is Captain McNeill, over.”
“Roger, base here, go ahead.”
“We’ve been ambushed and suffered the loss of one Scorpion. I’ve identified a possible enemy location and request permission to engage, over.”
The sound of static followed as McNeill waited for a response. The driver of the Scorpion shook noticeably, his armor-covered hands gripping the steering wheel as if he was clinging on for life.
“Captain, this is General Logsdon. What’s your current location, over?”
“We’re about 20 miles due west of the walls. The rebels are dug in close to a large rock formation. We do not know their exact location,” McNeill paused for a second, more than enough for any veteran to notice a hint of reservation. Luckily none of the rookies seemed to notice it, or at least acknowledge it.
The static of the radio blurred to life. “Captain, do you need reinforcements? Over.”
McNeill paused and stared at the rock formation in the distance. “No sir, I can handle this one. Over,” he said firmly.
He had failed to eliminate Squad 19 many times before, almost losing his own life in the process. This time was going to be different—this time he had them cornered. He didn’t need help to bring Obi’s head to Commander Augustus.
“Roger. Keep us updated Captain. Over.”
McNeill handed the radio back through the window to the rookie Knight, who fumbled with the small device before placing it back into its charger.
“You better get with it,” McNeill shouted before strolling confidently over to the passenger side door.
With over 20 years of experience, he had grown accustomed to routing out rebels and finding their leaders. Today, in his opinion, would be no different—today Obi’s time as commander of Squad 19 was coming to an end.
Time: 8:26 a.m. January 28, 2071
Location: The Wastelands
Obi and Ajax knelt patiently under a sheet of torn canvas shaking violently in the wind. For a second Obi took his eyes off the terrain and looked over at the massive frame of Ajax beside him.
He recalled all the times the monstrous man saved his life in other battles, before the buzzing of the Scorpion engines tore his eyes back to the black top. He gripped his rocket launcher and tucked it under his shoulder, nodding at Ajax as he began to crawl under the metal planks of the trailer.
I’m only going to get one shot at this.
Obi knew the senior officer of the Scorpions’ unit would use the cover of the dust to shield them during their counter attack. And while the conditions would likely confuse the drivers, the gunners had the advantage of a turret that rotated 360 degrees.
Obi froze as he saw the first Scorpion in the distance. Just as he predicted, the commander of the unit split the Scorpions up, something he should have done in the first place to protect them from possible ambushes. The commander probably didn’t expect Obi’s men to be so close to the wall, which would signal to the CRK that Squad 19 might be planning a larger attack. This was only a small concern; he didn’t have time to think about that now. He just needed to find a way to stay alive and to keep his men alive.
The first Scorpion slowed and came to a complete stop, its engine humming as it sat idle near the rock formation.
Holy shit, he’s using it as bait.
He brought the scope of his rocket launcher to his eye, lining the cross hairs up with the vehicle. Minutes crept by and Obi began to worry. He glanced down at his watch, knowing the CRK commander would have called in reinforcements by now. His only hope was that Jackson’s units would show up before the reinforcements arrived. Either way Obi realized he was going to have to move to a different location in order to take out the commander of this unit.
Slowly he began to crawl out from the canvas canopy and signaled for Ajax to maintain at his position.
Obi pulled himself to his feet and took off in a sprint down the highway, his head tucked into his chest. He stopped twenty feet from Ajax’s position and kneeled next to the front of an overturned pickup truck. Glancing around the front bumper, he checked for the locat
ion of the other Scorpions.
To the east he could make out the shape of a Scorpion patrolling the edge of the highway, the gunner bobbing up and down as the vehicle made its way over the rocky terrain. Obi rested his back against the charred metal of the pickup and then crept along the pavement to the back end, once again peering around the bumper to find the location of the other Scorpion.
A fierce blast of wind ravaged his face as he stuck his head around the corner. The wind was picking up again, with rocks and pieces of dirt sailing aimlessly about. Obi knew it was only a matter of time before he wasn’t able to see five feet in front of him, and it was imperative he found the commander’s Scorpion before it found his squad’s location.
He crouched, waiting for the two Scorpions to make another pass before taking off in a sprint, hoping the swirling debris would disguise him.
Through the dust he could hardly see the outline of the third Scorpion. If it weren’t for the faint humming of its engine he would have run smack into the middle of it. He dove for cover behind the wreckage of another truck, his heart pounding in his chest.
Deep breath, deep breath.
Quickly he snuck a look around the corner of the truck’s deflated rear tire. He crawled underneath the bumper and maneuvered the rocket launcher onto his shoulder, waiting for the crosshairs to lock onto its target. He gripped his weapon tightly.
Patience.
Obi lay in the ash, reciting a customary prayer for the soldiers he was about to kill. And then, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, watching the fiery trail of the missile streak towards the idle Scorpion before exploding under its brush guard. The crimson wave of heat blasted the vehicle ten feet into the air before bringing it back to the dirt in a flaming ball of fire.
The second the missile exploded Obi was up and running, the fire singeing the hair on the back of his neck. The remaining two Scorpions were on him immediately, their mini-guns spitting hot lead into the pavement around him, sending chunks of asphalt into the air. He tossed his weapon to the ground and brought his hands to his face, shielding himself from the concrete shrapnel as he ran past a charred sedan. The bullets narrowly missed him as they blew holes the size of melons in the ruined torso of the car. Behind him the ping of the bullets rang out, the white streaks of lead zipping past his head. It was only a matter of time before one of them would tear into his exposed flesh.
It was at that moment, when Obi couldn’t differentiate the howling wind from the bullets racing towards him, that the world slowed to a crawl. He watched as razor sharp bullets exploded out of Ajax’s assault rifle. The muzzle erupted with flames as his friend fired blindly in the direction of the Scorpions—first at the one opposite his position, and then at the one heading towards him. But the bullets had little effect as the rounds bounced off the armor harmlessly on impact.
Obi closed his eyes. He had never felt so vulnerable, knowing at any second a .50 cal round could tear through his soft flesh. The ping, ping, ping of bullets exploded around him as he continued to run, holding his hands around his face as bullets whizzed past his goggles. He was now within 15 feet of Ajax’s position, so close to safety and yet so far. He stole a quick glance behind him, to see the blue glow of the gunner’s goggles as he slowly trained his mini-gun on him.
His legs were now carrying him faster than ever before. The muscles stretched, pulled and groaned as he leapt onto the hood of a car and then into the air, before coming down on the concrete floor of the bunker. He tucked his knees to help break his fall, landing with a thud. Obi coughed into his bandana as a thick cloud of ash rose into the air.
Ajax stopped firing and slouched down onto the bunker floor, scanning Obi from head to toe for injury.
“How did I just survive that?” Obi yelled, laughing as he frantically dusted himself off and scuffled across the floor next to Ajax.
“Holy shit, sir, that was awesome!” Ajax yelled, as he stood to fire off another clip.
Obi coughed again and massaged his inflamed right knee. “Don’t waste your ammo, Ajax. We’re going to need every round we can get,” Obi said, bringing his wrist radio to his face.
“Creo, this is Obi. I took out another one of the Scorpions. Can you get a visual of the remaining two from your position, over?” At this point, Obi didn’t care if the CRK heard their radio transmissions; they were cornered and needed help fast.
“Negative sir, the dust storm is too violent for us to get a visual, please advise, over.”
Obi cursed under his breath, pulling his pistol from the holster attached to his right boot.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” Ajax shouted over the gunfire.
“I know, god damn it, I know, but Creo and Nathar are too far away to get a shot. I think we’re going to have to make a run for it.”
Obi stood with his pistol at the ready. Ajax followed suit, jamming a new clip into his rifle with a click. They both peered over the edge of the bunker and were immediately forced back down as a barrage of bullets rained down on their position, sending chunks of concrete into the air.
“Creo, Ajax and I are going to try and make it back to the rock formation. Can you give us covering fire?” Obi asked, slumping back down next to Ajax.
“Negative. Visibility is zero,” he said, an obvious quiver in his voice recognizable even over the static.
Obi paused, memories of past battles racing through his mind. Never had he been in a predicament like this: Cornered and outgunned. Sure, he was used to overwhelming odds, but a squad of Scorpions? No one in the TDU had lived against those odds.
Another barrage of bullets snapped him back to reality. He knew he needed his wits if they were going to survive. Reliving the past wasn’t going to help.
“Ajax, on the count of ten, I want you to take off out of here. I’ll lay down suppressing fire for you. Hopefully that will distract them enough for you to get out of range.”
Ajax looked over at Obi. His face was covered with a black handkerchief and his eyes were hidden behind his goggles, but Obi could still see the emotional strain on Ajax’s features.
“That’s an order, Ajax. Go!” Obi shouted, firing off a round from his pistol into the air.
“Roger boss, you get back safe,” he said, patting Obi hard on his shoulder.
“You got it, man, I’ll be back with you guys as soon as you know it! Now go!” Obi yelled again, pulling the pin out of a grenade and cooking it in his hand. He stood up and looked for the outline of the nearest Scorpion through the dust before tossing the grenade like a baseball. As soon as the grenade left Obi’s hand the wind took control of its destiny, sending it on a trajectory straight for the Scorpion closest to the highway.
He turned to watch Ajax strap his assault rifle to his back and shove himself against the wall of the concrete bunker, bracing for the impact of the grenade. Obi followed suit and put his hands over his ears. Before the gunner had time to react the grenade exploded in mid air, sending red metal raining down on the turret nest. The soldier was killed instantly as the red hot jagged pieces of shrapnel tore through his goggles and lodged in his skull.
Obi peeked over the concrete ledge again, squinting in time to see the dead gunner fall out of the turret and slump down the front of the Scorpion. A bright streak of red trailed his lifeless body. The blood looked almost surreal against the gray landscape, like an alien on a foreign world.
In the distance Obi could make out Ajax’s vague outline through the dust. He was halfway to the rock formation, climbing up a steep path.
Obi took a deep breath in his bandana, relieved the dust storm disguised his friend’s retreat. The remaining two Scorpions hadn’t seen him leave the bunker, or were too busy painting Obi’s position with bullets to care.
Obi kneeled back down on the floor of the bunker, pausing to think over his next move.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Another blast of dust swirled into the bunker, clouding his vision. Once the grime cleared from hi
s goggles he scanned his belongings, looking for something, anything to keep him alive. He scrambled through his gear, tearing through his pack, but his hands came up empty.
Overhead the roar of mini-gun fire broke through the wind. Obi turned to shield his face as chunks of concrete rained down on him; then he saw it—Ajax’s bag of grenades lying in a heap in the corner of the bunker. Why hadn’t he thought of them before? The first grenade had been lucky, but with an entire bag of grenades he might not need luck.
He brought his radio back up to his mouth to radio a message to his squad. He pressed the speak button, but static crackled over the channel. He could hear faint voices over the channel, but could not send a message. His eyes shot down and fell upon the broken screen, cracked from his earlier fall. The panic crept through his veins.
“Shit!” He stomped and raised his pistol above the bunker wall, fired off a few random shots. The wall shook as another armada of bullets tore into its outer concrete shell. Obi shook from the blast and kneeled back on the ground.
Patience. Remember what you learned at the academy; the best defense is a good offense.
Obi took a deep breath and grabbed the bag of grenades. Standing up, he cocked his pistol and peered slightly over the edge of the concrete wall. The two Scorpions were less than 20 feet apart and were not firing, conserving their ammo for a solid target. “You cowards!” he yelled, standing and firing another couple of rounds in their direction before retreating back into the bunker.
The bag of grenades was his only chance. If he could land the bag in the middle of the Scorpions, he had a chance of getting out of there alive.
It’s a long shot, but worth a try.
Obi had never been a man to contemplate his fate; he knew he might die on the battlefield and he accepted it for what it was. He was a soldier and had been his entire adult life. In situations where his demise seemed almost certain, he didn’t waste time. He did what he was trained to do.
On the count of five, he thought, sucking in a chest full of dust as he tossed the grenades into the air and pulled himself out of the bunker high enough to get a decent shot.
The Biomass Revolution ttc-1 Page 7
