The warnings drummed into him by the Groom Lake brains trust flashed through his mind: They’ll have superior firepower, absolute precision and may be invulnerable to your weapons. Under no circumstances should you engage nonterrestrial ground forces in the open.
This is as open as it gets! he thought bitterly as he thumbed his mike. “Fire!”
Steamer had the hulking black battloid already targeted. He depressed the trigger as soon as Beckman’s command sounded in his ears. The Predator launcher bucked as the small missile ejected on low thrust, then the rocket motor kicked over to full burn. The missile streaked out of the trees and passed under the energy transmission beam between the north western power plant and the central structure. Steamer kept the target reticle on the machine’s torso, expertly guiding the Predator all the way in.
The battloid snapped a disk arm up to face the missile as it exploded. The invisible counter force radiating from the disk deflected the shockwave harmlessly away to the sides, while electric blue force lines rippled over the disk’s surface. The shield arms arranged the disks equally around the battloid, overlapping their edges to provide full three hundred and sixty degree protection, while the top tier of weapon arms rose up like cobras, aiming their weapons over the top of the shields.
“Down!” Beckman yelled.
They threw themselves onto the spongy smooth surface as globules of yellow light streamed from the weapon’s tips, rending the air with the screech of supersonic particles.
After a moment, the streams began to arc down toward where they lay.
* * * *
Laura watched in horror from the ridge top. “Do something!”
Nuke shook his head slowly, his face was white with anguish. “I can’t. I have my orders.”
“What orders? To hide?”
Nuke glanced unconsciously at his backpack. If he had to choose between helping the team, and saving that pack, he was under strict orders to abandon the team. “Yes, hide.”
“Screw your orders!” Laura snapped as she tore open the nearest pack and began frantically pulling its contents out.
Nuke stood up. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“They’re going to be slaughtered down there!”
Nuke stepped toward her. “We can’t give away our position.”
Laura spotted a squat silver pistol in the pack. She pulled it out and darted out of his reach, running toward a rock ledge with a clear view of the core mining facility below.
Nuke caught her arm as she tried to aim, yelling, “That’s a flare gun. It’s useless.”
Laura slammed her elbow into his chest, taking him by surprise and knocking him back. “It’s better than nothing!” she said, as she fired the flare gun horizontally. A smoke trail shot over the battloid below, then the flare exploded into a miniature star.
“Now you’ve done it!” Nuke declared.
* * * *
The battloid’s thermal sensors detected an intense heat source floating in the air above. It matched no known weapon signature, but the battloid’s programming automatically elevated the thermal contact to the top of its target list. Its eight particle cannons turned skyward as it repositioned several shield emitters to meet the airborne threat. When the particle streams intersected, they ignited all of the flare’s magnesium fuel simultaneously The battloid’s tactical intelligence concluded the threat was growing more powerful, and felt compelled to keep all weapons focused on the fireball overhead until the threat was neutralized.
“Use specials!” Beckman yelled when he saw the battloid was distracted. He knew if a predator missile couldn’t punch through its shield, their conventional weapons would be useless.
Tucker had already switched to Conan, the largest of the specials. It was the most powerful infantry weapon ever used by man, but was notoriously slow to recharge. He aimed it at the battloid and touched the firing surface, shielding his eyes as he waited for the weapon to find its target. When it fired, the flash lit up half the mining facility as a sliver of radiant orange light streaked across open ground. The blast struck the nearest shield disk with a dazzling white flash, then electric blue sparks flickered across the shield’s surface as it teetered on the brink of collapse.
Beckman blinked spots from his eyes to discover that even though the shield was shorting out, the battloid itself was undamaged.
The armored machine’s lower ring rotated, moving the weakened shield away from Tucker to where it could recharge safely. Hooper immediately fired his fatboy, peppering the battloid with a stream of densely packed plasma bursts. One of the weapons peeking above the shields shattered, showering flaming hot metal fragments behind the battloid. The remains of the weapon arm swayed like a headless snake, while the other weapon arms ducked down behind the safety of the shields.
Beckman glanced back at the central tower, dismayed that it was still intact. He wondered if the seekers had already disarmed the explosives, or had they got to Timer?
“Concentrate all fire on the nearest shield!” Hooper barked over the radio.
At least one of us is thinking straight! Beckman thought, once again thankful for the master sergeant’s coolness in combat.
Streams of glowing white light burst from the trees as Hooper and Steamer concentrated their fatboys on the shield facing them. Slowly, electric sparks rippled across its surface, then another dazzling flash lit up the installation as Tucker unleashed a second blast from Conan. The battloid’s disk shield sparked and collapsed, then the shield ring rotated the emitter disk away. The failed emitter slid past Xeno, presenting her with a gap in the battloid’s shields. She let loose with her special, firing tiny spurts of energy through the opening, striking the battloid’s heavily armored torso, scarring the surface without penetrating it. Markus, lying prone in the position of a trained marksman, saw the opening and fired a well aimed burst from his MP5, raking the naked emitter disk with nine millimeter slugs. The disk exploded, then was quickly rotated away behind the battloid, as fresh shields slid into place.
Beckman thumbed his mike. “Timer, blow the charges!” He listened for acknowledgement, but none came.
The flare overhead flickered and died as three of the battloid’s weapons peeked above the shields and fired at Hooper’s position. The surrounding forest exploded in flames while one burning tree, its trunk shattered, toppled over with a whoosh. An agonized scream sounded briefly as the battloid’s weapons ducked down behind its shields, before they could be targeted.
“It can’t shoot through its shields!” Beckman yelled as he opened up with his midget. “Aim high, for the weapons!”
The streams of fire arcing toward the battloid from Beckman’s squad snaked up to the top of the shields, ready to destroy any weapon that tried to peek and shoot. The battloid turned its attention toward them, dropping one of its arms down low as the shields angled to create a gap near the ground. Beckman rolled sideways as the armored machine unleashed a blast that flashed so close, the heat blistered his skin. His squad’s fire snaked down toward the weapon, but the battloid snapped the gap in its shields shut, while another weapon popped up high to shoot over the top.
It’s analyzing our tactics, reacting to our moves! Beckman realized, leaping away again as the elevated weapon fired.
The clank of a machine gun sounded as a line of tracer shot out from the forest, close to the burning trees, raking the battloid’s high weapon, but failing to penetrate its reinforced metal skin. The raised weapon ducked down behind the shields as another shot up, aiming at the trees. The machine gun tracer immediately stopped, as a heavy set form darted away into the forest.
Tucker! Beckman thought as he watched the SEAL’s unmistakable profile vanish into the shadows. Somehow he’d escaped the inferno that had consumed Hooper’s position.
The battloid fired, creating another firestorm at the forest’s edge, while it slowly rotated its shield disks back and forth, sharing the drain from their attacks. The system of rotating shields didn’t pr
ovide the uniform cover the tracker type machines had, but the battloid’s shields were individually much stronger and could be constantly rotated, giving them time to regenerate.
Markus jumped to his feet, sprinted a short distance toward the trees, then dived to ground again, rolling to a firing position. He didn’t fire, but waited for a clear shot at the next weapon to pop up.
He’s a cool one, Beckman thought. Markus fought like a sniper, with the patience to wait for a kill shot no matter what chaos was occurring around him. A chilling thought came to him as he watched the CIA agent sighting carefully on his target: No, not sniper. Assassin!
A weapon arm shot out between the shields at waist height and fired at the trees left of Tucker’s last position, where it had detected movement in the shadows. After letting off a single burst, it darted back behind two shields that moved together. The battloid feigned a weapon arm rising, but stopped short of moving above shield coverage. Xeno fell for it and shot at empty air while another weapon dropped to ground level and fired. Beckman couldn’t get his aim down fast enough, but Tucker unleashed another tongue of LSAT tracer from the trees, raking the battloid’s weapon, forcing it back behind the shields. The LSAT couldn’t match Conan’s firepower, but it fired faster, enabling it to disrupt the battloid’s attacks.
The tracer stopped as Tucker’s burly shadow appeared deep in the woods, leaping away into the darkness, changing position again before the battloid returned fire. A weapon arm shot out between the shields facing Tucker, and fired continuously into the darkness. It cut a fiery swath through the forest, felling trees amidst a sea of flames. Markus sighted precisely on the joint connecting the particle weapon to the flexible arm and fired a single controlled burst. The bullets severed the unarmored joint, sending the weapon spinning uselessly away. Before the severed cannon hit the ground, Markus was on his feet, sprinting to a new firing position.
Another weapon arm shot up, aiming at Markus. Before it fired, there was the familiar click of a grenade pin being pulled, then Xeno hurled the small explosive at the machine. The high weapon immediately spun towards the grenade fired, catching it in mid air. Instead of exploding, a thick orange cloud appeared.
Beckman blinked, surprised. A smoke grenade?
The battloid’s sensors immediately detected the orange cloud glowing in the glare of the energy transmission beam above. The strange spectral readings resembled a corrosive nano swarm weapon particularly effective against armor, which caused the battloid to elevate the orange smoke to the top of its target priority list. It began backing away slowly as it raised three more weapon arms and fired a concentrated barrage in a desperate attempt to avoid being consumed by the corrosive cloud. It laced the smoke harmlessly with streams of radiant hot plasma, which flashed harmlessly off into the sky.
It’s confused! Beckman realized, unaware that the battloid was not programmed to fight a force that relied on something as primitive as smoke for signaling.
They all started firing through the smoke at the flexible arms, not the cannons, having learned the lesson from Markus, while Tucker opened up again with the LSAT from a new position deep in the forest.
When Beckman’s gun emptied, he reach for a replacement clip, glancing back at the tower, still belching steam and heat, knowing they were out of tricks.
Why hasn’t it blown?
* * * *
Timer was almost to the subway entrance when he heard metallic footsteps on the fused rock floor as the first seeker stepped off the elevator plate. Ahead in the tunnel, he could see dim outlines of Vamp and Dr McInness, racing into the darkness. He measured the distance to them, certain they’d survive the blast. He’d hoped to be inside the tunnel when he’d triggered the explosives, but the runners were fast. Too fast!
Behind him, the metallic footsteps clattered on the rock floor as the seeker accelerated, followed by silence as it launched itself into the air towards him.
“Fire in the hole” Timer yelled without looking back.
He dived towards the entrance, pressing the remote’s detonation button while still airborne, then the Earth shook, and everything went black.
* * * *
One seeker had remained in the control room, to identify the purpose of the off-white material placed around the floor and ceiling. It didn’t recognize the substance as an explosive, because no advanced civilization used chemicals for such a purpose. It was only when the seeker had almost finished studying the package in the center of the floor window that it realized the material relied on combustion, rather than particle annihilation, to generate a limited shockwave. Before it could compute the size of the shockwave the material could produce, the explosives detonated. The window shattered beneath its metal feet, releasing a wave of searing heat from the drill chamber which detonated the C4 in its hands, blowing off both its lower arms and ripping open its multilayered torso. The seeker fell into the drill chamber amid fragments of the collapsing roof and window as heat buckled its metal skin. It crashed onto the drill head, cracking its sensor disk and finding the heat had jammed one of its hip joints.
The seeker struggled to stand on crippled legs as falling debris rained down around it, smashing the laser positioning sensors that kept the massive drill head aligned with the energy transmission beams. The impact of tons of falling debris knocked the drill out of position, letting the energy beams scour deep gashes in the drill’s hull. The glowing blue gravity plates holding the mining machine aloft flickered, starved off energy, and winked out. A moment later, the drill’s excavation beam blinked off, instantly reducing the temperature by thousands of degrees, and immersing the massive bore hole in darkness.
The seeker leapt off the doomed drill head toward the jagged edge of the floor above, but a large section of falling roof swatted it like a bug in mid air. The roof section careened off the side of the drill, then carried the seeker down into the black steaming cloud toward the bowels of the Earth. Starved of power, the drill fell, allowing all five transmission beams to intersect in the center of the chamber. Instantly, feedback flashed at the speed of light, back along the beams to the five power plants outside, overloading the delicately balanced magnetic fields that contained reactions hotter than any metal could withstand.
Outside, the five power plants exploded as one.
* * * *
The flash was blinding as shockwaves rolled over Beckman’s squad. The battloid took the full force of the blast on its already overloaded shield emitters and was swept across the smooth ground on anti-g sleds struggling to prevent it toppling over. It spun with arms flailing as it fought to steady itself, then a section of the power plant’s wall, travelling faster than a bullet, sliced through its back like a sword. The battloid cart wheeled between Beckman and Markus, coming to rest on its side, its heavily armored torso peeled open as if by a can opener.
Beckman’s ears rang with a solitary tone as his vision cleared of spots from the flash. Overhead, a dirty white cloud boiled skyward from the tower’s shattered roof like an erupting volcano. He turned back to the battloid, surprised to see it was still functioning. Its weapon arms snaked around the wall segment embedded in its back, cutting through the metal while its shield arms pushed against the ground as it tried to right itself.
“It’s still alive!” Xeno yelled, horrified.
“It’s not alive!” Beckman growled through gritted teeth. “It’s a God damned machine!”
When the weapon arms finished cutting, the metal wall segment crashed to the ground, reducing the weight pinning the battloid. Its weapon arms blasted holes in the smaller wall fragment still embedded in its torso, then the weaponless arms threaded the holes and tried pulling it free. On the third attempt, metal groaned as the jagged wall fragment scraped free of the battloid’s torso, revealing a gaping wound sparking with short circuits. It tossed the metal slab away, pushed on the ground with its arms in an effort to right itself.
“No you don’t!” Beckman declared angrily, jumping to his feet and
racing toward the crippled monster.
The battloid swung a shield arm at him, but he rolled under the blow and back to his feet. Holstering his special, he leapt onto the battloid and hurled two grenades into its open wound. A weapon arm struck him in the chest, swatting him away like a fly. He hit the ground hard, stunned as a weapon arm snaked toward him, rising up like a viper about to strike, then both grenades exploded inside the machine’s torso. The weapon arm swayed dizzily above him before it collapsed, slamming into the ground at his feet. All around the battloid, its arms wavered and fell, then its massive torso crashed to the ground.
Beckman climbed slowly to his feet, wheezing from the battloid’s last blow. “Now it’s dead!”
He stared at the shattered tower and the five wrecked power plants burning furiously down to their foundations. The extent of the devastation surprised him, as he’d intended only to disable the mine, not obliterate it. With the mineral extraction system destroyed, the tower was no longer releasing pure steam into the air, but an acrid mix of steam and vaporized minerals pouring up from the deepest mineshaft ever sunk into the Earth.
They won’t fix that in hurry! he thought, then thumbed his mike. “Timer, Vamp, acknowledge.” He waited a few seconds, wondering if they could possibly have survived the blast below ground, then repeated his call, but no response came.
“Steamer’s dead,” Hooper radioed weakly.
Damn! Beckman thought, relieved to hear the sergeant’s voice, but shocked that the man mountain was gone. He started for the tree line, spotting Hooper’s profile against the fires. The sergeant was limping, with one arm hanging lifelessly by his side. Nearby, Tucker emerged from the shadows, incredibly carrying both his machine gun and Conan.
“Steamer took one full in the face,” Tucker said bitterly. “Never had a chance.” The SEAL’s eyes were glassy and his jaw was clenched shut as he fought to contain his grief at the loss of his friend.
The Mothership Page 19
