by Lazlo Ferran
“Stone? I spoke into the intercom almost in a whisper.”
“Here Cap. Things are bad aren’t they?”
“Yes. How is it back there? Is there a way out?”
“Er. Let me see sir. Won’t be a moment.” I heard the muffled sound of heavy fire in the intercom a moment later than I heard the same sound through my helmet and it sounded curiously like I was in an echo-chamber.
“Only one way sir.”
“Yes?”
“We need a precision hit from one of the tanks. Osei can do it sir.”
“Osei? Can we do it?”
“Er, maybe sir. It’s risky. Very risky.”
“This, is risky Rick.”
“Yessir.”
“Tank 14. Do you read me?” I heard Osei call.
Laser fire scorched just above our heads and I heard a few screams over the intercom as Osei waited for an answer.
“Not sure if any of the tanks are still operational...”
“Tank 14. We’re here! Just. We been hit. We can barely move.”
“We need a hit. I am gonna give you a map reading. But it’s a guess. If your navigator thinks I am wrong let me know. Map reading 21, 61, 42 North, 90, 01, 52 West. Aim about one hundred yards west of the digger tip. You got that?”
“Yessir. Wait a moment. Incoming!” There was a sound of an explosion over the intercom and coughing.
“You there 14?”
A few more coughs were followed by, “We’re still here, but not for much longer. Wait a moment.”
“Jesus!” muttered Osei to himself.
The sound of laser-fire from Stone’s end of the column increased.
“Make it quick guys!” said Stone.
The suited body of a grunt fell across my knees. I shook him but he was dead There was a rent in his suit about a foot long.
“Okay we got you. Nav. thinks you are off by fifty yards. Says the digger is at 90, 00, 02 west. Which makes your spot about 01, 44.”
Osei looked at me. The intercom was silent.
“It’s yours Rick. Don’t worry, if you are wrong, most of us won’t feel a thing.”
A weak smile creased his lips. “Okay I am with your Nav … Take the shot.”
“Okay. Fire in the hole. Three, two, one. Charge away!”
“Incoming!” Osei shouted as loud as he could down the intercom. Heads ducked even further, all around us.
A mountain of slag and dirt lifted from behind a slight rise, and I watched for body parts. There were plenty of them.
“Stone? Was that a hit? Are you alright?”
Silence for a moment was followed by, “Phewee! That was mighty cool! Bang on target! Remind me to buy that Navigator any drink he likes! And all night long too! We got a way out of here now! Come on Cap. Let’s go!”
“Not that easy Stone. With you in a moment. Okay men. You around me at the front of the column. As far as I can tell there are about twenty of us left. There is at least one hundred of them. Our only chance is to run for it. That rise to our rear is home and dry for you. Get there and you will be okay. When I say, go. We stand, and give them everything you got! Okay, ready... go!”
Every man stood up, firing at anything and nothing. Most of us couldn’t see much because of the blinding wall of laser-fire slicing into bodies all around us. Those that could, ran and those that couldn’t, crawled. Some dragged their companions but only ten of us made it over the rise. Beyond it there was no time to stop. Stone was standing there, directing us down the line to another shallow gully which offered good protection from incoming fire and once in it, we all had a chance. We moved in hops as fast as we could back over the ridge towards the mine entrance. Only twenty men were left as we approached the mine entrance. The remaining PODs, slower moving than the tanks, had been taken out trying to defend our flank and only two tanks were left. Tank 14 was not one of them. As we had reached the top of the ridge, I had turned for a moment to look at the battlefield. I could see an ant’s nest of at least one hundred and fifty - perhaps two hundred IM milling about on the field.
Lucky to get out of that one. Very lucky.
“Back the tanks up against the entrance Osei. I don’t want anything getting in behind our backs. Okay, let’s go.”
I punched the code and the great mine-gates, big enough for coal-trucks, opened and we entered. As they shut behind us, the air pressurised in the air-lock and we raised our visors. The inner doors opened and a portly man was standing there in the gloom, on his own. I recognised him as the Mine Manager.
“Sir, what is the status... I mean what can you tell us?” I asked, approaching him. He looked deathly pale and was clearly very shaken.
“They are already in Tunnel M. But there is a short-cut. You have to move fast. Follow me.”
As we followed him down the long tunnel, he told me all I needed to know.
“The others are all in the shelters - except two. The IM caught them trying to create a barricade. We blocked the main entrance to Tunnel M from the central access shaft yesterday but they must have found out how to get in from my two men. But you can still beat them I think.”
After about four-hundred yards we came to a small door labeled ‘Fire Exit’ on the left. Here the Manager stopped.
“Go in there, follow the tunnel to the lift and take the cage down to the thirteenth level. Out of the lift, and the tunnel behind you is Tunnel M. You know your way from there. Good luck.”
“You are a brave man. Thanks!” I slapped him on the shoulders and opened the door.
We moved at a fast trot down the long, sloping corridor to the lift-shaft and all twenty of us managed to fit into the cage. I pressed the button for the thirteenth level.
“He could by lying sir,” said Dunne.
“Yes.” I looked at him grimly.
“Why the hell don’t we have backup?” shouted Stone behind me. “Anderstown is only a few miles away and S.5 should have something there. And their own troops can get here in twenty minutes. I don’t understand it!”
“Me neither Stone.” I answered.
The cage rattled to a stop and everything was ominously quiet.
“Weapons!” Every man raised his weapon and I stepped out of the cage. We were at a tunnel junction. Here a side tunnel crossed Tunnel M but I guessed we were about one third of the way along, from its entrance at the centre of the mine. The IM could be ahead of us or behind us. I peered around the lift shaft corner into Tunnel M. The dimly lit tunnel was clear as far as my eyes could see.
“Let’s go. Fast as we can.” If we were behind them, we had to catch them.
“Sir! I saw something! Behind us.” It was a man at the back.
“Where!”
“Behind us!”
I raised my hand and we all stopped. I ran to the back of the squad and peered into the tunnel on the opposite side of the lift-shaft. After a moment I saw them: little lights bobbing up and down.
“They are coming! Fast as you can!”
I broke into a full run, hoping we were all fit enough to stay ahead of the IM. We had a long way to go. We had gone perhaps nearly a mile when the same grunt shouted that they were gaining on us. My men were almost exhausted. Clearly the IM weren’t carrying so much weight.
“Come on! Come on! We have practiced this!”
“Not for a few years Cap?” added Stone wryly.
“Come on! Come on! Just another half mile to go.”
A few flashes from behind and a seribdenum beam above my head glowed red. Men started to drop. One, then two and then I couldn’t look any more. We had to keep going. Sweat streamed down my face and I struggled for every last gasp of breath. The men around me weren’t doing much better.
I glanced at the sides of the shaft-props but couldn’t find what I was looking for.
“Keep going!”
I glanced again at a prop and saw number 573 marked on it. I knew from my visit, days before, that we needed to get to prop 613.
“Nearly there! Another
one hundred yards!”
I think!
I counted down the props. 600, 601, 602 and 603.
“Stop! Help me!”
Every mine shaft has spare props in case of collapse, and I had known there were some at prop 603. I pulled the spare props, about eight feet long, out from the wall and laid them across the tunnel between two vertical props each side of the tunnel. In less than thirty seconds we had ten props, overlapping each other, forming a low barricade right across the tunnel.
“Okay. We will make our stand here! The charges are about another one hundred yards down the tunnel. Osei. Get five men together. You will blow the charges. I want ten men on the ground behind the props five men each side, crouching and standing. We have the advantage here as there are too many of them to all fire at once. Militarily, it’s called a bottleneck!” I said calmly, hoping to sooth the men’s nerves.
The IM halted in the distance and took up positions as they opened fire.
“How many do you think Stone and Osei?”
“Forty!” Stone replied, from the right wall.
“More like fifty.” said Osei, whose eyesight was keener.
“Osei. Get going!”
“Ahhh!” It was Stone. He had been hit in the leg. The shot had almost taken his leg clean off. It hung by the material of his fatigues and a thin sliver of muscle. He stayed on his one good leg but leaned against the wall, panting.
“Stone! Your laser! Do it!” I shouted.
He nodded. He pointed his laser at the exposed femoral artery of his stump and fired a short burst, to cauterize the wound and seal the artery. In shock, and with such an unwieldy instrument, his aim was haphazard and he burned quite a bit of flesh as well. He gasped in agony and dropped the laser, grasping his leg and slumping to the floor.
Remembering Osei, I watched him tap five good men on the shoulders and break into a run but just as he reached the first prop he was hit and went down.
“Osei!”
One of the men with him shook his head.
Shit!
“Stone! Are you okay? Can you move with assistance?”
“Are you kidding? I am fucked. Look for crissake!” he shouted
“Take him!” I beckoned to two of the men Osei had chosen.
“Leave me here! I can still fire a laser!” he shouted through gritted teeth.
“Don’t argue.”
The two men returned, took an arm each, and hauled Stone off, up the tunnel.
“Prop 613 Stone! You know what to do. Don’t fail! And you lot - defend him to the last man!” I watched them them grow smaller as they struggled down the tunnel with Stone.
A laser shot whizzed by my ear and the air sizzled. I smelled burned hair - my own.
The shoot-out that followed was long, with many twists and turns. I was right: even though we were outnumbered, we lost men at about the same rate as the IM, until their leader, with more men, decided to risk a trick. Nobody ever throws grenades in a mine unless they want to bring the roof down or die. But the IM were desperate. A grenade landed right in front of the barricade, skipped across the dirt and came to rest against the props.
I dived away from the blast, down the tunnel and a man landed on top of me just as hell came down around us. When there was silence and I found I was still breathing. I pushed the man from on top of me. He was still breathing and didn’t look too badly hurt. One other looked alive. The rest of my men were dead. Through the cloud of dust I saw that the joist of the tunnel was split and bent out of shape, as were the vertical props. Somehow the tunnel was still intact.
There was a great cry of, “Charge!” from the IM and then they were running towards us.
I stood up, found a laser that looked like it might fire and aimed it at them. Thinking this was it, I decided to go out on a high so I started walking to meet the IM. A laser shot fizzed past me from behind and I knew that it was one of my men – one of the other two survivors.
I kept walking as laser-fire ripped into my right leg. There was no question of feeling any pain or reacting to it. My blood was high; I couldn’t feel the pain and I didn’t care. I felt my leg hit, a number of times, but the IM were using single shots now and my leg still held me up. Another shot hit my arm as I took down two IM with a single sweep of fire from my laser. Coming at me in two columns I had no trouble picking off as many as wanted the mortal bite of fire. They fell as if they had practiced it, each being replaced by a man who, with the dust and debris in the air, took too long to pick out his target and fire. I had taken down nearly thirty before I was hit in the chest and fell to the ground, face down in the dust. My head swam, as I tried to force my body to move one last time. At first it wouldn’t and to my surprise I felt, rather than heard, the sound of IM boots passing over and around me. Then I heard the high-pitched squeal of two shots.
I tried again to move, and drawing on all my reserves managed to turn myself over. Seeing my laser near my hand I grabbed it and fired at the back of the last IM as they ran up the tunnel. He went down and something rolled away from his hand.
Grenade! Oh no, not again!
But it didn’t go off. Frantically I dragged myself, with my good arm, towards the grenade and picking it up. I pressed the firing button with the usual IM combination: two long presses, followed by a pause and then three long presses. The red warning light flashed and I smiled. Getting to my knees, nearly passing out from the pain which swept over me, I threw the grenade as far as I could, just catching some of the rearmost IM in its blast. Then I leaned against the tunnel to wait for whatever would come. I smiled again at the IM sense of humour. The IM firing combination was the Morse code for ‘M-O’, the first two letters for the name of the Greek god of sleep, Morpheus.
“Come on Stone! Blow it!”
Becoming delirious I laughed at my own pun, and then it came. A huge explosion jolted me and then a huge plume of dust came snaking down the tunnel.
Yes Stone! Yes!
I waited, and as the jolting subsided the tunnel became as silent as a tomb. But there was one more surprise for me. I heard voices. IM voices.
Shit!
If I wanted to live I would have to think fast. The stomach wound was bleeding badly and would be fatal if I didn’t get help soon.
The IM took their time returning, no doubt contemplating their failure and whether there was any more that they could do.
Eventually they came sauntering down the tunnel, chatting and looking surprisingly relaxed. The IM grunt with the grenade had one more hanging from his belt. The only place to hide, so that I could be sure to hit all of the IM, was a shallow alcove that had been created when the first explosion had taken out some loose rock. It might not conceal my legs properly but the lights above the scene of the explosion were mostly out, a few still blinking sporadically. I took up position, balancing my weight on my good leg, and when they were close enough I threw the grenade into their midst.
They seemed very surprised. The leader, weapon slung casually over his shoulder, had just enough time to stare angrily at me before his head exploded and the IM squad become a chaotic cloud of blood and flesh. It didn’t matter to me now if the tunnel collapsed but it still held.
No good these IM grenades!
As the cloud of dust rolled past me, so too did the sound of feet, as some of the grubs, no doubt fed up with the sight of death, made their escape. I didn’t care – I had no more energy left, and let them go.
The next thing I remembered was waking up in the USAC hospital on S.5.
“It is with great honour that I award the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross, with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds to Major Jake Nanden, the most highly decorated field officer on Io. A brief description of the action on Io at Ruwa Patera mine, in which the award was won, will now follow.”
A slight, wry smile creased my mouth involuntarily at the inclusion of Io; a small and reluctant nod to K-Company I thought. I looked up to the roof of the vast amphitheatre of S.4, the Mars station of USAC,
and at the crowd of twenty thousand, largely military faces, watching me. I smiled for them and the large monitors picked up my grin, displaying it magnified thousands of times.
A voice started reading out a brief description of the action. “On the second of March, 2101, eleven jets of the IM attacked the mine at Ruwa Patera which was only protected by a single ...”
As he read, I saw the events in my own mind; the deaths of Osei and Khan, and wondered what the action had really been about. Why had there been no backup? How had the IM known where the MCSs were? These questions burned holes in my mind but for now, I just had to smile.
The Voice concluded, “However, the remaining enemy fled and later, the badly wounded and unconscious Major was retrieved by a small rescue force from a nearby outpost.” The reader looked up, prompting the beginning of a long, standing ovation from the audience of perhaps seven minutes. I was relieved to get away.
My new, mech leg was still a little stiff, and I hobbled slightly as I reached Sergeant Stone, waiting back stage. We both headed for the expressway that led to the Terminal. Our suitcases had been sent ahead. Stone hardly glanced at my new medal.
“I heard the mention of Io – the subtle reference to the repo-battalion.” Stone laughed hoarsely. “Is that all they can do? Us replicants will get recognition one day. They can’t ignore us forever!”
I smiled wryly at him.
“Naah!” he cried. “You gonna see your lady?”
“Sure am. Haven’t seen her for nearly twelve months. You seeing Martha?”
“Yep. And the kids.”
“How old are they now?”
“Naylor is five and Don, two.” He paused. “Sir, why do you stay in this business? I mean you could do anything. You have a degree in engineering. Why do you go on taking such risks all the time? It can’t be the medals.”
