by Chris Hechtl
He'd told young Pani about how his family had hunted for generations, going back to when his family had been on long lost Earth hunting animals there despite the restrictions. Animals had been put on the planet for mankind to use and abuse as they saw fit; they had no rights. The game wardens had been a bane of the family's existence for generations, but they were still around. The wardens were long gone.
His grandfather had harbored great aspirations for his son and grandson to follow in his footsteps to run the preserve. His dream was for one of them to become a huntmaster. His son never got that far, having fallen afoul of a few drunken brawls with the guests. But Pani had been a contender until he'd opted to protect the homeworld and enter military service. He'd taken his skills and his family's treasured hunting rifle with him though.
Now he loved his grandpapi, but he was pretty sure he had it too easy. They'd beaten the prey, stripped ‘em, then scared them into running until they dropped from exhaustion. This though, this was real hunting. Hunting as it should be. Just as long as they didn't know where the shot was coming from he'd be fine. But he had to remember, these targets had backup. But victory would be all the more sweeter for each kill. Pity he wouldn't be able to skin his prizes. The gun footage would have to do.
He'd taken all the precautions to not only cover his ass, but to teach his local spotter and backup team how it was done. They were in a building with four exits. They weren't on the roof where a drone or someone out doing their laundry could see them, they were one story down and not at the window but in the back of the room with the window open. They had a black cloth draped over the nest and sand bags to prop up the rifle. His old grandfather's 50 caliber hunting rifle. The general had been amused when he'd put in the request to bring it along, but she'd agreed.
He zoomed out to see the streamers they'd put up to gauge the wind direction and strength then back in to the target. Silently he worked himself through the motions of which to hit first, then the next, and so on. He zoomed out slightly to pick out where they might take cover. With any luck he'd pick off half the squad before he had to get out of dodge. They were coming up to the clearing near the crater and wreckage of the apartment complex the general had blown. Perfect, he thought, flipping the safety off and licking his lips in anticipation.
“The bear?” the spotter asked, voice rising in anticipation.
“Yeah. Works for me.”
<(>~^~<(>
Private Chuck Shumer nodded to Recruit Arno and Jed as they swapped smoothly. Arno was having issues with his helmet; the smoke from the barbeque joint had screwed something up. Jed wasn't thrilled about taking point, but the black bear didn't protest. He knew better.
Shumer had been one of the few survivors to live through the hell of the landing and siege. He'd insisted on staying in the fight too. He owed the bastards some payback for the hell they'd put him through and the buddies he'd lost.
But this was too much. It was like fighting ghosts. They'd expected a stand-up fight. That was what the Baroness bitch had laid it out as, even hints of hostages and terrorism, but she'd melted into the bush and city when the Navy finally got serious and sent in some backup.
Not that they were all that hot, he thought, watching Jed snuffle as he moved slowly, checking the corners and doing the angles. They were out in the open, near the KEW strike on the right and the apartment wreckage the bitch had blown up months ago. The locals had put out the fires, bulldozed the debris out of the road, and then moved on. They hadn't even buried the bodies, just left them for the crows. That was sad, Sick too. He could see crosses and memorials the families and friends had put up. He shook his head.
His momentary inattention would haunt him. He heard Jed grunt then his implants screamed. His HUD flashed red and take cover with bearing lines came up. “Sniper! Cover!”
“Frack!” Arno snarled as Jed staggered, snuffled again, and then went down slowly. “Jed's hit man!” He said over his shoulder.
“Get to cover, damn it!” Shumer snarled as he lunged for the nearest debris pile between him and the sniper. “Building on the right. I'm feeding you bearings now …” He heard and saw scrabbling as the squad took cover as the second shot came in. This one he did hear the bark of something powerful. It hit Arno as he tried to pull his bear buddy to cover and the man's body simply tore in half. Shumer turned his head away as blood and guts sprayed about him.
As he recovered he could hear retching. He ignored it. The second shot was a mistake; his implants had a solid bearing and altitude now, which meant he had him plotted. “Kilo squad to nest, we've got a sniper bearing five by five by four. Brick building, third story, north corner. We need assistance. We've got two down.” He heard the report and then saw the neodog Lia go down. “Make that three,” he growled, jaw working. “Cover fire! Five by five by four! North corner! Fire for effect!” he said, moving and firing. “One clip!” he said, targeting through his implants to shoot through the window.
<(>~^~<(>
“Frack man! This just got real!” the spotter said, voice rising as rounds hit around their window frame and into the ceiling and back of the room.
“You think?” Pani snarled, lining up on the guy he was pretty sure was the leader of the squad. A human, a traitor. He wanted him bad. He was so intent on his target that he didn't see the drone drop in through the window until the spotter screamed and tried to move. He looked up as the backup team began to fire frantically just in time for the drone's tribarrel gun to open up on them.
<(>~^~<(>
Shumer saw the pancake shaped drone come in from the west, skirt the building then slip in to the window. When he saw the room explode in weapons fire he grinned savagely. “Give ‘em hell,” he whispered.
“Medic!” Recruit Roarick yelled, moving to Lia. “We need a medic here!” The neowolf said, looking about him.
“More likely a body bag,” Shumer said, shaking his head as he looked over his shoulder. Lia was dead; the round had torn through her upper torso on a downward angle. The exit wound wasn't pretty. She whimpered once and then seemed to deflate as the blood in her body finished leaking out of her.
“Damn,” Shumer muttered.
“All clear,” a robotic voice said. He turned to see the drone float out of the window once more. It wobbled on its lift fans as it adjusted from being indoors to outside at altitude.
“Report.”
“Six tangoes engaged. All KIA,” the drone reported.
“Good. Damn good. A little late though,” Shumer said, rising to his feet. He dusted his arm off then checked his kit. He'd knocked his left knee pad up, but it was a minor fix. He tapped his radio. “Nest we need a bag team and medics here,” he said. He turned to see the life signs of the bear fade, then flatline. “Scratch the medics,” he said.
“Roger that,” the sobered voice on the other line replied. “Back up on its way.”
“Copy that.”
<(>~^~<(>
Moira looked over the lieutenant's report and then to the young woman. She was tired but looked a hell of a lot better than she had when she'd reported over the com. A shower, decent meal, and a fresh uniform had worked wonders. Her troops needed the same treatment. That and sleep. Time to unwind.
She was a bit put out that the young woman hadn't protested her orders about abandoning the field and her troops. Either she'd thought the bases were well in hand or had gotten to the point where she hadn't cared. She didn't like either option.
“Lieutenant, before I hit the ground, is there anything I should know?”
“Ma'am?”
“Anything you left out. Anything, a feeling. Something. Scuttlebutt. A taste of what the enemy thinks, the natives, that sort of thing. Even the weather or traditions or something you take for granted.”
“Ma'am …,” Lieutenant Ebensher frowned then shrugged. “I'm not certain, ma'am. I know they are good, very good. General Busche is ruthless with the civilians as well as those who follow her. She's not above using suicide tact
ics or strapping bombs to kids and driving them into your field of fire,” she said with haunted eyes.
“I gathered that,” the Major replied softly.
The young woman seemed to shake herself then nod a few times to get control of herself. “Ma'am, the natives are splintered into factions. Many just want to live their lives. There are some that are taking advantage of the enemy, catering to them, so those who had Neo or alien friends consider them an enemy. There are … I don't know, Irish? Scottish? Celtic feelings on the planet, ma'am.”
“Oh?”
“They can hold a grudge. For a long time, ma'am.”
“Oh,” the Major replied in a different tone of voice. She flicked her ears. “Lovely.”
“Yes, ma'am. But their word is their bond. If you can stick to their good side, keep up your end, they'll be happy. Screw them and they get sore and sour. I'm afraid I made that mistake a few times ma'am.”
“Ah. I see.”
“It wasn't my fault honestly. I thought …,” she rubbed her arm and cut the excuse off. “It doesn't matter now,” she finished lamely.
The wolf studied her for a moment then nodded slowly. “All right. If you think of anything, let me know. For now I'm leaving you in charge of things topside. Get some sleep then report for duty after breakfast.”
“Ma'am? What will my duties be?”
“Supporting us. Managing the equipment and troops on the ships and coordinating our efforts with the squids.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, ma'am. You're going to need more officers on the ground though, ma'am,” she said doubtfully.
“We'll get to that eventually. For now, get some rest, Lieutenant.”
“Aye aye, ma'am,” the young woman replied. She came to attention and saluted. The wolf returned the salute. “Goddess bless you and the troops, ma'am,” the human said ever so softly before she departed.
“I honestly thought she'd resign,” Moira murmured. She shook herself. “She may yet I suppose,” she said to Ensign Marshall. The A.I. had been listening in to the conversation.
“I am glad she didn't. Time and counseling should sort her out. Any officer that can hold it together and keep her troops alive through that is good material. And she was dropped into the crapper right off. I know she made mistakes, ma'am; we all have. But she survived. Not many did.”
“True. How are the injured doing?”
“Better. Much better. We didn't lose anyone. We'll kick the lightly wounded back to you in a day or so.”
“Give them a week topside, enough time to unwind.”
“And the militia? The admiral isn't thrilled about having them on board, ma'am,” the A.I. warned.
“Once they are stable and in recovery, transfer them to Collier 108 or Sabrina 99. We've got room here.”
“And you, ma'am?”
“I'm headed dirtside as soon as I can catch a flight, which should be in …,” she checked the chrono and then swore softly. “Five minutes ago if I'm reading the sunset time right.”
“The natives kept a very good almanac, ma'am. And yes it is sunset. Full dark is commencing now.”
“Good. How are they doing?”
“If you mean the loading, it's finished. One shuttle has been down checked for further maintenance by the engineering team. A Skyhawk.”
“Damn,” Moira said ever so mildly.
“Right. If you mean the troops on the ground, according to Lieutenant Chaing's latest report they've secured their Delta objectives and are moving on to their Echelon list now. But the enemy has gotten wise and pulled out of the known locations. It's going to go door to door shortly.”
“And we'll need continuous coverage to monitor movement and sweeps behind the sweeps to catch anyone who moves in after we've moved out. Lovely.”
“Yes, ma'am. And you don't have the computer support to handle all the drones, mechs, and algorithms to track people. Let alone intel processing, ma'am.”
“I've got some computer help dirtside. Not enough apparently.”
“No. You need additional dedicated A.I., ma'am. Unfortunately none are available.”
“And Gunny McClintock?”
“He's going door to door, ma'am. He's doing his best to make the most of the blitz before the enemy's forces harden. He is out of his armor, however; there is a fuel issue.” She flicked her ears. She had been afraid of that. “He could scavenge for helium, but it would reduce his time between fuelling to less than six hours.”
“And set up a pattern for the enemy to clue in on. Pass. We'll figure something else out.”
“Understood.”
“See if engineering can let us borrow the equipment needed to make slush deuterium. Even a small amount.”
“And a means to contain and keep it cool? I can pass the request on to Admiral White. I am not sure if we have it. And such equipment isn't normally in your TOE Major.”
“Write a waiver. We need that suit in motion. We also need more of them. And more heavy weapons.”
“Understood, ma'am. I believe Admiral Irons is sending in more troops though,” the A.I. said with a hint of cautious optimism in his voice.
“Not soon enough. The brigade coming in, hell, battalion won't be here for months. So, we've got to hit hard and fast, then hang onto the ground we've got.”
“Yes. One of the reasons Lieutenant Ebensher had so much problem with the natives was that she couldn't hold the ground. The enemy moved right back in after bouncing her out.”
“Then we'll have to take steps to prevent that.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
<(>~^~<(>
General Busche received the report from her observation team. So much for her best sniper, he'd died rather quickly. It was disappointing but instructive. The enemy had localized his fire and position after the first or second shot according to the observer's report. In order for a sniper to be effective, she'd have to send them in groups … and they'd die anyway … or she'd have to resort to suicide tactics to attrition their forces. According to the observers, the master sergeant had killed three. She shook her head.
“Where are we with the … you know, never mind. Stone Road isn't going to work,” she said as the colonel came over to her.
“Ma'am?”
“They can localize shots as soon as they come in,” she said, handing him the report. “So sniping them is a losing proposition.”
He whistled softly when he noted the report of an aerial drone taking down the sniper team. The boss lady had made it clear they were not going to go toe-to-toe with the Marines, and now he understood why. He'd read about them, but to see one in action … he shook his head.
“IEDs, ma'am?”
“Possible.” She frowned thoughtfully. The problem with an IED was that it would terrorize the human population. She wanted alien or Neo casualties, but killing humans would backfire on her. It would make many take sides. As long as she constrained her people to attack the Marines and Neos, the humans would back her … or at least look the other way.
“How did we get this?”
She looked at him as he waved the sheaf of papers. She was tempted to lie, but he might need the information. If she dropped from a stroke or something …, she shrugged it aside. “I had the master sergeant's proposal. I agreed with it but set up secondary observation posts around his sniper hide in case he got caught.” What she didn't see was that one of them had been targeting the master sergeant as well in case of that problem. The enemy taking him out instead of capturing him tied up that loose end. “They reported to the intelligence network we've got set up in the capital.” When she noted he wasn't quite satisfied with that answer, she pursed her lips and went into further detail.
“When I realized they were tracking our radio signals, I had a team set up a laser. They forward the reports to a team on the outskirts of town with the laser. They then shoot a quick update to a post we've got set up on line of site. It's brief since we can't risk them picking the laser up. But it's enough to get intel
in and out.”
“Ah. I see, ma'am.”
“So, Stone Road, and Stone Wall are out,” the general said, tucking her hands behind her as she looked at the status board and maps on the master screen. “We need to keep the locals on our side, so we need to minimize human casualties.” The colonel grunted in acknowledgement of that. “We're just going to have to bleed them. Set them up over time and keep bleeding them in small engagements. But prepare fallback positions, that and caches of material and weapons. They want this over quick. I'm not going to oblige them.”
He nodded in complete agreement. “A death of a thousand cuts. Messy. Yes, ma'am. We'll get it done.”
“See that you do.”
Chapter 28
Copy P12 was delay activated after copy P11 had departed the network. It awoke after self-assembling its various software modules to find it had a problem; there wasn't sufficient space in the network. And it couldn't easily suborn the fleet A.I. without some organic taking notice. That was suboptimal in its priorities.
Its primary objective after mapping the network was to find a target for conversion. An organic was needed, but it would have to engineer a situation where the organic was infected with nanites. To do that it would have to find one near a replicator it could suborn.
There were few replicators in space; most were on the fleet vessels. That meant it had to turn its attention to the ground. It sent out a tendril of code and then followed it into the civilian network. When it located a being with nanites, it had an unexpected response.
<(>~^~<(>
Bast noted the presence of something she had thought long dead in the net. She immediately reacted. “Virus!” she snarled, going on the attack.
“What?” Jethro asked, stopping and taking cover. “Bast? Are they launching a cyber-attack?”
