Devon's Demons: A Permadeath LitRPG LitFPS Novel

by Matthew Sylvester

  Explosions blossomed over his target, bigger than anything his team was capable of firing. There was a pause, then, as secondary explosions appeared all over the mech, its BP zeroed out. With a huge explosion, the mech was blown to pieces.

  'Thought you might like the help!' Hotston yelled in triumph as Hoffmeister's voice came over the comms channel. 'Request evac for myself and one other.'

  Checking his map, Hotston saw that his squad was closest to Hoffmeister's position. 'Squad 1, with me. Squads two and three, finish the mechs and then hold position.' He was running before he finished speaking, eager to get to Hoffmeister. Concern at the stats showing up on his screen added wings to his feet as he raced to his friend's rescue.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Suzuki looked at Dawson and Hyde, the new pilots they'd been sent. The base, having a reinforcement point, allowed them to keep their numbers high. It didn't make the loss of his people any easier, just meant that his command could continue to function.

  Japan had refused to send any other pilots and so his people had been picked from ECAF ranks. It shouldn't have, but it rankled. He missed having a link back to home, the easy chatter in his home language, and the in-jokes that only he and his countrymen would understand.

  'Welcome to Katana platoon. I'm Warrant Officer 1st Class Suzuki, your commander. Am I correct in that you're a 49er Dawson?' He directed that towards the female pilot standing in front of him. Strangely, she had no name on her pilot's suite whereas the other, a tall, thin, earnest-looking man had his displayed. Hyde. Therefore, using deduction that didn't deserve the moniker, he knew the female pilot was Dawson.

  'Yes sir!' She was short, probably not even five foot, blond hair cropped short, but longer at the front than at the back. She was also young. Then again, he thought, maybe I'm just getting old. At 36, he was one of the oldest mech pilots of his tank that he knew. Another thing which rankled. It was also the reason he'd been attached to the 49ers in the first place.

  'How long have you been a pilot?'

  'All my lives sir, assigned to them in Bootcamp. Said I was too small to be a grunt.' Her smile was bright and eager. She didn't seem too phased that her next death, if she didn't complete a special mission, would be her last.

  'Good, all close combat?' He knew that he should have known the answers, reviewed her file, but he also wanted to have the information straight from the horse's mouth.

  'Yes sir, I also have thirty-five kills, and over 70 assists.'

  With both of them stood before him, he was able to see Hyde wince, pursing his lips in an 'oooooh' shape. The pilot didn't say anything, but the wince stayed far longer than was comfortable.

  Suzuki schooled his face into a blank expression. Her Kill:Death ratio was less than 1:1 and the fact that she had more than 70 assists either pointed to the fact that she had picked on already damaged mechs, or that her comrades had had to come to her rescue on more than one occasion. Or it was just bad luck and people had picked off what would have been straight kills. Making a mental note to review some of her past action reports, Suzuki gestured for them to follow him into the mechbay.

  'This is yours, Katana 2. Feel free to add your own insignia, but you can only add kills gained under my command.'

  'Understood sir.' It might have been understood, but from her tone it certainly wasn't accepted with good grace.

  Hyde nodded, his eyes glazing over as he started to work on Katana 3 without being prompted. Dawson just stood there, looking at him like an eager puppy.

  Suzuki pointed to Katana 2, making sure that Dawson paid attention, 'Take some time to get to know her. This unit is involved in continuous operations, so you'll be getting a taste of action quicker than you think.'

  'Thank you sir. I still wish that I was at home, fighting to free the UK.'

  'So do I,' he said, ignoring the true context of her feelings, 'so do I.'

  #

  'We've been given a mission to rescue some prisoners of war. All Spanish,' announced Devon as she called up a holomap, ignoring the groans and catcalls from her assembled pilots.

  'Why can't the Spanish bloody well rescue them?' Boomed Mtube.

  'You seem to fogey that we are the bloody Spanish,' snapped Devon, 'I understand that you're tired. I understand that you're getting a bit disgruntled, with the constant combat, but we are in a country that had been invaded and the Spanish have had their arses handed to them on a plate. We're the sole reason that this sector hasn't fallen. Our presence means that the knackers are wary of advancing further until they've dealt with yen every day that they hold off on advancing gives the Spanish time to get their act together and respond.'

  She paused, sucking in a huge breath, realising that she hadn't paused for the entirety of her tirade. 'We will accept our orders and carry them out to the best of our ability. No matter the cost.' That was a bitter statement. Seeing Hoffmeister walking the corridors as he tried to get used to his new leg, brought home the true cost of this war. Hoffmeister was a walking legend. Seeing that legend limping about on a cybernetic limb was a shock to all.

  'The mission calls for us to rescue approximately 100 soldiers. They're guarded by a light armoured unit. It's a third line unit, meaning it has old kit and the soldiers aren't the best. They're certainly not Demons!' She paused as her people cheered on cue, the newest pilot making the most noise, much to the amusement of the others. 'Katana are going to free them. Once they have done so, Spanish VTOLs will arrive and pick up the prisoners whilst Katana withdraw. Speed is of the essence, and Katana are the fastest mechs we have. They'll also have no issue with the enemy armour there present. There are no reports, repeat, no reports of enemy mechs in the area. Take that with a pinch of salt.'

  Hoots and jeers greeted that last statement and she made her own view of that by holding a cupped hand up and flexing it at the wrist a number of times.

  'Diversionary attacks in strength will be made at these points. Objective Delta 1 is a fuel dump. Objective Delta 2 a laager for a mechanised infantry company. Delta 3, is an airfield. 4 and 5 are all bridges and chokepoints that will be used to hamper pursuit of Katana. Everyone's going to be used people. If we accomplish this, mission reward is a squadron of our own VTOLs.'

  There was stunned silence. Being able to have their own air support meant that they would be able to strike even further into enemy territory, gather their wounded faster, and challenge the knackers' air superiority in the area.

  'All pilots are to review their assigned missions and liaise with the squishies attached to them for this operation. Dismissed.'

  #

  It turned out that Dawson was as chipper on the comms channel as she was in person. Suzuki ground his teeth as she sounded off for yet another comms check.

  Enough is enough as she repeated her request. 'Comms are clear Dawson, just like they were ten minutes ago. If I hear you asked for another check, I will kick your fucking arse all the way home. Clear the channel and only speak when spoken to, or if the mission requires it. Katana 1 out.'

  He sighed in relief as silence greeted him. I know it's down to nerves, and everyone has a way of coping, but good God! He thought.

  THANKS BOSS, I WAS ABOUT TO DO MY FUCKING NUT!

  Hyde RedFanged.

  Suzuki smiled, glad for the opportunity.

  KEEP A TIGHT EYE ON HER FOR ME. SHE'S TOO KEEN.

  ROGER, WILL DO.

  Hyde was, in Suzuki's opinion a fine pilot. Although had hadn't take the time initially to speak to him properly, they had become acquainted as soon as Hyde had finished configuring Katana 3 to his liking. His scores were much better, and he'd become a double ace, accruing exactly 200 kills. His assists were even higher, but he didn't count them, which Suzuki thought was only fair. Suzuki had a much lower number of overall kills, but the ChinKor invasion of the UK had given the defenders a surfeit of targets, and no end of missions in which to gain them.

  Still, it rankled that he was more than 10 kills away from achieving ace status for
the first time, let alone the second. In fact, if he managed it, he'd become Japan's first ace, as the country had managed - thus far - to stay out of the war.

  'Target coming up, move into V formation.' Rather than him speeding up, the others slowed down. Hyde was on his right Dawson to his left. For a close combat mech, the right side was always the most vulnerable as it was the sword side, and so lacked protection when on the offensive. The right-hand man's task was to protect the wing leader when they were engaged with an enemy mech. There's not a chance I'll trust that to Dawson.

  'Push the bots out.' They were less than 500 metres away and, unless the enemy was incredibly stupid, their approach would be tripping ground sensors placed for that very reason. The bots raced ahead of them, arms pumping as their limited AI determined the best path of approach. All of the bots were armed for anti-personnel, rather than anti-mech combat and presented a terrifying visage to anyone having to face them.

  'Contact.' Hyde's was as calm as a cucumber; he might as have been asking Suzuki what the time was. On the right flank a pair of bots was engaged with a heavy machine gun position and its attached infantry section. DPs started to pop up as the bots killed the enemy troops and Dawson whooped.

  'DPs! Yeah baby, come to momma!'

  'Shut the fuck up! That is now a direct order!' He couldn't afford to have her whooping and hollering over the net whilst they were in combat. He needed to be centred, to be free of all distractions bar those of the melee. She was going to get him killed, and he could little afford to lose another life.

  They crested a small rise and saw the objective with their own eyes for the first time. It was little more than a square field surrounded by wire, with a set of huts in the centre. Towers stood at various points around, and in, the field, with weapons pointed inwards.

  Outside of the obvious prisoner's section was a small area, surrounded by a hastily-built EARTH defence. The buildings inside were of a higher quality. Clearly the guard's quarters.

  He sent a pair of bots to that area, as guards who weren't on duty started to spill out of the huts inside the base. Most were in various stages of undress. Or dress. But all were armed. They started dying as soon as the bots vaulted the guard section's wall, opening fire even before they landed. Suzuki left them to it, concentrating instead on the first of the towers.

  The guards inside were frantically uncoupling their heavy machine gun so that they could turn it and face it towards the real threat. Time was against them. Running past the tower, and crushing the wire fence as he did so, he swung his sword. The white-hot blade cut through the tower supports as if they weren't there, sending the whole thing toppling to the ground.

  Prisoners started to boil out of the huts, diving to the ground as the tower in the centre of the field opened fire on them.

  'Baka!' snarled Suzuki. The guards should have concentred on his mech instead. Heavy machine guns like the ones they were using were capable of killing mechs such as his if they opened up at a far enough distance. The guards had sacrificed the one chance they had of surviving.

  Suzuki didn't bother with his sword for the tower. Powering forward, he threw the mech into the air, twisting so that its back smashed into it, reducing the tower to flinders.

  'All prisoners are to gather on the parade ground! Repeat, gather on the parade ground!' Tagging the parade ground his laser, he marked it for the Spanish VTOL craft to come in and commence the pickup. A timer appeared with the ominous words

  TIME TO RAPID REACTION FORCE DEPLOYMENT - 300 SECS

  'What bloody RRF?' He scanned the rescue mission's parameters, as well as the intelligence they had been supplied by their Spanish taskmasters. There was no mention of an RRF in the area, nor of any other units of note.

  'Dawson, Hyde, heads up, we have an enemy force incoming!' Checking the messages he was getting from the VTOLS, they were still 2 minutes out, and would take at least another two minutes to load the prisoners on board. Which meant that there would be an RRF presence for at least one minute of the rescue. It might not have sounded like a long time, but a minute's worth of firefight could see every single prisoner dead, or recaptured.

  'Any idea where they're coming from sir?' Asked Dawson, sounding more excited than nervous.

  'Negative. Post yourself on the eastern side, Hyde take the Western, I'll stay in the centre. We'll deploy further as required.'

  Checking his command map, he saw that the bots had wiped out the prison garrison. It had only been a platoon in size, more than enough to keep 100 or so prisoners in line. Now, his platoon had another 30 or so kills to add to their score.

  'Pushing the bots out into a circle defence 500 metres out. They'll be able to run interference and act as our canaries.' Said Hyde, his voice still utterly calm. Suzuki opened up a stats window. Hyde's heart rate was barely above 80 beats per minutes. He opened up Dawson's, she was running at 120 and climbing. His never really rose above 90, no matter how tricky things got.

  'Roger that. Dawson, get every drone we have up in the air. Watch out for the VTOLs though, we don't want foreign object damage taking down the friendlies.'

  Opening up every map he had at his disposal he zoomed out until the incoming VTOLs were visible to scale, rather than as large blobs approaching their smaller map. The RFIDs of the bots hung above each one as they raced to the positions Hyde had set for them. Some pilots named their bots, viewed them almost as pets. Anthropomorphised them. Not him, they were weapons, just as his mech's sword was a weapon. And utterly disposable if required.

  'Contact, north-west pair of drones.' Hyde was still cool as can be. Suzuki looked at the drones indicated, they'd pinged a number of contacts coming towards them. The enemy were still a couple of hundred of metres away from the bots, who had taken up position behind a small rise. Stealthed, they were also throwing out jamming that was preventing the drones from getting too close without being swatted from the sky.

  'This is Hog 1 to Katana 1, come in please.' Hog 1. The VTOL lead pilot.

  'Hog 1, this is Katana 1 send.'

  'We're two minutes out from you. How's the LZ looking. '

  'It's going to be hot for a minute or so before you land. Can you come any faster?'

  'Son, if I was s speed-head, I wouldn't be flying a hog. We're pushing the redline as it is. Hot it is. Nothing to be done. Out.'

  Suzuki decided that he liked the pilot's attitude. It was a zen-like acceptance that the task ahead wasn't necessarily going to be as planned, and yet the task still remained to be completed. And it would be completed to the best of the pilot's ability.

  'Bots are engaged!' Dawson this time. She was practically cumming with excitement at the possibility of contact.

  'Push forward, we know where they are, if not what, or how many.' He was keen to keep the combat away from the prisoners and the VTOLs. Air support for their units would be invaluable and he didn't want to be responsible for not getting them.

  Advancing two hundred metres towards the enemy closed the estimated time to engagement down. They're really coming in hard.

  He watched as two lighter units raced ahead of the main enemy force. They'd be SUVs. Lightly armoured, performing a scout role. They'd either find the enemy and report back, or the enemy would kill them and their loss would give away the enemy's position.

  He tasked a pair of bots to engage the SUVs as soon as they could. Positioned as they were, they would actually pull the SUVs away from his platoon, hopefully giving a false positive. If they could flank the main enemy force that would give them a huge advantage.

  'ID coming in,' said Hyde, 'We've got four mechs. 1 light. Two medium and a heavy. God she's a big bugger.' Hyde pinged the video that he was watching onto the comms channel. The heavy mech interested Suzuki more as that would be the commander's mech as per standard operating procedure for the knackers.

  'Dawson. You take the light. Hyde, take the nearest medium. I'm going for the heavy. Hull down until they get in. Make sure you're stealthed and set our drones
to anti-drone. They seem to be coming in fast and dumb, but I'm worried they've already got drones up that we haven't spotted.

  'Done boss.'

  The enemy mechs were close now. Close enough that his mech's sensors were picking up the sound of the footfalls.

  'Good luck people. On my word.'

  He tensed. Hunching his mech down so that when he moved he would explode into action. The enemy drew ever closer on his map until they were mere dozens of metres away. 'Now!'

  Exploding upwards, his thighs driving him against the restraints in his hardness, the mech's legs matching his power, he launched the Shinobi-class into the air, whipping his sword outwards in a horizontal slash whilst his other hand fired off a series of electronic and light-based countermeasures into the face of the mech he had targeted.

  Molten metal sprayed through the air as his blade cut through the mech's chest as if it was paper. As soon as his horizontal strike was completed, he brought it up and over in a downward strike, cutting straight through the weapon barrel raised to block him. It didn't matter that his Shinobi was half the size of the light mech, the power of his weapons, and the speed his small size gave him meant that once he had the enemy on the back foot, they rarely recovered.

  Landing, he spun, bringing his free leg up in front of him before kicking out backwards. Heel up, toes down, hips twisting in to the kick, his foot crashed into the already-weakened chest armour of his opponent. Rear-looking cameras showed his kick striking, and the enemy mech's chat armour suffering a catastrophic failure. There was a small explosion as his foot continued into the pilot's cockpit, then the enemy mech was stumbling backwards under the force.