“As for the companies it passes by, once it’s in the Dogspine they are to harass the bakemono every step of the way.”
“Colonel, as for the casualties ...”
“The bot casualties are of no concern. They were out-of-date anyway ...”
“I think he meant our people, sir,” an old Major interjected, “They have perhaps two days of food left, the winds are arriving and the rains will soon follow. What about them?”
The colonel thought about that for a while.
ROWAC was an unusual unit in that the majority of its human components were not dedicated to frontline duties. Between logistics, resupply and the three Cs, ROWAC congregated more than two hundred personnel in its command base.
He had decided to locate Base Fido right in the middle of the pass that interrupted the northern and southern ranges of the Dogspine. The base was a highly improvised thing, of course, but its situation, well flanked by the mountain range’s tall peaks, and by the fast river that followed the northern slopes of the northern range, provided effective protection. The base was also situated on the axis MEWAC had forged in its passing, and his esteemed EWAC colleagues were at the moment improving the conditions of that axis from Fido to Lograin to favor a more fluid ROWAC retreat, and booby traps had already begun to be set there.
The base itself was concealed within the tall grove that grew in the pass, a smaller grove of nearby Diesel trees having blessed that spot as well. The Diesel grove had been spurned by MEWAC in their passing; their deposits were too meager to justify the effort of tapping for fuel to power those oil-guzzling armored Suits. ROWAC’s energy requirements were more humble, however, and the grove had proved generous enough to fuel all his bots.
The bots didn’t burn the fuel, of course. Their generators had instead been designed to saturate the oil with oxygen and infuse a small amount of initial heat, the resulting slow decomposition being enough to quietly and efficiently power their systems for a couple of days.
That grove had since dried up, not due to ROWAC, but to EWAC’s efforts instead. Contrary to common belief MEWAC wasn’t alone in operating Suits; the Engineering Warfare Corps possessed some of their own, although their adapted Hammerheads were far more lightly armed and armored, having been exclusively tasked to combat engineering, mobility and counter-mobility. It was EWAC who had dug the improvised command bunker in the midst of the more extensive pine grove. They had also dug the trenches for his elite praetorian bots, and opened up the ground surrounding the base to establish a killing field for the anti-armor teams, recycling the acquired timber into the central bunker and other key positions. Progress had become slower since then, the Suits having to depend on fuel resupply from Lograin, its arrival slow and difficult due to terrain constraints.
All combat was a race against time. The more fuel they had, the faster they would be able to build up the road. The faster they built up the road, the more fuel they would have, not only to continue building up the road and base fortifications, but also to dedicate their time to the setting of some very macho booby traps along the axis of retreat. Simply put, the more time they could conquer, the faster the base could become something to do some serious delaying of its own, the faster they could evacuate if things went awry, and the better their chances of dealing damage to the enemy Suit if it made the foolish mistake of using the road.
The decision was all too clear for him.
“Our combat personnel are to persist in delaying action until the Unmil is dead, or until they are dead, or until it loses interest in them and abandons their theater. Should it leave, they are to remote-detonate their bots, group into survival teams and move into the mountain range. They are to survive there in comm. blackout until the sixth day of the following month. Whoever is still alive must then open comms so we can get a fix on their positions and evacuate them by air.”
“By air?!” The major blurted out angrily, “There’ll be no Lograin air base by that time, only drones could come in so deep, and they cannot evacuate a brown squirrel!”
“But they can make supply drops, Dennis. If that’s the only option, then it can’t be helped. The alternative is that the Unmil will get here while we are still weak, smash its way through and catch Lograin with its pants down.”
“And what makes the colonel think it won’t smash its way through even when we are better fortified.” A younger major asked.
The colonel sighed.
“If we begin to make such pessimistic suppositions, we might as well decide to surrender our families to something that might not even know what mercy is. This enemy is powerful and relentless, and as a result we are being forced to make some very difficult decisions, but there is no living thing immune to death, and this one is certainly no exception. We will face it, and it will tire. And then we will kill it or we will die trying.”
“If this command dies, it may prove impossible to resurrect ROWAC in the near future.” His lieutenant-colonel coldly warned.
“True, but if we fail to halt its progress and instead escape this theater, we won’t have the window of opportunity to manufacture a house-cleaning bot, never mind a force of combat drones. We’ll have to take the risk.”
“Be that as it may, if it becomes clear to me that it’s prowess is beyond all our measures, I’ll be pulling select men from battle whether you need them or not.” His right-arm man informed him.
The colonel sighed once more.
Lieutenant-colonel Dale Arakaki was too hard-headed to warrant an argument with him. The blue-eyed officer possessed the almond-shaped eyes of his Japanese ancestors, and they had narrowed to slits as he spoke. Like most transgens, Arakaki frowned on naturals like the colonel. Toramaki felt like explaining to his subordinate that he was still paying the debts for his three offspring’s transgenetic procedures, that he had opted to ensure that his children be spared the suffering that he had endured over his youth, and that he still had to deal with every day. Colonel Toramaki had progressed within ROWAC to a position that many envied, and he had done so despite being at an enormous disadvantage in regard to his peers. It was his sharp mind that had made up for that, but he still had to deal with men like Arakaki, who failed to understand why their senior would refuse to subject himself to the same treatments as his children.
“Feel free to do what you like, Dale, in full knowledge of the fact that if I were to survive such an event, you would later find yourself the subject of a court-martial.”
The lieutenant-colonel gave him a stiff nod, apparently unconcerned by such an eventuality.
“Pass the orders on.” He ordered the comms officer.
*****
As his subordinates reluctantly turned to their tasks, the colonel set off on his own, exiting the campaign tent towards its windy exterior. Moments later the old major quietly joined him. Of all his staff members, Dennis Haven was the one he liked the most. Which was no wonder, seeing as he was the only subordinate present by Toramaki’s personal request.
The old grunt had never thanked him for that, but Tora had never for a moment expected him to.
The men stood in the wind and observed their surroundings. The trenches were barely visible beyond the tall trees. Their canopies were being harassed by the rising winds, branches creaking and groaning noisily, striking each other occasionally to make dull wooden sounds.
“That thing is probably only going to stop when it wants to. You know that, right?” The major mused quietly.
“My greatest wonder is about its armor ...” the colonel remarked, dodging the question, “The missiles we’re firing at it carry Octogen two-stage shaped charges, with copper-bonded tungsten powder cones. This is our state-of-the-art, and yet even multiple hits are entirely ineffective. What are your thoughts on that?”
“Has some kind of non-explosive reactive armor ...” the major mused, “Something that sets the charges off prematurely or deflects the forged carrots so they won’t penetrate. You should be asking someone from MEWAC or the cavalry un
its, though, not me.”
“But I’m asking you ...”
“Then my answer will be the simple one. If a small bomb doesn’t do the trick, hit it with a bigger bomb!” He rasped.
“Bigger bombs are less mobile, slower and more cumbersome. There are no warheads in existence that –”
“Yes there are! The air force has no lack of big bombs in their inventory!”
“But no missile that can pack that punch. The bombs are slow to fall and quick to be intercepted. The missiles are faster and have been getting through, but they’re cherry-bombs compared to the free-fallers.”
The major turned on him with a scowl.
“Why are you talking to me about this? You know there’s a force right here with whole truckloads of explosives, a force that makes a point of improvising the charges in size and type for the mission at hand. Talk to EWAC! They’re mine-layers as well, and no mine needs to fly about to get its job done. Hell, they even have the equipment to dig as many massive holes as they need to – why are you smiling?”
The colonel beamed at him, amused at the major’s angry and puzzled expression. This was why he had requested Haven for his staff officer. The grunt was just the man to bounce problems and potential solutions off of, and on occasion he even managed to come up with one of his own. The reason for that was very simple. The major was old, tired and nearing retirement, and knew he would never be promoted beyond his current post, nor did he have any fear of speaking his mind. Of course, as long as Tora had known him, the old major had never possessed such a fear in the first place.
Which was why he was still a major at the ripe old age of sixty three.
“A mega-mine, heh? That’s your solution?” The colonel asked, smirking.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?! If that thing comes close enough to a giant remote-detonated mine, it won’t matter what magic it’s got up its skirt! The acceleration alone will kill the driver inside, even if the Suit doesn’t have a scratch on it after.”
“That is, assuming there’s a biological entity inside.” The colonel observed thoughtfully.
“If you don’t risk it, you’ll never get the brandy!” The major retorted.
“We need to find ourselves some combat engineers ...” Tora decided, and the pair set off to the north-east, where some could certainly be found.
*****
“Sergeant-cadet Templeton reporting, sir.” The youth declared.
The filthy cadet had an injured wing. No, more like a badly injured shoulder, his arm therefore having been confined to a sling. Nevertheless the soldier stood rigidly at attention, silently awaiting recognition by ROWAC’s commander after having arrived on base as one of the occupants of a single rover. Tora raised his weary head from the map he had been studying.
“No need to stand at attention, cadet, just take a stroll to medical bay and see to your injuries. You’ll have time to do that; there won’t be an evac to Lograin for the following two hours –”
“Sir, I have an urgent matter I must first discuss with you. May I?”
The colonel squeezed his lips together in irritation. The tent’s window flaps had been lowered to prevent the sunlight from reflecting off the display panel’s surface, and he and a couple of captains from EWAC had been studying a map of the outlying area, discussing what to do about their uninvited guest’s eventual arrival. The captains were young but sharp as daggers, and they had shown to be possessed of a practical intelligence he greatly appreciated.
And now this.
“You’ll want to take quick run to medical bay, because the only way we’re going to talk is if those bandages are fresh and clean. Understood?”
The youth stood there for a long moment, and the colonel began to suspect that he was about to object. Then the cadet gave his senior a stiff nod and made an abrupt about-face, exiting the tent briskly. The colonel paused for a moment, wondering if there was something wrong with the boy. Pressed for time, however, he soon returned to his duties.
The meeting lasted the better part of an hour, and the wind had in the meantime picked up and begun to ruffle the campaign tent as well as those inside. He was relieved when an EWAC sergeant finally informed them that the fortified bunker was complete and ready to receive ROWAC Command. The colonel had to wonder how long it would be in use, but he knew at least that those quarters would not be falling prey to the coming tempest.
As the command section reached the site, Tora found the ground surrounding the bunker to still be marred by innumerous footpad-prints from the Suits that had built it. The shelter was a low-set construction cut into ground that was bracketed by tall pines, and capped with a central mound meant to provide protection against direct artillery hits. An array of camouflage nets lay on that squat artificial hill, although a moment’s look at its soiled surroundings made clear that they formed what was essentially a bull’s-eye. One of the EWAC captains quickly put his concern to rest.
“They’ll return shortly with more netting, and I’ve ordered those to be erected with spacers.”
“I trust your men when it comes to these things, captain. Although perhaps those nets on the hill should be spaced as well.” Tora declared.
The captain grinned and shook his head.
“That’s exactly what we won’t be doing, sir. If the site gets detected, we want them to focus on attacking the areas that appear like we made an effort to properly camouflage them. We’ll be placing decoy tents and heat generators in the space beneath the spaced nets, and that might give them the impression that the center-mound is nothing more than an empty mustering ground. We’ll even be marking the hill appropriately to that effect. We have little hope avoiding detection, so a decoy operation is the only other viable option.”
The colonel nodded and quickly banished all doubt from his mind. The plan probably wouldn’t work if Unmil nuked the spot, but there wasn’t much that could be done about that. The engineers’ logic was sound for anything less than the worst scenario, and worrying about that when so many other problems needed to be dealt with was a waste of time.
And time was getting more precious with every passing hour.
They entered the bunker’s access tunnel, its walls solidly reinforced with tree trunks laid on their sides and meshed in barbed wire. It was all very slapdash in appearance, but Tora was familiar with that spec of wire, knowing that its tensile strength, cross-section, and the design and placement of its barbs had been optimized for just that function. The logic was that, the more any nearby explosions shook the structure, the more those barbs would bury themselves into the wood and hold the bunker’s structure together.
As they reached the bunker’s prefabricated concrete heart, the colonel entered the tiny compartment reserved for the HQ commander and stowed his knapsack inside, and then he began to instruct his aides on how he wanted the War Room to be organized. By the time all tables, chairs, assorted placards, data-screens and communications equipment had been positioned, the injured cadet was back, somewhat cleaner than before and with freshly dressed bandages. Sighing at the chore but conscious that soon he would have no time at all, the colonel received the boy in his newly furnished office.
“So, cadet, what is the matter?”
The cadet spoke slow and carefully, laying out a story that surprised and shocked the old soldier. As he listened, Tora happened to remember the boy’s surname and was doubly surprised.
“Earthlings. I admit I wasn’t even considering that possibility any more. But this is good news, I think. If they have pilots inside their Suits then our plans might just have the effect we’re hoping for. And the enemy nukes disabled two of their Suits. This is very useful information indeed, cadet. I thank you. But how did you lose that prisoner?”
The cadet continued with his story, and as he spoke the colonel’s eyes began to narrow. That part of the story was more unpleasant to listen to, rife as it was with war-crimes, insubordination, mutiny and negligence, and with the assertion that some of that was p
resently on its way to Base Fido.
Armed with the newfound information, the colonel wrote up a detailed report, keeping the young cadet seated beside him for occasional prods for information. Haven showed up shortly afterwards to quietly read the report from the screen. Its content was enough to elicit a whistle of admiration from the soldier.
“When can I be evacuated, sir?” The cadet finally asked as they encrypted the report for sending.
“Next copter is fourteen minutes away and closing.” The major rasped, “Keep your pants on, boy, we’ll get you out.”
The cadet thanked his seniors and left in a hurry, leaving the two men to sit quietly inside the cramped compartment, each immersed in his own thoughts.
“Is it just me, or was that boy just plain desperate to get the hell out of here?” The major finally inquired.
“Isn’t just you. But don’t forget the cadet who shot him is about twenty minutes off.”
“What’s taking them so long?”
“Apparently peeled away from the road by mistake and had to forge a new path. They’ve got a seriously injured cadet with them. Apparently an amputee, and the leg’s no good for reattachment, it’s been separated from the body too long ...” he grimly observed.
“Poor boy ...”
“Girl. And young.”
“Shit! Couldn’t we have had the copter evacuate her?”
“You know we’re prohibited from flying beyond this point with what’s coming our way.”
The major gave his commander a look which told him precisely what he could do with that order.
“The pilots aren’t ours to order around.” Tora defended.
“We’ve gotta get us some of our own one of these days ...” the major sulked.
The officers returned to their duties until the distant rumble of rovers caught their attention. The revving engines intensified and then slowly died away. The officers looked at one another.
“Medical bay!” The major declared.
Driven by curiosity, the pair momentarily left matters in the lieutenant-colonel’s hands and passed by medical bay, where the arriving rovers had finally rolled to a stop.
Descent into Mayhem (Capicua Chronicles Book 1) Page 32
