Reforged (Bolt Eaters Trilogy Book 2)

by Isaac Hooke

  “It’s the same pain Scorpion and I have to face daily,” Frogger said. “We lost a woman named Molly. We deal with that in our own ways.”

  Except you don’t really deal with it, Eric wanted to tell his mind clone. You never have.

  Creating a virtual reality clone of Molly didn’t really count as therapy, in Eric’s mind. It was more… well, trying to pretend as if she was still alive. He wondered if Frogger would ever grow bored of that falsehood. Then again, he’d invested so much time and credits into developing her AI core, he probably believed she was real, at this point.

  Maybe she even was.

  Just as real as Eric and the others, anyway.

  “Well, it looks like we’ve reached the end of the line,” Eagleeye interrupted.

  “All right,” Marlborough began. “We’ll retrace our steps, and—”

  “Hm,” Eagleeye said. “Looks like I disturbed the rest of some sort of entity, or entities, residing on the cave wall. A few of them are dropping away.”

  Eric enlarged the point of view of the lead drone and saw the ‘entities’ Eagleeye referred to. They were attached to the wall that formed the cave terminus ahead; as he watched, the creatures began breaking away from the surface in huge clumps. He couldn’t really make out any details on the entities themselves—they appeared merely as indistinct white outlines, thanks to the LIDAR unit attached to the scout.

  “There are more than a few dropping away,” Dickson said. “A whole lot more.”

  “And they’re headed directly toward the drones,” Hicks said. “And us.”

  “Maybe if we turn back now, we can outrun them,” Mickey said.

  “And go where?” Brontosaurus asked. “Back onto the plains?”

  “I don’t know, a different tunnel?” Mickey said.

  “We can’t outrun them,” Eagleeye said. “I’ve run a few quick calculations, based on the rate they’re pulling away from the wall. They’ll reach us shortly after the drones arrive, if I turn them back now.”

  “Do it, Eagleeye, recall the scouts!” Marlborough said. “The rest of you, get ready to fight.”

  10

  Eric folded his shield into place and slammed it to the ground in front of him. He dismissed the video feed from the drone, which was quickly retreating.

  The other mechs placed the alien tanks they had dragged with them in front of their positions, and used the wreckages for cover. Eric quickly moved next to Slate, and ducked behind the damaged tank the drone operator had carried with him. Eric kept his shield deployed. Bambi and Crusher likewise assumed positions next to other Bolt Eaters and their tanks.

  Traps positioned himself next to Marlborough. No doubt Traps intended to deploy his Rambler’s spherical force field if things got out of hand—it was wide enough to protect another mech, in this case the Sarge.

  “Dock your repair drones,” Marlborough said. “We’ll continue work on the emitters later. The noise will only attract whatever’s out there.”

  Across the platoon, the 3D-printing drones docked in the storage compartments of their respective mechs. In addition to the noise, they’d just get in the way, and be destroyed.

  “Also, conserve as much power as possible,” Marlborough transmitted. “If you can help it, use your alien blades only.”

  Eric deployed his Wolverine-style blades in his right arm, aimed his shoulder-mounted energy cannon through the top notch in the ballistic shield, and switched to the weapon’s viewpoint. He didn’t plan to waste energy firing it, but he did intend to stay in cover for now, in case the incoming entities had any long distance firing capabilities, like the Dragonworms.

  The scope on his energy cannon was able to interpret photons returned from the LIDAR beams that were shared across the team, allowing him to see the white wireframes composing the cave walls, floor and ceiling. So far, there were no tangos.

  The drone scouts whizzed past.

  “Frick!” Slate said. “I almost fired at your pieces of shit.”

  “That’s why it’s best you don’t go looking in toilets before they’re flushed,” Eagleeye quipped.

  “I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means,” Slate returned.

  “Sure you do,” Eagleeye said. “You’re a regular poop burglar.”

  “Oh-Kay,” Slate said. “Dude, you might want to cut back on the ganja pipe before missions.”

  The scouts docked in Eagleeye’s storage compartment and the door shut with a loud clang.

  After that, there was only silence.

  “Well, where are they, mate?” Dunnigan asked. “I thought you said those things would arrive soon after the drones.”

  “They should be here...” Eagleeye said.

  Eric heard it then. Clicking sounds. Like a thousand grasshoppers chirping in the night.

  “You hear that?” Dickson said. “Echolocation. These things are probably blind as bats. Recommend headlamps.”

  Marlborough paused for only a moment. Then: “Activate headlamps!”

  Across the team, headlamps activated, supplementing the LIDAR with actual visual data. A pool of light erupted from Eric’s head, as well as from the light attachments on his different weapons, illuminating the immediate area. He could see the smooth, gray cave walls receding in front of him. But so far, none of the entities were in view.

  The clicking noise grew in volume with each passing moment, until it became so loud that his volume adjustment system kicked in, automatically lowering the noise levels to something less overwhelming.

  And then Eric saw them: at the extremities of the beams of light in front of him, a moving wall approached. A living, seething mass of creatures. His first impression was of rats crawling over one another to escape a sewer fire.

  He realized then why the creatures hadn’t yet reached the platoon, despite how fast they had originally detached from the wall: there were just too many of them. They constantly plowed into one another as he watched, their echolocation senses probably interfering with that of their neighbors.

  He amped up his time sense—well aware that doing so would drain more power from his battery—and zoomed in on the wall in an attempt to get a better idea of what the team was facing. He spotted the individual entities.

  Strangely enough, or perhaps ridiculously, his first impression was of flying chipmunks. They had four appendages, with two pairs protruding from the top, and another two the bottom, with a thin webbing of gray skin connecting the limbs. Some of them were flapping those appendages, apparently flying, while others simply held them spread-eagled as if coasting. The mouth regions possessed thin, tubular masses that reminded him of the suction cups underneath an octopus’ tentacles. They had no apparent eyes, but he saw two mandibles above the suction cups that probably sourced the clicking sounds when rubbed together.

  The body shapes were vaguely similar to the design of the alien airships, and he wondered if the Banthar based the shape of the craft on these cave beings.

  He returned his time sense to normal. The living wall rapidly approached.

  “Hang tight!” Marlborough said.

  Eric ducked behind his shield, and the alien tank, as the wall of entities struck. The sheer force of that wall caused the tank to slam into Eric and Slate, dragging them backward.

  There was basically nothing Eric could do as that living tidal wave swept over him. There were no enemies to fight—the individual creatures were gone before he could strike any of them. Some of those that plowed into the wreckage of the tank were sent flying over, and landed unconscious on the cave floor behind him. They were roughly half the size of his mech.

  The clicking sounds were all consuming now, the cacophony abetted by the clanging of bodies hitting the tanks. If his auditory sensors hadn’t reduced the volume, he would have been overwhelmed by the noise of it all.

  Slate stabbed his alien blades down into two of the creatures that landed next to him. “Take that, ugly bitches!” He could only slice and dice for a few moments until the
tank, still sliding backwards, hit him, and Slate was forced to huddle against it once again or be bowled over.

  That living wall must have passed over the platoon for at least a minute, though it seemed much longer, and then, finally, the creatures ceased coming.

  Eric watched as the wall of entities receded on his rear view video feed, until they vanished completely down the tunnel.

  “Well, that was one of the easier battles I’ve ever fought,” Hicks said.

  “Now I know what it feels like to be swallowed by a giant esophagus,” Tread commented. “And swept through the stomach, intestines, and then shat out the anus.”

  “Dude, this was nothing like that,” Eagleeye said. “It was more like riding a wave you had no control over.”

  “A wave that left a bunch of dead aliens in its path,” Bambi said.

  She was right. Eric surveyed the floor of the tunnel, and spotted motionless entities scattered all over the place, where they’d been knocked down in their frenzied flight, either when they hit the tanks and mechs, or themselves.

  “Snagglebeasts,” Slate said.

  “What?” Eric said.

  “That’s what I’m calling these bitches,” Slate said. “Because they’re a tangled, knotted mess. A snaggle!”

  “Better than calling them Snagglepuffs or Snaggleshits, I suppose,” Eagleeye said. “Which is more typical of the names you come up with.”

  One of the unconscious entities next to Eric began to stir.

  “Uh, I don’t think they’re dead,” Frogger said.

  Slate ran at the entity that was moving near Eric, and sliced it with his alien blades until there was nothing left but gory pieces of meat. And yet he still cut at it.

  “Settle down, mate,” Dunnigan said. “All you’re doing is wasting power at this point.”

  Slate finally stopped. “Only making sure our friendly neighborhood alien is dead. And I’m not your mate.”

  “Oh, but you could be,” Dunnigan said suggestively.

  “Bitch, don’t—”

  Eric raised a quick hand, interrupting him. “Look.”

  He gestured toward the cave floor: more and more of the entities were beginning to move. Not just those nearby, but creatures scattered throughout the tunnel.

  “Uh, looks like you’re going to get your fight after all, Hicks,” Mickey said.

  “Never said I wanted a fight,” Hicks commented. “But I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “We all will,” Brontosaurus agreed.

  “Well, Sarge, I assume we have permission to attack?” Eric asked.

  “You do,” Marlborough replied. “Best to butcher them now while they’re still trying to get their bearings.”

  Eric emerged from behind the cover of the tank and rushed the closest entity. He sliced through its torso with the twin blades, nearly cutting it in half. The creature dropped. He went to the next entity, and similarly mowed it down, spraying his mech with black blood.

  “Geez Louise... these bitches bleed!” Slate said. “It’s like squeezing the puss from a boil you never knew you had.”

  “Kinda like what you do between your legs when you’re alone in the shower with yourself?” Eagleeye said.

  “Yeah, bitch, that’s what I do, you got me.” Slate sliced through a Snaggle that rushed him.

  The entities were becoming more lively in general so that soon Eric found himself on the defensive, doing his best to keep those creatures from attaching themselves to him. They would vault into the air in low arcs, slingshotting toward him, using those “wings” to guide their flights. From the way those suckers on their heads quivered eagerly, he suspected letting them touch him wouldn’t be all that good for his mech.

  He spotted Brontosaurus nearby; the heavy gunner folded his energy laser and plasma weapons into place, and began opening fire. The attacks tore into different creatures... laser beams poked holes in their wings; plasma bolts tore bloody gaps into their sides. Some died instantly, but others only seemed to grow enraged.

  Eric was sorely tempted to fire his energy cannon as well, but the Sarge’s next words sobered him.

  “Conserve power!” Marlborough shouted. “You’ll drain your battery dry if you keep that up! Alien blades only!”

  “Sorry, Sarge.” Brontosaurus folded his weapons away, and deployed his ballistic shield in his left arm, and the Wolverine blades his right, returning to his previous attack mode.

  Eric positioned himself next to Crusher and Bambi, and together the three of them fought back to back, staving off the waking hordes around them. Eric noticed that some of the Snaggles attacked the tanks, which so far, the team had left undefended. They secured their suction cup mouths to the metal surfaces, and began... well, it looked like they were pumping their heads up and down over the attachment point. And that was an euphemistic description.

  “Eww,” Slate said. “Are these things giving blow jobs to the tanks?”

  Eric fought his way toward the closest tank, and then sliced through the Snaggles that were attached to it. Then he kicked away one of the dead bodies. Where the head had been attached via the suction cups, deep circular holes remained etched into the hull. He removed the other bodies while Bambi and Crusher watched his back, and discovered similar damage.

  “They’re digesting the alien tanks,” Eric said. “I suggest keeping the entities away, unless you want to lose the spare materials we’ll need for the emitters!”

  “He’s right,” Brontosaurus said. “I just cleared mine and found it covered with pock marks from those sucker mouths. Disgusting as hell.”

  “Just think of the blow jobs they could give you!” Slate said.

  “Enough with the BJ jokes!” Eagleeye said. “We heard you the first time!”

  “Hey, take a chill suppository, dude!” Slate said.

  “I’m just thinking, we probably don’t want to let these things touch us...” Frogger said.

  “Well, at least we know how they made the tunnels!” Mickey said. “What we’re looking at here are probably the results of a few millennia of digestion.”

  A blur arced at Eric from above, and he heard a loud clang followed by a substantial weight spread across his shoulders, head, and upper back. Glancing up, he realized one of the Snaggles had attached to him.

  A warning appeared on his HUD.

  “Acid is leaching into the your head and neck armor,” Dee said. “Multiple locations. Regional hull integrity is down to fifty-three percent.”

  “That was quick!” Eric stabbed at the mass above his head with his blades, until at last those suckers released him, and he shucked off the dead body. Green acid dripped from its suckers.

  “Tasty morsel,” Bambi commented, looking over her shoulder.

  Eric pressed himself firmly against Crusher and Bambi, and slashed at the next group of Snaggles that vaulted at him.

  Another one vaulted high, obviously intending to land on his head like the previous. He just finished slashing at one that came at him from in front, and there was no time to redirect the motion of the blades, so he lifted his shield to block the attack from above; upon impact, he swung the shield in an arc to bat the creature away.

  Hicks impaled it where he fought back to back with Frogger and Brontosaurus nearby.

  More and more of the Snaggles were awakening, and using their echolocation to target the Bolt Eaters. Eric couldn’t deflect them all in time—well, if he amped up his servomotor output and switched to Bullet Time, it was possible. But then his power cell would drain too fast. So he simply used his shield to bat away the remainder, as he had learned to do with the previous creature.

  “I’m worried that living wall is going to return this way at some point, and that they’ll be far more organized,” Marlborough said. “Everyone, retreat to the previous branch. We’ll defend against the entities there. Bring the tanks!”

  The team didn’t have far to go to reach the previous branch—it was only about two hundred meters behind them.

&nbs
p; Eric, Bambi, and Crusher didn’t have a tank to drag, so they partnered up with Slate, Brontosaurus, and Frogger respectively, and helped them haul the alien vehicles in question.

  Eric kept his blade hand free so that he could slash at any Snaggles that attempted to leap on him. Sometimes they landed on the tank—he knew, because the weight of the vehicle would increase, so he released it, and maneuvered to the back to cut it free.

  “Eric, Bambi, Crusher,” Marlborough said. “I want you three to move between the tanks, and keep them free of Snaggles. We’re having a helluva time dragging them with those creatures continually leaping onto the vehicles.”

  Eric accepted his new role and moved to the left hand side of the Bolt Eaters, protecting the tanks that Slate, Hicks, Dunnigan, and Dickson dragged. He sliced away any that got in his path, or that attached to one of the tanks under his protection. Bambi and Crusher meanwhile kept the remaining tanks free.

  Eric became overwhelmed a few times, and had to cut away Snaggles that attached to him on all sides. It was tricky, considering that he had no one to watch his back. One time, Bambi left her assigned tanks to help him out, and he did the same for her in return.

  They reached the crossroads area. The Snaggles molested them the whole way.

  “Into the southern branch!” Marlborough ordered. “And resume defensive positions.”

  The team maneuvered into the southern branch as requested, and once more formed defensive parties of three in front of the tanks. The Snaggles seemed to be dropping off in number—no doubt because the team was doing a good job of killing them off.

  But then Eric heard that characteristic sea of clicking, coming from the western passage.

  “I think the tidal wave is returning!” Eagleeye said.

  “All right, let’s put some distance between ourselves and them this time!” Marlborough ordered. “Into the southern passage, as fast as you can! Bring the tanks!”

  Eric and the others retreated once more, moving away from the remaining Snaggles, which continued to harry them—to their detriment.