Autopilot programs lacked sophisticated AIs because of multi-national accords preventing their application in military systems. The prohibition dated back to the Watson incident of 2052. The fear of thinking machines with guns had been carried to the Eden System.
Reba didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. Jamming the link should be nearly impossible, and, unless BattleMasters were being taken offline, their drones shouldn’t be on idiotic self-guidance. They were easy targets to blow to pieces with handheld rockets and heavy weapons.
Soldiers looked at one another and exchanged shrugs. Other than destroy the enemy units, no one knew what to do. This turn of events had left them dumbfounded. Reba hated to admit it to herself, but she was no different.
If it hadn’t been for the com-link exploding with orders to attack, they might’ve stayed in their foxholes for hours. The third time the order was repeated, the line stirred.
Officers and non-coms shouted commands. Soldiers gathered their gear with blank expressions on their faces. Something clicked in her mind and she sprung to action.
“Get the drones!” Reba threw her hand at the jittery steel figures. “Take ‘em out before they start working!”
She grabbed a belt of grenades and jumped out of the hole to sprint ahead of the preparing mass. A trickle followed her at first, but her boldness attracted more. Running to the nearest unit, she ripped off an explosive and jammed it into the mini-tank’s turret gear box.
“Fire in the hole!”
The concussion wave thumped her back. She uncurled and faced the machine, pushed the barrel of her rifle into the torn metal and sprayed bullets into its guts.
Reba noticed a crowd of soldiers forming around her. They studied her movements with wide eyes.
She waved her arm. “Go on! Show everyone how to do it. Crack ‘em open and rip their insides to shreds.”
The group dispersed and she ran to a Goliath drone, a smaller version of the larger piloted version. A grenade at the joint connecting the torso and hip toppled it and exposed the vitals.
The bang of explosions popped all around her. Sporadic rifle fire filled the gaps between detonations.
Reba scanned the battlefield. Her comrades swarmed the terrain like an army of ants. An expanding garden of smoke columns recorded their growing path of destruction.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She whipped her head toward the ominous sound coming from deeper in the Euro position. The metallic giants marched toward her. Dozens of infantry troopers scurried around its tree trunk-like legs.
Reba dove for cover just ahead of a storm of death that washed over the field. The ground surrounding her stirred from violent impacts. Dirt rained down on her back.
The end was near and she could admit to herself that the fear was threatening to take over. No! She gripped her weapon hard and brought it to bear. Captain Reba Chandler might die this day, but she would not fall like some frightened little girl.
Aiming at the Goliath’s chest, she squeezed off burst after burst. The rounds bounced off the thick armor but she continued, undeterred.
Click! The magazine ran dry. She squirmed for another mag while keeping her body flat on the ground. Slapping it in, she pulled the trigger. The giant’s chest disappeared behind rolling flames.
Reba paused to glance at her rifle like it had magical powers. A cacophony of fire opened up behind her. Small arms, fifty-calibers, whistling rockets, and the thwmoop of launching mortar rounds foretold of the chaos erupting along the resurgent enemy line.
The rallied Goliaths were overwhelmed and fell with violent crashes. Euro soldiers who moments ago had charged ahead were now either cut down or running for their lives. A victorious roar rose up from the Americans.
Reba leapt to her feet, raised her rifle and fired as she advanced. The counterattack picked up momentum. Their walk turned into a jog and soon became a mad dash to victory.
***
Events unfolded on Kyle’s command terminals like a dream he was afraid he’d wake up from.
The reserves were committed. Everything that could walk, move, or fly was on the attack. He was a spectator now, and that wouldn’t do on such a day.
He turned to Luke. “We’re heading for the front. Load up my APC with all the ammo and any troopers you can find.”
A broad smile formed on Luke’s face. “Yes, sir!” He ran off, shouting orders as he went.
Kyle opened a channel with planetary HQ.
Samantha’s face appeared on the screen. “Kyle, how did you pull this off? The entire Euro line is collapsing.” A trickle of drool ran down the corner of her gaping mouth.
He held his hands up. “It wasn’t me. I disobeyed your orders to make one last stand, but we were losing and then suddenly we weren’t. I don’t know what’s happening behind the enemy lines.”
“Signal intercepts and recon drone data suggest the enemy BattleMasters lost control of their drones. And there’s been a surprise assault in their rear area. The two incidents have thrown them into a confused mess.” She leaned closer to the camera. “I assumed you had something to do with it.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m as much in the dark as you are. Could it be some kind of Euro trick?”
“I don’t see how or why they’d try a risky tactic when simple force was more than sufficient. Whatever’s happening, they didn’t plan on it and this is our opportunity to change our fortunes.”
“I’ve put everything I have into the fight. Is there anything more you can send us?”
“I’m afraid not, Kyle. The only assets within hours are aerial and I need every one of them to hold the line against the Chinese. We’re giving ground for time and inflicting heavy losses on them, but it’s a close matter.”
“Okay, we’ll make do. I’m preparing to join the advance myself. An APC can do a lot of damage in a situation like this.”
She pulled back and her mouth cracked open. “Are you sure that’s safe? I still need a general to exploit our breakout.”
“I’m not planning to be reckless. I want to get closer to the front.”
She sighed in relief. “Good.”
“We’re ready, sir,” Luke shouted from afar.
Kyle glanced at him. “I’d better get going.”
“Wait.” Samantha cleared her throat. “I’m not happy you deliberately disobeyed my commands and lied to me, but … you were right, I guess. We did need to make a final account of ourselves, and my models certainly didn’t see this coming.”
“No one’s perfect, Samantha. I committed a lot of good men to their deaths with almost zero chance of success. I don’t have much right to judge you for not wanting to do that.”
She opened and closed her mouth, shaking her head. “We can talk about this later. We both have work to do. Go.” She flung her hand forward. “Take the fight to those Euro bastards and win this battle.”
Kyle stood straight and snapped a sharp salute. “Yes, sir!” The feed cut and he ran for the APC. “Get us in the fight.”
***
The panicked tones of the German voices outside renewed their angry edge. Stanner maintained a locked gaze with Stephanie. Both gripped the other’s hand tighter as the enemy voices grew thicker. Rifle butts on the hull sent echoing booms into the cavernous room.
Stephanie frowned. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Think they’ll take us prisoner?”
Olsen coughed. He’d been one of the two others who made it inside with Stanner. The other man was dead, having broken his neck when the land-train was thrown about. “I’m not getting taken prisoner again.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Stephanie winced. “They’re so pissed off I doubt we’ll live long enough to say P-O-W.”
The hammering on the door eased. Automatic fire crackled. Shouting added to the picture of mayhem developing in Stanner’s imagination. Explosions wove into the audio tapestry.
Stanner lifted his head to look at the solid wall. The pointless e
ffort sent sharp pain through him. “Could that be us?”
“Who else could it be?” Olsen rose on his elbows. “They’re not shooting at each other.”
The trio stayed silent, focusing all their attention on the clues picked up by their ears. Random rounds impacted the wrecked land-train. A mortar bombardment landed too close for comfort, but the protective shell held firm.
Gradually, the foreign-accented voices and the clatter of their rifles’ sound signature grew fainter. Rattling tank treads replaced them.
Stanner leaned to Stephanie’s ear. “Are those ours or theirs?”
She shrugged. “Can’t tell. A track is a track.”
Then they all heard it at once. “Keep driving ‘em back. Don’t let up.”
The American voice filled them with energy. Suddenly the full body ache inflicting Stanner didn’t feel as pronounced.
Stephanie opened her mouth as if to yell but could only manage a weak, “We’re in..,” before she gave up. “My com’s out. Can you guys raise them?”
Stanner shook his head.
Olsen forced himself onto his feet. “Friendlies in here!” He staggered to the hull and pounded a fist onto it. “Friendlies in here.”
“Identify yourself, soldier,” the disembodied voice called back.
“Private Olsen Rosewood, Second Company, Third Battalion. Corporal Stanner and Lieutenant Butler are in here, too. Sergeant Veech was driving this damn thing.”
A muffled conversation was carried on outside. The same voice that spoke to them increased in volume. “What the hell are you guys doing in there?”
Olsen chuckled. “It’s a long story, but we hijacked this thing. We’re injured. Get us out and we’ll be happy to tell you all about it.”
“Hold tight. I’m sending a team to clear this thing.”
Rescue seemed to take forever to reach them. It wasn’t so much waiting for the medic or seeing fellow soldiers as much as it was the thirst for information. Clearly their plan to disrupt the enemy offensive had worked to some degree, but how well? Could they now win, or was this just a momentary delay until a massive counter-counterattack killed them all?
Stanner needed answers to these questions as badly as he needed a shot of pain meds.
The team poured in to sweep the area. A pair of medics descended on the trio, coming to his and Stephanie’s aid first. They spoke too fast for him to follow and ignored his attempts to ask non-germane questions.
Hands gripped and lifted him onto a stretcher. A jerky ride through the awkwardly-sitting land-train ended with the stinging light of the sun. Setting him on the ground, the medics addressed him directly for the first time.
“You’ll be fine, corporal. A day or two of bed rest and you’ll be back on your feet.”
Stanner cracked his eyes open, holding a hand up to shield them from the light. “What happened? The battle, what happened?”
The medic opened his mouth but was cut off by Veech’s booming voice. “We kicked their asses, Stanner, that’s what happened.” A bandage covered his side where he’d been injured when they took over the land-train.
“Sarge.” Olsen waved. “Good to see you made it.”
Veech stood over them, staring at Stanner and Stephanie. “It worked. That crazy-ass plan of yours worked. We were losing, bad from what I hear, when all of a sudden their drones began acting all weird.”
“I’ll be damned.” Stephanie smiled, then grimaced, cradling her ribs.
“Take it easy, L.T.” Veech patted the air. “Get some rest. We’ve earned it. We can let the others wrap this thing up and put a bow on it.”
Stanner coughed. “So they’re on the run?”
“Bet your ass they’re on the run, and we aren’t letting up until we’ve bagged every last one of them.” Veech waved at someone behind them. “Just rest up. A lot of folks will want to talk to us when the smoke clears. Enjoy the downtime while you can.” He nodded at them and walked away.
Stanner thought about talking to Stephanie but he closed his eyes and sleep took over.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Stephanie heard voices first — doctors and nurses discussing patients other than her. This wasn’t a surprise, as she remembered everything following their rescue and only lost consciousness from sheer exhaustion.
Days of adrenaline rushes and stimulants had kept sleep at bay long enough for her to complete the mission, but they’d taken their toll.
She kept her eyes closed and snuggled into the covers, enjoying their warmth and comfort for as long as she could.
The click-clack of hard-soled shoes against the hospital’s tiled floor struck an eerie chord. The heavy footfalls grew closer, but she pretended to sleep, hoping to preserve her peace. The footsteps stopped at the end of her bed. She could feel someone staring at her.
Curiosity got the better of her and she lifted an eyelid by the smallest of margins to take a discrete peek. The uniformed figure wasn’t even in focus before it said, “Oh, good. You’re awake, lieutenant.”
Crap.
Stephanie pressed a button to raise her bed. She studied the man as it rose. The major was big and tall, with short blonde hair. The ribbon collection on his left breast lacked any combat decorations and his right shoulder was empty where a combat patch should’ve been. She nodded to herself upon finding the sword and cluster insignia of military intelligence.
This both worried and impressed her. His lack of combat insignia showed he’d gotten to be a major without getting his hands dirty or putting his ass on the line. He was a rear echelon desk jockey, and that worried her. Why was he here? What did he want with her?
“What can I do for you, major?”
He tucked his hat under his arm as he glanced around. Seeing a chair, he gestured toward it. “Mind if I have a seat?”
She nodded.
“I’m Major Lowen. I trust you’re being well taken care of. Given what you accomplished out there, we owe you a great deal of gratitude. Top-rate treatment is the least we can do.”
She shrugged. “I just woke up, and besides, I wasn’t badly injured. Hopefully I can get out of here to make space for someone really hurt. As for what I did, right place, right time, and I did my duty. Nothing more. Couldn’t’ve done a thing without Stanner or Veech.”
Lowen flashed her a grin like he found her selfless statement annoying. “That’s humble of you to say, but the fact remains that you were a critical part of events. I finished reading the raw field reports and came straight here to meet you in person.
“You not only effectively controlled a ground and aerial unit simultaneously, but you did so under extreme circumstances.” He leaned back. “Impressive. And that’s not even mentioning your work to even be able to take command of a Euro system.”
“Like I said, it was a team effort.” Stephanie crossed her arms. “Stanner came up with a lot of the ideas and Veech had our backs, not to mention speaking and reading German.”
“Of course.” Lowen held his palms up. “I didn’t come here to diminish their contributions.”
“Why did you come here... sir?”
He leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the seat. “I came here to meet you and to recruit you to join my department for a short time.”
She frowned. “What department is that?”
“Advanced Combat Systems Research and Development.”
***
Opening his eyes, Stanner found himself just one of many patients lining the corridor of a hospital. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant that didn’t quite drown out the copper smell from blood spilt by the battle’s wounded.
His full body ache was gone, muted to a lingering pain in his shoulder and a general sense of exhaustion.
He smacked his lips. Crusty edges cut into each other “Water,” he croaked.
No one came.
“Water.”
Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself up and swung his legs out as he rose. He found the hall devoid of medica
l personnel. The rows of injured soldiers lay motionless, still under the effect of their sedatives.
Stanner carefully placed his feet on the cool floor and took small steps. Glancing into the rooms on each side, he saw they were mostly occupied by BattleMasters no more hurt then he and less than some of the seriously-wounded grunts in the hall.
He entered a room that held a pair of comatose soldiers and made for the restroom, where he bent down to place his greedy lips on the faucet. The refreshing water coated his parched throat, sending a wave of renewal through him that started from deep within. He left the room with a hint of vigor returning to his step.
Voices ahead pulled him forward. At an intersection, he saw a neat-looking major walk by with barely a nod of acknowledgment. Stanner tracked the man with his eyes as he left, seeing him snap to attention when turning the next corner. Around it came a tall, bulky Amazonian woman with bright shining stars on her shoulders.
Her intense brown eyes and confident stride gave her an instant presence that commanded respect. Stanner felt his spine and limbs stiffen to present himself properly before her, as if that were possible in a hospital gown.
She cruised past him without a hint that she noticed him. A trio of staff on her tail eyed him like he was some kind of freak.
Jerks. The only Purple Hearts they’ll get is for a hasty paper cut.
The general paused outside a door. Her face came alive with a smile and she parted her arms. “Lieutenant Butler.”
Stanner’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Stephanie. The general and her entourage entered her room. He walked closer, being careful not to make a sound. The general spoke loudly enough for him to follow without having to get too close.
“General Young,” Stephanie said with surprise in her voice, “what are...”
“Stay down, lieutenant. Please don’t try to get up on my account. You’ve earned the rest.”
Young? She’s the commanding officer for the entire BattleMaster Corps. What is she doing here?
Young continued, “You single-handedly saved our asses. We were about to lose the battle and with it, the entire planet. Your brilliant strategy and expert, masterful control of those enemy drones — you’ll have to tell me how you managed that sometime — turned the tide.”
BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1) Page 18
