by Michael Ryan
“Sir?” I looked him in the eye.
“Go ahead, Sergeant,” he said.
“Did you mention the drop time already? Excuse me if I missed it.”
“I have not. It’s zero four hundred standard ship’s time, day after tomorrow. Thursday.”
“Sir, we have a lot to do, sir. May I dismiss the squad, sir?”
He waved his hand.
“Squad dismissed,” I said.
Later in our bunk, Callie said, “You need to be careful not to be so…so, you know…”
“Yeah,” I said. “I just think–”
“Quit thinking,” she said. She pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Let’s have a little fun.”
I kissed her neck. “God knows I’ve earned it.”
We made love. Thoughts of being consumed alive by sand-wolf spiders only interrupted me a couple of times.
Raider Squad was fired out of the capsule rail-guns on the starship Hiryū-Shimokita Maru VII with the rest of Bravo Company. We fell through the atmosphere in a tight grouping and parachuted to the surface of Purvas without being fired upon. Whether a drop has gone undetected or not is often unknown until your group is ambushed, so SOP was to assume you’d be noticed. If you weren’t attacked immediately, it was wise to expect that something worse was on the way.
We joined the rest of Bravo and fell in behind Alpha Company. Behind us were Charlie, Delta, and Elfant. Our squad comprised eight specialists and a squad leader, standard for urban assault teams. Bravo Company had five squads, giving us forty-five members plus the company commander, his executive officer, the first sergeant, and their assistants, making the entire group fifty-one strong on the ground. Technically, Bravo included another few dozen personnel who remained on the Hiryū, but being as they weren’t TCI-Armored SDI, I tended to think of them separately.
The Ninth, a group the humans continued to call space marines in spite of Lieutenant Bloostine’s correction, was comprised of companies that numbered over seventy members when at full strength. That particular Thursday, each group was down about a third due to heavy fighting in the previous weeks, so our entire group – designated a regiment (Gurts didn’t use the term battalion) – numbered two hundred and forty-six. Above the company commanders was a major with a small staff. Our mission was to shock-attack a settlement that had been named Objective Foxtrot Sand. Initial intelligence reports indicated that the Teds had likely fortified the small encampment with defensive rail-cannons, but a conflicting report claimed that it was equally probable that the group stationed there was a mobile unit without any large weapons.
At that point in my service, I thought I wasn’t capable of being shocked and surprised any longer, and I marched in our advancing column as if a mecha was going to pop out of the sand at any moment and fire missiles at us.
“I think I prefer the Biragon,” Callie said over the squad comm.
“It does feel weird not having the cover of the trees,” I agreed.
Abrel grunted.
“At least there’s no dino-lizards here,” Mallsin said.
“You’re optimistic,” her partner stated. “The dinos are easy to spot. Out here in the sand, we’re like a bunch of ticks on a shaved dog.”
“Who the hell shaves a dog?” Corporal Setton asked.
“It’s a common purvast thing,” Mallsin answered.
“Weird,” he said.
“No weirder than human customs. I read once that human women used to shave their cats,” Corporal Slater said. She was Setton’s partner and the other half of the engineering team.
Callie laughed. “I don’t think you’ve got that right–”
“That’s enough,” Bloostine said, interrupting our discussion. “Maintain tactical discipline.”
The squad comm included the lieutenant by regulation, so I switched to my private comm with Callie.
“I wish he realized that his attitude makes everyone edgier,” I said.
“Agreed. I don’t like being so exposed. Even with the dangers, I definitely prefer the jungle.” She turned on her favorite playlist and sent me a request to join her.
I accepted.
The music kept me distracted and allowed my mind to relax. Remaining in a heightened sense of alertness for too long only led to hyper-anxiety. It was counterproductive. I gradually fell into a rhythm with the music as we marched across the fine yellow sand.
By noon the external temperature was approaching fifty degrees Celsius. We crossed vast windless stretches without seeing a living thing. I’d expected to see at least a bird floating overhead, but the sky was clear – even the buzzards avoided this stretch of barren wasteland; perhaps this was a good thing, but the lifeless, moonlike habitat on Purvas gave me the creeps.
Our suits regulated our internal temperature to keep us comfortable, but the extreme heat taxed our power supplies, which would carry consequences on our weapons usage should we get into a fight.
There was a disturbance in the line ahead of our squad as the lead unit reached the apex of a sand hill. We joined the troops at the rim and discovered the source: a handful of soldiers had slid into a funnel-shaped sand trap. The more they struggled, the deeper they slipped toward the bottom. The first trooper to stop his descent did so by locking his armor. I imagined this solution was transmitted to the others, but I wasn’t authorized to switch into their comm. Another soldier was informed or figured it out on his own, and soon all eighteen were frozen in place.
“Engineers, switch over to Alpha’s comm,” Lieutenant Bloostine said over the squad comm. He authorized all of us to link in, and I listened while a slightly panicked first lieutenant begged for someone to figure out how to save him.
“I’m still moving,” he said. “Somebody do something.”
Alpha Company’s CO gave an order to our two engineering corporals. “Use structural webbing to build a ladder.”
“Setton and Slater, move out,” our squad leader ordered.
They joined four other engineers and unrolled sections of Plas-Tite Web. All engineers carried more building materials than weapons, which they used to build myriad structures in the field: bridges, walls, tunnel supports, and foundations to temporary buildings.
Once the material was set, however, it couldn’t be re-rolled into the compact form in which it came supplied.
As the engineers built a ladder, the CO requested a couple of qualified snipers.
“I’ve two of the best, Captain,” our squad leader said.
“Good; have them set up. I’d like to take out the sand-wolf spider that created the trap if it sticks its nasty head out. I don’t want any of our troops losing it.”
At the mention of the desert arachnid, the farthest soldier in the trap panicked. He unlocked his armor and tried to scramble up the side, which only made his situation worse. I was busy locking my sniper rifle into place when the ambushing wolf-spider appeared from the center of the trap. The evil-looking creature was easily twice the size of the soldier struggling to avoid its deadly mandibles.
“I want that thing taken out silently, dammit…” The captain had realized at the same time I did that our lieutenant was retrieving a missile. “Don’t fire that thing,” the captain ordered.
I acquired the target and fired a devil round into the spider’s head.
Whether I killed the creature or not was impossible to tell. As I took my shot, the lieutenant launched his missile. The explosion was instantaneous. For reasons known only to him, he’d chosen an HE instead of a KE. The fiery blast caused the sand walls to give, and the other seventeen soldiers slid downward.
“Get that damn ladder–”
Another blast interrupted the company commander. A second soldier had fallen farther into the trap and had launched a high explosive. Apparently, there were more spiders, but I couldn’t see past the flames.
“Don’t fire off any more missiles, you idiots,” the commander said over the company comm. “Where’s my ladder?”
The engi
neers’ ladder was extended down the slope. It nearly reached the closest soldier.
“Sniper?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Did you get off a successful shot?”
“I believe so, sir. I couldn’t see whether or not I scored a kill before the HE blew.”
“Very well. Stay on overwatch.”
“Yes, sir.”
The first soldier to grasp the ladder began to climb out of the funnel. Others followed, and I counted them out of habit. “Sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s one missing.”
“Shit.”
A moment later another explosion blew sand and flames out of the hole; a second detonation followed, one that had the distinctive signature of a unit self-destructing. Whatever was down there, it had caused the missing soldier to abandon hope. The shock wave generated an avalanche of sand as part of the rim collapsed into the trap.
The engineers, the ladder, and the escaping soldiers clinging to it slid into the pit.
Black shapes erupted from the sand.
The sand-wolf was shaped like a gargantuan Earth tarantula, only covered with hard, brittle scales and with a stinger like a scorpion that delivered toxic venom. It also had crushing mandibles that, fully opened, spanned nearly two meters. None of this should have mattered to soldiers wearing TCI-Armor, but the mind plays weird tricks when a nightmarish monster is mauling you. I remembered this well from my experience in the Biragon when dino-lizards had attempted to eat me.
Missiles exploded in the pit.
Callie and I each fired three shots, but it was impossible to tell if we’d done any damage.
A second soldier self-destructed.
“We’ve got company,” someone announced over Alpha’s all-company comm.
My warning system lit up red.
<
<
<
I stored my sniper rifle. After launching a countermeasure, I looked for cover; but the desert mocked me.
The enemy advanced.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Purvasts grow tired of singing, dancing, and lovemaking sooner than of warfare.
~ Professor Clasibe Toreelentz
As the terrorists – Prostosi, rogue Teds, or some combination – rained missiles and mortars down on our troops, pandemonium scattered the regiment like the victims of a mass shooting.
There’s another acronym that’s popular in the military: CF.
We were in the biggest cluster-fuck of my career.
Specialized Drop Infantry rarely get forced into a full-scale retreat, but we weren’t usually this exposed. Even expertly trained, disciplined troops can break ranks when the field of battle turns into an instant graveyard. Three minutes after the first missile came at us, half of the regiment was dead or wounded. Charlie and Delta Companies suffered the worst immediate losses, but Elfant Company was wiped out as their CO tried to move them into a position to advance on the approaching heli-jets.
His strategy might have been brave, but as the outcome showed, it was ill-conceived.
Fighters wearing the new class of gliding armor we’d faced on Earth swooped from the heli-jets. As on Earth, they were too fast to hit with missiles at close range, and Gauss rounds caused them no damage. The last of Elfant’s troops to die were able to destroy a few of the attackers with grenades, but the ratio of kills to those killed was over ten to one.
Callie, Mallsin, Abrel, and I dug into the sand just below the rim of the sand-wolf’s lair. It wasn’t an adequate defensive position, but it was the best we had. I shut off most of my notifications because they were overwhelming my capacity to pay attention.
The death toll surpassed two-thirds of our force.
Bloostine was hit with a kinetic round.
As he was dying, he messaged me that I was the “duly and officially promoted” platoon leader. This gave me the temporary rank of lieutenant for the duration of the action – again a field commander in the span of a few short weeks. That he took the time to do this was a testament to his dedication, but I wasn’t confident I’d be a platoon leader for long. And if I survived, it would mean a small bump in pay for this adventure and a big bump in the paperwork I’d have to file.
“We’re going to die,” Mallsin said.
“Maybe not.” Abrel was a believer in positive thinking.
I didn’t want to contradict him, but I was leaning toward agreeing with Mallsin. Escape didn’t seem possible. When four massive sand-camouflaged mechas entered the fray, that sealed the deal.
“We’re dead for sure,” she said.
Callie switched to our private comm. “I love you, Avery.”
“Don’t be so fatalistic,” I said. “We’ve still got a chance.”
“Look at those things.”
The mechas moved fluidly across the scorching sand. Unlike previous versions we’d faced, these four bipedal mechanical monsters had a gait that mimicked a human athlete running down an athletic field while firing armor-piercing rounds from a long Gauss rifle integrated into their right arms. From their left came a scattershot of mini-grenades similar to our grape-frags. Munitions of that size were not deadly to TCI-Armor unless they detonated in direct contact with our suits. The grenades they were deploying, a weapon I’d not seen before, were designed to adhere to armor before activating their internal triggers, causing maximal damage.
The mecha operators moved against Delta first. It was apparent the enemy’s commanders had no doubts about the outcome of the battle, because they used no defensive tactics and ignored the few losses they suffered. With our MQ slugs, Callie and I each took out a handful of fighters using precision shots, but the damage we caused was virtually meaningless in the scheme of things.
Abrel and Mallsin provided defensive countermeasures, and their efforts were the only reason we lived long enough to do any damage at all.
“We need to move,” Abrel said.
“If we…” Mallsin, by the sound of her voice, had conceded.
“Stick with me,” I said. I leapt and ran two steps. Tumbling into the sand-wolf spider’s trap, I called for the remaining members of Raider Squad to follow me. “Don’t hesitate. It’s our only hope.”
As I slid down the pit toward the opening at the bottom, I was out of the enemy’s line of sight for a moment. It was impossible to exchange weapons, but I wished I’d swapped my sniper rifle for something more practical.
I fell into darkness through a nonsticky web that created the trapdoor entrance into the home of the spiders, and fell onto a floor of bones. I was attacked by spiders the moment after I bounced once and landed on my back.
I understood why the earlier soldiers had panicked and self-terminated; the floor of the lair was too far below the ceiling to imagine being able to climb to safety. And there wasn’t anything safe about facing the overwhelming force that descended like avenging angels of death.
A spider attacked me repeatedly with its stinger.
I fired my rifle. The high-velocity MQ round left two small holes in its exoskeleton, and streams of blood spurted from the wounds like fountains. Two spiders, smaller than the attacking ones but colored similarly, rushed from the darkness. They lacked stingers but apparently had special silk-creating abilities, and they sealed the wounds of the soldier spider with patches of the sticky substance.
The larger arachnid continued its onslaught as the two smaller ones scampered back to the edges of the cavern. Its stinger wasn’t damaging my suit, so I shot it again. The same process happened: the nurse spiders came out and stopped its blood loss.
I blew them away, but then realized spending my limited MQ rounds on passive enemies was foolhardy.
I needed to exchange my sniper rifle for a Gauss rifle, and I figured I could also use grape-frag grenades, but the spider had been joined by a group of four more. The new group of smaller and faster-moving arachnids, which didn’t have sti
ngers, appeared to be web-spinning specialists. Their silk was strong, and they began to work to bind my appendages. I broke my legs free six times, but then several more joined the first group of workers and they managed to secure my legs.
“Callie?”
“I’m stuck,” she answered.
“Don’t panic,” I ordered. “Don’t self-destruct.”
“Mallsin?” Abrel asked over the squad comm.
“Hello,” came a familiar voice. Corporal Setton.
“Who else is in here?” I asked over the company comm.
Slater, Mallsin and eleven others answered.
“Anyone have any smart ideas on how to get out of this shit?” someone asked.
“We’ll do it,” Abrel said. “But we need to figure out who the hell is ranking in here.”
We did a roll call to determine rank, and of course, leadership landed on my shoulders. “Can anyone move?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
The spiders were working their silk up my body, turning me into an armored mummy. I somehow managed to keep them from binding my arms, and struck one of the smaller spiders in the head with my fist, but my punch bounced off as if I’d hit a lump of steel. I needed my electric-plasma-laser blade, which required me to get my equipment pack out of the sand, so I twisted my body, attempting to roll over.
Above me, sand poured through the opening in the ceiling followed by a tangle of broken armor. Dead soldiers fell next to me. A different type of big worker spider appeared. Two of them tugged my legs and dragged me away from the killing floor. Above me, a group of TCI-Armor troops got stuck in the trapdoor opening of the lair. An explosion rocked the trap, and their corpses formed a cork. The hole was plugged so that not even sunlight leaked through.
I struck one of the worker spiders with my fist and spun my body over. Retrieving my blade, I cut my legs free.
“The EPL works on the silk,” I said over the company comm.
“I can’t get my arms free,” Callie said.
