by Michael Ryan
With superior numbers engaging them, the mini-mechas were forced to fight defensively.
I ran without slowing through an entire platoon of enemy light-armored infantry in retreat. The Meckos weren’t expecting me, an unfortunate-for-them result of my being late to the battle. I engaged my GAR-A3, the latest improvement to the standard Gauss assault rifle modified for use with TCI-Armor. I mowed down most of the platoon, missing only those fast enough to take cover behind thick, solid objects. Gauss bolts spat from the weapon’s maw at an incredible rate, and I moved the rifle fast enough from target to target to keep the round-to-death ratio close to one dead for every ten bolts fired. The manual says twenty to one is acceptable, but the reality in battle was more like two hundred to one.
As I approached the center of the fighting, I fired a succession of KE missiles at one of the mini-mechas, but the infernal thing was too fast.
It launched into the air and bounced from one building to another across the street.
“Dammit, Avery,” Callie said over our leader’s comm. “I almost had it in my crosshairs until you fired a missile at it.”
“How can we coordinate better?”
“Where were you?”
“Never mind that. What’s happening?”
“Abrel and Mallsin are trying to flank from the west.”
“Twenty-Third Street?”
“No, they’re coming down Twenty-Second. Hold one sec.”
I received a picture from her a second later. She’d marked a route. I read her quick notations and instantly saw a way to help. I ran through the lower display window of a bank, sending glass spraying around me. An alarm screeched, and I lowered my external audio to its lowest setting before bursting from the back of the building after firing an explosive round through a steel rear exit door.
The back alley was deserted except for a handful of injured Meckos. I did them a favor and ended their suffering – I’d have expected the same. As I reached the mouth of the alley where it met the main boulevard, I used my flex-cam to look around the corner, hoping to remain unnoticed. The fighting was ongoing in both directions, and as I retracted the cam, I was distracted by something above. A pair of enemy heli-jets flew in barely above the rooftops of the surrounding buildings and strafed the troops on the ground, not seeming to care that most of the deaths were soldiers from their side.
I suppose the Ted officers who flew the more sophisticated craft didn’t make much of a distinction between the value of a living Mecko and a dead one. I pinged the vessels to get some idea of the model and weapons they carried.
<
I selected yes and allowed my weapons and vessel identification program to create a new file. When enough information was supplied to Command by troops from all different specialties, they’d issue a system update.
Three heli-jets were hot on the trail of the enemy.
<
The Gurt pilots split their formation. Each fired a pair of heat-seekers. The Dragons, if that was what they were, circled and looped. I pinged them again, hoping to pick up any useful info. Sometimes capturing a burst of communication or getting video of a missile or weapons system will help Command update their intel in a manner useful to those of us doing the dying.
“Avery,” Abrel said, “I could use your help.”
“Roger,” I said.
I made my way back toward the crossroads. “Callie, can you link me in?”
She didn’t answer but fed me the view from her DS. From her viewpoint, I could see that the effects of the battle were the same. Light-armor infantry fought minor skirmishes, leaving trails of dead. I followed her reticle and unconsciously moved my arms as if I were guiding it. As the lines landed on their target, her LRSR auto-fired a devil round.
It missed.
“They’re scary fast,” Callie said.
“They can’t be tracking an MQ, can they?” I asked.
“I don’t see how,” she answered. “But I’m recording everything and sending it up. We’ll see if the engineers can figure it out. Meantime…shit. Avery, I have to move. Be careful down there.”
I watched her movements in my DS and realized I was going to get into trouble if I kept paying attention to her feed and not mine. I minimized the window and scanned the street. A squad of infantry fired a volley of grenades at me. Idiots. Instead of continuing down the road toward more significant problems, I dealt with them. I fired my jet assist and ran at full speed directly at the troops. The grenades exploded well out of range. I returned fire with my grape-frags, which are brutal against anything lighter than TCI-Armor.
My first set of antipersonnel grenades exploded. The nano-flechettes inside a grape burst are superheated as they expand in a high-speed cloud. They bounce off even the lightest armor, but the density of projectiles is so great that even the tiniest patch of non-armor gets hit.
Six soldiers went into shock in front of me. Massive internal bleeding causes this effect; the flechettes shred arteries and vessels anywhere the target’s armor has gaps, usually at the joints.
I blasted away with my Gauss. Another eight soldiers fell before my fire.
I’m still not sure why they thought it was a good idea to launch grenades at a TCI-Armored infantry soldier, but it was their last idea. The four or five remaining boots hid and didn’t launch anything new, so I ignored them and moved to Abrel and Mallsin. I found them on the fourth floor of an abandoned office building.
“About time,” Abrel said.
“Hi, Avery,” Mallsin added. “Don’t mind Abrel; he’s just frustrated.”
“Wearing a suit this long is tough,” I said.
“I don’t mean that,” she said.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how those mini-mechas can evade Callie’s sniping abilities,” Abrel said.
“You’re following her now?” I asked. I pulled up her window, but it was dark.
<
Callie was still alive and fighting. I could see her icon on the sat-link GPS map, but I couldn’t communicate with her. I sent up one of my last drones. If I could get it between us, it would be able to relay messages.
<
“That was fast,” I said.
“I could have told you it was a waste,” Mallsin said. “It’s one of the reasons they have so many bees buzzing around. The Teds are using the regular Meckos to harass, and…well, basically as chaff…but they’ve been effective at taking out our eyes in the sky.”
“Don’t bother with drones, Avery,” Abrel said. “Get set up somewhere above us and we’ll spot for you. There’s got to be a way to take out one of these things with a sniper round. We got two earlier with missiles and a coordinated attack that funneled them into a trap, but it cost us several TCI to do it.”
“What’s the new LT doing?” I asked.
“He’s got his head up his ass,” Mallsin said. “But he’s holding his own and hasn’t done anything too stupid. Who knows? The way things work, he might even live.”
“I’m sure he’s a good guy,” I said. “If he gets with the program, we’ll keep him around.”
<
“Who’s that locked on?”
Before they could answer, Abrel and Mallsin fired chaff and flares and sprinted from the windows. I followed immediately behind them. A momentarily blinding explosion shook the floor, but we suffered no damage.
“Who’s firing those?” I asked.
“The mini-mechas,” Mallsin said. “We’d be in trouble if we didn’t have superior numbers.”
“I’m moving up,” I said. I went to the seventh floor. A lucky number, not that I believe in such things.
As I set up my field of fire, I linked into Callie’s system.
“Avery,” she said, “I’ve got a drone up, but it won’t last. I’m sending you my position and a few notes.”
“Okay,” I replied. �
��What do you think–” The drone feed abruptly ended.
I read her notes. The assumption on her part was that the mecha had sensors for the high-speed devil rounds, which were likely sound related. Her suggestion was to coordinate two shooters: one to force the unit to evade the first round, and the second to put a slug where the shooter guessed it would be a fraction of a second later.
It made sense, but if we couldn’t link our systems, it would be impossible to orchestrate. I needed to get a drone up for a moment so I could message her to come to us. It made more sense than the three of us moving, although it might be safer if we moved. Such is the nature of battlefield decisions that had to be made instantly. I decided that the mini-mechas knew where she was, but since I hadn’t taken a shot yet, I had a slightly higher chance of surprising them. “Abrel, can you give me a drone overwatch?”
“You’ll have to send two or three out in succession,” Mallsin said. “I’m with Abrel now. We’re setting up on the fifth floor.”
“Roger. Give me a count when you’re ready.”
A long minute passed. I used my standard Gauss to snipe a few of the light infantry troops scurrying around like confused bugs. When Abrel sent me a short message, I put away the GAR-A3.
<
I launched the first drone, sending it high. It disintegrated in about eight seconds. I launched the second. Abrel and Mallsin found the Mecko who’d destroyed my drone and neutralized him, which enabled the second drone to make it fifteen seconds. They offed the next drone killer, and my third one made it long enough to link to Callie.
“Can you get to me?” I sent her the map she’d need to find me.
“Yes. Moving now,” she said. “I’ll have to go down–”
The third drone was swatted out of the sky, but it had accomplished its job.
“You good, Avery?” Abrel asked.
“Yes. Callie’s on the way,” I answered. “Keep your eyes peeled and hope for the best.”
“Hope’s got nothing to do with it, honey,” Mallsin said.
“Don’t get cocky,” I said.
“Don’t send out any more drones. We’re out of them, and we might need yours later,” she advised.
“Roger that.”
Various skirmishes played out below us as we waited for Callie’s arrival. I freed my sniper rifle and prepped my shooting position. The building was sturdily constructed and could withstand considerable damage. The walls were built out of permastecrete, and the windows had suitable positioning for generous fields of fire to the street below. I still had thirteen of the twenty MQ rounds I’d been issued, which should have been more than enough to take out the mechas, but after watching the new models in action, I didn’t feel my usual confidence. When my rifle was stabilized, I opened my firing-solution program. I took some practice shots, targeting various enemies who didn’t seem to be a complete waste of ammo. After five shots, I realized I was getting careless.
Callie always told me to be more patient in a target-rich environment, but it was hard not knocking out an unsuspecting Ted officer who was three clicks away, thinking his day was going well.
I had only eight rounds left, so I told myself to just observe unless something important showed up.
Which was what happened a moment later.
The Errusiakos Dragon heli-jets appeared in the sky again. They didn’t appear to have any of our units pursuing them, so I turned on my targeting system and my intel collection program. I figured I’d try to hit them with a couple of MQs and gather some intel, if not cause some damage.
The chance of seriously harming a heli-jet, even with an MQ-12, was slim.
But what the hell, I thought.
I ranged.
<
Shit! The Dragon was pinging me.
Being pinged by the enemy was unusual, but not unheard of, and was better than having it fire a Falcon missile at me. It was certainly more to my liking than if it dropped something serious, like an HE-P18, which would have taken out the entire seventh floor. I wondered what to do. Curiosity got the better of me.
I accepted the ping.
“Master Sergeant Specialist Ford here. Go.”
“Young Sergeant Ford,” a gruff voice sounded through my ear inserts. A chill went up my spine.
“To whom am I speaking?” I asked.
“This is Viper Leader Actual, Sergeant. Otherwise known as Major Balestain.”
Versus Christ! Unholy Golvin! Could it actually be Major Butcher?
Disrespect would gain me nothing. “Sir,” I said, extending a common military courtesy. I felt my pulse leap, but the nano-tranquilizer kicked in a few seconds later. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask him what he wanted. “You pinged me?”
The heli-jets had ascended to a higher altitude, which was standard procedure to avoid ground-launched antiaircraft missiles. It also meant I was probably safe from attack. The major’s building-destroying and civilian-killing methods had been suspended by Ted Command when the battle had become more conventional and Gurt troops had entered the theater in force.
The media and outside aid groups that had accompanied us probably hadn’t hurt either. While the Teds had called previous incidents accidents and collateral damage, it wasn’t something they could continue to sell over and over again.
“Sergeant Ford, you don’t realize this,” he said. “I was on the field in the Biragon. On. That. Day.”
“Sir?”
“You took out my mecha, Sergeant Ford. A lucky shot. Or perhaps a skillful one. Your thoughts, Sergeant?”
“You know this…how?” I asked. I felt a mild sense of disbelief, but high-level spies on both sides were not out of the ordinary. He was communicating with me, which bolstered his claim that he knew who I was. I couldn’t imagine how he’d survived, but the brutal facial scarring seen in media pictures made sense to me if his claim were true.
Balestain spoke again. “I picked up your TCI-Armor code as you were targeting me that day. I didn’t know your name until over a year later, but once I learned it, I never forgot it. Have you seen my face, Avery?”
“It wasn’t personal, sir.”
“No. Of course not. You have seen my face?”
The media loved to feature Major Butcher, so of course I’d seen his face. His question was rhetorical. Why he was asking me, I suspected I knew, and in spite of the suit’s countering my physiological responses, my blood chilled. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’ve seen quite a few reports.”
“Good. Then you know why I took a personal interest in you.”
“Sir, I don’t know… Sir?”
“Yes. Go.”
“The shot. It wasn’t luck. My partner picked up your damaged panel. It was skill.”
“Interesting. Your partner lived?”
“Yes, sir. She’s on the field with me. We came to Talamz because of you, actually.” I regretted getting so personal. I wasn’t giving him any intel, but he’d just goaded me into feeling anger. Anger can be useful, but it can also get you killed. I reminded myself to stay cool and not do anything stupid.
“You requested a duty transfer to chase me?”
“Sir.”
“I’m honored, Sergeant Ford. We’re going to need more like you in the coming war against the Dreki-Nakahi.”
“Sir?”
“Do your duty, Sergeant. I bear you no malice, but I will kill you if given the opportunity. That is all.”
The comm disconnected. The heli-jets sped away until they were tiny dots in the sky.
I was shaking my head, thinking about the oddity of the exchange, when Callie’s system linked back into mine. “Avery, I’m close,” she said. “And in a bit of trouble.”
I looked out the window.
Callie was running a full-speed zigzag pattern, with a mini-mecha hot on her heels. It was only a half-click to her rear and had launched a lot of missiles.
Abrel and Mallsin were firing countermeasures.
Putting Major Butcher out of my thoughts, I joined them.
My display screen flashed red warnings.
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Shit!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
With you, my faithful servant, I will break into shattered pieces the purvasts: male and female, old and young, even the innocent child. The virgins shall never give birth; and their lives will be shameful.
~ Holy Writs of Vahobra, 4:36
Mechas on a battlefield draw a lot of attention.
Tanks, heli-jets, rail-cannon crews, and sometimes even squadrons of high-altitude bombers dropping megatonnage have been known to show up to take a shot at the top dog.
That’s the problem with being Goliath: everyone wants to put a stone through your head.
The mini-mecha was a Tedesconian attempt to mitigate this problem.
The unit chasing Callie was fast and agile and could fire offensively and defensively, all while on the fly. In spite of the havoc they were causing in our ranks, I was nothing but impressed by them.
I took careful aim and fired an MQ round.
“Avery, stop wasting ammo,” Callie said. She threw herself through a window on the ground floor. “We need to coordinate.”
“Roger that,” I said. I was down to only three of the devil rounds. If we couldn’t figure out a good way to snipe, we’d use missile attacks. I still had a decent supply of KE missiles, which had already proven effective if used in a mass assault.
Because defeating the minis required us to work in a group, I could already imagine what the Teds would do next: they’d include a full squad of suited armor with the minis. Then our counterparts would keep us fully occupied, and the Teds would have the upper hand again.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but the confrontations in Vipsunpolis were studies on weapon and systems development as well as exercises in applying political pressure. On the ground in the heat of the battle, all I knew was that we were fighting for our lives against well-designed hardware.
