Alien War Trilogy 2: Zeus

by Isaac Hooke

  The LC nodded. “There is that chance, yes. When you signed up for this line of work, no one ever said it was going to be easy. In any case, we’ve already got several Artillery and Tank Battalions surrounding it, and the perimeter is considered secure. HS3’s sent inside have reported pockets of resistance, though nothing like the numbers we saw from the troop transport you dealt with previously.

  “Here’s the deal: we’re sending in several small teams to secure the vessel. Since Alpha Platoon has prior experience aboard such a ship, you have been selected as one of the teams. And while you’ll operate independently, you’ll still coordinate with platoons from the 2nd and 3rd Battalion 2nd Marines.”

  “I have a question,” Lui said. “What happens here? Last I checked, we only owned eighty percent of the city. Feels like we’re leaving while our work is unfinished.”

  “The majority of the division is remaining behind of course. The Marines are planning a big push this Friday. With luck, we should have the rest of the city liberated in two or three days. We’ll be ramping down major combat operations after that, and once your team secures the crashed alien vessel, we’ll be pulling out.”

  “Good,” Grappler said. “I’m looking forward to getting the hell off this bunghole.”

  The lieutenant commander nodded. “We all are, Grappler.” He ran his gaze across the men. “As some of you may have already heard, TJ is the new acting LPO. He will be joining Chief Facehopper in leading the mission.”

  Rade felt the gazes of some of his brothers upon him; he was careful to stare straight ahead, avoiding every eye.

  “I know that you will all follow his orders dutifully,” the LC continued.

  “Welcome aboard, boss,” Bender told TJ.

  “Thank you,” TJ said. While he sounded mostly indifferent, Rade thought he sensed a subtle hint of gloating in the former drone operator’s tone.

  Rade had probably imagined it.

  “Good luck, people,” Braggs said. “When this is done, we’re going to have the biggest beer day you’ve ever seen, I guarantee you. Now go kick some ass.”

  twenty-five

  Inside his Zeus mech, Rade stood within the security perimeter of artillery and tank platoons that ringed the crash site. He and the rest of Alpha Platoon were nestled between two M7A12 Abram multi-turreted tanks, bad boys that could fire large caliber rounds, lasers, and electrolasers at multiple targets at the same time. Wearing only jumpsuits, infantry platoons from the 2nd and 3rd Battalion 2nd Marines lingered between similar units around the perimeter.

  In front of him, roughly five hundred meters away, resided the crashed alien starship. Like the previous vessel he had boarded, this one looked like a dodecahedron on the outside, though he could only see three facets of the towering object from his current position. Those pentagonal planes jutted at steep angles toward him. On the overhead map, the upper portions joined with other five-sided faces, and when he changed the view to isometric rather than topdown, he discerned the twelve-faceted structure almost in its entirety. He utilized the aReal built into the helmet faceplate to provide the HUD, keeping his actual aReal goggles tucked away unused in a small storage compartment underneath the collar of his torso assembly, near the life straw.

  Behind the craft, the perimeter platoons stood on either side of the deep runnel that had been slashed into the plains from the impact. In front, meanwhile, a large dirt berm formed a half circle around the bottom of the vessel, due to the displaced earth. A thick ramp—part of the hull of the dodecahedron—led from the berm to a wide inner recess within the ship. UC combat robots guarded either side, along with two mechs—ATLAS models, manned by Marines.

  “Can’t say I really miss those ATLAS 5s,” Fret said. “I mean, look at those things. So damn bulky. Gotta lug around all that ammunition for the Gatling guns all day, and look at the size of those canisters for the incendiaries. Those mechs can’t even fit inside the hull opening they’re guarding.”

  “You know we’re not taking our mechs inside either, right?” TJ said.

  “Yeah I know,” Fret said. “I still don’t agree with that, by the way. We should be bringing them.”

  “Some of those corridors get pretty tight,” Manic said.

  “You talking from your own experiences of playing with yourself?” Bender said.

  “Funny,” Manic replied.

  Earlier, other members had expressed doubts about bringing the mechs at all, especially if the plan called for the platoon to ditch the war machines at the entrance, but Facehopper wanted the units there in reserve in case things turned ugly on the inside and they had to retreat in a hurry. Because if they did have to initiate a tactical retrograde, it was far better to do so from within the thick hull of a Zeus than a jumpsuit.

  Rade’s gaze drifted to the tall, blunt peaks of the north-south trending ridge that loomed in the background. The crash site was close to the shoulder of one particularly large mountain, Roma Secondo. Centuries ago, before the terraforming had begun, the Franco-Italians had built their very first base on the planet atop that mountain, at least according to the “points of interest” overlay on the map.

  “We’re receiving our orders to move in, mates,” Facehopper said. “Hang tight.”

  Rade watched as the waiting infantry platoons dashed forward in turn, led by combat robots. On the overhead map, their blue dots dispersed throughout the various mapped corridors of the ship.

  “All right, we’re up,” Facehopper said. “Take us in, TJ.”

  “Bender, send in the Centurions,” TJ ordered.

  “You got it, boss,” Bender said.

  Boss. Rade still wasn’t quite used to hearing someone else called that. And he hated it.

  The squad of eight combat robots assigned to Alpha Platoon moved forward at a lope. In moments they scrambled up the berm, over the ramp, and vanished inside the ship. On the overhead map, Rade saw their dots lingering just inside the entrance.

  “Centurions have reached the staging area and are waiting,” Bender said.

  “Let’s move, my beautiful hellions,” TJ said. “Left to right. Zig zag formation. Five meter separation. Assume that those point defense turrets could fire at any time. Bender, have the HS3s follow on drag.”

  Starting on the left side, the Zeus units dashed forward in turn and took up a position five meters behind, and to the left or right of the mech in front.

  “Speaking of the point defense turrets,” Keelhaul said over the comm. “This brings up the question: why haven’t we destroyed them?”

  “We want to capture the alien ship intact, I suppose,” Tahoe said. “With as much working tech as possible.”

  “If I wanted to capture an alien ship,” Harlequin said. “I would destroy all of the point defenses on the side facing my point of penetration, while leaving the rest intact. Only then would I proceed.”

  “Who asked you, machine?” Bomb said.

  “Hey, you missed an opportunity to make fun of him for using the word penetration, bro,” Bender said.

  “I don’t care.”

  “No wait, Harlequin is right,” Grappler said. “Why the hell would we leave the point defenses on this side operational?”

  Facehopper didn’t say anything, but Rade suspected he agreed. Whatever the case, there was nothing they could do about it, as the Brass had already made the decision.

  Rade’s turn to join the formation came and he sprinted out onto the plain.

  “All right, let’s focus here, people,” TJ said. “Remember, the overall mission is winding down. The enemy is on the run. We’ve nearly liberated Radiance. Things are looking way, way up. We’re just doing a little clean-up. Stay sharp, let’s get this done, let’s shoot some bad guys, and well, I have plans to make it home in time for supper, so try not to mess that up, you hear?”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to be eating goddamn aliens for supper!” Grappler said.

  “You know,” Lui began. “That any creatures
we find in there are probably going to be bioengineered from Terran stock? So technically, they’re not really aliens.”

  “You’re ruining my moment,” Grappler said.

  Up ahead, the Zeus on point, operated by Skullcracker, climbed the berm.

  “Vacate your mechs at the edge of the ramp,” TJ said. “Muster inside the opening. Nested cigar formation.”

  Skullcracker reached the ramp and promptly disembarked. He sprinted forward between the Marine Centurions and ATLAS units guarding the ramp; meanwhile his mech stood in place, guarding his rear.

  When Rade reached the top of the berm he ordered the new Sky to kneel.

  “Release,” Rade told the AI next.

  The inner actuators relaxed, and the cockpit hatch opened.

  Rade leaped outside. “Sky, guard.”

  “Good hunting, Rage.” The mech assumed a guard position behind him.

  “Bet you wish you were coming with me, don’t you?” Rade told the AI over the comm.

  “Not in the least.”

  Enveloped in his strength-enhancing jumpsuit, Rade weaved between the other abandoned mechs and crossed the ramp. Below on either side, scattered across the berm, were the wreckages of enemy robots, mostly scorpion units with their laser-firing stingers. No doubt dumped there by UC scavenger units who had carried them out from inside.

  “Sure are a lot of them,” Manic said.

  “Hope the robos left some for us,” Skullcracker said.

  “Check your map,” Fret said. “Lots of red dots.”

  Rade drew his blaster and took up a position inside the ship within the entry bay staging area. He formed part of the nested “cigar” formation; when everyone was in place, the chief and TJ crouched in the middle, while the remaining fourteen platoon members formed two ellipses of four and ten men respectively around them. The waiting Centurions composed a third outer ellipse around them all.

  No light fixtures lit the bay—it was illuminated entirely by sunlight from outside, combined with the helmet lamps of the platoon members and combat robots. The bulkheads were made of the familiar black pentagonal tiles that coated the outside of the hull.

  Tall passageways led away in three directions.

  “Uh, our mechs can fit here,” Bomb said. “Easily.”

  “Might be loose now,” Manic said. “But it’ll quickly grow tight, trust me.”

  “That what your girlfriend promised you?” Trace said.

  “No, his boyfriend,” Bender said.

  “Check the topography on your overhead maps,” Fret said. “Manic is right. Mechs won’t fit. Not where we’re going.”

  “Which way, Chief?” TJ said.

  “We’re assigned the forward passageway,” Facehopper replied. “I’m marking the waypoints on the map. Take us in, TJ.”

  “Wait,” Snakeoil said over the comm. “Chief, they’re telling us not to position our mechs so close to the entrance.”

  “Well where the bloody hell do they want us to position them, then?”

  Snakeoil paused. “No closer than fifty meters.”

  “Fine,” Facehopper said. “Relay the order to your Zeus units, mates.”

  Rade and the others did so, and he watched on his overhead map as the dots representing the mechs fanned outward by fifty meters, forming a wide half circle in front of the berm.

  “We good, Snakeoil?” the chief asked.

  “The lieutenant colonel says we are,” Snakeoil replied.

  “And next time,” Facehopper said. “Tell this lieutenant colonel I’d appreciate it if he contacted me directly. Now TJ, if you will?”

  “All right,” TJ said. “Bender, send a couple of our HS3s in first, followed by Centurions. We’ll follow thirty meters behind. Rage, you’re on point.” He proceeded to call out the marching order. “The remaining HS3s are to trail on drag, Bender. String them out as we go along. Ensure we maintain a comm link with the other platoons at all times. I want us ready to render assistance to the Marines at a moment’s notice. Now let’s go.”

  Rade assumed his designated point man position.

  One of the pluses of not being LPO anymore was that he could once more take point. Then again, he wasn’t sure if that was really a positive in the current situation.

  He advanced cautiously into the black passageway, his headlamp illuminating the drag unit of the Centurion squad up ahead. Two HS3s led the way at the very front of the combat robots, separated by five meters each. The first was expendable. The second was there to record the updated positions of any hostiles, at which point it would quickly retreat.

  Rade glanced at his HUD. Much of the ship was already mapped, courtesy of the original advance parties of HS3s and Centurions that were still exploring the inner recesses. Red dots accompanied some regions of the dark, unmapped portions, marking where the HS3s had encountered enemy units, and represented the last known positions of said tangos. The combat robots escorting the HS3s had specific orders not to engage unless absolutely necessary. But, judging from the wreckages Rade had seen piled outside the entrance, those advance Centurions had been forced to defend more than a few times.

  Rade could select any of those dots and get a full description of the unit. Most of the tangos proved to be the scorpion model he was already familiar with, as well as a few humanoid robot types similar to their own Centurions.

  The waypoints placed by the chief led away from the scouts, terminating on a currently unmapped portion where the advance HS3s had encountered overwhelming resistance from scorpion units. According to the logs, the enemy units had not pursued when the scouts retreated, indicating the tangos potentially guarded something of value. Other platoons approached similar resistance-heavy locations in different parts of the ship.

  Once Alpha Platoon neared the final waypoint, the plan was to let the Centurion squad handle the initial engagement. If the combat robots encountered difficulties, the MOTHs would either attack or retreat. The chief would make the call.

  “What do you think those scorpions are trying to protect up ahead?” Trace asked during the march. “The alien queen?”

  “Ha,” Bomb said. “Don’t try to make them sound so grand. Like they’re royalty. Queen. You want the best description? I’ll give it to you. Dung beetle guarding its dung.”

  “I think you’re on to something, Bomb,” Manic said. “In fact, you seem to know so much about the aliens, or rather about guarding dung, it’s like you’re talking from firsthand experience.”

  “Trust me, Manic,” Bomb cooed. “If you saw my dung, you would guard it too, baby.”

  Manic chuckled over the comm. “The only queen in here, my friends, is Bomb.”

  The passage soon tightened, and it became obvious why the platoon had left behind the mechs. They could barely fit even in their jumpsuits. The passageway also began to curve, spiraling downward with the advance, though locally keeping its rectangular shape. Bulkhead became deck and vice versa. Since there was no active artificial gravity aboard the ship, the group leaped between the changing decks as it became necessary.

  Rade reached an airlock whose inner and outer hatches had been laser drilled. He passed into the tight passageway beyond, and a short while later arrived at a similarly breached hatch.

  As he continued, other passageways occasionally led off to the left and right. According to the overhead map, all of those regions had been mapped already, and no enemy tangos awaited within. Like in the city, he had his doubts about how thorough the search had been, so it was somewhat reassuring that many of the advance HS3s remained behind in those areas, their blue dots patrolling the passageways incessantly to ensure the routes remained clear. Even so, he always swept any side corridors with his blaster as he passed.

  “HS3s and Centurions are nearing final waypoint,” Bender announced.

  “All right,” the chief said. “Full stop. We hold here while the combat robots engage.”

  Watching the overhead map, Rade saw the blue dots of the advance HS3s approach the r
ed dots marking the previous enemy positions. As the HS3s approached, those red dots vanished—the enemy was no longer there.

  The HS3s entered an adjacent compartment, and the map filled out. On cue, five red dots appeared.

  One of the HS3s vanished; the second retreated. The Centurions hurried forward.

  “Centurions are engaged,” Bender said.

  Rade switched to the point of view of the lead Centurion. The thing dashed forward, laser rifle in hand, but abruptly its video feed went blank. Frustrated, Rade tried the next Centurion, but it too disconnected him a moment later.

  He glanced at the overhead map. Only six blue dots remained out of the original eight.

  “Should I recall the Centurions, Chief?” Bender asked.

  “Not yet,” Facehopper said. “Let them fight.”

  Rade tried another Centurion, this one farther back. He saw that the combat robots had taken a position around a bend, and were firing at a scorpion unit beyond. The tango went down.

  Another scorpion quickly plowed forward from behind.

  One of the Centurions threw a grenade. It detonated a moment later. Another grenade.

  Rade’s feed went blank.

  He glanced at his display.

  They were down to four.

  “Chief?”

  “Not yet.”

  The four blue dots abruptly charged into the compartment.

  Odd strategy, Rade thought. If he didn’t know better, he would almost believe that Bender, the drone operator, was purposely trying to put them into harm’s way so that the MOTHs could have their turn sooner.

  The final three red dots abruptly winked out.

  “All tangos down,” Bender announced.

  Only two of the blue dots remained.

  “Six combat robots lost,” Trace said. “The lieutenant commander is going to be pissed.”

  “He’d rather we lost the robots than men,” the chief said.

  “Maybe,” Lui said. “Though I suspect Bender’s strategy could have been a bit more conservative.”

  “I was slightly aggressive, I admit it,” Bender said. “But everything I did was well within the guidelines specified by the drone rule book. And it’s not like I purposely threw away the robots. You’ll see when you review the footage later. The attack was fairly intense. I lost the Praetor unit in the first few seconds and had to take full command. I might have misjudged a few of the lines of sight available to the enemy, but I did what I had to do to secure the compartment.”