by Tufo, Mark
After washing up and taking care of morning business, I drive out of the canyon and back to following the trail. An hour later, I start picking up flashes of light. Something is glimmering in the sun. This isn’t the on/off glint of the bikes, but more of a rolling shimmer. The sun’s rays are reflecting off something large. Again, I turn off the trail to find a place in the nearby hills to hide and check out what’s ahead.
Securing a location, I exit the tank and clamber higher up the slopes. Other than the glimmer, I haven’t observed anything else. But, that’s likely to change once I get higher. I just hope that I’m not spotted in the meantime. To minimize that from happening, I keep to the ravines, which makes the going more difficult.
I eventually reach a plateau about three-quarters of the way up the ridge. Exhausted and thirsty, I climb out and settle next to a large boulder. The heat radiates through my vest; sand trickles inside my shirt and irritates my skin. I ignore all that as I bring my binoculars to bear on the mountain chain at the end of the plain.
Focusing, it’s easy to see what was causing the shimmering. Near the base of the mountains lies a large field of solar panels. Off to the side of that is a series of dark buildings, all single level and spaced evenly apart from each other. Against a cliffside, a large tunnel opens up, leading deeper into the mountain. Surrounding the entire complex is a black wall that appears to be about twenty feet tall. It’s nothing overly grand, but the smooth sides look like they’d be hard to scale.
Only one sizable gate leads into the interior, and there are large, mounted weapons positioned on towers to either side. They look very similar to the railguns that were mounted on the vehicles we ran into on the whistler’s home world. If so, that doesn’t bode well for me. Those will be a priority if I decide to attack with the tank.
And that’s not all. Outside the gate are numerous whistlers milling in the midst of hundreds, if not thousands, of motorcycles. More ominous, parked near the gate are four hovercraft. Two are of the smaller variety that captured us, and the other two are like those that carried railguns. So, that’s four of those deadly weapons that I’ll have to deal with.
I glass the slopes leading down to the compound. They built their fortifications well. No matter how hard I try to find a way in through the back door, I don’t see a way to do it. And that’s frustrating, to say the least, because that’s the environment that I’m better suited for.
There’s no doubt in my mind that this facility houses the very thing I’m looking for. Although not the same, it’s not much different from the complex Mike and I found on Atlantis. Deep within will be a portal, powered by the immense solar field. I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t get damaged in the coming fray.
I remain in my position for several hours, getting a feel for the routine of the base. There can’t be any doubt that the whistlers that escaped reported the fight, but they don’t seem overly alert. Well, other that placing vehicles with railguns near the front gate. I’ll watch them for tonight and much of the next day before making plans to get inside. Hopefully something in their patterns will reveal an easier way in.
I spend the next two days monitoring the enclave. Some whistlers come and go, but there’s little change from my initial observations. There aren’t even changes of the guard with those stationed outside, and few enter or leave the tunnel. I wonder how many others I might have to deal with inside the complex. If I opt for the straight-in approach, it’ll be difficult enough without whistlers pouring out like ants from an anthill.
During the night, I went down to the tank and crept along the base of the ridge line I’m on. When the night runners appeared, they crawled all over the vehicle for the better part of an hour before taking off in the direction of the whistler camp. I can only assume they attacked the whistlers there as I heard the faint rumble of motorcycles and the railguns firing. I timed them as best as I could with the distance, estimating that each gun could fire two rounds quickly before having to take about thirty seconds to recharge. That’ll be helpful knowledge when engaging them. It’s important to take those beasts out in the first go.
I contemplate letting the night runners whittle them down for several nights, but with that comes the worry that the whistlers will eventually investigate the source of those attacks which will lead them to my location. I don’t want to be discovered until I’m ready. I pore over how I could distract the whistlers away from base so I can attack the diminished numbers, but I can’t think of a single way to do that. Anything along those lines will have to draw them a considerable distance and I just don’t have the capability to do that with what I have. Perhaps if they were on foot…but those bikes of theirs can cover a lot of distance.
I’ll spend the night nearer the camp in the tank, letting the night runners whittle them down a little more. Once dawn comes, I’ll come at them out of the sun. That should give me an advantage from those railguns, both mounted and mobile. Once those are out of the way, I’ll deal with the remaining whistlers. I should have enough ammo for that, as long as I can get them to group up. And that’s if more don’t come pouring out. If that happens, I’ll have to retreat and figure out something else.
Maybe I’ll have to drive back to the battlefield to see if I can scrounge up more ammo. The scant supplies I found was far and few between, so I may not be able to get a full load. That’s if it’s even still there. This world is changing so much, I can’t rely on what was. I’m just as likely to wander into a battle in progress.
Dawn spills over the horizon, coating the land in light. I had driven off at the false morning, making sure I was over the horizon from the facility and out of sight. With the sun behind me, I start forward, slow at first so I don’t draw attention to myself by creating a trail of dust. As I come within sight of the walls, I pick up speed, seeking to quickly close the distance.
The whine of the turbine engine picks up as I accelerate, the armored vehicle bouncing slightly over the uneven terrain. The large tires absorb much of the jostling and the weapon stabilization system allows me to keep the reticle centered on one of the railgun towers beside the gate. My plan is for a quick hit and run, hopefully disabling both towers before coming around for the mobile platforms.
I’m in range before the whistlers can fully deploy, but I do see them scurrying toward their bikes. When I was fighting before, I didn’t specify any targets and just free-shot. I now select the rightmost tower and see the screen indicate a lock. Or at least that’s what I hope it means. I shoot, sending balls of fire out across the intervening distance.
They track straight, seeming to slow down as they converge on the tower and mounted weapon. A bright bluish-silver flash emanates from the tower before my shells hit. I turn quickly to the side while ceasing fire. The vehicle responds well. It’s not like driving a Maserati, but it’s not like steering the Titanic either.
A monstrous thud intrudes through the thick walls and over the sound of the tank. The vehicle rocks violently on its wheels, to the point that I’m not sure any on the left side are touching the ground anymore. With a crash, the tank settles back to the ground and resumes speed. That railgun hit too close. If one were to hit dead on, it’d decimate the vehicle…or at least the part it slams into.
Focusing back on the screen, I see multiple flashes coming from the tower. My shells are arriving to slam into the structure, hopefully damaging the weapon enough that it can’t be used. Switching off the FLIR, the picture resolves to a series of flashes and balls of smoke coming from the multiple explosions. Unless that thing is well-armored, I don’t see how it can survive the beating it’s taking.
Switching back to thermals, there’s a distinct glow coming from the tower. But another flash indicates that the other tower is firing. I turn abruptly, the tank swerving on the rock and sand. The vehicle is again lifted as a high-speed projectile slams into the ground nearby. Once it settles again, I turn. The turret has fired again. This time the round hits on the other side after sailing over the back e
nd.
Four hovercraft lift off, two smaller ones and two of the larger craft with the mounted railguns. I center the reticle on the left tower. Provided the right tower is truly out of operation, I have thirty seconds before the left tower fires again, but that doesn’t allow for the hovercraft. Once they get aloft, they’ll have four quick shots. I don’t have a choice, though. I’m only able to target one thing at a time, so I’ll have to avoid the upcoming shots as best I can.
I center the reticle and lock it on the left tower while swerving randomly. While the view changes from the turns, the auto-targeting system keeps the crosshair centered. I start firing; orange blobs head toward their intended target. To the side, multiple dust plumes start rising as the whistlers gain their bikes and start off in my direction. I’m not really sure what they think they can do, but they’re not my great concern at the moment.
Flashes come from the two hovercraft ahead. I turn, the tank again rocking up on one side. The hiss of sand and patter of rocks sounds against the side and top. Two more flashes appear. Letting off the trigger, I again yank the vehicle over, the six wheels sliding over the scree of the ground.
A wall of sand erupts in front the tank, and I can see nothing but brown on the screen. The vehicle plunges down like I drove off a cliff, jarring when it slams into the bottom of the newly dug crater. The nose lifts violently as it races up the other side, becoming light as it feels like it goes airborne. The armored vehicle then slams back to the ground and the screen clears as I drive through the rock and sand.
“I definitely can’t let one of those hit,” I mutter. My insides feel like jelly.
Looking on screen, the second tower is glowing, much like the first one. They both look out of commission. Now I have thirty seconds, hopefully, in which to maneuver and catch those other two. The wall has grown much larger with my having raced directly toward the encampment from the beginning. The two small hovercraft have drifted off the to the sides, but the two I’m more concerned with are hovering where they lifted off.
Driving straight toward them, I again center the reticle. Firing, I watch as blast after blast hits the craft. It looks a little off, as I notice the shells are hitting away from the ship, like they’re encountering some kind of barrier.
“Well, shit…that’s not good,” I mumble, releasing the trigger.
Hundreds of bikes start arriving and driving circles around my vehicle. I’m not sure if they’re trying to blind me by stirring up dust or drive me in a certain direction, thinking I won’t hit them or something. If that’s their belief, they’ll soon come to think differently.
One of the small craft swiftly darts to the side, crossing in front. I take a snapshot at the fast-moving ship, but many of my shells pass behind it. I increase the lead, several rounds finally find their target, and impact along the side. Pieces start flying off and a trail of smoke appears. The ship wobbles and flips over as it heads to the ground, impacting with a crunch. Pieces fly off in all directions as the craft cartwheels and comes to rest, a thick ball of black smoke rising.
The wall is looming large on my screen and I only have a few seconds before the railguns are ready to fire again. I fire a short burst at both hovercraft, hoping the flashes will blind them or at least throw off their aim. Once they start hitting, I turn sharply to parallel the wall. I see the two craft fire. The shots leave a blurry trail, almost as if they’re warping time and space. The two trails pass behind and out of sight, the tank still rocking from the not-so-near misses.
I again turn sharply; the vehicle leans over like a sailboat catching the wind. Something impacts close by and the air seems to compress. The jarring ring feels like my insides are slammed, my teeth clattering together. The tank is lifted into the air and then bangs back down, threatening to break my back. I have to do something about those two, somehow, or this fight is over.
As I turn back around toward the base, the two hovercraft fly off in different directions. My guess is that they’re going to maneuver so that when my attention is on one of them, the other can fire from a flanking position. I can’t afford to have them both firing at me. The only hope that I can see right now is to get close to one of them so they can’t fire. I’m betting, with their size, that they can’t maneuver well. Also, being closer, I can hopefully have better luck penetrating those damn shields.
The engine whines louder as I accelerate, turning toward one of the hovercraft in the hopes of intercepting it. Again, I’m still not sure of the intent of the whistlers on their motorcycles. I can’t see how they can hope to be effective. They divide and attempt to maneuver out of the way as I turn. A few aren’t able to, either hemmed in by their comrades or just unable to get clear. The tank bucks as the wheels roll over bikes and whistlers alike, the motorcycles giving off a squeal of tortured metal and the bodies mushing into ground.
Angling on an intercept course, I hook in behind the craft. I can tell that the dust stirred up by the bikers is affecting the targeting ability of the hovercraft as turns left and right, possibly searching for my whereabouts. Switching to the machine gun, I move the crosshair up. I have to back off a little. In my current position, I’m not able to raise the weapon high enough to fire at the ship overhead.
The intense rocking of the vehicle slows as I set a more straight-line course, allowing the whistlers to more easily get out of the way. Below the hovercraft are two blurred lines glowing blue. I’m not sure if the blurring is due to exhaust, heat, or just the nature of whatever powers the machine. Whatever it is, I believe I’ve found the propulsion system. Or if not that, then at least the exhaust. Now all that remains to be seen is whether that force field covers the bottom of the craft and whether it’s able to stop a more kinetically-fired shot.
Pressing the trigger, the tank vibrates as large caliber rounds streak upward, purple tracers marking the route. They slam into the underside of the whistler craft in a series of sparks. The heavy shells are either piercing the barrier, or it doesn’t exist underneath. However, it doesn’t appear that the rounds are doing much good other than to put on a light show.
Suddenly, the tank jars and the entire vehicle is significantly pushed to one side. I hadn’t paid enough attention to the other ship. Releasing the trigger, I turn sharply as the vehicle again rocks violently from another near miss. I’m then right back at the other craft, which is now dodging left and right. Because of its size, it can’t maneuver on a dime, so I’m able to maintain my position fairly well. I have thirty seconds before the other ship can fire—time that can disappear in a flash. I start lighting up the bottom of the first ship, sparks flying.
The hovercraft turns left and right in an attempt to get out of the line of fire and, I suppose, to try and bring me under its own guns. The ship stops abruptly, attempting to make me overshoot. I jam on the brakes, the front digging down. The ship overhead lurches forward and heads off to the right. I turn to follow, peppering the bottom once again.
Through the sparks, I see several small pieces fly off the craft, disappearing aft. More soon follow, and the hovercraft suddenly lurches and is engulfed in dark black smoke. It then starts a slow, spiraling descent to the left, and the speed of the fall increases. I imagine I can hear the twisting metal and increased whine as it falls. It hits the earth nose down and skids along the sand, pushing up more dust and scattering bikers. With its momentum slowed, the nose of the craft digs down and the entire vessel rises upward, ending with a slow-moving somersault. It then crashes onto its top, dark smoke rising in a tall pillar.
One down and one to—
I’m thrown forward as the tank noses sharply downward, my forehead slamming into the console. A severe clang rings through my head like I was stuck inside a church bell. An acrid smell fills the interior as I rock backward, knowing immediately that one of those railgun shots found its mark.
With my head still rattled, I’m relieved to see that the tank is still moving forward, although not nearly as smoothly as it was. I press the accelerator and
the vehicle lurches ahead, slowly gaining speed. It’s not as responsive as it was; the frontend wobbling left and right as I move forward.
Shaking my head to clear it, I see daylight streaming in from holes to the left and right. Sparks are shooting from severed wires and light gray smoke drifts in the shafts of light. I turn sharply and accelerate as the tank rocks again from a near miss. Reaching up, I open the top hatch in order to let the smoke dissipate. I can’t afford to breathe in the poisonous air and become mentally compromised.
Cooler air sweeps the smoke upward and out of the hatch. The screen is still working, so I’m able to keep some situational awareness. However, from the sounds coming from the tank, it won’t be viable for much longer. I still have one large and one small hovercraft to deal with, not to mention the mass of whistlers still riding their bikes. That’s something I still don’t get, but I’ll have to watch them clambering on board with the top hatch open.
Locating the remaining large hovercraft, I turn directly toward it and press the accelerator. With a lurching motion, the tank comes around until the ship and I are facing each other. The other vessel is coming at me just as I’m speeding toward the first one. If I can get underneath this one like the other, I’ll have a chance. But I have to get there first, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to do that in under thirty seconds. That means it’ll have a chance to fire at least once.
Centering the reticle as best I can, I start hammering large caliber rounds at it. Purple tracers streak across the distance between us, slamming into the ship’s barrier in a series of sparks. They don’t penetrate the shield, but, if I can throw their aim off by showering them with sparks, that’s what I’m going to do. That’s really my only defense at this point. I just need to get underneath.
