Evan jogged along beside Delta-seventeen as the personnel carrier slid through the garage on its trolley, the rails in the deck guiding it towards the waiting bay of the lander. The team was in full gear, ready for the drop, their helmets sealed and their XMRs in hand. The vehicle passed through the shimmering barrier of energy, jolting as it came to a sudden stop, the trolley locking into place. The team and its crew ran in after it, strapping themselves into the rows of seats that were bolted to the walls on either side of it, Evan securing his harness tightly. A mechanical clunk reverberated through the deck as the craft decoupled from the stern gate, the troop ramp slowly closing to obscure his view of the rows of shimmering docking ports.
These drops were routine, Evan had done real and simulated deployments more times than he could count, but the prospect of being hit by one of those Bug AA platforms made the whole ordeal twice as nerve-wracking. He remembered the state of the Penguin gunship that had made an emergency landing in the Rorke’s hangar, and how much damage it had taken. Landing and taking off were the stages when the heavy landers were at their most vulnerable.
“Looks like we’re going to get new orders on the ground,” Simmons announced over the radio. “We’re going in hot, so keep your wits about you.”
Turbulence buffeted the craft as it hit the atmosphere, threatening to shake it apart, the sound of straining metal filling the bay. Evan felt the tug of the G-forces as it decelerated, falling belly-down towards the ground. There were no windows – no way for him to see outside – but he knew that roiling flames were engulfing the lander.
A harder deceleration pressed him into his padded seat, then the lander touched down, the bay filling with light as the landing ramp descended with enough speed to swat a fly. The Puma’s trolley was released, the vehicle whizzing off down the ramp, skidding to a stop in the wet mud beyond. The passengers unbuckled themselves, running out to join it, Sergeant Simmons leading the way.
Evan ran out into the open air, the autumn canopy surrounding them on all sides, the gas giant’s vibrant bands of purple and blue dominating the sky above their heads. They were in a clearing, several more landers touching down around them, disgorging their own vehicles. A temporary command center had been set up nearby, a small prefab building with a large satellite dish on the roof, surrounded by defensive walls made from hesco units that had been packed with earth. Several cupcakes had been dropped to form a protective perimeter – portable CIWS guns designed for air defense that got their name from their muffin-shaped radar domes.
Ahead of the landing site was the battalion’s artillery company, a row of eight Avalanches. They were built on the same chassis as the Kodiak MBT, but their turrets had been replaced with massive, long-range railguns capable of delivering high-explosives and other specialized munitions. Their long barrels were angled up, high above the trees. As he glanced towards the sky, a pair of Penguins screamed overhead, unloading their payload of missiles at something in the distance. Billows of flame rose above the treetops, the craft banking off, flares trailing behind them as they avoided streams of plasma fire from below. They had dropped right into the middle of a warzone.
The team knelt in the mud, covering the vehicle crew as they mounted up, the Puma’s engine roaring to life. The two Kodiaks that had dropped alongside them were already trundling away towards the treeline, leaving deep tracks in the wet dirt. Evan felt the ground shake, turning to see a trio of dropships rising up into the air on plumes of bright flame, the backwash strong enough to buffet him.
A man in Marine armor came running out of the command post, skipping the small flight of stairs, the low gravity making the short drop trivial. He approached Simmons, tapping the side of his helmet in a gesture to switch to the local channel. Evan did the same, listening in on the exchange.
“You guys the reinforcements for Delta company?” he asked, appraising the IFV.
“Yes, sir,” Simmons replied. “What’s the situation?”
“Deep-scan radar has uncovered an underground weapons storage facility,” the man explained. “It’s probably supplying all the critters in the area with munitions and gear. There are tunnel entrances all over this valley, and they’re all fortified. The Bugs are putting up one hell of a fight, but the battalion has pushed through the perimeter, and we’re trying to secure one of the entrances so that we can move in Trog teams with demo gear. Delta company needs reinforcements – I’m sending you their coordinates now. There are no roads here, so the carrier made some for us. Just follow those.”
The Avalanches suddenly fired off a salvo in quick succession, Evan ducking reflexively as they shook the earth. Their cannons rocked back on their dampeners, the vehicles heaving under the strain, the projectiles traveling so quickly that he couldn’t even see them. His helmet muffled the sound to protect his ears, but he could feel it in his guts, like a sonic boom.
“Got it,” Simmons said, checking the info that had been sent to his wrist computer. “Squad, mount up!”
They loaded into the Puma’s troop bay, strapping in as it began to drive off. Jade was sitting across from him, Evan seeing her watching him through the tinted visor of her helmet. He gave her a nod, then switched to the external camera feed, watching as the vehicle sped towards the edge of the clearing. It veered onto another heading, Evan spying its destination ahead. A straight path a good fifty meters wide had been cleared through the forest. The carrier had clearly used its ventral railguns to carve out a route for the vehicles, the hypervelocity slugs pulverizing the trees, not even leaving their stumps intact. It looked like a giant blowtorch had been dragged across the forest. The ground was pocked with craters that had quickly filled with water, the Puma bouncing as it made its way through the ravaged terrain. He could see the two Kodiaks that had set off before them, driving maybe half a klick ahead.
Protecting the moon’s ecology was paramount, but this wasn’t something that would inflict lasting damage, as violent as it was. The forest would recover in time.
Over their heads, another formation of Penguins flew over, strafing the trees below with their cannons. More return fire painted green trails across the sky, warding them off, forcing them to bank up and out of range. Missiles streaked towards them, but they were diverted by flares. The gunships were wise to the AA guns now, and they were being cautious.
Explosions suddenly rose above the canopy, about where the enemy had been firing from, the trails of plasma stopping abruptly. That must be the artillery company – they were honing in on the Bugs, the Penguins luring them out before calling in their coordinates.
The Puma continued on for a while, joining the two Kodiaks, the tanks stopped ahead of them. There was a six-wheeled Timberwolf parked just off the road in the shade of the trees, one of the crew members standing halfway out of the hatch on the roof, waving to them as they approached.
Simmons seemed to have a conversation with him for a moment, then he switched to the local channel again.
“Driver, take us to the following coordinates,” he said as he tapped at his touch display. “We’re going to be reinforcing the right flank. They’re moving up on a fortified position, and the Kodiaks can’t break through without infantry support.”
The Puma veered off the road, following the tanks through the forest, the larger vehicles weaving between the trees as they tried to find the safest path. The terrain was much rougher now, Evan feeling the IFV rock and shake as its eight wheels struggled to deal with the roots.
They eventually came upon a scene of battle. What looked like the rest of Delta company was lined up at the edge of a clearing, Pumas and Kodiaks taking cover in the treeline. The troops had dismounted from their vehicles and were laying down fire on a structure in the distance. Across a few hundred meters of open ground was a fortified building, an immense earthwork that rose up to form a wall. It seemed to be constructed using the same means as the buildings back in the tether port. They were made from densely packed dirt, which was covered over with a kind of hard, clear resin. There were several layers of defenses. At the rear was a sloping embankment surrounded by a deep trench, like something from an archaic hill fort. Lower walls ringed it, providing cover for the defenders, Evan spotting glimpses of Bugs as they sent bolts of plasma streaking back towards the attackers. Finally, there was a forest of conical structures that rose only a meter from the ground. They were dragon’s teeth, he realized – a kind of simple tank trap. No wonder the Kodiaks couldn’t breach the defenses. Had they devised those so quickly after encountering tracked vehicles for the first time?
He could see where shells had impacted the slopes and walls, carving out deep craters, but not penetrating. The clearing looked like the surface of the moon, likely due to artillery bombardment, but the Bugs held firm. Their defenses were thick, probably filled with both soil and rocks, the same logic employed in the UNN’s hesco defenses. Instead of packing mesh bags with soil or sand, the Bugs shaped their defensive structures using their resin, the dirt proving surprisingly effective at stopping incoming fire. It was amazing that something so outwardly primitive could be such an obstacle.
The Puma pulled into formation, taking up a position with a view of the defenses, the blister firing off thirty-millimeter slugs to cover the team as they dismounted. They threw themselves into the cover of the trees and the dense undergrowth, Evan shouldering his rifle, leaning it on a felled log as he looked through the scope. Across the clearing, he could see the outer wall of the structure, which was surrounded by a deep trench. It was set up like the crenelations of a medieval castle, the Drones peeking through the gaps to fire at the attackers. They weren’t very high, only rising to the chests of the defenders, leaving enough space for them to pop up and fire over them. What they were was thick, wider than they were tall, able to stop even railgun slugs dead in their tracks. Behind them was the sloping wall of the fort proper. There were more crenelations on top of it like battlements, Bugs firing from the elevated position.
“All of this just to protect a Bug hole?” Hernandez asked, popping up beside Evan to fire off a few slugs. “Those fuckers really don’t want us gettin’ inside!”
“This weapons depot probably keeps the whole valley armed,” Jade explained, taking up position to Evan’s right. “Taking it out will strike a crippling blow to their operations. It means they’ll have to ship in gear from other depots, maybe even overground if we’re lucky.”
“Why not just bomb it from orbit?” Hernandez asked as he slid back into cover behind the log. “If the carriers can clear forests, they can blow the fuck out of this sandcastle.”
“Bugs dig deep,” Jade replied. “The actual storage area will be too deep to reach without doing serious damage to the biosphere, and collapsing the entire fort with an orbital strike would definitely destroy the fortifications, but it would probably bury the entrance and collapse the tunnels near the surface. It’s easier to capture it conventionally.”
“And that’s why we’re here,” Evan added. “The tanks can’t get through, so I’d bet we’re about to be sent in there on foot to clear it out.”
He peeked over the log again, using his scope to zoom in on the Bugs. He felt a shiver slide down his spine like a cold finger as he saw one of the Drones looking in his direction as it peeked between the crenelations. It was the same variety that had attacked the convoy, its jaw-like mandibles hanging off the bottom of its helmet, its spider-like eyes pointing in different directions. He steeled himself, gripping his XMR more tightly. These things were faster, smarter, and better-equipped than an average Drone, but a railgun slug would bring them down just the same. They wouldn’t get the drop on him this time…
The exchange of fire was constant. The near side of the walls and the slope almost looked like the surface of a puddle being disturbed by raindrops, tungsten splashing against the packed dirt, cracking the resin. Most of the foliage on the company’s side of the clearing was on fire thanks to the constant barrage of plasma, creating a kind of smokescreen that would probably have been problematic without rebreathers. The Bugs weren’t hitting anything, but they were succeeding in keeping the Marines pinned down.
The ground shook each time one of the Kodiaks fired, and although their AP rounds kicked up torrents of earth where they impacted, even they weren’t powerful enough to make it all the way through. One thing that was having an effect were the mortars, the shells timed to explode just above the ground, where they showered the defenders in red-hot shrapnel. Those that fell were quickly replaced as more Bugs swarmed out of the tunnel-like entrances to the fort, simply stepping over their bodies with callous disregard to fill their positions.
“If they have more Bugs than we have ammo, this ain’t gonna end well,” Hernandez growled as he popped up to fire again. “How the hell do they expect us to get across that open ground, anyway? We can’t follow behind the IFVs, not with all that shit in the way.”
“The tanks are gonna try something,” Sergeant Simmons replied. “Stand by.”
One of the Kodiaks at the other end of the line began to drive out into the open, the Bugs turning their guns on it. The plasma from their weapons splashed harmlessly against its forward armor, not hot enough to make it through. Mounted on one of the hardpoints on the side of its turret was a long tube, rotating into position to face the fort. A spiraling rocket shot out of it on a plume of smoke, trailing a long cable behind it, the line draping itself over the terrain. It was a line charge – a device used to destroy mines and other fortifications. Explosions rippled along its length as it detonated between the dragon’s teeth, but when the smoke cleared, they remained intact.
“Well, shit,” Simmons muttered. “That didn’t fucking work.”
“We cannot stay here,” Borzka hissed, a bolt of plasma impacting the tree that he was hiding behind. It scorched the trunk, peeling away the bark like paper. “Now would be the time for a bayonet charge.”
“Through this?” Brooks chuckled. “Be my guest, but I’m not going out there without a smokescreen, at least. That’s what we call a kill zone.”
“They’re trying to call in a Beewolf,” Simmons said. “If they can paint a target, it can deliver a warhead that’ll clear a path, hopefully without collapsing the whole structure like an orbital strike would.”
“What’s the holdup?” Hernandez asked, ducking reflexively as a nearby Kodiak fired over their heads.
“All of the enemy AA needs to be cleared out first. Just keep firing on those Bugs. The longer we can keep them pinned, the better.”
Evan rose up to brace his XMR against the fallen log again, watching as more mortars exploded above the Bug fortifications. The shells left ring-shaped clouds of smoke that slowly drifted away on the breeze, pocking the mud beneath them with molten shrapnel, half a dozen Bugs collapsing as their carapaces were perforated. Another HE round from a Kodiak exploded against one of the sloped walls of the main structure, but it did little more than dig a wide crater into its surface.
He could see the Drones leaning out of cover, most of them wielding long rifles, sending volleys of plasma towards the forest. It was random, undirected, serving only to keep their targets suppressed. There were no tanks or warriors that he could see, but they had a tendency to pop up where they were least expected.
A sudden whistling sound alerted him to an incoming projectile, and he took cover again, an explosion followed by a shower of dirt rocking him.
“Mortars!” the sergeant warned. “Looks like the critters are bringing up more munitions from underground!”
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More mortars sounded, a whole volley of shells raining down on the company. Some were chemical canisters, yellow gas starting to drift between the trees as they disgorged their payload, while others were explosive. They impacted atop the vehicles, but the armor was too thick for them to pose much of a threat. Those that landed in the midst of the troops proved far more deadly, Evan catching a glimpse of a trio of Marines who had been taking cover in a nearby dugout as they were turned to red vapor, a shell finding its mark.
“God damn!” Hernandez exclaimed, watching the canopy warily. “Sarge, shouldn’t we get back inside the fucking Puma? We’re sittin’ ducks out here!”
“Hang on,” he replied, one finger to the side of his helmet. “The Beewolf is coming in. When that bomb hits, the Pumas are gonna advance, and we’re gonna move up behind them. Be ready!”
“Fuck!” Hernandez spat, rising to let off a few more shots. Evan did the same, sighting one of the Drones as it peeked out above its wall atop the fort, a well-placed slug taking off its head. It slumped out of view, one of its neighbors responding with a stream of plasma that forced him back behind the log.
Another whistle alerted them to a salvo of mortars, Evan bracing himself, not knowing where they were going to land. Instead of the thud of shells, there was a sound like a buzzsaw, fragments of broken branches raining down from the canopy above. He glanced up to see a stream of glowing tracer fire, so dense as to form an unbroken line, weaving back and forth through the trees. It changed targets rapidly, spraying quick bursts with machine precision, the blasts from the intercepted mortars shaking the forest.
Behind them, a Kestrel trundled forward, its eight wheels bouncing over the roots. The AA platform was based on the same chassis as the Puma, but its crew compartment had been gutted to accommodate the large turret that sat atop it, the long barrels of its rotary guns pointing into the air. It was like a CIWS gun on wheels, the ball-shaped camera pod beside its radar array snapping to and fro as it locked onto targets.
“Danger close!” Simmons added. “Keep your heads down!”
Evan put his back to the log, watching the feed through his scope as he raised his rifle above it. He could see the laser pointer that was directing the Beewolf now, his HUD highlighting it, painting a marker on the ground in the midst of the dragon’s teeth. There was maybe a football field’s length between the clearing and the fort. If that bomb strayed from its path, it could land right on the company.
There was no roar of an engine from overhead, no whistle from the bomb as it descended. The clearing just erupted like a volcano, a brief flash of orange flame soon engulfed by a rising plume of black smoke and airborne dirt. The Marines covered their heads, digging in behind the incline that separated them from the clearing. Evan heard shrapnel and debris blast the trees only a few scant meters above his head, their branches blowing, leaves and twigs falling down as they were knocked loose. After a brief delay, a shower of dirt and small pebbles poured from the sky, Evan hearing it impact his helmet like rain on sheet metal. A larger piece of what might have been one of the broken dragon’s teeth impacted a nearby IFV, bouncing off its roof, the blow enough to make the vehicle sag on its suspension.
Through the break in the canopy above the clearing, Evan spotted the Beewolf, the aircraft banking away. It was climbing towards the clouds, already so far away that it was little more than a speck.
“Okay,” Hernandez muttered, his voice wavering. “Let’s not do that again.”
“Everyone in one piece?” Simmons asked, brushing the dirt off his shoulders.
As the lingering smoke began to clear, Evan saw that the ground between their position and the fort had been turned inside out. The bomb hadn’t been a single munition but a cluster of warheads, drawing a line of craters towards the fort. They had carved out a path a dozen meters wide, either vaporizing the tank traps or tossing them across the clearing. Some of the bombs had impacted the fort itself, tearing up some of the defensive walls on the near side and collapsing a large section of the moat. The Bugs had been pasted, and the survivors were scrambling through the rubble, trying to reach cover.
They had their way in.
The Pumas sprang to life, their engines revving as they drove up and over the small incline, erupting from between the trees. Their cannons were firing as they moved, kept gyroscopically stabilized, the long barrels barely wavering even as they bounced over the rough terrain. Evan rose to his feet along with the rest of the team, his boots sliding in the mud as he ran after them. He began to slip as he reached the peak of the incline, losing his footing, but a hand reached out to grab him by the arm. It was Jade. She hauled him up the rest of the way, surprisingly strong for her size, her voice crackling through his helmet.
“Keep up, squishy boy!”
The team caught up with their IFV, bunching up behind it, its hull shielding them from the incoming fire. Evan could hear the plasma bolts impacting it, the burning projectiles sizzling where they landed in the wet mud around it. The vehicle’s blister fired back, sending streams of molten tungsten towards the enemy firing positions, forcing them back into cover. Another IFV was to their right, Evan glancing over at it, watching as its squad of Marines followed it along. More were driving up behind them, a dozen Pumas slowly making their way across the cratered path that had been carved out for them.
As they neared the outer defensive wall, the Bugs got a better angle on them, the team having to return fire in an attempt to ward them off. Evan shouldered his rifle, firing at a Drone as it popped up from behind cover, its shots going wide as he loosed a burst into its helmet. The IFV was close enough to fire over the low crenelations now, pouring thirty-millimeter slugs into the walkway behind them. The Drones stood no chance, the projectiles cutting them down, their ichor painting the dirt walls as they were eviscerated. The IFV dipped lower as it crossed the collapsed trench, its eight wheels spinning in the mud as they fought their way up the embankment.
One of the Drones took the opportunity to leap up onto the roof, prying at the hatch with three of its four arms, holding a handgun in the fourth. It was unsuccessful, the barrel of the mounted railgun swinging around to fire on it point-blank, exploding the unfortunate creature into a shower of gore and fragments of chitin.
The two lead vehicles made it to the other side of the trench, breaching the damaged wall, their suspension bouncing as they drove over the uneven rubble. They were harried by plasma bolts, but the insects had nothing powerful enough to breach their armor on hand. The Pumas crashed into the slope of the fort, extending their defensive barriers, the deployable cover swinging out from their flanks to protect their squads.
“Go, go!” Simmons yelled. “Into the compound!”
They rushed around the side of the IFV, sliding into cover behind the barrier. They were inside the enemy defenses now, between the crenelations and the slope. Most of the fire from the treeline behind them was concentrated on the vantage point at the top of the structure now, keeping them from firing down on the attackers.
The Marines fired over the IFV’s barrier, ventilating the Drones that were massing on the other side. It looked to Evan like a trench from some ancient European war. The Bugs had dug out a channel that ran all the way along the base of the four-walled structure, deep enough that a crouching person could move through it without being hit. It was full of bodies now, the Bugs piled three deep in some places, the combination of XMRs and vehicle-mounted railguns making short work of them. They were quick to react to the intrusion, but caught in the open, there was little that they could do.
Plasma splashed against the armored side of the barrier, zipping over Evan’s head to impact the hull of the IFV behind him. He raised his rifle over the obstacle, spraying wildly, even his poorly-aimed shots finding their mark in the narrow trench. The slugs tore fist-sized holes in the Bugs, the impacts throwing them to the ground, severed limbs and spilled guts sent sailing through the air. The thirty-mill chugged behind him, its rounds turning the Drones into showers of gore when it hit them dead-on, the kinetic energy practically vaporizing them. With the combined fire of the team and the IFV, the Bug resistance soon collapsed, the last handful of survivors rounding the far corner as they sought cover.
“We have to clear the trench!” Simmons ordered, placing a hand on the IFV’s barrier. He hauled himself over it, his boots splashing in the mud, then turned to wave them on. “On me!”
Borzka and Tatzi led the charge, their bayonets leveled as they leapt clear over the wall, the Borealans large enough to block the trench when standing shoulder to shoulder. Evan and the rest of the team followed after them, stepping over the fallen insects, crunching fragments of carapace underfoot. Behind them, more troops were pouring in from the clearing, the twin rows of IFVs that were parked along the path forming a protective cordon to either side of them.
Hernandez was to Evan’s left, Jade to his right, the Jarilan gripping her short-barreled XMR in her upper pair of hands. The entire forward face of the fort seemed to have been cleared on this side, but as they neared the corner of the vaguely square structure, the two Borealans threw themselves into cover. A stream of green plasma bolts poured from the trench beyond, impacting the inside wall, melting the resin.
Borzka leaned his long rifle around the corner, firing back, the railgun rocking into his shoulder with each shot.
“There are dozens of them down there!” he snarled.
“Get some grenades in there, then open fire!” Simmons ordered. Evan plucked one of the softball-sized explosives from his belt, priming it with a button press. Hernandez and Brooks did the same, throwing them around the corner. Evan kept his back to the dirt slope, tossing his grenade with a backhanded throw. A trio of explosions sounded, a torrent of dust pouring into their trench.
“Go!” Simmons said. The team raced around the corner, those at the front taking a knee, those at the back aiming their rifles over their heads. They unleashed a hail of gunfire, the slugs tearing through the swirling debris, the indistinct figures of Bugs glimpsed through the smoke jerking as they were riddled with projectiles.
“Move up!”
They began to advance, clearing out the defenders. The Drones were sitting ducks with no cover, and a single slug had the velocity to pass straight through them, hitting the Bugs behind them. Lined up in the narrow trench, they had nowhere to run, slumping to the ground in piles.
One of them came racing out of the dust towards the advancing Marines, its knives drawn, but Tatzi stepped out to meet it. She thrust her bayonet into its abdomen, putting her immense weight behind the blow to drive the creature into the mud. It clawed at the magnetic rings that lined the barrel in a futile attempt to free itself, but she pulled the trigger, green fluid splattering her visor as the thing was practically bisected by the blast.
As Evan marched past a pile of dead Bugs, one of them reached out to him, its claw-like fingers gripping the leg of his suit. He whipped around to face it as it drew a chitin dagger from a recess in its thigh, raising it as it prepared to plunge the blade into his calf. The thing was injured, missing both of its legs below the knee, dragging itself along on its belly with its lower pair of arms like a zombie. Evan felt a twinge of terror as he looked back into its array of lens-like eyes, its sharp mandibles splitting into four segments as they clicked in anticipation of biting into his flesh. Its grip was tight, clinging to him as he tried to pull away from it. The last time he had seen one this close, he had been lying paralyzed in the wreckage of his Puma, praying that he wouldn’t be found. Not this time.
He leveled his XMR, pressing the barrel between its centermost pair of eyes, and fired. The now headless Bug slumped to the bottom of the trench, Evan kicking its hand loose before continuing on. The fortifications on this side of the structure were clear now, and they arrived at the end of the sloping wall.
“Hold,” Simmons said, the team stopping. “We need to be careful here, or we could get caught in a crossfire. The other teams should be finishing up on the far side.” He put a finger to his helmet, changing channels, probably to request orders.
“Keep your eyes on the battlement above us,” Jade warned, aiming her XMR up the slope. “That’s where they’ll be coming from.”
Gunfire still harried the roof of the fort, sending fragments of broken resin and loose soil sliding down its sloping walls. Evan suspected that whatever was still up there was likely dead, but he followed Jade’s advice all the same.
“Look out!” someone yelled, movement catching Evan’s eye. A Drone had fallen from the battlements and was tumbling down the slope, but it was already dead, judging by its limp body. A long, resin tube rolled along with it, perhaps one of the mortars that they had been firing at the treeline. The Marines below it scrambled to get out of its path, and it hit the ground hard, its mortar bouncing away. Evan could see where shrapnel had pocked its carapace, its thorax and its helmeted head covered in tiny wounds.
“Keep away from the corner,” Simmons warned, the two Borealans retreating a few paces. “The other team is about to clear that trench.”
A few moments later, a barrage of gunfire broke out. Those at the front of the pack retreated further, raising their arms to shield their visors reflexively as railgun slugs impacted the leftmost wall of the trench. They punched straight through the resin before embedding themselves in the soil beneath, sending shattered fragments of it zipping through the air like broken glass.
When the sergeant relayed an all-clear, they continued around the bend, seeing a familiar sight. The Bugs that had been manning the crenelations had been slain, their own trench now serving as a mass grave.
“That the last of ‘em?” Hernandez asked, the two groups meeting in the middle of the trench.
“That’s our job done,” Sergeant Simmons replied. “Secure the area. Take up position by the entrances to the main structure,” he added as he gestured to one of the cave-like holes in the sloping wall. “There are more below ground, no doubt about it. Make sure nothing so much as pokes its head out until the Trogs get here.”
They fanned out, some of the Marines manning the crenelations to watch the forest beyond the clearing, pushing aside the lifeless bodies of the fallen Drones to make space. Evan and his squad took up position outside one of the entrances, the interior too shadowy to make out anything inside.
“Jade,” Evan began, nodding into the dirt tunnel. “Anything?”
She reached up to open the slots on the top of her helmet, her long antennae unfurling.
“Just smells like Bugs,” she replied.
“We should just toss a bunch of grenades down there,” Brooks added, but Jade shook her head.
“Not without the risk of a cave-in. The last thing you want is to have to dig new tunnels while the Bugs move all of their equipment to another site.”
“Heads up,” Hernandez said, giving Evan a nudge. He nodded down the trench in the direction they had come, Evan turning to see several figures approaching. It was a team of maybe twenty men, the Marines stepping out of their path to let them pass. The segmented armor that they wore was bulkier than standard UNN armor, with reinforced plating and a large, protective collar that rose up to shield the neck area. Their helmets, too, were distinctive. Gone was the full-faced visor, replaced with a narrow slit that ran across the eyes. A bulky rebreather that resembled a gas mask jutted out from the mouth and nose area, long, flexible tubes trailing out of view beneath their collars. They looked like they could probably take a missile to the chest and keep marching. They wore carriers over their armor that were laden with gear, what looked like grenades and detonators, along with more tech that Evan couldn’t even identify.
“That’s the Trog team,” Hernandez explained, whispering as though in awe of them. “Those are the crazy bastards who go down into the Bug-infested tunnels to rig the explosives.”
“They look like they’re wearing bomb disposal gear,” Jade added, Hernandez chuckling.
“More like Bug disposal gear.”
Most of them were armed with PDW variants of the XMR, not unlike the one that Jade favored, with shortened barrels for better handling in tight spaces. A couple of them were carrying weapons that were linked to a large backpack via a thick, insulated cable. They were unlike any weapon that Evan had seen before. They almost resembled leaf blowers at a glance – held with a chainsaw grip like some kind of chaingun or flamethrower. The blocky housing had prominent heat vents, and rather than terminating in any kind of recognizable barrel, it had a trio of rounded prongs.
“What are those?” Evan asked.
“Microwave guns,” Hernandez replied. “They fire a stream of electromagnetic waves that interact with water molecules, cookin’ tissue just like a microwave oven. Inside that housin’ is a giant magnetron, and those tubes stickin’ out of the front are waveguides that focus and direct the beam. That cable runs to a power pack on their back.”
“How is it that you talk like you have a head injury until someone asks you about guns?” Evan asked skeptically.
“Guns are cool,” Hernandez replied with a shrug.
“Sounds grisly,” Jade added, watching as the Trogs walked past them. She recoiled a little, almost as though afraid of them, one of them scrutinizing her through his narrow visor. “I hate the Bugs as much as the next girl, but cooking them alive?”
“Tunnel fightin’ is dangerous work,” Hernandez added. “They need every advantage they can get down there, and those things’ll let ‘em wipe out an entire tunnel with a trigger pull.”
“I’m glad we’re not on the wrong side of those things,” Evan muttered as he watched the team pass by.
“Plasma weapons were banned by the UN for a long time,” Hernandez explained. “That all changed when they realized that fightin’ the Bugs without them was next to impossible. There’s no other way to defeat their shields, not that we know of. Nobody is gonna vote to restrict them again now. A microwave gun ain’t any more or less humane.”
The Trog team lined up outside the tunnel, Evan noting that one of them was carrying an even larger backpack, a cylindrical device that was marked with explosive warning symbols. That must be the charge they had been tasked with carrying down to the weapons depot. Whatever it was, it must be powerful enough to collapse the entire tunnel system. It took balls enough to go down into that maze of dark passageways, never mind carrying a bomb on your back all the way.
They breached the tunnel, their weapons at the ready, filing into the dark depths until Evan could no longer see them.
“What now?” Jade asked.
“I suppose we just keep the perimeter secure until they’re done,” Evan replied, turning his attention back to the treeline beyond. The fort was crawling with Marines now, a Penguin roaring overhead, doing a low pass over the forest. Evan lurched as he saw a glint of red among the crenelations on top of the structure, but it was a Jarilan, a pair of gossamer wings buzzing as it set down. They were wielding an XMR configured as a marksman rifle, kneeling to sweep its long barrel across the clearing.
“Why can’t you fly?” Hernandez asked, nudging Jade.
“Because I’m a girl,” she replied, as though it should have been obvious.
With the fort taken and Coalition troops swarming the structure like ants, a lot of the initial tension melted away. After the convoy ambush, Evan had been worried that he might lose his nerve when faced with the Kerguelan Bugs again, that he might freeze up. Instead, they had rolled over a dug-in enemy force with relative ease. These things weren’t so tough when they didn’t have the element of surprise.