Grunt Life (20 page)

A warrior is free to be a hero and pull off daring do and the soldier is irresponsible if he does it.

C. J. Cherryh

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

A
BOARD SHIP ON
the way to Africa, OMBRA Techs provided lessons on electromagnetic pulses. The pulses created by the Cray were a result of high energy generation transmitted through biological mechanisms, characteristically similar to high energy radio frequency (HERF) weapons that had been researched but never successfully fielded on Earth. Because of the diminishing strength of the EMPs local to a mound, the techs projected that the power locus for the pulses was contained within the mound, and that the drones were capable of storing and transmitting the pulses much like a HERF weapon, but at a diminished capacity.

Our mission was to plant ground-penetrating sonar and radar detectors as close to the mound as possible. We needed to know what they were doing inside. How large was the interior? What sort of complex did they have? If the Cray didn’t self-generate their EMPs, was there a central location within the interior that provided them access to power, like a charging station? Basically, we need to know anything and everything. Without the availability of human reconnaissance reporting, our only hope was the single-use machines, which would transmit data seconds after operation. We had little hope that they’d last past the first EMP pulse, but if they could give us an understanding of the internal layout, we’d at least have a target. Right now all we had to aim at was the impervious shell of the mound.

Four recon platoons, Romeos One, Three, Six, and Eleven, were partnered with two infantry platoons. While the infantry platoons’ job was to provide covering support in the retrograde, ours was to plant the devices in a prescribed pattern around the mound. Each of us carried two devices. Their pre-designated locations were programmed into our HUDs.

First platoon was assigned to Romeo One and Eleven. They had the most difficult mission, depositing their devices on the far side of the mound. Second platoon was assigned to Romeo Three and Six and had the easiest of it. We were also fielding the sled-pulled Vulcan cannons, AKA Project Vulcan Logic. The techs had promised that they were shielded and would be fully functional in the middle of the attack, but like most everything promised by a tech, we wouldn’t know whether it was good or bad until we were in the middle of the shit.

A lone Cray flyer circled the mound; a black silhouette against an even blacker sky. We poised on the edge of our trenches, now more than ever like our World War I predecessors. Except when our predecessors rushed their opponents, it was with throaty yells and fixed bayonets. Recon, on the other hand, had to keep silent, each gripping the handle of a gator box securing the device we had to implant.

We waited for the signal.

A
beep
filled my ears. I pulled myself up and began to run. My target was the half-wrecked concrete building in Boma Ng’ombe. My composite-shod feet tore across the desert scrabble, faster than I could move outside the suit. The distance was two miles; I covered it in eight minutes, breathing no harder than if I’d run a quarter of that distance. I pulled up against one of the remaining walls and put my back to it. I couldn’t see what was going on from this vantage point, so I accessed Olivares’s feed, as his position had been midway between the village and the trenches. The drone still circled lazily, as if it had all the time in the world.

The view shifted as Olivares turned to Thompson.

“Move out.”

Thompson got up from where he was crouching beside Olivares and ran towards me. I switched to Thompson’s feed. Watching me get closer from his aspect was unsettling; we’d practiced aboard ship, but I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to it. When he was about ten meters away, I switched back to my own feed.

Systems check. Ninety-five percent power. All green.

In thirty seconds all members of Romeo Three were in place.

We were situated at the east end of the village. The main drag ran east to west before curving south, as if it knew it had to miss the mound. On the other side of the dusty road lay several collapsed huts, among the standing structures. One minute later, Romeo Six had leap-frogged us and was in place on the other side of the village.

The next rendezvous point was the wing of the 727, the largest piece of the aircraft still intact. But we were to stay in place in the meantime until after two things happened.

The first was Romeos One and Eleven getting into position. They were working their way to the far side and required far more time. Moving in traveling overwatch, their ETA was forty-one minutes.

The second was rendezvousing with the Vulcan sleds. Four sleds, each with two Vulcan cannons and operators, were to set up in the village. Their mission was to protect Romeo elements from air attack.

Although untested, we were counting on their firepower. Hell, I knew
I
was counting on it.

I tuned in and switched views from the Vulcan teams to different members of One and Eleven, then back to ourselves. I saw Olivares gazing at Aquinas and tried to check into his view, but was locked out.

Hey. Not cool.
I wondered what the hell he was talking to her about.

I was about to say something, when Olivares contacted me.

“Move forward with Aquinas and put visual on the mound. I want full magnification.”

I acknowledged, and Aquinas and I settled on the Chevy Bel Air. She’d take the front and I’d take the rear. We moved as silently as silk and were soon in place.

Telemetry said there was nothing else moving in the sky except for the single drone, but I didn’t believe it. The idea that it had seen us and had done nothing was incomprehensible. Either the Cray were preparing for something, or they didn’t care enough about us to do anything. I’m not sure which was worse.

I settled in and occasionally glanced over my shoulder. Although I couldn’t see her face, I knew enough of what she looked like for my imagination to begin working. I keyed Aquinas on a private channel. “Old car like this would be good for a date.”

She ignored me.

“Put the top down. Turn on some tunes. Watch the lights.”

“Stay on mission.”

“Maybe listen to a little end-of-the-world radio,” I said. “You and me could get comfortable and—”

“You’d have a better chance with a drone,” she said, shaking her head.

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“At least I have a chance,” I said.

She sighed.

“Concentrate, you grunts.” As squad leader, Olivares had the access to listen in on everyone if he so chose. Even though he had last word, as stern as it had sounded, I could have sworn that it was delivered with a smile.

I turned my attention to the mound and zoomed in. I had to fiddle with the sharpening tools to get any clarity, which wasn’t as easy as it should have been. Flipping back and forth between vision modes, I decided that as the mound wasn’t putting off any heat it would have to be the green and black universe of Starlight mode. It didn’t take long to figure out that there was nothing going on. Just shadows and that lone flyer above the mound.

I was about to say as much when Aquinas’s worried whisper made me start. “The shadows... they’re moving.”

I concentrated on the mound.

“They’re crawling on the outside,” I said.

“They’re not taking to the air. They must have figured out we can track them,” Aquinas said.

“Like they can sense the radar.”

My mind was in a dozen different places. If they knew about the telemetry and they were moving stealthily, it meant that they weren’t ignoring us. In fact, they were preparing for our attack.

The Cray clung to the outside of the mound, flattened against the surface as though trying to hide, their wings plastered against their backs.

“All Romeo elements, key in on my optic. Cray are outside the mound and waiting. They know we’re coming. I say again, they know we are coming.”

What followed was a barrage of orders and comments, from the members of Romeo Three and Six. One and Eleven remained silent, awaiting orders.

Finally, they were told to hold their position while a decision was made. I could imagine them, squatting out in the open, waiting in the shadow of the mound for a decision to be made. Would they be allowed to return to the trenches or would they be asked to Charlie Mike?

When the word came back, it didn’t surprise me.

Charlie Mike.

Continue Mission.

There was going to be blood, and it wasn’t just going to be between One and Eleven and the Cray. We’d get ours, too.

Aquinas turned and looked at me. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her fear. I felt it within myself. We were about to be in the shit, but there was nothing we could do about it except Charlie Mike.

“Romeo Three, stand by,” Olivares ordered. “Check status.”

Systems check. Ninety percent power. All green.

Romeos One and Eleven were about two hundred meters from the mound. They switched from traveling overwatch to bounding overwatch, moving carefully and covering each other, but also covering as much ground as they could. Problem was that if they were required to use their miniguns, they’d lose precious seconds dropping their sonar/radar packages in order to swing the weapons into place.

I accessed one of the rear-facing cameras. Where were the Vulcan sleds? They were too far back for me to see. Unable to increase another EXO’s magnification, I could only guess they were still hundreds of meters to the rear.

“Romeo Three, prepare to move out.”

But it looked like I might have the chance to find out.

I switched my view back to my own suit. I saved my dialed-in magnification of the mound feed in a small screen in the upper left of my HUD, and fixed the rest of my view on what was in front of me.

“On my command, bounding overwatch to your marks.” Olivares’s voice was tight. We all knew what was coming. BCT command had decided it was allowable for Romeo elements to be attacked. That was just how it went.

Thompson, Ohirra and Olivares moved forward as we remained in place, scanning the sky and ground.

When it was our turn, they remained in place, and Aquinas, MacKenzie, and I passed them and moved forward another twenty meters.

Bounding overwatch worked best when you had a place of cover and concealment from which to defend, but once we passed the village, there was nothing other than the remains of the 727. We’d planned on meeting Romeo Six there, but the plan had changed. Command didn’t want us clumped together. They wanted us to form as wide a line as possible. I wasn’t sure if I agreed. Together, we had a strength of fire we lacked individually. The alternative was to be alone, strung out along a picket line, which Six was doing.

We made it to the 727 without event.

Olivares ordered a systems check.

Systems check. Eighty-six percent power. All green.

We regained our breath and prepared to move forward when we heard the first of the screams.

Romeo One was under attack.

To the soldier, luck is merely another word for skill.

Patrick MacGill

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I
SWITCHED TO
a view from Romeo One and watched the ground recede at an impossible rate. Then the image tumbled and I saw myself plummeting back to the earth. I pulled back to my own feed before I hit the ground, irrationally afraid of what would happen, like anyone who’d ever gone to sleep and dreamed of falling.

My vitals showed my heart rate at 140 beats per minute. My breathing had risen to match it. I was sweating in my suit. I tried not to panic while listening to the screams and missile detonations from my sister recon squad.

I missed a command from Olivares.

I tore myself away from the HUD, and watched as the rest of my squad moved forward. I was a second behind them and soon caught up. No overwatch. We were making a dash towards the mound. It looked like we were going to implant our devices and retreat.

A great clamor, like the sky being unzipped, erupted from the other side of the mound; I could hear the Vulcan cannons both from my feeds and through my suit. I wanted to switch back and watch them in action, maybe witness some of the Cray disemboweled by the blizzard of bullets, but I needed all my attention on my own space.

We’d made it halfway to our mark when Hydra missiles began to fly from behind us in a barrage, striking the outside of the mound. I made out dead and dying Cray in the explosions. They’d been lying in wait, but Romeo Six had provided us covering fire.

I ached to have my minigun in my hands instead of the two cases. Charging the mound like this made me feel so exposed.

“Six is coming up behind,” Olivares shouted breathlessly. “Watch your weapons.”

I checked my telemetry and saw a vicious battle on the other side of the mound. The Vulcans were still screaming. Although there were no missiles from the EXOs, I heard the steady chatter of miniguns as they added their rounds to the fray. Either the other squads had given up the mission or they’d completed, which meant we were next.

Suddenly the mound was upon us. We’d covered the distance faster than I’d believed possible. My entire horizon was covered with the shadow of the hive. I knelt and snapped open the gator boxes.

I set the sonar in place, and watched it run to green, then begin to transmit data. Then I removed the radar. Just as I put it in position and flicked the switch, it went black. I checked the sonar; dark as well.

EMP.

Killed them already.

I just hoped they’d been able to provide enough information during the short time they’d been functional. I’d hate to think that all this had been a waste, although it wouldn’t have been the first time I was part of a mission that had felt like that.

I snapped my minigun in place, comforted by the weight and heft of it in my Kevlar-gloved hands, even though most of it was held by the support arm. I depressed the firing lever and let the barrels spin several cycles as I began to scan the mound and the sky above us.