Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (56 page)

Kostovich
took Foveaux by the arm and guided her to the terminal.  “Look at this,”
he said.

“What am I
looking at?” said Foveaux.

“This is a
recon drone I sent out to the crash site a couple of hours ago.  It’s gone
dark.”

“Is that
unusual?”

“It’s not
entirely unheard of.  Weather conditions aren’t great at the moment but I
would have expected some indication of any problems before losing
contact.  This one just went out,” he snapped his fingers, “like that.”

“And that was
at the crash site?”

“No, that was
on the way to the crash site.  In fact, it wasn’t that far out from the
city.  On a direct line from the city to the crash site.”

“Do you think
it was shot down?”

Kostovich
shrugged.  “Don’t know.  You’d expect some warning even with
that.  You know, see the missile coming or something.  It just feels
a
little .
 . . odd, to me. 
What do you think?”

Maya didn’t
know what to think.  But she could see that Kostovich had concerns.

“I’ll send
some people out there right away.”

“Good,” said
Kostovich, relieved.  “You know the troop carriers can go outside, they’re
fully sealed.  The flight suits are designed for low pressure, too. 
It’s late afternoon out there, about four degrees Celsius, I think, so your
people won’t freeze to death either.”

“I’ll tell
them to suit up,” said Foveaux.

“Great,” said
Kostovich.  “I’ll launch another drone.  It’s probably nothing, just
a mechanical failure or whatever.  I’ll let you know if I see anything.”

“Okay,” said
Foveaux, “me too.  Can you send me the coordinates for the area the drone
went down?”

“I’m sending
them now,” said Kostovich.  “It’s forty kilometres or so west of
Parry 4
. 
Head out to the spaceport and just keep going.”

Kostovich’s
second drone had just taken off as
Europa
was touching down.  The
loading bridge swung around and connected.  Bobby’s crew escorted their
charges off the shuttle and into the loading area, where two of Foveaux’s
transports awaited.

Foveaux
approached Bobby.  “Well done,” she said.

“Simple
recovery mission, no problem,” said Bobby.

“We’ll take
them back to the garrison and hold them there for processing.  Listen, can
you come with me?”

“What is it?”

“Kostovich
has picked up some suspicious activity.  He wanted me to check it
out.  I’m taking some troops over there right now.”

Bobby noticed
the armoured troop carriers near the transports.  “Okay,” he said, “I need
to finish up here, just hold on a moment.”  Bobby walked over to his crew
and congratulated them on their deportment during the mission.  He shook
hands with them all.

When Bobby
returned to Foveaux she was talking on her comdev.  “Yes, hold on,” she
said, “I’m putting you on speaker.  Bobby Karjalainen is here.”

“Karjalainen?”
said Kostovich.

“Hello, Dr
Kostovich,” said Bobby.

“I was just
telling the commissioner.  I’ve just lost another drone.  It’s not
mechanical failure.  I made a visual on five dust columns just before I
lost contact.  I think the dropship made a successful landing, though
maybe a little off course.  The mechs are a few minutes west of the
spaceport.  I’ve roughed out their speed.  They may be in missile
range in the next fifteen or twenty minutes.  I’m going to send another
drone to the crash site - we’ll go the long way round this
time - to see if they’ve sent another squad in some different
direction, and I have all my missiles ready to go on them as soon as they
breach the horizon.  But the
Parrys
are
primarily an air defence.  You need to get out there and stop them from
making contact with the city.  You’re a commander, right?”

“I was,” said
Bobby.

“Then you know
their tactics.  Figure out what they are going to do and stop them from
doing it.  I’ve got reasonable odds with the missiles but their
countermeasures are pretty good.  If you can get eyes-on you have
artillery and other battlefield weapons you can bring to bear on them.”

“We do?” said
Bobby.

“Yes. 
The troop carriers have plasma cannon.  If you can get line of sight
there’s nothing they can do to defend themselves against them.  But you’re
vulnerable to their missiles.  Let me take care of those, I can deal with
the air.  You have to get eyes-on and hit them with the cannon.”

“Anything
else we need to know?”

“If all else
fails, I might have a Plan B”

“You’re
expecting this to fail?”

“Not
expecting.  But good to have a
fallback
, eh?”

“Not really,”
said Bobby.  “Not if the failure of Plan 
A
means I get my ass kicked.”

“Don’t worry
about it now.  I’m still working on it.  Take those mechs out, and
hurry.”

“Will do,”
said Bobby.

“Take one of
the troop carriers.  I’ll take the other,” said Foveaux.

“Do you have
any kind of plan?” said Bobby.  “At all?”

“Not really,”
said Foveaux.  “Split up, if necessary abandon the carriers and carry on
on
foot.  We have some RPGs and light personal GG
missiles in the back.  We can work with those if we have to.”

“Okay,” said
Bobby.  “Lock down the hangar, we don’t have any time to waste.”

Foveaux spoke
into her comdev and yellow lights and claxons sounded around the hangar
bay.  “Decompression in thirty seconds,” said a disembodied voice, repeating
with the seconds decreasing in decrements of five.

Foveaux
shouted above the din to Bobby, “The transports will have to stay here for
now.  Let’s go.”

Bobby and
Foveaux climbed into their respective troop carriers.

“Hi, I’m
Bobby,” he said as he entered, “the commissioner has just placed me in charge
of this vehicle.

“Not a
problem, sir, good to have you aboard,” said the driver.

“Have you had
much training in this vehicle?” said Bobby.

“Just picked
her up this morning,” said the driver.

“Great,” said
Bobby.  He noticed an indicator on the dashboard showing that external air
pressure was dropping.  He rummaged around the back of his seat and found
a helmet, which he put on.  “Foveaux?” he said into the com.

“Go ahead,”
said Foveaux.

“We’ll break
south and you break north, okay?”

“Sounds
good.”

Bobby saw the
huge hangar bay doors opening.  They retracted slowly to the floor until
he had a clear view of the shuttle and the runway beyond it.  Beyond that
was the untrammelled surface of wild Mars.  He punched the driver gently
in the shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

Lund and
Lucero had seen the intense conversation between Bobby and Foveaux, and the
pointing at the troop carriers, from their seats in the transports.

“What do you
think it is?” said Lund.

“Some sort of
emergency?” said Lucero.

“Is it a
trap?  Are they just going to leave us here?” said Lund, hiding the panic
in her voice.

“I don’t
think so,” said Lucero.  “They’ve left the drivers and guards with
us.  Unless they’re planning on bumping those off, too.”

“They’re
reacting to something,” said Lund.

“I can’t
think what,” said Lucero.

“How far out
were we when we got hit?”

Lucero
shrugged.  “Forty, fifty thousand kilometres?”

Lund
nodded.  “We launched three dropships.  Maybe they made it.  We
would have been in range - just.”

“I doubt it,”
said Lucero.  “The blast probably caught them too.  And if it didn’t
the Martians have other missile defences.  I’m sure they would have picked
them off.”

“That’s a
missile battery there,” said Lund, nodding at the Parry base on the far side of
the spaceport.  “But no defence is infallible.  What if they got
through?  What if just one got through?”

“What if one
what got through?” came a voice from across the aisle.

Lund was
startled by the aggressive tone.  “We were just discussing the -”
said Lund, but Lucero hushed her.

“Do not
presume to interrupt a superior officer’s conversation,” said Lucero. 
“What’s your name, soldier?”

The man
straightened in his seat.  “My name is Commander Foley,” he said.

Though he had
his suspicions before, Steiner now felt certain the Martians were onto
him.  The second drone, he thought, was no coincidence.  He had taken
that one out, too.  That act would have alerted them to his presence, even
if the drone had not been able to detect him.  He checked the details with
his HUD.  He was now within a handful of kilometres of the
spaceport.  As soon as he had a visual on the missile battery his plan was
to attack it with lasers and take it out.  After that the spaceport would
be there for the taking.  It would be a simple matter of walking up to it.

He checked
the data coming from his mechs.  It was all good.  A scan of all
radio frequencies picked up various rubbish, but one group of transmissions
stood out.  It was coming from the region of the spaceport and although he
was unable to decrypt it he was fairly sure it must be military.  The
position and frequency suggested as much.  That, together with the
presence of the drones, told him that they were onto him.  From now on
timing was crucial.

What little
information he had about the Martians’ missile batteries told him they were
aimed primarily at the sky.  Until he made it over the missile battery’s
horizon he would be relatively safe.  But he needed to get over the
horizon in order to have line of sight for his lasers to do their work. 
The mechs would have a small window in which to fire, and during that time it
was likely that the Martians would fire missiles at them.  The mechs’
missile defences were pretty good.  They had a ninety-five percent
success rate in protecting against missile attack.  They had chaff, flares
and most impressively their lasers to take out an incoming missile once it was
locked on and headed at them in a straight line.  The mechs’ camera
systems could guide their lasers, and an incoming missile provided a relatively
stable target.

Steiner had
detailed maps of the area around the spaceport.  There was an outcrop of
rocks that they would be able to approach in the lee of.  They would be
able to prepare the attack and then step from behind the rocks to launch it.

Steiner had
managed to sleep as his mech had trundled from the crash site to the
spaceport.  It had not been comfortable or refreshing but he felt his mind
was clear enough to engage in battle.  He had taken on sustenance too, in
the form of the chocolate sludge.  He had also managed to make use of the
commander mech’s commode facilities.  Although he was tired and dirty, and
the smell inside the cockpit was strong enough to kill a horse, he felt ready
for battle.

On seeing the
outcrop appear over the horizon Steiner felt his resolve stiffen.  Where
he had allowed himself the luxury of self-pity on the journey to the
spaceport he now cast all such thoughts aside.  Once more he had become a
single-minded warrior and all his focus would be on winning this battle.

He scanned
the skies for drones; there were none.  He scanned the horizon for troops
or vehicles; there were none.  He proceeded with his mechs towards the outcrop.

As they
crossed the plane Steiner looked first to his left and then to his right. 
He knew the mechs were automatons, machines under his control, but anticipating
the battle ahead he couldn’t help but feel a brotherly attachment to
them.  He could feel their strength and resilience, and watching them
stride together with him filled him with an esprit de corps that he couldn’t
really explain.  He was the unit and the mechs were merely an extension of
his battle capability, but somehow he felt they were his comrades; that they
would look out for him if he was in trouble and he would do the same for
them.  It was all he could do to resist giving them some sort of rousing
speech to encourage them in the forthcoming fight.  In the end, he settled
for a few words to himself.  “Let’s get these sons of bitches,” he said,
and his troupe of towering metal warriors continued stomping towards the
horizon.

On reaching
the outcrop Steiner sent three of his mechs to the left while he and the other
one went to the right.  If this had been a simulation he would have sent
the dropship on a reconnaissance mission way overhead, giving him a view beyond
the outcrop.  But this was no simulation and his dropship had been
destroyed.  He knew they would have to proceed Wild West style, dodging
out from behind the outcrop and firing at the Parry battery before dodging
back.  While he didn’t like the risks it presented, something about it
appealed to him.  It would be like playing one of those IVR games.

He programmed
his HUD to overlay a visual image of the missile battery where it should be, so
it appeared he could see it through the outcrop.  He programmed his laser
to fire in a figure of eight pattern centred on the middle of the battery, and
he set similar configurations in his mechs.

One last time
he checked on his radar for incoming missiles and saw none.  Finally, he
made a visual inspection of the sky.  He knew it was pointless.  His
electronic detection aids were far more accurate than his puny human eyes, but
in the martial spirit at the heart of the Commander Program he somehow felt
connected to the battlefield at a human level, and visually checking the skies
in that way felt necessary.

Sensing that
the coast was clear he prepared to step out from the protection of the outcrop
and begin the attack.  As if to the mechs under his command, but in fact
to no one but himself, he said, “Let’s go,” and began the attack.