Grunt Life (24 page)

Olivares and I pulled the sled first, while MacKenzie and Ohirra ran ahead of us and Thompson and Aquinas brought up the rear. We’d been warned to keep an eye on the heat index as we pushed the suits to their maximum pace. I tried to pay attention to the readouts, but was more concerned with the approaching hive and the imminent threat of the Cray.

As I ran, I wondered again why there weren’t more drones out at night. Was it a sleep cycle issue? It couldn’t be the cold, because the temperature didn’t drop that much at night here in Africa. I would ask those in the know once we returned to base.

We made it to Boma Ng’ombe and switched positions. I loped out in front, enjoying the free and easy movement. As we passed the far edge of the village, I spied a Vulcan sled moving parallel with our position, about fifty yards to our left.

The TOC sent a warning. “Activity above the mound.”

I checked my telemetry and saw five Cray. I wondered what they’d make of the giant pill-shaped object we were carrying.

A flash of light was followed by Olivares saying, “EMP. Everyone check their suits.”

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

We didn’t have to reply; he had access to our status. He was just making sure we were maintaining our vigilance. If one of us had a problem, we’d let him know.

“One mile to target.”

One mile. Four minutes, at current speed.

“Provide status of device,” Olivares commanded.

The TOC returned, “Green and ready.”

“Incoming!”

The rounds impacted the mound high up. The mission planners had insisted on the artillery, even if their rounds did little discernible damage. Personally, I felt that the barrage was like knocking on the door to a wasp nest. Once the rounds began to hit, every Cray inside would be on alert.

Another barrage came, scouring the hive low down.

Knock knock.

“Switch,” Olivares commanded.

Thompson and Aquinas took up the sled while MacKenzie and Ohirra covered the rear. We were less than half a mile from the target.

“They’re getting curious.” I tried to keep the worry out of my voice as I noted two drones heading our way.

“Fire when ready,” Olivares said.

I targeted both Cray and launched two missiles, and then a third. The first two disintegrated the aliens while the third kept going, falling to earth far from our position. I let go with a fourth missile as I saw another shape come into view. Seconds later, the Cray was dispatched.

This seemed far too easy.

By now the drones should be boiling out of the mound, attacking us in waves, trying to wipe us from the plain. But there were just three Cray lazily circling the mound, as if I hadn’t just killed three of their kin and we weren’t transporting a bomb.

“Prepare to activate device.” The voice over the comms was familiar and I knew if I only had a few more minutes I’d figure it out, but we were running short on time.

Olivares ordered us to slow. I kept my minigun pointed towards the sky, scanning both visually and with telemetry. MacKenzie and Ohirra were doing the same behind me. We stopped a mere fifty meters from the mound. The sonar readouts had indicated this was the best position for the bomb; the depth between the surface and the tunnels beneath was at its thinnest point here.

“Thompson, Ohirra and Aquinas, return to base,” Olivares ordered.

Thompson hooted and punched the air. I didn’t doubt his theatrics were for the cameras. I didn’t begrudge him his moment one bit. Whatever had happened during the last battle, he’d earned this moment; he’d had a hard last twenty hours.

While MacKenzie and I provided cover, Olivares checked the wiring.

“All green. Initiating countdown.” Olivares was already running as he said, “Countdown initiated. You guys waiting for an invitation?”

“He did not just get a running head start, did he?” McKenzie cried.

“I think he did.”

“Then let’s show that Mexican wanker how to really run,” and he took off faster than I believed the suit was capable of. Soon he’d passed Olivares, leaving me in the dust.

We had ten seconds and had already traveled five hundred meters. As long as we maintained our speed, we’d be more than safe. Still, when the countdown reached five, Olivares ordered us to the ground. I skidded, then fell, sliding along the dirt headfirst, arms outstretched, waiting for the explosion—

Which never came.

I counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty.

“Base, I read the device as green. How do you have it?”

The voice from the TOC was perplexed. “We have green as well.” There was a pause. “We don’t suppose you could go back and check the device.”

We all turned and glanced at the mound. There were about a hundred Cray circling, soaking in the morning sun that had just crested the horizon.

“You want us to check the device?” Olivares strained to keep his voice steady. “Do I read you clear?”

“Affirmative. If you could... check the connections once more.”

I got to my feet. This was stupid. The damn thing could blow any second.

MacKenzie scrambled up from where he’d skidded in front of me and began to jog back towards the hive.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

“To fix the
focking
piece of shit bomb.”

I scanned the sky. “I’m coming with you.” There was no way I could let him go alone. As far as I knew, we’d get within ten feet and the thing would explode. But on the off-chance it didn’t, someone needed to cover MacKenzie from air attack.

“What are you two doing?” Olivares asked.

Now running side-by-side, MacKenzie and I turned to each other and grinned.

“Can’t hear you, sergeant,” I said.

“Breaking up.” MacKenzie made false ‘static’ noises with his mouth. “We must be going through a tunnel.”

I laughed. This was too much fun. Olivares was going to be so pissed at us, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t leave a man behind.

We slowed to a walk as we approached the bomb. We didn’t want to seem to be in too big of a rush. We were extremely aware of the growing number of Cray above us. One had to wonder what they were thinking.

Suddenly Olivares was jogging to a stop between us.

“A tunnel, huh?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” MacKenzie said straight-faced. “It was a big
focking
tunnel right back there. You couldn’t have missed it.”

Olivares looked up. “I wonder what they see when they look down at us.”

“Cockroaches, probably,” MacKenzie said.

“Hope not. Don’t want them stomping us out. Break. Break. Base, this is Romeo Three. Prepare Vulcan for ground to air support.”

“WILCO.”

“So one of three things is going to happen, boys,” Olivares said. We only had a football field’s length between us and the device. “One, we’re going to walk another hundred meters and get blown to smithereens. Two, I’m going to attach whatever wire is messed up and we’re going to get back to base in time for a tasty brunch.” He paused long enough for us to wonder if he was going to finish. Then he said, “Or three,
really
bad shit happens.”

None of us needed any explanation about what that
really bad shit
was. Romeo One had given us plenty of their own memories, just in case we didn’t have enough of our own.

“Okay, you grunts,” Olivares said, running the last few feet and dropping to a knee in front of the device. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

Both MacKenzie and I trained our miniguns toward the sky.

Telemetry told me there were now one-hundred and thirty-seven Cray above us. They were all between eleven hundred and thirteen hundred feet over our position, which was exactly where I wanted them.

“Know what I wonder?” MacKenzie asked.

“What?”

“What or who were the Smithereens? I mean no one wants to get blown up like them. Makes you wonder if it wasn’t some unlucky family or something, maybe bombed in the Blitz or something.”

“Comes from the Irish word,
smidirin
. Means many small pieces
,”
Olivares said. “Had to look it up once. Break. Break. Base, provide schematic overlay.”

“
Focking
Irish. Figures it’s an Irish word. Probably stole it from
smidgen.
”

The Cray had descended to nine hundred feet. I readied my Mini-Hydra and re-checked to make sure my minigun was in the green. “Never heard anyone say they didn’t want to get blown to a smidgen, Mac, sorry.”

“Of course not. We’re not that stupid. I still say it was probably a family named Smithereen. They were probably Irish.”

My HUD suddenly lit up.

“Here they come!”

The Vulcans unzipped the morning with a thousand rounds and more, pouring into the phalanx of incoming drones.

I held my aim until I saw who’d survived the Vulcan rounds and unloaded my remaining complement of missiles. Once spent, I fired my minigun in controlled bursts.

“There you are, you little fucker.” I glanced down at Olivares as he reattached a wire and snapped a panel back in place.

When he stood, he snapped his minigun into position and yelled, “Get to backs.”

We all formed on each other, standing back-to-back as best we could, just as MacKenzie released the last of his missiles. We moved like a six-legged crab towards friendly lines, spinning slightly clockwise as we went. When he was to the rear of our formation, Olivares would release missiles, until he was out, too.

We alternated fire to conserve ammunition. My telemetry counted forty-three Cray still airborne. It was only a matter of time before the rest came out to join the fun.

“We’re going to need to run in a moment, gentlemen,” Olivares said. “We have fifty seconds to detonation and need to make a lot more distance than we’re making now.”

It was my turn to fire and I began to take out the Cray in bursts. My bullets smashed through heads, chests and wings.

“When do we need to start running?” I asked. It was beginning to dawn on me that I’d need to draw my blade soon.

“Now!” Olivares shouted and took off.

MacKenzie and I exchanged a frenzied look and bounded after him.

As I ran, I fired blindly into the air behind me, spitting out the last of my ammunition. One five-hundred round magazine emptied, then there was a whine as the barrels spun and the feed mechanism moved to the next magazine. Realizing how little effect I was having, I let the minigun swing back out of the way and pulled free my blade.

“Get those
focking
Vulcans crackin’!” MacKenzie cried.

I glanced over to him, only to see a pair of Cray holding him by the head and arms. I spun and ran back for him, then leaped, catching a hold of his leg, our combined weight pulling him back to earth.

One of the Cray had let go, but the other doggedly hung on. I swung and removed its arm.

MacKenzie turned to grin at me and then he was gone again.

I jerked my gaze upwards and saw him rising straight up, a drone gripping his helmet. I was about to scream his name, when I felt myself jerked into the air. I swung madly with my blade, frantic in my attempts to be free. I hit something and felt myself falling.

I slammed into the ground and all the air left my body. I tried to get up quickly, but could only manage to move my limbs one at a time. My servos were still functioning, but the adrenalin surge had left my body like stone. An alarm went off in my helmet. My telemetry was warning me of an incoming mass.

I managed to stagger to the side just as MacKenzie hit the earth with a sickening sound.

I screamed as the reality of his death hit me. A Cray came at me, wings spread, claws out, and I brought my blade around.

Then the device blew.

The world became a tornado of earth, wind, fire and body parts, with me caught in the centre of the maelstrom. I lost my grip on my blade as I tumbled. I closed my eyes in anticipation of pain, but my suit took most of the force of the explosion. I hit the ground at an angle and began to roll end over end. My servos jerked my arms and legs into my body, making me somersault across the ground. As I slowed, I opened my eyes. My HUD flashed green and red; beyond it, ground and debris tumbled past.

When I finally came to a rest, blood was dripping down my visor. I tried to stand but felt an immense weight on my back. My telemetry was inoperative. Access to the other team members’ feeds was down. My suit and servos read green. Unless a building had fallen on me, I should be able to get up.

I placed my hands on the ground and, using my knees as a fulcrum, I pushed my upper body up. The weight on my back shifted and I dropped down and rolled to my right, coming face to face with a Cray. I lashed out and drove my fingers into the clump of eyes at the center of its triangular head. It jerked back and I staggered to my feet, looking around for anything I could use as a weapon. Amidst the debris, I found a piece of Cray claw large enough to wield as a club, picked it up and stalked after the wounded drone.

It stood, slightly hunched over. It was missing an arm, and bleeding from a dozen wounds. Its wings had been ripped away. It made a pathetic sight as it hobbled back towards the mound.

I held the arm out and shook it. “Hey! Are you forgetting something? Is this yours, you motherfucker?”

It turned and seemed to study me, before it charged.

I brought its severed arm around, swinging like I was Babe Ruth channeling Sammy Sosa. The arm broke across the creature’s head and it fell sideways. I fell onto the creature and began hammering it over and over with my fists. I remembered the death of MacKenzie, my rage driving me on. Was this the Cray who’d taken him? My breath clouded the inside of my face shield until I couldn’t see anything past my own blood-red fog.

I felt my arms being pulled back and turned and swung, but a Romeo caught my fist in his own.

He screamed at me through his mask.

I could barely hear him.

He screamed louder.

“We... Romeo Seven... follow... back... TOC...”

I understood enough and started to move towards friendly lines, but my legs gave way. Another scout from Romeo Seven joined the first, and both of them helped me back. When we finally arrived, I was greeted by the rest of Romeo Three, and was lowered into their arms. I felt a surge of pride. I loved my grunts. I was so happy I almost forgot that MacKenzie was dead.