Point of Origin (War Eternal Book 4) (31 page)

"Platoon leaders, this is Ares. It looks like we've got a bit of a time crunch. Alpha squad will go ahead to the target. First and Second Platoon, do your best to keep up. Three, Four, and Five, secure the drop modules for extraction."

"Colonel? Are you sure you want to go in with half the original forces?" Mitchell recognized the voice as belonging to the Fourth Platoon Leader, a bullish woman whose name he couldn't remember at the moment. She clearly wasn't as experienced as his mech team.

"I'm sure. We're going to need to get out of here in a hurry. I don't know if you've looked up lately, but our fleet is under heavy attack. To be honest, I'm hoping we'll be on our way back before First and Second reach the target."

"Roger that, Ares," First Platoon Leader said. "Give them hell for us."

"Affirmative," Mitchell replied. "Alpha, let's give them hell."

Mitchell pushed himself into a run, the mech reacting accordingly. Now that he had taken one of Digger's Franks into battle, he had to admit the system was pretty damn efficient. Still not as powerful as a p-rat considering this kind of driving would fatigue the pilot so much faster, but it did seem to provide a little bit more overall agility. As for the mech itself, he had been doubtful about Diggers claims that it beat the pants off anything the Alliance produced. Now he was sure the mechanic was right.

"Careful Ares," Raptor said. "We're nearing the heavy position. Looks like it's fortified."

Mitchell saw what she was talking about. The heavier mechs had hunkered down amidst a thick outcropping of rock, hand-held railguns resting on the tops and leaving only their heads exposed.

"We don't have time to be delicate," Mitchell said. "Raptor, see if you can get an overhead angle. Psycho, Shogun, cover her."

"Roger," they said.
 

The Knight lifted off from the surface again, a high, beautiful arc that brought Raptor up, over the defenses. At the same time, Psycho and Shogun laid down a massive barrage of railgun and chain gun fire, burning through the mech's ammo stores and blasting the outcroppings.

"Ghost, with me," Mitchell said, pumping his legs hard to get his Frank around to the enemy's flank.
 

"Roger."
 

Ghost trailed behind him, trying to keep up with his speed. The enemy positions were returning fire, most of it directed at the Knight. Blue flashes covered the surface of the mech as slugs hit the shields.
 

He didn't have much time before the generator gave out and Raptor was torn apart.

The Frank didn't have a jump pack, but it did have some spring in its step, and the lessened gravity of the surface was something Mitchell planned to use. He began taking fire as he drew closer to the defenses, pulling some of it away from the others. Too late. He bent his legs and pushed off, the mech responding to his actions and doing the same. Kilos of metal launched into the sky, leaving Mitchell clenching his teeth and hoping he had gone high enough.
 

The maneuver gave him a clean view of a Federation Mutilator, an older mech a class beneath the Dominator, that was only now breaking off its efforts to drop Raptor and pivot to face him. Mitchell unloaded his railgun into the mech's chest, breaking through the shields and blowing apart the cockpit while the Frank's feet scraped the top of the stone.
 

Warning tones echoed in Mitchell's ears through the helmet, the CAP-N doing its best to stabilize the machine and recover from the jump. Mitchell cursed at his clumsiness, pressing his legs hard into the floor of the cockpit. It didn't matter. The mech had gone out of control and was going to wind up on its ass, a sitting duck behind the enemy fortifications.

Mitchell growled as he threw his upper body forward, changing the weight distribution of the mech. Instead of slipping backward, the war machine began to roll forward. He dove into the pilotless Mutilator, the grinding crunch of metal ringing his ears. The collision dented metal and stressed the shields, leaving him on his knees on top of the second mech a few seconds later, another enemy mech taking aim.

"Frig me," Mitchell said, shifting his hands and triggering the chest mounted chain guns. Slugs exploded off the enemy's armor as it began firing back with the railgun, smashing heavy metal against the Frank's chest plate and shields to break through to the pilot in the rear.

A soft whine overhead and an array of missiles battered the Federation mech, leaving it invisible in a cloud of gas and debris. When it cleared, the mech was down.

"Nice move, Ares," Ghost said, moving in behind him. "Graceful."

Mitchell got the mech to its feet. The enemy defenses were shattered, all of Alpha squad still operational. It was obvious the Federation had planned never to have to deal with ground forces and hadn't put their best soldiers on it. Mitchell considered himself lucky. If they had, his little slip might have cost him his life.

"I got a little over-enthusiastic," he replied, able to laugh about it now.

"Ares, this is Valkyrie. I know you've already got ninety-nine problems, but here comes another one. The Tetron has launched something toward the planet, and I'm picking up a signature vectoring in from the Goliath. It's the Valkyrie Two."

Mitchell turned his head to the sky again. He could barely make out the two massive objects through the thickening fog, and he couldn't see any sign of the Riggers.

"Where's the fleet?" he asked. If only the comm signals from the Carver could break through the planet's atmosphere. He would rather be getting updates from Teal.

Major Long didn't answer.

"Valkyrie, where is the frigging fleet?" Mitchell replied.

"Sorry, sir, I was getting an update," Long replied. "We're at fifty percent casualties. The fleet is on full defense, keeping the Tetron plasma stream off-angle and dealing with the Federation forces, which are now under Tetron control."

Fifty-percent? Fifty? Mitchell felt his stomach drop. He knew it was going to be bad, but half the ships, gone? He checked his HUD. Whatever the Tetron had launched to the surface, they were close enough to the surface that he was able to pick them up. Twelve objects about the size of a starfighter. Except they weren't flying. They were falling.

"First and Second Platoon, we need to move double-time," he said. "We have to get to the target before the enemy does."

"Yes, sir," First Platoon Leader replied. "All units, jump-assisted march, echelon formation."

"Psycho, Raptor, Shogun, the enemy's dropping something to the planet. I'm going to guess whatever it is; it wants to kill us. Don't let that happen."

"Yes, sir."

"Ghost, you and I are heading directly to the target with the infantry."

"Yes, sir."

Mitchell burst forward at a full run for the second time, careful to maneuver around the infantry that had easily jumped the rocky defenses and was moving ahead. The mining facility had grown larger and clearer ahead of him, a series of circular modules embedded in rock, the mining stacks rising through the top and entry ports visible at the bottom and center of the structure.

The mech whined as it moved, the synthetic muscles and actuators damaged in his attack and fall. It was still moving quickly, just not quietly. Ghost kept formation behind his right shoulder. They were getting close, but Mitchell still felt so far. Thousands of people had already died up above him, and many more would soon if he didn't hurry.

The echoing of the incoming objects grew louder with each stride. Mitchell tracked the missiles on his HUD, watching them drawing nearer to the surface. He turned his head to look back for one, finding the contrail through the gasses and tracing it to a silvery ball. At the same moment he made visual with it, the ball unfurled, two dozen tentacle-like appendages attached to a large center sphere. It was very similar to the machines he had seen on Liberty only much larger in scale.

It spread the appendages, a thin film connecting them, catching the atmosphere and using it to slow the descent. Someone in Alpha began firing up at it, and he saw the blue lighting along its surface.

"Valkyrie, sitrep," Mitchell said, returning his attention to the target.

"Still circling, waiting for pickup. The dropship is getting close to the facility."

Mitchell could see it on his HUD. It was a race, and it was going to be a close one.

"Platoon leaders, sitrep," Mitchell said, raising the mech's railgun and firing into the Tetron machine that fell in front of him. The slugs sent the machine tumbling back until it smacked against the closed blast wall of the research facilities' hangar.

"About a klick behind you, sir. We'll be there in three minutes."

The spider got back up, aiming four of the appendages toward Mitchell. Small points of light formed on the ends of each, and then miniature plasma streams were released at him. He managed to turn the mech to avoid three of them. The fourth went directly through his shields, digging deep into the armor on his left shoulder. Ghost's guns chewed the machine apart, rending it to scrap.

"Alpha squad, sitrep," he said, worried about the rest of his crew. The Tetron's creations weren't well-shielded or armored, but their weapons packed a massive punch.

"This is Psycho. I've got some damage to my leg, but I'm still up. Shogun and Raptor are under cover with me, both fully operational. These new mechs that dropped, if they hit you it hurts, but their aim is pretty lousy."

"Roger," Mitchell said. "I'm at the facility. Valkyrie, what's the status in orbit?"

His response was choppy. Interference from the atmosphere? Or from the Tetron? "It's... I'm... clear. Something's happening..."

Mitchell didn't have time to wait for Long to repeat himself. He pulled the mech tight against the blast wall, looking down to the smaller personnel entry off to the left. It wouldn't be as heavily protected as the main hangar doors.

"Ghost, cover me. Keep the Tetron machines away from the facility."

"Roger," Ghost replied.

He hit the switch to turn off the mimic system, removed the helmet, and began disconnecting himself from the suspension rig. It took nearly a full minute to clear himself. Once he was done, he grabbed an assault rifle and an SCE helmet from a net on the back wall of the mech, putting them on and connecting it to the pack on his back. He would have eight hours of oxygen as long as he didn't breathe too hard.

That done, he triggered the release, opening the rear of the mech to the outside world. The air hissed out of the cockpit, quickly replaced with carbon dioxide. Mitchell jumped off the torso ledge, falling more slowly and landing more gently in the lesser gravity. He looked back the way he had come. He could see the sixty troops in the First and Second Platoon drawing near while Ghost stood beside his Frank, torso rotating in a sentry position.

He looked up, noticing the glow of thrusters in the atmosphere and the small shape of the Valkyrie Two moving toward the top part of the facility. He couldn't have made the race closer if he had wanted to.

Mitchell walked over to the personnel hatch. It wasn't armored. He grabbed a small puck from his exo and placed it against the metal, stepping back and waiting while it did its job.
 

The First Platoon Leader, Marx, met him just as the hatch fell inward and clattered inside the airlock.

"Colonel," Marx said. "First Platoon reporting."

Mitchell could see Second Platoon right behind them.

"Marx, you're with me. Standard breaching formations. Second Platoon, stay behind and make sure nothing sneaks up on us."

"Yes, sir," both Platoon Leaders said. Marx began giving the order to the rest of the soldiers, and they split into squads of four.
 

"Lead the way," Mitchell said.
 

"Roger," Marx replied. He waved his hand, and they began moving into the building.

The airlock was undefended, giving them leave to slip through to the secondary hatch. Marx grabbed a tool from his exo and quickly opened the control panel, forcing the override.

"Let's get in quick," Mitchell said. "I don't want to kill the inhabitants who aren't shooting at us."

"Roger," Marx said. "Open in three. First Platoon, get ready."

The squads snapped into ready position. Three seconds later, the airlock hatch opened.

A heavy whine sounded as toxic gasses began flowing in and breathable air started moving out. Emergency systems activated, blowers doing their best to stem the transfer and give the occupants more time to move out. The soldiers moved expertly into the space, a series of corridors. It was clear. Marx shut the airlock behind them.

"Where is everybody?" he asked.
 

"It's a small facility," Mitchell said. "They might not even use this part of it. Let's keep moving."

The soldiers moved through the hallways, bursting into rooms and clearing them in a hurry. As he had suspected, this part of the base was deserted. The labs had to be deeper into the mountain where they wouldn't be damaged by bombardment.

Time wasn't on their side. It took them five minutes to come to a secondary blast door and another three to break through it. It was eight minutes that the fleet was still trying to outmaneuver the Tetron and the Goliath. In a battle, eight minutes might as well have been a lifetime.