Undying Mercenaries 2: Dust World (28 page)

The big cannon charged up again and struck at our center next—2
nd
Unit. They took it hard. I don’t think their commander had expected to get nailed. It didn’t make much sense to strike one unit then another on the opposite flank. But then, I wasn’t an expert in squid psychology.

The beam took out nearly twenty men.
Twenty!
I couldn’t believe it. At this rate, we’d be half dead before we even reached the dome.

But as it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about that. The enemy troops that had been sent to root out colonists had been recalled, and they now engaged us from the broken rocks long the bottom of the cliffs to our left. They fired guns that sent heavy pellets into our midst. To me, they looked like huge, high-tech muskets.

“That’s it, people!” Graves shouted over the unit-wide channel. “Split up by squads and charge left. Get into cover and engage those troops. We can’t let them get back to the ship.”

Eagerly, we obeyed. At the very least, it would take us out of the hellish face of the cannon. I was almost fantasizing about a good, old-fashioned, stand-up fight with the littermates by now.

-26-

All three of the charging units veered left to intercept the enemy that was coming out of the rocks and heading back toward their ship. We’d managed to get in between them and their goal. I understood the plan, but this wasn’t the spot any trooper wanted to find himself in.

As we scrambled toward the rocks, the huge ship with its deadly cannon still fired slow, ponderous bursts into our formation. I don’t know how many died. I’d lost count and interest. All I cared about was reaching the line of boulders that formed a wall like worn teeth in a skull in front of us.

Behind every boulder was an enemy soldier whose job seemed to be to make our lives as difficult as possible. Their muskets cracked and boomed. They had a slow rate of fire, but they hit hard. Even in full armor, men were spun around and knocked flat. Usually, they got back up and limped forward rejoining the charge. But sometimes they’d taken the round right in the visor, or at some weak juncture in the armor, such as where the shoulder cusp met the breastplate. When that happened, they were taken out.

Despite everything, we charged on. We didn’t have much choice. When we finally got in close to the enemy clustered among the boulders, the big cannon stopped burning us down. It swung away, no doubt to punish the next wave of three units which had been sent forward in an avalanche of flashing steel toward the ship. I didn’t wish the next three units any harm, but by damn, I figured it was their turn to take a few hits for the team.

When we reached the boulders the enemy stepped forward in almost stately calm. These guys were funny in the head if you asked me. I’d seen them fight before, and it was the same this time. They operated like they were on parade until they took losses—then they went absolutely ape. It wasn’t normal.

As we’d been trained, we spread out so we could fight without taking a neighbor’s head off. This stretched our thinned lines. I tried not to think about how many of us had fallen on the charge to get here. It had to be close to half.

This was one of the moments where an Earth Legion really shined. When we took hard hits, we could still keep going. In history, there weren’t too many armies that could withstand the kind of losses we did without breaking. Morale figured differently in my era. We knew that we’d come back to life if the worst happened. We didn’t
want
to die—far from it. But we were more likely to keep on fighting if there was any reasonable hope of victory. Like any force, we could be broken if it was utterly hopeless. If any sane person knew it was time to run…well, we’d run, just like the next guy.

Smashing into the enemy line then was both a relief and a new terror. I knew the big cannon couldn’t fire into our midst without killing their own troops. I also knew, however, that these
littermate guys were slightly insane.

Breathing hard, I ran right into a boulder at a trot, letting it slam into my armor and halt me. Then I geared down the exoskeleton, broadening the power distrib
ution. During the charge, everything had gone to the legs, and already my power reserves were down nineteen percent.

I gritted my teeth as the last few muskets boomed and we finally plunged into the rocks. I extended my force-blades and set them for standard, close-quarters fighting. Both my blades rippled with energy, each about a meter in length.

“Turn off those blades, McGill!” screamed Leeson, slamming into the rocks beside me.

I turned my armored bulk to look at him. “They’re hiding in these rocks like ticks, sir,” I said. “I don’t want to go farther without my blades out.”

Leeson shook his head and pointed upslope. “See that guy? The one poking his nose out with a big gun in his hands? Take his head off with that tube of yours. With any luck, they’ll come to us. We won’t have to dig them out.”

I caught on to the tactic he was suggesting, and I thought it was a good one. I retracted my force-blades, unlimbered my belcher tube and laid it over the top of a handy scorched rock. A moment later, I took down the monster that seemed to be aiming right back at me.

“Got him!” I shouted as he toppled back.

Leeson and I grinned at each other, and I swiveled my tube to the right planning to play sniper. Their muskets weren’t as powerful as our weapons, and they didn’t have armor that was as effective. This might not be the hell-fight I’d been expecting.

My fantasies soon vaporized. Before I could even take a second shot, the littermates rose up in a fury.

I saw their eyes—they were impossibly wide. I found large men with the whites of their eyes bulging out in red-ringed circles daunting.

Slam!
Leeson hit the back of my helmet. “Aim and fire! Piss off another group!”

Breathing hard and uncertain now, I did as he ordered. I have to confess, I didn’t aim particularly well the second time around—I was a bit nervous. Instead of a clean shot, I’d have to say I got
lucky. A second enemy head was left pulped and smoking.

The first group had abandoned their sniper positions. They were now up and charging across the tops of the boulders, taking huge leaps toward me. I knew in my heart that my second shot had tipped them off. I’d alerted them with the first round, then firmly placed myself on their radar with the second. The second group went mad a moment later, and soon it seemed like they were all charging down over the rocks.

I can’t tell you what it’s like to have a pack of thundering genetic monstrosities bounding like mountain goats over boulders toward you, especially when you know they’re out to get you and no one else.

Laser rifles from my comrades flashed and burned them as they came. Headshots worked best, and our troopers took advantage of this, taking down half before they reached our line. When the berserkers got in close our troops, who’d infiltrated the rocks a dozen meters or more, fired and slashed upward cutting them from below. Maddened warriors lost legs and were spun around with burning gouges in their chests and faces.

But most of them came on. They were all wounded, I think, by the time they got to me. Leeson was screaming something, but I didn’t honestly have any clue what he was saying. I was in full-automatic panic-mode, knowing I was in an all-out fight to the finish. I’d already counted myself dead, but I meant to deliver some more pain before they got their revenge.

Dialing the big cannon into a broad cone, I burned the first two that got close. A few curses and screeches came up from my own people who’d caught a whiff of my final blast on the back of their armor. I was sorry about that, but any weaponeer will tell you a plasma cannon is far from a surgical instrument of death—it’s more like a blunderbuss.

I dropped my cannon. I don’t think Leeson liked that, and he got into my face. But I knew the cycle time on my own weapon, and at the rate these gentlemen were approaching my position I didn’t have time for another shot.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have shoved Leeson to one side, but I did it anyway.. I’m a firm believer in the concept of allowing a man to choose his own death when it’s a foregone conclusion. Not everyone in Varus agrees with me—but frankly, they can all screw themselves.

Squeezing my gauntlets, my twin blades extended with a sizzling sound. I lifted them both and put up my guard.

Not a second later, the first of the psychotics reached me. His eyes were still white-circles, bulging. I doubted they’d closed or blinked since he’d first spotted me, and I knew somehow that even if I killed him those eyes would track me until the last
drop of blood ran out of his burning brain.

In his hand, lifted high over his head, was a razor-sharp cutlass of sorts. The sword looked as long as a fencepost, and the edge shone with the unnatural precision of an enhanced blade. It made a glittering arc as it chopped down toward me.

I assumed a pose designed to meet a charge from high ground. My left arm was up guarding my helm and my right was low ready for a thrust at the gut. It was a textbook stance, one that had been drilled into me over the preceding months.

I was almost surprised that it worked as well as it did. The berserker’s sword came apart when it touched my force-blade, sending most of its length skittering harmlessly over my head. Then I thrust, and the monster lost a leg.

Side-stepping, I let him crash down where I’d been standing. Such weight! It was like having a Clydesdale thrown at you. An unarmored man might have been killed just by having one of these guys fall on him.

I drew a long line down his gut with one blade as he fell and was stunned that he still flopped and twisted, trying to get back up despite the fact he should have been stone dead.

“McGill!”
Leeson screeched nearby.

I barely turned in time. I’d forgotten about the rest of them for a fraction of a second. That had been a mistake.

They launched themselves, one, two, and three. I couldn’t believe it. There had to be several tons of flesh hurtling airborne over those rocks. It was the second group, the second litter, whatever. My comrades had cut down the first pack that had charged me, but these guys had made an equally dramatic effort.

Bracing my feet and crouching low, I put my blades up and extended them toward the enemy. I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t have time to dodge or hide. Even if they all died this second—they were going to land on me.

There was triumph in their eyes. I saw it just before they hit me. I could tell they were happy. They’d done their best, charging and hewing down troops as they came. But that didn’t matter to them. All of their hate, all of their ferocity, had been focused on one James McGill.

The first guy was torn apart by my blades and Leeson’s combined. I had time to think that it was about time he’d helped fix what he’d ordered me to create. Some part of the first one slammed into my back—I think it was a dismembered arm—but I stayed up.

Less than a second later, the next two stomped me flat. They howled in victory, a strange, deep sound that no normal human could have produced.

I think, looking back, that the only thing that saved me was they’d gotten tangled up on top of me. They couldn’t get their swords into play. Either that, or maybe they thought I was dead when I went down under them.

Whatever the case, before they could get organized, my comrades ran to my aid and stabbed and hacked with blades sizzling. A wild melee began right on top of me, with my arms pinned under a half-dozen heavy boots from both sides.

People think that combat back in the olden days—the days of knights and charging horses—must have been cleaner and more chivalrous than more modern methods, which generally consists of pecking away at one another at long range. But I can tell you, those romantic notions are dead wrong. There’s nothing more bloody and vicious than a battle with blades.

Before the last two littermates went down, they managed to cut off a few limbs of their own. Carlos was one of the unlucky ones. He’d been trying to help, but he came in too close. He took a smashing blow on the helmet from the hilt of one giant’s sword. Before he could recover and get his guard back up, the other one thrust through his visor. He sagged down, dead.

The whole fight had probably taken no more than three minutes, but to me, it had seemed like a very long time. Leeson and Harris dragged bodies from the pile, checking for life.

“Sir?” I said from underneath the shivering form of the last enemy in the pile.

“You’re
alive
, McGill?” Leeson said in disbelief. He loomed over me and stared into my broken visor.

“Right as rain, sir,” I said. “But I could use a little help getting this elephant off my chest, if you don’t mind.”

“Weaponeer, you shouldn’t have drawn your blades. I ordered you not to.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “You did that. Are you going to put me on report?”

Leeson  gave me a hard stare. He tried to look stern and pissed off, but he couldn’t keep it going. He shook his head and laughed. “You’re an ass, McGill.”

“Thank you for noticing, sir.”

The fight was pretty much over by the time I was up on my feet again. Really, it had gone well. The enemy had a critical flaw in their makeup. They’d been conditioned to go into a rage when one of their brothers fell, and I could see how that would work well as long as they held the upper hand. But the minute they were in a bad fight, one where they had to use careful tactics to win, it had become a disadvantage.

All along the front line, we’d teased them by taking out one member of each group of nine. That caused a general charge, and our trap had been sprung. I found out that I was the only fool lucky enough to get two charges at once—the only fool that had survived the experience, that is.

After the last of the littermates died, the big cannon swept toward us and began slamming us with heavy beams. Boulders cracked and smoked when the invisible beams of heat struck them.

I craned my neck, looking down toward the lakeshore. Where had that charging group gone? It took me only a second to figure it out. They’d shifted their course and charged into the rocks with us. They’d taken heavy losses, just as we had, while covering open ground. Now six of the cohort’s ten units were battered and hunkering down in the area of broken boulders.

“We’re pinned down,” Graves said, conferring with his unit commanders. “Leeson, you’re the last adjunct I have left standing in this unit. Harris, you and the other vet are going to have to double up in the command area. Assume you’re in command if you don’t see anyone of higher rank within earshot.”