The Hallowed War: A Military Sci-Fi Series, page 44
Sato clasped her hands behind her back. “Operation Anthill launches in four days. You will spend the next four drilling with your new squads in preparation.”
I nodded. I was ready to drill right now. I’d had a whole week to rest, after all.
Sato continued. “Sergeants, I’ll also be assigning each of you a Special Tactics officer and four Special Tactics commandos, whom you should incorporate into your existing squad drills. They may be more seasoned warriors than you, but they lack your strength and Hallowed Weapons. Use them wisely and heed the advice of the ST officer you’re assigned, and they’ll make up for your missing Hallowed.”
I thought about that. “Can we make a request?”
Sato nodded. “You know someone you’d like?”
I thought back to a man I’d watched lead a squad of four mortal badasses and two kids in Hallowed armor to take down at least forty Mutes without a single casualty. “His name is Sergeant Bishop. Smart guy, good head on his shoulders, with a solid squad.”
“If he’s alive and I can find him, he’s yours,” Sato said. “Anyone else have a preference?”
“Sergeant Ortiz,” Mia said.
Dammit. That was a good pick. I’d all but forgotten about Sergeant Ortiz. Maybe I was still annoyed with him for kicking my ass so many times on the mats.
A small smile crossed Sato’s lips. “He actually requested you first. So, done.”
Mia smiled back. “Brilliant.”
Sato looked around at us. “I probably don’t need to say this, but it is very good to have you back. I’m sorry to throw you into the meat grinder again so quickly, but if we don’t hit the Mutes soon, I’m not certain we’ll survive another operation Clean Sweep. We need to wipe them out now.”
“And that mass,” I said. “What about that giant half-block mass with all the arms? What if it shows up too?”
No one spoke. The silence felt grim. Finally, Lincoln stepped forward. “Can we drown it?”
I pondered. Could we?
“Put some sweepers in boats on the Shiva,” Lincoln said. “Lure it right up to the edge. If we hit the mass with enough explosives, we could knock it into the water. Then the current could sweep it out to sea, right? I mean, can something with that much mass even swim?”
Sato nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll mention it to engineering.”
I nodded, then pointed. “Lincoln should command Squad Two. Promote him.”
Lincoln gasped and raised his hands. “Not on your life, Riven!”
Sato just shook her head at me in mild disappointment.
I lowered my hand. “It was worth a try.”
40
I SEE WHY YOU ABANDONED YOUR CAREER IN MUSICAL THEATER
That same evening, after Captain Sato revealed Chief Dixon’s deceptions and subsequent removal to the corps, much less exploded than I expected. A few kids seemed shocked Cloud Nine had lied about the counteragent, but most literally shrugged and moved on. It seemed I hadn’t given my fellow Hallowed enough credit. They, like us, had well-developed bullshit detectors.
My greatest fear was that half our force would refuse to fight, the biggest risk in going all volunteer. Yet once again, my faith in Captain Sato was rewarded. She might be less than elegant when dealing with the CNC, but I’d be damned if that woman didn’t give a rousing speech. After she finished explaining both the apocalyptic state of Dios and our new benefits, I wanted to sign up all over again.
In the end, all but three of our current Hallowed agreed to continue the fight to save Dios—the fight only we could win. Of the three who refused, one had seen his entire squad ripped apart during Clean Sweep, and I didn’t blame him for being shellshocked out of his mind. Another was a new recruit who claimed to be a pacifist (which, of course, set off my bullshit detector) and a third, who’d been a stunt pilot before he mutated, actually volunteered to fly Cloudhoppers instead.
That was fine. Having enough pilots to fly all our Cloudhoppers had always been a challenge, and would be even more so when we devoted all our air resources to hopscotching across Dios blowing up Class Twos. And if our new Hallowed pilot crashed, he might at least survive.
The morning we kicked off Operation Anthill arrived like any other, and I even managed to get some sleep beforehand. Not enough, but I doubted I’d lack the adrenaline to stay awake. We’d be tackling multiple Class Two Mutes today with a reduced squad, and that was if everything went right.
If things went wrong, we’d be fighting a block-and-a-half mass of human arms. Even an Inferno round might not be able to stop a monster like that. Hopefully, we could trick it into going for a swim.
We put on our gear, hopped into our Cloudhopper, and flew out to spread around the city at 0900 in preparation for the upcoming operation. Squads One and Two (my squad) both drew posts in Queensland. It was comforting to know Mia’s squad was in the same sector we were, though I knew she was disappointed to draw Queensland. Her family was in Lynbrook, which she wouldn’t be defending.
Three and Five drew Hatten, Four and Six drew Lynbrook, and Seven and Eight drew Presea. Squad Zero took Rocham by themselves—just Sato, Frost, and Hull, who was Alex and Lincoln’s old squadmate. I wasn’t surprised Sato went in light. She was worth five of us in a fight.
After ordering all citizens to shelter in place or at the reinforced hurricane shelters, the city had also mobilized the entirety of Dios PD and every remaining soldier in Special Tactics. They even passed out Crater Punchers and tac-clubs to a bunch of private security guards they drafted at the last minute. I doubted a bunch of rent-a-cops could handle Mutes, but perhaps they’d surprise me.
Sergeant Bishop, who I hadn’t seen since Operation Deep Freeze, had continued to be as competent a second-in-command as I could have hoped. He and his Special Tactics commandos coordinated just as well as they had the night we made Mute popsicles in the Rocham storm drains. And Bishop’s sniping skills, I also soon learned, rivaled Prescott’s.
While Bishop didn’t have Godhammer to call upon, his modified sniper rifle shot streamlined CP rounds. So long as you destroyed a Mute’s entire head in one shot, it didn’t matter if the weapon that did that was Hallowed or not. Bishop also accepted my leadership without question, which helped with my self-esteem. With ranks equal, Hallowed outranked Special Tactics.
The rest of Bishop’s squad—Mooney, Crane, Santiago, and Wilcox—remembered me as well, and all accepted me as their new commander despite having tons more experience. They were good soldiers and good people. I just hoped I could keep them all alive.
We landed at our elevated staging base, on top of a two-story building, at 0922. In the distance, a pointed metal tower stretched to the sky. I’d never seen anything like it. Probably a tourist thing.
Once everyone was out of the Cloudhopper, the pilot spun the engines down. We’d have our own Cloudhopper for the duration of this mission, and we’d be airdropping on any Class Twos that crawled up after we gassed the understructure. I’d just have to keep our ride from getting vomited on.
I knelt at the edge of the roof where I could survey the buildings beyond. “Get comfy,” I ordered my squad. “Unless Cloud Nine drastically underestimated the time it takes to gas the understructure, we’ll be here awhile. Helmets can come off, but stay armored.”
“Yes sir, Sergeant Riven, sir!” Lincoln said proudly.
I rolled my eyes before I pulled off my own helmet. I’d trained beside Lincoln when we arrived at Cloud Nine, and it still felt weird to be giving him orders. He was my friend, not my soldier.
Still, Captain Sato had assured me I’d get over that. I hoped she was right. At least, now, I could keep Lincoln safe. His ribbing would also keep my mind off the possible deaths ahead.
Queensland, I’d learned while studying Dios at Cloud Nine, was our shipping and tourism sector. While Dios didn’t have many visitors from outside the island, due to the world at large remaining fucked by the Break, the rich and affluent who could afford travel to Dios often spent lavishly amidst the shops, restaurants, and tourist attractions of Queensland.
The sector’s look matched its reputation. The shiny buildings here weren’t as high as those in Hatten, but they were festooned with color. Yet the often crowded streets stood all but empty today, thanks to Cloud Nine’s curfew. The only people in the streets were uniformed DPD and Special Tactics.
Two four-legged Barghest mechs stood amidst barricades outside the Queensland hurricane shelter, which housed everyone who hadn’t been comfortable staying at home. Even from this far away, I could tell how big those two mechs were. I hoped they’d be enough to keep the shelter safe. Even a horde of Mutes would have trouble overcoming four mobile Barghest cannons.
The person I missed most, as I stared out over Queensland proper, was Mia. We’d barely had any time together since we escaped Chief Dixon’s prison. I understood why—we had squads to train, an important mission to not fuck up, and cameras and eyes on us all the time—but her absence hurt.
I’d much prefer Mia be with me, in my squad, where we could watch each other’s backs, but at least she was only a ten-minute flight away. Also, I was pretty sure Sato planned to give us an earful about the fraternization once we wrapped up this mission. Whatever. Mia was worth it.
Sergeant Bishop settled easily on the roof edge, knees wide and ankles crossed, and balanced his big gun against one leg. He was taller than me and more muscular, with umber skin and piercing black eyes. When he looked calm, like he did now, he was a comforting presence.
I glanced at him. “Your folks settled in?”
Bishop nodded. “As ever.” He eyed me. “How are your nerves today, Sergeant?”
I frowned. “Who says I’m nervous?”
Bishop smiled. “We all are. If you’re aren’t, I’d question your sanity.”
I looked away. “About the same as always before a mission. Less that Deep Freeze, honestly. At least this time, we’re fighting on our terms.”
“That’s good,” Bishop said. “This situation feels familiar. It feels like we’ve been fighting these things for years, not months. Perhaps this operation will finally buy us breathing room.”
“Let’s hope so,” I agreed.
The silence stretched, but Bishop didn’t leave. The awkward silence made me uncomfortable, and we still had a lot of time before the Mutes popped up. More to keep the conversation going than out of any real curiosity, I pointed at the large metal tower in the distance. “What’s that, anyway?”
Bishop peered in the direction I pointed. “The Eiffel Tower?”
I lowered my hand. “Yeah, the big metal thing that serves no visible purpose.”
Bishop chuckled. “It is a one-to-one replica of a tower that existed on the mainland centuries ago, and formed of iron, just like the original. Sadly, the original no longer stands, but the replica remains one of the most popular tourist attractions in Dios. The top deck offers a wonderful view of one’s surroundings, as well as a glimpse at the glory of pre-Break civilization.”
I nodded. “So you’ve been to the Eiffel Tower. Anywhere else I should check out?”
I still owed Mia an actual date, and a tourist magnet like Queensland might be a good place to go. Assuming we both survived, of course.
Bishop glanced at me. “You’re unfamiliar with Queensland?”
“I grew up in the Stumps,” I said, with less resentment than I’d had when I arrived at Cloud Nine.
“There’s a number of replica gambling parlors along a portion called the Strip, if that’s your poison,” Bishop said. “If you prefer museums, the Dios Museum of Art has a number of excellent pieces, both contemporary and pre-Break. As for entertainment, I’d honestly recommend any show to which you can get tickets. You can’t really go wrong with a Queensland production.”
I glanced at Bishop. “So you’ve spent a lot of time there.”
He nodded. “I grew up in Queensland. I actually hoped to perform in musical theater before I found my calling in Special Tactics. Still, I always catch a show on the rare occasion I can.”
So my second-in-command was a deadly commando with a crater-punching sniper rifle who also performed musical theater. Why not? I looked ahead again. “Any place you’d take a girl?”
“How much can you afford to spend?” Bishop asked.
I smiled. “Given how many Mutes I’ve wrecked this year, enough.”
“The tourism brochure would suggest dinner at the Golden Palace, followed by a show at the Dios City Theatre. There’s also a lovely private beach, though it is pricey.”
“Nice,” I agreed.
“But if this is a woman you truly wish to impress, I’d suggest a quiet and intimate dinner at any of the many small cafes on Figaro street, followed by an evening stroll along the Queensland boardwalk. There’s a number of small stalls and attractions you might both find of interest.”
That actually sounded like a really good idea, and far more my speed than some restaurant with food I couldn’t pronounce and a round of musical theater. The idea of a real date with Mia gave me something to look forward to after this operation. It gave me a goal to strive for, which was good.
Maybe that was what I’d always been looking for. Like Prescott had said months ago as we drank together at a café, I couldn’t just look at the next battle. I had to look toward the end of the war.
Mia was at the end of this war, so I was damn sure going to make it there alive.
I glanced at Bishop. “Any chance I can convince you to launch into song when we kick off our mission? My squad would get a kick out of that.”
Bishop sighed. “Unfortunately no. My soldiers have informed me that if I ever sing across comms again, they will shoot me in the head and toss my body into the sea.”
“I see why you abandoned your career in musical theater.”
Bishop chuckled. “To be honest, my Italian was never that good.”
Sergeant Bishop seemed like a genuinely cool guy. I hoped he didn’t get his head ripped off on this mission, or get melted by Mute vomit. Special Tactics commandos wore armor, but it was paper compared to ours. It could stop rifle rounds, but not bloodthirsty Mutes.
We’d practiced taking down simulated Class Twos and Threes repeatedly over the past four days, so there was no need to discuss our tactics. We’d also integrated our squads well enough that we knew who was doing what, so conflicting commands weren’t a concern. I even had a plan for my date with Mia now, but Sergeant Bishop remained. Was he worried about my leadership?
Yet Bishop said nothing about that. He said nothing at all after that, and the boredom that followed was almost unbearable. Eventually, Bishop went back to join his squad.
Finally, not ten minutes after noon, the first call came in, followed by another. Followed by dozens. The first Class Two to pop up in Queensland showed up on the Strip, the gambling area Bishop had mentioned. We piled on our Cloudhopper and flew off to kick its ass into next week.
I had eight Inferno rounds, six Zero, and four Voltage today, and even if the aftermath of repeatedly firing Dismay left me weak as a child, I intended to use them all.
I also wasn’t dying today, because I had a date with Mia Ashford.
41
AND THINGS WERE GOING SO WELL
As the remains of the Class Two Mute smoldered in front of the still melting Dios PD barricade, I dropped to my knees and focused on breathing. My body ached. I’d just fired my third Inferno round in thirty minutes, and I felt like I’d just finished running up ninety flights of stairs.
Even now, I saw a Class Four sprinting at me from the end of the street. Yet I couldn’t seem to raise my arm. I couldn’t stand. Fortunately, the Class Four’s head exploded violently, blown apart by a single well-placed CP round.
Bishop’s voice crackled over our comms. “Scratch eight.”
Ahead of me, Lincoln fended off two more Class Fours, backing up slowly as they attempted to get around his massive shield. One managed to get past, and got Wrecking Ball to the face for its trouble. That ended its ability to attack anyone or, honestly, to exist.
Beside Lincoln, Alex speared the other Mute. It flailed and clicked as she lifted it into the air, then activated Pokey’s explosive tip. As the spear exploded, six pieces of almost equally distributed Mute spiraled through the air and landed in a fountain.
“Look at the air on that one!” Alex shouted far too happily.
An only slightly panicked voice from the local squad leader echoed in my helmet. “We have more Class Fours inbound, and a confirmed Class Three. Hallowed Two, can you support, over?”
Nine’s chipper AI voice spoke before I could answer. “A new Class Two has emerged by the Eiffel Tower. Immediate response required. Retrieval cables deploying now.”
Air roiled and bits of trash flew as our Cloudhopper and its pilot roared in overhead. The big quadcopter came to a mostly stationary stop above my position. A cable dropped ahead of me. I stood, legs tingling like they’d lost all circulation, and hooked the cable to my armor.
The Dios PD squad leader spoke again. “Repeating, Hallowed Two. We have a Class Three incoming, can you support, over?”
In the distance, beyond the fountain now floating with Mute bits, I saw the tall shadow of a towering Class Three lumbering toward us. Shattered glass littered the Strip, and much of the cool colored lighting was wrecked too. So much for tourism dollars.
Just ahead, Alex and Lincoln hitched themselves up. I knew the rest of Officer Bishop’s squad was doing the same behind me. So far, we hadn’t lost a single soldier. Yet nobody else could give this poor guy the bad news but me. I was in command now.
“Negative, Dios PD,” I said. “We have a C2 ripping up the Eiffel tower. For the C3, focus fire on the knees first, then the head. Call in an Archer strike as soon as it goes down.”
The cable retracted violently. The glass-strewn pavement shrank beneath me as I rocketed upward, then landed on the rail of the Cloudhopper. I climbed into the troop area as we pulled upward and onward. More Class Fours skittered into view below us, flanking the Class Three.
