The New Species 38 (Patreon)

Chapter 38

Subject: Staff Sergeant Power

Species: Human

Description: Mammalian humanoid, no tail. 6'2" (1.87 m) avg height. 185 lbs (84 kg) avg weight. 170 year life expectancy.

Ship: USSS Liberty

Location: Planet Alpha

"Clear at 280!"

"Clear at 110!"

"All clear. Sit-rep," I ordered.

Eleven yellow lights and one green light lit up. Corpsman Yunk was the only green light, because the corpsman wasn't using his ammo. Fair enough, that's not really his job. His job is to try to make sure we can use the rest of ours.

Still, yellow wasn't so bad. Minor injuries and/or over half of your ammo used, but not on your last box. I looked at the growing pile of metal at the base of our hill. The first groups that had been sent just rushed us, firing their lasers as they went. Not smart at all, and now their circuits were everywhere.

This last group, though, had attempted a fireteam rush. It would have been a smart move if their weapons had the capacity to suppress us for any reasonable amount of time. It had only been three days and they were already mimicking us pretty well. I found myself wondering what they were going to try next when my helmet cut exterior sound and a giant plume of smoke and shrapnel erupted about 15 meters from the base of the hill.

"Artillery!" PFC Johns shouted over comms.

"Everyone down!" I ordered.

"You don't have to inform me twice, staffsarnt," SGT Int replied.

I manually disabled the sonic safeties on my helmet to try to hear where the shells were coming from as another crashed around 18 meters away. No good. Going to have to try triangulation. We won't be able to get an accurate fix on them, but we'll get a search area at least.

"Squad leaders, triangulation. Need to find the general location of that artillery," I ordered.

I saw Gruff's gauntlet peek up from his foxhole. I raised mine as well and triggered the sound localization software. The next shell hit exactly 12 meters away, according to my reading. Then the sound of the guns caught up to us.

The reason that humans have two ears is to give us sound localization. Sound generally travels in a circular wave, and by assessing two points of a circle you can triangulate its center. The more distance between the two points you get, the better the localization gets. That's why it's harder to tell where a noise is coming from when it's farther away from you.

Even with three points we weren't going to get an exact fix. But I got a reading, and so did Gruff and Int. About a half-mile wide indicator appeared, about 1 km away from us. Too far away for us to touch them, but that's not what I had planned anyway. I activated my command comms as the next shell hit.

"Hellfire Two-Niner, this is Sparky Actual, over," I began.

"Sparky Actual, this is Hellfire Two-Niner. Go ahead."

"Sending tactical data for a search and destroy. Gun emplacements. How copy?" I asked as I sent the approximate location of the enemy artillery.

"Full copy... received. Beginning the hunt. Keep your head down Sparky Actual, over."

"Roger, happy hunting. Sparky Actual out."

Another shell impacted, this time close enough for us to catch some dust. I brushed some dirt off myself as LCPL Hart shook himself and turned to me.

"What's the plan, staffsarnt?" he asked.

"I'll explain over comms," I replied while keying the comms. "Marines, we've got a guardian angel on its way to turn those guns into scrap. Heads down until we're given the all clear."

"What kind of ordo are they gonna use, sir?" PFC Brint asked.

"I'm not a fucking sir, Brint. They're just gonna use their cannons, unless they've got non-nuclear missiles attached. They can't afford the EMP on this mission," I replied, making several assumptions.

"Yes they can, the black boxes are hardened against EMP. Your shields aren't, though," Omega chimed in.

Of course the AI was listening in. The hell was taking it so long, how did it have enough time to chat? I shrugged off my annoyance as another shell hit about 10 meters from the base of the hill. Then I shrugged off some dirt.

"A nuke against a couple of guns would be overkill, Omega. The cannons will do the trick, and the guardian angel knows it."

"No need for code, staff sergeant, but I understand. You're arguing to increase moral. I sometimes forget that nukes are still kind of scary to organics," Omega said on my personal comm line. " Especially this close. Anyway, the OU can't tap our comms anymore. I took that capability on day 1."

"Well, then what have you been doing for the other two days we've been here?" I asked.

"Killing VI. There's quadrillions of them."

That shut me up. One AI versus a quadrillion VI? Damn, Omega must be top of the line tech. I decided to never fuck with an AI as another shell impacted five meters from the base of our hill. A piece of jagged shrapnel seemed to magically appear in the hill just above my foxhole.

"Hey staffsarnt, you think they'll get there before we take a shell?" Hart asked me.

"Yeah, Hellfire 29 is flying an ET201 unmanned fighter. Getting there fast will be easy, the pilot won't take any G's. The search is probably what's taking so long, but they'll make it," I said reassuringly.

As if responding to a cue, a very lovely noise came from the direction of the cannons. The sound of two 50mm autocannons that can fire 5000 rounds per minute. A very satisfying BRRRT, even from a distance. The tense atmosphere immediately dissipated, and I could've sworn I heard SGT Gruff say "Thank god".

"Shocker Actual, this is Hellfire Two-Niner. Mission successful, target destroyed. Returning to nest, over."

"Shocker Actual to Hellfire Two-Niner, just in time. Thank you. Out," I replied.

Things settled down for a while, with the occasional patrol making an attempt on the hill. We took turns on watch, resting and cleaning our weapons on our down time. Night crept up on us, and not a single one of us was looking forward to it.

It wasn't just that the bots were harder to spot at night. They don't light up very much on thermals, and IR is useless thanks to the weather. The night on this particular rock brought storms with it. Bad ones.

There isn't a single active duty marine who hasn't seen their fair share of bad weather. Hellwurld sees to that. These storms were particularly nasty. Not because they had brutal winds and pouring rains, but because they also kicked up sediment like a toddler on a beach.

Both the rain and the sand were traveling horizontally in whichever direction the wind decided to take it. The winds were so bad that our shields would occasionally take damage from the sand. I shuddered to think what this weather would do to bare skin.

The toll on our equipment was harsh as well. The first night had seen Brint's rifle jam. Sand in the barrel, clumped up and held in place by the rain that had followed it. We had to wait until the storm died down just before dawn before he could clear it.

"God damnit. If I never see a single grain of sand again it'll be too soon," LCPL Hart bitched over close range radio as he shook his rifle.

"Stow the bellyachin' and keep your eyes outbound. Rifle down unless you see the enemy. Keeps the water and sand from out it," I repeated myself for the third night in a row.

"I been meanin' to ask, staffsarnt. Isn't it more tactical to keep our weapons outbound?"

I mockingly tilted my head as I replied, "How would it be tactical to have your weapon outbound if it jams when you try to fire it? I didn't know you looked up to Private Brint so much that you wanna copy him."

"But staffsarnt, he's the picture perfect marine! Who wouldn't want to copy him?" The lance corporal asked with the most sarcasm I've ever heard in my life.

"Haha, very funny. I'm gonna hit the hay. Kick my boot when it's my watch. Or if see any action," I said as I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"Aye aye, staffsarnt."

I closed my eyes and embraced sleep. Not too deeply, though. Didn't want to miss out on the action, if there was any. My dream was being back home with my wife and kids with a strange addition. Gunfire, explosions, and the sound of lasers striking drowned them out whenever they tried to say something to me.

I just smiled and nodded, not wanting to make them scared or sad that daddy couldn't hear them. I don't know what I'd do if I made them cry. We're at a park. Kind of like the one that's down the street. A picnic, overlooking the play area. The kids are eating as fast as they can so they can go play. I tell them not to choke while trying not to smile at their antics.

More explosions are their response. I turn to my wife and she shrugs at me, her sundress slipping over her clavicle. Beautiful. I love you. Gunfire's her response, but I play it cool. I know she loves me too.

The kids finish their food and jump up. I can't help but laugh as they run toward the play area. I wave at them as they go, and my wife gently grips my arm. I turn to her and look deep into her beautiful blue eyes.

"Wake up, staffsarnt," she says with Hart's voice.

"Wake up, staffsarnt. It's your turn to keep watch," he says.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up," I reply.

Damn. Why is it that the best dreams happen when you're in the shit, and the worst dreams happen when you're happy? I cracked my stiff neck as I stood and took over the watch. Hart sat down and it wasn't long before he drifted off, taking my place in dreamland.

"Report," I said over the radio.

Six yellow lights blinked back at me. Ah, Yunk fired his weapon. I glared at Hart. Told the little shit to wake me up if we saw action. I checked ammo counters. Most of us are good, but it would be wise to order a refill soon. Might as well. I activated the command comm but someone was already squawking.

"... is Concrete Actual. Fire mission. Concentration Echo Golf Five Tree Niner. Enemy armor. Five rounds, danger close. Will adjust, how copy?"

Lieutenant Banjul. He's got me beat for dumb callsigns, for sure. They're not that far away from us. Calling an artillery strike on enemy armor. Glad WE haven't seen any tanks yet. Wait, we brought artillery?

"Hanura copies full..."

Oh. Oh shit. That's not artillery. I looked up at the sky and after a moment spotted five fireballs. Then I quickly switched back over to the squad radio.

"Turtle up! We've got orbital support incoming!" I ordered.

I watched as helmets scanned the sky, paused for a moment, and disappeared in their foxholes. I took one last glance at the fireballs and ducked down. I placed a hand on Hart's shoulder so he wouldn't jump up in surprise when the first round hit.

Then I waited. MACs are fast, but it's quite the distance between orbit and the ground. I tried not to grit my teeth as the tension rose and rose. Then the ground suddenly felt an inch lower than it was before. Even my helmet's sound dampeners barely helped as the shockwave rolled over our little hill. Then came the dust and debris.

"WHAT THE FU..." Hart shouted as the second round impacted.

I managed to hold him down and hoped that the rest of the marines were able to do the same to their partners. It wasn't just dust in the air. There would be stones as well. I couldn't help but get a little pissed off as the next three rounds impacted. It was like riding a grav-coaster at a local fair, but involuntarily. I stood up once I was sure more rocks wouldn't be pelting us.

"Report." I said over the radio. Twelve yellow lights lit back up. Good.

I took a moment to gather my wits and dust myself off. Then I checked our directory and found Lt. Banjul's personal frequency.

"Concrete Actual, this is Shocker Actual. Sitrep."

"Shocker Actual, this is Concrete Actual. We're still here, over."

"Roger that. Fuck you, sir. How copy?"

"Full copy," Banjul replied with a laugh. "Sorry about that, forgot you were nearby. Won't happen again, over."

"Roger. Out," I replied as I cut the comm.

Hart finished brushing himself off and looked up at me.

"What the fuck was THAT staffsarnt?" he asked.

"A nearby squad called in orbital support danger close. Five MAC rounds, the piece of shit," I replied.

Hart nodded and went to stand as the ground began to shake again. It was different this time, slower. Like when you zone out and snap back in to find yourself rocking side to side. Only it was everything ELSE that was rocking side to side.

"Earthquake?" Hart asked.

"Yeah, prob..."

A thundering crash interrupted me as the shaking got a whole lot worse. I grabbed the edge of the foxhole to keep from falling over. The dust that was still in the air was blocking my view of the surroundings.

"All units to exfil asap," Omega said.

"Omega? What the hell is going on?" I asked.

"We're leaving. Grab the box and go, double time it," it said as an objective marker popped up on my visor. "GO! NOW!"

"Let's go, marines!" I shouted as I jumped out of the foxhole, pulling Hart up after me. "Chang, Boyle, grab the fucking box. Double time it!"

We ran through the dust and jumped over robotic bodies as we made our way toward the objective marker. The earthquake continued, knocking us to our knees every now and then. Visibility was poor, but the signature sound of laser fire soon rang out as we ran. Brief flashes of white light were soon followed by gunfire.

We made it to the landing zone and took a defensive position as we awaited our shuttle. I went prone to avoid being knocked on my ass. The shaking got bad that the ground had started slapping me hard enough to drain my shields slightly when the shuttle finally arrived.

It couldn't land, but it was able to get close enough to the ground that we could all hop aboard. I helped drag the black box aboard and pulled Chang up while Gruff pulled up Boyle. After a quick head count I told the pilot to punch it and we began to rise.

I almost triggered the hatch but paused as we started to climb above the dust cloud. There were tears in the ground, like giant ravines that seemed almost bottomless. As we got a little bit higher I saw something that made my blood run cold.

At first I thought it was a tower. It must have come up from the ground because it wasn't there when we landed. But the shape struck me as odd, and I realized that there was only one thing it could actually be. The largest MAC I had ever seen.

And then it fired.