Dawn of the Mad (10 page)

“You idiot!” Cruwell yelled as strapped in troopers looked at him with curiosity. “The colonel is still down there!” He ran to the lift which was inside a center vertical tube that went straight up to the flight deck. The lift stopped and he emerged on the flight deck. Two pilots sat at the controls, strapped in. The drop pod was beginning to rattle and shake as it began to reach the upper atmosphere. The blue sky began to give way to the unforgiving reaches of space. One of the pilots looked over his shoulder and saw Cruwell standing there, his fists clenched into balls.

“Sir, you better strap in! It’s going to get rough!” The pilot yelled as the noise began to get louder.

“Take this thing back down! You left colonel and some troopers down there!”

“I can’t sir! The take off sequence can’t be aborted. We will have to send a shuttle down once we dock on the flagship!”

By now Cruwell could barely stand, the gravitational forces working to squash him into the deck plating. He pulled out a jump seat that was stowed into the wall and sat down. He quickly strapped himself in and looked with awe through the flight deck window into space. He hoped he knew what the colonel was doing down there.

The colonel glanced up at the sky and saw the drop pod streaking for the atmosphere. He took one last look around and ordered his men into the jungle, ahead of the advancing column.

“Get your asses in the jungle, men! They will return!” As he shouted the order, several more explosions erupted all over the plateau as all three of the approaching tanks began to fire.
At least I hope they will return
.

“A sizable element is approaching ahead of us,” the trooper reported to the colonel as he retreated up the rocky path from the desert, back to the jungle. “Three medium tanks in a wedge formation, plus armored personnel carriers. That incoming seems random, not aimed. I don’t think they have spotted us, sir.”

The colonel again looked down the plateau that his men currently occupied. Incoming rounds from the tanks still rained down indiscriminately; however, his men were now in the cover of the jungle. Luckily the plants seemed not to care and he hadn’t seen any more beast men since his personal encounter a while back. The aggressors evidently saw no need for surprise. They didn’t seem to be aware they were heading for a fight rather than blasting at defenseless troops. To the colonel’s left, smoke began to pour out of the research laboratory’s breached main doors. Through enhanced mode on his visor display, the colonel observed the reactionary force getting closer and closer. He could not yet determine who the attackers were; there were no military markings displayed anywhere. At the rear of the small armored column, he spotted three armored personnel carriers in dogged pursuit of the tanks, their dark gray armor contrasted with the dull brown of the desert.

“I thought you two made it out,” the colonel said without looking at Scotts and Matthias. “It may be a while before we are evaced,” the colonel noted. It was less a warning and more the colonel stating the obvious. “Raus might be getting some company up there, and he may have to leave. We will fall back into the jungle if we have to. Their armor won’t be able to follow us inside.”

“This is news we could have used yesterday, but for what it’s worth, the captured technicians said the forest is a by-product of research on reanimation of dead plant tissues through genetic reconstruction. They started on plants first, then men. Hence your beast man that took a swing at you,” Scotts said.

“I gave myself quite a chuckle.” The colonel smiled sarcastically and resumed his vigilant observation of the approaching force. “I was almost eaten by a mutated flower.”

As the colonel was about to turn away from the edge of the plateau to enter the jungle where his men waited, he noticed that the armored column had come to a grinding halt just shy of the plateau’s base, throwing up a huge cloud of dust. The tanks had assumed a single file formation, facing the narrow road leading up to the bunker complex.

Curious
.
Who else wants the contents of this facility?
He also wondered why there was no air response. The path from the desert was basically a rocky, rubble-strewn trail up the side of the plateau, wide enough to accommodate the medium tanks single file, but the gray beasts chose not to advance. Hatches flew open, and the faint outlines of the tank commanders could be seen conversing and pointing up at the plateau and to some of the boulders on the trail. The pursuing APC’s caught up to their tanks and armed personnel began to dismount from the lowered ramps at the rear. The mechanized infantry then began to take up positions at the base of the road.

“This is very interesting,” the colonel said as he raised his face shield. A com trooper running up to him interrupted his thoughts. “Sir, Admiral Raus is on the hook.” The com trooper removed a handheld receiver connected to a radio transmitter he carried on his back, the large whip antennae quivering in the wind. The helmet tactical net was unable to reach into space. The colonel took off his helmet and grabbed the receiver.

“Go ahead, Admiral.”

“Colonel, your drop pod is on its way here, yet Captain Cruwell informs me you are not board. Am I missing something here?”

“We got split up and that damned pod lifted off without me a few troopers. We will need an evac.”

“The Auger-Lord on my ship wants me to leave orbit as soon as the drop pod is recovered. I can stall for a bit, but I cannot guarantee I can get an evac down there. Our scanners are tracking an unidentified craft that is prepping to enter pulse space. The Auger-Lord has indicated to me that this in now priority. Pulse capable craft of that small size are exceedingly rare nowadays. Also of interest is another small craft heading for the planet’s surface. We are letting it go. Perhaps you can use it to get off that rock if all else fails. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen soon I think.”

“I understand Admiral. Hopefully time will be on our side.” The colonel handed the receiver back to the com trooper. “Sergeant!” he bellowed out.

“Yes?” Matthias ran over hurriedly, holding his helmet in his left hand.

“I wonder who else is interested in the contents of this research facility. A shuttle is also approaching our position.” the colonel said. “Gather weapons and ammunition. We are going to set up an ambush and attack.”

The orders didn’t need to be repeated. Matthias nodded and left, then began issuing orders to the few troopers that remained. The battle wasn’t over quite yet.

CHAPTER 7

The colonel stood with Corporal Scotts at his side. The colonel clutched his helmet under one arm while pointing with the other hand to the ambush spots that had been established. Sergeant Matthias directed the final placement of a short-range plasma cannon that had been retrieved from the interior of the burned out tomb that was once the research facility bunker. The cannon, with its three-man crew, covered the trail.

Matthias walked to the edge of the plateau and took up a well-concealed position behind a large boulder that still afforded a good look down at the approaching force. He propped his EMR against the boulder beside him and removed his helmet. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his face, with the hot, dry air working hard to evaporate them. The prospect of another intense action didn’t set well with him, but it seemed they stood a fair chance of victory with the advantage of surprise and position.

“A small infantry force, perhaps three to four squads, is approaching from the road,” Matthias spoke into his wrist communicator to the colonel. “No armor support. The tanks appear to be hanging back at the base of the road, maybe for another bombardment. I deployed our remaining sniper team with the heavy weapons crews at the trail’s edge. The heavy weapons crews will be in effective range momentarily.”

“Understood,” the colonel replied. “Have the sniper team prepared to cover a retreat into the forest if this blows up in our face.”

“Yes sir.” Matthias changed the frequency on his wrist communicator and issued the orders to the sniper team leader. By now, the salvaged heavy plasma cannon was set up in a well-concealed position overlooking the road. The crew was busy loading the weapon and stabilizing it on the rocky terrain. Surrounding the weapon were two dug-in squads, each trooper armed with salvaged frag and thermite grenades from the bunker. Spare ammunition magazines and power cells were strewn in front of the hastily dug emplacements within arm’s reach. The remaining squad of five troopers accompanied the colonel. They all held back near the bunker entrance, to be used as reserves.

“Matthias,” the colonel said to the sergeant at his side, “your men will remain behind the firing line. Replace any man who falls and ensure that the plasma cannon does not run out of power cells.”

The colonel scanned across his defensive placements with satisfaction, his helmet enhancing points of interest for him. Satisfied that he was in a tenable position, he charged his EMR, and joined Cruwell at the edge of the forest with the sniper team.

The elderly commander surveyed his mercenary soldiers with contempt and pity, from the hatch of the lead tank. Unlike their commander, most of the soldiers were devoid of feelings of honor and simply plied their skills in service of the highest bidder. The commander detested soldiers who sold out to corporations, but then again who was he kidding? He was a hypocrite, selling himself out years ago lured by the high paychecks. He had seen his share of glorious combat, winning some battles but losing most. He wore a bright yellow scarf around his neck and proudly displayed his rusting military medals on his chest, an absurd gesture to most of the mercs, who didn’t care much about medals. Everyone who lived to fight the next battle received monetary compensation, and that was enough for them. The tradition of the armies they had long served had been lost. The commander was tired, as were most men in this war, but he held onto the flair and passions that had brought him to battle and had, thus far, kept him sane. He knew only how to fight, not how he could possibly assimilate back into society after his commission had expired.

The mercs were in poor spirits, having been forced to ride in the cramped confines of armored personnel carriers across the desert without opportunity for rest in nearly two days. They’d seen almost nothing of the planet’s surface since being dropped there; they had gone straight from the drop zone into the personnel carriers. Secrecy of the objective had to be maintained, or so they were told by their mysterious client. As the story went, their commander had been approached in the dark, back room of a bar on some forgotten outpost in fringe space with an offer he could not refuse: payment up front, plus equipment, to assemble and run a team. All the team had to do was recover some sensitive items from some whacked out scientists on a fringe planet.

The objective was in a known pirate sector, but most of the mercs hadn’t operated there before. The war didn’t venture out this far and there was no need to worry about a government presence. Fringe space was filled with war deserters from both sides, trying to make a living working as mercs or pirates. Criminal gangs also operated with impunity in that no man’s land of space. The few commercial ore miners who risked operating in the area invested heavily on private security and sold their cargos to the highest bidder, whether that was a military force or a criminal gang.