--Dorn, on first seeing the lava flows of Iceland, 2047
***
I soon found myself back with the same troopers of 63Alpha Recon from yesterday, still under Centurion Carlson. This time heading down a dirt road. At least we had a ride: an open-topped troop transport that tilted and swayed with every bump and rut. The seats all faced outward from the center, and I soon learned why everyone kept a hand on the brace bar.
As we pulled out, I scanned the battlefield. Squads roamed the fields, pausing now and then to shoot the few aliens whose wounds were not fatal, and I was struck by the sheer quantity of antithesis involved in the battle.
--Directly and indirectly, you were responsible for the death of about 221 antithesis. That’s about ten percent of the models killed. But your portion of the bigger models is closer to seventy percent.
--That whole day, you killed around 760 antithesis. In comparison, your total so far on this trip is 775.
Looking over the fields of dead antithesis, I began to realize that the hive I’d first fought wasn’t just small—it was tiny. I shook my head as we passed through the gap and over a bridge. The breadth of the antithesis threat drove me into silent thought as we moved.
The hills started out heavily forested but patchworked by clear-cut forestry. The closer we came to the hive, the less and less vegetation we found. When we ran into antithesis, we fired on them without slowing down. If the first vehicle didn’t kill them, the following ones would, each truck protecting the other’s flanks.
I knew we were getting close when I felt the shiver start scraping on my awareness like an invisible splinter catching on silken clothing. Tara had reported glitches several minutes before.
She had the two Albatross and a couple of Chibats out, with the rest charging up. The Dragonflies could keep up with the transports, but at a heavy drain on their batteries. We decided that a full charge was more important than a warning on the way there, so Junior rode in the middle of the truck with most of the drones attached.
“We’re close,” I said in the Samurai chat. “I’m starting to sense EMI.”
“The Twelves will be our first priority. They really mess up the army’s operations.” Gangnam said. “And by ‘we’ I mean you. They screw with my missiles too.”
“Can’t you make them EM Seeking?”
The line went dead for a minute before he came back. “That’s a great idea, but I don’t have the catalogs for that. Do you?”
--Not a good one. Your seeker packages take up too much space for sensors and guidance systems yet. Until and unless you upgrade your Cyberwarfare Catalog, you’ll lose too much payload for them to be effective. May I share your catalogs with Gangnam’s AI so we can compare options? You might be able to combine catalogs for a solution.
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--It’s common practice when working closely with other Samurai, which you haven’t done before.
“We have a solution.” Gangnam said a little later. “With your Cyberwarfare catalog, I can get a seeker package for the Oppan Mark 8 that will find the Twelves and eliminate them. Might take a couple hits per alien, though.”
“Then I’ll leave them to you. I’m still worried about those Fifteen variants, to be honest.”
The road made a final turn and pulled up on a flatter plateau that sloped down and to the left slightly. The maps showed a stream out there, but the curve of the land hid it from our perspective. Even so, between the clear-cutting and the alien’s harvesting, we could see for kilometers across the denuded plain. The antithesis had even cleared out the large stumps and small grasses, leaving behind a field of exposed dirt, a network of exposed roots, several hundred single-digit antithesis, and craters.
My original briefing said the army had been hitting the hive with a constant barrage of artillery for days. That sanitized description did not warn me of the degree of devastation such a bombardment could leave. More than ten thousand large and small craters speckled the ground, each surrounded by its own little circle of dirt. Several of the smaller craters still had pools of water from the morning’s rain and reflected the midday sun at the right angles.
Strangely, the skies were clear of any signs of artillery fire. I switched to the Samurai channel. “Hey, Gangnam. Do you know why they stopped the bombardment? Shouldn’t they keep hammering them up to the point we’re about to attack?”
“I don’t know. Some military BS, no doubt. Maybe they are afraid that the EMI and its interference with CILS will get people killed?”
Unconvinced, I switched to a direct comms to EmCent Rogers, the master centurion in charge of 63Alpha. “Do I remember right that it’s best practice to keep up the artillery bombardment up to the point of attack?”
“Yes. Standard procedure is that the artillery fires right up to the point we’re practically under fire ourselves. When I learned in this morning’s briefing that we wouldn’t have any artillery today, they said it would improve the learning experience for the troops.” His voice was tightly controlled, and I imagined him holding back some degree of scorn.
“They’re treating this as a training exercise? That’s hogwash. This goes well beyond any training exercise. People will be dying today.”
“I agree, which is why I asked Khan personally after the meeting. She wanted to keep up the shelling all morning and even now. But someone on high overruled her.”
“What kind of idiot holds back weapons in the face of the enemy?”
“The kind that sit at desks and never have to come face to face with the enemy,” he said with a sigh. “The kind that worry about the cost of the shells. Look, it sucks, but we should be fine. The hive’s been hammered for days, so it can’t have many resources left. If they do pull something out of their hats, we’ll adjust.”
It occurred to me that Gangnam and I would be the ones picking up the slack if their estimates were wrong. With that heavy burden of responsibility on me, I closed the channel and returned to my review of the battlefield.
In the distance, the roots converged, growing larger until they thrust upwards in a mound twelve meters high. Dirt and scars covered half of the surface, indicating direct hits that had been healed over or repaired. The upper portion twisted into a trunk that spread out into branches with bright yellow leaves. Secondary mounds, smaller only in comparison, dotted a far hillside, each with a black gaping maw in the center.
We entered at speed and turned right to head upslope along the edge of the cleared zone, leaving a clear space for the people behind us. The trucks wove their way between the divots where possible or bounced through if necessary. They loosely followed the imaginary lines drawn on the driver’s augments until reaching a point where they disgorged troopers.
Despite the rough road, the troopers on that side opened fire on the aliens, concentrating on the ones closest to each truck. The small fry antithesis charged, even while we shifted to the side. Once the infantry were out of the way, several tanks pushed into the clearing, and their heavy fire mowed down the small fry as they moved in.
I followed the troopers around me as they leaped off the transport and ran forward and formed a line of firing positions. We used the craters and roots for cover while laying into the aliens coming our way.
The hive mound stood at least twenty meters high. But even with that, it couldn’t have held all the aliens pouring out. There must be a large cave structure down there too. But between the infantry fire and the tanks that pulled up behind us, none of the aliens could cross the field, and they died in the hundreds.
More companies reached the field and opened fire, and the antithesis were soon beaten back until they died as soon as they appeared. After a few minutes, word passed that the advance would start soon, and most of the troopers climbed out of their cover.
INCOMING