The drills paid off as Zarrella and Kimbo led their respective companies into the bush and began to set up defensive positions. Santana followed Bravo Company, being closest to it as the evolution began, and watched approvingly as Kimbo built his defenses around Sergeant Marlo Lopez and her considerable weaponry.
There was a potential problem, however, and that was the screen of interlocking foliage directly overhead. It would help hide the quad from the air-but it would prevent her from firing her surface-to-air missiles as well since many of the branches were large enough to block the missiles, knock them off course, or cause them to detonate prematurely. The T-2s could use their energy cannons to create an opening, of course. Which to choose? Having given the matter some thought, Santana chose concealment over offensive capability and informed Zarrella and Ryley of his decision. That meant there was even more riding on the electronic decoy.
Kimbo and his people were busy digging defensive fighting positions by then. The pits would offer Bravo Company some protection in the case of either an air or ground attack. Rather than stand around and watch, Santana jumped to the ground and made his way over to where a squad was hard at work. “Can someone lend me a shovel? I could use some exercise.” A corporal grinned, gave Santana an excavating tool, and went to work beside him.
Dietrich tried to remember if he’d seen another officer do something similar, couldn’t, and dropped to the ground. That’s the problem with war, the noncom thought to himself. There’s too much digging.
As the battalion dug in, Ponco weaved her way through the sun-splashed treetops, heading south as quickly as she could. The drone was still visible on her sensors though still too far away to see with a vid cam. And based on the precise nature of the aircraft’s movements-it appeared that a very methodical bug was piloting it. Ponco could imagine the Ramanthian, sitting in front of a console hundreds of miles away, guiding the airborne robot through a standard search grid.
Her job was to trick the bastard. And to do that, the recon ball would need to use some finesse. That meant letting the chit discover the bogus battalion rather than simply plopping the decoy down and turning it on. Because if what “looked” like a battalion of troops suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the operator would know he was being scammed. So Ponco had to pull up sooner than she would have liked, spiral down to the ground, and drop the decoy onto the forest floor below.
Then it was time to climb and wend her way back toward the battalion before activating the decoy. A steady tone indicated that the unit was operational. That was Ponco’s cue to pause, take cover in the foliage near the top of a tall tree, and wait to see what would happen.
A good ten minutes passed before the silvery drone suddenly broke away from its back-and-forth search pattern to circle the decoy. The robot was visible, but just barely, on high magnification. Ponco would have smiled had she been able to do so. The Ramanthian pilot was excited by then and busy telling his superiors how smart he was. So would they bite? The next fifteen minutes would tell.
Rather than continue to hover, Ponco searched for a spot to perch and found one where a sturdy limb split into two smaller branches. The drone was still circling-and that was a good sign. Because there was no reason for the scout plane to linger unless the Ramanthians were hooked. And it wasn’t long before two fighters appeared out of the south. They circled the area where the decoy was located and began their runs. They came in low, released canisters from under their wings, and accelerated away as the fuel bombs exploded.
A raging red-orange firestorm rolled over the jungle like a wave hitting a beach. Those trees that weren’t incinerated soon began to burn. The flames spread via interlocking branches, and it wasn’t long before an enormous pall of smoke rose to throw a dark shadow over the land.
Ponco’s first reaction was one of jubilation because the ruse had been successful. But that emotion was soon replaced by a growing sense of concern as thousands of birds rose from the foliage round the fire and flapped in every direction. Some were in flocks, others by themselves, all looking for safety.
And that raised a very important question. If thousands of birds had been displaced by the fire, what about animals? Ponco knew that the battalion was supposed to maintain radio silence. But this was important. Very important. So she opened a link and was careful to keep her message brief. “This is Zulu Seven to all units. The bugs went for it, but the fuel bombs they dropped set the forest on fire. Thousands of panicked animals could be headed your way. Over.”
Santana was still in the process of absorbing Ponco’s report when a swarm of small animals poured out of the undergrowth to the south of Bravo Company’s position and surged into the clearing. They made all sorts of noises and scurried in every direction. Some of the soldiers opened fire but stopped when Kimbo shouted at them. “Hold your fire! Save your ammo for the big boys. They’re on their way.”
Kimbo was a local and knew what he was talking about. It was only a matter of seconds before the first velocipods burst out of the underbrush and rushed Bravo Company. The quad’s minigun roared as it sprayed thousands of rounds into the surrounding forest. Many of the charging reptiles were torn apart, along with bushes, trees, and the ground itself, as the hail of bullets struck. But there were hundreds of targets, and some of the fleet-footed velocipods managed to make it through the curtain of lead.
The company’s preparations began to pay off as Kimbo hollered, “Fire!” and the troops on the south side of the defensive circle let loose with crew-served machine guns, grenade launchers, and assault rifles. Santana stood shoulder to shoulder with Dietrich and a burly platoon sergeant as he fired short well-aimed bursts from his carbine.
Santana saw his bullets hit one of the yellow-eyed monsters and felt a stab of fear as it kept on coming. What was it Antov had said? Anything less than a. 50-caliber bullet pisses them off? Something like that. Fortunately, lots of smaller-caliber bullets were effective. The velocipod stumbled and fell nose down. Forward momentum carried it all the way to the edge of Kimbo’s fighting position where he put another bullet into the beast’s head.
Then the earth began to shake as one of the locals yelled, “Here come the crushers!”
“Lopez will engage if necessary,” Kimbo shouted over the company push. “Everyone else will cease fire. Get down and stay down.”
The order didn’t make sense. Not to Santana. And he was about to override Kimbo when lesser trees began to shatter and fall, fearsome screeches were heard, and the first triturator appeared. It was at least twenty feet tall and covered with overlapping sections of loose shell. The protective plates made a wild clattering sound as the behemoth lumbered north. Unlike the carnivorous velocipods, it was an herbivore and entirely focused on escaping to the north.
Now Santana understood why Kimbo had given the orders he had and realized that an off-worlder like Zarrella might make the mistake of opening fire on the crushers. A cloud of dust rose as a herd of the gigantic beasts thundered through the clearing, and Santana made contact with Alpha and Charlie Companies.
A second wave of animals, including a scattering of velocipods, followed. But Bravo Company was ready, and when the exodus finally came to an end, Santana was pleased to learn that with the exception of a fatality in Alpha Company and half a dozen minor injuries, the battalion had emerged unscathed. Not so the forest, however, which continued to burn. There had been casualties-and O-Chi 4 was one of them.
8
Life as a cyborg leaves a lot to be desired, but it sure beats the alternative.