“No offense,” Thor replied. “Next time I’ll camp us in a bog.” His tone made it obvious he wasn’t very bothered. He took a crouch near the middle, rifle cradled in his arms, and prepared to sit patiently. The rest rolled over to face outward, weapons inside their bags with them, and blanked their helmet visors against impending light. There was no way to make the wet go away.
Thor sat still in the rain, hunkered under his poncho. Periodically he’d turn to take in the perimeter, after which he’d take a slightly different position facing a different direction at random. He kept the images from the bots in his view, with his sensors set to alert him if anything large moved. He had one tense moment as a pair of fat beetles waddled by, but was undisturbed otherwise.
Two hours later, Bell Toll awoke and crawled out to relieve him.
“How was sunrise?” he asked in a whisper.
“Couldn’t see much, sir,” Thor replied. “Gray, then misty, then this,” he said with a gesture that was almost a wave but only about a handsbreadth wide. “Rain stopped about an hour ago.”
“Good. I hope,” Bell Toll said. “It’s going to be hot and muggy.” He looked around at the soft textures of lingering mist, trailing into wisps that split and wove wraithlike through the trees. “But we should dry as we get inland from these coastal swamps a bit. G’night, Thor. I relieve you.”
“G’night, sir.” Thor crawled over to the vacant spot he’d prepared earlier and rolled out to sleep.
The day passed fitfully, sleep aided by training and exhaustion, hindered by the itching damp, the bugs, the still, humid air, the bright light softened only slightly by foliage and atmosphere, and gravity different from those the bodies had grown used to. Still, it was rest, and if today was unsatisfying, perhaps the next would be better, with acclimatization and more arduous labor to drain them. Or perhaps they’d be dead. The philosophy of the soldier is one based on adaptation to the unpleasant.
Tirdal’s shift was as boring as the others, but Dagger watched him surreptitiously. Dagger still didn’t trust the Elf, even if the others had accepted him. He held still and Tirdal gave no sign of knowing he was awake, though if he could sense as they said, he probably did.
They all woke at dusk, Ferret on the last watch already up and ready.
“You know the drill, folks,” Shiva said. “Strike camp. Hygiene and prepare to march.” Everyone used the slit, filling it in as they went, and Thor, last, tossed the saved sod back atop it, flattening it out with his heel. Bathing being out of the question, a quick wipe with spongy pads laden with activated nanos served to wipe grit from eyes and kill bacteria. Tirdal scurried around, scuffing and brushing at grass and bushes, until the very people who’d slept on an area couldn’t see a worn spot. He also found three tiny slivers of plastic left from rat packs. There was grudging admiration for his work. “How’d you do that?” Thor asked.
“It’s a Sense,” Tirdal replied. “The plants don’t have emotion, but they have a… ‘normalness.’ I move them around until they seem most normal. That’s the best I can describe it in English. It only works when very close.”
“However it’s described, it works,” Shiva commented. Even Dagger nodded appreciatively. The clearing looked untouched.
The trash stowed and a final check made they moved out, Gorilla’s bots leading the way. Their power packs would be good for at least a couple of weeks, and they could recharge somewhat in daylight, using nano-sized thermocouples under their outer shells.
This night was much like the last, except that it was not raining and gradually dried out. The suits stuck to bodies, causing itching until the moisture capillaried out and evaporated. The permeability could be adjusted, but it still took time for moisture to vent. Heads itched under the web harnesses of helmets. The ground was drying as they rose from the coastal wetlands. The squelching goo had become sticky mud, now hard-packed earth.
They’d only been hiking about an hour when Tirdal spoke urgently through his microphone, “Ferret, drop now!”
Ferret’s reflexes were good. He threw himself flat among stalky weeds as a large animal leapt through the space he’d occupied. He rolled and fired, missing, the weeds crackling and breaking as he tumbled. The creature dug in as it landed, spun and charged. Tirdal’s shot was wide, the hollow poounk! of the punch gun resonating as the beam shattered plant stems. Then Gun Doll’s autocannon spoke with a BRAAAPPP! that shook the ears even with its muffling. The heavy, hypervelocity needles tore at the insect, then their antimatter cores, just a spare few micrograms, blew it to slimy chunks.
The troops were professionals. The rest were already in a perimeter, covering each other and prepared to fire.
“Report!” Bell Toll snapped.
“I sensed a sole predator form,” Tirdal said. “I warned Ferret, who evaded it and appears unhurt. Gun Doll’s fire killed it. No other senses, no immediate threats that I can tell.”
“Understood. Stand to until we make sure we’re still secure,” the commander ordered. The weapons weren’t as loud as chemically driven weapons or explosives, but were loud and alien enough in this environment. Hopefully, either nothing had been around to hear, or the growth had muffled it down to distant thunder or other natural noises.
For long minutes they were all but motionless, eyes and sensors alert for any hint of a threat.
“I call secure,” Bell Toll finally said. “Bring in the perimeter. The shot appeared strange, let’s review the video.”
He scrolled through frames of the fight as seen on Tirdal’s and Gun Doll’s helmets until he found those he sought.
“There,” he said. “The darts didn’t penetrate the carapace. The antimatter did all the damage.” The frames showed gouges left by the projectiles, their velocity too high for them to be captured on this equipment. It wasn’t until one of the explosive rounds caught the shell that the creature had really been damaged.
“That’s impossible,” Dagger said. “I want a shot at a piece of that.”
“Actually, Dagger,” Shiva put in, “that’s a good idea. We better see how the weapons handle it. Keep a perimeter, folks.”
A plate-sized section of the carapace, still dripping with yellow insect goo, was placed against the base of a tree.
“Punch gun first,” Shiva decided. “Tirdal, give it a try.”
Tirdal nodded, aimed and fired. The poounk! of his weapon was followed by a clatter, and the section of exoskeleton jumped. It spun, landed flat and kicked up earth. Gun Doll walked over, held it up.
“Nothing,” she said. She replaced it against the roots. That was impressive. The energy toroid from a punch gun would drive a hole through most material, to a depth of several meters. It was a great area-effect and antipersonnel weapon. Apparently, its blast was too diffuse for this.
Thor’s rifle round, a standard one with no antimatter, ricocheted. So did Dagger’s more potent round. His antiarmor round punched through. Gun Doll fired another short burst of just AP. Then another. After twenty rounds, she succeeded in smashing through. Shiva fired an antimatter round set to zero penetration, and the explosion tore the piece to shreds as it if were cooked crab shell.
“Interesting,” he mused, examining a scorched, steaming fragment. “It looks like we need to set for surface detonation.”
“What about the punch guns?” Bell Toll asked. “Any ideas?”
“I guess we hope for a trauma effect or a stun,” Ferret said.
“Just keep in mind that a surface shot on a larger animal might not damage any vital organs,” Shiva said. “Hell, we don’t even know where their organs are, assuming they have any in the first place. So be very cautious.”