Junkyard War, page 16
Bengal and I crawled to the doorway and opened fire. I opted for the blaster. Our enemies had no armor. They staggered out of the flashbang’s smoke, screaming, and fell.
“Team Beta Two advancing to take the enemy on the stairs.”
In my rear cams, I saw Spy and Maul. They darted out of the nest and into an open doorway. I could feel Spy’s panic. Smell the blood on her fur. Sticky on her paws. “Shining, Sugah,” Jolene said. “Private channel to you. Spy and Maul were inside long enough for their cameras to show that Clarisse Warhammer is wearing some kind of military armor, and so are some of her people. And she has a barricade midway down the hallway. It looks like the same heavy-duty honeycombed hemplaz carbon-fiber composite that the door is composed of.”
“Bloody hell. Someone got intel back to her. Even if it was just last night. How many small rockets or missiles does Mateo have on the Simba?”
“Four SSM antitank missiles that would fit the parameters and goals I perceive you might want addressed, based on the current skirmish as viewed through the armor cams.”
“Copy that,” I grunted, firing my blaster at a new round of enemy fighters. How many people did Warhammer transition?
“Team Beta Two is opening fire.”
Screams echoed from the stairwell and down into the hallway.
I slapped the blaster into a charger and pulled an older model Smith & Wesson nine mil.
“Jolene, ask Mateo if he can get in here in his warbot suit and—”
A second wave of fighters poured out of the nest. Firing up the stairs.
“Pull back! Pull back!” someone shouted.
I emptied a mag into a line of advancing thralls on one end of the hallway. Dropped the mag to the floor and popped in another. Emptied it into the attackers on the other end.
“Good shootin’ Li’l Girl, but fuck dis,” Bengal said. He pressed a place on his armor at his spine and a fully auto machine pistol folded out. I had never seen anything like the weapon. Bengal rammed his blaster into my hand. “Cover our six.” He dropped to one knee, supported his body on the wall, and began to fire up the hallway toward the nest. The sound of Bengal’s weapon was so loud I couldn’t fully dampen it on my helmet speakers.
I dropped flat and began blasting.
Across from us, Jagger and Jacopo laid down fire.
More enemy combatants were coming into my firing zone.
I kicked Bengal’s leg and indicated my direction. His new toy took down a couple of dozen, but he went through ammo faster than the speed of sound. Within seconds after he was out, we were hemmed in again on both sides.
I pulled a grenade from my armor. Depressed the striker lever, pulled the pin. Tossed it into the new crowd. “Frag!” I shouted.
Jagger threw another frag up the hallway toward the nest.
We all ducked back as they exploded, seconds apart. Taking out a dozen more encom in both directions. They stopped advancing. Giving us breathing space. Blood, the wounded, and body parts were everywhere.
There was a fine spray of blood across my armor and face shield. The air was full of blood and smoke. I could smell the stench of battle even through the air filters. Gorge rose. I swallowed it down.
The enemy combatants still on their feet withdrew, dragging their downed compatriots into rooms to either side.
Across the hall, Jacopo was on a knee, blasting pinpoint. Took out two who were still moving.
One woman fired from cover. Jacopo returned fire. She died. Methodically, he took down whoever peered out. Jagger did the same in the other direction.
Mina appeared farther down the hall. Fired toward the stairway near the nest, joining the slow attrition of our enemies.
“Jolene,” I said. “How many more warriors does Warhammer have?”
“Our people took out the cams, Sugah. But from what I can still access, at least fifty more, coming down from the barracks, various directions. And Sugah, they got bigger weapons. As Mateo would say, big-assed weapons. Some of them are not in my databank.”
Bengal changed out magazines. “You a good li’l mofo, ain’t you, baby,” he muttered to the gun.
I got a good look at the weapon and made sure Jolene did also, through my cam.
“Well, well, well,” she said. “Now ain’t that interestin’. Warhammer’s weapons remind me of Bengal’s.”
How did Bengal get a weapon like Warhammer’s?
“Bengal,” I said. “I like your new toy.”
“You see dat, eh?” He grinned at me through his face shield. “I shoot a man when we enterin’. I figger I take he gun since he so rude as to bleed all over it. Ain’t no way to respect a gun.” He held the new weapon out for examination. “Purdy, she is, but a bitch to load.”
“I’m glad you got it,” I said. I hooked Bengal’s blaster to his belt to charge. He tossed me a mag for my nine mil. I replaced the empty in my semiautomatic. “How many of our people are down?” I asked Jolene.
“We’ve lost six, and seven more injured,” she said. “And it looks like what’s left of Team Gamma and Team Beta One are taking off with what goodies they can carry. I’d say running like rats, but they ain’t in lockstep.”
Fifty more coming. Bengal talking to weapons.
“Put me on a dedicated channel to the deserters,” I said. When I heard the click, I said, “Teams Gamma and Beta One. If your presidents knew you were running like dogs, they’d shoot you themselves. If you don’t return to your positions, you will be hunted down by forces still on the surface.” I dropped my tone to a growly pitch and said, “Return to Level One and hold position.”
Someone cursed, but Jolene said, “They’re finding some courage.”
“Good. Ask Mateo if he can get in here in his warbot suit, carrying two small antitank rockets and anything else you two think will clear the hallway leading up to the nest and the hallway on the far side of the blast doors.”
“On it, Sugah.”
In comms, I heard Mateo and Jolene talking. Then I saw the Simba on a screen inside my helmet, from someone’s armor cam. Mateo climbed out of his battle tank like a giant spider. As he sealed the Simba, two of his upper limbs clamped around two rockets.
On open comms, Jolene said, “Teams on the surface. Be aware. The warbot suit is ours. Don’t shit your britches.”
No one laughed.
Another group of thralls entered the hallway from the stairway where I had thrown the frag. This batch used cover to advance, pushing a steel table on its side in front of them. I fired until the new mag was empty. Messed up the table some. Didn’t think I killed any of Warhammer’s people. Snapped the weapon into its slot and pulled the slightly recharged blasters. Wondered what a sustained blast would do to the steel table.
“Get in here, Mateo. Make it fast.” I fired until one blaster died. The table reddened at the contact spot. I clipped it to recharge at high speed. That would damage the battery, but at this point I’d rather be alive even if I destroyed the weapon.
On our dedicated private channel, Jolene said, “CO Mateo is entering the bunker.” She showed me camera view from part of the bunker’s security system as Mateo contracted his lower limbs, compressing his height to a little over two meters. Still, his carapace scraped the ceiling.
“Be advised, backup is on the way inside,” Jolene said over the general channel. “A warbot suit is entering along the highlighted route on your Morphons and face-shield screens. He also has rounds and fresh power sources for your blasters.”
I glanced at the Marconis. They were still firing, but their shots were sporadic. It was clear we were all out of charges and low on ammo.
Jagger met my eyes for a half second. He said, “Pull back until Mateo gets here. Barricades.”
I was down to one half-drained blaster. I handed it to Bengal. There wasn’t much in the small room to use as a barricade, just a cheap plywood desk and a few plastic chairs. Shoving the desk onto its side, I wedged it at the door. Bengal moved behind it, firing with steady, slow precision.
Amos said, “We’re coming in, Shining.”
“I told you not to tell her,” Cupcake said. “She’ll just get mad.”
“But we’re bringing supplies and ammo, Babycakes.”
I actually laughed. “Flashbang!” I shouted. Activated it and tossed it into the hallway. “Don’t get dead,” I said to Amos and Cupcake. The flashbang went off.
“Who is in position to see into the nest?” I asked on the general channel as Bengal began to reload one of the extended magazines by hand. He’d emptied all he had into the enemy.
Wingding said, “Demetrius, get a look.”
“I spy with my little eye, fourteen enemy combatants in the Admin Suite, all in armor,” Demetrius replied. “Twelve more in street clothes still standing. And an armored barricade.”
“Team Delta on the way,” someone said, “bringing ammo and reinforcements to the teams at the nest, but it’s gonna take a while. We’re having to clear the hallway of rats, both four legged and two legged.”
“Copy that,” I said.
From the nest, three armored warriors exited, firing. Bengal and I ducked back inside. He slammed the loaded mag home in his borrowed weapon.
“How about you empty that beauty at the armored people up the hall?” I said. “Make some racket. I’m going through.” I pointed at the wall to the next room.
“I’m on it, Li’l Girl.”
True to his word, he began to fire over the cheap plywood barricade.
I extended the tiny jigsaw on my tool glove and cut through the wall into the next room. It was empty, an office like the one we were in. I crawled to the far wall and made another hole, this one tiny, only big enough to get a cam in. The noise of shooting from inside hid the noise of the saw.
On the other side were three standing humans and a dozen or more dying. I widened the hole enough to fire through. Had just enough charge in my blaster. As the others fired into the hall, I killed them, one after the other. When they were down, I made my hole bigger and crawled through. Everyone was dead. I gathered all the weapons, mags, and ammo I could, passed them through the hole, and pulled a table over to block it. I backed into the room where Bengal still fired, and pulled a table on its side over that hole too. It wouldn’t protect us if someone bothered to look, but in a pitched battle, it wasn’t likely they would take the time. I gave Bengal three mags for his new weapon, each with some rounds left. He grinned at me like a rich kid on Christmas.
“Mateo?” I asked. “ETA?”
“He’s coming down the steps, Sugah,” Jolene said. “Amos, Cupcake, and backup warriors from the surface are clearing a corridor on Level Two. All of them have picked up some goodies on the way and are handing them out like beads at Mardi Gras.”
Goodies. Weapons. Got it.
On a vest-cam screen, I saw Cupcake mowing down enemy fighters. Jolene accessed another cam and showed me Mateo’s longer limbs telescoped up inside, dropping his height so he’d fit into the human-sized stairwell. All around him were dead rats and happy humans, our people changing out ammo and weapons Mateo had lifted off the fighters he’d killed.
Mateo said, “Am in position to fire a rocket into the nest on three. Then in twelve seconds, down the hallway. One.”
“Get down,” Jolene said. “As Bengal said, fire in the hole.”
“Two.”
We all dropped.
“Three.”
The boom shook the walls and floor. Shrapnel flew. Dust and smoke filled the corridor.
My head felt the concussive wave from the nest as if I’d climbed a mountain in seconds. I started to get to my feet, and Bengal laid an arm over my back. In moments there was a second boom, this one much closer. I’m pretty sure I screamed.
Bengal and I struggled to our feet. I worked my jaw, trying to pop my ears.
The world was oddly silent. Muted. Muffled.
Jolene said, “Armored enemy reinforcements are moving down stairways toward the nest. Defensive positions. Make ready to fire.”
Mateo scuttled down our corridor, pausing at each doorway, dropping off weapons from the dead along with their unused ammo. He looked at me as he dropped two fully charged blasters into my hand and released a bag of ammo to the floor. Maarsies flew around his head.
“Various calibers,” he said, “though I see you have some of the new stuff. I’ll clear your six again and come back. We can take the nest together.”
The warbot lumbered on down the hall. When he reached the end, one of his three short limbs produced a gun barrel and initiated sustained fire for two seconds. Then he trundled partway up the stairs, firing short bursts. There was another massive boom. Mateo tumbled back down the stairs, cursing.
The smoke cleared.
He was missing an arm, wires and cable and bits of metal sticking out of the carapace. Cursing, he opened sustained fire again. “I’ll hold them here. Get Warhammer,” he said. “Jolene. Take over the Maarsies.”
At either end of the hallway, among the dead enemy, I saw Bengal’s unarmored people dead on the floor. My unarmored people. Bloody damn. I should have brought more armor.
We raced, crouched, weapons ready, toward the nest.
Three armored enemy combatants appeared at the nest doorway, crouched, partially hidden behind the bodies of their own people.
I fired, but they didn’t go down. From the doorway, more warriors emerged. Our team separated again, seeking cover, and entered doors to either side of the hallway. “Jacopo?” I asked. “There have to be weak points on the armor. Can you hit them?”
Softly, Jacopo said, “Yeehaw, motherfuckers.” He stepped into the hall. Extended two weapons in front of him. He fired combustion weapons aimed mid-waist, so fast I couldn’t follow his motions. He got lucky, and one of the three armored enemy went down. The others ducked back.
Spy and Maul raced along the hallway with the last batch of Maarsies above them. The cats leaped over the pile of bodies and into the nest. The Maarsies flew along their trail.
Bengal, Jacopo, Jagger, and I raced after. Firing. I caught a glimpse of Mina splayed out on the floor a meter inside the room she had entered. After we passed, my brain registered what I’d seen. She was alive, but her armor had begun med-procedures, pneumatic compression on both legs. She was holding a weapon pointed at the door. She looked pissed. She also looked ready to fire.
The cats and the Maarsies had disappeared.
The two enemy warriors reappeared, firing, this time hidden behind the pile of bodies.
Right-handed, I drew a new forty-four that Mateo had just gifted me and returned fire. Jagger, Jacopo, and I advanced on the enemy warriors. Bengal covered our six and fired down the hall. But we had to duck back into the rooms to the sides. We’d all taken hits. We couldn’t keep this up.
I said, “To all backup teams currently making way to the nest doors, be advised that we are under attack from armored warriors. What is your ETA?”
“Team Gamma on the stairs at the far end of the hallway from your current twenty,” Wingding said. “Attention warbot. Mixed teams entering the engagement arena. Don’t shoot what’s left of us.” A moment later she added, “Warbot and Mixed Gamma Beta are engaging the enemy. Hot damn!”
Gunshots sounded. Full automatic weapons fire.
“Team Beta Two is coming down the stairs nearest the nest.”
Jacopo caught a second lucky shot and took down another armored enemy. Then a third.
Okay. Skill. Not luck.
“Good shootin’, kid,” Bengal said. “Outta my way. I’m going in.”
Bengal engaged his recoil-anti-recoil and leaped over the pile of bodies.
His suit jerked in midair. A piece blew past me. Blood, bone, and shrapnel smacked my right side.
Jagger caught Bengal’s body as he fell. He pressed the armor buttons to compress the stump where Bengal’s arm had been. Handed him to a made-man with Sabbath patches. Jagger shouted, “Take Bengal and Mina to a med-bay.”
Fury whipped into me. They had hurt Bengal. I picked up the weapon he had taken from a dead man and leaped over the pile of bodies. Firing. Controlled bursts. Smoke and debris and body parts were everywhere from Mateo’s rocket.
A twisted length of steel had ricocheted. Dropped from overhead to a stop in the nest. The last of the blast dust peppered down.
Jagger entered the nest on my six and took a position to my side and back ten feet.
Down the hall, near the twisted steel, I caught a flash of motion. My flesh buzzed with reaction before I even processed what I was seeing.
Clarisse Warhammer.
Armored. With a curved combat blast shield in one hand.
I glared into her weird orange eyes. “You killed Harlan,” I said. “You killed my friend.”
Her teeth bared. She raced at me. Screaming. “I will take you. You are mine.”
I felt her attack in my bones.
Standing in a doorway, I fired, full auto, the weapon heating up. The mag emptied. Faster than any human, I dropped the gun on its strap and threw a frag. Caught the gun, replaced the mag, and fired full auto again.
My overheated gun jammed.
Clarisse ducked into a side room.
I turned the weapon off and worked the manual lever, trying to clear it, but I didn’t know the specs of the bloody thing. I banged it against the door jamb. I paused long enough to initiate my suit’s clean function, removing blood and other crap from my face shield.
I maneuvered so I could see Warhammer’s previous position through a crack in the door. Her angle of fire was too sharp to do me much damage. I had a sec or two.
Figuring it was useless to me now anyway, I banged the gun again. The shrapnel from the frags was still settling.
As I worked, hands and fingers flying, Warhammer stepped back into the hallway. Shouted through her amplified suit speakers. “I will own you!”
She tapped her Dragon Scale armor off one hand. Tucked the sleeve into her utility belt. Reached out her fingers and scraped them across the length of twisted steel, hard enough to bleed. The blood meant she intended to transition me. “I will take your soul. I will give you to my men. I’ll tie you down and cut you. I’ll rip you apart—”
