Old Guard Bolos Book #5

Seven

Three steps, turn, back three, turn.

At one point he discovered he was pacing in time with the whooping of the alarm and had forced himself to stop for a moment.

Then he was back up pacing again.

The last hour had been one of the longest hours of his life. He just wished he and Ziggy were already on the planet, fighting beside his friends and classmates. Even as afraid as he was of facing the unknown future, in battle as he had been trained, side-by-side with Ziggy, was a lot better than being alone in a small cabin listening to an alarm sound.

It seemed that his and Ziggy's path to the fight was doomed to be a bumpy one. From his getting sick and Ziggy's late birth, to this. One day's difference between being in the fight and sitting here, in space, waiting for the outcome.

One day of good luck. Or bad luck. Sometimes there was no telling which it was.

He paced for a few more minutes, then said aloud, "To hell with the regulations."

He snapped open his door and strode down the corridor for the cargo bay. Around him the general quarters alarm still sounded, but now he ignored it. He was going to be with his Bolo and he didn't care what kind of trouble that got him in.

* * *

First, off in space, undetected, the Tasmanian accelerated toward the planet, leaving its safe position. After a quick burn to insert itself into the right position and speed, it shut down its engines, battle screens, and radios. Kiel knew that it would be "running silent" as the old submariners used to say. Kiel hoped that in the confusion of battle it would avoid detection until the last possible instant.

Kiel then turned his attention to a position off the shore of the southern continent. At that moment the DDF forces submarine Sea Scorpion surfaced.

"Sea Scorpion is elevating its Hellbores now," a tech in front of the big command board reported.

Kiel glanced at the time. Perfect. In short order the sub's 90cm Hellbore would be aimed toward the Kezdai fleet. It would only be able to take a few shots before diving to avoid return fire, but it was ready to join the massed bombardment. And at this point every shot counted.

On the big map Kiel could see that that advancing Kezdai forces were encountering strong resistance from conventional forces in the foothills. Several of the Kezdai mobile gun platforms had been destroyed in what amounted to suicide attacks by DDF conventional armor.

"Your men are fighting a good fight," Kiel said to General Rokoyan.

"It is our planet to defend," Rokoyan said. "Our families and homes. We will do what we must."

On the big map, Kiel could see that Kal and three other Mark XXXs were nearing the outskirts of the city of Starveil. Or more accurately, what was left of the city. More than likely there was nothing there now but a field of rubble.

The Mark XXXIV Bolos still had their Hellrails pointed at the sky, pounding at the enemy fleet. But now, slowly, many of the Bolos were moving the aim closer and closer to one point directly over Starveil.

Kiel studied the map, saw every detail, and made no changes. At this point there was little left for him to do but sit, watch, and wait. Now it was up to the brave men and women in the field to win the battle.

"General," a tech said, "there's another problem."

"Those are not words I wanted to hear," Kiel said. "What is it?"

"I've confirmation of a large ship emerging from subspace," the tech said, "possibly a dreadnought."

"Damn," Kiel said.

"I have no information that the Kezdai have a ship of this size," General Rokoyan said. "Are you sure?"

The tech nodded. "I am, General. And it seems to be equipped with some kind of sensor refraction field that returns multiple targets."

"Damn, damn, damn," Kiel said. This was far worse. Firing now was going to be like trying shoot through a kaleidoscope, but it was far too late to call off the operation. The Tasmanian's orbit was their ticking clock. And there was no stopping that clock.

"The Kezdai must have been keeping this thing in reserve," Rokoyan said. "Is the Kezdai commander sensing that their advance is slowing? Or is this just the first of many ships of this size?"

"They could have a thousand of those things on the other side of the jump point," Kiel said, "but I'm betting this is one of a kind."

"I hope you're right on this one," Rokoyan said.

"I am," Kiel said. "We've seen their hand now. This is the point where we see what we're made of. And I have a sneaking hunch they've played their hand just a little too soon."

* * *

The Tasmanian lanced into the atmosphere, battle-screens suddenly active as it blazed in reentry.

It passed below the Kezdai fleet with all its gun turrets blazing.

Alien ship after alien ship took damage from the sneak attack. Many turned their attention away from the ground to try to counter the streaking Tasmanian.

At that moment, from below, concentrated fire punched at the center of the Kezdai fleet, from the Mark XXXIVs, from the Sea Scorpion. All the focus of the intense firepower was aimed at the Kezdai ships over Starveil.

Slowly the rain of spears from above stopped as the Kezdai fleet struggled to reorganize. It would only take them a few minutes to regroup, but by then the Tasmanian was out of range and moving away quickly.

By then the Sea Scorpion had gone back under water.

And those few minutes were all the Bolos on the ground needed.

* * *

But it was exactly what the ground forces needed. At once the battle turned. Shiva, formerly a target, was suddenly an island of fire, as its once attackers tried to retreat.

But Veck knew that there was no retreat for the Kezdai caught in this trap. Ringed in from the hills, they had no place to go, and no place to hide from the rampaging Bolos. For a few glorious minutes on the savannah, it was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Veck loved it, had never felt so powerful in all his life.

The battle had been turned. The Kezdai were being driven back, their advance broken.

"Incoming call from General Kiel," Rover said.

"On the main screen," Veck said.

"Looks like we did it," Veck said as the general's face appeared. But the general wasn't smiling.

"For the moment the Kezdai fleet is scattering," Kiel said, "and their ground forces are retreating. But a dreadnought is coming to take the fleet's place while it regroups."

"Damn," Veck said. He turned away from the general. "Order all Bolos to raise their Hellrails and prepare to fire."

"You're going to have trouble," Kiel said. "The aliens have a scramble of some sort."

"Understood, General," Veck said. "We'll deal with it."

He cut the general off, but then saw on the targeting scope exactly what Kiel had been trying to warn him about. There wasn't just one target, but a dozen ghostly targets of the dreadnought, any one of which could be the real target.

But he had more than one Hellrail, he had twenty at his command.

"All Bolos coordinate your shots," he ordered. "Each take a shadow target and fire in unison. One shot has to hit."

"No!" Rover said. "That order will not be carried out."

* * *

Intentionally or not, the enemy dreadnought is in the same line of fire as the approaching convoy. If we open fire on the sensor echoes, by definition most of our Hellrail pulses will miss, and not being ranged weapons, will continue on until they disperse, or until they strike another target. It is not clear that my Commander is aware of this, despite my repeated efforts to notify him. 

The situation is desperate, but my Commander cannot be allowed to act without full information. It has been 69.456 minutes since I filed the form 10354/87-3A, and I have no response. While waiting for my Commander's response to my declining of his order, I file an emergency request to headquarters for priority processing. 

* * *

He was about to demand an explanation, when on his main screen he saw the shadows of the dreadnought open fire on the retreating Tasmanian. The transport didn't stand a chance. It was blown into a cloud of debris.

Veck smashed his fist on the panel. "Now look what you've done!" he shouted at Rover. "The Tasmanian was the pride of the regiment. Now it's gone, and it's all your fault, you insubordinate machine."

Desperate, Veck knew exactly what he had to do. He slammed his head back in to the crash couch and activated the neural link. If the machine wouldn't take a direct verbal command, he'd take over the machine in another way. If he didn't do something quickly, men were going to die.

* * *

We reel from the shock of joining of purpose and logic, of neurons with superconducting circuits. The biological portion of I/we is filled with rage and single-minded intensity. The enemy must be destroyed. 

The way is given. 

The command is given. 

Overwhelmed, the cybernetic portion of I/we responds with speed and efficiency, even as it communicates the reason I/we must not act. 

Slowly, the biological elements of I/we comprehend.

So slowly. 

Even as the cybernetic command goes out to our brothers. In unison the Hellrails spit plasma fire.

The comprehension is total. 

I/we understand what we have done. 

At cybernetic speeds we can watch the bolts in their courses, but are powerless to call them back. 

As one we scream. 

* * *

Around him the ship was jolted, then under him the deck buckled, and conduits exploded throwing shrapnel everywhere.

Orren hit the deck, stunned, his mind trying to grasp exactly what was going on, but clearly not able to.

Alarms sounded even louder than before around him.

An automated voice called for "abandon ship."

Abandon ship? How could he leave the ship? Ziggy was here. He had to get to Ziggy.

Though a nearby port he could see another ship gutted like a fish, vomiting fire.

He tried to stand. He had to get to Ziggy. But his legs didn't want to work right.

Through the haze in his brain he reached down and felt blood on his legs.

That didn't matter. He was close to the cargo hold. He would crawl to Ziggy.

Then suddenly a figure loomed over him. A rough figure with an angry face.

"You got to learn to follow orders, Lieutenant," Blonk said right in Orren's face, his voice punching over the noise of the alarms and the ship breaking apart.

"Got to get to Ziggy."

"Trust the Bolo," Blonk said. "It can take care of itself. Right now you're the problem here."

Blonk lifted Orren and without so much as a groan staggered toward an escape pod.

Escape pods were little things, more like a coffin than a spaceship. And just big enough for one customer per pod.

Blonk threw Orren inside one and leaned in. "Just one pod, lad, the rest are scrap. That alarms means the reactor's going to blow any second now."

Blonk stepped back and started to close the door. Then almost as an afterthought he leaned back in. "You get down there, kid, you make sure I get a damned big medal, the biggest they got."

Orren raised his arm in a feeble attempt to salute Blonk.

Master Sergeant Blonk smiled and stepped back. The hatch sealed to the escape pod and the pod autoejected, the force sending Orren into unconsciousness.

A moment later the entire cargo pod was blasted free of the freighter as the forward third of the Cannon Beach crumpled under the wave of energy rushing up from Delas, exploding as its engines reacted to the wall of raging force sweeping over the ship.

* * *

Around the planet much of the Kezdai fleet followed the wounded big ship, covering its retreat.

On the ground, the Kezdai forces regrouped and solidified their lines well south of Starveil.

The day had been won, but the cost was great.

Kiel stood, staring at the remains of the battle. War always cost lives. But some wars, some battles just seemed to cost a little more. This was one of those.

And before it could happen again, before the Kezdai could regroup again, he was going to drive them from this planet if it was the last thing he and his Bolos did.

* * *

Through Bolo optical sensors a thousand times more sensitive than the human eye we watch the sky, stars eclipsed by man-made stars, the wreckage of Kezdai ships, and of our own convoy. The damage reports come in, verifying what our sensors already tell us. Six ships damaged, one heavily, two lost, including the Cannon Beach.

We know what we have done. We have destroyed our brother Bolo. 

We have killed our friend.

We have killed our own, not out of necessity, but of oversight, carelessness, confusion. 

We watch as an especially bright shooting star arcs through the sky, some piece of the Cannon Beach. We watch it fall. 

Our clarity is finally, finally, total. 

Make it stop. 

Section Two:

[exclamdown]