Chapter 3: Ant Hill

“Good, you’ve arrived,” Vos said as he gestured for Fielding to enter the conference room. In the center of its polished floor was an oval-shaped table, a mass of wiring and projectors hanging above it like some kind of twisted, mechanical chandelier. A dozen shimmering, translucent figures stood around it, holographic representations of other captains from the fleet. The room was darker than might be comfortable to give them more presence, but the wavering projections helped to illuminate it.

Fielding made his way over to stand beside the admiral, noticing a few outliers among the white uniforms. One of them was a man wearing black combat armor, the rolled-up sleeves of his pressure suit exposing his prosthetic arms. His face was scarcely recognizable as human due to all the scar tissue, the details blurring together thanks to the fuzzy resolution of his hologram, and his eyes were missing – replaced with lens-like implants.

Another was a towering Polar, a Borealan covered in a coat of fluffy, white fur. She was wearing a standard Naval uniform, a blue jumpsuit that she was practically spilling out of. Polars were portly creatures with a layer of insulating blubber that helped them survive in the frigid climate of their home territory. That silky, white fur was poking out of her collar and her cuffs, patterned with round markings that reminded Fielding of the stains left by coffee cups. Pinned to her considerable bosom was a shining ID card, and he immediately recognized her as UNNI – Naval Intelligence.

There was also a Jarilan, the insectoid creature standing almost as tall as the Polar beside her. She was taller and lankier than the Drones that Fielding had seen, like one of them had been stretched out from five feet to seven. She had the same ornate horn, the fluffy collar, and the oddly mammalian eyes. After a moment, he recognized her. He had seen this creature before, when she had been on the line with Vos in the observation deck. She was the captain of the Jarilan flotilla, or whatever their equivalent of a captain was. He noted that she had something trailing from her back, like thick, organic cables that were attached to points on her spine. They were connected to something out of view, not captured by the hologram’s field.

The final outliers were a handful of Valbarans who all seemed to be sharing the same projector, a couple of them standing just out of its reach, cut off at the edges.

Fielding slid in beside Vos, who waved a gloved hand to produce a three-dimensional map of Kerguela that hovered above the center of the table. He manipulated it, zooming in until the image was practically flat, showing a patch of the endless forests. Something rose up above the canopy, its height hard to make out from the top-down perspective, but the object was casting a long shadow.

“Thanks to the efforts of our UNNI analysts and our SWAR teams on the ground,” Vos began as he nodded to each of their representatives in turn. “We’ve been able to track the movements of the Red King as it made its way through the red zone. If you’d like to elaborate, Agent Lorza,” he added as he gestured to the Polar.

“Admiral,” she replied with a nod. Her rolling accent sounded vaguely Eastern-European to Fielding. “As you know, we’ve been poring over the data gathered by the ground teams to establish a pattern of behavior. So far, the Kings have been staying mobile to avoid detection, responding to our attacks on their critical infrastructure with a high degree of predictability. It has allowed us to flush out and kill three VIPs so far. The Red King, however, has diverged from that pattern of behavior.”

She waved a clawed hand, drawing a red trail through the trees, looping and twisting across kilometers of territory.

“The target appears to have abandoned any further attempts to ambush Coalition forces and defend strategic locations, and has taken a very deliberate path towards this rock formation. We relayed the information to Lieutenant Brenner and his teams,” she added as she turned to the eyeless SWAR operative.

“Our advance recon teams tracked the target’s entourage through the forest,” Brenner began, clasping his mechanical hands behind his back. “They avoided engaging the enemy forces and observed their movements, which were deliberately erratic, but they couldn’t throw my people off the scent. The Bugs know we have the capability to observe them by now. We couldn’t get too close, as there was a lot of enemy activity in the region, but the intelligence that we were able to gather suggests that the Bugs are fortifying an area roughly the size of Virginia. It’s a circle with a radius of about two hundred klicks – over a hundred thousand square kilometers – and that formation is right in the middle of that circle.”

“Orbital scans of the formation have revealed that it’s a volcanic mesa,” Vos continued, addressing the circle of captains. “It’s a mound of sedimentary rock that was pushed up out of the forest floor by volcanic activity hundreds of thousands of years ago. It has an outer shell of basalt and granite that’s been exposed by erosion, along with an inner layer of softer rock that makes it perfect for tunneling.” Another wave of his hand displayed a wireframe model of the formation, what looked like a free-standing mountain with a flat, table-like top. “This thing is fifteen hundred meters tall, and about halfway up, the sloping sides transition into completely vertical rock faces that make them impossible for infantry to scale. Everything about this mesa suggests that the Bugs have converted it into a fortress.”

“The height would allow them to get a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding forest and to potentially fire down on any approaching enemies,” Brenner continued as his camera-eyes swept around the table. “Coupled with any fortifications that they’ve been able to construct in the surrounding region, this is a place they really don’t want anyone reaching. It’s safe to assume that they have air defense systems active in the area, too.”

“The fact that the Red King is retreating to this location suggests that it is of the utmost strategic importance,” Lorza added. “None of the other Kings have exhibited this kind of behavior, even when cornered. UNNI has reason to believe that this may be the location of the hive’s Queen.”

A murmur passed around the table, the captains exchanging surprised glances.

“The Queen is on the ropes,” Vos said, commanding the room’s attention. “She knows we’re coming for her, and she’s pulling any nearby forces back to a more defensible position. I suspect that many more of the Kings would have moved to support her if we hadn’t shut down their global comms network. Red is the only one she can still talk to.”

“The Bugs aren’t stupid,” Brenner added, leaning on a surface that wasn’t being picked up by the hologram. “They know that we’re watching them, and they have a pretty solid idea of our capabilities by now. They wouldn’t play their hand like this if they weren’t expecting the rest of the table to fold. This target is too juicy to pass up, but it’s going to be a costly fight. We’re going to have to spring their trap if we want a shot at the Queen.”

“How many resources can we dedicate to the task?” Fielding asked. “Do we have any idea of the enemy’s strength?”

“We estimate as many as two million Betelgeusians, as well as whatever the Red King has brought back with him,” Lorza replied. “That’s just a rough estimate based on the fifteen million number we got from known metrics about Betelgeusian reproduction, divided by the number of zones and the troop distribution we’ve seen within them. Not all of those will be Drones and other combat castes, but it’s reasonable to expect that they’ll be skewed in that direction due to the circumstances.”

“We can’t pull out of the remaining zones, not without losing some of the gains we’ve made,” Vos added as he brought up a list of ships in the fleet. “Ongoing ground operations require most of our carrier groups to remain where they are. I’m comfortable committing twelve CSGs to the assault. That’s why you’re all here,” he added with a smile. “Between us, we can bring a force of 1,080 aircraft, 2,700 vehicles, and 174,000 troops to bear. We’ll be outnumbered ten to one, but when has that ever not been the case?”

“The Consensus can lend three of our Landfall troop carriers to the operation,” one of the Valbarans added, the high pitch of her voice making her immediately recognizable. “Each carrier can deploy 6,000 Commandos to the surface.”

“That brings us up to 192,000 personnel,” Vos replied, giving her a grateful nod.

“We would be remiss not to have our people participate in this operation,” the alien added, a flutter of red passing through her feathery headdress. “The Queen has the blood of millions of Valbara’nay on her hands.”

“The Constancy will support you in your efforts,” the Jarilan captain said, her unremarkable voice contrasting sharply with her insectoid appearance. “You will need Jarilan help if you are to navigate the enemy’s defenses and penetrate the hive.”

“This isn’t our first rodeo,” Brenner added, glancing across the table at the Jarilan. “We’ve burnt out roaches before.”

“Your help will be appreciated,” Vos added, overruling the surly cyborg. “Your Drone detachments have been invaluable so far.”

“Do we have a plan yet, Admiral?” another of the captains asked in a soft-spoken voice. Her uniform was notably different from those of her fellow captains, the woman sporting a colorful sari with gold trim, a traditional Indian garment. Like her counterparts, her breast was decorated with service ribbons and medals. Fielding recognized her as Captain Varma of the UNN Saragarhi.

Vos manipulated the holographic display again, shifting to an overhead perspective of the region, the mesa at its center.

“The first stage of the attack will require us to clear out as much of the area as possible,” he said, a red overlay appearing over the forest. “We need to destroy enemy fortifications, eliminate as many of their forces as we can, and any trees we can get rid of in the process will only make the operation easier. Leaves the critters fewer places to hide. What we’re proposing is an alpha strike – using orbital and air assets to level the forest surrounding the mesa.”

“That’s more like it,” Brenner chuckled, but a few of the captains in attendance exchanged concerned looks. The Valbarans seemed especially distressed, flashes of purple passing through their feathers as they engaged in a rapid-fire discussion in their own chirping language.

“I understand that turning the planets we’re supposed to be capturing into parking lots isn’t the best way to go about things,” Vos continued. “In this case, we believe that the strategic importance of the target warrants such a response. I’ve been on the horn to the admiralty, the Coalition Security Council, and the Consensus,” he said with a glance at the Valbarans. “They’ve given me permission to establish a two-hundred-kilometer exclusion zone around the mesa. Valbaran ecologists who are familiar with Kerguela’s ecosystem have assured us that the area will recover in around eighty years. Maybe a little faster, with some help.”

“If that is what the Consensus has decided, then so be it,” one of the Valbarans conceded.

“The Queen is likely dug in deep below the mesa,” Agent Lorza added. “The alpha strike can’t penetrate that basalt, not without doing more lasting damage to the moon’s environment and collapsing all of the tunnels near the surface. The only way to reach the Queen is to penetrate the hive on foot.”

“That’s where the next stage comes in,” Vos said, a wave of his hand producing a series of flashing icons just beyond the area marked for destruction. “You’ll direct your assault carriers to land their armored battalions and secure beachheads where more of our forces can reach the ground. Once the first wave has secured the landing zones, the second wave can start moving deeper into enemy territory with air and artillery support, taking out strategic targets as they advance towards the mesa. Captain, I believe you have something to add here?” he said as he looked to the lanky Jarilan.

“Indeed,” she replied, clasping both pairs of hands in front of her. “Our Workers have been studying captured radio equipment that was recovered from the surface. We have reverse-engineered the technology and have determined how the Betelgeusians have been able to negate the interference produced by the moon’s magnetosphere. It should allow us to track the positions of any transmitters on the ground, as we now know what frequencies and what kind of modulation they’re using to communicate.”

“Excellent,” Vos replied. “The more of their comms we can shut down, the less coordinated their defense will be.”

“This is a perfect opportunity to test our heavy infantry, if you’ll allow us to deploy them,” the Jarilan added with an expectant tilt of her head that made her long antennae bob in the air.

“Heavy infantry?” Brenner asked skeptically.

“Warrior exosuits of Jarilan design,” she explained, turning to the SWAR operative. “Don’t worry, they’re quite safe, as they’re controlled by Jarilan Pilots like myself. We’ve modified them with supplementary weapons and integrated UNN systems, but they retain the survivability and lethality of the Warriors you’ve no doubt faced in the field. They are our elite units, and they fight well in cramped spaces like tunnels.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need those things getting in the way of the Trog teams,” he grumbled in reply. “They can handle tunnel clearing – it’s what they do.”

“We can deploy them by drop pod wherever they’re most needed,” the Jarilan added, looking to Vos as though she expected him to take a side.

“Our stealth coursers are equipped with orbital reentry capsules,” Brenner said, glancing at the admiral with his expressionless lenses. “We can drop SWAR teams behind enemy lines too, sow some chaos where they least expect it.”

“We’ll need to pull out all the stops for this one, even if the Jarilan Warriors are untested,” Vos replied after a moment of consideration. “You have my permission to deploy your units.”

The Jarilan seemed pleased with herself, while Brenner scowled at her. At least, Fielding assumed that he was scowling. It was hard to tell.

“Captain Yegorov,” Vos continued, turning to one of the white-clad captains. The man stiffened when he was addressed, his weathered face etched into a permanent frown. “I’d like you to lead the ground assault. The Pavlov’s carrier group is well-suited to these kinds of operations. I’m also told that you brought something a little special.”

“Da, Admiral,” he replied in a thick Russian accent that rivaled that of the Polar. “The Argyre is ready to drop. She is a Yagda superheavy repulsor, and her 740mm railgun should make short work of the mesa’s static defenses.”

“One of ours, I believe,” Captain Varma added as she gave him a smirk. “Her ore was sourced from the Argyre Planitia, not far from New Kochi.”

“You are correct, Madame,” Yegorov replied. “She is Martian-built, though we made some aftermarket modifications to her design.”

“I look forward to seeing how they fare,” Varma added.

“You have CSC permission to load tactical nuclear sabots,” Vos continued. “Radioactive fallout will be minimal, nothing that standard-issue armor won’t soak up. Just ... try to be conservative, and don’t turn the place into a second Guangzhou, alright?”

“I’ll tell my men to keep that in mind, Admiral,” he replied with a curt nod.

“Then, I think that’s all we need,” Vos declared. “Operation Ant Hill will begin shortly. I’ll be transferring coordinates and sending you further instructions in the following hours. Get ready to move out.”

After they were dismissed, the feeds began to cut off one by one, slowly plunging the conference room into darkness. When Fielding could scarcely see the table in front of him, the lights in the room flared to life, making him blink his eyes as they adjusted to the glare.

“How did you manage to get permission to level an area the size of a small country?” Fielding asked, glancing over at Vos. “The General Assembly and the Security Council must have been hard enough to convince, never mind the Valbarans.”

“The usual blend of favors and threats,” he replied, stepping away from his place at the table. “We can’t let this opportunity pass us by. We kill the Queen, and the war is essentially over. There will still be pockets of resistance holding out all over the moon, as well as several surviving Kings who probably won’t even have a way to know that their leader is dead, but the Bugs will have lost their ability to sustain a colony. After that, their days will be numbered.”

“Yegorov is an ... interesting choice,” Fielding continued, doing his best not to sound too critical. “There are three other Yagdas. I’m sure we could have one or two shipped in.”