Chapter 6: Gambit

The terrain grew rougher as they advanced, the company finding themselves in an increasingly hilly and rocky region of the forest. The ground here was scoured with the remnants of twisting streams and dry riverbeds that had once fed into the lake, still visible beneath the layer of ash. The artillery fire had stopped a few minutes prior, which must mean that they were getting close to their destination. The Red King and his entourage couldn’t have gone much further than this without being turned into Bug paste by the rain of HE shells.

“The forest is still,” Borzka muttered as they stalked between the scorched tree trunks, their weapons scanning every shadowy crevice. “Too still.”

“What is this, a fuckin’ action movie?” Hernandez whispered.

“Silence,” Borzka replied. “The insects have certainly set a snare for us. They know that we are coming.”

“So, they trapped us, then we trapped them, then they ambushed us, and now we’re trappin’ them again, so they’re settin’ another ambush for us,” he grumbled under his breath. “Let’s just go back to orbit, bomb the place to fuck again, and start over.”

“They came through here,” Jade said, her antennae waving in the wind as they protruded from the openings in her helmet. Aster and Cardinal were nearby, sniffing around like bloodhounds, bringing their heads close to the ground as they supported themselves with their extra arms.

“Then, we’re on the right track,” Simmons added. “Lead the way, ladies.”

The rest of the company was bringing up the rear, spread out over a larger area to cover more ground. Still, Evan could see a Kodiak off their left, the behemoth struggling its way up a steep incline. The vehicles would have a harder time maneuvering in this kind of terrain. Was that by design?

“The IFV won’t make it up there,” Simmons sighed as he nodded to a rocky outcrop ahead of them. “We’d better go around.”

Evan heard the sound of stone on stone, glancing up the hill to see a shower of small pebbles roll down towards the team. A hulking figure appeared above the outcrop, recognition sending a flood of adrenaline coursing through his veins as a Warrior emerged from the shadows. It was a lumbering tank of chitin and armor plating, the eyes behind its slatted visor glowing a dull green, its serrated mandibles moving like saw blades. Its spiky armor was patterned with autumn camouflage, doing nothing to help it blend into this new environment of charcoal hues. The emerald light from the wicked plasma cannon that was grafted to its left arm illuminated one side of its body, the weapon’s cables intertwined with flesh and carapace, fat ammo canisters hanging beneath its forelimb. It must have been ten feet tall and almost as wide.

A second warrior lumbered into view, then a third, Simmons raising the alarm.

“Warriors!” he yelled into his mic. “Warriors on Seventeen! We need backup!”

One of the Warriors leveled its plasma cannon, sending a stream of superheated gas lancing out towards the IFV. The torrent of energy slammed into the side of the vehicle, drawing a black trail across its hull, the two frontmost tires melting. The IFV fired back, its blister swiveling towards the three targets, a hail of thirty-mill slugs forcing the team to duck as they shot over their heads. A series of flashes dimmed Evan’s visor, its automatic systems protecting his eyes. The IFV fired another salvo, the slugs melting as they passed through a seething barrier of glowing energy, splashing against the Warrior’s thick armor as molten slag.

“Fuck, they’re shielded!” Garcia warned.

One of the Warriors descended from the outcrop, its clawed feet skidding in the loose soil and ash, the thing barreling down the hill towards them like a freight train made of chitin and claws. All they could do was get out of its way, the thing blowing past them at a sprint, slamming what must have been a couple of tons of weight into the side of the IFV. With its lobster-like claws, it tore open the hull, peeling back the metal and ceramics like it was opening a tin can.

“We gotta take down its shields!” Hernandez yelled, taking cover behind a tree as another stream of plasma came their way. Evan could feel its heat, even through his suit, the boiling gas melting a nearby boulder into lava.

“I got it!” Foster said, raising his XMR. Collins did the same, the two standing shoulder to shoulder as they took aim. The UNN had recently transitioned to using designated plasma gunners, the two men sporting underslung plasma launchers beneath the barrels of their rifles. They were about the size of a grenade launcher, their thick barrels lined with magnetic coils, a blue gas canister protruding from the device’s mag well. They could accelerate a bolt of plasma that would collapse the handheld shields commonly used by Betelgeusian Drones in a single shot.

“This is for the Dragoon!” Collins shouted, the pair pulling their triggers in unison. Two glowing bolts of energy lanced out towards the Warrior that was peeling apart the IFV, impacting the field that was projected a few inches from its carapace. There was a flash, the barrier swirling as it absorbed the plasma, but it didn’t collapse.

The Warrior turned towards them, abandoning its attack on the Puma, its glowing visor fixing on the Marines. It extended its four lobster-like claws, then started to lumber towards them, picking up speed like a charging bull. Rather than flee, they held their ground, lining up another shot. Collins fired first, his bolt making the field ripple. Foster followed up with another bolt, this one overloading the magnetic field, making the shield peter out and fail. Collins had already leapt out of the thing’s path, but Foster had no time. The Warrior swung a claw the size of a couch, lifting him off his feet. He landed hard, tumbling down a nearby incline, rolling out of sight.

The IFV wasn’t out of the fight yet, the gunner turning its blister on the Warrior. It sprayed a salvo of thirty-millimeter slugs at the biological battlesuit, the rounds blasting holes in its thick plating. Miraculously, it survived long enough to turn around before it succumbed, even its overlapping plates of armor no match for the sustained fire. It toppled over backwards, green ichor leaking from its myriad wounds, falling to slide down the incline where Foster had disappeared from view.

There was a loud crack, another flash of light temporarily blinding Evan. When his vision cleared, he saw that something far heavier had hit the Warrior with the plasma cannon that was standing atop the outcrop. It shuddered as it turned towards its assailant, one side of its plating pocked with molten holes, like someone had hit it with a giant shotgun. It was one of the Kodiaks – the long barrel of its main gun pointing through the trees in the Bug’s direction. It must have loaded a canister charge, and the sheer velocity of the shrapnel had carried it through the plasma shield with enough force to do damage.

The Warrior leveled its arm weapon, but the Kodiak was faster, the tank rocking back on its tracks as the cannon accelerated another sabot. This one was armor-piercing, the plasma shield unable to produce enough heat to soften the tungsten slug in time, the round passing straight through it. It hit the Warrior center mass, passing through its body without even slowing down, turning a tree a hundred meters behind it to splinters before the Bug had even hit the ground. The kinetic energy ripped it apart, sending wet chunks of flesh and chitin raining across the outcrop, pieces of meat and machinery rolling down the hill.

More of the things were emerging from the forest now, charging down towards the company, supported by the remaining squads of Drones.

“This is the Red King’s entourage!” Evan exclaimed, ducking reflexively as the tank fired on the remaining Warrior at the top of the hill. “These are the same Warrior suits as the one I saw him wearing when he attacked the convoy!”

“Our IFV is disabled – we’re sitting ducks out here,” Simmons added as he helped the driver down from the vehicle’s roof hatch. “Pull back towards the Kodiaks!”

“We have to get Foster!” Collins protested.

“I can’t pick up his IFF,” Evan said, glancing down at his wrist. “Jade, can you sniff him out?”

“We’ll go grab him,” she replied with a nod. “He can’t have gone far.”

“Incoming!” Garcia warned.

Evan looked up to glimpse a mortar shell arcing through the trees towards them. He tried to move, but it was like he was running underwater, the explosive digging a crater in the ground only a few paces away from him. There was a brief delay, then it went off, tossing him head over heels. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. There was the brief sensation of rolling, then his world went dark.

“Get up.”

Evan felt someone kick him, and he opened his eyes, taking in a staggered breath. He glanced through his visor to see Foster standing over him, extending a gloved hand. He took it, the Marine hauling him to his feet, his legs shaky.

“What happened?” he gasped, gripping his side. “I feel like someone ran me over with a fucking truck.”

“We fell down there,” Foster replied, gesturing to a rocky incline that rose up behind them. It was so steep that it was practically a cliff face, and beneath it was one of the winding riverbeds, cutting a path through the forest that was devoid of trees. The Warrior that had been chewed up by the IFV was lying in the dirt nearby, Evan’s pulse calming as he reassured himself that it was dead. “No way back up from here – I tried. Not unless you happened to bring a climbing rope.”

“Sounds like there’s still fighting going on up there,” Evan said, hearing the sound of far-off gunshots through his helmet.

“Is your suit still intact?” Foster asked, turning to face him. “Good job the gravity on this godforsaken moon is so low, or I don’t know if we’d have survived a fall like that.”

“Yeah,” Evan replied, seeing a green pressure icon on the bottom right of his HUD. “Yeah, I’m good. What about the rest of the squad?” he continued, tapping at the touch panel on his forearm. “Did you try the radio?”

“I’m not stupid,” Foster replied as he walked over to examine the dead Warrior. “The company is tied up – they can’t get to us until the Bugs are cleared out. I managed to get through to the fleet, but they can’t land a shuttle down here. We’re on our own until someone finds the time to come looking for us.”

Evan stooped to pick up his rifle, checking the magazine.

“We should double back. There must be another way around.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you, you’re right,” Foster sighed as he set off down the riverbed. “The first rule of search and rescue is stay where you are, but this place is crawling with Stalkers and Drones. If they pick up our scent, we’re Bug chow.”

Evan followed after him, trying to shake out a limp in one of his legs. He must have landed on it funny or hit it on a rock on his way down. They walked in silence for a while, Evan hearing nothing but his own breathing inside his helmet and the far-off chorus of battle.

“You were pretty brave back there,” Evan began, trying to make conversation. “Standing in front of that charging Warrior like that. You’re lucky the hit didn’t kill you.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at taking hits,” he replied as he kept his visor pointed ahead. “You should know that.”

“Not as good at taking compliments,” Evan muttered, Foster rewarding him with a sarcastic chuckle. “I’m ... sorry I hit you,” Evan continued. “I was out of line. Even Jade said as much after you left.”

“Yeah, you were out of line alright,” Foster added. Evan felt his anger flare, but Foster wasn’t done yet. “But, so was I. I was drunk, I came looking for a fight, and I got one. I’m glad your Bug friend stepped in before we both got thrown in the brig. I was taking out some stuff on you that maybe wasn’t only about you, if you get me.”

“Do you still hate them?” Evan asked. “Even after all this?”

“They killed all of my friends,” Foster replied without a hint of emotion in his voice. “They killed all of yours, too. I don’t understand how you were so quick to forgive them. Well, I have a theory,” he chuckled dryly. Although he didn’t elaborate further, the implication that he was talking about Evan and Jade’s relationship was pretty obvious.

“I guess I’m able to separate the Jarilans from the Bugs in a way that you can’t,” Evan said with a shrug. “Surely you can see that they’re not the same? The Jarilans are just ... people wearing Bug costumes as far as I see it.”

“Maybe,” Foster conceded. “That doesn’t change the way I feel when I look at them. You were with the Spratley, right? Me and Collins were with the Dragoon when we got hit in that first wave of landings. I don’t think I need to explain what it was like.”

“I remember it well enough,” Evan replied.

“Humans are social animals,” he continued as he clambered over a fallen tree that was blocking their path. “We crave social interaction, we need support from our peers. When I got assigned to the Omaha, I was looking forward to meeting people who shared those experiences, who understood what I was going through. We were all a mishmash of different companies and squads. Then you came along and drove a wedge between me and the rest of the team. Even Collins was forced to pick a side, and me and him went through hell together. It was like being in fucking high school again.”

“You’re putting a lot of blame on my shoulders when you’re the one who has a problem with the Jarilans,” Evan shot back. “The team turned against you because they all like Jade, they like Aster and Cardinal. You’re the only holdout who still treats them like they’re not real people. It’s shitty, dude.”

“Who the fuck is naming these things, anyway?” Foster muttered. “They sound like the scented candles my ex used to waste her paycheck on.”

“If you cut it out and make up with the Jarilans, I don’t think anyone is going to have a problem with you. I know that Collins isn’t happy about the situation,” Evan continued as he dropped down on the other side of the log, stumbling for a few paces. “I can tell that he misses you, but you’re the only one who’s driving wedges here.”

“I’ll admit that the Jarilans have proven themselves useful,” Foster added. “What bothers me is that we have no way of knowing if that’s just how they were programmed. Look at the way the Bugs have adapted to Kerguela,” he added as he gestured to the dead forest beyond the banks of the dry river. “What if being friendly and useful is just another form of camouflage – another adaptation?”

“So what if it is?” Evan replied. “You’re mad that they’re being friendly and useful for the wrong reasons?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he sighed. “What I’m saying is – how do you know that they’re being genuine? I’ve fought Bugs that show no fear, no pain – not because they’re brave, but because their Queen decided that the capacity to feel those things wasn’t useful. When that girlfriend of yours says she loves you, how do you know she’s not just reading off some genetic script her Queen wrote for her?”

“If you’re asking how I know that she has free will, that’s a philosophical question I can’t answer,” Evan replied. “I don’t even know how to prove that humans have free will. It’s an intuitive thing, something you’d understand if you just took the time to talk to them. You’d see that Jade has aspirations and desires outside of whatever her Queen programmed into her. Even if we assume that being useful to the UNN or getting with me was just part of her programming, that doesn’t explain why she likes watching Kerguela from the maintenance window, or why she wants to visit Valbara so badly.”

“She wants to visit Valbara?” Foster asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Evan replied. “The Valbarans wouldn’t let the Jarilans visit the surface when we had shore leave there. They made them stay in their ships.”

“Fine,” Foster sighed. “I guess it’s true that I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten to know them, and I’m the only one who doesn’t like them. I’ll admit that there may be a correlation there.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand how you feel,” Evan added, matching pace with the Marine. “I felt that way for a while – we all did. You’ll feel better if you talk to them, trust me. Jade will understand.”

“I won’t apologize if that’s what you’re getting at,” Foster added.

“I’m not expecting you to,” Evan continued. “Making peace is enough.”

Foster suddenly took Evan by the arm, pushing him behind a nearby boulder.

“Hey, what are you-”

“Shut up,” Foster hissed, poking his rifle around the rock to get a look through its scope without exposing himself. Evan tapped into his feed, watching a procession of Drones cross the riverbed ahead of them. They were on alert, their resin rifles scanning the forest, the long antennae on their radio packs bobbing as they walked. There must have been half a dozen squads, some of them pausing to stand guard. A Scuttler followed behind them, the vehicle marching along on its crab-like legs, its sensory organ extended from its armored beak. In the middle of the group was a trio of Warriors not unlike the ones that had attacked the company earlier, their long arms swinging in time with their loping gait. There was something different about the one in the center, however. The two others were flanking it like bodyguards, and on its back was a bulky device covered in antennae, like some kind of portable radio kit.

“That’s him!” Evan hissed, his heart starting to race. “That’s the fucking Red King!”

“Are you sure?” Foster whispered.

“I’d never forget that suit,” Evan replied. “See the comms gear on its back?”

“Shit, shit,” Foster muttered as he kept his scope trained on them. “They’re heading away from the company. Delta must still be tied up fighting the rest of his entourage.”

“He’s slipping away while they’re busy,” Evan mused, watching the hulking Scuttler disappear into the trees on the far side of the riverbed. “You said you had a line to the fleet, right?”

“Yeah,” Foster said with a nod. “They could relay a message to the company, but what can they do if they’re stuck in a fight?”

“We could call in an airstrike,” Evan suggested. “I don’t care if he’s in a Warrior suit – he’s not going to survive a fucking thousand-pounder dropped right on his ugly head.”

“We’ll need to keep him tagged,” Foster added. “That means maintaining line-of-sight. I dunno if we’re that sneaky. Plus, there’s two of us and like ... fifty of them. They also have a tank, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“If we don’t do this, he’s going to get away again,” Evan insisted. “If we don’t stop him here, he’s going to set up another ambush and take out another company just like he did during the first landing, just like at the LZ.”

Foster began to nod, seemingly convinced.

“Alright, Bugfucker. If you have a plan, now’s the time, because I have no idea how you expect us to keep pace without being seen.”

“It’s still windy as fuck because there’s no plant life left,” Evan replied. “If we stay downwind of them, they won’t pick up our scent. It’s worked before.”

“Just like hunting a buck,” Foster replied, Evan giving him an enthusiastic nod. “Problem – we’re still rocking red and orange camo. We’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Right?” Evan chuckled. “The one time wearing standard black would actually help us not stand out. What if we covered ourselves in ash and soil, like the Stalkers? There are ash drifts a foot deep all over the place.”

“They have webbing to help the dirt stick to them. What are we supposed to do?”

Evan plucked his canteen from his belt, unfastening the cap.

“We get wet,” he explained, pouring it over his chest. “Two liters isn’t much, but maybe that’ll help it stick.”

“We’d better do this quick,” Foster replied, unscrewing his own canteen. “They’ll get ahead of us if we take too long.”

They helped douse each other with water, and after rolling around in the ash piles that coated every surface, they emerged far dirtier than they had gone in. The effect wasn’t perfect, but it did a decent enough job of dulling and obscuring their gaudy camouflage. Body heat was an issue, but like when the Stalkers had attacked the company, the ambient temperature after the bombardment was hot enough to make them hard to pick out.

The procession of Bugs had passed on, but they didn’t want to get too close until it was time to pull the trigger, so they followed after them while staying downwind. It was easy enough to follow their fresh tracks, the Scuttler and the Warriors leaving obvious trails in the dirt.

“This is Private Foster of Delta-seventeen,” Foster began, talking to the fleet as they slunk through the trees. “I have been separated from my unit, and I am in pursuit of a priority target. I need air support standing by near coordinates...” He read off a series of numbers, Evan listening in as the operator on the other end replied.

“What’s your target?” a female voice asked, interference making her voice crackle.

“The Red King,” he replied. “We’re gonna paint him for your birds, and they need to drop everything they have on him. We won’t get another chance like this.”

“Roger that,” the operator replied. “Stand by for tasking.”

“Are there any units nearby that can support us?” Foster added frantically. “Anyone who’s in range?”

“Negative,” the voice replied after a few tense moments. “All nearby companies are being actively engaged. You’re on your own, seventeen.”

They picked up the pace, struggling to find a good balance between speed and stealth. The procession of Bugs was moving briskly, but they weren’t going so fast as to outpace the Marines. After a few minutes, Evan spotted a squad of Drones that were bringing up the rear, trailing behind the rest of the group. His visor picked them out in red, Foster’s system linking to his, highlighting a couple more.

“They must have guards spread out all around the convoy,” Evan muttered. “How are we going to get close enough to tag the King?”

“I might have an idea,” Foster replied hesitantly. “It’s a stupid idea, but I don’t see how else we’re going to do this.”

“Go on,” Evan prompted, taking cover behind a tree as he watched the Drones walk along the tracks left by the Scuttler.

“We trick them into thinking they’re being surrounded by Marines,” he explained. “We split up – one of us on the left, the other on the right – and we coordinate over ad-hoc to make them think they’re being attacked from both sides. I reckon they’ll close ranks around the Red King to protect him.”

“If we keep moving and keep shooting, they’ll have a hard time figuring out how many of us there are,” Evan replied with a nod. “At least, it might buy us enough time to call in the Beewolf.”