Chapter 13: Inner Sanctum

They came to a stop again, the lava tube ahead curving enough to create a blind corner. Bainbridge called for the group to halt, then walked out ahead of the tanks, hugging the bend in the tunnel as he scouted out the path ahead. Evan tapped into the feed to see him extending the little telescoping camera on his wrist device. This was a natural formation, not an intentional obstacle, which made its curve far gentler than the abrupt turns they had encountered in the hive above. Evan watched as the fuzzy objects down the tunnel came into focus, Bainbridge having to extend his arm to avoid exposing himself.

There was a cluster of objects scattered across the floor of the tunnel, tank traps that looked like giant sea urchins, their sharp points jutting out on all sides. Maybe a hundred Drones were taking cover between them, and behind them was the imposing hull of a Scuttler, the organic tank’s tongue-like periscope extended as it scanned the lava tube for targets. It was flanked by a pair of Supermajors with anti-materiel rifles, creating a considerable amount of firepower. Even the tankettes might have some trouble pushing through. A little further behind them was a wall, Evan feeling his heart skip a beat as he realized that it was the end of the tunnel.

“That’s a lot of firepower,” Tela muttered, perching on the hull of the lead tankette. “We can take the Drones and the Supermajors no problem, but we might have trouble against that Scuttler. The time to kill on those things is pretty high with our ‘thirties.”

“What about that giant laser of yours?” Bainbridge asked, turning back.

“It’ll do the job, but we’d need to get in close if we want to get through its armor before it can return fire,” she replied. “Its effective range is a lot shorter than a railgun. One hit from that plasma cannon is gonna pop our Cozat’li like soap bubbles.”

“So, we distract it,” Bainbridge added. “Keep the fire on it – hope it doesn’t target the laser before it fires. I’d say there’s about six hundred meters to cover.”

“Is that really the best plan we can come up with?” Garcia asked, peeking out from behind the cover of one of the tanks as the lieutenant jogged back over to them. “Hope and pray they don’t take out the only effective weapon we have?”

“We might get a lucky shot with one of the ‘thirties,” Tela replied. “Cozat’li have killed Scuttlers in the field, it’s just a matter of saturation. Gotta chew through the armor – try to damage enough redundant systems to render the target inoperable.”

“They’ll focus their fire on whatever they deem to be the biggest threat,” Jade added. “That means putting the other vehicles in danger, though.”

“I have to admit,” Tela began, glancing back at them from her perch. “We didn’t plan for any scenarios like this. If you Earth’nay have any of that famous improvisation on hand, now’s the time.”

“Do we have any smoke?” Bainbridge asked. “Anything we can use to blind it?”

“Our tankettes have smoke launchers, but I don’t think that’s going to help much,” Tela replied. “We have to keep advancing if we want to get into range, and we’ll leave the smoke behind.”

“The same would be true for any smoke grenades,” Bainbridge added. “We don’t have any left anyway.”

“What’s the effective range on this thing?” Foster asked as he appraised the laser weapon on the tankette.

“In ideal conditions, it can do damage to a target up to two kilometers out,” Tela replied as she gave its housing an affectionate pat. “The issue is, lasers work by firing high-energy photons, and those photons will bounce off anything that gets in their path. Water droplets, dust, whatever is between it and the target. That means it sheds energy pretty fast over distance, and only a percentage of the energy you initially fired is reaching its destination. It can bring down a small aircraft at two klicks, but if you want to vaporize a Scuttler’s hull, that’s going to be more like three to five-hundred meters.”

“So, it can hit the Scuttler at this range – it just can’t do enough damage to disable it,” Foster mused. “How accurate is it? Even if it can’t kill the Scuttler, could it burn out its targeting optics? We know that they use a blend of organic and electronic systems.”

“See, this is why we keep you mammals around,” Tela chuckled.

“They keep us around?” Hernandez asked over the private channel.

“Do we know where all of their optics are mounted?” Bainbridge asked.

“Certainly,” the Valbaran chirped. “We’ve studied salvaged carcasses extensively. They have those little tongue things that they deploy from their beaks, which have both organic optical sensors and antennae for picking up scent, but they also have an optics package mounted in a recess in the turret for when that organ is stowed. We think they use that one for more accurate targeting and range finding. It’s very small – close to the barrel, but if it can see us, then we can hit it.”

“I think we should target the optics package on the turret first,” Foster continued. “The first thing it’s gonna do when it spots us is stow its tongue. We hit the optics on the turret, and that will force it to expose its main sensors. It’ll still be able to smell us, but that won’t help it hit a target at three hundred meters out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tela replied.

“Good thinking, Private,” Bainbridge added. “As for the rest of the tankettes, they should focus on the Supermajors. They’re the next biggest threat. We need to kill those things before they can fire those anti-materiel rifles. The railguns out-range them, but in this confined space, we can’t really leverage that advantage.”

“We’ll hold the Gue’tra back,” Tela said. “Once the armor and the heavy infantry are disabled, they can move in and help mop up the Drones.”

“It looks like we’ll have to abandon the vehicles once we reach those tank traps,” Bainbridge continued. “I don’t imagine the Bugs have made them easy to shift.”

“Then, let’s hope they don’t have a second Scuttler waiting for us, or we’re totally screwed,” Tela chuckled. “Alright, do we have consensus? Everyone understand the plan? Let’s move out.”

The infantry and the buggies remained behind as the six tanks began to drive forward, soon vanishing around the corner. Evan opened the view from one of the vehicles on his visor, patching into its feed, getting an image from the perspective of its turret.

The moment the vehicles cleared the turn, the laser opened up, sending a bean of glittering light shooting down the tunnel. The Scuttler was already stowing its organic periscope inside its beak, hunkering down as it prepared to fire back, these scant few seconds the only advantage the attackers had. The beam found its mark, and although there was no visible indication of damage, the way that the vehicle faltered let Evan know that the plan had worked. Almost reluctantly, the thing cracked open its three-way beak, parting the heavy plates just enough to get a look out at its target like a clam peeking out of its shell. If it could receive enough light to see, then it was vulnerable, a second well-placed shot pouring a stream of blinding photons into the gap. It snapped its beak shut again, but too late, the tank staggering.

Arcs of green energy danced between the barrels on its main cannon, and it fired, sending a glowing bolt racing towards the tankettes. It sailed over them, the projectile splashing against the stone wall behind them, melting the rock.

“You did it!” Bainbridge exclaimed. “The fucker’s blind!”

The other vehicles were already firing on the Supermajors, Evan watching as the camera swiveled with the turret, the gun barrel sending a stream of railgun fire towards the far end of the lava tube. Its target was moving into cover behind the Scuttler in the same way that the infantry had taken cover behind the tankettes, but too late. As it tried to raise its rifle to shoot back, it was taken apart by concentrated fire, the second Supermajor succumbing to the same fate.

The Drones were firing back from the cover of the tank traps, but their rifles were useless against the advancing vehicles, streams of plasma fire splashing against their hulls harmlessly. The Scuttler was still standing, and although it was blinded, it was still dangerous. It fired another round from its cannon, the powerful bolt slamming into the ground a few meters ahead of the lead vehicle, forcing it to swerve to avoid the pool of molten rock. Was it trying to aim using sound now, maybe vibration? Repositioning itself, its eight legs thundering as it turned, it fired its side-mounted rocket launchers. A volley of missiles came streaking down the tunnel, trailing plumes of smoke as they spiraled aimlessly. They seemed to be unguided, some of them slamming into the walls and ceiling, exploding into billows of orange flame as they hit the floor. Accuracy wasn’t necessary in the confines of the tunnel – the sheer number of projectiles ensured that several of them found their mark by sheer chance.

One of them struck the front armor of the leftmost tankette, the vehicle lurching as shrapnel peppered its hull. It emerged from the smoke relatively unscathed, its armor plating scarred, pocked with molten metal. A tankette to the right of the formation wasn’t so lucky, a missile striking the ground beside it, tearing apart one of its tracks. It sent torn treads flying, the vehicle grinding to a stop, one of its wheels rolling along of its own accord.

The laser was in range now, a searing beam bridging the distance between the tankette and the Scuttler in a fraction of a second. It carved a burning channel through the creature’s hull, slagging its carapace, cooking the meat and metal beneath. Like some kind of giant C&C machine, it dragged the burning beam across the thing’s body, severing a leg, drilling a hole through the tough beak on its prow. Smoke poured from the deep wound channel as the weapon bored into it, finally cutting off abruptly, the liquid slag of the molten components within dripping from the hole like glowing blood. The Scuttler shuddered, then heaved, its remaining legs giving out as it toppled to the tunnel floor.

“Target down!” one of the Valbarans trilled over the comms.

“Move in!” Bainbridge ordered. “We need to take out those Drones before they swarm the tanks! Watch your fire – an XMR might make it through the rear armor on those things. We don’t need blue on blue.”

The Coalition troops rushed around the bend in the tunnel, the buggies keeping pace behind them, the sound of automatic fire quickly joining the roar of the cannons. They aimed between the tankettes, the vehicles covering their advance, their thirty-millimeter turrets peppering the helpless Drones as they huddled behind the tank traps. The obstacles didn’t provide much cover, the slugs blowing their targets to pieces, practically turning them to vapor.

Realizing that their only chance of winning was to overrun the vehicles and pry open their hulls to get at the crews, the Drones suddenly changed their strategy, as if the same signal had been shared between all of them. Moving as one organism, they rushed forward, spilling between the urchin-like traps in a wave of orange carapace.

It was too late – the infantry had already reached the cover of the vehicles, firing between them at the oncoming horde. Caught out in the open and faced with a firing line, they began to fall by the dozen. Some of them tried to cover the advance of the rest, sending plasma volleys streaking towards the attackers, but their assault was already in disarray.

Evan leaned out from behind one of the little tanks, fighting the recoil as he dumped his magazine into the wall of oncoming Drones. The Bugs had no choice but to commit now, some drawing blades as they came within a dozen meters of the tanks, but they were quickly felled. Just like the Tweakers, they were so densely packed that aiming was scarcely necessary, every round overpenetrating to hit multiple targets. His visor darkened as the laser swept its beam across the charging Bugs like a flashlight, turning them to charred husks where they stood, their bodies crumbling as though they were made of loose charcoal.

Despite the withering fire, their sheer numbers allowed some of the Drones to reach the vehicles, the creatures leaping up onto their hulls. They were quickly dispatched by the nearby troops, Evan cutting one almost in half as it tried to pry open one of the hatches.

Trapped between the tankettes and the wall behind them, the Drones had nowhere left to go, the last of them succumbing to the concentrated fire. The infantry moved forward, stalking between the tank traps, the occasional crack of an XMR echoing through the tunnel as they put down the wounded. They reached the fallen Scuttler and the two Supermajors, approaching them warily, their weapons ready. Seeing no movement, Bainbridge declared the all-clear.

“Nice work, people,” he said as he turned to look back at the carpet of bodies and the idling tanks beyond. “No casualties?”

The crew from the damaged tankette had already been helped out of their vehicle, and it seemed that they were none the worse for wear. Tela came walking over to them with her bobbing, Valbaran gait, flanked by several more of her kind.

“It doesn’t look like we can move these things,” she said, avoiding the sharp prongs of one of the sea urchins. They were about as tall as she was. “I’ll have the vehicles remain here and secure our rear. The last thing we need is Bug reinforcements sneaking up behind us and lifting our tails.”

“I’ll check for an entrance ahead,” Bainbridge replied. “These guys must have been guarding something.”

Delta followed behind him as he made his way over to the wall, the lieutenant appraising it as Tela began to direct her vehicles to turn around. It was distinct from the surrounding rock, made from resin and dirt, forming a kind of plug in the lava tube.

“This is definitely a blast door,” he mused. “A big one – it’s gotta be forty meters high. I’m not sure we can get through this with explosives.”

“I see a control panel,” Jade said, jogging over to the tunnel wall. “I’ll see if I can get it open.”

They waited as she fiddled with the fleshy button, the minutes dragging by until she finally stepped away with a frustrated grumble.

“The locking mechanism is a lot more sophisticated than the others,” she explained, turning to give the team a shrug with both pairs of arms. “It’s asking me for specific molecular chains that are coded to a sequence, like a passcode. They really don’t want us getting through here.”

“Commander Tela,” Bainbridge said, waving to the vehicles behind them. “I wonder if we could borrow one of your toys?”

“We Valbara’nay know how to share,” she replied, her tone conveying a smirk over the radio channel. “Let me guess – you need us to clear a path for you?”

“Should we ... get behind you?” Simmons asked warily, watching as the laser turret on the tankette rotated to point in their direction.

“It’s quite precise,” Tela replied, hopping up onto its hull in a single bound. “Just try not to look directly at it without a visor, or you might end up like that Scuttler over there.”

The carcass in question was actually in the way, and she had the tankette drive further to the right of the tunnel so that the laser could get a clear shot around it. Delta and the surviving Marines split into two groups, giving the weapon a wide berth despite Tela’s assurances that it was perfectly safe. They had all seen what it could do first-hand.

With a slap of her tail on the tankette’s hull, the laser ignited, a spear of light lancing out to sear into the resin. Like a boring machine drilling through rock, it cut into the obstacle, melting the resin and vaporizing the dirt beneath it. There was another protective layer of metal beneath that, the material spewing sparks as the laser slagged it, the hole growing. Evan could see Tela cocking her head, just as surprised as the rest of them as the beam burned through layer after layer. It was like cutting through the door of some great bank vault or a hermetic bunker, the weapon exposing meters of layered material, until the beam sputtered out.

“It’s overheating,” Tela explained, her suit panels flashing orange. “Give us a moment.”

“Looks like a giant slice of lasagna,” Hernandez muttered, daring to lean a little closer to get a look down the smoldering tunnel.

“That’s one hell of a blast door,” Bainbridge added. “I’ve never come across one this large before. It must weigh hundreds of tons.”

“It’s another sign that we’re getting close,” Jade insisted, glancing up at the barrier. “It wouldn’t surprise me if these lava tubes are the only way to enter the heart of the hive. These blast doors can be larger and more heavily defended than a conventional tunnel, and the walls are volcanic rock rather than soil and resin. I struggle to imagine how an invading nuptial fleet could even get through this.”

“Here comes another one!” Tela warned, the cannon igniting again. The beam disappeared into the hole, so deep now that Evan couldn’t see any sparks or molten metal. This time, when it stopped, it was because it had accomplished its task.

Evan stepped out in front of the hole, gazing down the long tunnel, just big enough for a Borealan to get through if they lowered their head. The layers of metal were still hot enough to be molten, illuminating the perfectly round passage with burning rings, a few stray droplets dripping to the floor as the stone cooled. Beyond it, there was only darkness.

“I’d give it a few minutes,” Tela said, hopping down from her tankette and making her way over to join them. “What’s your plan from here?”

“I’ll move in with my men,” Bainbridge replied, peering down the tunnel. “We could use some Commandos if you can spare them. Maybe just one squad – there’s no advantage in having too many bodies clogging the tunnel.”

“I was going to insist on coming along, but let’s just pretend it was your idea,” she said with a flutter of green from her panels. Was that amusement? Evan didn’t know enough about the little aliens to say. “The Ensi hand-picked my flock for this mission. We’re the best, and we’ll be an asset.”

“Alright,” Bainbridge replied, giving her a nod. “This is your colony, after all. I wouldn’t dream of denying you the chance to have Valbarans in the chamber when we put a slug through the Queen’s skull. Besides, I think a Consensus commander outranks a UNN lieutenant...”

“Teething issues,” she replied with another flash that might be the equivalent of a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

Tela assembled her squad – what Evan soon learned was her flock, three other Valbarans with similar gear joining her. They were not her subordinates, but her equals, sharing her rank. It was a little confusing to have to treat four people as an individual, but as a private, all he really had to do was follow any orders they gave.

He noticed that Tatzi and Borzka had moved behind the dead Scuttler. Curious, he followed to see them pulling the anti-materiel rifles off the dead Supermajors, the weapons large and unwieldy even for the eight-foot felines. It was bizarre to see Borealans contrasted with equipment that was larger than they were.

Hernandez walked over to see what was happening, whistling as he watched Tatzi check the magazine on one of the weapons.

“Can you guys handle those things?” he asked.

“I have used one once before,” Borzka replied, Evan remembering their first encounter with the Supermajors at the refinery. “They are heavy, but powerful. If we should encounter any Supermajors from this point on, we will have no need to retreat.”

Tatzi hefted the second rifle, examining the strange device. Like the creatures themselves, it was a blend of organic and technological components, all encased within an orange carapace. The gill-like structures that ran down its long barrel fluttered, a very literal eye where the scope would have been quivering like jelly. She had no way to tap into its output, so she would have to play it by ear.

“Good thinking,” Bainbridge said as they returned to the group with their new prizes. “I was about to suggest that we hold until we could bring in some heavy weapons, but these will do nicely.”

When they were ready to move out, Bainbridge led them down the borehole. Delta, the surviving members of Yates’ squad, and Tela’s flock followed after him. Although Tela outranked the L.T, she seemed willing to defer to his experience.

The tunnel was narrow enough that they had to move in single-file, the metal now cooled to the point that it was no longer glowing ominously. After a walk of several meters through the absurdly large blast door, they emerged on the far side, fanning out as they scanned the chamber beyond with their flashlights.

Evan’s beam transitioned from volcanic rock to resin, the lava tube giving way to more traditional Bug architecture, expanding into a domed chamber that had been hollowed out of the stone. The curved walls were draped with insulated cables and fleshy tubes, descending from the apex of the ceiling to connect to haphazard clusters of equipment on the floor below. Evan immediately recognized them as computers, or maybe servers – what looked like racks of electronic equipment that someone had dumped buckets of offal onto. The organic and technological components were interwoven, connected to this expansive network of power and data cables, Workers milling about between them as they tended to the humming machines.

“What do you reckon this is?” Hernandez asked, stepping over a cable that was trailing across the floor. “Some kinda ... data storage room?”

“Could be data storage, communications, some kind of computer hub for their terminals,” Bainbridge replied as he led them down one of the winding aisles. “This hive is the nexus of a planet-spanning communication system. Well, it was before we bombed the fuck out of it. The Queen manages everything herself – what resources to allocate to the different regions, troop movements, supply and manufacturing. She would have been running a planetary economy from this location.”

“Should we blow it up?” Garcia asked.

“Lieutenant, I suggest we keep it intact,” Jade added hurriedly. “If the hive is storing data or keeping records of their activities here, then we might be able to find a way to salvage it. Having some insight into how they approached the invasion or how they’ve been managing their colony could be invaluable for future operations.”

“Agreed,” he replied. “Don’t worry about the Workers,” he added, glancing back at Tela and her flock. “They’re harmless.”

The group made their way across the chamber, finding several exits on the far side. Evan noted that they were all large enough for a Supermajor, suggesting that the Queen wanted her guards to be able to have the run of the area. He could only hope that their reserves of heavy infantry had been depleted. They couldn’t get the tanks through here, and he doubted whether there would be any bolt holes where they could escape the giant Bugs. At least the Borealans had something that could bring them down now.

“Check out those cables,” Hernandez said, gesturing to the ceiling of one of the tunnels. Thick wires wound along it, trailing deeper into the passageway, joining it to the chamber’s network. “Looks like a red carpet to me.”

“A link to the Queen’s chamber, maybe,” Jade said with a nod.

“Oh!” Cardinal added, her antennae standing up straight. “Do you smell that?”

“What are you picking up?” Jade asked, moving over to her.

“Males,” she replied excitedly. “Not Tweakers this time, normal males.”

“The Queen’s harem!” Jade gasped.

“A harem?” Hernandez asked skeptically. “What, like, velvet pillows and shit?”

“Betelgeusian Queens keep an entourage of fertile males close by,” Jade explained. “She uses them to extract ... uh ... genetic material when necessary. They rarely leave her side under normal circumstances.”

“Sounds like these Queens have the right idea,” Tela chuckled, a flash of pink passing through her suit panels as she nudged one of her counterparts.

“They’re actually very dangerous,” Cardinal interjected. “Think of them as elite Drones, capable of flight. They often double as bodyguards.”

“Not more dangerous than we are,” Foster muttered, checking his XMR.

The Jarilans led the way, following the scent of the males, the team spreading out in the wider tunnels. They soon rounded a corner and came across another closed blast door, Jade trying and failing once again to get it open. This time, Bainbridge stepped forward, one of his charges in hand.

“A shaped breaching charge should probably do the trick,” he said, planting the device on the door at about chest height. After a moment of examining the obstacle, he elected to place a second, the group moving back around the corner warily as he armed them. “That’s far enough,” he added, glancing back at them. “All of the explosive force will be directed forward. That’s what shaped means.”

“Will it be enough to get through?” Collins wondered.

“As long as it’s not as thick as the last one,” Bainbridge replied. “This is what these charges are designed for.”

Evan watched with bated breath as the lieutenant tapped at his wrist device, arming the explosives, detonating them a moment later. There was a flash of light, hinting at extreme heat, a pressure wave washing down the tunnel. The blast door crumbled, the resin and dirt turned to shrapnel, the charge tearing a jagged hole in the reinforced metal beyond.

Bainbridge approached the breach cautiously, using his telescoping camera to get a look through the jagged opening. He quickly jerked away again as a stream of plasma bolts raced through. The lieutenant pressed himself flat against the door in alarm, the volley of enemy fire splashing against the ground and impacting the far wall. After what must have been almost a minute of continuous fire, it finally subsided, a Drone stepping through the breach a few moments later. It gripped the torn edges with its lower pair of hands, its rifle held in the upper, the lenses on its helmet glinting in the light as it searched for targets.

Bainbridge casually leaned over and blew its head off with his PDW, sending it slumping to the ground. Evan noted that this one had wing casings on its back, the glass-like, gossamer appendages visible beneath the protective coverings. Another barrage of plasma fire followed, several of the projectiles charring the thing’s body, its comrades indifferent to its plight.

“Yep, I’m thinking we found the males,” Bainbridge declared as he shuffled a few more steps away from the hole.

“They have the blast door locked down,” one of the Marines from Yates’ squad said. “How the fuck are we gonna get through that?”

“Anyone got any grenades left?” Bainbridge asked. “Frag, plasma – doesn’t matter.”

They passed a handful of grenades to the Marine closest to the corner, who began to toss them to Bainbridge like softballs, unable to expose themselves due to the intermittent plasma fire. The lieutenant caught the first of them, then primed it, tossing it through the breach. He repeated the process with each grenade, finishing off with a plasma variant of Valbaran design that created a green flash beyond the door.

“You think that got ‘em, L.T?” Hernandez asked, poking his head around the corner.

“Depends on how big the room is, Private,” he replied. “Are you volunteering to take a peek inside to check?”

“No, sir,” Hernandez replied as he slunk back around the corner again.

Bainbridge extended his telescoping camera again, angling it so that it could see through the hole, Evan tapping into the feed to get a look at the chamber beyond. There wasn’t much to see, just smoke and darkness.

“I think we’re clear,” the lieutenant said, waving for the rest of the group to approach. “I’ll go through first,” he said, stowing his camera. “My armor can take more hits than those Marine suits. If you hear shooting, I guess try plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Donovan asked, Bainbridge ignoring the question as he stepped through with his weapon ready. After a tense few moments, he called for them to follow, everyone filing through the breach one after another.

Evan emerged into another chamber, this one relatively small when compared to the others he had seen. It could best be described as a rather spartan barracks, the resin walls pocked with recesses that were about large enough to serve as beds for the males. They were lined with hard resin, no blankets or pillows in sight. The Drones in question were scattered around the room in varying states of dismemberment, the grenades having eviscerated them in the enclosed space. It looked as though they had erected defensive barriers, just chest-high walls of dirt and resin, positioned to give them a firing angle on the door. It seemed desperate, even by Bug standards. There was nothing else in the room, no tables or chairs, nothing resembling furniture. He could see a weapon rack that had been mostly destroyed by the explosives, the honey feeding tube dripping, but that was about it. For elite troops and the Queen’s personal harem, they didn’t have more amenities or nicer living quarters than any of the other castes. He found himself wondering what they did all day – if they even had a concept of entertainment or whether boredom had just been engineered out of them.