After a good bit more struggle and twice being forced to use his pistol when vigorous activities were rewarded by large slabs pinning some point of his armor he finally reached the promised open area. Above his head was some indefinable piece of machinery. It was this large something, another indefinable bit of Galactic machinery that created the pocket. He took a sip of water and just sat and scanned his situation for a moment. No rifle, lost sometime during the explosion. Shoulder grenade launchers sheared off clean. Replacement was a simple field repair assuming spares which he ain't got. One hundred twenty-eight thousand remaining rounds of depleted uranium 3mm penetrators with antimatter activator charge, pretty much useless without a rifle. Grav pistol and forty-five hundred rounds. Two hundred eighty-three grenades, hand or launcher useable. A thousand meters of 10,000kg test micro line, universal clamp and winch. C-9, four kilograms. Detonators. Sundry pyrotechnic and specialty demolition supplies. Personal Area Force-screen; useless against kinetic weapons, as he had pointed out, but of some utility otherwise. His suit had air, food and water for at least a month.
Unfortunately, at his current rate of energy consumption he would be out of power in twelve hours; the kinetic damping systems had been forced to work overtime counteracting not only the effects of the fuel air explosion but also the settlement of the rubble. Combine all of those with the unexpected and unprecedented strains involved in extracting through the rubble and it was a recipe for disaster.
Mike took a bite of suit rations. Ah, pork fried rice pulp. The semibiotic liner of the suit absorbed all bodily wastes, skin-borne oxygen and nitrogen, dead skin cells, sweat, urine and, ahem, and converted them back into breathable air, potable water and surprisingly edible food. In fact the food was quite tasty and constantly changing; just now it changed to broccoli. The texture was still paste, but the system pulled a little power and voilà. No worries about anything but power, as long as he did not think of where the food was coming from.
Well, if it took twelve hours to work through the rubble, he might as well be dead; by then he would be far behind the lines. If he was alone, he would be dead. On the other hand . . .
"Michelle, how many other members of the battalion are down here and functional?" The GalTech communications network could easily punch through the rubble and determine precise positions of every unit.
"Fifty-eight. The senior is Captain Wright of Alpha company. Captain Vero is also trapped under Qualtrev, but he is severely injured and his AID has administered Hiberzine. There are thirty-two personnel who will survive if they are evacuated to a class one medical facility within one hundred eighty days. All are now in hibernation."
Mike rocked his armor back and forth on the plascrete pile trying to make a more stable spot. "Okay, gimme a three-D map with locations, and note rank with increasing brightness levels. Those out of action in yellow, functional in green."
As he spoke the map formed in front of his eyes. Most of the severely injured were those closest to the fuel-air burst or close to Jericho charges.
"Are any of the others starting to extract themselves?"
"A few. The AIDs are sharing the technique. It was initially hard to start without a pistol, but Sergeant Duncan of Bravo company suggested using grenades. So far, that is working."
"Get me Captain Wright," said Mike, happy to have someone else find a solution.
"Yes, sir." There was a chirp and the sound of muted and futile swearing.
"Ah, sir?"
"Yes! Who is it?" Captain Harold Wright checked his heads-up display. "Oh, O'Neal. Your splendid idea worked like a charm. Congratulations."
"It would have been fine if it weren't for the fuel-air explosion, sir," Mike said with chagrin. A drift of dust dropped out of the ceiling of the rubble pocket.
"That is what contingency plans are for, Lieutenant. As it is the battalion is combat ineffective, not to mention trapped in this damn rubble! Any more brilliant ideas?"
"Work our way to the periphery, gather the survivors and head back to friendly lines?" Mike asked rhetorically.
"And we start how?" asked the captain.
"Your AIDs have the plans, sir. I've moved to an open pocket and am preparing to move to the periphery. Basically, we'll blast our way out."
Hal Wright took a moment to consider the plan mapped out by the AID. "Okay, that might just work. I need to start rounding up the NCOs. . . ."
"Sir, the AIDs can sketch out a TOE based upon who we've got and who can make it out. My AID has significantly more experience than yours. If you wish, it can conference with yours and help it along with some of the rough spots . . ."
"Like a certain helpful lieutenant?"
"That was not in fact the idea."
"Well, whatever the idea, according to this schematic your helpful AID just supplied, you are the only surviving lieutenant under here. Congratulations, XO," he concluded, wryly.
"I'm not in the chain of command, sir."
"You are now. Also, according to this schematic, we will end up widely separated. You'll have about thirty-five soldiers gathered in your area. When you're concentrated we can try to use these utility tunnels to rendezvous. First, though, we have to actually extricate ourselves. Contact your personnel, they include Sergeant First Class Green, platoon sergeant of my second platoon. Get them sorted out and moving, then get back to me."
"Watch your energy level, sir," Mike warned, checking his own decreasing waterfall display. "Mine is well down already. We can scavenge power if we find sources, but in the meantime . . ."
"Right. Make sure you emphasize that. Get moving, XO."
"Airborne, sir."
For the next few hours soldiers and NCOs were contacted and units worked out. Personnel who were mobile were sent to free thoroughly trapped comrades. The grenade idea worked well except in the case of one unfortunate private who discovered after arming the grenade that he could not retract his arm. Fortunately GalTech medical technology could regenerate the missing hand if they ever got back to friendly lines. Given that the pain was quite brief, the suit sealed the breach and pain-blocked the damage almost instantly, it caused a certain amount of black humor at his expense. It only got worse when he told them his last words were, "This is gonna huurt."
Despite the occasional setback, by seven hours after the detonation all the personnel who were going to be recovered had reached the utilities tunnels. This did not, unfortunately, include Captain Wright or three other personnel from Alpha company. They were trapped within a tremendous pile of heavy machinery. In spite of repeated attempts to reach him, troops had been unable to make a significant penetration of the machinery. After all the other personnel were withdrawn Captain Wright ordered the remaining trapped troopers to activate their hibernation systems and then, placing command in the hands of Lieutenant O'Neal, he activated his own.
O'Neal surveyed the group of dispirited soldiers gathered in the water main. The end of the two-meter-tall oblate tube was shattered and dangled over a manmade cavern the troops had hollowed out over the last few hours. One of the squad leaders had gone up the tunnel and stated that it was sealed at the other end. Cross that path when they came to it.