When we reached a range of a mile or so, we met our first hints of resistance. From high-up on the mountain, probably from alcoves and cave mouths that were barely noticeable from below, long-range rifle fire rippled down upon us.
The incoming fire was quite a bit different than it would have been on Earth. First of all, we could see it coming. Each projectile came down as an orange spark like a tracer round. I doubted the bullets were designed to behave like a tracer, but because of the increased thickness and the composition of the atmosphere, the bullets were actually burning up as they came. Another difference was the fire wasn’t straight, even though they weren’t more than a mile off. The rounds came in a dropping arc, like artillery fire, due to the tremendous gravitational pull of Helios. Despite the thick air, and therefore increased air resistance, the gravity caused the bullets to fall harder at the end of their trajectory. The bullets sped up a fraction as they came. They rained down on us like falling meteors.
I was impressed most of all by the Worms’ skill with their weapons. They dropped those bullets into our midst with precision. They did not seem to be picking out individual targets, but instead landed their fire in the middle of my sitting marines. I never saw a single shot miss my tanks entirely. To do that took great skill, I knew, as we were moving at high speed and they could not sight on us directly the way a sniper could on Earth.
Bullets punched into the curved metal surface of our yawning drill-tanks. Near me, a man was hit in the shoulder. He spun around and fell into the lap of a second man. Then the bullet popped inside his body—it must have had a timer. The marine howled and writhed. Blood poured from the wound.
I could order the tanks to button-up, but doing so would require that my men disembark and run after the tanks. That would leave them moving slowly and more exposed than they were currently. I reached for my com-link, but paused. The two escorting hovertanks had already begun to return fire without orders.
The enemy snipers had no doubt thought they had the clear advantage. We were exposed and they were well-covered, invisible to the naked eye from this distance. What they had not calculated upon was the precision of Nano sensors and Nano brainboxes, which unerringly swiveled, locked and spat back gouts of energy. Almost as soon as each turret fired, it swept a fraction to one side or the other and fired again.
I zoomed in with my goggles, watching the enemy die on the mountain walls. I saw burnt, twisting Worms falling from their perches, struck dead. Within thirty seconds, the incoming fire faltered, and a minute later stopped entirely. Even using the technique of slipping forward, taking a quick shot and retreating wasn’t enough to escape our defensive fire. The brainboxes tracked them and remembered them—even timed and predicted their next exposure. They were burnt the moment they revealed themselves.
I smiled tightly. My scripts were slaughtering the enemy. It was a good feeling, but a grim one. Somehow, it was hard to enjoy watching artificial systems slaughter biotic troops—even when I was on the winning side. The Worms were, after all, defending their home.
-50-
We reached the mouth of the target tunnel without further incident. In a way, the fact the Worms had given up so easily was disconcerting. I knew they were inside their massive stronghold, waiting for us. What did they have planned for us once we’d entered their domain?
I reviewed our plan as we massed around the tunnel entrance. The more I thought about the plan, now that I stood there at the foot of the vast monolith, the less I liked it. Heading into the Worm tunnels seemed the height of folly. The trouble was, we didn’t have any other options. Not if we wanted the Macros to give us a ride home.
I took a deep breath as we climbed out of the shells and scanned the area closely. This was it. This was go-time. There was no turning back, no hesitation. We were here to do or die.
The scanners showed nothing obviously threatening. I’d worried about the enemy setting mines around the outskirts of the mountain. Perhaps a certain level of damage would be worth it to them to stop us early, right at the doorstep. One well-placed, nuclear mine could blow us all off the planet surface and even though it might grievously damage their home, they would be rid of us as an effective force.
“Sir,” said a sensor officer, Lieutenant Chen. She had a precise step and physician’s attitude. I’d met her before. I considered her a sharp-troop.
“What is it, Lieutenant? Do you have contacts?”
“Yes, thousands, possibly millions of them.”
I stepped up to the scope and peered inside. “I don’t see that many.”
“Look at the glimmers, sir. The trace contacts.”
“You mean—under us? Are they down below? They are registering as cold and motionless.”
“Yes. They’re dead, sir,” said Chen.
I looked at her, then looked back into the scope. There was a three-dimensional image inside—or what appeared to be inside, but which was artificially generated. I knew I really looked into a small box that simulated depth and registered interesting objects the scanner had picked up, displaying them with symbolic shapes and colors. My troops were bright blue circles. I could see a few Worms, they were—worm-shaped and bright yellow. Very faintly glowing green contacts were everywhere, however. There were indeed thousands of them. I waved my hands near a pickup, and caused the point of view of the scope to drive deeper, into the landscape. There were layers and layers of worm-shapes beneath us.
“They are all dead?”
“Yes sir. We are standing on a vast graveyard. The piles are thousands of bodies deep—below our feet, sir.”
I looked at her. She looked back at me, evenly. I nodded. “Thanks for telling me. Keep me informed about anything else that strikes you or your team as odd, Lieutenant. But I’m primarily interested in live Worms.”
“Of course, sir,” she said.
I stepped away from the scope, uncertain of what to make of this development. Maybe the Worms had been burying their dead out here at the edge of the mountain for generations.
I stopped worrying about dead Worms. I had plenty of live ones to think about. I had the Macros on my mind as well. I set up a communications box at the tunnel entrance and buried it under a light layer of loose dirt. With luck, the Worms wouldn’t destroy it. I attached a nanite strand to the unit. We would pay out the strand behind us as we advanced into the mountain. My officers liked the idea, figuring we could use it to communicate with our base. Heading into a mountain with no way to communicate to anyone on our side was a frightening prospect. What I didn’t tell them was I did not intend to chit-chat with Robinson on this system. Sending signals with it would only alert the Worms to its existence. I had set it up to follow the Macro instructions. When we got to the heart of this mountain we’d use it—not until then. Even if we never got out of the mountain again, maybe the Macros would count our mission as accomplished and at least pick up Sandra and take her home.
The drill-tanks finished reconfiguring themselves after a few minutes of making sounds like rusty hinges. I ordered the first tank to enter the cavern, with a company of marines behind it. I held back the second machine for a full minute. If the Worms destroyed my first group, I wanted reserves with which to respond.