“This is really getting annoying,” Cholosta’an muttered as he, again, targeted the sniper. He didn’t know why he was missing the gadfly but he intended to track it down and destroy it.
“Up the hill,” he shouted, pointing towards the targeting icon. “After it!”
This was one human that was not getting away; best to kill it before it started calling in artillery.
Aatrenadar snarled as another volley of artillery scythed thought his oolt’ondar. The human positions were dug in deep, so even with the massed fire of thousands of Posleen the defenders were holding out, laying down murderous direct machine-gun and rifle fire while their blasted “artillery” hammered from above.
What was worse was the situation the Posleen found themselves in. The humans had reacted quickly to the nuclear fire that had reduced the bulk of the host, then had driven forward in a mass tenaral charge, cutting down all the remaining Posleen in their path. Many of the Posleen were so shaken they had never even seen the human tanks and personnel carriers until they were upon them.
This push had pressed the remnant of the host into a pocket just south of the town of Green’s Creek. There was very little room to open out and get a mass of fire upon the humans since the humans had taken the high ground in the defile. Furthermore, the narrow, twisty road behind, while packed with oolt’os and Kessentai from a milling mass on the far side of the gap, barely fed enough through to sustain their losses. Add in the artillery fire that was dropping deeper in the pass and the Posleen, for once, were able to use the term “beleaguered” to describe their situation.
The only bright spot was that while the host could not advance, neither could the humans. If they came out of their holes they would be slaughtered and if there was no way for the Posleen to maneuver there, equally, was no way for the humans to maneuver large forces. It was a battle of attrition and as soon as the combat suit defenders in the southern pass were cleared out, it would be a battle of attrition the humans could not win.
Of course, he would not see the eventual victory, but the Path was a path of pain and death. As well here as anywhere. If he could just sink his teeth into one more human.
“Forward!” he cried. The oolt’os would fight like the simple beasts they were but the younger Kessentai needed encouragement. “Forward for the host! Forward for the Path! Blood and loot at the end!”
He toggled his tenar forward as the line jolted towards the humans, then froze it at a light like a giant flashbulb behind him. After a moment there was another great flash, then another and another. For a moment his shadow, stark and white on the backs of the oolt’os in front of him, was fixed on his vision, then it was as if the sun had darkened. But his enhanced vision quickly adjusted to all the changes in lighting and he thus had a clear view of the mass of metal, like a rolling mountain, that appeared around the shoulder of a distant hill.
“Third round away, sir,” Pruitt said. “I’m not happy with the accuracy at this range; we have to fire the damned things practically straight up and we have no solid data on winds aloft.”
“Is it going to drift to this side of the Gap?” Mitchell asked.
“No, sir, if anything it will be a bit far out.”
“Then I’ll live with it,” he said, tapping his map controls. “Okay, Pruitt, reload with anti-lander rounds, Major Chan, you’re just about up, Reeves, follow the vector I’ve laid in.” He took a look around the room and shook his head. “Let’s Rock.”
The monstrosity was as big as an oolt Po’osol and nothing that large should be able to crawl along the ground. It appeared around the side of a hill, leaning at an angle that, given its height, should have rolled it over on its side. But it didn’t fall. It just kept rolling forward, the fire, it seemed, of all the oolt’os and Kessentai in view sparking off its front carapace. Yet, still, with lines of plasma carving the picture on its face, with hypervelocity missiles sparking off of it like fireflies in the night, it kept coming.
Then it disappeared in a wall of water.
“Excuse me,” Colonel Mitchell said, looking into his suddenly blank monitor. The SheVa had lurched downward, indicating that they were descending into the valley of Sutton Branch, which should reduce some of the murderous fire they had been taking. But losing all visual references in the middle of a battle was… not good. “What in the hell just happened?”
“Colonel?” Chan called. “There’s a big… fountain of water up here. It’s all over the place! We can’t see shit, pardon me.”
“Negative visual, negative radar, negative lidar,” Pruitt sang out. “What in the hell just happened.”
“Darn,” Kilzer said. “Let me check my notes…”
“Mr. Kilzer!” the colonel shouted across the compartment. “Is this your doing?”
“Well, yeah,” the tech rep replied. “It’s an experimental anti-plasma defense. We mounted a fifty-thousand-gallon water tank in the front of the turret and…”
“Well, before you check your notes, kindly shut it off! We’re driving into the rear of an embattled division! Running over their headquarters, for example, would be a really big mistake!”
“HQ’s way back near Dillsboro, boss,” Pruitt pointed out. “But it would be nice to see so we can shoot.”
“Okay, okay,” the civilian muttered, toggling off a switch. “It wasn’t like anybody got killed…”
“Hold it here, Reeves,” Mitchell called, surprised how far forward they had traveled. They were already across the stream and on their way up the flank of the next hill. In fact, looking in his monitor he saw that the church that used to occupy the hilltop itself had just disappeared under a track and the primary power lines that had once been there were now scattered across Bun-Bun’s carapace.
“Oh, no, there goes Tokyo!” Kilzer said.
“Gojira!” Reeves shouted as the main support began to tumble down the hill.
“It’s one of those eternal questions.” Pruitt laughed. “Who would win in a fight, Bun-Bun or Godzilla?”
“Depends on the Bun-Bun,” Pruitt pointed out. “Maj… I mean Colonel, we’re in range of the Posleen, I think.” His comment was punctuated with the bong of another HVM round hitting the frontal plate.
“Major Chan, are you in range?”
“Yes, sir,” the MetalStorm commander replied. “We don’t really have much of a target, but we’re in range.”
“Put it on the road,” Mitchell replied. “They seem to be running right up it. After your initial volley, spread it to either side, arching it over the divisional positions.”
“Yes, sir,” Chan replied. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Mitchell opened his mouth and raised one finger just as Kilzer lifted his hand in a halting motion.
“Colonel, this isn’t strictly necessary, but I heartily recommend it,” Paul said, tapping a control. Over the intercom came a thump of drums, then the sound of bagpipes.
Mitchell paused to listen to the music for a moment, then grinned as the lyrics started.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, his raised finger starting to thump the time in the air. “What is that?”
“March of Cambreath.”
“You’re right. Works for me. Major Chan!”
“Sir!” the MetalStorm commander replied, nodding her head to the beat.
“Open fire!”