Goliaths rumble pass them and they are ordered off the streets to take cover until further notice. The metal beasts plow over the land, shrinking collapsed buildings and corpse alike into a flat paste as they move along. Tarnus holds the radio anxiously to his chest as more injured are carried the opposite direction. Tarnus’ radio comes alive, “All units. All units. This is Command. Form up at designated rally for next phase. Command out.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” says a marine from Foxtrot.
“Let’s go see!” says Tarnus, excited.
Love moves out with the swarm of humans, and soon reaches a crowded area of more marines sitting and bracing any cover they have. Others line up into rows behind positioned Goliaths at differing intervals in cleared away areas of rubble. Before the Goliaths are a multi-meter high earth wall made of rubble and jagged metal support beams. Most areas are unassailable, and where one could scale the wall reveal dead smoldering bodies sunk into the top parapets where they tried. Marines and weapon crews fire and lob explosives over the earth wall. Occasionally, a bright orb flies over from the other side where soldiers and marines yell to hit the dirt before it explodes. After each Herculean counter grenade, a quick succession of random plasma bursts rip out from over their top of the parapets at the prone men, where they are quickly replied back with human fire.
Injured warriors from the exchange roll about attempting to stomp out their burning wounds. Medics rush to them and hold their limbs away as others cut away their vests and clothing. Gauze pads are plastered over them till they look like stuffed target dummies, and are carried away as IV’s of water and blood are inserted into them. One injured marine lies back as medics call for a stretcher. The injured man’s pants and underwear are completely ripped off, and the medics work quickly to bandage a gauze diaper around his crotch.
What’s it like?” grimaces the marine. “Is it there?”
A medic lifts the diaper to the side and pats it down tightly. “Girls won’t have to worry about birth control anymore.”
Tarnus’ radio blurts and he places his head against the receiver to hear through all the noise. After the mumbled voice finishes he faces Love. “Herc’s on the other side. We’re breaking through the wall. We will be using the Goliaths to tunnel through. After this, recon declares it will only be a mop up.”
“GET SOME!” The marine’s scream is echoed with similar jubilance throughout the crowds, but instantly out noised by a bone shaking explosion that sends earth flying into the sky before each positioned Goliath.
“The walls are cleared!” says an officer.
“Into the breach!” scream the Commissars.
Love queues up behind the closet Goliath, fidgety and eager. Nearby, an engineer places a thumper grenade launcher onto the ground. It fires a small circular disk that flies out into the sky and hovers over the other side of the earth wall. Peter’s visor fills up with targeted Herculeans before he has even seen them. They run over the rear ramp and through the interior of the Goliath—a mess of earth and dark blood—towards the front lowered ramp. The marines roar their batteries as they exit the forward ramp of the Goliath into the contested city on the Herculean side of the wall. But the few remaining targets on Peter’s visor disappear as he makes it through to the other side. Soldiers and marines kneel before him in a firing line, lighting up the city blocks and streets before them. Along the patch of destroyed city and road ahead of them lie dead Herculeans who attempted to flee—filthy cowards. The battle already over before he could partake.
Freshly injured men are placed up against the newly conquered earth wall, and the line of warriors continues to fire onto the cityscape at nothing in particular. Their rifles rip apart the plaster and walls off the buildings causing big grayish white clouds to descend onto the streets, while simultaneously, skipping bullets kick up asphalt and dirt adding their shade to the scheme. Here and there, a Herculean body is singled out and puffs of red shoot up into the air from direct hits adding vibrancy to the monotone landscape.
A Commissar quiets the firing line so that pathfinders can move up to scout and lead the way. General Jack speaks through Tarnus’ radio, “Advance and clear any remaining enemy positions.” Tarnus gives the go-ahead, and Love is off deeper into the city, or what is left of it.
XI
The scene is the same for a while as they walk down streets of rubble and half standing buildings. Human and Herculean bodies litter the way mixed with the rampant trash. Love eventually takes a left at the request of another platoon that goes right. Approaching an intersection they pause, resting against the wall of a blown out store, its merchandise scattered about the street.
Tarnus calls out to Bravo unit, “Sergeant! Cross over and secure the opposite corner.” The Sergeant raises his hand in beckoning, and Bravo follows into the intersection—instantly Herculean fire strikes down a few of them while the rest scramble back to safety.
“Contact!” says a marine.
“It’s coming from down the street!” informs one of the men that made it back to cover.
Bravo Sergeant in the meantime wails in pain out in the intersection. He cradles his torso and crawls behind a dead marine for cover. Herculean fire rips apart the flesh shield as he screams for them to do something.
Tarnus looks over at Blake. “Sergeant, identify their location.”
Blake advances cautiously to the edge of the building corner. Once at the edge, he produces a camera scope from his belt and aims it around the corner, revealing the Herculean locations. “Their taking cover down the street in an oval roofed building, where the lanes split.”
Tarnus taps his fingers on his radio for a few moments, while Bravo Sergeant exposed in the street curses more, asking why they haven’t gone out and retrieved him.
“Any ideas, sir?” says Blake.
“Hold on,” says Tarnus, “Okay, got it.” He turns to the rest of Love. “What’s left of Bravo, combine with Golf. When I drop smoke in the street you’ll cross over and lay down fire while Easy paints a target.” Tarnus lowers his head to his radio on the side, the long antenna probing meters into the air. “Command, Command, this is Love Company, requesting support fire on soon to be painted targets.”
The radio bleeps back, “Love, Love, we copy, fire ready and awaiting target. Command out.”
Tarnus hurls a smoke canister near the injured Sergeant. The white smoke fumes out aggressively, and soon the entire intersection is a lofty cloud. Plasma streaks rip through the veil inaccurately. “Now!” says Tarnus.
Golf and remaining Bravo unit cross the intersection to the other side. Their LMG squad mate opens fire from their corner.
“Move!” says Blake.
Easy is off into the smoke.
They lie prone among the dead for cover. The Sergeant begins flavoring his insults with new obscenities at them for taking so long as Tommy lifts him back to safety. Peter braces his XM by laying it over the neck of a dead man for stability, and shoots blindly out of the smoke. On top of Blake’s helmet is an integrated infrared scope in reserve. He lowers this second bulkier visor over his first one that detects heat in search for Herculean positions. After what seems forever, Blake flips it up. “I got ‘em! Move back!” Easy escapes the open intersection back to cover.