Chapter 28 Hunting the Scorpion
"Back to rolling in the stack with the PBI." Corporal Hartlestone groused from his position in the stack right behind Jeremy. The Poor Bloody Infantry got around in a cramped noisy steel box, and walked the rest of the way. The Air Element had a much better deal. Jeremy could pick and choose from volunteers for the five places on the team.
Jeremy didn't bother saying anything. His attention was on the breach, and people dealt with the stress of waiting in their own ways. Grousing was just one of those, and noise discipline was one with Nineveh and Tyre.
"Dismounted assault. Go, Go, Go!" The stack began to roll. Jeremy and the Air Element were third in the stack. The first group had the left tunnel, the second the right hand one. They would back up the left or right group depending on who needed it, which was ultimately Jeremy's call. It would have been nice to have a detailed plan for taking down the rest of the complex. That idea had gone up in smoke along with PP 9 3/4.
The tunnel walls were smooth, worn that way by water in limestone. From somewhere up ahead, he heard a rattle of rifle fire, followed by the crackling roar of Fiendfyre.
Contact. Jeremy tried to place where the sound of combat was coming from, but couldn't. The cave's acoustics were just too deceptive. They moved on up the tunnel, minding their footing on the damp floor with enough pebbles to trip you up if you weren't careful. A twisted ankle could put a man out of the fight just as thoroughly as Fiendfyre.
They made it to the T junction without incident, and Jeremy held up a hand to signal 'Stop', while he made the call as to which way they should go. There didn't seem to be any obvious choice, so he flipped a mental coin and went right. If they had just been a reserve, they could have hung out here waiting to be called on, but they weren't. Now the initial foothold had been established, the next phase of his orders came into effect. They had a job to do.
They moved down the tunnel, weapons ready, with the last man covering their rear, ready to cast a Protego and engage any threat with his SA-80. The tunnel opened up into a good sized room, shaped like a bubble with an irregular floor covered with variously-sized smooth pebbles.
"Another leg-breaking do." Hartlestone observed. The X Troop section had arrived ahead of them, and were set up to hold the room against any counterattack by the Death Eaters. The two exits, one to the left and one to the right, were both covered by Minimi light machine gunners. The room was lit brightly. An object imbued with a Lumos Maxima spell was stuck to the roof.
"Room clear?" Jeremy asked the big hard-faced man in charge at the entrance. Sergeant Crusher had proved out the concept of the Air Element, but had gone back to his old job when Jeremy had taken over.
"It's clear." Sergeant Crusher jerked his head under the helmet. "Lord only bloody knows what's down those rabbit holes, though."
Jeremy gathered his people to one side for a quick O Group. He took the Marauder's Map out of his leg pocket and unrolled it. He wished, once again, like every other soldier in MMS, they they could use Undetectable Extension charms to carry everything with zero weight. It had been trialed. The problem there was that sufficient damage to the container destroyed the charm, and you lost everything in the container into some magical limbo. You didn't get it back. Sufficient damage wasn't a lot by the standards of soldiers. You carried what you needed on your back and belt, just as soldiers had done all the way back to the Roman legions.
"All right, people, we got this job wished on us and we've got it to do." The map showed the location of the Scorpion and the location of them, and that was about all. He hadn't moved around very much in the last half hour or so. Jeremy was tasked with hunting the Scorpion and finding him. Sergeant Fletcher's assessment was that the Scorpion was useful enough to invited along, or tricky enough to invite himself along, on any evacuation. Finding him was a good shot at locating a bolt hole, if the villains had one.
Jeremy oriented the map to the chamber they were in as best he could, looked down at it and made his decision. "All right, we're going down the left hand tunnel. We'll do it quiet, under Silencio and using Supersensory Ultrarubrum."
Supersensory Ultrarubrum was a new spell, rather tricky to use, that had come out of the experience of Operation Beowulf. It allowed you to see by infrared light, just like a dragon. Jeremy had pushed and argued to get his men to the front of the line for the training to use it. He was glad he'd taken the trouble, though it was also one of the reasons they'd had this particular job lumbered on them.
"Standard patrol formation. We take it slow. Point man has a Protego up. Number two covers him with his rifle. If we spot hostiles, we engage only on my order. This is a recce. I'll be stopping at frequent intervals to check the map. We don't want that poisonous little bastard dropping down on one of us in his bug form."
Jeremy looked around at his men, and they all looked back at him with total agreement. Getting shot was one thing. You didn't last in the infantry if you hadn't come to terms with that thought. Getting poisoned from out of the dark was another whole level of worry.
He raised his voice. "Sergeant Crusher. We're going down the left hand tunnel. If we bite more than we can chew, then we may come back down that tunnel at the quickstep."
"Copy that. We've got Minimi's on both entrances. Clear the entrances as soon as you can and any pursuit will get lit up properly." Crusher's solid presence was as reassuring as it always was. So was the thought that the Minimi gunners could shred anything small enough to fit into that tunnel. The squad level light machine gun fired the same round as the SA-80, but a lot more of them at a much higher rate of fire.
They formed up in patrol order, Jeremy just behind the two point men. Spells all cast, they moved slowly along the tunnel, ghosting along under the cover of the spells. The tunnel was painted for them by the spell in shades of dark grey, showing the cold irregular stone walls. It curved back and forth and up and down as the water that had carved it had flowed.
Periodic checks of the Marauder's Map showed the Scorpion marker getting closer, though it was hard to judge how much of the change in direction was due to their own movement and how much to his. Jeremy had lost track of how far they had gone, though his men would be counting paces and would thereby have a good idea.
They came to a bend in the tunnel, and Jeremy stopped the patrol with a hand signal to check the map. He was fairly sure the map marker was moving away from them at an angle. It could mean the evacuation was starting, or it could mean the rats were looking for a way off the ship. Looking up, his attention went to the tunnel ahead as he stowed the map again. The tap on his shoulder from the second man behind the point called his attention to a faint glow of light, visible light, leaking around the corner. Jeremy gave a hand signal, and they moved on toward the light. It grew brighter as they moved toward the bend. It appeared stationary.
Weighing his options, Jeremy decided they came to all in or all out. If the light betokened a sentry, then they either took him out and lost surprise, or backed off and reported. The ideal option of taking out the sentry quietly wasn't on here. Whether he was dead or just unconscious, that would trigger the Fiendfyre. If, as now seemed likely, he was the flanker for an evacuation route, that would also blow away surprise. That was the likely purpose of having him here.
They moved further around the bend, and sure enough it was a Death Eater, his wand held high and glowing with a Lumos Maxima. He was alert, looking both ways down the passage. He was also in partial cover, behind a fold in the wall. Taking him out would be a tricky shot.
Jeremy activated the voice rune on his wrist. "Contact. Wait. Out."
He turned his head to the men behind him. "Marksman, engage."
The time it took for the man with the sniper rifle to edge to one side, take his sight, and wait for the Death Eater to put his head out and look toward them seemed longer than it was, but then the silence of the dark passage was shattered by the report of the .338 rifle, followed instantly by the roar of Fiendfyre. Jeremy had not needed to order his men to follow his own example to cancel Supersensory and shield their eyes against the glare.
"Engage at will." Jeremy snapped. This was no longer a recce.
They moved fast down the tunnel with a Lumos Maxima object floating in front of them. The less time they gave any defenders, the less time they would have to get set. Meanwhile, Jeremy was talking to his wrist. "Engaged one hostile, advancing. Hostile possibly a flanker for an exfil route."
With the message acknowledged, he gave his attention back to the tactical situation, and none too soon. They came around another bend, and the tunnel floor slanted sharply down to a T junction with a much larger passage. It was occupied. He could see the glare of Lumos Maxima, and the sources were moving.
"Shit!" The point man put his boot on a wet rock that turned under it, lost his footing and started sliding down the incline. The number two grabbed at him, but all that accomplished was to send him sliding down the slope as well.
Jeremy didn't even have time to curse mentally. "Go!"
The rest of them, Jeremy leading, flung themselves down the slope, sliding rather than trying to keep their feet, but on their backs with their weapons up and ready. They tumbled out into the middle of the junction, rolling to the prone position.
There were at least three light sources, and one of them was visible. He wore a wizard's robes, his wand up. The light source died, the wand came down, and a Bombarda Maxima flew down the corridor. It flew over them, and detonated somewhere down the cave passage behind them.
A chorus of Protego and the hammer of rifle fire drove the Death Eater to cover. Alas, there was no blast of Fiendfyre.
"Contact. Multiple hostiles, engaging. Estimate this is the exfil, say again we have found the exfil route." Jeremy snapped, then gave his attention to the needs of survival.
"All right, people, we've found the exfil route, and we're the cork in the bottle. We hold here. Mind you make every round pay."
"Corporal, distance." There would have been several of the patrol counting steps, but Corporal Hartlestone was the most accurate at that skill. Non-magical soldiers had been spoiled by GPS. MMS was back to doing it old school.
"One thousand two hundred fifty metres." Hartlestone reported, then squeezed off a rifle round at a flicker of movement by the tunnel wall.
"Twelve hundred fifty metres." Jeremy repeated back, to make sure.
At Hartlestone's confirming nod, he tapped the rune on his wrist. "We are twelve hundred fifty ..."
BOOM! A Bombarda Maxima hit the tunnel wall a little in front of them, thrown by a wizard out of sight. "We are twelve hundred fifty metres down the tunnel, say again 1.2 klicks down the tunnel."
He waited tensely for the acknowledgement, then grinned savagely. "Contact report's out. We'll have people coming to join the party shortly."
Jeremy glanced up at the tunnel roof. It seemed solid enough. "Build a strong point."
A chorus of Diffindo Maxima was followed by the smash of slabs of stone, cut out of the tunnel wall, hitting the floor in front of them. Jeremy surveyed the result. Not perfect, but one Hell of a lot better than nothing.
Chunks of stone had broken off the end of one of the slabs, and there was a gap between the slabs instead of the ideal of them overlapping to give complete cover.
It would do, and now they could hold their position and wait. The clock was their friend, not the Death Eaters'.
A lull in the action fell, punctuated by the occasional rifle shot and two Bombarda's from the Death Eaters. Jeremy had time to pull out the Marauder's Map and unroll it on the floor beside him. The Scorpion was about five hundred metres or so down the tunnel, which it was a reasonable bet was the location of the main body with Voldemort's body and the high value targets.
Jeremy's head snapped up as he heard and saw the flash and roar of a Fiendfyre burst, then saw a dense cloud of dust come rolling down the tunnel toward them, no doubt pushed by a spell.
Bastards blew away one of their own. Fiendfyre in a limestone cave creates a cloud of quicklime dust. "Bubblehead, now!" He shouted.
Magic did solve a lot of problems. The Bubblehead Charm removed the requirement for the awkward bulk of a gas mask, and it was quicker to cast when every second counted.
Ghostly shapes in the dust cloud told Jeremy that the Death Eaters were trying a rush under the cover of the cloud of quicklime dust.
The roar of full automatic fire slammed down the passageway, Jeremy's rifle right along with the rest. Ammunition conservation might be a concern in the far future of thirty seconds or so, if they were still alive. Two more explosions of Fiendfyre made the dust cloud thicker, to the point where Jeremy could hardly see his hand in front of his face through the blurry surface of the Bubblehead charm.
His rifle magazine empty, Jeremy was about to reload when he heard boots coming toward him at the run. He dropped his rifle, snatched his sidearm out, stuck his hand out over the slab of rock he was sheltering behind and pumped off three rounds rapid in the blind.
The roar and furnace heat of the Fiendfyre told him one of the rounds had hit, and he grunted in agony as he snatched his arm back down into cover. He made himself look down at it, and grimaced at the blackened useless mess it had become, then barely repressed a scream as the pain hit him.
He was dimly aware that the dust cloud was settling, then the pain in his arm vanished. He looked around to see the mediwizard casting first aid spells. With the pain and shock held at bay, he could think more or less coherently again.
He looked around the position, and his face turned bleak. Not one of the rest of his men was unhurt, and the tattered dusty jacket over Corporal Hartlestone's prone figure said clearer than words that he was beyond any mediwizard's help.
The reports grained into them by training did nothing to lighten his bleak mood. They had burned through almost all of their rifle ammo, and Private Arkenstone's wand had been smashed. The slabs of rock they were in cover behind were eroded, cracked and broken by the fury of the Fiendfyre.
There wasn't much of a chance they could stand off another rush. Still, that attack had cost the Death Eaters, too. They had bought some time. Hopefully it would be enough.
God bloody knows it cost enough. He'd been a bloody fool rushing in with his few men, he could see that now.
He heard a scuffle of sound up ahead where the Death Eaters were, and his face wrinkled into a snarl. Guess it wasn't enough after all.
He was just raising his pistol after awkwardly drawing it wrong handed when he heard running footsteps behind him, and someone dropped down prone beside him.
His head snapped around, then he gave a huge sigh of relief. It was Sergeant Crusher.
"Busy time of it, I see. What have you got?" His gruff gravel bass sounded as good as a choir of angels to Jeremy.
"They blew up one of their own, then pushed the cloud of quicklime down on us to cover a rush. Don't know how many, couldn't see in the dust." Jeremy said mechanically.
"That's nasty. Good to know. You're relieved, we've got this." Crusher said, then raised his voice to a parade ground pitch.
"Medic, Fiendfyre burn case, stat. Minimi, set up on the left, Heavy Machine Gun on the right. Corporal, get to cutting rock and build a strong point fit to take Fiendfyre. Anyone sees a cloud of dust, you call 'Gas, Gas, Gas' and we all bubble up."
"Sergeant, I ..." Jeremy's attempt at a protest was cut off by someone casting Mobilicorpus behind him.
Crusher got up to a kneeling posture. "You got it done, sir. If not for you they'd have got away on us. Now they're in the nutcracker. We'll give their balls a squeeze for you, depend on it."
Jeremy found himself floating face up back down the passage they'd come by, until he arrived at what had to be the Casualty Clearing Station.
A CMT sliced away the charred remains of his sleeve, checked his vitals and brushed the white dust off his face.
"What's that?" He said brusquely.
Jeremy coughed a couple of times, then gasped, "Quicklime."
The CMT raised his hand to get the doctor's attention while casting Bubblehead Oxygenus with the other.
"Third degree Fiendfyre, 5% of body, right arm, quicklime inhalation." The CMT shouted across the crowded noisy space.
The reply was instant. "Stabilize and transport to St. Mungo's."
The CMT waved his wand, and cast Anesthesia, and that was the last Jeremy remembered.
