Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own.
Author's notes: Seravy! Nice to see you're still alive.
Chapter 15
"Ready? Fire!"
A moment later, a missile burst from the weapon's muzzle. It hung in midair for a fraction of a second before its thrusters kicked in, propelling it towards the nearest assault pod on a tiny trail of flame and smoke. The two men watched it approach the target gleefully. However, their expectations fell flat when the hissing whine of automated servos signaled the activation of the unmanned bunkers. Almost a dozen of the pods swiveled their 360° weapons turrets around as their motion detectors warned them of the sudden movement.
A moment later, the missile burst apart in midair as they shredded it with a wave of precision fire. The two Meranos soldiers carrying the missile launcher slumped backwards onto the ground.
"Dammit! We wasted all this time finding their maximum range, and then the distance the missiles have to travel is too far!"
"We're stuck. Half of the heavy weapons in the base are gone." His companion gestured briefly at a gory mess fifty yards away. The pile of shredded clothing and unidentifiable body parts had belonged to another pair of soldiers lugging a missile launcher. They'd made the mistake of getting a bit too close.
"I guess there's nothing to do but get back to the base."
They just finished reporting their failure and were about to get up and trudge back to their headquarters when a loud rumbling noise accentuated by the unhealthy sound of metal grinding against metal stopped them in their tracks.
"What the…"
They both stared at the contraption approaching from the direction of the garrison. It bore a vague resemblance to one of the tractors they routinely used for moving and storing materials and supply crates, except it had a huge number of metal plates of various origins crudely welded on. The thing was so heavy that it required another pair of tractors to push it along towards the base outskirts.
"What the hell's this?"
Another Meranos soldier poked his head out of one of the tractors.
"The new plan. The heavy guns didn't work out like we'd hoped, so now we're going to try use this overloaded monster to soak up fire and hopefully get them to burn up all their ammunition. We haven't seen anything that's not an anti-infantry weapon, so this looks like a good option."
The soldiers watched nervously as the overgrown vehicle was slowly eased closer and closer to the enemy pods. The instant it came into their effective range, they immediately opened fire on the armored tractor. The men winced and recoiled from the racket made by thousands of solid slugs ricocheting from the heavy plating, covering the front armor with scores of dents so packed together that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. As continued moving deeper, other pods also opened fire, sending washes of laser pulses devil dancing over the vehicle's frame until the armor plating glowed molten from repeated hits. Still, as far as the onlookers could tell, the pods really weren't doing very much damage to it. One of the newly arrived soldiers waved impatiently at the pair of men who'd been carrying the missile launcher.
"What're you waiting for?" He had to shout to be heard over the din. "They're busy! Shoot 'em!"
Both hastily saluted before returning to their previous position. It took them a few seconds to set up before they fired the first missile. It shrieked down amongst the pods, which were all engaged shooting at the tractor, then plowed into the first. There was a brief explosion, followed by a much bigger one as the pod's ammunition supply detonated, hurling the turrets and its top section into the air on a plume of flame. The Meranos soldiers cheered as the heavy weapons team hastily prepared to shoot again.
"Sir! They're taking out the pods!"
"Eh?" Varius stalked over to one of his engineers, who were monitoring the automated units. "What the hell're they doing, shooting at that big thing? Didn't I tell one of you idiots to adjust their target restrictions to human-sized objects or smaller?"
A brief silence was his only answer.
"Dammit, what're you waiting for? Adjust the firing restrictions! And send one of the drones over there to spot for the fire support units. Get that tractor-thingy before it tries to run over one of the pods or something."
"Yes sir!"
The Meranos troops fell silent as the pods ceased firing uselessly at their decoy and instead began to pick off missiles again. They did note, though, that several of the leading weapons platforms appeared to be out of ammunition. None of them were moving of firing any longer, though the ones at the rear still seemed to be capable of shooting. Out of luck, they settled down to wait for orders. None of them noted the small, mechanized drone that zipped around a rooftop to get a clear view of the scene. The machine's AI was programmed like an insect's brain: it flew around very quickly and avoided obstacles and anything that might try to swat it. Normally used for reconnaissance, it had only one part that had any real offensive potential: a special laser that painted targets for artillery or ordnance strikes. Now it moved back into cover behind a building before activating the laser, directing it at the now stationary armored tractor.
"Hey, what's that sound?"
The soldiers turned around just in time to see their tractor suddenly lurch, bouncing a bit on its suspension as a streaking missile, too fast for them to even register, punched through the machine's roof, making it appear as though a gaping rent had magically appeared in the armor. They didn't even have a moment to process the sight before the vehicle burst apart in a monstrous fireball, sending debris flying in every direction as they hastily took cover. When the flying shards of metal stopped raining on them, they slowly emerged to stare at the guttering remnants of the vehicle. Before they could make any decisions or even speak, though, a second missile, this time anti-infantry, landed almost precisely in the middle of them, sending them flying like rag dolls. When the dust had settled, a storming force of mercenaries emerged from side streets and around buildings, passing unhampered through the automated gun nests before slipping into the base perimeter.
In the Meranos base, meanwhile, everything was in chaos. Artillery had been raining nonstop on their defenses for the past twenty minutes and both their regular infirmary and makeshift field hospital was already crammed full. Coordinated strikes of explosive shells and missiles continued to hammer the base at regular intervals, each volley continually eroding the integrity of their defensive perimeter as well as the morale of the defenders. Already huge swathes of their fences, minefields, guard towers and reinforced walls had been destroyed, leaving large gaps in their security system's ability to monitor anyone coming in or out. The main buildings were a mess; two of the smaller storage depots had already collapsed and the others were being shaken to their foundations. The open ground between the buildings and the perimeter defenses was pockmarked with craters, and no one dared to wander outside. The CO was reduced to pacing around in his operations center, waiting for the next bit of bad news.
"Where in hell is the Minister?"
"Sir, you've got a large body of hostiles approaching your position at six o' clock."
"How many?"
"Several hundred at least. They're poorly armed, though."
"Understood. Thanks for the warning."
Renard Gilchrist turned his head in the direction the reported enemy force was advancing from, raising a pair of field scanners to his eyes. He registered nothing, but under the pall of smoke that had fallen over the city, that wasn't surprising. The mercenary slowly scanned the street, panning his view from side to side while continually twiddling with the dials on the viewer's side, enhancing magnification and focus. It didn't take long before he quickly made out the shapes of a large body of soldiers approaching his field command center
"Corbulo."
"Sir?"
"Get the men ready. We seem to have overextended our hosts' hospitality."
"Yes, sir."
His lieutenant saluted and exited the monitoring station, shouting to other officers and NCOs. Renard continued to scan the enemy force, watching as they came into clear focus. His mouth curled up slightly when he saw the burnished armor, brightly colored shields, and medieval weaponry.
"Damn it, Orlov, 'poorly armed' doesn't extend to swords and pikes!"
"Sorry, sir. Didn't know how to describe it."
"Command section!" The communications headset the mercenary leader wore immediately plugged itself into the frequency being used by the units defending his makeshift operations center.
"Wait for them to get into effective range, then fire a volley right over their heads. Fire support units, if you've got anything that's flashy and makes a lot of noise, add that to the mix. Don't fire on them directly unless I give the order."
A series of short beeps sounded in his earpiece as the unit commanders relayed acknowledgement. Renard lowered the binoculars, watching the now-visible enemy force coming closer and closer, marching with parade-ground precision. A sickening weight settled in his stomach. If they didn't break, it would be a massacre.
"Command section snipers!" A brief beep told him his headset had connected him to the communications frequency used by the snipers assigned to his post; he lost no time relaying his orders.
"After you see the command section fire, keep your eyes open. If you see anyone trying to rally them for a charge, take the bastard out. If they still come at us, kill every officer you can find."
Their acknowledgement tones chimed in his ear, and he slowly massaged his forehead.
"I hate my job."
Nefzen had called a halt and had moved them into a small intersection of streets, ordering his men to fan out and set up a perimeter. The Nirvana element watched uncomfortably as the mercenary with the chaingun and another soldier forced their way into a two-story building with a commanding view of the open area, smashing a protesting man to the ground before taking vantage points in a pair of windows as the rest of the squad settled in on the ground floor, freely kicking furniture and a display of pots aside to make room for themselves.
Dita slowly made her way to the side of the injured tenant, pulling his head a bit off the ground and wincing under her helmet as she saw his face, which was smeared with blood. Misunderstanding her attempt to help and seeing only the blank visor of her helmet, he flailed violently, breaking loose and splashing blood across both of them from his bleeding mouth. The young pilot tried to calm him down, but recoiled when she saw the obvious fear in his eyes. Before she could get over her shock or say anything, the huge form of Sergeant Nefzen broke between them. He reached down and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt before pulling him to his feet and hauling him to a room in the back. With a mighty heave, the mercenary tossed him through the doorway before slamming the wooden door shut and blocking it with a chair. He turned around to find Dita pulling her helmet off and advancing on him.
"Wait! Why do you have to do that?"
"We're in enemy territory. He's a civilian, but technically he's also a hostile."
"This is his house! You can't just shut him in there. We shouldn't be in here!"
"Shut up already. I'm in charge and I say this house is a good place to hole up until command sends the all clear, and that's final. Someone will let him out eventually." He stormed up to the girl and drove the stiffened fingers of one hand into her sternum, sending the slender redhead reeling backwards into the main room, away from the door.
"Sit down and wait for orders." He turned away, only to find Meia right in front of him, also bareheaded now. Her eyes locked onto his visor.
"Don't touch her, or anyone else from the Nirvana again, do you understand?" Her grim tone had no room for compromise, and he could plainly see that she was ready to duke it out with him if he didn't agree.
"If you don't want me to have to get them in line, do it yourself. I'm in charge here, and your bunch WILL do what I tell them. Get it?"
The blue-haired Dread pilot restrained herself with difficulty.
"When this is over, I am going to beat you to an inch of your life."
"You're welcome to try." The sergeant deliberately turned away and marched back to the rest of his men, who'd been watching every move intently. Meia allowed herself to relax a fraction of an inch before letting her gaze roam to Dita, who was sitting gloomily beside Hibiki, then to Jura, who was uncharacteristically silent in her own little corner.
The world's gone crazy…