"What is the only provocation that could bring about the use of nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. What is the priority target for nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. What is the only established defense against nuclear weapons? Nuclear weapons. How do we prevent the use of nuclear weapons? By threatening the use of nuclear weapons. And we can't get rid of nuclear weapons, because of nuclear weapons. The intransigence, it seems, is a function of the weapons themselves."
- Martin Amis, 20th century English writer.
"So? If two guys are having it out, 'intransigence' doesn't matter if one of them is turned into radioactive goo before the other one."
-General Diennes, justifying the use of nuclear weapons against the bugs two weeks before his death in the first battle of Klendathu.
III
I followed 2nd Lt. Boll to a hilltop directly behind the main battle line. When we arrived, I was provided with an excellent view of the battlefield. Platoon D was scattered in a rough line throughout the hills and dunes of the area. According to the maps that Intel had provided, the foreground was supposed to be flat. I couldn't tell though, because the area was a churning ocean of insect life.
Some troopers towards the rear were taking pot shots with their assault rifles, randomly selecting bugs to shoot. Most of the platoon however, was situated on the line, blazing away with their hand flamers. Towards the far end of the line, I saw a rocket fly and strike a dune that had a large group of bugs on it. The dune exploded in a spray of sand, mixed with the twisted legs of the thrashing bugs.
I didn't have to look long before I spotted the bug mound. Essentially a giant ant-hill, a bug mound is intended for the rapid deployment of bug armies. This way, the bugs could send a strike force to the surface much faster than through the smaller bug holes, which would take more time.
The mound shot up at least 200 feet into the air, a big ugly boil on the flat plain situated next to the hilly area the Roughnecks had put down on. The thing was alive with bugs, who were swarming out in greater numbers every second, replenishing the ones that Platoon D was smearing. Clicking the safety off of my launcher, I turned on the universal com and issued a warning,
"Listen up Platoon D, I have a nuke that I'm gonna send straight to that bug hill. I'ma' count to three, and when I get to three, I want everyone to ground themselves and blink, HARD. But make sure that you don't wait to long to open 'em back up again, or else one of the survivors might sneak up on you."
I got a set of affirmatives from Boll and his noncoms. Then I began my countdown.
"One!"
I took aim with the launcher, and allowed the sensors to locate the target. I got a beep affirming that the target had been found.
"Two!"
The Roughnecks continued to fire at the oncoming swarm. A large pile of bug corpses was now forming at the edges of the line.
"THREE!"
I yelled and pulled the trigger. All of the Roughnecks rooted themselves and closed their eyes. I couldn't exactly see this, because I was ducking into my suit, but I have expectations of my soldiers, and they know them, and they meet them.
Even with my eyes closed, I could still see the silent, bright flash. Then my audio receptors picked up a high pitched WHEEEEE as the air within the blast radius boiled. Soon the flash had dissipated, and I opened my eyes to see the cloud, in the shape of a mushroom, rising high into the air. Underneath the mushroom, the remains of the bug hill super-heated and turned into magma. The cloud slowly sank into the liquid slag, finally disappearing in a haze of wind and debris that struck my position.
The powered armor is designed to tackle that problem though, and I had no trouble standing up in the massive windstorm. Our multi-legged foes, however, were not so lucky. As the last remnants of the explosion (other than the giant crater, which would be there for a while) vanished, I looked out onto the plains that had previously been a chaotic ocean of bug warriors. Now, it was a massive grave yard of shriveled bodies and twisted limbs. Many bugs had fallen onto their backs and curled up like a dead spider in the heat, and their legs were jutting into the air, making the area seem as though some exotic grass had sprouted during the explosion.
Any bugs that had survived the blast were soon finished off by troopers with assault rifles. Soon, the cap troopers of Platoon D were the only living things in the area.
Which was exactly as it should be.
I contacted the other platoons to see what the situation was. I got the all clear from all of them. Next, I called my Sergeant on our private channel, to ask if he and Mr. Bearpaw had finished carving out the interior. His response was enthusiastic,
"Yessir Lieutenant! The area is all clear and ready for occupation."
" Good work, Dad. How did Bearpaw do?"
"He did just fine. A little jumpy at times, but then again, so was another cadet I met shortly after he was passed."
I had to ask,
"Am I still jumpy, father?"
There was a pause on the other end, and I knew that Emilio Rico was thinking very hard. Or messing with his kid. Maybe both.
"Son, I can definitively say that you are the most hard-assed officer that I have ever met in my career as an MI. Now cut the chatter and call down the heavies."
Well, I was awful relieved. I think that the best compliment any fella gets in his entire life, usually comes from his old man. It makes me pity people who have lousy fathers, or none at all. It really does.
End III