36 – The Battle of Geth Creek
"…is a good offense."
The lineup of crewmates in the cargo bay stood at attention and let the Commander's new plan sink in.
"Spoken like a true turian," Petronis was the first to approve, "I like it."
Gorman spun his head towards the engine.
"How long do you reckon we have, Sally?"
"Until the ship is ready to fly?" came the response from the middle of several exposed panels underneath the pulsing engine. "Somewhere between ten minutes and ten hours."
"Commander, I have a question," one of the assembled away team piped up. Gorman turned again to see Kalu's hand raised. "Shouldn't you be wearing your armor?"
Gorman looked down. In all his rapid preparation, he'd slung the M16 over his shoulder but forgotten to put together the pieces of his Onyx suit. Instead he was wearing his more vintage outfit – navy turtleneck, khakis, wooly gloves, steel toe boots. The only protection he had was a Kevlar vest and pads for his elbows and knees. He glanced to where the armor was usually hanging, but it was nowhere near the workbench. His first thought was that it was violently relocated during the landing…and then he saw that one of his crewmates was fiddling with his new helmet. Bodewell had donned his armor. As soon as Gorman noticed, so too did the eyes of the rest of the crew.
"…What?" Don blurted, "If you think I'm going out there naked, you're sorely mistaken."
"Commander!" the voice of Blanc came over the loudspeaker. "I've got radar contacts on approach! You better get moving!"
"Fine," Gorman heaved a sigh. "We're wasting time. Hit the ramp release and let's roll."
"Good luck!" shouted Saal'Inor.
The crew broke ranks, clambering into the Bluntnose in a much more orderly procession than last time. Kalu took the driver's seat, Petronis pulled herself closer to the twin guns' controls, and the Commander joined the rest in the passenger section. Slowly the truck's rear door swung up and slammed shut. Gorman shifted his head to get a view out front.
The opposite was happening to the bigger door at the rear of the ship. Rather than a gradual lowering, the bay door, once released, quickly fell down with a loud clang and a splash.
Jets of white-blue heat sputtered out of the Bluntnose's tail. Its wheels and their infamously hexagonal rims started turning. Once the initial brightness faded, outside was sun, surf, sand and a large tidepool the Shackleton appeared to have nestled into. Kalu kicked up the afterburners and the truck leapt forth from the cargo bay.
Luckily, the pools of water between the crags were shallow enough to not only support the vehicle's weight but allow it to skip forward at speed like a skimming stone. Whether from damage from its brief tumble or an internal accident, the rear door cracked open ever so slightly to reveal the departing view. A large black and blue ship was caught between the mossy rocks…and in getting there left behind a wide wake of destruction that the truck was now following. Gorman knew that Sally was something of a miracle worker – but was he asking too much of her this time?
"Impasse!" Kalu dragged the passengers' attention back to the front. A fallen stack of stone was in their way. The driver shifted his hand onto a lever. "Jumping it, hold on!"
The lever was pulled and underside thrusters crackled to life. The Bluntnose soared over the rocks, sending everyone inside just off their seats for a second. It splashed down on the other side with such force that Gorman struggled to remember the last rollercoaster that even came close. He could tell he wasn't the only one reminded of theme park rides – the crew immediately cheered on Kalu for another one.
"Contact!" Petronis put everyone right back on high alert. "Bearing northwest by north!"
Just up around the bend was the outer wall of the geth base – a tall, grey, weathered edifice with a big gun tower rising in its corner. Anti-aircraft, Gorman reckoned. Perhaps what disabled the Shackleton? Between the building's steep walls and the crew was one of the checkpoints seen from the skies, a tiered floodgate system between two sloped cliff faces. However, this one had a full complement of soldiers manning it. The distinctive lights on the heads of the troopers were seen down at water level and up on the gate's top walkway, and directly in the gate's maw was one of the 'vehicles' in working order. Big, mean, four-legged and staring with that unyielding light right in their direction.
"Geth!" Zaz recognized the troopers.
"An Armature, I believe," T'Lore recognized the big one…and her voice trembled.
"Do they see us?" Bodewell crossed his gauntleted fingers.
The big one's light grew brighter…and then a blindingly bright, fiery projectile shot forth from its head.
At that range, it travelled slow enough that Kalu had time to react, tilting the wheel as far as it would go and swerving the Bluntnose around, kicking up heaps of sand. That meant Gorman couldn't see when the shot impacted…but he sure as hell heard it, and that was enough to know he wouldn't want to be anywhere near its next target.
"That was too close!" Kalu's voice was already strained from concentration.
"And what do we have on this thing, a blowpipe?" Gorman was utterly sick and tired of taking the blows rather than enforcing them. Unlike the Calypso barricade, he had heavy weapons of his own to play with. "Fire when ready, Petronis!"
"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed, rising to the little cupola where a sight the size of a postage stamp was all she could use to dial in the Bluntnose's armaments. "Firing for effect!"
BANG! BANG!
While the rest of the truck weaved about without much direction, its twin cannons fired their superfast ammunition, aiming right down the Armature's gullet. The shots zipped forward and all eyes tried to catch a glimpse of the result. Two smaller, equally punchy bangs were heard downstream.
"One miss, one deflection!" the turian reported, leaning down to face the driver. "Get me an angle, Kalu!"
"I'm trying, but – Incoming!" Kalu had to tilt the wheel as far as it would go in the other direction. The Armature blasted another salvo, and if that wasn't enough, now a gradual pinging sound could be heard from the truck's outer shell. The rest of the geth were joining in.
"There, at the levee, to the right," Gorman had to instill some direction, spotting what he thought was a metal embankment of sorts jutting out from some nearby sand. It looked almost as high as the Bluntnose itself – enough to provide an inkling of cover. There were similar levees positioned along the way to the gate like the rungs of a ladder. "Get us there, Kalu."
The security guard wrestled some more with the steering, even having to briefly lift the truck up with the thrusters to ensure the next plasma bolt was avoided. The Bluntnose drifted to its side, slamming against the levee. Its wheels ground to a halt.
"Alright," Kalu let go of the mighty breath he'd been holding. The twin guns were still exposed, allowing Petronis to let loose another couple volleys. "What's the plan, Comm-"
"Hit!" the turian yelled over the continuing sound of ricocheting small arms fire. "Right in the eye! Eat it!" She was almost enjoying herself. Unfortunately Gorman knew the difference between 'hit' and 'kill'. The Armature wouldn't be out for long.
"Get the door," Gorman ordered. A crewmate hit the button and the rear began shuttering open. "Kalu, Petronis, keep moving between the levees, keep firing every chance you get, give us the cover to zig-zag across. Everyone else – on me. Keep your heads down."
"You got it, Commander," Kalu agreed without hesitation. Petronis looked down and gave a terse blink.
The Commander climbed out of the Bluntnose and his boots touched down on yet another brave new world. His first impression was that this one was wetter than the others – the tidepool he jumped down into went up to his shins. Inside the Bluntnose you were largely sheltered from the elements, so his body had to quickly deal with the whiplash of heat and humidity, a fact not helped by his choice of clothing.
A loose shot pinged off the top of the levee, just above his head. Gorman swore under his breath, followed his own advice and ducked lower as he drew both the M16 from its sling and his turtleneck sleeves up his arms. With everyone disembarked and hunkering down, he gave a thumbs up and the last one out, Zaz, banged her fist on the truck's exterior. The bay door was raised and the Bluntnose's engine howled back into gear. It rolled out of cover and Gorman's mental timer told him to cover his ears.
Another two shots were blasted across the surf. From the outside, the vibrations were tenfold – Gorman saw the ripples in the water along the shots' paths. It was followed by a vibrant slower streak in the opposite direction, which impacted a farther rock with a burst of white-hot energy. The Bluntnose had turned around, moving up the beach from right to left. It was time to follow it.
"This is it, people! Stick to the truck!" Gorman shouted behind him. "Move, move, move!"
The Commander led a mad dash across the gulch, running as fast as the terrain allowed while attempting to keep up with the front of the black and blue tank. He couldn't hope to outrun it – it was outrunning him. Right as it started its next turnabout, Gorman saw the next embankment and bolted for it. All the while, geth gunfire whistled past his ears.
He arrived unharmed, his back against the new embankment. One by one the rest of the team flung themselves into similar safety, and by a stroke of fortune none of them needed to be fished out of no man's land after an unfortunate slip-up. All of them looked equally relieved – and then to the Commander for the next step.
"You've all got shields, don't you?" Gorman didn't feel like risking his head, "Tell me what we're up against!"
The bravest crewmates lifted their heads cautiously above the levee, ducking on instinct when the Bluntnose sent forth another blast across the way. Small plasma bursts zipped by – warping some of their barriers.
"I count ten of them," Zaz reported.
"Five on the upper level, five below," T'Lore added.
"Armchair's in the middle," Bodewell mispronounced.
"Let's see what they've got," Gorman built up the courage to twist around and lean his rifle in the levee's edge. The team readied their weapons. "Wait 'til the big one fires again…"
Sure enough, the Armature's armament fired another flash that sailed just shy of the Bluntnose. Gorman rose with his rifle and dialed in on the gallery of blinking lights down range. At this distance a three-shot burst would be a careless waste – so he pulled the trigger many times in rapid succession to send single shots across. The others didn't have such a problem to worry about, and lit up the valley with an array of fireworks.
The Commander focused his fire on the upper level, his discipline holding firm enough to wait for a lilac head to pop up before giving it a bullet. It was hard to tell if it was having any effect, unfortunately, but he could tell that the geth were shifting themselves into better positions to get as much cover as possible from the team's side. Gorman ducked back into cover and the team soon followed.
"Next time the Bluntnose passes," he began laying out his next strategy while folding a fresh magazine into his gun, "T'Lore, you and me are going to make a break for the other side."
"Just the two of us?" T'Lore didn't find the idea repulsive, in fact, she could tell what he had in mind…something of a common occurrence. "It would split the geth's attention."
"Exactly," Gorman nodded. Between the truck's guns and their own, they were restricted to two lanes of outgoing fire towards the enemy. As he was taught, that number should be as high as possible. The Bluntnose was making its way around as he spoke, stirring every drop of water with another barrage. "Zaz, Don, we need covering fire."
"We've got your back, sir!" Bodewell nodded vigorously in response, blowing away steam from his Lancer. Zaz's focus was still mostly on the battlefield.
The truck skidded around in a circle just behind them and lined itself up to cut across.
"Now!" the asari took the lead, breaking from cover and racing to get on the dry side of the Bluntnose. Gorman scrambled to his feet and tried hastily to keep up. Each step felt heavier as his poor boots took on more and more water. At least it was warm.
Bullets flew all around, rattling against the Bluntnose's thick armor. The truck veered to its side, starting another loop. This left the Commander out in the open for a moment too long. He was right in the crosshairs and a leap from the next levee. Right at that moment, he judged the distance…and was unsure as to whether he could make it.
In an instant, the asari turned and dragged him close.
The Commander's first thought was that this was an absolutely abysmal time for a hug – and then he actually saw the bullets up close, bouncing off her kinetic barrier. Each one should have had his name on it.
The two of them splashed down just at the embankment's edge. T'Lore rose and frantically searched him for any wounds. Gorman felt fine…but his clothes were soaked. As problems go, certainly not the worst one to have right then.
"Are you okay, Kevin?" she asked.
He was about to respond when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. His left forearm came across his face and the omni-binoculars reappeared. From his prone position he was granted a clear view not just of the cloudy sky and rocky peaks but the top of the looming geth base. At the taller tower were trails of red and plumes of fumes. Signs of battle at the summit. The AA gun itself was lowered and smoking – disabled? T'Lore turned her shapely head to try and see what had grabbed his attention.
Gorman sat back upright and braved a look across, not to the checkpoint but to its lefthand side. The way the cliffs curved up from the ground to meet the upper level…it activated his improvisational itch like nothing else. He knew a ramp when he saw one.
But before the masterplan could begin…there was perhaps an easier way to reach its goal. Two fingers went up to his soggy ear.
"Lieutenant? You there?"
"Ah, Commander!" came Blanc's voice, barely audible over the commotion all around. "Back in the fray, I hear? How's the battle of Geth Creek going?"
"Exactly the beach break I deserve," Gorman groaned, "How's the Shackleton looking?"
"Magnifique, Commander," he replied, washing a bucket of relief over Gorman, "Sally is nothing short of a miracle worker. The ship's back to eighty percent efficiency! Eighty! Can you believe it? We might even have time left over to…"
The Lieutenant was drowned out by another twin shot from the Bluntnose. Gorman's plan was starting to come together.
"As soon as you can, bring the ship to us," he directed, "If we're not by the seaside…we'll meet you at the top of the geth base's AA tower. The tall one."
"We will?" T'Lore recoiled back slightly in surprise, casting her gaze to the tower itself and perhaps noticing the gunfire at its zenith.
"Zut alors, Commander, I don't even want to know what you're thinking this time," lamented the Lieutenant, "We'll make it happen. See you there."
Gorman switched his subdermal radio to short-range with a twist of the finger. On the other side of the valley, Zaz and Bodewell alternated between peeking to shoot and peeking to stare at the Commander's sudden bout of inaction.
"Everyone reading me?" Gorman addressed the whole crew. The response he received was not what he expected.
"What? Who is this?" came a faint, crackly voice he'd never heard before. Gorman sat further upright – albeit still under the embankment's protection – and twirled his head in all directions to find the source.
"Gorman speaking. Who is this?" he asked out loud. T'Lore had a completely lost expression on her face.
"Is that you, Commander? I can barely hear you," said the voice.
"You're…at the top of the tower, aren't you!" Gorman deduced, raising his eyes to the other fight happening not too far away.
"Of course I am! That's what I just told you!" Whoever this mystery man was, between the radio static and the sounds of gunfire he sounded human, not to mention mighty stressed. The sooner they made a rendezvous the better. "Is this about Saren? Did you find him?"
"Uh…that's not important," Gorman reassured the man as best he could, "I'm on my way right now with everything I have. Hold on tight."
"How are we getting up there?" T'Lore let out a loud whisper. Gorman held up a hand and waited for his reply.
"Yes, I know! That's what you just told me!" the man replied, sighing, "Just don't do anything rash. That nuke has to take priority, no matter what."
"Nuke?" Gorman blurted. The transmission dissolved into static – for good. "Oh, that's not ideal," he muttered.
"What in the name of the Goddess are you talking about?" T'Lore's frustration boiled over. "Who was that?"
"I have no idea," Gorman shook his head, "But we are out of time." He fiddled with his radio again, slapping his left ear to get any water out of the right one. "Anyone reading me now?"
"Loud and clear!" came the voice of Petronis.
"What's going on over there?" asked Zaz.
"Want us to cover you again?" guessed Kalu.
"Change of plans. I need everyone back in the Bluntnose. Stat." Gorman's latest directive led to noises of confusion filling the airwaves. "Kalu, I want you to find a parking spot."
"We're a little busy, Commander!" replied the driver. The truck was still hurrying back and forth in its high-stakes game of cat and mouse against the Armature's miniature warheads. Just when it looked like Gorman's plan was dead on arrival, the twin cannons let loose another volley.
"Kill!" Petronis exclaimed. The Commander and T'Lore gingerly raised their eyes above the levee. The Armature looked worse for wear – down to three legs and smothered in dents and holes – but now it started shaking violently. Its headlight dimmed, then flickered off, and the legs gave way. The machine crumpled onto the shore with an almighty splash.
The Bluntnose did a victory donut, trundling straight down the gap between the embankments and stopping just ahead of the teams' positions. Its rear door fell open.
"That's our cue! Cover me!" Gorman scrambled to his feet, bursting forth into a run one last time. T'Lore's rifle rose up and opened fire, buying him the time he needed. Not worried about keeping dry any longer, he finished with a forward roll that ended up just behind the Bluntnose's rumbling thrusters. He grabbed the M16 tight and stepped over to the side, picking out any lilac shine down the way and shooting a bullet in its direction. With the asari covered, she too darted from cover and arrived at the truck, leaping inside. Gorman looked to the other levee, and sure enough, Don and Zaz were copying his tactics in the best possible way.
As its twin guns pounded new targets, all crewmates boarded the truck. Gorman took another couple shots for good measure and climbed in, hitting the button to pull up the door. The Bluntnose was not unscathed after all – the door promptly snapped off its hinges and plunged into the water.
"Zaz, you're hit!" came Don's cry from the truck's interior.
"I am?" she remarked. The biotic glanced down to see a deep red opening just above her knee. It looked quite painful. "Oh, right," her voice cracked. Adrenaline had let her completely ignore it…until now. She fumbled around with her forearm, trying to get an omni-tool out, but the asari was quicker, hovering her orange display over the hole in her greaves and within a few taps producing a silvery goo.
"Are the thrusters still working?" Gorman asked Kalu over the raindrop-like rattling of geth bullets bouncing off the truck's blunt end. He was relieved that a single gunshot wound looked like the worst of it, especially after checking his own body to make sure he wasn't also unaware of any incidental damage.
"Where to, Commander?" the driver responded.
Gorman switched seats to get closer to the front of the truck. He threw his arm over Kalu's shoulder and pointed at the sloped ridge to the side of the floodgate…and gradually moved his finger along a graceful arc to the tower's crest.
"Up and over. Top of the spire."
"And just why the hell would we do that?" Kalu had to turn himself around in the seat to face him. All he saw was the opposite of what he was hoping…the Commander was completely serious.
"See the gunfire up there?" Gorman's pointing finger returned momentarily. "We've got friends on this planet. Time to say hello, don't you think?"
"And that's worth risking a stupid stunt?"
Gorman's gentle persuasion was failing. As much as he really, really didn't want to mention the nuke, he had to switch to the most severe factuality.
"I've got reason to believe there's a nuclear threat. We need to get up there."
The crew fell silent.
Kalu sent him an expression that screamed 'If this goes wrong, it's not my fault' before giving a defeated sigh. Then, he shifted his attention out front, one hand to the wheel and the other to the lever. Gorman patted him on the back and returned to his own seat…grabbing it for dear life just in case. Unbeknownst to him, the rest of the crew also started holding anything that looked remotely sturdy in the truck's interior. Who had the bright idea to abandon seatbelts in the twenty-second century?
Kalu slammed his feet on both pedals.
The Bluntnose's engine roared. The wheels gathered momentum, spinning faster, and faster. The thrusters flared up with a heat so intense that the water around them started boiling.
He let the brakes go, heaved the wheel a little to the left, and let the truck fly.
Only once the Bluntnose started scaling the rockface did Gorman actually think about what he had just told his team to attempt. Where adrenaline made Zaz shrug off a gunshot, it made the Commander believe that he could fling a metal box on wheels off a ramp and onto the point of a big concrete needle. What was more insane – the plan itself, or that the crew trusted him enough to do it?
It mattered not. The truck's afterburners blazed hotter, the hill's grade got steeper, and the view out the front window changed from mossy rock to cloudy sky.
No turning back now.
Meanwhile…
The Lieutenant heard a sound like shattering glass from behind. Years of training taught him that it was a sound that meant seconds from death. He dropped his Lancer rifle to swing both hands around to his side – just in time to pull the unlucky salarian back into cover.
As the amphibian thanked him profusely and his barrier regenerated, a part of the Lieutenant couldn't help but feel like he'd done the poor soldier a disservice. He knew they were already dead.
Despite it all, the Lieutenant picked up his rifle again, casting a glance over to the rest of the platoon. He had to give the salarians credit; they were not giving an inch. Pinned down on the top of the anti-aircraft tower against a seemingly endless stream of geth reinforcements and the occasional krogan, they'd held out longer than they had any right to. Captain Kirrahe took down two battlemasters all by himself.
For every geth that his Lancer sliced through, another one would take its place. He was lucky that they'd only tried to come up behind the platoon once – which cost valuable medi-gel. The Lieutenant wasn't frustrated, he wasn't even mad. He understood the stakes, and what every sacrifice here meant. This was bigger than the last stand of a salarian special forces team and an Alliance marine. He had no regrets.
"Geth Prime!" came a high scream from another salarian. The Lieutenant raised the Lancer and leaned out from cover to see the hulking trooper on approach, flanked by smaller companions. If the size wasn't a giveaway that this was the premier geth heavy armor platform, the fins on its back, crimson color and sizeable weapon definitely were. He opened fire on the machine, pelting its shields with bullets until a puff of steam erupted from the Lancer. The Prime hadn't even slowed down.
Suddenly, there was something he hadn't expected. Darkness. Something was casting a shadow. He looked up to catch a glimpse of the underside of a large vehicle with six wheels. Its thrusters were on – and it was coming in to land right beside him. The Lieutenant and any nearby salarians frantically backed away. He could only watch in disbelief as its wheels landed on the tower's roof with a crunching thud and choking puffs of exhaust.
It was an ugly, boxy truck with a flat nose and tacky blue stripes. Its wet wheels with hexagon rims were dripping water onto the concrete. Two gun barrels were perched on its top, swiveling side to side before focusing somewhere down its middle.
BANG!