The Autumn War Vol. 04: Succession

"Holy shit!" Foster exclaimed. "You think those guys are alright?"

"Fuck no, they aren't!" Hernandez replied.

The three remaining tanks in the unit closed ranks again, having no option but to keep going. Slowing down right now was a death sentence. The companies and the towers were still exchanging fire, another of the structures succumbing to a hail of sabots, listing sideways as a well-placed shot took out a chunk of resin at its base. It collapsed into the trench beside it, Evan watching a cloud of debris rise into the sky.

Another bolt from one of the towers lanced past to the IFV's left, practically vaporizing a Kodiak some hundred meters down the line. It was there one moment, then gone the next, the burning husk of what remained of its hull coming rolling out of the dust cloud. One of its neighbors threw a track, grinding to a stop beside it, an IFV having to swerve to avoid them.

They were about halfway across the plain now, a network of smaller bunkers that were spaced out along the trenches coming into view. A wave of plasma fire spewed from them almost in tandem, but as alarming as it was, it posed little threat to the vehicles. The projectiles carried far less energy, what bolts that even made it to the company splashing off their ceramic armor harmlessly.

The last tower finally succumbed, the Kodiaks focusing their fire on those smaller bunkers now, plasma shells and HE bursting them wide open. The tanks pulled ahead, the Crocodiles taking the lead, starting to lower their plows now in anticipation of clearing mines and tank traps.

"Almost there!" Simmons announced. "Be ready to pile out as soon as we come to a stop. Our job is going to be mopping up whatever's left alive in those trenches!"

Evan lay his XMR in his lap, pulling some shells from his belt, loading them into the rotating cylinder on his underbarrel shotgun one by one.

As he glanced ahead of the formation, watching the burning towers grow closer, one of the lead tanks simply dropped. He did a double-take, then called out in alarm, the other occupants of the troop bay following his gaze.

The ground beneath one of the Crocodiles had cracked open like the crust of a crème brûlée, plunging the heavy vehicle beneath its surface, bringing it to a jarring halt. It seemed to bob there, like it was floating on something thicker than water, its prow starting to sink deeper.

The nearby vehicles slammed on the brakes, but a few were already too close, another Kodiak starting to drift sideways as it skidded on what must be very smooth ground. Just like the Crocodile, the surface gave out beneath it, causing the tank to list as it succumbed to the same fate. From this distance, it almost looked like a bog or some kind of quicksand, slowly consuming the metal beasts. Even under fire from the row of defensive bunkers, the prospect of being entombed in their vehicle had the tank's crew scrambling out of the two hatches on the turret. One of them was hit by a stray bolt, sent toppling down onto the hull, while the two others made it to firm ground. Evan could see the jagged hole where the vehicle had broken through, sharp, translucent fragments jutting into the air like shattered ice. No, it couldn't be ice - that was resin.

"It's a tank trap!" he exclaimed. Some of his squadmates who hadn't figured it out yet gave him a confused glance, but Jade and Foster nodded along in agreement.

"The Bugs must have put down a layer of resin over some kind of marsh or bog," Jade confirmed, rising from her seat to get a better look. "Their vehicles don't weigh half of what ours do. Maybe they set it up to only give out when our tanks rolled over it?"

"How the hell would that survive the bombardment?" Hernandez asked incredulously.

"It must be more recent," Jade explained. "They must have...irrigated or disturbed the ground somehow."

The tanks were still firing, taking long-range potshots at the smaller bunkers, but they could advance no further. One of them sent a line charge shooting off towards the sinking Crocodile, the explosive draping itself over the vehicle's partially submerged hull. The three-man crew climbed out of the hatch on the turret, using the line of explosives like a rope, pulling themselves through the wet mud. As long as the detonator wasn't triggered, it should be safe enough. Quick thinking in a pinch on the part of the Kodiak crew.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get across this?" Hernandez wondered. "Do we go around?"

"Looks like Fleetcom is still debating what to do," Simmons replied. "Several other battalions have encountered the same obstacle. Stand by."

"Can't they just land some dropships over there?" Collins asked.

"Not before we clear out any AA emplacements," Foster replied, leaning forward in his seat. "They'd be sitting ducks. The plan was that we were supposed to clear the fortifications as we went, which would allow airborne units from the carriers to land and secure them behind us to ensure they didn't get recaptured."

"What if we just drive around it?" Brooks suggested with a shrug.

"Because it'll waste a ton of time," Foster said, turning his helmeted head to glance at him. "We're supposed to be making one concerted push towards the Ant Hill - we can't afford to waste hours going around. Splitting up the battalions and isolating them is exactly what the Bugs want. Same reason we can't wait around for the engineers to build a bridge."

"What options does that leave on the table?" Brooks asked.

Evan glanced out through the hull, watching as a trio of Marines approached the edge of the bog. One of them took a few steps forward, then began to jump up and down on the resin.

"I have some idea," Evan muttered.

"Okay, new plan," Simmons announced after a few minutes of waiting around. "We're going to lay down artillery and indirect fire on the trenches to keep them suppressed, put down smoke across the obstacle, and charge across it."

"Charge across it!?" Collins exclaimed.

"The Kodiaks have taken out the pillboxes and cannons, so as long as we force the Drones in the trenches to keep their heads down, we should be alright. We're getting some support from the Jarilans, too. They're dropping in some heavy infantry right on top of the enemy emplacements. Fleetcom says to keep an eye out for friendly IFFs."

"I thought we had to clear the anti-air defenses first?" Foster asked.

"The Warriors!" Jade gasped. "The Coalition must have finally given us permission to deploy them."

"Warriors?" Hernandez asked. "Like, friendly Warriors?"

"They'll be deploying directly from our carriers," she replied with a nod. "Their drop pods probably come in too hot for conventional SAM systems to bring down."

"How far do you reckon we are from the trenches?" Garcia asked. "I'd say maybe half a klick. That's...what, three minutes at a jog?"

"Can you guys keep up?" Hernandez asked, directing his question at Tatzi.

"We will manage," she replied, Borzka nodding in silent agreement.

"Apparently, the Valbarans aren't having any trouble," Simmons continued as he checked his display. "Their vehicles are light enough to drive right across."

"Shame we don't have any of those," Hernandez sighed.

"You wouldn't fit in them," Evan chuckled.

The ground began to shake as the artillery strikes resumed, hammering the enemy trenches with renewed ferocity. Evan could hear the grenade launcher on the IFV's roof firing, puffs of obscuring, white smoke starting to drift across the flat terrain ahead of them.

"Get ready," Simmons warned as he rose from his seat, heading to the back of the bay. "As soon as that ramp lowers, you run, and you don't stop until you reach cover. Try to stay together."

"If I was fighting on the other side, I'd try to break the resin with mortars ahead of our advance," Aster warned as she checked her PDW.

"The artillery will hopefully prevent that," Simmons replied.

"Hopefully?" Hernandez repeated over the private channel, giving Evan a sideways glance through his helmet.

"If you do fall through the resin, just hang tight," Simmons added as the warning light above the ramp began to flash red. It cracked open, the dull, hazy light that made it through the ash clouds bleeding through the growing gap. "You'll be safe as long as your suit's oxygen supply lasts, and someone will come pick you up eventually."

"This idea is sounding worse and worse all the time," Hernandez grumbled.

"Go, go!" Simmons yelled as the ramp hit the ground. The squad piled out after him, turning to face the enemy. Before them was an open field carpeted in a drifting, white haze, the hulk of the sinking Crocodile still partially visible as it jutted from the mud some distance ahead of them. The gunfire was constant and uninterrupted, every vehicle in sight pouring grenades and mortars into the enemy positions, the rumble of artillery so powerful that Evan feared it might crack the resin. All around them, more squads were emerging from their IFVs, beginning their mad dash across the plain.

"Last one there's a Bug fucker," Foster said, giving Evan a nudge before setting off at a run. Collins followed after him, Hernandez giving Evan a shrug as he joined them.

"Mechanized company my ass," Evan grumbled as he began to jog, his XMR clutched in his hands.

The squad ran out onto the resin, the obscuring smoke billowing around them, carried by the rushing wind. Evan had to rely on his HUD to pick out his comrades, seeing close to three hundred friendly IFF signatures spread out across the open ground. Jade and the two other Jarilans were to his right, and the two Borealans were taking up the rear. Going against his instincts, he ran towards the artillery markers in the distance, usually intended to warn friendly troops on the network away from the danger zone. His helmet was soon filled with the sound of his own labored breathing, his pressure suit circulating cool air as beads of sweat began to well on his forehead, the noise of radio chatter fading into the background. The resin beneath his boots felt like firm plastic, smooth and rigid, covered over with a small layer of ash and dust. It seemed to be supporting their weight so far.

There was a flash of green light, a solitary bolt of plasma punching a swirling hole in the smoke ahead of them. It whizzed by them, passing close to the left of the squad.

"Watch out!" Jade shouted.

"I thought we were suppressing them!?" Hernandez panted.

"Looks like not all of the Bugs got the memo!" Foster replied.

After another minute of running, they started to clear the smoke, the ruins of the Bug towers fading into view. The smaller, igloo-shaped bunkers and pillboxes were smoldering, having been hit by precision fire from the Kodiaks. Their lines were shrouded in debris from the shelling, smaller explosions billowing up and down the trenches as indirect fire rained from above. It seemed that the artillery had finally ceased, the warning markers disappearing from Evan's visor. Despite all of the damage, the surviving Bugs immediately resumed firing, a few stray plasma bolts burning like glow sticks as they shot across the plain. It was difficult to suppress someone who had no sense of self-preservation.

"Up there!" Garcia shouted, Evan turning his eyes to the sky.

Something bright had pierced the clouds, trailing smoke as the flames of reentry shrouded it. It looked like a sunflower seed at a distance, the upward-facing end tapered into a point. As it neared the ground, he was able to pick out more detail. It was organic, protected by layers of Bug chitin and distinctly artificial heat tiles, the brick-shaped blocks of silica glowing as they absorbed the intense heat. More followed behind it, two dozen of them punching through the ash clouds like bullets.

A barrage of missiles climbed into the sky from somewhere behind the defensive line, winding up towards them. The Bugs must have at least one intact AA Scuttler. The projectiles painted the sky with smoke trails, weaving and dodging, streaking off with more purpose when they locked onto their targets. Either the drop pods were too high, or the missiles couldn't track them properly, because only one of them found its mark. There was a flash of green light as it exploded near one of the pods, but when the debris cleared, it still looked intact. The impact seemed to have knocked it off-course, however, the organic vehicle veering away from the rest of the group.

As the pods drew closer, the pieces of chitin on their rounded undersides began to break off, revealing retro thrusters that jetted plumes of green flame. Parachutes erupted from the tapered ends, great, leathery sails that caught the air to help slow them down like drag racers nearing the finish line. Still, they hammered into the ground with alarming velocity, Evan watching them toss up showers of dirt as they plunged into the trenches ahead.

The squad was close enough to see the lip of the nearest trench now, rising up from the flat terrain to form a low wall, collapsed in places by mortar shells and MGLs. Some of the defenders were still alive, the orange resin of their rifle barrels visible as they poked through the slots in the trench, taking aim at the incoming troops.

The trench directly ahead of them erupted as a salvo of grenades hammered it, dissuading the defenders before they could get any shots off. It was probably their IFV - directed by Simmons, no doubt.

"Charge!" the sergeant shouted, the squad closing the last few meters. Evan hauled himself over the lip of the trench, landing inside to find a carpet of bodies. Some of them were fresh, the holes in their carapaces still smoking from the red-hot shrapnel, while others had been partially buried in loose dirt from the collapsed walls.

The rest of the squad piled in alongside him, the two Borealans readying their bayonets, the Jarilans spreading out with their PDWs leveled. Evan could spot more squads making it to the trench further down the line, disappearing from view in the earthen fortifications.

They scarcely had time to catch their breath before half a dozen Bugs came flooding around the corner to their right, brandishing blades and pistols. Training kicked in, and the Marines at the front took a knee, their squadmates firing over their heads to create a wall of tungsten. The Drones were quickly cut down by a hail of projectiles that shattered the resin wall of the trench behind them, splattering it with their ichor, sending their torn bodies collapsing to the dirt to join their fellows.

"Secure the trenches and make sure the bunkers are cleared out!" Simmons ordered, directing them to the left of the zigzagging fortification. "Toss a 'nade in any Bug holes you find!"

They began to move through the trench, the sporadic sound of firefights erupting all around them. As Jade has posited, it was likely that most of the Bugs had dug in during the bombardment, and they would be emerging from their tunnels now that the artillery had gone silent.

"Bunker up ahead," Hernandez warned, nodding to the partially collapsed structure that rose up in their path. It was one of the smaller pillboxes, the packed dirt and resin of its domed roof caved in on itself. It was no longer burning - or perhaps it had been hit by something more conventional than plasma sabots, like a mortar or an artillery shell.

"We have to clear it," Simmons said. "Can't leave them any hiding places. Tatzi, Borzka, you'll have to go around and meet us on the other side. No way you're fitting through those little doorways."

The two Borealans moved to the back, holding their long XMRs like spears, while Jade and her two Jarilan counterparts took point.

"What do you smell?" Evan asked, walking along behind her.

"Hard to tell," she replied, her antennae waving in the air. "The place stinks of ferals. All I'm picking up is warning pheromones and burnt meat."

The way ahead branched into two paths. One of them led into a deceptively crude doorway, the rounded, resin wall of the bunker curving away above it. The structure was larger than it had looked at a distance, probably big enough to give shelter to three or four squads of Drones. To the left, the trench led around the back of it, the two Borealans splitting off from the rest of the team as they followed it.

"Collins, Foster, watch their backs," Simmons ordered. The two Marines followed the felines, disappearing around the side of the structure. "The rest of you, stack up," he added.

"Want I should toss a grenade in there?" Hernandez asked as he reached an expectant hand towards his belt.

"No, the structure is already damaged," Simmons muttered as he glanced up at the dome. "The last thing we want is it coming down on our heads. We'll do this the old-fashioned way. Evan," he said, gesturing for him to approach with a tilt of his helmet. "Put that shotgun to use."

Evan nodded, moving his hand to the grip of his underbarrel shotgun, taking position at the front of the stack. He felt Simmons place a hand on his shoulder as he waited by the opening, then the sergeant gave him a pat.

"Go!"

Evan rushed into the shadowy interior, the squad following behind him, fanning out into the room. The floor was maybe a twenty-meter circle from wall to wall, the domed roof rising the same distance above their heads. Some kind of shell had definitely hit it, tearing open a hole in the roof on the side facing the plain, the ash-choked sky visible through the breach. Chunks of soil still contained in resin had crashed to the ground like pieces of broken masonry, more loose dirt and translucent shards raining down after them. It obscured their view of the room, providing ample cover for anything that might still be lurking inside.

Flashlight beams cut through the gloom, reflecting off the resin, picking out a raised platform to their right where the aliens would have fired from. There were slats that gave them a view of the field beyond the trenches, along with several damaged plasma weapon emplacements, a little raised lip of dirt allowing their operators to reach them. Evan picked out the orange glint of several bodies, most of them buried in the debris, errant limbs jutting from beneath slabs of resin and mounds of dirt.

They moved deeper into the bunker, sweeping their weapons across the broken structure, Evan's HUD scanning for targets. He did a double-take as he caught a blip of red, his systems picking out a life sign in the rubble.

"Contact!" he announced, half a dozen flashlight beams turning on his position. "Scratch that," he added, realizing that his target was already incapacitated. The Drone was alive - barely - trapped beneath a chunk of resin that must have weighed a quarter ton. Its carapace was cracked and crushed, only its upper torso visible, its circulatory system pumping a slow trickle of green ichor out of its mandibles. "This guy isn't doing any fighting."

"Put it out of its misery," Simmons ordered. "Don't want the fucker trying to bite people's ankles."

Evan held his XMR in one hand, drawing his sidearm with the other, the sound of the gunshot reverberating through the dome as he put a round through its head.

Something fell from above him, bouncing down a pile of rubble, rolling to a stop beside his boot. He glanced down to see a grenade, his heart freezing in his chest. He barely had time to yell a panicked warning before it went off.

"Grenade!"

As the organic casing cracked open, it disgorged a jet of mustard-yellow gas, the chemical quickly filling the cramped space with an obscuring cloud. He staggered backwards, relief washing over him. If that had been a plasma grenade, he'd be burned to a crisp right now, or at least missing a leg.

"Check your fire!" Simmons ordered as the toxic cloud swirled through the air. "Suit integrity report - sound off!"