When the Devil Dances

CHAPTER 34 Betty Gap, NC, United States, Sol III 0747 EDT Sundy September 27, 2009 ad

“Oh, shit,” Reeves said calmly and threw the giant tank into reverse as a shudder rumbled through the ground. Then he slammed the accelerator to the stops as it started to slide.

The first part of the descent had been uneventful; the SheVa had started down the steepest part of the slope, towards the upper end, and handled it quite well. But just at the top of Betty Branch, where it first issued forth from a shallow spring, Reeves had had to traverse the tank slightly to negotiate the bluff above the spring and the slope had given way.

Now the SheVa had started to ski down the mountain and there didn’t seem to be a thing to stop it.

“Oh, I don’t like this,” Pruitt whined. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Reeves…” Major Mitchell said, but he knew there was nothing the driver could do to stop the slide that wasn’t already being done; the treads were tearing up the bare rock of the hill and not getting any traction at all.

“SheVa Nine!” Captain Chang called. “Warning! Posleen landers, three o’clock!”

“Shit, shit, shiiit…” Pruitt said slamming sideways as the SheVa hit a solid chunk of rock and bounced. “Our center of gravity is going to shift if I rotate the turret!”

“If we haven’t fallen over by now, we’re not going to!” Indy said.

“Go for it,” Major Mitchell called, starting the rotation.

The crew compartment was in the base of the turret, so the ride just got stranger as the tank went one way, jouncing up and down on the rough slope, and they turned another.

“Oh, shit,” Reeves said in a muffled tone. “I’m gonna ralf!”

“What happens when I fire this thing?!” Pruitt yelled, locking in a round.

“I don’t know,” Indy said tightly. “We’re on a forty degree slope, sliding downward in max reverse, firing sideways at about forty miles per hour. We’re not designed to do any of those at all!”

“Shit,” Mitchell muttered.

“I’m losing it here, sir!” Reeves called. “We’re headed for a bluff!”

“TARGET! Lamprey, two thousand meters!” Pruitt sang out.

“Danger close!” Mitchell called, indicating that the explosion of the gun’s own penetrator could potentially damage it; the minimum recommended distance for a SheVa to engage was over three thousand meters. “Fire!”

“Take the pass, he says,” Gamasal complained. “Where is the honor in that? Where is the loot?”

“We get a higher cut,” Lesenal replied. The two were nest mates, an unusual occurrence in Posleen society, and instead of taking individual oolts had chosen to colead a single company. It was perhaps this oddity that had led them to attach themselves to Tulo’stenaloor; compared to a Posleen trying to make himself a general, coleaders of an oolt was nothing. “A cut specifically of everyone who uses the pass.”

“But once they swing around and open up the other passes, everyone will use those,” Gamasal grumped and adjusted the oolt’pos to clear the ridge as low as possible. “I still say we could take that other gap, the one the humans call ‘Newfound.’ ”

“Ah, but the way there is too easy to close,” the coleader pointed out. “In those hills the humans and their snipers can pick off the Kessentai like so many abat. The way to Balsam is clearer. And with us in place, the humans will be scrambling to find a way to escape. Follow the plan. And watch out for that gun. We were lucky yesterday, I don’t want our luck to run out.”

“Oh, fuscirto uut,” Gamasal replied. “You mean that gun?”

The round from the SheVa gun hit the Lamprey high and silver fire jutted from every opening. The skyscraper-sized ship dropped out of sight immediately, but there was another right behind it.

The second Lamprey was, however, the least of SheVa Nine’s problems.

“Aaaaah!” Pruitt screamed as the overstressed vehicle slid sideways on the slope, bounding off a bluff and hitting at an angle with a sound like a thousand junkyards being dropped from the sky.

Major Mitchell opened his eyes to red emergency lights and swore. “Indy!”

“I’m here, sir,” the warrant officer said. “We just blew every breaker in this thing; if this was a Star Trek episode, Pruitt would be flying across the compartment. But we didn’t lose the tracks!”

“I got nothin’, sir!” Pruitt called. “And we had another Lamprey up!”

“I saw,” Mitchell said. “Are we functional? What’s our status, Indy?”

“I’m working on it, sir,” she said. After punching a few buttons lights started coming back on. “So far, everything is working. But if you want me to certify the gun as functional, I can’t, sir. We just took a hell of a beating; we’re almost sure to have stress damage on the supports.”

“I’m up!” Pruitt said. “Where’s the Lamprey?”

“I’m not!” Reeves said, gunning the SheVa as his treads spun in place. “I think we’re stuck!”

Gamasal slammed the Lamprey down through the trees and opened the assault door. “Let’s go!”

“Why are we doing this?” Lesenal asked. “Our mission is to take the pass!”

“The gun is in the way!” his coleader said. “We’ll cross this ridge and destroy the gun. Then continue on our mission. Oh, and since we’re here and have taken out the defenders…”

“… The net will designate it as our fief,” Lesenal said. “Clever. You realize, of course, that we could just drop below the level of the ridge and fly around. And so will Orostan.”

“We are but simple oolt-Kessentai,” Gamasal replied with a flap of his crest. “How could we have thought of that?”

“No, no, NO!” Orostan swore. “Go around!”

“And miss a chance to kill it on the ground?” Cholosta’an said. “Not to mention getting that as a fief for taking out the defenders? No chance.”

“Besonora!”

“Yes, Oolt’ondai?” The Kessentai had been with him from before he joined Tulo’stenaloor and Orostan preferred to have him available. But he was running out of trustworthy Kessentai that could handle ships. “Take an oolt’poslenal. Gather the best of the local forces. Take Balsam Gap. Hold it until I get there. Do not fail, do not get distracted and do not get high; there is a heavy defense center nearby.”

“Yes, Oolt’ondai,” the Kessentai replied. “I go.”

“All other ships,” the oolt’ondai called over his communicator. “Get that GUN!”

“Major Mitchell?” Chan called. “What’s your status?”

“Oh, we’re stuck,” the SheVa commander said calmly. “We’re jammed between two bluffs, stuck in a ravine. There’s a company of Posleen on the ridge above us. We expect they’ll be attacking any time now. And there are, presumably, other landers around. They should be showing up just as soon as it goes from bad to worse.”

“Any chance of you getting out?”

“Oh, sure,” the major said sarcastically. “If we had an engineering team to blow up the cliffs.”

“Jesus! What was that?” Kitteket said. The concussion of something had echoed across the mountains.

“SheVa gun,” Major Ryan answered. “I’m pretty sure anyway; nothing else sounds quite the same. It think it’s down by Betty Creek. How in the hell did a SheVa gun get down by Betty Creek?”

The night had been a long series of tiny roads on knife-edge ridges. It would actually have been easier in a smaller vehicle than the Humvee; one of the old Army jeeps would have been perfect. But the Humvee was what they had. Often the team had had to unload and either rapidly widen the road, under the major’s expert direction, or even in some cases make temporary bridges across otherwise uncrossable gaps. At each obstacle the major had been right there, blowing up the rocks, cutting down the trees and filling in the holes; nobody could complain that he was a hands-off officer.

Now the engineers were past the worst of the ridges and on the downhill. And apparently driving back into the battle.

“I thought the SheVa blew up,” Kitteket said.

“I heard they were bringing in another one,” Ryan said in thought. “Let’s head towards Betty Creek,” he continued, scrolling up his map-board. “There’s a forest road that turns off to the left up ahead. Take it.”

“We’re headed for a SheVa,” the specialist said wonderingly. “In the middle of a battle.”

“Oh, by the time we get near it the battle will be over,” Ryan said. “One way or another.”

“Major!” Chan called. “You have two more landers coming over the hill: a Lamprey and a C-Dec. From where you are pointed they’ll be at two o’clock and eleven!”

“Got it,” Mitchell said calmly as the first railgun rounds punched into the stranded SheVa. “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry, though; we’re about to be nibbled to death by Lilliputians.”

“Don’t worry about the dismounts, sir,” Chan answered with a grin that could be heard over the radio. “We’re coming in on their flank.”

“Look, it’s stuck!” Gamasal chuckled. “Easy meat!”

“Yes,” his coleader said. “But how do we kill it without having it blow up? This is a nice valley; I would like it more or less intact.”

“Hmm,” Gamasal said, waving to the oolt’os to cease fire. “That is a good question. Perhaps we should board it?”

“That is probably a good idea,” Lesenal said, pulling out his boma blade. “I prefer the blade anyway.”

“Mommy,” Reeves muttered. “They’re pulling out their swords.”

“This is a good thing,” Mitchell pointed out in a too calm voice. “That gives us a few moments more to maybe survive the landers.”

“There’s only two of them,” Pruitt said tightly. “I can do this.” He set the radar to max gain and pointed the gun at the two o’clock position. “Come to Poppa.”

“All Storms,” Captain Chan called as the company crested the ridge and began negotiating the narrow path downward. “Engage Posleen as they bear. When you’re shot out, try to get off the trail to let following units engage.”

She could see the SheVa out her left vision blocks and the first of the landers no more than a thousand meters away through her right vision blocks. It suddenly occurred to her that if the lander exploded, or if Pruitt missed a little low, say from the gun being knocked askew by their wreck, things were really going to suck.

And in just a few seconds she was going to have to fire the Storm. She knew intellectually which would be worse, but she’d never been killed before and she’d had to fire the Storm way too many times. Being caught in a nuclear explosion, as an alternative, had its positive aspects.

“Glenn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the gunner, peering through her sight for the first look at the Posleen dismounted company.

“I have to agree with you. I need a transfer; this job sucks.”

A moment later the tank rounded a corner and the Posleen company, spread out across the ridge and trotting downhill, came into view.

“Fire,” she said, slewing the gun onto the group of Posleen.

“Aaah,” said Glenn, grabbing the trigger and setting the MetalStorm to “Full.” “AAAH!”

The slope was lightly wooded, but that didn’t really matter; the penetrators tore the trees apart without being appreciably slowed. They also tore into the Posleen without being appreciably slowed.

And the true test of how bad the system was to use was that the Storms never even noticed the SheVa firing right over their heads.

“Target C-Dec! TWELVE HUNDRED METERS! TOO CLOSE!”

“FIRE!”

“TOO CLOSE!”

“IT’S KNIFE-FIGHTING RANGE! WE’RE BUN-BUN! FIRE THE DAMNED GUN!”

The round tracked straight and true into the top of the ship, actually punching out the back side before exploding.

The detonation was the equivalent of ten thousand tons of TNT, but both it and the flash of gaseous uranium and spalling would have been survivable by the C-Dec; the explosion wasn’t actually in contact and wasn’t at a particularly vital or vulnerable point. However, the compression wave was above the lander. And that drove it downward into the hard and unyielding ground. C-Decs were designed to survive much, but slamming into North Carolina mountains at over a hundred miles per hour was not one of them. Internal compartmentalization gave way throughout the ship. Not from the acceleration, but from the deceleration.

A ten pounds per square inch compression wave, strong enough to damage or destroy heavily constructed buildings, also washed across the MetalStorm tracks. But compared to the damage they took from firing their own weapons…

“What was that?” Glenn groaned.

“What was what?” Chan answered, pulling herself out of her fetal crouch.

“That last ‘bang,’ ” the gunner answered. “Did we break something?”

“I don’t know,” Chan said. “It wasn’t that bad, though. Brandon, get us out of here, we need to open up the way for the rest!”

“Ma’am, I would, but I can’t,” the driver answered. “Look at the road.”

Glenn straightened up and looked through her vision blocks then whistled. “Wow, did we do that?” The entire slope was covered in fallen trees. “Nah, we couldn’t have.”

“You sound disappointed,” Chang said scanning for Posleen. “I think the lander must have blown up.”

“And we survived?” Brandon called over the intercom.

“Either that or this is hell,” Chang said. “And I’m beginning to wonder.”

“TARGET LAMPREY SIXTEEN HUNDRED METERS!”

“This is hell, right?” Reeves shouted with his fingers in his ears; at this distance if the lander exploded there was no way they would survive. “Please tell me this is hell!”

“FIRE!”

“ ’Cause it’s gotta get BETTER!”

The round entered through the lower quadrant, but was travelling upwards at a sharp angle and missed the fuel bunker. However, it, too, exited through the rear of the ship and exploded above it. This time, though, the smaller Lamprey was effectively killed by the kinetic energy of the depleted uranium warhead passing through its engine-room. With the loss of lift and drive it dropped like a rock onto the ridge, toppling sideways and began to roll. Straight towards the stuck SheVa.

“NO!” Pruitt screamed, aiming the gun down as the SheVa rocked in blast-wave.

“DON’T!” Major Mitchell screamed, but it was too late; the gunner had already fired.

The DU penetrator had barely had time to shed its boot when it entered the soil of the mountain. Pruitt had been aiming at the Lamprey, but he had fired low and the ten kiloton round penetrated almost two hundred meters into the gneiss and schist of the mountain before detonating.

Major Ryan was still blinking spots out of his eyes when he saw the top of the mountain erupt skyward; with a Lamprey mixed into it. “GET OUT AND UNDER THE HUMVEE!” he yelled, putting words into action as he grabbed the detonator kit, kicked open the door and piled out.

The explosion was almost graceful. The round had penetrated to near the center of the hilltop and it scooped out a section of soil and rock that was a near perfect circle; eventually it would be a very nice lake. However, it was tons of overburden that tended to tamp and reduce the energy of the relatively small nuclear explosion at its core. The material closest to the antimatter detonation was simply vaporized, becoming plasma that added to the energy transfer and would eventually dissipate as gaseous silica and the other constituent elements of the rocks.

Outward from the plasma zone the rock was finely pulverized and then the condition graded outwards until in the outer layer there were rather large boulders…

…That the explosion in their center tossed thousands of feet into the air.

“For what we are about to receive,” Major Mitchell said as the side of the mountain started to slip their way. “May we truly be thankful.”

“Oh damn,” Pruitt said. “Bad things are supposed to happen to other people when Bun-Bun is around.”

“I’ve got traction!” Reeves shouted.

“Go!” the major replied, watching the landslide building up.

“I’m going!” the driver shouted, as the SheVa lumbered up out of the suddenly widened hole. “I think the shots loosened us up!” Then he swore as the ground gave way again and the SheVa stopped abruptly. “NOOO!”

But the mountains they were traversing were old; the hillsides worn by millions of years. The slope-ripping slides of the Rockies were virtually unknown in the Appalachians; even when started by a nuclear explosion. The crumbling mountainside continued about halfway down the hill and then came to an abrupt, tree-crunching halt in a cloud of dust.

At which point, everyone started to notice the bonging sound on the top of the turret.

“I think you’re about to get your wish, Pruitt,” Indy said sourly.

“What?” the gunner said, looking up as if in disbelief that they were alive.

“Bad things are about to happen to other people.”

“I don’t like this!” Kitteket shouted as the boulders continued to rain on the bouncing, jolting Humvee over their heads.

“Neither do I,” Ryan replied equanimably. “It could be worse, though!”

“How?!”

“You want a list?” he asked. “We could be stuck in a basement, surrounded by a Posleen force that has already overrun everything in its path and with them pounding on the last door!”

“We’re about to get crushed by a rain of boulders!” she shouted. “That counts as really bad in my book!” But even as she said it the worst of the shower had passed.

“Everybody okay?” Ryan asked, rolling out from under the vehicle despite the continuing rain of small debris. “And ready to walk?”

“Oh, man, it’s trashed,” Kitteket said, getting to her feet and looking around. “What a mess!”

Rocks ranging from pebbles to boulders large enough to have crushed the Humvee were scattered in every direction and most of the trees had been swept off the mountainside. From their perch at the edge of Betty Gap they could clearly see the SheVa gun down in the holler, apparently wedged into a ravine. A unit of MetalStorms was picking its way down the slope towards the gun. And a Lamprey, crumpled like so much foil, was well down the holler.

“It’s a mess, all right,” Ryan replied, keying his code module. “Dig around in the gear and find anything salvageable. A radio for choice.”

“Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Ollie,” Pruitt said.

He was standing on one of the boulders, looking down at the SheVa stuck like a cork in the gully.

Gully was something of a misnomer; the small valley could have easily have contained a few single-family homes if the area was a subdivision. But the SheVa was still stuck.

“Look,” Reeves said defensively. “I did my best.” The edges of the gully were barely above the treads and didn’t, quite, intersect the turret. But some of the boulders that had tumbled down the slope were piled on the sides of the machine. “At least I didn’t blow a mountain down on us.”

“I prefer to think of it as blowing a Lamprey off of us,” Pruitt said. “And here’s our Greek chorus…”

“Damn, sir,” said Captain Chan, walking over to the group peering at the SheVa. “I’ve seen some tanks get stuck in my time but… Damn, sir.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell said, walking back and forth and looking at the gun. “I think that the big problem is the lip in front of it; it can’t get any traction to pull itself out.”

“We could hook some of your tracks up to it, ma’am, and try to pull it out,” Reeves said.

She looked at him in amazement. “Did you actually think before you said that, Private?”

“Uh…”

“A Meemie weighs just over sixty tons; how much does one of these things weigh?”

“Errr, just over seven thousand,” the driver admitted. “I hadn’t realized there was that much difference.”

She looked over at her track then up and up at the SheVa towering nearly two hundred feet in the air. Tanks made her feel small; SheVas made her feel like an ant.

“I don’t think that will help, son,” she said. “It would be like trying to move one of my tracks with a tricycle.”

“You know, they’re talking about making one of these as a close combat support vehicle,” Mitchell said. “Think about how much one of those will weigh; especially covered in armor.”

“Ouch.”

“And, golly gee,” Pruitt said with a grin. “We’ve proven that they can be used in mountain warfare.”