Stark's Crusade (30 page)

The detections were growing stronger even though they remained brief. Stark's armor tried to correlate the snatches of data to build a picture of the Jabberwocks, but couldn't manage anything remotely reliable as of yet. Detections popped into and out of existence whenever a Jabberwock had to clear cover for a moment in order to advance.
Damn, they're fast.

His armor target alert chirped as sensors zeroed in on another Jabberwock when it briefly skittered into the open, its legs almost a blur. The big combat systems back at headquarters, correlating all the readings so far, projected an estimated picture of the creature onto Stark's HUD.
Jeez. We thought they'd be about man-size, but the things are almost half as big as an APC.
"Stark? Lamont here."

"Yeah." Stark checked the origin of the call, seeing that Lamont occupied one of the tanks nestled in among the reserve units. "Whatchya got?"

"Check this out." A small window popped into existence on one corner of Stark's HUD, playing out vid transferred from his armor commander. "This happened a couple of seconds ago opposite me. Watch that bug." On the display, a Jabberwock scuttled into view on the flank of a small crater, then hesitated in mid-scuttle as it seemed to grab for balance before dashing forward again to vanish behind more terrain. "See that?"

"I saw it. What's it mean?"

"It means those Jabberwocks are top-heavy, buddy. That one almost overbalanced. And if the ugly bugs have stability issues, they can't move as fast as they should be able to on rough terrain. It'll make 'em easier to target."

"Thanks, Lamont." Stark studied the estimated picture of the Jabberwock on his HUD, details still blurry but the main features growing firmer as combat systems tied in every sighting to add to the depiction.
Eight legs, six arms, too damn big, and top heavy. I guess that's what happens when a soldier gets designed by a committee.
He paused, trying to decide whether to broadcast the top-heavy information to all the defending soldiers.
It might make them overconfident. But if they don't know, they might override their targeting systems if the aim points look screwy. Better trust my people.
"Vic, did you hear Lamont's last?"

"Roger. You going to pass the word?"

"You do it. Those things should slow down a bit every time they reach a difficult patch of terrain. That's the time to nail 'em."

"Works for me. I'll inform all personnel."

"Commander Stark?" Stark checked the ID on the transmission, seeing it came from the commander of the company occupying the defensive line near the center of the attack. "How close do we let those things get before we open fire?"

I guess I can't tell people to wait until they see the whites of their eyes. Not against something without eyes.
"I want to minimize their chance of reporting back. Let them get close, then open up."

"How close, sir?"

Stark suppressed an aggravated response.
Not her fault. Everyone is still used to being told exactly how to do the job instead of just what to do and using their own experience.
"Sergeant, you can see the terrain and know the targeting probabilities from your positions a lot better than I can. You shoot when you figure you can nail those things."

"Yes, sir."

Closer. Stark checked the scan to see where the Jabberwocks were getting closest to the line, then switched his view to that from the nearest bunker. The detections were getting firmer and longer, but firing solutions were still frustratingly brief. Stark shook his head, watching how quickly the Jabberwocks were flitting from cover to cover.
Fine, you bastards. Hide all you want on the way in. The last stretch before the bunkers has been cleared. It doesn't have any cover. Then we'll see if you can outrun bullets.

A Jabberwock loomed into the bunker's view like a monstrous spider out of a bad vid from the last century, its legs blurring as the robotic combatant lunged forward. Stark could now see its multiple arms were outfitted with a variety of weaponry, the barrels and firing rails tracking in search of targets.

The bunker commander had apparently had enough. Chain guns erupted in a brief volley from three locations, spitting streams of bullets at the point where targeting systems said the Jabberwock would be when the bullets got there. Incredibly, the robot managed to avoid the first volley, its legs dancing wildly as it checked its advance and jerked to one side. Unfortunately for the Jabberwock, one of the chain guns kept firing, walking its rounds straight onto the curved shell of the robot. Sparks flew, bright against the black shadows all around.

Stark watched the Jabberwock spin, its own weapons targeting the chain guns.
Man. They're hard to kill, just like we feared.
Then the robot slowed, hesitating as it seemed to lose use of several legs. Two more chain gun bursts caught it dead-on as the Jabberwock staggered, then it froze and fell.
One down. How many does that leave?

Stark pulled back, checking his scan for activity at the other points where Jabberwocks were testing the defenses. Five others were already knocked out, and as Stark watched, the symbols representing another two ceased motion and were tagged with "kill" markers. Silence settled over the line, the defenders' weapons quiet and no detections marking the presence of other Jabberwocks.
Did we knock 'em all out, or are there some still hiding and watching?
"Vic, do you think that was every Jabberwock in the probe?"

"I think so. There might be some playing possum and surveilling the line, though. Our systems can't be sure how many individual Jabberwocks were spotted on the way in. The only way to know for certain would be to send out patrols and see if they find anything."

"I don't need to know that bad." Somewhere inside the Mixing Bowl base, Stark knew, a lot of officers and probably some contractor technical representatives were trying to analyze what had just happened. The Jabberwocks had surely been knocked out quicker than the attackers had expected. Would that be laid at the feet of luck on the defenders' part, or blamed on the small number of Jabberwocks employed in the probe? Either way, the next attack would surely be stronger.

"All personnel. We stopped 'em cold. Our special rounds worked like a charm. Expect more strength, a larger number of Jabberwocks, in the next attack." Stark studied the field of battle, waiting for some indication of what form the next attack would take.

"Incoming," his suit alert system announced. Stark checked his HUD, watching the tracks of incoming artillery fire headed for his front line. Long-range defenses opened up as the artillery shells came closer, nailing some so that they burst over the empty dead zone between the combatants, but some shells made it through, thundering into the lunar rock with massive loads of high explosive, or tossing out gales of submunitions to seek targets among the rocks below.
That's gotta be cover for something. Yup. I don't believe it.

"Here they come again," Vic reported. "I see 'em, Vic. Hell, you can't miss 'em." At a score-of points, Jabberwocks suddenly leaped into view, Stark's HUD instantly locking in on the emissions from their rocket-assist packs.
Jump rockets. The same suicidal garbage they've been trying to hoist on us for years. I guess the Jabberwocks are too stupid to tell the weapons designers to pound sand.
The Jabberwocks jinked slightly as they flew, attitude jets trying to confuse any targeting solution.

Jetting low above the surface, the Jabberwocks shot forward, perfect targets against the empty lunar horizon, until they reached the engagement zone for Stark's soldiers. Despite the artillery barrage, the defenders had no trouble locking onto the incoming robotic combatants nearest them. Stark switched to visual for a moment, watching as the nearest Jabberwock ran into a concentrated barrage of fire that stopped it in mid-flight, broke its armored shell into a hundred pieces, and hurled the pieces in all directions. Stark switched back to scan, viewing the red markers that displayed the destruction of every other flying attacker.
Too bad we wasted nano-rounds on those.
"All personnel. If any more of those things try to fly in, use normal ammo on 'em."

"Yessir," one of the bunker commanders acknowledged. "If it flies, it dies."

Stark grinned, enjoying the lack of any sense of guilt.
We're not killing anybody. We're just junking machines. We could do this all day and not pick up any bad karma.

"Ethan, that was too easy."

"They were stupid, Vic. That's why it was easy."

"The next one won't be. Count on it. They've lost too many of those things. What did our old officers do when a squad couldn't take a position?"

"Throw a platoon at it, then a company, then a battalion."

"And they've figured out flying in is a lot less survival-enhancing than walking in. The next attack will be on the surface, and there'll be a lot of them."

"Good assessment." Stark scanned the area, weighing his options.
Do the Papa Romeo now or wait? Wait. Just a little. Can't leave it too long, though.

Detections sprang to life once more, fractional and blindingly brief, but in much greater numbers. Stark watched the symbols flick on and off like a meadow full of fireflies.
A feint? Or the real thing?
"Vic? What do you think?"

"This looks like their main push. Those things are too hard to spot to count exactly, but there's a lot of them coming, and the approach tactics match those used by the first probe."

Stark scanned the front, watching the brief detections pop in and out on his HUD, letting his instincts judge the situation. "Yeah. I agree. All units. Execute Papa Romeo. Repeat. Execute Papa Romeo."

Papa Romeo, a half-joking name for the operation, using the phonetic letters that stood for Pretend to Retreat. The units along a large section of the front facing the Jabberwock attack began falling back rapidly, fire teams alternating their movement to cover each other in case of an unexpected dash by the Jabberwocks. Bunkers emptied with a rush as the squads occupying them set the systems on automatic passive defense and dropped back with the other soldiers.

Stark watched closely for any sign of panic, any sign the false retreat might turn into a real one. Dangerous, to start soldiers retreating. It could be hard to stop them. It was a difficult maneuver, one that even veterans might fail if something unexpected rattled them along the way or some rumor of disaster swept the front. But Stark's troops, perhaps bolstered by their recent success with annihilating two Jabberwock attacks, showed no signs of wavering. As the soldiers reached prepared positions along a rough arc bending in from anchors along the existing front, they took up a new defensive line.

Stark had just thoroughly scrambled the tactical situation the Jabberwocks were programmed to confront. It had been Vic Reynolds's suggestion, to leave the established front line the attackers were expecting to face and set up a new line behind it. The new line bent inward, as if a giant had taken a huge bite out of the existing front line. At the points where it joined the old line, new bunkers had been added and strong forces were massed to resist any pressure.

"Vic, activate the minefields." Stark envisioned her back at the headquarters complex, keying in the code that turned numerous scatterings of small rocks into fields of death. They wouldn't stay active long, just a few days, even if they weren't deactivated by remote, but it would be long enough.

Stark checked his scan, smiling with grim satisfaction as he reviewed the status of his defensive line. The attacking Jabberwocks would encounter no resistance from the old front line, as the bunkers on automated passive defenses would fire only if fired upon. But once they penetrated the indentation in the line, they'd take fire from three sides, while covering terrain on which they weren't programmed to confront fixed defenses. If they'd been human attackers, Stark would have felt a surge of pity and sorrow at the waste of life about to occur. Against the Jabberwocks, he gleefully anticipated the destruction of the attackers.

The firefly-like flickers of detections continued, the Jabberwocks coming on with eerie precision. They slowed slightly as they reached firing positions near the old front line. Stark zoomed in on one area, watching as Jabberwocks alternated their scuttling progress.
They're covering each other as they advance.
The implication hit almost instantly. "Vic. I think there's about twice as many Jabberwocks coming as we thought. Only about half of them are moving at a time."

"Damn." Stark knew Vic had aimed the curse at herself. "I should have realized that before you did. I'll make sure scan reflects that."

The number of possible contacts on Stark's HUD multiplied with dismaying speed as the tactical systems reacted to the new instructions.
If I don't like it, and I knew it was coming, everybody else must be even unhappier.
"All personnel. The Jabberwocks are advancing, alternating with each other. That's why you're suddenly seeing a lot more contacts. Stay sharp, but stay frosty. There'll be a lot less of 'em in a few minutes."

The Jabberwocks reached attack positions, then continued forward, dodging and weaving with their inhuman speed. A bunker just to left of the center of the attack opened fire as Jabberwocks literally ran over it. There was a brief fusillade of fire, the bunker triggering its defenses while Jabberwocks swarmed onto the location and poured their own barrage onto every firing point. Stark watched, his eyes hard.
Like a bunch of fire ants massing onto some poor clod who got in their way.
The insect-like movement and attack patterns of the Jabberwocks were unnerving to Stark, even after seeing many destroyed.

The bunker fell silent, its weapons destroyed and the bunker itself breached. Stark scanned the front slowly. The Jabberwocks had paused in their advance, as if satisfied with their conquest.
Come on, you ugly bastards. We've got a little reception waiting for you.
But the robots stayed passive, apparently content to occupy the front. "Vic, we've got a problem."

"So I see."

"We can't wipe them out if they stay along the old line. How do we get them advancing again?"