We put the men, a company of them at a time, into large steel containers for transport. Nothing on Earth could move troops better than one of our ships carrying them with that giant arm. Like some kind of insane helicopter raid, we brought thousands of men down to a staging area. We flew very low and landed about twenty miles north of the fighting, so we wouldn’t get shot down by enemy AA. Each dome had a missile launcher that could rise up and nail aircraft with precision. Every large Macro carried a similar AA system on its back.
The plan was to deploy our first large groups of laser-armed troops just after the Macros hit a buried line of tactical nuclear mines. Every man in the unit had protective gear: full body-suits of lead-lined Kevlar with oxygen and a power pack on their backs. They had special headgear too, with darkened goggles. I’d heard the first volunteers to fire my system had been blinded and given instant sunburns, due to the intense infrared emissions. Their retinas had been burned out of their heads in the first second. Now, we had the whole kit working, but it was still crude. Altogether, the system weighed over a hundred pounds. Because of the weight of their kits, the troops couldn’t carry much else. I could tell right away I needed to get the weight of these units down. I didn’t have much trouble with the backpack and hazard suit myself due to the strengthening effects of the nanites in my body. But the heavy protective suits also redoubled the steamy heat of the jungle, making each mile a suffocating experience.
The troops had a strange reaction to me, knowing I was from the enigmatic fleet. Some thought of us as the enemy, but most had to admit we’d just air-lifted them thousands of miles southward to a field deployment position in hours, something no chopper could have done. They were impressed that I was down there with them, ground-pounding. They considered me a real officer, which was refreshing. A navy commander translated to a major in the Army, and they treated me like one. Or maybe, they treated me respectfully because I scared them. Sometimes I felt like a large, dangerous snake they were required to salute.
“Commander Riggs, sir?” asked Corporal Jensen, who’d been assigned to me as my aide. He was a lanky kid with wide shoulders and red sideburns that looked like they were at little past regulation length. I figured he was here primarily to make sure I didn’t cause any trouble, but I was glad to have him.
“Yes, Corporal?”
“It’s time to get into the bunkers, sir. The enemy should be hitting our firewall any time now.”
The ‘firewall’ was what the troops called our string of nuclear mines that had been laid in the rainforest to the south. We were stationed along the mouth of a wide slow river that connected to the Amazon River somewhere upstream. The muddy brown shorelines on both sides of the river were dotted with bunkers and foxholes. The vibrantly green jungle growth crowded up against the encampment and seemed ominously thick and dank. Any moment, one was left expecting something huge and terrifying to come out of those trees.
I nodded and followed the corporal. He stopped me however, and directed me in the opposite direction. “No sir, you need to go to the command bunker. They’ll be waiting for you in there. You’re part of the briefing.”
“Thanks Corporal,” I said, turning in the indicated direction.
“Commander?” asked the Corporal.
“Yes?”
“Did you really make these guns?” he asked, hefting his.
I nodded. “I designed them, with some help from the Pentagon.”
“They’re really cool, sir.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you think they will stop a Macro, sir?”
“I hope so, Corporal,” I said.
I continued in the direction of the command bunker. I tried to act coolly, but in reality I was out of my element. I wasn’t used to military encampments. Everyone seemed to know what was going on and where they were supposed to be except me. They’d all been on maneuvers like this, if not in actual combat. The only serious combat I’d seen had been from a reclining position inside a tin can I called the Alamo.
I found the command bunker and paused outside it. I looked around at the Brazilian jungle. Rainforests are hard to describe. They are gorgeous and unpleasant all at once. When you are caught up in one as a trooper with a hundred pound kit on your back, a lead-lined hazard suit wrapped around your face and a nervous tickle of sweat under your arms, it’s not inviting. But to the eye, standing there in the camp as everyone tucked themselves into bunkers underground, it was inarguably beautiful. White sands, glowing blue water, sun-drenched skies. Birds trilled and whooped. A thousand tiny living things waved and crawled over every yard of soil under my boots.
I had to wonder how many creatures were about die in this jungle so we could kill a few giant robots. It didn’t seem fair to the wildlife. I took in a deep breath. At least it would be quick.
I tramped down the steps to the heavy bunker doors and heaved them open.
23
The conversation slowed to a buzz when I entered the bunker. A dozen eyes swiveled and locked on me. I threw back my hood and removed my goggles because everyone else had. I ignored their scrutiny and stepped up to the big tabletop computer that filled the center of the room. Everyone had circled around it.
“Welcome, Commander,” General Kerr said, without a smile or any hint of warmth.
I saluted him. Everyone stared for a moment, then the General returned my salute. I knew not everyone accepted that I’d earned my rank, much less the right to stand among them. I pretended not to notice or care.
He went back to the briefing. There, on the tabletop computer, a map of the region was displayed. Various tributaries of the massive Amazon River were all around us. In between the squiggly lines representing the river were areas of bright green, which I felt certain represented millions of trees. We were a blue hash mark to the north. A dozen other blue marks representing troop concentrations were strung along the line in front of several hundred advancing red dots. As I watched, the red dots shifted a pixel or so north about once a minute.
In between the Macros and us was a tight line of yellow hazard symbols. I didn’t have to ask what they were.
As we watched, I saw the Macros were even now passing over some of the yellow hazards. I fully expected them to poof and thought it odd we hadn’t yet buttoned up our suits. But the line kept marching, and the bombs sat idle.
“Any questions?” asked the General at length. There were none. “How about you, Commander Riggs?”
I looked up from the battle screen. “Just one,” I said. “Why don’t we smoke the Macros now? I count three that have passed over the mines.”
He smiled at me without friendliness or amusement. “We want a few on our side of the firewall before we light them up. Do you approve?”
I shrugged. “It’s your show, sir.”
“Very good. Well, as you say, we are about to ‘smoke them’ now. Hard to believe they are churning through this dense growth at close to thirty miles an hour, isn’t it? Just goes to show you what having huge metal legs will do for you. They can walk through jungle like a man pushing through a dense cornfield. Any more questions?”
I raised my hand again. The General gave me a nod.
“How are we going to catch up with them if they are running around so fast, sir?” I asked.
He gave me another indulgent smile, as if I was eight years old. “Don’t worry. They will come right to us. And once they engage, they won’t leave targets alive. They’ll stay on top of us until every one of us is dead, or they are.”
“I take it you’ve fought with them before, sir?”
“Yes, my last command was part of the rapid-deployment force in Argentina. We were among the first to encounter the enemy directly.”
“Glad you made it out, General Kerr.”
“Very few of us did.”
“But I have seen the Macros retreat, sir. It is possible. I’ve fought and destroyed four of their ships in orbit. At the end, they did try to back out.”
All of them were looking at me now. I wasn’t smiling. Neither was anyone else.
