off rhythmically in a slow, repetitive pattern. Big lasers fired more slowly, as they took longer for the chemical gases to dissipate from the firing chamber. They also generated a lot more heat. Liquid nitrogen was puffed into the chambers after each shot, cooling the tanks before the next big gout of energy was released.
I was surprised to feel recoil from these guns. They were so large, and released so much energy that they actually rocked the installation when they went off. This made them slower as well, because the arms that aimed them had to stabilize and retarget the projectors slightly. Each shot burned for a duration of around five hundred milliseconds, then took about ten more seconds to reset and fire again. The effects were impressive, however.
“Wow,” Sandra said. “Look at that, a hit!”
For all their ponderousness, the guns were effective. We watched as one of the big machines took a direct hit in the upper plating. Unlike the lighter fire of our coastal laser turrets, the fort’s cannons didn’t just gouge the armor of the big machines. Instead, they burned right through it. The stricken machine was at first shrouded in a plume of flaring light green vapor, but as it cleared, I saw it was badly damaged. Two of the six massive legs no longer operated. It was tipping and dragging its upper body through the surf. Like a wounded man, it struggled to make it to shore.
Another big beam struck the smoking invader. A secondary explosion inside finished it, and it crashed down on the beach. A whoop went up around the control room. It was our first kill.
I smiled tightly, but didn’t share in the enthusiasm of those around me. It had taken nearly two minutes to bring down a single machine, and there were hundreds of them rising up all along the coastline now. My coastal turrets were almost ineffective, and once the enemy machines reached the land, they would be harder for the big cannons to hit as they crashed through the forests.
Now that my central forts had demonstrated their long-range firepower, I knew the enemy would want to destroy them. Despite that, I had decided to commit them. I did not regret the decision. After all, what was the point of a military asset if you were too scared to use it?
I watched as the battle unfolded before us. My neck ached from tension, but I didn’t dare try to massage it while wearing my battle suit. The gloves would probably rip my skin off.
— 33
I barely had time to sip some coffee and shake the armored gloves of a few smiling technicians before the Macros made their next move. The third group of tunneling Macros was active again. They’d gotten a message and had selected a target. Splitting into three groups, their numbers swelled on our monitoring screens. They had apparently been reinforced by survivors of the assault on my production base. En masse, they were digging upward.
We calculated where they would come out. The math wasn’t too difficult. Being centrally located, the fort I stood within was going to be visited first. After that, the other two forts would each be assaulted.
“Bring your garrison troops inside,” I ordered the fort CO.
The captain relayed the order without hesitation or argument. I liked this man more every minute. I checked his nametag for the first time. Captain Flynn, it said. I watched him work with nervous speed. I could deal with a man who didn’t know what he was doing, as long as he was aware of his deficiency and willing to learn. It was the rookie idiots with big ideas of their own that bothered me the most.
The command post was roomy, and there were sleeping quarters for twelve, but two hundred marines simply couldn’t fit inside the space. I thought about it. I didn’t want them to stand around outside on the fresh earth. When the Macros dug up to assault us, they were going to suck them down under the ground and grind them up in dusty holes.
“Sir,” Kwon said, understanding my dilemma. “I’ll take a platoon up on to the roof of the dome. We’ll keep out of the way of the big guns, of course.”
I nodded slowly. “Up,” I said. “Yeah, that’s it. Commander, get these men back out of here. Leave a platoon inside. Spread the rest in the trees outside. We can fly, so put them up there. When the enemy dig their way into the open, we’ll jump down on them.”
Eyes wider than ever, Captain Flynn relayed my order. Battle suits clanked back out of the building. I could hear men complaining and speculating on the intelligence of their leaders. I didn’t blame them. Smiling, I had Sandra help me put my helmet back on.
We returned to the big screen and watched the damage we were doing to the enemy Macros. They reached the tree line, but were missing seven machines by that time. Other groups were unmolested, unfortunately. Up and down the coast most of the machines reached the safety of the shore, blowing up our automated turrets and smashing their way into the cover of the trees. But where my fort concentrated its firepower, they melted. That was in a cove not far south of Fort Pierre. It was the nearest landing point of the enemy to our main base. We gave them hell, and they couldn’t even fire back. We were out of range for the guns mounted on their backs.
In the trees around and inside Fort Pierre I had placed about a thousand marines. Most of the island was vacate, of course. It was over two thousand square miles of wilderness and there were only about ten thousand marines on the island. I hadn’t been given the time to rebuild my forces before the Macros had begun their assault. Some had questioned why I didn’t bring down more recruits from Miami, but it would have been pointless. Without battle suits, nanites and most critically, proper training, they would not have been able to fight these monsters.
I’d fought them myself on several occasions, learning the hard way how to bring down one of these big machines in the South American campaign. The knowledge had cost us thousands and thousands of lives. One of the biggest lessons I’d learned was how ineffective normal earth troops were against them. It was like sending men with bolt action rifles against entrenched machine guns-the butcher’s bill had been incredible and the enemy machines had been unfazed.
Another possible defensive move had been used in South America, but we’d avoided it thus far: nuclear mines. We didn’t have endless miles of ground here on Andros. I could have killed a few machines that way, but nuclear weapons are relatively risky when used in close-quarters. Perhaps I’d been naive, thinking I could win without using every asset, but that was still unknown. What I did know is that fighting in a radioactive cloud would be a hardship that would reduce the effectiveness of my men much more than it would the Macros.
When the tunnels began to open up around the base, they did so with surprising coordination. I had ordered the men in the command post to ignore the enemy unless they were right there in the room with them. They were to keep firing salvo after salvo at the easiest big invader-it was the job of the marine garrison to stop any assaults from smaller machines below us. Still, when it comes right down to it, such orders can be difficult to follow. I had to give Flynn and his crew credit, they really tried. But when the report came in the enemy had dug up into the mess hall and firing broke out under our feet, it was hard to keep staring straight ahead.
I sent Kwon down, and the disturbance subsided for a minute or so. Then the floor bucked up of its own accord. The big screens died, losing power, and some screamed: “The generators!”
I didn’t hesitate, and neither did Kwon. If the damned machines cut off our generators, the big guns would stop firing. Mission accomplished for the enemy.
I called in two more platoons out of the trees. Apparently, the enemy weren’t going for that route yet. Charging down the ramps, we half-ran and half-flew to generator room. Four Macro workers were in there. One had committed suicide by using his big lobster claws to cut into the central feed leading to the base. He’d been electrocuted, but I was certain he’d earned whatever award Macros had in their database for a successful self- sacrifice.
Twenty-one of us went down there, including Sandra with her flashing twin carbon knives. Nineteen of us walked out unaided, but the machines had been destroyed. I posted a squad with orders to call for backup the second they saw anything suspicious and sealed the tunnel with nanites.
We headed back to the command post. There was a kind of new commotion going on up there. When we reached the screens and they flickered into life again as power was restored, I saw what it was. The mounds of fresh earth all around the fort were frothing with flashing metal mandibles. The enemy didn’t come out of just one hole, or four holes, they came up in dozens of spots at the same time. Without orders, my men in the trees fired
