Chương 767: Chapter Forty-Four - Cats and Water

"New Gone with the Wind movie blasted for using real actors when the studio claimed that the entire movie was made using AI Generation technology." --MovieNewsNow 2045 The last sortie had gone well, but a few of the vehicles had... kinda sucked a little more than the rest. Going down the list... the ATTs, the three troop transports, had done well.

They kept up, had enough firepower to take out just about anything short of a really big alien, and having a squad of infantry on hand was damned useful, plus the medics and just the space in general. I saw what some of those infantry were carrying.

They had the usual assortment of rifles and small arms, but they also had a few shoulder-fired guns. Autocannons and one-shot expendable launchers. That would let them punch way, way above their weight class. So, those two passed muster. The Pikes didn't. The two C3 Pikes had lagged behind the entire time. They were low to the ground, so they couldn't shoot over the other vehicles.

And because they were designed more like tank hunters than proper turretted tanks, their field of fire was pretty much directly in front of them. I could kinda see the rationelle behind them? They were small, probably cheap to produce. Light for an armoured vehicle. And their bigger gun, that. 50 cal, could take out anything short of an Antithesis in the twenties range. They could move fast enough on flat terrain, but were slow when it came to climbing anything. The lack of good angling on their guns sucked.

Probably wasn't comfortable in there either, I bet. The Wolverines... God, they were such a bad idea. But I also really wanted to take one for a spin? They looked fast, fun, and had guns strapped on top. I'd bet someone's kidney that they were designed by some redneck on a bender then approved because every young, testosterone-up soldier that saw it went 'hell yeah!' and wanted one for themselves. Were they actually good? I think they did alright?

A bit fragile, and dumb, but they were fast, could screen pretty well, and maybe if we needed to do something off to the side, they'd be a good option to send out. Finally, there were the two not-quite-tanks, the Rattlesnakes. I don't know if it was because they were wheeled or what, but they were fast. Their main gun kicked ass, the secondary. 50cal was good enough in most situations, and for all their speed, they didn't seem to sacrifice too much in terms of armour.

I think the only thing they really lacked were guns that could fire in more directions. They had their main turret and that was it. That actually gave the Wolverines a reason to exist, since they could move into a spot that the Rattlesnake wasn't covering. Given all of that... I opened a little plotter and a map of the region, then moved things around into a nice two-part formation that I forwarded to Sergeant Hatner. It got approval a moment later. I looked around and took in the crew and their state.

The tanks were all lined up by the narrow entrance, with the Wolverines taking up the rear. Everything was re-armed and reloaded, and every vehicle had had a quick inspection. It was stupid how just a quick sortie, with barely any encounters with the enemy, had ended up causing so much minor damage. A few dings and dents from rough terrain shouldn't have been this much of a problem, yet here we were.

I had a report from one of the maintenance guys, telling me that such and such a vehicle would need its shock absorbers replaced and that that one needed a new barrel soon. For now, they'd do for this operation, and that was good enough for me. I climbed into the MEOW, moving fast and trying to make it look effortless even though it really wasn't, then I slumped into the pilot's seat and closed the cockpit up.

"Comms check," I said.

"Is everyone ready?" There were a series of beeps before the sergeant came on.

"Strike Group Hammer is ready, ma'am!" Hatner said. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, there wasn't a single chance that this bunch wasn't going to start painting hammers onto their tanks. They'd probably get away with it too, if they used me as an excuse. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Alright, Strike Group Hammer, eyes sharp, we're heading out. There's a hill, about a kilometre out. Pikes one and two, you're staying there, as well ATT three. You're our backup and fallback group. If shit goes wrong, everyone regroup on them. They should have a vantage and enough firepower to keep us moderately safe."

"Should we name that group?" Hatner asked.

"If you suggest that we call them 'Shaft' then I'm renaming this entire strike group to something boring," I warned. There was some light booing over the comms, but it was good-natured.

"If there are no more complaints, then let's get moving." We had a bit of support from the army, but this was further away from the main action. We didn't have artillery support to call on... well, that wasn't true, we did, but at three kilometres out, the super precise stuff wasn't as useful. We did have access to longer-ranged attacks, though. The army had rockets and missiles and all sorts of goodies in reserve, and I was fond of wasting tax dollars on blowing up aliens.

The better part of the support was the aerial recon. A glance up and into the clouds had my mech's auto-targetting systems flagging a few black specks far above. Not flying Antithesis, but planes. They were twin-prop, single-pilot craft, barely armed at all, but with a powerful suite of cameras and sensors on their underside. They were designed to kind of just glide for hours on end. The average Model One might be able to reach them, but not without being obvious and kind of slow about it.

There were other, bigger and meaner flying Antithesis as well, but they were probably distracted with the ongoing war ground-side. For us, the flyers meant that we had ready and constant access to aerial imagery. That was damned valuable. We had one plane moving out of formation to trial ahead of us already, so we wouldn't be going in blind.

We could call in some drones, as well, but they'd take a minute or two to arrive and apparently the army didn't like losing their disposable drones, which was stupid because that was in their name. I was the first out with the MEOW. The proper order of things would have other vehicles moving ahead as a screen before something more expensive like the MEOW, but I was also the toughest and best armed thing we had, and I didn't expect trouble. The others followed after me.

I set out, setting the pace at just about the same speed as the Pikes. Fortunately, we were on a road. It was the usual kind of road for around this region, which meant that it was about forty percent pothole by surface area, but it was a road nonetheless, so we were able to make decent speed. About a kilometre out was where we met our first bit of resistance from the invaders. A patrol of Model Threes rushed out of the ditch on the side of the road, scampering over towards us at great speed.

They were met with a hail of reflexive gunfire, splattering them across the road long before they reached us. I thought that was it, but my mech's scanners pinged something off to the right. We were driving next to the river. It was just a dozen feet off to the side, and while the road was a bit higher, there were a few spots where it dipped a little. I imagined that after real heavy rain, there might be a bit of flooding across the road or something.

In any case, I was a bit surprised when the water exploded and two dozen monsters rushed out of it. They were the size of dogs, bigger dogs, with four legs and a long, sleek face that could split into three triangular sections full of teeth. Model Threes? Only their feet were webbed, and rather than being fleshy, or covered in thin fur like some Model Threes, their skin was a dark, brownish colour and looked slick and wet. They went down to a few well-placed rounds.

If anything they were a bit slower then the normal Model Threes.

"Myalis, what was that?" As you no doubt suspect already, those are Model Threes. Specifically, a variant adapted for aquatic combat.

"Shit," I said.

"Should I be concerned?" No, so long as you stay out of the water. Well, there was a whole thing about cats not liking to get wet. Supposed I could live up to that.