Lost Vikings Page 2

  than he could count, but he'd always been safe inside his transport, a klick or higher in the

  air. This was the first time he'd been this close to any part of the planet's surface outside of

  its few settlements. He wondered if the snow would hold him or if he'd sink right through

  to whatever it was covering—and he wondered how far down that would be.

  The snow did give under the several tons of the viking's weight, but the walker's legs

  found solid ground to stand on only half a meter down. Whether it was ice or rock or

  something else entirely, Erik couldn't tell. He just felt grateful it was there.

  Enveloped by the dense white cloud his landing had kicked up, Erik couldn't see a damn

  thing. He pushed the machine forward, and it slogged through the thick, heavy snow. The

  viking's legs cut through the mess as if it wasn't there, but the movement felt sluggish.

  Erik had operated only civilian walkers before, using them to help unload the cargo

  from his transport every now and then. That was probably another reason why Varg had

  sought him for the job. Not many pilots had any experience in a walker, even if it was just

  one of the stomping forklifts he'd tooled around in the distribution center.

  He didn't know enough about military walkers to tel whether the machine's movement

  was normal. Did its gait feel off due to the nature of the viking, or might it have something

  to do with the weather? At this point, he supposed it didn't matter much. Either way, he'd

  have to put up with it and account for it.

  Once he emerged from the mess that he and the others had churned up around the

  landing zone, Erik stopped to survey the landscape. A chain of snow-capped mountains was

  huddled off to what the heads-up display on his screen told him was the west. Or maybe

  they were mountains of snow. He couldn't tell from this distance. 12

  Icy plains yawned to the north and south, wind sending curls of white powder winding

  and cutting through the air. Nothing obstructed Erik's view all the way to the darkened

  horizons but storm clouds scudding about in the distance, lightning strikes flashing across

  them, pregnant with thundersnow.

  The sky lightened to the east as the sun's first rays strove to break through the

  incessant cloud cover. They il uminated a long ridge that stretched for klicks in either

  direction, forming a sheer, crystal ine cliff that had to be hundreds of meters high. Under

  other circumstances, the vista would have stunned Erik with its stark beauty. Instead, the

  sight of a zerg infestation burrowing through the cliff threatened to turn his stomach.

  Erik's time with the Dominion military had been spent fighting other terrans, mostly

  rebels. He'd fol owed the struggle elsewhere against the zerg and the protoss through UNN

  broadcasts, but he'd never been ordered into battle against any aliens. He had seen dead

  zerg before but never a live one, not outside of a recording. Most people who did weren't

  fortunate enough to survive the experience.

  The way the bugs squirmed along the cliff's ledges, abruptly disappearing and

  reappearing through a series of holes that had been eaten or dril ed into them, reminded

  him of a termite infestation he'd seen as a kid. The termites had demolished the

  infrastructure of the house his family lived in. The exterminator told them the place was

  too far gone to be saved. The only thing to do was to have their home destroyed.

  Erik wondered whether Braxis had reached that point of no return. He didn't know how

  much it would take to remove the zerg from the planet, but if they had infiltrated it as they

  had already riddled the cliff, he couldn't imagine that anything less than orbital

  bombardment would dislodge them.

  "What the hell are we doing here?" Erik said.

  "Kil ing the bad guys," Varg said. "First chance we get." 13

  Erik checked his rear-view camera and saw that everyone else had emerged from the

  landing zone. Could the ice their vikings stood on handle this much weight? A viking might

  be able to fly, but when it walked on the ground, it made a deep impression. If they were on

  top of a frozen sea, Erik could envision breaking through the crust of ice and disappearing

  into the black waters below.

  "Let's march out." Varg began trudging forward through the snow. He kicked up a haze

  as he went. Erik and the others fel in line behind him fast, and as a group they soon

  managed to cause visibility in the area to drop to only a few meters.

  "What's the plan from here?" Erik said. Maybe he should have just waited for Varg to

  start barking out orders, but he needed to know what he'd gotten himself into.

  The major grumbled. Erik had a hard time making out the back of the man's armor

  through the snow, and Varg strode only a few steps ahead of him.

  "We're meant to provide a distraction," Varg said. "Our job is to keep these bugs

  occupied until Command gets the rest of our forces in line—or decides to turn tail and run

  along with the civilians."

  "They're using us as bait." Baleog gave Varg an approving grunt. "Drop us down on the

  far side of the zerg infestation and use us to draw their forces away from the settlements."

  "Right," Varg said. "We don't have to take the bugs out. We just have to pul their

  attention away long enough for our people to escape."

  "What about us?" Olaf said.

  Erik hated the big man for asking the question. He'd wanted to ask it himself, but he

  feared the answer. Would it real y be better to know?

  "How about it, Varg?" Baleog said. "Do we constitute acceptable losses?" 14

  "Damn right you do. We al do. What's more important: a wing of vikings or every other

  terran on the planet?"

  As long as "every other terran" included Kyrie and Sif, Erik knew how he'd answer that.

  They trudged on in silence, their vikings carrying them closer and closer toward the icy

  cliff. Even though Erik could no longer see it through the snow whirling around them, he

  knew it was there, and he dreaded every step forward. Stil , he didn't let that stop him from

  marching on.

  "Halt!" Varg said, raising one of his viking's Gatling cannons to make sure he had

  everyone's attention.

  Erik and the others stopped in their tracks. The snow they'd kicked up settled down,

  swirling to the ground. The viking's climate-control system kept Erik's windshield clear,

  and he could soon see al the way to the ridge again. It sat much closer this time.

  Varg gestured at the ridge with a Gatling cannon. Zerg drones squirmed in and out of

  countless tunnels in the icy face, parts of which had been coated with creep, a substance

  that reminded Erik of a spider's webbing. It covered much of the ridge, turning the

  sparkling white surface a filthy gray.

  Things that Erik didn't recognize hung in the air over the ridge, scooting back and forth

  like flying jel yfish. He couldn't tel what kind of zerg they were, but his HUD identified

  them as overlords. They were sprinkled with a strong force of mutalisks.

  "We're going in by ground until we get close enough to hit those bastards with as much

  firepower as we can muster. Vikings move too fast in the air for us to get decent targeting

  on anything standing there." 15

  Erik groaned. "You would think the engineers who built these things could have

  included guns that poi
nted down." His Wraith had been able to attack both ground and air

  targets as it soared above the battlefield, and the lack of that flexibility pained him.

  Baleog growled at him. "The viking is and remains the pinnacle of terran personalcombat

  systems. You want to fight something in the air? You get in the air and shoot it. You

  want to fight something on the ground? You slam down and get your feet dirty. No other

  weapon is as flexible or dangerous. Inside my rig, I can take on any terran machine and tear

  it apart. Anytime you think you're up for it, you're welcome to climb into a different ride

  and give that chal enge a try."

  Erik muttered an apology. "I was only making a—"

  Baleog cut him off. "You might be the best damn transport chief around. Out here,

  you're nothing but a baby bird with a big mouth. Now shut up and try to learn something

  that might keep you from getting us all killed.

  Erik didn't respond.

  Varg pointed his Gatling cannon at the ridge again. "We go in fast before they notice us,

  then hit them hard with our big guns. Once that gets their attention, they'l send out some

  ground troops to deal with us. We'l jump into the air and switch to fighter mode before

  they reach us."

  The tip of Varg's Gatling cannon rose up to target the airborne zerg. "From there, we go

  in and take out as many of those sky bugs as we can. Focus on the mutalisks first, the ones

  with wings. They're the biggest threat."

  "And once we're done with that?" asked Scorch. Erik liked that she thought ahead.

  "We land and start taking out the ground bugs again. We keep at it until we get the

  word that it's time to go home. Clear?" 16

  "As ice," Scorch said. The others chimed in as well.

  The plan seemed like a good one. It had the benefit of simplicity, which Erik prized,

  given how little experience he had in a viking. Back when he'd been flying a Wraith, his

  commanders had employed the same sort of hit-and-run tactics, only without the wrinkle

  of landing and taking off again. Erik felt a surge of hope, which he hadn't known since he'd

  first heard of the zerg invasion.

  At Varg's signal, they resumed their march. Once they got within what the major

  deemed to be an acceptable range from the zerg, he called a halt again. When the snow

  settled this time, Erik saw how large the ridge real y was, and hope drained right out of

  him.

  From this distance, Erik could see the color of the zerg carapaces, the bruised purples

  and unnatural greens that bulged out of their basic palette of shit browns. He could see

  their mandibles moving, chewing, and his stomach churned in disgust. He didn't have much

  time to wallow in his growing sense of dread, though.

  "Hit 'em hard!" Varg opened up with his Gatling cannons, and the rest of the vikings

  joined in.

  Erik spun up his own cannons, one mounted on each of his walker's shoulders, and let

  loose. A fire-hose spray of metal slugs spat out and tore through the hard-shel ed zerg, the

  thick and viscous creep, and the honeycombed ice underneath. The viking's carapace

  protected Erik's ears from the thunderous racket the guns produced, but he could stil feel

  the constant rattle of the discharge thrumming through his bones.

  Baleog howled with glee as the vikings' assault turned the zerg on the cliff's face into

  dark purple paste, and Scorch and Olaf chimed in. The vikings had caught many of the

  creatures unawares, kil ing them before they had a chance to flee. Others, though, had

  managed to slip back inside the ridge through the myriad tunnels they'd chewed into it,

  disappearing from sight. 17

  "Keep it up!" Varg said. "We got 'em on the run!"

  A grin broke out on Erik's face, and he found he couldn't suppress it. Taking out the

  bugs was more of a thril than he could have imagined. The fact that doing it might save his

  wife and child and everyone else in the settlements only made it that much better.

  His guns began to glow. At first they just showed a hint of red around the tips, but it

  soon crept backward along the barrels, growing brighter. The heat from the friction of the

  bul ets must have been tremendous, especially given how cold it was outside.

  "Looking good, my little vikings!" Varg said.

  Rather than burrowing into the ridge, one line of zerg made a mad dash for the foot of

  the cliff. Erik fol owed them with his weapons, tearing them to pieces. The few that he

  missed managed to escape into tunnels near the base, and Erik redoubled his efforts to

  blast the zerg out of there, exposing them in their hidey-holes one vicious bul et at a time.

  "Watch it, kid!" Varg said. "Raise your guns! You keep that up, you're liable to bring the whole—oh, shit."

  As Varg spoke, the face of the ridge began to collapse. It started with the small section

  near the bottom where Erik had been focusing his fire. He'd just spotted a huge infestation

  of zerg, and no matter how many bullets he'd fired atit, more of the creatures squirted out

  of their burrows, as if there wasn't enough room for them all to hide.

  That turned out to be true, Erik saw, when the first several meters of ice crumpled and

  gave way. The exposed zergwere packed in so tight that they almost exploded outward

  with the fragmented ice, and they scrambled for cover like cockroaches from light. They

  didn't get far, though, before the rest of the wal tumbled down on top of them.

  Without the ice at the base to support it, the wal 's face cracked and crumbled away,

  crashing to the ground like a combination of an avalanche and a waterfall. Erik could feel 18

  the impact through the viking's insulation, rumbling like thunder that might never end. As

  the ice landed, it shattered and rol ed up into the sky, forming a gigantic cloud that roiled

  out from the ridge like a tidal wave of snow.

  "Dammit!" Varg said. "Brace yourselves!"

  Erik had already planted his viking's feet square on the ice to deal with the recoil from

  his Gatling cannons. He didn't think the oncoming crush of snow could be much worse. As

  soon as it smacked into him, he realized how wrong he was.

  The snow wasn't the thin, stirred-up powder that obstructed his vision when he and the

  rest of the vikings strode across the land. This was solid, heavy stuff, shards of ice that had

  stood there since the planet had refrozen after the protoss purification. It slammed into

  him like a tank and drove him backward, burying him deeper with every centimeter he

  gave.

  At first Erik fought hard, struggling to stay upright, but he soon realized it was pointless.

  He raised the walker's Gatling-gun arms and did his best to ride the rising wave of snow. It

  swept his viking off its feet, and for a moment he felt as if the machine were treading water

  backward in a tsunami.

  Then everything went white. And then it went black.

  An avalanche hitting you was nature doing its level best to murder you. The noise—a

  low rumble like thunder from the ground—tumbled through him hard and fast until it felt

  as if it had absorbed him, as if he'd become a part of it. Although he could breathe just fine

  inside the viking, the avalanche's speed and force rattled him against his restraints and

  knocked the wind from him. He was sure he was aboutto die, and if it was going to happen,

  he hoped it would be quick. At least
then, the sheer terror of the instant would be over and

  he'd be spared having to endure it any longer. 19

  Employing his fear as a spur, Erik struggled to make the viking swim toward the surface

  of the avalanche, using its pumping legs and flailing weaponry to keep the craft upright as

  best as he could. After a moment, the force of the rol ing snow ripped the bucking controls

  away from him and snatched his fate from his hands. As the viking spun down to a stop

  inside a massive crumble of ice, rock, and snow, the noise abated, and he realized he was

  alive—and stuck good.

  Sounds of panic burst at Erik over the comm system. He couldn't make out any of the

  words, not for sure. He just knew that the people he'd come here with were in a great deal

  of trouble, and he couldn't do a thing to help them.

  "Report!" Varg said. He might have been saying it for a while. "Shelve that damn

  squealing and report!"

  The immediate danger over, Erik felt new dread over his situation threaten to reach up

  and swallow him. Hearing the officer's strong, stolid voice gave him a lifeline to hang on to.

  "Here!" Erik said.

  "Present," said Olaf.

  "Yo!" said Baleog.

  No one else responded.

  "Scorch?" Varg said. "Dammit! Scorch?"

  Nothing.

  Then her voice came over the comm, soft and weak but clear. "I'm, ah…" she said. "Um,

  here."

  "Anyone got a visual on her?" 20

  "I don't got any visual at al ," said Baleog. "I'm buried up over my head."

  "I'm afraid I've fal en over," said Olaf with a pained grunt.

  Erik peered out through his windshield and saw little but a dim gray. He supposed that

  was a good thing. If he were buried deep, it would be nothing but utter blackness. The fact

  that he could see anything meant he wasn't too far beneath the avalanche's surface, or so

  he hoped.

  "No visuals here." He tried to move his viking's arms. His Gatling cannons had been so

  hot that he wondered if they had melted any snow that came near them. Instead, it felt as if

  they'd been encased in blocks of flash-frozen ice. "Can't move my guns either."

  "Don't panic," Varg said. "We're not licked yet."

  "Sure," said Baleog. "As long as your name's not Scorch."

  "Not helping." Varg hesitated for a moment. "Anyone got mode-transformation controls