Caterpillar Without A Callsign Read Online Free
Author: Isaac Hooke
path and started running my war machine up the slope, boosting my advance with jumpjet spurts. I could see some of the insurgents now, trying to hide behind the peak.
They realized that I'd seen them and unleashed a hail of bullets. There were probably a few snipers among them. All it would take was one lucky shot...
Left hand, swivel ballistic shield!
The ballistic shield swiveled into place , swapping out the empty missile launcher. I held it in front of me as I ran. Bullets deflected harmlessly from the shield.
Another missile alarm sounded.
I was too slow on the Trench Coat this time.
The rocket struck my shield and I was sent hurtling backwards down the slope. I had the presence of mind to activate the reverse jets, and quickly rolled to a halt, prostrate on the rock.
Lying down was probably a bad idea though, even if it wasn't my choice. Alarms were going off all over the cockpit now, but as I lay there I hardly heard them: I just wanted to sleep. I felt nauseous. The gunshot and shrapnel wounds I'd attained earlier throbbed painfully. I had a headache.
Sleep sounded pretty good right about now.
I started to close my eyes. Two seconds. That's all I wanted. Two seconds with my eyes closed.
No.
I forced them open. If I closed my eyes, I'd sleep, and I'd die, either from my existing wounds or from the new ones that Gansükh's men would be happy to supply.
It would be so easy to give in, so easy to sleep.
But I wasn't a quitter.
I'd gone through the hardest training in the galaxy.
I hadn't quit then and I wouldn't quit now.
I could do this.
My teammates were depending on me.
I sat up.
Some of the insurgents had decided to clamber forward, maybe thinking to get some cheap shot in. One held a rocket launcher over his shoulder.
I raised my gatling and turned those fools into a fine red mist.
I scrambled to my feet, tapping into my body's energy reserves. I could do this.
I discarded the crumpled ballistic shield and broke into a sprint. I fired my jumpjets, boosting my speed, and in a few strides I reached a crowded plateau near the top of the escarpment.
I landed right in the middle of twenty insurgents wielding AK-105s.
Under ordinary circumstances I would have been a little afraid. But I was in an ATLAS mech. I could take on a hundred ordinary men.
I didn't even bother to use the gatling. I swapped the weapon s out of my hands and started bashing heads, clearing a path as Gansükh's henchmen fired away. Fluid levels were dropping in some of my servomotors from gunshot-related damage, but I kept moving, if a little sluggishly. Some insurgents died before I could even touch them, because that crossfire was so frantic.
I swiped an arm to the right, sending three men flying off the mountaintop. These guys didn't have jetpacks. They wouldn't be surviving that fall.
I stepped forward, crunching two unlucky dudes underfoot.
I scooped up another three guys in one hand and squeezed. I'll let you imagine what happened to them. All I'll say is it involved heads popping off. Not pretty.
S uddenly I was forced to one knee. An alarm went off, louder than the others.
The main servomotor in my right knee had failed.
I was vaguely aware that the gunfire had stopped around me.
I turned my head, and saw Gansükh standing right behind me. He wielded the biggest, baddest steel ax I'd ever seen. Blue electricity sparked up and down the surface of the blade, and I knew it was energy-enhanced. He swung it again, striking the back of my other leg.
I fell forward on both knees now.
I couldn't believe it.
My ATLAS 5 had been hamstrung with an ax, of all things.
This guy knew all our weak points.
Okay, let's see how well that ax did against a gatling.
I was still facing away from him, so I activated my rear jumpjets (at full burn, on the off chance that he was stupid enough to stay close and get caught in the 740 °C steam-gas mixture from my jet nozzles), then I applied lateral thrust to swing around. The upward
They realized that I'd seen them and unleashed a hail of bullets. There were probably a few snipers among them. All it would take was one lucky shot...
Left hand, swivel ballistic shield!
The ballistic shield swiveled into place , swapping out the empty missile launcher. I held it in front of me as I ran. Bullets deflected harmlessly from the shield.
Another missile alarm sounded.
I was too slow on the Trench Coat this time.
The rocket struck my shield and I was sent hurtling backwards down the slope. I had the presence of mind to activate the reverse jets, and quickly rolled to a halt, prostrate on the rock.
Lying down was probably a bad idea though, even if it wasn't my choice. Alarms were going off all over the cockpit now, but as I lay there I hardly heard them: I just wanted to sleep. I felt nauseous. The gunshot and shrapnel wounds I'd attained earlier throbbed painfully. I had a headache.
Sleep sounded pretty good right about now.
I started to close my eyes. Two seconds. That's all I wanted. Two seconds with my eyes closed.
No.
I forced them open. If I closed my eyes, I'd sleep, and I'd die, either from my existing wounds or from the new ones that Gansükh's men would be happy to supply.
It would be so easy to give in, so easy to sleep.
But I wasn't a quitter.
I'd gone through the hardest training in the galaxy.
I hadn't quit then and I wouldn't quit now.
I could do this.
My teammates were depending on me.
I sat up.
Some of the insurgents had decided to clamber forward, maybe thinking to get some cheap shot in. One held a rocket launcher over his shoulder.
I raised my gatling and turned those fools into a fine red mist.
I scrambled to my feet, tapping into my body's energy reserves. I could do this.
I discarded the crumpled ballistic shield and broke into a sprint. I fired my jumpjets, boosting my speed, and in a few strides I reached a crowded plateau near the top of the escarpment.
I landed right in the middle of twenty insurgents wielding AK-105s.
Under ordinary circumstances I would have been a little afraid. But I was in an ATLAS mech. I could take on a hundred ordinary men.
I didn't even bother to use the gatling. I swapped the weapon s out of my hands and started bashing heads, clearing a path as Gansükh's henchmen fired away. Fluid levels were dropping in some of my servomotors from gunshot-related damage, but I kept moving, if a little sluggishly. Some insurgents died before I could even touch them, because that crossfire was so frantic.
I swiped an arm to the right, sending three men flying off the mountaintop. These guys didn't have jetpacks. They wouldn't be surviving that fall.
I stepped forward, crunching two unlucky dudes underfoot.
I scooped up another three guys in one hand and squeezed. I'll let you imagine what happened to them. All I'll say is it involved heads popping off. Not pretty.
S uddenly I was forced to one knee. An alarm went off, louder than the others.
The main servomotor in my right knee had failed.
I was vaguely aware that the gunfire had stopped around me.
I turned my head, and saw Gansükh standing right behind me. He wielded the biggest, baddest steel ax I'd ever seen. Blue electricity sparked up and down the surface of the blade, and I knew it was energy-enhanced. He swung it again, striking the back of my other leg.
I fell forward on both knees now.
I couldn't believe it.
My ATLAS 5 had been hamstrung with an ax, of all things.
This guy knew all our weak points.
Okay, let's see how well that ax did against a gatling.
I was still facing away from him, so I activated my rear jumpjets (at full burn, on the off chance that he was stupid enough to stay close and get caught in the 740 °C steam-gas mixture from my jet nozzles), then I applied lateral thrust to swing around. The upward
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