Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One: Close Combat Specialists (Patreon)

REVERSE ENGINEERED: 1x VANGUARD WARRIOR ARMOR.

SKILL UPGRADED: POWERED ARMOR FORGING TO LEVEL 3.

BLUEPRINT UNLOCKED: FOX CLASS BATTLE ARMOR.

BLUEPRINT UNLOCKED: RESONANT SHIELD ARRAY (COMPONENT).

<Nanocloud>: That creature wasn’t in the list of species Sarvenimazarus gave us.

<Belessar>: What else do you think he hid?

<Nanocloud>: We’ve no contact with Gragareth station right now, so maybe we’ll talk to him after the battle.

<Belessar>: Pemberley should know this.

<Nanocloud>: She already does. She and Goldman are here at the Tower now. Windsor too, he’s taken charge of organizing things.

<Nanocloud>: He’s also sending you what reinforcements he can find. Three more ultras from nearby. Some troops are hitching a ride along with your missile truck.

<Nanocloud>: Take the A205 and then the A307 and you’ll have a fairly smooth ride until you hit the cluster potluck at the end of the street.

<Belessar>: … cluster potluck?

<Nanocloud>: Well it rhymes with the word Windsor’s using. Two regiments of Indian infantry occupying the buildings on one side of the road are shooting at about four hundred odd Raptor Guards on the other side. Buildings are just a hundred metres apart. A tank squadron got burned up in the initial crossfire and they’ve now settled for exchanging bullets and plasma. ‘Course, nothing’s getting sorted, and if they keep shooting the buildings on both sides will probably collapse.

<Nanocloud>: Windsor suggests that you can go in and do something to break the stalemate. Hopefully before the other side realizes their Carnotaurs can do the same thing.

<Nanocloud>: Your reinforcements will meet you at the A307 turnoff.

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I relayed Nanocloud’s instructions to Doyle, who frowned. “We’re not the right type of unit to break that stalemate. You need door-to-door fighting specialists.”

“Maybe we’re all that’s available.”

“We’ll find out. Let’s move.”

Fifteen minutes later, we reached the turnoff. Under a large sign reading BOTANICAL GARDENS - KEW, a unit of soldiers waited by three trucks.

What struck me was how short the soldiers were. Lean, thin men in the green-and-grey uniforms and carrying huge knives…

To my surprise, Banner let out a whoop. “Now we’re talking!”

The leader of the men walked up to Doyle and saluted. “Captain Ranjit Singh, 4th Gurkha Rifles. My boys are here for whatever you need.”

Doyle returned the salute with parade-ground perfection. “Major-General Doyle. Acting. I’ve heard a great deal about your unit. I understand you have some supplies for us, too?”

“Fifty Hellfire-X missiles for one Mr. Belessar.” Captain Singh ran his gaze across the lot of us. “I’m assuming the gentleman in the massive metal exoskeleton is Mr. Belessar?”

“Ji (Yes), Captain,” I replied.

Doyle quirked an eyebrow at me.

Crap, I hadn’t planned on replying in Hindi. … why did I do that again?

The Captain broke out into a smile. “Ah, you speak our language. Excellent. The boys haven’t had a chance to fight side-by-side with an armored suit before, think you can give them some pointers?”

“Don’t get in front of a suit, and don’t get in the way of the rifle.” I brandished the Mass Driver Rifle for emphasis. “When the enemy starts shooting, take cover and let me draw the fire. Also, are your men any good at door-to-door combat? I think we’ve got to break into some buildings and remove some Raptor Guards there.”
“We can do it, Mr. Belessar. How many of these Raptors are we talking?”

“At least four hundred.”

“Splendid, it will make for a good warmup,” Singh grinned. “We’re ready to follow you, General sir.”

<Nanocloud>: By the way, Banner is signalling STOP TALKING to you in hand signals behind your back, so…

… was I stepping on some arcane military ritual without being aware of it? Never mind.

As we marched forward, Banner walked up to me. “Didn’t know you spoke Hindi.”

“It’s not important. Say, what do you think of the captain? He seems awfully confident to me, considering he’s got less than a hundred men….”

“A hundred Gurkhas, Belessar.”

“... Gurkhas?”

“They’re very, very good light infantry. Probably among the top three, four close combat specialist units in the world. At Delhi, they fought off nearly two-thirds their number of Sarnak and Raptors in a densely packed urban battle that lasted several hours.” Banner fixed me a stare. “And you asked them if they were any good at door-to-door.”

I shrugged. “That sounds a bit overhyped.”

Banner rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”