Servants of War by Larry Correia & Steve Diamond

Author:Larry Correia & Steve Diamond [Correia, Larry & Diamond, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Military, Action & Adventure, General
ISBN: 9781982125943
Google: L3uJzgEACAAJ
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2022-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The Front

Kolakolvia

Illarion Glazkov

Object 12 nearly pitched forward, its feet completely submerged in the mud. The ground sucked at the suit’s legs as Illarion struggled forward with his shovel, ready to help pry the Object’s feet out of the ground once again.

A week of rain had turned every surface into a slag pit of churning mud. After securing Trench 302, the Kommandant had ordered the Wall to take 303, regardless of the weather. Which was madness. Illarion couldn’t read the book he’d been gifted, but for someone who was supposed to be a strategic genius the Kommandant didn’t have the sense God gave a farmer. You couldn’t walk multiton steel men across ground that had turned to soup.

The crews of all the Objects were completely covered in filth and freezing. He longed to drive Object 12 again, if only for a moment’s respite from the downpour. His promotion had meant little among his crew. Dostoy and Wallen were still the most experienced drivers, and thus primary and secondary, and the Wall had spent so much time stuck and struggling rather than taking fire that they didn’t need to switch drivers that often. Illarion was usually right by the Object’s legs, trying not to get crushed, because he was the strongest and best at clearing the path, even though that was an impossibility in their current situation. It took all the crew’s efforts just to keep the suits upright.

The barrier in front of Object 12 flared bright blue as an Almacian took a potshot to keep the crew honest. Wallen was trying to push the suit forward another step but couldn’t get the left foot out of the mud.

“Lean further right and you’ll break free!” Illarion shouted.

Wallen’s voice came back magically augmented through the steel faceplate. “I can’t, I’ll slip.”

Illarion cursed their driver, but just because he could tell it was doable from down here didn’t mean that it seemed doable to Wallen. On hands and knees, half sinking into the mire, Illarion used their bucket to scoop away the slurry and toss it behind them. Lourens picked up the shovel and went to work as well. After the death of one of their crew members, and with Patches still convalescing—she’d survived the gunshot and falling onto the board filled with nails—Lourens had been reassigned from Object 2, after nearly the entire crew had been injured by an Almacian grenade that had somehow rolled under their shield. Another man named Bricks—named for the tattoos of brick walls inked into the scars on his chest—rounded out their new crew. Bricks dug with his hands.

It wasn’t too different from farming, actually, with the misery, cold, exhaustion, and uncooperative equipment. The main difference was in farming there were fewer people trying to murder you.

To their left, Object 141 leaned forward, then fell face first. Beyond it, at the same time, Object 8 listed to the left and crashed into the mud too. 3rd Platoon was hopelessly mired. At least Wallen managed not to lose control of Object 12 enough to not flop over and kill them.

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