Rip's Adventures: Rip and the Tunnel, Part XI

“Glad to see you’re with us, le Blanc,” Colonel Copper said as Rip entered the briefing room. It was a Spartan military room of M.D.C. concrete and few decorations. The only true ornamentation was the symbol of N.E.M.A. carved masterfully on the masonry behind the head of the table where Colonel Copper sat. The table was dark, made of stained teak wood. It was about eight meters long and two and a half meters wide. Around the table were a number of cushioned, high-backed, swivel chairs. A few of them were empty, but most of them were filled with Republican personnel. They were all in fatigues, so Rip could see no readily apparent insignias, but he could tell who the officers were by the way they carried themselves and the manner of deference given to them by the others. The officers, including Lavoisier, were gathered around Copper. Thebes sat near the end next to an empty seat.

“I thought I told you to call me Rip, Colonel,” Rip replied.

“So you did. Well then, Rip. Please join us. We were just about to go over our tactical situation.”

“Saved you a spot, Rip,” Thebes said with a smile.

Rip took a deep breath and sat down. There was a giant poster map of the complex sitting on the table. The complex was larger than he thought. It wrapped itself intricately around the Blacksburg drainage sewer system for what had to be at least a kilometer in almost every direction. What was even more interesting was that the complex he was inside was not the only one on the map. At least five other smaller, adjoining complexes were indicated on the map, plus one large one on the west side of the sewers. However the large one on the west side of the sewers wasn’t interconnected with the others or the sewers in any way. In fact, the map gave no indication whatsoever of a means of accessing this location. The map also didn’t show anything but the exterior boundaries of the larger complex. However, when Rip looked at it even closer, he made a startling realization.

“Wait a second, this is the section that tunnel we found led to,” he said aloud to no one in particular.

“I know,” Thebes replied, her face aglow with excitement. “I thought it was pretty interesting to find out that the earthen tunnel we found was actually made by the Republicans. This last section here is the only part of these ruins that they are in the process of excavating.”

“That’s right, Rip,” said Copper, stepping in. “And it took us a long time to find too. We’ve been here for months working on the other parts that were easily accessible by the sewer. But even we were rather astounded when our sonar detected this new section, which appears to have no entrances within the sewer whatsoever. I’m still having my people scour the surface for a hidden passage, but so far, the tunnel we’ve dug has been our only means of access.”

“Whoa, hold on there, missy,” Rip said holding up a finger. “What do you mean you found this place? I thought this was your base of operations and it was just our dumb luck to stumble upon you.”

“And my name’s not ‘missy.’ You will call me Colonel Copper,” the fiery red-headed woman said. “And this place is not, in fact, the headquarters of the Republicans. This is just our latest outpost. You’ll learn more about our other bases when we take you in for detox.”

“So you’re saying you don’t do the detox here?” Rip asked.

“I only wish we could. Unfortunately the process is very delicate and we only have one facility capable of performing the procedure. So in the meantime, you’re going to work with us here.”

“But you said I was gonna die,” Rip looked mad.

“Everyone dies, Rip. And you will too, one day. But don’t worry, you’ve got some time. Our bio-scanners indicated you have at least two weeks, which is more than enough time for us to finish our mission and get you to the detox facility. And we’ll have our doctors here keep a close eye on you in the meantime.”

“Trust her, Chenille,” Lavoisier soothed. “She wouldn’t lie to you. You are no use to us dead. I promise we will get you to the facility with time to spare.”

“Alright, Chef. I’ll play ball. But I’m just giving you people one chance. Now what’s this mission you’re going on about?”

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Copper said. “As I was saying, right before you and Miss Antilles arrived we were in the process of excavating this old N.E.M.A. ruin. It appears there was a hidden research base buried under tons of dirt and rock along with the rest of Blacksburg back during the Great Cataclysm. We estimate it was some kind of avalanche or other seismic activity that caused the city to be covered up, which is why this ruin has been left relatively undisturbed over the years. Another reason is that a local tribe of ratlings seem to consider this holy ground for some reason and regularly make pilgrimages here. Because of this the nearby Kingdom of New Roanoke has always given the area a wide berth. We captured one of the ratlings and interrogation revealed that they have an unspoken agreement with the people of New Roanoke to leave this area alone. Of course that made things a little bit difficult for us. We had no qualm with the ratlings but couldn’t see a way to get a large team inside the sewers without desecrating their holy ground.”

“So you fought your way in,” Rip said.

“Not exactly,” replied the colonel. “Like I said, we didn’t wish to start an unnecessary conflict with the ratlings so we found another way. We’ve developed an airborne pathogen capable of putting just about any humanoid life-form that we’ve come into contact with into a fairly deep coma-like state for a few days. Afterward the anti-bodies naturally produced by the subject’s immune system overcome the virus and the subject returns to consciousness quite hungry and thirsty but with no permanent injury. It’s effective in 99.9% of all cases. We’ve studied the virus extensively and developed a vaccine for our own people, so it was simply a matter of sending one of our own people into the ratling community as a carrier with the pretense of trading and waiting for it to take effect. Once the majority of the ratling tribe was affected, we took a couple of days to move in.”

“I have to give you credit, Copper. I didn’t figure you people were the type to use biological warfare,” Rip said wryly.

“We don’t like to think of it as warfare, Rip,” Copper said. “It’s much more humane than engaging them in a holy war for their sacred ground. We’ve been very careful ever since we arrived to keep up the pretense of the sewers being uninhabited. Although you and your companion have made that a little difficult.”

“What can I say? I like the smell of ratling blood in the morning. Besides, it was self-defense. The sons of bitches attacked us,” said Rip, remembering the grisly incident with a bit of self-satisfaction.

“You don’t have to justify yourselves to us,” Copper responded. “We managed to clean it up relatively quickly. With any luck, the ratling tribe will figure they got eaten by one of the other wilderness monsters out here on their way back to the camp.”

“So that’s why there wasn’t a sign of the whole mess on our way out!” Thebes exclaimed.

“It doesn’t explain where you put my ATV,” Rip said, crossing his arms.

“Shortly after arriving we discovered a hidden vehicle bay here,” said Copper, pointing to a spot on the map. “We’ve used it to store our vehicles, supplies, and power armor, as well as a few other things.”

“Okay, so you’ve managed to keep the rats busy with your little bug, you’ve hidden my ATV in some secret vehicle bay, and you cleaned up the rat puree. That’s all well and good until you started drilling holes in the ground to get to this hidden section. The monsters are sure as hell gonna notice that,” Rip said.

“Yes, well, that might be a problem. But we don’t intend to leave it that way for long. We’re going to seal it up after we’ve found the hidden access passage. Of course that’s proven a bit difficult for us. So we’ve decided to approach the problem from another direction. And that’s where you come in,” said the colonel.

“Oh don’t tell me,” Rip said rolling his eyes.

“That’s right, Rip. I’m sending you along with my team to find that hidden passage, from the inside.”

Rip's Adventures, Rip and the Tunnel, Part X

Rip lay back down and cogitated the situation in his head. The arrival of Lavoisier into the picture definitely changed things. Although he felt betrayed by his former C.O. for leaving him behind in Quebec, there was no denying that he still respected the man deeply. What Rip had said was true. He would have followed him to Hell if the situation demanded it. There had never been a soldier Rip believed in more, and he was beginning to have second thoughts about the Republicans. If Lavoisier trusted them as he said he did, then maybe there really was hope for this fragmented world. If that was Lavoisier’s true judgment, then Rip had to admit there was nothing else in the world that could persuade him better to join the Republicans’ cause.

But Rip also had doubts. Though the Republicans claimed not to use magic, he had seen how magic could warp a man’s mind. And they had indicated little about being without psychics. Either way, there was the possibility that they had somehow captured Lavoisier and were simply using him and his memories to deceive Rip. But if that was the case, why cure him of his dependency on the juice? Certainly there was no way Lavoisier could have survived without detoxing. And why were they trying so hard to convince him if they could just as easily twist him through magic or psionics? The more Rip thought it through, the more he came to believe that the Republicans might be telling him the truth.

As he lay there letting his mind wander, he felt his drug harness kick in with sedatives to calm him down. His eyelids soon became heavy and his breathing regulated as he relaxed into a restive state.

Rip suddenly sat up. The sounds of rail gun fire and high explosives filled the air. He looked down and saw that he was wearing the camouflaged battle dress body armor of a Quebecois Special Forces operative. The ground was littered with barbed wire and potholes from explosive weapons fire and land mines. The air was filled with smoke and a haze covered the field. He engaged his thermal vision to help him see through the thick cloud of smoke hanging over the land.

“Chenille! Hit the dirt!” came the cry from his commandant as mini-missiles rained down on them from a SAMAS “Smiling Jack” flying power armor up above. He complied with lightning-quick response time and felt the impact upon the ground as the mini-missiles exploded. His armor was slightly damaged from the blast, but he was otherwise okay.

“Chenille? You alright?” his C.O. shouted over the din of the battlefield.

“A bit singed, but I’ll survive.” Major Etienne “Chenille” le Blanc replied.

“We have to continue on to those Glitter Boy Killers. If we don’t take ‘em out our boys are gonna have a helluva fight and won’t be able to expend their ordinance where it’s really needed.”

“Oui, Monsieur!” Chenille responded as he rose to his feet. He glanced around and saw a figure approaching him quickly from behind. It was his commandant, Colonel Roget “Chef” Lavoisier, the bravest and most dedicated man Chenille had ever known. He was prouder than he had ever been of anything in his life to serve at his side. The man was a legend in his own time for his leadership of the all-Juicer Équipe de la Foudre, the Lightning Squad, six of the most battle-hardened commandos in the entire Quebecois Special Forces. This time they had been called upon to save the day again as a group of the Glitter Boy Legion had radioed in that they were pinned down by CS armored fire behind enemy lines. The Lightning Squad had been sent out with high-explosive fusion blocks and other special weapons to clear the area of CS power armor for the Glitter Boy pilots to make it back home alive and well.

After dodging the mini-missiles, the Lightning Squad was up and running, each member easily clocking in at well over 100 kilometers per hour. Their exceptional speed, even for Juicers, was one of the things that gave the Lightning Squad its name. Each member had been hand-picked by Chef for his speed, strength, endurance, and fighting skill. They were the quickest, strongest, toughest warriors the Quebec Army had to offer, and they never failed their missions. Every member of the team would rather die than leave a job uncompleted. All were experienced veterans of combat, had mastery of an unmatched number of weapons and special skills, and possessed the prowess of a juggernaut in combat. There was no better team of soldiers on all of Rifts Earth.

As the troops trod deeper and deeper into enemy territory towards the stranded Glitter Boys, they ducked, dodged, and weaved through enemy missile and gunfire with preternatural agility and grace. Chenille himself possessed a phenomenal ability to predict where enemy weapons fire would be directed before it was fired, giving him a keen edge in battle against any opponent. His fellow squad members were equally or better skilled than he, if it could be believed. They moved through the Coalition lines like a blur. Nothing could touch them. The Lightning Squad lived well up to its name as the commandos streaked through the Coalition battle formations with blinding speed.

Finally they came upon their quarry. A number of heavily armed PA-300 “Glitter Boy Killers” were pressing the attack against the Quebecois Glitter Boy group while Coalition SAMAS and sky-cycles provided cover fire from the skies. The Glitter Boy pilots were definitely in dire straits.

“Everyone turn your amp ears down to minimum gain. Don’t want you goin’ deaf from Boom Gun fire,” Chef called out. “Réticule! Get to work on taking down those fliers. Arme Lourde, cover him. Everyone else with me. We’re gonna make those sons of bitches wish they had never tangled with our Glitter Boys!”

Chenille and the others stuck with the colonel and blitzed into the fray. Chenille pulled out a fusion block pack and leapt onto a PA-300 before the pilot knew what hit him. As the ‘bot clawed at Chenille with its vibro-blades and swayed about to try to knock him off, he kept a death grip and slammed the explosive pack right behind the head. As another PA-300 turned its plasma cannon on Chenille to assist its ally, he quickly dove off into the dirt leaving the assaulting power armor to cover its comrade in searing-hot plasma. As he hit the ground running, he jammed the detonator to the fusion block pack, blowing the head of the PA-300 clean off and knocking it to the ground. “That’s one down,” Chenille said to himself as he set his sights on the next target.

Meanwhile the Glitter Boys were doing their part to stay alive. Deafening Boom Gun bursts railed at the enemy power armor while the pilots made their way to their Juicer allies. “Glad to see you, Lightning Squad,” Chenille heard in his cochlear implant. The leader of the Glitter Boy group was radioing in to thank them for their arrival. “Don’t know how much longer we could have fought them off. We’ve been taking heavy fire for the last ten minutes with little cover or rest. They just swarmed around us in a pincer attack. Took out our reload teams first. Already lost two suits to the hostiles. But we’re making a break for it now.”

Chenille incapacitated a second PA-300 with a fusion pack to the right leg and headed over to assist a Glitter Boy that had been knocked over by a Glitter Boy Killer that was now slashing it to pieces with its wicked vibro-claws. “Hang on, trooper!” Chenille called out as he collided into the enemy power suit from the side, knocking it down and giving the Glitter Boy pilot time to get up and get out of Dodge.

“Merci beaucoup, Major,” the pilot said to Chenille as it headed off from the fray and back towards the Quebecois lines. Chenille then had to contend with an angry CS pilot who was trying to rip him to shreds. He extended his own forearm vibro-blades and began to tear away at the enemy weapon systems. With each attack of his own came two more from the enemy, but he was too quick to be caught by his opponent, deftly dodging and parrying the Glitter Boy Killer’s thrusts and jabs. The PA-300 was fast compared to the Glitter Boy, but slow as a slug compared to a Juicer the likes of Chenille. Soon Chenille had eaten away all but one of his enemy’s own blades. They were fighting on their feet now, Chenille making an agile riposte to each strike of the enemy while placing his own precise blows.

“Alright, boys! The GBs are out of the hole. Let’s get out of here,” came Chef’s words over the radio. “Nice job on the air cover, Réticule. You and Arme Lourde cover our exit.”

Chenille’s battle with the Coalition power ‘bot had reached its climax, but it was time to depart like a graceful opponent. He decided to leave the battle with a bang. He retracted the blades on his left arm and reached into his satchel of fusion blocks while digging into the thick M.D.C. armor plating of the Glitter Boy Killer with his right arm-blades. Then, while nimbly dodging a swipe from the ‘bot’s good arm, he inserted the fusion blocks into the crevasse created by his other arm. He grabbed the armor tightly with both hands and stuck his feet on the chest of the ‘bot, using them to propel him off in a back-flip away from his opponent. As he flew through the air, he flicked the switch on the detonator. The Killer exploded in a glorious burst of flame and fire, keeling to the ground in abject defeat. Chenille and his squad had routed the enemy and saved the day once again.

As Chenille dashed away, he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of pride in their latest victory. They had once again triumphed over incredible odds against a superior enemy. However, as he relished in the Coalition defeat, he became too sure of himself. He had forgotten to turn up his amplified hearing implant after clearing the way for the Glitter Boys and failed to hear the SAMAS “Smiling Jack” diving towards him from the sky. His response was too late, and the enemy SAMAS had locked onto him with full weapons. As the enemy pilot pulled the trigger, Colonel Lavoisier crashed into Chenille not a split-second too late and knocked him just short of the rail gun fire. But while Chenille avoided major damage to his body armor, a rail-gun round had pierced Chef’s right shoulder and he was down on the ground, bleeding profusely through the hole in his armor. Chef had saved Chenille’s life. Had he not knocked him to the side, the rail gun round would have gone right through Chenille’s head.

The Smiling Jack pulled out of its dive and was turning for another attack run on Chenille when Réticule blasted its wings with his own rocket-launcher. The Smiling Jack careened into the ground as Chenille remembered to turn his amplified hearing back to normal. “Come on, Chenille!” Réticule cried over the radio. “There’s more of them headed this way.”

Chenille leaned over and picked up his fallen leader. “Do not worry, mon commandant,” he said quietly to the brave man who had put his life in danger to save Chenille’s. “I will not let you die.”

Rip suddenly awoke. It had been such a vivid dream. He had recalled the events of that day with such clarity, it was as if he was really back on that battlefield all those years ago. And in that moment, Rip knew there was only one choice to make.

“Do not worry, mon commandant,” he said quietly in the small holding room as he sat up. “I will not let you down.”

Rip's Holiday

Rip is taking a holiday for the New Year. So should you. Go spend time with your family. Enjoy the day off. Count your blessings. Get some rest. See a movie. Have a barbecue. Yada yada yada.