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some shallow trenches.
    Various teslaflux
machinegun positions peppered the tank’s armor unable to inflict
any harm upon it. One massive concrete bunker proved strong enough
to block the tank’s progress when the vehicle hung up on that
obstacle then spun its treads. Several rockets streaked in to
splash molten flame across the tank’s hull. The rocking impact of
the explosions turned the tank slightly so that its treads found
new traction, which pulled it free from the obstacle, and then the
tank set off once more. A few remaining barriers fell under its
weight before the tank reached the outer perimeter wall. That last
defense crumpled under the tank’s impact to leave the reclamation
center fully exposed to infected attack. The last camera filmed the
tank as it rumbled off into the ruins of the city where it finally
foundered then sank down into the dark basement of a building it
had penetrated.
    Colonel Walker slammed his
fist down on the crisis alert button to sound the alarms everywhere
in his base. All of his people rushed to arms to repel a mass
invasion of infected when it arrived.
    Critias told him, “This is
still your base, colonel, and you’re evacuating if ghouls are
coming or not, so do what needs to be done until transports can
arrive.”
    The colonel sneered at that
suggestion, “This is Earth, and we are men! The infected have not
taken this installation yet and they’re never going to.” He went to
his microphone to bark orders, “Concentrate all firepower at the
breach in the defenses! All engineering crews are to get a new
barrier up as quickly as possible. I order you to sacrifice any
vehicles or materials you require to close up that wall
immediately.”
    “ I want in on this,”
Critias told the colonel. “We marshals are not the sort to stand by
watching a fight. If our situations were reversed, you would expect
the same.”
    “ Leave the android with
me.” Colonel Walker pointed to an exit, “Take that door and go up
one floor. I’ll call ahead and tell them you’ll be their new acting
commander.”
    “ Do anything he asks I
would approve of,” Critias ordered Carmen as he rushed off to
follow the directions. Upstairs in an outfitting room, Critias
encountered ten men in mechsuits as they gave final checks to their
weapons. Their ‘Red Rat’ insignia patches identified them as
members of first platoon in the already elite ‘Reconnaissance
Armature Teams’.
    Their Reclamation General
sent out such men in mechsuits to find worthy harvests. In the
trade lingo of the old Foragers, an armature meant a mechsuit and
recon meant built for sly speed rather than intense battle action.
In total, the applied meaning was that they were team player covert
shooters that scouted premium salvage locations then hunkered down
as mushroomed forward-observers while the reclamation excavators
collected the pay off.
    To get all ten men straight
in posture and formation, the leader shouted, “Form up, you dogs!”
He informed his men, “You’ve all just volunteered to become
deputized members of a marshal’s posse!” He pounded his chest to
spark them all to a Roman salute to Critias, done potently and
perhaps best by men in armatures. The name over the heart of the
lieutenant in blazoned reflector gold read, ‘Lt. C.
Daniels’.
    Critias joined their proud
salute saying, “Things have really gone to hell and I only just got
here. Some private suffering the brain-fry has hijacked a tank and
crashed it through the whole defense perimeter clear to outside. My
android tells me there are three-quarters of a million screaming
freaks near about in the local warren. Our situation is moments
away from nose-diving off into total disaster. We need to slow up
their attack until some major transports have time to come pick us
up. So who’s with me?”
    Daniels led his men in an
aggressive roar that signified their readiness for action and then
everyone raced as a team to the rapid freight elevator. On the