Devon's Demons: A Permadeath LitRPG LitFPS Novel Read online

  The drop-pod suddenly burst open, the four walls blasting away from The Bitch. Slapping on a control button, Devon powered up the pack attached to The Bitch that would control their drop, her suit constricting tightly as gravity suddenly exerted itself once more. Scanning her head down display, she smiled in relief as she saw that Hotston and his people had deployed perfectly, although their descent was considerably slower than that of 1st company.

  'Keep it tight people, 30 seconds until impact.'

  'Please don't call it impact. It's landfall. Landfall.' said Kirton.

  'Shush now, I'm concentrating.' A flight path had appeared on her visor. Nudging the jet pack's controls, she started to guide The Bitch through them, gaining +5DP every time she hit one perfectly. They started to come faster and faster the nearer she got to the ground and she found herself gritting her teeth in concentration, lip curling up into a snarl.

  Shit they've made this hard! The DPs were coming thick and fast, as were the circles. She was so busy that she didn't have time to check on her fellow mechers. The ground raced towards them, far faster than she had ever see it do before and she grunted as the arrestor jets fired bare metres above the ground.

  Pain shot through her mouth as The Bitch slammed into the sun-baked ground, a huge cloud of dust rising quickly into the air, the taste of blood confirmed that she'd bitten her tongue.

  'Fuck me boss, little gentler next time if you please. That was fucking awful!' gasped Kirton.

  'Agreed, gunner, agreed,' she quickly set about checking on her people, grunting as she saw that all of Mtube's mechs, including the Hammer, had taken damage from the hard landings. Nothing serious, but being at less than 100 per cent Body Points immediately put them at a disadvantage.

  'Hotston, how are you and your people?' There was a pause where it seemed that her heart was in her mouth before he replied.

  'All down, no casualties, no damage to our vehicles either. Perfect soft landing.' said Hotston.

  Smug bastard thought Devon with a smile as she set about organising a perimeter.

  CHAPTER THREE

  'This is what I call a secret hideaway,' said Kirton as The Bitch slipped into a narrow defile, following a road that led to where their unit would be based, 'are we sure that the knackers won't know we're here?'

  She winced as he used the slang for the enemy, always of the mind that talking of them in a derogatory manner would lead to people underestimating them when it counted most

  'Apparently this place was once a construction mech testing facility. It got closed down well before the Last Gasp. Even the Spanish had forgotten about it before NAC invaded.'

  She gently guided The Bitch over to the cliff face opposite the exit from the defile, running her scanners once she had got as close as she possibly could. There was a chime, the words ENTER PASSCODE appearing on her HUD.

  Fingers dancing, she typed out the passcode she had memorised, a 32-digit code that also required her to supply a blood sample so that her DNA would complete it. Pressing enter, she held her breath as a PLEASE WAIT message popped up.

  Just as she was beginning to think that she'd need to try again, a +50DP message popped up whilst the sound of long-neglected machinery squealed into life. Slowly a gap appeared in the cliff face before them as two doors, at least twice the height of The Bitch slid apart before them.

  'This keeps getting cooler and cooler boss!' said Kirton, voice rising in excitement,

  Darkness yawed before them, causing a strange sense of vertigo for Devon. Lights, at least 50 metres away started to flicker into life a long corridor leading further than she could see.

  'Hotston, over to you. Get your people to check this out. We'll provide covering fire from here,' there was probably no need to send the ground pounders in; The Bitch making a perfect target as she was outlined by the bright sun at her back.

  'Already on the way,' replied Hotston as a series of light-skinned reconnaissance vehicles zipped past her, using the width of the corridor to set up evasive manoeuvres as their rear lights gradually faded into the distance.

  'Damn, that's a long tunnel,' whispered Kirton.

  #

  Long was an understatement. The tunnel had stretched for over a kilometre before them, huge tunnels branching off every hundred metres or so. Following the map that they had been provided, Devon had led her people into the stygian darkness, moving along the tunnel as quickly as they safely could.

  Buried beneath hundreds of metres of rock, the guerrilla's base was perfectly shielded from any enemy satellites or recon drones. With the defile acting as a choke point, any attack would initially have to be airborne and involve light mechs at most. She and Hotston had agreed that any likely attack would be made by heavy infantry to start with, establishing a bridgehead before heavier mechs could force their way through the defile.

  Any attacking force would then have to make its way down over a hundred metres of tunnel before it could reach the first branch. Every step of the way would be filled with fire from the Demons and Hotston's people. Even though trapped, the losses that such an assault incurred would be disastrous for the NAC forces in the region. They were keen to avoid a Pyrrhic victory.

  After what seemed an age, The Bitch stepped out into a gigantic, dome-ceilinged cavern. All around stood the abandoned remains of partially completed mechs.

  A counter appeared, starting at 5 minutes and counting down.

  'All, counter for flag capture has started. Be on the lookout, but I seriously doubt we'll see any resistance,' despite her words, Devon felt a knot in her stomach and started to pulse her ground radar, making triply sure that they weren't about to be ambushed.

  'Nothing on radar. Four minutes people.' Sweat ran down her face as she flipped her systems through every spectrum possible. Nothing. The tension made her stomach twist.

  'Man, I can't wait to get my hands on those mechs!' crowed Kirton as the counter continued.

  The comment made Devon look at their surroundings in more detail. Previously she's been busy looking for hidden enemy soldiers. Now though, she saw just what sort of mechs they were surrounded by.

  I thought that this was supposed to be an agricultural testing facility? None of the mechs that hung from the gantries would have been suitable for any sort of farm work. The western wall had racks of light mechs, the northern heavy mech-killers, and the other two walls had various types suitable for all roles.

  'Wow.' It was succinct, and to the point. There wasn't much else to say really. They had the ability to rebuild the battalion if they wanted to, or to swap their mechs at will.

  'Kirton, what weapons are you qualified in?'

  '.50 calibre heavy machine gun, 3cm pulse, most of the light to medium missile launchers, and my pride and joy, the anti-mech laser. Got plans boss?'

  'I count at least 30 unfinished mechs. Once the base is ours, we're going to get at least 5 script technicians, a company of engineers similar for mechanics, and another of armourers. Not to mention a whole host of brainiacs. It's about time you skilled up in whatever we can. Me too. I've always fancied piloting a heavy mech.' Said Devon as she pulled up the requirements for the training.

  'Two minutes and nothing boss.' said Kirton.

  Devon barely heard him as she called up the stats for her company, mapping her people's skills against what they already had, and how they might be changed.

  She was so wrapped up in the number crunching that she didn't even notice when the facility's power came on and scripts aligned to her company started to bustle about. Only when there was a shrill whistling in her ear did she realise that Kirton had been speaking to her.

  'Boss. Base secured. We're home. Thank God, I'm dying for a piss and this catheter is annoying the hell out of me.'

  #

  'Dammit it this bastard's so slow!' Cursed Devon as she tried to side step the heavy mech she had chosen to skill up in. Because she was the commander of the base, she was automatically conferred a 25% proficiency bonus. All that
meant however, was that she was able to figure out to start it and power up the weapons.

  'Boom! Headshot!' Yelled Kirton as the tri-barrel Pulser he was skilling up in blew the head off a simulated enemy soldier hiding in a trench.

  'Isn't that like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut?' She said.

  'Damn right. But it's so much fun!' The tri-barrel screamed as he unleashed a barrage of shots against a six-wheeled APC that was had just nosed out from behind cover. It's ceramics armour glowed as the pulses struck the same spot time and time again. There was a bright flash at the impact point and then white-hot flame gouted out of every turret.

  There was the sound of a bugle playing reveille along with a notification that Battalion Gunner Kirton had now reached Expert Marksman on the tri-barrel.

  'Good job gunner. That's 20 extra euros a month.' Said Devon, cursing the fact that she was still trying to get used to the heavy mech she'd chosen. It was a Fury, a two-crew heavy mech that packed a punch. Armed with a tri-barrel to destroy bunkers and light armour, it also packed two shoulder-mounted .50 cal mini-guns that were slaved to a left-shoulder mounted 105mm cannon, and a right-shoulder-mounted 60mm laser. On the back was a 100mm railgun capable of sending a projectile through the air at five times the speed of sound. There's wasn't any armour in the planet capable of withstanding more than three hits from such projectiles.

  'First round's on me boss.' Laughed Kirton as the new Bitch stumbled through an obstacle rather than around it.

  'Yeah, laugh it up, laugh it up.' Gritting her teeth, Devon got back to the task of mastering Bitch Too.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'Enemy soft-skins coming along the road. Count 5 trucks, dozen APCs. No heavies.' Kirton was whispering despite the fact that the enemy wouldn't be able to hear them. It was a habit he'd picked up early in the war and probably didn't even realise he was doing.

  'Mtube, I'm lasing the lead and rear vehicles. Get your Knobkerries to take them out first. The rocks to either side of the road will trap the rest of the fuckers. We'll finish them off at leisure. Out.' as soon as she had finished talking, she lased the enemy vehicles, knowing that as soon as she did, alarms would be screeching inside the vehicles like the banshees of legend.

  'On the way!' Mtube's baritone came over the airwaves, whilst his heavy mech's gun sent her audio sensors spiking. Zooming her sights in she watched as the tank-killer rounds utterly destroyed the lead and rear vehicles. The panic of the other vehicles was obvious. Drivers tried to turn their vehicles arounds, whilst others tried to push past the burning wrecks.

  'Kirton, I'm marking the ones I want you to take out first. Hit their weak points, get precision kills. No blindly blatting away.'

  'Roger that boss, Railgun first.' No sooner had he finished talking than a round flew through the air, breaking the sound barrier just metres in front of the mech. A split second later a shower of sparks flew from the vehicle she hard marked.

  DPs appeared in her HUD, but she ignored them, set the laser onto the tracks of the next target, 'Track this on. Widowmaker, Kirton's going to track the next vehicle. Soon as he does, kill it. Over.'

  'Roger that.' O'Leary, Widowmaker's pilot and her second-in command, replied with his soft southern Irish accent.

  'Firing now.' Kirton's next shot was with the 105mm cannon, an armour-piercing round sending yet more sparks and shattered pieces of metal flying through the air.

  'Nice shot!' O'Leary's missile streaked through the air, slamming into the APC's soft side-armour, immediately followed by an explosion that completely blotted the APC from existence.

  'Infantry!' Icons popped up all along the remainder of the convoy as the dismounts in the rest of the surviving vehicles spilled out. Kirton didn't wait for her order, selecting both of the .50 cal mini guns and letting rip. Every fifth round was a tracer. Such was the rate of fire that it seemed as though a solid line of light was ripping into the enemy troops. Trapped, with no away of escaping the devastating fire, the infantry he could see were ripped to pieces, the heavy rounds blowing them apart.

  'Mtube, I want you to drop a Firestorm onto the remainder of the convoy. That'll give you DPs for the infantry. Everyone else, let rip with what you have.'

  Shutting off her sight, she sat back as her and Mtube's platoons destroyed the rest of the enemy convoy, waving away DPs as and when they popped up on her HUD. She knew all too well the cost of what they were doing, and the odd DP wasn't going to make up for the fact that they had most probably killed a number of enemy permanently.

  'Cease fire!'

  MISSION - TURKEY SHOOT - COMPLETED

  'Okay people, mission complete. Time to head home before the fuckers launch a retribution mission or some shit.'

  #

  Devon leaned back into the comfortable commander's chair in the main briefing room. It made a change to not be surrounded by the inside of her mech, and especially not to have to put up with the smell of her and Kirton after a long day's deployment.

  She looked at the warriors in front of her. Every one of her pilots was assembled in the room. These were people she'd been with since basic training, and she loved them all. Mtube's bass boomed out and she smiled as the Mtube's voice drifted across the room, the pygmy boasting about how well his firestorm had cooked the enemy.

  'Okay people, time to get to business.' She didn't need to raise her voice as the rooms audio system immediately made sure that everyone could hear her, 'Today's mission was, according to headquarters, a DEVASTATING DEFEAT for the enemy convoy. We killed over a company of NAC troops. The Spanish are, to put it lightly, absolutely overjoyed. Considering we only committed half of the company, they're very keen to find out what else we can do.' She paused as her pilots whooped and cheered, happy to let them blow off some steam.

  'We've got a real mission.' Hotston's voice cut the celebration short, 'The knackers have deployed a unit of Janissaries. Reports that we've seen are that they're achieving a kill ratio of 10:1. The Spanish are sending us to the region they're deployed in, hoping that we'll up a going against them. Numbers are unclear. No-one has survived to give a proper report. Our esteemed allies are utterly shitting themselves. Even worse is that the Janissaries aren't deployed as one single unit, they've been scattered throughout the ... less able units, so God knows when or even if we'll face them.'

  Silence greeted his statement. Devon sighed as Suzuki leaned forward, a twinkle in his eyes, 'Sounds like we have a real challenge. When do we sally forth?'

  'We have to wait for the next attack. Since we're behind enemy lines, it's believed that our attack will see them sent to remove the threat we pose.'

  'Perfect, more time for me to skill up on Shinobi.' As with Bitch Too, the other pilots had all chosen different mechs to skill up in. Suzuki and his people had gone for a Shinobi-class mech. Stealthed to the max, the Shinobi was a so-called 'Silent Killer', feared by other mech pilots for good reason. Every weapon that Shinobi possessed was designed to either confuse its victim's sensors, or exploit its weaknesses.

  'I'm happy for you to train, but make sure that none of you go above regulation hours right now,' she said, making sure that she caught - and held - Suzuki's eye, 'I don't want you so knackered from training that you have to pop a stim every five minutes. Are we clear on this?' At Suzuki's nod, she called the meeting to an end and sent her pilots off to a well-earned piss up.

  #

  'Sir, enemy mechs spotted in our area escorting an armoured convoy north. Estimate is one platoon of mechs, with an armoured mechanised battalion. Command are requesting that you search and destroy.' The scripted handed her the data sheet with the mission details, saluted and returned to her own desk.

  Pressing a stud on her barracks-dress uniform collar, Devon spoke slowly and clearly, 'All pilots to the briefing room. All mech-crew and technicians, ensure that your mechs are combat ready.'

  looking over to Kirton's command station where he had been busy configuring Bitch Too, she saw him looking at her, eyebrows rais
ed.

  'Nope, this ain't them. Still any mechs we can kill now will help relieve pressure on our allies,' she emphasised the last word with a sneer, ignoring the stare she got from the Spanish liaison officer who had arrived shortly after the base had been secured.

  Ignoring the headache from last night's festivities, she tasked a satellite to track the target convoy, whilst sending an order to one of the scripts to get drones up on the air.

  'You know. You really shouldn't have done those tequila shots.' Murmured Kirton as he came to stand by her shoulder, 'still ... living the dream.'

  'Best job I ever had.' She replied, frowning as the images from the satellite started to come through. The target convoy was currently moving through a village on a small hill that overlooked the rolling plain surrounding it. It was perfect terrain for both mech's and armour, and it made her already upset stomach roil.

  'I really don't fancy facing a force that large on a battlefield that looks almost designed for this sort of combat.' Kirton leaned forward and traced the road the enemy convoy was following. 'Look, every few kilometres, there's a village, or hamlet. The convoy is approximately 2 kilometres long. They're not deployed for combat. Guerrillas maybe, full-on armoured battle in a pacified area? No.'

  Devon watched as he marked the front and rear of the convoy. Light scouts units could be seen on all four points, acting as a buffer. The mechs were placed at the front, middle and rear of the convoy. Far too far apart to provide any meaningful support.

  'Come on then, don't leave me hanging.' She was really starting to regret that last round of shots and gestured at a script to being her a fresh coffee.

  'This is a medium tank battalion. We're looking at 22 main battle tanks, a few support vehicles, and scouts. As well as three unspecified mechs. We place ourselves in this village, with Mtube's mechs in this village to the east. He engages the rear of the convoy as soon as the lead element starts to leave the village. Hotston and his people then engage the lead element from outside of the village. At that point, the rest of us kick the living shit out of the tanks trapped in the village. The Main Street is roughly 500m long, and it looks like it's too narrow for the tanks to be able to turn around easily.'