by Jon Evans
“Now they know that we’re here for the long-term and that we’re prepared to fight, so they’re bound to change their tactics, sooner or later. They'll learn better habits soon enough. As long as they keep probing, we know they’re not ready for an all-out assault. Soon, though, the phoney war will end, and the real fighting will begin.”
“Real fighting?” said Idol, one of the civilians whose leadership and tenacity had quickly earned the respect of Bristolians and Marines alike. He raised an eyebrow and scratched at the scabs of a long cut on his arm. “You think we’ve maybe just been playing so far?”
“So far,” said Atticus, leaning forward to take advantage of the disquieting appearance of his Deathless clone body, “since they found we weren’t just going to roll over, we’ve seen only small numbers of Deathless. As I said, they’re probing, searching for us, nibbling away at us while they dig in and prepare for the final assault.
“When they’re ready, they’ll come in great force, very fast, and they won’t stop. Everything we’ve seen so far is just a prelude. They’ll try to overwhelm us, drive us from our positions and kill us all until there’s nothing left.”
“You make it sound like we’ve no way of winning,” said Idol, still smarting from Atticus’s comments, “so what was the point of fighting at all?”
“The point,” said the Governor firmly, looking at each of the councillors to make sure that they all understood her words, “was to hold out long enough for the fleet to arrive.”
“And to get us to this day, where we finally have the information we need to strike back,” said Atticus before Idol could object to the hopelessness of the situation. “And now, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Lieutenant Warden, whom you all now know, will take all the Marines from A Troop who can be spared, including those now working in Deathless clones, and attack the enemy in an attempt to destroy their principal operating base and set back their plans.”
“Lieutenant Hayes and B Troop will remain here in Ashton with the militia to defend the city and keep the enemy focused on us,” Denmead finished.
The silence around the table said it all. Nobody believed it was feasible.
“You’re sceptical and I understand. That’s why Lieutenant Warden is here to explain the plan. We want your input and support, so it's important that you all understand what we’re going to be doing.”
Warden stood up and sent a projection from the old satellite network to the display screen, an entirely different site to the enemy base but one with which all the colonists were familiar.
“This is the first stage of my plan,” said Warden, aiming a laser pointer at the image.
“After all you’ve just told us,” interrupted Idol, carefully fitting his words together like shells being loaded into a magazine, “how can you possibly hope to win?”
“Royal Marines Space Commandos, Mr Idol,” said Warden, “it’s what we do.”
13
Warden threw open the door and jumped down from the rover as it pulled up a short distance from the quarry. He hit the ground running and made his way to a row of boulders near the lip of the quarry. Milton joined him a heartbeat later, crouching next to him. They got themselves settled then inched forward until they could see past the rocks and into the quarry itself.
“You were right,” said Warden, “smoke and activity.” Milton nodded, as if it had never been in doubt. She had called it from the vehicle, half a mile out, even though it could have been anything at that point; up close, from their new vantage point, the wispy columns of smoke were unmistakable.
They hit the deck and crawled slowly forward until they could look right over the edge cliff and into the quarry. Warden was not at all surprised to see that the smoke wasn’t from a fire that had been burning for days but was instead the result of recent activity. The Deathless were on site and they were busy, working the quarry as hard as they could.
“Quarry or open-cast mine, would you say?” asked Warden, trying to judge the size of the pit.
“Probably a mine but it reminds me of abseiling in the quarries in south Wales,” said Milton.
“Damned big, though. Easily ten times the size of that place in the Brecons, I think,” said Warden, struggling to make sense of the scale, “a rich source of metal and minerals,” continued Warden, as if quoting a lecture, “and it looks like they’ve been hitting it hard.”
Which was not a surprise; terraforming a planet took vast amounts of infrastructure and this mine was one of the best sources of raw materials.
Warden activated the zoom on his HUD, carefully scanning back and forth and noting everything that the Deathless were doing. Milton was doing the same, counting heads and noting the placement of the small number of sentries and watchpoints. Their HUDs worked together, mapping the mine and logging enemy movements, compiling a complete picture of what they faced.
“Why do you think they’re here?” Milton whispered.
“Without wishing to sound sarcastic, I’d say they’re mining. I presume their needs are the same as the colonists’; they need vast quantities of raw materials to feed their manufacturing plants,” Warden replied. “Think how much that base must have needed for construction alone. Either they dropped everything they needed from orbit or, more likely, they came here to find most of their raw materials.”
“Shit. I wonder how many loads they’ve taken? Who knows what they could have built after they finished the base,” said Milton as they watched a small truck manoeuvre near the cliff face.
Warden nodded then flagged something with his HUD.
“There she is, that’s the vehicle we need.”
“She?”
“Alright, he. I don’t know what the correct word is; ships are female but what is a fucking enormous dumper truck?”
“It’s big, ugly and looks like it’s full of useless shit to me, Lieutenant.”
She turned to look at him and whispered, “He,” at the same time he did. Milton grinned.
“Looks about half full to me. What did they say? It would take a six hundred and fifty ton load?” Warden mused.
“I don’t think I could tell if that’s two hundred and fifty or three hundred and fifty tons, really.”
“Either way, we want that truck.”
“I suppose we’d best work out how to do that then, Sir.”
“Indeed. Let’s get back to the rovers and work out a plan. We should get the snipers moving, though, just in case the Deathless decide to patrol the area.”
“Roger that,” Milton said as they shuffled away from the edge, careful not to dislodge anything that might fall into the mine and reveal their presence.
Once they were clear they moved in a crouching run for a short distance then stood up. Milton sent orders to the snipers as they moved. They were about halfway to the rovers when they met the sniper teams coming the other way.
“I’ve marked possible positions,” said Milton, sending the information directly to the Marines’ HUDs, “but use your initiative. There’s plenty of high ground, we’re about a hundred metres higher on this side of the quarry, so you shouldn’t struggle to find decent perches.”
The rest of the Troop disembarked and Warden slid open the side hatch where the techs had rigged monitors for use as a command vehicle. The data their HUD’s had gathered was now displayed on a large flexi-screen as a top-down view of the quarry. There were around sixty Deathless who were obviously armed and at least another thirty others of indeterminate status. Those thirty were mostly operating the mining machinery and didn’t appear to be wearing armour or carrying guns but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.
“We haven’t seen any civilians yet but it’s a quarry, there could be loads of them. Standard rules of engagement; kill the soldiers unless they surrender, secure the civilians unless they become dangerous,” said Warden firmly. They hadn’t yet seen any non-military Deathless and he didn’t want to escalate this war by killing civilians but they weren’t going to take any
chances.
“The snipers are deploying now and the HUD maps will update as they scope the area. They’ll be flagging hotspots for you,” said Milton.
“Sir, do you want to wait for nightfall?” asked Lance Corporal Price.
Warden shook his head, “Negative. If we had the luxury of time or someone watching our backs from orbit then maybe but this is one we’re going to have to do the hard way. Fast, loud and efficient. I want these bastards to feel your maximum controlled aggression, understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Price replied.
“Good, once the sniper teams are in place we’ll move. We have the advantage of elevation but we can’t just sit up here taking pot shots all afternoon. As soon as they take cover our position will become vulnerable, so we’ll be performing a forward abseil down the cliff, under cover of sniper fire and heavy weapons from the lip of the mine. Once on the ground, the sections will sweep forward and press the enemy from each flank.”
As he spoke, the map showed the expected movement for each section. He could hear the disquiet and understood it. It was a high-risk strategy but they had no choice. Capturing the truck was crucial to their plan and they couldn’t stop just because they had found the enemy here ahead of them.
“Sir, wouldn’t it be better to send teams around to the entrance and have them attack from there? I mean, the death dive is a great way to test your bottle in training but it hasn’t been used in combat since, well, I don’t know when,” Price said, shifting nervously.
“World War 2, in case you’re wondering. We’re all qualified and we don’t practice it for shits and giggles. It’s not as if you have to take these bodies home to your respectable other halves but please don’t fuck it up. I don’t want to land in a puddle of guts when I hit the ground and I’m sure no-one else does either,” said Warden, aiming for a lightness that he didn’t quite hit.
The gallows humour drew a round of chuckles anyway and Lance Corporal Long punched Price on the arm, “Don’t be a pussy mate. Should be a right laugh.”
Price shrugged and sighed, “Oh well, as long as you’re doing it too, Sir, who am I to complain?”
“Remember, we’re here for the dumper truck. You can’t miss it; it’s bright yellow, shaped like a kids toy and about the size of a decent pub. Do not, I repeat, do not, puncture the tyres. I do not want to have to learn how to change a tyre that weighs over eight tons, alright?”
“That means you, Price,” said Milton, “If you shit your pants, I don’t want a negligent discharge puncturing a tyre. Or my back.”
“Just tuck your trouser legs into our boots, Price. You can empty them later,” quipped Long.
“You can shut it too, Long. But thanks for volunteering to be first down,” Milton snapped, rounding on him before turning to the rest, “and that’s enough silly buggers from you lot. We’ve got a job to do, Marines. If you’ve got a note from your dear old Mum, you can stay up here where it’s safe. Otherwise, stop fucking about and get ready to move.”
Warden paused for a moment then cleared his throat.
“Yes. What Sergeant Milton said. Get the gear out and into position. If you need an incentive, apparently there’s a good chance you’ll get to see Price shit his pants or Long get shot, if he doesn’t smack straight into the rock.”
He turned back to the map on the screen as A Troop got to work. They’d need to kick some serious arse if they were going to clear the mine and capture the truck.
“Bailey. Got anything for me yet?”
“Yes, Sir, all three sniper teams are in place. We’ve got strong vantage points and clear views of the target area,” said Bailey, the snipers’ team leader, “there’s lots of cover down there, Sir. Might be tricky.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“Yeah, there’s a large equipment shed and the workers are taking whatever they’re mining in there. They’ve brought a couple of sleds out with crates on them,” Bailey said.
“Crates? They’re processing the ore?”
“No, Sir, I don’t think so. The crates have stamps I don’t recognise but they don’t look like any of the mining gear around here. In fact, they look like the crates Ten found in the solar plant; I think they’re making munitions right here in the quarry.”
Warden beckoned Milton over. If the Deathless were processing ore and turning it into any kind of weapons or equipment, they must have a manufactory. An advanced one at that, if it was capable of turning rock and raw ore into finished goods. Capturing the manufactory might give them a serious boost to their production capability and hurt the Deathless at the same time.
“What do you think?” he asked Milton as they reviewed the map. Milton nodded, and together they adjusted the plan of attack to take the shed and its likely contents into account.
Minutes later they were ready to go. The tech specialists would stay up top, deploying drones to spot enemy troops who managed to take cover and using their carbines to suppress any that tried to return fire. That left six Marines from each section to abseil down the cliff face of the mine and get stuck in.
The forward abseil was a high-speed descent, usually practised for use in a retreat or a night assault where speed was paramount. Today, though, they’d be doing it in broad daylight and there wouldn’t be any covering fire until the Deathless spotted them. The enemy sentries didn’t seem to be very alert and the fact they didn’t have lookouts on the rim of the mine suggested a certain arrogance that Warden was keen to exploit.
That said, nobody was going to miss eighteen Marines abseiling down a cliff face. They would need every second they could get; once the enemy troops brought weapons to bear, everything would get a whole lot dicier.
Warden started the countdown in everyone’s HUDs and took up his own position on the rope. He would be first down, going as quickly as possible before acting as the belayer for the Marines that followed on his rope. They would drop, falling under gravity, and he would pull them up short, one after the other, just before they became a messy splash on the rock. His descent would be ridiculously fast; theirs would be even faster.
Ideally, they’d have had a rope for each Marine and all eighteen would have gone at the same time and been on the ground in a few seconds. As it was, this exercise would take at least six times as long but there was no other way, they had to go over the long drop. Over seventy metres but under a hundred, which was good, because if it had been any higher, this plan wouldn’t have worked at all.
The number 3 flashed green in their HUDs and a tone sounded, audible only to the Marines. Warden pushed up from his crouch, dashing forward and lobbing the coiled rope out well away from the cliff face even as he went over the edge. Then he was over, running down the almost vertical cliff face, going as fast as he dared and applying only enough tension to slow his descent to the point of non-fatality. Adrenaline coursed through his system and the sibilant hiss of the rope and smooth whirring of his belay device were the only sounds he heard as he plunged toward the rock floor of the mine.
A mere handful of metres from the ground he brought his dive to a brutally hard stop, the harness punching into his body as he flipped upright, knees bending to absorb the last of the energy. It was a rough landing but he wasn’t injured.
Warden scanned his surroundings as he unclipped from the rope, checking that he hadn’t landed amongst a group of enemy soldiers. He hadn’t heard the telltale scream of a railgun round and it looked like he was clear. He grabbed the rope, taking control of the next Marine down and bringing her to a much smoother and easier stop than he’d had.
One, two, three, four Marines down before anything bad happened. He was looking up, so technically he’d seen the muzzle flashes before he’d heard the guns but there was no time to worry about that. Either he was about to get shot in the back or he wasn’t and his focus was on the two Marines still coming down his rope.
Then his HUD started to flash with contact signals. The counts of active and injured enemies started to change and by
the time his sixth Marine hit the floor, both numbers were moving quickly in the right direction.
The Marines who were already on the deck weren’t wasting any time now that things had turned hot and they pressed the attack, as per training and orders.
Warden turned and brought his weapon to bear, caning half a magazine toward an unlucky cluster of Deathless, then turning slightly to empty the rest at one of the Ogres. He needn’t have bothered; its head vanished as one of the snipers shot it with a railgun. The round went through its armoured head, into the rocky floor of the mine and sent rock chips flying in all directions, scything down two more nearby Deathless.
Fuck. There was a good chance his team would pick up injuries if they got too close to a high angled shot like that. Tough, he thought, no time to worry about that now. There were thousands of colonists counting on A Troop to complete this mission. Bagging the manufactory would just make everyone’s lives easier.
Somewhere out there in the chaos, Marine X was wreaking bloody havoc on the enemy. He’d check the HUD footage later to find out exactly what had gone on.
A drone spotted two Deathless that had taken cover in what appeared to be a makeshift latrine shed, and Warden lobbed a grenade in after them as he sprinted past and away; the detonation was going to get messy and he had no intention of spending the next few hours covered in guts or shit.
His charge took him between two boulders and into the midst of a squad of Deathless, all staring at him, agog, as he sprinted between them. Warden dived into a roll and when he came up he had managed to turn to face back the way he’d come. The Deathless were scrabbling for sidearms, rifles and blades, horrified by his sudden appearance in their ranks. Warden put a three round burst into each of them then swapped in another magazine.
There was a wet splatter behind him, and something nasty landed on the other side of the boulders he’d just passed, evidence of his toilet grenade doing its work. He really hoped there weren’t any valuable weapons in that area because they couldn't afford to leave materiel behind and retrieving them would not be a fun job.