To Hell's Heart (Crimson Worlds)

by Allan, Jay

  Sparks allowed his last comment to sink in. If Hofstader and the rest of the Pact’s team could quickly adapt the production and storage technology of the ancient antimatter factory, Sparks and his team could quickly weaponize it. He had half-developed designs for antimatter weapons already, all of which had been halted by the inability of Earth science to produce and store usable quantities of the precious substance.

  “We have never captured one of these bots before, though based on the amount of wreckage we have collected from battle sites we should clearly have found at least remains of them. It is my hypothesis that this is a security measure, that the central AI directs the key bots to self-destruct when a ship is near destruction. We must therefore extract them, as well as the AI itself, with extreme care in case there are alternate security precautions in place. We could easily trigger an undetected self-destruct routine if we aren’t careful.”

  Compton had been quietly thoughtful, considering everything Sparks was saying. Capturing this ship alone was reason enough to have launched the campaign. A chance, even a long one, at weaponizing antimatter was just the sort of game changer he and Garret had hoped for when they planned the invasion.

  Now they needed time...time the fleet was going to have to buy. Whatever it took. Sigma 4 and X1 were both “straightaways”…systems with only two warp gates. When they were the only route between two warring parties, these types of systems were natural bottlenecks, providing ideal locations for defense. It was like the Line, only even more concentrated. We’ll have all of mankind’s might concentrated in one place, Compton thought…holding a new Line, while Sparks, Hofstader, and the rest of the white coats tried to turn this captured ship into a massive leap forward in technology.

  “General, I believe that our first order of business is to arrange to tow the enemy vessel out of this system to a location farther to the rear.” Compton sat very still, clearly deep in thought as he spoke. “I do not believe it would be wise to attempt to begin your research efforts in deep space, especially in this exposed location.”

  “I agree completely, sir.” Sparks frowned. “I’m afraid that may take some time, admiral. The enemy hull material is extremely difficult to work with. It will take considerable effort to create a connection with a towing vessel, especially one that will endure significant acceleration.”

  “Well, general…that’s your problem.” Compton smiled. Mine is making sure nothing interferes with you while you’re doing it.” He tapped the com controller on his collar. “Commodore Harmon…send a drone back to X1.” His task forces were spread out between Sigma 4 and X2. “The fleet will immediately advance and assemble here in X2.”

  Chapter 21

  Red Rock Valley

  8 Kilometers South of Enemy Base

  Planet Sigma 4 II

  Cain stood on the reddish outcropping, staring out over the jagged valley below. This was rough terrain, far from ideal for an attack. But his forces had pushed the enemy back relentlessly, and the retreating bots had come this way. He didn’t know what tricks the First Imperium forces had in store, what tactics and stratagems they had gleaned from their battles with humanity. He didn’t care. His battle plan focused on one thing…one thing only. Getting the enemy to commit their last reserves first.

  “I know you’ve got Reapers here, you bastards.” Cain’s voice was calm, but it dripped with venom. “You aren’t going to fool me.”

  Sigma 4 II was a pleasant world, one men would certainly have colonized…if the First Imperium hadn’t gotten there first. It was Earthlike, but minus the pollution and slums. There were mountains and streams and golden valleys covered with wildflowers. The enemy had built a base on the planet…and there were a few small ruins that may have once been civilian towns. Still, it was clear this was a world on their frontier, lightly developed and never heavily populated. He wondered if their core worlds, wherever they were, had been raped and ravaged and scarred by war like Earth. Whether they were covered with festering slums where the masses had lived in misery, ground under the boots of those in power.

  His forces had dubbed the area Red Rock Valley. He smiled briefly, amused at the need warriors seemed to have to name everywhere they fought. Cain, for one, didn’t really care. One battle was much like another to him. Still, he thought, it was a good name.

  The army had advanced nonstop since the breakout 10 klicks back. They’d fought every step of the way, not letting up…not for a second. The enemy had been badly disordered by the plasma bombardment, and Cain had no intention of letting them regroup. The relentless pursuit had come at a cost, however, and casualties were high. And rising.

  His commanders were begging him to release the Obliterators, but he’d coolly refused every one of them. Even Isaac Merrick had joined in after the last firefight had brought a number of units above the 50% casualty mark. Everyone but Farooq. The Janissary had been the only major force commander to remain silent. His unit was as badly hurt as any other – worse than most - but still he grimly advanced without so much as a whisper about reinforcements.

  Cain hurt for his Marines and their comrades, fighting and dying up on the line. But he knew they would do what he needed them to do. Whatever the cost. He would spend their lives…he knew that, and so did they…but he wouldn’t waste them. If Erik Cain said he needed to keep the Obliterators in reserve, his Marines would turn grimly back to the fight and press on. They didn’t love him, not for the most part, but they trusted him…and they would follow him anywhere.

  He stood dead still and sighed. Things were going to get worse for those men and women fighting the enemy. Cain hadn’t told anyone what he was planning, but once it was done he wouldn’t be surprised if his Marines hanged him from the nearest tree. But this battle was more important than the lives of any of the warriors now fighting…and that included Cain. Every one of them was expendable as long as they got what they came for. They needed that base, and they had to take it intact.

  He could see movement through the low areas. It was Farooq’s Janissaries surging forward, with Cooper Brown’s Marines on their right. Cain didn’t like maneuvering through the narrow valley…it reeked of a trap. But he had snipers and heavy weapons teams posted all along the heights and scouts positioned well to the front. He might lose here…he might remain on this alien planet with his Marines, dead and unburied for eternity. But he was sure of one thing…the enemy wasn’t going to mousetrap him. If the First Imperium was going to beat him, they’d have to do it in a straight up fight.

  “General Cain…” Isaac Merrick’s voice was strained, out of breath. “The forward skirmishers are out two klicks. The enemy is still pulling back.” The old army general was having trouble getting around in his new Marine armor. Cain couldn’t help but smile. He remembered what he felt like back in training. Powered armor wasn’t something you put on one day and just jumped into action. Merrick had gotten some practice time in, but nothing like real training. There was no choice, though…fighting First Imperium forces without armor was nothing short of suicide. The only other option was leaving him behind, and Merrick would have none of that.

  Merrick was down in the valley, just behind Brown’s regiment. Other than the difficulties adapting to his armor, he’d made an extraordinary chief of staff. Erik felt vindicated in his decision…and glad to have the old soldier on his team.

  Cain had been worried about what the enemy had emplaced in that mountain fortress. He wondered why his forces hadn’t taken any fire from there earlier…certainly they had ordnance that could have reached his forces even back at the LZ. He’d held back his nukes in the hopes of taking the base intact. That was why they were here, after all…to learn something they could use to beat the enemy. Really beat them…and end the war.

  He looked down at the valley for a few more seconds. No one was going to like his next order. His troops were almost all veterans, but even experienced troops were only human. The enemy had been pulling back, offering minimal resistance. His forces had purs
ued, but with less aggressiveness than he wanted. He understood…they were exhausted and they’d suffered heavy losses. But that was all irrelevant. Cain needed the enemy to commit their last reserves, and a half-assed pursuit wasn’t going to make it happen. He turned his head slowly, looking out over the field. “General Merrick…all forward units are to attack at once.”

  “Fucking Christ!” Carlson dove down behind a cluster of small rocks just before the area behind him erupted with enemy rounds tearing great gouges into the ground. He was running the battalion now…Major Tambor was dead…but it wasn’t much bigger than a company now anyway.

  Carlson had served under General Cain on the Lysandra Plateau, but he was a sergeant then, far down the chain of command. Things had been bad on that plateau, but they were defending there, grimly holding their ground until they were relieved. Now it felt like Cain was just trying to destroy his army, smashing it to pieces with one bloody assault after another.

  “Sergeant Randall, get those SAWs forward and deployed. You’ve got a small gully there…it should give you some cover while you advance.” Carlson was staring at his display, trying to figure out how to piece together the fragments of his shattered battalion. “Now! I want fire from that position in three minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. On the way.”

  Carlson had never heard of a formation so battered mounting an attack. He knew what he would do to consolidate his tattered forces for a defense. He’d find some good ground and get his heavy weapons deployed in the best fire positions with half his troopers in reserve, ready to plug any gaps. But his orders were clear and specific – all-out attack.

  He was pinned where he was…the enemy fire was constant. He’d be hit the second he tried to advance. He turned his head, reminding himself to stay low. There was a small hill about 100 meters northwest. It would give him good cover…if he could get there.

  Carlson took a deep breath and crawled out from behind the rock. He was on his belly, staying as low as he could. There was a small lip in the ground giving him partial cover. The enemy fire was thick, and it wasn’t more than 10 or 15 centimeters over him. It takes a long time to crawl 100 meters, even in powered armor. Especially when the slightest bounce upward will get you killed.

  He inched along, trying to stay focused. Stay slow, he thought…one meter at a time. “Sergeant Randall, are you in position yet?” He had his display off; he needed a clear view through his visor now.

  “No, captain.” Randall’s voice was tentative. He knew he was going to get blasted.

  “What the fuck, Randall? Get your hands out of your pants and get that outfit moving.” Carlson was mad. He didn’t like the orders any more than anyone. But if they were going to attack, then by God, they were going to attack. “I want you there in one minute, or I swear to God I will come over there and shoot your sorry ass myself.” He paused, taking another lurch forward. “Am I clear?”

  “Yes, captain.” Randall was a veteran Marine, but it was clear from his voice he was near the breaking point. “We’ll be there in 30 seconds…and firing in two minutes.”

  “You better be.” Carlson cut the line. He didn’t like beating up on a Marine like Randall, but he needed everything his people had. If they let up their intensity, even for a few seconds, that could be the difference. It could get them all killed.

  He was losing the small rise that was giving him cover…he was going to have to dash the last few meters in the open. He took a breath, bending his legs, ready to spring forward. He crouched low - if he jumped up, he would sail through the air, an easy target. He sprung, holding his body straight and pushing off with his legs. His body lurched 4 or 5 meters, landing hard behind the hill. He rolled, taking the force of the landing the way he’d been trained, and coming up prone. The hill was good cover, about 4 meters high.

  He leaned against the hillside, pulling his tactical display back up. Randall’s team was in position. It didn’t look like they were firing yet, but he guessed they would be any minute. He almost commed Randall again, but he stopped himself. He has his orders, Carlson thought.

  He moved the display across the front, trying to get a read on the status of the battalion. He had units intermixed all along the front. His people really needed a pause to rally, but they weren’t going to get that. He called up his AI and started dictating organizational reassignments, creating ad hoc units out of wrecked and scattered formations. He could only do so much on the fly, but anything helped.

  Carlson had resisted a promotion to commissioned rank for his last three years in the Corps, preferring to remain closer to his Marines. When he and Cooper Brown rejoined the colors, he felt such preferences would be selfish and misplaced during the current crisis. If the Corps needed him as an officer then that was how he’d serve. But he missed the simplicity of a sergeant’s billing. He was getting a taste of the types of decisions Brown and Cain had to make, and he didn’t like it. In his heart, he was one of the boys, and he felt aloof directing an entire battalion. He couldn’t imagine issuing the kinds of orders Erik Cain did. He wasn’t sure he had it in him, even if the only alternative was defeat.

  He checked his display. Randall’s teams were firing, covering a 500 meter section of the front line. Their targets were in cover, so they weren’t inflicting a lot of casualties, but they were keeping the enemy pinned, and that’s what Carlson wanted. He’d managed to assemble an ersatz company, put together from every squad or platoon he could scrape up. His orders were to attack. He didn’t agree with them, but he was damned sure going to obey them.

  He dashed around the hill, staying on the backside of the slope, working his way around toward the front line. By the time he emerged in the rear of his assembling attack force, the enemy fire had diminished considerably. Randall’s people were earning their pay.

  “Lieutenant Banks, report.” Banks was another longtime non-com turned into an officer to fill the depleted ranks after Sandoval. Carlson hadn’t had much time to get to know her, but he was impressed with what little he’d seen.

  “Sir…the reorganized units are in place, and the revised OB has been downloaded into the AIs.” Her voice was shrill, high-pitched, almost like a little girl’s…not at all what one expected from a ten year veteran of the Corps, a woman who’d fought in multiple campaigns and been wounded twice. Whatever she sounded like, Nora Banks was a hardcore Marine, Carlson was sure of that. “Everything is ready.”

  “Very good, lieutenant.” They were talking on the com, but Carlson was only 50 meters or so behind her position. “I’m almost there. You head out and take command on the left. I’ll take over here.”

  There was a brief silence. Carlson knew what was coming, and he spoke up first. “Don’t waste your time arguing, lieutenant. I’m leading the assault personally.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was resignation in her voice, but it was obvious she disagreed. He wasn’t sure she was wrong either. The battalion was already running low on officers, and this attack wasn’t likely to improve that situation. A junior lieutenant was going to have a hard time holding things together if Carlson bought it. But he’d already decided. He was going.

  He could see Banks turn and head to the left as he came up the hillside. It would take her a few minutes to get in position. “Lieutenant…we attack in ten minutes.”

  “Commander Farooq, we are pinned down in the stream bed.” Aashif Selim knelt behind the cracked mud wall of the dry river bank. He was Corbaci, commander of one of Farooq’s Orta’s. He’d led 800 veteran Janissaries down to the surface of Sigma 4 II, but a mere 180 of them remained now, spread out over a kilometer of front, mostly along the twisting path of this seasonal stream.

  The area all around the bed was under heavy fire. Selim wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it was obvious the shattered enemy forces his Orta had been pursuing had been reinforced.

  “Have you encountered new enemy units?” Farooq’s question was sharp, urgent.

  “Unknown, commander.” Selim knew the
answer would be unsatisfactory, but it was the only one he had. Before Farooq could respond, he added, “The enemy is dug in behind a series of rocky hills. I have been unable to get a scanner fix. I’ve…”

  “Unsatisfactory, Corbaci. We must know what you are facing.”

  Selim took a deep breath. Farooq was one of the most respected officers in the Janissary Corps, and Selim knew he did not suffer fools…or tolerate failure. “I attempted to launch drones, however they were shot down almost immediately. I sent out three scouting parties, but they were wiped out before they could report. We are under extremely heavy fire…if I move my forces from this position, it is my belief they will be exterminated within minutes.” He paused then added, “With no offsetting gain.”

  Farooq opened his mouth then closed it again. Selim was a good officer, and brave. If he was able to more effectively scout the enemy position, Farooq knew he would. “Speculate, Corbaci Selim. What types of ordnance are you facing?”

  “Mostly heavy hyper-velocity rounds, sir.” He hesitated for a few seconds. “It feels like Reaper fire, commander. Though I am unable to confirm the existence of any enemy heavy units.”

  Reapers, Farooq thought…perhaps the enemy is finally committing their reserves. Just as Erik Cain expected. “I need confirmation, Selim. However you get it, I need to know if those are Reapers firing at you.”

  “Yes, sir. I will send out another scouting party.” Selim’s voice was grim. He knew he’d be sending those men to certain death. But it was the only way to try and confirm what he was facing. “I will report…”

  “Attention all forward units.” It was Cooper Brown on the main com line. “We are under attack by enemy Reapers, coordinates 202 by 086. Enemy force in unknown strength.”

  “Prepare to receive a Reaper assault, Selim!” Farooq’s warning was too late. Selim’s display was ablaze with red symbols. Enemy Reapers advancing on his position.