The shuttles juked and jinked in the sky. The missiles exploded as they ran into the defensive fire from the shuttles, the craft unloading a wave of spreading steel. Most of the cannon rounds also exploded in that field, though the explosions on the nose of the nearest aircraft showed that not all were intercepted. That shuttle nosed down, trailing smoke, to pull up at the last moment and slam in a skidding landing into the ground. The other two shuttles moved away, getting out of range of the antiaircraft vehicle.
A whooshing sound filled the air and that vehicle, well camouflaged as it was, exploded into an incandescent ball, targeted by the ships in orbit for a kinetic barrage. Cornelius ducked low, hoping that his position wouldn’t be next. They hadn’t given the enemy any reason to target them yet, but spotting them would be enough.
There was another bright flare. Walborski shielded his eyes as he stood up in the trench, looking for the source. A small hill a couple of kilometers away had shed some of its hardened foam covering, revealing the turret of a multi thousand ton mobile shore defense gun. A bright beam of light rose from the long laser barrel, highlighted through the dust and smoke. Twin barrels alongside the laser recoiled back at three second intervals, sending kinetic rounds at the target. Over the horizon another beam lanced into the sky, another unit of the mobile battery firing on the ships in orbit.
Something flashed in the sky. Cornelius looked up, his visor polarizing against the glare. Something had exploded well above the atmosphere, a bright pinpoint of light. Then came the dread whooshing sounds of kinetic projectiles, coming down on the now revealed battery. The private looked over at the closest gun, still blazing away with laser and rail guns. Something struck the earth nearby, sending up a cloud of dust as the earth rumbled underfoot. The four turrets of the close in defense system on the huge track opened up, each with several multiple barrel weapons putting up a cloud of metal, while metal storm barrels along the turret added their fire.
Several objects exploded above the track, maybe a kilometer high. As soon as they flashed smaller objects hit the turret and hull of the massive vehicle, pieces of the projectiles that had been shattered higher up. The turret clanged like a struck bell, but the weapons continued to track and fire into space. Hundreds of small particles raised spurts of dirt around the vehicle.
“I just wish they weren’t so close to us,” said Jacob Bennett, Walborski’s only friend in the platoon, standing next to him in the trench.
Walborski looked over and gave his friend a quick grin. “I agree. And you know another thing I wish?” His friend shook his head in the negative, and Cornelius’ smile widened. “I wish we had a lot more of them.”
“Hell,” said Jacob. “I wish we had a battle fleet in system that could have kept these assholes away from us. That’s what I wish.”
Walborski nodded his head, then turned back to watch the slugging match between shore defenses and invading ships. A deafening blast filled the air, and a flash of fire followed by a mushroom cloud came over the horizon. They must have gotten one through, thought Walborski as he looked at where the other gun had been stationed. Beams of light came down on the nearest gun, splashing and widening as they hit the massive weapon’s electromag field. Another kinetic struck nearby, sending a mushroom into the air as the ground groaned underneath.
“Look at that,” yelled another squad member. Walborski looked up to see several distant objects smoking through the sky. They were coming down at an angle and looked to hit dozens of kilometers from where the militiamen covered, if not further.
“I guess that will teach them,” said one of the other men. A loud clanging sound brought them all back to reality, and Cornelius looked back at the nearest mobile gun. Something had struck the turret hard, and one of the kinetic cannons was out of action. The rest of the hill shook for a second, then crumbled as the huge vehicle pulled forward and started to move away. Its laser rotated down and it was obviously running for another position. Kinetic rounds continued to come down but were knocked from the sky by the vehicle’s defensive systems. The air shimmered over the mobile gun. Cornelius had talked with the crew of one of the machines, so he understood that the weapon was using most of its generated energy to produce a distortion field over it. One that the enemy would have trouble seeing through with visual, radar or any other spectrums. To them the gun would always appear to be shimmering from place to place, displacing by hundreds of meters, never giving a firm target. “What about a nuke, or AM warhead,” he had asked the crew chief of that gun, while the smiling officer looked on. “I guess we’re fried then,” said the chief. “We can just hope they don’t think we’re worth the effort.” Obviously the enemy didn’t think they were worth the effort, or just weren’t thinking, because only kinetic rounds and light amp weapons continued to fall, and the vehicle lumbered away.
As soon as the mobile gun was over the horizon booming sounds started coming from the distant city. Walborski looked at his fellow troopers, then back at the city, where new clouds of smoke and dust were rising.
“It will be our turn soon,” he said to himself. “May heaven help us.”
* * *
“Crap,” yelled Captain Glen McKinnon, zooming in on the landing field with his suit systems. “As if we didn’t have enough problems.” A trio of large landing shuttles were on approach to the field, a strip near the edge of Frederick that was already swarming with Ca’cadasan troops, huge figures in battle armor that looked formidable as hell. Colonel Baggett had set him the mission of interdicting the shuttle field, but it didn’t look too promising with all those big bodies down there, some setting a perimeter to keep the field, others starting to form up and move off the tarmac and into the city. One of the shuttles slowed to a stop and lowered itself to the field. Moments later a vehicle began to disembark, something that looked much like a light tank. The other two came down on either side and started to disembark their own vehicles.
But then again that’s the enemy’s job, to make things difficult for us. I wonder why they tend to cluster so close together, thought the Captain, a plan coming to mind. He linked into the tactical net, looking at what assets were available. That looks like something I can use, he thought, sending his request up the line, then sending orders to his own company while waiting for acknowledgement. When it came the three shuttles had unloaded and were getting ready to take off, while another trio came through the clouds and started on their approach.
Approval came back from command, and McKinnon quickly set his plan in motion. Within moments the roar of incoming rounds filled the air, and the Imperial Marines moved forward.
* * *
Doctor Jennifer Connelly cringed in her seat as another planetary bombardment projectile streaked out of the sky. They had been coming down regularly since she got within visual range of one of the only three settlements the planet boasted that could be called a city. She knew they weren’t aiming at her, because they hadn’t hit her. As far as she could tell they didn’t even see her through all the dust that was saturating the local atmosphere.
The aircar came out of the next cloud of dust, revealing the center of the city. Jennifer felt a wave of nausea come over her as she looked at the place where the regional medical center should be. In its place was a large crater. Her eyes teared up as she thought of the other doctors, nurses and other colleagues who had worked in that building. She prayed for a moment to the God of her youth that some might have made it out. She opened her eyes and made a decision that was risky, but might at least get her to someplace where her skills would be useful.
“Is there anyone on the net,” she subvocalized as she tried to contact the planetary data and communication web. Static came back at her, then some faint signals which might or might not be anything. She looked up through the top canopy of the aircar, knowing she wouldn’t see anything in orbit, but still acting on the very human reflex of looking where she wanted something to be. Probably blew all the orbital assets out of orbit, just like the fort. That had
been one of the first things the enemy had taken out, the orbital fort that was also the space dock and command and control center for the system.
The car had a backup com system that didn’t depend on the net, something that all emergency responders were required to have on a frontier world like this. If she used it she would be broadcasting a here I am signal. And anyone who answered her would be doing the same. She had second thoughts and took her hand off the controls. There had to be somewhere she could go. The Marine barracks, she thought. They would find something for her to do. And it would have to be a relief for her fiancé, the captain commanding the Marine company garrisoned here, to know that she was OK.
As soon as she made the decision she turned the aircar onto the course for the barracks, on the other side of the smoking, cratered landing field.
As she reached that field a pair of landing shuttles came roaring over. They didn’t look like they were human construction, but they were not too far off the mark, form following function as it did. She sped up the car, wanting to get over the field fast, dropping the car low and trying to hide in smoke. She had almost made it to the far side of the field when something slammed into the side of the car, alarms blared, and she angled down toward the ground.
* * *
Brigade Leader of Ground Forces Groptalangolar looked out over the field, grunting his satisfaction. After some initial resistance by enemy forces that could only be called inferior, his troops had captured the landing strip, and now reinforcements were coming from space to build his force to what would soon be overwhelming numbers. He looked down at the bodies of some of the humans that lay at his feet, toeing one with a heavy armored boot. They look like children, he thought of the smallish figures that he knew were grown adults of that race. But then most sentients seem like children to our mighty race, he thought, his mind running through some of the slave races he was familiar with.
A shuttle landed, and a tank started to roll off the ramp extending from the back of the spacecraft. Two more came to a soft touchdown on either side and started to disembark their armored vehicles. As soon as I have sufficient armor I will do a pincer movement around the outside of this city, thought the Brigade Leader. Then we will have them trapped in their warrens, these puny creatures.
“Incoming,” yelled a voice over the command circuit, at the same time that scores of objects appeared on the Brigade Leader’s HUD. The sound of incoming ordnance soon filled the air, and every vehicle and air defense mount on the landing field was soon filling the sky with light amp weapons. Puffs of smoke appeared in the sky, followed by the booms of exploding shells. A second wave followed the first, and the Brigade Leader prayed to the Gods that the enemy would keep firing, as his radar and fire control computers would then have a target for his own artillery.
As the last word of the prayer left his mouth objects streaked out from the surrounding buildings and aimed for the shuttles that were leaving the field. The center shuttle seemed to attract the most attention, as a half dozen missiles struck and blasted it from the sky, to land burning on the tarmac. The other shuttles also caught some missiles, one tilting to the side and falling into a nearby city park, the other climbing heavily upward, trailing smoke.
Antipersonnel fire also struck all over the field, while another wave of artillery and mortar rounds arced over, these from another set of weapons, while the first set ceased fire. The Brigade Leader listened to his own artillery fire at the first set of enemy weapons, which he knew from experience were already on the move out of the target area.
“What in the name of the Gods is that,” called out a voice over the com circuit that the Brigade Leader recognized as one of his battalion commanders. The objects appeared on his HUD almost as soon as the voice, ten streaks moving at high speed that struck at the field. Five of them went for the newly arrived tanks, and when the blasts sounded across the tarmac two of the vehicles were burning wrecks. The missiles were followed by a quintet of streaking aircraft that dropped cluster bombs and fired lasers and particle beams across the concentration of Ca’cadasan military might. And then they were gone, leaving behind smashed vehicles and dead and dying soldiers. The only good thing about them from the Brigade Leader’s standpoint was their speed had restricted the time in which they could do damage.
And then a new set of yells called over the circuit, and the Brigade Leader was soon witness to the best of the enemy tech, which was very good indeed.
* * *
Glen smiled as he watched the blossoming explosions high over the city, the result of enemy light amp weapons hitting the incoming artillery. Smiled because he knew the enemy had to be thinking they had foiled the attack. That had been followed by his own people shooting down two shuttles with infantry class antiaircraft missiles, while his heavy weapons gunners targeted the troops in the open. And then the aircraft had roared over, or more accurately had been followed by their roar as they sped by at Mach ten. And the field now had the confused feel of an ant’s nest kicked, hard.
“Now,” yelled Captain Glen McKinnon into the com. “Attack.”
One hundred and eleven heavily armed and armored Imperial Marines moved forward, floating over the ground on their grabber units. Another fifteen continued to fire their heavy lasers and particle beam weapons from their covered positions overlooking the field. Scores of Ca’cada went down under the wrath of the heavy weapons, while more went to cover, many in positions that did not allow them to engage the charging Marines.
Glen had watched the enemy for many minutes before initiating the attack. Observed their armored clad soldiers, and realized that the Ca’cadasan battle suits were not as good as his own. They gave their owners greater strength, as well as very good protection. But they lacked the levitating ability of the Imperial heavy battle armor.
The one ton Marine suits were the ultimate in Imperial land warfare infantry weapons. They boasted heavy armor, built in electromag and stealth fields, as well as power packs and ammo stores for the weapons. The majority of the Marines were equipped with heavy mag rifles that were more of mag cannon, able to fire a 15 millimeter round at up to twenty thousand meters a second. Some carried auto grenade launchers, while others carried particle beam weapons. Whatever the weapons, they soon proved their ability to penetrate the Ca’cada armor, and within seconds of the attack there were scores of dead and dying Ca’cadasan soldiers lying on the field. More dead than dying, as the weapons of the Marines tended to cause catastrophic damage to soft tissue after penetrating hard armor.
Glen moved forward on his grabbers, trying to use what little cover there was between rushes. The particle beam rifle in his hands spit out fast streams of protons whenever a target presented itself. He had left behind a trio of fallen suits with smoking holes testifying to the effectiveness of the weapon.
The Ca’cadasan weapons were also powerful, as befitted massive rifles and beamers held by three meter tall sophonts in powered armor. Glen grimaced as the icons of Marines blinked red then faded from his HUD, his men, dying under his command. He cringed internally as his HUD showed enemy weapons reaching for him and missing, while prioritizing his targets so he could strike at the most dangerous first.
In moments his company was halfway across the field, and the enemy was falling back en mass. Glen painted a larger than normal Ca’cada in ornate armor that seemed to be the commander of something, maybe the entire force, and called in artillery on that position. The rounds came in, this time at low level, almost a flat trajectory, and exploded around the Ca’cada commander, lifting him from the ground to land in a shattered unmoving mass.
The timer in Glen’s comp signaled that it was time. “Retreat,” he ordered over the com, sure that they were now being targeted from space. Seventy-one acknowledgements lit his screen. Thirty-nine men had gone down, but they had killed, by his estimate, hundreds of the caught off guard enemy. All now jetted their suits at maximum into the city, just before beams came out of the sky. Some didn’t make it, victims of t
he warship class beam weapons. Others were taken out by Ca’cada ground troops. When McKinnon counted heads in the city he found that only sixty-three who had gone in and come back out, including himself. That they had bloodied the enemy's nose counted for something. But Glen estimated that another such battle would leave him without a command, if he were lucky enough to survive.
There wasn’t too much time for thought about the toll. The battle was moving too fast, and the Captain soon had orders to move his men to another area of the city, to rescue some militia who had got it caught in a crack.
* * *
Colonel Samuel Baggett looked out over the burning city, his heart sinking. He had known going into this defense that it was hopeless, that the best he could ask for was to bleed the enemy and gain some time. Of course bleeding the enemy also meant bleeding his own force, and there was no way he could win the battle of attrition.
“We’re ready to move, Colonel,” came the voice of one of his company commanders over the com.
Baggett looked out over the city park that his position fronted, seeing nothing that would interfere with the completion of this operation. He looked over at the man standing next to him in the standard medium armor of the Imperial Army. The tough looking soldier had his faceplate raised, and was chewing on a cigar.
“What do you think, Terry?” asked the Colonel of his Sergeant Major, Terry Zacharius.
The man looked up to scan the sky. “I wish we had more cloud cover. Or even a better jamming net up over the city.” The senior noncom looked over to the side of the park, where there was still heavy fighting going on among the buildings, and sighed. “But I guess we had better move them out if we’re going to get any of them to safety.”
“Captain Zimmer,” said the Colonel into the com. “Go ahead and move them across.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 5