You always had a flair for the dramatic, Conridus, she thought with a smile. Get on with it, will you.
“We have live prisoners,” said the Commodore, almost beside himself. “Their force commander seemed to be determined to go out in a blaze of glory, but some of those serving under him didn’t agree, and took to the life pods. We captured over fifty of the big bastards. Including the ship’s captain.”
“My God,” said Montgomery, almost stunned by the news. There had never been a live prisoner taken from among the Ca’cadasans. In the first war, if it could be called that, the Cacas had destroyed everything. The Earth ships had never won an engagement, had never had a chance to take a prisoner. There were some bodies that had been dissected, but nothing that could answer questions. And now this, fifty of them, and one a senior officer.
I wonder if we really need to engage the Cacas on the surface, if we can get the survivors off without doing so. That was our main purpose for putting troops on the ground. But now?
Montgomery walked over to the com station and started composing her reply to the Commodore’s message. It was almost time for change of watch, and she thought some rest might do her good.
* * *
The remainder of Rear Admiral Mara Montgomery’s task group slid into orbit around the planet. The smaller groups had already arrived and assumed orbit, giving her another eight light cruisers and twelve destroyers.
“So far no fire from the planet,” reported the Flag Tactical Officer. “We have a preliminary plot of enemy troop locations, as well as concentrations of friendly military and civilians. As good as we can do under the circumstances, considering how much they are jamming us.”
“I’ve been able to contact what seems to be the ranking military commander on the planet,” said the Com Officer.
“Put him on,” said the Admiral, getting up from her seat and walking toward the viewer. The image of a man formed, fading in and out in the static that the enemy was filling the airwaves with. Then it steadied as one of the orbiting ships locked onto the signal coming up from straight below.
“Admiral,” said the man, rendering an abbreviated salute. “Colonel Samuel Baggett, Imperial Army. And are we ever glad to see you. Have you come to reinforce us?”
“I’m afraid not, Colonel,” said Montgomery, taking in the fatigued face of a man who had seen too much, and done even more. “We are here to get you and the civilians off the planet.”
“So, we are to abandon the planet?” said the Colonel, his eyes growing fierce. “I’ve given a lot of lives to hold what we still have.”
“Sorry, Colonel, but I have my orders,” said the Admiral, feeling for the man who had fought a battle, and was now being told it was all for nothing.
“And who are the orders from?” asked the Colonel, from his tone obviously trying to find wiggle room.
“From his Imperial Majesty, Sean the First,” said the Admiral. “And if you want to argue with his orders you will have the chance, since he is here with my force.”
“Sean,” said the Colonel, his eyes wide in surprise. “The third son. What happened to the Emperor Augustine, and the other sons?”
“It’s a long story, Colonel,” said the Admiral, frowning. “It might not be a good idea to discuss it on this transmission. We will be sending shuttles down for you and your people. And all the civilians that we can find.”
“Some of them won’t want to go,” said the Colonel, shaking his head. “The Freeholders have been on the planet for a long time, some for decades. They’ll want to stay and fight.”
“And I don’t think we can make them go,” said the Admiral, nodding. “We’ll just take those that want to go, and all the military personnel. If you could give us some landing coordinates we’ll start sending down the shuttles.”
“The Cacas are damned close to our positions, Admiral,” said the Imperial Army officer. “You may have to send some marines down, and whatever atmospheric attack craft you might have. That might be the only way we can break contact.”
“Understood,” said the Admiral, looking over at the Colonel who was the Marine Commander of her task group. “I’ll put Colonel Garcia on, and you both can work out the details.”
The Admiral moved back to her chair as the screen switched to a view of the planet below.
“Shuttles are launching to the surface,” called out the Com Officer. The tactical plot showed four icons leaving each of the battle cruisers, followed by six smaller icons, the ground attack ships of the Marines. Each of the light cruisers were also launching shuttles and attack craft. The viewer showed one of the shuttles, an assault variety, heavily armed and armored. The small flotilla of thirty assault shuttles and forty-two attack craft formed up and started for the planet and their first target, a field that could be used for landing and flight operations. With them rode over nine hundred heavily armored Marines in the only type of transport that was available for them, plus two hundred naval personnel who would set up shop, and prepare to get the refugees up to the ships.
“Let me know when we can launch the other shuttles,” said the Admiral, watching as the viewer switched to a scene of the surface, and the bright pinpoints that indicated kinetic weapon strikes. Another thirty attack craft entered the plot, shooting ahead of the landing force and heading for known concentrations of enemy, those too close to the humans to risk megaton range kinetic strikes.
“Colonel Baggett is going to direct an assault against the Ca’cadasans nearest to the landing field,” said Colonel Garcia. “I am directing our initial landing to hit them from the other side.”
“As soon as you can, get those shuttles back up here,” ordered the Admiral. “I want more Marines on the ground as soon as possible. I don’t trust the Cacas to stay put and not cause us trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Marine Colonel and the Flight Operations Officer in unison.
“I’ll feel much better when we’re on the way out of here,” said the Admiral in a quiet voice, as she watched another screen, which showed robots and spacemen transferring missiles from the other ships to her initial group. At least we won’t be totally helpless in a long range engagement, though I would like to avoid it if at all possible. Especially with his Majesty aboard, and a bunch of civilians.
The Admiral sat there, watching the screen, listening to the conversations going on around her. As the shuttles made ready for the fall.
“The shuttles are under fire,” called out the Flight Operations Officer. “Returning fire. Attack craft are rippling off missiles.”
“First company is down and moving into position,” said the Marine Liaison Officer, Colonel Garcia.
The Admiral tuned the commentary out, watching the icons on the tactical of the area of operations. The dots of friendly forces moved across the screen, both Marines and Army, and the red dots opposed them, fiercely. Dots blinked and faded, and she knew that each represented a human or an alien dying. And the more she watched the happier she was that she had never commissioned as a Marine, having to see the enemy while killing him. The red dots became scarce on the screen, then disappeared altogether.
“The landing field is ours,” said the Marine Colonel.
“Shuttles are on approach to launching vessels,” called out the Flight Operations Officer.
And soon there will be another battalion of Marines on the surface, followed by another. And the enemy will have lost another battle.
* * *
“They have taken a bridgehead,” said the underofficer, his snout curled in disgust.
Of course they did, thought the General, fighting to stay on his feet as the ground shuddered underfoot from kinetic strikes. There was never any doubt.
“Do you wish to say anything to the warriors?” continued the underofficer.
“What is there to say?” asked the General, thinking of the sons and grandsons he would never see. His female offspring never entered his mind. They were merely semisentient brood cows with a tenth of the l
ifespan of a male. There was no thought of his current harem either. They would go to another male when his failure on this planet had become known.
“Tell the warriors that they are expected to die like the sons of the Empire,” said the General, wondering how the Admiral had felt when he knew he was lost. “There is to be no surrender.” And most will die before they dishonor their clan or their uniform, he thought, knowing that there would always be some cowards who would do anything to live the full lifespan of a Cacada. But not this warrior, thought the General, already planning how he would sell his own, hopefully to the great detriment of the enemy.
“I will speak to the warriors,” said the General, stopping the underofficer from leaving the prefab quarters. “I have something that will be of interest to them, and a way to discomfit the enemy.”
* * *
Sean Ogden Lee Romanov, uncrowned Emperor of the New Terran Empire, stood in the small room and looked at the holo of the planet below. It was green and beautiful for the most part, except for the scars that were left behind by the hits of kinetic weapons, and the new glowing wounds that were being put upon the world by his force.
He looked down on the small island continent in the Southern Hemisphere of the world, five million square kilometers that had once been as green as the rest of the planet. Now it was the gray of death, with the exception of a large area of the west coast that was the red of rising magma, where a weapon of the enemy had struck the land mass.
“Damn them to Hell,” said Sean under his breath. An entire ecosystem totally destroyed as if it had never evolved. “We will restore it to the best of our ability,” he said, looking back at the other occupant of the room.
“To the best of our ability is the key phrase there, your Majesty,” said Samantha Ogden Lee, the second cousin to the young man. “We are unlikely to have the genomes for any but the major animals and plants. The terraformers will have their work cut out for them remaking that continent. And that damned volcano.”
Sean turned away from the viewer and walked over to stand by the woman. “You can dispense with the your Majesty crap when we are alone, cousin. I know my father did not stand for it in informal family gatherings, and neither will I.”
“OK, Sean,” said Samantha, a smile on her face. “I’ll act like you’re that snot nosed little boy I remember when we are alone.”
Sean laughed, then looked back at the planet. “We’re at war, cousin. I don’t think any of us will be able to relax completely for years to come, if not centuries.”
“And what is to become of me,” asked the woman, ten years Sean’s senior but looking very scared and alone. “Court Martial?”
“I won’t allow that,” said Sean, putting a hand on her shoulder. “And even if I didn’t intervene there would be no way they would be able to punish you, other than letting you out of the service.”
Samantha looked up at him with wide eyes, and he knew she didn’t fear punishment. What she feared was losing the career she had chosen, and risen high in due to her own merit.
“Couldn’t you intervene?” she asked, her face flushing with the embarrassment of even having to ask such a favor. “You’re the damned Emperor, Sean. In a wartime situation. Your power is unlimited.”
“Not quite unlimited,” said Sean, smiling. “I can’t order the damned Cacas to leave us alone.”
“But Sean,” cried the woman, coming out of her seat and dropping to her knees, grabbing Sean’s hands. “Please. Help me.”
“But I plan to help you,” said Sean, pulling her up to her feet. “And I don’t want you bowing and scraping before me.”
“Help me,” stammered Samantha. “How are you going to help me, if you won’t save my career?”
“By giving you a position of responsibility that I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” said Sean, his tone matching his words. “And may God have mercy on your soul.”
* * *
Colonel Samuel Baggett felt good about this coming action. Mainly because it was the first fight on this planet where he was going on the offensive, and the plan was to crush the enemy. He looked at his company commanders, all in full armor and ready to go. That included one Marine Captain in heavy armor, who company would be his reaction force.
“You all understand the plan,” he said to his officers. They nodded back, and he was sure they could pull up the plan if needed on their own HUDs. “OK. So the bombardment is our signal to go in. Remember that we will also be pinpointing the enemy for the attack craft. And don’t shoot at the Marines. You know, the big guys in human made suits.” He looked over at Captain Marquette. “Anything to add to that, Captain?”
“Just that the Marines don’t like being shot at, and tend to shoot back.”
There was some laughter at that. Both services knew there were some good fighters in the other service, some really good, despite their mutual chiding.
“We go in five minutes,” said the Colonel, looking at the timer on his internal clock. “That just gives you time to get back to your units and get ready to roll. Good luck to everyone, and may your God look over you.”
There was a chorus of accents, and then the five company commanders left the area, leaving only the Marine Captain, who the Colonel wanted close in case he needed to deploy his company quickly.
The Colonel pulled up the area of operations again on the HUD, looking for any flaws in his plan. Of course, I could look and plan for a week, and still find some things lacking, he thought. There’s just no way to think of everything, and in a fluid situation like battle the unexpected can happen at any moment.
Baggett had thought about using his men out of their suits, to give them the advantage of stealth. He had decided against it because the suits would give the men more survivability in close combat, and the enemy was bound to know he was closing in anyway. If his troops had still been equipped as light infantry he might have still gone without the armor, but the medium suits were so much more capable. I just wish we had more power packs for the suits, he thought. Most of the suits had one pack left, and not a full one at that. If the battle lasted over three hours he would have men having to bail from their armor, because it would no longer be moving.
“I hope your Marine buddies can hit the enemy and not drop anything on us,” said the Colonel to the Captain, just trying to relieve the tension he always felt sending men into combat. And all I have are some mortars for internal fire support, and I can’t use those because they might endanger the air strike.
“I don’t know them personally,” said Marquette, his own face a little pale, as expected from one who might be fighting for his life at any instant. “But I would hope they were trained to the same high standard as the ones I do know.”
“Me too,” said the Colonel as the signal came through from Marine Flight Operations. “Here we go.” He keyed his com, sending the signal out to his companies, and watched as seven hundred medium infantry started forward.
Almost immediately he lost some men, three icons turning red and dropping off the screen. Red icons appeared, denoting enemy troops as their positions fired on Imperial soldiers and had fire returned.
And then the first squadron of attack craft came screaming in, pulling Mach eight in atmosphere. They released missiles at twenty kilometers, and the projectiles came in with an additional six Mach of speed. Lasers, particle beams, rapid fire guns and even some missiles came out of the Ca’cadasan positions, mostly on the edge of the jungle or the few bunkers on the plains. Of the sixty four missiles coming in, twenty-one were blasted from the sky. The others hit their targets, where there were targets to hit, and balls of fire came roaring up into the air. Two of the attack craft went down as well, to explode in the jungle with no survivors.
The fourteen survivors of the squadron roared over, unleashing particle beams which burned through the trees and incinerated the Cacada who were unfortunate enough to get in their way. Lasers and particle beams came down from space, striking at targets revealed by the enemy firin
g at the attack craft. The beams played across the Ca’cadasan positions for a minute, avoiding the areas the soldiers had already penetrated, and then the next squadron of attack craft came roaring over at high Mach.
Baggett switched his view to one of his companies, looking through the camera of the company commander. There was movement everywhere, men running, beams showing through the raised dust, pieces of trees flying into the air from the impact of projectiles, a couple of explosions in the near distance. The Colonel switched his view to one of the infantrymen, and almost flinched as the take came back. There were several big bodies lying out of a fighting position, and the body of an Imperial soldier with a smoking hole in his armor. Beams were everywhere, and a tree flew apart as its sap superheated from a particle beam. The view moved as the soldier ducked down. Suddenly the camera feed went dead, and a graphical display showed the soldier was down, but still alive, the armor doing its job of stabilizing him until the medics could get there.
“Shit,” cursed the Colonel, switching to another soldier, watching a line of explosions walk over a Ca’cadasan position. He always hated the idea of sending the soldiers into danger while he was in the rear, in relative safety, forgetting for the moment that he had been in the front lines before, and that relative was the operative word here. That was driven home as some large explosions rocked the Earth to his right. If he was in weapons’ range of the enemy he was not safe.
Now the icons of the attacking Marine battalion appeared on the Colonel’s HUD, relayed from the ships above. They came in fast, overrunning the surviving enemy bunkers, their heavy suits too much for the enemy. The Colonel’s soldiers were also chewing their way through the enemy, though he was still losing some men. He saw what he had been waiting for as he was looking at the overhead display. There was a gap in the enemy line, and he knew what he needed to do to exploit it.
“Captain Marquette,” he called out, turning to the man. “Lead your Marines through this gap. We’ll split the enemy and link up with your fellows.”
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 46