“She’d be surprised that you came up with it,” Drakon replied on the same channel. “But, yeah, it’s the sort of thing she would do. Morgan is probably dead, you know.”
“Yes, General, I realize that.” It was impossible to tell Malin’s feelings about Morgan likely having died already. He ended the conversation without saying anything more.
But Gaiene came on next. “General, this is going to be a rough one.”
“We’ll get through it,” Drakon said. “You three, you and Kai and Rogero, have been my invincible trio through a lot of fights. This is just one more, right?”
“Invincible doesn’t mean indestructible,” Gaiene said, sounding wistful. “Since there is a more than reasonable chance that we won’t be able to talk after this is over, I want you to know that Lieutenant-Colonel Safir has my strongest recommendation to become commander of my brigade should there be an opening for that position in the near future. She is highly competent, respected by the troops for all the right reasons, and has been pretty much running the brigade anyway.”
“I’ll remember that,” Drakon said. “But you and me, we’ve got to make it, right? These kids wouldn’t know what to do without us.”
“Ah, yes, these kids.” Gaiene paused for a moment. “I should have had kids. But they would have been so ashamed of me the last several years. It’s better this way.”
“Conner—”
“Do not worry, General. I won’t let you down. My soldiers won’t let you down. We’ll take that damned base.”
“I never doubted that, Conner.”
Gaiene looked back at him with those dark eyes, and his mouth bent into that old grin. “I’ll see you later, General.”
“Yeah. See you later.”
—
“IT’S Black Jack? You’re certain?”
“They are Alliance battle cruisers and escorts, Madam President,” the command center supervisor said. “We have positively identified several hulls so far, and one of them is Dauntless, Black Jack’s flagship. They are accompanied by the Dancer ships, but those have headed for the jump point for Pele at a high rate of acceleration while the Alliance formation has remained near the hypernet gate.”
Black Jack. Not the Syndicate. Not a coordinated attack, but a source of support. Iceni took a deep breath to steady herself, then froze again as the supervisor looked to one side with a startled expression. “What is it?”
“Colonel Rogero, Madam President. He’s alive. He’s trying to get through to you.”
She started breathing once more. “Link him to me. Private circuit.”
Iceni had been raised not to believe in higher powers that looked out for those who did the right things and punished those who did wrong. Most of what she had seen in the Syndicate, in which those who did wrong won higher promotions and gained higher salaries, and those who did right often ended up as victims, had done little to change her mind.
But at the moment, she was seriously considering offering any sacrifice demanded to whatever power was looking out for her.
The man whose image appeared before her wore a uniform torn and blackened by smoke, but his expression was strong and firm. “Madam President. If I couldn’t have gotten through, I would have acted as you previously directed. But I was able to establish contact and await your orders.”
Iceni gasped with relief before she could answer. “Colonel, I hope that Captain Bradamont will forgive me for saying that at the moment you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Rogero grinned through the smudges on his face. “I’m sure that Captain Bradamont will understand.”
“How did you survive?”
“My vehicle halted just short of the weapons buried in the street, so none of the upward-focused explosions hit it. A blast from one side was absorbed by one of my escort vehicles that had came up on that side. The blow from the other side struck the forward portion of my vehicle, killing the driver and pinning me in the wreckage for a while. The doctors on the scene wanted to send me to the hospital, but with the help of some of my soldiers who arrived on the scene, I convinced the physicians that I had work to do. Do you have a plan?”
“I’m developing one. I need your ground forces,” Iceni said, grateful again that Drakon had chosen to leave Rogero here. “All of the ground forces. The citizens are within a hairsbreadth of erupting into violence at locations all over this planet.”
“Yes, Madam President, I agree. Request permission to speak freely.”
“Colonel, don’t bother with the formalities right now! We don’t have time. Tell me what I need to know.”
“Very well.” Rogero gestured all around him. “I’ve already given orders for all ground forces to mobilize. They are gathering at mobilization sites as we speak, but I must to tell you that we have to handle them carefully. They are on edge. My soldiers trust me, but the local ground forces are less reliable.”
“What has them on edge?” Iceni asked. “Anything specific, or the same sort of anything-that-could-possibly-be-wrong rumors running through the citizenry?”
“Something very specific concerns them,” Rogero said, both voice and expression now grim. “They fear being ordered to undertake compliance actions against the people.”
“And you believe they might refuse such orders?” Iceni said.
“Yes, I think the local ground forces will certainly refuse to obey those orders, and even my own soldiers probably will not obey.”
“I want alternatives, Colonel,” Iceni said. “All of my training tells me to send every soldier out with orders to open fire on any citizens who don’t disperse and return to their homes. My instincts tell me that such actions would shatter, perhaps beyond repair, my efforts to create an alternative to the Syndicate way of governing.”
“I concur, Madam President,” Rogero said. “If we send armed troops out to confront the rioters, some of the soldiers might open fire, either out of obedience or out of fear if confronted by a dangerous mob.”
“And there is this, Colonel,” Iceni added. “Whoever stirred this up, whoever brought this planet to the brink of mass chaos, wants me to order compliance actions. They want me to kill large numbers of citizens. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Then give me options that don’t involve mass murder.”
Rogero inhaled deeply, looking away as he thought, then back at her. “There is one option that might work. It is a dangerous option, because if it fails, we won’t have the ability to try anything else.”
“Tell me.”
—
“LISTEN up,” Drakon said over the universal command circuit. “You’ve been told the plan. When I give the order to fire chaff, I want every round we’ve got dropped into the area in front of the enemy base. Ten seconds after the fire command, I’m going to order the assault, and at that point, everyone is to head all out for that base. Don’t pause, don’t delay, don’t hesitate. Your colonels and I will be leading the assault. Once we get inside the base, some of you will be designated to occupy the base defenses and turn them against enemy troops from outside our perimeter who will be pursuing us once they realize what we’re doing.”
He didn’t have to lay out the results of failure. The Syndicate, especially a Syndicate star system where the snakes had such a strong presence, would not offer any mercy to rebellious soldiers. Drakon’s troops knew that they had to succeed in the assault if they wanted to live.
Drakon didn’t think there was any chance of getting through to the warships that might or might not still be in orbit overhead, but it couldn’t hurt to try. “This is General Drakon. Request that you immediately start hitting the buildings across the street from our perimeter with any weapons you’ve got. I say again, begin bombarding the buildings across the street from our positions. Do as much damage as you can as long as you can.” Even if the bombardment with hell lances did not cause much damage, it might make the Syndicate ground forces believe that Drakon was about to launch a breakout atta
ck.
He didn’t think the Syndicate would expect a break-in attack.
Only a couple of minutes remained. He knelt near a ragged opening where a window had once been, letting the recon probe on his armor stick out enough to view the enemy base. The defensive fire coming from the base wasn’t steady but frequent enough to make it clear that the defenders were not sitting passively. For the first time, Drakon wondered if those defenders knew about the trap. Were they aware of how many reinforcements were outside, pressing on Drakon’s troops? Or did they think they were still facing a desperate fight?
Well, they were facing a desperate fight. In a few minutes, the defenders of that base were going to find out what a lot of desperate soldiers could do on the attack.
“Stand by,” Drakon said.
“Good-bye, General,” Gaiene answered on a private circuit. “And thank you again. I could not die under any conditions but the best, and you have given me that.”
“Conner, what the hell—”
“I’ll say hello to Lara for you. Take care of my soldiers, General.”
And then it was time, with no room left to demand that Colonel Gaiene stop acting foredoomed. “Fire chaff!”
Scores of rounds arced into the area before the base, blossoming into fields of smoke, small strips of metal, heat decoys, noisemakers, and every other device known to humanity for blocking or confusing the sight and senses of any and all sensors and targeting devices.
“Go!” Drakon shouted. “Follow me!”
On the heels of the ancient exhortation, Drakon leaped to his feet, charging out the nearest gaping opening in the building and across the open area before the enemy base. On his display, he could see a mass of thousands of symbols doing the same, all suddenly in motion, all heading inward. Then he entered the chaff cloud, and all of the decoys and jammers and screens that blocked enemy sight and sensors also blocked his own. To either side and right behind, he could sense the movements of the soldiers closest to him, but his display could only show an estimate of what was happening, assuming the attack kept moving forward at the same rate.
It took a few seconds for the base to react to the sudden assault, then with a roar that filled the sky every defensive weapon opened up. Many of the defenders’ weapons fired blindly into the chaff-created murk, hoping for lucky shots. Others exploded into spheres of shrapnel that did not need guidance to find anything unfortunate enough to be too close and in their paths.
The attackers didn’t form a perfect square as they converged on the base, instead forming into four blunt angles whose points were centered on the enemy fortification. At the center of each point, leading the way, were Drakon and his three colonels.
Drakon didn’t feel anything as he charged except a sense of dislocation, as if he were somewhere else watching himself running full tilt toward the enemy’s fire. He saw the alerts on his display screaming of incoming fire that came close enough to be spotted through the chaff, he felt the force of nearby explosions and saw the track of shots passing very close by him, heard his breath rasping in and out, and it all felt unreal and a bit distant in time and space. How could it be real? Who in their right minds would be doing this?
As Drakon and the others leading the attack came through the final layers of chaff and out into the open near the base, a storm of defensive fire lashed at them. At the same time, their displays finally updated as the network between their battle armor automatically reestablished links. Markers sprang to life on the display, some of them almost immediately dimming to show soldiers who had been struck by the defenders’ fire.
An energy pulse hit Drakon on his lower abdomen, his armor’s outer surface ablating to absorb and dissipate the heat. A solid projectile clipped one of his shoulders, glancing off the armor and causing Drakon to stumble as he ran.
He saw one marker in particular flare to show a soldier had taken a solid hit, heard that soldier grunt with pain. Gaiene. He called up the window to show the view from Colonel Gaiene’s armor, saw that view tilted in a way that meant Gaiene was on one knee, wavering a bit, red damage markers flaring on his battle armor’s display. “Onward!” Gaiene yelled to his soldiers as they streamed past, his voice hoarse. “Take them, lads and ladies! Make me proud!”
The enemy sensors could spot comm nodes if they were close enough, and now they focused their fire on Gaiene, reducing the amount of shots aimed at the soldiers near him. The view from Gaiene’s suit rocked as another round hit him, more danger markers flashing as his helmet display flickered.
Gaiene gasped from the pain of his second injury, then started laughing, sweeping his rifle slowly from one side to the other, firing continuously at the enemy fortifications as his soldiers began reaching them. “That’s it! Onward! Onward!”
The view from Gaiene’s armor went blank.
Drakon, still running toward the enemy, saw that the symbol for Colonel Conner Gaiene on his display had gone out.
He was suddenly here again, completely here, charging for the point where an engineering team had placed a breaching charge, following the charge through the enemy defenses right on its heels so that the blast and his entry were almost one event. He saw defenders frantically turning toward him, defenders wearing Syndicate battle armor, and he knew Syndicate battle armor, he knew its every weakness and every flaw, and he killed six of the defenders without pausing or thinking, barely aware of anything except that lack of a symbol on his display where Conner Gaiene should have been.
But something clicked inside him as the surviving defenders at this spot raised their hands or huddled on the floor, their weapons cast aside. Drakon’s hands hurt from the pressure they were putting on his weapon, but he controlled them, he controlled himself. Because Conner Gaiene had not died so that Artur Drakon could massacre enemy soldiers who were trying to surrender, had not died so that Artur Drakon could forget his duties and his responsibilities to every other soldier in these two brigades.
He started directing the soldiers streaming into the breach behind him. Some to continue onward to roll up resistance inside the base. Others to take over the defenses and watch for the Syndicate soldiers who were surely pursuing them from the outside by now.
In the breaks between issuing orders he checked his display for updates, but it was full of gaps now, gaps created by the inability to get signals through the base and enemy jamming. But the gaps were shrinking rapidly, and he could see symbols marking his own units pouring through the base like water into a basin, scarcely pausing as they rolled over scattered resistance.
“General?”
“Yes, Colonel Malin.”
“I’m near the base command center. Those inside are offering to surrender.”
“Tell them they won’t be harmed as long as they turn over the command center intact.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another call, this time a woman speaking with mixed anger and grief. “General Drakon, this is Lieutenant Colonel Safir, acting commander of the Second Brigade. We have taken every enemy position except those already occupied by units of the Third Brigade. I am reinforcing defenses along the base perimeter.”
“Thank you,” Drakon said, trying to accept the fact that he would never speak with Conner Gaiene again. “You are field promoted to colonel and are assigned command of Second Brigade, on the specific recommendation of Colonel Gaiene.”
“I—Thank you, sir. I—Damn that man!”
“I know,” Drakon said. “But he died the way he wanted to. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”
“I will,” Safir vowed. “General, my troops have spotted movement at our old positions.”
The pursuit had taken longer than expected. The Syndicate division commander must have feared that Drakon’s attack was a feint, a trick to lure the outer perimeter of Syndicate soldiers into the open, and thus advanced cautiously.
Colonel Kai sounded a bit out of breath, but otherwise unruffled. “Chaff rounds are being fired opposite sector three,” he said.
&nbs
p; Malin, in the base command center, had done his usual wizardry with the Syndicate operating systems. New lights glowed on Drakon’s display as Malin’s work provided all of Drakon’s soldiers access to the base sensors, weapons systems, and plans. The sectors into which the base perimeter was divided were now references for Drakon’s ground forces just as they had formerly been for the enemy.
“Contact at sector five!”
“Medics are receiving fire!”
“Cover them!”
Drakon pulled up the right views to see the areas outside the base where his force’s medical personnel were still in the open, treating wounded from the attack where they lay and hauling inside those ready to move. Syndicate fire had begun reaching out from the buildings which Drakon’s own forces had recently abandoned, threatening the medics who worked with their usual stubborn tenacity at trying to save every injured soldier that they could. “Get some troops out there,” Drakon ordered. “Lay down heavy suppressive fire on the buildings to force the Syndicate soldiers to keep their heads down, and help bring in every casualty who is still outside the base.”
“General, the medics say some of the casualties can’t be moved—”
“Both medics and casualties will be moved!” Drakon said. “Anyone who doesn’t move will die out there. Get it done!”
“Attack under way at sector one! Require reinforcements!”
“Handle that,” Drakon ordered Safir. Despite the losses suffered in the assault, he still had twice as many soldiers as the understrength enemy brigade that had previously held this base. But he still had casualties being brought in, he had medics still working outside the base with total disregard for their own safety, and he had over a thousand prisoners inside the base to worry about, as well as the likelihood that snakes were hiding wherever they could within the base. “Malin, make sure the patrols looking for snakes inside the base check every possible hidy-hole.”
“Yes, sir,” Malin said, his voice rushed, some of the elation of an at least temporary victory uncharacteristically audible in his voice. “General, some of the surrendered soldiers are volunteering to assist in the search for snakes.”
The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword Page 21