by PP Corcoran
“So Analisa, are we ready?”
With a quick scan of her tactical repeater, she gave him her most dazzling of smiles. “Ready in all respects, Admiral.”
Stephano’s face settled into the sort of look that an elderly uncle would give his wayward niece. “How many times do I have to remind you, Analisa, that in private I’d really prefer you to call me Stephano?”
Analisa pursed her lips and gave a small shrug. “I’m sorry, Admiral it just seems… disrespectful.”
Stephano wagged a large forefinger at her. “Well Analisa, I’ll make a deal with you. When we get back from this I’ll take you to my house on the slopes of the Apennine Mountains and get my wife to make you some of her famous Fettuccine Alfredo. But on one condition…” Stephano’s finger pointed directly at her as if it rode a laser beam. “You call me Stephano from now on.”
Analisa had to use her hand to mask her laugh. “It’s a deal Admiral… Stephano.”
A short klaxon sounded throughout the Furious, warning all hands that the move to fold space was imminent. There must have been a similar sound aboard the Dark Horse as Stephano glanced away for a moment before returning his attention to Analisa.
“Time to go, Analisa. Good luck.”
“Good luck to you too, Stephano.”
#
TDF CHROMITE – EARTH ORBIT – SOL SYSTEM
Brigadier General Dong Pak watched BatFor 5.1 and 5.2 disappear into fold space from his seat in the Operations Room aboard the TDF Chromite and sent a small prayer to his ancestors to keep the crews safe as they went into harm’s way. Pak commanded the First Marine Expeditionary Brigade that was the ground element of Operation Lightning Strike.
He was responsible for the 14,500 marines and sailors dispersed into a Command Element (CE) incorporating his communications, intelligence, military police, naval gunfire support, and force reconnaissance units. Then came the Ground Combat Element (GCE) of three reinforced infantry battalions complete with integral armor, anti-air, artillery, and support elements. The Aviation Combat Element (ACE) was his primary means of getting from orbit onto the surface of a planet with their thirty-five Reapers for close support. Seventy Buffalos to ferry his troops and thirty-five Gigants were needed to move their heavy equipment. Last but not least, his Logistics Combat Element (LCE), heavy engineering, medical, transport, and the thousand and one other things needed to keep a force the size of the First MEB operating. And just to add a little more complexity to it all the entire force was spread over seven Excalibur class assault ships. One may as well have been trying to herd a swarm of bees as try to bring all the different elements of his command together, but with a marine’s stoic endurance, he’d cajoled and sometimes downright threatened some with physical violence to get his command ready for this operation in the limited time available. And they had done it.
Pak initiated a link and in his holo cube the faces of his battalion commanders and the commander of the ACE and LCE appeared.
“Marines. The naval big guns have departed for 70 Ophiuchi and if things go according to plan and Murphy keeps his nose out, I fully expect to give the order for First Marine to fold in around one hour’s time. Colonel Mills.”
In the holo cube, the still features of Colonel Karen Mills looked steadily back at him through ice-blue eyes.
“By the time we arrive in orbit, I want the marines of the first drop loaded in the shuttles and ready to go. The first drop will be going in blind but you’ll have every Reaper on call to support you. When initial contact with the enemy is made, the navy will move ships into position to support you with gunfire. You just keep calling the targets and the navy will hit them from orbit with kinetic energy weapons. It’s imperative that you prioritize air defense sites. You and your marines will approach on the surface, but I intend to drop the follow-on waves right onto the enemy’s heads.”
Pak took one more look at his commanders. “OK. Let’s get this thing done. Colonel Mills, if you could remain a moment.”
As the link to the other marines was terminated, Pak allowed a small frown to furrow his brow. “Sorry to give you the job of first through the door Karen, but you’re the most experienced battalion commander I have and your fitness reports put the others in the shade. R-and-D promised us something special to give us a closer look at the base before you arrived, but the tech weenies failed to produce so what’s waiting for you? I have no idea. I need marines I can rely on to get down and force the door for the rest of us.”
Karen Mills said nothing for a heartbeat then a brilliant white smile split her face. “Force the door, sir? I intend to kick it in around their ears before they know I’m there and then kick their ass up around their ears too!”
Karen’s smile was infectious and Pak felt the muscles either side of his mouth twitch. Shaking his head slowly, he regarded the still smiling Karen. “Semper Fi Colonel.”
“Oo-rah sir.”
Pak terminated the link.
#
70 OPHIUCHI – 16.59 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
TDF Furious rocked as another multi-megaton warhead exploded a few tens of kilometers off the port bow. The restraints of Analisa’s seat held her in place and she rode the bucking battleship as smoothly as any rodeo rider. Her tactical repeater showed another swarm of enemy missiles closing on BatFor 5.2 and the list of damaged ships continued to grow.
“How are those repairs coming on?”
“Damage control reports that the control lines to the forward laser turrets are completely fried. Estimated time before they have a working bypass is eleven minutes, Admiral.”
Eleven minutes. Crap! BatFor 5.2 would be lucky to make it another five minutes, never mind eleven. “Order the Agis destroyers to screen…” Analisa briefly checked the tactical repeater again. “One-eight-seven mark twenty-four. That should put them between us and Force Alfa. How long before we get good targeting locks on Force Bravo?”
“Admiral Ricco has ordered the Lissa to fold to within 250,000 kilometers of the space station and supply targeting data. Our missiles are in the tubes and ready to fire on receipt of the targeting package.”
The icon for the Vulcan class heavy cruiser Port Huron began blinking an attention-grabbing red in the holo cube before winking out of existence. Analisa gripped the arms of her seat and cursed the god Murphy. BatFor 5.1 and 5.2 had dropped out of fold space less than one million kilometers from the enemy space station, and its group of accompanying ships, in orbit around 70 Ophiuchi. Designated Force Alfa. Admiral Ricco’s plan had been to hold the fleet outside the reach of the enemy’s missile and energy weapons envelopes and bombard them with Gravity Drive (GD) missiles. Unfortunately, Murphy interfered. As the human ships exited fold space they found that an enemy battle group of three Buzzard class battleships and a single Goshawk anti-missile ship, were virtually directly behind them at a range of only 360,000 kilometers. There’d only been time for the light cruiser TDF Yakaze to get a single, pitiful warning off before she was reduced to atoms by the impact of multiple nuclear-tipped missiles. Every threat receiver in the fleet had begun screaming for attention. Three more human ships had taken damage to their drive systems before they were able to maneuver sufficiently for their main armament to come into play and lash the enemy with missile and grazer fire.
Any element of surprise evaporated with the first missile launch from this unexpected group of enemy ships, Force Bravo. Analisa’s brain went into overdrive as she forced herself to examine the radically changed situation while the battle raged on around her. The damaged ships couldn’t reenter fold space and escape, consequently, the fleet didn’t have the option of abandoning the operation and returning home with its proverbial tail between its legs. Destroying the space station was still the priority.
The fleet now faced twice as many enemy ships as was expected but the balance of force still remained with them, despite their casualties. Coldly and clinically, she put her plan together and forwarded it to Stephano for approval. Stephano neve
r got it.
A cry from tactical and Analisa’s head snapped back to the tactical holo cube in time to see the Dark Horse, Stephano Ricco, and its crew of 950 men and women die as the combined fire of the three Buzzards blew through her battle armor. The Dark Horse and her crew became nothing more than expanding plasma. Analisa inherited command of the embattled human fleet.
“Communications. Resend my amended ops plan to the fleet and tell me when all ships have acknowledged. Has the Lissa folded?”
Hands flew over controls as Analisa’s orders were transmitted to the fleet.
“Lissa is away and fleet acknowledges your orders. All ships report ready to maneuver on your command. Agis destroyers moving to screen our casualties but the rate of enemy fire is swamping their command and control.”
Analisa cleared all emotion from her voice. People were going to die following her but it was a price that had to be paid. “Fleet order. Execute! Execute!”
The professionalism that five weeks of regimented training drilled into the fleet now paid dividends. As one, BatFor 5.1 and 5.2 swung about unmasking the evil-looking snouts of their main grazers. Fire control computers blinked from red to green. On five battle ships, eighteen heavy cruisers, and twenty-one light cruisers fingers pressed down on firing studs. The vengeance of the fleet descended on their enemy in the form of grazer and plasma fire. Armor resisted the initial onslaught but soon crumpled under its irresistible weight. Force Bravo ceased to exist, except as pieces of wreckage spinning off into the depths of the universe.
The flag bridge seemed deathly still as people took stock of the sudden and violent struggle that had almost overwhelmed them. Analisa took a deep breath and mentally shook herself. Their mission was incomplete.
“Tactical. Have we received the targeting data from Lissa?”
“The targeting package is uploading from the drone now. All targets are verified and Lissa is standing by to send any required corrections on GD missile emergence from fold space.”
A bared-teeth, carnivorous smile spread across Analisa’s face. “Push the package to the fleet and fire when ready.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am… fleet acknowledges receipt of the targeting package… missiles away.” 875 nuclear tipped, gravity drive missiles left their launch tubes and accelerated away, entering fold space a few seconds later only to reenter normal space a fraction of a second later, where they received some minor course corrections from the waiting Lissa before reentering fold space and almost immediately returning to normal space less than ten kilometers from their intended targets.
Nothing made of blood and bone could react in time to fire on the speeding missiles but the onboard computers of the hovering enemy ships and the space station tried. Laser emplacements were still swiveling to face the threat when the first missiles impacted their targets, ripping them to pieces.
Analisa leaned closer into her holo cube, as if she could will the missiles onto their targets. Without taking her eyes from the display, she called out to her tactical officer. “Ready a second strike and launch when ready. I want those ships and that space station to be nothing but cosmic dust.”
Anticipating such an order, crews throughout the fleet had rushed to reload the launch tubes after the first barrage of missiles. The second wave was already in the tubes when they received the order to reload.
“Fleet reports ready… missiles away.”
The Lissa was a quarter of a million kilometers from the target area but still her crew were forced to dim the viewers, their sensors went off-line momentarily, as the space around the Others’ one-time massive orbital construction, and its protective starships, became a scene from hell’s own cauldron. Tens, then hundreds, then thousands of nuclear detonations brought the heat of a star’s core down on them. When, once again, Lissa’s sensor suites came back online, there was no trace of the enemy ships or the orbiting base that was to have been their new home.
On the Furious, Analisa turned to her waiting bridge crew as she felt the cold anger slowly release her from its vengeful grip. “Communications! Launch a courier drone and inform Brigadier Pak that he may enter 70 Ophiuchi space unopposed and begin his assault as planned.”
#
SURFACE OF 70 OPHIUCHI
The constant bouncing of the assault shuttle, as its terrain following radar maintained it at just ten meters off 70 Ophiuchi’s surface at a touch below Mach one shook the fillings in the teeth of Karen Mills. Whatever you wanted to call it, Karen just hoped that the pilots were not totally relying on the computers to fly this bucket of bolts. The idea of running into the ground, or into any of the rocky outcroppings that flashed past the speeding Buffalo, really wouldn’t make her day.
“One minute to the Landing Zone, Colonel. Reapers have completed a fly past. There are no signs of enemy activity,” called her pilot.
Well, it looks like we got in clean! Thought Karen. The LZ was located some 20 kilometers from the Others’ base. Distant enough that it should be over the radar horizon, limiting the chances of the enemy detecting the approaching shuttles whose map-of-the-earth flying would have kept them hidden amongst the ground clutter. It didn’t appear that the enemy had deployed any form of over-the-horizon radar, at least none that the Reapers sniffed out.
A deep bass tone sounded in Karen’s helmet. Thirty-second warning, she thought, arrival at the LZ was imminent. She stood and turned to face the front of the shuttle as the Load Master activated a switch opening the troop doors on either side of the shuttle. Karen got a brief glimpse of sandy-colored terrain flashing by before the view disappeared in a cloud of dust as the pilots braked sharply. With a noticeable bounce, the Buffalo was down.
“Go! Go! Go!” The screaming of the Load Master in her ear was all the incentive needed as she and the other twenty marines piled out through the troop doors. Karen ran ten paces then went down on one knee, rifle up and scanned for targets. Behind her the Buffalo’s engines screamed as it dragged itself back into the air, the pilots pivoted it ninety degrees in place and applied the power clearing the LZ for the Gigants, which were only sixty seconds behind.
Satisfied that nothing was about to pop out of the ground and take a shot at her, Karen lowered her rifle slightly and took a quick look around. The LZ swarmed with the marines of the 24th Marine Battalion. Officers and NCOs ran around urging the marines into firing positions. A small blinking blue diamond in the heads-up display of her Wraith combat suit showed the location of the follow-on wave of Gigant heavy lift shuttles, carrying her heavy weapons as they followed the same route in that the Buffalos had used. Each Gigant had its own dedicated Reaper as escort. Once the Gigant delivered its payload, its Reaper escort would peel off and join the flights of other Reapers providing top cover for the marines.
Just then, a flight of three Reapers flew low over the landing zone, their thin bodies, swept wings, and double rear-vertical stabilizers were a reassuring sight. But not as much as the HVMs that hung under each wing or the snouts of rapid-fire plasma cannon that ran along the side of the pilots’ canopy.
Karen continued to scan the landing zone with a professional eye as the double tone of an incoming call sounded in her helmet. “Go for Mills.”
“Colonel.” It was Major Louis Mesnard, her Executive Officer. “The company commanders tell me that each company is down intact and have taken up defensive positions around the LZ awaiting the Gigants.”
“OK, let’s get the scouts out and troops loaded up on the Kangas when they arrive. Scorpions are to take flanking positions and I want the Rattlers ready to give supporting fire at the drop of a hat.”
“Roger that. What about the navy?”
“General Pak has assured me they’ll be there if we need them.”
Louis let out a small chuckle. “Marines lead the way.”
The arrival of the first Gigant cut short any reply. As the Gigant swept in, its rear clamshell cargo bay doors were already opening. The Gigant had barely come to a stop as the first of the Kanga A
rmored Fighting Vehicles disembarked. The lethal-looking rapid-fire plasma cannon, mounted in the small turret, was searching for targets as the driver steadied it on its hover motors before heading in the direction of Alfa Company. Each Kanga could hold a complete section of Wraith-suited marines and its armor was resistant to small-arms fire and some heavier lasers. Its rapid-fire plasma cannon meant that it could deliver its marine cargo right on top of a well-defended enemy position while providing its own fire support. As Karen looked on, a second, then a third Kanga exited from the Gigant and made their way over to Alfa Company. Another Gigant began to disgorge the scouts Scorpion Armored Reconnaissance Vehicles. Smaller than the Kangas, the Scorpion was designed to observe rather than fight. The Scorpion carried a varied sensor package, which would allow her scouts to hopefully spot the enemy well before they located Karen’s marines. To aid them in that task, each Scorpion incorporated a Chameleon unit. A bigger version of the same technology used in the Wraith combat suits the Chameleon unit was designed to avoid electronic and optical devices allowing the Scorpions to approach extremely close to an enemy position without detection.
The last of the Gigants touched down and Karen’s heaviest firepower arrived: The Rattler Main Battle Tank. The Rattler was so massive that even the giant Gigant could only carry one per trip, but Karen was willing to accept the payoff between bringing more, lighter equipment versus one piece of heavier hardware. The Rattler carried a five- centimeter grazer that could blow a hole in anything that got within range. Added to that was a pair of electromagnetic rail guns mounted on either side of the heavily armored turret. Each rail gun could send a stream of two tungsten alloy rounds towards a target at Mach 7. With a 360-degree arc of fire, any airborne or surface threat would meet a very rapid end if it came into the sightline of a Rattler. Karen may only have two platoons of them, but six Rattlers should be enough for the job.