Fortress Beta City (The Sleeping Legion Book 2)

by JR Handley

  They’re pulling back to their main element, thought Gabby. I can’t let that happen. Surprise is our salvation.

  “Dragoniers and Mini-Gunners, take point. Dragoniers, stay with the Mini-Gunners for support,” said Gabby. “Everyone else, activate assault cutters. Look at the dead Marines on the ground. Many of them were cut down by friendly fire. We won’t make that mistake again.”

  The SA-57 Dragon’s Breath Flamethrower wasn’t often pulled out of the armory, as military science had never overcome the drawbacks of flamethrower technology. They were heavy and cumbersome, with a limited range. This placed the Dragonier at greater risk as they had to get in close to be effective.

  When the Dragoniers were ready, their flamethrowers dripping fiery death, the company began to move. Wounded and dying Marines grabbed at ankles and begged for help as the assembled Marines delved deeper into the tunnels.

  “Medics, fall to the rear and attend to the injured. Everyone else, the best way to save the fallen is to push forward and clear these tunnels,” said Gabby.

  Finishing her sentence, the tunnel ahead lit up with orange flames and the rapid fire of Mini-Gunners. The screaming of burning Hardits joined the roar of the flamethrowers spewing fiery liquid. Hardits, bunched up in the tunnel and unable to retreat, ran straight into the Marines. Some managed to run past the flamethrowers, and were met by assault cutters.

  The tunnel filled with smoke. The occasional Hardit, bathed in fire, would run on all fours past the Dragoniers in panic. The Marines didn’t break formation. They simply reached out with their assault cutters and pierced anything foolish enough to run their direction.

  Remembering her new abilities as a company commander, Gabby tapped into one of the Dragonier’s video feeds so she could see what was happening beyond the smoke. The Dragonier she linked to was efficient and squeezed out short bursts of flame on groups of Hardits as he found them. The Hardits had bottlenecked. The retreating forced clawing their way overtop one another to escape the flames.

  The Mini-Gunner to the left of the Dragonier cut down any burning Hardit foolish enough to sprint toward them. Any round that missed, ricocheted down the walls of the polycrete tunnel and found more enemies. In a moment, a Hardit that was closing was cut in half by a hail of the Mini-Gunner’s sabots.

  This tactic is perfect in these narrow tunnels, thought Gabby. It’s slow, though. Who knows how many of these frakkers are down here. Plus, this is giving them time to retreat and pass information back. It’s only a matter of time before they organize and counterattack. We might run out of fuel and gunner sabots if this carries on too much longer.

  Out of the corner of her eye, well the helmet of the Marine she was seeing through, she saw one Dragonier rush ahead of the others. After the Dragonier sprayed a stream of liquid fire onto some fleeing Hardits, Gabby saw a grenade land by his feet.

  Gabby’s video feed cut off and the sound of multiple explosions ahead reverberated along the walls around them. She could almost feel the sound as it travelled. After the wave passed, the noise of yelping Hardits and screaming Marines took its place. Marching deeper into the smoke, the tunnel felt like it was closing on her. It took the group a few minutes to reach the source of the explosions.

  Signaling a halt, Gabby spoke over the LBNet.

  “Whatever is around this bend, stay in formation. Chances are we lost our Dragonier and Mini-Gunner support. While they fought with honor, their loss was due to them breaking formation. Stay together, stay alive.”

  Speaking her peace, Gabby signaled the advance. Rounding the corner, the extent of the devastation peeked at her through the smoke. Still flaming piles of fused Hardit bodies smoldered along the tunnel walls. Gabby couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that an entire enemy company was cooking around them.

  Those point Marines were lost. Animalistic shrieks and yelps, combined with the screaming of Marines, filled her ears. Her AI turned the volume down. Medics slammed autoinjectors into Marines. With body armor fused to flesh, Gabby doubted any amount of nanites would save them.

  The Marines of Kilo Company attended to the wounded Hardits. While some Marines applied assault cutters in a surgical manner, sabot injections were the preferred means of treatment. Two to the chest and one in the head had been an infantry mantra for so long it had become as iconoclastic as the religions of old. Today, the Marines carrying out that mantra were doing so in vengeance, rather than as a tactical consideration.

  While Marines dealt with the wounded, Gabby stared into the smoke ahead. Miles of tunnels still waited, and an unknown number of enemies organized against them.

  I hate tunnel patrols…

  — Chapter 84 —

  Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 22

  Tunnels Underneath Fortress Beta City, Serendine

  Commander, 7th New Order Janissary RGT, New Order Army

  Senior Scent Leader Talmadge was on the cusp of a full-blown panic. The Janissaries had encountered the enemy, but didn’t know where or how many there were. None of the units who’d fought the enemy had made it back to offer intelligence information. They simply vanished before they’d done more than report their initial contact. Pacing on all fours and lamenting the situation, Talmadge swallowed the bitterness and attempted contacting Brevet Sub-Commander Vendar for reinforcements.

  Once Talmadge got Vendar on the communications device, the Janissary explained the situation.

  “Brevet-Sub Commander, the nefnasts have altered the tunnels into a maze. Our maps are useless. I require more Janissaries to scout the miles of tunnels.”

  Vendar’s roar of disapproval almost caused Talmadge to drop the old comms device.

  “I don’t care for your excuses. How close are your Janissaries to penetrating the fortress?”

  Talmadge chose what to say next, carefully.

  “I… I am unsure, Brevet Sub-Commander. The 7th Regiment has disappeared, and the comms wire could have been cut for all I know. We are spread too thin to explore these tunnels–”

  Static, angry howling, and curses cut Talmadge off. The Janissary could hear Vendar breathing into the comms device as the Brevet Sub-Commander shouted.

  “One battalion! You get one battalion. Fail again, and I skin you alive while your Janissaries watch.”

  At that harsh admonition, Vendar cut the communication and Talmadge was on his own.

  — Chapter 85 —

  Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 22

  Tunnels Underneath Fortress Beta City, Serendine

  Fury Co., 15th BN, 88th RGT, 22nd DIV, 6th Army, 2nd Army Group, Akoni City Regional Army, Human Legion

  Even after fifteen years of service in the Human Marine Corps, serving the White Knights, First Sergeant Craig Tibbs never got used to pushing his body so hard on so little sleep. As a cadet, they told him it’d get easier. Now, he knew that was a lie. A pleasant falsehood used to shelter the young and impressionable from the harsh realities of their lot in the universe. Life was hard, nasty, and tiring. If you were lucky, you got to be remembered for dying well – the only retirement available to a true Marine.

  After shaking the fog out of his head, trying not to let his sleep-deprived crankiness hurt his Marines, Craig went back to checking on his company. Walking the miles of interconnected tunnels had grown tedious. The sighting of a frantic group of Aux stragglers prompted Craig’s CO to request his presence.

  Craig ran to break the monotony. It was strange receiving orders from human officers. But if that was the new normal, he would try to adapt. It wasn’t an easy thing for an old Marine to do.

  When Craig got to the gaggle of Aux, he was surprised to see they weren’t the kind he was used to dealing with. These weren’t broken slaves. The Aux looked more like warriors running from a lost field, eager to heal and rest that they might fight for vengeance later.

  Knowing this was going to take a while, and their current position was defensible, he ordered a tactical halt. He was shocked that the Aux were identifying themselves
as members of 3rd Battalion, 1st Aux Regiment. It was also startling to see Auxies with weapons and wearing combat armor.

  Shaking his head, trying to physically clear the mental fog, Craig’s AI repeatedly reminded him that things had changed. The exhausted and battle-worn Auxies fell to their butts as medics attending to their wounds. While they were being patched up, one Aux explained what had happened. One of them had a functioning helmet, and linked video from the event into Craig’s helmet reticle.

  Craig half-listened to the Aux speak while he watched the video. It showed a wounded Aux charging a tree line with assault cutters. He stabbed through a tree to kill a Hardit then began slaughtering the beasts in hand-to-hand combat. The Aux’s name was Barin Vyas, and according to the survivors, his action allowed them the time to get into the tunnels. Still watching Vyas killing Hardits, Craig jumped when one of the Aux grabbed his arm.

  “First Sergeant, it was crazy. Vyas was like some god of destruction. He fought like he was ten men, more even. We have to find his body when this is over – we have to!”

  Only after Craig promised to recover the body, so the warrior might receive a Marine burial, would the Aux let go. Craig instructed his AI to make a note of this event and flag the video. He then ordered his Marines to spare some of their rations for the Auxies.

  When everyone looked as rested as could be expected, Craig ordered a fire team to escort the Auxies back to the rear staging point where they would be debriefed. The Auxies thanked him for the food, and for agreeing to recover Barin’s body. With that, they disappeared down the tunnel.

  After a quick shot of adrenaline from his nanites, Craig and his Marines were ready to go. The video of Barin Vyas made its way around to the Marines as they stalked the tunnels. Formations tightened, eyes became more sharp, and idle chatter stopped. The Auxies had just shown them the Hardit threat was real.

  — Chapter 86 —

  Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 22

  Outside of Fortress Beta City, Serendine

  1st BN, 18th GravTank RGT, New Order Army

  Life for the 18th GravTank Regiment had gone downhill since they hit the minefield. Forward progress had been slowed significantly and their numbers were devastated. Between Drakos, nefnasts in the trenches, and marksmen on the walls targeting mines, Kytrush was happy to still be breathing and in command.

  The distance to clear mines had been pushed out to prevent the humans on the walls from targeting buried surprises near the gravtanks. Occasionally, Kytrush would blast away at the ground in front of them with the main cannon of the gravtank. Clusters of mines would toss fire and shrapnel into the sky.

  This strategy was effective, but Kytrush had nearly exhausted the gravtanks ammunition stores. The Janissary knew the walls were almost in range, and the polycrete fortification would require more than one shot to breach. Kytrush continuously evaluated distance and trajectory while the militia bumbled around in the minefield.

  The Janissaries on foot were forced to hunker down behind the gravtanks or in cleared trenches to avoid the fortress marksmen. Kytrush couldn’t understand why the nefnasts didn’t target the exposed militia.

  Perhaps even nefnasts know the militia are worthless and won’t waste their sabots on them? thought Kytrush.

  Adding to the Janissary’s confusion, the militia crew members had started to act differently. The militia stood closer together, whispered sentences that ended when officers walked by, and seemed especially chatty with the crews to their left and right flanks.

  Kytrush expected the militia was planning on fleeing. Preparing for this outcome, the Janissary sent a warning up the chain of command. Instead of follow on orders, or even an acknowledgement, Kytrush received only static. Peering out of the gravtank window, the Janissary watched as militia scum turned from the minefields. They weren’t fleeing. Instead, they began to scale the sides of the gravtanks.

  Mutiny, thought Kytrush.

  Kytrush knew it was now or never. The Janissary diverted all controls to the panel in front of the commander’s chair. After entering the predesignated target sequence, the one Kytrush believed would be most effective, the gravtank turret pivoted and fired three times.

  Peering through the gravtank scope, Kytrush saw all three rounds had impacted at the same location at the base of the walls. Smoke prevented the Janissary from viewing the extent of the damage.

  Without militia to reload the cannon after the volley, Kytrush knew the time for self-preservation was at hand. The Janissary locked down the weapons terminal and nav controls of the gravtank. The hulking machine would be inoperable without a Janissary handprint. Kytrush’s long tail gripped a pistol and aimed it at the hatch leading into the commander’s station. With a miner knife in hand, the Janissary braced for combat.

  The crew clambered back into the tank, and Kytrush heard muffled whispers. Growling, the Janissary prepared for hand-to-hand combat. Kytrush’s tail-held pistol blasted the first tanker who rounded the corner in the snout.

  “Good luck taking this commander’s chair without weapons, you militia scum. You will be slaughtered for this, and I will be sure to slaughter your entire packs for this betrayal!” growled Kytrush.

  The dead Hardit was pulled from the doorway. In a flash, his dead body was moving toward Kytrush. The cowards screamed something about righteous freedom as they used the corpse as a sabot sponge. Blasting futility at the Hardit shield, Kytrush was smashed into the commander’s chair by the blood-soaked corpse. The Janissary struggled as clawed fingers ripped weapons away. The Janissary howled in pain as perfectly formed hands, feet, and tail were cut away by the militia filth.

  With an efficiency the crew had never shown in training, they pulled Kytrush from the chair and tossed the Janissary into the munitions storage area. While Kytrush lay bleeding, the gravtank roared to life. Fading into oblivion, the Janissary heard the crew talking about rendezvousing with the pilots from the 75th Vengeance Air Wing.

  — Chapter 87 —

  Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 22

  Fortress Beta City, Serendine

  Baton Co., 5th BN, 70th RGT, 18th DIV, 5th Army, 2nd Army Group, Akoni City Regional Army, Human Legion

  The newly promoted Lieutenant Carleton Strabane watched another group of the New Order military retreat. One of the gravtanks had blasted away at the walls beneath where Carleton and his Marines stood. From his vantage point on the walls, it was clear to him there was some sort of division among the New Order.

  Carleton had received orders for Marines to not fire on the forward most Hardits clearing the mines. At the time, he thought this was an oversight, but watching those beasts turn on their own gravtanks made him realize there was much he didn’t know. After flagging the video of the event, Carleton attached his summary to the data packet and sent it up his chain of command.

  Satisfied that he’d done his duty, he went back to contemplating his new promotion. Despite the rise in rank, he was still serving as the CO’s aide. He liked the job. It was comfortable, predictable, and there was no risk of failure. This lieutenancy was another matter altogether. For the first time, he would need to issue orders and make decisions.

  The roar of gravtanks firing pulled his eyes to the horizon. Not only were the gravtanks running, they were shooting at each other. The battle was intense, as gravtanks slugged it out.

  When the Hardit interpersonal tank battle slowed, Carleton noticed about eight gravtank companies charging off the field, while the remainder smoldered. From the walls, the Marines cheered like it was the Scendence all over again. Carleton wasn’t sure, but watching the gravtanks retreat, he suspected that the battle for the fortress was over and victory was assured.

  While watching the retreating gravtanks, Carleton noted that the crews were still disciplined enough to ensure that they fell back through the paths they’d cleared through the minefields. Many crews were tossing a single corpse over the side of their gravtanks, which he figured was likely the gravtank commanders. />
  Putting the binoculars down, Carleton observed a Marine sighting in a shoulder-fired missile launcher. It was trained on a retreating gravtank.

  “Stand down!” said Carleton over the comms line as he ran toward the Marine. “We were ordered to not fire on retreating forces!”

  The Marine continued to manipulate the sights when Carleton reached him and smacked the weapon from his hands. The force of the strike knocked the anti-gravtank missile launcher loose, and the weapon tumbled down the side of the fortress wall. Carleton and the Marine both watched the launcher fall into the smoke below.

  It’d have to wait for now. No one was going to authorize them to retrieve it from the other side of the wall. Carleton noted the Marine’s name, flagged the video, and sent an official report up the chain of command. He urged leniency, not being entirely sure if the Marine had intended to fire or not. After all, as a leader, Carleton needed to be respected while enforcing discipline.

  — Chapter 88 —

  Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 22

  Outside of Fortress Beta City, Serendine

  3rd Co., 1st BN, 8th New Order Janissary RGT, New Order Army

  Subaltern Mavor Alat-Batu was your typical junior officer in the New Order: idealistic, ambitious, and dedicated to the cause. When the time had come to become a Janissary, she’d jumped at the chance, despite the risk involved. She despised the idea she would always look like a female, despite being neutered, but was still happy to have free thought and physical size. As she contemplated free will, she saw the tankers turn and flee from the battlefield.

  Mavor’s rage boiled to the surface as the gravtanks ran. They had abandoned their scent. Grabbing her carbine, she joined the loyal Janissaries of 3rd Company in sending rounds at the fleeing cowards. As she engaged, she roared the battle cry.