The armored personal carrier moved with the rest of them, its pads thudding with each step, hence the name. Inside each Stomper, the troops in their heavy battle armor prepared themselves mentally for the jump boot—aided leap and descent into the battle to come. The fight to take the planet from the Bleeve was on.
* * *
Specialty Platoon
Lake Groon
Mayshire heard the command to prep the battlefield. She could imagine the sound of all twelve cannons going off. “That’s our cue,” she said over the link to all of the Bolts’ mech pilots. “It’s time to dry off. It’s close to darkness up there, but not quite. Still, I want to keep our presence unknown as long as we can, so nobody jump out of the lake and give us away with the glow of your rockets. Just stroll on up the beach like we’re on holiday.”
The tops of several mechs eased out of the water. The pilots scanned quickly using several cameras, both normal and infrared. They continued walking toward shore. Behind them others followed, more and more of the huge war machines becoming exposed with every step.
Once they were all assembled and accounted for, they formed up with their squad leaders, and broke into a loping run. Undetected for the time being, they’d be close enough to fire railguns in minutes. By the time they were among the enemy, the artillery barrage would be finished.
* * *
Bleeve Camp
Anti-Air Unit 6
The Bleeve lieutenant looked up and tilted his head. He thought he heard muffled explosions in the distance, and when he looked up at the sensor screen for the anti-air laser he was assigned to, he couldn’t see anything showing. They’d been set to detect fighters, so the noise couldn’t have been that. He decided it was thunder. It rained all the time on this damp world. Besides, the other battalions were under eminent attack warning, not them.
Seconds later he heard the whistle of incoming rounds and knew it was too late. One of the rounds landed yards away. He wasn’t alive long enough to register the fact. Pieces of shrapnel tore through him and the screen in front of him, and his body was thrown with the concussion. All around his lifeless body, chaos rained down.
* * *
Bleeve Camp
Headquarters Combined Battalions
In the Command Center, the commander for the combined battalions grabbed the slate from the private and shouted to the general, “Sir, we are under attack! They are coming from all sides! Artillery, armor, large mechs. Sir, we are in danger of being overrun. What are your orders?”
“Calm down and fight,” demanded the general. His expression was grim. “Hold your ground. Do you have an estimated number?”
“No, sir,” answered the visibly shaken lieutenant colonel. “Sir, they came out of the lake.”
“The lake!” shouted General Fellgothah. “What are you still doing there? I ordered your unit to move out into the plain so you could see all avenues of approach and utilize the anti-air batteries.”
“Sir, I…sir, I never received those orders,” said the confused officer. “I can’t get air support on the comms; can you send them?”
“You did not?” Fellgothah asked as he rose up on his back six legs. “Tell me, why did your anti-air batteries not attempt to shoot the artillery rounds from the sky?”
“We set them to detect something as small as a fighter, per our orders,” answered the shaken officer.
“I did not specifically say fighters and above,” shouted General Fellgothah. “What idiot would order them taken off the standard settings? Never mind.”
Resigned, General Fellgothah said, “I cannot get you air support. Look, I know it is bad. You have to hold out. Your entire brigade is under attack, and I cannot get support to you. We do not own the skies yet. Do your best.”
* * *
Battlefield
The battle lasted through the night. It wasn’t without Bolt casualties. The Bleeve tank’s main gun was a large laser. It couldn’t fire as fast as the Bolts’ tanks, but it was powerful, and cut armor with every hit. They also had the advantage of prepared positions. Half the Bolts’ tanks were destroyed beyond repair.
Some of the Bleeve had managed to get to their eight-legged mechs and put up a good fight. They also used a heavy laser mounted on top as their main weapon, and several mechs had been destroyed. Many more were damaged, and the Maintenance Platoon was working hard to fix the ones they could.
The artillery fared better, having been able to move before the Bleeve artillery positions could send rounds back their way. Each gun used sixteen rounds to prep the battlefield. Right now that wasn’t a concern, but as they were used, they couldn’t be replaced without proper supplies.
All in all, the Bolts had thirty-six members killed in action, fully ten percent of their number. Handfuls more were wounded. There were three more full brigades of Bleeve on the planet. It wasn’t going to be easy.
Nate removed his helmet and took a deep breath. He was glad to breathe fresh air, even if it smelled a little different from back home on Salvage. He looked around at the wounded being tended by the medics. Several were in the tent undergoing surgery. He was glad to have the two doctors who’d volunteered to come with them. They’d held back with the artillery until needed. They and some of their medical technicians had come from two of the ships in orbit with their troop transport.
It’s probably a good idea to look into some permanent medical specialists in the Bolts, he thought.
“Hey, Top,” he said. “What do you think about getting some actual doctors in our unit?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the first sergeant said. “Not everybody can do what we do.”
“You’re right,” agreed Nate.
“Hey, sir,” Corporal Zarmlon said as she tried to get her mohawk to stand up after wearing her helmet for so long, “why don’t you send a couple of our medics to school for certification? Like an Officer’s Training Course or something, only for medical stuff. They can be warrant officers. We’ll already know them. Who best to work on us than a brother or sister Bolt?”
Nate looked over at Top and grinned. “She’s a keeper.”
The first sergeant stood up and looked down at both of them. “Just don’t ruin her by sending her to an Officer’s Course,” he said before walking off. He looked back and said, “And don’t field promote her to officer, either. I need to keep all my good troops.”
Mayshire walked over. She wasn’t wearing armor like they were; she was still in her pilot’s suit.
“Hey, ma’am,” Zarmlon said. “Where’s your mech?”
“Getting repaired,” the lieutenant said. “One of those lasers on their mechs burned through a knee joint, and it fried the servo motor connecting the leg to the torso, too. I fell right over and had to fire prone position the rest of the fight.”
“That would suck,” volunteered the corporal.
“It did,” confirmed Mayshire.
“Did you get the prisoner situation taken care of?” Nate asked.
“I did,” Mayshire answered. “The locals are helping out. They won’t fight, but they don’t have a problem keeping three hundred prisoners locked up. Preventing others from causing harm without having to resort to violence themselves, or something like that. Anyway, they were happy to help.”
“They sure didn’t mind when we went into the city and cleared out the Bleeve holed up there,” Zarmlon said. “We didn’t show any mercy to those baby snatchers, either. They tried to claim some kind of political status and said they weren’t in the military. Top said they were murderers, so it didn’t matter. They’re all in jail.”
“Well, at least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.” Nate sighed in relief. “By the way, I spoke with Colonel Arthok.”
“You did?” Mayshire asked. “How did the Ground Forces make out?”
“They took out the other two battalions,” Nate confirmed. “It took them a lot longer than it did us, and they lost five times the number we did.”
“Five times!” exclaimed
Mayshire. “That’s tough.”
“Yeah,” Nate agreed. “Almost a hundred and fifty of them. The Bleeve were embedded pretty good. The Ground Forces used up a lot more artillery rounds than we did, or it would have been worse.”
“They didn’t have the benefit of the terrain we dealt with,” Mayshire said.
“Or a hundred mechs sneaking up behind them,” added Zarmlon.
“Fighting for every foot of ground against a dug-in enemy didn’t help either,” Nate said.
“When do we move out?” asked Mayshire.
“I’m giving the docs a chance to do their thing,” Nate said, standing up. “The Maintenance Platoon, too. We can’t wait too long. When the Ground Force moves out, we need to be moving, too. The plan is for us to hit the next brigade together. Recon has already let us know the last two brigades are on the move to meet up and combine forces.”
“Great,” Mayshire said. “If we thought fighting a couple of battalions was tough, what will fighting a couple of brigades be like?”
“A nightmare, Dee,” Nate said as he bent down and picked up his helmet. “It’ll be a nightmare.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
Skitter Forces Headquarters
“Take him away,” ordered General Fellgothah.
Four armed Bleeve attempted to drag the struggling offender away. Finally one of the larger soldiers struck him in the head with the butt of his laser rifle, and they dragged the limp prisoner away, all eight legs trailing behind him.
“Major Skatah,” Fellgothah said, “you have just been promoted to lieutenant colonel. You are now my executive officer.”
“Yes, sir,” the intelligence officer said, looking around for witnesses. He knew the word would spread quickly. It didn’t matter; after the Skitter Forces heard of Colonel Klayrah’s fate, there would be no issue with his unusual promotion.
“That idiot cost us a brigade,” the general said, “wasting lives and equipment. Not to mention showing the locals that we can be beaten. Do you realize there are Bleeve in Nazrooth prisons as we speak? Prisons!”
“Yes, sir,” Skatah answered. “It is an outrage. Once we defeat the enemy, those locals will be dealt with, I can assure you.”
“Good,” Fellgothah said, “that is what I want to hear. Still, I guess I should be pleased. These soldiers from Salvage System took prisoners and did not execute them all on the spot.”
“I can see that line of reasoning, sir,” Skatah said.
“I may consider returning the favor when our combined brigades meet them again in battle,” General Fellgothah said. “Unless the queen decides otherwise,” he added.
“Glory to the queen,” Major Skatah said, unprompted.
“Precisely,” Fellgothah said. “Glory to the queen. Find out how many of our fighters survived the last couple of days. I want air support for the next battle. I intend it to be the last.”
“Yes, sir,” Skatah said. “My specialists are working on it now. Communication with the airfields has not been easy since this started, but we are trying.”
“Good,” General Fellgothah said. “I am working on a plan. There is nothing we can do to stop the attack on Third Brigade. It is coming. The enemy has no choice but to continue. When that happens, we lose control of half the population.
“If the locals were the type to take up arms, it would mean the end of us, but the Nazrooth will not fight. On the other pincer, because of that, we cannot round up hundreds of them and threaten the rest with retaliation if they do not work with us to rid these Salvage soldiers from the planet.
“What I am thinking? Use the same tactic Admiral Gorligthah is using. Wear them down and dwindle their ammunition stores. Even their mechs will run out of those kinetic rounds eventually. Their fleet is all but destroyed. They cannot get a resupply.”
“A series of skirmishes,” Skatah said. “Yes, I agree, sir. A prolonged war will wear them down. We have the numbers, and we have more resources to draw from. We have several ammo depots, and they have none.”
“We will wear them down and attack with First and Second Brigade when the time is right,” decided General Fellgothah. “I hate to sacrifice Third Brigade. Perhaps we will be surprised and Third Brigade will prevail. If not, that battle will surely deplete their ammo and equipment faster, making it easier in the final battle.”
* * *
Transport Shuttle 4
“Roger, we’re coming in hot,” Lieutenant Sharvleek said over the comms. “We’re loaded down with small arms ammunition, the rest of the artillery and tank rounds, fuel bladders, and medical supplies. Three birds are right behind us. We have a crew of volunteers from the mother ship with us to unload them.”
“Give Captain Rothan my thanks,” Colonel Arthok said, his voice coming in weakly.
“Will do,” the pilot said as he continued to maneuver the shuttle through the dips and hills of the landscape. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get closer to you, but we don’t own the skies yet. One of ours ran some of their fighters away from us ten minutes ago.”
“I understand,” Arthok answered. “Where you’re putting it should be secure. It’s between us and the Bolts, and near our meeting point. The platoon of Marines from Special Delivery, with their shoulder-fired missiles, should keep it safe until we can get to it. I doubt the Bleeve will send forces to the location; it’s too far, and puts them at risk from our fighters, too.”
“I concur,” Lieutenant Sharvleek said. “Good luck.”
* * *
Bolts’ Maintenance Platoon Area
“We’re going to have to leave them, sir,” the first sergeant said after walking over from the large tracked vehicle carrying the platoon’s repair replicator.
“Yeah,” agreed Nate. “At least they were able to get two of them working again. It helps they had several to cannibalize.”
Nate looked at the remaining tanks. Lieutenant Algrite and his platoon sergeant were standing on one talking to its new tank commander. They’d been hit the hardest going against the Bleeve tanks. Several crews now consisted of the surviving members of destroyed tanks. Some of them had been wounded, but they’d insisted on getting back into one of the tracked machines to continue the mission. As often as the infantry and tankers went back and forth in jest, every member of the Bolts respected them, their ability, and the bravery it took to be out front facing huge death-dealing machines with theirs.
“Get them ready to move out, Top,” Nate said. “We have a way to go to meet up with the Ground Forces. There’s a resupply waiting for us. It may be the only one we get.”
“Roger sir,” Top said. “I’m on it.”
* * *
Airfield
Banktown, Planet Salvage
Staff Sergeant Rinek stood in front of the combined formation, his tattoo shining for all to see. To his left was the Monitor Platoon, all thirty of them in full uniform, and not the plain clothes they often wore. They had a serious look on their faces, visible through their tattoos.
Centered were forty Bolt Trainees. Interspersed among them in the leadership positions, and identified by their own tattoos, were seven instructors and four prior service noncommissioned officers. The sergeants and corporals had been given their positions minutes earlier. The back two ranks of troops were currently in mech training. Sergeant Muraingo was first in the rank, now in charge of them. Included were members of his squad, their tattoos glowing as well.
To his right were thirty-four members of the Ground Forces, their instructors acting as leadership. Behind them in a loose formation were twenty more Withaloo. They were an older group, obvious retirees from the military.
Rinek glanced over at the young lieutenant with a questioning look. The officer nodded his encouragement. “Listen up, training is canceled as of right now. It’s not looking good up there.” His voice echoed across the formation. Everyone knew he was referring to the fleet defending the system.
He continued, “Captain Bentalt was able
to get a message to Lieutenant Clartha, and the lieutenant made his decision. As of right now, you’re all members of the Ground Forces or Bolts. You’ll turn in your training gear. Combat gear will be issued to you immediately after this formation. Your leadership will let you know who’ll go to the motor pool to occupy the tanks, artillery, and the two anti-air batteries based on your training thus far. Those of you close to full mech qualification will don your pilot suits, and the technicians will prepare your mechs with a full combat load. This is not a training exercise. You…we will have to defend the planet and the beings on it. Once word gets out to the population, I expect there’ll be many armed volunteers, some may be ex-military, but as of right now, we’re it. We’re all that stands between the residents of Salvage and the Bleeve, should the Defense Fleet fall.”
He paused a moment to let the reality of the situation sink in. “This is what you signed up for. It’s just happening sooner than you thought. If they come, the lieutenant and I think they’ll get far more than they bargained for. They may take the planet, but it will not be without cost.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Five
Command Stomper
Nazrooth
“Drop the ramp, Loftis!” Nate shouted over the internal channel. “This is where we get out!”
Light poured into the dim troop area as the ramp dropped. Captain Brink, Corporal Zarmlon, and Specialist Pailoth jumped. They were an easy twenty feet in the air. Before they landed, all three sets of boots on the heavy battle armor flared and enabled them to land as if it had only been a few feet.
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