by Jay Allan
“No, Katarina, not necessarily.” Vallen was returning her gaze. “But we believe the CAC fleet was able to fully replenish itself. If the two forces engage, Admiral Garret will be at a substantial disadvantage.” He paused again. “We cannot know whether Garret will be able to overcome such a deficit. At some level of material disadvantage, even Garret’s skill and courage will be insufficient to counter the enemy’s superiority. His crews cannot throw rocks at their foes.”
Berchtold nodded slowly. After a long pause she said, “Shouldn’t we aid him then? I cannot imagine how Admiral Garret’s defeat can be anything but disastrous for the Confederation.”
“You are right, Katarina.” Vance sat motionless in his chair, staring across the table at her. “However it is a more complex situation. Indeed, the Alliance is on the verge of declaring war on the Confederation over the Dakota attack. And Europa Federalis is a concern as well. If Gavin Stark managed to place any more false evidence of our involvement in the destruction of Marseilles, it is very possible that Paris will also make a declaration against us.”
He glanced at Vallen then back to Berchtold. “While I am confident that Admiral Garret would refuse to obey any orders to attack the Confederation, I have no doubt the Europan space forces will do so. If the Europans order their fleet to commence operations against us, we must have ships in place to defend Mars. Indeed, it is not just Mars we must consider. We have possessions throughout the solar system…and interstellar colonies as well. If we are to defend all our people, what force can we spare to aid Admiral Garret?”
The room was uncomfortably quiet for perhaps 30 seconds. Finally, it was Vallen who broke the silence. “Not that we need more bad news, but I don’t believe you have shared with us the latest dispatch from Earth. The reason for your…ah…tardiness.” Vallen frowned, immediately regretting the misplaced attempt at humor.
“Yes, you’re right, Sebastian.” Vance stared around the table, settling his gaze on Vallen. “Before I left my office for this meeting I received a flash communication from one of our deep cover agents in the Alliance.” He hesitated, but only for an instant. “CAC and Alliance fleets have engaged off the coast of the Philippines. The engagement was a pyrrhic victory for the Alliance fleet.” He moved his eyes across the table again, pausing for an instant on each of his colleagues. “The two Powers exchanged declarations of war, after which the PRC and Caliphate honored their respective treaty obligations.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Six of the Earth Superpowers are now at war.”
Chapter 15
Outskirts of Arcadia City
Capital District
Arcadia – Wolf 359 III
Kara stood on the top of the hill and stared out across the valley. There it was…Arcadia. The capital city looked serene, though she knew that was an illusion. The enemy almost certainly knew her army was there, and they were undoubtedly dug in, waiting for her attack. She squinted through her mags, scanning carefully, trying to pick out the defensive strongpoints. There was a rocket battery emplaced just outside the city limits, tucked in behind a small cluster of houses, but otherwise, she couldn’t see anything significant. There were probably troops deployed in and among the buildings, but no large formations or heavy weapons.
“Are you ready?” Captain Mandrake walked up behind her, his visor retracted. “I assume your plan is still a go?” The Marine captain smiled. He’d come to admire Kara over the last few months, and the thought of her backing down, giving up on her plan, was almost inconceivable.
“You still think I’m crazy?” She was still looking straight ahead, the mags glued to the front of her face.
“I never thought you were crazy.” There was a warmth in his voice, a gentleness the veteran Marine didn’t show very often. He respected Kara immensely. He suspected he’d be very fond of her…that is if she ever let her grim armor down long enough for him to really get to know her. “I just suggested that you consider the difficulties of marching your army through a polar wasteland.”
She lowered the mags and turned to face him. She didn’t say anything at first, but he could see the guilt and hurt behind her eyes, a rare glimpse past her defenses to her inner self. The army had left over 500 of its number behind, a trail of frozen corpses marking its journey like footsteps. Mandrake thought for an instant she might open up, show some real emotion. But she just looked at him and said, “You know better than anyone, Captain, that war has its cost.”
“Yes, I certainly know that.” And one day my dear Kara, he thought, you are going to unravel. There was a limit to how much one person could internalize. He just hoped she didn’t lose it in battle, when it would get her – and a lot of her people – killed. He looked over at her. He couldn’t argue with the validity of her plan. It certainly looked like the capital was lightly defended, and he couldn’t imagine another strategy that offered as much chance to help out the Marines to the south.
“Well,” she said emotionlessly. “We’ve got bogies on our tail, so there’s no point in wasting time.” She tapped the comlink clipped to her collar. “Ed, let’s finish getting everyone formed up for the attack.”
“Yes, Kara. They’re almost ready.” Calvin was technically the army’s commander, though he’d expressed no reservations about acting as Kara’s second. He knew she’d want to attack as soon as possible, and he had the troops almost set to go. “We can advance in a few minutes.”
She stared quietly across the valley, her eyes fixed on the center of Arcadia. She could see the spires of the Capitol, rising just above the surrounding structures. She couldn’t see the park she knew sat right across the street, but her memories filled in the missing details. Independence Park…it was just a patch of grass around a small central square. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, imagining the simple bronze statue that stood dead center in the square, the image of Will Thompson looking out over the nascent Arcadian government he’d helped to create. Her mind drifted back, thinking of Will, of how things could have been if he’d survived. Or if she hadn’t wasted the time they’d had together.
Kara shook her head, dragging her mind back to the present. She took a deep breath and turned to walk down the hillside, motioning for Mandrake to follow her. “Let’s go, Craig.”
Mandrake stood motionless on the hilltop. “Wait, Kara.”
She stopped and turned. “What is…”
Mandrake held his hand up and jacked the volume on his com. “Attention all Marine forces, this is General Catherine Gilson.” Kara stared at him dumbstruck, listening to the tinny sound coming from his helmet. “We are currently conducting landing operations.” There was a brief pause then the com crackled to life again. “Attention all Marine forces…”
Kara turned abruptly, slapping the com on her collar. A Marine relief force was landing! “Ed, I want everybody moving now. All units…attack!”
“Black Dragons…attack!” Lieutenant-Commander Elisa Haroldson angled her sleek atmospheric fighter-bomber toward the enemy troop concentrations, her squadron tucked in just behind. The Black Dragons, otherwise known at the 87th Atmospheric Assault Squadron, was one of the best, built from the veteran survivors of the fleet’s decimated formations. The campaigns against the First Imperium had been costly, not only to the Marines, but to the fleet and the support services as well. Haroldson had served in three other squadrons, each decimated in turn during the planetary assaults and defenses that had ultimately turned back the First Imperium. She’d built the Dragons from the shattered remnants of other units, and her people were all Admiral Harmon had available to send in to cover the Marine landings.
She pulled back slowly on the stick, leveling her craft at an altitude of less than 200 meters. “Prepare to strafe enemy positions.” Her planes were coming in with FAEs and autocannons only. Arcadia was a friendly planet, and Harmon had taken nukes and chemical weapons off the table.
She was flying parallel with the enemy’s primary line of battle. There was some sporadic fire from the ground
, but nothing serious. She wished the fleet had more air assets…the enemy didn’t appear to have any serious defenses against aerial attack, and a proper air wing would have a banner day. But her job wasn’t to daydream about what she didn’t have; she was here to get as much as she could out of what was actually available.
They were coming in over a major enemy concentration. “Fire at will, Randi.” Randi Anders was Haroldson’s gunner…and one of the best in the fleet.
“I’m on it.” Anders voice was scratchy, gravelly. She was bent over her scope, her fingers primed above the firing controls. Crack! The sound of the FAE nodules being released reverberated throughout the cockpit.
Haroldson flipped on the ship’s belly cameras, watching the target area for a damage assessment. One by one she saw flashes as the thermobaric bombs detonated, an initial charge disbursing their concentrated fuel, mixing the highly flammable explosive with atmospheric oxygen. An instant later, a second charge detonated, igniting the now-aerated explosive, creating a fiery holocaust. Against unarmored targets, the FAEs were nearly as destructive as nukes, but they were also effective against powered infantry. The heavily protected troopers were unaffected by the weapons’ pressure wave and the subsequent localized vacuum, but the temperatures near the center of the firestorms reached levels well beyond what the fighting suits could endure, and their occupants were literally cooked in their armor.
Haroldson banked the bomber hard, clearing the FAEs’ area of effect. She angled toward another enemy concentration, smiling as she heard the autocannons engage. The enemy’s armor was almost useless against the fighter-bomber’s heavy 20mm autocannons, and Anders fired them with merciless efficiency, their massive iridium-coated rounds tearing the powered infantry apart.
“Alright, people, one pass is all we get. Back to the fleet.” Haroldson vectored upward, the g-forces of her ascent slamming her crew into their acceleration couches as the bomber streaked up into the sky. The Dragons had done what they could. Now it was up to General Gilson and her Marines.
“Let’s go, Marines.” James Teller was shouting into his com, his tortured voice cracking as he urged his exhausted men and women into action. “Those are our brothers and sisters landing out there, and by God, we’re going to cover them while they deploy.” He glanced at his tactical monitor. There were symbols all over the flickering map, hundreds of landing craft descending on the battlefield.
Teller’s people had been on Arcadia for months. They’d lost more than half their number, and most of the rest of them were walking wounded. By any textbook definition, his force was combat ineffective. But the books couldn’t quantify heart…or guts. His Marines would dig down; they would find the strength to launch one more attack. He didn’t have a doubt.
“We’re going to attack…and we’re going to keep attacking until we hook up with General Gilson’s people.” Teller was on the opposite flank from the LZ. The more enemy troops they could tie down, the easier time Gilson would have landing her people.
“Follow me, Marines.” Teller leapt out of the shallow trench, and headed toward the enemy positions. He was crouched low, sheltering behind a fold in the ground as he jogged forward. The air strike had disordered the enemy, and he wanted to get his people in position before they had a chance to pull themselves together.
He was moving diagonally across the front, heading toward the enemy’s flank. There was decent cover about half the way, but the rest of the charge would be across open ground. He was counting on the enemy being further distracted by Gilson’s landings, but he knew his people were likely to take heavy losses going in.
“Heavy weapons teams deploy.” He was at the edge of the covered approach. He’d culled all the SAWs from his squads, and he was going to set them up on the reverse slope, with decent cover and a good line of fire on the extreme left of the enemy line. “I want you all firing in two minutes.”
The rest of his force was stacked up behind him. He flipped on the unitwide com. “We’re moving forward as soon as the heavies start firing.” His tone was determined, even harsh. “There is no room for hesitation now. When I give the order, everyone goes. We’ll have 32 autocannons giving us covering fire, and the faster we get where we’re going, the more of us are going to make it.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Do you understand me, Marines?”
“Yes sir.” Three hundred voices responded almost as one. They were exhausted and hurt and low on supplies. But they knew this was their best chance for victory…for survival. The training taught that and, for most of them, the experience as well. And they knew one more thing. When they leapt out from behind their cover and headed across that open ground, one man would be in the front, leading the way…James Teller. These 300 men and women had been through hell with their general, and they were ready to go wherever he led them. If they were fated to die in this battle, they were resolved to a man that they would do it in arms following their general…and not in some miserable POW camp.
“Major Barnes, are your teams ready?” Teller had placed his number two in command of the autocannons. The major had objected strongly, insisting he should join the charge, but Teller had been firm. He needed everything he could get from the autocannons. If they didn’t keep the enemy suppressed, the charge would be a bloody disaster. And he knew he could trust Barnes to see it done.
“Yes, General. We are ready.” Barnes’ voice was somber, sullen. He’d obey his orders, but he didn’t have to like it.
“Then you may commence fire, Major.” There was another reason Teller wanted Barnes there…in case the charge was repulsed. He wanted the veteran major in place to rally whatever was left of the command. Because Teller was sure of one thing. If the charge failed, he wasn’t coming back. “Let’s go! Charge!” He leapt forward and headed toward the enemy lines, 300 Marines right behind him.
Kara crouched behind the corner of the building, her assault rifle gripped tightly in her hands. They’d all insisted she stay back…Ed, Captain Mandrake, half the officers with ranks high enough that they dared to argue with her. She’d listened, or at least pretended to listen, to what they had to say. Then she ignored them all and placed herself at the head of the army. Her army. She was done with her amorphous role, half civilian leader, half military officer. If she was going to command this army she was going to do it like a soldier.
She was staring down the street when three enemy soldiers burst into the open. She fired, almost instinctively, and she kept her finger depressed, emptying her clip at full auto. The first enemy went down almost immediately; the second stumbled and fell just as she was firing the last few rounds. The last dove behind one of the buildings at the end of the street.
Kara ducked back behind her cover just as the surviving trooper opened up. The hyper-velocity rounds tore into the masonry, obliterating the corner of the building and sending shards of shattered brick flying all around. She instinctively covered her face as she was pelted with chunks of masonry.
There was a sharp pain in her side. She swore under her breath as she looked down and saw a 10 centimeter shard of brick protruding just above her waist. She reached down and grabbed it, tears streaming down her cheeks from the pain as she slowly pulled it out and tossed it aside.
She was leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She started to reach around for another clip, but the pain was unbearable, and she couldn’t get her arm all the way. Her eyes were fixed on the corner of the building. If her enemy came this way she was a sitting duck. She reached down to her waist and pulled a pistol from its holster. She didn’t know if the sidearm could even penetrate powered armor, but it was the best she could do.
Finally, she looked down at the wound on her side. It was an ugly sight. There was blood everywhere, and she realized immediately she had to do something. She grabbed her knife and reached down, cutting a swatch of fabric off the bottom of her shirt. Every move was an agony, but she knew there was no choice. She grabbed the swath of fabric and pressed it hard agai
nst the wound. When she looked down again she realized it was much deeper than she’d first realized. I’ve got to slow this bleeding, she thought, or I’m in trouble. She pressed harder wincing at the pain as she did.
She was trying to stay alert, but she felt weak, groggy. Her arm holding the pistol ached, and she rested it on her knee. There was no sign of the enemy soldier, but that didn’t mean he was gone. He could still be out there, waiting, ready to charge her at any moment.
She could hear the sounds of battle all around. Her people had advanced far into the city’s center, pushing the enemy garrison back with the ferocity of their assault. She glanced down at her comlink, wanting to call for help, but refusing to distract her people when the battle was still being decided. She was going to make it on her own – or not – but she wasn’t going to divert so much as one of her soldiers from this battle.
She was lying against the wall when it happened a few seconds later. She heard the sound of heavy metal boots on the shattered gravel. Fear gripped her insides, and her body went cold. She raised the pistol, ready to fire at anything that came around the corner.
It happened in slow motion. The enemy soldier swung around the corner, his massive armored bulk almost totally filling her field of vision. She fired, then again...and again. The rounds just ricocheted off the dense osmium-iridium alloy of the soldier’s armor. She saw his assault rifle swing around, moving toward her head.
She sat, frozen in place, transfixed on her own imminent death. She held her breath, waiting for the kill shot. But it didn’t come. She heard fire, but it came from behind, not from the figure standing in front of her. Her enemy fell back, half a dozen hyper-velocity rounds tearing into his chest. She was confused, uncertain. She tried to swing around, to get a look behind her, but the pain was too severe, and she fell back against the wall.
Everything was hazy, surreal. She heard something…a voice. It was somehow familiar, and it was calling out to her. “Kara?” A pause then again. “Kara? Are you ok?”