Rage of Winter (Terran Strike Marines Book 2)

by Richard Fox

  Several PDF soldiers shouted, “Ice Claw!” as they passed.

  “Duke’s famous for something other than bad tipping at the titty bars,” Garrison said.

  Hoffman ignored the banter. He wasn’t in the mood. Tired, injured, and facing failure on a grand scale, all he wanted was to catch Masha and carry out his threat—tie her up like the criminal she was and shoot Medvedev at the slightest sign of resistance. Failing at that, he wanted to help Armor smash the Kesaht.

  A rocket streaked overhead as the distinct chatter of Rakka small-arms fire came from the retreating Kesaht forces. Dotari armor stalked through the trees. Shoulder mounted rotary cannons whirring as they fired on the retreating enemy. The boom of gauss cannons echoed off the mountains.

  Hoffman took the lead and aimed his team for one of the Armor elements. “We’ll follow them as closely as possible.”

  “Understood,” Gunney King said.

  PDF officers and newly arrived Terran military personnel ordered Hoffman and his team to stay within the lines. He didn’t recognize their armor or standards, but at least one seemed to be Dotari Marines. He flashed his priority mission code.

  “You think Armor’s going to admit they need help?” Booker asked. “I’m not familiar with their unit markings. I wish Max were here. He has all their crests memorized. Something’s different about these lances.”

  “No,” Hoffman said. “They’ll tell us what they need, and we’ll do it.”

  “Here comes the welcoming party,” Duke said, pointing at a lance of four Armor units breaking off from the attack to stop Hoffman’s team.

  Hoffman went forward to contact their team leader. He cued up the code, ready to send it the moment it was requested. The sound of the Armor soldier’s voice was strange, which he hadn’t expected because they all used voice synthesizers to speak externally.

  “I am Armor. My lance makes this assault. What are you doing here?”

  Hoffman thought it was the rhythm or syntax rather than the tone that was off. “First Lieutenant Thomas Hoffman, Terran Strike Marines. General Allan—head of the PDF—sent us to augment your unit.”

  “You are Lieutenant Hoffman?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Of the Strike Marines?”

  Hoffman stared up at the Armor soldier. “Is there a problem?”

  “There is no problem! You are the Breitenfeld Strike Marines who saved our home!”

  “You’re…Dotari?”

  “Yes! I am Fal’tir.” He banged a huge fist against his breastplate and the other armor in his lance followed suit. “We must first destroy these Kesaht, but anything else we can do to assist you will be done.”

  “Where were they two days ago?” Booker muttered.

  Hoffman winced, hoping the armor didn’t pick up on the comment.

  “We came soon as Admiral Valdar arrived on Dotari Prime. He asked for our fleet’s assistance to fight the Kesaht here,” Fal’tir said. “After bringing the Golden Fleet back from deep space, the Council of Firsts was inclined to help him. But let us focus on our enemy. The Kesaht are launching a last-ditch offensive. Their remaining Sanheel want to die with glory. We will give them death. There is no glory in wasting lives. Come, see if you can kill as many as we can.”

  Fal’tir walked off.

  “Dotari armor’s not that different from ours,” King said.

  “Not to besmirch our honor as Strike Marines,” Garrison said, “but if we can keep them between us and the Kesaht…better tactical decision. Yes?”

  “Follow me.” Hoffman said. “The Marines and Ice Claw have a reputation to uphold.”

  ****

  PDF and Terran forces pushed out from Koensuu City in greater and greater numbers. Reinforcements landed at the spaceport while others deployed straight to staging areas. A continuous column of Kesaht forces marched from the foothills and across the isthmus. Rakka foot soldiers led by Sanheel officers, tanks commanded by Ixio crew and officers, and the elite Sanheel cavalry units covered fields and foothills as far as Hoffman could see.

  “Do we call the Sanheel units cavalry?” Garrison asked. “Nothing freaks me out more than alien centaurs.”

  “They function as mounted shock troops,” Hoffman said. “Call them whatever you want as long as we’re winning.”

  “What is a centaur?”

  “A mythological creature, half horse, half human,” Hoffman said.

  “There must be quite a romance story behind that myth,” the Armor said.

  “Booker and I saw one of the Kesaht landing zones. There are at least a dozen other valleys where they could have put down troops,” Duke said.

  “That’s a lot of brute force,” Hoffman said.

  Fal’tir led the lance toward the Armor front line.

  “Can I ask a favor?” Hoffman said when they stopped.

  “Yes. Anything for Valdar’s Hammers.”

  “I need to gather intelligence reference our original mission. If you locate a high-ranking officer or anyone among the enemy who has seen two Ibarrans, I might be able to interrogate them. My assumption is that the Kesaht would have tried to capture or kill the people I am looking for.”

  “We will help you capture one of the Ixio officers. These are the upper caste of the Kesaht and will be valuable to interrogate for your purposes and also for the liberation of Koen.”

  “Thanks, Fal’tir. My sniper’s setting up,” Hoffman said.

  “Ah, the Ice Claw. The Kesaht urinate on themselves at the sound of his name,” Fal’tir said.

  “Duke for Hoffman, I’ve got eyes on an Ixio armored transport moving close behind the line of Sanheel.”

  “Lieutenant Hoffman, I am patching you into the Armor channel.” A high-pitched squealing noise cut into Hoffman’s earpiece, followed by apologies.

  “Now we can communicate directly. Can you hear me? Is the connection loud enough?” Fal’tir said.

  “That’s plenty loud. Maybe down just a notch?”

  “Humans have unprotected ears. I forget,” Fal’tir said.

  A new voice joined the conversation. “This is Dotari Expedition Commander Shen’yun. The situation is as follows: Rakka infantry and Ixio armor are pushing forward in the center. Sanheel cavalry units are sweeping around the flanks. I see nothing complicated about their tactics. It is likely they wish to draw us into their weak center so they can collapse upon us.”

  “Where do you need us?” Hoffman asked.

  “Take command of whatever PDF assets you can and hold the center. We will attack the Sanheel left flank and destroy it. Assume the Sanheel right flank will continue to charge. My lance commanders believe they will lose heart when their flank breaks.”

  “Received and understood,” Hoffman said. “King, contact as many of the forward PDF unit commanders as possible and explain what we need. Duke, set up an overwatch position. I’ll need real-time information and lots of kill shots. You have a green light on anything you can drop.”

  Hoffman switched to the Koen radio frequency. “Hammer One to HQ actual.”

  “HQ actual, go.”

  “I’ve joined forces with Armor. Their commander has given me an assignment. I need to take command of forward PDF units.”

  “This channel may not be secure,” General Allan said. “I’ll assume you are going to break the center. It looks weak. Don’t give me details on this channel.”

  Hoffman hoped Allan understood Fal’tir’s plan and was merely maintaining OPSEC as best he could on a compromised commlink.

  “King for Hoffman, I directed forward PDF officers to stand by via radio. I’m told it will take the Kesaht awhile to break the crypto, which means we have a secure commlink for a limited time.”

  “Understood,” Hoffman said. He waited until the unit commanders checked in and gave them assignments.

  King took control of a leaderless infantry platoon that had just come off the line. Several squads that had been separated from their platoons and were looking for direction formed
around Hoffman. He ordered them into squads oriented toward the enemy and went down the line he had created, giving encouragement to battle-weary soldiers.

  “Hammer One to frontline PDF. Your orders are to hold, then advance on my command—but on my command only,” Hoffman said. Officers and squad leaders checked in by the numbers.

  Sanheel blared some type of horn as they exploded into action. The left and right flanks of the Kesaht advance galloped forward, covering three times the amount of ground as the infantry and tanks did in the center of the battlefield.

  In an uneven but spirited charge, Rakka roared at the sky and brandished weapons. Ixio tanks followed methodically, keeping a perfect line behind the horde.

  “Hoffman for King, we need one of those Ixio tanks if the opportunity arises.” He looked to Fal’tir. “Can you help us capture one of their officers?”

  “If it can be done, it will be done.”

  Hoffman aimed his gauss rifle. “Fire.” He selected each target with care, conserving ammunition and steadying his breathing. His heart galloped in his chest despite all the battles he’d been in. He checked his stance and his cover. Every third or fourth shot, he lowered his rifle and looked up and down his line to be sure his team and the PDF soldiers were using cover and firing effectively.

  Rakka bullets peppered his position. A rocket streaked overhead and landed somewhere behind him. Smoke rolled across the battlefield. Ixio tanks shook the ground as they rumbled forward.

  Fal’tir stood up and the gauss cannons on his firearm boomed. “Yes, come closer, Rakka. Show me your fury!”

  “They are just like human armor,” Garrison said. “I’m so glad.”

  “Kill enemy!” Opal said.

  A round struck the berm in front of Hoffman, throwing dirt and rocks into his field of vision. He leaned to one side and returned fire.

  The Rakka were less than two hundred meters away now. The tanks were farther behind.

  “Hoffman for frontline team leaders. Advance fifty meters under Armor cover fire. At fifty meters, hold position as the Armor bound ahead to drive a wedge into the Rakka infantry.”

  “Received and understood.”

  “I like this plan,” Fal’tir said.

  Hoffman jumped over the defensive berm and rushed forward fifty meters. He took cover in a frozen creek bed and aimed his gauss rifle. King and other unit leaders shouted orders and Hoffman’s ragtag unit opened fire.

  For several moments, the barrage of gauss fire deafened him. He saw the first Armor unit jump over him and land, facing hundreds of charging Rakka. Fal’tir opened fire with his double-barrel gauss weapon. A Rakka squad leader exploded in red mist, pieces of his armor splattering against other Kesaht forces. Another Dotari Armor kicked a Rakka into the air.

  Hoffman expected the Dotari to shout war cries, to repeat their famous declaration of who they were. All he heard was explosions and screams.

  “Lieutenant Hoffman, bound ahead of us. We cover you,” Fal’tir said over the commlink.

  Hoffman rushed forward with his team and the PDF infantry, looking for a good position to abandon the advance and hold in place.

  King went down and Hoffman thought the gunnery sergeant struggled back to his feet. With no time to search for his top NCO or hail him on the commlink, he prayed silently and swore out loud.

  Opal ran beside Hoffman, firing on the move and shouting war cries. A bullet ricocheted off the side of the doughboy’s helmet and another impacted him solidly on the thigh.

  Garrison screamed savagely over the commlink, but Hoffman couldn’t see him. He thought Booker was moving toward King.

  Before he could set his assaulters in place, Fal’tir’s lance charged forward, this time punching and kicking Rakka out of their way. Hoffman saw Fal’tir grab an Ixio tank and turn it on its side.

  “King!” Hoffman shouted.

  “I’m good,” King replied, pain and exhaustion in his voice.

  “Shen’tun for Fal’tir, hold that position!” came through Hoffman’s commlink. “We crush them now!”

  Hoffman rushed up and down his line, ordering PDF and Dotari Marines into better positions. “Get down and use what cover you have! Pick your shots. Weapons free! Light them up. Keep their attention on us,” Hoffman said.

  He looked to the left flank and saw the bulk of the Dotari Armor standing from their concealment. The Sanheel accelerated toward them. Gauss rounds lashed between the two colliding forces faster than the eye could follow. Hoffman checked his own field of fire, then raised his field glasses with one hand to observe the left flank.

  Fal’tir leapt forward and swung a hook into the head of a Sanheel. The blow sent the alien’s head arcing into the air while the rest of the body kept running for a few seconds.

  The fifteen-foot-tall Dotari war machines braced themselves against the ground and opened up with shoulder-mounted rotary weapons and their gauss cannons. The front ranks of the Sanheel charge collapsed under the torrent of fire. The boom of cannons melded into a single roar as the rapports echoed through the city. Some Sanheel stumbled over the dead and met Dotari armor that were well trained in melee combat.

  Hoffman’s jaw went slack as Fal’tir ripped the spear out of a Sanheel’s hands and rammed it into the alien’s chest, the Dotari buried his farm up to the elbow in the alien. Then ripped the top half of the Sanheel away and slashed the spear tip across the throat of another Kesaht officer.

  Fal’tir threw the spear with enough force to pierce through the shoulder of a Sanheel and impale another alien behind it. The Dotari armor stomped the skull of a dying Kesaht and beat his fist against his beast plate.

  “Dotari’hul! Nov ani, Caas ed Ar’ri!” boomed from the speakers.

  The other Dotari armor repeated the words and they advanced on the Sanheel, cutting them down methodically.

  The Sanheel wavered, and the aliens began fleeing from the battle. A few escapees became a steady movement away from the Dotari, then a full en route.

  “What did they say?” Hoffman asked.

  “‘Dotari who hear my voice,’” Booker said, “‘follow them,’ and he used an honorific for the dead. Caas and Ar’ri are the names, I think.”

  “How do you know that?” Garrison asked.

  “We got language packs to study before the mission to the Golden Fleet,” she said.

  “Caas and Ar’ri.” Garrison tapped the butt of his rifle. “Sounds familiar. Aren’t there two Dotari armor that’re part of Memorial Square in Phoenix?”

  A bullet zipped overhead and the Marines ducked.

  “History later,” Hoffman said. “There’s still Kesaht in this city. Let’s go kill some before the Dotari do everything for us. Strike Marines, advance!”

  Hoffman vaulted out of cover and charged across the street, the roar of Koensuu soldiers and his team filling the air.

  Chapter 25

  Hoffman kicked a Rakka corpse. The alien’s blood- and ice-encrusted body tore from the ground with the impact and flopped over. Its chest was an ugly mass of blackened flesh; its face frozen in a death scream.

  More bodies lay in a rough circle, the aliens’ weapons and gear scattered around.

  Hoffman looked around the small clearing, silent but for the rush of wind through treetops and the crinkle of blown snow. Clusters of Rakka bodies dotted the glade.

  “Sir,” King said. “Team’s checked all the other groups. No survivors.”

  “Looks like they clustered around a grenade to end it.” Hoffman bent over and picked up a Rakka weapon. He unloaded the magazine and showed King that it was still loaded. “They still had the means to fight…”

  “Storm blew through last night,” King said. “They’d rather go quick than freeze?”

  “Booker.” Hoffman waved to the medic. “How long they been dead?”

  Booker withdrew probes from her medi-gauntlet out of a corpse and her head bobbled from side to side.

  “There’s still some core heat,” she said. “Maybe eight
hours?”

  “After the storm passed,” Hoffman said.

  “The Dotari Armor reported they eliminated a pocket of Sanheel early this morning,” King said. “Haven’t seen any other contacts with Sanheel since.”

  “No one’s taken a single Kesaht alive,” Hoffman said. “Even that Ixio pilot had no intention of being a prisoner. The Rakka must be conditioned to suicide if their leaders are gone. Maybe it’s over?”

  “Should be.” King lowered his rifle and removed his helmet. “That being said, you’ll have my resignation soon as we’re back in garrison. The Ibarrans got away because of me. My failure.”

  “Funny,” Hoffman pulled his helmet off and felt the bite of winter air against his face, “it was my decision to dump them in a jail. I’m responsible for everything this team does or fails to do. Besides, you were ambushed. I don’t hold you at fault…unless you and Garrison switched jerseys on me.”

  “The Ibarrans can have Garrison,” King huffed.

  “The hammer will fall on one place.” Hoffman tapped his chest. “As it should. You and the team will be just fine. I may have finally earned a job making coffee for some colonel at the Camelback Mountain HQ. All it takes is one ‘ah shit’ to erase every ‘attaboy’ in a career. Doesn’t matter how successful the Dotari mission was in the end. That was a Charlie Foxtrot for the ages.”

  “I won’t take offense if you highlight my screw-ups in the after action report,” King said. “Non-comms like me don’t get to make coffee. We pass out basketballs at the gym.”

  “And waste a perfectly good gunnery sergeant of Marines? Never.” Hoffman checked his gauntlet screen and looked to the horizon. “Got a bird inbound. Friendly.”

  “Hammers.” King raised a hand in the air and traced a circle, then pointed to the middle of the clearing.

  A Mule transport came over the tree line and landed on vectored engines, blowing snow into a white gale just before Hoffman could get his helmet back on. The lieutenant found his team in the sudden blizzard.

  “I swear the pilots just love dusting us,” Garrison said.