"Open it up!" Tekoa shouted as the two troopers lifted the lid on the huge case. I got down and began helping him to assemble the long tube, fitting the digital targeter into place. Seconds later we were moving again, up onto the rampart and dropping the tripod. Tekoa eased the first heat-seeking projectile into the mouth of the great weapon and flipped open the trigger guard.
"Get the hell out of the way," he yelled and the two troopers disappeared. I opened my mouth and covered my ears as Tekoa expertly aimed the stolen technology, waited for the precise moment and released.
The rocket went wide and the craft banked left, twisting away from us. But the rocket was quick and began to turn leaving a white haze in its wake. The craft jinked, turned and shot right across the church only to hit the missile head on. The craft detonated in a brilliant burst of radiant heat and came down in a mass of white hot metal onto one of the evacuated farmlands.
The final craft began to break off, realising that it was fighting a losing battle. Wulfgar and Brand chased it with salvos, but it was going too fast.
"If it leaves, we're finished," I said, sliding another rocket into the tube. Tekoa spun it round on its stand and took aim. "Make it a good one," I said. The craft was almost over the horizon when the rocket finally fled the launcher and it chased it with furious resolve. We watched as both disappeared behind the tree line and our breathing stopped for what seemed like an eternity.
"Jesus Christ and all the disciples, did we get it?" He asked. Then he got his answer. The sky lit up with a flame that engulfed our view, an explosion of sound not far behind. A cheer went up from the troops and weapons were being waved in the air.
"Not bad for a beginner eh?" Tekoa said and collapsed onto the floor.
CHAPTER 9
"We must make this brief, gentlemen. Private Tekoa informs me that the ARC forces are already mobile and heading towards us." We were in the domed meeting room once more, Commander Frakes had relinquished his seat at the head of the table and Lieutenant Burns had taken his place. Everybody looked anxious and the feeling of despair was tangible. "What was your estimation of strength of the enemy, Tekoa?"
"Well sir, after leaving the city yesterday I found the first signs of ARC patrols, tracks in the forest of at least six units with eight men a piece. I followed these tracks under the cover of darkness for several hours, noting that it was a northerly direction away from the city. As the tracks ended I came across a clearing..."
"That would be Webber's farm, the largest in our community," Frakes interrupted.
"Well it was obvious that the land was the main staging post for the enemy. I made a complete circle of the site; over two square miles and found in its centre a landing pad where munitions and vehicles had been dropped. There were several fighter craft, some cargo vessels and plenty of medium strength tanks."
"Troop numbers?"
"Well in excess of a thousand foot sloggers, several tank regiments but I saw no artillery operators, sir. Looks like they want to take the city in once piece. ARC use Atmospheric Lances as their main artillery and they are visually distinctive. I found no evidence of them amongst their equipment.”
“That's a small bonus then. But it does seem odd.” said Burns.
“Perhaps they weren't expecting a dug in presence here. ARC forces will be stretched across this system as it is.” I added.
"Then we're doomed anyway," sighed Frakes dropping his head into his hands. "They intend to wipe us out."
"I'm afraid that the Commander is correct in that assumption. Before I was able to steal the weapons and make my escape, it was clear that they were gathering into formation, ready to advance upon the city," Tekoa spoke.
"Why so many for such a small city?" Asked Phillips. "What's so important?"
"If I may sir, I believe that our earlier landing and our escape from ARC troopers in the forest has given the impression that the city has been supplied with reinforcements. They have responded accordingly as best they could. They had arrived here on Sidon expecting an easy conquest of colonists, not us."
Frakes shot up from the table and charged out of the room, ranting wildly about God abandoning them. Everybody seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes.
"In your opinion, Tekoa. Do we stand a chance?" Asked Burns after a painful silence.
"In truth? No. We may hold out a day, two at the most if we fall back to the church, but in the end I cannot see us surviving. We're horrendously out numbered."
"Then we make them work for it. By God we'll make them struggle and die for every last inch of the city. We'll give them a fight they'll never forget in a hurry," said Phillips, confidently.
“Well Sargent we finally agree on something.” said Burns getting up from his seat and taking out his wallet. “200 credits per tank destroyed. 300 credits for every craft shot down. 50 credits for each ARC soldier sent on his way to where ever he believes he is going. You will be deducted 50 credits for every half kilometre lost to the enemy. Sound like a deal?”
The remaining members of Burns' squad laughed and in unison took the bet.
“Okay then. Get to your...”
Suddenly the door burst open and a member of Frake's security staff charged in, a box in his outstretched arms.
"Sir, I've found a digi com amongst the ammunition Private Tekoa retrieved. It's designed for short range orbital communication!"
Tekoa ran over to it and began looking at the controls. “Lieutenant – it can encode the message. We've got a good chance of getting a decent message to our ships with this.”
A grin formed on Burns' face. "You have your orders. We make our stand. I want the weapons distributed along the north wall, I want a path cleared for fall back manoeuvres and I want every body that can't fight for themselves in the church. Tekoa, get this radio up to the spire, I want an emergency signal broadcast on all frequencies at all times."
*
By mid afternoon of the second day, the entire wall was as ready as it was ever going to be. I was standing at the foremost section behind a line of volunteers and security staff. The sun was over us now, an advantage for any army but ARC forces had yet to show.
"Sir, the tree line." I looked up and saw movement like a red tide sweeping across the fields. It engulfed the horizon before us and I heard the troops gasp in shock.
CHAPTER 10
The enemy wasted no time in crossing the empty land between the forest and Dothon. Lines of heavy tanks daubed in the black and red colours of the ARC forces churned up the ground with their tracks, providing cover for a line of troops following on foot. In the trees I could see blossoms of fire reaching up to the sky. Long range tank fire.
"DOWN!" I shouted and flung myself forward. Seconds later the shells fell into the farm land behind us, overshot. The volunteers were screaming at each other as another barrage fell down around our ears, demolishing the red brick houses like cards. "Stand fast!" I bellowed. Over the wall, the line was rapidly crossing the field. Soon the huge cannons mounted on the hulls of the demonic looking war machines would be in range and already they were decreasing their elevation as they approached.
I turned to my right and Wulfgar, his naked torso covered in garish tattoos, raised the rocket launcher Tekoa and me had struggled with onto his shoulder. Three others across the ramparts down the length of the north wall had done the same with similar weapons and were waiting for the word to fire.
The terrified men looked up just as Wulfgar filled his lungs and let out a savage animalistic roar. In solid unison every launcher fired and lances of heat and smoke struck the enemy lines, ARC troopers crashing to the floor as they detonated. Some were blown apart or vaporised, others were hit by the shrapnel as the tanks were split open by well-aimed strikes. "Now get up and fight!"
The north wall opened up with everything it had. Devastating hails of machine gun fire poured down from the firing posts, killing the bulk of the foot sloggers in a single wave. More rockets were let loose from the ramparts, more tanks were
splayed open like tin cans. Those that weren't hit began to break away, turrets swivelling round to fire on the move with a grinding of metal and cogs.
"NORTH WALL GET DOWN. INCOMING!" I yelled and the line collapsed behind the stone. The wall shook beneath us as shells slammed into it, too low to do any serious damage. Wulfgar roared again, throwing the spent launcher to the ground and taking up another. Aiming low over the wall he targeted the roving tanks and decimated one outright, blowing the tracks off another. The crew began to climb out of its hatches as an internal fire ravaged the machine, but they were shredded by the line of troopers to my left who opened up as soon as they saw them.
“It looks like the Lieutenant owes you a few credits, Wulfgar.” I said.
The tank shells still thudded round after round into the farmland, but from the pockmarked earth I could see their aim adjusting, drawing nearer to the wall. I pressed the digi-com control on my rig.
"Shap, Burns. Shap, Burns."
"Burns receiving." Burns was on the south wall directing the anti-air defenses.
"Sir, we have long range tanks closing in. Location forest north, two clicks at best."
"Received. Mortar crew inbound. ETA three minutes."
I imagined Brand in her vantage point itching to take out a few of the survivors who were running back towards the forest. Most lay dead or dying on the field and the whole northern front was awash with smoke from burning wreckage.
"Ease down boys. Let's enjoy the respite while it lasts," I said and began to walk the wall. As I reached the first rampart, Wulfgar stood lugging crates of fresh rockets into position. The two loaders were sweating franticly, trying to keep up with the giant. "He's keeping you busy then?" I said to them. They just nodded and heaved the next box up to him.
I began to walk back, keeping my eyes on the forest as ARC forces began to move ready to assault again. A dozen more shells landed behind us and the men of the north wall seemed fixated with them.
"Ignore them, lads. They clearly can't shoot straight," I said, just as one landed a hundred metres from them, spraying them with mud and clods of grass. They started to panic again. "Look out, here come our boys."
The mortar crew moved into position in pre-dug holes, six in total. These mortars were a little more powerful than the conventional type, packing a heavier charge and a more dependable launcher. Something had to be said for the equipment the ARC industrial planets were producing.
"Mortar crew, Shap."
"Shap receiving. Go ahead."
"Mortar crew in position, ready to launch. Confirm location please." Before I could answer, another voice signed on.
"Brand, Mortar crew. Distance two-point-six clicks, location two-eight-three degrees north, wind minimal."
"Mortar crew, Brand. Received." Brand of course had a much better view and a keener eye for distance than me. A Sniper's skill. After a few moments the air was filled with the thuds of the mortars as they slung shell after shell into the air and over our heads. The violent conversation carried on for twelve minutes, but already the damage could be seen. In the forest, fires were rising up above the canopy and some of the muzzle flashes had ceased.
"Burns, Shap."
"Shap receiving, go ahead."
"South forest sees troop movement."
"Phillips, Burns."
"Burns receiving."
"West w... s.... ARC tr..pers inbo..d."
"Burns, Phillips, repeat. Over."
"West wall sees movement on horizon, four clicks."
"Burns received. Give 'em hell."
The north wall was struck again, just as a formation of light fighter craft crested the horizon from the north east. A line of tanks backed up by APC's were advancing across the field and the men had no choice but to get down behind the wall as the craft swooped by overhead.
They came in low, blasting the wall with streams of tracer fire. Three on my right went down screaming and another two were caught by stone fragments and dropped clutching their bloodied faces. As soon as they'd passed by I gave the order to stand but the wall shook again - the tanks were close enough and were aiming higher this time. The firing post on my left exploded and I fell face down landing badly on my weapon. The pain in my ribs was terrible, but I was able to stumble back onto my feet and I clutched the wall for strength.
"FIRE AT WILL!"
More volunteers rushed to fill the places of dead men, adding their fire power to the rest. From his commanding rampart, Wulfgar sent rocket after rocket into the spaced out line of tanks, most of his shots making good hits. Some went wide and blasted the already scarred ground.
Then from one of the command post buildings I saw slivers of light cut through the haze of cordite, Brand's contribution to the melee. I saw one of her well-aimed shots pass through the open hatch of a reckless vehicle as it strafed across her field of fire. It spun out of control, rolling onto its side and spilling its human contents into the chaos. Some lived only a few seconds before being cut down by the frantic fire.
My ears suddenly stung with the shriek of the fighter craft as they made for another pass, two short after the anti-air defense had dealt a punishing blow. I ordered the men back and down behind the rear wall, but six were torn apart as the craft banked hard and opened up with everything they had. As they turned to make another sweep, two guided rockets caught up with them and felled one in a brilliant show of blue light and heat, the wreckage falling down into the forest and setting the dry vegetation alight.
Then we were up again and firing down at the troops ejecting from the APC's. Most were carrying large cases, most likely highly volatile explosives to weaken the wall. They were designed to generate an exothermic reaction, one that wouldn't just blow up the wall, but weaken the supports inside with intense heat. It was a suicide mission on their part, but they also knew we could risk detonating the bombs with our own grenades.
I directed the men's fire down onto them, calling up one of the few flame units we had on the digi-com. With tanks strapped to his back, Green came jogging up the wall.
"Afternoon, Shap," he said chirpily. "Good day for it." His bizarre sense of humour was all but refreshing.
"Time for a barbecue." I said, leading him to the wall. He leaned over, me grabbing his belt for support and emptied the tanks down onto the ARC troopers while the others continued to fire. The heat from the flame unit wouldn't be enough to set off the explosives and as the screams rose up with the smell of burning flesh I yanked him upright again.
"Glad I could help," he said, unbuckling the spent bottles and hurling them over the wall. "Catch you later." He began to run back down the wall just as the remaining craft were making a final pass. The men fell back without orders and as I got my head down the world became a swirling mess of stone chips and burning flesh. Three to the right had their legs blasted by the attack; a fourth fell down gargling blood as the hole in his neck opened up. From where we were we saw the anti-air crew open up, rockets chasing after the ships like wild animals. One went down in a spiral, slewing into the ground. Another swung right and crashed into the tree line. The third nose-dived and horrifically slammed into the remains of the landing pad where a unit of reserves were waiting. Flames licked up from the site and I felt my heat sink. Over twenty men had been waiting there to bolster the southern wall. Now they were dead before they'd even started. I could sense the men were as morally crushed as I was.
As we stood up, the enemy forces were in retreat. At the base of the wall the suicide squad had failed to plant any of the explosives, which was a victory in itself. But we didn't feel victorious. The dead were lying amongst the shattered stonework, their blood pooling where the drains ran it to a down pipe and into the fields below. Those lucky enough to have survived with serious wounds were already being carted away by civilian volunteers, most likely to the university medical wing. That made me think about Rebecca and I wondered where she was, either in the church, or helping the wounded. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the dig
i-com.
"Burns, Shap."
"Shap receiving, go ahead."
"Enemy in retreat at south wall. Stand by."
"Shap received. Standing by."
"Phillips, Burns."
"Burns receiving."
"Enemy in retreat, west gate."
"Burns received. Stand by." It looked like we'd repelled them. For now.
CHAPTER 11
The sun was setting when I was relieved from the north wall. Eric Titus greeted me at the base of the ladder as I climbed down.
"How are you doing?" He asked, his uniform covered in grey dust.
"Fine, but the lads look a little shaken, they could do with some rest," I replied.
"I'll relieve them once I've been allocated some more men." I turned to go, the command centre looking more and more appealing.
The command centre was relatively quiet as I climbed the stairs to the temporary billets. I passed a number of volunteers heading the other way, most likely to relieve the north wall. They tried to smile, some waved, but most just marched past with blank faces, faces already resigned to their fate. When I found a free bunk I unbuckled my boots, slid out of my chest rig and led back on the hard mattress. My mind whirled with the whole day, replaying scenes over and over again from different angles, different perspectives. I thought about those who'd fallen, those who'd been carried away with horrendous injuries. I could still smell the thick odour of scorched human flesh and it clung to the inside of my nose and wouldn't go away. I felt my ribs and winced at the tenderness. Under my shirt I found a little swelling and bruising, but nothing serious, probably just a cracked rib where the stock of the machine gun had slammed into it.
Soul at War Page 8