Marines (Crimson Worlds)

by Jay Allan

  We moved supplies and ammunition into the bunkers so they were ready to be occupied on a moment's notice. We even had a basic communications line creating a physical link between the main positions in the event that all our other comm was jammed.

  Ten days later we got to test out our deployments for real. The monitoring satellites around warp gate two sent their warning via a relayed comm laser. The enemy was here.

  There wouldn't be any naval battle; there wasn't an Alliance warship in the system. Columbia did have an orbital defense station and a string of x-ray laser satellites. The system was mostly automated, but there was a crew, and they had to realize that they were on a suicide mission. Without naval support there was no way that the planet's limited defense array could hold off a battlefleet.

  The orbital fort's weapons, though limited in number, were heavier than those on any mobile platform, so the enemy would have to enter the station's range to attack it. At least the crews would get to fight back before they were overwhelmed and destroyed. Small comfort, but something at least.

  It took two days for the incoming fleet to reset its vector and reach attack range. By the time they engaged the station, my men and I were deployed deep in our bunkers. I followed the battle in space on the command comm line, with my AI displaying some helpful graphics on my visor.

  The orbital station was essentially a missile platform, and the weapons it fired were multi-stage, with a significantly greater effective range than shipboard equivalents. Before the enemy got to its own launch range, our missiles were already entering their point defense zone. The station fired all 200 of its weapons, and 16 of them found targets. One CAC battleship was destroyed, and four other capital ships were heavily damaged.

  The return salvo was a little ragged as only one of the damaged ships was able to immediately fire. But there were still over 300 missiles inbound, and with no maneuverability the result was a mathematical inevitability. The station's countermeasures were very effective. Short-ranged pulse lasers savaged the incoming spread, and point defense missiles detonated, strewing the path of the incoming projectiles with FLAK.

  Even with almost 90% interception, 40 enemy missiles hit the fortress, and it vanished in the nuclear inferno. In the confusion we thought that some of the crew managed to evacuate in time using one of the shuttles, but I found out months later that this never happened.

  Before the missiles hit, the station activated the laser satellites. Each one of these was a bomb-pumped x-ray laser. One-shot weapons, they were powerful enough to destroy a major ship on a single good shot. There were 40 of them, and they fired within 30 milliseconds of each other.

  There are effective countermeasures against laser-fire, mostly torpedoes loaded with a cloud of crystalline debris that we called Angeldust, which reflected and diffused the incoming laser energy. While effective in theory, it is very hard to time the use of a physical defense system against a weapon coming in at lightspeed, and the CAC task force never even got off a shot. Half a dozen enemy support ships were vaporized, and the lead battleship was holed in three places and knocked out of the formation.

  The space-based defenses had acquitted themselves well, causing far more damage than we'd dare hoped. The enemy battlefleet was in very rough shape, but it didn't do much for us on the ground. The assault craft had been kept back out of range, and they were completely undamaged. If we'd had a task force available we could have seriously contested the space above Columbia, but all we could do now was sit and watch while they bombarded the surface and readied the landing.

  It didn't take long before the enemy was in orbit and the bombing began. I'm not sure whether they wanted the planet intact or if the damage they'd suffered drastically reduced their firepower, but the bombardment was short and relatively ineffective. Our bunker shook a few times as shots impacted nearby on the surface, but we took no real damage at all, and from the chatter on the command circuit I could tell that even the entrenched units on the surface had suffered only light casualties and some minor disorder.

  Columbia didn't have much in the way of ground-based defenses, so there really weren't many targets but the troops themselves. It was hard to do too much damage to entrenched infantry from space without totally wasting the planet, so once they'd knocked out the few anti-air batteries we had, the landings began.

  Sitting in the bunker I flashed back to the nine times I'd stepped into a launch bay before an assault. Today the enemy was doing that, and we were waiting...as they had for me so many times.

  I knew the assault would be virtually unopposed. First, we really didn't have much in the way of effective weapons systems against incoming landers. Second, I knew Colonel Holm wanted to get them on the surface and trick them into underestimating our true strength so we could ambush them. He wasn't about to make us look stronger by putting up a futile defense against the initial assault.

  The colonel had managed to hide a couple of surface-to-air sprint missile launchers from the bombardment and, as much for show as for effect, we did launch a bit of an attack on the landing craft. Our fire was actually pretty effective and we took out nine ships, and we forced the rest to scatter into a defensive approach, disordering their landing pattern.

  The CAC landers were bigger than our Gordons, each carrying one of their 18-man tac-teams. So that was over 150 casualties before they hit ground. Not bad considering we really didn't have much of an air defense.

  The tactical computers were furiously analyzing the size of the landing, and the tonnage and number of assault vessels in orbit to create a projection of the attacking force. When that estimate came it matched my own unofficial one - we were facing a brigade-sized attack force.

  A CAC brigade was about 6,500 strong, divided into ten of their tac-forces plus supporting elements. CAC tac-forces were the rough equivalent to one of our battalions. Based on their standard organization, two of those tac-forces would be fully-powered infantry and the rest normal line troops, though the exact setup was mission-variable. There was a good chance they would have a higher proportion of assault units for an attack like this.

  The enemy's landing zone was centered on a flat plain about 10 kilometers from Weston, well within range of our infantry's mortars and rocket launchers, which immediately opened fire and caused significant casualties while the attacking units were forming up to advance. Their corresponding formations deployed quickly and began returning the fire. We were entrenched and they weren't, but there were a lot more of them. I wasn't in the line of command to get streaming casualty reports from the surface, but it was likely we were starting to take losses.

  The enemy could have deployed a greater distance from Weston, and out of our initial fire range. We hadn't positioned any defenses further out. But they'd decided to trade casualties for time, accepting some additional losses to position themselves to attack immediately. CAC doctrine was considerably more tolerant of losses than ours, and if a battle was won there was little concern for the casualties it took to secure that victory.

  The attack force formed up very quickly and began its advance. Impressive discipline, much better than most CAC forces. Not a good sign - these were well drilled troops. Our forces on the surface were going to have their hands full.

  The enemy approach was pretty much straight out of the book. Any advance out in the open would become a bloody mess almost immediately, so standard tactics called for unloading everything you could against the defenders to give them something to worry about other than shooting you.

  It was also helpful for the attacker to obscure battlefield conditions as much as possible. We had state of the art targeting systems, battle computers, and enhanced optics, but all of these resources were subject to degradation. Dust and smoke interfered with laser targeting, and once the battlefield was full of heat sources clear scanning became much more difficult.

  The CAC support units blasted our positions with mortars, rockets, and several batteries of small artillery pieces while their infantry advance
d. The enemy troops used the craters and irregularities of the ground to leapfrog their advance, just as we would, but the CAC forces were far less cautious than any of our units. They rushed their advance, covering more ground in each push - at the cost of additional time exposed and heavier casualties.

  I certainly didn't approve of their priorities, but I had to admit that they closed the distance to our troops very quickly. Their first wave was barely a kilometer from the first defensive line, and the second was landed and almost formed up.

  The troops manning the trenches were mostly militia. About half the unarmored marine units were thrown in for stiffening, and the other half were positioned in the rear as a ready reserve.

  The attackers seemed to be suffering losses considerably in excess of projected rates, but it wasn't until they were fully engaged with our forces that we got the full report. The enemy had no powered infantry units and no fighting vehicles. That was a surprise. They still had the numbers to overwhelm our apparent defenses, but they would suffer far greater casualties. Probably three-quarters of the hits that took down one of their troops would have deflected off powered armor.

  Oblivious to the enormous losses they were suffering, the leading units began to assault our positions, overrunning the sparsely deployed defenders. Our defensive lines were designed to draw the enemy in so we could hit them from behind once they were fully committed. The strategy worked - almost too well - and the attackers sliced through our first three lines in several places.

  The assault force had suffered at least 1,500 casualties, but they kept up the pressure, and the combat intensity increased significantly. The colonel shifted reserves constantly, launching focused counter attacks wherever there was a vulnerability. The CAC support units kept firing even after the lines were intermingled, and they took out as many of their own troops as ours. But they had a 6-1 edge on the surface and could take the losses. We couldn't.

  I kept waiting for the colonel to give us the order to move out. The enemy was heavily committed, with only support units and a few guards in the rear. It was perfect timing. But nothing. Not so much as a squad was committed from the flanking force. I couldn't understand. Our troops on the surface were getting shredded, but we just sat.

  My AI updated the projections on my visor. The enemy had pushed back to our final line of defenses. We'd bled them, but our units were down to 50% strength and running low on supplies. The situation was beyond critical, but still no orders to advance.

  Holm did throw in the half dozen tanks, and they helped stabilize the line at the weakest spot, but it had turned into a bloody knife fight, and we weren't going to win it. I had just asked myself for the tenth time why we were just sitting here when my AI said, in its usual robotic voice, "Landing craft inbound."

  Fuck. Another wave. We were in serious trouble.

  My visor projections were updated in real time. The incoming ships were landing about ten kilometers back from the initial zone. Damn, if we'd launched our attack they'd be hitting us in the rear. How the hell did the colonel know? Did he have the discipline and will to hold us back on a hunch while he was getting slammed on the surface?

  We got the orders now. Prepare to attack the incoming force, but do not give away our position until given the word. We checked weapons for about the fifth time and moved out into the egress tunnels. Waiting in the tunnels we got the update on the new landing force, and the news wasn't good. Four tac-forces, more than 2,000 troops, and all powered infantry. If we'd been committed already we wouldn't have a chance. Now we were just outnumbered 3-1, which was at least better odds than our guys in the trenches had. At least we had surprise on our side.

  The enemy advanced straight toward the city, through their original LZ and over the pockmarked battlefield. When they were passing our exit tunnels we sent out our lead units and engaged them on the flank. We had surprise and they had numbers, so we knew we had to hit hard and make the most of the initial assault.

  My team - I'm not sure platoon was the right word for my little group - was positioned in the last wave. I chafed at sitting and waiting while our troops were fighting against such desperate odds, but I had my orders. We could only deploy so quickly through these tunnels anyway, so there wasn't really another option.

  I continued to watch the battle unfold on my visor, with constant updates feeding in. Our flank attack took them completely by surprise, and our lead elements inflicted massive casualties and completely disordered the enemy's left flank. The third wave's advance stopped dead in its tracks, as they attempted to turn and face our attack.

  We pushed them back, and our lead units followed up aggressively. Surprise was our biggest advantage and we wanted to keep them off-balance as long as possible. Once they managed to regroup and bring their numbers to bear, we'd catch hell. One to one we were better than them, but this fight wasn't one to one, it was three to one.

  We also needed to make this a quick fight. We were extremely short on supplies, and the aggressive attack was using up what we had quickly. The ammunition we had was being well used at least. These were tight quarters for a fight like this, and our fire was having tremendous effect.

  My group finally emerged from the tunnels into a sunken ravine running perpendicular to the enemy's formation, between the main row of hills and a rocky ridgeline. It was a well-chosen spot, and the ridge shielded us from the enemy and the fight currently going on.

  My orders were to set up a defensive position along the ridge. I had an assigned section, with other groups on either side of me. The colonel himself came on the comlink and outlined the plan. The engaged powered infantry forces were going to pull back behind the ridge to regroup. He was hoping to goad the enemy into attacking the ridgeline, where we were preparing a warm reception for them. If they took the bait we'd hit them with everything we had, while the withdrawing units reorganized and formed a reserve.

  My section of the line was the most critical. There was a 500 meter break in the ridge where the ground was flat and open. On either side there were large rock formations that made the ridgeline almost impassable, channeling any advance through the narrow opening. A large number of our retiring troops were going to come through there, hopefully with the enemy on their heels.

  I sent the team with the heavy rocket launcher to the rear, back on the main row of hills. I told them to find three good vantage points to deploy the launcher where they had clear line of sight to fire both before and after an enemy force got through the gap. I intended to start firing rockets as soon as we had a clear target and to rotate the launcher to a new position after two quick shots to avoid return fire.

  I took the 4 autogun teams and put two on each side of the gap, offset so they wouldn't be at risk from each others' fire. We scouted out locations in the rock formations for each gun so they would be shielded until the enemy was through the gap and into the interlocking fields of fire. With four guns firing from two directions that open area would be very hot for anyone coming through.

  I stripped the other three troops from each of those fire teams. I took two with me and split the other ten, with five on each side, hidden behind whatever cover they could find. I positioned myself and my two lucky privates along the edge of the open area. I wanted this to be timed right, and I intended to keep a close eye on things. My AI kept feeding me reports on approaching contacts. We had about 140 of our troops heading this way, and it looked like the enemy was right behind.

  It was only about three minutes before our units started coming through. They were in good order and well-organized, moving through by makeshift platoons. I wasn't plugged in to the command circuit at a high enough level to track casualties in these units, but I tried to estimate. Our organization was so ersatz on this operation it was hard to tell, but my best guess was they were down to around 50% strength.

  The retreating troops were moving toward the edge of the interior hillside and then redeploying to the left and right to support and reinforce my positions there. One of t
he pivotal battles of the campaign would be fought in that tight little ravine. That is, if the enemy cooperated and did what we expected. Unfortunately, they didn't. I was waiting for my AI to warn me about approaching enemy troops, but when it came it wasn't what I expected. "CAC formations seem to have ceased pursuit and begun to fall back."

  What the hell were they up to? My mind raced looking for possibilities. The last of our units were flowing through the gap, but there was no sign of enemy activity. Then, everything happened at once.

  All of a sudden it came to me...I knew what was happening. I started to order my two privates to take cover when the comlink came to life. It was the colonel, and he was yelling frantically. "Cain, get out of the gap. Withdraw now. Code Oran..."

  That was as much as I heard. There was a blinding flash right in front of me. My visor went dark, automatically shutting down to protect my eyes. A second later the shockwave hit, slamming me, armor and all, hard into a pillar of jagged rock.

  I was on my back for a few seconds, stunned. When I tried to move I couldn't. It wasn't more than another two or three seconds before I felt massive weight against my legs as my armor was ripped open by a huge pile of falling rock, then the wave of pain as the boulders pressed down on my injured legs. I could feel wetness; I knew I was bleeding badly. Then the burning started as the massive heat from the explosion began to seep through my shattered suit.

  My armor still had some functionality, though. I could feel the injections from the trauma control mechanisms, and almost immediately the pain subsided. I could smell burning flesh, and while I couldn't feel it, I knew the suit was attempting to electro-cauterize my legs to stop the bleeding.

  I was lying there in a surreal daze. All I could think was, time to pay for getting missed all those times. My dead comrades came back to me from my memories, saying, "Welcome, brother...we have kept a place for you."