by Jay Allan
She spent most of her time thinking about how to keep her disintegrating army together. The march across the planet’s polar region had been nothing short of a nightmare. She lost people every day to the brutal cold, a constant toll that sapped the army’s morale. The whole thing was a horror. They rose early each morning, breaking camp and continuing their unending march. They left those who died where they fell. The ground was frozen solid, making burial almost impossible. And they couldn’t spare fuel to burn the bodies. The dead lay frozen in the snow, marking the path the army had followed.
But she wasn’t thinking about the war this time, at least not directly. Her mind drifted back to Concordia, to her son, Will Jr. She’d left him behind when she fled with the army, in the care of one of her oldest friends. She knew she had to join the fight to save Arcadia, no matter how hopeless it was. But she wasn’t going to expose her child to that danger. Young Will had lost his father to the battlefield, and before this was over he might lose his mother too. But he would be safe…she had made sure of that. She and Gwen had been close since childhood, almost like sisters. If Kara failed to come back from war, Will would have a loving home and a chance to grow up. Whether he did that in freedom or under the rule of an oppressive regime depended largely on how the fight for Arcadia progressed. Things looked bleak now, but Kara held on to a shred of hope. As long as her soldiers were in the field, freedom wasn’t dead.
The army had adopted Kara as its leader and, to a man, they followed her orders as if they were commandments from heaven. She was all that remained of Will Thompson, and he had been the father of the Arcadian forces. He’d raised them and trained them and led them against the federal armies that had come to crush the rebellion. He died leading them…he’d died before the victory was won, before Arcadia became free. He endured all the suffering the revolution could heap on him, but he never had the joy of seeing the triumph, of watching free Arcadians elect their own leaders. He lived on in his soldiers’ hearts, though…and in their devotion to Kara.
But Kara Sanders was more than Will Thompson’s lover and the mother of his son. She was a force in her own right, and the survivors of the Ice March, as it had come to be called, began to see her differently than they had. Pain and suffering – and the loss of hundreds of their number to the brutal conditions she forced on them – had dulled the unconditional affection they felt. But in its place, respect grew, almost awe. Wherever the army had gone, she had been there in the forefront, enduring everything her soldiers had. She marched through thigh-deep snow at their head and huddled with them around the portable heaters through the frigid nights. She shared their meager rations and walked among them while they rested, making sure everyone was fed and the sick and wounded got what care was available. She was becoming a legend in her own right, cold, hard, invincible…the symbol of Arcadia’s strength and spirit.
She was looking down at her ’pad. She only had one picture of little Will, and she knew she should delete that one. If she was captured, she didn’t want to lead the enemy to the boy. But she couldn’t bring herself to cut that last small connection to her son. She knew her chance of ever seeing him again was small.
The tundra was considerably warmer than the polar hell the army had just crossed, but it was still damned cold. She knew the temperatures would continue to rise as the army marched south…and the hard, frozen ground would turn into a muddy quagmire. That would be another challenge, one nearly as difficult.
She put her hands on the rock and slid herself off. It was time to get the troops back on the move. They had to keep going. She knew they were being followed, and she was determined to stay ahead of the pursuit. She had a plan, one she hadn’t shared with anyone yet. She knew all her army could achieve was to distract and disorder as many of the enemy as possible…and hope General Holm and the Marines could exploit her diversion. And she knew that distraction had to be a big one to do any good. The army wasn’t just marching aimlessly as she’d allowed them all to think. They were heading to Arcadia City…and when they got there they were going to launch a surprise attack and retake the capital.
It was a gamble of epic proportions. She had no intel, no idea how many enemy troops garrisoned the city. But she was determined to make a difference in the fight for her home world. She knew the Marines were facing most of the enemy’s strength…and much of the rest was pursuing her force. Maybe…just maybe, they’d left the capital weakly protected.
Holm and Teller’s people were all veterans, but they were massively outnumbered. They’d put up a hell of a fight, but in the end their situation was hopeless. Unless Kara’s people could stir things up.
Her army wasn’t strong enough to make a conventional difference, at least not in a straight up fight. But if she was right, if the enemy had left Arcadia weakly garrisoned, maybe they could accomplish something. A surprise attack might just succeed…and create enough disruption to give the Marines a chance to hurt the enemy.
She started walking back to the column. My God, she thought, glancing at her soldiers slowly lining up for the march…they look ragged. Men and women can only give so much, she thought, even patriots. “Not much longer,” she whispered to herself. “Soon it will be over, my soldiers. One way or another.”
“Keep up the fire!” Elias Holm walked all along the trenchline, watching his Marines gunning down the enemy charge. They’d repulsed a dozen attacks in the last two weeks, killing thousands of the enemy. But even successful defenses had a cost, and slowly, surely his force was melting away. The enemy could lose 10 men for every one of his people they killed and still be ahead on the exchange.
Holm had been the Commandant of the Corps since the rebellions, and for years before he’d been the CO of the massive operations that closed the Third Frontier War. Now he was on the front line, commanding a force that would normally rate no more than a brigadier…or even a colonel. But he felt exhilarated to be so close to the action again.
He was scared, certainly. It was widely believed in the Corps that he felt no fear, that he never had. His cult of cold-blooded fearlessness was second, perhaps, to Erik Cain’s, but that was only because Cain was widely believed to be a little crazy too. No one would say that about Elias Holm. He was as rational an individual as could exist in such insane circumstances.
Holm found it amusing, and he wondered what his Marines would think if they could know how scared he was in battle. Still, it was a useful fiction. Indeed, he wondered if that wasn’t why the rank and file created such legends around their leaders. Did it help them find their own courage, to march boldly into situations that would make a sane man turn and flee? Whatever the true motivation, Holm saw no reason to strip his Marines of their mythologies and stories. Every man had his own way to bolster his courage.
“Pour it in to them, Marines.” Holm kept walking down the line. He was leaning forward, keeping his head down below the berm his people were defending. He couldn’t think of anything worse for morale now than the CO getting his head blown off…and Holm preferred to hang on to it if he could.
“They’re moving to the flank, General.” It was Sam Thomas. The old Marine and his pack of retirees had returned to form, and they were savaging the enemy forces on their section of front. Thirty years of farming, fishing, sitting on the porch…it didn’t seem that it did anything to take the Marine out of the Marines. They were hardcore veterans, and it showed.
Holm looked at his tactical display. He saw the move immediately. The enemy had been assaulting his position frontally, expecting to overwhelm his outnumbered forces. But his people showed the attackers just what Marines could do. Finally, the enemy was moving around the flank. Holm sighed. It was what they should have done weeks ago…and it was going to be a lot harder to deal with.
He flipped the com to Teller’s channel. “James, I need you to pull your people out of the line and move to the right flank.” He was staring at the display as he spoke. “Fast.”
“Yes, General.”
Holm flipped back to Thomas’ channel. “Sam, I’m sending Teller’s people to the flank. I need you to thin out your lines and cover his frontage.
“That’s going to leave us pretty stretched out, sir.” Holm was uncomfortable every time Thomas called him ‘sir.’ He had tried to get his second in command to address him informally, but the old Marine simply wouldn’t do it. The last time the two had seen action together, Holm was a junior captain, and Thomas was a full colonel, a hero of the Corps on the cusp of promotion to general rank. That was on Persis, at the end of the Second Frontier War. Thomas abruptly and unexpectedly retired soon after, ending his celebrated career much earlier than anyone expected. Holm knew why the veteran colonel had called it quits, but that was a story for another time.
“I know, but we don’t have a choice.” Holm was trying to sound positive, but it was fake, and Thomas heard right through it. They both knew the enemy could keep extending the length of the front line. Eventually, the Marines would be too stretched out to mount a credible defense. The enemy would slice through the weakened lines at will…and that would be the end of it. “Just do your best, Sam.”
“There it is. Arcadia.” Kara didn’t add the ‘city’ like she often did for the benefit of offworlders. Her people were all Arcadians, and they knew when someone meant the capital city instead of the planet itself. “To the south the Marines are fighting to destroy the invader.” She really had no idea where the Marines were…or even if they were still in the field. But she needed her people to believe right now.
“Now is the time. We are here to take back Arcadia! The enemy is away, facing the Marines, and the capital sits naked, barely defended.” Another baseless guess. She really had no idea how many enemy soldiers were in the city, but she doubted it was ‘barely defended.’ She was gambling that most of the invaders’ strength was to the south, massed against Holm and his army. It was a reasonable guess, but a guess nevertheless. But no one else needed to know that. “It is there, waiting for us to take it back, to liberate its people…and to show the enemy that Arcadians will never yield!”
The cheers began along the front of the formation, but it quickly worked its way back. In a few seconds, thousands of Arcadians…farmers, mechanics, engineers…were shouting her name. “Kara…Kara…Kara…” They surged forward, breaking as if there was an invisible barrier around her, until they formed a vast circle with her at its center. “Kara…Kara…Kara…”
She stood silently before them, her arms raised high above her head. She let them chant and scream for a few minutes then she lowered her arms. “To your posts, my brave Arcadians. We attack immediately…and we shall not stop until Arcadia is ours again, and every enemy soldier who soils her streets and houses is dead!” She threw her arms up again. “Prepare to attack!”
The noise was deafening. They kept shouting, even as their officers pushed and pulled them into attack formation. She moved to the front of the army, her fingers clasped around the worn grips of her assault rifle. Captain Mandrake led his 50 Marines to the front of the formation, his fully-armored men and women shaking out in a long skirmish line. The Marines were the professionals, veterans of the First Imperium war, and men and women who had seen some of the most desperate battles mankind ever fought. But they, too, were moved by Kara’s words, and they stepped forward grimly, silently…the sharp tip of Arcadia’s spear.
Kara knew the defenders in Arcadia could see her army. They knew the attack was coming. There was only one question. Were there enough of them to defeat her? She would have an answer soon, very soon.
“Arcadians and Marines…attack!”
Holm stood behind his wavering line of Marines. The enemy had breached the defenses in 3 places. Holm had scraped up the last of his forces to plug the holes. When the next attack broke through, his reserve would consist of one man…him.
His people had been holding the line for weeks, but for the last 3 days, the enemy had been throwing themselves at his troops incessantly. He didn’t know what had changed – perhaps a general over there had lost his patience – but the urgency level had ramped up considerably.
The enemy had been moving to stretch out the line and work around his flank, but then they just stopped the maneuvering and started pounding straight at his positions. Across the entire line, they launched massive wave attacks. They were taking horrific losses, but they were wearing down the dwindling Marine force too. Holm was going to run out of people before they did.
Holm had no idea what had changed to send the enemy into a frenzy of suicidal charges, but he knew his army was on the edge of the abyss. The attackers’ numerical superiority was just too great to overcome. If they were willing to take enough casualties, they could overrun the Marines.
“General Holm…” – it was Sam Thomas, his normally emotionless voice sounding surprised, almost shocked – “…the enemy is pulling back. All across my frontage.”
Holm felt his tension spike. What the hell, he thought, what are they up to now? They had him. They were on the verge of bagging the whole Marine force. Why pull back now after taking 10,000 casualties to get to the threshold of total victory?
“General Holm…they’re retreating. All across the line. It’s a miracle.” There was as much surprise in Teller’s voice as Thomas’. More, even. “I can’t explain it, sir, but they’re running.”
“I can explain it General Teller.” It was a woman’s voice, blasting through on all of their coms. “I’ve got a few Marines with me…and man are they pissed about being left out of the party.
Holm let out a deep breath. He knew the voice immediately. It was Cate Gilson and her Marines, back from the frontier and on their way down to the surface. He glanced at his tactical screen just as a wave of landing craft moved onto the edge of the display. “General Gilson…are you a sight for sore eyes!”
Chapter 12
North of the Sentinel
Planet Armstrong
Gamma Pavonis III
Cain was sitting at his desk. Really, it was just a box, a surplus plastic crate that had once held ammunition. There was a label on the side, partially faded but still readable…2,500,000 hypersonic rounds.
He was wearing his battle armor, but he had the visor retracted, and he was enjoying the fresh air. Protocols called for sealed suits in the combat zone…it was too easy for an enemy to deploy chemical weapons or for a Marine to get too close to a radiation hotspot if things suddenly went nuclear. But there was no one to scold the commander-in-chief, and he’d had just about enough of breathing air that stank of Erik Cain.
Long battles were always a challenge. His people were well beyond the suggested maximums for continuous armor usage. The plutonium in the suits’ reactors would keep them functioning almost indefinitely, but performance would degrade as men and women were pushed beyond their endurance. It was just one more thing to worry about, but there was nothing to be done. There was no sign of any respite for Cain’s Marines, so they were just going to have to tough it out. He knew he’d start seeing psych cases soon, but he’d just have to deal with them the best he could.
Cain knew he shouldn’t be this far up…not now, not when his people were pushed so close to the end of their endurance. He’d ordered most of the staff to withdraw to the new HQ, but he intended to stay at the forward headquarters until Carlson’s people made it back. It was the kind of thing General Holm would have scolded him about. But Holm was lightyears away. Cain didn’t even know where the general was. Isaac Merrick did a good job of filling in for Holm, trying to keep Cain from getting too reckless, but he rarely succeeded. Merrick didn’t outrank Cain like Holm did, and that was a huge disadvantage. It was hard enough to get Cain to follow orders he didn’t like. But simply persuading him was damned near impossible. But now, Merrick was wounded and in the hospital, and Cain was alone with half a dozen junior officers, all too scared of him to do anything but jump a meter in the air when he snapped an order to them.
Cain was on the com with Jake Carlson.
“OK, Jake, everybody else is heading south. Let’s get your people moving.” Carlson had been a sergeant on Adelaide and the initial man to confirm that the First Imperium’s soldiers were robots. He’d been part of Adelaide’s militia at the time, but now he was back in the Corps and wearing a major’s insignia. He’d fought in every significant engagement of the First Imperium War, and he’d become one of Cain’s “go to” officers, a stone cold veteran who could be trusted to handle the toughest assignments.
Carlson’s 300 Marines had been given just such a mission. They were the rearguard, trying to slow down an enemy that outnumbered them 50-1 while their comrades retreated and formed a new defensive line. It was hard business, and costly. Carlson had lost a third of his strength, but he’d gotten the job done. The rest of the army had extricated itself from a potential trap and fallen back into the new position. The outlook was still grim, but at least the fight would go on. Now Carlson had to get his survivors out…and no one was holding the enemy back for them while they did it.
“Yes, General.” Carlson’s voice was calm, even. Cain had never seen an officer as cool under fire as Jake Carlson. “We’re trying to break off now.”
“Don’t worry about making it pretty, Jake. Just get the hell out. If you need to bolt and run for it, do it.” Carlson’s people had done a good job of making a lot of noise and convincing the enemy they faced a large force. But the trick had only been effective for so long. The invaders had briefly slowed their advance, but now they were coming hard, and they were right on Carlson’s heels.
A loud blast of static erupted from Cain’s com unit. “Jake?” Nothing but interference. “Jake? Can you hear me?” Nothing. He flipped through the com channels, trying to reach Carlson, the new HQ…anyone. But all he got was static.