The victory bought more than enough time for additional forces, including the first elements of the Super Heavy and Bearcat tank units, to move up to the line.
Another counterattack, larger than before, was attempted, but it crashed against the new wall of metal and broke apart.
The Kitright forces melted deeper into the city, abandoning all hopes of dislodging the alien foothold.
Gabriel watched the retreating enemy slip into the surrounding buildings as Bravo squad cheered their success with a roar and pumped fists. He didn’t share their excitement. He let out a heavy sigh. Now we’ll have to dig them out room by bloody room.
***
The initial casualty reports from the close-quarter street fighting were simply unacceptable. Given the scope of the conquest before them and the number of soldiers in the allied force, they couldn’t win a planet-sized war of attrition unless something changed drastically.
Against the urgings of his personal staff, Trent entered the contested city to study the situation ahead of him with his own eyes. Inside the skeleton of a bombed-out building, he addressed the officer in charge of the attack. “Report,” he demanded upon first sight of General Mandel, commander of the 10th Legion.
Mandel shot straight upright and shuffled his feet side to side. “The enemy continues to offer strong resistance and...”
Frustrated by the loss of men, his men, Trent coldly cut him off. “I already know all that, General. I want solutions. Ideas. How are you going to take this city without destroying my army?”
“General.” Mandel cleared his throat. “The enemy is dug in tight along a section of buildings. If we bypass them and push in, we put our flanks and rear in extreme jeopardy.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, General.” He flipped his wrist. “So you’re telling me you don’t have any ideas? Is that it, General?”
Mandel took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”
Trent dipped his chin and shook his head. “Sweetie, bring up the latest dispersal of enemy troops.”
A diagram of the city popped into his mind. Different colored dots, red for enemy, blue for allied, displayed the disposition of forces. The Kitright had positioned themselves directly in front of Trent’s line of advance.
There isn’t a way around them without burning a ton of time. I’d have to pull too far back for another double K run by the fighters. That leaves only one option.
“Listen up, General,” his tone remained annoyed. “Pull back everything you have at least two blocks from the enemy position. Forward deploy every Slayer trooper, Super Heavy, and tank. I want you to pound the foundations of this entire portion of their line. Fire until you bring those buildings down onto their fucking heads. Got it?”
“That should work. Yes, sir!”
“Once they fall, pour through the hole and trap any enemy units that didn’t pull back.”
“Yes, sir!”
Trent turned and briskly walked away.
“Kinda hard on him, don’t you think?” Amanda asked. Her new position was Trent’s personal assistant, a role she both loved and loathed.
“I shouldn’t have to step in and solve problems that are that easily fixed.”
“He’s doing the best he can. Not everyone is you.”
“Yeah, well, I need better than that. Mediocrity gets good soldiers killed on the field of battle.”
***
The focused saturation bombing worked to great effect. Entire sections of the Kitright line collapsed, burying scores of enemy units under tons of material.
Gabriel led the seven active members of Bravo into the breach once again. Two members of the squad were killed clearing occupied buildings and another rested in a hospital bed aboard Earth’s Fist, minus a leg.
Bravo now spearheaded a deep thrust. The 3rd Cohort was to penetrate as far into the enemy city as possible to disrupt Kitright defensive plans and to capture important assets before they could be destroyed. The swift-moving force encountered only sporadic resistance.
Gabriel stopped the squad when they reached their initial checkpoint, a large structure only a few stories high, near the center of town. He scanned the area closely. This part of town hadn’t been touched by the fighting. The quiet streets and deserted buildings didn’t feel right.
A chill went up his spine like he was walking through a graveyard. “Where is everyone?” he asked aloud rhetorically.
“Enemy weapon discharge detected,” Hottie, his CAL, warned. “Position highlighted.”
Two other squads joined Bravo as they charged up an outdoor flight of stairs leading to the large building’s entrance. A volley of grenades set for impact detonation opened a welcoming entry.
Rushing forward with MRGs blazing, the legionnaires dispatched the few dozen small enemy units walking around a lobby area. When the smoke cleared, they were stopped in their tracks. They’d discovered their first civilians, now nothing more than shouldering clumps of burnt hair and flesh. Hundreds of them.
Gabriel choked down a spontaneous vomit. “Spread out and secure the building!”
He stayed in the lobby, turning to gain a panoramic view of the large chamber. A massive skylight overhead lit it with natural light. Numerous display cases, now shattered, no, not shattered, but melted, littered the scene.
Taking a gulp of air, it dawned on him where he was. A museum. Of what category, exactly, he didn’t know. Judging by the effort they made to destroy the exhibits and execute the staff, it must’ve been important.
Continuing to take in the scene, he noticed a picture encompassing a significant portion of the back wall. The painted image displayed a Kitright in primitive clothing meeting with an unidentifiable being outside a forest. It was unidentifiable because that specific image had been burnt away. Next to the burn mark was a golden oval atop three wiry legs.
He gasped and walked closer to the picture.
“Who are you?” he softly muttered. Then he had his CAL transmit the entire record to headquarters. Figuring this out was way above his pay grade.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Humanity
A small army of techs invaded the building Gabriel had happened upon, the moment the surrounding area was declared clear. They scoured every item or fragment with desperate hope of collecting enough data to virtually reconstruct the melted puzzle.
Trent paid them no attention. Helmet off, he stared up at the wall painting with an open mouth. He knew it meant something incredibly important. What exactly remained a mystery.
Amanda weaved her way across the busy room to join him. “Any guesses?” she asked.
“Not yet.” he crossed his arms. “With a little luck, these guys will find something telling to fill in the burnt spot. Anything of interest to report, Sergeant?”
“Nothing’s changed since the last sitrep. Enemy resistance in the city appears to have collapsed everywhere. We’re still finding stragglers now and then, but that’s it. We’re certainly finding a whole lot of those disgusting things.” She gestured toward a pile of melted Kitright. “Reports are coming in about mass killings in what look like community bunkers. I think it’s safe to assume that’s what happened to the civilian population.”
“Sad.” He shook his head. “An entire city murdered by its own military because it lost a battle.” A sigh slipped from his lips. “I didn’t want this.”
“I wonder what the point is? I mean, it’s not like the civilians we captured at the trading post knew anything important anyway.”
He turned to walk out and Amanda stayed with him. Outside, the Blood Sun had begun its daily migration below the range. The nineteen-hour days made it feel like it was always dusk or dawn.
“Add it to the list of shit that doesn’t make sense.”
“What’s next? Are we going to take the other two cities in the valley?”
“I haven’t decided. Depends on what we find out here and if the guys in orbit have detected anything to point toward a spot where we can really hurt the
m. We can’t afford to do this another thousand times over.”
The couple walked down one of the wide boulevards running through the city. They walked closely, venturing into one of the many parks.
Trent wanted desperately to kiss Amanda, to embrace her. Being surrounded by death made him crave affection. While they might have felt alone at the moment, he know a squad of soldiers assigned to his personal security was keeping a close, though discreet, distance. He contented himself with enjoying the garden they walked through alongside one another.
He was busy examining a beautiful blue and white star-shaped flower when a faint whimper triggered his curiosity. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” Amanda replied, unslinging her rifle.
He moved toward the bush the sound came from. She aimed her MRG, her finger near the trigger and ready. Kneeling down, he slowly reached out and parted a set of leafed branches. On the ground, curled up in the fetal position, lay a little Kitright female. The look of sheer terror in her young, innocent eyes broke his heart.
Despite a gigantic gulf of differences in space, time, culture, and DNA, he saw a little piece of Anna in those kitten’s amber eyes. Maybe the core of a child’s soul stood as one of the few universal constants.
He held out his palms. “Shhh. It’s ok.”
“What is it?” Amanda asked, her harsh tone frightening the child.
“It’s just a kid. Put that down and call a medic.”
Slowly and gently, he placed his hands on her to check for injuries. She trembled as if half-expecting him to kill her. Why shouldn’t she, given everything that had happened to her and everyone she’d ever known in the past day? She winced when he lifted her arm. Looking closer he saw a wound. Anger grew within him. Pink residue on her clothes was proof it had been inflicted by a Kitright grenade.
The girl started to realize the human warrior wasn’t here to hurt her. She didn’t protest as he slipped his arms under her and stood. On the walk to the park’s edge, the terrified creature stared up at him as if she struggled to determine who or what he was. Maybe he didn’t fit her predetermined conception of what he should look like.
A squad of soldiers met them at the street.
“What’s the problem, sir?” The sergeant asked. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the little Kitright girl balled up in Trent’s arms.
“I’ve got a wounded civilian here. She needs medical attention.”
“I’ll take her, sir,” a fully-suited medic said, arms extended.
Trent went to hand the girl over to the transparent blur. Her eyes shot wide and clung to him with her good hand.
“It might help if you remove the helmet, Private.” Amanda suggested.
“Oh, of course, sir.”
Removing the helmet revealed the medic to be a lovely Asian woman whose soft face and soothing voice made her born to be a pediatrician. The girl allowed the transfer but kept her eyes locked on Trent.
The squad started to head back when Trent called out to the medic, “Private?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I would appreciate being kept updated on her condition. I expect her to be given nothing but the best care the Legion has to offer.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”
He watched them walk away. A day ago, he would’ve killed everyone in this town if it served a military purpose. Now, with the killing over, he wished to hell the little Kitright girl’s parents were still alive. The paradox of morality and war never ceased to amaze him.
The little girl shifted on the medic’s arms to look back at the man who found her. Trent waved, then realized she probably had no idea what that meant.
“You’re not going to adopt her, are you?” Amanda asked, half serious.
He laughed. “Why? Don’t you want kids of our own some day?”
“Someday is right, and honestly, I’d prefer to have them be mine...human, at least.”
“Don’t worry.” He threw the barrier between them aside and pulled her close to him. He wanted to, he needed to feel her. “I’m just happy we saved one from this Godforsaken mess.”
“What will we do with her?”
“I have no idea. We’ll keep her as long as the fighting on this planet continues.” he shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll be best to send her off to the small Kitright community working that trading post. Someplace safe.”
Amanda smiled and jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “You really are just a big ball of marshmallow inside there, aren’t you?”
“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charge of the 14th Order
Since the allied fleet’s victory at the Battle of Kitright Prime, not a single enemy ship had appeared to challenge their domination of the space around the planet. Regardless of the lack of any direct threat, standard operating procedure required a continuous combat space patrol around the assembled fleet as it hovered in a geosynchronous orbit over the valley.
Susan greeted the sight of her name on the day’s duty roster with a smile. She appreciated any opportunity to sit in the cockpit of her Avenger. With nothing to indicate otherwise, she looked forward to a leisurely pleasure cruise through the void of space. With Lt. West at her side, she allowed herself to relax and take in the brilliant stars.
“Alert,” the CAC sounded off. “Unknown contacts have emerged from the atmosphere on an intercept course! Scrambling all fighters. Prepare to engage enemy fighters.”
“What the hell? Where did they come from? I knew it had been too quiet,” West complained.
“Don’t know, but cheer up.” She kept her cool. “Maybe we’ll finally get a chance to score some real kills.”
“That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
The contacts registered on her sensor panel, all two hundred and fifty of them.
A lump formed in her throat. “Let’s pull back and get formed up with the group. I don’t feel like taking them all on by ourselves.”
“You think?”
Dozens of human and Bearcat fighters and drones from the alert force launched. Getting the rest out would take time, time the fleet didn’t have.
The orders from CAC were chilling and clear. “Buy us time.”
Susan’s Avenger accelerated at full throttle toward the charging enemy. Eighty-three others joined in the desperate effort.
Sensors painted a detailed description of the foe. The signature gold color of the Kitright military again darkened her screen. The shape of the attackers were radically different, however. Instead of the oval design, the new enemy fighters were flying wings with no identifiable cockpit or weapons pods.
Both formations approached. Each initially executed evasive maneuvers to counter any mass barrages of projectiles or energy. In a brink of an eye, the four types of craft meshed together as though the movement had been choreographed and practiced to a fine point. From a distance, the furball of zooming fighters, drones, missiles, and KKC rounds resembled a cosmic kaleidoscope of sorts. Those inside the tangled metallic mess couldn’t see the beauty. To them, only death and life mattered.
Engulfed in the fog of war, Susan and West found themselves separated. They fought to kill and not be killed. The demand for speed and flexibility of movement prevented their coordination. A drone tethered to each Avenger was their only assistance.
Jerking her fighter, Susan gained a favorable angle on an enemy target. She closed with deadly intentions, but before she could discharge her laser, the Avenger detected an enemy firing solution locked on her and automatically performed an evasive maneuver.
“Fuck!”
Her frustration quickly evaporated under the heat of combat. Staying alive was too important, and finding a new target wouldn’t present a problem. Chaos swirled all around her cockpit. Like a machine of war, she remained focused.
In front of her, a trio of Kitright fighters closed on a lone Bearcat dart. Throwing maximum power to her Avenger, she tried to rescue the endangered
comrade-in-arms. The three predators, too intent on scoring a kill, failed to notice her approach. A long sweeping burst from the KKC shattered the pursuers. Pink droplets of frozen goo bounced off her deflector array as she flew through their wreckage.
The victory barely registered. She went to work on her next target. Cutting the engine, she flipped the nose around, letting momentum carrying her away. She took aim and cracked open another enemy fighter with a hot beam from the laser. Flipping back around, she again poured on the speed.
Another sharp turn resulted in another kill and another.
It’s a turkey shoot! These guys are amateurs!
The Kitright, while numerous, didn’t seem to grasp basic dogfighting tactics, and the engagement soon degenerated into a rout even before the reinforcements arrived. It was as if this were their first experience with such combat, and it probably was. The enemy managed to overwhelm a few craft though sheer numbers, but the lopsided tally stopped cold any hopes of them inflicting damage on the capital ships.
Susan was starting to really enjoy herself when a frightful distress call rang out. “Dark Knight Two, requesting immediate assistance! I’ve got a gang-bang on my tail. I’m damaged and can’t evade!”
Adrenaline shot into her system. She turned and rocketed toward her sole surviving squadron mate. A “gang-bang” meant West had three or more enemies tracking him. Without support, his damaged Avenger couldn’t hope to carry him out of trouble.
“Dark Knight One to Dark Knight Two, I’m tracking and flying max power to your location. Stay loose, help is on the way.”
“Roger that, Ross – hurry!”
In the madness of the furball, West had somehow found himself near the planet. Its gravity well conspired to hinder his escape. With reckless speed and pure determination, Susan charged headlong at the enemy from above. Given her desperation to close the gap, she would only have a fraction of a second to take out all three targets.
The Last Revenge (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 2) Page 23