by George Olney
Back from the door, Sergeant Stauer and Corporal Chofal were already in position. "The control room's pretty well useless now that we've fired everything," the Sergeant said with a wolf-like grin. "No need for surveillance, either." He fired a burst out the gaping hole where the barricaded entrance used to be. "We know where the bastards are."
#####
The airstrike was a fighter squadron reinforced by several shuttles that currently didn't have a job. The fighters had already dropped on targets given them by the strike coordinator and it was now the shuttles' turn. Assault shuttles weren't quite as lively as fighters. They made up for it with better armor, heavier weapons, and pilots that were certifiably insane once they touched the controls. Warrant Officer Third Class Tim Maxell was, as was tradition, certifiably insane. He'd been doing ground support all day, the alternate mission of a shuttle, and was still hot to do more. No bombs left, but there were four 4 CM guns in the nose of his shuttle that still had ammunition.
He followed the targeting data given by the strike coordinator and sailed in just over the tops of the buildings behind the main bunker, low enough to clip the odd antenna or reception dish. His EFO was busy keeping a wide variety of unfriendly attention distracted, but Tim was concentrated on his gun target line. There, range and target good. He triggered a long burst that cut a 100 measure furrow out of the warehouse area and the Guard troops supposed to be in it.
Tim was just coming up on the remains of the reported assembly area when he shot a glance at his ground screen and blanched. There were more troops in one place than he'd ever seen outside of a troop carrier. He dropped the nose of his shuttle slightly and depressed his trigger just as an 8.8 CM AA bolt from somewhere caught the underside of his shuttle, blasting a huge hole behind his flight deck and killing his EFO. He only had a second to realize he was also dying and shove his stick down all the way. Tim's dying command brought the shuttle slamming down just to the front of the assembly area, skidding into the crowded Guards and tumbling forward like an avalanche. The shuttle wreckage skewed as it skidded along the ground, shedding flame, sparks, pieces, and many dead Guardsmen, finally wedging itself between two heavy walls and blocking the street leading from the assembly area to the bunker, still exploding. The shuttle killed hundreds of Guards and blocked hundreds more, but there were still over five hundred Guard survivors nearly at the perimeter wall.
That should have stopped the attack cold, but it didn't. There was no longer a realistic chance the Guard could complete its mission, but they were fanatics, becoming ever more worked up and frenzied. Nothing mattered now but taking the bunker.
#####
Shana watched as the Guards were starting to clamber over the perimeter wall now, slipping on the gory bodies of their own people as they came and making perfect targets. That was the real purpose of the wall, to create a moment of helplessness for the attacker. 2d Platoon took full advantage of that moment. Two of the Ma Deuces were still firing, and their crossfire was reaping Guards like wheat in a field.
Rockets were hitting the building's face constantly. Concussion and fragmentation were having their way. There were more casualties, but her remaining troops were taking toll.
"Rocket!" Shana suddenly found herself spun to the ground and felt the rocket detonate just at the slit where she'd been. Smythe again.
"Thanks, Smythe," she said shakily and started to get up. Smythe didn't get off of her. She craned around and saw a large chunk of metal sticking out of the back of Smythe's armor. She didn't have anyone at her back anymore. She gently moved the youngster's body then grimly went back to the fight. The Guards were starting to reach the entrance and she shot the first one that appeared. There were more coming. //"Strike 1-9-6, 2-6. I'm getting visitors. Got any more air assets?"//
//"1-9-6. Hang on, Shana, help's coming."//
//"It better get here soon, triple damn it!"//
Shana shot the next Guard and Sergeant Stauer got the two followers.
#####
Colonel Albt Lumis was fully in his element. There were better than a legion's worth of Guard units piled up in front of him. Like all random collections, the Guard units weren't fighting in coordinated fashion but they made up for it in ferocity. //"Pile on, 5th!"// he sent all hands. //"Pile on and kick ass! We're going to kick our way through this unholy mob of trash!"//
5th Cohort had absorbed the bull-like hard hitting style of its commander. They were no longer cutting their way through the Guards like a buzz saw. They were smashing like a pile driver. Albt studied his HUD with satisfaction. Just about time for his spear to drive through the sons of bitches in front of him and link up with the Strike platoons. He summoned up that spear. //"Faire 6, 5-9-6. Time to go. Crashed shuttle will inhibit your main avenue of attack, but that's it. Effect link up with those platoons, Colonel Frodi. They need you."//
//"Aye, Colonel Lumis. Don't fash yourself about the blockage. We'll go over it. Through it if we have to."//
Colonel Frodi changed bands. //"Scaanians, now is OUR time. Forward! Forward into the enemy! Teach the Guard to fear the elves!"//
The whole battalion knew how the Cluster folk looked at them. Elves. They'd all seen the illustrations and had to admit to a resemblance. On the whole, they thought the idea funny. However, they also knew there once was an ancient belief that elves were deadly; elves were to be feared. Now was the time to prove the truth of that old belief.
The battalion started forward, their armored suits at half speed as they built momentum, using the modified weave taught them by Lieutenant Ettranty and her sergeant. When they reached the point of full contact between the 5th and the Guard they didn't break stride. Speed was safety. They simply kept going as they slammed into the Guard, firing as they went. //"Faster, men,"// Frodi commanded. //"As we did in the old days when we were mounted. Forward at a gallop."//
The suits were moving faster, firing and weaving as they ran, a spear piercing deep into the enemy's body.
//"Ready... ready... Charge! Charge! Let none survive your passing!"// The suits were at full speed.
Bolt guns mounted on their armor served for much of the battalion's killing as they thrust into the rear of the Guards massed to attack Shana's position - but their huge swords were there to be used, and the battalion used them. Swords were more satisfying than guns, anyhow. Swords they knew well.
Frodi admired the Brusharas of the Corps. He'd heard them when the legions landed and had an idea. It was no trick to have his suit's loudspeaker generate a horn sound, even if it wasn't the deafening blast of a Brushara. Frodi's sounded more like the hunting horns of Faire. Skinning his lips back over his teeth in a fierce grin, he triggered his horn again, to hear others copy the sound and cast it forth. The Faire battalion's horns sounded warm brassy tones, all singing alike. The horns of Elfland proclaimed the coming of the Scaanians, the deadly elves. Let all hear and beware.
Frodi thundered forward through dying Guardsmen, slowing as the smashed remains of the Strike defense came into view. His men split as they passed down both sides of the building. One company ran head on into the Guards attacking 4th Platoon, scattering the attackers by pure shock effect. Other companies spread out and started to clear the area, still in the weave and still at speed. There was little resistance. What Guards they found appeared demoralized and stunned... before they died. There was no quarter for the Emperor's Guard.
Frodi slowed to a walk, striding slowly through the wide breach blown into the defensive wall. There were Guard bodies piled in the ditch behind the wall, piled high enough that he could walk on them to cross the gap. He did. Slowly, he surveyed the front of the armored building, noting the many craters and gaps that now covered its exterior and the carpet of Guard bodies surrounding an entrance gaping like the maw of some huge beast. Here was a fight, he thought, a fight for poets to sing of for a hundred, no, a thousand years. There was no activity outside the building and he reached over his shoulder to sheath the bloody sword he was holding. It w
asn't needed. The attackers had spent themselves trying to take the bunker.
Inside the entrance, there were more bodies, Guard and Gladius intermingled in death. Blood and rubble everywhere. One Gladius faced him, his armor scorched from near misses and covered in blood. He was standing over the armor clad body of another lying on the floor. The Gladius raised his visor and lowered his B-42 as he saw Frodi and read his identity code. When he spoke, his voice was tired, but still professionally level. He spoke in low tones, as though he was in a church. "Sergeant First Class Stauer, Colonel. Glad to see you again."
Frodi looked at the body Sergeant Stauer straddled. It was missing a right lower leg and there were scorch marks and small holes in several places on the armor. The holes weren't oozing blood. The body might have been bled out. Then Frodi remembered Gladius armor had the ability to staunch wounds. Whoever it was could still be alive. Dead Guardsmen surrounded the pair, some slashed into pieces by an ax, probably the ax lying near the still hand of the fallen figure. "Who?" he asked.
Sergeant Stauer took a deep breath and spoke with pride. "My Lieutenant. Lieutenant Shana Ettranty and one hell of a soldier. She held, Colonel. She held until relieved."
CHAPTER-18
CLUSTER FLEET
IN ORBIT AROUND CENTRAL
Legate Karl Athan, Legate of the 9th Legion Victrix and lauded as one of the conquerors of the Empire, meekly followed the slim Nurse Candidate down the hospital ship passageway. The girl was barely into her twenties, but she'd already informed him in no uncertain terms that she expected him to abide by visiting rules and not tire her patient, on pain of annihilation of cosmic proportions. Karl was sufficiently intimidated to readily agree. Besides, he'd already heard that Legion Sergeant Major Olmeg had bumped heads with this particular nurse and bounced. Very formidable young lady.
Things were anything but settled down on the planet. A few fake "Emperors" popped up, at least in the beginning, but it was becoming general knowledge that the Cluster had Shangnaman's stasis cabinet in custody. Also becoming general knowledge were the inhuman crimes that insane bastard had committed on the people of Central. Publicizing Shangnaman's "Trophy Room" with its human skins and necklaces of fingernails shook Central as much as the announcement about the death camps and murder squads.
Fake emperors but were going out of fashion fast, since they had a tendency to be found dismembered if the wrong people got to them first. Being recognized as part of the old Imperial order was frequently good for a lynching. The Cluster didn't have the forces to involve itself in such free assemblies of citizenry.
Other troublemakers were also beginning to show a marked disinclination to hostile activity. Major incidents tended to bring down a Corps century or two to sort out the problem, with fatal consequences to the guilty once the entire mess was brought under control and everyone run through an Imperial lie detector.
Karl was grimly certain that low grade incidents would continue for some time, at least until Randl Turner's political teams, led by Clarine Femiam, could stabilize the situation. At that point, it would be turned over to the Army and those luckless bastards in the III Augusta until whatever Middle Empire finally turned into was on its own feet. Meanwhile it was relatively quiet, so he'd turned over his Inbox to his Assistant Legate for Operations and told the AL(O) that he was heading out to the Fleet, to return whenever.
He had a very important visit to make, and he was just about at the door of the hospital room where he was going to make that visit. He walked meekly past the ferocious scowl on the nurse's pretty features and entered alone. The unmoving figure in the bed in front of him was patched in a variety of places and hooked up to infernal medical devices in several more. Karl knew the feeling. He'd been there himself a time or two.
Spent some time in an Intensive Care cabinet, also. Not as much time as Sergeant Major Olmeg. The crusty old decurion had the Legion record for time in an IC cabinet. Any Gladius regarded an IC cabinet as an occupational hazard, so here she was, just out of one. Just like one of the boys... again.
The figure didn't move, but the nurse told him she was awake when he arrived. Start out cheery. That was usually irritating enough to get a lively response. "Hi, darling," he said pleasantly, "I understand you're feeling better."
"Who the hell says so?" Shana growled back in a soft, fatigued voice. "Just lying here letting these nannies work on the holes in my body is exhausting, damn it. Much less regrowing my leg. That's a bitch all by itself."
"Well, you were sure shot to hell," Karl said wryly. "Shouldn't be much scarring, but it's a good thing you kept your ass down. Yours is too nice to mark up."
Shana scowled out at him through the shimmering sterile field that surrounded her hospital bed. "Thanks so much for the kind words, Legate," she said. Her voice, hell, her whole body felt weak! Thing was, she had to agree with his comments, except about her rear end. She thought it was too big. "Sergeant Major Olmeg has already been by. He said getting shot up was no big thing, so get off my butt and stop goofing off."
"I'd say we ought to name a child after him," Karl mused, "but I doubt any kid would want to go through life named Old Bastard."
She had to laugh, even if it hurt. Her body was reminding her that she'd done enough to it for a while, thank you, and it needed a little time off to heal. On the other hand, Karl was making her feel better. He always did. One of the reasons she was planning to lock him down in marriage at the first opportunity. She gave him a smile.
"You know," Karl said softly, just happy to see that treasured knowing smile after he'd come so close to losing her, "I'd hug you except that dragon of a nurse candidate threatened me with molecular disruption if I so much as put a finger inside the sterile field."
"She's Lana Femiam, the Narsim Femiam's daughter if you can believe it, and Corporal Kardo's fiancee," Shana replied. "Kardo came through, just as shot up as I was and down the hall in another IC cabinet. Chofal survived too, just not badly wounded. Almost all of my men were wounded or killed."
She felt tears start. "Smythe had my back. And he was killed for it. More than half of them were. I led them all to it, Karl. I was in command." Damn these mood swings!
Karl's voice took on a professionally hard edge. "Yes, you did. You led them. You led them into a battle that saved a quarter million babies and took the heart out of the Guard while you did it.
"Look at me, Lieutenant," he said forcefully. "You happened to survive this one. Other officers take their men into death ground. Some of those officers don't survive. Others do and have to live with the memory of dead troops. That's you. It's a part of what we do. It's a part of what makes us soldiers. The survivors have to go on and keep doing their duty. Death, the Gladius Price, that's just part of the job. The men in your platoon were volunteers. Most of the Corps was in that meat grinder down there because they happened to be born a Gladius, but every Gladius, volunteer or not, went willingly because they were doing a mission they'd sworn to do. You can flog yourself over it if you want, but you'll let your men down if you do. The Corps lost more men in Central than at any time in our history, Shana, nearly enough to make up a full legion. Hell, I lost almost a cohort's worth of troops in addition to yours, every one of them my people. I have to live with that. You have to live with your losses. We both do. We have to keep on doing our duty because the people we lead expect us to do it. They rely on us. Don't you let them down."
She looked at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Just looking. "The Sergeant Major said much the same thing, but it sounded more like an order from him. Don't worry, I understand all of it. That doesn't take away my right to grieve over my dead.
"They were MY men, damn it!" she yelled. "I led them! I was responsible for them!"
"And when the time came, you had to use them," Karl replied softly. "That's what being an officer means at bottom, Shana. That's why we have the pretty pips and diamonds on our uniforms. By the virtue of our rank, we have to use whatever and whoever we have when the mi
ssion calls for it."
Shana took a deep breath and settled her head deeper into her pillow, calming down, ordering herself to relax. Karl was right and she knew it. "Yes," she said quietly, "and we pay the Price for it. The Price is so much more than dying. I wish it wasn't so, but that's a part of being a Gladius. It's a part of our oath and I'll never take the Oath lightly after Central.
"I'm going back on duty when I'm out of here, Karl. I'm going back and I'm going to keep on going into places where angels fear to tread because I believe deep down in my soul in what that oath means," she finished.
"Aye," Karl answered her then changed a subject that needed to be changed. "Meanwhile, when do you want to get married?"
She looked wryly down at her half leg hidden under the sheet. "When I can stand on my own two feet. Hope you don't mind a few scars next time I get naked with you."
He grinned. "As long as you don't mind mine. Besides, the doctors say you won't have any loss of leg function this time. Just don't keep getting pieces shot off or you'll end up like Sergeant Major Olmeg."
"I won't - not unless I have to," she replied firmly. "Besides... have you thought about children?"
"Yes I have," he lied gallantly. "When do you want to have them?"
"I thought about it down there and a lot more since I woke up. I'll make Major one of these days. Too high for Strike. Staff job. We'll have one then." She continued calmly, "I've also asked that two of the fetus tubes be held for me. After those two, I want another one or two with you."
That shook him. A child was one thing, but the idea of raising a big family scared him more than finding out he had five whole legions of the Emperor's Guard to tackle. Shana had ambitious plans and, knowing her, they were going to happen. "You sure?" he asked warily.