by Skyler Grant
The forces on each shore would have an enemy to engage and not until that battle were won could the enemy on the other side become a concern. That meant the shallows shouldn't be an early tactical consideration. Unless that is we changed the rules of the fight.
"I can see what you are all thinking and you’re correct. Our objective is going to be to take and hold the shallows early, and cross to join our forces on one side," Paulos said.
If we could do that successfully we'd go a long way towards evening the odds stacked against us.
"Melee weapons only for both forces. We max out at medium armor, although they can buy in at heavier. The battle to hold each shallows is likely to be brutal and you'll likely wind up with a suspension. Do I have any volunteers?" Paulos asked.
Every hand went up. Olympians truly weren't the sort to let anyone else do their fighting for them.
"Polias, you'll hold the south. Demos, the north," Paulos said.
I got the southern shallows. Based on the map that looked to be the larger of the two. I could hardly contain my excitement.
It really was all too rare that I got to fight, which is a shame because I was so very good at it. It wasn't hubris to say that I was one of the best with a spear in the entire Olympian army, I had the accolades to prove it.
Holding those shallows would require that kind of skill. Without ranged weapons and lacking the opportunity to flank, it was going to become a test of endurance and ability.
"We'll take position on the east side. If their forces don't move on the shallows at once, they will the moment they realize what we're about," Paulos said.
"If we know where they'll be, we can give them grief," Rena said.
"That’s the plan," Paulos said. He tapped at the podium and the map changed to display troop positions.
"These are initial markers so we can make certain that both shallows are defended. Once battle begins remain flexible, but keep in mind if anyone guarding the shallows gets taken from behind, they'll be able to combine their forces," Paulos said.
It was a good plan. Almost.
"What if we actually pull this off to the east? Won't they just take up positions guarding the western bank and wait us out?" I asked.
Now that I'd thought of it I realized that could be a danger overall. A tactical-minded commander might simply let us cross and have our battle. Either we'd win and be trapped, or the superior numbers would take us out and the issue would resolve itself.
"In that scenario you get to take the hit, collapse your line, and let them fall into an ambush," Paulos said.
That made sense. If I and my people fell, they'd rush right over us expecting to flank our forces.
"And if they never abandon the west?" I asked.
"We likely lose," Paulos said.
Honesty. I prized it my friends and I prized it in a commander.
Of course, I also knew that was the most likely outcome anyways. Three to one odds weren't easily overcome. Still, if anyone was going to do it, it would be Olympus. Most corporations didn't fight their own battles, much of the coins we earned came from fighting other’s battles for them. Olympus and Roma had both made a business of war.
I spent five hours each day practicing my skills with weapons, and another four in the study of history and tactics. It was an unusual amount even for Olympus, but you go where your talent is.
"Which is not to say we don't give it our best. With the advantage of numbers, they are going to attempt to flank and overwhelm you. Don't let them," Paulos said.
That applied more to the others than me. We wouldn't have a choice. I wouldn't be able to devise any precise tactics until I’d seen the terrain, but the most defendable position was probably going to be just on shore. Get them coming out of the water, where their mobility would be limited and ours wouldn't.
Paulos asked if there were any more questions, and the briefing broke up.
I found myself walking towards the entry bay with Rena.
"Think we'll make it back in time for the party tonight?" she asked.
I really kind of hoped we wouldn't. My parents threw a lot of parties and they were usually tedious affairs where I was expected to play the good daughter and be endlessly charming and witty.
I could play the part, but I'd never loved it. That wasn't the sort of battlefield I was comfortable on.
"Hoping Orestes will be there?" I asked.
Orestes worked under my mother as a junior researcher and Rena had been eying him for awhile. "That obvious?"
I laughed. "I don't think he's noticed. You know how hard it is to get him to look at anything other than his research."
"You'd think I might possess a few things of interest to a boy obsessed with biology," Rena said.
"Want me to invite you both to the baths?" I asked. It was one way to make sure that he'd get an eyeful, and he wouldn't be dragging his computer into the baths with him.
"Would you?" Rena asked, looking a lot more cheerful.
"I'll set it up in a few days. It sounds like I'm probably going to be suspended anyways," I said.
Rena snorted and gave me a slap on the shoulder, "Alena Polias against half an army? They don't know what they're getting themselves into."
That wasn't really true. The enemy force could spend some credits to get profiles on all of us. If they did, they'd be able to figure out exactly who I was and of what I was capable.
I hoped they didn't. Otherwise I might see little action at all as they focused their efforts elsewhere.
We'd reached the war bay. One of the largest halls on the station, a massive array of tables was arranged like a hospital ward. While we were in the Network our bodies remained here. Given that wars could go on for days, keeping us in good shape was a real concern. This setup allowed medics to easily walk along the rows and check our status.
Only about a quarter of the tables were currently occupied. It was a slow day for war.
Hopefully what it lacked in quantity it would make up for in quality. I couldn't wait to see some action.
76
We were expected and a team waited to get us ready for the battlefield. I slipped off my sandals and chiton, and handed them over to an assistant.
The others were doing the same. In several corporations nudity was something of a taboo, but that wasn't the case in Olympus, the human form was an ideal of beauty. It helped that with our emphasis on bioengineering we'd all have been considered beautiful people.
I was lithe without being too muscled. I did most of my weapons practice within the Network, otherwise I'd likely have been far bulkier. My chest was the smallest of any of the girls in our group, a fact that used to bother me but I'd come to appreciate it. It certainly made gymnastics easier.
The air in the chamber was warm enough to be comfortable even on bare skin. The assistant helped me up on the table. There is nothing dignified about being readied for the Network.
At home for weapons practice I could simply secure myself in a chair and get ready. Here, where days might be required, dignity and comfort went to the wayside.
Fortunately it was something I was well familiar with—as were all citizens of Olympus. Life in paradise had its cost and this was part of the price of being a citizen.
I worked my jaw loose to accept the feeding tube and grunted as it was secured. The catheter came a moment later and was even more uncomfortable. I wished they'd do this part when our minds were already elsewhere, but the technicians needed to get the all-clear.
The technician poked and prodded at me as they checked all the connections and a green light glowed to my left. They'd signed off on the preparations. My right hand was on a small keypad and I tapped out my acknowledgment code.
In most corporations they use a port tapped into the spinal cord to pump sensory input directly into the brain. Olympus was against anything that defaced the lines of the body. Our interface came from a symbiote we ingested as a child that grafted itself into our nervous system and provided an inte
rface.
I was given a thumbs-up and a technician hit a switch.
A dizzying rush and my world faded away.
When my vision returned I was standing in the middle of a large clearing surrounded by jungle. It was swelteringly hot and the air was so muggy it was difficult to breathe.
I'd never actually been to the surface of Earth, I was born in Olympus. Based on the depictions I'd always seen in the Network I was always glad of that. Living on the surface of a planet exposed to the elements was a barbaric and filthy existence.
I was naked, my body a close simulation of mine in the real world. Crates nearby held the clothing and weaponry we'd be using for this exercise. I popped them open and got dressed.
I picked some leather armor from the selection available. All were marked clearly with the insignia of a white owl to help differentiate troops in combat. It would provide some defense against glancing blows while also allowing me full mobility to make the best use of my weapons skills.
I pulled up my stats just to make sure everything looked good. It was always a good idea to do so before an engagement. Errors were few, but they did happen.
Name: Alena Polias: Corporation: Olympus
Class: Soldier
Level: 32
Agility: Exceptional
Strength: Good
Charisma: Average
Intellect: Good
Notable Traits
Weaponmaster: Spear Specialty: Tactical Awareness
Small Frame
Everything looked good. There was another, far more detailed display that explained every skill, but I rarely accessed it.
That simple page spoke of a lifetime of practice. That Weaponmaster represented years of practicing with every sort of weapon, learning the strengths and weaknesses against qualified opponents. I was proud of what I'd accomplished.
My father wasn't—for all that I was good in an individual fight, he wished that I would focus more on tactics. I knew that he was right. With my solid knowledge of combat, now it was time to expand into skills that would better help me to command others.
I think a part of me was afraid. I was one of the best there was in a direct fight, but I doubted I'd ever be my father’s equal when it came to tactics. I liked being good at something.
Practicing on my own, I had a specially crafted spear I'd spent a lot of time getting perfect. Here I had a simple dory pulled from the weapons rack. It was a little over seven feet long.
I had seven fighters under my command, the last had now arrived and everybody was picking through the crates and choosing their gear.
The other leaders would all be in camps just like this one, getting their own squads equipped and briefing them on the fight ahead.
I'd been working with this crew for the last six months. They were all based on Earth, but I didn't allow myself to feel too much sympathy for them. Olympus rewarded service, and if they proved capable enough they'd eventually earn their way upstairs to a decent life.
I said, "You're going to want a spear for this one. We'll be fighting to guard a river crossing. No ranged weapons."
"Heard they've got us outnumbered this one, boss?" Clint asked.
Clint Vemos was a bruiser of a man and a former employee of Liberty.
"Three to one, if they spend the buy in," I said.
That got a number of winces from the squad. To most people fights were a lot more fun when they were fair.
"Least we'll get to bash some heads this time," Clint said, rolling his shoulders as he slipped into some thick leather armor.
"That we will. If all goes according to plan we're going to have more action that we can handle," I said.
My squad was soon dressed and equipped, and I did a quick walk-through. They were all experienced at this, but it never hurt to make sure all armor was secured properly. I'd seen men die because a strap came loose at the wrong moment.
"Who picked the jungle?" Aditya complained. I didn't know much of her life story, but she was a competent medic when we needed one.
I couldn’t tell her. The Network was vast with regions that were sharply different depending on what corporation controlled them. The lands of Olympus were filled with monsters and people with the strength to face them, with the occasional bit of magic thrown in for good measure. Elsewhere in the Network one could find every era of human history, real or imagined.
Even before the Network came into existence, human beings had decided that they got to pick their culture and identity. Notions of borders drawn on land had been replaced by borders of corporate allegiance. Cultures that once were a thing of blood became a matter of choice. The Network had in some way brought those land borders back in the virtual world.
I led my team into the jungle. Mosquitos seemed intent on sucking all of my blood out before the enemy even had a chance to spill it.
When we passed into the area of engagement the surroundings around us flashed red several times. We were active.
Any chitchat in the squad stopped. With the heavy jungle we couldn't form a proper formation.
I waved a direction to Lena, our scout, who nodded silently and assumed point. Lena had spotted more than a few ambushes in the past and it made her the best choice.
From elsewhere in the jungle we could hear conflict. The sounds of wood on wood, and a cry of pain. I shook my head and motioned my people on. Our role here was critical and we couldn't afford to let ourselves get distracted.
When we finally came in sight of the shallows I wanted to curse.
They'd managed to beat us here.
There were only sixteen of them, at least it wasn't a full three-on-one situation. They were mostly talking among themselves and seemed excited just to be there. They had the advantage and were expecting an easy day and a quick paycheck. That made me hopeful—professionals with a lot of experience wouldn't be nearly so confident going against a force with any Olympians. The leader, however, seemed of a different caliber. She'd positioned herself well and was alert to the environment. In her hands she held a sword that crackled with energy.
A magical weapon. We didn't have anything of the sort. Our shields would be able to take several hits from that thing, but a blow from something like that on the haft of a spear would usually split it.
I ordered my squad to keep low and wait while I considered the options. We had to take them out before we could start holding the crossing.
77
There was no question that I had to get my hands on that sword as quickly as possible, or failing that, remove it from the fight. In the hands of someone who knew how to use it, the sword would serve as a force magnifier for our enemies—who already had the advantage of numbers.
As confident as I was in my own skills, there was no need to take stupid risks. I used hand signs to bring Clint with me. Enemies often regarded me as a secondary target, because I was small. I didn't think I'd get the luxury this time out, but it was still worth the attempt.
Those of us born to Olympus had a distinctive appearance that carried over into our virtual identities. If their commander was as skilled as I thought, she'd recognize it at once.
I ordered us to move and we burst out. The enemy forces were as green as I hoped and our sudden appearance startled them.
With a quick brush of my spear I knocked a scowling man out of my way so I could close on the commander. Clint was doing the same from the other side. We were isolating her from the rest.
I took a blow from her on my shield, my arm tingling as magic seared. Clint took the opportunity to charge her. He didn’t risk a thrust of his spear, rather he was making a diagonal sweep that would be a lot more difficult to avoid. It cost him the use of his shield and while not fatal, given his strength she'd find the impact disorienting. It was a smart, if risky, opener.
Unfortunately their commander was as skilled as I'd feared. The blow to my shield had been just for the purpose of setting me back a step, and her sword kept the momentum as she spun around to bury it dee
p into Clint's side.
It left her open to his blow, which caught her on the head, but was of little comfort to Clint. With a slump the large man was going down, felled by the magic blade.
I'd have to back up too much to make effective use of my long spear. With their commander dazed from the strike to the head I likely had the time, but I didn't see the need to risk it. I stepped closer and delivered an upward blow to the face with my shield that caught her square, and I heard the squelch as her nose broke.
One of the first lessons my father had taught me is, in a fight, if you get the opportunity always bloody your opponent’s nose. It takes the fight right out of most people to know they’re bleeding, and it can sometimes rattle even trained soldiers.
The second lesson I learned is that once you have an advantage, make full use of it. An amateur stops to admire their handwork, a professional goes about their business. I went about my business bashing her face again and again with the shield.
The Network transmitted things directly into our brains. There were scenarios and situations where you could disable pain, but not many. Right now, in some distant combat bay, this woman was also stretched on a table, a display showing peaks to her adrenaline and endorphins as her body tried to deal with the pain.
She kept her wits enough to cut into my thigh with her blade. The blow was weak, with a normal weapon I doubt she'd have done more than grazed my armor, but with the magic weapon she found flesh.
I dropped my spear to take my shield with two hands and slam the edge into her neck, crushing her throat.
My own adrenaline levels were spiking. I loved this, I loved the fight. I loved the way the entire world started to move in slow motion and every sense became exaggerated. It wasn't about the killing, it was about the rush.
I grabbed the sword from her lifeless hands and took in the state of the battle.
I was pleased with what I saw, relatively speaking. With myself and Clint on the commander that had left it six against fifteen. We'd lost three, but ten of the enemy lay dead.