A corporal nodded. “I know. If those cannon are designed to take out rocks, then they won’t be able to engage the ghosts. They’re designed to use active targeting systems to track and hit non-maneuvering contacts.”
“What, you mean, just radar?”
“That’s right. They don’t need anything else. But if they illuminate the ghosts, the ghosts will alter trajectories, and the cannon fire control won’t be able to handle that.”
Tran turned back to Vic and spread his hands. “Good idea. Won’t work.”
“Thanks anyway,” Vic replied. “But on second thought we might not have wanted to use them even if we could.”
Stark gave her a quizzical look. “Why not?”
“What if they’re U.S. troops this time?” Vic asked. “Do we want to knock down shuttles full of American soldiers?”
“Not if we can help it. Could they be Americans?” Stark grimaced at the display as if doing so would give him a better view of the ghosts. “We heard the Rangers had been folded into regular units to try and make up manning shortfalls. Would they send regular troops on a raid like this?”
“We did.”
“That’s because we’re not doing things by the book, Vic. You know the Pentagon. The book says you use special troops for special ops. But there’s not a full company of spec ops troops left. That would mean they’ve hired another batch of mercs from some other country’s special forces.”
“We hope.”
“Yeah.”
His comm unit beeped. “Stark? This is Yurivan.”
“Hey, Stace. What’s up?”
“Just thought you’d like to know somebody’s trying to activate some of those worms we found hidden in the system after the last raid.”
Stark breathed a sigh of relief. Those were nasty worms, if I remember right. They would have messed up our combat systems and a lot of other stuff. “Is there any chance you can locate this ‘somebody’?”
“I’m trying, but my hackers say that ‘somebody’ is covering their tracks real well.”
“Is there any chance we missed some worms when we scrubbed the system? Or that any new ones have been inserted?”
“There’s always a chance, Stark. If all the lights go out and you start choking to death, you’ll know we missed a couple.”
“Thanks, Stace.” Stark looked over at Vic. “Why’d I make her security officer, again?”
“Don’t ask me. It was your idea,” Vic reminded him. “But she’s awfully good at it.”
“I could do without the ‘awful’ part. Tran, how close are the ghosts to landing?”
Tran checked his display, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll probably lose the ghosts any minute now when they get too low for multisensor scan analysis. Say two minutes to touchdown, max.”
“Two minutes.” Stark eyed the symbology on the big display, switching from unit to unit to track the progress of the reinforcements. “And the closest reaction force is at least ten minutes out. Vic, I’m going to bring up vid from the MPs and see if I can help coordinate their defense. They haven’t had the combat time I’ve had. You hustle those reinforcements in and keep me advised of their progress.”
“Roger. Everything else around the perimeter still looks quiet.”
“Good. I’ll… wait a minute. Tran, can I transmit to those raiders?”
“Well, there’s common frequencies the raiders will surely be monitoring, but you wouldn’t be able to transmit any worms—”
“That’s not what I have in mind. Get some circuits ready.” Stark called up vid for the MPs, seeing through their armor combat systems. Their sergeant had deployed them along the low berm in fire teams, the soldiers lying just beneath the edge to fake advantage of what little cover existed. Not bad. He checked for the name of the MP sergeant before speaking. “Sergeant Sullivan. Good job on setting up your troops. Have you got everybody on the berm?”
“All but a couple I’ve got working on something special.”
He’ll need everyone on the firing line. But he knows that, and he doesn’t have time to explain what those two soldiers are doing. So I’ll trust him. “Have you given your soldiers guidance on targeting?”
“Uh, no, sir. I figured we’d use highest probability hit criteria, like in the sims.”
“The enemy knows that. Once you start shooting, they’ll probably send a few people out to draw fire so they can target all your shooters. So designate one or two guys to engage anybody with the highest hit probabilities and have everyone else keep shooting at other targets.”
“Yes, sir. Good idea. I guess you learned that one the hard way, huh?”
“You bet.” He’s nervous, jawing with me a little to try to hide it. “I’d like to talk to your troops for a second.”
“Sure. I mean, you’re the boss.”
Stark triggered the circuit to cover the entire squad. “This is Stark. You’ve got a rough battle coming on. These raiders are likely to be tough, but you’ve only got to hold ‘em a few minutes. They’re gonna come at you fast, because they know they’ve got to take that power plant before any reinforcements can arrive to help you. But they think we haven’t seen ‘em, don’t know they’re coming. You guys show ‘em different.” On Sergeant Sullivan’s HUD, Stark watched visual systems tagging anomalies. “Sergeant, that’s probably them.” The anomalies multiplied as the ghosts closed on their objective, until they reached a point where the shuttles couldn’t be hidden anymore.
Four shuttle symbols seemed to flare into existence as the raiders dropped in to a hard landing. Stark winced in automatic sympathy, remembering the physical stress of those high-g’s when assault craft braked at the last minute. The craft had barely touched the surface when hatches popped and armored figures came dashing out, heading straight for the berm.
“They’re in our armor,” Vic murmured. “Mark V model, like the last raiders.”
“Got it.” Stark keyed the broadcast frequencies he’d had prepared. “All personnel in the raiding force and on your shuttles. We’re ready for you. This installation is heavily defended.” At least it will be once the reinforcements get here. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Surrender immediately.”
The attackers may have hesitated for a fraction of a second, but instead of surrendering, many opened fire while the others came on. The MPs opened up as well, dropping several attackers in the first volley thanks to the lack of cover on the open area around the power plant. But the raiders came on, laying down accurate, heavy fire, which had the MPs ducking for cover.
“Sergeant Sullivan! Tell your soldiers to shift to full auto. They need to put out enough fire to slow those raiders down.”
“Yes, sir.” The volume of the defending barrage ramped up as the MPs began emptying their magazines.
Stark watched, trying to remain emotionally detached as the MPs took casualties. Within five minutes of the first shot, half the MP squad was either wounded or dead, the survivors beginning to waver under the pressure. “Vic, where’s those reinforcements?”
“They’re moving as fast as they can, Ethan. We need to buy a few more minutes.”
More MPs dropped, rolling back down the berm under the impact of hits. The vid from Sergeant Sullivan’s armor hazed suddenly as bullets tore through the suit’s systems. On Sullivan’s HUD, Stark saw damage markers glowing red as the suit tried to repair the damage. On another portion of the HUD, other markers displayed the damage bullets had done to the man inside the suit. Sullivan himself was still fighting, despite a shattered shoulder, which must have been causing agony every time he fired despite the drugs his med kit was pumping into his body. Stark checked the status of all the remaining MPs, grimly noting their dwindling numbers and depleted ammunition.
“Ethan, the nearest reinforcements are two minutes from the far side of the power plant.”
“That’s too far, Vic. There’s maybe six MPs left still able to fight, and they’re low on ammo.” On vid, Stark watched the raiders surge forward
in a mass dash for the berm. Once they reached it, it would be almost impossible to avoid a battle among the fusion reactor’s components. Now would be a good time for a miracle.
Stark jerked backward in surprise as a section of lunar soil erupted as if it had been punched by a giant. The eruption traveled in a wavering line, cutting a trench a meter deep as it meandered across the rock then back and forth through the ranks of the raiders, before walking up one side of a raider shuttle. The shuttle split along that line, the two pieces sliding apart in slow motion as the weak lunar gravity tugged their mass into movement. The raiders milled about in shock, their ranks ripped asunder, their charge momentarily halted. “What the hell was that?”
“One of the particle cannon, I’m guessing,” Vic replied. “Not much on accuracy, but it sure did a number on things. It almost looked like they were training the thing by hand.”
“Can you do that?”
“I wouldn’t if I could help it. I just hope none of those MPs got fried getting off that shot.”
Those must’ve been the two guys Sullivan sent on the special errand. On vid, the raiders were reforming under the urging of their officers and began moving toward the berm again despite a scattering of fire from the remaining MPs. “Vic.”
“Pull back your scan, Ethan. The cavalry’s here.”
Stark adjusted his scan, grinning in relief as APCs lurched to a halt at the base of the berm and fresh platoons of his soldiers spilled out. “Make sure they know there’s a charge coming their way.”
“They know, Ethan.”
The first raiders over the top were moving so fast that they were inside the ranks of Stark’s soldiers before realizing it. One or two tried to fight, dying in a confused fusillade of fire that had Stark agonizing over the chances that his soldiers would hit each other. Then the reinforcements continued up the slope as more units arrived below them and provided covering fire.
The raiders’ charge fragmented and broke as it ran into the fresh troops. They fell back again, this time obviously retreating toward their shuttles, firing as they went, despite increasingly heavy losses as the number of defenders kept growing.
“Ethan, I’m sending the armor and one of the companies of infantry around the side of the power plant. Maybe they can nail those shuttles before they lift off.”
“Good idea, Vic. I’ll see if I can stop this mess before they get there.” Stark triggered the broadcast frequencies again. “All personnel in the raiding force. You are trapped and heavily outnumbered. Surrender now to avoid further bloodshed. You on the raider shuttles, we have you targeted. If you attempt to lift off, you will be destroyed. I repeat, surrender immediately.”
Once again there was no visible response to Stark’s demand. Most of the raiders continued firing even though they were pinned down now by the intensity of the barrage from the power plant’s defenders. Some continued evading backward, trying to reach the relative safety of the shuttles.
Two tanks came around the edge of the berm, pausing momentarily while their main cannons sought targets. Both vehicles fired, their shells streaking straight into the side of the nearest shuttle. The resulting explosions ripped holes through the shuttle’s skin, holes that widened as gusts of fuel and gasses blew out from shattered storage tanks. “Vic, tell the armor to lay off those shuttles. I want to try to take the other two intact.”
“Roger. Armor, shift to ground unit targets unless the shuttles try to lift.” APCs jerked to a halt near the tanks, depositing the third company of infantry to add their fire to that already lashing the raiders.
Stark cursed as he watched increasing numbers of enemy symbology flash with assessed casualty markers. I wanted ‘em dead when they had a chance of winning, but now it’s turning into a slaughter. He broadcast again. “Raider commander. You are wasting the lives of your soldiers. You can’t win and you can’t run. Surrender now.”
This time his words got a response. The remaining fire from the raiders rapidly dwindled to nothing, followed by a reply on the same frequency Stark had broadcast over. “This is the commander of the assault force. My soldiers have been ordered to cease fire. I request you cease fire as well.”
“I didn’t hear the word ‘surrender,’ yet.”
“Yes. We surrender, damn you.”
“Vic.”
“Got it, Ethan. All units, cease fire. Alpha and Delta Companies, maintain covering positions. Charlie Company, advance and disarm the raiders. Send one squad to each remaining shuttle to take possession. Chief Wiseman, we need some of your people to bring those shuttles into the spaceport.”
Stark checked on the status of Sergeant Sullivan and his MPs again, shaking his head as he read off the casualty count. “Sullivan? Can you respond?”
“Uh, yeah.” The combined impact of Sullivan’s wounds and the drugs his med kit had pumped into him had left the sergeant only partly coherent. “We held, didn’t we?”
“You held. There’s medics on the way.”
“Good. I’m kinda messed up. Oh, Christ. My people. Look at ‘em.”
Stark had to swallow before speaking again. “You lost a lot of soldiers, Sergeant Sullivan.” Assuming the medics saved every one left alive, the squad had still lost half its number in dead. All of those still alive were wounded. “They did their job. You’re the best damn combat troops I ever saw in action.” It was a small exaggeration, Stark admitted to himself, but only a small one.
“Thanks. I… hell. Good thing we got that particle cannon goin’, huh?”
“Yeah. How come I didn’t scan the people you sent to do that?”
“We figured we’d have to train the thing manually if we could make it work at all.” Sullivan’s voice wavered from the effects of shock. “They had to put on special suits for protection from the energy fields around the cannon. Nothing goes in or out of those suits except for a real limited visual display, so they could see what they were doing but couldn’t transmit.”
“They did great, Sergeant. You all did.” Stark saw a medical team kneeling next to Sullivan. “Take a break, soldier.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stark pulled back from his view of Sullivan, taking in the entire area once again. A swift check of the raider casualty markers showed they had suffered worse than the defenders thanks to the particle cannon and the timely arrival of the reinforcements. Perhaps two-thirds of the raiders were down. Stark felt a sudden coldness inside as a belated thought came to life. “Somebody check and find out if we’ve just fought Americans.” In the rush of battle, no one had stopped to think. Now he waited, sick at heart and afraid for the answer.
“Commander Stark? This is Charlie Company commander. They’re not ours.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. They got dogtags implanted, but in the wrong place, and our gear can’t read them. Maybe I’ll get a positive ID once we get a chance to pull their armor off, but they’re not American.”
“Good.” Stark sagged back, fighting down an impulse to tremble with relief. “Good God.”
Reynolds eyed him. “What?”
“Vic, I didn’t even think about it when we were fighting. I could’ve been watching other American soldiers die fighting us, and I didn’t even think about it.”
“You were busy.” Stark glared at her as Vic continued. “They fired first. They didn’t hesitate to shoot to kill. What were you supposed to do different?”
“Think about what I was doing, damnit. You don’t kill people on automatic pilot.”
“You do if they’re trying to kill you.”
He almost snapped back at Vic again, appalled by her apparently cold attitude, then took a deep breath instead. She’s right, on one level. They didn’t give us a chance to do anything but fight. But I bet she’s stressed out by the chance we might’ve been trading shots with other Americans, just like I am. She’ll never admit it if I’m letting that chance get to me, though. “You’ve got a point.” Vic looked surprised, then grimaced. “What’s the matter?�
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“I just had to swallow some words,” she replied. “They didn’t taste too good.”
“I know the feeling. Okay, the past is past. Let’s look ahead. First priority after we get the prisoners secured is to do a full review of every critical installation, military and civilian, inside this perimeter and make sure they’re all adequately defended.”
“I agree. I’ll put Bev Manley on it.”
“Bev? She’s admin, not combat.”
“Yes, but she’s extremely thorough and will look at everything with fresh eyes. Bev will identify any weak spots.”
Stark rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. You’re right. We also need to tell Sergeant Gordasa we’ve had a couple of new shuttles with state-of-the-art concealment gear delivered to us courtesy of the government. Maybe they’ll help us smuggle stuff through the blockade.”
“I doubt it. The government will know how to defeat its own gear.”
“I guess so. Well, maybe they’ll come in handy against some of the other people we’re fighting up here.” Stark shook his head, abruptly aware of the shortness of his interrupted night’s sleep. “I need coffee something fierce.”
A nearby watchstander jumped to his feet. “I’ll get it, sir.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll sit at that watchstation and do the job you’re being paid for.” He looked out across the entire command center. “You all did good. Good handling the detection, the alert, and everything else. Thanks.” Stark stood, glancing over at Vic. “You want some coffee, too?”
“Please. If there’s none ready, just bring me back a handful of coffee grounds to chew on.”
“I might do that for myself, too.” He paused, his eyes drawn by a monitor that displayed an outside view, the Earth hanging in brilliant color against the blackness that surrounded it. “Maybe this latest failed attack will make the government change its mind about defeating us, maybe get them negotiating seriously. You think?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Vic sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to grab another hour’s sleep before the day officially begins?”
Stark’s Crusade Page 8