“I do,” Jackson said. “More specifically, I would like you to consider my suggestion to take them out. I have no authority over the ground campaign and the Star is here to support your efforts. I think there’s a sizable Darshik force down there supporting and defending the construction of this processor, and I also think there’s a decently high chance that we won’t be able to destroy it from orbit depending on what insertion vector the defending ships force us on to safely deploy your shuttles.
“As I said, your force as it stands simply doesn’t carry enough firepower to take out something as large as we’re seeing in these images. If I can’t get Captain Rawls’s ships down here or the Star is forced to correct course, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to put weapons on target.”
“It seems I have some planning to do, and quickly,” Beck nodded. “With your permission, sir?”
“Dismissed, Colonel,” Jackson nodded. “Coms! Send another burst transmission to the Relentless and tell them I would appreciate it if they would activate their Link connections so I can at least use their active sensor picture to help plan our approach.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And then prepare to send another to the Marines on the planet surface.” Jackson sighed. “We have some bad news for them.”
17
“Incoming burst transmission from the Aludra Star, sir!”
“About fucking time,” Colonel Rucker snapped, grabbing the tile from his com operator and reading through the message quickly once, then again more slowly.
“Good news, sir?” a lieutenant from Intel asked hopefully.
“There’s good news and bad news,” Rucker shook his head. “It seems the attack on Neuberlin is just a diversion, so our success or failure to hold the line will not determine if Juwel falls.”
“And the good news, sir?”
“That was the good news, Lieutenant.” Rucker slapped the tile into the chest of the sergeant who had brought it to him, causing the NCO to grunt. “The not-so-good news is that Colonel Beck’s relief force will not be deploying to reinforce us. Captain Wolfe is going to drop them somewhere along the west coast to try and counter what the Darshik are really up to … something about changing the atmosphere.”
“So we’re on our own,” the lieutenant mumbled.
“What we are, Lieutenant, are Terran Federation Marines … and we will continue to perform our mission until the last of us falls,” Rucker said with some venom in his voice. If there was anything he hated more than losing, it was defeatism. “Now go get me Major Baer.”
“Yes, sir!” the lieutenant snapped, happy to be given an avenue of escape.
Colonel Rucker watched him go for a moment before turning back to the map display showing the suspected enemy positions as his outlying patrols began feeding him intel. All his planning had revolved around Colonel Beck swooping in within the next week with his fresh Marines, heavy artillery, ground vehicles, and maybe a nice round of orbital bombardment from the Aludra Star as she streaked past on her way back out of the system.
Now, instead of trying to hold their position while clinging to the hope of reinforcements, he and his Marines just became a speedbump and they’d barely slow the Darshik on their way to Neuberlin. But the more he thought about it, why try to defend Neuberlin at all? If the intel from Wolfe was solid, all the Darshik infantry had been sent to do was tie up the Marines here and provide a convincing cover, not actually invade the capital.
He brought up another window that provided a running count of how many Marines he had left, how they were equipped, and what ground transportation was available to him. It galled him that he had absolutely no aerial assets to move quick-reaction forces or evacuate wounded if overrun, but he put that aside and focused on what he could control. He might have been dealt a shitty hand on a mission that would likely be his last from the looks of things, but he’d make sure his Marines wouldn’t go down without a fight the Darshik wouldn’t soon forget.
“What’s the word, Major?” Sergeant Barton asked as Major Baer walked back over to 2nd Platoon’s cordoned-off area. He’d been at the colonel’s hastily called mission planning brief for the better part of an hour.
“We’re moving out,” the major said. “But not to Neuberlin and not in a single force.”
“What the fuck?” Castillo raised his head up from where he’d been napping. “There aren’t enough of us here to hold off a determined group of elderly pensioners trying to get to a Sunday buffet, what the hell are we going to do by dividing the force further?”
“That’s ‘What the fuck, Sir,’ Castillo,” Baer said. “And get off your fat ass when you’re speaking to me.” Alejandro Castillo scrambled to his feet and snapped to attention.
“Sir, what the fuck, sir?” he said crisply. Major Baer just rolled his eyes.
“We’ve received intel that Neuberlin isn’t the primary objective,” he went on. “Instead of allowing them to grind us into the dirt in a futile last stand to hold the city, we’re not advancing en masse to the capital. Instead, we’ll break off into at least ten elements and begin harassing their rear guard and right flank. We are not to engage in a standing fight with them; the colonel wants us to stick and move all up and down their lines.”
“How is this any less futile than trying to beat them to Neuberlin and digging in?” Barton asked.
“If the enemy is only trying to tie us up here then this will not only give us a greater chance of survival until such time as CENTCOM decides to send actual reinforcements but it will keep them out of a major urban area,” Baer said. “The point now is to try and slow them or get them to cluster up and not give them the chance to make any more bonfires out of the civilian populace. Understood?”
“Not at all, Major,” Barton shrugged. “But I think we get enough to get moving. Where do you want us?”
“Just be ready,” Baer said. “We’ll get specific orders shortly but get your gear together for a seventy-two-hour patrol. I doubt we’ll be coming back to this base so grab any other personal effects you don’t want to leave behind.” He turned and left, Barton assumed to grab his own gear from where he was bunking in the command center: a building that looked like it might have been used to store farm machinery at one point.
“You heard the major.” Barton stood and stretched. “I want to be ready for anything within the hour.”
He didn’t say anything to the younger enlisted Marines in his care, but there was a lot left unsaid by Major Baer in the short “briefing.” The fact they were abandoning both the base and the defense of Neuberlin said one thing, and only one thing, to the veteran NCO: something had happened and the Marines aboard the Aludra Star were not coming. While it was well outside his area of expertise his first assumption was that, despite being commanded by a legendary captain, the assault carrier had been destroyed trying to run the Darshik blockade.
Despite having served in the Marines, both Confederate and Federation, he knew next to nothing about ships battling in space. Hell, he’d only been on a starship twice in his life: once leaving Columbiana to enlist and then again to deploy out to Juwel. The expense of operating the big ships and the losses taken in the Phage War meant that most of his training had been done on planetside simulators, really just long buildings set up to look like starships, and then some zero-g and vac-suit training on orbital platforms over the planet DeLonges. But even with his limited grasp of the subject he could read between the lines when listening to the loose-lipped officers of the intel group: The Darshik picket ships were many and the Aludra Star had arrived alone.
This brought up a few unpleasant realities, at least from the limited view Barton had of the overall situation. First was that the division was already running low on consumables, most importantly ammunition for their weapons. While Juwel was a well-armed planet they didn’t use compatible weaponry, almost all of it being a sort of antiquated cartridge type that couldn’t be adapted for the firing mechanisms of the Marines’ carbines and machine gu
ns that used electrically fired, caseless ammo. They could use the civilian weaponry, of course, but that would almost certainly drag the population into the fight in greater numbers, not just the few advisors like Emil. How long would the Darshik continue to play these games if the population rose up against their paltry ground forces? The answer was likely not at all, and major cities would be bombarded from orbit until all resistance was crushed.
The other logistical concerns aside, Barton knew that this new strategy of quasi-guerilla fighting was just pissing in the wind. An intelligent alien race didn’t waste the resources to fly massive starships out to Juwel and blockade the system to march around in the countryside in perpetuity. There was a goal they were working towards and he doubted it involved humans being allowed to live peacefully on the surface for much longer. But absent any other valid options he would saddle up with the rest of his Marines and continue to do his job as best he could and deal with the Darshik endgame when and if it came while he was still alive.
“That’s a pretty serious face you’ve got there, Sarge,” Castillo said, letting his pack slide off his shoulder to the ground. “You know something we don’t?”
“What’s that?” Barton shook his head. “No … you know the drill. We won’t be given any critical information until Command thinks we need it.”
“So … at least twelve hours after it would have been useful.”
“Exactly.”
The mobilization went surprisingly smooth considering they had to completely reorganize the division into twelve strike teams that seemed to be based on random selection rather than pulling logically from the organizational chart. Barton didn’t necessarily have a problem with that since it kept him matched up with Corporal Castillo as well as two other friends of his from 3rd Platoon that he knew were solid fighters from the limited action they’d seen on the planet so far.
Colonel Rucker wasted no time in dividing his officers up among the strike teams, Major Baer specifically asking for Sergeant Barton’s team, and getting them into vehicles with nothing more than a rough area of responsibility with limited overlaps in the coverage. The colonel was very specific that they were to avoid the locals at all costs to avoid drawing attention to those in the outlying towns that hadn’t evacuated. He also didn’t want any excess com chatter. The Darshik couldn’t break their encryption yet, at least to their knowledge, but a lot of radio transmissions broadcasting across the countryside and an empty base would suggest to all but the densest of military strategists that the humans were up to something. Rucker didn’t want to force their hand and cause them to lash out at the civilians again in order to draw the Marines out or disrupt their plans. He’d also given them some clue as to why they weren’t being reinforced by the troops on the Aludra Star.
“The point of this maneuver, Marines, is to confuse the enemy and keep them fixated on us … not the civilians and not Colonel Beck’s group when they drop along the western coast,” Colonel Rucker said, standing on the tailgate of a large agricultural off-road vehicle and wearing a hodgepodge of his uniform and commandeered civvy garments. Barton looked around and saw that the senior staff was similarly kitted out and wondered why they would be dressing like civilian guerilla fighters if the point was to keep the Darshik from attacking the locals.
“You may be wondering about our new … uniforms,” Rucker said, giving voice to Barton’s unspoken question. “You’re encouraged to do the same with anything you might find useful or which breaks up the appearance of what the Darshik will recognize as a standard CENTCOM battle uniform. It might seem counterintuitive, but we’re going for maximum confusion here. We want them spinning in circles and worrying about who is attacking them and from where it might come. The overarching goal is to try and collapse their lines back down upon themselves so the entire force bunches up into a defensive knot. This will keep them out of the population centers and also conveniently package them for an orbital strike from the Aludra Star when Captain Wolfe makes his approach within the next few days—.” The rest of Rucker’s words were drowned out by a loud cheer that went up at the mention of orbital fire support soon. Barton maintained his silence, staring hard at the colonel and watching his facial tics to try and determine how honest he was being with them. Was Wolfe really coming back?
“Settle down, Marines!” Rucker cut over the cheering. “For OPSEC purposes I can’t divulge the nature of the threat to the west, but just know that the Darshik have larger designs on this planet than just a few raids on outlying towns and marching into the capital. Fight smart, fight hard, and show no mercy when you have the chance to inflict damage and maybe we’ll all make it back home when this is over. Get with your team commanders for your specific assignments and get moving. I want this camp broken down and abandoned within the next three hours. That is all.”
Rucker turned and hopped off the truck without another word, grabbing his own carbine from where it leaned against one of the massive rear wheels and pulling himself up into the passenger seat. Without so much as a wave to his Marines the truck’s drive engaged with the dull throb of worn motors and it rolled slowly away from the gathering and towards where another group of Marines had been standing apart from the assembly. Barton recognized two of them as spec ops operators on loan from CENTCOM Special Operations Command, the umbrella unit that ran the NOVA program as well as the handful of specialized Marine units.
He frowned as the group boarded the truck in a calm, orderly fashion and continued on through the front gate of the camp. Colonel Rucker appeared to be gathering up their most experienced and highly trained people for his own team. Barton liked the old man and hoped that it was because he planned to lead from the front and not what a more cynical NCO would think of a senior officer in the same situation: that the colonel was bringing along the best people to cover his own ass while the others slogged it out with the enemy.
“There’s that ugly face again,” Castillo punched him in the shoulder. “What is it this time?”
“Just thinking,” Barton said.
“Why?” Castillo asked, seeming to be completely serious. “Nothing good ever comes of it. Come on, Sarge … we need to get our shit on the truck and get the hell out of here. We don’t want to be the last team here and have to clean up this mess.”
“True enough,” Barton agreed and hustled after the corporal. It had been nearly four days since they’d had any contact with the enemy, and he was wondering what they were up to out there. The Aludra Star had been able to get some low-resolution pictures of the area with a drone it had do a few flybys, but from what he’d been told by the intel guys there wasn’t really anything they could make out. The drone had been focused on something happening along the western coastline and the images were being transmitted down as a favor. Apparently the spacecraft hadn’t survived more than three passes, so the Darshik warships were still sitting up there, just waiting for Wolfe to try and make another run. Barton didn’t put much faith in heroes or legends, but he fervently hoped that just a bit of what was said about the infamous starship captain held true and he was able to get through and provide a little support.
18
“Incoming message from the Relentless, Captain,” Epsen said, interrupting the conversation Jackson was having with his XO.
“Just read it to me,” Jackson said wearily. He’d been up for thirty-two hours straight and he was beginning to feel it. The Star had been delayed in turning back in for the inner system and he still had no damn idea where the Darshik ships were and that made him very edgy.
“Captain Rawls says they’re not running active sensors and are observing stealth protocols as per standard operating procedure, sir,” Epsen said, looking uncomfortable. Jackson’s cheeks flushed as he could just imagine the condescending tone Ed Rawls used when giving his com officer the message to send.
“That idiot is broadcasting radio like a com platform and isn’t even running his radar to search for local threats,” Jackson muttered, struggling to maintai
n his detached professionalism in front of his crew.
“Coms, please send this reply,” he spoke up after clearing his throat before looking at the ceiling for a moment. “Disregard, Coms … we’ve already been too lax with our emission security. Maintain com silence.”
“Aye, sir,” Epsen said.
“OPS, status on our primary flight systems?” Jackson asked. When they’d fired the engines up to begin their run back down to the planet the secondary attitude thrust system had failed to respond. The backup system was fed by its own, isolated power system so that even if all three main busses failed they would still be able to point the ship in the direction they wished and use the emergency chemical rocket boosters to get the ship out of danger. Theoretically.
The irony of them being forced to hold because the bulletproof failsafe system wasn’t responding wasn’t lost on Jackson. He just hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come.
“Engineering has finished with the repair and is almost ready to begin testing,” Dole said. “Lieutenant Commander Sharpe said it was a minor problem, but he wants to test all the jets anyway.”
“Tell him he can test while we’re underway,” Jackson said. “We’re not waiting. Helm! Come onto new course, all ahead full.”
“Coming onto new course,” the helmsman said as he executed the preprogrammed script that would swing the Star onto her new heading. The computer had been continuously updating their course correction as they continued to drift during the repairs. “All engines ahead full, aye!”
An instant later and the comforting rumble of the main engines running up could be felt through the deck plates, and the tracks on the main display began updating with their new course and countdown timers to specific waypoints and mission thresholds.
“Tactical?”
“We’re still tracking three Darshik cruisers via the passives, sir,” Simmons said. “Two near the planet underway in a high orbit and another lurking out between us and the DeLonges jump point. He’s oriented so that we see the main engines fire every so often, and the computer has been maintaining a predictive plot from there despite what looks like his best attempts to be silent.”
Iron & Blood: Book Two of The Expansion Wars Trilogy Page 16