by Jay Allan
“There aren’t many civilians on those worlds…and letting our forces get chopped up piecemeal isn’t going to save one of them. We have no idea how large this invasion force is, but if we don’t stop them somewhere out here, we’ll be fighting them on Columbia and Arcadia and the other Core Worlds. Then you’ll see civilian casualties.” He hesitated for a few seconds. “I’ve already discussed this with Admiral West. We’re going to concentrate our forces to defend Cornwall. Meanwhile, she’s mobilized the extra transports and every civilian vessel we can get our hands on. We’re going to evacuate the other planets.”
Teller looked back at Cain, his expression doubtful. “You think we’ll have time to get them all off?”
Cain sighed. “No. Probably not. But we’ll get some of them. Maybe most of them…as I said, there are no large populations on those planets.” He stared back at Teller. “And that’s more than we’d do trying to mount hopeless defenses on all the threatened worlds.” Cain hated the idea of leaving civilians undefended, no matter how small the population. It was a calculus of his profession he detested. But there was no choice. Dividing his troops to cover all four planets might make him feel better superficially…if he could work himself into enough denial. But he knew it would be futile in the end, and Erik Cain hated futility. If his men and women were going to fight and die against a vastly superior enemy, they were going to do it where their deaths might have some meaning. If they could get more data on the enemy and hold him up for a while they would help their brothers and sisters who would fight the next battle.
Teller didn’t entirely agree, though he did see the cold logic in Cain’s plan. But he knew his commanding officer well enough to be sure there was no point in trying to change his mind. Besides, Cain was just about the only person alive that John Teller trusted without reservation. “What do you want me to do, sir?”
Erica West sat in her office and stared down at the screen of the com unit, a stunned expression on her face. “You want me to do what?”
Erik Cain’s face stared back at her on the small display. His expression was resolute. “You heard me the first time.” He forced a grim smile. “I want you to pull your forces out of the system after you drop Teller’s people on Cornwall.”
“Erik, I need to mount a defense. I can’t just give them the system.” She stared back at him incredulously. “And I can’t abandon your people there!”
“Erica, think for a minute.” Cain was trying to be gently persuasive – he knew he’d react the same way to a similar request. “You know you can’t win the battle, and if you fight it will be over in a couple days…if not hours.” He paused for an instant, thinking of what he wanted to say. It wasn’t easy telling a respected colleague she had no chance in a fight. “Their ships are faster, their weapons are longer-ranged. If you let yourself get sucked in you won’t be able to get away. My people will be alone anyway, and we won’t have Third Fleet waiting in the wings.”
“I don’t know, Erik. It doesn’t seem right.” Her voice was somber; she knew her fleet didn’t have a real chance, especially not at Cornwall. At least at Farpoint they had the bombers and fixed defenses of the base and the enhanced detection grid. But in Cornwall it would just be her aging ships. She was realizing Cain was right, but she still couldn’t reconcile herself to turning tail and leaving the Marines on their own.
Cain paused uncomfortably. After all these years he’d never gotten used to the small delay in ground to orbit communications. “Hear me out, Erica. I have a plan.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to fight at Cornwall…just not on the enemy’s terms.”
West looked back with a confused expression on her face. “What do you have in mind, Erik?”
“Take a look at your map.” He hesitated a few seconds, giving her time to pull up the information on her display. “Cornwall’s system has three warp gates. The enemy will be coming through the one from the Banshee system. We’ll be going in from Olympia.” He glanced down at the map display then back at the com. “Take a look at the one from XR-3.”
There was a considerable pause then West looked back up at the com. “But XR-3 is a dead end, and an empty one at that. There’s not even an asteroid there, much less a planet. What could we possib…”
“But look where it is relative to Cornwall.” No one had ever called Erik Cain a patient man. He’d started to interrupt almost immediately, but the communications lag had allowed West get out a few more words.
She stared down at the display again, her fingers moving to expand the view of the Cornwall system. She was confused for a few seconds, but then she realized what Cain was talking about. Warp gates were almost always located in the outer reaches of solar systems, far beyond the orbits of any planets. But the warp gate connecting Cornwall with XR-3 was an anomaly…it was less than 15 light minutes from the planet.
“You want me to hide in XR-3 and then bushwhack them.” She smiled as she finally understood what Cain had in mind. “That’s brilliant, Erik.” She allowed herself a small chuckle and added, “I thought you were a ground-pounder. You after Admiral Garret’s job now too?”
Cain returned the smile. “No, thank you. My own is quite enough. But this is an infantryman’s plan. My people can hold out longer on the ground than your people can in space facing an enemy that can out-thrust and out-shoot you.” A wicked smile crept onto his face. “If my people dig in, those bastards will have a hell of a time forcing us out, futuristic robots or not.”
West’s smile faded into a concerned look. “Erik, please tell me you’re not planning to go down to the surface on Cornwall.” When he didn’t answer she continued, “Because General Holm would have a stroke if he knew you were even considering it.”
Cain was still silent. He honestly didn’t know what he was going to do. There was no justification for him leading those troops himself. He was the overall theater commander, and he knew Jax and the second half of the division would be embarking any day to reinforce him. He had responsibilities far beyond the tactical command on Cornwall. But he still wanted to go. Deep down he knew the mission was futile. They might gain intel, and they might slow the enemy down, but there was no way they were going to beat them. Not on Cornwall. And Erik Cain wasn’t sure he had it in him to send thousands of his men and women to their deaths while he stayed behind. Not again.
He looked into the com, at Erica West’s troubled expression, but all he said was, “Cain out.”
Chapter 14
Kendall Peninsula Just North of the Dover Archipelago Planet Cornwall - Zeta Bootis B IX
Cornwall was an ocean planet. Less than 10% of its surface area was land, and much of the single major continent was covered with low-lying tidal marshes. The primary occupied area was a stretch along the mountainous east coast where a series of plateaus and rocky islands provided dry land for habitation. It was some of the most defensible ground James Teller had ever seen. His troops had turned the position into a series of interlocked strongpoints and heavy weapon emplacements. He wasn’t sure they had a real chance in the battle about to begin, but he was damned sure they’d sell their lives dearly.
The high command on Armstrong had approved Cain’s plan to concentrate his forces on Cornwall, leaving the other potential target planets virtually undefended. Admiral Garret ordered Erica West to pull her fleet back and wait…just as Cain had suggested. She was to ambush the enemy forces at her own discretion.
General Holm sent one other message. He ordered Erik Cain not to lead the forces on Cornwall directly, and he did it in terms so clear and incontrovertible that even Cain couldn’t twist, interpret, or deliberately misunderstand the command. Holm had known Cain for a long time, and they were almost like father and son. There hadn’t been a doubt in Holm’s mind that his protégé would want to hit ground with those troops going in, but he wasn’t going to allow it. Apart from his personal feelings, there was no way he could afford to lose Cain now, not facing a war they didn’t even understand yet.
Hol
m was stuck on Armstrong, managing the mobilization effort and keeping an eye on the other Powers. The CAC and Caliphate were massing on the border, which was a nightmare scenario for the Alliance right now. Worse, there were signs the RIC was also moving forces forward. The Russian-Indian Confederation and the Alliance didn’t have a lot of shared border, but the last thing Garret and Holm needed was more area to cover.
Cain had reluctantly obeyed Holm’s order, but he’d pushed it to the limit, accompanying the expeditionary force to Cornwall’s system and directing the landing from orbit. Finally, he boarded the fast attack ship Condor for the journey back to Farpoint, leaving Teller in command of the six battalions of crack Marines dug in on the planet.
Teller stood on a rocky bluff looking out over the jagged peninsula. Once the planet’s main population center, it was now deserted except for his troops. Admiral West had used every civilian ship she could commandeer to evacuate the civilian population, at least all those she could cram into the space available. The action would save lives, and it also freed the Marines from worrying about defending civilians. They could focus solely on the battle at hand, which they knew was going to be a fight to the death.
They’d been on Cornwall for over a month, and Teller had begun to wonder if they had guessed wrong on the enemy’s next move. But then he got the communication relayed from the warp gate scanners…enemy ships inbound, at least a dozen. Admiral West had seeded the space 1,000,000 kilometers out from the planet with scanner buoys, so Teller had several hours’ warning before the enemy ships moved into orbit. His troops were suited up and in position before the first landing craft entered the atmosphere.
The enemy was vastly superior technologically, that much was certain. But they hadn’t yet run into a force as large as Teller’s, and they hadn’t faced powered infantry either. They’d still have the edge in firepower, but not by the margins they’d enjoyed against the planetary militias. Maybe…just maybe, Teller thought, we’ve got a chance.
He started down the path toward his command post. There were enemy landers coming down all over the peninsula and the adjacent archipelagoes. It was showtime.
Lieutenant Erin McDaniels watched the approaching enemy forces on her visor display. There were a lot of them - her people were going to have a hell of a fight on their hands. A tiny smile crept onto her lips as she watched. But we have a few surprises for them first, she thought.
“Enemy vanguard approaching initial targeting range, Lieutenant McDaniels.” She’d instructed her AI to monitor the enemy’s progress and make regular reports.
“Thank you, Mystic.” Like most officers, McDaniels had named her virtual assistant. Enlisted personnel had AIs too, but they were basic models designed to help with suit operations and simple tasks. The officers’ units were full-blown quasi-sentient units with considerable capabilities…and distinct personas as well. Hers was relatively straitlaced, generally just following her instructions without comment. Some of the other officers had units with more colorful personalities.
“Get the missile teams on the com, Mystic.” McDaniels was in charge of a heavy weapons detachment. It was a regimental asset and a captain’s billet, but 1 st Brigade was stretched thin for officers, and she’d been bumped up from her platoon to take command.
“Yes, lieutenant.” A brief pause. “You are on the comlink, lieutenant.” Mystic’s voice was female, fairly high-pitched. It could get a little annoying at times. McDaniels had been meaning to have the AI reprogram it, but she’d never gotten around to it.
“McDaniels to missile teams. Enemy forces approaching. All teams, lock on to your chosen targets and prepare to commence firing.” The hyper-velocity missiles were going to come as a big surprise to these bastards, she thought. The militias they’ve been fighting didn’t have anything remotely like them.
The HVMs were a new weapon, developed near the end of the Third Frontier War. Powered by nanotech nuclear reactors, the launchers fired multiple warhead missiles at extremely high velocities. The Marines knew the attackers were hard to kill, and the HVMs were among the strongest and deadliest weapons they had to throw at an enemy.
She watched the blips on her display moving closer. The enemy first line was coming up over a ridge. She knew exactly where she wanted to catch them…just past the crest. “Missile teams…fire!”
She watched the weapons fire, her visor set on Mag 2. The HVMs left a glowing trail in the dusky darkness. She had four teams, and each of their missiles split into one primary and six secondary warheads. The entire line below the ridge erupted into a maelstrom, rock and debris flying everywhere amid the billowing flames of the detonations. The HVMs were great for ripping apart the landscape, and they tore huge chunks from the shattered ridge.
It was hard to get a read on how badly the enemy’s first line was hurt, but she wasn’t about to let up on the fire now. The HVMs had a short window of effectiveness before the enemy would be too close. “Missile teams reload.” An unnecessary command, she knew. Her people were veterans, and they were already halfway through the reloading process. She cranked up her visor to Mag 10, trying to get a close look at the ridgeline, and she flipped the comlink to internal communications only. “Mystic, I want your analysis and a damage assessment as soon as possible.”
“Yes, lieutenant. I am compiling data now.” The AI’s voice was a bit higher pitched than normal, showing some stress. It was all a construct of course…whatever the AI was “feeling” did not directly impact its auditory routines, as humans’ fear or tension affected their voices. Mystic varied its voice and speech patterns in accordance with its analysis of McDaniels, and it had determined that the lieutenant responded better to a feeling of camaraderie in stressful situations. The AI responded by imitating a shared tension and fear in battle. Some officers preferred an AI that sounded like a rock no matter what was going on, but not McDaniels…at least not according to Mystic’s analysis.
She flipped back to the open com. “Missile teams, fire!” Another round of warheads slammed into the ridgeline, plumes of flame and shattered rock rising against the darkening sky.
“Enemy casualties projected at 10-20.” Mystic was reporting data as it became available. The AI was receiving input from all the scanning devices in the detachment and compiling its analysis as new information came in. “Attacking forces still advancing.”
McDaniel’s swallowed. That was a surprise…or maybe not. She’d picked her position carefully, and she was sure it would be an ideal killing zone. Any enemy she’d ever faced would have been annihilated. But these things were still coming.
“Autocannons, fire at will. Pick your targets and take them down.” The enemy’s lead elements were inside the minimum range of the HVMs, and her heavy auto cannons were the next line of defense. “Missile teams, continue firing.” She had no idea how many enemy troops were still coming over that ridge, but she wasn’t going to slack off anywhere.
“Incoming fire, lieutenant.” Mystic announced the barrage an instant before McDaniels saw it on her display.
“Incoming!” She knew she didn’t have to alert the detachment – when Mystic warned her, all of her troop were getting the same notification from their AIs. But it made her feel like she was doing something. She ducked her head down and waited, the sound of her heart beating loud in her ears…she knew what was coming.
She’d been worried about the enemy’s cluster bomb weapon. The reports from Adelaide were far from complete, but the bombs had proven to be extremely effective against troops in entrenchments and fortified positions…just like the ones her force occupied now.
McDaniels had her speakers set to pump in the outside noise, and she heard the popping sounds the reports spoke of…the small explosions that broke the shells into dozens of tiny, but powerful, warheads. Her troops were positioned along a row of rocky foothills pockmarked with large outcroppings and small, natural fissures. It was virtually a natural trench line, constructed of solid rock. But the enemy warheads landed al
l over, falling into the gaps and behind the rock walls her troops were using for cover.
She had her comlink set to an open line, and she could hear the screams as her people were hit. The visor display rapidly updated her on status – Mystic was tied into the med systems of all her troopers’ suits. It didn’t take long to realize her people were getting torn apart. The accuracy of that enemy weapon is uncanny, she thought as another round began impacting all across her line.
“Mortar teams. Open fire…silence those batteries.” She knew it was probably futile. From the intel she had, it didn’t seem that mortar rounds hurt these guys much. But she had heavier ordnance than the line units, so she figured she might get lucky. Besides, she didn’t have a better solution. She wished they had some airpower, but they hadn’t had the time or transport capacity to bring ground-based air units to Cornwall…and with the fleet bugged out they didn’t have any atmospheric craft tended from orbit either.
Her heavy autocannons were taking down enemy targets, but the incoming barrage was wreaking havoc on her crews’ effectiveness. We’re hurting them, she thought grimly, but not enough. She was going to have to pull back.
“Missile teams, cease firing and retire to secondary position. Autocannons, maintain fire.” She breathed deeply, the oxygen-rich mixture of her suit’s air helping her to maintain her alertness, holding back the growing fatigue. She was glad she had mostly veterans. There were few things harder on morale than part of a unit holding firm while the rest is retreating. But she couldn’t lose her HVMs, and if she waited any longer she would.
The enemy was getting closer, and the cluster-bomb bombardment stopped. They don’t want to hit their own people, she thought. Of course, she corrected herself, they’re not people at all…are they?
She pulled her mag-rifle up and glanced over the lip of the rocky wall. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel the droplets of sweat making their way down her bare back, despite the optimal temperature inside her armor. I’ve never been this scared, she thought, struggling to maintain her composure. “Those aren’t people at all coming. They’re machines.” She spoke softly, inaudibly to herself. Mystic heard, of course, but the AI knew McDaniels was talking to herself and didn’t respond.