Forge a New Blade (The Laredo War Book 2)

by Peter Grant

  “They’ll be along. They first have to load everything useful at the reaction force camp. Another group hit it at the same time we took this place. They had plenty of flitterbugs, with orders to let the defenders see them and be given a chance to surrender before they used them. I’m willing to bet that’s just what they did.”

  The driver shivered. “In their shoes, I’d do the same. Those damned bugs have killed a hell of a lot of our people.”

  “Yes, but any killing these ones do in future will be on our side.”

  “I can live with that – even if the Bactrians can’t!”

  Laughter floated from the cab as the transporter turned out of the camp onto the road.

  Laredo: December 20 2851 GSC

  MILITARY HEADQUARTERS, TAPURIA

  Brigadier-General Khan stared down at the operations table from the elevated vantage point of the visitors’ gallery. Five red stars marked known incidents. Even as he watched, a sixth star was placed over the icon identifying the garrison at Ligarda. He allowed no change of expression to cross his face, but he knew it was yet another nail in the coffin of his hopes for promotion to Major-General… unless – unless – he could find a way to manage this crisis in a way that pleased the Satrap. If he did, even the censure of his superior officers might perhaps be offset. After all, that’s what had happened the previous year following the Battle of Tapuria. The Satrap had promoted him to his present rank despite the poor performance of his regiment, because he’d seen the way the Royal wind was blowing and set his sails accordingly. The fact that almost every one of our units performed just as poorly probably helped, he thought cynically to himself. The rebels wrong-footed us all.

  An aide entered behind him and coughed to attract his attention. “The Staff are ready with their preliminary assessments, Sir.”

  “Thank you. I’ll come.”

  He walked into the conference room to find the atmosphere so tense it felt as if it could be cut with a knife. Looking around, he noted that several of his staff had red, angry faces. Clearly they had been arguing among themselves. Almost certainly trying to point fingers at everyone else, he mused as he sat down. That’s what most staff officers do best, after all. It’s never their fault!

  “Very well, let’s start with an overall appreciation of what’s happened. Lieutenant-Colonel Oxus?”

  His G-2 Staff Intelligence Officer strode to a map on the wall. She referred to it as she made her points.

  “We’ve been hit hard, Sir. Both prison camps have been emptied. Both reaction force bases, intended to protect them against any rebel attempt to rescue the prisoners of war, were hit at the same time. The auxiliary supply depot at Colosio was raided, and the garrison at Ligarda. We’ve had no reports of any other incidents as of five minutes ago.”

  “I imagine those six are more than enough to be going on with,” the General observed sardonically. “Go into more detail, please.”

  “Yes, Sir. Both prison camps were equipped with sensors to monitor the area above ground inside the camps and on likely avenues of approach, plus anti-tunneling sensors buried around the perimeter to detect any attempt by the prisoners of war to dig their way out. Unfortunately, in both cases rebel forces appear to have dug their way in, at a deep enough level to avoid the sensors. We’ve found what appear to be large, well-constructed tunnels that must start well outside the area. They come to the surface halfway between the prison camps and their reaction force bases, out of sight and earshot of both locations, where their sensors didn’t provide coverage. From the freshly disturbed earth around their exits, it appears they weren’t opened until just before the assaults, so as not to give any warning to the bases. We’ll know more once we can get into them and explore them, but that won’t be for some time.”

  “Why not?” demanded a black-uniformed SS colonel in a cold voice.

  “Because, Sir, the rebels booby-trapped the hell out of them, and were kind enough to warn us about that,” she said flatly.

  “They warned you? And you believed them?”

  “They posted signs at the exits to both tunnels, Sir, warning they were guarded by flitterbugs, nanobugs, and explosive and other booby-traps. The Commanding Officer at Camp Three had the sense to heed the warnings and wait for specialists to investigate. The Commanding Officer at Camp Two did not, and sent scouts down the tunnel. A short while later there were screams from inside, then silence. None of the scouts have communicated or returned. The commander has been ordered not to send any more scouts underground until specialists arrive.”

  “And they’ll go underground?”

  “I can’t say, Sir. They’ll make that decision based on their on-scene assessment.”

  “I don’t think they will, Colonel,” Khan observed. “We’ve already lost half a dozen soldiers at Camp Two. I see no point in losing more. We know our flitterbugs and nanobugs can remain active for a week to ten days on a single battery charge. We’ll wait at least that long before sending anyone else down; and even then we’ll have to move very slowly and carefully to find and disarm booby-traps or demolition charges. I should think it’ll take us at least a month to investigate the tunnels.”

  “But we might glean vital intelligence from them!” the SS officer protested. “If we wait that long, it’ll lose much of its value!”

  “What intelligence do you expect to gain from a hole in the ground, Colonel?”

  “I – ah… How can I answer that when I don’t know what the tunnels contain or where they lead, Sir?”

  “Precisely. However, I don’t think the answers are likely to be worth good soldiers’ lives. I’m sure the rebels will have removed anything that might provide us with useful information. That’s what you or I would do in their shoes, after all.” He turned back at his G-2. “Carry on, please.”

  “Yes, Sir. We presume two assault parties came out of each tunnel, one going to each of the nearby bases. They carried conventional weapons and flitterbugs. They neutralized the sentries on guard duty, secured vital installations such as armories and communication centers, then used the flitterbugs to intimidate our soldiers in their barracks. The troops were given a choice: surrender or die. Since they weren’t allowed to have weapons with them in their barracks and they had no protection against flitterbugs, they had no option but to surrender. At that stage or later, all our troops were warned that the black bands around the bugs’ bodies indicated they’d been captured from SS Headquarters in Tapuria last year, and that their darts carried lethal poison.”

  The SS colonel expostulated, “But there were no flitterbugs at our headquarters! They were kept at our technical workshops!”

  “We know that now, Colonel, but our troops in the field did not. It was a clever bluff, and it worked.”

  “Bah! It gave those troops something to blame for their cowardice!”

  “That’s enough, Colonel!” Khan surged angrily to his feet. “You weren’t on this planet last year. I was! After the Battle of Tapuria I walked through installations where our personnel had come under nanobug and flitterbug attack. I saw their bodies, and the agony etched forever on their faces as the poison took effect. Most of our experienced troops did too. You may be sure they’ve shared their memories with those who’ve joined their units since then. I assure you, if I’d been in one of those barracks and heard that threat, I’d have surrendered too! That’s not cowardice. It’s common sense!”

  The man in black glared at him, but remained defiantly silent. Khan waited a moment, then nodded to his G-2. “Go on.” He sat down to listen.

  “Thank you, Sir. The supply depot at Colosio was handled differently. Perhaps Major Hadda could speak to that, as logistics are his responsibility. He’s been investigating what happened there.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.” The tall, gaunt G-4 staff officer turned towards the General. “Sir, yesterday a convoy delivered a number of containers to Colosio. They were stacked in a corner of the depot, ready to be unloaded into transporters for local distribution.
Our main depot in Tapuria is adamant that they were checked and sealed before they left there. However, rebels managed to get into at least some of them. They may have taken advantage of one or more rest stops to infiltrate the convoy.

  “They broke out at about twenty-two and followed the same pattern as the attacks on the prison camps: neutralized the sentries, secured important buildings, then produced flitterbugs and gave the staff a choice between surrendering and dying. They then opened the gates to admit an unknown number of their compatriots driving a fleet of transporters. At least some of them were stolen from a nearby trucking firm, possibly with the collusion of some of its staff who are now missing. They spent the night loading them with everything they wanted. The last vehicle left just before dawn.”

  “How much did they get?”

  “Sir, they appear to have stripped the depot of almost everything of value. They got weapons – including heavy weapons – and ammunition; field gear; ration packs; electronics, including sensors and night vision equipment; nanobugs and flitterbugs and their control consoles; reconnaissance hoversats; basically, everything needed to support a regiment in the field for an extended period of operations. The ration packs alone were enough to feed that many troops for three months.”

  “How were they able to load so much, so quickly?”

  “The stores were containerized and palletized, Sir, and the loading process is automated. It takes no more than ten minutes to load a transporter. I presume they made return trips to get more after offloading the first shipments.”

  “But that implies their destination was close enough to allow them to do that. Was there no sign of where they took it all? No tire marks on the road? No tracks where they turned off?”

  “No, Sir. The rescue force sent up drones to search the vicinity, but found no tracks or other indications of a nearby rebel base.”

  “Hmm… that’s strange.” The Brigadier-General got up and crossed to the map on the wall, peering at it. His finger came to rest on an icon. “What’s this? A mine?”

  There was a flurry as staff officers hurried to look up the information. At last the G-5, responsible for civil-military cooperation, reported, “Yes, Sir, it’s a mine, tunneling into the mountainside. It was shut down last year after the Satrap ordered the release of all slave laborers, because no other workforce was available. Its equipment was mothballed pending re-opening as soon as replacement labor could be found, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “A-ha! And it’s only five kilometers from the depot! Ten will get you one we’ll find the answers to two questions when we get in there. First, where did the rebels get so much tunneling equipment, and how did they learn to use it? It’s a very specialized skill. I’m willing to bet that all the mine’s mothballed gear will be gone, including laser rock cutters. Some of the former slave laborers who used to operate it probably told the rebels about it and offered to use it in their service. Next –” He snapped his fingers. “Quick, bring up a satellite image of the area.”

  Another bustle, and a picture was displayed on a large wall screen.

  “Zoom in on the area between the road and the mine.” The operator did so. “There you are! There’s a hardtop connection between the main road and the mine, less than a kilometer away, ending in a hard surface of compacted mine tailings around the buildings and mine entrance. Those transporters could turn off and drive right into the mine without leaving any tracks or other traces. I bet the rebels drove their first loads into the mine, stacked them in buildings or even underground – there’s sure to have been loading equipment there – then came back for more. By dawn they were safely hidden with their loot. While our reaction force was moving in, they were probably taking everything out through a new tunnel. It’ll come out far enough away to be clear of local surveillance, perhaps on the far side of the mountain. From there, they’ll have gone on to their destination.”

  “We must send troops there at once!” the SS Colonel said eagerly.

  Khan sighed. “We’ll send them, Colonel, but by the time they get there the rebels will be long gone. They’ve done extremely well in all their other operations. I don’t expect them to have fallen down on the job here. Besides, if there’s a new tunnel as I expect, they’ll booby-trap it once they finish using it. Our forces will have to proceed very slowly and carefully.” He turned back to his G-2. “Go on, please. What about Ligarda?”

  She grimaced. “That was disgraceful, Sir. There’s no other word for it. The half-company there are supposed to be fighting troops, but due to the drawdown of combat regiments returning to Bactria we had to take them from a lower-quality support unit instead. It seems yesterday afternoon a transporter carrying a cargo of illegally distilled liquor was stopped in Ligarda. The local police discovered the moonshine and arrested the driver. It was already late, giving them no time to arrange secure storage for something that big, so they asked our garrison if they could park it inside the base overnight. I’m sure you can guess the rest, Sir.”

  Khan nodded. “The troops broke into the moonshine and had themselves one hell of a party, right?”

  “Yes, Sir. The rebels struck at about twenty-two, by which time most of the garrison were paralytic drunk. Those remaining on their feet, even those on guard duty, were in no condition to resist. The rebels rounded them up, flex-cuffed everybody and locked them in a barracks to sleep it off. They then loaded everything they wanted onto transporters and disappeared into the hills, taking with them a dozen armored cars stationed there for convoy escort duties. Even worse, Sir, there were two assault shuttles at Ligarda. The rebels stole both, presumably after loading them to max capacity with supplies, weapons and reactor fuel cartridges. What’s more, townspeople report hearing three more assault shuttles arrive at the garrison late last night. We know three rebel shuttles escaped from Tapuria after the big assault last year. I presume they were the late arrivals. The rebels probably refueled and rearmed them, loaded them with the rest of the spares and support equipment, then flew them out again.”

  “Oh, that’s just wonderful.” Khan shook his head slowly. “Let me guess. On their way out, the rebels stopped at the police station and released the transporter driver?”

  “Er… yes, Sir, they did. In fact, they released all the prisoners and locked the police in their cells instead.”

  The SS Colonel sniffed. “At least we have the driver’s mugshot, fingerprints and DNA profile. We’ll catch up with him sooner or later.”

  “No, Sir, we don’t. The rebels took the police station computer and everything in the evidence locker, including all records of those arrested yesterday. They hadn’t yet been uploaded to the central database.”

  The SS man glared at her incredulously. He opened his mouth to say something, but caught sight of the Brigadier-General’s expression and wisely decided to remain silent.

  Khan observed bitterly, “So the rebels now have five fully fueled, fully armed, operational assault shuttles and a dozen armored cars.” He looked at his G-4. “Major Hadda, based on the weapons and equipment the rebels seized last night, what sort of force can they now equip?”

  “A big one, Sir. Preliminary checks indicate they took at least two and a half thousand rifles, several dozen shoulder-fired multi-sensor missiles, rocket launchers, mortars, grenades, and plenty of ammunition for everything. Combined with what they may have had in storage from previous operations, it would be enough to equip at least two thousand men – two battalions, or a full infantry regiment. They may even have enough for a third battalion. Their units will have plenty of light weapons, but not as many heavy weapons or vehicles or as much support equipment as ours.”

  “True. On the other hand, they’ve managed to get by like that for years. I see no reason why they can’t carry on like that. They may be able to equip that many troops, but where will they recruit them? They were down to only a few hundred last year, as far as we know.”

  The SS Colonel snapped, “I’ll tell you where, Sir. The Satrap most
unwisely ordered the release of all slave laborers after the Battle of Tapuria last year. They had no reason to love us after the way they’d been treated. That wouldn’t have mattered if we’d worked them to death as we did before, but instead they were freed. They had a strong motivation to seek revenge, and the example of Tapuria was fresh in their minds. I expect many of them joined the rebels. After weeding out those unsuitable or unfit, they could easily have two to three thousand recruits by now – perhaps more.”

  “But how could they have trained them without bases and equipment?”

  “Perhaps I can answer that, Sir,” his G-1 said.

  “Go ahead, Major Shadba. Our personnel are your responsibility, after all, so I’ll be interested to hear your views about the enemy’s.”

  “Yes, Sir. I think the rebels wouldn’t even have tried to train their new recruits as we train ours. After all, we put them through three months’ basic training, plus three months’ advanced training for infantry and longer than that for specialized units. We typically don’t regard a soldier as combat-ready until he’s had a year’s service. However, the rebels didn’t need that intensity of training. They had a core of a couple of hundred veterans, all combat-hardened and very experienced. Each of those people could take several recruits, perhaps in one or two groups, and teach them the equivalent of our basic training course over six to nine months. They wouldn’t have bothered with parade-ground drill or other outward trappings. They’d have concentrated on tactical and fighting skills. After all, they’ve had plenty of opportunity to learn what’s useful and discard what’s not.

  “After that training they’d have prepared them, not for general operations, but for last night’s missions. It’s a lot of work to train a soldier to handle whatever combat may throw at him. It’s a lot simpler to train him to tackle one specific operation at one specific installation under a specific set of circumstances, with experienced leaders to supervise every step. They’ve had almost eighteen months since the slave laborers were released, Sir. I think that’s more than long enough to conduct a training program like that on a part-time basis. Now that they’ve freed even more of their experienced combatants and leaders and got their hands on much more equipment, they’ll be able to expand the training of their new recruits and prepare them for general military operations.”