Crimson Worlds Collection I

by Jay Allan

  "He did what?" General Holm didn't think Cain could still surprise him, but he was usually wrong on that score.

  "He launched an attack, sir." Lieutenant Raynor couldn't hide the admiration in his voice. "He hit the enemy line with a nuclear barrage and advanced right through it."

  The young officers loved Cain. Holm wanted to disagree, but he really couldn't. Despite his age, experience, and caution, he too loved to watch his moderately crazy colonel in action. "Status?"

  "He reports light casualties, sir. His forces have advanced 5 kilometers and established a new line. He has possession of the heights, and his position is anchored on the western mountain range." Raynor paused - he was still listening to reports coming in as he was updating the general. "Sir, he has taken two enemy convoys." He looked over at Holm. "It appears he attacked as they were moving up supplies...including specials, sir. Colonel Cain has captured twenty enemy warheads."

  "Nice work, Erik." Holm whispered softly to himself. That should slow them down a little, he thought.

  "Sir, Colonel Cain advises that his advance has placed him on the flank of the enemy forces engaged with 2nd Brigade. He requests permission to attack."

  "Get him on the line, lieutenant." Holm paused. "I want to speak with him."

  Barely a second passed before Cain's voice was coming through the general's headset. "Yes, sir?"

  "Erik, you're a crazy son of a bitch, do you know that?"

  "So I've been told." Cain tried to suppress a laugh with only partial success. "By you, in fact."

  "Your attack was a bold move. Brilliant. You surprised the hell out of them, and that will set their timetable back." He exhaled slowly. "But they won't be surprised if you attack again. You've got a good position there, but I don't want you to take too many casualties trying to push farther. We still don't have an accurate assessment of enemy strength, and until we do, we have to assume we're heavily outnumbered." Holm took another deep breath. "You can launch a few spoiling attacks to take some pressure off of 2nd Brigade...they could use the support. But do not launch a major attack. We just don't have the resources to sustain it right now."

  "Yes, sir." Cain paused. "I'll shoot 'em up a little and scare them on the flanks. That should get them to ease up on their own attacks for a while. Maybe they'll shift some of their strength over to me."

  "That's good. But nothing more." He waited a few seconds. "Understood, Erik?"

  "Yes, sir. Understood." After a few seconds: "Sir, I never intended to advance this far, but we've occupied an excellent position. Our right flank is against the mountains, and we've got the highest ground for kilometers. I was going to pull back to my old position after raising some hell, but I think I should fortify this location instead. I'm really a thorn in their side right here."

  Holm had the map up inside his visor. "It is a good position, Erik, but if 2nd Brigade gets forced back you'll be cut off."

  "I think we can hold here, sir." He paused. "Even if we're cut off for a while." Another brief silence, then: "General, I really think we can do more to damage the enemy by holding this advanced position."

  Holm closed his eyes. Cain was right. His 3,000 troops could inflict more harm on the enemy's operations were they were. But it felt like a forlorn hope, a suicide mission. How many of those 3,000 would come back? Holm knew the enemy would throw everything they had at that position. Cain knew it too, of course. But he was still requesting permission to hold there. It took everything Elias Holm had inside him to force the words out. "Do it."

  Chapter 16

  Northern Face of the Lysandra Plateau

  Epsilon Eridani IV

  Lieutenant John Marek crouched behind a jagged rock outcropping, shattered chips of stone bouncing off his armored back. His platoon had been pinned down for at least an hour. They'd beaten back five enemy assaults, but half his troops were down, and they were running low on ammunition. They were under fire from at least three heavy auto-cannons, and he'd just received word that the enemy had broken through Third Company on his right flank. He'd sent one of his snipers to cover the approaches from the now-exposed right, but that wasn't going to be enough.

  He didn't know how much longer he could hold this position. His troops were situated in good cover, and their fields of fire had savaged the attackers and sent them reeling back with heavy casualties. But if the enemy wanted his little patch of ground badly enough, they could take it. They knew it, and Marek knew it too.

  "Sergeant Anton, take the reserve squad and form a line on the right, perpendicular to our current position." Marek kicked up the magnification level of his visor and scanned the terrain along the flank. "There's a low ridge about 200 meters north. It's not great cover, but it's better than nothing." He paused. "Make sure you take one of the SAWs with you, and goddammit, find a good spot for it, because you're going to need all the firepower you can get."

  "Yes, sir." Anton offered a cumbersome armored salute then crouched further down and slipped behind a low rocky ridge running south from Marek's position. A few seconds later he was out of sight.

  A loud, deep voice blared in his headset. "Lieutenant Marek, Colonel Jax here. I need a status report." Marek almost jumped up, not a good idea with the fire coming in just above his head. He hadn't expected to hear from the colonel directly.

  "Yes, sir. My squad is in cover behind a long rocky ridge. We are under heavy sustained fire from at least three heavy weapons. I have 23 casualties...8 dead. I have reports that Third Company has retreated, so I sent a squad to cover my flank. That was my last reserve."

  "Third Company was overrun, but I have reinforced them and they are regrouping to counterattack." His voice was steady and commanding, but Marek could hear the fatigue too. "I need you to hold until they can get back in position."

  "I will try, sir, but I don't know if we can beat back another major push. We're low on ammunition, and my line is getting very thin." Marek wanted to tell Colonel Jax he'd hold no matter what, but he just wasn't sure he could. And Jax needed reliable information, not bravado and empty promises.

  "I'm sending you some scratch fire teams we put together from broken units." Jax was doing a mental calculation on how many he thought he could spare to send to Marek. He started at four, but ended up at two. Marek's position was far from his only trouble spot. "I'm sending you two teams; use them to plug your line." He paused. "They're full strength, but remember these are not fresh reserves; they're bits and pieces of other units that have been thrown together to make something useful. They've been through the ringer already, and they're at least as tired as your people. Use them to plug your line or create a small reserve." He could hear Jax exhale heavily. "I'm sending them up with some extra ammo, but go easy, because we're light on supplies everywhere."

  "Yes, sir." He hesitated for a few seconds. He would be glad for the extra ten troops, but he seriously doubted it would be enough if the enemy came in force again. "We'll hold, sir." He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

  "I know you will, lieutenant." And if through some miracle you do hold, it will be Captain Marek, Jax thought. "Good luck." A long pause. "And lieutenant, it's only a matter of time before the enemy hits us with specials, so keep your men on Code Orange protocols. We captured their forward cache on our initial attack, but they've had time to bring more up by now...not to mention anything that had already been deployed to field units."

  "Yes, sir." Nuclear defense tactics called for him to adopt an extended formation, spreading his troops out as much as possible. Unfortunately, that was somewhat counterproductive to putting up a strong defense.

  "Report any enemy activity immediately. Directly to me, lieutenant. Understood?"

  Marek's response was sharp and clear. "Understood, sir."

  "Jax out."

  Marek had his AI bring up a schematic of his platoon, though it was barely a section now. The squad he'd sent with Sergeant Anton had seven of its normal complement of ten. It was his strongest unit; everything along h
is front line was in worse shape. One squad was down to two, but at least they'd salvaged a SAW.

  He needed to stretch out his line more. Right now one or two nukes could take them all out. The terrain was good, at least. They were in between two long, spiny ridges, which offered decent cover against a detonation either in front or behind. Unless the enemy dropped a hot nuke right in the 20 meters or so between the outcroppings, at least some of his people would survive an attack. Whether they'd be in any shape to repel an assault was another matter, of course.

  He ordered one of the squads to extend the line south, and he directed all units to pull one-third of their strength out of the forward position and into deeper cover below the rock wall. He rolled his eyes up to study the slightly shimmering image of the tactical display projected inside his visor. Good, he thought...Anton had his people in place already. The veteran sergeant was a real professional. Marek had been grateful more than once over the past few days to have the seasoned non-com in his platoon.

  The enemy fire still hadn't let up. Whatever ammunition shortages his own troops were dealing with, the enemy seemed to have plenty to spare. He reminded his troops several times to be careful and stay low when redeploying, but two of them got hit anyway. One dead, another seriously wounded, but with no chance for evac to a field hospital - 1st Brigade had been cut off for 12 hours now - there was a pretty good chance it would two dead. The suit could keep a wounded Marine alive for a while but not forever.

  "Lieutenant Marek. Sergeant Anton here, sir. We have multiple sightings of enemy troops advancing south from Third Company's previous position. It is likely I will be engaged shortly."

  "Thank you, Sergeant. Keep me posted." Marek tried to sound confident to Anton, but he wasn't at all sure that any eight men and women ever made could hold that northern line.

  "Enemy bombardment incoming, Lieutenant Marek." His AI reported first, but only beat the first squad leaders by a second or two...and the first grenade by five. Explosions erupted along the entire line, showering his troops with dirt and blasted rock. They were in good cover, and it took pretty close to a direct hit with a grenade to cause a serious injury to an armored Marine. He wanted to return the fire, and he knew his troops did too, but they just didn't have the ammunition to spare. "All troops, hold fire. I repeat, do not return fire." Popping off grenades ineffectually at long range would make them feel better for a minute, but they needed to conserve what they had and use it where it would matter.

  "I want everyone on alert for another assault. Eyes open, people." He knew they would come again. The grenades were just to rattle his troops and force them down from their vantage points before the attack. He wasn't going to let it work. "Croppen, Wilitz, I want you guys focused." He had two snipers situated higher on the rear rock formation; they had a clear view of the entire field, and he needed them to do some serious damage when the enemy came.

  "Enemy attack!" The voice was a loud and little high-pitched. His people were mostly veterans, but they were also getting worn down. "Looks like they're coming in force." It was Corporal Rask, and she calmed down a little after her first outburst.

  Marek's AI automatically organized the feeds from the rest of the platoon, updating the tactical schematic as more information became available. "Lieutenant, it appears that we are facing a company strength attack. Initial data indicates intact formations, which strongly suggests this is a fresh reserve unit at or close to full strength"

  Well that's it, he thought. No way we're beating back a company. Worse, Imperial companies were half again the size of Alliance ones. He had 200 troops coming in against his beleaguered crew. Making things worse, Anton reported his squad along the northern flank was under attack as well.

  "Alright 2nd Platoon, everybody ready. Pick your shots until they hit 500 meters, then let loose with everything you've got. Remember who we are, Marines. And make sure they remember too!" He switched the com to just the two snipers. "Croppen, Wilitz, I need you guys to take a bite out of this advance. Whatever it takes, you need to rack up a body count if we're going to have a chance here." He knew what it would take, and so did the two sharpshooters. Normally, they'd move after every couple shots. It kept them safer, but it took time too. If they fired more times from one spot they could hit more targets...at least until some enemy sniper nailed their location and took them out.

  Marek climbed up to the top of the outcropping he was using for cover and found a good vantage point for firing. The auto-cannons were still raking the position, so he hunched behind, waiting. They'd have to stop the supporting fire when their assaulting troops got close enough. He'd kept his com open with the two snipers. They would count off their kills, and he wanted to track how they were doing. They were both already at three, having dropped targets that were 2,000 meters away, partially obscured on broken ground.

  The Imperial troops advanced across the field, using gullies and low spots for cover. They were well-trained, but not combat veterans, and they were more careless than experienced troops would have been. Marek's Marines made them pay for every sloppy step. The attackers had about 30 casualties when they hit the 500 meter mark, but they'd drawn blood as well, and four of the defenders were down. Marek was about to give his troops the order to fire full, but just as he swung over the top of the ridge to take aim, he saw something in the distance. Just a dot at first, but moving rapidly toward them, growing larger as it did.

  The fighter was sleek and aerodynamic, designed for flight in an atmosphere rather than space. To the ground pounders it seemed to be moving at a tremendous velocity, but it was actually traveling at less than a fifth of its maximum speed. It had slowed and dived to provide close support to Marek's Marines, and it streaked across the field, parallel to their position, strafing the attacking troops. It was taking a terrible risk, exposing itself to close range ground fire, but its heavy auto-cannons ripped into the Imperial forces. The huge hyper-velocity rounds tore right through powered armor, obliterating at least thirty of the advancing troops.

  Even as it finished its run, half a dozen missiles were fired from the enemy lines. The fighter banked and angled high, climbing with the maximum thrust its atomic engines could generate. It streaked quickly into the sky, faster than the eye could follow, but it wasn't fast enough; two of the missiles exploded right next to it, shredding the wings and blowing holes in the fuselage. It tumbled down, spinning wildly out of control and crashed north of the battlefield in a massive fireball.

  Still, it had done its damage, and the attacking force was staggered. Marek closed his eyes for an instant in empathy and appreciation for the pilot's sacrifice. Then he ordered his troops to open up, and they poured fire into the disordered enemy; the shaken attackers hesitated, broke and ran. The Marines were cheering wildly over the comlink, shooting indiscriminately at the fleeing enemy. As much as Marek shared their desire to shoot down the routers, he ordered them to stop. They just didn't have the ammunition to waste on enemies who were no longer a pressing threat.

  "Everybody get back down!" He knew the enemy would resume firing with their heavy weapons now that their own troops were out of the field of fire. His people had their blood up, and he didn't want to lose anyone for being too excited to remember to get his head down.

  He felt his own adrenalin start to drain away, as the immediate threat faded. Of course, they were so strung out on stimulants by now it was hard to tell what was a natural reaction and what was artificial. Ok, he thought, that's six attacks we beat back. He felt a rush of elation, quickly tempered by his next duty. Counting the cost.

  "Squad leaders. Casualty reports." He listened quietly as his four squad commanders, only one of whom had held that position three days before, rattled off their counts. Another ten casualties; he was down to thirteen fit for duty, and along the northern flank only Sergeant Anton and one trooper were still standing. Both snipers made it, though, for which he was grateful.

  Things improved slightly when the two fire teams sent by Colonel J
ax arrived. Marek sent one team north to Sergeant Anton, deploying the other right into his own line. He would have loved to have something in reserve, but he just didn't have the force to spare.

  The enemy hadn't resumed the auto-cannon fire. Maybe they're running low on ordnance too, he thought doubtfully. He took advantage of the lull to get the wounded moved down into the gully between the two ridges. It was the safest place for them until he could get them evac'd...and it didn't seem like that was going to be anytime soon.

  Marek used the time to review his positions, and he shifted his squads around. He wasn't sure if he was really improving things or just making himself feel useful. He was just about to order one on of his snipers to readjust his position when the comlink came to life. "All personnel...Code Orange. Repeat Code Orange."

  Marek dove low behind the rock. "Platoon, take cover. Everyone down, now. Repeat, every..." Marek's visor shut down to protect his eyes from the blinding flash. An instant later, the shockwave smashed into the rocky outcropping, shattering the top half of it and covering him under a landslide of obliterated rock. The nuke had detonated in front of the line, south of Marek's position. The squad on the southern flank, less than 200 meters from ground zero, was wiped out. To the north there were survivors, though most of them were wounded and buried under the debris from the collapsed rock wall.

  Anton's people came through it better. Farther north, they were outside the immediate blast zone. Anton's armor suffered some minor damage, but nothing serious. He looked south, seeing the mushroom cloud rising behind the blasted position occupied by the rest of the platoon. And behind that he saw enemy troops advancing.

  "Lieutenant Marek, they're coming again." He called into the comlink, not knowing what to expect. No response. "Lieutenant? Are you there, sir?" If Marek was down, Anton was in command of the whole platoon. Or whatever was left of it. "Lieutenant?"