He heard war-whoops from the west as they paused long enough to regroup, then step up to the very heart of the enemy base. The prefabricated buildings were larger than anything the Vesy slaves had built for their human masters, he noted; the doorways were heavily defended, as if the Russians had feared attack even in the centre of their power. It wasn't an ideal situation - the Marines would have to punch their way through the doorways, which would make their path predictable - but there was no choice.
“Go,” Hadfield ordered, when Percy filled him in. “Hastings has been bogged down by the enemy.”
Percy cursed under his breath. In an exercise, beating 1 Section to the prize would have pleased him enormously - and made 1 Section buy the drinks, afterwards. But, in the midst of a real battle, he would have liked to have their support. The Russians were still holding out, after all, and they’d had time to prepare a whole series of surprises.
But there was no choice. Bracing himself, he issued the order to attack.
***
The building shook, once again. This time, the blast was much closer.
“General,” his aide said. “They’re attacking the gates.”
Rybak nodded in bitter understanding. “Pull back all available forces,” he ordered. He had only two cards left to play, now the shuttles were gone. There hadn't been any response to the message he’d sent to the ships, which convinced him that they had both been destroyed. “We’re going to barricade ourselves inside the building until the God-King arrives.”
He saw two of his officers exchange worried glances and clutched his pistol, tightly. The God-King believed the crap he sprouted about being a living god - it helped that Russian technology could perform miracles, by local standards - but what would he make of the Russians if he saw them cowering, waiting desperately for support? Even the most hardened fanatic would have second thoughts if he saw the Russians on the verge of defeat. But there was only one other card and he was damned if he was using it unless all was lost.
“Yes, sir,” the aide said.
***
“1 Section is gaining ground,” Hastings reported. “They’re falling back.”
“I can see that,” Hadfield said. The Russians, for whatever reason, hadn't tried to shoot down the drones. He had a bird’s eye view of the compound and, now the Marines were pushing the Russians back, it was easier to sort out what was going on. “The mortar crews will deal with them.”
He barked orders, then watched as more rounds slammed down among the Russian soldiers. Caught in the open, they were easy targets. A handful survived, long enough to be taken prisoner by Hastings and his men, but the majority were killed before they even knew they were under attack. Few surrendered willingly. Hadfield sighed, inwardly. The Russians believed they were doomed, so they were fighting to the bitter end. What else could they do?
“Push onwards,” he ordered.
But he knew matters were moving out of his hands.
***
“The troops have been hammered,” his aide said. “There won’t be any reinforcements.”
“Sir,” another officer said. “We should consider their offer.”
Rybak shot him. “No,” he snarled, as the officer fell to the ground. “We will fight to the finish.”
Another officer started to draw his pistol. Rybak shot him too, then turned, glaring from face to face until they all looked cowed. “I will see to it that they do not live to enjoy their victory,” he said. “Keep fighting until the bitter end.”
He turned and strode out of the compartment, sealing the hatch behind him. His quarters were just down the corridor; inside, Mary was lying on the floor, her entire body shaking with fear. Rybak snarled in contempt - how weak she was - and opened the sealed box he’d placed against the far wall. Inside, there was a single tactical nuclear warhead, one he’d had brought down from the assault transport once they’d set up the colony. It was easily powerful enough to wipe out the settlement, the attacking force and all hard evidence of who had founded it in the first place.
Opening the lid, he peered down at the keypad, then started to key in the first 16-digit code that would activate the warhead. It wasn't designed to be easy to trigger, unfortunately; he’d never bothered to have the engineers remove the standard verification system and replace it with a big red button. He smirked at the thought, then paused. Behind him, he could hear the sound of whimpering.
“You’re about to die,” he said, cheerfully. The warhead clicked once, then demanded the second code. In the distance, the sound of shooting and grenades was growing louder. The enemy, whoever they were, had forced their way into the building. They would be sweeping their way from room to room, looking for the command centre and happily unaware that it no longer mattered. “We’re all about to die.”
He heard a sound behind him and turned, too late. The knife appeared in his chest and he realised, dully, that Mary had stabbed him in the back. He hadn't thought she had the nerve to do anything! But if the fear of certain pain, of certain death, had kept her in his bed, the certainty of death had spurred her to fight. He spun, then crumpled to the floor, unable even to stand upright any longer. By the time the intruders broke into his quarters, it was far too late.
***
“They tried to detonate a nuke?”
“Yes, sir,” Percy said. He looked at the sobbing girl, then at the dead Russian. “It’s a tactical nuke. They must have thought they would need it at New Russia.”
There was a pause. “Understood,” Hadfield said. “Take as many surrenders as you can, Corporal, then help us start rigging defences. The God-King is still on his way.”
Percy cursed. “The ship?”
“Still at least three hours away,” Hadfield warned. “I don’t think she can move much faster.”
“Understood, sir,” Percy said. He took one last look at the nuke, then helped the girl to her feet. She wouldn't be safe until all the Russians were either prisoners or dead. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“They were abusing the young men, sir,” Hastings said. “Not physically, but they were preparing them to be soldiers.”
Percy winced as Hastings gave his report. 2 Section might have secured the women, but 1 Section had overrun the barracks housing nearly a hundred male children, ranging from twelve to sixteen years old. The Russians had turned it into a demented scout camp, alternatively beasting the boys into shape and rewarding them lavishly. Thankfully, the Russians in charge of the lads had refrained from arming the kids and pointing them at the advancing Marines. Far too many of them would have been killed if they had.
“Keep them secure for now,” Hadfield said. “And the Russians themselves?”
“We have around three hundred prisoners,” Percy reported. “Save for the wounded, they’re all held in the barracks, for the moment. The Russian commander himself is dead.”
“Pity,” Hadfield observed. He glanced down at his terminal. “The God-King’s forces are still on the way.”
“Yes, sir,” Percy said.
“Get your men into defensive positions, then prepare to hold the line,” Hadfield continued. “We’ll have to pull the rest of the troops into the compound itself.”
Percy cursed under his breath. Having ripped a number of holes in the colony’s defences, the Marines would then have to defend it themselves. The Royal Marines themselves could break contact easily - the God-King’s forces couldn't hope to match their speed - and retreat back to the shuttles, but there was no way to move the women and children so quickly. And none of the Bootnecks would have willingly abandoned them to their fate.
“Aye, sir,” he said. The Royal Marines had made last stands before. They might as well make one now, if the ship didn't return in time. “What about the shuttles?”
“I’m sending one of the pilots back,” Hadfield said. “We need the others to work the mortars.”
“Aye, sir,” Percy said.
The Marines worked frantically
as the God-King’s army grew closer and closer. Percy coordinated with Ivan - the native allies would be needed, while Hadfield and Hastings placed men in position to intercept the natives when they arrived. He wished they had the material to place mines or improvised explosive devices around the compound, but the Russians hadn't stockpiled enough makeshift explosive to make it worthwhile. Ivan grew more and more reluctant to cooperate as the God-King’s army approached, pointing out - time and time again - that the God-King’s army had slaughtered its way through all resistance. Percy countered by reminding Ivan that the Marines had a lot of firepower and help was on the way.
But if they figured they could retreat, he thought, they would have done it by now.
He watched the advancing army through the live feed from the drones. It looked horrifically irregular, by human standards; it was a strange cross between Roman, Aztec and Russian military practices. The natives marched in unison, carrying standards that ranged from the skulls of their enemies to paintings showing the names and faces of their gods. Each of them carried a blunderbuss and a short sword, presumably made from iron. The Russians might have introduced steel, Percy reasoned, but it was unlikely they would have been able to produce it in any great quantities.
“They have catapults and cannon bringing up the rear,” Hadfield observed. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that outside a bad cartoon.”
“Aye, sir,” Percy said. The catapult looked like something he’d designed and built as a Boy Scout. However, it was no laughing matter. The aliens could easily bombard the compound with rocks ... and, if they threw gunpowder instead, the results would be explosive. “I suggest we deploy the suits to take out their heavy weapons.”
“Mortars can see to that,” Hadfield said, shaking his head. “I don't want to weaken the defences still further.”
Percy nodded, reluctantly. “Aye, sir,” he said.
***
Gillian rubbed her wrists as she surveyed the wounded women and children. There were fewer than she’d expected; the Royal Marines, it seemed, had been careful about where they fired their weapons, unlike the Russians themselves. Giving them medical attention helped keep her from worrying about the short-term future, let alone the future any of the women could expect when they finally reached Cromwell. Who knew what would happen to them?
“I killed him,” Mary said, quietly.
“Good for you,” Gillian said. She’d thought Mary had broken, that she’d given up all hope of resistance ... and then Mary had stabbed the General in the back, saving everyone. “Help me deal with these patients.”
Mary nodded, then got to work. Gillian watched her for a long moment, then opened one of the medical packs the Marines had given her and dug out the painkillers. There was nothing she could do for some of the wounded, save issue them painkillers and hope they could be moved to a proper hospital soon. The Russians hadn't left her enough supplies to help the patients - or, for that matter, the Russians themselves.
“Gillian,” Gina said. “What will happen to Alexander?”
“I don't know,” Gillian said.
She couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy. The pregnant girl had just seen her life turned upside down, once again. Her Russian was either dead or a captive, while her husband might not welcome her back when she was carrying another man’s child. And it wasn't as if she had been raped. Her husband might reason it wasn't her fault ... or he might see it as a betrayal of her wedding vows. And he'd waited over five years for her ...
And what looked like a reasonable survival tactic becomes something else, now we are free, she thought, morbidly. Gina wouldn't be the only one who would have to deal with the situation. God alone knows what this is going to do to us.
She shook her head. It was possible the natives would break the walls, then kill everyone in the compound. And if that happened, her concerns about the future would become immaterial.
“Shit,” Mary said.
Gillian nodded. In the distance, she could hear the sound of the approaching army.
***
“I think they’re trying to scare us, sir.”
“So it would seem, Sergeant,” Hadfield said. He looked at Percy, then grinned. “Are you feeling scared?”
Percy shook his head. The sound of trumpets was echoing across the fields as the aliens slowly came into view. Their movements were slow, deliberate. It was a good intimidation tactic, he had to admit, but the Royal Marines were taught to move fast, hit hard and never be where the enemy expected them to be. Besides, the looming mass of alien soldiers would make easy targets for the mortars. He smiled suddenly as he saw a horse-like creature - he couldn't help comparing it to a small dinosaur - canter into view, carrying an alien decked out in a surprising amount of plumage. That was a commanding officer, he decided, or he’d eat his hat.
“Good,” Hadfield said.
“Lieutenant,” Peerce said, quietly. He pointed towards a mounted rider, who was cantering towards the ruined gatehouse. “I think that’s a messenger.”
Hadfield nodded. “Percy?”
Percy nodded, then walked down towards the gatehouse, where three Marines were hastily setting up another line of barricades. They wouldn’t stop a determined opponent for very long, Percy knew, but they would force them to mass in one place, easy prey for the mortar teams. He stepped through the gate and nodded to the alien. The alien nodded back, a gesture he had to have picked up from the Russians, then started to speak.
“In the name of” - several words in the alien tongue - “I call on you to surrender,” the alien said. “To place yourself at the mercy of the gods and their one true spokesman. To submit yourself before us and bow your head in wonder at our majesty. To serve us as you would serve the elect of the gods ...”
He went on for quite some time, bragging of the power and might of the God-King. Percy listened, recording the entire speech for the benefit of future historians, although as it dragged on and on he found himself growing increasingly irritated. But it was a delay in proceedings ... the longer the aliens held back from attacking, the sooner the ship would arrive to save them all. When the alien finally came to a stop, having demanded their surrender no less than thirty times, Percy was ready with an answer.
“No,” he said.
The alien seemed surprised, although it was hard to tell. Combat challenges were ritualistic among the natives, from what Ivan had said, and he’d no doubt expected Percy to respond in kind. He could have read a list of Royal Marine battle honours, Percy supposed, but they wouldn't have meant anything to the aliens. All that mattered was that the Royal Marines had no intention of surrendering to them.
He watched as the alien turned and cantered back towards the army. As soon as he reached the line, the trumpets blew once again and the entire mass of the army surged forward. Percy stared in horror - a mass charge would be utterly futile against emplaced machine guns - then darted back to the human lines. Hadfield issued an order, a second later, and the Marines opened fire. Hundreds of aliens fell in the first few seconds, but hundreds more kept coming, jumping over the dead or dying bodies as they advanced. Red blood, disturbingly human, splashed across the land.
Oh, you poor bastards, he thought, as the aliens kept coming. Hundreds upon hundreds died every time the machine guns raked their lines. Whatever did you do to deserve such commanders?
“Snipers,” Hadfield said. “Take out their leaders.”
But the aliens kept coming. The mortar teams opened fire, raining shells amidst the rear of the enemy lines, where they’d set up their cannons and catapults. A terrifyingly large explosion suggested that the aliens had also been stockpiling their gunpowder near the cannons, a mistake that had cost them dearly. They must not have faced any form of counterbattery fire before, Percy decided, although it was impossible to be sure. The Russians wouldn't have made that mistake.
Maybe they left some weaknesses when they taught the aliens how to fight, he thought, as he lifted his weapon. The ali
ens were still running over their dead bodies, almost reaching the shattered walls. Or maybe they just didn't want the aliens thinking for themselves.
The aliens howled as they crossed the wall, then opened fire. Pellets raced past the marine positions, bouncing off prefabricated buildings. Even the wooden buildings seemed to stand up well to alien fire, Percy noted, as he opened fire himself. The alien weapons didn't seem to have much kick, not compared to human designs. Had the Russians deliberately limited what the aliens could do, he asked himself, or had they simply run into problems making the aliens better weapons? There was no way to know.
[Ark Royal 04] - Warspite Page 39