by Rick Shelley
“At least the Heggies don’t have any air left either,” Bal Kenneck noted. “And they’ve been using their tanks strictly against the units at the canal.”
“What about the reccers?” Ingels asked. “Enough of them left to help us open a way into the base?”
“I’m waiting to hear from them now,” Parks said. “They were going to try to consolidate during the barrage. Altogether, they only equal one recon platoon now. Maybe less. If there are enough of them left to matter. . . “Parks just shook his head.
“Colonel, I think we should consider just sitting tight until the 8th gets here.” Bal suggested. “Get the reccers out if possible, so they’re not in the way. Let the general use all of the air and artillery to clear the streets in there once the breakthrough is established south of here. Do what we can to establish a perimeter of our own in case they don’t get to us in time.”
“The new fleet could be overhead by then, more Heggies on their way down,” Ingels pointed out. “If we get stuck between them . . .”
“The general wants to avoid that as well,” Stossen said. “Who is commanding the reccers now?”
“Nimz,” Parks said. “3rd recon’s platoon sergeant.”
Stossen nodded, remembering Nimz’s hoarse pleas for artillery support, “Good man. He calls again, I’ll talk to him myself, Dezo. In the meantime, let’s do what damage we can. Vrerchs and RPGs. Splat guns to clear the Ianes between those buildings. Tell the platoons to get their snipers busy as well, to clear away as many of the Heggies on the near roofs as they can.”
* * *
A frontal attack into prepared enemy positions is the deadliest form of assault infantry can make, something that most commanders have avoided whenever possible for thousands of years. The 8th SAT moved north along the road leading from the western bridge. The first minutes of the attack were especially brutal. The first company to storm the Heggie line was completely wiped out, every man either killed or wounded too severely to continue. The second company thrown against the defenses was very nearly destroyed as well.
But the rest of the 8th continued to move forward, two companies–what was left of them–at the point of a wedge, pushing against the Heggie defenders in front of them. The rest of the 8th moved forward on the flanks, widening the assault. Behind them, the 97th LIR moved forward as well.
At first, the Heggie line held solid. That line was crowded, men “stacked” three deep. Noncoms and officers were close with their disciplinary squads to make sure that no one retreated. Then the line bent from the continued pressure. Men moved north, but not far. The Heggies formed a new line across the gap not more than a hundred meters behind the first. To either side of the road, the rest of the Heggie Iine adjusted itself. The line did thin out somewhat. A lot of bodies were left behind.
The 8th and 97th pressed the attack. Just in front of them, the Wasps of the 5th and 8th SAT, and the 17th lAW made repeated runs back and forth. From farther back, the Havocs of all three SATs made their contribution.
Wasps fell from the sky on every pass. Nova tanks returned artillery fire. The tanks were close enough to take out some of the Havocs, though they lost as many tanks in return.
In the middle, infantrymen fought and died.
And died.
General Dacik had moved his command post closer to the western bridge, As soon as possible, he wanted to move across the canal–but not just yet. He watched the fighting through binoculars, lying flat just behind the last ridge south of the canal.
Along the rest of the front, fighting was light. Dacik had moved as much of his army as he could to put it across the one bridge. The enemy had moved forces to counter that. At the other bridge, to the east, the 5th and the 1st battalion of the 34th did what they could to tie down Heggies. If the Schlinal warlords moved too many of the men guarding that bridgehead, the 5th would be able to break through.
Can we do it in time? Dacik asked himself. He could see the carnage on the north side of the canal. Even without the reports he was getting from the 8th and 97th, he could tell how badly his units were being hurt.
Can we do it at all? Even that wasn’t certain. He closed his eyes, just for a second. Even if they did manage the breakthrough in time and got to the base at the far end of the peninsula, would it do any good?
Will we have anyone left to face this new army when it lands?
“We’re through!” Colonel Foss’s voice shouted in Dacik’s ear. Over the radio. “We’ve got our hole through their line.”
Dacik felt his heart thumping loudly. “Go for it, Nape,” Dacik said. “Get north as fast as you can. Take the 97th with you. Don’t worry about anything else. Just get up there and link up with the 13th.”
THE PRIMARY reason why so few battles are fought in space is a matter of physics. Changing direction is not merely a matter of spinning a steering wheel or control yoke and immediately speeding off on a new heading. There are direct analogies between space navy and the older sea navies–wind and sail. It takes time and energy to change the course of a ship in space. That is true for a ship in orbit with a speed of less than 30,000 kilometers per hour. It is much more evident when the ship is braking after emerging from hyperspace at more than 120,000 kilometers per hour. The geometry of plotting an intercept course in real time is beyond the capabilities of the unaided human mind. Powerful computers working in parallel are used to plot the course and the engine requirements for achieving the interception. The capabilities of ship thrusters, measured against momentum and local gravity–as well as the speed and course (subject to change) of the vessel to be intercepted–restrict what can be done, and how quickly.
Ships in space must be close in order to do battle at all. Despite millennia of weapons development, none of the available weapons are of any particular value against enemy ships at any real distance. Energy and particle beams, even though they operate at or near the speed of light, will do little damage to a capital ship. Hulls designed to protect travelers against the dangers of cosmic radiation need little additional hardening to protect against energy weapons, and that technology is older than Interstellar travel itself. Ship-to-ship missiles travel more slowly. They can almost always be intercepted before they can travel much more than half of the distance to their target. Two capital ships rarely get close enough for missiles from one to reach the other before interception.
That fact had led to the design and deployment of fleets of small fighter spacecraft, vehicles given over to payload and propellant. With less mass and higher accelerations, a flight of fighters could hope to get close enough to launch more missiles than the enemy’s defenses could handle–if the attack fighters could get past the enemy’s defensive fighter screen.
Improvements were slow in coming, and incremental. Better offensive weapons were met by improved defenses. In the few years of fighting between the Accord and the Hegemony, neither side had yet managed to tip the balance. The usual result of battle was the destruction of flocks of fighters, with crippling damage to the capital ships of either side rare.
Over Tamkailo, all that the Accord really wanted was a chance to destroy significant numbers of Schlinal shuttles before they could land reinforcements on the world below.
Intersection was still more than an hour away.
* * *
General Dacik released the 13th’s Havocs to support the 13th again–for five minutes. Major Norwich acted as spotter. He was with Colonel Stossen at the north end of the peninsula. Norwich directed the fire against the outer rampart and against the walls of the outer buildings. High-explosive and armor-piercing–the latter against the buildings.
Ten seconds before the expiration of the ten minutes that the general had allowed, Colonel Stossen ordered his infantry forward.
* * *
Blue Flight accelerated toward the Schlinal base. ZeI and his remaining Wasps had been hunting Novas along the peninsula. Major Ta
rkel had called to ask if they were close enough to make a single pass–without getting approval for the mission from General Dacik. Zel had agreed instantly. Goose Tarkel didn’t even mention it to Colonel Stossen until the Wasps were ready to start their strafing run. He saw no need to tell the general at all.
Three Wasps came in from the east, each following a lane between buildings. They used their cannons, sweeping from one side of the Schlinal base to the other. It could only be once through. Then the Wasps turned south again, heading back to their tank hunting.
* * *
Nimz waited until he heard Wasp cannon fire move past the building. It was a distinct sound–a metallic rain–plain even through the building’s thick stone walls. Dem had his men posted and ready. He had done a little quick reorganizing. The reccers would operate as a single platoon now. The four squads did not, quite, correspond to the original four platoons.
“Let’s go,” he said softly, as soon as the metal rain passed the door. He had been warned of the Wasp pass only some ten seconds before it started.
The 13th’s reccers moved through the one doorway, rapidly, into the land that had just been cleared of Heggies. Dem led his men east at a run, to the next intersection. With half of his men on either side of the east-west lane, they started shooting at the Heggies to the north and south in the cross street They had ten seconds of pure target practice, shooting at men who weren’t expecting an enemy on the ground behind them, ten seconds to do as much damage as they could before they came under fire again. Dem and his men were reccers. They made the most of their opportunity.
* * *
Echo Company was up and moving west behind the artillery barrage and the Wasp runs that coincided with the end of the barrage. The two rough ramparts were 120 meters apart. Echo came under only light and sporadic fire as they raced across those 120 meters.
When they reached the inner rampart, Echo paused for only an instant. Commanders checked to make certain that the units on their flanks had also reached the rampart. Then Colonel Stossen gave them another “Go” and the 13th started moving forward again, into the Heggie base.
Echo was at the extreme left of the 13th’s attack. They climbed over the rampart and scores of bodies, then turned left, firing into the area between the rampart and the wall of the nearest building. They moved south, aiming for the next east-west lane through the base.
Joe Baerclau got his platoon over to the right, along the building’s wall. That kept them out of the line of fire of the Heggies on the roofs. They couldn’t lean over and shoot directly down without exposing themselves to Accord riflemen farther out. When the platoon reached the southern end of the building, the men had to wait at the corner. One fire team started shooting around the comer, as far as they could without exposing themselves. Farther out, the company’s 1st and 3rd platoons went back across the inner rampart to move farther south. First came back over once they were covered by the next building. Third stayed in the gap to shoot straight down the lane.
“Hey, cut that out!” a voice said over the company noncoms’ channel. “This is Nimz, 3rd recon. We’re up this street.”
All three platoons stopping shooting down the lane. Dem Nimz and two other men came running down the lane. Captain Keye and First Sergeant Walker moved along the east wall of the building past Joe’s platoon.
“I’ve got about fifty men left,” Nimz said. “We’re covering the next intersection, Captain. I’d suggest securing these two buildings. I think a lot of the Heggies have gone inside.”
Captain Keye took a moment to relay the news that Echo had contacted the reccers and to explain the situation to Colonel Stossen.
“Okay Nimz,” Keye said then. “For the time being, consider yourselves part of Echo.” That had come from the colonel. Keye turned and gestured to Joe. “Baerclau, you take your platoon into this building. Secure the interior and the roof, I’ll send 1st platoon to take the next building over. Nimz, you stay with Joe until we can get you back to your platoon. You’ve been inside here. These men with you will go over with 1st platoon for now.”
Nimz just nodded. Baerclau was already talking to his squad leaders.
“What can we expect inside?” Joe asked Dem as he started moving 2nd platoon down the east-west lane toward the nearest door leading into the building.
“I think the buildings on this side of the base are all warehouses, the first two or three lines anyway,” Nimz said. “Our guess is that any factories are in the middle and that the smaller buildings over on the west side are barracks and mess halls and other support services. You get inside any of the warehouses at the first site?” When Joe nodded, Dem said, “These are about the same. Big interior space. Stairs to the roof along one wall. Stuff stacked neatly. I think we’ve got a tunnel complex underneath, like at Site Bravo. No idea how extensive that is.”
“We’ll worry about that when someone tells us to,” Joe said. He took a deep breath and glanced at the recessed doorway. The door was closed. He positioned first squad on the east side, second on the west.
“Any suggestions?” he asked Dem.
“Explosives,” Nimz said without hesitation. “Blow the door in and run in behind it, shooting all the way. They might be waiting for a break-in, but the blast should give us a couple of seconds to cut down the odds. I’ve got a couple of charges left.”
Dem didn’t wait for Joe’s nod. He pulled the charges from his pockets and moved into the recess on hands and knees. There was no window in the door, but he wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. He only needed ten seconds to affix the two explosives and clip the fuses, He scooted back out of the recess and dove to the side.
The others didn’t need any orders. Everyone pulled back from the opening and got as close to the wall as they could.
The fuses had only a ten-second delay. When the charges blew, Dem allowed no more than two seconds before he started into the doorway. Not all of the debris had settled yet. Joe Baerclau and Wiz Mackey were in just behind him, with the rest of the platoon, moving in as rapidly as they could.
The first men in started shooting before they knew whether or not they had any living targets. Dem stopped where the wall of the doorway gave him a little protection and fired out into the interior of the warehouse. Joe and Wiz went past him, diving off to the side, careful to get under Nimz’s gun level.
There were Heggies in this warehouse, at least a platoon of them. That was Joe’s initial assessment as he dove to the floor and rolled to cover next to a stack of crates. But for as much of the interior as he could see, there might have been three or four times that number.
The explosion that had blown the door into the warehouse hadn’t hit anyone, but it had given Joe’s platoon the couple of seconds Dem had promised. Then the Heggies started shooting. Some obviously pulled their triggers from reflex, before they had the weapons pointed toward the doorway. There was little accurate fire on either side during the initial seconds of the firefight.
Joe pulled the pin from a grenade and lobbed it. From the corner of his eye, he noted two other grenades going away from the doorway. He scrambled forward on his stomach, heading for the next stack of crates. When the grenades started to explode, he stopped, pulled his arms and legs in as close to his body as he could get them, and hunched his shoulders up, covering the vulnerable junction between helmet and fatigue shirt.
Once the grenades had blown, Joe got to his hands and knees and scuttled across the aisle. That drew fire. He felt a burning sensation in his right hip and knew that he had been hit. At the ranges available inside the warehouse, he had no doubt that his net armor had been pierced. With wire, he expected that there would be several wounds.
The pain took a moment to reach his awareness. Joe had little time to fret over it, though. Al Bergon was already at his side, examining, then slapping a medpatch over the wounds. The analgesic in the patch worked quickly. The blood clotters worked
even faster, stopping the bleeding.
“Doesn’t look too bad, Sarge,” Al said while he worked. “All in the meat. Shouldn’t even slow you down for more than a few minutes.”
Joe blinked a couple of times. “You mean I’ve got a fat ass.”
“You said it, I didn’t,” Al said. He slapped Joe on the shoulder and started looking for his next patient.
Joe sat up, too quickly, when he realized that the shooting inside the warehouse had stopped. Sauv and Low had their squads moving across the building, toward the northwest corner.
“What’s going on?” Joe asked over his link to the squad leaders.
Sauv answered. “The Heggies worked their way out of here in a hurry, Joe. Looks like they’ve gone underground.”
“Make sure, both of you, then set guards over all of the doors. Where’s Nimz?”
“West wall, near the door.” it was Dem’ s voice on the radio. “My guys are in the next lane so this side should be secure.”
“Get some backup before you open the door, just in case,” Joe said.
“I know what to do,” Dem said, keeping his voice neutral at the cost of some effort.
“Mort, take your fire team over, to support our reccer,” Joe said after switching channels. “His guys should be on the other side of that door, but don’t take chances.”
“On the way,” Mort said.
Joe stayed down for a moment longer, thinking, trying to make certain that he hadn’t forgotten anything that might be critically important. His wounds no longer hurt. A medpatch didn’t take Iong to neutralize local pain, even worse pain than he had felt from the wound in his hip–his butt, rather Once he was as certain as he could be that nothing essential had been omitted, it was time to find out whether or not his wounds were going to slow him down.