by Rod Carstens
“Look, Nani, we’ve known each other for a long time, all the way back to the Legion. You’ve always done your duty no matter what, and this time is no exception. You’re a lieutenant, and with that comes carrying out orders you don’t like and convincing your troops that you believe in them. Now go get it done. I’ve got to reorganize my defense since I’m now a platoon short. We all have our orders. I told your platoon to pull out of the line. Hu got them mustered in the hangar bay.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nani bounded off, jumped a small building, and landed just outside of the hangar bay. She took a deep breath and walked into the hangar. Hu had the platoon lined up and waiting.
“Sand tagged us. We’re going with him into the city. He has ordered two battalions of Von Fleet infantry into the city to fortify the lines. He's going there to lead them, and we’re going with him. We’re to be his bodyguard.”
“Goddamnit, I’m not going to fight next to some fucking salaryman.”
“Fucking right.”
“Count me out...”
Nani hinged her helmet back so they could see her face.
“Enough!” Nani shouted. “Nobody asked your opinion. Striker is dead, and Fenes and the rest of the conscripts are holding on by their fingernails. We are going with the general to stop the hybrids from overrunning their positions. The people who are going with us just happen to be Von Fleet infantry. Striker was Von Fleet, and do any of you have a problem with him?”
The platoon stood silently. Some shuffled their feet. Others pretended to check their weapons.
“You will follow General Sand’s orders or I will personally shoot you for disobeying an order in a combat zone. If General Sand ordered them in, then you and I both know that he has his reasons. Our pay grade does not include a general explaining himself to us, but it does include doing what he says, when he says it. Now the next person who opens their mouth is going to get it shut by me.”
She stood there staring at the platoon, not saying another word as they all stood there in silence. She heard the Mike boat on a final and turned to see it land a hundred yards from the hangar.
“Staff Sergeant Hu, get the platoon on the Mike boat now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nani could hear the tension in his voice, but she didn’t care. Yu was right. They had a job to do, and she was going to make damn sure they did it to the best of their abilities or died trying.
Chapter 39
City-State of New York
Central Park
1st Conscript Battalion
Alpha Company
Fenes watched as the Mike boats made run after run on the park, firing rockets and their metal-storm rails pouring out 250,000 rounds a minute into the hybrids on the ground. Trees, shrubs, hybrids, armored infantry, and APCs were torn apart by the savage onslaught. The Mike boats had been designed not only as troop carriers but also as close-support craft, and catching a large number of aliens in the open, they were proving their worth. Rockets rose to meet them, and one then another tumbled down, but the rest continued their passes. He knew Striker was still out there and had called the boats down on himself. He must not have felt there was any other way, because if anything he was a survivor.
Fenes switched his heads-up view so he could see Striker’s position. He found Striker’s symbol, and beside him moving forward was Vidviic. Vidviic had been a pain in the ass in the short time Fenes had known him, arrogant and difficult to handle, but he was standing tall next to Striker. He’d known what was coming and stayed. Fenes had to give him credit. He hadn’t thought he had it in him.
The rolling series of explosions caught up to Striker and Vidviic as they ran toward the hybrids. Then they disappeared under a rain of destruction. Their symbols went to black when they were killed, then disappeared as even their armor was destroyed. Striker had been a damn good leader and taught Fenes and the rest of the men and women under him as much as he could in the time they were together. This would be a huge blow to the company.
“Tag, you’re it,” Ardan said over the command comm net.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re senior to me and Minga. You’re the highest-ranking person left.”
“By five minutes.”
“You know Striker wanted you to take over if he bought it. So you’re sitting in the seat. You’ve got the company.”
Striker had told him more than once he was a natural soldier and if he was killed he wanted him to take over the company. But Fenes had never thought that would happen. Nothing could kill Striker after all those years as a Von Fleet salaryman. He had survived for thirty years, and it showed in everything he did.
If now even he could be killed, then all bets were off. Striker had always said it wasn’t about how good you were. Ultimately it was about how lucky you were.
Fenes’s stomach tightened with fear at the size of the responsibility that had just fallen on his shoulders. A whole company! But he knew the plan as well as Striker because Striker had made sure of that in case of just this type of incident. He could almost hear Striker screaming at Ardan, Minga, and him, “If I’m down you are it! You have got to step up, and the only way you can do that is to know the plan as well as I do. Now one more time let’s start from the beginning.”
He knew the plan was for the company to fall back to Phase Line Green, where Bravo, Charlie, and Delta companies formed a half circle. The hope was that the Xotoli would follow them into the kill sack formed by the rest of the battalion. Then, as the situation dictated, they would all fall back to Phase Line Yellow and finally Phase Line Red, where they would make their last stand. No more retreats then. It would be their Alamo.
Fenes looked up. The park was a cauldron of explosions and tracers from more weapons than he could count. A Mike boat was hit by a rocket and tumbled to the ground, cartwheeling through the trees spreading fire and throwing off debris until it crashed into a Xotoli APC on the ground. He could see armored hybrids still moving in the carnage, despite the amount of fire being poured down on them from the Mike boats. Another wave of Xotoli APCs was approaching the park. They engaged the Mike boats as they made their approach, exchanging rockets and mini gunfire as they flared to land. It was time to move.
“Ardan, you fall back first, then Minga, and I’ll follow. Remember, get to those positions. I’ll coordinate with battalion.”
Fenes switched the frequency on his suit to the battalion’s and said, “Conscript One this is Alpha Actual.”
“Go, Actual. You are now in command, is that correct?”
“Affirmative, One. We are scooting to Phase Line Green. I repeat, we are scooting to Phase Line Green.”
“Roger, Alpha. You are moving to Green. We will advise. Sit rep.”
“Roger, One. We have heavy casualties but are still combat effective. We are moving to Green in good order. The Xs are landing more armored troops, and the spike troops are spreading out of the park into the buildings surrounding. The Xs have heavy weapons on the ground and seem to be trying to move them to the buildings. The Mike boats were extremely effective but they have not slowed the landings.”
“Roger, Actual.”
“This is Alpha, out.”
Fenes glanced at his tactical display on his heads-up and saw that Ardan already had his troops moving through Columbus Circle toward Chucha’s positions west of Broadway along 56th Street. Minga was moving down Fifth Avenue toward Mati’s position along 56th. Fenes would take his troops down Avenue of the Americas to link up with Ura’s two blocks south of the line formed by Chucha and Mati, creating the first kill sack. He hoped the damned hybrids would follow, because the whole strategy depended on them walking into a series of these kill sacks. Sand had said they always liked to close for hand-to-hand combat, and they were about to see if he was right.
“First platoon, we are scooting. I repeat, fall back to Phase Line Green,” Fenes ordered.
It felt good as the order was repeated by the plat
oon sergeants and then the fire-team leaders. Even with the loss of their company commander, the NCO structure of the company was holding it together. Striker had taken a bunch of raw recruits and brand-new NCOs and turned them into a fighting unit. He watched his display as they fell back in good order with fire teams and squads covering each other’s moves.
He switched his display to the park and saw more red triangles moving through it toward his line. The Mike boats had broken off their runs and had gone back to their hidden perches in the Megas around them. When the fire from his platoon slackened, he saw the hybrids pressing forward toward their positions.
That’s it. Follow up your attack, Fenes thought. They were taking the bait. It was time for him to move and draw them into the killing zone. Fenes bounded down Seventh Avenue. For the first time, he could really look around him. He was amazed at the complexity of this city as he bounded down the empty street. While there were ground-level streets, above him there were also more clear dome-covered walkways with greenery than he could count crisscrossing between the Megas at a number of levels. There were round, curved, reinforced tubes for maglev cars, and huge balconies that looked like perfectly groomed small parks, with trees and bushes carefully arranged on their surfaces. The Megas were so tall he could just see the bottoms of even more walkways and maglev tubes.
How in the fuck were they going to defend something so big and complex? The park was one thing. Moving into this complex city and finding choke points that they could defend was another. But that was Sand’s job. He could see his next position on his tactical as a red star. His job was to get his troops there and establish his strongpoint.
He moved down the street, taking bounds that were almost a block long. It only took him two large bounds to make it to 56th Street and Phase Line Green. He watched as his platoon began to jump up into their positions in the buildings along the street. Their positions were fifteen stories up, so each trooper had to choose their way up the myriad of balconies, terraces, and walkways to their positions. Fenes stopped, looked up, chose a balcony three floors up, and jumped. He landed with a crash as he crushed some furniture. He glanced into the empty apartment and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. The image was of this armored creature that didn’t look human standing on the balcony of a nice apartment. It struck him that he looked like an alien, in the midst of the normal surroundings.
He found a walkway four floors up and jumped, landing perfectly in the middle of it, then leaped again and again until he reached their position on his display. It was a walkway between two of the larger Megas. There was a path that wound its way through trees and scrubs on both sides of the walkway. If he hadn’t known better, Fenes would have sworn he was still in the park.
When he turned north, in the direction from which the hybrids would approach their positions, he saw the reason this had been chosen for Phase Line Green. From his perch he and his platoon looked down on a section of New York that had not been covered by a Mega. It was a neighborhood of smaller buildings between five and ten stories high. The platoon would have an ideal firing position from here when the hybrids made their attack. He glanced at his tactical display to see how the company was deploying. Everything looked good.
“We are linked up on the right with Ura,” Ardan said.
“We’re good on the left flank too,” Minga said.
“Good. Now all we need is some aliens to kill,” Fenes said, trying to sound calm despite the knot in his stomach.
“Be careful what you wish for, boss,” someone said over the net.
She was right, Fenes thought. The Xotoli were a determined foe. Ura’s voice came over the command net. It was good to hear his old senior drill instructor. He was as experienced as Striker had been, and they would need that experience in the coming battle.
“Bravo Actual to Alpha Actual.”
“This is Alpha, go.”
“Sit rep.”
“Roger. We hard-linked up with you on the right and left. We have our drones out and on your net.”
“Roger that. I’m sending you a schematic of our drone, sensor, and robotic fighting positions in the buildings to your front.”
Fenes glanced up and saw that every building had sensor, booby-trap, and robotic-firing positions covering every possible approach.
“Bravo, you didn’t miss a spot. I’ve never seen a defensive position this dense.”
“Roger. Sand wants to bleed them dry of hybrids as soon as possible. He thinks that they will use their usual tactic of clearing an area by sending in waves of hybrids. We want to get rid of the hybrids as soon as possible. That way we will be able to start taking out the Xotoli themselves.”
“Roger that.”
“Good. You are linked up and ready. Sand wants you and your platoon to go down. Sleep is going to be at a premium in the next days, and your company is the only one that was in combat in this sector. So we are going to put you and your platoon to sleep. We’re ready for them, don’t worry. We’ll wake you when the show begins. You won’t miss anything. Nice job, Fenes.”
“But...”
Fenes’s servos locked, and his armor injected him with sleep juice. He was sound asleep before he could finish his sentence.
Chapter 40
CVN Phoenix
Combat Information Center
Task Force 54
High Earth Orbit
“Admiral, the London just reported that last missile attack has taken the bridge out with most of the crew. They are now operating from the battle bridge below.”
“Very well,” Admiral Ririsa Grogen said.
It had been one long running battle since the Xotoli had opened up the wormhole on the nightside of Earth. There had just been a pause, however, and Ririsa was working to reorganize her forces. What she needed was information. The Xotoli had withdrawn after the last attack, and their countermeasures were very good. She had no idea of their location or current movements.
“Where is the fighter protection?”
“They just landed to rearm.”
“As soon as they are rearmed, have them search sections 231.34 through 231.45. They will be Scouting One. I want the Aquila to take up a position at 321.45 in a racetrack orbit with her sensors on. I want to see if I can set a missile trap.”
Between the two, Ririsa hoped to gain some situational awareness. She was very concerned that she knew so little and what that lack of knowledge could lead to. In any naval battle, the crux was not knowing what to do but when to do it, and she was blind. She had been on her heels since this thing had begun, and she wanted to get the initiative at least once.
She glanced at her tactical display. The Moon loomed large to her right, while on her left was the crowded space of Earth orbit. It was filled with all manner of debris and derelict ships, both Xotoli and Confederation. The Xotoli had concentrated on destroying the orbiting infrastructure initially, in an effort to support their landings, and they had succeeded to a large extent. Not only had New York Harbor been destroyed, but so had most of the other major harbors in Earth orbit. Then they had begun to bomb the major cities. They’d used kinetic weapons instead of nukes, but the damage had been just as bad. She had stopped looking at the number of cities that had been destroyed. She had been able to stop those attacks, but it had taken all of her fighters to do it, and she had not been able to put any fighters out past her sensors until now.
She needed to send scouting ships out there, and she finally had a chance to do it.
“Are those fighters rearmed yet?”
“Aye, Admiral.”
“Who’s the squadron leader?”
“Steiner.”
Ririsa could only shake her head. No matter what, he was always in the right place at the right time in the most critical battles. He was the best. She could only hope that his luck continued to hold up. She needed him now more than ever.
Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Steiner was in the lead of what was left of his squadron. He had started with twenty-
four fighters. He was down to twelve—three figure-fours. They flashed past the destroyers headed for their patrol area. Admiral Grogen would not be sending them on a scouting mission if she had a choice, so he was determined to make it count. He split the squadron into four scouting flights spread far enough apart to cover their area yet close enough together to still fight as a squadron.
His wingman, Honey Mora, was working the sensors for their flight. She was the best they had and her ship had the longest-range sensors. They had been patrolling for close to an hour when Steiner could no longer stand the silence.
“Honey Badger, this is Steinyman. Anything?”
“Steinyman, you can be a pain in the ass sometimes. We’re not even out of the fleet’s sensor envelope. Don’t worry, I’ll find those fucks.”
“Roger that.”
It had been one fight after another with the Xotoli popping up everywhere in their battle space. Every time had been a surprise. The Xotoli had learned from Rift and changed their countermeasures, which had proven very effective. It was time to find them and get initiative. He was tired of flying protection for the task force. He wanted to go on the attack. It was what these fighters were designed for.
“Honey Badger to Steinyman. I’ve got something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Somebody is fighting one helluva battle at 321.40.”
“There’s nobody out there.”
“I know, but unless the Xotoli are fighting among themselves, then somebody is doing some good.”
“What does the Xotoli sensor envelope look like?”
“It’s all turned away from us. Somebody is attacking from beyond the Moon.”
“Roger that. All scouting flights, converge on my position and go sensors live and arm your weapons.”
Honey Badger sent out a new course, speed, and closure rate to the squadron. He watched as the squadron came together and assumed an attack formation. As they raced for the position Honey Badger had given them, his tactical systems began to pick up the battle. There were all manner of weapons being used—rails, missiles, lasers, you name it. As he got closer his system began to identify the ships. There was a line of eight Xotoli destroyers and cruisers, all focused on ten much-smaller Confederation vessels. At first his systems didn’t identify them, but when they did Steiner couldn’t believe his eyes. They were a bunch of Von Fleet frigates and their small destroyers. From the courses it appeared that they had jumped the much-bigger and better-armed Xotoli vessels.