by Rod Carstens
“I want the fighters rearmed and sent right back out. They are to put torpedoes in every Xotoli ship until they break apart. Advise all vessels to do the same. Leave no Xotoli ship intact.”
Ririsa knew that warships smashed and left for dead could be resurrected with good damage control. She had done it herself at Rift. She would leave nothing to chance. She leaned back in her chair and took her first deep breath in a very long time. Finally she had time to check on the scouting flight. She punched up their status on her tactical display. All the names were struck through, indicating that their ships had been destroyed. She looked for one name and found it. Steiner, you finally ran out of luck, old friend. Ririsa allowed herself a single moment of grief for her old comrade before she turned her attention back to the battle. There were many more lives on the line now. She had to remain focused. There would be a lot more names she recognized, and now was not the time to mourn them. The best way to make their sacrifice meaningful was to win the battle.
Chapter 43
City-State of New York
Phase Line Green
1st Conscript Battalion
Alpha Company
When the hybrid fired, it struck the trooper on top of Fenes. He could feel the rounds rip through the trooper’s body. It kept firing into the body protecting Fenes until from the stairwell someone fired into the hybrid, blowing it back. Fenes was able to push the body of the dead trooper off of him and stand. He glanced over and saw several other troopers on the stairwell. He remembered something Striker had told him: “You don’t always get to pick your fights, but when one picks you, fight it.” Fenes stood and jumped through the hole in the wall, firing from the hip.
“Follow me!”
Fenes landed on some rubble and lurched to the right just in time to be missed by rounds fired by a hybrid emerging from the APC. Fenes fired at the same time as the second trooper coming through the hole in the wall did. The hybrid’s armor was ripped apart by his and the other trooper’s rounds. The trooper threw a handful of mini-grenades through the APC door, and a dozen explosions lit up the interior as the grenades did their work.
For a quick orientation, he glanced up at his tactical display to see who was with him. It was Holman and Ringa, both veterans of the Chika invasion. Fenes let his rail snap back into his chest rack, pulled his pistol and fighting ax, and stepped into the APC with Holman and Ringa right behind him. He looked to his right toward the cockpit. There were two hybrids struggling to regain their feet after the grenade explosions. Fenes buried his ax in the first one’s helmet, then fired point-blank into its faceplate. Blood and tissue blew out the back of its helmet.
The other hybrid had time to get to its feet and fire a pistol at Fenes’s helmet, but it didn’t hit him directly. It glanced off, knocking Fenes back, his ears ringing from the sound. He stumbled trying to regain his footing, but the deck of the APC was littered with all kinds of equipment and bodies, so when he fired his pistol, the round struck the hybrid in the left arm, throwing it backward with the force of the round. Regaining its footing, it turned its head toward Fenes. It tried to bring up its rifle. Despite his still-ringing head and unfocused vision, Fenes raised his pistol and from less than a foot away fired into the hybrid’s faceplate. He kept firing until there was nothing left of its head.
“I think it’s dead, Sergeant.”
Fenes put one hand on the bulkhead and turned to see Holman and Ringa standing behind him. All of the hybrids were down, and there was no more movement.
“You all right? That is a hell of a crease you got in your helmet,” Holman said.
“Yeah, yeah. It really rang my bell though.”
“Where are the rest of the hybrids?”
“My tactical is down,” Ringa said.
“Mine too.”
Fenes glanced up at his. Sure enough, his tactical system was down. It was like the ancient grunt saying: as soon as you really needed a system it broke. He had no idea what the situation was around them. All he knew was that his platoon was scattered all over hell and back, and the hybrids were in the building. Another Striker saying came to mind: “Anything you do can get you killed, including nothing.” They needed to move. Just then another APC crashed into the building below them. It shook the building, knocking all three off their feet.
“Mayday, Mayday, we got more Tangos! We need support!” a voice screamed over the radio.
“What floor?”
“Twenty-nine. I repeat, twenty-nine.”
“It’s as good a place as any, Sergeant. I got a feeling he ain’t the only one screaming for help,” Ringa said.
“That’s three floors below us,” Holman said, pointing to a large Thirty-Two painted on the inside wall of the stairwell.
“Sounds like a plan. Follow me.”
Fenes climbed out of the APC and through the hole in the wall back to the stairwell landing. The stairs were blocked by another APC that had just crashed through the wall. It was probably the one that had caused the person on the radio to call a Mayday.
Fenes kicked the stairwell railings out of his way and stepped into the void. He fell the thirty feet to the twenty-ninth floor and landed on top of the APC. Holman and Ringa landed beside him. A hybrid was just emerging from the side door. Fenes fired his pistol down into its head, and it dropped to the floor. Holman lay down on top of the APC and threw a handful of mini-grenades into an open hatch. The inside of the APC lit up with explosions. Holman, Ringa and Fenes jumped down to the floor, looking for survivors. There were none. The rest of the hybrids were already gone. A hole had been blown in the wall directly in front of them by what looked like a shaped charge.
“Looks like they went this way,” Fenes said, climbing though the hole.
They could hear rails and hybrid weapons firing in front of them. Fenes would have paid a year’s salary for his tactical system to be up and working. They were fighting blind. Well, Striker had even prepared them for this, making squads fight each other without the tactical display in the huge hangar bay of the Tarawa.
“What do we do, boss?” Holman said.
“Remember what Striker said. When in danger, when in doubt, attack and hope for the best.”
“Very comforting, Sergeant,” Ringa said.
“I’m going to blow another entry point in the wall and we are going to go through it. Mini-grenades first, then us. Any questions?”
“Who is going first? Striker also said never go first or last and don’t volunteer,” Holman said as she checked her equipment.
“You didn’t volunteer. You got elected. I’ll go first. It was my idea,” Fenes said.
Fenes pulled a shaped charge from his vest and slapped it against the wall.
Holman and Ringa were standing next to him, rails up and ready.
“Three, two, one.”
The explosion blew a ten-foot-wide hole in the wall. All three threw a handful of grenades into the dust and debris. They went off in a series of orange flashes. Fenes, followed by Holman and Ringa, stepped through the hole into the still-smoking room.
Chapter 44
Sol System
Earth
City-State of New York
Operations Center of the Secretary General
Admiral Usiche Raurk was staring at the tactical display of the naval battle on the nightside of Earth. Confederation and Xotoli ships were locked in the critical struggle for control of Earth’s orbital battle space. If Grogen could pull this off, it would mean a draw and a tie went to the defender in this case. She had stopped the bombardment of the cities. Now she was taking advantage of an opportunity to throw everything she had at the Xotoli. If Grogen succeeded, she might just be able to take back the initiative and regain control of orbital space.
“How is she doing, Admiral?”
Usiche startled. She had not noticed that the secretary general had walked in and was standing next to her.
“She took advantage of the Xotoli’s focus on a small group of Von Fleet frigat
es and destroyers and has thrown everything she has at them.”
They both watched the swirling battle for a few moments. Then Monnetal said, “It’s been a while since I was a young lieutenant in the navy. I’m having a hard time understanding what’s going on.”
“Mr. Secretary, Admiral Grogen just attacked what appears to be the main force of the Xotoli on the nightside of Earth. My guess is they were trying to take out the Phoenix to gain real orbital superiority instead of continuing this running fight that’s been going on since they’ve arrived.”
“What about the Cube?”
“It’s still there, and Temesgen’s task force is making their life miserable. We can’t knock it out, but we can keep its attention.”
The battle continued to evolve as they watched. Several of the battle staff suddenly cheered.
“What happened?”
Usiche reached out and zoomed in on the Xotoli battleship. It had split from bow to stern along the keel. Multiple Long Lance torpedoes from destroyers and fighters continued to strike the crippled battleship.
“They finally got the battleship.”
“It seems like overkill, don’t you think?”
“No. A damaged vessel can be brought back into the fight with good damage control. She’s just making sure that this ship will never get back into the fight.
“What does it mean if she can win?”
“We’ll be able to focus on the ground. It is really where this battle will be won or lost.”
“Is she winning?”
Usiche studied the tactical display for some time before she said, “Yes, she will win. Now it’s up to Sand and the conscripts.”
Usiche switched her tactical display to the ground fight and saw the conscripts were falling back. More and more red triangles were chasing them. It did not look good.
Chapter 45
City-State of New York
Phase Line Green
1st Conscript Battalion
Alpha Company
Twenty-Ninth Floor
When Fenes stepped through the opening, he walked into a hand-to-hand fight to the death with hybrids and conscripts mixed together. It was hard to tell who was who. Both sides were grappling with the other, and you only caught glimpses of the fight. A raised ax here, a laser knife entering conscript armor there, a shower of sparks when a round fired from a pistol did not penetrate armor, a hybrid dropping next to a conscript already down. It was a kaleidoscope of images of death.
Fenes, Holman, and Ringa had entered through the entry hole had just blown, so they faced the backs of an almost solid line of hybrids as they fought the conscripts in a prepared position. Fenes did not hesitate. They would not have the advantage long. He fired into the back of the head of the nearest hybrid. As it fell he drove his ax into the back of a hybrid standing next to the first. It arched back in pain and Fenes finished it off with a pistol shot through the faceplate.
Then, from behind, Fenes was knocked to the ground by a powerful blow. He was lying flat on his face when he felt the weight of a hybrid as it mounted him. The hybrid grabbed him by the back of the neck to hold him steady for a killing blow. Fenes closed his eyes, waiting for it. Instead the weight of the hybrid disappeared, and he turned to see that Holman had driven her ax through the hybrid’s helmet and into its head. She pulled the hybrid off Fenes and extended a hand to help him up as Ringa stood beside them firing his rail from the hip into the backs of the hybrids. One after another went down. Fenes and Holman finished off those that still moved. When the last hybrid was down they stood facing the conscripts from the position.
“Nice timing,” someone said through gasps of air from the exertion.
“Fuck,” someone else said as they slid down the wall, exhausted.
Fenes bent over and put his hands on his knees, the break in the fighting finally giving him time enough to catch his breath. When he did, his tactical display flickered then returned to normal. He saw the company was completely mixed with Ura’s. All lines and organization were gone, and hybrids were mixed in amongst the two companies. He could see there were still hand-to-hand battles going on everywhere in the building. The building shook again with the impact of yet another Xotoli ship crashing into it several floors above. Then he saw he was standing across the room from Ura.
“Hey, Sergeant Ura, you’re on the command net. Where do we consolidate?” Fenes said.
It was a moment before he replied, “Ura to Chucha and Mati. We are compromised. We need to scoot.”
“Roger. This is Chucha. We’re getting hit by those APCs just like you.”
“Mati to Ura. It's time to make our hats. How are Fenes’s people?”
“Mixed with mine. They will scoot with us.”
Ura switched to an all-hands frequency and said, “All units, it’s time to scoot. Repeat, scoot. We will form up at Phase Line Yellow. All units and individuals, find your way to Yellow. I repeat, scoot.”
“My company is scattered. I need to reorganize before I leave. I’m not abandoning them,” Fenes said.
Ura walked up to him and said, “Striker taught you, didn’t he? If you try to reorganize now you’ll be wiped out. Trust the training Striker gave your troops and get back to Yellow so you can assume your command.”
“We’re with you no matter what,” Holman said.
“Roger that,” Ringa said.
Fenes knew Ura was right, but he felt like he was deserting his command.
“Your command is scattered over at least ten floors and from one end of this line to the other. Stop wasting time,” Ura said. “They heard the order. Look at your tac net.”
Fenes glanced up. He was right. The scattered remants of Alpha were moving back with the rest of Ura’s company. Ura pushed past him followed by the other men and women of his company.
“He’s right. Let’s scoot.”
Fenes led Holman and Ringa into the stairwell and followed Ura’s men and women down five floors. They passed a walkway to another building, and instead of using it, Ura kept going down the stairs.
“They’ll be waiting for us to cross on a walkway. We’ll use the underground service tunnels.”
As they went down the stairs, Fenes noticed that Holman was the last one down. She would periodically drop a handful of mini-mines and activate them.
“Nice,” Fenes said.
“I thought those might get a few if they try and follow us.”
They reached the lobby and Ura led them around a corner and toward a door that led down to the tunnels that were used to move equipment and supplies between the Megas. They ran down the tunnel. Phase Line Yellow was five blocks farther south.
Fenes kept checking his heads-up, and he saw more and more Alpha Company symbols headed for Phase Line Yellow. The heads-up showed their strength well below fifty percent now. He wasn’t sure if they could continue to lose that many people and stay combat effective. They might have to blend in with Ura’s unit. Fenes saw a cache of supplies to his right where Phase Line Yellow began.
“Ura, this is Fenes. I’m going to rally what I troops have left at Cache Yellow 23. I will be up with as many of my people as I can get ahold of soonest.”
“Roger. I’m going to take Cache Yellow 15.”
Fenes made a right and ran down tunnels turning right and left until his heads-up said Cache Yellow 23 should be just around the corner in front of him. The cache was at an intersection of four different tunnels leading to different Megas. Each tunnel was labeled Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, etc. The floor was intelligent and the lights snapped on the moment they stepped into the cache. All types of pipes, electrical conduits, and printed circuits covered the walls and floor. Fenes walked up to the cache, hinged his helmet back, and grabbed a bottle of water. His suit had run out of water hours ago and he was desperately thirsty. Holman and Ringa did the same. Holman was a big woman with a buzz cut and an attractive, athletic face. Ringa was a small, dark man with intense black eyes. No one said a word, and they downed one bo
ttle of water after another.
Between bottles, Fenes said, “How did you manage to get conscripted?”
Holman smirked and said, “By being too good at what I did. I fought in the No Rules fights underground. I started fighting when I was a little girl to keep from getting passed around between the various gangs.”
“Nice neighborhood.”
Holman laughed and continued. “When I grew up, I grew way up with all this.” She shrugged her big shoulders. “It’s all natural. No genetic engineering. I didn’t have any skills except fighting, so I started again and I started winning. Did it for close to ten years, made a good buck.”
“What’d they do, bust you for fighting?”
“Sort of. The cops were in the pocket of the promoters. But some Von Fleet fuck had a fighter he was grooming for the big time and I whipped her ass in a match she was supposed to win. He lost a lot of money and decided I needed to be arrested for illegal underground fighting. So here I am.”
“Nice,” Fenes said. “Von Fleet is the reason I’m here too. They eliminated my job, changed the rent and the poverty line, and the next thing I know I’m in a penal battalion. Ura, Chucha, and Mati were my drill instructors. Small world.”
The two looked at Ringa, who raised his eyebrows and said, “I’m a thief and I got caught. The life you choose.”
“Fenes, you know I thought you were a big, office pogue pussy,” Holman said. “Not anymore. You’re a badass office pogue.”
“That is Sergeant Office Pogue to you, Holman,” Fenes said, and all three began to laugh.
The three finished drinking the water, then they began replenishing their armor with water, food, ammunition, batteries, and anything else they could find. Other Alpha Company troops began to show up. Fenes kept an eye on the heads-up as they all drank, ate, and replenished their armor’s ammunition, mine, and grenade pouches. Ura was already moving up to the new phase-line position. They needed to move. The clock was ticking.