by Bill Roberts
As I let the speed build up I check the drop profile in the display. It looks like, as usual, Gloria and her crew have conducted another perfect release. Between the gravity and the momentum we carry from the ship we are heading precisely for our landing zone. I look around. Above us I see the Stern and 2nd Marines’ amphibious ship the Dunham. Towards the horizon I see the 2nd Battalion 12th Marines’ (our artillery support) landing ship, the Barnum, and the damaged Bugler. All around me I see the infantry from the Dunham merging with my Kodiaks as we head towards the planet. The artillery will not drop with us. Their wheeled vehicles have no jump jets. We had tried to figure out a way to drop artillery, but it never seemed to be worth all the sacrifices in artillery performance we would have to accept. In the early phases of a drop we will simply count on the Navy for fire support. Once the landing zones are secure the Oxes from the Barnum will carry the artillery down.
Speaking of naval gunfire, the ships in orbit begin pounding away at their pre-planned targets. With no atmosphere I cannot see the streaks of light I would normally see from the high speed projectiles as they burn through the air. But their impacts are readily visible as bright flashes far below. I zoom in my sensors and watch as another salvo from the Navy’s heavy guns impact in impossibly bright explosions that cause dirt to fly and smaller secondary explosions in the pirate stronghold. It looks like the naval gunfire is spot on. Excellent.
I zoom out and check my altitude display. I am now at fifty thousand meters. My speed is up to five hundred kilometers per hour. I feather the jump jets lightly. In the low gravity they easily check my acceleration. All around me the MCS’s and the Kodiaks begin to light off their jump jets in small brilliant bursts. We could easily drop faster on a planet with this low of gravity, but five hundred kilometers an hour keeps us from becoming too spread out. Like a school of fish, presenting a unified mass makes singling out a target more difficult.
Bennie contacts me on TACNET: “Six, Three. Tarawa Three is reporting everything on profile.”
I roger up and continue to focus on piloting my Kodiak down to Tortuga. Dropping on planets without atmosphere always feels a bit odd. No buffeting, no wind to compensate for. Not to mention the fact that planets with no atmosphere, by their nature, have low gravity. The jump jets slow your descent much quicker, and then you accelerate so much more slowly as the gravity pulls you with less force. These all influence your efforts as you drop. On top of all of that is the silence. The only noise comes from your Kodiak. It is eerie and disconcerting. It does not affect the mechanics of the drop at all, but it certainly affects your emotions.
As we descend past twenty thousand meters the ground fire starts. As expected the volume of fire is heavier than normal. I start using the jump jets to jink the Kodiak as I descend. Behind me Hildebrandt continues working with the TACNET and his fire support subordinates within the battalion. As the Fire Support Officer Captain Hildebrandt has several people in the battalion he works with to provide accurate and responsive fire support. In the battalion headquarters there is the Air Officer, who works with aerospace assets. In each company, and the scout platoon, there is a forward observer and a tactical air controller. The forward observer rides with the company commander as Hildebrandt rides with me. The FO’s work with the artillery and naval gunfire support. The tactical air controller rides with the company XO’s as the air officer rides with the battalion XO. They work with the aerospace support. Together they use the supporting arms to maximum effect on the battlefield. They also free up the commanders to focus on the maneuvering of their Kodiaks and Cougars. Right now the only supporting arm available is the guns of the ships in orbit. As the enemy fires up at us Hildebrandt and his subordinates quickly mark targets through TACNET and call on the ships to hit them as best as possible from their orbit above us.
The ground begins to rush up at us as we close the last ten thousand meters to the planet. The dropping Marines begin to spread out as we head for our specified landing zones. The enemy continues to fire at us and the azure beams of particle projection cannons flash through our formation. Fortunately, they score no significant hits. The disruption from the naval gunfire, our maneuvering, and the distance they have to shoot makes hitting us extremely difficult for the enemy. To further nullify the ground fire, our LZ’s are twenty kilometers from the enemy base. This allows the curvature of Tortuga to mask us as we drop the final thousand meters or so. As we pass through one thousand meters I notice all ground fire has stopped. In a final flash of jump jet light and puffs of dust we alight in the dead center of the zone. Another perfect drop.
The plan is a variation on our normal theme. We have set down to the east of the enemy fortification. Like normal I have three of the Kodiak companies at my command. Also like normal I have attached one company (Delta this time) to the infantry for their clearing force. The companies under my command fan out in a shallow arc to the west of me. As I await their reports I ask Hildebrandt over the intercom: “Is the arty on the way yet?”
“Yes, Sir,” he replies. “The Barnum dropped them out of line of sight to the east. Now that we have hit the LZ the Oxes are heading in, ETA thirty minutes.”
The Oxes carrying the artillery pieces of 2nd Battalion 12th Marines would fly down to the planet surface then fly at low level to an LZ just east of our current position. The reason why it will take so long is because they have to remain out of sight of the enemy’s guns. Sixteen Oxes made a much easier target than horde of Kodiaks and MCS’s. This means that the Barnum must disgorge them several hundred kilometers from the LZ. The standard practice is for the Oxes to shoot straight down than backtrack at low level. That is a lot of distance to travel, even for a machine as fast as an Ox.
My subordinates all contact me verifying that they are down and set. I roger up and open up my channel to the commander of 2nd Marines. “Tarawa Six, this is Iron Six. We are down and set.” Colonel Rainer gives me a quick ‘roger, out.’ That done I do a hasty review of our route to the objective on my display while I await the order to begin moving to the objective. We rehearsed our movement on the display in the COC yesterday, but it never hurts to go over it again.
I am about halfway through my review when Rainer’s dark face appears in my TACNET: “All Tarawa elements this is Tarawa Six. Move to your assault positions and report when set.”
“Roger, Tarawa Six,” I reply. I hit a button and open a TACNET link to my subordinates: “Guidons, Iron Six. Move out.”
I see Kodiaks begin moving west in front of me as my subordinates acknowledge my order. I push my Kodiak into motion behind them. Today I am following Bravo Company who has the middle of the formation. Gunner Jones follows me on my wing. On the left Alpha company is followed by Bennie with the Assistant Master Gunner providing him his wingman. On the right it is Charlie with the XO and her wingman, the assistant operations officer. Because of the open terrain we move in a giant V shape, with Bravo making the point and Alpha and Charlie forming the arms. Out in front of us all the six Cougars of the scout platoon lead the way.
On this low gravity world the Kodiaks bound as they walk. Fortunately, the terrain is relatively smooth and unbroken here. The pirates set up their base in a broad flat plain. The down side to this is the lack of convenient terrain to mask our movement and provide us cover as we engage the enemy. The up side is that if they try and hit us with their fast attack vehicles they will not have anywhere to hide either. The heavier and more powerful Kodiaks will tear them to pieces on open ground like this.
We make our way across the ground at a stately forty kilometers an hour. Each step carries us in to the air a few meters. The on board computer has already calibrated to the current gravity conditions and compensates gracefully. We look like so many giant dancers, capering and leaping our way forward across a dance floor composed of a million different shades of gray. One of my steps shatters the ground below me. My sensors categorize it as a patch of ice. Robert Frost im
mediately comes to mind:
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
I am too tired of this to feel any fire against the Deeken we fight today. But the scum must still be destroyed. The icy determination of a Marine at his work should do just fine.
The Scouts reach the assault position. Lieutenant Vanske’s Nordic features pop up in my TACNET. “Six, this is Scouts,” he reports. “We are set at the assault position. All clear.”
“Roger Scouts,” I reply. Because of the pool table quality of the ground no terrain feature marks the spot. It is just a set of coordinates. The four ships above us provide beacons that all of our machines tap into for an extremely accurate positioning system. Using the positioning system and the Scouts location Bravo Company crosses the last couple of kilometers into position. I follow them in and soon enough Bravo and the rest of the company commanders call in set.
I send that information to Colonel Rainer and await the order to move out. While I wait I get on the intercom with Hildebrandt: “Is the Arty set?” Our march to the assault position should have given them enough time. The objective is a difficult one, the plan calls for heavy fire support as we launch the assault.
“Yes Sir,” he replies. “I am working with them and the ships in orbit now. 222 is halfway across the system. They have bagged one of the pirate ships, but are still chasing the other. We won’t have them in support for the assault.” We would miss the fires from the Vespines of 222, but with the ships in orbit and the artillery fire from 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines pounding the objective we should be fine. Still, something is starting to bother me. Cannot quite put my finger on it, but an unformed worry is definitely tugging at my subconscious.
“Got it,” I respond. “What modification are you making to the fire support plan?”
Hildebrandt answers the question confidently: “I’m going to keep it simple. I am going to set up a duration suppression mission with the artillery and naval guns. I will program in a hard burst up front and then set up a volley every thirty seconds with the artillery offset fifteen seconds from the naval guns for twenty minutes.”
That should do nicely. “Go with it, and brief the FO’s so they can pass it to the companies,” I reply. His plan will maximize our fire support assets while minimizing the amount of ammunition they will use. We will get impacts on the enemy every fifteen seconds, but as the naval guns and the artillery are alternating neither will have to expend a significant amount of ammunition. Additionally, this plan will also use everything available. This means that if, for some reason, one of the supporting pieces cannot continue the duration suppression we will still have something landing on the enemy to disrupt them.
Colonel Rainer’s steely features appear in my TACNET. “Iron Six, this is Tarawa Six. You may set your TOT and commence your assault when ready.”
“Roger Tarawa Six.” Rainer breaks the connection after my response. I take a quick look at my chronograph. Eight minutes from now should be plenty. It is zero nine sixteen right now. So that means the TOT will be at zero nine twenty-four. I tell Hildebrandt: “Time on Target is two four.” He acknowledges and begins feverishly working his TACNET. At the same time I open up my channel to my commanders and staff and say “TOT is set for two-four. We got a twenty-minute duration suppression. The plan should be coming over your TACNET any minute now. I want you to commence your assault at time two-five. Assault as briefed.”
Everyone rogers up and I close the channel. Hildebrandt is quick and competent. Soon enough a timeline appears in the lower left corner of my display showing when and what will be firing in support of our assault. I check my tactical display, I check my readouts, and I check the little rows of Kodiaks and Cougars TACNET shows me to indicate the status of my vehicles. Everything is green and clear. 2nd Marines is set eight kilometers south of the objective in their assault position. We are set eight kilometers east of the objective in ours. The artillery is set and ready to fire twenty kilometers behind us in their firing positions. Above us four ships of the Task Group remain in position to provide naval gunfire support. Everyone is in position. But the little niggling worry will not go away. I cannot pin it down. It feels kind of like when you wake up and you cannot remember what you were dreaming about. It lies just beyond your grasp, yet it still influences your emotions. I check the chronograph and the timeline. Everything looks fine.
Fuck this. I know something must be wrong. I have not survived this long by not learning when and where to trust my instincts. I open up a channel to Bennie and his backseater, Captain Sunari, as well as the XO. I check the chronograph, three minutes till TOT. “Something is wrong about all of this. I can feel it. But, I can’t figure it out. Give me something.”
The XO, her chin length raven hair tucked into her helmet, looks at me seriously through her professional mask. Bennie furrows his brow, knitting his bushy brows into a single line. Sunari looks almost completely nonplussed, her lips pulled down in a slight frown. Precious seconds tick away. I am about to say something else when the XO speaks: “You are right, Six. Something too bothers me. But, I do not know what it is.”
“I feel as if I have done this bit all before, but for the life of me I can’t remember where,” Bennie adds.
Two minutes till TOT. “I don’t understand,” Sunari says her face scrunching up in confusion. “Everything is tracking my predictions down here. The only thing that has not matched the intelligence was catching those pirate ships in orbit. But that happens from time to time.” She pauses for a moment than continues thoughtfully: “Although, I do wonder why they fled. Deeken would normally stand and fight.”
Sunari’s last sentence does it. I figure it out. Or more correctly I remember. Oh Mary, mother of God. I feel the blood drain from my face … “Shot, mike bravo five eight four four,” Hildebrandt announces loudly on the intercom and TACNET.
I ignore him and look at the XO and Bennie. I see two mirrors of my face. Her last sentence has obviously reminded them as well. We almost say it in unison: “Lothario.”
“Splash, mike bravo five eight four four,” Hildebrandt continues with the litany of the fire mission.
“What does Lothario mean?” Sunari almost pleads as she asks this question. She hates it when she does not know what is going on. Of course she would not know. It was before she joined us. Lothario was the name of a planet full of Synti the Marines attacked almost twenty-seven years ago. It had been a complex and massive trap. The first part of the Synti’s strategy involved luring away the amphibious ships’ escorts. I quickly review the members of 2nd Marines’ key staff in my mind. Damn, I do not think any of them were there either. Rainer was, but I cannot go directly to him with it yet.
My company commanders begin reporting that they are on the move in the assault. They take off at full speed heading west towards the objective. Because of the flat terrain we will not be able to use a terrain feature as cover for our assault on the objective, just beyond the horizon eight kilometers away. The plan has us crossing the distance at full speed firing as soon as we can see the enemy compound until we are about four kilometers away. There we will constantly shift left and right in our support by fire position and count on our firepower and armor to allow us to overwhelm the enemy. Also, the infantry, with Delta’s Kodiaks in the lead, will assault from the south very soon after we get into position. This will hopefully divert the enemy’s efforts and prevent them from concentrating on either force.
I drive my joysticks forward and follow behind my companies. I hope the three of us are wrong. I hope we are just jumping at shadows. If not … things are about t
o get really, really bad. I start rattling orders: “Three get with Tarawa Three. Explain what we think is getting ready to happen. Break. Five,” I meet the XO’s serious blue eyes, “Start explaining to the company XO’s. Don’t interrupt the company commanders yet. We are in the middle of the assault. Break. Deuce,” I look at Sunari, “Find us the nearest terrain where we can fort up.” Sunari nods quickly and I cut the link. She may not know what the hell we are talking about, but she is too much of a professional to let her confusion get in the way.
I open a new channel and catch Gloria mid-sentence: “… you return to orbit in the Quincy.” She pauses, obviously listening to a response from another TACNET channel. I hear her continue: “I know that Commodore, but this feels all wrong. You and I both know the Deeken don’t run.” Ahead of me Bravo Company begins firing at the enemy compound to their west. My display starts filling up with new enemy icons as the sensors aboard the Kodiaks to my front begin picking up targets. I pay this only rudimentary attention as I see Gloria pause and listen again. I can already tell by what I have overheard she has come to the same conclusion as Bennie, the XO, and I. I am not surprised. Gloria was at Lothario with us, and what had happened there had been just as hard on the Navy as it had been on the Corps. I am sure the same vague feeling of worry has been bothering her as soon as she got dropping us out of the way. She has not survived this long without trusting her instincts either. She starts talking again: “Roger. Thank you Commodore. Stern out.”
Gloria makes eye contact with me through the TACNET. Her blue eyes look worried and she has pulled her braid to her chest and is stroking it tensely. She says quietly: “I assume you are thinking the same thing I am. Otherwise you wouldn’t have called. I’ve expressed my concerns to the Task Group. The Commodore agrees with me and the Quincy is on the way back, but it is going to take at least thirty minutes for her to be close enough to matter. For what it’s worth the ships here in orbit are on alert. This is just like Lothario. Sorry I didn’t recognize it sooner.”