She selected three-shot burst on her selector switch over full auto fire. Miranda-Naero trusted her marksmanship.
The call went up over their links.
Commence attack in five seconds, mark. Green and hot in five-minus.
Engage and fire at will. Follow the flow of battle as directed.
Their helmet shields instinctively tinted darker to shield their eyes.
So much happened all at once.
Miranda-Naero cut loose with a spread of ordnance and put down all six of her initially assigned targets in less than a split second.
Waves of concentrated fire lit up the enemy positions in blinding blasts and flares of white-hot oblivion. More than half of the invaders were cut down in those first few instants.
Bravo moved in swiftly, shields in front, even as the heat and light flared.
Miranda Naero already snapped calm, precise fire at her next round of secondary targets. She drilled each one in rapid succession in a priority sweep, squeezing off precise bursts, quick and calm.
With nearly every trigger pull, an enemy dropped, lost a head, or was torn apart. And the formerly triumphant invaders withered and died in droves, wherever they stood or attempted to fight.
Tertiary targets. She pumped microgrenades and seeker mines into enemy vehicles, shield pods, fuel supplies, and ammo and ordnance pods and carriers.
For a short time, they crouched behind their own shields to let everything in front and around them finish blowing up and cooking off. No sense rushing into all of that.
More targets. This time the CPA directed them to pop up into the sky and interlock their fire with units rushing in below and around them.
They took sporadic but growing return fire from all of the built-up areas around them in the gigacity itself. The enemy wasn’t done just yet.
They fought the invaders not just in the air, but in a three hundred and 360-degree battlefield all around them. Once they penetrated far enough in, enemy fire could come at them from everywhere, even hidden and concealed underground, just buried and waiting.
But the Marines piled it on, and attacked the invaders wherever they showed themselves.
Another set of targets, this time more spread out and not as concentrated. An autogun emplacement here, a pocket of infantry or a sniper there. Miranda-Naero nailed eight targets in rapid succession, proving once more, according to standard Marine doctrine, that a superbly trained sharpshooter was still one of the most deadly weapons, even on a hi-tek battle field.
And it wasn’t just her. Each elite Marine was an incredible shooter with highly advanced weapons and optics. They punched enemy tickets to hell in rapid order, the CPA keeping them all shooting at different targets, and not wasting time firing up the same ones. The combined fire was so precise that many aimed for enemy helmet after helmet, tearing them off in kill after kill.
Like all of the other units, 2nd Platoon continued to advance at assault speed, sweeping the invaders away and leaving nothing but death in their wake, as ordered. At one point they were six hundred meters up or more, fighting among the gigacity pyramids and high-rises.
The Anaconda suddenly led them back down in good order to press the assault on a hardened enemy position, where the slashers were attempting to blow up and collapse an enormous skyscraper down across the forward line of battle.
Everything seemed to be going well. So why was Miranda-Naero’s sense of warning going nuts?
She checked in with Om, the Kexxian AI defensive protocol secretly existing inside her mind. Om, I know you’re monitoring everything all around on the nets and the fixer arrays. Is the enemy getting ready to surprise us with one of their tricks?
N, I’m striving to make sense of their actions and movements, but I think so. Okay, got it. Very slight traces of high EM signatures, scattered throughout this half of the entire gigacity grid.
Miranda-Naero kept maneuvering with her squad and firing on her available targets. Are all of those signatures underground, Om?
Yes, and many more than I first detected. There are hundreds and thousands of them in specific patterns, many coupled with an explosive device with the yield of a handheld fusion bomb. But what are the others? Why haven’t they set these devices off, and what would they accomplish? Our forces aren’t even near most of them, yet.
Teknomancy. Miranda-Naero used teknomancy to try to assess the situation. She quickly studied the scans of the tek on hand and the level of electromagnetic signature echoes and all of the other strange reads.
What purpose would the enemy have for setting up countless EM burst generators and these other things?
Then the answer hit her and Om nearly at the same time in their shared mind. And neither of them liked the conclusions.
N, those aren’t just–
I know, Om. Some of them are devices specifically designed to cause massive EM burn waves–across the full spectrum of our tek frequencies and energy patterns. Those pulse blast EM effects will knock out all coms and active tek within the range of their blast net. All our tek in this region will be taken down and rendered useless at the same time.
And as you suspected, N, the other objects buried in the ground are powered-down, shielded enemy troops, waiting to pop up after the tek-crippling EM waves pass over us. Then they’ll simply fire up their tek, which will still function, and charge in to mow us all down.
The enemy did a good job setting this trap, Om. They’ll wait until we sweep in closer, thinking we’ve all but won. Then they’ll knock out our coms and our tek.
Our people are in trouble, N. I calculate a full enemy battalion alone nearby, hiding just within the radius of half a klick. They have huge numbers waiting to hurl at us, once our tek goes out.
Hurry, Om. Translate that assessment through the fixer nets and shoot the intel to HQ and Command. Spread the word. I have to get the Leftenant to notice before it’s too late.
“Leftenant Wilde,” she called out over their secure link. “We have a situation.”
The Anaconda spun in mid-air, pumping fire from her carbine and her microgrenade pistol into an hidden enemy hardpoint in the skyscraper, where the slashers had an artillery piece and several autoguns set up.
2nd Platoon attacked the position directly, coming under heavy return fire, degrading their defensive screens.
“Not now, Allen. Stay in front of me and keep firing down the building. Nice shooting percentage, by the way.”
“Thank you, sir. But you need to look at the scans we have flowing to HQ from the fixer nets. Strange patterns, echoes, and energy signatures all around us and even to our rear. I’m guessing its some kind of concealed minefield.”
“Minefield? Show it to me Allen.”
Naero pweaked it a bit to make the findings slightly more obvious.
Wilde stopped firing and even pulled back in mid-air, drawing off the platoon with her. “Holy shit, Allen! That’s no goddam minefield. 2nd Platoon, halt and stay with me, inverted Victor double defensive lines. All shield pods up and online in sphere defense.”
They fell back slightly and took cover behind the next large building over that way, where the fighting had already passed them by.
The leftenant scrambled to call in the vital significance of that data directly to HQ and on to Intel and Command. “HQ, HQ, get me Major Luna and shunt this all the way up the chain. Patch us directly in to General Walker himself. This is an Alpha-Charlie-Negative One Alert. Situation Red. I repeat. Situation Red.
“The threat is preparing to set off a tek-crippling EM blast net. That way, we couldn’t detect it, the way we could if they had used a large EM bomb. They will most likely cripple all of the tek of our forward units in this area. They also have large numbers of combat reinforcements buried, shut down, and concealed underground that will not be affected by the blast net. They are waiting only for us to move further and deeper into their trap–just as we are doing now by pressing our attack. Then their fully functioning troops will emerge and wipe us out
.”
Wilde suddenly sounded frustrated. “What do you mean, where’s my proof? Damn it! It’s all right in these scan reads, if you’ve got brains enough to know what you’re looking at, and you can see the tactical patterns and analyze the energy signatures. Who the hell is this? Goddam it. Get me Major Luna or one of her officers. I don’t care which one. Here’s the data push once again. Show it to someone who’s got a clue! Analyze the situation and advise. Over. Yes, I will hold the link, goddam it!”
Some degree of static blipped over the link and a well-known voice cut in. “Ana, this is Major Luna. Hold your position, Leftenant. Hold and stand by while we confirm your findings. Alerting all Company 36 units. Assemble on new priority orders and prepare for a heavy enemy counterattack, possibly from all sides and directions.”
Shortly after that, Bravo broke off their initial assault, withdrew to a defensive line, and pumped up their shields.
Om almost screamed at Naero, No, no! Make them power down all shields, N. Tell them to do so, before it’s too late. Maxing all shields is exactly what the enemy wants us to do!
“Leftenant!” Miranda-Naero called out. “We’re playing right into their hands. They’re going to negate all tek with a massive pulse surge. Even maxed out, our shields can’t stop it! Insist that Major Luna have Bravo power down and button up–just like we would against atomics. That will protect us, and we can still power back up and fight! That’s what the enemy is planning.”
Wilde got on the horn, and the relay went from her to Luna, and then straight to General Walker. But orders were already filtering down from Intel and Command. Other heads had figured out the danger as well.
Most of Bravo had barely shut down and covered up, when the wide-reaching EM pulse flashed through nearly everything in the gigacity’s western half.
All exposed tek was burned out: friend, foe, or civilian. Everything cooked and went down.
The game was up, and the hidden enemy forces then powered up and emerged from their hiding places underground.
They fully expected to crush and obliterate everything living around them.
Bravo command powered up and met them head on, picking up the new assault on the evolving combat grid.
Intense firefights erupted close in, in a ring of fire and death all around Elaris. The Marines slugged it out face to face as only they could, nailing targets at will, taking fire from all sides and giving back better.
At one point Naero was about the press the assault forward.
She felt a strong hand on her shoulder holding her back.
Trevor Lakota pulled her into an alley. An alley filled with dead Ejjai, butchered like cattle.
Lakota wiped his long battle blades on the hide of a dead Ejjai Alpha.
Naero hadn’t detected anything or heard a sound. The slashers had been hiding there, holding back, ready to ambush anyone who came near.
Lakota had slipped in behind them fast and scythed them all down.
“What do we do now?” she asked him.
Lakota smiled. “Wait a moment. Little brother Fox is tricky. He knows his business. He and fourth squad have some tricks of their own to play. Then we can join in.”
The other squads held their positions, making the advancing enemy pay.
Then three score enemy strikers raced in fast and low to ground on gravwings.
Float-seeker smartmines popped, taking the foremost Ejjai and halting their advance.
Jonny Fox and the rest of Squad 4 cut across the jumbled up enemy like flashing razors, gunning them down.
More foes tried to rush in.
Squad 4 suddenly shot straight up.
A mek platoon uncloaked and shredded the enemy reinforcements with interlocked autogun and rocket fire.
By this time the enemy and their reinforcements were fully exposed. Marine and naval close air support dropped down and became a crucial factor.
Then several naval warships also swooped in to assist, modified for ground attack and further close support over the heaviest engaged portions of the rapidly expanding battlefield. They pounded the invaders wherever they showed themselves in excessively large numbers, chewing them to pieces.
After that, Bravo command pushed in at numerous key points and carved the remains of the enemy trap into manageable chunks that it could envelope and eliminate in efficient, short order.
Company 36 and 2nd Platoon assisted in pinning down Ejjai strikers in high-rises, pyramids, and skyscrapers all around them. While they held the attention of the enemy up front, more Bravo units slipped in stealth mode to finish them off. This system worked time and time again.
Sometimes they switched off.
Sometimes others kept the enemy busy, and 36 went in to take out the Ejjai up close. At one point, the slashers tried to use hostages and human shields.
Marine Company 36 went in like ghosts and took the enemy down, up close and personal with blades in order to limit casualties to the civies.
Much like herself, she saw Trevor Lakota fight fiercely at several points, with a gory blade in each hand. He zipped through a dozen Ejjai like a surgeon, slicing windpipes and spines, nearly severing heads, piercing hearts and lungs. The invaders barely knew they were dead before they hit the ground. Even the civilian hostages were stunned at what occurred.
Miranda-Naero grinned as she moved forward, cutting down Ejjai on her own.
Her knife sparring matches with Lakota were going to be a hoot.
Miranda-Naero didn’t hold back for once, and passed through the astonished enemy in a whirlwind of flashing, spinning kicks and deadly steel. She left almost thirty invaders in bleeding pieces in her wake. All told, 36 cut down several hundred foes in a matter of seconds, and did so in almost eerie silence, except for the grunts and yelps of the dying Ejjai.
Hundreds of severed Ejjai claws clutched weapons, grenades, and explosive devices that they never had a chance to activate.
The Anaconda grabbed her and yanked her back for a second. “Allen! Where in the hell did you learn to fight like that? I’ve only ever seen one other Spacer ever fight that way–The Invincible Cyclone!”
Miranda-Naero grinned and shrugged. “I grew up watching the fight circuits,” she said.
No time. Word came down. They needed to execute another gravwing assault on an enemy hardpoint nearby. They left the startled civies confused, but alive, to fend for themselves. The combat grid would not wait.
Five hours later, the primary fighting was over, with the invaders eliminated as a major threat. The landers and the remaining Corps forces could handle the mop-up.
The Spacer Navy and Bravo Command had liberated four gigacities from the brutal attacks of the invaders, thanks to heavy naval fire support. Then they all packed up to go free the other six.
When Ovedar-3 was finally pacified the next day, Leftenant Wilde still seemed a bit suspicious, but she commended Pfc Allen for her detection and observation skills in the aftermath, during their stand down.
“Good work spotting that ‘minefield,’ Allen. Exposing that raw data to Command and Intel early on gave them the time to figure out what it was. Bravo avoided what could have been a major disaster for us, because of you. I think we’ll call you ‘Bright-eyes,’ from now on. Anything else ever looks funny to you, you just sing out and let us know.”
The Anaconda even saluted her. Miranda-Naero returned it, with great respect. “Thank you, sir. I will, sir.”
“Damn right. These slashers are tricky bitches. What do we need with MCLs who don’t show up on time when we have rooks like you! Well, you’ve seen you’re share of action these past two days. Excellent work, Marine. You’ve done well, and you’re not a rook anymore. Congrats!”
“Thank you again, sir.” They exchanged the warrior’s handshake, all the way up to the elbow. And before that night was over, she had shared it with every Marine in 36, her new company.
She had fought and endured beside them in the furnace of combat and put down their enemies. She w
as one of them now.
2
With the mop-up proceeding on Ovedar-3, Bravo packed up and hopped over to their next mission, an all-out assault on Ptolemy-5. The system there was yet another earthlike with slightly higher gravity. Everyone had to take ACDs to compensate, and adjust the gravitics on their suits accordingly.
Since it was the next invasion world over for Bravo, the jump in system took less than two days.
But it still gave Miranda-Naero a chance to get to know the Marines in her platoon and rifle company better.
She ate with them, gambled with them–mostly shooting craps–goofed around them, and grabbed some badly needed sleep.
She liked some of her new mates better than others, and some felt the same way more or less about her. Miranda-Naero strove to keep her personality neutral–not too extreme in any way. Not too hard or soft, not too quiet or loud.
There was always someone there to test the new guy.
A big stocky Marine named Luke Barrett from Squad 3 shoved her out of his way and into a wall kind of hard. She could take it, but it was still a provocation.
“Outta my way, Suga’ doll. Little kids who block my path can get stomped on. ’Memba that.”
Miranda-Naero turned and wheeled into Barrett with two blinding spin kicks. She broke his nose, blackened both his eyes, and put him down on the deck. She nearly knocked him out cold.
Then she glared down at him. “I would advise you to take more care about who you shove around and stomp on, you stupid rock ape. Some of us kids know how to stomp back.”
Laughter and hoots erupted.
She shot a look at Barrett’s mates coming to collect him, Patton and Ramsey. “You two gonna say or do something?” she asked.
They both glared at her with weird, dopey looks of sudden desire.
Uh-oh. Now she’d done it. She didn’t expect them to get turned on by that. But most of these guys–and gals–were major ass-kickers in their own right. And they respected and even savored that in others.
Naero's War: The Citation Series 2: The High Crusade Page 3