by JR Handley
Once the shuttles were stuck fighting against the cords holding them to the ground, the rocketeers burst out of their bunkers and fired. Joel watched them rush out from the cover of the trees with their improvised weapons, his chest bursting with pride. The Marines wore thermal suits to negate their body temperature, hiding them from the pilots and their onboard AIs. Joel knew the rocketeers were practically invisible, at least until they fired their payloads. Once the rockets fired, the Marines could fade back into the trees, and the enemy wouldn’t know where they were. Or so their tech crews told them.
He didn’t worry about whether the other shuttle pilots might visually spot them and register the threat. By then it was too late. Six shuttles, three whole companies of Marines, had been obliterated before the enemy even knew they were there.
You took out approximately seventy-five percent of a standard battalion, said Joel’s AI through the thermal suit’s internal earpiece. Air power neutralized.
Before his forces could attempt to flee or tether any more shuttles, railguns began firing. Sabots tore into the unarmored flesh. Their surprise was over. The sabots seemed to follow his Marines back into the tree line, cutting through the old growth trees like they were plywood. Their “safe” positions hadn’t held up to the railguns and rockets fired from the Storks, after all. It took only a few seconds for Joel to realize that this had been a suicide mission. He wouldn’t be able to escape back to the safety of the trees. He could only hope the other units stationed around the continent would be more successful executing their mission than his team had been.
— Chapter 60 —
Late Afternoon, Post-Revival Day 217
Outside Makoni Ship Factory, Baylshore
Commander, Task Force Vengeance, Human Legion
“Holy frakk!” Colonel Lance Scipio yelled inside his helmet as enemy forces appeared out of the ether and began shooting his shuttles.
Looking down, he saw the factory sitting just across the woods where the insurgents had emerged. He’d been so focused on the massive factory that he overlooked checking the woods. Plus they had seemed too far away from the objective to be a threat, especially after getting no sensor readings from the woods. The factory itself appeared to be a simple hill ringed by trenches which the sensors said were empty. None of the entry points were visible to the naked eye; in fact, even the trenches barely registered, though he knew they were there. They’d assumed the enemy would’ve entered the factory already, preventing them from having to blow off the decades of accumulated topsoil. However, they were prepared to clear the area and blow open the access points themselves, if necessary.
It looked to be a clear shot across the open field, through the empty trenches and into the factory. Too easy, he thought dubiously to himself.
“Tell me again why we couldn’t just drop directly onto the top of the factory doors.”
Because danger lurks around every corner? said Xena primly. Because maybe the mysterious Makoni prepared defenses against that very thing? Until we know more about these targets, we must take every precaution.
Lance muttered insults into his helmet. He was thankful, as always, that his AI was discerning about which of his verbal musings were sent out over the LBNet. The Stork pilots, ever the consummate professionals, performed admirably under this unusual assault. The enemy attacked while they were in their downward hovering spiral pattern. It was the most vulnerable part of a tactical assault from the shuttle, though the clean sensor readings made them think they were safe. The insurgents attacked with a strange weapon, some sort of metallic tethers which prevented the shuttles from maneuvering and made them easy prey for an enemy armed with anti-air rockets.
The remaining shuttle pilots reacted swiftly, swooping down with sabots blazing as they took out the enemy positions. Lance suspected these troops belonged to Spartika’s elite units, forces which had been trained while they were pacifying Serendine. Their tactics were new, creatively utilizing existing technology with a deadlier purpose. While the Legion bled throughout the assault on the New Order, Spartika had grown stronger. These new and ingenious tactics only proved that this wouldn’t be an easy fight. Needing more information, Lance began asking his AI for an update.
“Xena, I need to know what we lost: troops, shuttles, special units.”
We lost six Storks, their crews, and three companies of Marines. I have notified central command in Akoni City of this new tactic, and we will be prepared next time. They’re invisible to our thermal and electric sensors, likely some tech they stole from Cardamine.
“Inform the pilots that we’ll return to searching the visual spectrum. We’ve gotten too soft, relying on tech instead of our senses and skills. It ends now, before more die,” Lance said emphatically.
I’ve done so now, and authorized the task force shuttles to land.
While the pilots landed their shuttles in the open field outside the factory, Lance reviewed the footage of the assault. Watching his Marines die, his shuttles exploding with all hands lost, was gut-wrenching for him. He felt his heartbeat quicken and his stomach drop. He wanted to cry out in frustration, but Lance knew there would be time for that when the planet was conquered. As if she was sensing his anxiety, Lieutenant Sashala Kraevoi rested her hand on his thigh. Her presence calmed him, and Lance patted her hand to acknowledge her.
“Colonel Scipio,” interrupted the senior pilot, “the ground surrounding the factory is full of anomalies. We can’t identify them, but I suspect it’s a trap. I’ve ordered the Storks to pull up for an aerial drop. You have sixty seconds before we’re in the zone. Checkered Squadron, out.”
Knowing he didn’t have time to waste, Lance jumped onto Task Force Vengeance’s LBNet.
“Ground unstable. Possible insurgent tactics have made landing impossible. We jump in sixty seconds. Drop targets have been passed down the chain of command. Make ready!”
Orders given, Lance unclipped his safety harness, went to the portside door on the shuttle, and watched as it opened. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Sashala as they both prepared to jump on the pilot’s command.
“They’ll follow you, Lance. Relax and step into the void like the leader you are. You can’t lead from the rear. Let’s go.”
Lance was confident that his Marines would jump with him, but when Sashala voiced similar thoughts, he took heart. When the go signal was given seconds later, he calmly jumped into the air as the shuttle circled high above the hard-packed Tranquility soil. He took comfort from knowing that the ACE-4 Combat Armor was capable of orbital insertion, though he didn’t envy the Marine who would someday test it, proving that the suits could, in fact, do what the schematics said they could. Soon his thoughts focused only on the ground, which was rushing up to meet him.
Like he’d been trained by the engineers, Lance relaxed his body and bent his knees while Xena controlled the deceleration thrusters. As he got closer to the rich soil below, he realized what the Stork pilots had discovered when they aborted their landings. The plains were pockmarked with large pits, covered in tarps that matched the color of the terrain but not the texture. He could only guess that the traps were designed to destroy their air power, much like Spartika’s forces had done with the Legion’s atmospheric fighters.
It’s more devious, Lance, Xena said. The pits are full of improvised pressure-plate bactabombs. If a shuttle fell into one of those, everyone would’ve been covered in the corrosive substance. It’s an agonizing death.
“We’ll make them pay,” Lance promised to his AI and longtime friend. “We’ll make them pay dearly for this.”
Soon the time for talking was over, and Lance felt the impact of his armor-clad feet slamming into the grassy soil. Grunting at the jarring impact, he lost his balance and fell to the ground in an uncoordinated tumble. Standing, cursing to himself for getting distracted, he saw that none of the Marines around him had noticed. With enemy trenches to seize, he pushed the embarrassment from his mind and began coordinating with his subo
rdinate commanders to ensure that everyone linked back up.
Luckily, Xena had the foresight to send her analysis of the various pits to the entire task force, and most of the Marines avoided falling into the enemy’s treacherous traps. In the end, the landing had killed off a whole battalion of Human Legion Marines and destroyed six of the Legion’s precious shuttles. Lance had yet to meet her, but the butcher’s bill that Spartika would pay was growing by the minute. There was much she would answer for, and he intended to ensure it happened on the point of his sword.
“We’ll make her pay,” Lance reiterated to Xena.
Lance, you know this is personal between Nhlappo and Spartika. If there is a meeting, they’ll settle it. Stay out of it. Focus on getting back to Rakasa.
While Xena was speaking to him, she displayed the position of his units on the small map display on his helmet’s heads-up display. While Lance reviewed the data on his HUD, he couldn’t help but admire the improvements made in the newer model of the combat armor. I’ll have to make sure this is a feature we improve upon, he thought. It’s proving to be very useful. Once he was confident of every unit’s position, Lance passed on his movement orders to the other regimental commanders and to his own regimental XO. Lieutenant Colonel Charlotte “Wires” Rochambeau was one of the most competent officers of his command, and he was relieved that she was leading his regiment while he was serving as the task force commander.
“Wires, I need you to lead the 6907th so I can watch the bigger picture,” he ordered her.
Wanting to soften the enemy defenses, Lance called the Storks providing overwatch for a bombing run on the defensive lines. The answer he received was unexpected.
“Negative, Vengeance Actual,” said the squadron leader. “Our ferry schedule is tight, and there’s no wiggle room for bombing runs. See you at pick-up. Checkered Squadron Actual, out.”
With his orders given and no aerial relief available, there was nothing left for Lance to do but to charge into the fray with his task force. They covered a lot of ground, assisted by their assault thrusters, which they used in intermittent bursts to ensure those weren’t run dry unnecessarily. They reached the first of three trench lines without incident, a fact which worried Lance. He’d suspected the lack of activity he’d observed from the air was due to superior concealment capabilities.
When they were close to the second-to-last trench, they started encountering small pockets of insurgents. It was almost too easy, and the enemy seemed uncoordinated and untrained. They didn’t fight with much enthusiasm and retreated at the earliest opportunity. Suspecting another one of Spartika’s foul traps, Lance urged his forces to continue.
“Don’t stop. Regroup on the go. Take the final trench! Let’s move,” he ordered his Marines over the LBNet.
The rush forward to the second-to-last trench line was equally uneventful, which confused Lance. This factory should be a priority target for any military force attempting to hold the continent and ultimately the planet. Despite that, the enemy hadn’t bothered to defend their outer perimeter. The insurgents were pulling back from the trench as quickly as the Legion advanced. The resistance was lackluster, as they seemed only interested in delaying long enough to retreat in good order.
Afraid he was rushing into a trap, Lance ordered the task force to halt and regroup in the second-to-last trench. While he was the assessing the situation, the enemy initiated the very attack he had feared. The last enemy insurgents made it out of the trenches and set off a series of daisy-chained explosives. The Legion was still regrouping and preparing for the final assault, and the bunched-up groups were hit especially hard. With no other option available, and no safe space to regroup, Lance ordered a full assault on the last enemy trench.
Knowing the time for planning was over, at least until the outer defenses were in the Legion’s possession, Lance joined the charge. He jumped up and over the polycrete trench wall with the rest of his task force, firing blindly at the enemy. He hoped to suppress return fire, but mostly it just felt good to have an enemy to shoot after so long dealing with hidden traps and devious tricks. Sashala, his ever-present shadow, ran beside him, and together they jumped into the last trenches to engage the enemy.
The insurgents in the final trench stood their ground, fighting like savages, taking advantage of the natural chokepoint provided by the curving nature of the narrow channels. Lance stood his ground, firing his carbine until the ammunition carousel ran dry. The effect of his massive barrage of sabots was limited, as the dead and dying enemy forces created a de facto firing position for Spartika’s defending insurgents. While Lance was reloading, one of the insurgents leaped over the piled bodies, firing at him as he charged.
Dropping his carbine, trusting that the retraction sling would secure it to his back, Lance prepared to meet the threat with his secondary weapons. He pulled out his Flenser pistol, knowing he couldn’t reload the carbine quickly enough. He tried firing the pistol but felt the clicking of the trigger. No ammunition was expelled. The HUD on his visor showed a red alert, indicating that his pistol had been damaged when the enemy had set off the explosions in the second trench line.
Growling his frustration, Lance hurled the pistol at the charging enemy. The weapon hit the insurgent charging him in the head, but it didn’t stop him from firing at Lance. Lance felt the reverberation of multiple sabots striking him, though his armor still held. He knew he’d have to repair it later, but the thought passed as he seamlessly pulled his sword from its sheath and prepared to meet the enemy.
The enemy seemed unprepared for bladed hand-to-hand combat and stopped short to continue firing sabots at him. Lance knew that at such close range, his armor wouldn’t hold for long, forcing him to close the distance even sooner, using his thrusters. Drawing closer, Lance dove into a headlong roll at the enemy. While he was rolling, he swung his sword, taking the enemy’s feet out from under him. Blood sprayed everywhere as the arteries in both of his legs continued to pump blood. Lance continued his roll, regaining his feet behind the enemy. He used the momentum to slice through the enemy’s exposed neck. The enemy’s head landed at his feet, and Lance kicked it hard towards the massed insurgents.
“Follow me,” he yelled as he ran.
Jumping over the piled bodies, with his sword still in hand, Lance pressed onwards. He quickly closed with the nearest cluster of enemy insurgents. Their backs were to him as they stabbed a wounded Legion Marine. Yelling his fury, Lance swung into action. He began slicing through the legs of two of the insurgents. The remaining insurgent reacted slowly, looking up just in time to see the blade that was about to decapitate him. With the threat neutralized, Lance and Sashala pulled the bodies away from his Marine.
Staring up at him from behind her cracked and broken helmet visor was Meadow, his 8th Battalion XO. Her face was streaked with blood, her skin becoming waxy and lifeless on her fragile body. Lance stared down into her face as the light went out of her eyes. She was one of the last ties to his childhood; she’d been trained in Beta City at the same time he was being raised in Kalino. He was pulled out of his personal misery by Sashala, who placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Lance, more will die if we don’t get back into the fight. Mourn later, when the enemy bones lie bleaching in the Tranquility sun. Now is the time to lose ourselves to the bloodlust and fill these trenches with enemy dead.”
Nodding, Lance grabbed Meadow’s Flenser pistol and checked it for damage. She wouldn’t need it anymore. It’s fitting to kill the enemy with her weapon, he thought grimly. She would get her justice through the sabots he fired in her honor. Meanwhile, Xena confirmed that the pistol worked, and linked it into Lance’s HUD. He then checked to ensure that the pistol had a new ammunition carousel before sliding it into his holster.
Lance stood, reached over the polycrete trench, and grabbed a handful of dirt to clean his sword. Once the blood was removed, he sheathed it and reached behind him, unslinging his SA-71 carbine and finishing the reload he�
�d abandoned earlier. With fresh sabots in his carbine, he nodded to Sashala and turned to charge the next insurgent. One kill blurred into the next as he took Sashala’s advice and lost himself to his rage. Subconsciously he knew he was getting shot. He felt the ping of rounds ricocheting off his armor. He didn’t care. He was confident that his armor would hold, and pushed the concern from his mind. At several points along the way, the enemy tried to surrender, but Lance had had enough of their antics. He shot them with the same rage-filled precision he’d used to dispatch every other foe.
He didn’t know how long the battle raged on, nor did he care. Lance only stopped when the Legion ran out of bodies to slay and souls to reap. None of the enemies had survived to retreat into the factory. With the outer defensive works secured, he reluctantly ordered Task Force Vengeance to pause and regroup. He knew the losses had been heavy. The clustered bombs had devastated his troops. He was fortunate that they were dispersed among his three regiments, so regrouping had been handled by his subordinates.
Knowing he would need intel on what was inside the factory, Lance gave the command which would unleash the reconnaissance drones under his scout troops.
“Scouts out,” he yelled while ordering everyone else to check their weapons and make ready for the next assault.
— Chapter 61 —
Early Evening, Post-Revival Day 217
Outside Makoni Ship Factory, Baylshore