by Jay Allan
Not only were we facing more enemy troops than should have been possible, but we were also up against a tac-force of Janissaries. We’d been outnumbered all along on Tombstone - we knew that - but we’d had the qualitative edge. My battalion was an elite assault unit, one of the best in the Corps. Most of the enemy troops were colonial troops, well-equipped, but definitely second line. One on one they had never been a match for us.
But the Janissaries were front line troops, every bit as elite as we were. They were the only fighting force with even more training than we had, since they were essentially bred as soldiers and raised from childhood in the barracks. Worse, they were fresh, and we’d been fighting for two and a half days, beating back every conscript and colonial regular they could throw at us. We had half our total strength on the whole planet deployed, but I still wasn’t sure we’d be able to stop them.
But stopping them wasn’t an option; it was a necessity. If we’d fallen back before the battle we could have fortified the surrounding hills and maintained a strong defensive line. But if we pulled out now, broken and beaten, we’d compromise our control over the entire sector…and lose the most productive mines on the planet. A defeat here could be enough to shatter the stalemate on Tombstone. I wasn’t up in the chain of command, but I didn’t have to be to know our orders. Hold at all costs.
I was back almost exactly where I’d been for most of the last three days…nearly dead center in our line. The fighting here had been fierce on the first day, and it looked like it had been just as intense while we were in reserve. The dead and wounded had been pulled back, but from the shattered pieces of armor and equipment I had a pretty good idea the fighting had been brutal.
We weren’t back long before we were attacked, but we beat it back without too much trouble. That’s when we lost Harden and Quincy. When they went down I shifted over, covering a larger frontage. Corporal Vincennes and I were the only ones left in the fire team. We tried to get Harden’s auto-cannon set up, but it had also been hit. It might have been repairable, but not in the field, so it was useless to us. The corporal set me up just left of where the cannon had been, and he headed 200 meters to the right.
We were a laughable defense. Any serious attack would have cut right through us, but fortunately the enemy didn’t hit us before we were reinforced. The corporal and I had held that forlorn hope for about ninety minutes before the lieutenant came jogging over with reinforcements. The captain had sent up the last of the company reserve, and he cut the frontage our platoon had to cover. The lieutenant took advantage to pull some strength from other sectors to strengthen our weakened center.
He brought the platoon weapons team with him, though only one of the original crew of three remained. Langon, the platoon’s technician, was backing up Private Glenn, and they were handling the thing a man short. The medium auto-cannon was a double-barreled hyper-velocity weapon that put out three times the firepower of Harden’s lighter version. They set it up right where we’d had the SAW, though they had to clear some of the rock out to make enough room. Fortunately, Langon had the plasma torch with him, so it only took a few minutes to dig in. When they were done, it was in a great spot, with good cover and able to direct fire on either side of the rocky spur.
The lieutenant also brought Graves, the sniper, and he placed him in a big rock outcropping just behind our line. He had the marksman’s weapon of choice, the M-00, AI-assisted sniper’s rifle. It was longer than our infantry weapons and fired a single shot at even higher velocity and greater accuracy. The AI interface helped compensate for weather, visual irregularities, even projected movement of the target. An expert sniper could score a hit as far away as ten klicks.
I’d trained on the weapon at Camp Puller, and I’d been fast-tracked for sniper school based on my performance. Snipers were all veterans though, so I couldn’t go right into the training program from Puller, and I’d been stuck on Tombstone since then. I expected to go after this campaign, though things would turn out differently, and I’d never end up being a sniper. But I always respected the effectiveness of well-utilized sharpshooters.
After he’d deployed everyone, picking out their exact positions himself, the lieutenant settled in directly on my left. He gave us a few short instructions and a little pep talk, but mostly he left us alone. We knew what we were doing, and we knew what was coming. The Janissaries would be here soon, and we’d be waiting for them.
This was the first time I’d faced veteran, elite troops, and it was a lot different that the colonial regulars we’d been fighting. They started out with a heavy bombardment, blasting our entire ridge with rockets and frag shells. We had good cover, and I doubt they expected to inflict a lot of casualties. But they knew we were tired, and they wanted to rattle us as much as possible. They also directed some of the bombardment behind our line, creating a complication for any troops redeploying or reinforcements moving up.
We returned fire, but we had a lot less ordnance then they did, and I doubt we accomplished anything but a superficial show of defiance. Still, I cheered like everyone else when the captain ordered the company’s mortars to open fire. I was still enraged about Harden and Quincy…the guilt would come, and when it did it would be severe, but right there on that battle line I wanted blood. I wanted vengeance.
They didn’t fire for long, and about half an hour after they’d opened up they stopped. Their lines were silent for a few minutes and then shells started impacting the plain in front of our position. The Janissary mortars were firing smoke shells. It wasn’t real smoke of course, though that’s the name we gave it. It was a dense radioactive steam used to shield an attack. Opaque, it blocked visibility, and the radiation and chemical makeup interfered with scanners. The heat of the steam clouds made infrared and temperature-based scanning useless as well, so the stuff was very effective at screening an advance. It was a powerful tool, and I never understood why we didn’t use it too.
This was it. We knew they’d be coming up behind those clouds, and that this would be the climactic attack. Either we’d hold here or they would win.
“OK, Third Company.” Captain Riklis was addressing the entire unit. His voice was steady, and in it I could detect barely controlled anger. His blood was up. This was the first time I’d faced Janissaries, and I wasn’t aware yet just how much of a rivalry we had with them. When Marines faced Caliphate Janissaries there was no quarter even thought of…it was a fight to the death. “I know you’re all tired, and we’ve suffered heavy losses already. And these bastards are fresh. This is going to be one hell of a brawl.” I really liked that he was being straight with us, not sugar coating things. He was rallying us, but with respect. We were professionals; we knew the obstacles to victory, and we were ready to face the challenges and win in spite of them. “But there is no unit – none! – in the whole damned Corps I’d rather have under me today. I know…know with every fiber of my being that whatever comes through that smoke, Third Company is going to be ready…and we’re going to wreck it!”
Before I joined the Corps, before I ended up on a battle line waiting for an enemy to come and try to kill me, I never thought about how words could affect me. They were just words, after all. But when he was done I was so worked up I’d have faced the entire enemy force alone if I had to. I’ve never figured out whether it’s real confidence a leader like that inspires or just mind games that provoke a response, but I never forgot how it made me feel, just when I needed that extra bit of courage. I would be giving a version of that speech many times myself in the years to come, and I would fight with other officers whose ability to rally troops would astonish me. But that day I was on the line with the captain and the lieutenant, and as far as I was concerned, no Caliphate force ever made was going to make me fail them.
I crouched down, digging my foot into the grayish gravelly dirt and pushed up against the rocky spine, bracing myself and aiming my mag-rifle out at the hazy, faintly glowing clouds. My AI would take whatever bits of data my scanning dev
ices could glean and combine it with the info gathered by the rest of the platoon, giving me the best guess at where enemy troops were approaching. The smoke was very effective, but it wasn’t perfect cover. Troops moving through would disturb the clouds, at least somewhat, and if the AIs could factor out the wind and weather-caused effects, they could actually do a decent job of finding concentrations of troops coming forward.
“Ok, platoon.” The lieutenant’s voice was calm, even more so than the captain’s. “You men and women are the best warriors in the field, anywhere. Janissaries are good troops, but they aren’t that tough. They can’t be that tough, because they’re not Marines!” His style was a little different than the captain’s. His voice was relaxed, almost like a teacher in a classroom, but then all of a sudden he’d amp it up and get us whipped into a frenzy. “We’re going to do the work, platoon. I want everybody to focus. I’m going to call out enemy locations as we have them.” He paused. “And we’re not retreating, no matter what. Anybody who leaves their position won’t have to worry about Janissaries; they’ll have to worry about me!”
My AI started projecting figures in front of me, the shimmering blue images displaying percentages projecting the location of enemy troops. We didn’t have enough data to get any solid leads yet, but there were a couple spots north of 40% probability. I started firing some bursts at these locations, and I could tell that a few others were doing the same. I didn’t know if I hit anything – probably not - but it was worth expending a little ammo in the effort.
The auto-cannon didn’t open up yet, though. It was an extremely effective weapon on defense, and the lieutenant didn’t want to give its position away too soon. With any luck, the enemy would blunder right into the center of the field of fire. Their own scanners were compromised by the smoke too, so they couldn’t really attack with any precision.
I’d been scared to death before the attack started, as I always was, but now I wasn’t really thinking about that anymore. I was so focused and so pumped up by the captain and the lieutenant, the fear morphed into a nervous energy, an edginess that made it hard to stand still. I could hear my heart beating in my ears like a drum.
“Enemy troop concentrations.” The lieutenant, still totally calm. My God, doesn’t anything rattle him? “Transmitting coordinates. Open fire.”
The enemy troops were off to my left, but I had a clear line of fire, so I switched to full auto and sprayed the area. The mag-rifle had enough kick to knock a man over, and probably break his arm as well, but in armor you just felt a small vibration. I emptied an entire clip into the smoke, and the autoloader slammed another one in place with a loud click.
A few seconds after we started shooting, the enemy opened up. Their position given away, the advancing troops had no reason to continue to hold their fire. They couldn’t aim any better out of the clouds than we could into them, but our entire front was saturated with fire. It was clear there were a lot of troops coming at us.
I crouched lower as the rock wall in front of me was blasted. Shards of shattered stone flew all around, but the outcropping was thick enough to provide cover, and other than some rocks bouncing loudly off my armor, I was fine. I could tell from the chatter on the com that 1st Platoon on our left had some casualties…they probably got careless when they were firing and didn’t get down quickly enough.
We got locations on two more enemy troop concentrations, and when they all opened up we were well into a serious firefight. Even with our cover, we were taking losses. I assumed we were inflicting them too, but it was hard to tell. All of this seemed like an eternity, but only a few minutes had passed since the enemy launched the smoke and started their attack.
Then they started to emerge from the smoke. It was surreal watching them move forward, zigzagging as they jogged toward our trenches. Their armor was similar to ours, a little bulkier, maybe, and the alloy they used was different, giving the suits a darker look. They didn’t have the camo system we did, and their suits were dark silhouettes against the glowing clouds as they came forward.
Their formations were scattered, with significant gaps. I could see they’d taken considerable losses from our fire. Their assault doctrine was well thought out, and they executed it flawlessly. One group would find the best cover they could – low ground, rocks, gullies – and open up on our position with everything they had. A second line would advance, supported by this covering fire, and find their own protected areas. They would then start shooting while the first group advanced. It was a standard leapfrog tactic, but they were so well drilled they could maintain enormously heavy fire while leaving precise lanes open for their advancing troops. I couldn’t help but admire the discipline and skill, even if they were trying to kill me.
But we knew our stuff too, and we targeted the units moving ahead, ignoring the covering fire. We were taking heavy losses, but it was still the best exchange rate we’d get; if they got to our lines and broke in we’d lose our positional advantage…and there were more of them than us.
There was a crack in the rock wall next to me, and I was able to lie down and shoot through a very small opening. It was great cover, and gave me a wide coverage area. They were getting close, so I switched to semi-automatic and started targeting individual troops with 10-shot bursts. I didn’t have a sniper’s rifle, but I managed to take down a target just about every time I shot. I must have dropped 7 or 8 when I realized we weren’t going to turn them back.
The auto-cannon was firing full bore, but the enemy troops were very good at using any bit of cover as they advanced. We’d taken out a lot of them, probably enough to send lower-quality troops feeling for their lives, but we wouldn’t have broken, and the Janissaries weren’t going to either. They were weakened and disordered, but we were still going to have a close range fight.
If we’d had a secondary position we could have fallen back, keeping them under heavy fire as they came over the rocky spur and eventually wearing their attack down. But there was nothing but open plateau behind us – we’d be the ones caught in the clear and cut to pieces. No…it was win or die right along this ridge line.
I have always found that my memories of combat are blurry, surreal. It’s hard to recall the time passing. I remember this charge of the Janissaries as something that went on forever, but it wasn’t more than ten minutes from when they dropped the smoke until they started climbing up over the rock wall.
I saw them coming, at least six of them heading toward my spot. The whole thing happened in slow motion. I took one last shot through the crack on the rock, hitting one of the attackers. At least four or five projectiles from my burst hit his leg, tearing it off completely. He dropped hard to the ground and writhed for a couple seconds before Tombstone finished the job.
I paused an instant watching him fall, and then I realized with a start that there were no more targets…I had waited too long. Something took over, instincts maybe or, more likely, training. I rolled over on my back, whipping my rifle around, and I blasted at full auto, taking out two more as they climbed over the rocks.
The next two seconds lasted a lifetime. I’d emptied my clip, and I could hear the autoloader moving a new one into position. The entire process had always seemed nearly instantaneous to me, but now it felt as though it was taking forever. I looked up, and I could see the enemy troops coming over, and one of them was turning to me. I could hear each heartbeat pounding in my head as I brought my mag-rifle up to target him. He was doing the same, but his was loaded and mine was empty. I’d have a new clip in place in less than a second, but in that instant I knew it was going to be too late. I stared up into the barrel of his gun, and I knew I was dead.
And then I wasn’t. Just before he fired, his body lurched backwards, his arm flying upward, spraying the air with fire. The top half of his body twisted to the right, the bottom to the left. He wasn’t cut in half, not quite, but he fell in a gruesome heap, half a meter from where I was laying. Standing there, silhouetted against the reddish light, was the
lieutenant, his arm raised, bloodied blade extended. He’d driven its edge, a single molecule thick, into my would-be killer’s side, striking with all the enhanced power his suit’s nuclear-powered servo-mechanicals could deliver.
I was laying there in shock, thinking I should thank the lieutenant when his voice boomed into my headset. “Get the hell up, Jax!” His voice was still relatively calm, but even his controlled tone was affected by the stress of battle. “This isn’t time for a nap.”
He jogged past me without another word, leveling his mag-rifle and shooting down half a dozen Janissaries who were coming over the rock wall and taking aim at the auto-cannon. Glenn was working the gun alone now, targeting the second wave of enemy troops still emerging from the smoke and advancing on our position. Langon was down. I didn’t know then, but he’d taken a hit early. His suit’s auto-repair managed to close the breach, saving his life for all of ten minutes. Then he took a second hit, this time in the neck, and he fell to the ground, dead.
I climbed up to my feet, watching the lieutenant for a second. I glanced over the rock wall – there were no troops approaching my position, so I spun to the left. All along the line there were Janissaries pouring up and over the broken ridge. It was a confused melee, with point blank fire and blade fights everywhere. The Caliphate troops had their own version of the molecular blade, and it was longer and more effective than ours. They trained with it more than we did too, and they thought they could beat us in a hand to hand fight. But our close range fire drill was very effective, and not many of them got near enough to one of our troops to force a knife fight.
The snipers played a key role too, picking off enemy officers and non-coms, targeting them even when they stood centimeters away from our own troops. Our sniper tactics and training were light-years ahead of theirs, and it showed. This range was child’s play to the sharpshooters, and they scored hit after hit. The company’s three snipers went a long way toward helping us cope with the enemy numbers.