Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  The heavy projectiles slammed into the ridgeline, shattering the rocks and showering her people with smashed chunks of stone. She had three people down almost immediately. Then it was five. Then six.

  “Down. Everybody get low…now!” The command was unnecessary. Half the detachment had hit the ground on their own…and the other half were running to the rear. It wasn’t a rout, not exactly. But her unit was broken, and she knew it. If she didn’t pull back now and regroup she’d lose them all.

  “Withdraw to secondary positions.” Oddly, the impending failure of her unit’s morale bolstered her own. They needed their CO, now more than ever, and something deep within her rose to the occasion. “Let’s move it, people. I want everyone in good order.” Her survivors filed back through the ravine leading to the rear. Teller had chosen this position well, and the line of retreat was shielded from the enemy by the mountains. She maintained her own position, counting off to make sure that every one of her Marines who was still alive had pulled back. Then she took one last look over the rock wall at the approaching enemy. The monster was still advancing…and in the distance she could see three more of them coming up over the ridge. She shivered and turned to follow her troops into the ravine.

  “All ships…activate Plan Theta-1…now.” Admiral West’s transmission broke the radio silence the fleet had observed since re-entering the Zeta Bootis system. There was no time to set up another laser transmission grid, and it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Third Fleet was about to send 200 missiles at the enemy armada…and there was no way that was going to remain undetected.

  The ships shuddered as they emptied their external missile racks, jettisoning the used cradles and repositioning to fire from their internal launchers. They were launching from point blank range, closer than West had ever seen missiles deployed. She’d come back to Cornwall to bushwhack the enemy, and by God that’s what she was going to do.

  It had taken an iron will to wait this long to launch. She hadn’t known if the fleet could get this close undetected, but she knew they didn’t have much chance to win the fight unless they did. So she staked everything on stealth…and now she would reap the reward.

  “Mystic, put me on with the bomber crews.” Third Fleet had only one capital ship, the ancient Cambrai…and it had only 12 bombers in its launch bays. It was a pitiful strike force, but she needed every bit of firepower she could get, and the 48 men and women of her bomber wings were set to launch. Not many of them expected to return, but they knew the situation, and they were ready to go.

  “Connection established, admiral.”

  “You all know the gravity of the situation.” Her voice was somber, emotional. “The fate of Third Fleet…and the thousands of Marines fighting on Cornwall…depends on us hitting the enemy hard and fast. We’re not going to get a second chance, so I need each of you to stay focused. Get in close, launch your torpedoes, and then get the hell out of there.” She paused, taking a deep breath. She didn’t think any of them were going to survive, but everyone needed at least a little hope…and she need to convince herself she wasn’t sending them to certain death. “Good luck to you all, and my deepest thanks for your courage and steadfastness.” She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Mystic…issue the launch order.”

  Cambrai bucked as her magnetic catapults launched the strike force. The vector was straight ahead…every unit of Third Fleet was heading directly at the enemy. The bombers fired their thrusters accelerating ahead of the fleet, following close behind the missile volleys. The naval battle for Cornwall had begun.

  Teller closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. The stimulants were great at keeping you focused and alert…for a while. But eventually there was a price to pay. He felt strung out and sick, and he didn’t have time for that now. “Grant, give me another stim. A double dose.”

  “Colonel, you are already beyond the maximum dosage for this 24 hour period.” Teller’s AI spoke with a low, gravelly voice. It had modelled its audio output for compatibility with its user, but Teller could never figure out why it had selected such an odd voice.

  “I understand that. Give it to me anyway.” He felt the pinprick in his arm as the AI obeyed his command. Teller didn’t have time to worry about consequences…he needed to be 100% right now.

  His people had fought for every inch of ground, but this was their last stand. They’d made the enemy pay for Skarn Island, but they hadn’t been able to hold it. Some of his frontline units were below 20% strength. He was consolidating shattered companies now…trying to put together combat-worthy formations to maintain some sort of battle line.

  They’d island hopped down the archipelago, but Cavin Island was the last substantial piece of dry land to defend. The area around his command post was crowded with wounded. They were coming in faster than his medical staff could handle them. His troops had made herculean efforts to evac all their wounded, but he couldn’t know who’d gotten left behind in the chaos. He had no doubt there were wounded Marines trapped behind the lines, waiting for the enemy to slaughter them. He closed his eyes tightly as he thought about it. It was one of the Corps’ most sacred creeds…not to leave anyone behind. But on terrain like Skarn Island it was almost impossible to find a wounded Marine if his suit transponder was knocked out.

  Teller had never really expected to win the battle. But now his people faced the end of their tenacious defense, and he found himself wracking his brain for some way…any way…out. The thought of seeing his brigade wiped out completely was just too much to take.

  As bad as the total casualties were, the losses among the officers were worse. The overwhelming power, the cold relentlessness of this enemy had worn down the morale of his troops, even the veterans. The officers found themselves having to rally units that had never wavered before, and they lost heavily in the process. His reorganizations were moving the survivors up two, sometimes three echelons.

  He’d just put Erin McDaniels in charge of 1st battalion. Major Greives was dead, and Teller had already taken the two surviving captains to head up other battalions. McDaniels had more experience than any of the lieutenants in the battalion…besides, she only had 23 people left in the heavy weapons detachment anyway. Teller folded her people into the remnant of the battalion and put them back on the line. They were positioned along the west coast of the island…right where he expected the final attack to come.

  He put his final report into the log, including McDaniels’ battlefield promotion to captain. He downloaded it into two digger-drones and set them to burrow beneath the rocky ground of Cavin. Maybe someday the Alliance would fight its way back to Cornwall…and then they would know how 1st Brigade had fought and died.

  “Colonel Teller!” It was his aide, Captain Walsh. “Lieutenant…I mean Captain…McDaniels reports she is under bombardment from enemy cluster-bombs.

  “Understood. All units on alert.” Teller stood there and took a deep breath. Time for the final battle, he thought grimly. Then he deployed his mag-rifle and walked up the path toward the front lines.

  Third Fleet’s missiles were accelerating at almost 50g…straight into the enemy ships. Launched from knife-fighting range, they closed the distance in a matter of minutes. The targeted ships fired their thrusters, trying to build some velocity to maneuver, and they began to deploy anti-missile defenses. But the incoming weapons had been launched at such close range, and with such high intrinsic velocity, the response was only moderately effective.

  West watched on her screen as the ship’s AI reconstructed the entire battle area from the transmissions sent back by the missiles. The enemy ships launched large torpedoes in the directions of the heaviest missile concentrations. West knew they would break into a spread of mines that would explode in the path of the oncoming warheads. The Alliance had a similar weapon, though its effectiveness was inferior to some of the alternative systems, and it had fallen into disuse.

  “If that’s the best they have to put up against our missiles…”
She was speaking softly, mostly to herself, but she stopped short when she got the data on detonations. The explosions were massive, over 100 megatons…from each of the tiny mines. The massive patchwork of explosions destroyed dozens of missiles outright, and massive bursts of gamma radiation fried the control mechanisms of others. More than half her missiles were taken out in a few minutes.

  “They must be antimatter warheads,” she whispered under her breath. They only launched a few of those torpedoes, she thought…I wonder why. A larger spread could have wiped out her entire missile barrage. “Athena, I want all data on the enemy’s anti-missile defenses logged on two drones.” She wondered, was this another weapon the enemy possessed in inexplicably short supply? Admiral Garret would want to know.

  “Yes, Admiral West.” The AI’s response was immediate, as usual. “Drones are activated and receiving data now.”

  “I want them launched one minute before we enter the enemy’s energy weapons range.” Of course they didn’t know the enemy’s range for sure…they were working on the sketchy data that trickled back from the ships fighting in earlier battles. Destroyed vessels and dead crews, she thought somberly.

  “Yes, admiral. Launch sequence is already pre-programmed.”

  West’s eyes went back to the display, watching her surviving missiles close on the enemy. They were moving at a very high velocity, making vector changes a slow and difficult process. But Third Fleet had caught the enemy almost stationary, and West had plotted her missiles perfectly. The target ships lashed out with anti-missile energy weapons similar to the Alliance’s lasers, but longer-ranged. Their fire was accurate, but over 20 of West’s missiles closed to detonation range.

  The enemy ships were caught in the firestorm, some of them taking damage from multiple detonations. Right behind the nuclear maelstrom of the missile volley came Cambrai’s 12 bombers, bearing down on their targets at .08c. Half of them were destroyed by the point defense, but the others closed on the damaged ships. The Cambrai’s bridge erupted in shouts and cheers as one, then a second bomber hit a damaged enemy ship with plasma torpedoes. The vessel shuddered and exploded into a massive fireball.

  “Scratch one bogie!” It was Lieutenant Polk, her junior tactical officer. The outburst showed a lapse of discipline, but West let it go. She’d almost loosed a rowdy cheer herself.

  Then another bomber hit one of the enemy ships, and both of them vanished in an enormous explosion. West sat back in her command chair and took a deep breath. She hadn’t been sure they’d be able to destroy any of the enemy ships, and now she watched in astonishment as two more erupted into miniature suns.

  “Admiral, we got them with antimatter missiles on some sort of external rack system.” Polk’s voice was still high-pitched with excitement, but he’d regained his composure. “We caught them flat-footed, sir.”

  West suppressed a smile. She couldn’t believe their luck, but the battle was far from over. “Athena, implement damage control plan Zeta-2.” They were about to enter range of the enemy’s energy weapon.

  “All personnel secure helmets now. Secondary life support systems active.” The announcement was being heard on every ship in the fleet. West knew they were going to take it hard from the enemy particle accelerators, and she didn’t want to lose anyone because of carelessness. If a section of a ship lost atmosphere, the Zeta-2 protocols would save lives.

  “Entering maximum previously detected enemy firing range.” The ship’s AI gave the warning. No one knew the actual effective range of the particle accelerators – all they had was the sketchy data from previous engagements.

  West leaned back in her command chair. She always felt claustrophobic with her helmet on. People used to tell her she’d get used to it, but 30 years into her career she still hated it. Of course she hated the idea of choking on vacuum more. She was just about to ask Athena for a status update when Cambrai shook wildly. The lights on the bridge flickered briefly and the ship shuddered again.

  “Real-time damage reports, Athena.” West was stepping on Captain Johansen’s toes. Running Cambrai was her flag captain’s job – managing the fleet was hers. But West had always been a bit of a control freak, and she and Johansen had made their peace on the issue. Besides, Cambrai was her only capital ship, an enormous component of Third Fleet’s firepower. It rated some attention from the admiral.

  “Landing bay Alpha destroyed, hull integrity lost in sections 14 through 18, primary reactor control circuit offline…backup has engaged and is functioning.” West’s AI was ratting off the damage reports as they were compiled. “Casualty estimates unavailable.”

  They may not have an estimate yet, but West knew some of her people were dead…and a lot more were wounded. And she knew it would get worse. The fleet’s high velocity would close the distance to laser range quickly, but until then they had to run this gauntlet.

  Cambrai shook again…it was a hit near the flag bridge and one of the structural members crashed to the floor a meter from West’s chair. Her head snapped around, but she quickly saw that none of her people were injured.

  “Sixty seconds to laser range.” Athena gave West the notification, but she didn’t need it. The firing solutions were all locked into the ships’ AIs. “Diamondback and Falcon destroyed by enemy fire.”

  West’s shoulders slumped. The two attack ships were the first ones she’d lost. She knew the fleet would suffer losses, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Captain Marne skippered Falcon…Marne had been part of West’s staff until she’d put him up for his own command. Now he was gone. He wasn’t the first friend she’d lost, but it never seemed to get easier.

  She stared straight ahead, and her eyes were like death. “Athena…relay to all ships….” Her brow was furrowed and her fists were clenched. “Fire.”

  Teller crouched behind a large outcropping, heavy hyper-velocity rounds impacting all around. His lines were broken at four points, maybe more. He was losing track of things in the growing chaos. The enemy was coming at them without a break. The Marines had taken down a lot of the battle robots, including a few of the big ones they’d dubbed Reapers, but the enemy units kept coming despite their losses.

  Teller was proud of 1st Brigade. They’d fought like demons, despite crippling losses and crushing exhaustion. But he knew they were done. The battle robots attacked day and night…no fear, no doubt, no fatigue. His troops were exhausted, and their morale was broken. They were low on ammunition and they’d been in their suits non-stop for almost two weeks. Human endurance had a limit, even for veteran Marines. And they had reached it.

  He knew what would happen. His wavering lines would crumple, and the enemy would pour through and wipe out his troops. This was an enemy that didn’t communicate, didn’t pause. They’d slaughtered helpless colonists on the other worlds; they would massacre his people too. James Teller had never considered surrendering in all his years as a Marine, but if it had been an option now he’d have taken it. He was as broken as his troops.

  He didn’t hear the sounds at first – the battlefield was too noisy, and his attentiveness was worn down. But when he poked his head above the rock to get a look at the enemy, he saw their position erupt in flames. Then he saw the strike craft angling up after their attack run.

  The comlink burst into chaos as Marines up and down the line began cheering. At first Teller was confused, but then it dawned on him. Admiral West. She must have defeated the enemy fleet. Was it possible?

  He was still watching when another wave of fighters swooped down and unloaded on the enemy line. His morale soared. Then his comlink buzzed with an incoming transmission.

  “Colonel Teller…this is Admiral West. Sorry it took so long, but we’re here to get your people out.”

  “I’ve never been so glad to hear someone’s voice, admiral. Thanks for the assist. It came none too soon.” Teller was still in shock. Maybe they would actually get out. “I assume congratulations are in order…you must have had a good fight up there.”

&n
bsp; The delay was longer than normal for surface to orbital transmission. Cambrai must have been farther out, beyond Cornwall orbit. “Thank you, colonel. We control local space for the moment.” She sounded exhausted, Teller thought as he listened. “But we can’t hold it. I’ve already sent my worst damaged ships back toward the warp gate, and we’ve picked up enemy ships inbound. I’m sending down the shuttles. Hopefully the airstrikes bought us some time, but whether they did or not, we need to get your people out of there. Now.”

  “That works for me, admiral.” Teller took a deep breath and let out a long exhale. “We’re ready to get the hell off this rock.”

  “Leave everything behind, James. I just want your people on those ships. We’re barely going to make it out of the system ahead of the enemy as it is. Probably.” She paused then added, “So please…move as quickly as you can. If we don’t start blasting in 20 hours, none of us are getting out of here.”

  “You have my word on it, admiral. Teller out.” He switched the comlink to transmit to the acting battalion commanders. “Attention all personnel. We’re getting off this shithole. I need all units to fall back in an orderly fashion.” He turned to walk back to the command post as he spoke. “We’re going to evac the wounded first, but everyone needs to be on a shuttle in 18 hours…because in 20 the fleet will be under full thrust heading for home, and anybody not on a ship is screwed. You’ll be receiving specific embarkation instructions shortly. In the meantime…”

  He never heard the cluster bombs coming in. The ground erupted all around him, and his last memory was flying through the air and landing against the rock wall. He felt the pain…all over his body…then nothing as the suit flooded his system with painkillers. For a few seconds he heard the hissing from the breaches in his armor and felt the slickness of blood all over. Then there was just the blackness.