by Jay Allan
“Move it!” Prescott’s voice was demanding, and the urgency was front and center. “Get those damned things in place.”
His forces had stormed through the gap Cain’s nuclear strike opened in the enemy’s perimeter. The nukes saved thousands of his people…if they’d had to assault that line unsoftened it would have been an abattoir. But the opening was a short one. First Imperium forces positioned farther back reacted almost immediately. There was no hesitation, no morale degradation from the nuclear attack, no hesitation to advance into the maelstrom…none of the emotional effects a human enemy would have experienced. By the time Prescott’s troops got to the LZ, the bots had set up a new line. It wasn’t anything like the fortified position the nukes had taken out, but any First Imperium line was serious business. Taking the landing zone had been expensive, but his people had done it. He doubted they could hold it…but they didn’t have to. Not if the engineers could finish in time.
They were working as quickly as they could, burying the massive devices across the field. It was a tough job without heavy construction equipment, but the engineers were Marines, not building contractors. They knew what they had to do. It wasn’t too hard to dig a hole in an engineer’s suit, but it still took time. And with the enemy preparing to launch a counterattack, Prescott would be happy to finish the job and get the hell out. He would put up a defense if he had to, but he’d much rather retreat, just like Cain had told him to do.
“Status report, Major Tomlinson.” Prescott’s voice clearly telegraphed his impatience.
“Twenty minutes, sir.” Tomlinson was out of breath. He sounded harried, distracted.
“No good, major.” Prescott’s answer was almost an involuntary response. “I need time to pull back the division.”
“There’s no way we can finish faster.” Tomlinson’s voice was sincere. Prescott knew the engineer was giving him a straight answer. “Start pulling back now, sir. We will finish up and follow.”
“Out of the question, major. If the enemy counterattacks, your people will be slaughtered”
“It’s gonna take a lot longer to pull the division back. My engineers can take off and run the minute we’re done. We can cover the distance in ten minutes.” Tomlinson was still breathing hard – he was clearly working while he was talking.
Prescott frowned. He hated leaving the engineers unprotected. But Tomlinson was right. A division couldn’t withdraw as quickly as a small team. He paused, frozen by momentary indecision. Finally: “OK, major. But I want your word that your people are out of here in 20 minutes. That’s two zero minutes…not 21 not 20 minutes and 30 seconds. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir.” Tomlinson sounded relieved. “You have my word. We’ll be on our way in 20 minutes or less.”
“That’s good news, major.” Prescott had a grim smile on his face. “’Cause I’m staying until your people bug out.” He cut the line before Tomlinson could protest, and he commed his exec. “Colonel Jung, I want you to start pulling the division back…”
Erin McDaniels had been waiting for the word. Cain had forbidden her to attack until he gave the go ahead. Her people had been in an underground bunker since the enemy arrived on Sandoval, and not one of them had seen battle yet. She’d expected to be the centerpiece of the defense, and instead she was the last reserve unit committed.
She had the HQ feed running through the sophisticated com system of her Obliterator suit, and her AI was feeding her reports as they came in. The AI’s vocal system had been upgraded during the last maintenance session. The cold, mechanical tones were gone, replaced by a calmly professional female voice. It was a welcome change, though the softer tones were marginally incongruous with the horrific casualty reports it recited. The troops on the surface were catching hell, with losses of at least 30% in most units…and over 60% in the hardest hit.
Twice, McDaniels had almost disobeyed and ordered her people to move to the surface and attack. But she hadn’t. She was a veteran, and a Marine with grit in her soul…but she didn’t have the guts to disregard Erik Cain’s orders. Instead, she stood on alert and listened to the reports coming in from the surface…more of her comrades and allies killed in the desperate fighting her people were sitting out.
Finally: “McDaniels…Cain here.”
She felt a rush of adrenalin…as strong as a heavy stim dose. “Yes, sir…McDaniels here.”
“You may attack, colonel.” Cain’s voice was resolute as always, but she could hear the fatigue in it too.
“Yes, sir. I will attack at once.”
“And colonel?” Cain’s voice again, this time a bit more of the fatigue evident. “I want an all-out attack. Let them have it.”
“Yes, sir!”
Merrick’s tanks were a spent force. They’d been the first people heavily engaged, and they’d taken losses no one ever expected them to withstand. They were low on ammo and spare parts, and most of the surviving tanks had at least some damage. The support and repair vehicles were almost all gone, and it was hard to distribute the few supplies Merrick still had. The tank corps had done its part, and it was in no condition to return to the fight.
But Cain had given the all-out attack order to every unit on the field, and Isaac Merrick had no intention of sitting still while the rest of the army fought the final battle. The next 72 hours would decide the fate of Sandoval, of the Line. A few days that would determine whether mankind had what it took to stop the First Imperium. If the survival of Merrick’s people was going to be decided, they were going to be there, in the thick of the fight.
“All tank units, prepare to advance in five minutes.” His order was sharp, his voice almost hostile, seething with his anger and hatred for the enemy. He could almost hear the groans inside the cramped cockpits of his surviving tanks. Let them grumble, he thought, as long as they obey. He wasn’t entirely sure how many of them would.
He flipped his com to the Marine line. “Captain Storm, are your people still combat-capable?”
“We’re Marines, sir.” As far as Storm was concerned, he’d given Merrick all the answer his question required.
Merrick was confused, but only for a few seconds. He was getting used to the Marines by now. “Captain Weld’s tanks will be advancing to hit the enemy flank. Form up your battalion and provide close support.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Storm…this is the final battle…so give it everything you’ve got, ok? It wasn’t a very eloquent battle cry, but Merrick knew it was all the Marine needed.
“Always, sir.” Storm’s voice was sharp and crisp, as usual. “We’re Marines, sir.”
Merrick knew that was the only response he’d get. It was all he wanted.
Sarah Linden was exhausted…fatigued like nothing she had ever experienced. She was a beautiful woman, but now her normally sparkling eyes were lifeless, sunken deeply in her gaunt face. Her reddish blonde hair, normally soft and silky, was pinned up haphazardly, dirty and crusted with dried clumps of blood.
She’d lost count of the casualties. The AI had the running total, she realized that…but she didn’t want to know. It wouldn’t do any good, and she wasn’t sure she could bear to hear it.
She hadn’t slept in days, maybe even a week. She’d lost touch with that too. The stims were great for a while, but sooner or later they caught up with you. They still kept you awake, but things became blurrier, out of focus. Some people hallucinated, others eventually became catatonic. Everyone reacted differently.
Sarah got the shakes, which was far from the worst side effect of a stim overdose, but a major problem for a surgeon in any event. She needed to get a few hours of real sleep soon. But how could I, she thought…with hundreds of wounded stacked up…and dozens dying before a doctor can get to them?
“Colonel Linden?” Lieutenant Ploor, sounding very worried.
Sarah had come to dread the sound of the young officer’s voice. It wasn’t fair, she thought…Ploor had proven to be one of the true heroes in the h
ospital. She was the one person on the staff who’d probably gotten less sleep than Sarah. “Yes, lieutenant?”
“We just got a new batch of wounded…”
Sarah didn’t interrupt, but she thought to herself, I hope she has more to say than that. They were getting new loads of wounded every few minutes. No reason to interrupt her to tell her what she already knew.
“It’s Commander Farooq, colonel. And he’s in bad shape. Very bad.”
Shit, she thought. “Get him up here right now.” Sarah looked up from the patient on her table locking her eyes on one of the junior surgeons. “Simon, finish here for me,” she shouted across the room. Back to the com: “Now, Clarissa! Get moving.”
“Yes, colonel. We’re on the way.”
Sarah felt the despair bubbling up. She was strong, and she’d been through some of the worst battles men had ever fought. But everyone had a limit. She felt adrift on a sea of blood, and she didn’t think she could take much more. She still couldn’t get the image of Kyle Warren out of her mind. His Marines had carried him back, hoping for some miracle. She’d been waiting when they told her he was coming, but she could tell with one look he was gone. He’d been dead at least half an hour, and he was completely bled out. There had been nothing for her to do, and she had to tell the Marines who’d carried him to the hospital. They were tough veterans, but every one of them wept.
Now the Janissaries’ top commander was on his way to her table. What did that mean to his troops in the field? She knew Erik was depending on the Janissaries. He’d built a good relationship with Farooq, possibly even a friendship. Would he be able to work as well with Farooq’s exec?
Erik…where was he? Was he hurt? Was he dead? Fatigue non-stop work had taken her mind off her worry…for a short time. Things had been strained between them recently, but now all she could think about was her desperate fear. Erik acted like he was immortal…but she knew he wasn’t. Jax had died. Kyle Warren had died. Will Thompson on Arcadia and Lucius Anton on Columbia. She knew Erik Cain could join that list any time. She was suddenly aware that if Erik was dead on the field somewhere, their last words would have been cross ones. She had to fight the urge to run out of the hospital, to find him and take back the things she had said.
“Colonel, we have Commander Farooq prepped for you.” Lieutenant Ploor stood next to the portable med unit, looking over at her.
She submerged her personal thoughts once again, though it was getting more and more difficult. “Ok, lieutenant…you stay and assist.” She walked toward the unit. “Let’s get started.” She was scanning the extent of his wounds, her face hardening as she did. “We don’t have any time to waste.”
“Here they come.” Prescott stood behind the rocky spur…back where his attack on the LZ had begun. His head was bent back, staring up into the sky. The division had taken heavy losses, at least 25%, and the Canadian regiment that stayed behind with him and the engineers had casualties over 40%. He’d hoped to withdraw completely before the enemy counterattacked, but the engineers were still working, and he’d had to fight a delaying action with his Canadian veterans. They’d suffered most of their losses holding the LZ for an extra twenty minutes…and in the subsequent withdrawal under fire. But they eventually managed to break off, and now they were back at the original jumping off point.
“Yes, sir.” Major Dillon stood just behind Prescott. “It looks like at least 50 landing craft.” The First Imperium landers were mostly heavy transports, much larger than the Marines’ Gordons.
Prescott nodded silently, though the gesture was unnoticeable in armor. There was an amazed grin on his face, hidden inside his helmet. Son of a bitch, he thought, shaking his head…Cain was right again.
“Major, confirm all units are deployed behind the cover of the ridgeline.” Prescott had the entire division pulled back behind the rocky spine, sheltered from the landing zone. He’d given the order twice and checked on it three times, but he wanted to be sure. Anybody caught out in the open was going to end up a stain.
“All units report they are in place and under cover.”
The response was fast. Too fast, Prescott thought. Then he realized Dillon had already confirmed unit statuses before being ordered to. “Very well, major. It should be showtime any minute.”
“Yes, sir.” Dillon paused an instant and then added, “You should take heavier cover, sir.”
Prescott hesitated a few seconds, taking one last look out over the landing zone. “You’re right, major. Let’s go.”
The two armored officers jogged down the steep path, moving further behind the rocky hill between them and the LZ. They reached the end of the small trail, near one of the access points where the division had emerged from the tunnels. Prescott went prone, motioning for Dillon to do the same.
Over the LZ, squadrons of First Imperium shuttles fired their landing jets, stabilizing themselves 500 meters from the ground and preparing for a final descent. The AI in Cain’s headquarters was monitoring the approach, and at 500 meters it triggered the buried atomic mines.
All across the LZ, twenty large nuclear devices detonated…not tactical warheads, but giant 100 megaton city-killers. Billowing plumes rose rapidly from the surface, engulfing the descending landing craft. Shuttles were thrown about, some colliding, others plummeting to the ground with major systems knocked out by the shockwaves. The entire landing zone was consumed by nuclear fire, sweeping away the enemy bots and gouging deep craters in the tortured landscape.
Prescott’s people were close…too close but for the line of rocky hills that gave them cover. An unarmored man would have received a lethal radiation dosage in seconds, but everyone in 2nd Division was suited up and well-protected from the blast effects that reached them. It was a hellish nightmare all around Prescott’s dug-in troops. The temperature rose, nearly to the maximum the osmium-iridium alloy in their suits could withstand. Their life support systems were taxed to the limit, barely maintaining survivable conditions. It got hot inside the suits, but still within bearable levels. Shattered chunks of rock flew around, broken loose by the massive shockwaves and propelled through the air by the vortex of winds.
Prescott was hunched over, shielding himself as much as possible from the hell surrounding him. But he was laughing. It started as a grin and, as he continued to think of the trap they’d set, he began to chuckle. The blasts had taken out thousands of the enemy, on the ground and in the landing craft. The LZ was clear. The entire counterattack force – and all the reinforcements sent down from orbit – were gone, wiped off the face of Sandoval by atomic fire.
They may be thousands of years ahead of us, Prescott thought, but they’re naïve as hell when it comes to war…and they’re no match for Erik Cain.
The Obliterators were an awesome sight, stomping across the battlefield, spreading destruction through the ranks of the First Imperium forces. The enemy still had its technological edge – and a Reaper was still more powerful than an Obliterator – but now it was a match of training and skill. The First Imperium forces were confused, and the intelligences directing them hesitated, uncertain. The situation on the field didn’t match any logical pattern of strategy or warfare. They didn’t know what to do.
The human forces sliced into them, launching hundreds of well-executed small unit assaults across the field. The enemy bots were isolated into scattered surrounded groups and destroyed in detail. On the flank, Merrick’s shattered tank corps roared to life and, contrary to everyone’s expectations of their capabilities, launched a savage attack, ripping right through the center of the enemy concentrations.
“Keep your formations tight, people.” McDaniels’ Obliterators were positioned at 100 meters intervals, each supported by a Marine squad. They were hunting the Reapers, leaving the rest of the enemy combatants to their conventionally armored comrades.
McDaniels swung around as she fired her dual launchers and loosed two HVMs at an isolated Reaper. She crouched low, taking cover behind a large rock outcropping, j
ust as a cluster of enemy bots returned the fire. She loved the Obliterator suit. Her only complaint was its size. It was hard to find cover for a hulking four-meter osmium-iridium gorilla. The multi-layer armor could absorb a lot of damage, and it could turn away even a hyper-velocity round, but it was always better to avoid getting hit rather than counting on your protection to save you.
She watched the scanner, waiting for the AI’s damage assessment. The Obliterator suits had small drones, nanobots really, that it could launch, giving it a field of vision even when the suit itself was hunkered down under cover. The drones could collect data to evaluate damage, among other uses. The assessment was good news. The Reaper was down, probably not entirely out of action, but in bad shape nevertheless.
“Pull back.” It was Sergeant Walton, the leader of her attached squad. “We’ve got bogies advancing on the left.”
McDaniels redirected her monitors over to the left. There were standard battle bots approaching, at least twenty. She waited…another few seconds, and the advancing enemy would be partially in the open. There was another chunk of rock about 40 meters away where she could take cover…and between the two she’d have a great shot at the attacking bots.
She turned and started to run toward the other outcropping, angling her upper body and unloading with the two heavy autocannons attached to her arms. They fired 1,200 rounds a minute at a velocity of 4,800 meters per second. Her AI-assisted targeting gave her pinpoint accuracy, and the entire area around the enemy bots was hosed down with devastating fire.
Three of the bots went down almost immediately, the massive projectiles from McDaniels’ cannons tearing them to pieces. The rest scattered, trying to duck into cover and return fire. Her AI tracked them, calculating the most exposed targets in real time and highlighting them on her tactical screen. Another four bots went down – she didn’t know if they were all destroyed, but they were hit hard enough that none got back up…and that was good enough for her at the moment.