by Jay Allan
“Fucking Christ!” Carlson dove down behind a cluster of small rocks just before the area behind him erupted with enemy rounds tearing great gouges into the ground. He was running the battalion now…Major Tambor was dead…but it wasn’t much bigger than a company now anyway.
Carlson had served under General Cain on the Lysandra Plateau, but he was a sergeant then, far down the chain of command. Things had been bad on that plateau, but they were defending there, grimly holding their ground until they were relieved. Now it felt like Cain was just trying to destroy his army, smashing it to pieces with one bloody assault after another.
“Sergeant Randall, get those SAWs forward and deployed. You’ve got a small gully there…it should give you some cover while you advance.” Carlson was staring at his display, trying to figure out how to piece together the fragments of his shattered battalion. “Now! I want fire from that position in three minutes.”
“Yes, sir. On the way.”
Carlson had never heard of a formation so battered mounting an attack. He knew what he would do to consolidate his tattered forces for a defense. He’d find some good ground and get his heavy weapons deployed in the best fire positions with half his troopers in reserve, ready to plug any gaps. But his orders were clear and specific – all-out attack.
He was pinned where he was…the enemy fire was constant. He’d be hit the second he tried to advance. He turned his head, reminding himself to stay low. There was a small hill about 100 meters northwest. It would give him good cover…if he could get there.
Carlson took a deep breath and crawled out from behind the rock. He was on his belly, staying as low as he could. There was a small lip in the ground giving him partial cover. The enemy fire was thick, and it wasn’t more than 10 or 15 centimeters over him. It takes a long time to crawl 100 meters, even in powered armor. Especially when the slightest bounce upward will get you killed.
He inched along, trying to stay focused. Stay slow, he thought…one meter at a time. “Sergeant Randall, are you in position yet?” He had his display off; he needed a clear view through his visor now.
“No, captain.” Randall’s voice was tentative. He knew he was going to get blasted.
“What the fuck, Randall? Get your hands out of your pants and get that outfit moving.” Carlson was mad. He didn’t like the orders any more than anyone. But if they were going to attack, then by God, they were going to attack. “I want you there in one minute, or I swear to God I will come over there and shoot your sorry ass myself.” He paused, taking another lurch forward. “Am I clear?”
“Yes, captain.” Randall was a veteran Marine, but it was clear from his voice he was near the breaking point. “We’ll be there in 30 seconds…and firing in two minutes.”
“You better be.” Carlson cut the line. He didn’t like beating up on a Marine like Randall, but he needed everything his people had. If they let up their intensity, even for a few seconds, that could be the difference. It could get them all killed.
He was losing the small rise that was giving him cover…he was going to have to dash the last few meters in the open. He took a breath, bending his legs, ready to spring forward. He crouched low - if he jumped up, he would sail through the air, an easy target. He sprung, holding his body straight and pushing off with his legs. His body lurched 4 or 5 meters, landing hard behind the hill. He rolled, taking the force of the landing the way he’d been trained, and coming up prone. The hill was good cover, about 4 meters high.
He leaned against the hillside, pulling his tactical display back up. Randall’s team was in position. It didn’t look like they were firing yet, but he guessed they would be any minute. He almost commed Randall again, but he stopped himself. He has his orders, Carlson thought.
He moved the display across the front, trying to get a read on the status of the battalion. He had units intermixed all along the front. His people really needed a pause to rally, but they weren’t going to get that. He called up his AI and started dictating organizational reassignments, creating ad hoc units out of wrecked and scattered formations. He could only do so much on the fly, but anything helped.
Carlson had resisted a promotion to commissioned rank for his last three years in the Corps, preferring to remain closer to his Marines. When he and Cooper Brown rejoined the colors, he felt such preferences would be selfish and misplaced during the current crisis. If the Corps needed him as an officer then that was how he’d serve. But he missed the simplicity of a sergeant’s billing. He was getting a taste of the types of decisions Brown and Cain had to make, and he didn’t like it. In his heart, he was one of the boys, and he felt aloof directing an entire battalion. He couldn’t imagine issuing the kinds of orders Erik Cain did. He wasn’t sure he had it in him, even if the only alternative was defeat.
He checked his display. Randall’s teams were firing, covering a 500 meter section of the front line. Their targets were in cover, so they weren’t inflicting a lot of casualties, but they were keeping the enemy pinned, and that’s what Carlson wanted. He’d managed to assemble an ersatz company, put together from every squad or platoon he could scrape up. His orders were to attack. He didn’t agree with them, but he was damned sure going to obey them.
He dashed around the hill, staying on the backside of the slope, working his way around toward the front line. By the time he emerged in the rear of his assembling attack force, the enemy fire had diminished considerably. Randall’s people were earning their pay.
“Lieutenant Banks, report.” Banks was another longtime non-com turned into an officer to fill the depleted ranks after Sandoval. Carlson hadn’t had much time to get to know her, but he was impressed with what little he’d seen.
“Sir…the reorganized units are in place, and the revised OB has been downloaded into the AIs.” Her voice was shrill, high-pitched, almost like a little girl’s…not at all what one expected from a ten year veteran of the Corps, a woman who’d fought in multiple campaigns and been wounded twice. Whatever she sounded like, Nora Banks was a hardcore Marine, Carlson was sure of that. “Everything is ready.”
“Very good, lieutenant.” They were talking on the com, but Carlson was only 50 meters or so behind her position. “I’m almost there. You head out and take command on the left. I’ll take over here.”
There was a brief silence. Carlson knew what was coming, and he spoke up first. “Don’t waste your time arguing, lieutenant. I’m leading the assault personally.”
“Yes, sir.” There was resignation in her voice, but it was obvious she disagreed. He wasn’t sure she was wrong either. The battalion was already running low on officers, and this attack wasn’t likely to improve that situation. A junior lieutenant was going to have a hard time holding things together if Carlson bought it. But he’d already decided. He was going.
He could see Banks turn and head to the left as he came up the hillside. It would take her a few minutes to get in position. “Lieutenant…we attack in ten minutes.”
“Commander Farooq, we are pinned down in the stream bed.” Aashif Selim knelt behind the cracked mud wall of the dry river bank. He was Corbaci, commander of one of Farooq’s Orta’s. He’d led 800 veteran Janissaries down to the surface of Sigma 4 II, but a mere 180 of them remained now, spread out over a kilometer of front, mostly along the twisting path of this seasonal stream.
The area all around the bed was under heavy fire. Selim wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it was obvious the shattered enemy forces his Orta had been pursuing had been reinforced.
“Have you encountered new enemy units?” Farooq’s question was sharp, urgent.
“Unknown, commander.” Selim knew the answer would be unsatisfactory, but it was the only one he had. Before Farooq could respond, he added, “The enemy is dug in behind a series of rocky hills. I have been unable to get a scanner fix. I’ve…”
“Unsatisfactory, Corbaci. We must know what you are facing.”
Selim took a deep breath. Farooq was one of the most respected off
icers in the Janissary Corps, and Selim knew he did not suffer fools…or tolerate failure. “I attempted to launch drones, however they were shot down almost immediately. I sent out three scouting parties, but they were wiped out before they could report. We are under extremely heavy fire…if I move my forces from this position, it is my belief they will be exterminated within minutes.” He paused then added, “With no offsetting gain.”
Farooq opened his mouth then closed it again. Selim was a good officer, and brave. If he was able to more effectively scout the enemy position, Farooq knew he would. “Speculate, Corbaci Selim. What types of ordnance are you facing?”
“Mostly heavy hyper-velocity rounds, sir.” He hesitated for a few seconds. “It feels like Reaper fire, commander. Though I am unable to confirm the existence of any enemy heavy units.”
Reapers, Farooq thought…perhaps the enemy is finally committing their reserves. Just as Erik Cain expected. “I need confirmation, Selim. However you get it, I need to know if those are Reapers firing at you.”
“Yes, sir. I will send out another scouting party.” Selim’s voice was grim. He knew he’d be sending those men to certain death. But it was the only way to try and confirm what he was facing. “I will report…”
“Attention all forward units.” It was Cooper Brown on the main com line. “We are under attack by enemy Reapers, coordinates 202 by 086. Enemy force in unknown strength.”
“Prepare to receive a Reaper assault, Selim!” Farooq’s warning was too late. Selim’s display was ablaze with red symbols. Enemy Reapers advancing on his position.
“Reports coming in from across the line, general.” Merrick was standing right next to Cain, but they were both buttoned up in their armor, so they were speaking through the com. “Reapers attacking in force.” He turned to face Cain, though it was an unnecessary gesture in armor. “It looks like they’ve committed their reserve. And you were right…they had a force of Reapers. It looks like a big one too.”
Cain was silent for a few seconds, staring at the tactical display on the large HQ ‘pad. “Hector, get me Colonel Sawyer.”
“You are now connected to Colonel Sawyer, general.”
“Dave, are your people ready to go?” Cain’s tone was sharp, anxious. He’d been waiting for this.
“Yes, sir.” Sawyer had been a career sergeant and a member of Cain’s special action teams on Carson’s World. He’d spent the Battle of Sandoval as Erik’s senior aide, and now Cain had entrusted a special assignment to him, along with an elite team to carry it out. “We’re locked and loaded. Just waiting for your word.”
“Well, you’ve got it, Dave.” There was a touch of emotion in Cain’s otherwise cold voice. He was fond of Sawyer, and he’d hate to see anything happen to the grizzled old leatherneck…though that wasn’t going to stop him from sending his old aide into the inferno. “Good luck, my friend. I’m really counting on you.” Cain always hated himself for adding self-serving remarks like that. But that didn’t stop him from doing it…because they worked.
“You can count on me, sir.” Cain could hear it in Sawyer’s voice. It even worked on the old veterans. Sometimes it worked better on them.
“Hector, get me McDaniels.” It was time for the Obliterators.
“General McDaniels is on the line, sir.” Hector’s tone was matter-of-fact and respectful. Cain had hated his AI’s surliness and sarcasm for years, but now he wasn’t sure he didn’t miss it. At least a little.
“Erin…it’s time.” Cain spoke slowly, deliberately. “Are your people ready?”
“Yes, sir.” McDaniels sounded confident, steady. She’d been a little shaky when Holm and Cain handed her a box with two small platinum stars in it, but she’d had time to adjust since then. She’d been training her people nonstop on Sandoval…getting the new recruits up to speed in the heavy Obliterator suits and working her veterans to a razor’s edge. “We’re ready.”
Cain took a breath. He was about to take a risk, a big one…one that could cost him his entire army. But he knew what he had to do. “Execute Plan Black, General McDaniels.” His voice was ice. “Immediately.”
Chapter 22
Bridge – AS Indianapolis
System X2
Midway Between X3 and X4 Warp Gates
“Admiral, energy spike at X3 warp gate.” Carp’s voice was brittle, tense. Nothing would be coming back through that gate for another 12 hours…unless there was trouble. And trouble could only mean only one thing. First Imperium forces approaching.
Jacobs had sent task forces through both the X3 and X4 warp gates to scout those systems. Admiral Compton was moving the entire fleet into X2, and Jacobs wanted to know just what was in the adjacent systems before that much Pact strength was committed.
He was in the small office located just off the bridge, sitting back in his chair, eyes closed, grabbing a few minutes’ rest. But he snapped awake when he got Carp’s message, and he jumped up and bounded through the small hatch and onto the bridge. “Report, commander.”
“No details yet, sir…wait…” Carp turned back toward his workstation, scanning the data streaming in. “It’s a drone, sir. It’s broadcasting Priority Level Gold.” Gold was the highest importance assigned to Alliance military communications. It indicated a full-fledged emergency. “Decoding the message now, sir.”
Jacobs walked across the bridge and sat in the command chair, waiting silently for Carp to relay the drone’s contents. But he knew what the message would be…what else could it say? An off-schedule Gold message had to mean an enemy attack was imminent. “Retransmit to Admiral Compton immediately, Lieutenant Hooper.”
“Yes, sir.” She moved her hands quickly over her touchscreens. “Drone’s message retransmitted to Midway, sir.” She paused, then added, “The flagship is 1.75 light hours from our position, admiral.” Jacobs hadn’t asked, but it was part of Hooper’s idea of doing the job completely. It was certainly relevant. Jacobs couldn’t expect any orders or guidance from Admiral Compton for almost 4 hours. Until then he was on his own.
“I have the decoded message, admiral.” Carp was reading directly from his display. “From Captain Mondragon to any Pact command staff.” He spoke clearly and deliberately. “I am reporting enemy forces approaching from deeper in the X3 system. As we have not yet been able to map the deep system or discover any egress warp gates, I cannot specify the point of origin. It is clearly an as yet unknown warp gate.”
Jacobs sat silently, anxious for details on enemy strengths. You’re not going to get that, he thought, not now…Mondragon would have sent this drone as soon as he picked up enemy activity. He wouldn’t have had detailed data yet…the information Jacobs really wanted – needed – might not arrive for hours.
“Enemy task force is too far out for detailed analysis, however preliminary scans indicate a substantial concentration…significantly larger than any force yet encountered on this campaign.” Carp paused, clearing his throat. “I have dispatched a line of 10 vessels to approach the enemy formation and conduct detailed scans.”
Jacobs looked down at the floor and sighed. Mondragon did the right thing, what he had to do. But Jacobs knew they’d be lucky if any of those ships made it back. It wasn’t a death sentence for those ten crews, not exactly, but it was something close.
“Enemy force is approaching at 0.06c, on a projected trajectory for the X2 warp gate.” Carp hesitated again. There had been no reason not to assume the enemy was coming toward them, but now they had confirmation. “I will send any further information as soon as it is available. Mondragon out.”
“Lieutenant Hooper, send a drone into X4. I want a report from Captain Cleret now.” With two egress warp gates in X2, Mondragon had been forced to send Cleret through one of them. He was completely comfortable with Mondragon acting independently, but he didn’t trust Cleret as far as he could kick the insufferable Europan boor. But he only had the resources he had. With the concentration of Europan ships in his fleet, Jacobs couldn’t just relie
ve Cleret without risking significant dissension. Repeatedly picking Mondragon over Cleret had caused enough trouble, but with two simultaneous missions, he was backed into a corner.
“Yes, admiral.” Hooper turned her attention to her controls, programming the drone and setting it for launch. “Drone ready, sir. Beginning launch sequence now.”
The drone was a precaution. Jacobs didn’t trust Cleret, but the fool would certainly send back word if he ran into an enemy force. Still, he thought, no harm in being careful.
He was definitely worried about Mondragon and his people, though. With an enemy force moving at 6% of lightspeed, he wasn’t sure if any of the scouts would be able to escape back into X2. Jacobs didn’t know the current velocities of Mondragon’s ships, but he assumed they were all heading insystem, which only made their escape more problematic. And he knew Mondragon wasn’t going to turn and run until he had all the intel he needed on the enemy force.
“Commander Carp, bring the fleet to status yellow.” A sustained alert would wear down the crews, but Jacobs decided it was more important to maintain increased readiness. His people were close to the warp gate, and he had sketchy data on what was coming.
“Yes, sir.”
Jacobs looked down at his display and reviewed Compton’s updated strength report. The admiral had 5 full battlegroups in X2 now, moving insystem to take position to defend the captured enemy vessel. He knew there was a lot more strength on the way, some of it scheduled to arrive soon, but he didn’t have the data to even guess whether the rest of Compton’s people or the enemy would arrive first.