Steel Storm (Steel Legion Book 2)

by Casey Calouette

  The guards had laid in on him twice after Duke Kornilov arrested him. He was ready to talk, to tell them everything after the first beating. But they wouldn't stop. Duke Kornilov was busy, they said. Don't worry, they laughed, we'll be sure to keep you alive.

  Escape was his only thought. Get out to somewhere. The air was thick with dust, and he knew if he stayed, he'd die.

  Maki grasped the edge of the door and pulled himself toward it. The effort of moving his massive body took all of his energy. He wheezed and coughed. He peeked around the edge and saw a body lying on the floor.

  The man was obviously dead; one side of his chest was crushed beneath a concrete pillar.

  Maki crawled out and slid down to the man. Every movement highlighted the bruising and soreness.

  He pulled out a headlamp from the dead mans jacket and cinched it on. Then he drew the man's pistol and checked the charge. Satisfied, he tucked it into his waist. His fat fingers rummaged through the rest of the pockets and pulled out a pack of microgrenades. These he saved in case he needed to blow open a door.

  When he clicked on the headlamp, the devastation became clear. He'd seen the video recording from Lishun Delta. This, he knew, was an orbital bombardment. He sighed. Of everything they'd prepared for, they couldn't defend against this. The Sigg ambassador had chided them about the lack of an orbital defense platform. Too expensive, not enough benefit.

  "We're damned fools," he said.

  Maki couldn't walk on the floor as it was. His body just couldn't handle the odd angle. Instead he half crawled, half scrambled, and slowly worked his way down the hall.

  At the first junction, he turned and stopped. More bodies were scattered in rooms. A touch of smoke twisted in the air. He studied it and decided that was good; it meant air was flowing somewhere. It seemed to be coming from his left, so he set off that way.

  At the next intersection, he could only go right. The left was gone—a mass of earth and stone blocked it off. A bit farther along, he came upon a man who scrambled past without saying anything. Maki didn't call out; he could see the fear in the man.

  The greatest difficulty was simply to keep moving. Maki was large—obese—and the sheer effort to crawl this far had sapped him. Sweat poured down, and his spine ached. Pain lanced through his legs, as it always did on his bad days, but now he couldn't escape it. Instead he gritted his teeth, let the tears flow, and kept crawling.

  Half an hour later, he came to a hallway that was skewed and torn. Wiring hung from the walls. Some doors were on the floor, others on the ceiling. He crawled out onto what had been the ceiling and stared down through the broken doors.

  In one he saw a mass of bodies and control panels. He recognized, far in the back, his old office. He was headed through the main command area. It was the first time he'd had any bearing to where he was.

  Men shouted from somewhere in the distance. The sound of hammers and picks lanced through the air.

  "Almost," Maki said. A few more doors, a corner, and then he'd be near the emergency stairwells. The thought of stairs chilled him (if they were even still there).

  He halted at the last door. It was one of the only unmarked doors on the entire route. It hadn't needed a marking of any sort; sentries always stood guard. Inside was the private office of Duke Kornilov.

  Maki stared at it for a long second. The memories of the beatings came back. He'd expected the coup to never happen. They'd hold the Kadan, secure the planet eventually, and Kell would convince Kornilov to swear fealty. But no, the stubborn bastard insisted on holding out.

  He wondered who had betrayed him, but found that he alone was to blame. His own sloppiness in the matter, trying to recruit officers to the coup. Such was the risk. But his goal had been to avoid bloodshed.

  The doorframe was cocked, the bottom of the steel door wedged tight and crumpled. Maki pressed on the top with his hand. It didn't budge. He slid to the side and slammed his heel down. The door popped open a sliver.

  Then a voice called out. "Help me! Oh God...is anyone there? Please!"

  Maki stared into the darkness. He clicked off his headlamp and listened. Beneath him, trapped in the room, Duke Kornilov pleaded into the shadows.

  He carefully pulled out the pack of grenades and separated a single charge. The pin came out easily, and he held it in his hand. It felt small, insignificant, like it shouldn't be as deadly as it was.

  Then he dropped it through the gap.

  "Duke Kell sends his regards."

  Kornilov screamed, and then the grenade exploded.

  Maki listened for a moment longer and then clicked on the headlamp. Now it was time to find the stairs and get outside. There was a war to fight. How to win, though...that he didn't know.

  #

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Planet Squire, Kalivostok System

  Squire-Kali Defense Facility

  Colonel Clarke walked down the twin row of armor and took stock of his unit. The tanks were lined up so that one was almost touching the next. Some wore scars in the armor, other bore shrapnel. A unit named Catastrophe was so scorched and burned that he double-checked to see if it was still operational.

  Soldiers saluted as he walked past. They smoked outside their tanks with hollow eyes. Sleep was something that eluded them; they just hadn't had a chance. One man peeled a bloodstained bandage off and tossed it away.

  "Gonna get my pardon, Colonel?" Hutchins yelled.

  Colonel Clarke grinned and walked over to the tank. Bulldog was so scratched that the name was barely visible. "Got a full loadout?"

  "Yes, sir," Puck said. He leaned up against the tank and nodded.

  "We really gonna knock them towers down, sir?" Hutchins said.

  "That's the goal."

  More soldiers walked up from other tanks.

  "The Sixth is going to fall back and make a hole. With any luck, the enemy armor is going to try and exploit that."

  "So we can get out, sir?" Puck said.

  "That's right. We've gotta save the fight for once we get to the pillars."

  Someone yelled down the line. A second later, Commander Arap came hobbling down the line. "Button up, you assholes! Get in line! These fuckers ain't gonna drive themselves!"

  Arap halted before Colonel Clarke and saluted. "A damned fine day, Colonel!"

  Colonel Clarke peered into the sky. The clouds were angry, and they looked even worse with the sun boring through. Something was different about them, but he just figured it was another storm. "Absolutely, Commander. Just telling these fine gentlemen about the plan."

  Arap grinned and bared white teeth. "These crooked bastards ask you for a pardon?"

  Colonel Clarke slapped Hutchins on the arm. "Soon enough. Soon enough."

  The soldiers climbed through hatches and sealed up their tanks. Commander Arap continued down the line.

  As they sealed the armor up, Clarke stood alone and watched. He felt lucky to have a group like he did. Some had performed admirably. Others found the temptation to loot and plunder too much. He frowned as he thought about it. By the time the security squad arrived, the second assailant had already been executed.

  Comms clicked in his ear. It was Sergeant Chibisov. "Colonel Carco is about to pull back."

  "Are we ready, Chibi?"

  "Lock and loaded."

  "Let's do this."

  Explosions flared on the horizon. Artillery detonated in a rapid burst a few kilometers away. Wreckage tumbled into the air with geysers of dust just behind. The 19th ACR was tucked in tight between two industrial buildings, waiting.

  The 6th pulled back on one edge and fell into prepared defensive emplacements.

  Colonel Clarke listened and waited for Carco to give the call. He remembered what Maki said: you might not like him, but you can trust him.

  "Sixth is engaged. Emflife armor is moving in. You're a go," Colonel Carco said over the comms.

  Colonel Clarke took a deep breath. This was it. "Move out!"

  As th
e dust drifted off the buildings, the armor pulled out. Bravo led the line, with Delta just behind. The moment they broke clear of the buildings, they spread into a wedge. Behind them Alpha, Charlie, and the remnants of Fox came in line. It was an arrowhead with a shaft of steel.

  Apex, the command tank, drove in the center just behind the wedge. Colonel Clarke watched the screen pass by and held on. The seat was still uncomfortable, but he ignored it. All he listened for was contact. If they couldn't break out, it was all for nothing.

  Explosions raged on the far side of the complex. The Kadan charged into the false pocket. Emflife armor pushed in at the same moment. The massive tanks didn't have nearly the same invincibility in the tight quarters of the industrial district. The Sixth discovered that they could drop explosive charges from above. After that, the Emflife tanks followed behind the Kadan.

  The comms system was strangely quiet. Quick bits of navigational data came through, followed by acknowledgments of position. The lead units were just moving clear of the last buildings.

  Cannon fire crackled through the air. "Contact!"

  More fire opened up. The wedge plowed through dust-choked streets and engaged as they rolled. Kadan antiarmor positions burned in the waning light. An autocannon opened fire somewhere in the distance.

  The wedge pushed deeper. They engaged as they rolled, and as one unit halted to fire, another one raced to the next piece of cover. The defending Kadan never had an opportunity to bring their fire to bear. By the time they had one unit pinned, three more had already rolled past.

  "Losses?" Clarke asked.

  "Negative," Major Bresov replied.

  Clarke listened on the comms system but said nothing. This was the moment for the line commanders. He'd set the stage; the rest was up to them.

  "Shot that one in the ass!" a voice called. "Emflife armor, moving west!"

  "Cannon left, catch 'em in the open," Captain Janke called.

  The lead elements of the 19th were already through the warehouses and into the low hills beyond. Those still in the open didn't stop but just slowed and started punching rounds into the distance.

  "Keep moving!" Clarke yelled. He knew it was hard to abandon targets, but damn it, he didn't want a brawl right now. They had a different objective. "Disengage targets, full speed, shoot as you move!"

  Someone grumbled on the comms about missing easy kills.

  Colonel Clarke slapped on his headset and looked to the west. A few tanks burned in the distance. Did they realize the Vasilov were moving out?

  He had his answer a second later. A tank named Devious Doll crawled to a stop. Black smoke poured out of a small hole in the side of the armor. There, across the gap, the Emflife armor had turned.

  Muzzle flares across the gap. More of the Emflife was coming into position. He watched, helpless, as more rounds ranged between the two sides.

  The Vasilov armor sped up. Rounds ricocheted off armor plates, struck the dirt, and disappeared into armor, and finally the engagement was off. The last of the Vasilov climbed over the ridge and were on the back side.

  "Janke, weapons rear. I need to know if we're being followed," Clarke called.

  "Affirmative."

  The comms crackled and whistled. A voice broke in and out. It was Colonel Carco, though he was barely audible through the jamming. "Good luck."

  Colonel Clarke frowned. In the darkness he could see shapes growing from the dust that disappeared just as quickly. A storm was brewing, and the winds whipped up from every different direction. His eyes ached as he stared into the distance. At each little rise, he focused behind him. They'd never discovered the top speed of the Emflife armor; he just hoped it was slower than his.

  They rolled through virgin territory, hoping to avoid any Kadan defenses. The area was a jumble of carved ravines and collapsed slopes. They chose it because it seemed unlikely that the heavier Emflife tanks could traverse it.

  The lead units struggled on the broken ground. Sometimes they made it through the gaps, other times they had to halt, turn around, and search for a new way through. Had it not been for the circumstances it would have been a beautiful spot, as the gorges were layered with multicolored rocks.

  The clouds broke for a moment, and far in the distance the pillars came into view. Another capsule started to rise.

  Clarke tapped Bresov. He pointed to his screen. She watched until the drop capsule disappeared into the clouds.

  Finally they cleared the area and descended upon a flat plain. Roiling dust clouds grew from the far edge and tumbled like waves. The armor picked up speed and spread out, with trails of dust rising up behind them.

  Colonel Clarke watched it all and genuinely felt like they were cavalry. It was like he always pictured: an armored charge across a wide plain. Except in his dreams they always won; he wasn't so sure about this. The plan, his officers knew, was to destroy the pillars. What everyone else didn't know was that the return plan was shaky.

  "Movement at our rear," Captain Janke called.

  A single Emflife tank crawled onto a ledge. Then it opened fire. Rounds slammed into the column and careened into the air. The Vasilov returned fire, but the Emflife unit had a perfect position.

  A trailer towed by one of the recovery tanks exploded. A massive blast rocketed into the sky. Ammunition cooked off in a white mass of flame. The rear of the recovery vehicle smoked and hissed. When the flames subsided, the tank was dragging just a bare axle.

  "Artillery, traverse low, fast arc!" Janke called out. "Hit the ledge!"

  One of the artillery tanks slowed and abruptly stopped. The tank rocked back and forth, and then it fired a three-round barrage.

  The first struck at the bottom of the ledge and did nothing. The second flew over and exploded out of view. The last round, though, buried itself into the soil of the ledge. Nothing happened at first, and then the slope collapsed. The Emflife tank half rolled and half fell, until it came to rest on its side amid an avalanche of dirt.

  Colonel Clarke exhaled. He hated that feeling of waiting for the fire to land. Watching each muzzle flash was difficult. He wondered if he'd ever see the one that got him. "Good work, Janke," he called. Now he wondered what would be waiting for them at the pillars.

  The dust came closer. One by one the lead tanks disappeared until finally Apex was enveloped in a massive cloud.

  "That was our ammo," Major Bresov said. She glared down at her console with a frown on her face.

  "Well, now we don't have to worry about bringing it back."

  She frowned at Colonel Clarke. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

  "I guess not."

  ***

  The comms chatter dropped away as the visibility continued to fall. One tank rammed into another as the drivers struggled to keep the same speed. Without the positioning system active, they had to rely on visual cues. Luckily, neither tank was seriously damaged.

  Colonel Clarke studied the map. His plan was to come in on the opposite side from the research facility. This put them the farthest from where they originally were, but also the farthest from the stargate off Squire. He figured that this was just a loading zone, and they'd keep the troops concentrated where they had to move the least.

  Though if he was wrong, he'd be sending them right into the densest concentration. But all he had was an educated guess that the Kadan would go for efficiency.

  For a moment he thought of his father, who was fond of the phrase, "Never let efficiency get in the way of a good scheme." That was shortly before he lost the family barony in a failed attempt to manipulate the market on copper ore. His father, always one scheme after the next. If only he'd worked honestly as hard as he schemed...politics fit him well.

  He lifted the headset off and rubbed his eyes. It was a strain to keep focusing on the dust. The spectrum helped, but there was little to see. Now they relied on the internal compass and the distance the track rolled. The map showed a circle of probable position. The farther they rolled, the larger the er
ror, the larger the circle.

  If they kept on the current track, they ran a 50 percent chance of one wing running right into the line. He didn't want that. He hoped that with the dust and darkness they could slide by one flank and then tuck in. The Kadan would be expecting them at the front; it was time to hit the side.

  He gave the order and watched the heading shift. Satisfied, he leaned back and waited. Always the waiting.

  Major Bresov leaned over and tapped Colonel Clarke. She pointed to her ears and then his headset.

  He picked it up and wiggled it on so just the earpieces were engaged. Just then he felt his tank slow and frowned.

  "—keep going soon, but I'm telling ya, it's a mine crater."

  "This is Clarke. What do you have?"

  "Uh, minefield, sir."

  #

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Planet Squire, Kalivostok System

  Grid 755.1, -411.1

  "Stay in his tracks!" Mick yelled.

  Tomi steered to the side a bit and struggled to tell exactly where the tank in front of him was.

  "No, back left!" Mick said.

  "I can't see it!" Tomi snapped back.

  "Don't hit a fucking mine!" Kallio yelled from the back.

  Tomi drove and tried to pick out the ruts of the tank in front of him. When the wind shifted just right, he could make out the rear panels. But when it blew wrong, all he saw was a line of faint, very faint, tracks. And that's if he was lucky.

  Somewhere to his left was another tank, or so he hoped. The wedge had turned into two lines. And he had a hunch that it was all fucked up. If he wasn't in the right lane, then everyone behind him was wrong too.

  A drift loomed ahead, and he slammed on the brakes. People yelled from the back. Mick cursed and fell out of his seat. Gear tumbled down.

  Tomi stared, wide-eyed, at a completely exposed antiarmor mine.

  "You dumb son of a bitch!" Mick said.

  "Mine!"

  Just then, the tank that was behind them slammed right into Bulldog. They lurched ahead as the tracks skidded on the dusty ground. A moment later, and they were just a meter away. If the next tank in line slammed into the rest, they'd all be dead.