“Or replenish the ammunition we used,” Ed said. “How bad is it?”
“We shot ourselves dry in a number of places,” Mathis said. “Sir, we were damn lucky it ended when it did. A few more hours and we might have been in some trouble. There was hand-to-hand fighting in some of the blockhouses too.”
Ed rubbed his forehead. “And they’ll know we’re short on supplies too.”
“They can interdict anything sent in by sea or land,” Mathis agreed. “Our local industrial plant isn't capable of matching our demands.”
“Yeah,” Ed agreed. Freedom City was on a river, near the sea, but the enemy had sunk two freighters as they drew the noose tight around the city. Shipping in supplies would be impossible. “Let’s just hope that they don’t have the manpower to launch a second offensive on such a scale.”
He sighed. “We still don’t know how many enemy soldiers there are,” he added. “Perhaps we’ll learn something from the prisoners.”
“Perhaps, sir,” Mathis said. “But I would be surprised if they knew anything of importance.”
Ed tended to agree. Soldiers were rarely told anything more than they needed to know - or, rather, what their superiors believed they needed to know. He remembered a pompous army general explaining that soldiers couldn't tell the enemy what they didn't know, but Ed had had enough experience of the Imperial Army to suspect that the truth was a little different - and far darker. Knowledge was power, after all, but only if it remained restricted to a handful of people. Sharing the knowledge weakened its value.
The Corps never embraced that attitude, he reminded himself. And we were far stronger because of it.
“I’ll show myself out,” he said. “Once the first set of repair works are completed, report to the bunker. We’ll need to discuss changes in our tactics.”
“Yes, sir,” Mathis agreed. “One more battle like that and we are finished.”
He was right, Ed knew. The casualties were bad enough, but running out of ammunition was far worse. There was no way they could replenish their supplies in time to withstand another offensive on such a scale. In hindsight, his calculations of just how rapidly they’d expend their supplies had been grossly optimistic. And to think he’d thought he was being pessimistic!
They’ll have taken a bloody nose too, he thought. But can they endure the losses long enough to force a victory?
His expression darkened as he climbed back to the surface, one hand dropping to his pistol as he heard the rattle of gunfire in the distance. It sounded as though it was coming from enemy lines, well away from the defences. Enemy soldiers shooting animals to supplement their rations ... or hunting insurgents? Jasmine had to have embarrassed them badly, when she’d sneaked into their gunnery position and blown the guns up in a single massive explosion. Ed recalled just how officers had exploded, when their precautions had been proved inadequate and his marines had sneaked into their bases. Now, with more at stake than embarrassment, he doubted the enemy officers would be lax in their hunt for scapegoats ...
It all rests on Admiral Singh, he thought. Which way will she jump?
He wished, suddenly, that he’d actually met the woman. It might have given him a better feel for her personality. She’d taken hideous losses, losses she would need a victory to justify ... but was she too proud to back away, if she believed she was losing? Or would she coolly calculate that the defenders had to be short on ammunition and launch a second assault, once she’d rallied her forces and resupplied them. It might take months to draw supplies from Wolfbane, but she had the time.
And she can keep sniping at us all the time, he reminded himself. She may have lost the battle, but she hasn't lost the war.
***
Mindy had long since lost the feeling of embarrassment - or vulnerability - that came with being naked in front of a bunch of men, even though it would have been the prelude to gang-rape on Earth. It helped that the doctor was thoroughly professional, inspecting her shoulder with a handheld sensor and then testing her blood before nodding to himself and motioning to her small pile of clothes. Mindy turned and donned them quickly, wishing there was some way to get a shower. She’d sponged herself down after recovering from the last bout of drugs, but she was ruefully aware of her own stench. It was a minor miracle that someone had managed to get her a clean uniform. The only thing missing was her service pistol.
“You should be fine, but watch that shoulder,” the doctor said, curtly. He looked tired, too tired to care about her. “I’d recommend light duty for the next few days, but under the circumstances its probably unlikely.”
“I know,” Mindy said. She hadn't seen any of her fellow stormtroopers since she’d been dragged out of the blockhouse, but she’d chatted to a few of the other wounded and they’d all agreed the news wasn't good. They might have held the line, yet they’d paid a heavy price to do it. She couldn't afford to be lying around when her comrades needed her. “What happened to my pistol?”
“It’ll be in the lockers,” the doctor said. “We don’t like leaving patients with their weapons, not here.”
Mindy nodded, ruefully. The drugs she’d shot into her bloodstream to keep her going had produced any number of odd side-effects, particularly when combined with medical painkillers. She’d had all sorts of hallucinations before she’d finally crashed down into darkness, seeing visions of monsters and creepy shadows crawling over her bed. If she'd had her pistol with her, she might have started firing at random. In truth, she wasn't quite sure what had happened between her injury and her recovery.
She cleared her throat. “Do you know where I should report to?”
“There’s a Command Post up top,” the doctor said. He yawned, suddenly. It struck her that he must have had less sleep than herself. “They’ll tell you where to go.”
“Bloody MPs,” she said. She tested her legs as she took a step forward, then sighed in relief as it became clear she could walk normally. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Try not to get wounded again,” the doctor said, sternly. “We ran out of medical packages shortly after you were treated.”
Mindy swallowed as she walked to the door and left the room, the doctor already moving to the next patient. Outside, the corridor was heaving with wounded men, lining the walls as they waited for treatment. Mindy felt a flash of guilt as she saw men without arms or legs, knowing it would be months before replacements could be grown. They’d be crippled until then, she realised ... and if their bodies rejected the replacements, they’d be crippled for life.
She shuddered as she stopped at the lockers and recovered her pistol, then hurried up the stairs to the command post. A handful of MPs stood there, working terminals and barking orders to a line of soldiers. Mindy joined the rear of the line and waited impatiently until the MPs finally got around to dealing with her. They checked her file, then looked up at her in some surprise.
“You’ve been nominated for the Purple Heart, the Knife Edge and the Medal of Honour,” the MP said. “I’m not sure when the ceremony will be held, but they have already been added to your record.”
Mindy winced. The Purple Heart was given to soldiers who were wounded on duty, the Knife Edge was awarded to soldiers who killed an enemy soldier in hand-to-hand combat ... she would have cheerfully forsaken both of them, if she could. She wondered, absently, just who had nominated her for the Medal of Honour. She didn’t think she’d done something particularly worthy of it.
“Thank you,” she said. It wasn't important, not at the moment. She was sure that an award ceremony would catch up with her, sooner or later. “Where should I go?”
“Your unit is currently reconstituting itself at” - the MP skimmed the file for a long moment - “at Unit #4673,” he said. “You don’t have any specific orders, so I suggest you go there and report to your superiors. They’ll know where to send you.”
Mindy nodded in some relief. She’d feared being reassigned to CROW duty, to filling a hole in another unit. Instead, it looked as t
hough her unit had survived largely intact. She took a printout of her medical record - she’d need to show it when she reached her destination - and then left the CP. Behind her, the MPs were already talking to the next soldier in line. She glanced at a map to orientate herself, then walked out of the building. The air drifting over the city tasted of fire and smoke and human flesh, burning to death. It took her a moment to realise that the skyline was different. A number of skyscrapers had simply vanished.
But at least we held, she reassured herself. We held the line. The enemy didn't manage to break into the city.
Steeling herself, she walked on.
Chapter Thirty
The second type would stop to loot and rape, thus ensuring that his men didn't get to the battlefield in time. A competent enemy would have time to crush the other regiments before the final regiment arrived, allowing him to defeat them all in detail. And, as a bonus, the second type would make themselves so unpopular that the locals could be relied upon for support.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Role of Randomness In War.
“Admiral,” Colonel Higgs said. “General Haverford is here.”
Rani scowled to herself as she turned to face her advisor and bodyguard. Higgs had been with her since she’d taken control of the Trafalgar Naval Base, months before she'd moved her forces to Corinthian and turned the system into her base of operations. She trusted him as much as she trusted anyone, if only because he’d remained loyal when she’d been forced to flee into interstellar space when she’d lost control of the planet below. And yet, he didn’t - he couldn’t - give her valid advice. She didn't know anyone who could.
Save perhaps for Haverford, she thought. And he has his own interests at stake.
She met his eyes. “Show him in,” she ordered. “And then leave us.”
Higgs raised his eyebrows, but merely nodded and headed off to do as he was bid. Rani watched him go, grinding her teeth in frustration. She’d never found it easy to cope with people impeding her path to power, yet she’d always been able to manoeuvre around them and eventually take her revenge. Admiral Bainbridge had certainly learned the hard way not to leave her behind him, after he’d screwed her career for refusing to screw him! But Bainbridge had been a buffoon. The enemy below was far more dangerous.
She wanted power, she knew; power was all she had ever wanted. Power to protect herself, power to offer patronage on her own terms ... she didn't want sex or wealth or anything but power. She would have been happy to work with Admiral Bainbridge, yet he’d never seen her as anything more than an attractive piece of meat. Her new enemies - her subordinates who would only remain loyal as long as she remained strong - wouldn't make that particular mistake. They wouldn't exile her to an isolated world; they’d kill her, just to make sure there was no possibility of a comeback.
The hatch hissed open, revealing General Haverford. He looked tired and mussed, for a man who had been safe in the FOB while his men went into battle. Rani couldn't help thinking nasty thoughts about REMFs - she’d been on the bridge of her flagship during several small battles - then dismissed the thought. Haverford wasn't political, as far as her spies could tell, but he did have a vast number of friends amongst the military. Turning him into a scapegoat might well work against her.
“General,” she said, stiffly. “What happened?”
Haverford met her eyes, evenly. “The offensive failed,” he said. His voice was very calm, but she was experienced enough to sense the consternation bubbling under his expressionless demeanour. “We threw everything we could muster at the enemy defence lines and failed to break through into the city.”
“They were ready for us,” Rani said. In hindsight ... had the Commonwealth anticipated an attack on Corinthian? Had she been lured into a trap? The timing was suspicious. There was no way so many defences could be put together in less than a month, even with advanced technology. “Do you believe your forces gave it their all?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Haverford said, flatly. “We could hand out hundreds of medals, easily. But most of them would be posthumous.”
Rani scowled. She had no qualms about losing men and material in the service of a higher cause - unlike many of her officers, she understood that starships were meant to be risked in combat - but losses on such a scale were staggering. They would be covered up, of course, yet she knew all too well that the cover up would start to leak almost at once. Anyone who was anyone on Wolfbane had spies in the military, men and women who would hear fragments of the truth and pass them on to their masters. And they might well conclude that losses had been far higher than reality. The entire force might have been wiped out.
And telling them the truth won’t make it easier, she thought, darkly. They’ll just say I got thousands of men killed for nothing.
Her scowl deepened. No one had taken such losses for centuries, unless some of the more hysterical stories from the Core Worlds were actually true. If Earth’s entire population was gone ... her losses wouldn’t even be a drop in the bucket. But no one could really grasp the sheer enormity of over eighty billion deaths. It was immense, utterly beyond comprehension; a meaningless statistic to men and women who had never visited Earth, nor seen it as anything other than a distant uncaring master. But twenty thousand deaths on Corinthian, men who had largely been recruited from Wolfbane, was anything but a statistic.
And I have nothing to show for it, she reminded herself. They’ll use that against me too.
“Very well,” she said, dismissively. “What is the current situation?”
“We have the city enveloped,” Haverford said. His face twisted, too quickly for her to get a grasp on his thoughts. “They cannot get in or out of the city. Our gunners are hastily preparing to bombard their fortifications while half of our infantry are sweeping the area dominated by the shield for insurgents. Given time, we will starve them into surrender - or death.”
Rani scowled. “We don’t have time,” she said. Besides, she rather doubted it was possible to starve the enemy out. Man might not enjoy living on algae-bars alone, but man could. “We need to have the matter concluded within two to three months.”
Haverford leaned forward, meeting her eyes. “Then we need to rethink our approach,” he said. “Our previous tactics proved disastrous.”
“We didn't anticipate the shield,” Rani said. She thought fast. Allowing Haverford his head might lead to victory, but it would be hard to steal even part of the credit. She didn't dare risk a challenger from among the military. And yet, she was short on options. “What do you have in mind?”
“We have gathered a great deal of data on the enemy fortifications,” Haverford said, producing a datachip from his pocket. Rani took the chip and slotted it into her console, displaying a chart of the enemy positions. “They put together a massive network of bunkers and blockhouses, mainly woven from enhanced concrete and layers of hullmetal, then tied them together through a series of underground tunnels. It is a quite complex system, given the limited time they had to work, but it has a number of weaknesses. One of them - the tunnels - was revealed during the fighting.”
“Our shellfire collapsed them,” Rani said. She nodded, impatiently. “And the point?”
“We relied on basic weapons,” Haverford said. “It made sense, given the time limits confounding us, but it ensured that most of the bombardment was wasted effort. I propose, instead, to use the MEUs to construct weapons specifically designed to smash through layers of protection and detonate inside the bunkers.”
Rani’s eyes narrowed. “And no one thought of this earlier?”
“No one ever had to fight on such a scale without KEWs,” Haverford reminded her. “If we could drop KEWs on the defence line, Admiral, we’d smash it to rubble within a few hours.”
He shook his head. “It will take at least a month or two to manufacture the weapons in sufficient numbers,” he added. “I doubt we have any in stock on Wolfbane - I know we didn't have any on Thule. During that time, we build up our forc
es to take advantage of the second bombardment and harry the enemy positions with a bombardment of our own. We may even hit the shield generator, ending the campaign overnight. And then we take the city and put an end to the resistance, once and for all.”
Rani nodded, thoughtfully. There was nowhere else on Corinthian capable of putting up a fight, as far as she could tell. Indeed, it looked very much as though the rebels who’d taken power had drawn all their forces into the city ... a smart short-term move, given the existence of the shield, but a long-term disaster. Either the generator failed, allowing her to crush them from orbit, or her forces punched through the defences and wiped them out. The rebels might have been smarter to disperse their forces and settle in for a long insurgency.
She contemplated the plan for a long moment. It would take time, perhaps too much time, and require her to summon additional reinforcements. There was no way it would pass unnoticed on Wolfbane, although she could soften the blow by summoning recruits and conscripts from first-stage colonies that were otherwise useless. But they wouldn't be trained to the right standards ...
They Shall Not Pass (The Empire's Corps Book 12) Page 30