A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  Green pulled out some more det cord and blew a hole through the wall into the next room. Once again, the squad charged through the opening before the dust had a chance to settle. This room was also empty, although stains on the floor showed it had been used previously. Based on the rust color of the stains, though, Sansar didn’t want to speculate on what that might have been.

  “Blow the door at the end of the hall?” Sergeant Green asked. “Or try to go through the wall of this room into it?”

  “I really don’t want to use that door,” Sansar said. “Blow the wall in this room.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Green replied. “Just to let you know, though, this will pretty much use up all of the det cord I have.”

  “That’s fine,” Sansar said. “I don’t see any more doors after this one.”

  “You got it, ma’am.”

  He followed the now-familiar procedure, and once again Flint led the charge into the next room. On the other side of the wall waited forty-one mercs, bound and gagged, along with enough explosives to level the building and the surrounding couple of blocks, had they gone through the door in the hallway.

  “Glad we didn’t set that off,” Flint said.

  “Indeed,” Sansar replied. She switched to her comm. “Second Squad, get down here and remove the prisoners to the courtyard while we finish checking the basement.”

  “On our way, ma’am,” Staff Sergeant Jacobs replied.

  * * *

  Houston Starport, Houston, Texas

  “Everyone ready down there?” Nigel asked over the comm.

  “We’re ready and standing by,” Major Gage replied.

  “XO?” Nigel asked

  “We’re ready,” Valenti said. “Just give us the word.”

  Nigel panned his camera around. Like the rest of the Mk 9-equipped company, he waited on the roof of the hangar. He’d already received the hand signal that all was in readiness from the troops with him. They were on their hands and knees in the suits so they could hide behind a wall that ran around the roof of the hangar. It was an uncomfortable position, as it forced them to hang in their straps, but it was necessary to stay out of sight.

  “We need to go soon, sir,” Staff Sergeant Hearne said from his lookout position on the south end of the building. “I have movement on the perimeter road. Looks like we’re going to have company soon—I’ve got tanks and APCs inbound.”

  “All Asbaran forces,” Nigel transmitted on the company-wide net. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for since the aliens chased us from our planet. Hell, this is the moment some of us have been waiting for all our lives. The moment when we finally get to stand up for ourselves and give the aliens who would take our planet—our very freedom—from us the payback they deserve.

  “For those of you who are Lumar, this is where you get to pay back the races who have held you down and abused you—who have treated you like second-class garbage all your lives. This is where you finally are able to take back your birthright as honorable mercenaries.

  “We do this today to show them that things are changing in the Merc Guild. Those races that think they can maintain their hold on the guild are about to see there is a new breed of merc—one who is honorable and won’t stab you in the back while pretending to value your service.

  “Today, we throw them from our planet; tomorrow we throw them from our guild. The Veetanho and their minions are the problem—”

  “And we are the Solution!” yelled four companies of troops, Lumar and Human voices joined together for the first time in genuine brotherhood.

  “Attack!” Nigel ordered. He stood and triggered his jumpjets, followed by the rest of Alpha Company in its Mk 9 suits. The Bravo Company troopers in their Mk 8 suits sprinted from the hangar’s main doors and triggered their jumpjets, taking their positions slightly below and behind Alpha Company, while the two Lumar companies streamed from all the exits on the hangar’s north end, forming a battle line that raced forward on the tarmac slightly behind, but no less determined than the two battle lines that soared above them.

  The two lines of CASPers held back so as to not get too far ahead of the Lumar. While large and strong, their best speed was more of a lumber than a sprint, and they would have been left far behind if the CASPers had advanced at top speed. At the forefront of the advance, Nigel had a great view of the spaceport and a position where he could use all his new sensors to their maximum advantage.

  The MinSha in the ruins of the Hellcat’s hangar saw Asbaran’s advance, and they fled before them like rats leaving a sinking ship. Nigel didn’t fire on them—enough of his Mk 9 troopers were doing so that his weapons weren’t needed—instead he looked ahead to see where they were running to.

  From above, it was obvious the enemy wasn’t waiting at the Hellcat’s hangar—there wasn’t much left of it. A crawler lay on its side on the tarmac west of the hangar, and Nigel shook his head, wondering how it got in that position—there were no signs of damage to it beyond the fact it lay on its side.

  To the east of the hangar, the burned-out hulks of an Oogar APC and a MinSha anti-aircraft vehicle rested in the grass just outside the perimeter fence. They were missing pieces from every surface; scrappers had obviously removed the sections they thought were valuable…or the ones they could, anyway.

  There were two wrecked tanks on the inside of the fence. Nigel didn’t know what had hit them, but it must have been big; they didn’t have much more than their shells remaining. More importantly, though, there were no signs of enemy activity around them—while a battle had been fought here, it had occurred months previously and the enemy forces weren’t using the hulks as cover.

  That wasn’t true of the next hangar to the north. The former headquarters for Micky Finn had a number of MinSha visible on and around it, and his equipment picked up indications of power sources from inside it. All of a sudden, the Merc Guild’s plan became apparent—they were trying to draw the Asbaran Solutions forces out into the open. When they got to the Hellcat’s hangar—where they would have the least amount of cover—they would roll out the armor and open up on them from both the north and south.

  Beyond the Micky Finn hangar, he could see more armor and marching troops headed in their direction. That made sense. Since the Merc Guild wouldn’t have known where the Earth troops were going to land, they probably had ambush sites on both sides of the star port, with troops centrally located to move to wherever they landed on. The motorized guild troops, if allowed to get into their prepared positions in and around the Micky Finn hangar—he could see where the MinSha troopers were already running—would be extremely hard to root out without a huge loss of life.

  They had to hit the troops in the open before they arrived.

  “XO, I want you to take Bravo Company, the Proud Fists, and the Bold Warriors. Advance and take the Micky Finn hangar. Once you have it, come help us.”

  “Where will you be?” Valenti asked.

  “Further north,” Nigel replied. “Alpha Company, with me!” He added more power to his jumpjets and soared higher into the sky. As he flew over the Micky Finn hanger, he zoomed his view in on the MinSha troopers below him. They all stared up as the CASPers went past; if they’d had mouths that could hang open, he was sure they would have been. Bravo Company hit them while they were still distracted.

  * * *

  The Raknar Fist, São Paulo Starport, Brazil, Earth

  Armored units fled as quickly as they could before the Raknar. The explosion of the starport fuel depot had set fire to nearly twenty square kilometers of the startown and with it all the hidden forces and armor around the starport perimeter. Whatever tactic had been planned to stop the Raknar went up in a fireball, along with their forces.

  Jim/Splunk fired at targets of opportunity, his 100-megawatt lasers blazing back and forth between armored troopers, tanks, APCs, and anything they might be near. The fire spread, and the seven Raknar marched into the conflagration. Compared to the many thousands of degrees from ree
ntry, the fires weren’t a challenge for the mecha to handle.

  The Zha Akee alerted them to activity. The starport was just two kilometers away, and dozens of tiny targets were leaping into the air. “Drones,” Jim/Splunk warned the Fist. Instantly, they switched from harassing the fleeing forces to slapping down drones as soon as they cleared the ground. In the midst of dealing with the drone swarm, they were hit from behind.

  Atmospheric fighters screamed over the same mountains they’d cleared only minutes before. They didn’t bother with a direct attack, instead they released bombs on a parabolic arc and pulled up hard, climbing with all the power their turbojets could manage.

  “Bomb attack to rear,” Epard/Ryft warned, the first to note it.

  Jim/Splunk ordered his group to turn and engage the bomb attack while the rest continued to deal with the drones. Curran/Dante and Epard/Ryft spun about and brought their lasers to bear against the bombs. Dozens of simple iron bombs flew through the sky, reached apogee, and came down. They directed the Raknar to use the arm-mounted lasers, but the targeting systems struggled. Standing amidst the firestorm meant their sensors weren’t as accurate.

  Epard/Ryft changed targets and fired at the fleeing fighters instead, while Curran/Dante scored hits on several bombs. Jim/Splunk exceeded Curran/Dante’s hits, but still only accounted for less than half. The 500-pound bombs exploded in their midst.

  The bombs were primitive enough that the Raknar’s assessment routines nearly discounted them. However, the bombs had been refitted with advanced armor piercing noses and a shroud of specially-designed penetrator shrapnel. The Raknar’s legs were peppered with the shrapnel, holing the armor in places and doing damage to sensors and systems. Curran/Dante took one square in the chest. The explosion, coupled with the leg damage, rocked them backward and over. The Raknar hit the ground with a thunderous crash of ruined buildings and burning debris.

  Curran/Dante Combat Readiness Status: 59% was displayed in the Zha Akee readouts for Jim/Splunk. The other six were also damaged, though to a much lesser degree than Curran/Dante. With their leg thruster damage, Mays/Aura was the next worst off at 88%.

  We’re being chewed up piecemeal, Jim/Splunk thought. In Zha Akee he saw where the towering starship hangars and launch cradles sat. They were powerfully built from concrete and earth to support spaceships lifting off while providing shielding for other ships. Near the center of the starport was its main launch laser, a 100-meter-tall pyramid with multiple laser collimators at its apex. The gigawatt-powered mechanism possessed its own fusion power plant and could boost huge ships into orbit. It could also provide great cover.

  Epard/Ryft was just helping Curran/Dante back to their feet when Jim/Splunk ordered: “Jump for the center of the starport. Lasers on full defense.”

  “What about the rest of the ground forces?” Curran/Dante demanded.

  “Later,” Jim/Splunk answered. “We’re being chewed up. We need to get to the objective.”

  They turned, fired their thrusters, and lifted off with a roar of fusion-powered motors. The others followed in quick order. The last was Curran/Dante, who seemed to consider staying to finish the enemy. At last, they, too, roared into the sky, though they fired several more laser shots at the now-many-kilometers-distant bombers.

  The Raknar needed to get to the starport and take control. Several parts of their mission depended on it, not the least of which was the possibility of more adversaries. Jim/Splunk shuddered with excitement at the idea of killing more Canavar, despite the injury they’d suffered last time. It was what they existed for, to crush the beasts in their mechanical hands and feel the life drain from them.

  As they roared over the perimeter into the starport a few drones tried to skim in from the side, but they were easily dispatched. Jim/Splunk again noted the lack of depth in the enemy’s attacks. They did not expect an entire Fist and were paying the price in blood. At this rate the Fist could single handedly take back the entire planet! After all, wasn’t it their due? Who else would be lords of this glorious battlefield, but the triumphant Raknar?

  The Fist landed next to the towering launch laser. A few small vehicular ground units fired chemically propelled ballistic weapons at them. Fenn/Peanut kicked one vehicle like a stray pebble and sent it flying hundreds of meters. Kleve/Sandy stomped on two others. The rest fled. Risk assessment placed the threats at a nominal zero. They’d reached their primary objective.

  Jim/Splunk activated their comms and struggled for a second to form words that would be understood by Humans. “I/We, Raknar Fist Cavalier, have taken primary objective,” they said. “Sub-Konar can proceed to their primary objective.”

  “Cavalier Actual, that sort of sounds like you,” a Human replied. “This is Pegasus Actual. We copy your objective, though not all your nomenclature. Are you saying Cavaliers’ CASPer forces are clear to take their objective?”

  The modified Egleesius, Jim/Splunk thought. Alexis, the part of them that was Jim finally managed to put a name to the sounds. “Yes.” It wasn’t the best reply he’d ever given.

  “Understood, Jim. Relaying your status. Hold the starport.”

  “Acknowledged.” They cut the transmission, and a pair of transports burst from their cradles with a roar of lift motors. “Curran/Dante, that one,” Jim/Splunk ordered, designating the one on the left within Zha Akee. “Everyone else, the other one.”

  Curran/Dante’s particle cannon rotated over their shoulder and glowed as it prepared to fire. The other six Raknar fired at the other desperately climbing transport. Their 100-megawatt lasers cut deep furrows in the transport’s hull, causing it to yaw crazily. Curran/Dante’s weapon cut the other one in half. The two halves plummeted to the ground, exploded, and showered debris all over the other landing cradles.

  The laser-damaged transport tried to roll sideways and engage its main ascent motors, which allowed the Raknar to concentrate on its engine section. It fell from the sky more or less intact, but the explosion was the same. The seven Raknar moved into a circular formation and prepared to deal with any other attempted escapes. Jim/Splunk watched and waited for the next attack.

  * * *

  Cartwright’s Cavaliers, HALD Drop, Target São Paulo, Brazil, Earth

  “Cartwright’s CASPer Actual, this is Pegasus Actual.”

  “Go, Pegasus Actual,” Hargrave replied.

  “The big guys have taken the starport. We have nominal space superiority. You are clear to trap the rat.”

  “Confirmed,” Hargrave said and switched to the squadnet. “We have a go,” he announced. “Charlie Company, Bravo Company, take the barracks and armory. Alpha Company, follow me.” The Cavaliers burst from cover and jumped/bounded toward the SOGA headquarters building.

  “All up!” Buddha called over the squadnet.

  “Lead the charge!” every Cavalier yelled.

  Splitting into their assigned missions, the older CASPer-equipped troopers swept into the adjacent barracks, using their jumpjets to move over roads with ease. The city was in a full panic, with thousands on foot, in cars, and even buses, trying to flee the growing combat zone. It didn’t help that the starport was east of the downtown area, and many from the east were fleeing to the west, right into and around downtown.

  Hargrave put that concern aside for a minute and gave the mission all his attention. The SOGA building was two streets away with only a ten-story office building between his platoon and the structure. “Paulson,” he commed.

  “Go sir,” Lieutenant Pat Paulson replied. He’d been promoted from first sergeant after Talus and given command of Second Platoon, Alpha Company, formerly Hargrave’s command.

  “Take Second Platoon in through the front door. Hit it hard, you hear me?”

  “Unequivocally,” the young lieutenant replied.

  “I’m taking First Platoon in through the 25th floor. There’s no way the target can escape from the roof, so you hold the front door and we’ll come in from above.”

  “Roger that,” Lieu
tenant Paulson replied. “Good luck, sir.”

  “You too, son,” Hargrave said, and switched to his sergeant. “Panka, did you hear the op as discussed with Paulson?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Panka replied immediately.

  Hargrave checked the battlespace and confirmed everything was going as he ordered. Charlie and Bravo Companies were hitting the barracks a block away. After little initial resistance, they were now wading into heavy fire; it looked like there were several platoons of Oogar. The giant purple don’t-care-bears were tough fuckers. Lieutenant Paulson’s platoon was bounding across the street and crashing into the ground floor of the SOGA headquarters. Civilians scattered in all directions as the CASPers blasted their way into the building’s security center. Which was his cue.

  “Go,” Hargrave said, and Panka gave the word. All forty Mk 9 CASPers in his company leaped into the air with a whoosh of improved thrusters. The Mk 9 thrusters still used jump juice—the specially formulated fuel all other flight-capable CASPers used—but they used it much more effectively. Instead of the parabolic arc he’d become so used to over decades of merc service, the suit soared into the air and the software angled him automatically into a stable, flat flight path. He wasn’t jumping, he was flying.

  They flew up and over the intervening office building. Hargrave had a great view of three men in business suits looking out from the top floor, directly at his CASPer as it flew up and over the roofline. In a day of such carnage, it gave him a moment of mirth. Seconds later the armored wall of the SOGA headquarters was looming before him.

  As one, the entire platoon raised their right-arm-mounted miniguns and fired a sustained burst. The windows were chewed up badly, but not penetrated. Hargrave hoped it would be enough as he lowered the gun, leaned his CASPer shoulder first, and hit the window he’d been targeting going 50 kilometers per hour.

  CRRRASH!

  As soon as he hit the window he rolled into a ball. Which was a good thing because he careened into an interior office, bounced off a huge desk, and embedded himself in a wall. “Well,” he grunted, “that hurt.” He called out to the men. “Platoon, report.”