by M. D. Cooper
Rika rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her lips. One thing she could always count on was Ferris messing up ranks.
she shot back, unable to help herself.
A laugh slipped past Rika’s lips.
Rika focused her holodisplay on the region that Chase was operating in. With the bad scan transmission, the only data they had was from the mechs on the ground and the drones they’d deployed.
Chase’s company HQ element was deployed with his first platoon, putting a total of eighty-four mechs on the streets of central Memphis. They were spread out along seven avenues, advancing north toward the center of the city.
A kilometer ahead of them, the roads intersected an east-west thoroughfare named Bridge Street. It cut a broad swath through the city, even sporting a park filled with rocks and water features on its central boulevard.
North of Bridge Street lay a section of the city consisting of older, stone buildings. Which was, of course, where most of the Niets were set up.
Drone readings from the squads on first platoon’s flanks showed that the Niets were moving east and west along Bridge Street, seeking to encircle the mechs.
Four red pins lit up on the display, noting the locations of the cannons. Then several dozen blue pins appeared, annotated by the estimated specs of the Nietzschean Goon-Mechs, or GMs—the Marauders’ term for squishies in mech frames somewhat like a K1R.
The Niets hadn’t used anything like the GM’s back in the war—not that Rika had ever encountered, at least—but they seemed to have decided that the heavy mech-like armor was good for taking poundings and holding positions.
Potter added.
Potter made a tsking sound, however.
Rika snorted.
The AI let out a sigh.
Rika laughed and closed the connection, summoning Leslie and Alice to her side.
“Here’s the situation with Chase and his first platoon,” Rika said as they looked down at the holotank. “We’re dropping B’muths and the ISF Marines; Niki is coordinating with Smalls to hit their cannons with kinetics. We need to take out the rest of their AA, too—once Fuller’s ‘toon takes the spaceport and gets us the Niets’s artillery deployments.”
“Shit,” Leslie muttered, her tail twitching at the tip—a sure-fire sign that she was annoyed. “That’s a tall order on the quick; especially with that many Niets out there. And here we thought Memphis would be an easy grab.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s any such thing,” Alice replied, not a single note of apology in her voice for sending Chase into the lion’s den.
The city of Memphis was just one theatre of operation for Rika’s Marauders in the Blue Ridge System. Scarcliff and Crudge were up on Asmoian Station securing it with N Company. They were meeting with far less resistance up there than M company was seeing on the ground. Of course, N company had two platoons for a station with only ten million inhabitants, while M Company was taking on an entire planet with just four platoons.
The Marauders’ saving grace was that the Republic, Asora, and Capital were easily holding back the small fleet of Nietzschean ships garrisoned in the Blue Ridge System. That left the Undaunted and Fury Lance free to help with the ground attacks—as their orbital paths permitted.
Dirtside, M Company’s second platoon was on the southern end of Memphis taking on a battalion of Niets at the spaceport, while third and fourth platoons were even further afield, securing targets on the far side of the planet.
“We don’t need a whole ‘toon to take the spaceport,” Alice said, highlighting first and second squad’s positions. “We could move these two up to reinforce First Platoon’s center.”
Rika shook her head, wondering how Alice was missing the urgency to take the Nietzschean CIC at the spaceport. “No, speed is of the essence. If we don’t get Smalls good targets yesterday, Ferris’s B’muths will just be smoking crat
ers in the ground, and First Platoon will be even worse off. Fuller’s people need to keep their focus on the spaceport.”
Leslie nodded slowly. “That’s the right call. Half the Nietzschean supplies are there, as is their planetary operational command. Once Fuller gets that under control, we’ll hamper the Nietzschean communications more than a little.”
“So long as we can actually take the system-wide command center in that high-rise downtown,” Alice groused. “They’re going to have a lot more than just a few cannons.”
Alice cocked an eyebrow. “So, kinetics from Smalls?”
“Or missiles,” Rika replied with a shrug. “Whatever works best, depending on the targets.”
Leslie turned the holo around, looking at it from different angles, then shook her head. “Even if we drop Borden and his folks behind the Niets—north of Terrace Avenue, to distract them—the center of Chase’s line is still too weak…especially if the Niets bunch up in their center after the B’muths come into play.”
Potter said, joining in the command net from First Platoon’s location.
Rika nodded slowly. “Lieutenant, Chief, you’re both all too correct. I think it’s time for us to pull up stakes and join the fun.” She glanced at Alice, who wore standard Marauder armor that looked like it had never seen a moment of combat. “You got a helmet, Lieutenant Colonel?”
Alice pursed her lips. “Are you sure we should all go in? Who’s going to run things?”
Rika rapped a knuckle on her head. “I can walk and chew gum at the same time, Alice. Don’t worry, Niki and I can manage things just as well from the front as we can back here.”
Alice didn’t reply, and Rika wished she knew what was going on in the woman’s head. The Lieutenant Colonel often made veiled comments about Rika and Niki’s pairing, as well as Rika’s neural upgrades. Nothing that approached insubordination, or even made Rika certain that the woman didn’t trust what the ISF had done to Rika’s brain, but they were slowly stacking up, building into a solid annoyance.
Yig’s laughter intensified, and he replied,
A sense of confusion came back over the Link, then Yig exclaimed,
Rika closed the connection, watching with approval as Leslie shut down the holodisplays and packed up the portable projector. In a minute, it would be like her HQ had never been here.
ADMIRAL GIDEON
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Nietzschean System Command, Memphis, Kansas
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Fleet Admiral Gideon stared down from the four hundred and first floor of the MacWood Building. His gaze settled on the distant smoke rising near Bridge Street where the advancing enemy was skirmishing with the Nietzschean battalion holding that position.
“They’re going to overrun our line there, sir,” Colonel Sofia advised from his side. “Colonel Cole is organizing his reserve companies to flank the enemy, but I’m not convinced it will work.”
Gideon glanced at the tall, yet somehow stocky-looking woman next to him. “What gives you that impression?”
“Well, sir, Cole’s maneuver assumes the enemy wants to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. If that turns out not to be the case, they’ll just pummel our flanking forces from orbit.”
The admiral’s lips pursed as he considered Colonel Sofia’s words. The woman tended toward pessimism—which was one of the reasons he kept her around. He didn’t need someone’s lips around his asshole, he needed people who would tell it like they saw it. No punches pulled.
Sofia never pulled punches.
“Your thoughts, General Decoteau?” Admiral Gideon asked the man to his left.
“Well, our intelligence has flagged this motley crew as Marauders, a merc outfit comprised mostly of former Genevian soldiers—though I don’t know how a bunch of mercs managed to steal a ship like the Fury Lance. However, because they’re Genevians, our psycho-analysts think they’re unlikely to cause mass destruction to one of their own former cities. So…” Decoteau paused to glance at Colonel Sofia. “Despite the colonel’s worries, I don’t think they’ll perform orbital strikes on the city. Not without clear and significant targets.”
“Like this building,” Sofia added softly.
Gideon pretended he hadn’t heard the colonel. It wasn’t a new objection from her; the moment the Marauder ships had forced his garrison fleet away from the planet, she’d feared an orbital bombardment, and had advised evacuation to a bunker on the outskirts of the city.
Fleet Intel was still trying to sort out how the Marauder ships were able to withstand the attack from a numerically superior force with no damage. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as though the enemy’s shields were impenetrable.
There had been a recent rash of rumors describing shielding such as what the Marauders possessed, but Gideon hadn’t given the stories any serious consideration—until now.
Just the fact that a Marauder fleet was attacking a world within the Nietzschean Empire—and doing it with stolen Nietzschean ships, no less—was something that Fleet Intel was still struggling to come up with a good answer for.
Gideon knew the answer, but he didn’t like it.
Somewhere, someone had screwed up. They’d overextended themselves, and suffered a loss so great, it had encouraged rogue elements like the Marauders to launch offensives.
But he knew of only one offensive large enough that its utter failure would bring about a response such as this.
The attack on Thebes.
That assault was the reason why Gideon only had a handful of ships available to police the Blue Ridge System. He’d been all but stripped bare.
Still, he was a Nietzschean, and far from defenseless. The Genevians had fallen before his people like so much ripe grain, harvested by their master scythes just a scant decade earlier. The mongrels would manage no better this time—especially not with a force comprised of a band of mercenaries.
“Pull a company from the spaceport,” he ordered. “Hit those squibs from behind, and it will send them into disarray. We saw the dropships come down. Given the number of craft, there can’t be more than a few platoons out there.”
“There have been sightings of mechs,” Colonel Sofia cautioned. “They’ll be more dangerous than their regulars.”
Gideon shrugged. “They can’t have that many mechs. We killed most of those abominations at the end of the war, only let the women and more docile men live. I should know; I had to deal with a lot of that mess.”
Sofia’s jaw tensed, but she nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll pass the orders along.”
“Make sure to tell Colonel Lucas at the spaceport to redistribute his troops so it doesn’t appear as though he’s sent a company to reinforce us here.”
“Of
course, sir,” Sofia gave a sharp nod.
Gideon suspected she’d already been planning to tell Lucas that. Colonel Lucas often needed additional instruction. Damn political appointees. Think they’re officers just because their parents bought them their commissions.
“What about the reserves north of the city?” General Decoteau asked. “I could bring them in to strengthen our position here.”
Gideon half turned to the general. The man typically preferred to operate on the offense than defense, but Admiral Gideon remembered the look of worry in Decoteau’s eyes when the Marauder ships had shed the fleet’s beams as though they were pleasant rays of sunshine.
It was entirely possible Gideon’s own face had displayed a similar worry.
“Very well, General, call them in.”
GROUND POUNDERS
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: 1km South of Bridge Street, 48th Ave, Memphis, Kansas
REGION: Blue Ridge System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
“Crunch!” Chase hollered over his shoulder once he got off the line with Rika. “You can drive a B’muth, right?”
Crunch was sitting on a bench outside a restaurant bearing the name, ‘The Green Pickle’. His features were hidden behind his helmet, but Chase imagined that the mech was probably a bit green, himself.
An enemy artillery round had come in almost right on top of Crunch. He’d been hunkered down with Kelly, going over positions for her fireteam, when it hit. He’d shielded Kelly and took the brunt of the explosion himself.
“You know,” Crunch replied, his voice strained. “This is what we get for having more bio-parts. If I didn’t have this stupid-assed half-leg, I’d be able to swap on a new one and get going. Now I have all this muscle and bone nonsense down there…which fucken hurts!”
“Can you lean to the left a bit, Sarge?” Private Harris asked from behind Crunch. “And steady your breathing. You’re the perfect rifle mount.”
