L13TH 01 Until Relieved

by Rick Shelley

  “’Sarge . . .”

  “No!” Joe repeated. He raised his rifle and let off a long burst at the nearest group of Heggies, but that did little to ease the guilty ache he felt as he guided the rest of his men back to the new line of resistance.

  As the Schlinal advance reached the abandoned outer line of defense of Echo Company, First Sergeant Iz Walker pressed three keys on a small detonator,setting off the string of mines that had been planted along the company’s perimeter. The Schlinal advance stopped. Walker saw at least thirty men go down, but he couldn’ t tell how many of those had been struck by shrapnel, and how many had simply dropped to find cover. For a moment, smoke obscured the outer line. It gave the remaining elements of Echo time to get behind the secondary line and position themselves to resume firing.

  “Check your wire!” Joe told 2nd platoon. His voice rasped now. His throat was irritated by the thin layer of smoke and fumes that hung over the battlefield, but the rasp came even more from having left three of his men behind.

  He waited while the squad leaders checked with their men and passed the information back to him. Most of the platoon was on its last spool of wire. The few who hadn’t yet put the last spool in their zippers were about to.

  “You hear that, Lieutenant?” Joe asked on another channel.

  “I heard,” Keye replied. “The rest of the company is in the same shape.” Both men assumed, without much fear of error, that the entire 13th was in an equal state. Perhaps some of the companies were already dry.

  “How Iong?” Joe asked, knowing that Keye would interpret the question correctly.

  “I don’t know,” Keye replied. “I haven’t heard a word on the new fleet in forty minutes or more.”

  * * *

  Basset two came to a halt fifty meters behind the secondary line. The crew bailed out of their hatches almost as quickly as they had when it was hit. A Havoc would still be a prime target for any enemy armor, or for an infantryman with a shoulder-operated missile launcher, and no one counted on being lucky a second time. Eustace had already warned the commander of Echo Company that they were coming. Now he led his men toward the new command post of Captain Ingels.

  “There are four of us with RA pistols,” Ponks told the captain. He was wearing an infantry helmet now, but the visor was up. “Where do you want us?”

  “The line is twenty meters that way.” Ingels pointed. “Wherever you can find a place. “Glad to have you aboard. Just wish you still had ammo for that big gun of yours.”

  Ponks bared his teeth. It was no grin. “You’re not the only one, Captain.”

  “A rifle and wire frees up, put somebody on it,” Ingels added, his voice cold. If a rifle became available, it would only be because its previous owner was no longer able to use it.

  Eustace nodded. “Kinda hope that doesn’t happen,” he said. Then he turned and left the CP. Gesturing to his men, Eustace led the way toward the line.

  * * *

  “Where do you want us?” This time, Ponks asked Joe Baerclau the question. Joe had been prone but rolled over on his side to look up at the newcomers. The artillery crewmen were kneeling, low, behind Joe and to his side.

  Joe scanned the four men, and noted that they had side arms only. “Anywhere right along here’Il do,” he said. “I just lost three men, but out there.” He pointed beyond the line. “So I don’t have rifles for you.”

  “We’ll make do,” Ponks said.

  Joe nodded. “I suspect you will, Gunny. But pull those visors down. That way, maybe you’ll hold on to your faces awhile. And you’ll be able to communicate with the rest of us.”

  Eustace flushed briefly but bit back any retort. He pulled down his visor. Simon already had his in place, but the other two quickly followed the lead of their sergeant.

  Joe watched until the artillerymen settled down behind the low defensive ridge, then turned his attention back to the fight. Four pistols wouldn’t add much to the platoon’s firepower, but at this point, any addition was welcome. And when the Heggies got closer, those pistols might finally be useful.

  The Schlinal troops facing Echo Company had not completely recovered from the volley of mines that had gone off in their faces. Firing remained light in the sector for the next quarter hour. Still, there was some wire, as well as other munitions, coming across, and the sound of fighting from neighboring sectors provided a constant background level of noise. A lot of debris had fallen from the trees to cover the ground, leaves and small branches. Here and there, even entire trees had been felled by the fighting. The infrequent raids by Boem fighters, and the somewhat more common shelling by Nova tanks, had done a lot of damage to the forest.

  Looking through his binoculars, Joe saw that the Heggies were finally getting their act together again. Another line of them had reached the outer perimeter. They were on the far side of it, using the low mounds that the 13th had thrown up in front of their foxholes. At least, the slit trenches were on the wrong side of the mounds for the Heggies to use them.

  While those troops picked up the rate of fire against Echo Company, more troops were advancing behind them.

  “I think they’re going to try a frontal, Lieutenant,” Joe told Keye over their private link. “Looks like they’re starting to get impatient.”

  “Give ‘em hell, Joe,” was Keye’s response.

  For about three seconds, Joe thought. That was about how long his wire would last. He looked left and right. None of the men close to him gave any sign of being completely out of wire, but none of them could have much more Ieft than he did, and Joe suspected that most would have less.

  A piercing whistle over his radio startled Joe so much that he almost jumped to his feet. Then the very excited voice of Colonel Stossen shouted, “They’re here! They made it! Hold on, men. Just minutes now.”

  “MINUTES,” Joe mumbled, “and me with seconds of wire.” He closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. Then he looked out toward the abandoned outer line of resistance again, wondering if he was too late to learn how to pull rabbits out of hats.

  The Schlinal troops were crossing the outer line now. There appeared to be at least a full enemy battalion facing the remnants of Echo Company, and the Heggies were not being sparing of wire.

  “Stretch the wire as much as you can,” Joe said over the platoon channel. “Give us those minutes.”

  Echo Company hunkered down behind the defenses of their secondary lines and took the Schlinal fire. They returned less than a second of wire for every minute’s worth that the attackers sprayed at them. Most of the shooting was, as usual, inaccurate, but so much wire was coming in that there were casualties, all along the line. With only one medic remaining in Echo Company, he couldn’t possibly get to all of the wounded. If help did not arrive very soon, treating the wounded would become futile anyway.

  But the attackers were also taking casualties. Men dropped as they crossed the outer defensive Iine. They dropped as they advanced across the mostly open space between that line and Echo’s new positions. None of the Schlinal attackers had reached the inner line yet.

  It was an impossible goal, but Joe tried to keep his touch so light on the trigger that he would shoot individual snips of wire, as if he had a semiautomatic slug-thrower. Even if the task had been possible, single pieces of wire could hardly be effective at any distance. But Joe was willing to try anything that would postpone the end of his ammunition.

  He reached down to his side to make sure that he still had his belt knife. Once the wire was gone, it would be clubs and knives. Not for long. At that point, the Heggies would be able to stand off and shoot without endangering themselves.

  “Minutes,” Joe mumbles again. “How many minutes?” He glanced skyward, but he could see little through the night and the canopy of leaves and branches.

  “Where are they?”

  Almost as Joe spoke, help
was there. Flights of Wasps were diving to attack the closest Heggies, all around the perimeter, while other flights of Wasps attacked the enemy’s Boem fighters and Nova tanks. Even if he hadn’t known that the 13th’s Wasps were no longer flying, Joe would have known that these came from outside the regiment. There were simply too many of them, more than the 13th possessed at full strength. Just on the small sector of front that he could see, he could count eight Wasps all at the same time–more by their weapons than by seeing the planes. It was dark; the Wasps were invisible except for rare flashes. And he could hear the sounds of other Wasps farther off, their rapid-fire cannon chewing up the air and–he hoped–plenty of Heggies.

  The noise level increased dramatically. Bombs and rockets and cannon. The line of the abandoned outer defensive line became a wall of fire, shrapnel, and slugs as the new Wasps used that line to guide their runs. Caught between that and the 13th, the Schlinal assault halted. Men went to the ground–dead, wounded, or trying to avoid those states. Few even tried to keep up any fire against the infantry in front of them.

  “Watch for drops behind you,” Colonel Stossen said on the noncoms’ channel. “They’re dropping crates of wire, Vrerchs, and grenades. Soon as you see something coming in, get men to it. Get that ammo divied up and in use as fast as you can.”

  You bet! Joe thought. He looked skyward again. Even if they drop it square on my head.

  Joe passed the alert to the men in the platoon. “Squad leaders, watch for the drops. Figure out who to send if one lands in your area.”

  If it lands in time. Joe felt surprise at his remaining pessimism. Just because reinforcements had arrived, there was still no guarantee that the 13th would make it through the battle. Until they had that ammunition in their guns, the men of the 13th would still be virtually defenseless. If the Wasps let up for even a minute, Echo Company might be overrun . . . and perhaps the rest of the regiment.

  Joe heard the incoming ammunition drop before anyone on the ground could see it. The crate crashed through the trees with two antigravity belts strapped to its sides. Joe shook his head. He had never considered that sort of use for the new devices. But it did look effective. The belts’ power gave out when the crate was less than two meters off of the ground. By that time, Joe had grabbed one of the artillerymen and was running toward the crate.

  “First and third squads, get over here!” Joe called over the radio. “Second and fourth, wait until they get back, then we’ll get you loaded up.”

  Despite the urgency, it still took several minutes to get the ammunition distributed and into use. Joe saw, or heard, several other crates coming through the trees along the nearest portions of the front. There would be no need to share this box with other companies. Men came from the other platoons of Echo. With a thousand spools of wire in the single crate, there was enough to give everyone left in the company six spools. There were also ten Vrerch launchers and six missiles for each tube, and two dozen disposable RPG units.

  “Watch for more drops,” Joe warned when he finally headed back to the line. They had enough ammunition to last for a time, but more would certainly be welcome.

  For the moment, there was really little for the men of the 13th to do. The Wasps were still active, crossing back and forth along the front. Joe set his men one simple task. If any of the Schlinal forces between the two sets of lines moved, shoot him. Then he told the squad and team leaders to watch the front beyond the outer perimeter, to look for more targets coming into range.

  There were, very few. The Schlinal attack had been broken.

  * * *

  Within another thirty minutes, the first elements of the 4th SAT were landing in the center of the territory that the 13th was guarding. Before the 4th’s artillery landed, part of the 27th Light Infantry Regiment came in as well.

  Van Stossen’s command post got very crowded. Colonel Eggars of the 4th landed with the first shuttles, along with his staff. When the lead units of the 27th started to land, Brigadier Dacik arrived

  “What happened?” Stossen asked the brigadier. “What went wrong?”

  Dacik hesitated before he met Stossen’s gaze. “I’m not certain that anything really went wrong, except for some damn poor planning. We should have provided you with more stores. Other than that, things went exceptionally well.”

  “What?” Stossen shouted, unable to contain himself.

  Dacik took a deep breath. “We took Devon so quickly that the high command decided to retake Porter as well. The delay was what we needed to assemble a few more units. Besides the 4th and the 27th, we have three more regiments ready to land tomorrow, and a second entire wing of Wasps. The bulk of the new forces will land in the valley as soon as they arrive, ready to take Porter City. The rest of the fleet is coming in more conservatively.”

  For a moment Stossen simply glared at the brigadier. Then he shook his head. “We’ve lost a lot of good men here. By the time we get the final count, I expect our total casualties, killed and wounded, will be fifty percent. Maybe higher.” He tried, without much success, to keep his voice level. “You cut it too damn close . . . sir.”

  “I know,” Dacik replied. “Unfortunately, the important decisions are still made by men who’ve never been in a situation like yours. In any case, once my people are all in position, the 13th will be relieved. You should be on the way home within twelve hours, Colonel. Your men did one hell of a job.”

  * * *

  It was nearly an hour after the first Wasps arrived before Echo Company was able to move back to the forward line and recover the casualties they had left there. Joe Baerclau was with the group that went to where Goff, Mackey, and Chorbek had fallen.

  Goff and Chorbek were, as expected, dead, but Wiz Mackey was still alive. Barely. Doc Eddles had difficulty keeping him alive until he could be evacuated. But there were medics, and a surgeon–a full trauma ward–aboard one of the shuttles, and once Mackey and a dozen of the other most seriously wounded were in their hands, they all stood a better than average chance of recovery.

  The fighting was over for Echo Company of the 13th–as far as Porter was concerned. They were among the first to be routed back to the center of the rapidly expanding perimeter that Accord forces controlled. A field kitchen was up and running by dawn and Joe and his men stood in line for their first hot, full meal since landing on Porter thirteen days before. In a few hours, they would be back aboard ship, heading for home.

  There was no rejoicing. The men of the 2nd platoon sat around and ate. Of the thirty men who had landed, only fourteen remained together. The four-man crew of Basset two sat with them. No one talked much.

  There wasn’t a damn thing to say.

  eventhorizonpg.com

  Visit our website and online bookstore at eventhorizonpg.com

  Visit our new Facebook Store!

  Our Imprints —

  Check out our Imprint Facebook Pages for the

  latest news about our books and authors:

  Event Horizon EBooks

  DarkStar Books

  Lone Star Publishing

  Starbase Phoenix Publishing