by John Bowers
The soldier shook his head and sighed.
“Hope you guys have better luck than we did.”
*
The 205s kept up their barrage for forty minutes. The ground shook with every salvo, but the Star Marines breathed easy, knowing the shells were keeping the enemy’s head down. The rest of the battalion arrived before it stopped, and the Fed Infantry evacuated on the same sleds returning to Oscar. By noon, Firebase Papa was inhabited only by Star Marines.
Firebase Papa was only a third the size of Oscar. Built outside the city, it stood as an obstacle to enemy penetration, as did Firebase Quebec to the south. To capture Camarrel, the rebels had to first neutralize the firebases, or at least isolate them. All three firebases, including Oscar, were home to powerful long-range mortar arrays known as parabola guns, or P-guns. Combined with the Howitzer batteries spotted throughout Camarrel, they presented a deadly deterrent to any attempt to invade the city. As a result, the rebel approach had been stopped short of the city limits and a three-week siege resulted.
Nick knew none of this yet, but he was certain in his gut that the Star Marines weren’t likely to remain holed up for long. In a few hours, or at most a day or two, they would almost certainly take the fight to the rebels.
***
When the Fed Infantry evacuated Papa, they left behind an operations officer (S5) named Maj. Boland. An hour after 2nd Battalion arrived, he briefed the Star Marine commanders in the Operations bunker. Col. Dietrich, his company commanders, and their lieutenants watched a holo-screen as Boland, using a laser pointer, laid it out for them.
“This is Firebase Papa. As you can see, we have two rebel strongpoints north of us, each about two miles away, and four to the south. Two of those to the south are in Quebec’s area, so we won’t worry about them for the moment.
“Our first goal is going to be clearing them out and driving the rebels back away from Camarrel. If we coordinate with Firebase Quebec, we should be able to flank those positions to the south and push them back, but before we do that, we have to protect our own flank by eliminating the positions to the north.
“The Coalition troops seem to excel at night fighting, and they’ve been pretty successful at it. They’ve used guerilla tactics against both the Colonial Defense Force and the Fed Infantry, and by operating at night they’ve made major gains. In the past, we’ve tried routing them in daylight attacks, but more often than not, they won’t stand and fight. They fade away until after dark and come at us again.”
He grimaced and looked at Col. Dietrich.
“Colonel, it isn’t my place to tell you how to run your operation, but if I may make a suggestion?”
Dietrich nodded.
“I believe the rebels’ success may have taught them that we are unable or unwilling to mount night-time operations. That may be a weakness you can exploit. Rather than let them own the night, I think we should claim it for ourselves. I would like to see your people mount a nocturnal assault on this position here—” He pointed at the westernmost of the two northern rebel strongpoints. “—while the Infantry from Oscar takes on this one.” He pointed at the other enemy position.
Dietrich stared at the map with wary eyes.
“What makes you think we’ll have better luck at night? The Star Marines haven’t scouted the terrain yet.”
“Two reasons, sir. One, they won’t be expecting a night attack. And two, if we pound the shit out of the southern positions with artillery and P-guns, that should lead them to believe we are attacking in that direction. I think the diversion will cause them to relax a little, be less vigilant. While they’re watching the artillery show, your men will approach and flank these positions; we can hit them with P-guns from Papa at the last minute to disorient them, then your men can attack. I think it will work.”
“How big a force are we facing?”
Boland switched holos to display some statistics.
“Based on our best estimates, backed up by insect-drone surveillance, there may be three to four hundred men in each position. If we follow this strategy, there’s an excellent chance that the majority of them, if they think they have the night off, will be sacked out. By hitting both strongpoints at once, we can prevent them from supporting each other, and their southern bases won’t be any help.”
Dietrich grunted. “Didn’t I hear the rebels are using ground radar? Infra-red night vision?”
“Yes, sir, but the radar only helps them spot vehicles, not men on foot. And we have a secret weapon we haven’t used yet, the IR flare. Have you used those?”
“We trained with them.”
“The Freaks don’t know we have them—or if they do know, they haven’t seen them yet. The flare floods the surrounding area with UV light and effectively blinds anyone wearing IR gear. The best part is that the flare is undetectable, so they won’t even know it’s there.”
“It will also blind my troops, won’t it?”
“Yes, sir. But the Freaks will be depending on their IR gear and your troops won’t be using theirs. That gives our side the advantage.”
“Are all the enemy troops located in those positions?”
“Yes, sir, but you could still encounter some patrols or random spotters between here and there. It’s a calculated risk.”
Dietrich stared at the screen for several minutes, his mind working. Finally he nodded.
“All right, I think I have the picture.” He turned to his subordinate officers. “Any comments, questions, or observations?”
“What time do we jump off?” Capt. Seals asked.
Dietrich glanced at his watch. “What time is sunset?”
Boland answered the question.
“You’re in luck. Centauri B will set at 1630, Centauri A at a little after 1800. This time of year, Centauri B gets way below the horizon and doesn’t throw too much of a glow. As soon as Centauri A is down, it will get pretty dark out there.”
Dietrich nodded.
“Then we’ll go at nineteen hundred.” To his commanders: “Get your men prepped and ready. Rations for two days, just in case, and exercise extreme noise discipline. I want that rebel base in our hands before dawn.”
Chapter 4
Pvt. Nick Walker could feel his own heart beating. They had been walking for twenty minutes and had probably covered a mile, with another mile yet to go. The rebel base—really little more than a handful of bunkers connected by a trench network, according to drone surveillance—was almost directly northwest of Firebase Papa. To flank it, the Star Marines had to approach from two directions: Nick’s group would move north to approach from the east; the other group would move west and approach from the south.
They were outside the city limits. The ground was uneven, overgrown with weeds. Sometime in the past, streets had been laid out in anticipation of future urban growth, but aside from fire hydrants every other block, nothing had yet been built.
Echo Company was in the lead, walking in two columns two blocks apart. Four blocks to the east, Foxtrot was doing the same thing, while Golf and Hotel moved west in similar fashion before swinging north to complete the flanking maneuver. The plan was to hit the rebel stronghold with a full battalion.
In Nick’s column, his squad was leading and Nick himself was on point. In spite of his jitters, he didn’t mind. He had trained for this, trained harder than most other men, and the truth was that he didn’t really trust anyone else to spot the enemy in time to save his life. He had volunteered.
The moment he’d long anticipated was at hand. His blood still ran cold with dread, but at last they were moving. He hated sitting around waiting and just wanted to get his baptism of fire behind him. His heart pounded in his ears.
It felt weird. Walking in the near-darkness without infra-red contacts was contrary to their training, yet the orders had specified that UV flares were in use and the contacts wouldn’t work. Looking up, Nick could dimly see what looked like a small hawk—or maybe an owl—no bigger than a pigeon, soaring lazily agains
t the night sky several hundred feet overhead. From time to time it banked and turned, but never flapped its wings and never left the area. According to the briefing, the “bird” was a drone carrying the flare; another drone was supposedly circling to the west, effectively blinding the rebels’ night vision.
They had been told to stay, as much as possible, off the street. Combat boots, especially eight hundred pairs, made a distinct racket on asphalt, so they kept to the dirt as much as possible. The good news, noise-wise, was the bombardment of the two rebel bases to the south. A steady stream of high explosive was raining down just three miles behind him, which helped cover any inadvertent noise the Star Marines made.
They reached the turning point, nothing but a GPS position on a handheld monitor, and Nick turned left. The enemy position was supposed to be about a thousand yards ahead.
The closer they got to their objective, the tenser he became. Even if they didn’t encounter outposts, they were approaching the enemy position, and he hoped he would see it before it saw him.
He sucked air and swallowed, wishing he could drink from his canteen; someone was breathing in his helmet comm, and that annoyed him. The helmet comms for each platoon were on a dedicated frequency, allowing officers and noncoms to talk to their men without interfering with other units; officers could speak to Command on yet another frequency. Someone in 3rd Platoon had activated his helmet mike without realizing it.
Nick held up his right hand with a clenched fist and dropped to one knee. Behind him, the entire column jolted to a stop and also knelt.
“Third Platoon,” Nick said in a quiet voice, “someone has activated his helmet comm. Everybody do a helmet check and shut it down.”
He waited ten seconds until the sound of breathing died away. He took a deep breath and stood again; with a wave of his hand, he started forward and the column followed.
The darkness wasn’t total. The briefing had said that, quite often, the second star in this binary system never set at night, and on the nights it did, often created a glow that lasted all night. Tonight was an exception—Nick could see the ground in front of him, but not more than ten yards ahead. Better than nothing, but he really wished he could see heat sigs if they ran into the enemy.
His heart thumped. He sucked a deep breath and let it out, but it didn’t help. Moving slowly but steadily forward, he came to the end of the street. The street curved left toward the next block, leaving only darkness in front of him. The ground ahead seemed to be open, unbroken by trees or buildings of any kind. There could be pitfalls, uneven terrain, fence lines, holes in the ground; he would deal with them if and when. His GPS indicated that he was now about five hundred yards from the objective, but without IR contacts he still couldn’t see it. He kept moving forward.
Fortunately it was a cool night with about a two-knot breeze. Enough to cool him, but not dry his sweat…and he was sweating. Part of it was nerves, but the anti-laser vest also held in his body heat. He and the other Star Marines had been a bit disconcerted to discover they had not been supplied with bullet-proof vests; laser vests were useful if the enemy was using laser weapons, but would not stop, or even slow, a bullet.
Barely one-sixteenth of an inch thick, laser vests were light and didn’t weigh a man down. They were made of reflective material that would deflect laser bolts fired at an angle, but the downside was that a zero-deflection laser shot would still penetrate and kill the man wearing the vest. The good news was that only about fifteen percent of laser hits were zero-deflection.
Nick held up his fist again and dropped to a knee. The closer they got to the enemy position, the more jittery he became. He chinned his helmet comm.
“Sergeant DuBose, can you come forward?”
DuBose didn’t answer, but twenty seconds later he knelt beside Nick.
“What’s up, Walker?”
“We’re getting close now, Sergeant. I estimate the rebel stronghold to be about five hundred yards ahead, but I can’t see shit without contacts and if we come under fire all strung out like this, a lucky shot could take out half the company.”
“You thinking line abreast?”
Nick nodded. “That way, we can bring every rifle to bear when we make contact, but the downside is that each man will have to scout his own path. There could be holes, tripwires, or even a minefield ahead of us.”
DuBose stared thoughtfully into the gloom.
“The briefing said no minefields had been detected…”
“Right, but they also said that was a best guess-timate. Ceramic mines don’t show up on drone radar.”
“And plasma mines are usually encased in ceramic.”
“Exactly.”
DuBose released his breath.
“Fuck.”
Nick heard footsteps behind him and suddenly Capt. Seals was kneeling beside them.
“What’s the holdup here?”
DuBose explained the situation. Seals listened, then consulted an e-tablet that displayed a map of their location. Pinpoints of light marked the location of each company involved in the operation.
“S2 says no minefields were detected,” he said. “It’s the best intel we have, so we have to go with it.”
“How current is that data?” Nick asked.
“As of a few hours ago.”
“Captain, ceramic mines don’t show up on radar. If the Freaks planted plasma mines…”
“I understand, Walker, but plasma mines are extremely high-tech, and these rebels may not have any. Even if they do, we’ve been tasked to take this position and we have to move forward.”
Nick nodded, not in the least comforted.
“Aye-aye, sir.”
“Let’s go ahead and make it line abreast. The Freaks should be blinded by the drone flare, so—”
Forty degrees to their left, about a quarter mile way, a brilliant flash interrupted what Seals was saying. For an instant the entire landscape was illuminated, and just a few hundred yards ahead, Nick got a brief glimpse of what looked like a large dirt mound. But the flash was so brilliant that he had to duck his head against the glare, as did Seals and DuBose.
“Shit!” Seals grunted.
“I guess that answers the question,” said DuBose. “They definitely have plasma mines.”
Nick’s heart hammered faster than ever. When he opened his eyes, he saw a heat mushroom rising from the area of the flash; he half expected to hear screams, but did not. He could only wonder who had set off the mine and how many people died.
Seals seemed momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly enough.
“Line abreast,” he said. “Spread out, ten yard separation…”
Without warning, lights began to flicker from the dark mound ahead. The breeze carried the muted sounds of chirping laser bolts, and Nick saw brilliant points of light streaking toward the explosion area. Just as quickly, more laser bolts streaked in his direction—he heard them pass over him with a sound like water drops on a hot skillet.
“Hit the dirt!” Seals bellowed, and behind them the entire company sprawled on its collective belly.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Nick breathed.
“Just wait it out. It’s panic fire. They can’t see us, but the explosion tipped them that someone is approaching.”
“Are you sure?”
Another heavy laser weapon opened up, then a third. Most of the shots were directed to the south, but at least one gun was still firing in their direction. Fortunately, it was shooting high.
“Just wait it out…” Seals seemed to be encouraging himself as much as anyone else. “A little longer…”
Nick lowered his head until his helmet touched the ground, heaved a deep breath, and waited. The good news—if it was good news—was that their vests would actually work against laser fire. The bad news was that lasers travel at the speed of light; one might have a split second to dodge a bullet, but no one can outrun a bolt of light.
After thirty or forty seconds, the laser firing in their dir
ection stopped. Those firing on the southern group also ceased, except for one, which continued to fire intermittently, sweeping the dark terrain where Golf and Hotel were approaching. The plasma mine had alerted their prey, who by now had to be fully aware of the danger. If the rebels had any doubts, the fact that their IR wasn’t working should be proof enough.
For a moment, Seals seemed uncertain of his next move. He called Col. Dietrich by helmet comm, and a moment later reported what he had learned.
“That was Hotel’s second platoon that hit the mine,” he said in a quiet voice. “They lost sixteen men.”
Nick closed his eyes again.
Sixteen men! Before any of them ever fired a shot in anger.
His fear notched up another level. Now his heart was pounding in his ears. Seals began issuing orders over his helmet comm.
“Echo, listen up! The enemy knows we’re coming, so we have to change tactics. I want First Platoon to split off to the right and flank the objective from the northeast. Second Platoon, same thing on the left. Third Platoon, continue straight ahead. Approach to within fifty yards and freeze until everyone else is in position. Do not assault the objective until I give the command. Acknowledge!”
Nick heard the replies in his helmet, then Seals was talking again.
“The firebase is going to cover us with P-guns, so do not get too close until they stop. Be alert for plasma mines. You won’t be able to see them, but keep a ten-yard interval just in case. At the first sign of mines, belly up and freeze.”
Nick heard the words and understood what Seals was saying, but plasma mines covered a wide radius when they exploded; a man could be incinerated up to fifty yards away, so a ten-yard separation wasn’t going to do it. Unfortunately, a wider separation would spread them too thin and render the company ineffective.
He heard 1st and 2nd Platoons moving past him as they vectored away from 3rd Platoon. They were quiet, just a dull shuffle of combat boots on bare ground.
