by Jay Allan
I strive every day to understand this, to remind myself that my abilities are limited as are those of my soldiers. Yet, I do not delude myself that I am greater and wiser than these giants of history. Surely they, too, thought as I do…swore to themselves not to repeat the mistakes of those who had come before. Will I escape the doom that claimed them? Or will my crusade be just another broken cause in the dustbin of history?
“I want a quick, intense bombardment, no more than ten rounds. Then your boys go in.” Taylor paused, staring out over the scrubby brown fields. “Hit them fast and hard, Bear. Don’t stop for anything. You’ve got to get across the plain and up that hill as fast as you can. I don’t want them to have time to even figure out what’s going on.” Taylor was micromanaging, as usual. He was a little worried about the enemy position. They were entrenched up on the heights, and his people would be coming in across a wide swath of open ground. It was just the kind of position he had turned into a killing zone more than once. But this time it was his people trying to get across, his soldiers advancing against the enemy’s massed fire.
“No problem, Boss.” Bear Samuels always seemed calm, even when combat was imminent. His slow Alabama drawl made it sound like he and Jake were discussing a day at the fishing hole instead of a brutal and dangerous fight about to begin. “I’ll get ‘em across the open ground before we take too many losses.”
Samuels was a giant of a man, towering 20 centimeters over Taylor’s own considerable height. For all his relentless calm and friendliness, he was an awesome warrior, almost unstoppable in battle. With his mods and exos amplifying his own natural strength, Samuels had the power of a Titan. He’d been wounded half a dozen times, but he’d never left the field until the fight was done. Taylor had even seen him lift a small armored vehicle and tip it over, a story no one who wasn’t there ever believed.
“I know you will, Bear.” Samuels was one of Taylor’s oldest friends, a member of the trusted inner circle that had fought at his side for more than a decade on Erastus. Taylor knew he was lucky to have such close friends and comrades, but it was a curse as well as a blessing. It was hard enough to send his soldiers into the maelstrom of combat, never knowing how many would return. But ordering a comrade who was closer than any brother into the fight…it was the hardest thing he had to do. He’d gotten used to combat and personal deprivation over the years, and he’d learned to manage his own fear. But sending his friends into battle never got easier. It ripped at his guts every time.
Taylor stared out across the rugged ground to the enemy fortifications beyond. He knew his people would take the position. They always did. The Army of Juno was a fine combat outfit, but they didn’t stand a chance against his own iron veterans. No soldiers, however seasoned, could face the warriors forged in the furnaces of Gehenna, the most hellish place men had ever tried to survive. Taylor’s warriors were more than veterans – they had been surgically altered and enhanced, made into the deadliest killers humankind had ever produced. No normal army could face them.
He wasn’t worried about winning the fight and taking those trenches. He was thinking about the losses his men would take. His Supersoldiers were irreplaceable, and if they beat the enemy and inflicted ten times the casualties they suffered, he’d consider it a defeat. UNGov could conscript a hundred men to fill the shoes of every soldier his men killed. He couldn’t win a brutal, attritional war, and he knew it.
He’d planned elaborate outflanking maneuvers on the other Portal worlds where his men had fought, but the soldiers of Juno had pulled back toward their main base, into a mountainous region. There were huge rocky spurs spreading out to either side around the Portal like two outstretched arms. There was no way to hit them but frontally on the narrow open section, and he knew his men would pay in blood this time for their expected victory.
“Don’cha worry so much, Jake. We’ll be OK.” Samuels could feel Taylor’s stress and his guilt at sending over 1,200 of his men into a bloody frontal assault. “It’ll be rough on that plain for sure, but we’ll be past it and into those entrenchments before they know what hit ‘em.” Samuels put his huge hand on Taylor’s shoulder. It wasn’t a very military gesture, but Jake appreciated it nevertheless.
“OK, Bear.” Taylor’s head was bent back, looking up at his enormous friend and subordinate. “You know what to do.” Taylor turned to walk back toward headquarters. He took a few steps and stopped to look back. “And stay low, you big ox. Don’t get that giant head blown off, OK?”
* * * * *
“You’ve got to do better than that, Major.” Taylor was trying to restrain the exasperation in his voice. John MacArthur had been a pain in his ass for years on Erastus, and the two had engaged in countless verbal battles. But the wing commander had surprised him before their last combat on that hellish world, turning down an offer of free passage back to Earth for his squadrons and swearing to fight at Taylor’s side against the invading UN army. MacArthur tended to be a little pompous, but he was a top notch pilot and air commander. And he’d turned out to be much less of an ass than Jake had thought. He’d seen the truth in what Taylor told him about the Tegeri and UNGov, and he’d made his decision. He joined the crusade without a second thought. To a man, his people followed.
Poom…poom…poom. Samuels’ bombardment had begun. Taylor’s head snapped around, looking back toward the front line. Poom…poom…poom. The shelling would only last a few minutes, maybe five. Then Samuels’ boys would advance. Half an hour later Jake would know how many men that fortified ridge had cost him.
“General, I’ve only got two engineers, not enough techs…do you realize what a complicated piece of machinery a Dragonfire is? The parts situation is downright critical, and we don’t have any kind of workshop. It’s a miracle every time we get these things back in the air at all.” MacArthur was tense, edgy. He and his tech teams had been working around the clock to get the army’s air support element combat ready, and the fatigue was showing. The Dragonfire gunship was an awesome weapon, but it was fiendishly complex too. “We have to disassemble them almost completely to get through the Portals. It takes time to put them back together again.”
Taylor sighed. He knew the pilot was right. His own tension was coloring his expectations. He wished the Ancients, whoever they were, had made the Portals a little bigger. Of course that would cut both ways, and UNGov would be pushing tanks and gunships through as well.
“Look, Colonel…” – Taylor’s voice softened – “…I know your people are working like dogs, but I need you to push things even harder.” He paused and sighed again, harder this time. “I’m worried about this one, John.” Another pause. Taylor’s mind kept drifting away from the gunships, back to Samuels and his people. The shelling had stopped. That meant they were beginning the attack, heading off across that deadly plain.
“I’m sorry, John. I know your people are working their asses off.” Taylor took a deep breath and exhaled hard. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong. Juno’s the biggest army we’ve faced, and they’re not behaving like the others. They’re all concentrated in front of the Portal.” He exhaled softly. “I can’t figure out what they’re up to. And I need that air support.”
Taylor could hear MacArthur breathing on the other end of the com. Finally, the pilot sighed and said, “I can’t promise anything, Jake, but I’ll try to get a squadron mission capable in two days…and another one in three more.”
Taylor felt a quick rush of satisfaction. That was a week earlier than the previous projection. Granted, MacArthur wasn’t promising him the whole wing, but anything would help. Bear’s people were going to have to deal with total enemy air superiority, but he didn’t intend to let that go on a second longer than necessary. “Thanks, John. I knew I could count on you. Taylor out.” He cut the connection.
Two days, Taylor thought…that was going to help a lot. Of course, he’d only have one squadron, and it would have to hold out against all the air power of UN Force Juno until Mac
Arthur managed to get more of his birds ready for battle.
* * * * *
“Keep moving, all of you.” Sergeant Singh waved his arm as he ran, urging his platoon forward. There wasn’t a scrap of cover to screen their advance, and he didn’t want anybody lagging. The faster they got up that hill, the fewer of his people would die. The troops didn’t really need the reminder. They were all enhanced soldiers, seasoned in the inferno of Gehenna. But even veterans looked to their leaders for support, and Singh wasn’t going to let them down.
He swung to the side, avoiding a small gully. He was running at 30 kph, and his troopers were keeping pace. The heavy mortar barrage had kept the enemy pinned down in their trenches, and their fire so far had been light and mostly ineffectual. But now the shelling had stopped. His people were less than 500 meters from the enemy, and General Taylor had made it clear he would tolerate no friendly fire casualties.
The enemy was still feeling the effects of the mortars, but now the intensity of their own fire began to increase. It was slow, a barely noticeable difference at first, but Singh’s people started to take losses. He had 3 down. He was pretty sure 2 were just wounded, but Sanchez had taken two shots to the head. Singh didn’t have any confirmation, but he was pretty sure the trooper was dead.
“Advance to the right.” He barked his orders into the com, forcing himself to remain calm despite the increasingly heavy fire whizzing by him. “Forward right oblique at 45 degrees.” His platoon’s orders were to swing around and hit the very end of the enemy’s left.
General Taylor was fond of flanking maneuvers, but this time the enemy line was anchored on a virtually impassable position, a thousand meter wall of sheer rock running all the way back to a mountain range behind the Portal. With no way to maneuver around the position, Taylor had placed 4 platoons of veterans on the extreme right. Their orders were simple: crush anything in front of them and separate the enemy line from the secure rock wall, opening their flank in the process. Then Samuels would unleash two fresh companies, and send them through the gap to take the enemy line from the rear.
Singh was a Ten Year Man, and most of his people had over five years’ experience fighting on Erastus. They’d drawn the lead position among the 4 platoons in the assault. That was an honor, certainly. It showed the faith Taylor and Samuels had in them. It also meant they’d take the most punishment from the enemy fire, so they had every incentive to close the distance and assault the trenchline as quickly as possible.
He heard a loud crash behind him…the enemy was getting some of their own mortars into action. So far, taken by surprise by the speed of Singh’s men, they’d overshot. But they were adjusting, and the explosions were getting closer.
“Prepare to open fire.” Singh had ordered his men to hold their fire. The enemy trench was dug deeply into the top of the hillside. Shooting from the middle of the field would have been mostly ineffectual, and it would have slowed his advance.
The ground was becoming steeper as he got closer to the trench. The enemy fire was getting thicker, and he could see that another 5 or 6 of his men were down. “Fire!” he screamed as he whipped his assault rifle from his back and opened up on full auto, raking the top of the trench as he cleared the crest of the hill.
The incoming fire slowed as the enemy ducked back into their trenches, recoiling from the attackers’ shooting. “To the trenches, men!” Singh flicked the lever and ejected his spent cartridge, grabbing another from his belt and slamming it in place. “Nobody gets away!”
He heard a muffled explosion in the distance behind. Enemy gunships were hitting the supporting units coming up behind the assault elements. Singh winced for the troops caught on that plain under air bombardment. His attack had been staged as quickly as possible specifically to minimize the risk from the enemy’s air power. Surprise and speed were the only reasons his own platoon didn’t get strafed in that open ground. But they were out of the reach of the enemy’s air, at least for now. They were too close to the trench for the enemy to launch any airstrikes at them. But they had other things to worry about. “To the edge of the trench,” he screamed into the com. “Full auto, boys. Give it to them hard!”
He ran up to the top lip of the trench, firing down into the panicking enemy soldiers. All along the line his men were doing the same, turning the fortification into a death trap. His platoon had taken heavy losses on the way in – at least a third of his men were down. Those still on their feet now exacted their revenge for fallen friends and comrades, mercilessly gunning down the confused and routing soldiers desperately trying to escape.
Most of the enemy troops died in the blood-soaked mud of the trenches, but a few managed to climb out and run for it. Singh coolly snapped in another clip as he raised his assault rifle and aimed at the fleeing troops. “Keep firing, men. And pursue.” He blazed away, gunning down the men who had slaughtered his soldiers. “Nobody gets away!” he repeated.
* * * * *
“Second Battalion has taken the enemy trenchline, and they are pursuing the survivors.” Captain Cho was rushing toward Bear as he spoke. “We are in complete possession of the heights.” The aide was excited, elated at the victory.
Bear looked out toward the ridgeline his troops had just seized. There were heavy clouds of smoke everywhere, and the air was thick and acrid. He was pleased his men had taken the position, but his satisfaction was tempered. Bear Samuels didn’t like killing. He did it when duty called, but it always left him troubled to see the death and suffering of war. He’d managed to adapt to killing the Machines, entities he had usefully, if mistakenly, viewed as inhuman monsters. But slaughtering humans, especially conscripts like himself - like all the men who’d fought on Erastus - was hard for him.
“Cease pursuit. Order them back to the trench line.” His follow-up units had been hit hard by the enemy’s gunships. He wasn’t going to make it worse by exposing his victorious troops to unnecessary casualties. Cho hesitated, staring back with a confused look on his face. “Now,” Bear roared. “All units are to occupy the trenches immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Cho quickly repeated the command on the unitwide com, ordering all pursuing units to break off and occupy the trenches they’d just seized.
Bear could see his aide was still confused. “You saw what the enemy air strikes did to us in the plain, Lin. Do you want the men coming out of the trenches to get the same thing after they fought their way up that hill?”
Cho nodded slowly as he began to understand Samuels’ thinking. Their orders were to completely destroy the enemy, but Bear was one of General Taylor’s oldest friends, and he wasn’t afraid to take minor liberties with the commander’s orders. The enemy air power was too strong for Bear to allow his men to run off in a disorganized pursuit across open ground.
“I understand, sir,” Cho finally said. But he still couldn’t imagine not obeying Taylor’s commands to the letter, regardless of the cost. Bear, of course, knew Taylor would have done the same thing. He wondered sometimes about the younger officers, the cult of personality they had built around the army’s commander. Did they really think Jake would want his soldiers exposed to pointless losses just to take out the last few panicked men from a shattered formation? Would they just mindlessly follow the literal interpretation of his orders, regardless of the situation?
“Our losses?” Bear’s tone was somber. He knew the figure would be high.
“Still coming in, sir.” Cho was glancing down at a small tablet checking the latest data. “Looks like the lead elements lost at least a third of their strength. No data yet on proportions of killed and wounded.” Cho paused, reading silently to himself. “The supporting elements appear to have suffered lower casualties.” Another pause. “Except the units on the extreme left. They were hit badly by the enemy air. A number of units there are reporting 50% casualties.”
Bear closed his eyes for a few seconds. There would be a higher proportion of KIAs there too. The Supersoldier mods not only amped up a troope
r’s own internal injury response systems, they also flooded the bloodstream with billions of medical nanobots that assisted in rapid healing. The whole system was highly effective in saving a soldier even from a devastating gunshot wound, but it was far less useful to a man burned to a charred crisp by FAEs.
“I want those figures as soon as they are final.” Bear started walking slowly toward the field his men had just crossed.
“Yes, sir.” Cho watched Samuels for a few seconds. “Sir, where are you going?”
Samuels kept walking. “To the trenches, Captain.” The fatigue and sadness were thick in his voice. “I’m going up to the trenches to be with the men who paid for this little victory with their blood.”
* * * * *
“Goddammit!” Hank Daniels was pissed. More than pissed…he was absolutely livid. “You mean to tell me we can’t penetrate that line with one drone?”
He’d burned seven of their precious reconnaissance birds, and every one of them had been shot down before it sent back anything useful. Daniels had originally thought the enemy was foolish to concentrate so tightly around their main base, putting their men into a dense formation that Taylor’s army could easily destroy. Now he realized there were some benefits too. But the heavy AA presence still didn’t make sense to him. They must have stripped all their units’ anti-air capacity to protect their deep interior against surveillance. Why, he wondered…why would they be so determined to keep him from getting a good look at their support areas?
“The AA fire near the Portal is extremely heavy, sir.” John Stavros stood next to Daniels, his hand held over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the bright midday sun. He had a passing thought about how much he’d changed and adapted. The sun on Juno was strong, but it was nothing compared to Erastus, especially when both suns were up. A year before he would have looked straight up at Juno’s star and thought nothing of it. Now he was squinting and blocking the light with his hand.
