Hard Nova

by Casey Calouette

  Cross gave a quick glance down the ridge and saw Captain McCloud picking his way through the spruces.

  “Yes.”

  ####

  Jack picked his way down the slope and used the trees as handholds. He gave a jealous glance at the rangers and soldiers who seemed able to pick the proper path at the proper point and almost glide down.

  The trees grew larger the farther down they went. Soon he noticed that they were planted in perfectly straight rows. His eyes blurred as he stared down one line and saw nothing but a straight row of trees for hundreds of meters.

  A Qin interceptor flew so low overhead that the trees rocked and groaned. A line of explosions ripped through the meadow not far away.

  “Hold up!” someone called from up ahead.

  McCloud stopped next to Jack and squatted down.

  Jack looked around and saw everyone else squatting. One thing he’d learned in the military was to do the same thing as everyone else, regardless if it made sense or not. He squatted too and looked in the same direction as McCloud. “I’m sorry about getting you into this, Captain.”

  McCloud sighed. He pulled out a high-calorie ration bar and tore it open with his teeth.

  Jack kept talking. “It’s just, well, I saw that moment, and I know how good the Qin are at encryption. I just couldn’t use a password, you know? And to get the right encryption I needed two people and, well…“

  “Stop.”

  Jack closed his mouth. He had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, or so everyone told him.

  McCloud finished the ration bar and tucked the wrapper into his pack. “Can you fix it?”

  “Well,” Jack said. He picked his brain through a few possibilities. If he could get into the network, and if his pathway was still alive, and if they hadn’t found all of the algorithms. But even at that, he didn’t know. And what would he replace it with? Password? 1234? “If I can get to a command module, there should be plenty down below.”

  McCloud glared at Jack. “You’ve got no fucking idea, do you? The world of shit happening here is because of you.”

  Jack cracked a nervous smile. “What do you mean? I locked out—“

  “There’s a hundred thousand soldiers here who are getting the shit kicked out of them. Why? Because the Qin want to find us. They want to find you, Jack, and me, and to do it they’re gonna grind up this entire drop zone.”

  Artillery thundered down through the valley in a crescendo of distant thunder.

  “You can’t pin this on me. I did my damned job,” Jack said. “I had no idea it would work. It was that or we’d get burned by the navy from orbit. A damned sight better than being dead, I’d say.”

  McCloud looked down and pulled out a photo clip from his armored vest. He studied it for a second and tucked it back in. Tears welled up, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

  Jack caught a glimpse. It was of three children: two boys and one girl. “Kids?”

  “Brother and sister.”

  “They here?”

  “The Qin took them when we were kids. Back in ’05. They’re dead.”

  Jack didn’t know how to reply.

  A soldier stood and threw up his arm; he waved it from side to side, pumped his fist twice, and dropped into the prone position.

  “Get down,” McCloud said. The ranger checked the action on his rifle and tucked himself behind a moss-covered stump.

  Jack scooted to the side and pressed himself into the soft dirt. If he’d learned anything in basic training, it was how to get low.

  “Get your weapon ready.”

  Jack pulled out a small pistol and laid it on the edge of a stump. He pointed the barrel vaguely toward where the soldier had pointed, though he had no idea what the hand gestures meant.

  The woods were eerily quiet. Far in the distance were the roar of explosions and constant gunfire. Sometimes the pace would rise up like a storm of hail only to drop off. Then Jack realized what was so strange: there were no birds. Back on Earth, there would’ve been birds everywhere. He caught movement, like fog drifting through the woods. “Did you see something?”

  A suit of armor shimmered green and was upon them. All along the ridge, a line of stealth suits dropped cloak and fired on the infantry. They had close-range shotguns, stubby things that belched flame and slugs.

  McCloud rose to his feet and stepped to the other side of the tree. A stealth suit fired twice toward the group with the pilot, and then it turned and lunged at McCloud. They collapsed onto the ground, locked together, as McCloud kept slamming his palm into the stealth suit’s face shield. Their weapons were locked together.

  The stealth suit rolled off and jammed an elbow into McCloud’s neck.

  Jack stood, raised the pistol, and squeezed the trigger tight. Nothing happened. The safety was on.

  The stealth suit punched Jack squarely in the face and drew out its own pistol.

  Jack dropped like a bag of potatoes.

  McCloud was on him again. He tore the pistol free and slammed his palm into the face shield one more time. The stealth suit wrenched his rifle away.

  All around them was gunfire. The trees were so close that unless the soldiers were within a dozen meters, they couldn’t see. The gunfire was loudest in the front of the unit. The main formation of Qin troops were moving up the tree line.

  The stealth suit bent over and nearly flipped McCloud off his back. He grasped the arms tight and felt them digging for something. His heart raced. Another pistol? A grenade? He head-butted the stealth suit once. Twice.

  The stealth suit jabbed at him with a knife that punched into the edge of McCloud’s armor. A sizzling sound rose up, followed by the smell of burnt plastic.

  McCloud locked onto the stealth suit’s wrist and wrenched it to the side. He heard a man cry out, and then he pulled the knife right across the stealth suit’s throat. The suit dropped into a heap right next to Jack.

  “Get up!” McCloud said. He yanked Jack up to his feet.

  Jack wobbled and leaned against a tree. His face throbbed. All he wanted to do was sleep.

  “Go, go!” Cross said. He leaped past, running parallel to the front line.

  McCloud latched onto Jack’s arm and tugged him along.

  Jack’s feet caught on every root and hummock. He turned when they ran past the group of soldiers with the pilot. The pilot lay dead with blood staining her sheer black flight suit. The other soldiers were tending wounds while one frantically dug into the rocky soil.

  A slug cracked into the trees, followed by more. Wood splinters rained down. More soldiers ran along with Cross. Sergeant Major Holly was sweeping up every soldier he could find. Finally they halted and plunged down the ridge.

  “We’re gonna get you a hole, sir!” Holly said to McCloud.

  Two more rangers appeared just behind them. One was tying a bandage onto his arm.

  McCloud looked to both of them. “Stay close.”

  Jack wheezed and breathed as deep as he could. No matter how much air he took in, it just wasn’t enough.

  The gunfire was even louder now. The air smelled of propellant powder and had an acrid tang of smoke. A ripple of grenades echoed through woods, followed by a roar and the crackling of trees.

  “A goddammed flamethrower,” Sergeant Major Holly said. He cupped his ear and pointed down the tree line.

  “Major says good luck. There’s still a core of units in there. They’re gonna hold as long as they can.”

  McCloud gave a crisp nod. “Thank you, Sergeant Major.”

  Sergeant Major Holly grinned and bared a set of bleached white teeth. “You ain’t gotta thank me, Captain. The army does that twice a month.”

  “Cross, you take the locksmith. I’ve got point with Maria and Martinez.”

  “My name’s Jack, or you can even call me Cook.”

  McCloud glanced up from his weapon but didn’t reply.

  The line of infantry swept down the ridge and, after sprinting a hundred meters, th
ey quickly turned. Now, instead of being in the thick tangle, they had a clear view down the tree lines. There, spread out before them, was the hostile line. They opened fire into the Qin flank.

  “Go.”

  McCloud and the other rangers sprinted through the line and disappeared into the trees. Cross focused, and the moment they were gone he followed after. Jack struggled to keep pace, almost leaping from one bound to the next. All he wanted to do was ask them to slow, just for a moment. Cross kept glancing back and making sure he was there.

  Gunfire ratcheted up behind them. The ridge was alive with a close gun battle. The roar of the flamethrower sounded again, followed by the smell of burnt petroleum and sizzled meat.

  Jack gagged and stumbled. He fell to his knees and vomited yellow bile.

  Cross spun around, pulled Jack to his feet, and dragged him while the locksmith kept vomiting.

  He kept picturing those soldiers burning. They’d done it all to get him out. To get McCloud out. To complete the mission. He was suddenly sick of being baggage, sick of being a whiny little scientist. This wasn’t a simulation or a line of statistics on a tablet; this was his new reality. War.

  “I’m OK, I’m OK,” Jack said. He spat out a mouthful of foul-tasting bile.

  “Just keep spitting it out. Don’t drink any water; the taste just sticks around then,” Cross said. He slowed the pace and trotted just ahead.

  “How do you know?” Jack said. Cross seemed like a grade-A hardened badass to him.

  “We all throw up.”

  Cross brought his weapon up and scanned the trees in front of them. “There should be more troops coming up.”

  A popping sound, deeper than gunfire, rapidly rose up in the distance and then was silent.

  “Shit, an artillery screen. Run!” Cross sprinted ahead with both arms pumping furiously.

  Jack raced after and just barely kept the sniper in his view. His throat ached. His lungs were on fire. He was sure the sniper had gone mad. There was nothing happening.

  Then the trees started to explode.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kane McCloud stepped through the airlock and into the flight bay. He was inside of a massive assembly vessel. The hold was tight, smelled of body odor, and was filled with rows of equipment and troops all heading down to the planet below. The dropships stretching down the line were pocked with shrapnel scars and scorch marks.

  Admiral Moss walked past Kane and waved down a young ensign. The young man gawked at the two senior officers.

  Kane watched the troops load up for another wave. At this point of the invasion, the biggest problem was simply putting enough troops on the ground fast enough. It was made much easier with the capture of all the orbital defenses. Now they could deploy faster than they’d planned for.

  His gaze drifted through the crowds, and he thought of Gavin. Somewhere down below his son was fighting to get out. Fighting to get into orbit. Then he’d be safe.

  Kane felt guilty that so many of these men were heading down to fight and die when all he wanted was his son safe. He looked once more; they were all someone’s sons and daughters. His job was to end this as quickly as possible. That, he knew, was his most essential duty. But, as the Chair of the Terran Union told him, don’t squander what you’ve got.

  “You should have let me call ahead,” Admiral Moss said.

  Kane smiled thinly. “No, it’s better to watch these things as they happen.”

  “You heard of the name, yes?”

  Kane nodded. “Qin Coalition. I’ve heard them referred to as koalas, bears, or the qincos.”

  “Qincos. Huh, I’d not have thought of that one, sir.”

  A naval escort arrived a few minutes later and led them through the crush of troops. They halted as a squadron of heavy armor plowed down the lane.

  “We had another Qin sortie from the moon. They’ve got drones buried in the substrate, rockets tucked up into craters,” Admiral Moss said. “Then a bit later, a cutter hit some cloaked mines.”

  “What does Admiral Hayabusa think of the fleet disposition?”

  “He wants to get close to the planet as soon as he can. We can’t dance with the Qin in deep space.”

  Kane nodded. He knew the odds. Out where the Qin could maneuver, they could use their speed, while close to a planet they had a gravity well to contend with.

  The last tank rumbled past and they continued through. Hardly anyone even noticed them pass.

  “Have you met General Amit?” Kane said.

  “I’ve heard the, uh, rumors.”

  “They’re true,” Kane said.

  “A prima donna, then?

  “Yes.” Kane stopped on the threshold of the command area. “But remember, the lead ballerina gets to be like that because she’s the best.”

  They entered the mostly silent command room for the Rapier drop zone. It was one of four; this one was on its off rotation.

  General Dinah Amit paced in front of a tactical display. She was short, stout about the shoulders, and wore the old-style uniform of the New Israeli Defense League. On one shoulder she had medals clipped from a dozen different campaigns. She glanced at Kane out of the corner of her eye and turned back to staring at the display.

  Around the room, the command staff was sprawled out on any flat surface. They slept with rucksacks or balled-up uniforms underneath their heads. One man was passed out at a line of data tablets. His mouth was wide open, and he snored every few breaths.

  Kane stepped over a sleeping colonel. The primary command staff was worn thin from the first day of the invasion. They were the ones who decided how to fight the battles. His place wasn’t to decide where to fight the battles, but whether they were worth fighting. Kane walked up behind Amit and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “You’ve come here to say no,” Amit said. “You’ve come here to rein in the indomitable General Dinah Amit.”

  Kane smiled back and still said nothing.

  Amit didn’t turn. “The Qin Coalition forces are all shifting. They’re moving as many high-leverage assets as possible to Claymore. You see it, yes? That’s the key. Claymore.”

  “So what do you propose?” Kane said.

  “Let it fall. Tell them to hold as long as they can, and then use the barges to hammer the incoming Coalition to bedrock. They’ll lose a high percentage of valuable assets there, assets that can’t fight me elsewhere. Then they’ll still have to handle our forces until they surrender.”

  Amit finally turned. There was a glimmer in her eye and a crooked smile growing on her face. “Make Claymore the anvil, and the navy the hammer.”

  “I’m not prepared to let Claymore fall yet.”

  The smile fell from Amit’s face. “They’re defending something there, and whatever it is, we need to kill it. A transport hub, maybe? We’ve already found deep tunnels. They’re moving assets underground where we can’t hit them from orbit. I know it.”

  Kane watched her and realized he’d overestimated her intelligence network. Maybe she didn’t know? “We have assets we need to extract.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Your son. They’ll end up blowing up any of those defense stations that we can’t capture in time. So what’s it worth, then? Nothing. This is a golden chance. We’ll lose most of those stations even if we get him up here. We brought our own backup defenses anyhow.”

  “As a contingency, we can’t deploy as many portable launchers as we’re likely to take from the Coalition. Eventually the Qin fleet will respond once they realize the ruse in the Wellington system.”

  “An even better reason to crush the ground forces here before the Qin fleet ever arrives,” Amit said quickly.

  Kane looked down at the tactical display. All across the globe, the Terran Union forces were spreading out and taking ground. Dropships were moving down as fast as they could be loaded. Already they were three days ahead of schedule and that was accelerating. Almost every other landing site was unopposed. Only Claymor
e was being hit. Only where his son was.

  “Ask her,” Amit said. She waved at Moss. “Once you can drop into low orbit, then you’ll match the Qin fleet, eh? So what’s holding you back?”

  Admiral Moss looked at Kane and then answered. “The chance that they’ll deploy portable launchers or hidden assets. Or if they regain control of the defense stations.”

  “So once we hold the planet?”

  “Then the fleet can come in.”

  “Then we’re safe.” Amit poked her finger at the tactical display. She swiped past icons showing expanding armored divisions or wings of gunships. “Look at this, Kane, look at it. We’re so far ahead.” Her voice was almost pleading.

  “We stick to the plan, Amit. I’ll not trade my son for your victory.” Kane couldn’t believe he’d said it. He looked away from them both.

  Amit smacked her hand onto the screen. The crack shattered the silence through the room. “Then you’ll trade a million other lives.”

  Kane turned away and looked at the staff around him. Some had woken and were rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They had sons and daughters; he knew he wasn’t the only officer with children down below. He kneeled down. A major had a picture frame clutched to his chest, the picture was of a girl in a uniform.

  “Leave me be,” Amit said. “If you’re not going to give me what I want, then you damned well better get out of my way.”

  “Twelve hours,” Kane said. His voice was wooden.

  “What?” Amit said.

  Kane turned and faced her. “In twelve hours, you will assume command of Rapier, Dagger, and Claymore.”

  Amit’s hand came to her mouth. Beneath it, a smile grew into a grin, and then she took her hand away and the same steely face was back. “Consider it done.”

  “Twelve hours.”

  Kane turned and walked back through the waking staff. Admiral Moss waited a moment and then followed after.

  “Everyone up!” General Amit bellowed. “We’ve got a war to win!”

  Kane felt empty inside. He’d traded nearly a hundred thousand soldiers for a chance at victory elsewhere. Another hand dealt. Another gamble made. To top it all, in twelve hours either his son would be safe, or his son would be dead.