And smart people had been lost in the jungle. That was the next thing to weigh on his mind. Intelligence wasn’t always enough.
But she’s heavily armed, was the following thought. From what the man he had let go said, as well as the characteristic marks on the entrance of the cave, she had a particle beam. The most powerful piece of hand held firepower short of antimatter that human tech could build, it gave her killing power over anything that moved in the jungle. As long as she gets it first.
Goldman got up and headed for the area they had designated the kitchen. He pulled out a glass and a bottle of whisky and poured himself a multishot drink. The good liquor went down his throat with a burn, and soon his head was swirling a bit. He poured another drink, this time taking it back to the couch where he could sit and sip. There’s nothing I can do tonight about anything, he thought as he let the alcohol calm him. Tomorrow I’ll try and figure out what to do, because I can’t just sit here waiting. I have to go find her, even if it kills me.
The Major drank some more, until the bottle was empty. Soon the liquor had the effect on him he had desired, and he passed out on the couch.
Chapter Twenty-one
War is the unfolding of miscalculations. Barbara Tuchman.
AZURE. MAY 24TH, 1001.
This time the entire company was on the move. A priority target had been designated about seventy-five kilometers from their base, something that might be the headquarters of a battalion or brigade of the enemy. Patrols that had gone to that area had a tendency to not return. Until one squad size recon element had located the enemy base and gotten back, due to the sacrifice of several of the members. It was a shame that good men had to die to bring back the information, but as the Rangers had learned, mission came first.
Cornelius was the point of the company, despite being a squad leader. The company had originally had one hundred and sixty operatives, the combat soldiers of the unit. They were down to a hundred and twenty-one with replacements, and there had been some reshuffling to bring all the platoons to more or less the same strength.
Behind Walborski was his squad in a classic v formation. Back and to either side were the two other squads in the same formation, with the platoon command team directly behind Cornelius’ squad. The company command followed his platoon, with the other two lined up in the same kind of formation behind the Captain’s group.
Walborski realized that there was no way the entire company could move as quietly as the platoon alone. That said, they were moving like a whispering wind through the jungle. The real concern was that the enemy would have sensors out. It was really impossible to move through an area with ground vibration sensors without setting them off. That was why the whole company was involved. When they were discovered they would fight their way through the resistance. Then they would use the special weapons carried by Second Platoon. As long as they got within ten kilometers of the target they had a good chance of hitting it.
The Sergeant had his senses stretched to the limit as he moved from shadow to shadow. His eyes darted every which way, looking for any hint of a movement. He only wore a bush hat, like most of the Rangers, allowing his ears complete access to the environment. Those ears strained to hear every sound, while his brain categorized those noises, searching for a threat. He sniffed the air every few seconds. The air was alive with scents, some now familiar, some not, and he tried to figure which might be the sign that something dangerous waited ahead.
Something caught his eye, and Cornelius knelt on one knee and focused his vision. The object zoomed into his visual field, and he cursed silently as he recognized the object as something of technological manufacture. Whoever had placed it had tried to camouflage it, but some of the dead leaves had fallen away, and one side was now uncovered. Fortunately for the humans, it was the side that was facing the point man.
Cornelius flashed hand signals to the man behind him that were relayed back. Within moments the Lieutenant was up with him, and Walborski pointed out the seismic sensor. The officer looked at him and nodded, then checked his map. The Sergeant looked at the piece of plastic and noted that they were fifteen kilometers from the target, still out of range of the specials, even if they had a clear shot. He fingered his wedding ring on its chain and thought about the situation.
So they know we’re coming, thought Cornelius with a shrug, looking at his platoon leader as the man flashed signals back up the line. In less than a minute the signals came back and Cornelius read them along with his platoon leader. We keep moving ahead, he thought, nodding his head in approval. We know they know we’re coming, and can be prepared for it.
Men came up as the company shifted positions. The platoon went to two squads forward and one back as a reserve. Another platoon moved up beside them in the same formation, while the third platoon, First, stayed back as the company reserve. Now that they knew there was no way they were going to sneak through doctrine called for them to meet the enemy on a wide front, where they wouldn’t have exposed flanks for the Cacas to take advantage of. Hopefully.
Cornelius set the pace for the company at the head of his squad. It wasn’t exactly a run, more like a quick walk, giving up some stealth or speed. To Walborski’s ears they were not making much more noise than before, but to the sensors it might have sounded like a stampede. He looked up to the canopy covering the sky every fifteen seconds or so, wondering if kinetic rounds would come down from above to wipe them off the face of the planet.
Despite the Cacas being in place and covered, the Rangers spotted them first and went to ground. Cornelius dropped behind a tree, being careful that there was nothing in that spot that might make him regret his choice. He looked around the tree and spotted the Caca he had seen, bringing his rifle around and taking aim, but not firing until he got the signal. He placed his scope crosshairs on the face of the creature and froze in his stance.
A shot rang out, this one without any kind of noise suppression. It was the sound of a chemically fired rifle, unlike any the enemy would have, and the agreed signal. Cornelius pulled his own trigger and his rifle bucked into his shoulder, making a slight phutting noise as it sent the bullet at the enemy’s unprotected face. There was a splash of red as the bullet went through the flesh and bone of the enemy, and the creature dropped its own weapon and sagged to the ground.
The Sergeant could barely hear the other rifles firing. But he could definitely hear the return fire, as hypersonic pellets tore through vegetation and particle beams ripped with their buzzing sound through everything that stood in their way.
One of those beams hit the tree Walborski was sheltering behind, punching through two meters above the ground. The trunk exploded down to the meter above ground mark, sending splinters in all directions. Hot sap fell on the Ranger, and he flinched as one glob landed on his cheek and burned deep. He had no thought for that inconvenience as the tree started on its way down. It wasn’t falling his way, which didn’t mean he wouldn’t get hit by the damned big thing when it fell and bounced.
Cornelius was on his feet in an instant, running for another big tree and cover, firing his rifle from the hip and letting off a grenade from the lower barrel. The particle beam fired again, swinging toward him, but dying before it could reach his position. He wasn’t sure if one of his shots had hit the gunner, or someone elses, but he did know that he had escaped sure death at that moment. Then he was backing behind another tree and getting into firing position.
He caught movement out of his eye, and turned for an instant to see two Rangers on the move. One fell back, something exploding on his chest, while the other one slid down behind a large log. That man grabbed a grenade, primed it, and threw it over the log to land thirty meters into the jungle. It exploded in a spray of dirt and leaves, and the Ranger crawled to the edge of the log and started to fire around it.
“Move out,” yelled Cornelius to his own men, getting up and sprinting for another tree twenty meters ahead. He landed hard on his chest and started to shoot, while the
rest of his men came up under his covering fire.
Weapons grenades were now going off all over the area. He could tell from their pops whose they were, and both sides were letting loose with everything they had. The cries of dying and injured were even louder than the grenades. Even as disciplined as the Rangers were, it was hard to not yell out when taking a serious or mortal wound. The Cacas weren’t as disciplined, and they screamed like children, or roared like beasts when they were hit.
Cornelius moved forward, his rifle to his shoulder, looking for a target. He spotted a pair of Cacas lying in prone positions, firing at some other Rangers, and he knew he had pushed through their first line. He put a pair of quick shots into the back of one of the armored warriors. The minishape charges burst through, and the Caca jerked as the metal flechets ripped into his spine. The other Caca started to turn over, bringing his rifle around with him. Cornelius double tapped him through the helmet before he could complete the motion.
“We’re through the front of their line,” said Specialist Murphy, one of Walborski’s grenadiers.
Two more men came up with him, and Cornelius wondered where the others were. He was too much of a realist to think that his squad hadn’t taken casualties, but he could always hope.
“We’re going to work to the right and roll them up,” said Cornelius, looking at his three men just as a fourth came running up. “Hashimoto, you watch our right flank in case they start bringing up reinforcements. I don’t want us being hit in the flank.”
The Japanese descended man nodded, and Cornelius got them arranged the way he wanted, with Murphy close enough to control the grenadier’s fire. He waved his hand forward and they started off.
This was really a fight for heavily armored infantry. Despite the effectiveness of the Rangers’ chemically powered weapons, the Cacas had the firepower advantage. And chemically powered meant heavier rounds, meaning they carried less ammo than they would have with mag weapons. Rangers were better suited to hit and run, the battle of the ambush. But they were here, as was the fight and the target ahead. So they stuck it in and fought through the resistance.
They moved up the line, killing the enemy before they had a chance to react, freeing up the Rangers that were pinned down to get up and come forward. Some of those men joined the attack while others continued to move forward, hoping to catch any coming reinforcements before they were prepared to fight.
“Dammit,” yelled Cornelius as they came to a group of Cacas that were not facing away from them, at least not all of them. The heavy particle beam they had mounted on a tripod fired right into Murphy, and a good portion of the man went up in vapor while some of his ammunition exploded from the heat, throwing the remains to the side. Walborski hit the ground as the beam passed overhead, swinging into another of his men.
The Sergeant screamed in rage as he fired his rifle launcher at the weapon. The round struck the barrel of the gun and it died. The other two Cacas facing his way starting trying to hit him with rifle fire, and he crawled back into a small hollow as his testicles tried to climb up into his body. He was really scared, he realized with some shock, then wondered why he would think he wouldn’t be in this kind of a firefight. Everything before this had been easy, with the exception of the ambush they had set off, and even that only lasted for about a minute. Here they had already been fighting over five minutes. And he had almost been killed several times, while seeing several men he knew cut down.
Cornelius pulled another grenade off his webbing, armed it, and threw it in a looping overhand toss toward where he thought the Cacas were who had taken him under fire. The grenade went off and he popped up from the hollow, bringing his rifle to his shoulder and tracking onto the Cacas. All three were on the ground, upper hands over their ears. Two were badly injured, with blood rolling down their faces. Cornelius put rounds through those faces and added to their injury, sending them into the permanent darkness of death. Or maybe they have an afterlife to go to, he thought as he shot the one that wasn’t as seriously injured. Unless it’s a fairy tale their priests tell them, like ours.
The fighting went on for what seemed like hours, but was only fifteen minutes on the Sergeant’s internal clock. Still, it was enough time to lose half the company as killed in action, while there were a score more wounded. The Caca body count went over two hundred, though the aliens had been the better armed.
The Rangers took a moment to take what they needed off the bodies of their dead, mostly ammunition, and say quick goodbyes before moving on. The mission came first, always the mission above all. Their overall mission was to disrupt the Caca command, and to kill as many of the Cacas as possible. Secondary to that was to break the spirits of the Ca’cadasan warriors that were on the planet, the psychological aspect of the mission. And by breaking the spirits of these warriors they could hurt the confidence of all of the aliens.
Walborski thought about this on the two kilometers they covered to the next line of resistance, this one a hasty defense line of reserves moved quickly into place. It was another hard fight, costing the Rangers a dozen more troopers, but the Cacas hadn’t gotten set before they were hit, and suffered a total loss of that platoon.
They were now about two kilometers from the range of their special weapons. Theoretically at least. They still needed a line of sight to launch from, as just firing into the jungle and hoping they didn’t hit a tree was kind of out of the realm of possibility. There was a nice hill with a rocky knob three kilometers from the Rangers, and the planners had thought that would be the perfect launch point.
All of the planning was rendered moot when the company was hit unexpectedly from the jungle, from behind and the flank simultaneously. The creatures they knew as Hunters came running out of the thick vegetation, loping on all fours and attacking with tooth and claw. When the Rangers knew that they were there the creatures changed their stances and came in as bipeds, with weapons in hand. And they carried high tech weapons, particle beams and lasers, unlike the Rangers not self-restricted to equipment that didn’t give off electronic emissions.
Walborski was again at the head of the company when it was hit, and found himself outside the action for a moment. That gave him a chance to see what was happening and get himself into position to hit the aliens from the rear. He found that despite their survival suits and impact armor the minishapes blew through to their bodies just fine, though the creatures didn’t go down easy. It took nine hits to kill two of them, and that left the Sergeant wondering how the rest of the Rangers were doing.
Cornelius was drawing a bead on a third Hunter when something slammed into him from the side, hard. He felt a stab of pain from his left thigh and knew he had been hurt. Cornelius tried to swing his rifle around and butt stroke the thing that was attacking him, and felt a rip through his left bicep muscle for his trouble. Another paw knocked the rifle out of his hand, and the Ranger felt himself going down.
The Ranger flashed into overdrive state, willing the release of all of his adrenaline stores as his muscles went into double their normal rate of ATP use. He hit the Hunter in the snout with his left elbow, while ripping his blade out with his right hand. Twisting on the way down to his back he shoved the Wakizashi into the abdomen of the creature and pulled it up. Landing on his back he was looking up at the snarling teeth of the Hunter. It seemed to be moving in slow motion to his overdriven body. He brought his left arm up under the creature’s jaw and pushed up, at the same time twisting the blade into its guts and pulling out with a draw cut. The Hunter went slack, and Walborski shoved the creature off him and jumped back to his feet, just in time to take the charge of a second enemy.
He brought his sword up, then down onto the head of the creature as it hit him in the chest. His blade cut into the skull at the same time as both paws of the Hunter sliced into his torso. Cornelius felt his feet tottering on the edge of the drop he was backed up against. The Hunter fell dead at his feet, its claws ripping into his flesh as they were pulled out of him. Cornelius str
uggled to stay on his feet. His people needed him. He couldn’t let himself be taken out of the fight.
Then the combination of his wounds and the come down from his overdrive took the strength out of him, and he couldn’t fight the fall he was teetering on. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell down the long slope, rolling over and over on the way down. He hit a tree trunk at the bottom, more pain, this time in his ribs and shoulder. Followed by complete blackness, and he knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-two
When you are winning a war almost everything that happens can be claimed to be right and wise. Winston Churchill.
AZURE. MAY 21ST- 24TH, 1001.
Rebecca hadn’t wanted to leave the intact house, not really. But several aircars had flown over the village two days after she had arrived, and she had been spooked by the sight of those vehicles. As far as she knew the only things still in the air were owned by the aliens. There might still be human ground troops in the jungles, something she was not sure of, but the air and the space above it belonged to the Cacas.
She wandered through the jungle, wondering where she wanted to go. Her map showed some more villages. It didn’t show what she really wanted, frontier cabins or hunting camps that would be under the canopy. Those might be on some of the high tech electronic maps that tapped into the planetary database, when there was such a thing. But the cheap plastic thing she had, though detailed to topography, did not.
After a day of just wandering she decided to have a try at the village that she and Benjamin had first sheltered at. That thought brought a pain to her chest, remembering how her brother had died at that place. It was the only habitation she could think of where the enemy had been to recently, which in her mind meant it was more unlikely to be visited again, since the enemy had to know it was cleared.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 05 - Ranger Page 28
