It was a risk, but Renzo had to know. With his heart threatening to climb up into his throat, he toggled open a channel and attempted to reach Jim McCoy on the command net.
Instantaneous, deafening static resulted. It nearly drove him to his knees in pain. He snapped the channel shut while a pit of loss opened up in his stomach.
“Sir?” Sgt Maj Spoljoric asked, firing his shoulder-mounted MAC over the boulder in front of them.
“Bravo squad is gone,” Renzo said, careful to keep his voice emotionless. “We’ve got nothing on our left.”
“Terrain’s pretty nasty there,” Spoljoric said, “and they’re not touching the left at all right now. Nor do they seem to have any more artillery than we do. Be thankful for small mercies, sir, and drive on. Our troopers are putting up a hell of a fight.”
And so they were. As the opposing force’s CASPers came into view, Renzo could see his troopers firing in a disciplined mass on the orders of his junior officers. A rolling wave of molten destruction resulted, pouring forth in a wall of heat that seemed to cause the oncoming ranks of CASPers to melt in the face of withering destruction. Renzo stepped back and began to walk slowly along the line, feeling more than seeing Sergeant Major Spoljoric falling into step with him. Desperate pride in his company swelled inside his chest, causing his eyes to prickle with unshed tears as he watched them repeating their actions over and over again. Hold. Stand. Fire. Drop. Hold. Stand. Fire…
Downslope, through the trees and the smoke and the near-continuous dry lightning flashes, Renzo could see CASPers lying in heaps, most still moving as they fought to get back to their own lines, but some terribly still. During one particularly brilliant discharge, he could make out the crest of a crimson wave painted on the chestplate of one of the downed CASPers. It lay crumpled over a comrade, bearing a single white star on a circular blue field, outlined in red and white.
“The Lone Star Company,” Renzo said, “and the Red Tide, unless I miss my guess. Looks like that’s who we’re facing today, Sergeant Major. Not who I would have expected to take a contract against other Humans.”
“Tough companies, sir,” Spoljoric replied, “but so are we.” As he spoke, the squad in front of them stood and fired again, their MAC reports reverberating through the trees and echoing off the boulders. Overhead, another lightning flash boomed through the air. Renzo felt the noise in his chest and dragged in a breath in response.
Down the slope, the tone of the attackers’ shouts changed, and they began to hop-jump their way back down the slope. The Alces kept up their withering fire, but to the enemy’s credit, both companies continued to retreat in good order. All along Renzo’s lines, officers shouted orders to reload and remain ready.
“Get me a medic and mechanic’s report,” Renzo said.
“Yes, sir,” Spoljoric replied, and moved out to check in with the docs and CASPer repair techs already circulating through the ranks. In the meantime, Renzo risked trying the comms one more time. He waited until the lightning discharged over his head, and then opened a command channel.
“McCoy!”
Nothing but static. He toggled over to a different channel. Maybe he could get an update on the artillery situation? “Colonel Vincent?”
Crack! Lightning arced overhead, flashing fire into existence and striking his CASPer hard enough to pick him up and throw him several meters into a nearby boulder. His internal controls blinked and stuttered, but recovered. The ringing in his ears jacked up to a deafening squeal. Inside his skull, a hammering started in counterpoint to the noise.
“Right,” he muttered, burning a little bit of jumpjuice to stagger back to his feet. “Voice comms only. Got it.”
“Sir!” Spoljoric’s voice cut through the tinnitus and brought Renzo’s attention back to the real world. “Report is in, mostly head and shoulder wounds. None fatal yet, though the medics are running through their nanite supply right quick. A couple of the CASPers are operating in the yellow, with only two at less than 50% capacity. The mechanics are working on them as best they can with this damned lightning.”
“Yeah,” Renzo said, “I just got hit. Tell the mechanics to take every precaution, to include knocking off repairs for a time if necessary. I’ve got thirty CASPers. I’ve only got five mechanics.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How are we fixed otherwise?”
“MAC rounds are running low. We’ll be needing resupply before nightfall at this rate.”
“Colonel Vincent is aware,” Renzo said, trying his best to sound reassuring. “He’s promised me more ammo and fuel cells as soon as possible.”
“Well, our troopers are doing a hell of a job. We’ll be just fine, sir. Just fine.”
“Here they come!”
Renzo never saw who shouted the warning, but it echoed down the line, mingling with the crackling of the lightning and the oncoming sounds of more CASPers charging up the slope toward them. Another fusillade of MAC rounds zinged through the air all around, and Renzo ducked behind a boulder and resumed moving down the line of his troops. Once again fire rolled forth from the ranks of the Alces as Renzo’s troops met the oncoming Lone Star and Red Tide attackers as they bounded up the hill. They, too, had eschewed radio comms, for Renzo could hear the enemy officers shouting orders and encouragement to their subordinates while the lightning cracked all around them.
The disciplined wave of fire began to spread out as the enemy CASPers drew nearer. Renzo’s officers shouted for their troopers to fire at will, and the whole hillside exploded in noise and destruction. Renzo toggled his own shoulder-mounted cannon down and took a deep breath as he scanned for targets.
There, a Lone Star trooper charged up the hill, letting out an undulating cry of rage as her jumpjets powered her leap. Renzo stilled, focused, and fired. His suit rocked back on its heels as the shot left his barrel. Three rounds ripped into the center fuselage of her CASPer, right through the pristine white star. She faltered, jets stuttering and flaming out. The CASPer crashed to the ground, gouging a deep trench in the rocky soil of the slope before coming to rest at the base of one of the tangled tree thickets. No further movement.
Some emotion he couldn’t name threatened to rise up and overwhelm him, but he pushed it back with a savagery he didn’t know he had. Later. He’d deal with all of this later. For now, he had to stay alive and fight to keep his troopers alive. He pictured himself shoving his emotional being into a box and slamming the lid closed, and willed a frozen calm to flow through his being.
There, another charging CASPer, this one bearing the crimson crest of the Red Tide. Another deep breath, another burst fired. Another CASPer slammed to the ground, unable to reach out and hurt his company anymore.
Renzo continued to fire methodically, clinging to the icy calm that wrapped around his mind and allowed him to continue to function. He lost his sense of time in the mechanics of firing and finding targets, and it wasn’t until his deputy called his name that he realized, with a start, that the enemy was retreating once again.
The Alces had withstood another charge. How many more would they be required to endure?
* * *
“Tom,” Renzo said, gasping slightly as his focus fell away, and he once again became aware of more than just the oncoming enemy. Sudden thirst assailed him, and he realized his haptic suit and face were wet with sweat. He toggled his drink tube forward and sipped, then dismissed the flashing red warning that his in-suit water supply was running low. “Got a report for me?”
“We’ve held them off, sir,” Tom said, his voice pitched to reassure, “but I don’t know how much longer we can do this without more MAC rounds.”
“Casualties?”
“Still counting,” Tom said as SGM Spoljoric bounded up. Like everyone else, he used a particular type of stutter-jump designed to conserve as much juice as possible. Ammo wasn’t the only thing in short supply. “The troops are holding well, but they did more damage this time and got a lot closer. The mechanics are doing th
eir best to get everyone back up as quickly as possible. Medics, too, though I hear we just used our last nanite dose.”
“Have the men gather ammo from the wounded, and from any CASPers at less than 40% functionality,” Renzo said. “Jumpjuice, too, get one of the mechanics to siphon it off and cannibalize whatever they can from the most badly disabled suits. Grab the power cells, hydrogen, batteries…anything usable. I can’t get a message out to Col. Vincent in this electrical storm, but he knows we’re strapped for ammo and supplies. Help is coming, we just have to hold until it gets here.”
Renzo hated the tiny note of desperation he heard in his voice, and he hoped neither of the other two men picked up on it.
“Yes, sir,” Tom said. “We got this. Just like that night next to Fred’s Highway.” Renzo pictured his deputy’s confident grin as he turned away to relay the orders to the mechanics and medics.
“Yeah,” Renzo said, pushing away the memory of spending the night sheltering behind the lifeless CASPer of a dead trooper. It had been miserable, but they’d lived…barely. “Just like that.”
“Sir,” SGM Spoljoric said then, pointing. Renzo turned to look in the direction indicated, and dialed up the magnification on his suit’s visual sensors. It was hard to see through the trees, and the picture wavered with static from the electrical storm that still raged overhead, but Renzo could just make out the movement of several ranks of CASPers bounding eastward, parallel to the slope of the hill.
“Looks like they’ve brought in their reserve,” Spoljoric said. “I’m not seeing any other company insignia, though. Just the Red Tide.”
“They’re trying to find our left flank,” Renzo said, scaling back the magnification and looking around at the lines of his troopers. Just then, another cry went up from the right, and yet more volleys of fire and MAC rounds sang out through the trees as the enemy attacked the right once again. Renzo stepped up to the line and fired a few shots, and then looked around to take stock of the situation.
“Have the troopers switch to energy weapons as their rounds run low,” he said to Spoljoric, shouting so as to be heard over the report from the sergeant major’s MAC. “It’ll burn through our power cells faster, but we’ve got to balance our resources. I don’t want to be forced to rely on one or the other.”
“Yes, sir,” Spoljoric shouted, still firing. He relayed this order to a nearby NCO, who immediately opened fire with his laser cannon and blistered a smoking hole in the line advancing up the slope. The enemy, too, was stutter-hopping, Renzo noted with interest. They must be conserving their resources as well.
Pressure on Renzo’s immediate position eased, allowing him to step back and think as the latest assault faltered. Another magnified glance below and to the left showed him more CASPers, still in motion.
“Tom!” Renzo called out as a plan began to take shape in his head. “Rally the officers here.”
“Yes, sir!” Tom called out, and one by one, the various squad leaders and SGM Spoljoric converged on his position. Once they were all in place, Renzo turned his back away from the line and addressed them en masse.
“The enemy has called up their reserves and is moving left to flank us,” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll keep up a barrage of fire from the extreme right, where our lines meet The Strong’s. Stay nice and tight on them, all right? There can be zero break in the line. Captain Hooper, that’s you. No breaks, understand?” Renzo pointed at the CASPer of the barrel-chested young officer commanding the extreme right of his company’s position. John Hooper gave him a “thumbs up” in acknowledgment.
“Right. Now. The rest of the company will sidestep to the left, thinning out the line until we’re single file, with no more than two regular arms-length distance between each of us. You see Lieutenant Mata here? She’s going to end up at the extreme left end. When you reach that point, we’re going to refuse the line, understand? We’ll form a new line perpendicular to this one. Stay in single depth to pull up as much of our reserve as possible, so we can counterattack whenever there’s a hole. Is that clear? Any questions?”
Renzo scanned the CASPers in his group, wishing he could see the faces of the men and women inside. But with the storm preventing radio communications, all he could see were inscrutable CASPer fuselages.
“No, sir,” Lieutenant Nicholas Fauls said, from his place next to John Hooper. Renzo took a deep breath and sent a prayer out to whichever of Tom’s gods might be listening that he was doing the right thing. A tiny stab of bitter regret bearing Jim McCoy’s name ran him through, but he pushed it away and forced his mind to remain focused.
“Fine,” Renzo said then, swiping his hand to the side and pointing east. “Move.”
The officers swung their CASPers around and headed back to their various squads within the company. Renzo turned and found Lieutenant Aeryn Mata close at his shoulder.
“Lieutenant, you’re with me,” he said. “Double-time.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice hard and almost eager. They began to stutter-hop forward, pouring on as much speed as they dared while keeping their trajectories low. They hoped to stay mostly below the line of boulders and thickets for two reasons. One, it was easier to dodge lightning strikes if you stayed closer to the ground; and two, it kept them out of the direct line of fire from the Red Tide and Lone Star troopers who lurked downslope somewhere.
They pushed out to a miniature curve in the cliff-like contour of the hill before Renzo held up a hand, indicating she should stop there.
“Roger,” Aeryn said and pushed forward to stand in front of him, planting her heels in the rocky clay of the soil and pointing her shoulder-mounted MAC down the hill. Behind her, the Alces streamed in a stutter-hopping wave, stringing out to the distance Renzo had ordered, and reformed the line stretching northward up the slope of the hill. Lieutenant Fauls bounded past, shouting encouragement and exhortations to the troopers who followed him as he took up his post at the extreme end of the line.
Renzo had time to see Fauls plant his CASPer and take aim with his laser weapon before the air came alive again with the crack of MAC fire and the flash of laser shots through the ion-heavy air. Renzo dialed up his magnification and squinted through the trees. He could just make out a line of CASPers moving methodically forward and up the slope as they worked in concert to attack the left side of the line. His Alces returned fire in a massed volley of mingled MAC shots and laser bolts. Lightning split the sky overhead and clearly showed the scarlet crest of the Red Tide’s livery.
“We’ve got to hold this flank, understand?” Renzo shouted as he moved behind the line, trying to back his troopers up as Aeryn, Nicholas, and his other officers echoed his cries. “Hold them here, Alces! This is where we stand!”
Like the inexorable tide that was their namesake, the attacking CASPers drove forward into the teeth of the Alces’ defense. Their troopers fell in waves, but more kept coming on, stutter-leaping over the crumpled heaps of their fallen comrades as they blazed away with MAC and laser both. Admiration for the Red Tide’s bravery wrapped around his throat, but Renzo shoved it in the box with all his other emotions and pushed it away. He’d deal with all that later.
Lieutenant Nicholas Fauls cried out and fell. His troopers moved into his position, providing him covering fire, while he dragged his wounded CASPer back from the line. Renzo started in that direction when Aeryn called out to him.
“Sir! The sergeant major!”
Renzo spun just in time to see SGM Spoljoric’s CASPer fall to its knees and list heavily to its right, falling onto the smoking wreckage of the MAC that had taken a direct hit.
“Sergeant Major!” Renzo yelled, bounding over. “Carl!”
“I’m all right, sir,” the sergeant major’s voice answered, sounding tinny and garbled, but strong enough through the CASPer’s half-blown external speaker. “Damn Reds got me right in the MAC. Plays hell with my target practice.”
“Get a medic over here,” Renzo said to Tom
, who had just bounded up as well.
“No, sir, I’m all right. I just need a mechanic when one can be spared. I’ve got plenty of chems left to power my laser.” As if to prove the point, he lifted his CASPer’s undamaged arm and fired five shots out toward the Red Tide, who had once again begun a solid retreat under fire.
“Sir!”
Renzo looked up to see Captain John Hooper executing a perfect low bound to land crouched beside himself, Tom, and the sergeant major.
“Captain?”
“We’re critically low on ammo, sir, and some of our troopers are nearly juice-dry as well!”
Renzo made up his mind and turned to his deputy.
“Tom, go see what you can get from The Strong on our right side. Anything will do, juice, MAC rounds, nanites…hell, even some water would help. But quickly, go!”
Tom got to his feet in answer and bounded up the hill and back toward the right. Renzo turned back to Hooper.
“Take what you can from the wounded…and anyone else who isn’t going to be using it themselves.” He didn’t want to call John’s attention to the fact that he was ordering him to loot the bodies of his dead friends, but that’s exactly what he was doing. An ugly thing, perhaps, but no uglier than letting their position be overrun because of an excess of sentimentality. He reached out to touch Hooper on the shoulder of his CASPer, hoping to help the younger officer understand. “Just pick up what you can from anywhere.”
“Here they come again, sir!” SGM Spoljoric said, firing his laser with surgical precision. Once more that high-pitched, ululating yell joined the crash of thunder from the dry lightning and the crack and sizzle of his troopers’ fire as the Red Tide commander sent his CASPers charging up the hill.
Renzo surged to his feet and opened up with his MAC over the half-prone figure of his senior NCO. His rounds took out three of the lead CASPers on the charge, causing them to fall and tumble back down into the path of their comrades bounding up the slope behind them. But the disciplined Red Tide troopers kept pushing on, screaming that wildly unnerving yell the entire way. More jagged lightning rent the sky above them, deafening them all with the resultant thunderclaps. Renzo fought to keep his feet, to keep his nerve, and to keep firing.
The Gates of Hell Page 2
