* * *
Ursus Company
“What the hell happened to comms?” Captain Heimir Jonasson demanded. The battlespace on his tactical slate froze.
“The Eosogi are jamming comm frequencies,” the operations specialist of his rumbler reported. “I’m receiving intermittent near-field pings from the closest vehicles.”
“Guess we do this the old-fashioned way,” Captain Jonasson grumbled. Outside, CASVs opened fire with a mix of magnetic accelerator cannons, heavy lasers, and rockets. “There’s our cue. Drop the ramp and hit the ground, people! Follow the vics in and shoot anything scaly!”
Infantry squads poured out of their vehicles and pressed toward the enemy perimeter. Only meager return fire opposed them. The kid was smarter than Heimir gave him credit for, or he’d guessed lucky. Horns in the siege camp sounded three blasts. It would take the enemy moments to gather behind the rows of crates placed to provide cover.
Time to get to work. “Let’s go, Berserkers!” Around Jonasson dozens of infantry roared and surged toward the perimeter in the wake of four Casanovas and a pair of armored squad transports.
* * *
Bruin Actual
“Bill, take two platoons alongside the factory to our right,” Bjorn told Captain Hawkins. The small industrial building would screen the CASPers from view while the remaining two platoons drew out the Jivool.
“Roger.” Hawkins didn’t waste time on chatter as he led 50 CASPer troopers to the right.
“Remember, Jivool may resemble big dumb bears, but they’ll shoot you if you stand there waiting for them,” Bjorn stated over the company channel. “They may outnumber us, but we’re Berserkers! We’re big damned heroes! What do they say about heroes?”
“Valhalla Awaits!” 150 voices chorused over the comms.
Two blocks away, a massive mob of armored bears carrying huge guns rounded the corner.
“Attack!” Bjorn bellowed, firing one of his rockets into the middle of the oncoming throng. A barrage of rockets trailed his, exploding across the front ranks of Jivool.
Some of the Jivool paused their charge to shoulder long canisters. The weapons belched flame, and clusters of rockets arced toward the Berserkers. Two CASPers per squad mounted anti-missile lasers, but the short range and multitude of rockets exceeded their capacity. For every rocket lazed out of the air, another reached the Berserkers. Several icons winked red, then black on Bjorn’s tactical dashboard, and twice as many blinked yellow.
As the Jivool passed Hawkins’ position, the remaining CASPers opened fire. The withering fire took its toll, but far too few Jivool dropped. Still, the 150 Jivool were caught in a crossfire.
“Sukin syn!” Bjorn swore. “Bill! Watch your six!”
A hundred Jivool clambered over the wall behind Hawkins’ platoons.
* * *
Polar Company
Captain Jake Wirth cursed fate and the gods. Jivool drones took out two Casanovas with rocket fire and damaged two others. Laser fire from the Berserker vehicles downed several of the unmanned craft, but the threat slowed the advance on the landing zone.
“Captain, I’m reading shields on the Jivool landing craft,” the operations specialist reported.
“Dammit.” Wirth glanced at the tactical dashboard. Losses mounted in Bruin and Grizzly companies. “All units, fire by squads on these targets.” He tapped on the slate, wishing he’d taken the offer to get pinplants. “MAC-armed vehicles, use boron-filament jacketed rounds.” The special ammo would pass through shields on a clean hit, but they sacrificed penetrating power against armor. Hopefully the sound of projectiles raining on their hulls would panic the dropship crews and cause the Jivool to recall forces to defend the landing zone.
“After the first volley, all laser-armed vehicles move out. Vehicles from Platoons Charlie and Delta, proceed to the main assault. Those from Alpha and Bravo will move to support Bruin and Grizzly.” Wirth’s finger flew across the surface of the slate as he updated waypoints.
“Sir, what if the Jivool double back to defend their landing zone? Won’t we run into them?” the operations specialist asked.
“We’ll run them over,” Wirth replied. Over the channel he ordered, “All vehicles—fire!”
* * *
Unbridled Rage Assault Force
Klet’usron listened to the report from the landing zones. “It’s a feint to draw off numbers. If the landing craft are endangered, launch and find a safe haven. Otherwise, let the Humans think their ruse worked.”
Fire from the left flank halted as the troops Klet’usron had sent around the factory engaged the Humans. Klet’usron hoped to catch the Humans in a crossfire, only to blunder into the same trap. The tables turned when his flankers arrived.
“Heavy weapons teams, engage the Human vehicles!” Heavily armored six-wheeled vehicles poured laser and accelerator cannon fire into the Jivool ranks. If the Humans had fielded more of the vehicles, they could have turned the tide.
* * *
Kodiak Delta Three
Sergeant Taylor halted the squad as a dozen HecSha scurried past to reinforce their fellows facing the main assault. Charlotte spotted the antenna of the targeting array a hundred meters away while they waited. A quartet of weapon emplacements surrounded the array—two anti-aircraft lasers and two missile launchers.
“We need to get closer,” Sergeant Taylor hissed, ducking behind the row of crates. She stood head and shoulders taller than Charlotte. “If we engage, Corporal Horner will take Team Two to the array, regardless.” Everyone nodded an acknowledgement. It meant Team One, led by the sergeant, would buy them time. “Pichelli, take point.”
Private Pichelli nodded, poked her head around the corner of a crate, and gestured for the squad to follow. She led them through a maze of crates and tents, weaving a path inexorably toward the array antennae. At one point the squad froze to let another group of hissing HecSha rush past.
The squad halted as they rounded a supply tent 20 meters from the array. They had a clear view of the array and the operator station. They could also see the squad of HecSha milling around the base of the antennae tower. Hissing erupted behind the squad as another knot of lizards stumbled into them.
“Go!” Sergeant Taylor shouted, opening fire on the closest HecSha.
Charlotte dashed to her right, getting out of the line of fire from her teammates while gunning down the HecSha furthest to the right. A third of the HecSha fell before they recovered their wits. Some dove for cover, while others charged the Humans.
One of the reptilian aliens lunged at Charlotte. Bullets sparked off its combat armor as her hurried shot drifted off center.
“The Humans send hatchlings?” the HecSha hissed as it batted aside Charlotte’s rifle.
Charlotte’s combat boot slammed into the underside of the lizard’s jaw. The alien’s severed forked tongue flopped to the ground as the HecSha roared in pain. Charlotte dropped back two paces and put the HecSha out of its misery.
Pichelli dashed forward with a K-bomb, but a lizard crouching behind a slab of metal popped up and shot her. The K-bomb thudded to the ground, unarmed. A grenade slammed into the sheet of metal and detonated. The blast sent the HecSha behind it flying and bounced the K-bomb toward the shed at the base of the array.
Charlotte drew a bead on the K-bomb. “Fire in the hole!” She fired her gyroc and dove behind a crate. The armor-piercing warhead in the 30mm rocket served as a detonator for the K-bomb. Explosions shook the ground, and the shockwave slammed the crate into Charlotte, sending her rolling across the pavement. Metal shrieked as one of the legs of the antenna tower buckled. The array quivered, then collapsed.
* * *
Owlbear Bravo Three
“Owlbear One to Bravo Flight. The ground-pounders knocked out anti-aircraft targeting on the south approach.”
“You heard the captain,” Lieutenant Gideon called. “Blain, you’re with me, and Hernandez, you’re with Hassinger. Remember, north of our objective remai
ns hot.”
“Hang onto your lunch, Ben!” Sergeant Brian Hassinger spun the Grissom-class VTOL attack flyer in a gut-wrenching turn. The turbines shrieked as Hassinger pitched the craft forward and accelerated. His gunner stifled a curse. “Hernandez, you going to keep up with me?”
“Only if you promise not to get lost this time,” Hernandez replied from Bravo Four.
The four attack flyers reached the siege lines in two and a half minutes on a curved path. Hassinger spotted the flashes of battle to the left, but focused on their flight path and the ground below. Targeting sensors scanned for threats and the heavy weapon emplacements.
“We’ve got some fire from the ground,” Corporal Samson called from the turret. “Returning fire.”
The rotary cannons buzzed and gouged twin furrows through buildings and pavement. The infantry may have knocked out the main batteries, but nothing kept the HecSha on the ground from grabbing a gun and taking potshots at the lightly armored flyers. A rocket streaked past close enough for Bravo Three to fly through its exhaust plume.
“So much for the infantry keeping the lizards occupied,” Hassinger groused.
A staccato of rounds peppered the underside of Bravo One. One of the duct-fans sheered away, and the craft burst into flame, trailing thick white smoke. The Tri-V display painted multiple infrared laser trails to the same vehicle.
“Ben, calliope at 11 o’clock!” Hassinger slewed the flyer and angled for maximum lift. Infrared showed a spray of lasers pass below them as the multi-barreled weapon swung around.
Corporal Samson didn’t bother complaining about Hassinger jerking the craft while he tried to draw a bead. If they flew steady, they’d die. “I’ve got him.”
The rotary cannons sawed an arc of 20mm rounds across the enemy vehicle. The truck exploded, sending flaming debris across an empty park.
“We lost Lieutenant—” Sergeant Blain was silenced as another calliope stitched his Grissom. Bravo Two tumbled, trailing smoke from several holes, including the shattered canopy.
“Shit! Hernandez, hit the deck!” Hassinger rolled the Grissom, adding the duct-fan thrust to the pull of gravity for several seconds before righting the flyer. “How many of those fuckers are out there?”
The crew-served weapons didn’t need the targeting array against the flyers if the lizards had time to spot them and bring the weapon to bear.
“Hernandez, how many times have they busted your chops for buzzing Black Mountain and San Augustin Pass?” Hassinger asked.
“Not enough for me to stop,” Hernandez replied.
Both flyers swooped low, following a wide road as they screamed between the tallest buildings. The computer plotted a new course to their objective zone. Hassinger banked the Grissom close enough to a building that the fan thrust blew out windows.
“They can’t shoot us through the buildings.” Hassinger chuckled.
“Try not to scrape me off on a traffic light,” Samson called from the chin turret.
* * *
Bruin Actual
“Charlie and Delta, support the flanked CASPers!” Icons winked out at an alarming pace as the Jivool engaged Hawkins’ platoons at point blank range. In another minute, the sides would mix too much for the Casanovas to readily pick targets. “All CASPer squads, drop back to the next intersection. Use your jumpjets so the vics can take their shots.”
Bjorn triggered his jumpjets and launched into the air. A Jivool grabbed the boot of the trooper next to Bjorn and slammed the CASPer back to the ground. A second Jivool fired point-blank into the canopy of the fallen CASPer. Another icon winked out.
Bjorn fired his arm-mounted laser. The weapon was less powerful than his MAC, but it wouldn’t throw off his flight. The Jivool with the gun staggered back and dropped his weapon. The first Jivool grabbed the dropped gun and fired at Bjorn, but missed.
CASPers thudded to the street, cracking the pavement with the impact of their landing. Those closest to the Jivool kneeled and fired. A second line of CASPers fired over the first. K-bombs and rockets sailed from further back.
The Casanovas killed every Jivool they hit, but they lacked the numbers to break the Jivool charge. The ursine aliens surged over and around their wounded and dead, only pausing to fire rocket clusters. Some of the rockets streaked toward the rumblers, but their anti-missile defenses picked off most of the rockets. A lucky shot punched through the housing protecting the laser on one Casanova’s turret, but the others pocked armor or fell around the vehicles.
Twenty-five CASPers had fallen, and twice as many Jivool littered the street and the factory yard. If the bears got past the CASPers, they’d slaughter the infantry.
“Kodiak One to Bruin Actual, we’re pinned down.” An explosion muffled Captain Jonasson’s voice. “There’s too many lizards.”
“Bruin Actual. Captain, I’m counting on you to take the sieging forces. Find the HecSha commander and force him to surrender. We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”
“They’re grinding you to hamburger. Get out of there!” Jonasson yelled.
Symbols shifted on the map in Bjorn’s pinview. “We’ve got these bears. Do your job, Captain. Bruin Actual, out.” Bjorn highlighted streets branching off the intersection behind the CASPers. “Split up north and south.”
“Great idea, boss, but what if the bears don’t want to walk into another crossfire?” Hawkins asked.
“They’ll get some encouragement,” Bjorn replied.
* * *
Kodiak Delta Three
Charlotte shook her head. The ringing in her ears muted the sound of nearby battle. She grabbed her rifle and rolled into a crouched position. The ground wobbled a little as she steadied herself and peeked around the crate.
Sergeant Taylor skewered a HecSha on her tactical sword. Half the squad held the lizards bottle necked at the gap between two large shipping containers. A building protected the south side of the clearing and the wreckage of the tower obscured the other half. A VTOL gunship streaked overhead trailing flames.
Charlotte lined up on one of the HecSha rushing Sergeant Taylor, picking the second closest, and put three rounds into him. The third in line spun awkwardly to face Charlotte. Two bullets of her next three-round burst struck true.
Despite the shouts, hisses, and gunfire, Charlotte heard the metal on the container next to her flex. She fired a burst upward, the bullets sparking off the shipping container and forcing a HecSha to retreat.
Taylor recovered her rifle from the ground and dove aside as others from the squad poured fire into the entrance. The sergeant signaled them to fall back past the wreckage of the tower. A grenade bounced into the gap between the containers and met with surprised hissing and scrambling feet. The grenade belched thick black smoke.
Charlotte wove through the twisted superstructure of the tower. Behind the squad, tentative shots probed the smoke, but the HecSha didn’t venture through. The squad formed up past the crumpled control shack for the targeting array. Two soldiers were missing, and Baxter dragged Corporal Schrier.
Charlotte adjusted her helmet. “What now, Sergeant?”
* * *
Siege Command Camp, Moloq
“Why isn’t the artillery firing on the enemy forces?” Vosst demanded after a panting courier had returned to inform him the artillery captain would execute his orders.
“Our troops are too close to safely fire on the enemy,” the technician replied, pointing at a swarm of icons on the holographic map. Enemy infantry surged over the defensive barricades before the HecSha could man the perimeter. The HecSha slowed them with sheer numbers, but the Humans renewed their assault and could reach the command center in a matter of minutes. “If he fires, we’ll hit our troops.”
“We’ll hit their troops as well.” Vosst glared at the courier. “Tell the artillery captain to open fire immediately!”
The courier fled, only for another to replace him. The smaller HecSha bowed to Vosst. “The tanks will arrive in five minutes, but the se
rgeant said four tanks wouldn’t stop the Humans.”
“The tanks aren’t for fighting the Humans,” Vosst stated. “They’re for making it to the shuttle that’ll take me off this wretched rock if the Humans prevail.”
* * *
Owlbear Bravo Three
Buildings blurred past at 200 kilometers per hour. HecSha below gaped helplessly as the Grissoms flashed by. One more intersection, and they’d have line-of-sight on the artillery weapons. Sergeant Hassinger threw Bravo Three into a twisting loop, vacating the intersection two seconds before Hernandez followed suit.
Vehicles sporting multiple rocket launchers, enormous magnetic accelerator cannons, and heavy lasers filled a parking lot. At least the Grissoms weren’t flying down the barrels of the artillery.
“Why aren’t those pointed at the walls?” Samson asked. The weapons faced outward, away from the fortifications.
“Because they’re about to smoke our buddies! Time to wreck some shit!” Hassinger’s fingers skipped across the weapon controls. “Weapons hot. Ben, anything looks at us, scrap it.”
Hassinger lined up the targeting reticles on a rocket battery and one of the huge cannons, delegating two rockets each. He dropped a targeting laser on what looked like a command vehicle for a guided missile. With a jerk of the trigger, five exhaust plumes raced toward the targets.
Another volley streaked from Bravo Four. Hassinger jinked the Grissom aside. His canopy darkened as a rocket struck something volatile. A runaway rocket from one of the stricken launchers flashed past. Hassinger spun the Grissom as they side-slipped around the exploding vehicles and aimed another barrage. Small arms fire pinged off the undercarriage, answered by bursts from the rotary cannons.
The Gates of Hell Page 29
