BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1)

by Nathaniel Danes

  “Sergeant!”

  “Over here!” Veech waved an arm as he cautiously stood up to verify the situation. He jogged over to join his men. “What happened?”

  Pallone dragged his face in his bent arm to wipe away sweat and grim. “We did as you said. Kept the pressure on but staying down. When you distracted them, we rushed and took ‘em out.”

  “Casualties?”

  “One KIA and two wounded.” Pallone gestured to the medic bandaging up a private’s thigh while another applied pressure on his own bleeding shoulder. “We lost Dewarrd.” He hung his head. “Russ and Hansen were the ones hit in the ambush. They were good guys. Fine soldiers.”

  Veech took hold of his shoulder. “They’ll be missed.” He checked his wrist. “The jamming is still active.”

  Pallone scanned the area. “There’s nothing here that could be doin’ it.”

  “Send another runner to report. You and I are going to push on until we find out what the hell is going on. Where’s Quinn? You don’t jam this powerfully unless you got something up your sleeve.”

  They found Corporal Quinn and nine dead soldiers scattered along a stream’s bank a klick from their own engagement. The bodies had been torn apart by explosive rounds. A few had survived the initial ambush to fight back, but it had been a lost cause from the start.

  “Good guy. Fine soldier.” Veech squatted next to Quinn. He’d taken a shot to the heart. “This isn’t making a lot of sense.”

  “What do you mean, Sarge?” Pallone never took his eyes off the horizon.

  “I mean, why spring a trap here? For just a squad?”

  “Maybe they didn’t want to. We got word from Quinn they were under attack. That means the Euros weren’t jamming yet.”

  Veech rubbed his chin. “That makes...”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Their heads turned toward the noise. The ground vibrated.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  There, emerging from a dip in the terrain like a leviathan out of the sea, were...

  “Goliaths!” Pallone hit the deck.

  The approaching beast’s metallic footfalls shook the ground. A Goliath was an awesome machine of war. Humanoid in shape, the twenty-foot-tall monsters wielded arms that unleashed lasers, grenades, and fifty-caliber smart-bullets. Tree-trunk-sized legs and a solid metal chest meant they could soak up enemy fire like sponges.

  Fifteen of them stumped toward Pallone and Veech. The yells of noncoms coming from below the metal monsters signaled infantry support moving ahead.

  Veech whipped around to regard Pallone. “Run!”

  They took off, running like bats out of hell. He heard the Gatling guns embedded in their arms whine to life. Rrrrr the deadly weapons roared before the sounds of whizzing bullets and miniature explosions drowned it out.

  Veech covered his head, not losing a stride. Shrapnel peppered him, several breaching his BDUs’ tough fabric. Warm blood bubbled out of a hundred tiny punctures.

  The world in chaos, his life hanging by a thread, all he could think about was his dad and mom getting visited by officers to notify them of his death.

  Death ceased nipping at their heels when the landscape dipped. Veech’s lungs burned and his legs felt like jelly, but he pushed on, leaving Pallone in the dust. Someone had to report the Euro counterattack.

  He checked his wrist computer to find the jamming had weakened. “Veech to Whiskey six, come in.”

  Static.

  “Damn it!” He tapped an inner reserves and found the will to accelerate. “Whiskey six! Come in, for God’s sake!”

  “Veech, Whiskey six. Go.”

  He sucked in a desperate breath. “Goliaths! Goliaths are coming!”

  Chapter Nine

  General Kyle Mendez spit coffee across the table when news of the counterattack broke over the command com channel. A large group of Goliaths were on the move. He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. So here’s where their main Goliath units were hidden. Okay, get it together. You knew they’d show up in force sooner or later.

  His aid, Lynchburg cleared his throat. “Sir, General Pendergast is on the line for you.”

  Kyle shook his head to clear his mind. “Put her through.” A beep confirmed the secure connection. “General, I’d ask if you wanted a sitrep, but I bet you know more than me.”

  “I’ve been monitoring all field communications, recon drone feeds, and intelligence reports. There is increased enemy activity on both wings, but I believe the primary thrust is aimed at our right.”

  Mendez pulled a tablet across the wet table and expanded the front of the right wing with his fingertips. “I see it.” He punched a series of icons. “I’m ordering a fighting retreat of the forward units and concentrating my air assets in that area. There’s no way they put their Goliaths out in the open without massive cover.”

  “Agreed, but I am certain this isn’t all of their reserves. It’s likely just one piece of a broader counterstrike. According to intel simulations from before we launched, we’ve only encountered forty-one percent of their armor.”

  Kyle nodded. “Understood. I won’t let them catch us with our pants down.”

  “I’ll inform you immediately if my analysis reveals anything of use. Planetary Command, out.”

  Kyle opened his mouth to reply but the channel closed. A huff escaped his lips as he zoomed in closer on the right. The enemy was moving quickly. At their current pace, they’d begin to endanger support units and supply lines in an hour. He couldn’t allow that, not if the offensive were to have any hope of success. Their resources were stretched to the breaking point fighting a two-front war. They couldn’t afford to lose any from an enemy armor breakout. “We need a speed bump.”

  “Did you say something, sir?” Lynchburg stared at him, his eyes begging for orders.

  Mendez studied the screen. “Get me Colonel Jacobs. I’ve got a job for Second Company.”

  ***

  Hart swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn’t every day that you’re given what sounded like a suicide mission. Delay the enemy advance? Was he joking? What the hell could one understrength platoon do against a pack of Goliaths with infantry and air support? “—you understand, lieutenant?”

  Jacobs’s question startled him out of his trance. A pregnant pause held the line hostage as he parted his lips but nothing came out. His throat was bone dry.

  “Lieutenant?”

  Hart coughed. He wanted to tell Jacobs he was crazy and there was no way in heaven he was putting himself in front of the rampaging enemy. “Yes, sir. You can count on us,” was what came out, though. Coward.

  “Good. I’m assigning you an extra squad and you’ll have your company’s BattleMasters. Their drones are expendable; the controllers are not. Now get to it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, lieutenant.”

  “Sir?”“Don’t be a hero. I’m arranging for other platoons to do the same. You’re just the first. I’ll need your unit intact later.”

  Yeah, sure that makes a lot of sense. Hold off a massive attack without putting my men in needless jeopardy. “I hear you, sir. No brave last stands. Fire and fall back.”

  The channel closed.

  Hart stood frozen for five seconds in disbelief.

  Sergeant Franco Marks shoved his black face in front of Hart. “Sir, what are our orders?”

  Hart licked his lips. He’d dreamed about this moment since he was a little boy. Of leading men in a desperate fight vital to the final victory. He’d never imagined he’d be this nervous.

  “Sir?”

  Panic was setting in across the unit. News of Quinn’s team’s fate and the onslaught stirred the platoon. Men frantically gathered their gear in preparation for running away from the enemy, not to dig in. Shouting matches sprouted all around him. He needed to act, even if he didn’t know what exactly to do.

  “Sergeant.” Hart straightened and whipped out his field tablet. “Get the platoon ready to move. We’v
e got a job to do.”

  ***

  A pebble in the corner of Stanner’s vision rattled with each step of the Goliaths. Their strides were in perfect sync. The steady thump, thump of the charge would fray any man’s nerves. He wiped his brow and tightened his grip on his rifle.

  It was hard on him but pure torture for Olsen, whose black skin was as pale as could be. Olsen’s fire team was next to Stanner’s on the front line. His jittery friend took the opportunity to lay next to him in the shallow foxhole barely deep enough to give them cover. There wasn’t time to dig deeper.

  Chattering teeth offended Stanner’s ears. “Relax. We’ll fire off a mag and some RPGs, then fall back. No one expects us to stop them here. We’re just going to give ‘em something to think about.”

  Olsen took a deep breath and relaxed a bit. His teeth quieted and his rifle barrel ceased shaking. “Okay, I’ll go when you go.”

  Stanner almost reminded him to follow his team leader but decided against it. Those kinds of details wouldn’t matter once it hit the fan. He zoomed his visor to look downrange. Light from the setting sun stung his eyes.

  Euro infantry were in the vanguard, making sure their precious materiel didn’t fall prey to a hidden surprise or get swarmed. Like the Americans, the Euros valued steel over flesh.

  The pawns were in place.

  Rifles on both sides barked, sending troopers diving for cover and ducking heads. The enemy was well schooled in their craft. They advanced at a steady pace, not letting their heavy brothers catch them.

  Thump, thump.

  Stanner’s hands trembled and his heart raced.

  The phalanx of inhuman warriors came into range. “Get down!” someone yelled. The world erupted with light.

  Red lasers raked the line in a blinding display of hot death. Stanner’s visor darkened to protect him from the glare. The platoon responded with small arms fire and a volley of RPGs. Several rocket trails found their mark, hitting metal thighs and chests. The giants walked through the smoke to reveal scorched armor plating. They hadn’t lost a step.

  “Fall back!” rang in his ear.

  Olsen stared at him with huge eyeballs. Stanner flung his hand to the rear. “Run!” His friend took off but Stanner didn’t follow. He turned to Dexter. “I’ll cover you guys!” His fire team jumped to their feet and took off.

  Switching to full auto, he slipped his barrel over the edge and sprayed left to right.

  The haphazard shots spotted the enemy front with puffs of smoke. A single round found a Euro soldier, clipping him in the leg. Dozens of others had hit the dirt, weakening their fire at Stanner’s fleeing comrades.

  Click.

  Stanner twirled around on his belly, hopped up and ran for all he was worth. Heat and light struck him in waves, burning the hairs on back of his neck. Ahead he saw whole men vaporized by direct hits. He was sure his turn would be soon. Any moment he expected flames to engulf him and that would be that.

  The gods of war are fickle. There seems to be no rhyme or reason why some live and others die.

  For now, Stanner was one of the lucky ones.

  ***

  Reba nodded at Stephanie. “You’re up, lieutenant. Better make it count. You’ll only get one pass.”

  “That’s all I need.”

  “Yeah, figured this one’s right up your alley. No one’s counting on any of your birds making it back.”

  Stephanie tuned her out, focusing on the live feeds from her five fighter pairs. Eight flew high above, charging straight at a hornet’s nest of Euro craft circling over their ground forces. They weren’t making attack runs on the surface, probably to preserve air assets following their loses in the offensive’s early stages.

  Two drones were further back and flying nape-of-the-earth, zipping along mere yards from the ground. The landscape blended together into a long blur. A group of trees lay ahead. She pulled back on the pair’s virtual stick to increase altitude just enough to avoid trimming the tops of trees.

  The eight high birds released their entire complement of missiles and accelerated, dumping chaff as they went. The strands of charged metal floated down, confusing the readings for anything below the unnatural cloud.

  They unloaded the stored energy in their laser cannons, sending a wild pattern of light into the dense enemy formation. A flock of missiles were launched in reply. Stephanie sent her drones into a spasm of evasive maneuvers, intermixing with the far superior opponent.

  One blossomed into a fireball. Another spun out of control when a chunk of its wing was blown off. Stephanie sniped back with lasers, but it was a hopeless contest from the beginning. Even so, victory was never the goal.

  What the reckless charge did accomplish was to disrupt and occupy the Euro fighter umbrella to keep them from noticing the real danger.

  The eight were gone but it was too late to stop Stephanie’s attack run. The terrain leveled off and the moving wall of Goliaths was straight ahead. They saw her as well and small anti-air missiles launched from boxes on their shoulders.

  Her own missiles away and lasers blazing, the drones accelerated, dodging the first volley of darts with sudden speed. She witnessed her missiles closing. Some, struck by defensive fire, plowed into the dirt, tossing chunks of shrapnel into the column. More disintegrated from direct laser hits. A few penetrated the air defenses and slammed into the mighty machines.

  “Wooo hooo!” Stephanie pumped a fist. The aftermath of the blasts dissipated to show two wrecked Goliaths toppling over.

  Her drones were too close and moving too fast to evade the last wave of enemy fire. Multiple strikes sent her craft into tumbles, bouncing along the ground like flat rocks skipping across calm water. They became bowling balls and rolled into the enemy line. Smaller pieces of debris cut down lightly armored infantry while larger pieces inflicted damage on the towering foe.

  The last camera feed cut out just as a sheet of spinning steel flew into a Goliath leg joint, severing the appendage.

  Stephanie was back in her own body. She sucked in a breath like she’d been jolted awake from a near-death experience. In many ways, it had been just that.

  “Good work this time, lieutenant.” Reba clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Now you get to see why they call me Warrior Queen.”

  ***

  Reba’s conscious entered her minions. Power flowed through the circuitry, bringing the dormant warriors to life. Servos whined as spider leg joints and systems prepared for battle. The tracks of the mini-tanks rattled. The camouflage tarps that blended them seamlessly into the landscape tore and were ground beneath their tracks.

  A grin crossed her lips. Her tiny army was on the march.

  She divided her force. The tanks circled wide to the left at top speed while the spiders trotted straight ahead, releasing mortars before they came into view. Thwmoop, thwmoop, thwmoop. It was sweet music to her ears.

  Explosions welcomed her six-legged bots as they emerged from a slope. Wisps of smoke floated from the mortar tubes as a continuous string of thwmoops filled the air. Lasers from both sides illuminated the night. Smart-bullets burst apart by the hundreds. Hundreds more, sensing impact with a solid object, hardened their cores and slammed into the bots. Grenades added their volume to the symphony of destruction.

  It was hell.

  It was beautiful.

  Damage alerts threatened to clog Reba’s mind. All of her units registered malfunctions. A leg lost, laser turret knocked out, mortar out of ammo. It almost overwhelmed her, but she pushed through it and raked the enemy with everything she could bring to bear.

  Pitted earth littered with dead Euro soldiers and mutilated armor plating spoke to the fury of Reba’s spirit. A previously-damaged Goliath couldn’t take any more and fell backwards.

  One by one, though, her spiders received mortal wounds and ceased resistance.

  A calm fell over the battlefield, a calm broken only by the rattle of speeding tracked vehicles.

  Reba’s fists tighten
ed, her nails digging into her palms. The last of her strength barreled toward the steel forest’s flank.

  Flashes of light flared from the four tanks’ twin fifty-calibers. Rockets zoomed ahead into the enemy’s side.

  It was suicide.

  It was glorious.

  The screams of the surprised infantry warmed her loins. Warheads detonating on warped Goliath hulls sent pulses of pleasure through her body. The sight of two hulks succumbing to her will nearly brought her to climax.

  The element of surprise was no more, her rockets were exhausted. The valiant attack crumbled under the weight of the counter barrage. Reba’s connection was extinguished in a blizzard of light and explosions.

  In an instant she was inside her own mind and that was when all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Ten

  Stanner saw Reba out of the corner of his eye, not five yards away. She whooped and hollered, pumping a fist in the air while holding the other up for Stephanie to high-five.

  Hart’s voice crackled to life on the com-link. “Fall - oh my God!”

  The channel went dead.

  A million whistles fell from above. Their roar growing louder.

  “Get down!” someone yelled.

  Stanner looked up to see dozens of Euro fighters diving toward them. They’d had enough of the speed bump and weren’t playing around anymore. American anti-air rose to meet the challenge but was overwhelmed. He fell flat in his shallow foxhole as torpedo-shaped bombs released from the crafts’ underbellies.

  The world erupted into one awesome bang that shook the earth. He felt himself rise into the air and drop back down, landing with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. The concussions from new explosions rocked him, but all he heard was a deafening ringing in his ears.

  His mind was foggy, like the world around was moving in slow motion and was blurry. All he could think to do was move. He knew he had to get out of there. The enemy was coming and they’d be there soon.

  Running wasn’t an option. Gravity seemed to have increased fivefold. He felt heavy, like his limbs had been encased in concrete.