BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1)

by Nathaniel Danes

  It was too good to be true and he made Warrant Officer Michael Stanner his “ace in the hole” more by a lack of options than anything else. The resources for a large deep reserve simply didn’t exist. BattleSwarm was an easy answer to a need he prayed wouldn’t be required.

  But it was.

  And it was working.

  “Prepare to reform the attack.” Kyle shook Luke from his daze. “He’ll keep the gap open. We can get our people out and organized for another assault with the swarm at the core.”

  Explosions filled the air. The sound originated in the direction of the swarms.

  Kyle turned to see thick smoke drifting where the lead elements of the enemy wings had been, where the Wasps were wreaking havoc. New detonations ripped the mist apart and renewed it with fresh haze. More shells fell in rapid succession.

  He wanted to scream but the words caught in his throat. “Wh..wh...where is that coming from?”

  Lynchburg worked his tablet and looked up with the color drained from his dark face. “It’s ours.”

  ***

  The first wave of artillery knocked Stanner on his ass. A wall of wind hit their shallow depression. His brain screeched with pain and the link winked in and out until the last of his Wasps ceased to function.

  Wrapping his arms around his head, he fruitlessly tried to protect his burning eardrums from the thunder.

  He had failed.

  ***

  Sergeant Hack shook his fist at the plumes his shells tossed up. “Take that, you sons-of-bitches!” He regarded his crews. “Keep it up! Pour it on them while they’re stopped. Walk the fire along their line.”

  He couldn’t believe his luck. The swift enemy advance had moved too fast for his cannons to do more than pester. Then dozens of them just stopped. There was a blackness floating around them. He didn’t pay it much attention. There wasn’t time to waste as the armored vehicles could renew their charge at any second to finish their entrapment.

  That’ll show those pucks in command that us cannon cockers are still important.

  “Cease fire!” a voice shouted in his ear. “Cease fire! Stop hitting our own troops, you fucking idiot!”

  “What?” That didn’t make any sense.

  “Your hitting our troops. Cease fire! That’s our people in the middle.”

  The world spun and Hack collapsed to a knee. His head swam with fear and regret. “What have I done?”

  The mighty cannons went silent.

  “What have I done?” He put his face in his palms and wept.

  ***

  It took a minute of nothingness before Stanner noticed the shelling had stopped. He dared to open his eyes and cautiously unwrapped his arms from around his head, sitting up to study his surroundings. One by one, the other members of his squad did the same.

  “What the hell was that?” Stanford put a finger on his earbud. “Command, do you read me?”

  Stanner watched him, reading his expression. Stanford’s facial muscles tightened.

  “Friendly fucking fire!” Stanford punched the ground. “Our own people were trying to kill us.”

  “Chief Stanner,” his com-link buzzed, “what is your operational status?”

  “Sir?” Stanner didn’t understand the question. His ears rang like church bells and his head throbbed.

  “Can you fight, son? How are your drones?”

  “Oh.” He searched the area for a signal, looking for a reply handshake to take control of any units within range. None responded. He was useless. “They’re all down, sir. All of my Wasps are dead.”

  ***

  Kyle’s heart sank with Stanner’s answer. It couldn’t have happened again, victory snatched away at the last moment. There had to be a way to continue the fight. Maybe enough of the enemy’s strength had been zapped for them to regain the initiative?

  He darted into the command APC, pushing a staff woman out of her chair in front of the communication control station. A few seconds later, Samantha appeared on the screen.

  “Kyle!” She looked as tired and worry-soaked as he imagined himself. “I’ve been monitoring every data point I can get hold of.”

  “And?” He leaned in. “What can we do? Did the swarm destroy enough of them to give our assault a chance?”

  “Perhaps, if another armored column hadn’t just emerged from under Shangri-La. I see them now through one of our last aerial units. My initial projection that both air forces would eliminate each other seems to have been correct.”

  “What?” His eyes shot daggers at Lynchburg, freezing him on the ramp. “More?”

  “It’s true, sir,” Lynchburg cut in. “I was just about to tell you. We’re counting another sixty tanks and more infantry.”

  “Where are they headed?”

  “Straight ahead, right at our forces. The wings took a pounding, but they’re showing signs of movement. They’re going to surround and attack from all sides. Sir.” Lynchburg shuffled his feet and twisted the tablet in his hands. “We should start thinking about withdrawing the command post.”

  Kyle slammed both fists onto the desk. Everyone within five yards jumped. “No! We aren’t leaving our soldiers behind.” There has to be something we can do.

  He glanced around the blank faces and looked at the screen. Samantha’s eyes were glazed over; her consciousness was outside her body. Her head jerked up, the spark of her gorgeous personality back. “I think I have something.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have someone there that can drive a supply truck?”

  ***

  Flames and smoke bellowed out of the Dragoon Fortress from a hundred hull breeches. It was alone, its armada of drones wiped from the sky, and it was on its last legs. All it needed was a little push for gravity to take care of the rest.

  Stephanie was in little better shape. She was down to one unit, the last in the once-vaunted American aerial BattleMaster Corps on New Calcutta. It was low on fuel, potted with holes and scorch marks and out of expendables. To add insult to injury, the laser cannon coils were burnt out.

  All of that was in the back of her mind. She had her nose pointed straight up for outer space. The altimeter measuring her altitude was a blur. She could almost feel the crisp air running through her hair and the sun kiss her skin. The moment was fleeting.

  At ten thousand feet, her craft did a one-eighty and applied the last of its power into the engines. It was a supersonic bullet, aimed at the center mass of the limping giant.

  There was no surprise this time. The enemy knew she was coming, and if a twentieth of their defenses were still operational, they’d shoot her down before her divine wind could strike home.

  But not even that paltry portion of the DF was functioning. In fact, the vessel’s only combat capability would have been to crash into the crowded defensive pocket Stephanie found herself huddled in.

  That wouldn’t happen, however. It wouldn’t happen because Stephanie’s aim was true. Her drone pierced the frayed metal hull and the link cut out.

  With her own eyes, she watched secondary explosions burst the seams. The hulk was pulled down to the surface and crashed onto the city. A mushroom cloud was all that was left.

  She beamed with pride but no one cheered her victory. No one even noticed. They were all too busy fighting for their lives.

  “We’ve got more tanks rolling in!” a burly sergeant announced to no one in particular. “We need everyone, including BattleMasters out of drones, to join the line.”

  Stephanie looked around her. There were dozens of her sisters sitting on their asses. None of them stirred at the warrior’s call to arms. Cowards.

  She raised her hand. “I’m free, sarge. Just lost my last unit. You have a weapon for me?”

  He looked at her and at the others pretending not to notice him. “Yes, sir. New ones are becoming available all of the time. Follow me.

  ‘ “Lead the way.” She ran alongside him. “Just like old times, huh?”

  Veech grinned wryly. “D
on’t remind me.”

  ***

  Frank Mitten hadn’t signed up for this. He was a truck driver, which meant he was more a trained technician for auto-steer systems than anything else. Fighting, bleeding, and dying were things for real soldiers.

  His father had pressured him into joining. Becoming a convoy manager was his way to get the old man off his back while concealing the fact he was a coward.

  Frank had long ago accepted this fact about himself and made his peace with it. There had been a few close shaves in the past few months, but he could always send the mindless haulers into danger from afar.

  It was perfect. The troops at the front got their supplies and he stayed out of the mess. Today was turning out to be one of those days, however.

  “Damn it!” He whacked the computer in the lead truck and shook his tablet. “Work, you freaking piece of shit!”

  His com-link buzzed again. He ignored it, refusing to lift the hold option he’d programed into his personal device. He knew who it was and what they wanted. It was a full-on disaster ahead and they wanted him to personally drive this particular cargo right into it.

  Hell, no!

  If the autopilot couldn’t get it there, he sure as heck wasn’t getting in the chair and putting himself in the middle of a full-on military debacle. That’s what computers were for. Nothing in those boxes on the flatbed was worth his life. Not like it could make any real difference, anyway.

  The hum of a revved-up engine grew louder. He pulled his torso out of the cab and faced the direction it was coming from in time to see a utility vehicle leap over the top of a hill. It sailed through the air and landed hard. Its shocks bounced the upper frame like a fishing rod.

  It sped up before the brakes locked and it slid. Tires plowed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud as it turned to the side and came to a stop a few feet from him. The back door flew open and a man with two stars on his collar jumped out.

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Corporal! Get your worthless ass off that thing.”

  “G...g...g...General Mendez. If you just give me another few minutes, I think...”

  “We don’t have time for that.” Mendez snatched his forearm and yanked him off the step. “If we win this thing, I promise you’ll be brought up on charges.”

  “But, but...”

  A black man with captain’s bars hit his shoulder as he pushed past. “General, let me do that. You can’t drive this thing all of the way to the front.”

  “We don’t have time for that bullshit. No one gets to stay on the sidelines today.” Mendez climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. The engine came to life as he spoke out the open window. “I need you to man that APUV’s fifty. Run point. We don’t stop until we get this to Stanner. Nothing else matters.”

  The truck lurched away at first but quickly built up speed. The APUV peeled out, turned and zoomed to take the lead.

  Frank looked around and shrugged.

  ***

  Tits on a bull.

  Reba never really understood that odd expression her abusive father had used to describe her more times than she cared to remember. It never made much sense to her until now.

  She was a BattleMaster right in the middle of a hopeless fight without bots to command. She was in fact, as useful as ‘tits on a bull’ and understood what that meant now.

  The last time she found herself without bots to command, she’d continued the fight with small arms. It was demeaning but necessary. Victory had still seemed possible then.

  This was hopeless.

  The enemy squeezed the huddled mass of American soldiers from all directions. The shrinking number of infantry troops were all that stood between her and death. They fell back from one shallow line of foxholes to the next, trading space for time. Soon there’d be nothing left to barter with and it would be over.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing she, the ultimate personification of modern warfare, could do about it.

  She’d given up and resigned herself to her fate, waiting to accept it where she sat as the world around was awash in thunder and fire.

  Strong hands took hold of her under the armpits and lifted her to her feet. “Let me go!” She squirmed away and regarded the ape who dared manhandle her. He was a private. An ape infantry private. She scowled at him, an expression that had turned so many of his kind to mush before.

  This one didn’t react as expected. He pulled up her hand and shoved a rifle into it. “Get on the line. We need every man.”

  “I am not a man.” Reba pushed the weapon into his chest. “I am not a grunt, either.”

  His fingers wrapped around her wrist like a vice as he bolted for the line with her in tow. Her feet stumbled at first but regained their balance to keep pace.

  “Let go of me!” She tugged against his grip to no effect. She felt helpless, powerless. She was a little girl again, her father was beating her mother and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  Tits on a bull.

  Shrapnel peppered every inch of the landscape. Somehow they reached a foxhole. The private pulled her in and pressed her against the wall facing the Chinese. Tears drenched her cheeks. She cursed herself for showing weakness.

  “Fight or I’ll shoot you myself,” he growled. “We’re all grunts now.”

  Reba did as she was told. Pointing her rifle downfield, she strained to aim through soaked eyes. She pulled the trigger. It barked and kicked back into her shoulder. Again and again she fired three-round bursts, letting out a shriek with each one.

  ***

  Stanner couldn’t take his eyes off the horror unfolding before him. His comrades were being slaughtered. His colony faced utter defeat. The woman he loved was going to die.

  All of that was going to happen because he failed to stop the enemy. BattleSwarm had failed. He’d let everyone down.

  “What are we still doing here?” someone asked. “There’s nothing we can do. We should get out of here.”

  “We hold here until we have orders otherwise.” Stanford came alongside him, staring at the same nightmare. “Besides, they’re not coming this way until they finish off our friends. We’re safe for now.”

  Stanner forced himself to look away. There was only so much he could take. “We have to do...”

  “Stanner, do you read me?” The call came on the squad-wide channel.

  “Yes, I - we read you.”

  “This is General Mendez. I’m nearing your position with a new supply of Wasps. Are you ready to get back in the fight?”

  Adrenaline hit him like a bolt of lightning. “Yes, sir! ETA?”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  This was it. The moment of destiny he’d been waiting for. He would not fail this time.

  “Catch up with us, sir. We’ll close with the enemy.” Stanner jumped on top of the ridge covering them from enemy view. “On me!” He thrust his fist forward. “Charge!”

  He screamed and broke into a dead sprint.

  Stanford yelled, “Let’s go,” and dared the squad to catch up with him.

  Hundreds of yards separated them from the enemy picket line watching their main force’s back. He wanted to hit them as quickly as possible. There was no time to lose. The pocket of resistance could collapse at any moment.

  His mind’s eye flashed an alert. Ten thousand active Wasp units were requesting a connection. Not breaking stride, he closed his eyes and saw the world through them.

  Two thousand raced to form up in front of him. Dozens of Chinese soldiers were burned down before they could fire a shot. They gawked in wide-eyed terror at the sight of the black cloud of death coming at them like an unstoppable tsunami.

  Stanner and his swarm slammed into the enemy rear with lasers blazing. Tanks and men were engulfed. Panic reigned as men and machines fired wildly in every direction, doing more harm to themselves than the swarm.

  He pushed deeper into the position, carving a gap in the line. The Wasps never ceased movement. They struck in packs, fl
owing like a floating current of liquid to strike from all angles. Entire units were surrounded and melted so fast the poor souls inside barely had time to realize they were doomed.

  He drove hard until he reached the American line. Friendly fire claimed a few of his minions, but the fire died down when they saw the miracle the tiny angels had performed on their behalf.

  The front Wasp formation hovered before their human comrades while Stanner reorganized his thoughts. Taking a knee, his lungs sucked in air on reflex. He flung his hands out to his side and the forward elements divided and darted off in opposite directions to join the charge along the perimeter.

  His flanks pushed out, revealing him to the freed American line. Soldiers stared in amazement at him as if he was a god of some sort.

  A Wasp caught the face of one of the surprised soldiers before flying off. It was Captain Reba Chandler. One millionth of his mental capability took a fraction of a microsecond to enjoy the image.

  The Chinese were not a foe easily defeated. Initial shock solidified into stiff resistance. The Wasps rolled up the line like an acid mist, but their losses mounted. Two thousand become fifteen hundred, then twelve, and dipped below a thousand. More and more enemy guns trained themselves on the swarm.

  ***

  “The line is breaking!” Veech let his rifle fall to his chest as he reached out to snatch Olsen and Stephanie by the backs of their collars. “We have to get out of here!”

  The enemy had become desperate all of a sudden. They surged forward with everything. Bushels of them were cut down for their haste, but they penetrated the defensive line at several points.

  The line was collapsing.

  Veech’s com-link was a jumble of pleas for support and panicked soldiers not sure what to do. He did the only thing he could, try to save those nearest him.

  Olsen and Stephanie got the hint and ran. He could feel the heat of explosions warm the back of his neck. Peripheral vision saw scores fall face first or simply disappear.

  His small band went deeper into the pocket. What good that would do them in the end, he didn’t know. He didn’t have time to worry about ten minutes from now. It took everything just to live in the now.

  ***

  “I need more Wasps!”