“Like firing a rifle with a bent barrel,” she replied.
“A big rifle, yes,” the man said drily.
“What’s that?” Repeth pointed at the large display that showed the synthesized battle overview. “Those two groups of icons.”
“Looks like they’re down under nine thousand rocks,” the warrant replied, tapping the cloud of enemy objects screen with a finger to illustrate. “Now it gets interesting. This here’s the Pilum missiles lining up on the rocks, there. Got about thirty seconds before they detonate.”
“Detonate?” Repeth asked. “Why don’t they just go for impact?”
The warrant shrugged. “A fusion fireball five hundred meters wide is more likely to do damage than one kinetic missile, they say. Also hope the heat will kill the Meme guidance package, or at least hurt it enough to keep it from adjusting course. All we need is a little uncorrected nudge and a rock will miss its target.”
“Right,” Repeth said. She wondered if the man knew what he was talking about, or he was just running his mouth. Each seemed equally possible.
The three watched the screen as the cloud of rocks overran the lines of Pilums. One moment they approached the missiles, and the next, the enemy objects had swept through them. On the screen the entire swath of human warheads disappeared, along with some of the incoming kinetic asteroids.
“Got almost one thousand of them. Not bad.” The warrant tapped the screen where the estimated count read 7800. “One more pass.”
“What pass?” Repeth asked. Keep the man talking, keep my troops listening. Nothing better to do right now.
“The Aardvarks.” The warrant tapped the concave crescent that represented the attack ships. They stood across the plotted path of the rock cluster. “They may take out a few, but not many.”
“Why?”
“According to the plan, they won’t use up any more missiles. They’re saving those for the Destroyer. But they’ll take shots with their masers.”
Repeth nodded, watching as the icons overlapped momentarily, and then the rock cloud flew on, seemingly unaffected. She looked at the estimated object count, and it did not change.
The warrant shrugged. “So few the system can’t sort it out. Oh, well. That’s not what they are for anyway.”
“What’s next?”
“Against the rocks?” The warrant manipulated his controls and recentered the display on an area farther along the objects’ path. “There’s a group of seventy asteroidal weapons arrays right here. They should take out a few hundred, maybe another thousand.”
“Why was there one array forward, and sixty-nine back a bit?”
The warrant’s face turned bleak. “What are sentries and pickets for? To force the enemy to engage and reveal his plans. To force him to commit, and to get some intel on his tactics, and see how effective our own fire is. I’d have thought a Marine would get that.”
“Thanks for explaining it.” Repeth refused to be drawn into a clash with someone senior to her. Times like these she wished she had hung onto Chief Warrant rank. He’s just frustrated that his gun is down, she told herself, and then chuckled at how that sounded in her own head.
“Something funny?” he snapped.
“No, sir,” Repeth replied, blanking her face. “Just a random thought.”
“Marines aren’t paid to think,” the man replied with a sneer. “Leave that to us.”
Asshole. This is one of these times I wish I had kept that warrant’s rank. But then I wouldn’t be a company first sergeant. At best I’d be honchoing a section of heavy weapons. “Yes sir. Will that be all, sir?”
“Right. Shove off. You’re distracting us.”
Repeth fell back into the corridor to confer with Sergeant Dasko, the squad leader, switching to Marine channels so the crew could not hear. “I’m off to check on the rest of the company. Don’t engage the gun chief there; he’s a bit testy.”
The squad laughed as Sergeant Dasko replied, “We’ll keep away from the squiddies, Top.”
“Just keep your ears open in case you’re needed. Stay on max alert. We should hear something within the next hour about what the Destroyer is doing. If we’re lucky, he’ll send something to kill us.”
“Lucky?” Dasko seemed disbelieving.
“Yes, Sergeant, lucky. I don’t want him to just fly past. I want him to expend resources against us. After ten years of waiting, I want to close with the bastards and kill some of them. Don’t you?”
“Oo-rah, First Sergeant. Thanks for explaining it to us dumbshit Marines that ain’t paid to think.” That brought more laughter from the squad, easing the tension of waiting.
“Oo-rah. On the HUD and on the bounce.” Repeth flipped down her faceplate but did not seal her armor, preserving its internal air supply, and then pushed past the troops in the corridor, who spread out along the wall. Her HUD stuttered and fuzzed, until after a short distance she reached an intersection with the large circular accessway that ran in a huge ring under the base. There it cleared up.
“Dasko,” she called over her suitcomm, “fall back to this main intersection and hold in place. The datalink is wonky in the access tunnel anyway, and you’ll be in a better position to react.”
“Aye aye, Top,” came Dasko’s voice.
Not waiting any longer, Repeth took off with gliding low-gravity bounds, her suit jets stabilizing her now and again. After years on Callisto, she didn’t need much help.
She could see Bravo Company spread out on her HUD, eight squads and the crew-served weapons section covering half of the ring. Charlie Company held the other half, and Alpha was positioned in the center of the spoked wheel of tunnels, beneath the beam array.
Delta Company had the shitty end of the stick, occupying heavily fortified positions in the base complex above. They would be first to engage, if there was some kind of landing. They were also the most exposed if a heavier bombardment came.
Dasko’s Fourth Squad, Second Platoon had one end of the company’s arc, so Repeth made her way up the main tunnel. Every hundred meters or so she found a squad, right where her HUD said they should be, and in the middle, between the first and second platoons she found the CO and reported in to her on a private channel. “Ma’am, Second Platoon is good to go. Making rounds on First now.”
“Very well, Top,” Captain Miller replied, her steady black eyes roving over her HUD. “Carry on.”
Good officer, Repeth thought, which right now means one who is not dicking around with the plan at the last minute. The company was deployed to guard the perimeter, contain any breach and still be able to rapidly redeploy along the underground corridors, reinforcing any point in three dimensions.
As she glided unhurriedly along toward First Platoon’s closest position, her HUD lit up with the command net icon. “This is Ruchek,” the harsh voice of the battalion commander came. “Base tracking confirms second set of estimated four hundred objects inbound this base. Destroyer released these objects and they are maneuvering at high G, generally decelerating toward us. Unknown at this time whether they are ships, missiles, or something else entirely. Weapons array is engaging, but effectiveness assessment indicates more than ninety percent will get through. Will pass more information as it becomes available.” The battalion CO’s voice cut off, leaving Repeth back on the Bravo company net.
“Anything we can do?” Repeth asked.
Miller shook her head. “Just wait. The boss will make the call to pull out Delta and evac us to the bunkers if it looks too hot.”
“Right. I’m off again.” Off she went.
Chapter 68
“They launch,” Three said unnecessarily. All of the trium could see the Close Combat force departing the sphincters created to external access, streaming out of the holes like the insects they resembled departing a hive.
This similarity was not lost on them, but was so routine as to be completely unremarkable, even for Meme bored with their own duties. Of course everything they dealt with resembled li
ving forms. Mostly, they were living forms.
Pride swelled in One at the impressive display of force. Avarice, or perhaps lust, filled him as well, thinking about the Humans just waiting helplessly to be captured there. Of course, they would have some of their own close combat troops, such as overwhelmed their old Survey craft so recently, but in fairness, such ships had very little defensive capability. This time would be different.
One wished for a moment that he could accompany the Close Combat force, or that he had been placed in charge of that section. Perhaps in the future, his trium would rise so high. He would have to content himself with watching from a distance. At least they had access to hundreds of individual bioradio feeds. He could not issue commands, but he and the others could listen and watch.
It made for a pleasant diversion.
A certain amount of trepidation entered his mind when the admittedly potent ground weapons ringing the moon’s base fired thousands of kinetic projectiles at the Close Combat force, as well as targeting them with directed energy weapons, but as the grouping of ships aimed at a point tangent to the moon rather than directly at it, and they retained the tremendous speed of the Destroyer itself, only a few craft were lost. The Human fire control systems remained inferior to those of the Empire. Their only advantage was that of numbers.
Even so, One felt relief when the Close Combat force dropped below the moon’s horizon, out of line of sight of the enemy magnetic launchers and energy projectors. Slingshotting around the planetoid and approaching from the other side would allow them time to decelerate, and also reduce any more potential losses.
Close Combat trium is clever, and competent, One said grudgingly to himself. If we are fortunate, they will achieve their objectives, then become casualties in the main battle for the Human planet. Fortunately they are less well protected than we, of necessity located nearer the surface, with their Pureling forces.
One could always hope.
Chapter 69
“Ruchek here,” came the CO’s voice on the battalion net. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is the objects are not going to impact us directly. The bad news is, inbounds have inserted into Callisto orbit and dropped below the horizon, and so cannot be engaged with the weapons arrays. Three hundred eighty-one separate craft survived.”
Repeth could hear a tinge of disgust at the Fleet gunners’ performance, though she knew it was not likely their fault. Trying to hit small maneuvering targets at high deflection angles was very difficult, like trying to shoot far-off flying birds with rifles.
On her HUD the CO threw up a crude diagram of Callisto, with Grissom Base marked. A line appeared, streaking from the Destroyer to the edge of the moon, and then curving close around it to approach the base from the other side.
“Weapons arrays cannot depress enough to engage targets coming in NOE, and I believe the only reason these craft are using a decelerating orbit is to land and occupy this base, otherwise they would just use their kinetic energy to smash the surface installations. ETA is seventeen minutes until they are visible on the horizon. Expect ground assault shortly after.”
Repeth could hear the Colonel take a deep breath in his helmet that echoed through the net. “Base Command tells me the ground crews are working to get three broken Aardvarks launched in an effort to hit the enemy during their landing.”
I’m sure the pilots would rather die in their birds than in the ground fighting, Repeth thought. Time to fulfill the Ultimate Liability Clause on the life insurance.
The CO went on, “But don’t pin your hopes on the zoomies or the squids saving your sorry arses, Marines. We’re going to do that ourselves. I want the heavy weapons section from each company up to the first level and emplaced to target the enemy as he comes over the horizon. Whatever the hell they are, they’ll be most vulnerable as they slow down to land. Delta One, mark us four good firing positions. Everyone seal up and go on internal oxygen in four minutes. I’m going to have the surface complex pressure lowered to almost nothing.”
She wondered again if this would be the time she’d be carried home in a box. In a way, that would be a relief. So many missions, so much death. At least Rick is back on Orion, where he can do the most good.
“All right, people,” she heard Captain Miller come on, “you heard the man. Everyone seal up and go on internal. Toroda, Kostas, give me another systems check, top to bottom. Chief Massimo,” she addressed the master gunnery warrant in charge of the crew-served weapons, “get your section up top and emplaced. Take direction from Delta, but don’t throw those weapons away. Withdraw to the tunnels if you must. Make them dig us out.”
“Roger,” Repeth heard the chief’s acknowledgement. For a moment it made her think of Roger Muzik, dead these nine years. He should be with us, kicking ass.
She glided up to Captain Miller, a short fireplug of a woman, and tapped her on the shoulder to let her know she was there. They watched as Massimo and his people loaded up their ground-pounders’ holy trinity of heavy railgun, heavy laser and missile launcher, each with a crew of three. All carried extra ammo and powerpacks on their backracks, but in the low gravity they probably could have held much more.
“You want to send some grunts up to cover them?” Repeth asked. “I don’t trust those Delta goobers to keep the enemy off them, and they may need help when it comes time to pull back.”
Miller turned to look at her, faceplate to faceplate. “You mean someone cool enough to pull them out if they need reminding?” Massimo was known as something of a hothead, not inclined to listen to orders.
“And with enough clout. That means one of the eltees, or you or me. He won’t listen to anyone else.”
“Right.” Miller thought for a moment. “You go, Top. I have to grok the big picture and I’d rather the eltees stayed with their platoons. Take Dasko and his squad. I know you guys get along. We’ll adjust. I’ll tell Kostas.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.” Repeth pulled up Dasko direct and told him to meet her in the central park above. A few bounds took her up one of the cargo ramps and to the surface base, though it looked similar to the tunnels below, except for the fact that instead of twenty meters of rock overhead there was just a few centimeters of structure and a meter of Callisto’s dirt.
Her HUD located the squad leader and she glided over to him and his ten Marines. “Follow me,” she said and led the way across the central space to the east side of the base, where the enemy would approach. Massimo’s icon moved ahead of her, and settled to a stop just a moment before she reached the heavy weapons section.
Those ten Marines busied themselves with their heavy laser, cutting the external wall. Repeth kept Dasko’s squad back as she watched them open three holes, the residual pressure of the atmosphere shoving the external dust and dirt outward, making nice firing ports. She had to hand it to him, the chief knew what he was doing.
Once they had their firing ports cut, she ordered Dasko to get his people in to clear out everything in the room they were in – some kind of low-priority storage, emergency rations and water, it looked like. The line Marines soon had the spaces cleared for action, with nothing to ignite or turn into flying debris if they got hit.
“Need to get someone out there to emplace sensors,” Massimo said, looking around. Clearly the holes were too small to fit a Marine through, and he didn’t want to widen them. Then he spotted Repeth. “Hello, Top. What are you doing here?”
“The boss wanted us to cover your sorry butts,” she replied cheerfully.
“Well all right, then. Let’s get you some firing ports.” The chief told the laser gunner to punch some more holes in the wall.
“Dasko,” Repeth said, “get everyone on the heavy weapons channel and then send two people with a modicum of brains out the nearest airlock to set up the chief’s sensors.”
“Right.” Dasko sent off two Marines and soon they had exited the base and come around to the firing ports. They began to emplace sensors as the gunners handed them through t
he firing ports, trailing armored cables.
“Get them as widely spaced as possible,” Massimo roared, as if yelling in a suitcomm helped. “We don’t want one hit to take them all out! Then get back inside.”
“One hit from what?” Dasko muttered.
“From whatever comes. They aren’t super-beings,” Repeth replied for all to hear. “They follow the same laws of physics that we do. We can kill their troops with our weapons. You’ve all seen the video.” She meant the sequences of the less advanced Space Marines of ten years ago assaulting the Meme scout ship, fighting the weird critters inside.
Chapter 70
Rear Admiral Huen leaned forward and gripped the arms of the Chair. “They’re going to swing around Callisto. If they came straight in, they’d have taken a lot of casualties from the heavy weapons emplacements. Instead, they’re zooming past and going to drop into a surface-skimming orbit and decelerate to hit the base from the other horizon.”
Sensors updated the main display to show the path of the incoming force, arriving tangent to the moon and a thousand kilometers away from the base, then curling behind Callisto in an enormous three-quarter circle, ending just short of Grissom. “Do you think they know we’re here?” he asked.
“No way to say,” Sensors replied, along with murmured negations from the other watchstanders. “They could tweak their courses and rise to hit us or stay low and avoid us.”
Huen stroked his chin in thought. “What if we force their hand? What if we drop down and deliberately place ourselves in the enemy’s path?”
Weapons replied, “Depends on the capabilities of the enemy craft, sir, and we simply don’t know what they can do. If their weapons are short-range and powerful, they could rip us up. If they are long-range, it doesn’t really matter, except we’ll make ourselves easier to hit and harder to ignore. Either way, sir, all we really have are a bunch of point defense lasers.”
Plague Wars 06: Comes the Destroyer Page 31
