by Jay Allan
“So has the glory of corps command gone to your head yet?” Jax was smiling as he walked up from behind. “Could you have imagined back on Columbia that you’d be wearing General Holm’s hat one day?”
Cain turned to face his friend and second-in-command. “I wish we had that outfit now.” Holm had been the commander of I Corps during the closing stages of the Third Frontier War. It had been a veteran formation through and through, honed during years of combat. Cain’s corps had its share of seasoned troops, but it wasn’t a match in numbers or experience for the formation Holm had commanded. The force reductions after the war and the savagery of the rebellions had taken a serious toll. Erik wondered how many Marines from the old I Corps were still with the colors…how many were still alive. He figured it wouldn’t be hard to find out – Hector could probably tell him immediately. But he decided he didn’t want to know. His own mental calculations told him the number would be depressingly small.
“We’ve still got some good people, Erik.” He looked out over the sea of modular structures that stretched for kilometers in every direction. A lot of them were empty. Admiral West had been fighting the enemy invasion fleet for days now, and I Corps’ frontline units had suited up and deployed to their defensive positions. Cain knew the enemy landings could come at any time, and he wasn’t going to get caught unprepared.
“That we do, my friend.” He looked up at Jax, squinting at the bright sun above the big Marine’s head. “But not enough. Have the PRC troops disembarked yet?”
“Yes, they’re mustering in the quad.” Jax walked the rest of the way over to Cain and sat in one of the empty chairs. “We’re loading up the civvies now. That will be just about all of them, except for the volunteers. I can’t believe we got them all off-planet.”
“This group will be lucky if they can make it out of the system.” Third Fleet had done a tremendous job fencing with the superior enemy forces, but West’s survivors weren’t going to hold out much longer. Cain had been waiting for word that the enemy had taken out the remnants of the orbital fortresses and commenced their landing. The transport crews were trying to get the civilians loaded up, but they were as likely to get blown away in space as to escape.
“I do have one surprise for you, though.” Jax’s smile widened.
“I hate surprises.” Cain frowned. “They’re usually trouble.” He looked over at Jax, his head tilted to avoid the sun glare. “What is it?”
“It, my dear General Cain, is me.”
Cain spun around. Standing behind him was an Asian man of moderate height, fully armored with his helmet retracted.
“Aoki!” Cain smiled, for the first time in days. “I had no idea you were leading this force.” He got up and walked over to the new arrival. “Welcome to I Corps.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Aoki Yoshi had been the PRC’s liaison officer during the war, and he’d accompanied then-Major Cain’s forces for a full campaign. The two had stayed in touch, but Cain hadn’t actually seen Yoshi in years. “It is good to see you again.”
“Why don’t you head over to your billet and dump that armor and come back here for dinner?” Cain glanced back at Jax. “Our food service leaves a bit to be desired, but I’d wager Jax and I can pull rank and scare up a few burgers and cold beers.” Yoshi was the son of a diplomat, and he’d spent most of his childhood in the Alliance. While he was there he’d become fond of the food, particularly hamburgers.
“That sounds perfect.” He nodded and started to turn. “Give me an hour to get my troops situated.”
“We’ll be right here whenever you’re…”
“General Cain!” It was Captain Santos, a member of Cain’s staff. He was running over from the HQ hut. “We’ve just received a communication from the orbital fortresses. They are under attack.”
Cain turned to face Santos. “Any word from Admiral West?”
“No sir. The last report is that Cambrai suffered heavy damage and Third Fleet is retreating. The admiral may be…”
“Let’s not bury Admiral West until we have some facts, captain.” Cain turned toward Aoki. “Well, my friend, I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone those burgers and beers until after the dance.”
The battle had been raging for six days. Cain had been dealing with his inner demons recently, but he pushed aside the doubts and dove into the job at hand. He’d abandoned the rest of the planet, creating one large defensive perimeter around Landing. That line redefined the concept of defense in depth. For weeks he had scoured every inch of the position, directing the placement of mines, choosing locations for heavy weapon emplacements, and managing the digging of trenches. He placed line after line, each one stronger than the last. The troops saw him everywhere, and his legend grew among the rank and file.
Cain’s plan wasn’t pretty; it wasn’t elegant. He contrived to turn every centimeter of the battlefield into a killing zone. He was going to fight a battle of annihilation with the enemy. If they wanted Farpoint, they were going to have to take it one bloody meter at a time.
The first line, covered by minefields and extensive heavy weapon strongpoints, had held for three days. Finally, the enemy massed its Reapers and punched through, suffering heavy losses in the process. His front pierced, Cain ordered his forces back to the second line. The forward units had paid heavily for those three days of resistance, and most of the deployed companies were under 60% strength. Casualties among the officers were even worse, as high as 70% in the hardest-hit formations. The Marines fought like madmen, but the relentlessness of the enemy sapped their morale. Even veteran units wavered under the incessant attacks, and the officers were compelled to rally their troops, exposing themselves to withering fire in the process.
The second line had held for three days also, but now it was broken in at least four places, and the troops were retreating. The fallback from the first line had been orderly, but now the Marines were breaking, and crack units were retiring in disorder. Cain paced nervously around his command post, resisting the urge to run up to the line, as if his will alone would rally the troops and send them back at the enemy.
He turned abruptly and looked at another armored figure standing about five meters behind him. “Aoki, I need you to get your troops up to the front.” He was looking at a tactical display on his visor. “Hector, transmit this map to Colonel Yoshi immediately.”
“Yes, general.” For once the AI simply acknowledged and obeyed. Cain never realized that Hector’s sometimes sarcastic personality had developed in response to the AI’s evaluation of his own emotional needs. Sparring with his personal assistant relaxed Cain, though he himself never realized it. But Hector knew what Cain was up against this time.
“Aoki, do you see the deep valley northeast of Landing?”
The PRC officer hesitated for a few seconds as he got his bearings on the map. “Yes, general. I see it.”
“I want you to lead your regiment through that low area. I think you’ll be in cover there. Try to get around the enemy and hit them on the flank and rear.” It was a bold plan…a risky one. Against the enemy’s firepower, the conventional move would be to feed reserves into the prepared defenses. But Erik Cain was anything but conventional.
“Yes, sir.” Yoshi’s voice was eager…he hadn’t seen any action yet, and he was anxious to get into the fight. Yoshi was as wildly aggressive as Cain, and his troops hadn’t faced the enemy yet. That was one reason Erik chose the PRC force for the attack. His Marines had fought the enemy for six days, and their morale was eroding. They would attack if he ordered it, but they’d hold back…he knew that. He would lead his troops to the bitter end here, but Cain wasn’t fooling himself…his men and women, even the most seasoned veterans, knew they couldn’t win this fight. He knew it too, but it wasn’t in him to give up.
He still had the Janissaries in reserve too, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust them. When he walked through their camp…when he met with Tac-Commander Farooq…all he could see were enemies. He realized int
ellectually his close-mindedness could endanger his plan and cost him any chance at victory. His rational mind saw the situation clearly, but it didn’t prevail. Twenty years of war and thousands of dead Marines exerted a hold on Cain that he just couldn’t break, not even with unassailable logic.
“With your permission, general, I will prepare my forces to move forward.”
“Go ahead, Aoki.” Cain paused, feeling the regret he knew wouldn’t stop him. He was sending the PRC troops…he was sending a friend…on an attack he knew couldn’t succeed. He was hoping to disorder the enemy and delay their advance…and get them out in the open. He had no illusions that Yoshi’s attack could do more than that. And when the enemy regrouped, the PRC troops would have a hell of a time getting back into the defensive perimeter. Cain had a lot of guilt from the years of bloody battles that had cost so many lives…but once he was on the field, victory was the only thing that mattered. He’d push his troops mercilessly and ignore any losses. There would always be time for guilt after the fight was over. “And Aoki?”
Yoshi had started to trot toward the PRC camp, but he stopped and turned to face Cain. “Yes, general.”
“Hit them hard.” Cain hated himself even as he said it. “Don’t hold anything back.”
“We’ll hit them, Erik. Don’t you worry about that.”
Lieutenant Sato leapt over the edge of the rocky wall, the troops of his company following close behind. Colonel Yoshi’s orders were explicit. They were to advance at full speed to their objective and to stop for nothing. They’d worked their way around the enemy flank without being detected, but the surprise wouldn’t last long…and Yoshi wanted to make the most of it.
Attacking this enemy was difficult. The battle bots were highly resistant to damage, and it was hard to efficiently employ the heavier SAWs and HVMs when advancing. Though the PRC troops hadn’t faced the enemy before, Colonel Yoshi understood the problem, and he’d crafted his attack plan accordingly.
There was a low ridge running across the PRC frontage, perpendicular to the enemy line. It was not a major terrain feature, really just a ripple in the ground, but it was enough to provide decent cover for a firing line. It was a perfect spot to deploy the heavy weapons and enfilade the enemy position. But Sato’s troops had to cross 2 klicks of open ground to get there. They could do it, he was sure of that, but it would cost. The PRC troops carried shells similar to the Caliphate’s “smoke” rounds in their mortar teams. The shells, spread a chemically-laced, radioactive steam across the field, not only impairing visibility, but wreaking havoc with scanners and other detection devices. It was frequently used to cover advances, but Yoshi was holding his back. He didn’t want to do anything to alert the enemy. He even forbade firing until the troops had reached the new position.
Sato ran forward, zigzagging slightly to take advantage of the contours of the ground. Even “flat” terrain had dips and folds that offered some degree of protection. The enemy was heavily engaged on this sector, pushing hard against the Marines’ third line. Unlike the first two layers of defense, this line was manned by units with a high proportion of green troops, and they were starting to give ground. It was a perfect time to hit the enemy flank.
Sato’s troops got about halfway across the field before they were targeted. A detachment of the standard battle bots responded first, swinging around and firing high-velocity rounds at the advancing PRC forces. Their fire was extremely accurate, but Sato had his troops running forward in a zigzag pattern, making them harder to target. Still, he lost at least 10% of his force in just a few seconds…then the cluster bombs started coming in.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “These things react faster than anything I’ve ever seen.” He’d known his troops would take fire going in, but he didn’t expect the cluster bombs. He didn’t understand how they could reposition their batteries so quickly. Now he had to make a choice…order his troops to hit the ground and crawl the rest of the way…or make a mad dash for the cover of the ridgeline. The losses would be high if they just ran forward, but Colonel Yoshi’s orders were explicit.
“Run to the objective.” He’d flipped his com to the unit-wide frequency. “Let’s go! Move!” He started running himself as he gave the order. He focused on a section of the ridge and ran toward it, trying hard to ignore the incoming fire. It only took about 30 seconds to get to the ridge, but it was the longest half-minute he’d ever experienced. He made one last push off his legs and dove forward behind the spiny rock outcropping, his outstretched arms driving into the damp clay ground.
“All personnel, commence firing. Heavy weapons teams set up. I want you shooting in three zero seconds.” Getting some fire laid down was his number one priority. Number two was checking the casualty reports. His AI was tied in with the transponders on the suits of his troops. Theoretically, he knew who was alive, who was dead, who was wounded…even who was overly stressed. In practice the data was of limited accuracy. Dust and radiation interfered with the transmissions, and damage to a trooper’s armor could knock out the medical reporting system. Sato’s best guess was that 25% of his people were down. That was bad, but it could have been worse. They’d just dashed across 2 kilometers of open plain against a technologically advanced and ruthless enemy. He tried not to think about the fact that they’d probably have to go back over that same ground.
His troopers were already firing, and one of the SAWs was active as well. They were enfilading the enemy at close range, causing considerable disorder as the robotic units moved to change their facing to meet the attack. They were scoring a lot of hits, but the PRC mag-rifles were weaker than the Alliance models, and it took a number of direct hits in a vital area to even damage one of the battle bots. The PRC heavy weapons, on the other hand - the autocannons particularly - were the best produced by of any of the Powers. They delivered a very heavy projectile at an extremely high velocity – the perfect combination to take on the enemy robots.
Sato saw the bots start to go down as his SAW teams came online. He only had four, but they were raking the enemy flank with withering fire. For a few minutes his people had the edge, blasting away at an enemy struggling to change frontage. But gradually the intensity of the return fire increased. The enemy’s cluster bombs started dropping all along the ridge, savaging not only Sato’s troops, but the entire PRC line.
Sato’s company was deployed on the extreme left of the position. His orders were to hold here at all costs, and continue to pour fire into the enemy. The PRC right was swinging around like a door, attacking the enemy from the rear. Colonel Yoshi was there, leading the assault himself. Sato focused on his position, but he couldn’t help but think of those troops continuing to advance, pressing the attack right onto the enemy. The battle bots were terrifying. They seemed almost impervious to damage, at least from regular small arms. And they ignored losses. They continued whatever they were doing, regardless of casualties. The last survivor of a unit fought with the same relentless determination it began with.
He’d never approached a battle expecting the other side to cut and run, but now he realized how much of his courage and his morale hinged on the subconscious knowledge that the enemy could be broken. That if his people were just a bit more steadfast than their adversaries they could win the day. It was overwhelming knowing that if you destroyed 99% of the enemy, the survivors would keep coming…that they would claw at you with their last appendage until you put every one of them down.
Sato looked out over the plain and watched his company’s fire tear into the enemy. His people were wreaking havoc right now, but he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when the enemy reorganized and counter-attacked. If the enemy broke through Sato’s people they’d get between the rest of the PRC force and the main Alliance line. Yoshi’s attack would turn into a blood-soaked disaster.
Sato pulled his rifle up over the edge of the ridge and started firing. We’re not going to let that happen, he thought grimly.
“Aoki’s people
are getting killed, Erik.” Jax was standing right next to Cain, though on the com it would have sounded the same if he’d been100 klicks away. He was edgy, and he sounded it. “You need to give them the recall order.”
Cain stood unmoving, staring off in the direction of the PRC forces. He couldn’t see them at this distance, but he knew what was happening there…he knew it all too well. “They will hold.” His voice was icy, frozen. Erik spent a lot of his spare time worrying about his troops and brooding about the ones he’d lost, but once he was on the battlefield he was as cold as they come. He knew what it took to win…or to hold out longer if victory wasn’t an option. And he let nothing interfere with that. As the years passed he had become almost a robot himself when the battle was raging. He’d pay for it later…he’d pay with guilt and doubt and self-recriminations, but on the field he’d spend however many lives it took to accomplish the objective.
He wasn’t so sure what that objective was anymore. He’d created the most nightmarish set of defenses imaginable, doing everything he could think of to repel the enemy. His troops had inflicted enormous casualties on them, wiping away entire sections, but the survivors just kept coming…and the orbiting fleet continued landing replacements. He’d never thought his people could win, not really. But now he was sure…they were fighting a hopeless battle. But if his entire corps was going to be destroyed, he was damned sure going to take out as many of these cursed machines as he could. And that meant Aoki’s people stayed where they were…at least for a while longer.
Jax fidgeted in his armor, wanting to argue but knowing it was futile. The two were closer than brothers, comrades in some of the most horrific battles men had ever fought. But this was the one area where they differed, and the only thing they ever argued about. Jax could never embrace the brutal mathematics of war. Not the way Cain did.
“I’m worried about the western flank too, Erik.” Jax changed the subject. There was no point arguing with Cain, especially on the battlefield; he might just as well debate a brick wall. “What if the enemy manages to get through those mountains? I really think we need to garrison that area.”
