by Troy Denning
Colonel Sasa Boldisar came rushing down the steps, Istvan Erdei, Rendor Borbély, and several more of her subordinates close on her heels.
“They’re inserting in daylight?” Boldisar asked. “I thought they wouldn’t do that?”
“I said in my request that supporting your militia is mission-critical,” John said. “I guess they took me at my word.”
“Perhaps.” Kelly spoke over TEAMCOM to avoid being overheard. “But don’t you think something is missing?”
John scowled inside his helmet, then increased his image magnification until the spray of glow trails filled his faceplate. He still couldn’t see much through the clouds and rain, though the glow trails were a bit longer and more distinct, and the flame heads more clearly drop-shaped. He asked his onboard computer for a count. A number ticker appeared in the corner of his HUD and began to go up as infrared sensors identified a growing number of distinct entry trails.
83… 87… 92…
“Nothing missing I can see from down here,” John replied over TEAMCOM. “It looks like a hot drop to me. Probably forty or fifty Pelicans, escorted by five squadrons of Broadswords.”
“Then where are the interceptors?” Linda asked. She was still at her overwatch post on a village roof, where she would have a clear view of the surrounding horizon. “The Banished can see the drop coming, the same as we can.”
John disengaged his image magnification and looked lower in the sky, then understood why Kelly and Linda were concerned. There should have been whole wings of Seraphs and Banshees rising to engage the insertion craft. Instead, the only thing he saw between the rooftops and the clouds was rain. Meanwhile the Wraiths continued their barrage, and the cluster of glow trails was growing larger without spreading out or growing longer.
“That drop is coming straight at New Mohács,” John said over his voicemitter. “Colonel Boldisar, I suggest you activate Air Defense Alpha, Phase One.”
“We can’t do that, Master Chief.” It was Rendor Borbély, the former Misriah Armory systems designer, who said this. “To those Scythes, a Pelican is just another target.”
“I understand how automated targeting systems work, Colonel.” John looked back to Boldisar. “You should still activate the Scythes, ma’am. Hold the Lances and Anacondas for Phases Two and Three.”
Boldisar looked toward the approaching glow trails, and her face paled. “That isn’t the UNSC?”
John flashed status green to Kelly, and she told Boldisar, “Most likely not. If that drop was ours, the Banished would be putting everything they have up against it.”
“The easiest place to end an insertion is in the air,” Fred added. “Once boots are on the ground, it stops being target practice and turns into a fight.”
As Kelly and Fred explained the situation to Boldisar, John was on his comm unit, trying every possible channel to raise any UNSC vessels that happened to be overhead—and getting nothing. The Pelicans, if there were actually any coming, might still be in insertion blackout. But if there was a UNSC drop going on, there would be UNSC vessels overhead.
And since he couldn’t make contact… it wouldn’t be smart to conclude anything. There might not be any UNSC vessels up there at all. Or they might have wrapped a jamming blanket around the entire planet to delay a response from Cortana. Or they might be on the wrong side of orbit at the moment.
The only thing John could be sure of was that the enemy didn’t seem at all concerned about the inbound drop. And that meant he should be.
“The Spartans were playing us all along,” Istvan Erdei said. He pushed forward next to Boldisar. “There was never going to be a UNSC drop.”
“We don’t play,” John said. He looked at Boldisar over Erdei’s balding head. “You should have the deception teams fall back so you can activate the tank traps in the outer fortifications.”
As he spoke, the first dropship broke through the cloud ceiling and continued through the rain, its flame trail a foreshortened orange arrow, coming straight toward New Mohács.
“Do it now,” John said.
Boldisar nodded to Borbély, who immediately raced back into headquarters to obey, and to Erdei, who ignored her and remained where he was.
“There’s no shame in giving them a chance once,” Erdei said. “But you can’t keep trusting them—not when they didn’t deliver the first time.”
Another dozen dropships broke through the clouds and continued toward New Mohács. The cluster remained tight, the oval flame heads slowly growing larger as they approached.
Over TEAMCOM, Linda said, “At that speed, the angle of descent is too steep for Pelicans. They wouldn’t be able to pull up in time.”
“So they’re Phantoms or Spirits,” John concluded. “On approach to New Mohács?”
“They’re two thousand kilometers away,” Linda said, “so they still have time to change course. But I think they are coming to us. ETA… fifteen minutes, at the most.”
Which was about the same time it would take the Banished infantry to cross a kilometer of glass barrens and attack New Mohács. John had his onboard computer begin a fifteen-minute countdown, then studied the officers standing behind Boldisar. He fixed his gaze on a slender major with a blond, waist-length ponytail—Darda Tabori, who had actually served in the UNSC and probably understood the concept of an order.
“Major, you have about one minute before the enemy armor starts its advance.” He looked toward the western side of the village. “Ten minutes after that happens, the Banished air squadrons are going to hit your anti-aircraft weapons with every strike craft they have. Then the Griever fighter-bombers will come in and level the place.”
Tabori’s eyes grew wide. “Why are you telling me, Master Chief?”
“Because it would be wise for someone to obey Colonel Boldisar,” John said. “You need to order the deception teams to fall back so you can activate the tank traps in the outer fortification ring.”
“I understand.”
Tabori didn’t even bother glancing in Boldisar’s direction. She simply sprinted into the headquarters to act on John’s “suggestions.”
He looked back to Boldisar, who was still being lectured by Erdei about the folly of trusting the Spartans. He clasped Erdei’s shoulder.
“I’m going to interrupt now.” He squeezed until Erdei stopped talking. It didn’t take long. “In about fourteen minutes, the Banished infantry will be crossing your tank trench to launch an attack behind their surviving Marauders.”
Erdei tried to say something.
“I’m not done yet, Major.” John squeezed harder and continued looking at Boldisar. “Don’t fall for it, ma’am. They’re trying to draw you away from the armor yard so their dropships can land unopposed.”
“They’re going to drop in New Mohács?” she asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said. “They’re going to hit you everywhere at once.”
Boldisar’s eyes widened. “How do we stop them?”
“We can’t,” John said. He could see already that she wouldn’t take the truth well, but he had to be straight with her. “Not without air superiority. Now that the Banished realize you need to be taken seriously, they’ll be a ferocious war machine that doesn’t make many mistakes. All you can do is make them pay.”
“So much for all that help you promised,” Erdei said.
John didn’t reply. He wanted to assure them that the UNSC drop would be coming, that Infinity wouldn’t be jamming orbital communications if it wasn’t launching an operation—but he had no way of knowing whether communications were actually being jammed, or whether the Infinity had simply departed because it expected one of Cortana’s Guardians to arrive at any moment. And even if an insertion was coming, it seemed unlikely that General Doi would launch before nightfall, when he could at least give his troops the advantage of their night-vision equipment.
And New Mohács wasn’t going to last until nightfall. The Banished were too powerful… and too damn smar
t.
John released Erdei’s shoulder, but continued to look at Boldisar. The counter in his HUD had dropped to thirteen minutes.
“Ma’am,” he said. “If I were you, I’d give serious thought to preparing a breakout to the south.”
Boldisar seemed confused, perhaps even in shock. “You mean run?”
“I mean fight your way out,” John clarified. The tunnel they had used to sneak into New Mohács had been destroyed to prevent the enemy from using the same tactic. So now the only way for the militia to leave the village was by shooting. “Blue Team neutralized most of the artillery on the south side of New Mohács. Once the enemy commits to an encircling attack, you should hit their south line with heavy machine guns. It’ll be primarily infantry there, so you may be able to punch through with a staggered column of Warthogs.”
“What about strafing?” Erdei asked. “We can’t punch through if we’re being chased down by Banshees and Seraphs.”
“There won’t be much strafing,” John said. “The Banished air support will be over the armor yard, trying to protect their drop. If you can break through, you’ll be clear to withdraw.”
“And by that, you mean run,” Boldisar said.
“I mean live to win tomorrow,” John said. “If you die now, it doesn’t matter whether a drop is coming later. Your first step is to survive.”
“And to make them pay,” Boldisar said. “As you said.”
“Always make them pay.” Silently, John added, Especially on Reach. Even almost lifeless and blanketed in lechatelierite, this world was still his ground. “Always.”
Boldisar considered his reply for a moment, then nodded. “I’m glad we agree.” She nodded to Erdei. “You know what to do.”
John’s stomach sank, and Erdei’s round head tipped to one side.
“You’re sure?” Erdei asked.
“There’s no other choice,” Boldisar replied. “You heard the Master Chief.”
“Ma’am, a Havok is hardly what I’m suggesting.” John had hoped Boldisar wouldn’t leap straight to what was quite literally the nuclear option, but of course she had—because she didn’t understand how inappropriate it was to their situation. “A thirty-megaton device is the wrong tactic—”
“We lured the enemy to New Mohács to destroy them,” she said. “Is your breakout operation going to accomplish that?”
“Of course not, but—”
“Then there’s nothing to debate here.” Boldisar dipped her chin to Erdei. “You have your orders, Major.”
Erdei snapped off a salute and headed toward the rear of the headquarters building.
Over TEAMCOM, John said, “Blue Two, you’re with him.”
Fred started after Erdei. “Orders?”
“Keep us informed,” John said, still over TEAMCOM, audible only to Blue Team and Special Crew. “Don’t let him arm the device until I give the okay.”
By the time Fred flashed green, Boldisar was glaring at his back. “Where does he think he’s going?”
“To assist,” John said. The counter on his HUD had dropped to eleven minutes. The Banished infantry had already begun its advance. In five or six minutes, the first Banshees would attack the anti-aircraft emplacements—at least the obvious ones. “On my orders.”
“As long as it’s only to—”
“Ma’am, it’s nonnegotiable. If you intend to use a Havok, I need to protect my people and my mission. That means supervising its deployment.”
“Supervising? Not stopping?”
“You have more than one device, and there’s no time to go looking for the others,” John said. “It seems more efficient to come to an arrangement.”
“I’m listening.”
“You need to be,” John said. “If the breakout goes well, forty to fifty percent of your force will survive. Even if the UNSC doesn’t insert later, you’ll have over two thousand combat-blooded veterans who can continue the fight. They’ll be worth twice what your entire militia was before the battle. And with Blue Team to advise you, that might be enough to harass the Banished into leaving Reach.”
“Wait,” Boldisar said. “You’re staying to fight?”
“If there’s no drop, it’s because the fleet is gone. What else would we do?”
Boldisar’s expression grew thoughtful. “So what do you want in return?”
“To advise you.” John’s onboard computer began to project facts and figures onto his HUD. “In a thirty-megaton surface detonation, the crater will be twelve hundred meters across and two hundred ninety meters deep. The fireball will have a radius of five kilometers. The shockwave will kill most people within fifteen kilometers, and cause major injuries to a distance of thirty-five.”
“You’re not going to talk me out of using it,” Boldisar said. “We won’t get another chance to hit them this hard again.”
“I’m trying to make sure there will be enough of your people left alive to fight the Banished you don’t kill,” John said. “The heat flash will inflict third-degree burns on a hundred percent of those exposed out to forty-four kilometers. A Warthog’s top combat speed is around a hundred kilometers an hour, and there’s going to be some time lost in fighting. I’d recommend giving the breakout column at least thirty-five minutes to get clear. Your rear guard should be able to hold the enemy that long. Ask for volunteers. Soldiers ordered to go on suicide missions don’t usually perform well.”
Alert sirens began to wail across New Mohács, confirming that the Banished assault was under way and militia members should take their fighting positions.
“Is thirty-five minutes enough time?”
“It’s all you’ll have,” John said. “The Banished will take the village in thirty minutes. After that, your survivors will just be trying to hold their attention. Five minutes is all you can count on before they’re wiped out.”
“I notice you keep saying you.”
“That’s right. As I said, I need to protect my people and my mission.” John activated TEAMCOM so that Blue Team and Special Crew would hear what he said next. “Blue Team and Special Crew will handle drop-zone defense and secure transport for ourselves and our equipment. Once we have what we need, Blue Two will arm the Havok and enable Major Erdei to initiate a thirty-five-minute countdown. Colonel Boldisar will notify the major when the breakout column punches through. Then Major Erdei will initiate. Everyone clear?”
Three status LEDs flashed green in John’s HUD, and Van Houte acknowledged for Special Crew. John continued to look at Boldisar.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked.
“I asked if you understood, ma’am, not whether you agreed,” John said. He motioned Kelly into the passenger’s seat of Bella Disztl’s Warthog, then climbed into the gun well behind her. “Lieutenant Disztl, how would you feel about serving as my driver on mobile defense?”
She glanced back, her mouth hanging agape. “Are you kidding?”
“I’ll take that as an affirmative,” John said. “Move out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
0632 hours, October 12, 2559 (military calendar)
Old Banished Armor Yard, New Mohács
Arany Basin, Continent Eposz, Planet Reach
With the Banished shield barrier destroyed, John could look across New Mohács’s wreck-strewn armor yard and see well into the rain-swept barrens. A line of speeding Marauders was inbound across the lechatelierite, swerving around downed Banshees and lobbing their first plasma rounds at the fortifications ringing the town. A dozen kilometers beyond, a dark cloud of Banshees swarmed just above the horizon. It was impossible to get an accurate count through the rainfall, but the number had to be in the hundreds.
Most were holding there, well beyond the range of the antiaircraft guns. But every few seconds, two squadrons of Banshees would break free of the swarm and sweep toward New Mohács. The militia’s automatically targeting M71 Scythes would open fire at two thousand meters, filling the air with clouds of high-explosive incendiary/armor-piercing shells.
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br /> What happened next had become a pattern. Three or four Banshees disintegrated before the rest reached firing range and their noses began to flash white with cannon fire. A few more Banshees went down, sometimes crashing into the infantry formations behind the Marauders. Then the surviving Banshees pulled up, revealing the ungainly Seraph they had been screening from the Scythe.
The Scythe switched targets, and the Seraph opened fire with everything it had. Plasma bolts and explosive fuel rods began to stream in one direction, and HEIAP shells back in the other.
John had watched the matchup thirty or forty times already. Sometimes the Seraph won, and the anti-aircraft emplacement erupted in pillars of flame and shrapnel, its hundred-thousand-round drum of ammunition cooking off in a terrifying display of pyrotechnics. Sometimes the Scythe won, overwhelming the Seraph’s energy shield and punching holes through its nanolaminate hull armor, sending the craft spinning away into the glass barrens.
More often, both lost, filling the air with smoke and debris and flame, destroying each other in a flash of combat that lasted a few seconds.
Now New Mohács was down to its last Scythe emplacement. The cloud of Banshees on the horizon had thinned to a haze, but the Viery Militia was losing the war of attrition. And the Banished commanders were damn well smart enough to know it.
When the next two squadrons of Banshees swept toward New Mohács, five enormous, tri-hulled silhouettes dropped out of the clouds and started across the barrens behind them.
Kelly looked up over her shoulder. “You do see those Grievers, correct?”
“Sure do,” John answered. “All five.”
They were still in Disztl’s Warthog. John was standing in back, behind the M41 Vulcan light anti-aircraft gun in the gun well. Kelly was wedged in on top of the passenger’s seat, with her boots braced against the dashboard and her back against the roll bar. She was holding an M41 SPNKr rocket launcher, with an ample supply of M19 reload tubes strapped into the seat and stuffed into the foot well below her. Disztl was leaning over the steering wheel a little too eagerly as she watched the air battle from their hiding place in the alley mouth.
