by D. J. Holmes
“Focus,” Stromboli ordered as he reached over and turned the marine to face the supply depot.
“Advance,” Colonel Sanders commanded over the regiment’s platoon COM channel.
“Go, go, go,” Stromboli added as he charged out of the crater, leading his platoon.
As three hundred British marines charged towards their objective, the hail of Indian fire passed over their heads toward targets at the forest line. Very quickly though, the Indian fire descended upon them. Several marines fell near Stromboli as plasma bolts and hyper velocity missiles exploded among their ranks. Then a series of massive explosions erupted right in front of the Indian base. The six shells the military engineers had fired had contained one last surprise.
As six massive fireballs shot flames more than one hundred meters into the sky the Indian fire died out as neither the Indian soldiers nor their defensive weapons could identify any targets through the burning inferno. Stromboli and the other British marines used the precious time to cover another three hundred meters towards the outer wall of the depot.
Burning as intensely as they did, the fireballs quickly dispersed, allowing the Indians to once again see their opponents. Diving into the nearest crater, Stromboli just managed to throw himself out of the firing line as the full weight of Indian fire once again crashed into the charging marines. Reaching behind his back, he pulled two grenades off his utility belt and prepared to hurl them. He was close enough that he should be able to hurl them over the depot’s outer wall. Pausing, he took a couple of seconds to catch his breath. We just need one more distraction, Stromboli thought.
*
“Now,” Johnston ordered as he threw himself through the last remnants of the Haven forest and into the open ground surrounding the supply depot. As he ran he fired almost blindly towards the depot. More than a hundred Havenite resistance fighters joined him, firing as they charged.
For the first several seconds the Indians hardly managed any counter fire. Three heavy plasma cannons that hadn’t been engaging the marines were the only weapons that immediately opened up on the Havenite fighters. Each bolt killed one or two of Johnston’s force. Even so, the resistance fighters quickly advanced towards the first line of craters. Then, jumping from crater to crater, they continued their advance.
Johnston knew their luck had run out when the Indian fire intensified. A squad of Indian soldiers had been dispatched to take up positions along the outer defensive wall.
“Alpha and beta squad, take cover in the craters, give us covering fire as we advance,” Johnston shouted to be heard over the din of battle.
As he charged, the Indian fire intensified. Around him, several resistance fighters fell to the ground, either severely injured or dead. Diving into the nearest crater to avoid being hit, Johnston paused to assess the situation. “This is as far as we are going to get,” he shouted to the fighters around him. “Use the craters as cover, we need to distract the Indians.”
Chapter 29 – Taking Ground
One proverb is true in both naval and ground war: ‘If you can, attack your opponent from every side.’
-Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD
“Major Johnston has launched his attack,” Colonel Sanders reported over the regiment’s COM channel. “First wave, continue your advance; second wave, follow them in. Let’s take this damned depot,” Sanders ordered.
“Grenades away,” Stromboli shouted as he hurled first one, then two high explosive grenades towards the Indians’ outer defensive wall. The marines who had been taking cover in the same crater added their own grenades. As Stromboli charged out of the crater he was greeted by a wall of explosions as the grenades went off all around the first defensive wall. They silenced any fire that had been coming from the Indian soldiers stationed there.
The fire from the defenders manning the second wall was still fierce and, as Stromboli charged, several marines from his platoon were cut down. As he reached the outer wall he threw his back against the durasteel fortification to take cover from the Indian fire. Then, without looking, he unhooked another high explosive grenade and threw it through the nearest slit in the wall. He didn’t know if there were any surviving Indian soldiers on the other side but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
As soon as the explosion cleared Stromboli turned and peered through the firing slit to see if any Indian soldiers remained alive. Making sure to keep his plasma rifle aimed through the slit, he carefully looked from side to side. Not seeing any immediate danger, he turned to lean against the wall. Letting out a deep breath, he looked around. Tens of British marines had reached the outer defensive wall. Some were lobbing grenades over the wall or through firing slits, others had their plasma rifles shoved through the firing slits and were firing at the defenders within, still others were firing over the top of the wall towards the defenders who were manning the inner wall that protected the supplies and equipment housed in the depot.
Seeing there was little return fire from the Indians on the second wall, Stromboli risked poking his head above the outer wall to survey what was left of the Indian defenses. Almost all the guard towers were smoldering wrecks. Even as he watched, one of the last exploded as a hyper velocity missile shot from the forest line.
Ducking down, Stromboli opened a COM channel directly to Colonel Sanders. “We have them on the run Colonel,” he said. “One more push and we should be able to take the inner wall.”
“You’re doing well,” Sanders replied. “Wait until the second wave reaches you, then lead your men over the outer wall. The engineers have no more tricks to protect you so you will have to storm the inner wall as quickly as possible. Once you have your men inside don’t try to take the entire depot. Find cover and set up defensive positions. Unless the Indian commander is a fool, he will have a reserve force. As soon as his perimeter is breached he should commit them to repulsing you. Stick to the plan Lieutenant and we should win the day. You’ve already accomplished the hardest part.”
“Yes Sir,” Stromboli replied. “My men know what to do. We will continue our attack as soon as possible.”
Keying off the COM channel, Stromboli looked back towards the forest line. The second wave of marines had already made it about two thirds of the way towards the supply depot. With the Indian defenders so focused on repulsing the first wave, they were making much easier going of it. Leaving his men to engage the Indian defenders, Stromboli opened another COM channel to the Lieutenants and Captain leading the second wave of attackers. “Most of our men are out of grenades,” he began. “If you order your men to launch a grenade or two at the inner wall we should be able to charge as soon as your forces reach us,” he suggested.
“Roger,” the Captain leading the second wave of attackers said. “We’ll follow your suggestion Lieutenant,” he added.
“We’re going over the top as soon as the second wave reaches us,” Stromboli informed the rest of his platoon over their own COM channel. “As soon as they get here, they will lob grenades at the inner wall, that’s all the cover we’re going to get.”
“We’ve come this far. We may as well see what’s on the other side, eh boys?” one of his sergeants responded, eliciting a few shouts of encouragement from the other marines.
Stromboli didn’t laugh, on his HUD he could see the status of his platoon. He had lost six marines and there would be more before the depot was secure. Instead, he gritted his teeth and prepared to jump over the outer defensive wall. As the second wave of marines charged out of the last line of craters, almost all of them pulled grenades off their utility belts and hurled them over the outer defensive wall towards the inner wall. Before the grenades exploded Stromboli gave the order for his own men to charge. Putting action to words, he hurdled the outer wall using the impressive strength his combat armor gave him. As his feet hit the ground he launched into a sprint towards his new target, firing his plasma cannon at anything that moved on top of the inner wall.
To his horror, as he ran towards the m
uch larger durasteel wall he saw a number of slits at ground level open up. As soon as they opened, plasma rifles were pushed through and opened up on the charging marines. They were just waiting for us, Stromboli cursed. With nothing else to do, he switched his fire from the top of the inner wall onto the slits. Recognizing the danger they were in, almost all of the marines followed his example and hundreds of plasma bolts slapped into the durasteel wall around the opened slits.
Stromboli had planned to pause his attack when his platoon got to the durasteel wall to give them a chance to catch their breath. Now it would spell death for his men. He pulled his grappling hook out of his combat armor’s utility belt and hurled it up and over the inner wall. When he was fifteen meters from the wall he launched himself into the air and crashed into the wall. Grabbing the nano carbon wire attached to his grappling hook he pulled himself up the wall. As soon as he got to the top he threw himself over the fortifications and landed on the walls’ battlements.
Two Indian soldiers in combat armor looked around, startled at the sudden appearance of the British marine between them. Stromboli didn’t have time to fire on both so he dispatched one with his plasma rifle while he shoulder charged the second. Still caught off guard, the second soldier didn’t have enough time to dodge and Stromboli’s shoulder charge knocked him off the battlements and into the supply depot. The fall would hardly cause the soldier any real damage, his combat armor would protect him, yet he was out of the fight for now.
Stromboli sighted his plasma rifle on a number of Indian soldiers who were looking over the top of the durasteel wall, firing down on the marines. He fired bolt after bolt into the defenders, dispatching them before they realized the danger they were in. Before he finished taking out his targets, the Sergeant who had cracked the joke just a few seconds before landed beside him and opened up with his plasma rifle. Soon more than six marines from his platoon were alongside him, pouring fire into the flanks of the Indian defenders.
“We’re sitting ducks up here,” Stromboli said as one and then another marine fell to fire from deeper within the supply depot. “I think we’ve done enough, everyone get off this wall now,” he ordered
Stromboli saw other marines launch themselves over the inner wall and engage what was left of the Indian defenders. “Push on,” he ordered his platoon as they formed up around him and spread out to set up a perimeter. “We need to find a defensive position and get set up to receive a counter attack. The Indians won’t want us in their depot, they’ll try to push us out and retake the inner wall if they can.”
As his men pushed forward, engaging any Indian soldiers they came across, Stromboli surveyed the section of the depot they had jumped into. It seemed to be taken up by large crates that, from the look of them, contained water and other essential rations. The wooden crates would provide next to no cover from an Indian plasma bolt. Further ahead he could see a section of the depot that looked like a parking lot for supply trucks. “Get to those supply trucks in the north-east,” he ordered over the COM channel. “We’ll dig in there.”
Stromboli knew the marines would have a far better chance of holding off any Indian counter attack if each of the platoons worked together. However, with haphazard and uncoordinated fighting still going on outside the inner wall, on the battlements and within the depot itself, it was every platoon for themselves.
*
“I think this is as far as we’re going to get,” Johnston said to Sergeant Briar. They were taking cover in a large crater about one hundred and fifty meters from the outer wall. Johnston reckoned more than thirty of his resistance fighters had been killed by Indian fire. Even so, they had done their task. What initially looked like a squad of Indian soldiers had turned into a platoon. He instinctively ducked as plasma bolts hit the lip of the crater, sending dirt and rocks tumbling down on top of Briar and himself. “There’s no way we are getting any closer with such a weight of fire coming at us,” he explained.
“You said it boss,” Briar said. “Each of those Indians over there firing at us is one less trying to repulse the marines’ attack. I think we’ve done our job.”
Johnston was about to reply but an all-too-familiar sound cut him short. The one thing Johnston and the other resistance fighters lived in fear of was the sound of an Indian shuttle approaching. Everyone knew it meant the Indians were aware they were operating in the vicinity and were out looking for them. Yet Johnston knew operating a shuttle with so many warships in orbit would be all but suicidal. A plasma bolt from even a frigate could easily destroy a slow moving shuttle.
Guessing where the sound of the shuttle was coming from, Johnston risked peering over the crater to see what was going on. Far to the south of the depot eight shuttles suddenly appeared, rocketing over the top of the Havenite forest. As soon as they came into view they launched multiple rockets from their weapon nodes and a stream of heavy plasma bolts tore into the nearest defensive towers.
As two of the shuttles fired missiles and plasma bolts into the supply depot and its defenders, the other six shuttles landed less than one hundred meters from the outer Indian wall. Each shuttle deposited twenty marines before lifting off and firing more plasma bolts at anything moving on the inner defensive wall.
“Well that’s bound to do it,” Briar said. “Between fending off the first attack and our charge, the Indians can’t have any reserves left to counter a third attack.”
“I guess you’re right,” Johnston said as the fire from the Indian defenders visibly slackened.
“You know,” Briar began in a thoughtful tone. “It seems a pity those marines are going to be the ones that take the depot. We are the ones who have put in all the hard work these last few months.”
“Wait a minute,” Johnston said in exasperation. “Just a minute ago you were happy to hunker down here and draw the Indians’ fire while the marines finished off the base.”
“Aye,” Briar said with a smile. “That’s when I thought I would get my head blown off, now I reckon we could get to that outer wall no sweat. What do you think? We can’t let the standard issue marines think they’re better than the special forces, can we?”
As Johnston looked at Fisher and Beckworth, who were crouched in the same crater as he and Briar, he almost groaned. Though he couldn’t see their faces through their combat armor, their body language told him exactly what they were thinking. Both of them wanted to see the mission completed. From the day they had come to Liberty, the supply depot had been one of their primary targets. The Indians had recognized this and heavily fortified it to prevent the resistance ever launching a successful strike. Now was their chance to take it out.
“Fine,” Johnston said. “Pass the word to the rest of the resistance fighters, tell them to lay down covering fire for us.”
Fisher and Briar turned and shouted to the resistance fighters in the next crater, passing on his instructions. Johnston could only shake his head, he knew he would be in trouble when Clare found out about this. Even so, he knew Briar had a point. After all they’d been through, he couldn’t let some marine Lieutenant or Captain be the one who captured the supply depot.
“Let’s do this,” he said as he tugged his plasma rifle tight to his shoulder. As soon as he heard the increase in weapons’ fire from the resistance fighter’s gauss cannons, he roared and charged over the crater.
Using all his enhanced speed and agility, he wove from side to side as he sprinted towards the first defensive wall. A few plasma bolts shot at him from a couple of slits in the wall but gauss cannon fire quickly put an end to them. In less than ten seconds he covered the hundred and fifty meters to the outer wall and, without pausing, launched himself over it. As he came crashing back down to the ground he allowed himself to fall to his knees and skid to a halt. Spinning round onto his belly, he fired a stream of plasma bolts at the Indian defenders who were crouched behind the outer wall.
Without pausing to see if there were any more soldiers around, Johnston sprang back to his feet and
charged towards the second wall. The wall was easily twenty meters high. Johnston guessed the marines in their combat armor had needed to use grappling hooks to make it up the last few meters of the wall. With a grin, Johnston flicked the switch on his specially adapted plasma rifle and fired three nano carbon spikes into the wall about five meters below its battlements. Still not breaking his stride, he launched himself into the air towards the wall. With an outstretched hand he grabbed onto the higher of the three spikes. The other two spikes were perfectly placed for his feet to rest on. Pausing only to take a deep breath, Johnston launched himself up the last part of the wall and onto the battlements.
Before he landed, his plasma rifle barked out as plasma bolts shot towards two Indian soldiers who were further along the top of the wall to his left. Landing in a crouch, Johnston spun to check his right. The smiling face of Sergeant Briar greeted him. In one hand the Sergeant had his plasma rifle, while in the other he held his nano carbon knife, it was protruding from the chest of an Indian soldier who would have shot Johnston as he had turned.
