A Fiery Sunset

by Chris Kennedy

  Top flipped a switch, and the Tri-V monitor showed the view from one of the CASPers. The occupant was looking around the side of a giant boulder, and the picture showed a field strewn with boulders. A near-continuous stream of railgun and laser fire poured out of a factory on the other side of the open area. “This is the view from Staff Sergeant Ken Donnelly’s CASPer,” Top said. He flipped another switch and the sergeant’s voice came from the speaker.

  “Nice and easy now,” Donnelly said. “When I give the word, we’re going to jump 50 meters forward, to that big group of boulders. Any questions?” Not hearing anything, he counted backward, “Three…two…one…GO!”

  The view shifted violently as Donnelly punched his jumpjets and roared into the air. The system showed weapons fire going underneath him; the enemy hadn’t expected a three-dimensional maneuver. Donnelly landed behind the next boulder in front of him and looked up; a CASPer hovered above the next rock to his right. The system marked him as Private Zardari. “Get down, Mirzaad!” Donnelly yelled, but the soldier hung there too long, and all the fire from the factory concentrated on him. Three lasers scored, two railgun rounds tore through him, and the CASPer dropped to the ground. The icon for Zardari went out on both Top’s board and Donnelly’s screen.

  Top turned off the Tri-V screen. “Zardari wrecked a CASPer before we left Earth by landing too hard. Hurt himself pretty good in the crash, too. Now he’s overly cautious landing.”

  Captain Valenti gestured to the monitor. “And as we just saw, that’ll get him killed in combat, too.” He looked down the row of CASPers in the bay. Two were immobile—their occupants “dead” in the simulation—the rest moved their arms and legs as they advanced on the factory and fired at the enemy.

  “You’ve got Donnelly as the leader of First Squad?” Valenti asked.

  “Yeah,” Top said, immersing himself back into the simulation.

  “Well, keep at it, Top,” Valenti said, patting Mason on the back. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  * * *

  EMS Whirlaway, New Persia Transition Point, Torgero System

  Nigel Shirazi watched from the observer’s seat at the back of the CIC as the cruiser Whirlaway transitioned into the Torgero system. Almost immediately, there was activity at several stations around the CIC.

  “Sir, we’re not alone!” the TacCon exclaimed.

  “What do you mean?” Nigel Shirazi asked before the ship’s captain could answer, earning him a stern look from the Maki officer. He carried on anyway. “Do you mean in addition to the colonists on the planet?”

  “Yes, sir, there are several ships here…we’re working to identify them.”

  “Get me those IDs,” the captain, Commander Yoshuka, ordered. His bifurcated tail twitched as he turned to Nigel. “This is my ship to fight. If you’re going to interrupt me, I’ll have you removed.”

  Nigel nodded and said nothing further, doing his best to keep his composure while every part of his being wanted to act right now. Being told what to do by a lemur didn’t help.

  “Sir, I have the IDs for them,” the TacCon said a minute later. “Looks like a MinSha task group. I’ve got indications of a destroyer, a frigate, and a transport.”

  “A transport?” Nigel asked, unable to contain himself any longer. “What the hell would a transport be doing here?”

  “Looks like they’re sending down troops. There’re two dropships on the surface of the planet, about 11 miles from the main town.”

  Nigel looked to the ship’s captain. “What are you going to do about the attack?”

  “Before we do anything, we have to get rid of the ships in orbit. We’ve got them outgunned with a cruiser and a frigate to their destroyer and frigate. We’ll clear them away—that’s on us—then the rest is up to you.”

  “Are you going to at least bomb their troops on the planet before they get to the city?”

  “That’s against regulations,” the TacCon interjected. “We’d have to hit them from way beyond the 10-mile limit, and that’s against the law. Besides, by the time we get there, they’re already going to be pretty close to the city’s gates. If we shoot at them there, we run the risk of friendly fire.” He paused and then added, “Wait a minute…”

  “What?” the ship’s captain asked.

  “Sir, the ships are moving. It looks like they’ve seen us, and they’re trying to make a run for the stargate.”

  “Well, we’re not going to let them get there. Nav, plot an intercept course to cut them off, and get us there now. Contact Lieutenant Commander Edwards onboard the Durendal and let him know we’re going after them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nigel could feel the forces on his body alter as the ship changed course and began to accelerate. “Captain…what’s that going to do to our ability to stop their invasion of the colony?” Nigel asked.

  The captain looked at the plot and back to Nigel. “I have orders from Commander Cromwell to keep our movements secret from the Union. As a secondary mission, I’m to destroy any Union combatants whenever I get the chance. We have this fleet outgunned, and they’re currently running to go tell their masters we’re here. I’m not going to let them tell the Merc Guild where we are, nor am I going to pass up a chance to destroy them. Unfortunately, the course to intercept them is going to take us outside the range we can successfully drop you. After we destroy them, we’ll bring you back to the planet.”

  Nigel studied the attack in progress on the Tri-V situation monitor while the g-forces pushed him back into his seat as the ship accelerated. The last report he’d read from New Persia had stated that its primary defensive systems weren’t due to be installed by the Golden Horde for another month. There were at least four companies of MinSha troops down on the surface, and without heavy weapons, the bugs would probably run right through the colonists. After that…he didn’t know. Would they kill all the colonists? Perhaps…and that wasn’t something he was willing to wait around to find out. He looked up at the captain. “I cannot—no, I will not allow the MinSha attack to succeed.”

  “We’ll get you back as quickly as we can,” the captain said, “but I can’t allow those ships to get away and let the Union know what we’re doing.”

  “You’re not taking the transport with you to fight, are you?”

  The captain chuckled. “To a battle? No. Not if I can help it. Why?”

  “You take care of the enemy ships,” Nigel said; “I’ll go over to the transport and take it to the planet.”

  The captain looked at Nigel, his brows twitching. “Without the support of these ships, I can’t let you take it down to the planet, or even into the upper atmosphere,” he said. “We don’t know what heavy weapons the MinSha may have brought down to the planet with them.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Besides, by the time you get there and land, the MinSha will already be at the gates of the city; you’ll be too late.”

  “Not only that,” the TacCon said, “but you’ve only got a company of troops onboard, and there are at least four times that number on the surface of the planet. You’ll get slaughtered!”

  “I understand both of those issues,” Nigel said. He shook his head. “We’re not going to get slaughtered today, though, nor are we going to let the bugs capture the colony.” He turned back to the captain. “Just get me a shuttle over to the transport. I have an idea.” Nigel looked back to the TacCon and added, “And yes, it’s even going to be legal.”

  * * *

  The transport expelled the drop-pod like an old wet-navy submarine launching a torpedo, and all the blood went to Nigel’s head. The “drop” was from right at the limits of the suits’ capabilities, but it was either launch when they did, or get down to the planet and find out the MinSha had captured the town of New Persia.

  As the g-forces subsided, he shook his head to clear it, then initiated contact with the other pods. Both officers made it, as well as both senior enlisted, and their icons glowed green on his
heads-up display. Thirty-nine of the forty troopers also made it out; one of the new guys either hadn’t been able to figure out the drop-pod or it had broken on him; there was no time to worry about it.

  It was the first drop for most of the troops—much less the first combat drop—which was much more worrisome. He opened a laser link to Captain Valenti. “Sorry this was so rushed, but we have to get down to the surface. We can’t let the suits at the manufactory fall into the MinSha’s claws, and I refuse to let them massacre my people yet again.”

  “I understand,” the Italian officer said. He was nothing if not stoic, and he provided a leveling influence Nigel often needed. “At least there aren’t hordes of Besquith waiting for me in tanks and APCs this time.”

  “And we know what we’re getting into this time, too,” Nigel added. Both men heard the unspoken, “I hope,” at the end of the sentence.

  Nigel checked in with First Sergeant Mason. “Sorry there wasn’t more time to talk. What can I expect from the troops?”

  “The officers and senior enlisted are solid, sir,” Mason replied. “Overall, I’d rate the troops as ‘average.’ We picked up some extremely talented troopers, many with combat time in some of the other units, but we also have several men who would be better off plowing a field than firing a railgun. We trained hard on the way here, though; if nothing else, at least I can now say they know which end of the laser the shiny light comes out of.” He paused, then added, “None of the Persians had ever even heard of VOWS a couple months ago; they’re as trained as I could get them in the time we had.”

  “Thanks, Top,” Nigel said. “We’ll see in a few minutes.”

  Nigel checked his sensors; the planet was 1,000 kilometers away, and they were racing toward it too fast. He tapped several virtual buttons, linked all his CASPers to his flight computer, and initiated the reentry program. “Here we go everyone!” he broadcast on the common frequency.

  Although they’d been punched out of the transport a long way out, the Capricorn had established them on a good profile, close to their optimal reentry angles. Nigel could see flashes around him as the suits initiated controlled jumpjet burns, tweaking their angles to maximize their performance. Within a few minutes, their reentry fairings began to glow as they hit the outer fringes of New Persia’s atmosphere. The best part for Nigel was that it was all automatic; the newbies couldn’t screw it up unless they turned off the automatic reentry system.

  “Listen up, you dumbasses,” Top transmitted over the common frequency. “I don’t care if it looks like you’re falling too fast; keep your damn booger pickers off the automatic flight program. Anyone I see turn it off had better hope the MinSha kills him, because what I’m going to do to you will be far worse.”

  Apparently Top had had the same thought.

  The g-forces grew quickly as Nigel’s pod forced its way through the thickening atmosphere. The suit came down feet first and, even in its normal configuration, was designed to take the stresses of reentry. He was even more prepared today, as there was no room left inside the fairings to move around in. Even though he was getting stiff because he couldn’t shift around much, his suit was well supported.

  The forces on him abated, and he was finally able to hear the scream of the fairing as it ripped its way through the atmosphere. He could tell they were getting close as laser and railgun rounds began to streak past him. Never a deeply religious man, he prayed for the opportunity to exact his revenge, while hoping he didn’t blow up catastrophically.

  * * *

  Approaching New Chabahar, New Persia, Torgero System

  “Incoming!” someone yelled over the radio.

  Chiptayl looked up and saw several fiery streaks across the sky. Either the planet was having an unannounced meteor shower, or the expected Human attack was arriving. Chiptayl shook his head and fired at one of the Humans on the wall of the city. The Human fell backward with a hole through his head. If the Human reinforcements had been 10 minutes later, his force would’ve been inside the city.

  This whole assault had been screwed up since its inception. They’d barely arrived when the Human fleet showed up, and his worthless fleet support had fled upon sighting them. The town they were supposed to capture was supposed to have been unarmed, but not only did it have a defensive wall, it also had people to defend it. Now reinforcements were arriving right as victory was almost within his claws.

  “Press the attack!” he ordered. They needed to be inside the city before the Humans landed in their metal suits; those would be the professionals. While the city defenders were spirited, it was obvious the Humans they were currently fighting were no more than militia. Their aim was worse than any recruit right out of training, and they usually exposed themselves too long before firing, like the last Human he’d shot. But they had the wall, and his forces would need it themselves if they were to hold off the Humans’ damn metal suits.

  Chiptayl fired several bolts at a Human on the wall, but this one was faster than the previous had been, and he ducked back into cover. Chiptayl risked a glance up, startled, and began counting. Not believing his eyes, he counted again, and his antennae shivered in delight. There were only 40 or so suits in the assault force. He had over four times that. They’d be okay after all.

  “All units,” he transmitted. “Disregard my last. Focus all fire on the Human suits coming down from space. Kill them now!”

  While they didn’t have a dedicated anti-air capability—they were just supposed to capture an unarmed town, the contract read—they could attrite the Human assault force before they were able to shoot back, then finish them off when they landed. His force would take casualties, but they could overcome the gods-damned Human suits.

  He picked one of the suits streaking down toward him. It looked like they were trying to land directly on top of them—ludicrous, who did that?—and began firing. After his second shot, the suit seemed to fall apart into several pieces.

  “I got one!” the trooper next to him shouted excitedly.

  “No,” Chiptayl said. “That’s the heat shroud coming off. Keep firing!”

  The suits fired their jumpjets and began slowing for arrival, but their shrouds continued racing toward Chiptayl, and he knew they’d probably kill any of his forces unlucky enough to be struck by them. “Spread out!” he ordered. He continued firing as the shrouds approached and saw a few explosions in proximity to the shrouds. That didn’t make sense, though…and then he saw them.

  “What are all those little things?” one of his troopers asked.

  * * *

  Asbaran Solutions Assault Force, New Chabahar, New Persia, Torgero System

  Nigel watched in horror as one of the icons on his screen went out. There was no yellow light for “Damaged” or red light for “Deceased;” it went out completely. One of the newbies must have taken a hit and exploded catastrophically. A second unit went out; one of the new hires. Nigel said another prayer, not wanting to go out that way. Before he could complete it, the computer blew the fairings, and the individual sections arced away from him.

  Designed to confuse ground forces by creating extra radar returns, they continued toward the enemy as the computer fired his jumpjets and began braking. Along with them went 30 L bombs that had been packed into the fairing along with him. Nothing more than a sleeve to hold four K bombs and get them to detonate simultaneously, the L bomb had the explosive power of four sticks of C-4 and was, in effect, a CASPer-sized grenade. Over 1,200 of the bombs continued toward the enemy, spreading out in the wind stream to create a massive improvised cluster bomb.

  Nigel triggered the pod on his shoulder and ripple-fired all 12 rockets, which raced past the L bombs to explode in the center of the MinSha force. Flashes around the battlefield showed that other members of his assault force were firing their rockets similarly.

  Puffs of black smoke appeared as several of the L bombs were hit by ground fire and exploded, but the CASPers had slowed, and the bombs detonated harmlessly below them.<
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  “Light ’em up!” Top transmitted as they came within range, and Nigel began firing with the rest of the assault force. The targeting solution was too complicated to send individual targets to his troops, but with the disparity of forces, there weren’t many cases of two of his troopers firing at the same bug.

  Nigel fired a railgun round that hit a MinSha center mass, dropping it, then the L bombs hit, and the explosions looked like a rolling carpet of death as they detonated across the battlefield. An icon winked on his screen as the ground screamed up at him at over 300 kilometers per hour, and he leaned back and set himself into the proper position for landing. At 150 meters above the ground the computer fired the jumpjets again.

  This was the part he hated, as the altitude continued to tick off at a rate that was far too fast this close to the ground. The numbers started to slow, and he risked a glance below him. A couple of meters to the right was a MinSha trooper, looking up at him from 10 meters below, her mouth open as the massive suit appeared to be coming right at her. Nigel cut the automatic program and gave a brief burst laterally, and 2,000 pounds of man and metal crashed down onto the stunned alien in a spray of blue blood as its chitin exploded under the force applied to it.

  Then Nigel was down, and the blade on his left arm snapped out as his right arm pointed at the next MinSha and the railgun fired. Three of the rounds hit the alien, and it fell to the ground. He spun to the left, sweeping his blade down, and decapitated a MinSha as it tried to bring its laser rifle around.

  That cleared the area around him, and he scanned the battleground while checking his heads-up display. The icon for Private Chaakar Barazani’s right leg went yellow, then red, and Nigel spun in the trooper’s direction and toggled his jumpjets, flying over Staff Sergeant Vernon Shepherd as he blasted a MinSha with his railgun while stabbing a second with his arm-blade.