A Pale Dawn Page 13

  * * *

  Near Leaning Peak, Talus, Talus System

  The noise dampening systems on his CASPer kept Jim from going deaf as another volley of artillery rolled in on their position. They moved up the ridgeline one bloody meter at a time for three hours, under constant bombardment and occasional direct fire by enemy Besquith troopers. The wolf-like aliens were tenacious fighters with little fear, and they hated Humans. Jim had more than a few past encounters with them.

  “Buckshot here, Colonel!” Ester Martin called. By the sound of her voice, it wasn’t the first time, either. The powered armor suppressed the sounds of exploding ordnance, but that included all other sound if the explosion was loud enough.

  “Go, Buckshot,” he said, afraid he was probably yelling.

  “Feeding you fresh telemetry. We’ve got a pair of light V-TOL flyers over here; I think we found the scouts.”

  Jim’s CASPer computer gave a ping to indicate new data, and the Tri-V battlespace updated. Two small flying craft were painted in the hollow of a hill. They were no bigger than riding mowers. The drone feeding the data zoomed in, and Jim saw they were piloted by Flatar.

  Well that’s new, he thought. Probably the first time he’d personally encountered a Flatar without their eternal battle buddies, the Tortantula. Splunk perked up in his thigh compartment. She liked smashing the three-meter-wide giant spiders, with or without the chipmunk-like Flatar on their backs.

  “Got it, Buckshot,” Jim said, “wait one.”

  Crack-Boom! More artillery rolled in. He gritted his teeth as the ground heaved, and shockwaves rolled over them. The enemy knew more or less where they were, but not precisely, so they were pounding the entire area. The problem was, every time the Cavaliers or Gitmo’s Own moved up, the artillery followed. The Winged Hussars controlled the orbitals, which gave the Humans the high ground. However, the enemy was jamming the planet’s magnetosphere effectively, so the only observation possible was some radar and visuals. Storm clouds were dusting them with light snow, and the tiny drones explained why radar wasn’t working.

  Hargrave had taken his personal squad into a tunnel network he’d found an hour ago. There’d been no word since then. Jim wasn’t terribly worried; Hargrave was a survivor. He’d lost four men since the mountain assault began, though, and his command suit’s computer was now constantly reminding him that most of their CASPers were below 30% endurance, and some were below 25%. Time was running out. As if to remind him further, a series of missiles roared into the sky to the north where their objective sat.

  “Just a mining community, my ass,” he growled.

  Jim plotted the flyers’ locations against where his three squads were positioned. As luck would have it, Second Squad was closest; however, Lamb was down two personnel. He’d been doing the majority of the scouting, and two of his remaining troopers were at 25% endurance. Jim’s own squad was next closest; they all had more than 30% endurance, and he’d taken no losses. The answer was obvious.

  “Attention all squads,” Jim said and waited while their sergeants got everyone’s attention. “Observe the two ridges to the northeast in Sector 3-A, and northwest in Sector 5-A. Lamb, take your squad to 3-A, Buckshot, you make a run for 5-A. I’m going to take out those flyers when they reposition to watch your move.”

  “We can do that,” Lamb said immediately.

  “I’m sure you could,” Jim said, “but I’m doing it.”

  “We got this,” Buddha said. “Do as the colonel says.”

  “Yes, Colonel,” Buckshot and Lamb both said.

  “Begin thirty seconds from my mark,” Jim said. “Mark!” He started a clock and switched to his own squad. “Okay, listen up. Moose, I want you to take Partlow, Ventura, and Stodden over there,” he said and highlighted a location on the computer battlespace. The data relayed to the troopers. “Buddha, take the rest of the squad; we’re going here.” He lit another location. “Everyone got it?” The squad signaled they did.

  With time counting down, the ten CASPers moved along the bottom of the hill they were shielding behind as another salvo of rounds thundered in. They got on point exactly at the 30-second mark, and the other two squads began their advance.

  Corporal Seamus “Moose” Curran had Private Stodden, known somewhat affectionately as Rick, launch a small drone. Rick’s suit was equipped as a scout and possessed better than average sensors and jumpjets, and it carried a brace of multi-use drones on its arm. The drone rocketed over the ridge in front of them and dove over the other side. It was just twenty-five centimeters long and presented almost no EM signature to speak of. The same couldn’t be said for the two Flatar-piloted-flyers.

  They were the same ones Buckshot had spotted with her drone, but now they were split up facing northeast and northwest. Jim nodded; he’d guessed the recon craft likely had their own tiny drones out. Assault operations like this were often games of dueling drones.

  “Set the diversion,” Jim ordered Rick.

  “Roger that,” the private replied. The drone slipped between the two flyers and part way up the next ridgeline before setting down gracefully on a rock. “Firing,” Rick said. He activated one of the drone’s special features, and a second later its little capacitor power source shorted, and the machine exploded.

  “Go,” Buddha ordered. Both squads activated their jumpjets and sailed toward the crest of the hill they’d been behind.

  All ten of them landed, smooth as silk, even Jim. Over the last nine hours he’d gotten more practice with his jumpjets than all his time before as a merc. He had to admit, it showed. Below them in the next little valley, the two flyers had both spun around to face the same direction. A little curl of smoke was just visible where the drone had blown itself up. A completely successful diversion too, Jim noted. Buddha and Moose took shots with their shoulder-mounted MACs. The hypersonic projectiles were aimed at the tiny pilots, both of which were turned into red mist.

  At least it was quick, Jim thought as the flyers skewed wildly and spun to the rocky ground. One of the two fanned flyers ingested a rock and the impeller exploded violently. The other died on impact.

  “All squads, advance in bounds!” Jim called, immediately taking off. In one minute, they leaped over three tiny valleys without taking any enemy fire. Excellent, he thought and turned on the inter-unit channel. “Colonel Spence, come in.”

  “Go, Colonel Cartwright.”

  “We’ve broken though their outer defenses on the east flank.” He checked the battlespace on his Tri-V and saw structures just a kilometer away. “We are less than a minute from our assigned target.”

  “Roger that,” Gitmo’s commander answered. “We think your breakthrough got their attention because the wolf bastards were about to move their artillery, and that gave us the break we needed.” Echoing weapons fire and the thuds of MACs could be heard over the radio. “We’ll have the arty in hand in just a few minutes.”

  “Excellent news,” Jim said.

  To the north, a pair of missiles roared into the sky as fast as lightning.

  Jim scowled. A pair of jumps and the first structure was in view. It was a low-lying industrial building with a very un-industrial job. Its roof was alive with activity.

  “Rick, give me eyes,” Jim called. The scout focused his better cameras, and Jim’s Tri-V relayed the image. Dozens of Besquith were busy moving heavy weapons while twice as many hulking four-armed Lumar were dragging sacks to stack along the wall. Jim guessed the sacks were heavy, because the Lumar were extraordinarily strong.

  “Caught them unprepared,” Buddha said.

  Jim nodded in his CASPer as he quickly evaluated the situation. The terrain between them and the building was 200 meters of mostly open, descending ground. A few rocks and scrub trees would provide precious little cover, and about as much concealment. The wolves might not be ready, but it wouldn’t stop them from chewing up Jim’s men before they could cross the 200 meters.

  “What do you think, Buddha? Worth a run?”
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  “We’ll lose several,” his Hawaiian top sergeant said. Jim could hear the man shaking his head, even if he couldn’t see it. “We can do it, though. Better be soon.”

  “No,” Jim said. They wanted to take the planet back from the aliens without chewing it to pieces. However, his men were worth more than some buildings. “Lamb, Buckshot, missiles if you please?”

  “Good call,” Buddha said to him on their private command channel as the two sergeants ordered the troopers who had rocket launchers to put a salvo on target.

  “Try and avoid the Lumar,” Jim added, and the sergeants acknowledged. They didn’t carry many of the short-range guided missiles, and they wouldn’t have much chance to use them later. Once they were in and among the buildings of the mining center, the missiles would be useless.

  A dozen missiles from the two troopers roared out from their shoulder-mounted launchers. They designated their targets carefully. With only 200 meters to cross, the subsonic rounds were on target in less than three seconds.

  Jim watched the enemy from the scout’s cameras and clearly saw when the Lumar noticed the rockets launching. To his surprise, they didn’t warn their Besquith superiors. Instead they yelled something in their own language and jumped over the side of the building. The Besquith looked on in surprise as their manual laborers abandoned the roof. A couple spotted the flash of the missiles and yelled, just as the ordnance landed on target.

  The missiles rippled across the building’s roof, destroying the incomplete fortifications, weapons, and the Besquith. All that remained were torn apart Besquith and ruined or burning equipment. Jim nodded in satisfaction, then saw the Lumar were running toward his position as fast as they could. Uh oh, he thought.

  He brought his gunnery system online and raised an arm-mounted minigun. The Lumar all carried sidearms and light armor, but that was it. There were maybe fifty Lumar, Jim noted, and they’d never survive to get within range of their small arms before the Cavaliers slaughtered them.

  “Orders?” Buddha asked.

  Damn it, Jim thought, I don’t want to kill them.

  “Jim, wait, ”

  “What?” Jim asked. “Are you sure?”

  “”

  “Hold fire,” Jim called on the squadnet. A minute later the Lumar all came to a stop just short of the Cavaliers. One of their number stepped forward a few meters and held all four of his hands in the air.

  “I/we surrender,” he said, Jim’s translator rendering it into halting English.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jim said. “Let them across the line,” he said, gesturing with his CASPer’s arm. He pointed at the leader who’d spoken and waved him over. The alien stopped just before Jim’s armor and bowed his head.

  “Boom!” the alien said.

  “Yes, we blew up the Besquith.”

  “No,” the Lumar said and pointed at the burning building. “BOOM!” He gestured with his hands expansively, and Jim understood.

  “Brace for blast!” he barked over the squadnet. As one, all the CASPers turned away from the burning structure and dropped to one knee, just as the building went up in a titanic explosion.

  Without hesitation, most of the Lumar jumped over the ridge of the hill and took cover, although some just sheltered behind the larger CASPers as the shockwave slammed into the platoon.

  “That was awesome!” Private Morty said from Jim’s Second Squad. Of course, he and Rick were the company’s two lovers of all things carnage, which was why Jim had them in separate squads.

  “What was that?” Jim asked the Lumar as he got back to his feet. The alien leader seemed unaffected, and all his fellow Lumar were unharmed. No new status light changes were on Jim’s command channel either.

  “Generators and fuel,” the Lumar said and pointed at the miniature mushroom cloud.

  “Well, thank you for the warning,” Jim said.

  The Lumar nodded. “We prisoners?”

  “For now,” Jim agreed. “Why did you abandon the Besquith?”

  “Them?” the Lumar asked gesturing back at the ruins. “They were not nice. They did not pay us on time. We owed them no loyalty.”

  “That seems fair,” Jim said. “Would you like to work for us?”

  The Lumar’s head came up in surprise. “You would employ us?”

  “Yes,” Jim said, “I would, and I will pay you cash.” Jim had at least five million credits in chits back on Bucephalus. He’d happily pay the Lumar, especially if they had additional valuable information on their former employers. Besides, if Nigel could do it, he could, too.

  “We were your enemy just minutes ago.”

  “Yes,” Jim said, “and you were working for…bad people. But you know we are criminals to the Merc Guild?”

  The Lumar smiled, its big square teeth flashing. “We do not care what the guild says, they treat us bad, too. I will work for you,” he said. “We can negotiate later.”

  I think I understand why they get taken advantage of, Jim thought. They’re too trusting. He resolved to do something they might not be used to, treat them fairly. It seemed to be working for Nigel.

  “What is your name, sir?” the Lumar asked.

  “I am Colonel Cartwright, commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers.”

  The Lumar’s eyes got wider. “A Four Horsemen,” he said, and bowed slightly. “I have heard of you. Most of the galaxy has heard of you.”

  “Good stuff, I hope.”

  “Not all,” the Lumar admitted. “But that is not bad. You are known and feared.”

  Better to be feared than to be discounted, Jim thought. “What is your name?”

  “I am Japu, leader of Big Fist mercs.”

  “Glad to meet you, Japu,” Jim said. “Now that you work for me, can you show us the nearest entrance to the facility where those missile launches came from?” As if on cue, another series of missiles roared up from their launch location further up the mountain.

  “Yes,” Japu said. “There are several. The closest is some kilometers down the mountain in that direction.” He pointed back the way they’d come, and Jim moaned. They must have advanced right past it. “There is another that way, next to the Besquith garrison.”

  “Where were you garrisoned?” Jim asked.

  “We had tents in those trees,” Japu said and pointed. The trees were burning brightly, having been set afire by the generator building explosion.

  “Everything you own is burned up, then,” Jim pointed out.

  “Yes,” Japu said, “but we’ve been worse off.”

  “How could you be worse off?”

  “We still have clothing and weapons. And we are alive.”

  “I see your point.” Jim made another note to be sure the Lumar got equipped again. The way other races treated them was deplorable. “I guess we’re going to have to go for the entrance by the Besquith garrison,” he said aloud. Now I regret using all those missiles, he thought.

  There was a booming roar, and for a second, he thought another volley of rockets was launching. Instead, the entire mountain top exploded instead.

  “Excellent,” Morty said.

  “Well that was unexpected,” Buddha added. “I wonder what happened?”

  “Jim, you there?”

  “Hargrave!” Jim said. “Was that huge explosion you?”

  “Yup,” Hargrave said. “That cave led up to the base of the missile launch facility. We had a short fight with some of the aliens guarding it, mostly a bunch of elSha and some Besquith, then we just rigged it and blew it all up.”

  “Excellent!” Jim said. “I’m linking the details we have on the Besquith garrison down here. With you up the hill from them, I think we can pull off a nice two-front attack and neutralize them in no time.” He fed the data to Hargrave’s suit.

  “Yeah, looks good from here. Give us a minute to set up, and we’ll jump them at the same time.”

  Jim switched to the Hussars frequency. “Hussars Actual, the ground-based missile site has be
en neutralized. Inform Colonel Gries he can begin his landing.” Finally, we can move this thing along.

  * * *

  SOGA HQ, São Paulo, Brazil, Earth

  Peepo looked at her slate in disgust. “Cracks in the alliance?” she asked it softly. “I’ll show them cracks.” She tossed the slate onto her desk. “And then, once this is over, anyone who was unsure of my leadership will find their way to a KzSha slave camp.”

  She took a deep, centering breath and let it out slowly. Although most of her daughter’s letter was annoying, the part about the Sooloo was good news. All she needed was the location of New Warsaw, and this whole campaign would be over in the time it took to get her forces there.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Tunnels, Underdeep, Paradise

  Walker fired, and the MAC round punched through the Goka. Not so the laser pistol of the miner next to him; it reflected off the shell of the next one. Walker shifted his aim and killed that one, too, but the deaths did nothing to stop the Goka advance. As the ones in front died, the ones behind them simply skittered across the walls and ceiling, making targeting difficult.

  “We’ve got to blow those charges!” Walker yelled.

  “The wires are disconnected!” the merc next to him yelled.

  As more of the enemy troopers poured through the gap, Walker could see it was now or never—if they let the Goka push them back, they’d never be able to take back control from them.

  “Get ready to follow me!” Walker yelled, pulling out his last K-bomb as he killed a Goka skittering toward him on the ceiling. He pitched the giant, CASPer-sized grenade toward the bigger of the two holes in the wall.