Invasion of Kzarch (2 page)

“Okay. Kate, choose one of the bogies, and hammer him until I say stop.”

“Yes,
sir
!” came the cheerful voice of his explosion loving, heavy-squad leader. “Alright team, let’s see some
fire-works
!”

“McKain, get another squad on point defense! Everyone else, keep an eye on your sensors. If a missile comes at you, shoot it!” That should take care of long- and short-range defense. At the same time… “Don’t waste your shots, people! I don’t want us running out before we hit the planet!” McKain backed him up, adding ludicrously over-done punishments to any who transgressed.

The first barrage of missiles had all been blow away, and Javer’s and Von Hervitz’s squads had begun firing on the second. A third was already on the way, and Frank had little doubt a fourth would be following soon after.

Kate’s squad were launching their missiles now, and Frank eyed them, as he thought furiously.

The SIAMs his heavies were firing wasn’t that much different than the standard gunboat missiles his opponents were using. While the SIAM was actual intended for land and air combat, enough ambushes had happened in space that the SIAM had been designed to work in that environment as well.

On the other hand, Kate’s squad could only fire ten missiles at a time, while the Blastfires would be launching nearly twenty. While his platoon had better point-defense, considering each battlesuit had two wegs and an Ex-B rifle apiece, they had to worry about their ammunition and battlesuit energy. If they ran too low this early in the mission…

Watching the SIAMs begin their journey towards the bogies, Frank said quietly to Sergeant McKain, “Do you think we’ll be able to hit them?”

“…Maybe. But the closer they get, the better our chances.”

That about sums it up,
Frank thought, as he absently double-checked his wegs and Ex-B rifle, watching the approaching and outgoing missiles.

The incoming were cut down with swift and easy efficiency, but the same thing happened to the SIAMs his heavies were firing.

As the lieutenant watched the second wave get wiped away, he frowned, and commed his sergeant.

“McKain, do you think we should hold fire until their closer? We’re just wasting ordinance here.”

“Maybe, sir, but it’s also distracting ‘em.” Still frowning, Frank withheld the order to stop firing, although he wasn’t sure his sergeant was correct.

In any case, it didn’t seem it would make much difference. The two groups were already starting to close.

The greater number of wegs the platoon had were still keeping the missiles from reaching it, but more and more were reaching the range that had an entire wing firing on it in self-defense.

As for the SIAMs, one had actually already hit one of the Blastfires, although leaving it without any detectable damage.

“Frank?”

The lieutenant blinked. His platoon sergeant hardly
ever
used his first name.

“What?”

“I think we should consider moving s-squad forward.”

Javer’s squad? Why-?

In answer to the lieutenant’s unspoken question, the sergeant pointed out, “They’ll be able to hit missiles from farther out; and they’ll be able to engage the bogies earlier as well. And their greater ECM and higher accuracy makes them the best choice, sir.”

Frank was well aware of all that. And further, was well aware that pushing his scout squad farther out would place them in greater danger…

But his sergeant was right.

“Very well. Javer, shift your squad further up point. Begin hitting the bogies. Sandy, move your squad up a bit, and help provide additional long point-defense.”

“Good idea, sir,” murmured McKain on their private channel. The lieutenant said nothing, sure his sergeant would have suggested it anyway if he hadn’t thought of it, and watched as his orders were carried out.

The battle was getting steadily more chaotic, missiles constantly exploding, the bright yellow glows of the weg bolts, the small explosions from the exbys, and the near constant flow of chatter over the com. The lieutenant himself was now participating in the defensive fire, which was only further distracting him from the overall situation. Still, he was mostly able to keep track.

So far, the platoon hadn’t lost anyone, although several soldiers had taken damage on their shields. The bogies had been hit three times by now, and had begun to slow, now changing into a constantly spiraling formation, to make accurate targeting harder.

Thinking furiously, Frank decided it was time to try something more audacious.

“All troops prepare to engage in force. Move forward at full speed, and target Bogie Two,” -Which happened to be the Blastfire the heavy squad had been targeting.- “-with your exbys. On my mark…” The lieutenant waited several seconds, until he was sure the entire platoon was ready, and that the latest wave of missiles had been dealt with.

“Mark!” The entire platoon surged forward. Before, they had simply been riding on their initial momentum, as using their battlesuits’ energy reserves to propel themselves forward would quickly drain them. Now, however, they needed to
move.

Within moments they were in range of the gunboats, and the entire platoon began firing their weapons. Raising both arms, Frank joined in, firing his left weg while using the other hand to handle his exby rifle.

While the Blastfire had shrugged off what few hits that had been gotten in before, this new barrage was a bit too much for it.

Shuddering as hit after hit connected, the Blastfire yanked itself out of the formation, and attempted to flee… before two SIAMs from the heavy squad hit it up its engine.

The explosion was soundless, but the platoon’s cheers of victory weren’t. Indeed, Kate’s banshee howl nearly deafened the lieutenant.

“Clear th’ channel!” McKain snapped harshly, “And stay focused! We’ve still got five to go!”

But they didn’t.

The destruction of their comrade seemed to have taken the wind out of the remaining Blastfires’ sails, and they were already turning and making a full retreat.

“Looks like we’ve won… for the moment, sir.”

“Yes. Good thing, too. I-”

He was interrupted by a sudden babble over the platoon’s com.

“What is-?!”

“They got Marv!”

“
What?!
Shit!” On his display, a death notification was popping up, the Marine having lasted for several second after getting hit before expiring.

As it turned out, one of the last missiles fired by the bogies had managed to break through, and lock onto a trooper, despite the difficulty in locating such a small and stealthed target. Such was the luck of combat.

“All of you, shut up!” snapped the sergeant, trying to get the channel clear again. “You think it’s a
surprise
one of you died?! Keep messing around, and
you’ll
be next! Now, get
back into formation!
”

With harsh words and near constant invective, the experienced sergeant got the platoon back together, once more heading steadily towards the planet, now only an hour or so away.

Instinctively, Frank found his way to the appropriate place in the formation, his mind currently blank.

He had lost a man.

This wasn’t the first time he had fought in battle, nor even the second, but it
was
only the third. In those two times he had fought before, he had seen men die, but none had been
his
responsibility, and the lieutenant was surprised at the difference it made. The heavy weight of his failure seemed to settle on his shoulders, like a yoke that could never be removed.

“Moving forward was a bit dangerous,” the sergeant remarked.

Frank did his best not to snap at him.

“What was I suppose to do; just let them hang around and shoot at us? The SIAMs weren’t getting the job done!”

“Well, it worked…” the sergeant dourly conceded. Then suddenly realizing what was bothering his commander, added “You shouldn’t be worrying over what happened, sir. It was inevitable either way. There’s always a good chance of someone dying on a hot insertion.”

“And why
is
it a hot insertion?” the lieutenant demanded. “Weren’t the pirates supposed to be in hiding?”

“I… would guess not, sir.” the platoon sergeant said, tone carefully blank.

“No?” Lieutenant Harsmith said sarcastically.

Then Frank sighed to himself. He was well aware that the situation had gotten more complicated, and that getting his sergeant’s hackles up wasn’t a good idea. But with the ghost of a Marine hovering over him, and an operation already starting to mess up…

“This isn’t good, McKain,” he finally said, in an almost conciliatory tone. “I don’t like what it means that the pirates have control of Kzarch’s space; if for no other reason than that what it implies for the
surface.”

“I’d have to agree, sir.”

“Keep an eye open, and tell me if you think of anything,” Frank continued. “You’ve got more experience than me, and I’m going to need you to help me figure out what’s going on… preferably
before
we walk into a trap.”

“Yes,
sir
!” The dour sergeant’s voice was, unusually, almost enthusiastic.

Turning off the com, Frank turned towards the planet, mind busy thinking, doing his best to shrug the Marine’s death. He barely remembered Marv, just another Marine in his platoon… and yet, what little he remembered of him would always haunt him now, the lieutenant was sure.

Once again forcibly turning his mind from it, Frank looked around at his formation, the platoon having completely reformed their initial formation by this point.

His scout squad was taking point again, as well as the rear. Their scout-type battlesuits were designed with better sensors and ECM, although with a subsequent cost in power drain and forcing them to carry lighter exby rifles. They also carried weaker armor, compared to regular battlesuits, making them far more vulnerable to damage.

Like nearly all s-squads, Javer’s team was for infiltration, scouting and skirmishing; and because of that last, required and
had
a higher average accuracy rating than the other squads.

The h-squad on the other hand, was the platoon’s heavy weapons group. In addition to the usual battlesuit weaponry, the Marine battlesuit’s two wegs (Wrist Energy Guns) and a slung Ex-B (Explosive Bullet) rifle and a pack of grenades (twelve), they each carried a missile launcher, and twenty SIAMs (Standard Infantry Attack Missile) each.

And that was a problem. The space battle, short as it was, had shot away around forty percent of the heavy squad’s armament.

Of course, his q-squad, the quartermaster squad,
was
carrying spares; but his platoon would quickly run out of SIAMs if they kept spending them like this. Frank couldn’t think of a way he could’ve fought the previous battle without using them; the distraction they had provided had been critical, and the damage they had dealt was what had finally driven the bogies away. Still, he was going to have to be more conservative in using them in the future.

Frank’s platoon currently consisted of an h-squad, a s-squad, a q-squad, and three regular squads, often designated as r-squads to be consistent. Of course, technically there were
four
r-squads, as the q-squad was simply a regular squad assigned to haul the platoon’s extra equipment. In some platoons, an r-squad was permanently designated as a q-squad, in others, as in Frank’s platoon, it was rotated, usually by mission.

With the loss of one of his men, Lieutenant Harsmith’s platoon now held sixty-one men, ten per squad plus the lieutenant and platoon sergeant.

Each were fully encased in a battlesuit, although the battlesuits themselves varied. Aside from the individual differences and enhancements some of the Marines sported, having upgraded their battlesuits, there were also basic differences of design and function, like the scout battlesuits already mentioned, and the h-suits the heavy squad used.

The heavy battlesuits were obviously named so because they were larger and heavier than the average battlesuit, bearing slightly greater armor than a regular battlesuit. Further, and more importantly, an h-suit, as it was often shortened to, was able to produce far a heavier shield than a normal battlesuit.

An h-suit also had slightly better ECM, but was still detected with greater ease than a regular battlesuit. This was due to the heavier shields, SIAMs and missile launchers they carried, all of which could be detected by most military-class sensors, if with some difficulty. As well, once a missile was fired, it could almost always be easily tracked to its source.

One thing remained the same, however, regardless of the particular suit type: How the battlesuit was controlled. To maintain optimum, efficient and precise control, even in the harshest of conditions, each marine had a comp implant embedded into their skull, to allow direct mental control of the suit and its own comp.