The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (26 page)

Red and green streaks flashed over their heads as the hybrids fired focused-energy weapons. The dune was working well as a fortification. The rocky internal structure and sand were absorbing the fire and providing excellent protection. Fenes now was focusing his shots at five hundred yards. The dune and the ground in front of their position were covered with bodies. Yet the hybrids continued to race toward them, jumping over their dead as if they were nothing more than rocks. He could see their faceplates now in his scope. He remembered what Chucha had said about the weakness in their armor being the faceplate. He had practiced firing at a very small, fast-moving target the size of the faceplate to get used to it. He dropped one then another with shots through the faceplate. The hybrids heads disappeared in a spray of blood and armor when he hit one. They were close. Suddenly one then another were blown into the air by the mini-mines. It did not slow them. They continued to run forward even though more and more of them were being blown to pieces.

“These are stupid fucks. No flanking movement. Flankers fire now,” Striker said.

The two fire teams opened up into the wave of hybrids, their fire knocking their targets sideways when they hit. The hybrids were in a classic U-shaped ambush now, with fire coming at them from three sides. Yet they didn’t hesitate or slow their advance. A number of hybrids turned and headed for each of the fire teams. Fenes turned his fire on the hybrids headed for his fire team. He knocked one then another down, while their fire did the same, but there were too many. He saw one hybrid jump and land in the midst of the team. Without thinking Fenes was up and moving. He raced across the sand toward the fire team’s position. They were his responsibility. He had ordered them out there. He couldn’t sit and watch them be overrun.

He landed short of their position then with one great push he flew to the top of the dune. As he came down, he saw a hybrid on top of one of his troops. He twisted and landed on top of the hybrid, throwing it off of the man down. He brought his rail up and fired point-blank into its faceplate. Then he was struck and knocked to the sand by a hybrid coming over the dune. It mounted him and drove a laser knife at his head—it missed by inches.

Fenes twisted under the hybrid and was able to grab its armor and throw it off of him. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his axe off his leg. He snapped it open and faced the hybrid. Just like Mati had taught him—they come straight at you, no fancy stuff, either a jump or rush. This one jumped. The moment it moved, Fenes was already swinging the axe. It caught the hybrid in midair in the side, the ax bit deeply into its armor then it's flesh. With his armor enhancing his strength and all the adrenaline, Fenes threw the hybrid onto its side like it was a rag doll. It was struggling on the ground. Fenes ripped the axe out of the hybrid’s side and drove it deep into its helmet. The axe crushed the hybrid’s head. Fenes saw blood and gore appear on the inside of the faceplate.

He grabbed his rail, ready for more, but there were none. Only two of the fire team were still standing. Both showed as injured but yellow in his faceplate. They could still move and fight. The other two were blacks. Dead.

“Come on, back to the position.”

The two turned, but one of them couldn’t keep up. Fenes grabbed her around the waist. “Come on, Powell. I got you,” Fenes said.

In two bounds they made it back to the main position. He helped Powell to a firing position then flopped down by Striker and began to fire at the hybrids.

“All back?” Striker asked.

“Negative. I lost two.”

The hybrids continued to advance through the dunes without hesitating. More were being blown to pieces by the mines as well as the concentrated fire of the platoon, but it was obvious they weren’t going to stop them.

“Be prepared to go to fighting pairs on my order,” Striker snapped.

“It won’t be long now, will it?” Fenes said.

“No, not long,” Striker said.

Sui-Ren System

Chika

Naval Special Warfare Squadron

Mike Boat 79

Senior Chief Lee rotated the Mike boat’s engines and came to a hover before they landed. The fighting for the spaceport was still going on, but Dr. Zhad had established a casualty collection point on the east side of the port in what had been an electrical shop. Lee turned off the engines, and two corpsmen ran out to the ship. He recognized Liya Borges from 703.

“Hey, Borges, how are we doing?”

Borges had distinguished herself on 703 by risking her life repeatedly to take care of the wounded. She was something of a legend among the Raiders. Borges stuck her head into the cockpit.

“Shitty, Lee. It’s as bad or worse than 703. The new armor medical system is helping us, but we're getting overwhelmed. We need more medics and docs. You want to volunteer?”

“Are you shitting me? No way. I just bring them to you. You do the miracles.”

“Bring them back alive,” Borges said. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Will do. Listen, you need anything from us SWCCs, you let me know. These are my guys. How does Annan look?”

“Wish he had a suit of armor on. We’d have a head start on his injuries. Hard to tell, but if you get them here alive, Zhad will keep them that way.”

“Roger that.”

“Gotta go.”

Borges disappeared into the crew compartment to move Annan into the casualty collection point. Lee waited for some time. Toland should have checked back in.

“Hey, Toland! You ready?”

“Sorry, Chief. I’m in my sling and ready to rock and roll.”

She didn’t sound like it, so Lee glanced back at the crew compartment. The deck was covered with blood. No wonder she didn’t sound right. She and Annan were friends.

“Toland, you ready for this?”

“Give me something to shoot at and I will be a lot more ready.”

“You got it, gunner’s mate.”

Lee pushed the throttles forward and the Mike boat took off. As he gained altitude, they took some random ground fire. Toland’s mini roared.

“That’s one less fucker,” Toland murmured.

Lee was turning to find new targets when he heard, “Mike Actual to Mike 79.”

“79, go.”

“79, the LZ’s are getting pounded. Can you break away for some runs to support them?”

Lee looked over at Odaka. “How are we doing?”

“We’re down four ships, but the fight has gone into the buildings. We could split the flight and still provide enough cover for the Raiders.”

“That's what I was thinking.”

Lee switched back to the command frequency. “Roger, Actual. We can split up and go to the LZs. Do you have the coordinates of the targets?”

“You won’t need specific target coordinates. You will find them.”

Lee looked over at Odaka and said, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it sounds like things are going to get festive.”

Lee switched frequencies and said, “First flight on me. They need some help at the LZs.”

Lee banked the ship and increased speed. The two remaining ships from his flight followed closely. It was a few miles to the LZs, but as they approached, they could see them long before they reached them. APCs and other landing craft were making their final approaches while others were taking off. As they watched, a landing craft was struck by a plasma cannon and disappeared in a huge explosion. Green, red, yellow, and orange tracers were crisscrossing the LZs, punctuated by explosions.

“Where’s it all coming from?” Lee said.

“Under the ridgeline ahead.”

As if to punctuate Odaka’s observation, a five-incher from a destroyer struck just in front of the ridgeline, lighting up the night and clearly showing positions firing on the LZs. It looked as if the fortifications were more than a mile long. The five-inch rail rounds were making huge craters, but they did nothing to slow down the fire coming from the fortifications.

Lee tried to think how best to attack the huge fortification. If he took it on directly, it could concentrate its fire and knock him right out of the sky. The overhang protected fortifications from a stand-off shot from altitude. So they'd have to get up close and personal.

“We’re going to make a long run parallel to the ridgeline. I hope they won’t be able to track us easily that way. I’ll use the forward minis. Odaka, you get creative with your weapons systems, and Toland, you take care of the rear as we pass. Everybody good?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan to me,” Toland said.

“Roger that,” Odaka said.

Lee switched frequencies and said to the others in the flight, “We're going to make a run parallel to the ridgeline. Orbit until you see if it works. If we get shot down, figure something out.”

“Better thee than me,” one of the other pilots said.

Odaka looked over at Lee. “He’s right, you know.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Negative, Chief. Let’s get this done.”

Lee banked the ship, pulled up, and reversed course to the west where the ridgeline started. He pitched the ship over into a dive and roared down parallel to the ridgeline at a hundred feet. He opened up with the metal storm, yawing so the rounds were raking the positions under the overhang. Toland was firing into the same fortifications as they passed, while Odaka was launching air-to-ground missiles at targets ahead of their position. The side of the ship was taking a pounding—not so much from aimed fire as from getting in the way of weapons firing on the LZs—but the ship was heavily armored enough to take the pounding without any significant damage. The metal storm was literally digging a trench into the rock of the ridgeline, and everywhere it did, Lee could see Xotoli positions destroyed. It was working.

They reached the end of the ridgeline, and Lee pulled the ship up and banked over the escarpment so the positions on the ridgeline couldn't fire on him.

“We got secondary explosions, Chief,” Toland said. “We ate their fucking lunches.”

“We’re not done yet.” Lee flipped his comm to the flight frequency. “Next in line.”

“Roger, Lee. Here we go.”

The next ship made the same run that Lee had, raking the ridgeline with more fire and rockets. They were actually making a difference.

LSD Tarawa

Tactical Operations Center

Combined Confederation Expeditionary Force

General Dasan Sand sat in his command chair watching the huge display at the front of the TOC. He did not like what he was seeing. His three LZs were holding on by their fingernails, and the Raiders were still trying to clear the spaceport. They were way behind the mission clock. He had to consider sending in his reserves. He had been holding them back in hopes of having them available for the taking of the rest of the planet. He wanted them fresh, but unless he committed them he likely he wouldn’t need them for the rest of the planet because he was about to lose his LZs.

“Battle captain, I want a battle-update brief. Now.”

A young captain stood but looked confused as he scrambled to pull together a BUB. Netis would have had one ready to go. I do miss Netis, Sand thought. It was still inconceivable to him that she had been a hybrid.

He forced that particular new understanding to the back of his mind. It would take a lot more thought to wrap his head around that fact. After close to a minute, the young captain began. He changed the display to show the LZs, then zoomed in to Sol first. Sand could see his Marines moving forward in small units. Fire teams or squads were moving off the LZ for cover.

“Sir, the Marines in LZ Sol have begun to solidify their positions. They have begun to move out of the LZ but now are receiving fire from a ridgeline to the left flank. Until now they have had little fire from that direction. It appears that the Xotoli had prepared positions and have moved troops into them as they are needed.”

“So they are under pressure from two directions now?”

“Negative, sir. While they are still receiving some fire from their right flank, the majority of it has moved to the Von Fleet and Rift LZs now. So their primary resistance is to their left flank and front.”

Sand studied the display. He could see small figures moving forward with covering fire from other units. As in most battles it came down to small units lead by NCOs. The Marines were making progress despite the losses.

“I need to speak with Colonel Yankas.”

“Sir, we haven’t been able to reach him or any of his staff. The only officer we’ve been able to reach is a company commander.”

“That far down the chain of command.”

“Yes, sir. He reported he could not find any other officers who were still effective. They were either wounded and out or dead.”

Sand was going to have to think about committing his reserves soon, but he wanted to wait and commit them to their original objective: the spaceport. The troops at Sol were going to have to hold.

“Go on.”

“Von Fleet continues to hold, but all of the tanks in the second wave were destroyed, as were the robotic weapons platforms. The Xotoli had a weapon that they used on the robotic weapons platforms. It reprogrammed them on the fly. They began attacking each other and the VF troops. They had to be destroyed.”

Sand had known that fucking technology was not going to work—and the tanks. When any individual in armor could carry weapons capable of destroying a tank, he had no idea why Von Fleet thought they could attack a fortified position with them. They had turned into big targets instead of the terror weapons of old. As for the robotic weapons platforms, he had argued with Von Fleet about them just on principle. The more dependent you were on technology, the more chance there was for something to go wrong.

“Have you got any good news? Have the penal-battalion units consolidated their positions?”

“Negative, sir. There are only pockets of them left. But the second wave of VF armored infantry have secured the crater and are beginning to move out of the crater itself. They are still receiving heavy fire from the ridgeline, but the Mike boats and the naval gunfire have begun to take out more and more of the positions. You can see it best from this angle.”

The captain pulled up a drone view of the ridgeline with an infrared filter that showed the positions in the ridgeline. Sand could see some of the positions still firing while others were a smoldering ruin. He made a mental note that they needed more of those Mike boats. The APCs were great at moving troops and equipment, but the more versatile ships like the Mike boats could drop off the troops then stick around and support those troops.