The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (30 page)

“Check.”

“Okay, I got to make my rounds. Now get up there before we have company.”

Hu turned and hurried off down the hallway to the next position.

“FNG?” Fenes asked.

“Fucking New Guy,” Minga guessed.

“We’d better get on the roof,” Fenes said. He climbed the stairs then crawled out.

It was a large, flat roof with a parapet about two feet high on all its sides. Minga crawled next to Fenes and they surveyed the area looking for a good position to set up. There were several hybrid bodies scattered around, but other than that it was just a roof with no structures or anything else they could use as a hide. They would have to use the parapet. There were a number of holes where it had been blown out during the fighting. In one place it was a V so deep it almost reached the roof.

“Do you see that? A hole over to the left about halfway down in the middle of the parapet,” Fenes said.

“What about that V over there?”

“Remember what Chucha said. Never use an obvious placement.”

“Got it.”

They began to crawl to the hole about halfway down the parapet.

“You know why he let us take the sniper’s position, don’t you?” Minga asked.

“No, why?”

“He knew all the good places were taken, and if we were willing he could lose us and not lose any of his own men. This is a shit hide,” Minga said.

“I hate it when you’re right. If that's what you thought, why did you volunteer?”

“Because I’m as stupid as you are.”

Fenes set up the bipod and turned on the rifle’s computer. Minga pulled out the sensor rounds from the spotter’s bag and handed one to Fenes. Fenes loaded the round then turned to his left as far as he could without exposing the rifle.

“Ready?”

“Wait one.”

Minga plugged the spotter’s computer’s I/O port into her armor.

“Now.”

Fenes dialed his scope to its maximum zoom, looking for some target, but he found nothing but a featureless plain. Finally he located a small dune and aimed for it. He fired, and the round silently left the rifle and struck the dune. He waited for Minga to tell him if it was a good plant.

“Got it. Range 7,000 yards. I got a good image and I’m walking around.”

“Next.”

Fenes planted two more sensor rounds. Minga could jack into each one and “walk around,” adding her eyes to the sensors. It was like putting someone out there just sitting and waiting for targets. When she could find one, she would “touch” it and the rifle’s computer would calculate distance, wind age and any other relevant calculations. Fenes had to make sure he had the proper type of round chambered as well as well keeping the target in the crosshairs long enough for the rifle to lock onto the target. It was fire and forget the computer could change the bullet’s path with the tiny guidance jets in each round, it could handle up to six shots at one time. It was a very lethal combination of an old-school weapon and advanced technology.

“Plant complete,” Minga said.

“Roger.”

“Now we wait for our friends. I’ll take the first watch,” Minga said.

Fenes put his head down on his forearm. He’d had no idea he was so tired. He was asleep immediately.

#

Nani had taken Striker on a tour of their position. He had suggested a couple of changes that she’d liked and implemented. When the tour was over, she pulled Striker over to the side where they could have a private conversation.

“Okay, I’ve got to understand who you are before I can really use you. Why are you in charge of a penal platoon? With your seniority I’m sure you could have managed to get out of it if you wanted to.”

Striker didn’t answer right away. He paused before he said, “Long story, but I’m a soldier. An infantryman. The only reason I didn’t join the Legion back in the day is the Confederation treated them like they were infantry when they were really fighter pilots. So I went with the corporations. I found it was exactly what I wanted even though I was fighting for a logo, as you guys say. By the time the Legion started to became real infantry, I had too much time in to switch and start over. Then Rift happened and everything changed. Suddenly I wasn’t fighting for the logo as much as I was fighting for the men and women of the Confederation against aliens. I was right where I needed to be after all.”

“But why the penal battalion?”

“I volunteered. The vast majority of the members are debtors. Von Fleet changed the criteria for debt limits so they could throw them into debtors’ prison. Then they convinced the governments that people with enough money should be able buy their way out of service when they were drafted. So they had a large pool of young men and women to draw from. They protected the rich and made more money. When I found out, it pissed me off. One of the reasons I joined in the first place is that we were poor. I came out of a company town just like these kids. I was lucky to get in—otherwise I would have ended up like my folks, working for the corporation in a corporation town and buying food at the corporation commissary. That is an endless cycle of debt. When I joined, I made real money and was able to buy my parents out. So I identified with these kids. I thought they deserved an experienced NCO who might be able to save at least a few of them.”

“Nice. You know, I was one of the Legionnaires who had a choice of jail or the Legion, and it’s turned out pretty good for me. So the fact that they owe some money doesn’t much matter to me or any of the other Raiders. What does matter is how good they are in combat. What’s this about having Legion drill instructors?”

“I put them through their paces when I first took over the platoon. They have been trained all right. No other platoon in the company could come close to them in hand-to-hand or on the rifle range. They are disciplined and do what they are told when you tell them to. I gave them a lot of small-unit tactics on the transport and they soaked it up. They're my FNGs but they’re good ones. With a little seasoning they will be first-class troops. When we made our little stand, not one broke, not one hesitated. They’ve been bloodied and stood up. It looked like we were going to be overrun, and not one broke. They should fit in with your troops well. They just need to be led properly.”

Nani was silent for some time, absorbing all that he had just said.

“You know, I’ve heard a rumor that some of the old Legionnaires were training the new corporation troops. I know Mati. She's as tough as they come. If she was an assistant, then the other two were good too. The rumor says that if they were trained by former Legionnaires they will have a tattoo that other Legionnaires would recognize.”

“They all have this small flag tattoo on their right arm.”

“Well, I’ll be fucked. It wasn’t just a rumor. That makes me feel a lot better, not to say your endorsement wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s the plan?”

“We were supposed to secure the spaceport then be relieved by a battalion of regular Marines. When relieved we will be pulled out, resupplied, and used as a fire brigade to be plugged in where things are getting hot.”

“How many effectives do you have left?” Striker asked.

“That’s the problem. We’ve had close to forty percent casualties, that’s both dead and wounded. The chain of command is fucked, but we got it pieced together until we can get out of this to reset it.”

“What are you expecting from the Xotoli?”

“Both on Rift and on 703, when they lost a position, they tried a counterattack as soon as they could put one together. They’re good at it. They get in close and it prevents us from using naval bombardment or other heavy weapons,” Nani said.

“The old grab-the-enemy-by-the-belt-buckle-and-hold-on until somebody wins.”

“You got it.”

“Do they always just rush a position in waves with no prep fire or any covering fire? I thought they would be smarter than that.”

“Me too, but they haven’t changed tactics since Rift. It’s always the same. They don’t seem to care about losing as many hybrids as they have to in order to take a position. It’s just brute force.”

“What about the Xotoli?”

“Can’t give you much on that. We had one earlier take out two of our people before we knew what was happening. They are huge, fast, and not afraid to fight. Our .48s just bounce off their armor unless we concentrate almost a squad’s worth of .48s on one target. The .50 sniper rifle is the best thing we have now that can knock them down. Explosives work, but not much else.”

“What do you expect?”

“If they stick to their usual tactics, we should have another attack before sunrise. First and second platoons are scattered throughout the buildings here on the east side while Charlie Company is across the runway in those hangars behind us. We’ve had time to dig in and prepare for the next attack, so I feel pretty good about our situation.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Hu has most of your people. Why don’t you go down there and make sure they're dialed in with what Hu wants? They’ll listen to you, and you’ll be a good bridge between the two units.”

Striker had just turned to leave when Nani said, “Keep your head down there, logo soldier.”

“You do the same there, Raider.”

Sui-Ren System

Chika

Naval Special Warfare Squadron

Mike Boat 79

Lee had been alternating between runs on the LZs and for the past several hours when he looked over at Odaka.

“You checked our munitions lately?” Lee asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching them. We’re getting low—almost in the grey—and if things don’t slow down we’re going to end up in the black.”

“I was afraid of that. Transports with resupply should have landed hours ago according to the mission plan, but we're so far behind the mission clock we’re running on empty.”

“Tell that to the hybrids, because they don’t seem to want to give up the spaceport anytime soon. Maybe we should have a little talk about that with them,” Odaka said.

“Let’s go back to the port and see if we can be of some help with what we got left.”

Lee pulled the nose of the ship up and put it on a heading that would take him back to the spaceport. Below, the battle had not slowed, but now there was more outgoing fire from the LZs than incoming. Red, green, yellow, and orange weapons lit up the night, making the plain look like some kind of kaleidoscope as the various weapons illuminated the reddish sand. Lee had to remind himself that something that beautiful was so deadly. He could see a distinct difference in the fighting. Between the Mike boat runs and the naval gunfire, they had silenced a number of the fortifications in the ridgeline, and the forces on all three LZs were moving forward. Suddenly, on his display, a message flashed. It read “We have made contact with Von Fleet.” It was from the Marines—they had moved out and been able to hook up with the troops from the Von Fleet landing zone.

“That’s the first good news we’ve had all night,” Lee said.

“What, Chief? Remember me back here in the ass end of things. I don’t have a display like you important pilots,” Toland said.

“Toland, if you want to have all the toys you’re going to have to go for pilot.”

“Listen, if I wanted to be a bus driver I would have stayed home and taken kids to school. Now what's the good news!”

“The Marines have made contact with the Von Fleet.”

“Shit, that is good news. Anything from LZ Rift?”

“Funny you should ask. We just got another notification that they too have hooked up with Von Fleet,” Odaka said. “That means that all of the LZs are now consolidated the way they were supposed to be hours ago. Maybe we might get back on the mission schedule after all.”

“Why don’t you go for pilot, Toland?” Lee asked.

“I like letting you guys worry about all the flying while I laze around here in the back.”

“That’s not an answer, Petty Officer,” Lee said.

“It’s the only one you’re going to get, Chief.”

Odaka and Lee exchanged a glance. They had tried a number of times to get her to apply for a pilot slot with no success. Neither could figure out why. Toland was smart and could think in the midst of the worst situations—she would make a great pilot.

Can’t worry about that now, need to get my head back in the game, Lee thought. They were going to have to make every round or missile they had left count. He had better start paying attention. He was getting tired. They had been flying nonstop for close to twelve hours and it was beginning to take its toll.

“Odaka, I know if we just come up on the spaceport, we’re going to find targets. But I don’t want to use the munitions we got left on just any targets. I want to see if we can make a difference. Don’t ask me how, but we need to make these last rounds count. Do some sweeps with any or all the sensors you can think of and find us something worth our time.”

“What kind of sweeps?”

“I don’t know. You’re the electronic-warfare officer. Figure it out,” Lee said.

As Odaka bent over his panels to begin the sweeps, he said, “I’m only the electronic-warfare officer because that's what the copilot does. I can multitask while most pilots can only fly and shoot.”

Lee laughed. The spaceport was coming into view. They were approaching it from the west, and the west side of the spaceport and the Raiders’ positions seemed reasonably quiet. A few rounds were being exchanged, but there was no large engagement. As they flew over runway 7L, it was almost completely covered with hybrid bodies. There must have been a push earlier that the Raiders fought off. Lee got on the comm.

“Dragon One to any Dragon near the spaceport.”

“Dragon One, this is Dragon Five, go ahead.”

“You got any targets?”

“Negative, Dragon One, and if I did, all I could do was spit at them. All I got left are a few thousand rounds. Not even a serious pass.”

“Roger that. Have you heard any reports from other Dragons?”

“Negative. The rest of the squadron is working the LZs. It’s quiet up here, Dragon One. Too quiet.”

“Explain.”

“In the last hour they really made a push to take the place, but between us, Dragon Seven, and the Raiders, we were able to stop it. It all came from the west. The east is quiet as a grave.”