The Battle of Kurtzenheim #2
Episode Two: Deliverers
"Mit donnerndem
Motor so schnell wie der Blitz,
Dem Feinde entgegen im Panzer geschützt.
Voraus den Kameraden, im Kampfe ganz
allein - ja ganz allein:
So stoßen wir tief in die feindlichen Reih'n."
(With
engines a-howling, fast as is the wind,
We head for the foe, safe, as we're in armor skinned.
Our comrades still behind us roam; we fight the foe alone - yes, fight alone.
We stab through the line to break the foes backbone.)
-Second Stanza, der Panzerlied-
1159 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213"Come on, come on, let's get these people moving." Master Sergeant Ron Foo growled at his marines he moved down the street, his Jovian Optics Pulsar-Delta laser rifle cradled in his arms. Some of the civilians within earshot looked at him but their faces were mostly expressionless, giving nothing away.
In the time that he had been part of the Jovian peacekeeping force's ground contingent on Mars, he had been quite surprised at the average Martian Free Republican's attitude towards war. In a society where compulsory military service was a rite of passage, it was hard to really define a civilian.
The town of Sweetwater in the Syrtis Territory had somehow avoided attack in the earlier phases of the war. But a few days ago, the agricultural town's fortunes changed. Now, Federate troops were at the outskirts of the town, pressing the Martian Free Ranger defenders hard.
Foo's detachment had been stationed at Sweetwater, originally using the town as a staging area to conduct escort missions for non-combatants leaving the front. Now that Sweetwater herself had become a target, it too had to be evacuated.
The civilians who were loading into the trucks now were mostly elderly people and children. Anyone of fighting age had already taken up arms to join the local militia to hold off the Federate troops who, at last report, were already breaking through at two of the town's five pressure domes. Even now, the sound of weapons fire was becoming more than distant rattles and thunder.
"Sarn't Major! Sarn't Major!" It was Private Nelson Lowe who came bounding up the street in his chunky armored space suit.
"What is it, Lowe?" the senior NCO growled again. He had detailed Lowe to accompany the main line of the Martian Free Rangers so as to report the situation. "Why the hell didn't you use your comms?"
"I did, but there wasn't any answer from anyone." Lowe said, panting as he reached the master sergeant. "But that doesn't matter now, Sarn't Major! The Federates have broken through! I counted at least a hundred and fifty infantry. About twenty-five of them in exo-suits! They're still have trouble moving their tanks into the dome though!"
Ron could feel a ripple of panic passing through the crowd of civilians behind him. They began to load onto the trucks with renewed urgency. The Jovian marine took one look at the crowd and knew that they wasn't going to be enough time to get everyone out.
"Alright, Lowe. Rejoin your squad!" Ron turned to face the crowd who were piling on the trucks, some people were still trying to load their belongings aboard. "Kirk! Where are you, damn it!"
"Yes, Sarn't Major!" Sergeant Jimmy Kirk was one of the squad leaders under Ron. The man was, and the body armor suit he wore only emphasized the fact. Attached to his body was the special harness that bore the Jovian Optics Pulsar-Omega laser cannon. Even with such a bulky weapon strapped to his body, the sergeant moved with ran over as if it weighed nothing.
"Federates have broken through. We've got to get these people out of here fast!"
"I hear you, Sarn't Major! I'll get my men on it right away!" And the sergeant was quick to turn words into action. Bellowing a few choice expletives at his squad, they began to herd the civilians aboard the trucks. Some civilians, unwilling to part with their belongings had to be shoved onto the vehicles. Moments later, the first trucks were beginning to roll down the street.
"What is the meaning of this, Sergeant Major?" Ron cringed at that squeaky voice. He turned and saw Warrant Officer (O) Joel Spears striding through the chaos, oblivious to the citizens of Sweetwater who were panicking around him. "Why are these trucks moving out?"
Joel Spears wasn't a Warrant Officer who had worked his way up through the enlisted ranks. He was a recent graduate of the Officer Training School, commissioned to the probationary rank of Warrant Officer where he would remain for a number of months until he had proven himself. Then he would be confirmed and commissioned as a Lieutenant.
Even though he was a man who had come up the ranks the hard way and loved everything about the JAF and its traditions, Master Sergeant Ron Foo had no respect for the youngster who trotted up to him, rifle propped nonchalantly against the shoulder. Ron had been passed over for Warrant Officer (Enlisted) once and it hurt that this young punk held the rank that should have been rightfully his.
As Spears was the youngest platoon leader in the company, Lieutenant Sterling the company CO had seen fit to assign her company sergeant major to tag along and help the young officer find his feet. But if Joel Spears is any indication of the caliber of officers we're producing, then the JAF is in one hell of a fix.
"Sergeant Major! I asked you a question!" Spears whined. "Damn it, these trucks were supposed to move out as a convoy! Not as and when they like!"
"Sir," Ron Foo grated as the officer came up to him. The sergeant major stood a good head taller than the platoon leader. When Ron spoke again, his tone was that which one would use to explain things to a child. "The Federates have broken through and are entering the dome in strength The city's defenders are withdrawing in disarray. There is nothing between us and the enemy now so if we don't get the trucks moving, none of these people are going to get out."
"Why didn't you run this decision through me? I am in command here!" the officer said in that whiny voice that the platoon had come to hate. "Does the term 'chain of command' mean anything to you?"
"Sir, there wasn't time." Ron seethed inside. "Sir, we should setup a defensive perimeter now. To delay the Federates."
"What?" The horrified look on Joel's face would have been absolutely hilarious had this not been a combat situation that they were about to face. "You mean, engage the Federates? Sergeant Major, I will remind you that our rules of engagement precludes any hostile action by us against any Martians, be they Federate or Republican."
"Even if fighting the Federates means giving these civvies more time to get away?" Ron could not contain his horror at the officer's stupidity. What the hell do we teach at OTS nowadays? "Sir, our orders are for us to ensure safe passage of Republican non-combatants from the war zone!"
"Yes, but it doesn't call on us to shoot at the Federates!" Joel retorted. "And they may not shoot at us because we're Jovian peacekeepers!"
"Oh, for Chrissakes! Think . . .sir!" Ron could not control his temper any longer. "Do you think it's going to make any difference with the Federates?"
"You're out of line, Sergeant Major!"
"Damn it, sir! We've got to do something!" Ron roared.
"I'm not going to be the one who starts a war between the Jovian Confederation and the Martian Federation!" Joel screamed back.
"You're making a mistake, sir. . ."
"That's it! I'm placing you under arrest! Sergeant Kirk!" The Sergeant with the laser cannon turned his attention away from his crowd control duties and took a tentative step forward.
"But, sir . . ."
"Don't 'but, sir' me, Sergeant Major! I'm in com . . ." A jagged hole exploded in Warrant Officer (O) Joel Spear's collar and he dropped in a heap, eyes wide with shock as he grasped for his throat.
"Sniper!" Even as Ron yelled, he was already diving for cover, his weapon held at the ready.
1209 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213"Hauptmann, I'm hit! I'm hit!" The voice rang shrilly in Peter's ears. "I need support!"
Peter turned and saw one of his grupen mates coming under coordinated attack by a pair of Republican hovertanks. The fellow Defender was already badly damaged, shedding armor from half a dozen places. They had been withdrawing towards the capital for some time now and there were neither Federate reinforcements nor let up in the Republican attacks.
"Hang on, Pierce! I'm on it!" Peter brought up his vehicle's railgun and drew a bead on one of the hovertanks. Despite their blinding speed, they were thinly-armored . . . if one could hit them. And Peter was a well-known exo-armor sniper even in a military that did not normally recognize individual achievements.
Pulling the trigger, he sent a slug on its way. His shot struck home and the enemy hovertank dropped from the sky and buried itself into the red Martian soil.
"They've got me! They got . . . aaaaaaaargh!"
"Pierce!" Peter saw his subordinate's exo tumbling onto its back, thrown backwards by a missile hit. The exo-armor had barely hit the ground when it went up in a tremendous flash. Another one gone, my grupen is down to three now.
The 12th Sturmobergrupen had started the day with five grupen of five exos each. Now, there were barely enough to make up two grupen. So many gone.
"Herr Hauptmann!" One of his junior officers cried out. "I'm picking up scattered reports of fighting in space."
"It must be our comrades in space."
"No, sir. It appears that the Jovians and the CEGA are fighting each other!"
Peter was stunned to hear that news. What the hell was going on up there? There had been reports earlier of Federate and Republican forces clashing in space. Why would the Jovians and Earthers be fighting each other now? It's not important now, Peter told himself and forced himself to focus on the battle swirling around him.
He picked another target, tracked it, gave it plenty of lead to compensate of the target's high speed and squeezed the trigger. The solid metal shell crossed the distance in a flash and the hovertank staggered in mid-air as it took the hit. And then it was disappearing over a ridge, flying erratically.
"Herr Hauptmann! The enemy! They are disengaging!"
For now . . . Peter thought grimly to himself. The unit had taken terrible losses. In slightly over an hour, he had lost more friends than he had in the entire war before this day.
"What are your orders, sir?"
Peter stared at the field before him, littered with the detritus of war. Pierce's exo, what little remained of it, was still burning. There was no point in staying here now. The terrain from here all the way back to the capital was mostly open plains with low ridges. Not enough cover for exo's to hide. Sure, the hovertanks didn't have much terrain to duck around either, but with their speed and numbers, it was a luxury they could do without. Can't 'disappear' now. These men are looking to me for guidance. They will be watching me closely. Guess I'll have to spend another day in the service of the BundesArmee.
"We will withdraw and keep doing so until we find our next line of defense." Wherever that is . . . he didn't say aloud as he turned his exo back in the direction they had first come without waiting for acknowledgements from the rest of his men. One by one, the 12th Sturmobergrupen turned and headed back towards Kurtzenheim.
1213 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213The first exchanges of fire had just been as devastating as pre-war computer simulations had predicted. Several ships on both sides had died as the JAF and CEGA Navy forces flew through each other. While exos and fighters weaved between ships, the ships themselves were jockeying for position against each other.
The JAF fleet, in an effort to counter the CEGA's dispersed forces, had dispersed as well. Strangely, there was no communication from Admiral Sullivan or Gilgamesh, but Jovian captains were trained to use their initiative and that was what they were doing now.
Space around the Red Planet glowed in a diffuse red as lasers, slugs, particle beams and missiles reached out for their targets. Spherical explosions boiled silently in space, rending armor and flesh alike, opening up gaping, vacuum-sucking wounds in the massive leviathans that continued their deadly dance in the orbit of Mars.
And all throughout this time, exos and fighters from all sides continued to battle around the Nightingale, which kept on rolling and drifting, unable to get clear of the battle zone.
1215 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
Master Sergeant Ron Foo heard the muffled report again. This time, he was sure their tormentor was using a GS-1 Sniper Gyroc rifle. One of the civilians dropped this time, hit in the head. The civilians were really panicking now, there was a mad rush to board the trucks or simply get into cover.
He saw Nelson Lowe peering over the car he had hidden behind to take a look. A gyroc round smacked into the engine just inches from his face and the private dropped back into cover.
"Stay in cover, you jackass!" Ron bellowed. Damn it, we should have set up a perimeter. Then maybe we wouldn't be pinned down by one lousy sniper. Ron was furious. He so desperately wanted to shoot something now, his finger feeling the trigger of his laser rifle. Every second that sniper keeps us pinned is one second more for his buddies to arrive in force.
It was then that he heard the gurgling sound. Risking a peek round the edge of the car he was using for cover, he could see their fallen officer. He was still grasping his neck, dark arterial blood pumping from the wound, pooling behind his head. His other hand was raised skyward as he twisted on his back like and overturned turtle. Their eyes met.
"He . . . help . . .me . . ." Joel Spears burbled, blood spilling out the sides of his mouth.
"Oh, God, oh, God!" Lowe exclaimed, looking over at Ron from his own cover. "Mister Spears is still alive! We've got to help him, Sarn't Major!"
"You stay where you are, Private!" Ron pointed at Lowe to make indicate he meant business.
"H-he . . . help . . ."
"I can do it, Sarn't Major!" Lowe pleaded, obviously distraught at their officer's plight. "Just let me go get him."
"I said stay where you are!" Ron looked back and saw another one of his men, hidden under a truck. It was Private Darren Pang, the platoon medic, looking ready to make a rush himself. "You stay put too, Darren!" And the medic dropped back behind cover, not wishing to dispute his superior's order.
"Corporal Kwok!"
"Yes, Sarn't Major!" A voice answered from behind him. It took Foo awhile to notice their own sniper conceal behind a clustered pile of refugees' belongings.
"Can you spot our sniper?"
"I think I know where he might be. But I can't get a clear shot unless he comes out for a shot!" The Jovian with the scoped laser rifle replied.
"Sarn't Major!" Lowe was in tears now, his eyes fixed on their struggling leader.
"Stand down!"
There was the muffled crack of the rifle once again and a jagged hole appeared in Spears' left thigh. The officer jerked but was unable to scream for all the blood he was choking on.
"Sarn't Major!" Lowe pleaded again.
"Damn it! Kwok?"
"Hang on, I think I got him!"
"You hear that, Lowe? Stay put!"
Another shot. And another hole exploded into existence, this time in the officer's other thigh. Joel's outstretched hand dropped to the ground and he lay on the street in spasms,
"To hell with this shit! Yaaaaaaah!" The private had dropped his rifle and was running around the car now, scrambling towards the wounded officer.
"No, Lowe! Get b . . ."
There was another crack and Lowe's head jerked back with sickening abruptness. Then the marine crashed on his knees before keeling over face first onto the street, right next to the officer. No sooner had Lowe's body hit the ground did Corporal Kwok open fire with a burst of laser beams that lanced through the window of a building in front of them.
Ron though he saw a figure falling backwards. But a rifle did fall to the ground, a clear indication that Kwok had not missed. Ron was on his feet now, racing over to the two figures on the ground, the rest of the platoon moving up to set up a defensive perimeter. The last of the civilians were boarding the trucks now. No one needed to tell them to hurry this time.
Private Darren Pang, who doubled as the platoon medic had emerged from his hiding spot as well and was already seeing to the two limp, bleeding forms on the street.
"How bad?" Ron ask, looking to the combat medic.
"They're dead. Both of them." Darren reported with a hint of bitterness and Ron swore.
"Sarn't Major, look!" Sergeant Kirk called out excitedly as he leapt back into cover behind a car and pointed. "We have incoming!"
The first of the Federate infantry, men who wore only armored Mars suits similar to the Jovian suits, were spilling in from one end of the street. For one surreal moment, they all stood facing one another at a range of no more than a hundred meters, neither side willing to make the first move.
Then the senior Federate soldier, an Oberleutnant raised his hand to give the order to fire. The words had barely left the man's lips when a few eager Federates opened up with their gyrocs. A split-second later, Sergeant Kirk, needing no further encouragement was spraying suppressing fire into the Federates as the majority of them stood where they were and fired.
"Move!" Ron bellowed at the medic and hauled the man off his knees, dragging him into cover as the street erupted into a fresh war zone, gryoc rounds churning up the ground where the two had been standing. Ron felt several gyroc slugs slapping into the pavement next to his feet just as he threw himself into cover, the young private not far behind.
The Federate troops were beginning to react to Kirk's barrage now, many of them scrambling for cover. At least half a dozen soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, mowed down by the JAF sergeant's initial shots. Ron saw Chris popping out of cover, snapping off a quick three-beam burst from his rifle. The Federate officer, who was trying to rally his men for a charge, fell suddenly with three smoking holes in his chest.
While Federate gyroc rounds punched into the cars that the Jovian marines were using for cover, Jovian laser bolts snapped back, hissing as they struck anything solid. In terms of cover, it was clear that the Federates were getting the lower end of the bargain since they were pretty much in the open to begin with. Ron watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as Sergeant Kirk walked his fire across a line of prone troopers who had nowhere to go.
This is good. Ron thought grimly as he sighted his rifle on a Federate trooper who had ducked around trash bin. He squeezed the trigger twice and saw his target go down. We could hold for awhile, I think.
"Don't look now, Sarn't Major, but it looks like we have more company." Private Darren Pang had his rifle out, his role as a medic temporarily forgotten. "Seems like more Feds have decided to join the party."
Ron stared at where the medic was pointing and saw something that made his blood run cold. Sabertooths. The Feds were bringing up their exo-suited troops. So far, he counted only ten of those two-meter armored figures, but they alone were enough to cause his marines some serious grief. It was now that he began to wish his people had been allowed to bring along their Decker exo-suits instead of being asked to wear their regular body armor. But then, no one had ever envisioned the Jovian peacekeepers in direct combat with the troops of the Martian Federation.
"Kirk! Lay down suppressing fire on those exo-suits! Bring up the anti-armor gun!" Ron bellowed to the Sergeant, then turned to the medic. "Get back to the command post. Inform Command of our situation. Call for immediate back up or extraction!"
The medic didn't reply. He simply nodded and ran off. Most of the marines were shifting their fire to the exo-suits now. Someone had got the 24mm anti-armor gun up and working and the sight of an armor-piercing shell punching through the thick chest carapace of one of the exo-suits like an express train made the others pause to take cover.
Ron fought down a rising sense of panic. Another squad of exo-suited troops was arriving and he knew it was only going to be a matter of time before the Federates got brave or smart enough to either rush or flank the Jovian peacekeepers.
1255 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Lancelot, Lancelot. This is Camelot. We're coming under heavy attack by multiple exos." Vigilant's call for help was as clear as it had been urgent. "We need you back over here."
And just how am I supposed to do that? Adelene asked herself sardonically as she kept her eye on a pair of Syreens that had taken interest in her. She waited until their lasers probed out towards her before she threw her fighter into an intricate series of maneuvers, burning up more of her precious fuel.
It seemed ludicrous that she couldn't break away from slower-moving exos while flying her Intruder fighter. But everywhere she turned, there would be someone shooting at her so all she could do was stay within that confused melee, shooting at whatever targets presented themselves to her.
"Lancelot to Camelot. Still heavily engaged. Will attempt to return at earliest opportunity." Adelene said, grunting against the force of acceleration, wincing as laser beams passed dangerously close to her fighter. Rolling to the left and pulling back on the flight stick, she put herself out of the immediate danger and came face to face with one of the strangest sights she had seen all day.
Nightingale was wallowing helplessly, almost serenely amidst one of the most intense dogfights ever fought in space, its emblem still displayed proud and unblemished on its hull. She grimaced at the irony. The Solar Cross had long been seen as a neutral corps who would always seek to administer medical aid to all peoples without discrimination. They were a symbol of peace. Yet today, it was over them that this battle was now being fought.
Well, at least they're in the center of the action. Makes it easier for them to help everyone, she thought darkly. A Syreen crossed her sights and she mashed her firing button and was rewarded by the sight of her lasers chewing deep into her targets armor.
But then a laser bit into her own fighter's fragile armor and she threw her fighter into a loop, looking over her shoulder in search of her assailant. The Syreens that she thought she'd lost earlier were back.
And so the vicious cycle of fighters and exo being pounced and pouncing one another went on unabated.
1303 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Excalibur, this is Scabbard." The Facilitator's Tactical Officer was saying into his headset.
"Scabbard, Excalibur Lead. Go." Captain Alvin Ng replied tersely. They had already gone through two CEGA task forces, causing some significant damage along the way though Alvin had ordered his pilots to conserve their ammunition wherever possible. Two of his exo-armors were already gone, but that still left ten, including his own.
"CEGA exos are hitting our carriers hard. Fleet command wants you to return the favor." The Tactical Officer explained. "We've picked up what might be a CEGA carrier group not too far from your position. Sending coordinates now."
"Copy, Scabbard. We'd have to return after this though. Most of my pilots are down to half their payload." The squadron commander replied. "And I hope you're not going to ask us to go too far. Fuel's going to become a problem soon."
"Roger that, Excalibur Lead. We'll . . ." The sound of an explosion drowned out the rest of the Tactical Officer's words. When the tinny rush of noise had subsided, there was nothing but the gentle hiss of static.
"Scabbard, I just lost you. Say again your last, please." There was no reply and Alvin felt a knot growing in his gut. "Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, do you copy, over."
There was still no reply and an overwhelming sense of dread came upon him. Not satisfied with the silence, he thumbed the transmit button once again, speaking more urgently then before. "Scabbard, Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, please respond. Scabbard, this is Excalibur Lead, can you hear me?"
"Excalibur Lead," A different voice sounded in his headset. "This is JSS Vigilant, callsign Camelot. The Facilitator has been hit. We're taking over tactical control of your mission now."
Alvin felt his stomach turn to ice and his mouth was dry as he answered. "Uh, Camelot, you say Scabbard has been hit? How badly?" He needed to know. So many of his friends were aboard that carrier.
"That is unknown at this time, Excalibur Lead."
"What's that supposed to mean, Camelot?" Alvin retorted. "You must know something!"
"This is not a secure channel, Excalibur Lead."
"But . . ."
"You have your orders, Excalibur, carry them out! Report back when you have completed your mission! Camelot clear!" And with that, the airwaves were silent again.
Well, that's that I guess, Alvin thought grimly to himself. He switched over to the squadron frequencies. "Listen up, Deathwing. Facilitator has been hit. I'm not sure how bad. But there's supposed to be an enemy carrier group not far from here so we're been tasked to check it out and destroy it if possible. So form on me, people. Let's go deliver some payback."
1318 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Here they come again!" As if to add emphasis to Peter's warning, yet another exo-armor of the 12th Sturmobergrupen fell, it's cockpit reduced to a smoking ruin. Peter watched, heartsick and helpless as the machine tumbled into the red Martian soil.
At least this time they had managed to find cover and had managed to link up with two Obergrupen of Abdiel hovertanks. The Federates returned fire and the effect was almost immediate, with several Republican craft falling to their volley.
"Herr Hauptmann! Look up in the sky!" One of the survivors of his unit yelled. Peter looked up and saw the last thing he had expected to see. Man-shaped figures were dropping from the sky. Calling up for maximum magnification, he realized that what looked like men were actually the bulky silhouettes of humanoid exo-armors.
Then he saw movement, something white billowing out of the man-shaped figure. Then he realized that he was looking at blossoming parachutes. In the light of the distant sun, they looked like halos of light dropping for an area between them and the capital.
He counted at least a dozen exos dropping towards the ground. But the design was unfamiliar. It was far bulkier than a Pathfinder, perhaps even blockier than his own Defender with missile launchers mounted on the shoulders. There was the flare of thrusters now as they got closer to the ground and the parachutes were separating now as the exos slowed down to a near hover. One by one, they began to rotate towards him and Peter took a sharp intake of air when he saw the insignia. The two thunderbolts clenched in a mailed fist. Jovian Forces.
His mind whirled. Were the Jovians invading his homeland too. Then another thought struck his mind. There would be chaos now as they were sandwiched between the Jovians and the Republic. This was a chance to get away. All he had to do was ensure that everyone else was too busy to notice.
Returning to the battle in front of him, he could see the Republican hovertanks dropping exo-suited infantry now. Yet more tanks were approaching. They were going to be outnumbered. Even though significant reinforcements were on the way, the JAF forces would now be in their way.
He was in command of this ragged defense line that was a collection of exos and hovertanks from units that were far from whole. All he needed was to give the word. And after that, he could slip away in the confusion that would surely follow such an order. And it didn't matter if it was the Republicans or the Jovians he went over too. Both nations would certainly offer a batter life than the Federation . . . He pondered the decision facing him. He struggled with his fear, he wrestled with his conscience, he grappled with his desire for a better life.
He gave the order.
"The enemy is too strong! We'll never hold them! Every man for himself! I say again, every man for himself! Disperse and try to reach friendly lines on your own! Move, move, move!"
1321 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Engaging thrusters. Jettisoning 'chutes." Corporal Joshua Loke mumbled to himself as the ground rose to meet him. He felt a kick in his gut as the thrusters went into action to slow his exo armor down. A quick glance at the rate of descent indicator told him that everything was going as it should.
The EAH-02 Deliverer was certainly quite a leap from the Pathfinder Alphas that he used to fly. They were heavier and slower in space. But it was the newest introduction to the JAF's exo armor inventory. Designed for ground combat, it could hover and fly in atmosphere, something that the Pathfinder certainly could not hope to do. Why a lowly corporal had been amongst the select few to try out the Deliverer was a mystery to him and he had taken the assignment with mixed feelings.
The sixty-seven ton exo hit the surface of Mars with enough force for Joshua to feel the mildest discomfort. But that wasn't important. The fact that he had made it down in one piece was. They had made a full squadron drop and there had never been the opportunity to try this before since Jupiter was not conducive for practicing what they had just done.
Without saying a word, the twelve Deliverers spread out into open order and began to move towards the capital, where they would attempt to block any Federate reinforcements, using deadly force if necessary.
1340 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Go! Go! Go!" Pure exultation had sung in his veins as the Tengu-class carrier grew in his sights. The ship's point defense lasers spat ineffectually at him and Captain Alvin Ng had no trouble dodging the deadly streaks of coherent light.
Their superiors had been right after all and the Deathwings had indeed encountered a carrier group at the coordinates supplied. Six Tengu carriers, accompanied by a quartet of Bricriu corvettes had sat in the open, ripe for the picking, defended by a single pair of Syreens and two squads of exo-suits that had already been taken care of. Alvin himself had accounted for one of the Syreens, whose components and pilot were now scattered across several hundred cubic kilometers of space.
There was a pair of Pathfinder Alphas moving ahead of him towards another one of the Tengus. He could see that both pilots had already readied their plasma lances in preparation for a devastating, close-range slashing attack against the carrier. It was unlikely that the ship would survive the attack by a single exo, much less two.
The duo closed in lightning fast. The leader had his lance lit up, resembling what ancient movie buffs would have certainly called a 'lightsaber'. But just as the first Pathfinder was about to make contact with its target, the Tengu vanished in one fiery explosion that engulfed the Pathfinder.
No! Alvin gasped as he watched the second Pathfinder, unable to stop or veer off in time, fly straight into the blossoming fireball as well. It took a few seconds for the flames to dissipate even in the airless vacuum of space.
To his dismay, the carrier was still there, relatively unscathed. Of his two squadronmates, there was no sign. He gasped in wide-eyed horror at what he had just witnessed, unable to figure out what had just happened. He saw another exo from his squadron, a Retaliator trying to repeat the same attack on a corvette, only to suffer the same fate.
Cutting his thrust, he called up for maximum magnification on his target's hull. The pop-up window appeared before his eyes and he studied it while dodging laser beams. There! The Tengu's silhouette was slightly different. There were several bulky objects attached to his target's hull. Bringing up his exo armor's railgun, he snapped off one quick shot, aimed at one of the objects mounted on the carrier's hull.
The solid metal slug, propelled by the electromagnets in his railgun, crossed the void and struck home. An instant later, a huge explosion seemed to swallow up the CEGA warship. But when things cleared out again, the ship was cruising on, seemingly unfazed by the blast.
"Deathwing Lead to all Deathwings! Break off your attack!" He screamed urgently into his helmet microphone. He was too late to save another pilot who disappeared in a fiery wall of death emanating from a corvette. "The enemy is using some sort of proximity mine weapon. Stay back and use your long-range weapons!"
There were numerous calls of acknowledgement. He counted only six voices. A warning sounded in his ears and he saw several blips flashing into existence on his radar display, blinking urgently. Someone had targeted a missile swarm at him. Aiming at his target again, he loosed of one more shot before kicking in with the thrusters again, throwing his Retaliator into a vicious climb up and away from the incoming missiles.
Going to be a problem now if we can't get close to use the lances . . . Alvin thought as he went through his series of evasive maneuvers. Sure, they could use their ranged weapons, but it won't be anywhere near as devastating. So we'll just have to shoot out those mines first, then close into plasma lance range . . . .
"Sir, we've got high speed incoming," his wingman voice spoke inside in helmet. "Behind us . . ."
"How many?" Alvin cut his acceleration and began to rotate his exo in place to face the new threat. He had to assume it was a threat after how nearly half his squadron had fallen to the CEGA trick of mounting proximity mines to their warships.
"Looks like a dozen exos. Maybe more . . ."
On his sensor display, he could make out the first blips flashing into view. At this range, it was still difficult to identify them. But they were certainly coming in at high speed, burning precious reaction mass to reach such high speeds. If they were they enemy, they were either going to have to make one hell of a braking maneuver or get just one pass before they would be zipping by his squadron.
"I've got a visual." Another one of the Deathwing's said. "Sending now."
A separate display opened before Alvin's eyes and he did not like what he saw. About fifteen CEGA exo armors were closing in on his squadron. Some of them had signs of damage, all had empty missile pylons. They were the resident complements of the carriers he was attacking now. So there was little consolation that this had not been some grand trap orchestrated to destroy an entire Jovian exo armor squadron though it had already come close.
It was just a gaggle of survivors returning to the carriers after striking at the Jovian fleet, hustling now because the Jovians seemed intent on returning the favor.
"Camelot, this is Excalubur One." He didn't wait for the Tactical Officer on the Vigilant to reply before he continued. "We've located the enemy carrier group and are currently engaged. Be advised that the enemy have some sort of proximity explosive device that they detonate when we close into plasma lance range."
"Alright, Excalibur One." Camelot replied after a heartbeat. "Will relay your intell up to Fleet Command."
"And I'm going to need some serious backup." Alvin continued as the range between him and the CEGA exos closed rapidly. "Looks like the locals have returned and they're seriously pissed with us for trespassing. Uploading tactical data now."
"Very well, Excalibur One. Hang tough. Help's on it's way."
Alvin didn't reply. Instead he switched to the squadron frequency and addressed his remaining pilots. "Alright, Deathwings, looks like they still have some fight left in them. Let's see if we can break them up first." That said, he began to thrust away from his original targets to face the enemy exos closing towards him.
But as the first CEGA Wyvern and Syreen exos came into view, he felt the first pangs of worry and steeled himself for the coming battle.
1352 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
The Federation line was disintegrating. Caught between the Republican advance and the Jovian Deliverers, the Federate commander must have panicked in order to have his troops scatter like that.
Corporal Joshua Loke checked his sensors. There were still significant Federate troop concentrations behind him, but they were holding back since there were Jovians in front of them now. Apparently, the commander of the Federate reinforcements coming out of the capital did not want to provoke the Jovians despite his possession of superior numbers.
His CO had already marked out a ridge which they would make their defensive line. Here, they would attempt to hinder Federate reinforcements, giving the Republicans a chance to regroup and retire should they desire.
Well, they should, Joshua thought to himself. The Republicans may have had the Federates on the run so far, but the forces emerging from Kurtzenheim were far stronger than anything they may have encountered so far. And it wasn't as if the Republican forces had gotten off lightly in their lightning advance to carve a corridor through Federate territory.
"Heads up, people. Fleet Command just called," That was the squadron commander speaking. "Looks like we've got CEGA exos making planetfall. We can expect them any moment . . ."
"Like now, sir." Someone else broke in. "I've got them, coming in behind us. Projected landing zone is about two and half klicks behind us."
Joshua couldn't help looked over, his optical sensors scanning the Martian sky. Their chutes were deploying now and he could make out the silhouettes well enough to recognize them. CEGA Wyverns, with their trademark hypergolic bazookas, were descending on Mars as well.
1357 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
"Come on, move it, move it!" Master Sergeant Ron Foo growled as he triggered off another burst of laser fire at their pursuers.
The rest of the platoon was moving down the street quickly now. Some firing over the shoulder but most simply trying to distance themselves from the Federate troops who were hot on their heels.
A Sabertooth exo suit stepped out from an alley, cutting loose with its machine gun. Ron saw one of his marines drop, looking very obviously dead from the number of rounds he took. Next to him, the medic tried to move to help, but Ron grabbed him by the collar.
"He's dead! Forget it! We've got to get to the LZ!"
An officer was trying to organize his men for another charge, with the Sabertooth to lead the way. Ron turned to Corporal Kwok but he needn't have bothered. The burly marine sniper raised his scoped laser rifle in one fluid motion and triggered off a three-shot burst. The officer in question clutched his chest which had been scorched into a smoking ruin, then tumbled onto the sidewalk, the rest of his men remaining hidden while the Sabertooth continued to blast away.
"Someone take out that Saber!" Ron screamed as he caught sight of more movement near the exo suit and hosed down the area.
A marine stopped their withdrawal and came forward with his 24mm anti-armor gun. Even as bullets pelted the area around him, the JAF trooper knelt calmly, sighted his long gun and triggered off a shot that struck its target directly in the faceplate.
"Good shot!" Ron congratulated as the armored humanoid keeled over, the back of the helmet a bloody mess. The marine with the anti-armor gun said nothing, got up and continued his jog towards the landing zone.
The shuttle had touched down just outside the dome and the first marines were already piling aboard. Seeing their opponents retreating must have given the Federates fresh courage since almost all of them rose as one and charged forward.
"Kirk!"
"On it, Sergeant Major!" The bulky sergeant who had just exited the dome via a large hole that had been blown in it, turned and dropped onto his knee, bringing up his pulse laser cannon. Grinning like a maniac, the man depressed the trigger and sent a heavy stream of bolts from his heavy weapon. Swinging the weapon from left to right, he scythed down the Federate soldiers like wheat, keeping at it until the barrel nearly overheated.
Convinced that discretion was the better part of valor, Federates had gone to ground again and Ron knew it was time to go.
The rest of the platoon was already aboard the shuttle so he called out to Kirk to get going. The big man got up and turned around, only to jerk thrice as heavy gyroc rounds slammed into his back. For one horrifying moment, their eyes locked and Ron could see the younger man's agony.
Then the Jovian sergeant crumpled back onto the ground, his eyes wide but lifeless. It was a pity they had to leave the dead, but there just wasn't any sense in staying around. Firing off one final long burst, Ron stumbled up the shuttle's retracting cargo ramp and into the arms of his fellow marines.
1402 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213
They were gone. Each and every one of them!
Captain Alvin Ng squeezed tears out of his eyes and tried to focus as he wove his way through the streams of fire emanating from the Syreens that were pursuing him now. Twisting in mid-flight, he managed to get off a shot with his railgun and watched with satisfaction and the round smashed into one of the Syreen's, splitting the exo-armor open at the shoulder.
He saw the ammunition counter for his railgun display that he had just four shots left. His missiles were gone so once his railgun ammunition was exhausted, he'd be down to his two plasma lances.
As good a pilot as he may have thought himself to be, there was no way he was going to beat the nine remaining exos with four railgun slugs and two plasma lances. And his sensor display showed nothing but red now, the last of his squadronmates perishing no more than a minute ago.
Well, looks like this is it . . . he thought to himself as he somersaulted in space, dropping in behind a Wyvern that had lunged at him with it's plasma lance slashing. A couple of red flashing lights on his damage indicator told him that the Earther had managed to slice off part of his Retaliator, but the fact that he was alive to think about it told him it wasn't too serious.
Centering his targeting reticule on the bulky exo's thruster pack, he thumbed off a shot, sending the solid metal projectile crashing home. The Wyvern shuddered and shook, shards of armor peeling off along with the thruster pack. He would have fired another shot to finish his target off had he the ammunition to spare.
But before he could go in search of another target, he felt his Retaliator shudder as laser bolts struck it in the rear. All sorts of warning indicators were flashing in his face now and he struggled to turn in order to face his assailants. They were circling him now, like wolves circling a wounded prey. There was now way out now and he knew he was at their mercy.
Or at least he thought they were. One of the Syreens exploded abruptly and the other Earth exos scattered. A quick glance at his sensors showed blue blips. At last! In the confusion of the fighting, neither side had noticed them but now they were making their presence felt. EAL-04NA Hectors, essentially Pathfinders with their legs replaced by a massive thruster array that gave them three gs of acceleration were screaming in to the rescue.
Yes! Taking advantage of the situation, he triggered a shot into the Wyvern closest to him, its pilot probably still stunned by the arrival of Jovian reinforcements. Ramming the throttles forward, Alvin pushed his damaged exo away as quickly as his crippled engines would allow. The proximity alert sounded and he had only a fraction of a second to realize that someone was closing into plasma lance range.
He saw the flash of the light blade passing very close to him before his entire universe exploded in searing flame, erupting for a moment into indescribable brilliance as he felt himself being hurled into the darkness that lay just beyond . . .