Assault: The Globur Incursion Book 6, page 32
Stukov nodded, relaxing a little and sipping his coffee. “I agree. Something is holding them in the system. It is unimaginable that even a Globur force as large as the three battlegroups we saw in the Tirakoni system could wipe out three of our task forces with the improvements we have made.”
“Until we hear something, we have to keep up the fight here for ships, crews, and Marines,” Medici said with some finality. “General Pullman thought that one division was probably not enough to take a planet, even one with as few cities as Khan. We must keep pushing for the resources we will need. Whatever the outcome of the operation in the Mongolia system, we will need all these things, whether it is for attack or defense. How is TF18 coming?”
Stukov sighed. “Slower than I would like. The hulls are complete, but the yard workers are complaining about work tempo. They’ve been hard at it for a long time. The yard facilities at Gateway can’t come online fast enough. We need to shift some of the fitting-out work there. That can probably happen next week. Hulls for TF19 are being laid down, but the Albion yards where weapons systems are installed and fitted are the real bottleneck. The Gateway yards should solve that problem.”
“It seems,” mused Medici, “that it will be a long while before we can pull off the trick of commissioning two task forces at once.”
Stukov downed the last of his coffee and placed his cup on the desk. “Remember, we did not build all those ships. We upgraded some of TF2’s ships and rolled them in. I’ll bet Rear Admiral Brown and the others are thankful for that right now. Imagine how things would likely have gone if we had only TF14 and one new task force to send to the Mongolia system.”
“I have no doubt our friends in the Senate would still have insisted,” Medici agreed. “We gave our commanders the best chance. I must assume they are making the best of it.”
Chapter 36
The sun was breaking through the smoke, still low in the sky, like a glaring all-seeing eye surveying the flat, grassy plain. Visibility was still poor, and the Marines of the First Planetary Assault Division were crouched in their prepared positions. This was not such a hasty job as their first fortifications. All the trenches and bunkers were reinforced. Hopefully impervious to Globur weapons—even tactical nukes.
Most of the division had been in combat or running for the position since they landed on the planet over two standard days since they had been fired out of the transports to assault the planet. As it had turned out, it was the division that was under assault.
They were making the best of the lull since they had arrived at the position. That meant many of the Marines were asleep. It was true that veterans could sleep anywhere, anytime. The medidoc in their augmentation also ensured they got the rest when they needed it.
There had been no more nuclear detonations on the plain for some time. Captain James, commanding Alpha Company of the First Battalion, knew that the attack must come soon, and it would be overwhelming. Her company, the Blue Meanies, were all truly veterans now. Some of their comrades lay in shattered suits somewhere on the plain. It had been a baptism of fire. The initial engagement had been full of fear and fire. Then there had been the nightmarish withdrawal as they were chased across the open ground.
Now the fear was gone. The remaining Marines knew they were cut off. They had seen the ships breaking up in the upper atmosphere and wondered about the ones they could not see. The fear had been replaced by fatalism and acceptance. They were likely going to die, but Marines did not die easily. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide on this planet. They would fight.
The Blue Meanies would make the Globur pay. They would not die running across the plains, hunted like animals. They would stand. The First Division would stand and fight. To retreat or withdraw only meant an ignominious death. They had spent the first hours at the position improving the fortifications based on what they knew of the Globur and the new heavy beam weapon they had deployed.
The sound of the wind blowing across the position was unsettling. It sang a light howl for battle. Fighting in an atmosphere was new to even some of the veterans. Feeling the pressure wave of explosions and the noise of the weapons added to their disorientation and unease.
James would have given a lot to know what was happening in orbit, or in the system. They had only sent up few runners since each one gave away their position, The communication team that served Colonel Shaka had been wiped out in an ambush. Most of the precious runners were destroyed. Only a few remained.
One of those few remaining runners was going to be sent up at the right time. It would carry their coordinates and a plea for help. The Marines needed a kinetic bombardment as close as possible to their current position. It was theoretically possible for a Fleet destroyer to execute, even if it were in very high orbit.
The Fleet was their only hope. The probes they had dropped during their withdrawal had recorded an overwhelming force closing on their position. The Globur had paused short of the Marine positions, as was their habit. A massed attack would be marked by the sudden rush toward the position with blinding speed. Anytime now.
***
Sanderson woke up with a start. He had been dreaming of the fighting in the tall grass in the dark as they had withdrawn. He did not like the feeling it gave him. Reminding him that some of his Marines had been lost.
It was strangely quiet, and his scan of the company told him some Marines were still sleeping. The skipper, Captain James had ordered everyone to get a short nap. They would need to be at their best for the upcoming battle. It was amazing the Globur had not yet attacked. What were they waiting for?
Sanderson looked out beyond the river into the high grass. He hoped the surprise packages they had left there would work. Someone from one of the other companies had come up with a way to modify their grenades. He configured it so that the grenades could be seeded to detonate when they sensed movement and even to distinguish between friend or foe. Now they waited silently for the heavy beam weapons and would strike only if the shields were down. The weapons platforms had to drop the shields when they fired—in theory, at least.
It gave some small hope of survival. It was something they sorely needed now. Sanderson pinged Engers, one of his platoon sergeants and one of the very few veterans like himself.
Engers answered immediately. “Well, Sergeant Major, that clearly was not a beauty sleep.”
“How’s your platoon?” Sanderson shot back.
“They’re not scared kids anymore,” Engers said fatalistically. “They’ll be ready. They saw what happens when the Globur get too close. Hell of a night.”
“Yeah, hell of a night,” Sanderson admitted, still shaking off the images in his dream.
“Almost makes me miss the earlier days. Does Oxblood ever tell you to stow that shit anymore?”
Sanderson let out a bellow of laughter that surprised him. “Not too often, but she still does it,” he admitted, thinking back to when he had been busted down to private, and their battalion sergeant major had been his platoon sergeant. “Oxblood is still one of the toughest Marines I know.”
Sanderson’s display beeped. Movement out front.
“They’re coming. See you on the other side,” Engers finished before he cut off the channel.
The stand to alarm sounded throughout the position on all channels summoning all marines to prepare for an attack. The Globurs were coming for the Marines. Sanderson snatched his assault rifle from his back and watched his display as the mass of Globur, tracked by the probes the Marines had left in the grass, raced toward the position. Globur had already begun crossing the river out of range, but the Marines had prepared an all-around defense. It made sense since they did not expect to be able to retreat or be given the option to surrender. The Globur did not take prisoners.
James came over the company channel. “Steady, people. Let them clear the grass.”
The grass around the Marine position had been cut back for a klick in all directions. There would be nothing to attenuate their rifle bolts or grenades. Marines began to open up around the perimeter, and yells of contact flowed over the comm net.
Sanderson saw the runner go. It left a vapor trail straight up. The hypervelocity missile carried the desperate request for final defensive fire to the Fleet. They would know soon enough if there was anyone to answer.
Across the front of Alpha Company’s position, across the river, the grass was suddenly replaced by a mass of charging Globur. Their beam weapons snarled across the space that divided them from the Marines. The crackling snarl of the beam weapons was ominous compared to the sharp crack of the Marine laser bolts.
The Marines had seeded the kill zone with grenades set for delayed proximity detonation. They wanted them to detonate inside the mass of Globur. No weapons could be wasted from the dwindling supplies.
Alpha Company and the entire First Battalion opened up as one. The cracking of laser bolts answered the snarl of Globur beams. The firing was so intense that the cracking had a sound almost like bacon frying. Some Globur heavy beams struck back and hit the Marine entrenchments, causing minor damage.
The Globur approached the river, and the ground erupted as chains of grenades detonated, flinging debris made up of Globur pieces into the sky. The debris from the explosions and the smoldering grass, hit by laser bolts, blotted out the low-lying sun.
The Globur advance seemed to falter slightly, but Sanderson knew that it was just the gap created by the grenades that had just detonated. “Keep at it, Blue Meanies!” he snarled on the company net. “Controlled bursts! Do not damage your rifles!”
A second Globur wave seemed to surge through the Globur front line, and the Globur were spilling into the river. Sanderson’s scanners showed that the Globur were crossing the river on a front of several klicks and were attempting to encircle the Marines. They were still almost 7000 strong, but the Globur clearly had them outnumbered.
Like before, the Marines had seeded the riverbed with grenades as well. The hydraulic shock waves were devastating, and at the first position, virtually all the Globur in the river had been killed outright when the grenades went off like depth charges in the river.
The Globur began to pour out of the river on the near back, ever closer to the Marine positions. The detonation of the grenades in the river was timed to perfection. Water shot up almost like a continuous sheet up and down the river. The Marines had anticipated the Globur would cross further up and downstream, and the river was teeming with the Globur mass.
The Globur that had reached the bank closest to the Marines were ruthlessly cut down by the heavy lasers that had remained silent until now. The Marines shifted their fire to the Globur across the river, exposed and in the open. Laser bolts hammered into the advancing waves of Globur.
Sanderson noticed that a good portion of laser bolts were simply glancing off the Globur. Their armor seemed to have adapted since the Markus Nebula, and that was not something he had noticed during the first engagement. The grass on the far side of the river was alight in spots issuing thick smoke and making it difficult to see beyond the cleared area.
Several detonations inside the grass caught Sanderson’s attention. A bright glare indicated the release of significant energy. Sanderson sneered. I’ll be damned. Those grenades worked. Scratch two heavy beam platforms.
Sanderson was beginning to think they might get the upper hand when large shapes moved out of the grass. They were clearly Globur, but much larger than normal. They were just about as tall as a Marine suit, and they hefted a larger and uglier version of the Globur beam weapons. Beams snarled out. It was immediately clear that these Globur weapons had a higher power and cyclic rate than the standard Globur beams.
Marines shifted fire to the new threat, and Sanderson was shocked to see the large Globur shrug off laser bolts as they advanced. They were slower than the rest of the Globur but definitely more heavily armored and more heavily armed. Their weapons were not as powerful as the heavy beam platforms, but still formidable. They definitely packed more of a punch than the standard Marine assault rifle.
The larger Globurs advanced in a swarm of smaller Globurs. They had no easily recognizable weaknesses, and their legs were hidden by the mass of smaller Globur even as they approached the river. More Globur were in the river now and emerging on the Marine side.
The Globur advance was only about 300 meters away now and not showing any signs of slowing. Sanderson watched objects arc toward the Marine positions. Lasers stabbed out to take some of them down, but many arrived at their intended targets. Plasma grenades lit up positions all along the front line. Sanderson saw a couple of grenades headed his way and instinctively used his grav field to push them away. It worked.
“Use your grav fields! Push the grenades away! Back toward the Globur!” Sanderson yelled over the company channel. He saw some of his Marines were down with suit damage but not wounded. The repair systems would get them back in the fight in a few minutes—if they had that long.
The large Globurs began to emerge from the river, dripping with water and gore from the dead in the slow flowing river. Their heavier beams hammered the Marine defenses.
A line of fire erupted on the Marine side of the river as the grenades seeded there went off, tearing through the Globur. Heavy lasers converged on the large Globur, searching for a weakness, trying to find a spot where the bolts would not be trapped even if they were reflected.
The battlefield was now almost as dark as night as smoke and debris filled the air. Sanderson watched as two heavy lasers tracked onto the joint of one of the large Globurs, the joint for the arm holding the weapon. They blasted through, and the arm fell away. It fell in slow motion as his augmentation fed him stimulants, making time seem to slow.
The Marine’s laser bolts were still being reflected off the Globur armor even at such closer range. “Overcharge your bolts!” Sanderson ordered. “Blue Meanies! 120% on your bolts! Do it!”
Sanderson knew that engineers always designed in a 20% safety factor, and after the debacle with the rifles early in the conflict failing so often, it was a risk worth taking. They were going to be overrun if something did not change.
Marines were starting to go down with serious suit damage, and a few were killed outright by multiple hits as plasma grenades seemed to rain from the sky, and the Globur closed the distance.
An order came over the comm. Sanderson would not have recognized the voice if the suit did not automatically ID it as Colonel Shaka. “Expend all grenades. Withdraw to second line.”
The Marines had built the position in concentric rings of defense. A classic hedgehog position with zigzagging entrenchments and bunker strong points. The grenades would cover their withdrawal. The colonel would not have ordered the withdrawal unless they had taken serious losses. The other side of the position did not have a river in front to slow the Globur down. Sanderson’s scanner showed that those positions were about to be overrun.
“Grenades!” Sanderson yelled at his sergeants. “Withdraw now—move!”
James was on the comm. She sounded like this was some sort of exercise. “Move it, Meanies! Withdraw, withdraw!”
Preplanned salvos of grenades shot out from the Marines. Globur beams reached for them and took some grenades out in midflight, but there were too many, and sheets of fire ripped through the Globurs advancing toward Alpha Company. They were now just over 100 meters away.
The Marines used their grav fields to take large, low leaps to the rear as they continued to fire. Sanderson watched the first Marines go and felt a sick dread as he saw one Marine get nailed by a heavy beam weapon and the suit cartwheel into the ground.
He moved. He meant it to be quick, but it felt like he was moving through molasses. Everything seemed so slow. He knew that it was the medidoc feeding him a stimulant. His thoughts were just as quick. Even though he knew he must be moving blindingly fast, it felt almost glacial.
The heavy laser teams that had withdrawn were quickly back in service. Their heavy bolts hammered into the Globur. One scored a seemingly lucky hit on the weapon of one of the large Globur, and the weapon disappeared in a searing plasma explosion that left a scorched area 30 meters across, full of dead Globur.
There were more of the large Globur than Sanderson had first realized. He understood now why there had been a delay in the attack. The larger Globur were slower. The mass had waited for them to arrive.
The Blue Meanies successfully occupied their secondary positions and were all firing now. They had lost a few more Marines. Sanderson could see the smoking suit of a Marine blasted out of the air as they bounded back. There were no life signs from the wrecked suit.
The sight in front of him was surreal. A seething mass of black bodies advanced, and snarling beams raked the Marine positions. Marine laser bolts bounced off Globur armor. Sometimes they penetrated. Only the heavy lasers penetrated the Globur armor on every shot now. They still had trouble penetrating the heavier armor of the larger Globur. Sanderson’s rifle was at 120%, and he went to 130% to get penetration better than 50% of the time.
Another runner went up. Sanderson had lost track of time, but it seemed they had been fighting for a long time already. He repulsed more plasma grenades with his grav field, and he looked at the sky. The ceiling was low. Smoke was everywhere. Visibility was getting worse.
“Full auto! Run ’em out!” shouted James over the company channel as the Globur came past the first defensive line of entrenchments. The Marine line erupted in a constant stream of laser bolts as all Marines went to full auto. Rifles would not be so useful when the Globur were on top of them. There was little doubt they were going to be overrun.
