No Mercy (Blood War Book 4) Page 21

  He could have stood there for hours and not taken in all of the different sights. There was so much to see. He almost had to shake himself out of his amazement. He’d kept stumbling over experiences that were beyond his imagination since being conscripted a bit over a year ago. He had almost gone to debtors’ prison. Instead he found himself a staff sergeant leading a platoon of conscripts in the center of the Confederation’s capital, preparing to repel an invasion by aliens. Life had a way of sending you down paths you were not expecting.

  He bent his knees and jumped over the pond toward his planned command post. He easily flew the distance and landed among the trees. He glanced up at his tactical display on his faceplate. The squad leaders were doing a good job of positioning the platoon according to the plan.

  He changed the scale of the display and saw that Ardan and Minga had their troops moving into their positions. The three infantry platoons and one weapons platoon of Alpha Company were arranged into strongpoints that mutually supported each other throughout the park, while Bravo, Charlie, and Delta Companies were assigned to buildings several blocks to their rear. Each of Alpha Company’s platoons were arranged into a kill sack, with Fenes and first platoon at the south end of the park. Ardan’s platoon was to the north on Fenes’s left at the 97th Street traverse, and Minga’s platoon was positioned at the 86th Street traverse to draw them to the east. The weapons platoon was positioned above Fenes and to each of his flanks, forming a U that could fire down into the park. The idea was that no matter where the aliens attacked, they would have strongpoints to their front and back. Once they had bled them enough, the company was to withdraw south through Alpha’s position.

  Or at least that was how it was supposed to work but Fenes had learned the hard way on Chika that plans never lasted past the first contact with the enemy. Fenes moved along a small walkway that surrounded the pond toward the CP he had identified on the 3-D. He had two other troops with him, Norton and Schmitt. The three of them would be the firefighters for the platoon, plugging holes in the line or reinforcing where it was needed.

  It was such a peaceful scene it was hard to believe there was about to be a life-and-death struggle here. Large boulders along the pathway would provide some needed cover when the battle started. Fenes had never seen armored troops in trees and bushes. They had always been in open, barren land both in the training sims and the real world. Every time he saw one of his troops move through the trees and shrubs it startled him. He saw one then another pop up above the trees, enjoying the ability to jump high and far.

  “Stay below the trees. That is a good way to get killed. Get to your positions and stay there.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Roger that.”

  Striker came bounding up to Fenes’s position from his rear.

  “They in position?”

  “Yeah, any changes?”

  “Afraid so. Look for them any minute.”

  Fenes couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had been told it could be several days, and they had planned for rotations so the troops could get out of their armor for a while. The platoon was still mining the park and setting up other nastiness to fortify their positions. They weren’t near ready.

  “What! I thought the navy was going to let us know.”

  “Gee, a plan is not going according to schedule in a battle. What a surprise,” Striker said. “Get them ready.”

  Fenes switched to the all-hands frequency and said, “Threat Class Delta. Repeat, Threat Class Delta. Lock and load. This is not a drill.”

  “Shit.”

  “Fuck! I thought they said we had days.”

  “Pipe down and focus. The new threat class came from battalion. This is no bullshit. Get your shit together, it's about to get real.”

  With that Striker bounded off toward Ardan’s position, crashing through the trees.

  “Incoming Tangos! Incoming Tangos! Many spikes!” Fenes’s armor squawked.

  Fenes glanced at his display and saw the symbols for the Xotoli spikes covering his screen thousands of feet above the park. There were too many to count, and each one held five troops.

  A battery of laser cannons had been placed in the buildings that surrounded the park. They began firing. Even before Fenes could see the spikes there were explosions in the air, but there were so many it didn’t seem to make a difference. He saw the green flashes of the Xotoli defensive lasers firing back at the batteries. The sky was so filled with incoming spikes glowing orange and white as they entered the atmosphere and lasers of all colors it would have been beautiful if it hadn’t signaled a coming fight to the death.

  Fenes had his platoon in a half crescent from the old zoo on his right to the other side of the park. His two heavy minis anchored each end of the position’s flanks, and his fire teams held individual positions that provided interlocking fire to the north. Fenes had to hold his position no matter what, because he was to cover the other platoons’ scoot. But judging by his tactical display, it appeared the Xotoli weren’t going to concentrate their forces. Instead it looked like they were going to carpet the park from one end to the other with troops and simply overwhelm any defenses with numbers.

  The buildings on all sides of the park formed a monstrous manmade canyon, and Fenes was standing at the bottom looking up at clear skies filled with descending spikes. The sky above the spikes was even denser—all of the batteries were firing, and their red, orange, and white flashes crisscrossed as they targeted the descending. Spike after spike exploded as the beams found their marks. One spike overhead suddenly blew up throwing body parts and bodies out in a shower of gore. They crashed through the trees, and some landed in the pond with a huge splash. Another then another were hit and dropped. It was soon raining body parts, pieces of spikes, and hybrid equipment. Fenes saw several trees crushed by what was left of a spike with hybrid bodies hanging out of its mangled sides.

  The spikes’ retro-rockets began to fire, adding to the almost-overwhelming sights and sounds of their landing. When a spike had slowed, it exploded above the trees, dropping five- person teams out in a circle. The spikes drove themselves into the ground, and then lasers on top of each began searching for targets. His troops were staying under cover, waiting for the first of the hybrids to show themselves before they opened up. The heavy-weapons platoon was firing at the spikes on the ground, trying to take them out before they could do any damage. More and more were landing. Fenes was on a little rise and he had a good field of fire over the pond and bridge. A spike exploded and the five hybrids were dropped close to the bridge.

  “Fire at will. Make them count,” Fenes ordered.

  He fired at one hybrid that was jumping across the pond and caught it in midair. The hybrid disappeared in a mist of blood and flesh. All around him his platoon opened up on the hybrids. From behind him and to both sides the company’s snipers picked hybrid after hybrid off, but there were too many. You only got fleeting glimpses of them once they reached the ground and moved through the trees and bushes. Fenes fired at one, but it ducked behind a tree just as he shot. The round tore a huge hole in the big trunk, but he missed the hybrid. The minis on each flank were firing in disciplined bursts, tearing hybrids apart when their rounds found them. Around him the fire teams were firing as fast as they could, while the weapons platoon’s heavy minis worked through the newest troops to land. He watched as a heavy mini ripped apart trees as it followed a group of hybrids.

  Fenes glanced at his tactical display. The hybrids were forming up into five-man teams. One team would move while the other provided covering fire. These guys were good.

  Then Fenes saw on his tactical display that a group was moving toward the mini on the left trying to flank his line. The fire team to the right of the mini was engaging them, but there were too many.

  “Norton, Schmitt, on me.”

  Fenes started running down the path toward the left flank. As he ran he could see the red triangles getting closer and closer to the mini’s positio
n. The fire team to their left was down to two still functional. One was a red and the other a black. The hybrids, by sheer numbers, were beginning to overwhelm even the best cover and interlocking fire. As he tore through the trees and brush he could see both Ardan and Minga were in it up to their asses the same as he was. They too were going to need some help soon.

  Fenes had just taken a bound when he collided with something and was thrown to the ground. It was a hybrid. Fenes had no idea where he had come from. His armor had given him no warning. In the weeks-long passage back to Earth, the Raiders had had the conscripts practice their hand-to-hand until their responses were automatic, complete muscle memory. They had even ambushed them randomly anywhere on the ship to train them for situations just like this one.

  The hybrid tried to mount him, but Fenes rolled into the body and got his legs under him. The hybrid had pulled a laser knife and flashed for his throat. Fenes was ahead of him. His left hand protecting his throat, he grabbed the lightly armored arm and squeezed with all his strength. The armor amplified it until the hybrid’s arm was crushed. It let out a scream and fell off of him. Fenes grabbed his pistol and stood. The hybrid had grabbed the knife with his good hand and was moving toward him. Just like the Raiders had said: once in close they will always go for the kill with a hand-to-hand weapon. Fenes got a glimpse of a woman’s face before he blew her head off with his rail pistol. He turned to see Norton down under two hybrids. One was bleeding but the other was bringing down a laser knife. Fenes fired twice and both the hybrids fell on top of Norton.

  “I’m good,” Schmitt said behind him .

  He glanced back to see a dead hybrid on the ground and Schmitt standing and grabbing her rifle. They both rushed over to Norton and threw the bodies of the hybrids off of him. Fenes’s display said he was a red, but the red was getting darker and darker. Fenes knelt next to him.

  “Norton, Norton!” he said.

  “Go. Go get to the flank. I’m down.”

  Fenes hit his man-down locator so the medics could find him and turned and bounded toward the mini on the left flank.

  “He was a good man. I liked him. We had some buddy time,” Schmitt said.

  “Is a good man. He’s not dead yet.”

  They bounded again and saw the hybrids were mixed with the mini’s crew. They were about to be overrun, and if the hybrids rolled up his left flank they were screwed. Fenes leaped, trying to get to the mini’s position before it collapsed.

  Chapter 34

  City-State of New York

  John F. Kennedy Airport

  1st Raider Battalion

  Alpha Company

  First Platoon

  Dasan Sand led his command group through Nani’s platoon’s line and into a second line of buildings. It was labeled Cargo Area A, and one of the buildings had Engine Repair glowing above its door it would have very heavy equipment in addition to the engines in the shop, so it would provide good cover. He landed in front of the building, walked up to the door, and kicked it in; it went flying into a huge, open hangar.

  Large equipment and engines covered the open area. He walked over to a part of the building that was bounded on three sides with space-plane engines and equipment. Along the far wall, close to fifty repair robots were lined up, asleep. The techs must have put them to sleep instead of trying to evacuate them. Their programming had nothing to do with combat so they were useless. He remembered how well the bots the Von Fleet troops had tried to use on Chika had worked. The Xotoli had reprogrammed them on the fly and turned them against the Von Fleet troops.

  “We’re home. Get set up,” Sand said. “Tell Zhao this would be a good Casualty Collection Point.”

  With Sand was Lieutenant Chuto, his Naval Special Warfare Squadron Commander. He tried to jump over an engine and fell flat on his face. The rest of Sand’s group all laughed. They had given Chuto a crash course on how to move in armor when Sand decided he wanted him to be part of his command group. But it took time to learn how to bound in armor, no matter what the techs said.

  “Would somebody help the navy off the floor please?” Sand said with a chuckle.

  “He can fly, but he can’t jump,” Regen said.

  Major Gad Regen went over and helped him to his feet. Regen was the commander of the Raider Battalion, and Sand had made him essentially his XO. Major Nasser Farran, the commander of the conscript battalion, was his operations chief. They were supported by a command group of electronics-and-communications enlisted men and women. With this group he hoped to be mobile enough to fight the coming battle and still keep in close touch with the troops as he had on Rift. The electronic-warfare tech was the best in the Raiders. He had been on Rift, 703, and Chika. Sand was glad he had him. Without good support, he and the rest of the command group were just a bunch of officers standing around and talking to each other.

  “I’m up,” Corporal Bien said.

  Sand, Regen, and Farran immediately walked over to Bien’s position and stared at the 3-D holo of Manhattan and Long Island. They could see that the positions in Central Park were being attacked by hundreds of spikes. Sand reached into the holo and expanded the view.

  “Shit, they blanketed the whole park. No drop zones, just the whole open area,” Bien said.

  Farran was staring at the holo. He hinged his helmet back for a better look. The red triangles representing the hybrids were mixed with the green of Farran’s troops. They were blinking off and changing color almost too fast to keep up. It was impossible to determine who was winning the battle. More and more spikes were landing with more and more troops.

  “Whose company did you assign?”

  “Striker’s,” Farran replied.

  “He’s good, and he trained those troops hard before they got to New York,” Regen said.

  “But where are the spikes for the airports?” Sand said.

  The only area showing spikes and invading troops was that around Central Park. There was nothing showing up where he had Nani placed. Nothing. What was going on? Had his planning been totally off? The conscripts were taking a terrible beating, and here he sat with his best troops watching the battle on the holo.

  “Chuto, you got anything from your side of the fence?”

  “Negative, General. They opened two wormholes at once. One was to engage the naval patrols and the other had the invasion fleet. Apparently there is a hell of a battle going on right now between Earth and the Moon. The invasion fleet is above us and is launching the spikes, but they only seem to be headed for Central Park at this time.”

  Sand watched as the pitched battle continued in the park. There was still no sign of troops landing on Long Island as he had planned. He had to be right. You couldn’t land enough troops in the middle of New York to take the city. You had to have a base of operations where you could organize your units and land a large-enough force to invade a defended city like New York. All he could do was stare at the holo as the battle continued to unfold. There would be no kill-sack ambush in the park the way he had planned. All he could hope for was that those conscripts held and made the Xotoli bleed for as long as possible.

  “General, Admiral Raurk.”

  Sand exchanged glances with Farran and Regen. They all knew what she was going to be asking. He didn’t have an answer yet. Usiche Raurk’s image appeared in front of his helmet.

  “General Sand.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “We are up to our ears in Xotoli ships and I’ve got one great big battle on my hands, and so far we only have troops landing in Central Park. What are your thoughts?”

  “Ma’am. I still think the main landing will be out here on Long Island. I know I’m right. They can’t land enough troops in a park to invade a city. They have to use Long Island as a forward operating base.”

  Her famous command mask did not change. Sand knew he was right, but there sure was no evidence to support his plan, and Raurk had placed all her confidence in him.

  Finally she said, “General, I hope you’re
right.”

  Lights flashed behind her in the CIC. “Wait, General. Stand by.”

  Raurk snapped off then came back on, her face serious. “They’ve started to bombard the cities. Chicago, Paris, Moscow, London, and San Francisco are gone, and we don’t have all the reports. I have a naval battle to fight. Keep me informed.”

  Her image snapped off. The three commanders stood there for a long moment before Regen said, “Sir, we war-gamed this—what, a hundred times?—with I-forget-how-many variables, and it always came out that they would use Long Island as their base of operations. Nothing else makes sense.”

  “He’s right,” Farran said. “Nothing else is logical.”

  “But they’re not human, gentlemen. Maybe their logic is very different from ours,” Sand said.

  The three stood there in silence until Bien chimed in. “Sir, they sure thought like us on Rift, 703, and Chika. Those Fuckin’ A’s will be coming soon.”

  “Fuckin’ A’s?” Regen said.

  “Fuckin’ Aliens, sir. We kinda gave them a name.”

  Sand hoped that Bien’s confidence was well placed. Because if it wasn’t—if his plan was wrong—they just might have lost Earth.

  His head began to pound with each heartbeat. It was one of the worst headaches yet. He looked over to where Dr. Zhao and his corpsmen had set up the Casualty Collection Point. Borges was watching him. She raised her eyebrows in a question. She knew he was having one of his headaches; there was no hiding from her. He shook his head. He didn’t want anything interfering with his thinking. But his head felt like it was coming off his shoulders with each heartbeat.