The Terran Mandate (22 page)

Fire Plan

Dekker paced through the center
compound. The weapons company's mortar crews were flinging dirt out of holes
where they would position the heavy mortars while runners built leaning stacks
of ammunition boxes behind each position. The compound was small and the
mortars had to position themselves in two lines of four with barely ten meters
between each position. He caught the eye of the section leader watching over
the preparations and said, "That's going to be a tight sheaf,
Sergeant."

"Yes sir, but I think the Captain
is leaving the 60's out with the main line, so we'll have a good spread for
final defensive fires."

Dekker eyed the buildings flanking the
compound. "How about the masking?"

"We checked it, sir. We're good up
to 100 meters in front of the gate. The cards stop at 400 meters, so we'll be
using our personal weapons at that point anyway."

"Very well, Sergeant," Dekker
said, resuming his walk through the compound. "Carry on."

"Yes sir."

Captain Douglas's command track was
parked just inside the gate where he was bent over a sheet of paper spread
across a folding plastic table and anchored at the corners by ammunition boxes.
Dekker stepped up next to him and tapped the paper. "What's this?"

"This complex isn't in our tactical
database, so I had to sketch the battle plan."

Dekker surveyed the chart - Captain
Douglas had worked up a detailed plan in less time than he could have mapped
one himself on a proper tactical board. "Run me through it, Captain."

Douglas ran his finger up the middle of
the chart, extending in a line north from the gate. "Final defensive fires
here," he said, sweeping his hand across the width of the chart. "I'm
laying everything for a 500 meter interlocked perimeter extending across the
front and wrapping around the far side of each of the buildings on the
flanks."

Dekker leaned to the side to look past
the carrier and noted crews were mounting heavy anti-armor missiles forward of
the gate. "I'm placing four of my mounted anti-armor teams right in the
middle here. I'm setting up a Ma Deuce smoker and a mounted grenade launcher on
either side of those. Bravo Company will hang off the ones on our left with
Charlie on our right. Company frontage is about 300 meters on each side."

Douglas stood up and started walking
toward the missile crews mounting their weapons on tripods and lining up the
sights on stakes marking the 500 meter line to their front. "Another M2,
grenade launcher and mounted AV missile team on each company's flank at the end
of the line." He stopped and looked towards the horizon. "That's the
main line. I'm expecting the Terran Guard to advance straight at us from the
north. That's their fastest route and I get the feeling they're in a hurry. I
have listening posts set up on three phase lines at one, two and three kilometers
out. We'll register the mortars on each line for prepared defensive fires as
the Guard crosses each one."

"What about Alpha Company?"

"It is my intent to keep the Guard
bottled up in the middle here, but if they manage to get around our line, I
have Alpha's first platoon setting up to refuse the left flank, reinforced with
an M2, grenade launcher, mounted AV team and a heavy portable missile team.
Same thing for their second platoon on the right. I'm splitting their third
platoon and setting them up on the rooftops as an over watch and reserve."

"What's your fire plan?"

"Phase line Dog at three
kilometers; when they trip that line, I'll open up with the mounted AV missiles
and the heavy mortars. Phase line Tripoli is at two kilometers. There, we add
in the heavy portable AV missiles, 60 mm mortars and heavy machine guns. That
will be the first line of engagement for the companies - I've distributed two
heavy portables on each of their flanks and am leaving their 60's attached
under the direction of the company commanders. Phase line Exodus is at one
kilometer. There, we light up with everything else. About a dozen medium
machine guns and close to fifty light machine guns, along with fifteen light
shoulder missiles and a hundred and fifty highly motivated riflemen."

It was a little text book for Dekker's
taste. He scanned the horizon, looking over the same ground that had taken all
of five minutes for either of them to analyze. The only real terrain was the
dunes behind them. Everything else was slopes and gullies that might as well
have been a slab of concrete. They had no reinforcements, nowhere to fall back
to and no resupply. They had no room to maneuver, either. Where they stood was
the only place they could stand. And if they managed to hold back the Third
Battalion, General Godfrey had two more she could send against them. It was a
tactical nightmare.

Captain Douglas had his hands clasped
behind his back, but couldn't hide his trembling fingers.

"What is it, Captain?"

"I've spent my entire life defending
the Exodus Colony from the clutches of the Terran Guard. For years, we've held
them back, but they just keep creeping inch by inch, marking each one with a
headstone. My boys can hit a rat's ass at five hundred meters and there are no
finer riflemen than those digging trenches behind us now. But there's always
been one factor that we don't have this time."

"The Paladin."

Captain Douglas turned around.
"That's right."

"He has his own mission. Part of a
bigger picture, Captain."

"I'm scared, Colonel."

"You're supposed to be
scared."

"Not like that. I'm not scared of
dying - hell, I'm amazed I made it this far. Not scared of losing,
either." He unclasped his hands and flexed his fingers but the tremor
persisted. "I'm scared of letting these Marines down."

"You have to get past that,
Captain. All you have to worry about is your mission. You take care of that,
and there isn't a single Marine here that you'll be letting down." Dekker
jabbed his finger at the communications building. "As long as Sergeant
Preston gets the time he needs to build his contraption to light off the STI,
your mission will be accomplished."

"A delaying action?"

"Oh, hell no. You go on an kill the
Third Battalion if you can." Dekker turned his gaze to the northern
horizon. "You know why the Terran Guard favors a direct assault?"
Captain Douglas shook his head.

"Range. There's a lot going for
this lovely world we've decided to call home. Wind. Dirt. Clay. Lots of clay.
Copper, iron and nickel. But there's one thing it doesn't have." He took a
step towards Captain Douglas. "Sulfur. Good old number sixteen."

"Gun powder."

"That's right. The Terran Guard
have developed a great variety of weapons based on the rail gun, and they're
wicked up close and personal, but they will never carry the range and accuracy
of an R-51 long barrel firing a 7.62 mm slug using gun powder." He clasped
Douglas's shoulder and swept his hand over the horizon. Run your first phase
line out five clicks and pound it with HE when they get to it. Don't wait until
three. When they get to four, you light up every mounted AV missile you have.
Take out as many of their troop carriers as you can as far away as you can.
Open up with those smokers at two and lay in the rest at one point five."

He turned to look at Douglas. "You've
always had a good instinct of when to use the smokers. This time, use
everything you have to keep them at arm's length. Before they run up and gut
you with their rail guns."

Enemy Contact

Heat shimmered across the ground of the
Shoahn' desert, smearing the image of the lone troop carrier into a smudge of
silver and black as it appeared on the horizon. A billow of dust whirled up
behind it, mixing with the shimmer to form an apparition that raced to catch up
to the carrier streaking towards the two Marines manning the listening post at
phase line Dog.

The image solidified as it came closer
and the whining drone of its turbine reached them, barely more than a whisper
that touched their awareness. The cloud grew thicker as a smear of gray rose up
behind it, stretching across the horizon. Behind that, the dust rose up into a
storm that rolled towards them, a wall of broken sky that carried a promise
kept.

The Marine felt the air around him stop
as his heartbeat filled his ears, muffling the hum of electric motors and the
clatter of tracks lashing out from the rolling steel that crested the horizon.
He tapped his headset.

"Whiskey Six, Whiskey Six, this is
Dog Watch. Flash. Enemy contact. Badger is hauling ass 500 meters to our front.
Enemy vehicles are right behind her deployed on line and moving fast."

Captain Douglas tapped his headset.
"Dog watch, Whiskey Six, roger. Stand by for incoming fire. Break. Badger
Six, what's your status? Over."

"Whiskey Six, Badger. We're hauling
ass, like he said. We're bringing the entire Third Battalion from the Terran
Guard Second Brigade with us. Where do you want them?"

"Badger, bring them into the spear
point."

"You got it."

"Enforcer Battalion, all nets, lock
your party lines. Break. Fire Mission mortars to follow. HE quick. Volley five
rounds. Deflection two eight zero zero. Charge four. Elevation eight zero zero.
Fire."

Captain Douglas knew the mortars were
already set for the first phase line, which he had moved out to five
kilometers, just at the edge of the maximum range of his 81 mm mortars. They
wouldn't have time for bracketing as the vehicles move through their first set
of registered fires. Behind him, the mortar squad leaders repeated his
commands. His ears started ringing and his forehead grew damp as he watched the
line of enemy vehicles through his binoculars. Barely visible as more than an
apparition through the heat waves, he couldn't tell which side of the line they
were on. All he could do was trust that his crews had sighted their aiming
stakes, that the listening post had called the contact in time and that his
crews would move fast enough to launch their shells in time.

He let out a quick breath when he heard
the section leader yell "Fire," followed by the crack of shells
firing and the tubes ringing as they spat their ordinance into the sky. Several
more cracks filled the air as each team fired the rest of their rounds at one
second intervals. Another chorus of voices called out from behind him,
"Rounds complete."

Through his headset, he heard the
section leader report, "Shot, Over."

"Shot, out."

Now all he could do was wait while the
shells took the better part of a full minute to arc through the sky and swoop
down on their targets. He glanced behind him to see his mortar crews swabbing
out their tubes and uncasing more rounds.

As much as he wanted to wait for the
first volley to hit the ground, the enemy carriers were closing fast and he
needed to put more rounds down range to take out as many as he could before
they were close enough to fight back. He could wait and correct, improving the
accuracy of his fire mission or he could walk his mortars blind, relying on his
own judgment honed from years of operating the battalion's Fire Support Team.
Waiting meant letting them get closer. Firing blind meant guessing. But every
dead vehicle at range was one more track that couldn't hurt them.

"One, three, five and seven, up two
turns. Two, four, six and eight, up three turns." The section leader
repeated his command and a few seconds later, another volley of five rounds
rang out from each tube.

The section leader made his second
report that the volley was complete. "Shot, over."

"Shot, out."

Just as finished he speaking, the first
volley of shells exploded on the horizon in a line of plumes leaping into the
sky, creating a wall of dust and smoke that obscured the enemy line. His heart
leapt into his throat when he saw black smoke boiling up from one of the
impacts and then another, followed by a rolling orange ball of fire. The
vehicles broke formation and started to weave across the ground. At first, it looked
like they were breaking in confusion, but as they turned back in sequence, he
realized they were performing a well-practiced maneuver. For a moment, he
imagined General Kim's face hovering in front of him, grinning.

 When he heard the thump-crack of the
explosions as the sound finally reached him, he said, "Not this time, you
sonofabitch."

He pointed to one of the Marines he had
assigned as a runner. "Private, get up there and wave the Lieutenant in.
Direct her to the rear of the complex."

"Yessir." The runner scurried
into position between two of the machine gun nests. The rumble of tires from
both of Simmons's carriers floated towards the line as she ran the vehicles
towards them at full speed. The runner extended his left hand into the air and
folded out his right arm. When she was within fifty meters of their position,
he started waving his left hand in an arcing motion with the rhythm of a turn
signal. The whine of the turbines from the carriers running at full throttle
pierced the air as the carriers veered sharply to the right, swaying hard
against suspension springs creaking in protest. The dust boiled over the runner
and the machine gun nests next to him. A flurry of slivered rock pelted him
from head to toe as he turned to face the rear of the carriers racing away. He
extended his arms again and gave the same signal as the carriers streaked past
the line of trenches where Charlie company had dug in. When the carriers
reached the anti-vehicle missile teams posted at the end of the line, they careened
around the corner and barreled towards the back of the complex.

Through his headset, Dekker heard the
voice of the Marine at phase line Dog scream over the thunder of the Terran
Guard's vehicles as they crossed his position. "Whiskey Six Whiskey Six,
tripwire Dog, tripwire Dog, tripwire Dog."

A flash followed by a white trail of
smoke reaching out across the ground caught his eye. The anti-tank missile team
on the left flank was already engaging the lead vehicles of the Terran line. He
could still only see their dust trail at this distance. The white smoke trail
disappeared near the horizon and then he saw a plume of black shoot up into the
sky, followed by a rolling yellow haze and what he thought was a glint of
sunlight from the tumbling remains of a vehicle swirling in the fireball.

His right hand twitched as he reached
for the case on his belt and snapped it open to retrieve his own field glasses.
As he brought them to his eyes and focused on the horizon, he saw the vehicles
of the Third Battalion adjusting to fill the gap in their line. Behind him,
another volley of mortars rang out from their tubes. The Terran line did not
slow down or waiver; it just kept coming and he felt the urge to run to the
side to keep from being run over. "Disciplined sons of bitches," he
said to Captain Douglas.

"They're trying to close the
range," Douglas said. "Just like you said they would."

"Make believers out of them,
Captain." Dekker lowered his field glasses and snapped them back into
their case. "I'll be in the communications center."

Still looking through his own glasses,
Douglas said, "Aye aye sir." He tapped his headset as another streak
of smoke reached out and detonated a Terran troop carrier. "Missile teams,
get off the carriers. Focus on the tangos or we're going to be in a world of
hurt."

"Whiskey Six, Spear Master,
negative contact tangos."

"Well keep looking.  They're out
there somewhere."

Dekker paced to his command carrier and
swung open the hatch. Shahn'Dra sat on the floor with her knees folded against
her chest. Jommy was still kneeling next to her with his hand on one shoulder.
They peered out at Dekker like animals hiding in a cave.

"Come with me," he said. He
reached out and took Shahn'Dra's hand, helping her out of the carrier. She
stood wavering for a moment, then rolled her shoulders back and shook her head.
"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I am tired, but not hurt. In time,
my strength will return."

Dekker smiled. "Good. Can you
walk?"

"Yes."

Jommy scrambled out of the carrier and
fell in behind Dekker as he led them across the compound, mortar tubes ringing
out with more rounds as they walked past them. He led them around the side of
the communications building to Simmons's carriers standing guard behind it.

Swinging open the hatch to her command
carrier, he said, "Stay in here. Don't come out unless somebody tells you.
You're going to hear things that you really shouldn't have to. Don't
panic." He looked at each one, making sure they understood. "No
matter what, stay right here. Do you understand?"

They both nodded.

"Good." He swung the hatch
closed and stepped back.

As the mortars continued to fire, a
chill ran through him as a question plunged into his consciousness like a
knife:
Is this all we have left?