“No, sir. Neither would I.” Jarrod wasn’t entirely sure he should be offering any more opinions now; he’d already spoken out far more than conventional wisdom recommended. But he didn’t see the harm in simply agreeing with Merrick. Jarrod most definitely expected to encounter considerable guerilla activity, and the more Merrick was ready for it, the less damaging it would be.
“Thank you, Colonel. You may return to your command post.” Merrick was starting to truly value Jarrod’s input. I wish I could make him second in command, he thought, but they’d roast me over a fire in Washbalt if I did that. Merrick didn’t have the authority to make those kinds of changes anyway. Even Jarrod’s promotion to colonel was provisional, a brevet appointment still subject to ratification. Merrick was pretty sure he had enough juice to push it through, assuming they both got off Arcadia alive and back to Earth. “And colonel?”
Jarrod had saluted and turned to leave. He spun around at attention, his eyes focused on Merrick’s.
“Be careful, especially with scouting parties. Since that idiot Quinn executed his captives the rebels have responded in kind.” Merrick would have preferred less brutality, but when Quinn started killing prisoners, the rebels went crazy and started shooting any federals they captured. In truth, the ones who were shot were the lucky ones. As far as Merrick could tell, the main rebel army restricted itself to firing squads, but the Feds who fell into the hands of irregulars or isolated groups had much more unpleasant prospects. He wished he could pull away from the brutal road Quinn had set them on, but it seemed impossible to go back. His troops demanded their own revenge, and he had little choice but to act accordingly and summarily execute at least some of the rebel prisoners. Lost in thought for a moment, Merrick suddenly realized that Jarrod was still standing at attention. “That will be all, colonel. Dismissed.”
Sanders Dale was a pleasant valley, about 4 kilometers of gently sloping ground between two low ridgelines. Though far from the only feature on the map of Concordia named for the district’s premier family, the dale held special significance as the place old man Sanders had built his first residence on the planet. The ruins of the prefab shelter remained, partially patched up and used periodically for storage. The Sanders family had long ago moved farther north, and the valley, which had been actively farmed for some years, was mostly abandoned and left fallow.
Now, however, an army was marching through the valley headed north, intent on pacifying the rebels in Concordia District. In its van and on the flanks came waves of light ATVs, fast scouting vehicles screening the advance.
Next there were tanks. They weren’t the heavy battle tanks the force would have deployed on Earth, but nevertheless they were a fearsome sight, grinding their way noisily forward, heavy tracks tearing apart the mossy ground, leaving nothing but deep muddy furrows in their wake. Merrick didn’t have many tanks, only three companies. It was just too difficult to transport a larger number from Earth. He hadn’t deployed them before now, and he hoped the sight of the behemoths would sap the morale of the rebels.
Around the tanks were armored personnel carriers, heavy ones toward the front, lighter ones farther back. There were hundreds of them, over a thousand in fact, and they stretched across the entire valley. In the rear was the artillery, four batteries of light guns, mounted on tracked vehicles. As with their main battle tanks, Merrick’s forces had been compelled to leave their heavy artillery behind when they’d shipped out to Arcadia…it was just too much to fit onto the transports.
It was an awesome force, the largest ever deployed on a colony world save only General Holm’s 1 st Corps that had fought the final battle of the Third Frontier War on the dusty hills of Carson’s World. But this formation wasn’t here to fight the Alliance’s enemies; they were here to battle other Alliance citizens, some of them veterans of Holm’s now-disbanded force.
Every move this army made was observed. The rebels they were pursuing knew this ground in ways an invader never could. Every vantage point, every depression in the ground, every blind spot – they knew them all, and each was used to its fullest potential. The rebels had been shadowing the federal forces for days. At first they simply scouted, monitoring the army’s movements and assessing its strength. Then they started attacking, small hit and run missions intended to pick off stragglers and sap the enemy morale. For three days they had stung the federal army, like a swarm of hornets striking then vanishing. They’d done some damage, but the federal commander had been vigilant and he had not allowed the attacks to slow the advance.
Will Thompson was up in a tree along the western ridgeline. Quite an undignified pose for a commander in chief, he thought, as he clung to a branch with one hand and held his scope with the other. There was going to be a battle today. The sniping had failed to impede Merrick’s army, and Will simply couldn’t let them get any closer to his base of supply. He’d chosen the spot to make a stand, and this was it.
Morale among the rebel forces was strong, and most of his officers and men were spoiling for a fight. He wondered how they would feel later that night, after that fight was done. Win or lose, thousands of Will’s troops would die today. He’d been in enough hard battles to know that much. However good the cause, war itself was always dirty business, and victory and freedom had a high price. Will had seen that cost; he had paid it. Most of his troops had not.
He couldn’t believe the size of the army he commanded. Over 18,000 rebel soldiers were deployed in a broad U-shape on the ridgelines and in the valley between. And soldiers they were – Thompson’s long months of tireless training and effort had paid off, turning his bands of undisciplined irregulars into a cohesive and well-organized army.
The rebel army was indeed formidable, but the forces it faced were stronger still. The federals had been reinforced since the early days of the rebellion, and now two full divisions were advancing through the valley - over 30,000 troops, plus artillery, personnel carriers…and worst of all, tanks.
Will was worried about the tanks. His force was light on heavy weapons, and taking out those monsters was going to be difficult. He had a few ideas, and they’d prepared as well as they could, but he was far from sure it would be enough. He was just about to climb down from his perch when he heard gunfire from the south.
The rebel army – more properly now, the Army of the Republic of Arcadia – had a significant amount of its strength deployed on the two ridgelines flanking the valley, with most of the rest entrenched directly to the front of the invading federal force. Will’s plan was to hit the enemy on both flanks while they were engaged with his dug in forces in the lowlands. But General Merrick was neither careless, nor a fool, and Will knew he would scout the ridgelines as he advanced. To screen his own deployments, Thompson had deployed strong forces along the south of the ridges, blocking any enemy advance before it reached his main positions.
“Lieutenant Logan, place all commands on full alert.” He was working his way down the tree, yelling to his aide standing just below. He dropped the last two meters to the ground and flipped on the comlink. “Colonel Warren, report…what is going on down there?
Chapter 16
Sarah Linden sat in the small wardroom deep in thought. It was past midnight, ship’s time. The Richter operated on Martian time, which was pretty close to the Earth normal clock used on Alliance vessels. Her team was asleep, at least most of them. Their bodies were still operating on Armstrong time, and on Armstrong it was 4am.
She hadn’t done much sleeping anyway, not recently at least. Not since she’d said goodbye to Erik. She remembered every instant of those last few minutes, standing in front of his shuttle in the cold drizzle, the feeling of him pulling from her embrace, walking to the sleek white ship waiting a few feet away…the last instant before he disappeared from her view. She’d never forget that image; she’d never let herself forget. She was deathly afraid that was the last time she would ever see him.