The Directorate troops were surprised. General Gravis had sent two battalions to take the southern ridge. They’d expected to march forward in their powered armor and gun down the terrified rebels as they fled. But things didn’t work out that way.
First, the woods were full of snipers, hidden in trees, behind rocks, in dips in the ground. Their fire was accurate, and while their weapons had difficulty penetrating the armor, they were scoring hits. The federal force had at least 40 troops down already. Most were just wounded, and their suits’ trauma control systems would probably save them, but the intensity of the resistance was unexpected.
As soon as they spotted a sniper’s general location, the armored Feds tore it apart with their superior firepower. The Feds had magnetic assault rifles powered by their suits’ nuclear plants. A tree was no cover against that kind of fire, and a two second burst would shatter even the 100-meter tall Arcadian giants.
The snipers kept on the move, firing once, maybe twice from each location before heading out. If they stayed too long they were spotted, and if they were spotted they were killed.
The federals were well trained, but this was their first combat experience. Their expectation of invulnerability was giving way to the grim realities of war. The troopers maintained their order and continued to advance, but their swagger was gone. They advanced more cautiously, which only served the Arcadians’ purpose, giving the snipers a few more shots before they had to withdraw.
Calvin was positioned back a little from the initial point of contact, but the enemy was rapidly closing on his location. He was behind a massive boulder, good cover against even the assault rifles of the Directorate troops. There was a rough line of rock outcroppings here, each 2-3 meters high. He’d positioned troops behind them, creating a thin battle line.
The Feds had taken losses, but his snipers were losing even more heavily. They’d scored hundreds of hits, but only a small percentage struck a vulnerable spot on the target. Their weapons just weren’t powerful enough to deal with the enemy’s armor. But every sniper who gave up his location was targeted with thousands of incoming rounds, any one of which would wreak havoc on human flesh. At least half of the forward-deployed sharpshooters had been lost; the rest were withdrawing, trying to reach the line before they were spotted and picked off.
Calvin was hoping the heavier fire from his deployed line would hold up the enemy a little longer. His forces had bled the enemy, but not enough. He was going to try to hold here, at least for a few minutes. They had to take down more of these armored troops. Then his force would retreat, and hopefully the Feds would follow…right into the carefully prepared minefield.
“They are running!” Lieutenant Simone Bourne shouted into her comlink. Her platoon was on point, and they’d been exchanging fire with the rebel line for twenty minutes. Her people had been pinned down by enemy fire, but now the rebels were pulling back. A Marine platoon would have rushed the enemy position, relying on speed and their armor protection. But none of her people – including herself – had ever been in combat before. It’s one thing to know intellectually that most of the enemy weapons can’t hurt you and quite another to jump up and run into that fire.
She had casualties; three of her people were down. A lot more had been hit, but their armor had deflected the incoming rounds. She had no idea what they had done to the enemy. The damned rebels were in heavy cover, ensconced behind a row of enormous rocks.
They’d been there for fifteen minutes before Captain Ferry had thought to order them to attack with grenades. The grenade launchers were built into the armor; they’d trained extensively with them, and they were designed for just this type of situation. She popped off six herself, the same as everyone in the platoon. The ground behind the rock outcroppings erupted into smoke and flames, with dust and debris flying everywhere. After the second round impacted she could see the enemy pulling back, running through a section of sparse woods to the rear. The grenades were minimally damaging to an armored target, but they could wreak havoc on unprotected troops.
“Second Company, pursue.” It was Captain Ferry on the comlink.
“OK, first platoon, you heard the captain.” Her voice was shrill. She was scared, but her blood was up too. The enemy was on the run now, she thought. The rest will just be mopping up. “Let’s go, First Platoon.” She raced forward, trying to remember the training, how to handle the enhanced power of her armored legs. Several members of the platoon got too excited, taking big bounding steps and landing off balance. Two of them managed to damage their suits enough that they were out of action, but the rest swept forward.
They climbed over the enemy’s rock outcroppings, pausing for an instant to fire at the retreating troops. They continued in pursuit, moving three times the speed of the unarmored Arcadians, quickly closing the distance.
Then the explosions started. The first was just to Bourne’s left. She saw it peripherally, and her AI replayed the whole thing from the side cam in her helmet. One of her troopers stepped forward and the ground erupted around him. The explosion was a big one, strong enough to tear his armored body apart. She was about to order the platoon to halt when she heard another explosion. Then another.
All along the line the federal troopers were triggering the heavy mines, and most of those who stepped on one of the big explosives died. There weren’t that many mines, but the inexperienced Directorate troops became disordered and began to panic. Bourne tried to keep her troops in line, but she’d lost three to the mines, and the rest started to fall back.
“Stand fast!” She screamed into the comlink, her voice raw and uneven. But her troops continued retiring to the line of rocks, taking position there. At least they’re not running, she thought. Her AI displayed the battlefield schematic, and she could see that at least half of the platoons in the front line were in wholesale flight.
This was not what she’d expected battle to be like.
“They’re breaking through, Kyl…General Warren.” Major Calvin had taken command of the two leading battalions when both of their commanders went down. His forlorn hope had done its job, but he had barely one in three of his original 311 snipers still with him.
There’s no way to hold them, Warren thought grimly. They’ve got too much of a material advantage. His people had blooded the Directorate troops; that was true. Kyle doubted any of them would ever forget their first encounter with a “rebel” army. The best he could figure, the two leading federal battalions had lost half their numbers. But the Feds had just thrown in two fresh battalions, and Warren had used up all his tricks. The mines were gone, the snipers almost wiped out. All he had left was a battleline of troops armed with popguns that had almost no chance of taking down fully-armored infantry.
“Alright, Major Calvin.” Warren was rock solid. He knew this was coming; he never thought they could actually stop the Feds. They’d done more damage to the enemy than he’d dared to hope, and now it was time to get out of here. “I want you to take charge. I want you to conduct a fighting withdrawal. I’ve got to coordinate with General Thompson, but the plan is to retire through the Cordia swamps. The armored Feds will have a bitch of a time following us there. We’ll regroup on the other side.”
“Yes, sir.” Calvin sounded tired, but otherwise just as solid as Warren. “I don’t think they’re all that fired up to chase us, sir.”
Warren allowed himself a brief grin. “No, probably not. Your troops did a tremend…”
“General Warren, sir!” A voice burst in on Warren’s comlink. It was high-pitched and shrill…almost panicked. “General Warren!”