The federal troops were busy trying to consolidate their hold on Carlisle Island. The battle had raged for days, and finally the rebels had retired to a smaller island just off the northern coast, a place they called the Rock. It was well named, a granite bastion rising ominously from the sea, promising a heavy fight to any who assaulted its jagged shore.
An aggressive commander might have attacked immediately, seeking to finish the rebellion with one last confrontation. But the Alliance forces were in no condition to mount such an operation. The fight for Carlisle had been difficult, despite their numerical superiority. They had suffered massive casualties, and all across the newly occupied Carlisle Island, makeshift field hospitals were set up.
Any possibility of attacking the Rock was lost when a communication reached Governor Cooper from Weston. There had been a breakout from the detention camp, and thousands of inmates were rampaging through the city. Worse, they had broken into the storage facilities and armed themselves. By all accounts, the city of Weston was a smoldering ruin.
“I want them exterminated, General Strom.” Cooper’s anger had taken control of him. “Immediately. I don’t care how tired your troops are.”
Strom was just as outraged as Cooper. The thought of a bunch of mindless Cogs – and that is how he thought of the colonists – running wild and murdering his troops was an affront. But he was also the one faced with the reality of putting together a force powerful enough to wipe out the now-armed mob…and right now, just hours after the fighting ended on Carlisle, he didn’t know where he was going to find troops in any condition to go immediately back into a fight. “Governor, I share your feelings, but it will take some time to assemble a large enough force and ship them back to Weston.” Strom was going to leave it at that, but then he added, “By all accounts, the mob is now heavily armed.”
Strom was a procrastinator and an officer of, at best, marginal ability, however this time his read on the situation was dead on. But Cooper was acting on pure anger now. “General, we do not have time. We must eradicate these rampaging animals, and we must do it at once.”
Cooper wasn’t being rational, but he wasn’t wrong tactically either. There was no way to calculate or predict the damage an armed and enraged mob could do if it was allowed to remain unchecked. “Governor, I have already issued orders for our pickets south of Weston to cordon off the area and pin the mob down near Weston. But our forces there are minimal, and they lack the strength to attack without reinforcement. I wi…”
“Then send reinforcements. Now!” Cooper interrupted Strom, his body quivering with rage. “I want them dead. All of them. No prisoners, no mercy.”
Strom bristled at Cooper’s tone, but he could see the governor was unbalanced, and he controlled his own anger. They were on the verge of success on Columbia, and Strom wasn’t going to get into a fight with the governor if he could avoid it. Not this close to the end. “I will see to it, Governor Cooper.” His voice was reasonably controlled, though he had no doubt his own anger bled through. “I will dispatch forces as soon as it can be done.” It was a non-committal answer, but it was the best he was going to offer.
“And the other camps are to be destroyed as well. Hampton, Southpoint. All inmates are to be terminated immediately.” Cooper looked at Strom, and his eyes wide and crazy. “See to it at once, general.”
The Gordon landers swooped down out of the dawn sky, fiery trails streaking behind as they bored through the thick atmosphere on their way to the surface. The landing was precisely plotted – Jax had transmitted detailed coordinates, and the incoming forces were coming down on Carlisle Island, right in the middle of the federal army.
The defenders were taken by surprise. Admirals Garret and Compton had knocked out all of the observation satellites that Cooper could access, effectively blinding him. The first warning his troops had was seeing the agile five-man landers angling in for a final approach.
The alarm was sounded in the federal camps, but by the time the troops were mustered, the first wave of Marines had landed. The attackers fanned out from their landing craft in perfect order, forming a perimeter to protect the incoming second wave.
One Marine in particular stepped out of one of the first wave Gordons, followed by a small cluster of aides. Elias Holm knew he shouldn’t have been on one of the first landers. Indeed, it felt like he’d spent half his career lecturing Erik Cain about the responsibilities of the commander to avoid unnecessary risks. But it was different this time, or at least that’s what he told himself.
He was leading Marines, as usual, but the circumstances were anything but normal. He’d rallied these Marines, in direct opposition to the orders of the sitting Commandant of the Corps. He was mutinous, technically at least, though how it would end depended heavily on the outcome of the current struggle. He had split the Corps, planting his flag and rallying to it all those who would come. Those who followed him put their careers - their very lives - at stake. If he was going to lead men and women in this situation, he was goddamned going to do it from the front line.
Holm knew what he had to do, but he was still conflicted. Samuels was a traitor, one who’d conspired to destroy the Corps he’d been entrusted to lead. But after forty years of loyal service, Holm still couldn’t entirely reconcile with the actions he had to take. He’d do what had to be done, but he knew he’d have a reckoning with himself eventually. He’d have to make peace with what he’d done, and he had to be in this front line if he was going to have any chance of that.
There was a reinforced battalion on the ground, 600 fully armored Marines. They’d landed on an island with more than 40,000 Alliance army soldiers. They could have been more prudent, landing in an unoccupied area and forming up the entire force, but Holm had faith in his troopers and their capabilities. He had a full report from Jax, and he knew the federals were exhausted and disorganized after the battle for Carlisle Island. Now was the time to hit them, before they could regroup and resupply.
Holm only had two and a half battalions anyway, and they were a little low on supplies themselves. That was all he could assemble quickly after sending Erik Cain and his troops to Arcadia. It was clear that the rest of the rebel forces – and Jax’s people too – were pinned down and facing annihilation. Waiting wasn’t an option, so Holm decided to land immediately.
The battle in space was still raging. Garret and Compton had control of the area around Columbia, and they’d had the best of the first round with the Directorate fleet. Garret’s move against the rear of the federal task force saved Compton, drawing off the superior forces before they could close to energy range. The federals let themselves get bracketed by all the converging forces, and they took heavy damage. The survivors blasted into the outer system at full thrust, and Garret’s and Compton’s forces were too disorganized and out of position to catch them.
Garret pulled the scattered squadrons back to Columbia, reorganizing the forces and positioning them to defend the planet. He had every intention of hunting down the rogue naval units, but his first priority was assisting General Holm to secure the surface and minimize the suffering on the planet.
So now 600 Marines held the perimeter while another 600 landed, along with all the supplies they had available. It was going to be 1,200 veterans, fully armored and ready for action, against 40,000 federal soldiers. They knew they were outnumbered, but they also knew they were led by General Elias Holm. And they knew they were Marines.