That produced a chorus of chuckles, as the platoon leaders ordered their people to, “lock and load.” The ship lurched as the wash from an exploding rocket hit the hull, sideslipped toward the ground, and seemed to fall the last few feet. There was a solid jolt as the skids hit hard and bullets began to rattle against the armored hull as the stern ramp made contact with the ground.
Privates Ivan Lupo and Simy Xiong were slated to exit the ship fi?rst and knew how important the next ten minutes would be. Because it was their job to suppress the incoming fi?re and provide the other legionnaires with an opportunity to exit the ship unharmed. So the hulking cyborgs lumbered down onto the ground, turned in opposite directions, and took up positions to either side of the slab-sided ship. Targeting data was acquired, prioritized, and acted on as both war forms opened fi?re. And, because each fi?fty-ton behemoth mounted dual autoloading missile launchers, four gang-mounted energy cannons, and an electronically driven Gatling gun, that was a sight to see! Especially as the cyborgs settled in over their vulnerable legs and transformed themselves into low-profi?le pillboxes.
As Santana rode Deker out of the ship’s cargo bay, he saw that the assault boat had put down next to a burned-out hulk. Judging from the still-steaming bodies that lay scattered about, all of the Seebos on that fi?rst ill-fated boat had clearly been killed. However, based on the fact that a platoon of clones had taken cover in a fi?re-blackened crater and were fi?ring on targets to the east, it appeared that a subsequent landing had been more successful. The entire area was littered with half-empty ammo boxes, packaging for battle dressings, and cast-off equipment.
As the Seebos continued to huddle in their shell crater, the quads targeted Ramanthian mortars, artillery pieces, and the deadly multiple-launch rocket systems located on both sides of the valley. Outgoing missiles roared off their rails, bolts of coherent energy stuttered across the battlefi?eld, and dark columns of soil were thrown high into the air as secondary explosions echoed between the valley walls. Shortly after that, Santana saw the volume of incoming fi?re begin to dwindle and knew that Alpha Company was making progress. Meanwhile the Seebos came boiling up out of the crater, or tried to, but were driven back when Santana ordered Deker to open fi?re. Three bursts from the T-2’s armmounted fi?fty were suffi?cient to push the clones back. “Take me down into that hole,” Santana said over the intercom, and switched to the company push. “This is Alpha Six. . . . Let’s get the wounded out of that crater and onto the ship. Watch for fakers though. . . . It looks like some of those guys would like to take the rest of the day off. Alpha OneFour and Bravo One-Four will prepare to board troops. Both platoons will orient on target Alpha and prepare to advance. The fi?rst platoon will protect the company’s left fl?ank and the second will cover the right. Out.”
The entire battalion had been assigned to attack the STO
battery, but having seen no sign of either Colonel Quinlan or Bravo Company, Santana knew his unit might have to tackle the objective alone. A scary thought indeed. The wounded clones had been carried aboard the assault boat by that time and engines screamed as the ship began to lift. “Hey, you!” one of the Seebos said angrily, as Deker carried him down into the body-strewn crater. “How dare you fi?re on us! Bring the assault boat back. . . . The navy is supposed to extract us!”
There was a resounding boom as a shoulder-launched missile hit the ship’s port engine, blew a hole in it, and caused the boat to roll. It landed upside down, skidded for about fi?fty feet, and burst into fl?ames. Santana was pleased to see two fi?gures crawl out of the inverted cockpit and scurry away. But the wounded weren’t so lucky. The company commander’s voice boomed through speakers built into the war form’s body as he turned back toward the clone. “And you are?”
“Lieutenant Jonathan Alan Seebo-179,620,” the clone offi?cer answered haughtily, as a spent round hit Deker’s chest. It made a pinging sound as it bounced off.
“My name is Santana,” the legionnaire replied evenly.
“And I command Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st REC.
You and your men can help us take that power plant or die in this crater. Which would you prefer?”
The clone heard a bullet zing over his head and scowled resentfully. “We’ll come with you.”
“Good choice,” Santana replied. “Your call sign will be Alpha Two-Zero. Split your men between the quads—and let’s get the hell out of here.”
The Ramanthian in command of the powerful STO battery at the south end of the valley chose that moment to fi?re a salvo. The energy cannons were so powerful that the energy bolts they fi?red broke the sound barrier before they disappeared into space. The recoil caused the ground to shake. The better part of fi?fteen minutes would pass before the gun emplacement’s huge accumulators could store enough power to fi?re again. “Damn!” Deker exclaimed, as he carried the company commander up out of the crater. “Why don’t the swabbies bomb those things?”
“The Intel people say the bugs have more than a thousand civilians locked up under that gun emplacement,” Santana replied grimly. “So it’s up to us.”
Deker chose to accept the explanation, but both legionnaires knew that the bugs might very well execute the POWs, especially if it looked like the STO weapons were about to be captured. As the Seebos scurried aboard the quads, and Deker found level ground, Sergeant Suresee Fareye made his report. Like Dietrich, the Naa had served with Santana before, and had an almost supernatural ability to fi?nd his way through any terrain. He was mounted on Private Ka Nhan, and the two legionnaires were concealed in a farm building approximately one mile south of the burnedout crater. “Alpha Six-Four to Alpha Six. Over.”
“This is Six,” Santana replied, as he glanced at the data projected onto his HUD. “Go.”
“Four, repeat four, Gantha II tanks are coming out to play,” Fareye said, as he peered out through a hole in the south wall of a barn. Six genetically perfect cattle had been left in the building, and they bawled miserably as the Naa continued his report. “The Ganthas are supported by a couple dozen armored personnel carriers all loaded with troops. Estimated time to fi?rst contact fi?ve minutes. Over.”
Santana swore silently. Even though he’d been aware that the Ramanthians would probably throw some tanks at him the legionnaire had been hoping for more time. A quick look at the HUD confi?rmed that the wind was blowing up the valley toward the dam. “Roger that,” he replied. “Pull back, Six-Four. . . . Alpha Six to Alpha One-Six. Send the fi?rst squad forward to lay smoke east to west. . . . But I don’t want them sucked into a fi?refi?ght. Out.”