"Fire it up!"
"But, Captain—" the gunner began. The angle to the doorway was acute, and it the odds were better than even that none of the plasma bolt itself would carry through it. But they were just barely better than even, and even if the bolt itself didn't, blast, fragments, and thermal bloom through the doorway and its covering spear slits would be more than sufficient to turn the bastion's interior into a vision of Hell.
"Do it!" Pahner snapped, and keyed the general frequency. "Second Platoon! Duck and cover!"
The gunner shook her head and triggered three rounds into the mass around the doorway, clearing the narrow walkway. Someone shrieked over the radio as the rounds impacted, but there was no time to think of that, and Pahner leapt back to his previous perch as the Kranolta recoiled again.
But they didn't recoil far, and the Marine cursed. They'd barely retreated at all this time, dropping below the level of the now unmanned wall, which put them just out of the angle of fire from the defenders clinging to the bastions and the keep. His taccomp threw fresh strength estimates up on his HUD, and he swore again. There were still three thousand or so of them left. Which wasn't very many for a force which had begun with eighteen thousand, but his readouts showed only thirty-one of the company still mobile.
We can still win this thing, he thought. They're wearing us away, but we're wearing them away even faster. Two more assaults. Maybe three. That's all we've got to make it through, and—
The enemy's horrible trophy horns brayed as they worked themselves up for yet another assault, and Pahner's nerves tightened. But then he heard another sound, an answer to the Kranolta horns. A harsher, deeper braying came from the west, and Pahner looked in that direction and his heart seemed to freeze.
Another entire army was deploying out of the forests beyond the ruined city. It was barely a fraction of the original Kranolta host, but it was also fresh and unbloodied as it marched to join the assault. The new warriors were heavily armed and armored, and they were accompanied by flar-ta—the missing baggage train the initial Kranolta army had left behind, no doubt. Some of the pack beasts seemed to be covered in glittering bronze, and as the taccomp projected the new numbers, Armand Pahner knew utter despair.
The Kranolta reinforcements outnumbered the mangled force at the foot of the wall, and their addition to the next assault would break the Marines' back at last.
He stared at the death of every one of his people for perhaps ten seconds, then sucked in a deep breath. If he and his people were going to go down, he would be damned if they died cowering in these holes like Voitan's last defenders.
"If you can make a heap of all your winnings... ." he whispered then opened the company frequency. "Bravo Company. All units, prepare to sally. A new force has just arrived. If we can hammer them badly enough in the open field, it will give us a little time to regroup. Immediately upon return to this position, I want everyone to fall back to the keep. We'll reform our line there." As if any of them were going to return, he thought bitterly. "All units, arm your wounded and prepare to sally."
"Oh, fuck," Julian muttered as he began to tear at the barrier across the keep door. Like the curtain wall gate, the keep doorway had been too large for them to hang a portal that could be easily opened and closed. Instead, it was barricaded by a pile of braced tree trunks, hammered together by the armored suits. Taking it down was a permanent operation; putting it back would not be an option.
"It's cool," Macek said unevenly. "We can do this."
"Sure, sure," Julian said as he ripped down another support with the mechanically enhanced power of the armor. "We'll live until the juice gives out. While we watch the damned Kranolta kill everybody else. Then we'll have a choice between opening up or suffocating."
"We'll kill them at the same time," the private said. "We'll kill most of them that are left."
"Sure, but they'll wipe out the company while we do it. Which is why the Old Man didn't send us out in the first place."
He pulled down the last support and opened up the door to the bailey.
The door to Third Platoon's bastion was already open. Nobody was in sight, yet, but Julian figured they would be coming out as soon as Captain Pahner gave the word. Second Platoon's door was just... gone. He didn't want to think about what it must be like inside that tower.
He looked out over the rubble where the gatehouse had been. From the elevated "porch" in front of the keep, he could just make out the distant army that Pahner had spotted, and it looked formidable indeed. He dialed up the magnification on his helmet, and his jaw tightened. Most of the new force was armored, and if bronze armor wouldn't do the Mardukans much good against the rifles, it would let them hammer the Marines right under when it got down to hand-to-hand. And it would.
He jumped off the platform and onto the rubble in two long "bounces," then checked to be sure his chameleon system was engaged. The active system on the suits was more effective than that of the uniforms and made the armor virtually invisible, although the suits were "loud" both electronically and audibly, which gave advanced enemies many ways to target them. There were ways to counteract that as well, but not easily or when the suits were moving fast.
Not that it mattered in this case. The Mardukans weren't going to see anything but a flicker and bursts of bead fire punctuated with plasma bolts. It should seem like evil demons in their midst... as long as the juice lasted.
The original Kranolta force had moved around the shoulder of the hill and was preparing to hit Second Platoon again. He thought about triggering a burst of bead fire into them, but waited for orders. They would be coming soon enough, and he saw Third Platoon filing out of its bastion even as the army by the jungle started up the long slope to the battleground. The scummy reinforcements were at least four or five thousand strong, and their banners flapped in the breeze. Their horns brayed again, and some of the survivors of the original Kranolta force turned and spotted them. They blared on their own horns, and waved their weapons in excitement as the newcomers hurried towards them.
"Who is that?" Danal Far asked.
"I don't know," his second in command replied, but he sounded uneasy. "It looks like... the host of Voitan."
"Hah!" It was the first good laugh Danal Far had had since this slaughter began. But they'd nearly taken the outer defenses, now. But for the damned fire-weapons, they would have already. The next push would see them in firm control of the bastion, and from there they could roll up these damned humans easily.
"Ghosts!" he scoffed. "No, it's some other tribe come to help us against these humans. Perhaps the Talna or the Boort."
"Nooo," Banty Kar said dubiously. "Neither use armor. The last time I saw such a host was in the fighting for T'an K'tass."
"Ghosts," the chieftain grunted again, but with a nervous edge. "All of those lands are ours, now. We took them, and we keep them. Even against these 'human' demons."
"Took them, yes," Kar said as he started toward the walls. "Keep them? Maybe."
"How's it going, Julian?" Pahner asked over the radio. Third Platoon—what remained of it—had gathered on the gatehouse rubble while Second and First pulled their dead and wounded out of the damaged bastion.
"Oh, fair, Sir. Looks like they're getting ready to come back."
"Very well." Pahner looked around at the pitiful remnants of his company, and shook his head. "Swing around to cover our front. Third Platoon, prepare to deploy over the rubble."