The drop-containers had likely been ejected from a low orbit, made planetfall several miles away, then were recovered and brought back to the colony. Once emptied of their cargo, which likely consisted of an assortment of foodstuffs, ammunition, fuel, and building materials, the containers were utilized as the building blocks for defensive positions. Though Samuel had never seen such a thing in action, there had been several old battlefields the Reapers had scavenged over the years that contained such defenses among the decayed ruins.
Once the speeders were clear of the ravines they spread out in a loose formation to avoid being hammered by the mortar rounds that immediately began sailing towards them from behind the enemy positions.
The Grotto forces had not dared to fire mortars or rockets, much less employ air strikes, against the colony for fear of damaging the valuable hard assets. Helion undoubtedly knew this, and had drawn their forces into the colony itself to prevent their enemies from being able to employ bombardment tactics. Helion did have a battle tank visibly rolling down main street, but the Grotto forces would have to engage the armored war machine without the help of field artillery.
The Folken tank wasn’t even part of the initial assault, from what Samuel had gathered, but was more of a deterrent against possible counter attacks in the event that Grotto pushed Helion out of the colony. Both Helion and Grotto forces knew that this fight was going to be an infantry brawl.
Samuel was impressed by the skill and bravado of the Folken combat speeder pilots as they threaded their way through the valley floor, using the dunes as partial cover against the fusillade of enemy fire. The bass crump of an explosion came from ahead of them on the right, and Samuel saw that a combat speeder had taken a direct hit from the mortars. The vehicle’s left thruster had disintegrated and as the marine watched, the speeder began tumbling end over end as it bled flaming fuel and scrap metal. The elite troopers launched from their tubes, and while two of them sailed skyward, one was launched directly into a dune. Samuel wondered if the warrior’s dropsuit would protect him from the impact or not, then was startled as the speeder finally exploded.
“That was Lamda Platoon,” growled Mag, as their speeder left the wreckage behind and continued towards the target, “Reagan Ander’s mob, good marines.”
The rest of the Reapers remained silent, keenly aware that at any moment mortar fire could rip them to shreds just as easily. The speeder’s turret guns coughed and sent semi-automatic stub rounds toward the enemy positions.
Stub rounds were low velocity, high mass rounds that were designed for maximum impact, but minimal penetration. The turret guns of all the speeders had been outfitted with stub rounds so that they could engage the enemy effectively without overly damaging any hard assets.
Samuel had noticed when he first boarded the speeder that each gun had a small reserve of armor piercing rounds in a backup magazine in case they engaged enemy armor. The stub rounds from several speeders raked the enemy gun emplacements and mortar stations, chewing apart the cheap flak-board that the Helion troops had erected to protect themselves from small arms fire.
The combat speeder was moving too quickly, changing directions every other second, making it difficult for Samuel to get an idea of how their approach was going. The constant barking of the turret gun overshadowed any other sounds while the hard banking of the speeder as they circled the colony, looking for a good place to launch the elites and then disgorge the marines, made hanging on a priority.
A small yellow light began blinking above each of the launch tubes and Samuel could see the three mercenaries make a final check of their tubes to make sure they were slotted in properly, and then they poised and waited.
“Luck in battle, comrades,” said the wargir just before the yellow lights went solid and the tubes released, sending the three mercenaries upwards and out of sight.
Samuel and Patrick, the only ones seated so that they could see out of the viewports, watched for the elites, but they had been launched so high in the air that no visible sign of them could be found.
“They’ll drop on Helion and give ‘em a bloody nose don’t you worry,” said Mag as she rolled her shoulders and popped her neck. “Everybody get ready. As soon as the pilot finds an opening we’re going to get dumped quick. Be ready to tuck and roll and come up shooting.”
“Boss, is it a bad time to point out the fact that we’ve never trained for rapid combat insertion?” laughed Patrick as he looked around the cabin of the speeder, “That we haven’t trained for any of this?”
Everyone, even Mag, laughed along with Patrick’s gallows humor for a few moments, then the yellow lights above each of their seats began blinking. The marines went silent as each of them watched the lights. Samuel couldn’t help but tap his boot in time with the light, as if counting out the rhythm to a song he could barely remember. Then the yellow lights went solid and a klaxon wailed as the combat speeder tilted slightly to the side. The hatch slid open in the blink of an eye and the straps holding the marines in place automatically retracted even as their seats turned and began catapulting them out of the hatch and onto the ground.
The combat speeder had thrown on its engine brakes and the back blast had retarded its forward momentum long enough for the five marines to be hurled to the ground.
Samuel did his best to land on his feet and then tuck his head and shoulder in so that he could roll the next several meters to slow his velocity. It worked for the first somersault and then he didn’t quite stick the landing, ending up flailing into the dune helmet first. He scrambled to pull his head from the silt dune and recover his weapon, only to find that his combat rifle had flown from his hands and was easily two meters ahead of him. Rising to his feet, he sprinted towards his rifle as small arms fire erupted all around him. Samuel didn’t dare look at anything but the rifle, knowing that the moment he witnessed the madness of the battle he would lose precious seconds in recovering his ability to participate and survive.
Hard rounds sent up plumes of silt as Samuel was fired upon and he began zigzagging as he ran before diving for his weapon. In a feat of dexterity that surprised him, he snatched the gun as he fell and managed to tuck his shoulder to the ground so that he somersaulted end over end as he twisted his body around. He came up from the roll facing the enemy with his combat rifle raised and began squeezing the trigger. Samuel’s aim was true and he watched as a Helion trooper staggered backwards, falling off of a firing stoop of the barricade in a spray of blood and sparks.
Samuel finally dared to take a moment to assess the battle space and found that he was not the only marine to flub the landing. Ben was only now managing to get to his feet and shake the silt from his heavy gun as Patrick dug with his hands to unearth his fallen combat rifle. Mag and Bianca, however, were both in an aiming crouch and pouring on suppressing fire as the squad pulled itself together.
“Let’s go marines! Push through! Push through!” bellowed Mag as she turned to see her people finally getting to their feet and preparing to engage.
Samuel and Patrick rushed past the two women and sprinted towards the sheer side of the barricade under cover of the suppressing fire.
Ben finally got his heavy gun up and spinning and was able to begin picking targets and shredding enemy positions while Bianca and Mag reloaded and rushed to join the vanguard. Once they joined Samuel and Patrick, the group penetrated the enemy line through the gaps that had been punched through the flak-board barricades that connected each of the container defenses. Ben kept up his high rate of fire as he began to advance, not wanting to get caught out in the open when he inevitably ran out of ammunition, which, at this speed would be very soon.