He looked into the com, at Erica West’s troubled expression, but all he said was, “Cain out.”
Chapter 14
Cornwall was an ocean planet. Less than 10% of its surface area was land, and much of the single major continent was covered with low-lying tidal marshes. The primary occupied area was a stretch along the mountainous east coast where a series of plateaus and rocky islands provided dry land for habitation. It was some of the most defensible ground James Teller had ever seen. His troops had turned the position into a series of interlocked strongpoints and heavy weapon emplacements. He wasn’t sure they had a real chance in the battle about to begin, but he was damned sure they’d sell their lives dearly.
The high command on Armstrong had approved Cain’s plan to concentrate his forces on Cornwall, leaving the other potential target planets virtually undefended. Admiral Garret ordered Erica West to pull her fleet back and wait…just as Cain had suggested. She was to ambush the enemy forces at her own discretion.
General Holm sent one other message. He ordered Erik Cain not to lead the forces on Cornwall directly, and he did it in terms so clear and incontrovertible that even Cain couldn’t twist, interpret, or deliberately misunderstand the command. Holm had known Cain for a long time, and they were almost like father and son. There hadn’t been a doubt in Holm’s mind that his protégé would want to hit ground with those troops going in, but he wasn’t going to allow it. Apart from his personal feelings, there was no way he could afford to lose Cain now, not facing a war they didn’t even understand yet.
Holm was stuck on Armstrong, managing the mobilization effort and keeping an eye on the other Powers. The CAC and Caliphate were massing on the border, which was a nightmare scenario for the Alliance right now. Worse, there were signs the RIC was also moving forces forward. The Russian-Indian Confederation and the Alliance didn’t have a lot of shared border, but the last thing Garret and Holm needed was more area to cover.
Cain had reluctantly obeyed Holm’s order, but he’d pushed it to the limit, accompanying the expeditionary force to Cornwall’s system and directing the landing from orbit. Finally, he boarded the fast attack ship Condor for the journey back to Farpoint, leaving Teller in command of the six battalions of crack Marines dug in on the planet.
Teller stood on a rocky bluff looking out over the jagged peninsula. Once the planet’s main population center, it was now deserted except for his troops. Admiral West had used every civilian ship she could commandeer to evacuate the civilian population, at least all those she could cram into the space available. The action would save lives, and it also freed the Marines from worrying about defending civilians. They could focus solely on the battle at hand, which they knew was going to be a fight to the death.
They’d been on Cornwall for over a month, and Teller had begun to wonder if they had guessed wrong on the enemy’s next move. But then he got the communication relayed from the warp gate scanners…enemy ships inbound, at least a dozen. Admiral West had seeded the space 1,000,000 kilometers out from the planet with scanner buoys, so Teller had several hours’ warning before the enemy ships moved into orbit. His troops were suited up and in position before the first landing craft entered the atmosphere.
The enemy was vastly superior technologically, that much was certain. But they hadn’t yet run into a force as large as Teller’s, and they hadn’t faced powered infantry either. They’d still have the edge in firepower, but not by the margins they’d enjoyed against the planetary militias. Maybe…just maybe, Teller thought, we’ve got a chance.
He started down the path toward his command post. There were enemy landers coming down all over the peninsula and the adjacent archipelagoes. It was showtime.
Lieutenant Erin McDaniels watched the approaching enemy forces on her visor display. There were a lot of them - her people were going to have a hell of a fight on their hands. A tiny smile crept onto her lips as she watched. But we have a few surprises for them first, she thought.
“Enemy vanguard approaching initial targeting range, Lieutenant McDaniels.” She’d instructed her AI to monitor the enemy’s progress and make regular reports.
“Thank you, Mystic.” Like most officers, McDaniels had named her virtual assistant. Enlisted personnel had AIs too, but they were basic models designed to help with suit operations and simple tasks. The officers’ units were full-blown quasi-sentient units with considerable capabilities…and distinct personas as well. Hers was relatively straitlaced, generally just following her instructions without comment. Some of the other officers had units with more colorful personalities.
“Get the missile teams on the com, Mystic.” McDaniels was in charge of a heavy weapons detachment. It was a regimental asset and a captain’s billet, but 1 st Brigade was stretched thin for officers, and she’d been bumped up from her platoon to take command.
“Yes, lieutenant.” A brief pause. “You are on the comlink, lieutenant.” Mystic’s voice was female, fairly high-pitched. It could get a little annoying at times. McDaniels had been meaning to have the AI reprogram it, but she’d never gotten around to it.
“McDaniels to missile teams. Enemy forces approaching. All teams, lock on to your chosen targets and prepare to commence firing.” The hyper-velocity missiles were going to come as a big surprise to these bastards, she thought. The militias they’ve been fighting didn’t have anything remotely like them.
The HVMs were a new weapon, developed near the end of the Third Frontier War. Powered by nanotech nuclear reactors, the launchers fired multiple warhead missiles at extremely high velocities. The Marines knew the attackers were hard to kill, and the HVMs were among the strongest and deadliest weapons they had to throw at an enemy.
She watched the blips on her display moving closer. The enemy first line was coming up over a ridge. She knew exactly where she wanted to catch them…just past the crest. “Missile teams…fire!”
She watched the weapons fire, her visor set on Mag 2. The HVMs left a glowing trail in the dusky darkness. She had four teams, and each of their missiles split into one primary and six secondary warheads. The entire line below the ridge erupted into a maelstrom, rock and debris flying everywhere amid the billowing flames of the detonations. The HVMs were great for ripping apart the landscape, and they tore huge chunks from the shattered ridge.
It was hard to get a read on how badly the enemy’s first line was hurt, but she wasn’t about to let up on the fire now. The HVMs had a short window of effectiveness before the enemy would be too close. “Missile teams reload.” An unnecessary command, she knew. Her people were veterans, and they were already halfway through the reloading process. She cranked up her visor to Mag 10, trying to get a close look at the ridgeline, and she flipped the comlink to internal communications only. “Mystic, I want your analysis and a damage assessment as soon as possible.”
“Yes, lieutenant. I am compiling data now.” The AI’s voice was a bit higher pitched than normal, showing some stress. It was all a construct of course…whatever the AI was “feeling” did not directly impact its auditory routines, as humans’ fear or tension affected their voices. Mystic varied its voice and speech patterns in accordance with its analysis of McDaniels, and it had determined that the lieutenant responded better to a feeling of camaraderie in stressful situations. The AI responded by imitating a shared tension and fear in battle. Some officers preferred an AI that sounded like a rock no matter what was going on, but not McDaniels…at least not according to Mystic’s analysis.