Cain snapped his head around toward Jax. “Do you really want them loose right now out of our sight?” He paused, trying unsuccessfully to take the annoyed tone out of his voice. “I’m sorry, Jax. I just don’t trust them. How many of our friends and comrades have they killed?”
Jax didn’t answer. He’d been worried about Cain for some time. He knew his friend was troubled…they all were after recent events. The bloodbaths of the Third Frontier War had been closely followed by the cataclysm of the Rebellions. The schemes of Alliance Intelligence and the treachery of General Samuels had been too much. It had worn them all down. Cain still handled troops in the field brilliantly, but his paranoia and anger were starting to get the better of him, clouding his decisions. He was taking gambles he’d never have considered a few years earlier.
“I’m going to send out the air assets against the enemy fighting the PRC troops. They’re out in the open right now, totally exposed.” Cain was looking down at a large ‘pad laying on a small folding table. He had two small air-attack squadrons, but he’d kept them hidden, waiting for the right opportunity to inflict some damage. Admiral West had deployed atmospheric fighters to cover the evacuation of Teller’s troops on Cornwall, and she’d found that the enemy’s anti-aircraft fire was devastating. Her wings had managed to hold back the enemy while 1 st Brigade was evac’d, but they’d been virtually wiped out in the process. Barely one in five returned.
Now, Cain was launching his own squadrons, and he didn’t expect them to fare any better. But they were armed with one of Sparks’ new weapons, and this would be its first deployment. If it lived up to expectations, it could inflict massive damage on the enemy forces. It was more cold math – 24 two-man aircraft against the damage they could inflict.
Jax nodded, a pointless gesture in battle armor. He knew the pilots would take heavy losses, but he had to agree…Cain had created an ideal opportunity for the air strike.
“You’re all set. Launch when ready.”
Captain Jacoby could barely hear the gravelly voice of his crew chief over the noise of the engines. He looked down from the cockpit and returned the chief’s thumbs up gesture. He could feel the shaking as the reactor in the VTOL craft fed power to the engines.
The strike fighters of the 11 th squadron rose slowly, in perfect formation. They were all veterans of the Third Frontier War, the pick of the Corps’ air wings. The normally lithe fighters handled sluggishly – they’d been stripped of their usual armaments and loaded with Sparks’ new weapon. The plasma bombardment system was huge, almost too big to cram into a fighter.
Jacoby swore under his breath as his fighter pulled to the right and he had to compensate. These first-generation PBS devices had been rushed into use – they weren’t properly balanced, and it took considerable effort to fly with a payload heavily weighted to one side. Jacoby was glad all his crews were veterans.
Despite the difficulties, his fighters fell swiftly into attack formation and blasted toward the enemy positions, with Captain Crill’s squadron alongside. They were deployed in three successive lines, formed up to bombard the enemy forces now counter-attacking the PRC troops.
The strike fighters dove at the enemy formations, evading the heavy anti-aircraft fire as well as they could carrying their massive payloads. Jacoby was senior to Crill, so he took command of the entire strike. His fighter was in the lead, and he bore down on a heavy concentration of enemy ‘bots. He was going to drop the PBS directly on top of them. “All pilots, follow my mark. We’re going right down their throats. I know the AA fire is heavy, but I want these things dumped right on top of those SOBs.”
It only took the fighters a few seconds to complete their attack run, but the enemy hyper-velocity rounds tore into them, taking down almost half their number before they reached the drop points. Jacoby managed to avoid the incoming fire, but Crill’s plane was hit and erupted into a fireball.
“Damn.” Jacoby saw Crill’s plane destroyed on his scanner. The two had served together several times, and they’d always gotten along well. He didn’t have time to brood, though…he was over the drop point. “Release.” He’d chosen to eyeball the drop rather than have the plane’s AI handle it. As soon as the PBS was away he arced into a steep climb, trying to clear the fire from the ground.
The PBS units split into half a dozen sections, each one a nuclear reactor that instantly superheated a large volume of condensed gas. The resulting plasma struck ground targets over a wide area. The effect was similar to ancient weapons like napalm or fuel air explosives, but the PBS was orders of magnitude more powerful. It was the strongest non-atomic weapon ever deployed by man, and it swept huge sections of the field clear of the enemy. Even the Reapers were obliterated when they were caught in the intensely hot clouds of plasma.
Jacoby circled his fighter around, giving himself a view of the field as he headed back to base. It was a vision of hell; for a few seconds it looked like a miniature sun had crashed to the ground.
The surviving fighters formed up behind Jacoby, and the nine of them, all that remained of two veteran squadrons, made their way back, leaving the wreckage of the enemy line behind them.
Cain had planned the strike perfectly. Yoshi’s troops suffered grievous casualties, but the strike fighters had caught the main enemy force out in the open, and Spark’s new plasma weapon had been a total success and had inflicted massive losses. Cain fed in reserves and ordered the previously wavering third line to attack the now totally disordered enemy. The Marines were able to engage small, scattered survivors at favorable odds, inflicting more casualties and splitting the enemy line in three places.
For the first time in the war, the surviving enemy units pulled back to regroup. The battle was far from over, and Cain knew the enemy would land more troops and renew the attack. His assaulting forces were exhausted, and he had no reserves to pour into pressing his advantage…at least none he would use. The Janissaries were still unengaged, and Commander Farooq had requested permission to advance. But Cain steadfastly refused, and the enemy retreated and temporarily broke off the engagement.
Cain knew it wouldn’t last, but he savored it anyway. Even a fleeting victory was a victory. Throughout the lines, the Marines’ sagging morale soared. The enemy could be beaten back after all.
Chapter 27
“We’ve got something coming.” Lys Daniels was crouched behind a large rock outcropping looking out at a massive wall of granite. “I have intermittent readings from the other side of this formation.” Daniels and her squad were scouts. General Cain had decided the small mountains northwest of the capital were impassible to a major force, but General Jax had sent her people anyway…just to be sure. Maybe that caution was paying off.
“I’m getting it too, sergeant.” Corporal Farnum was a little farther forward, at the base of the rock face. It was 100 meters of sheer granite…almost perfectly vertical. “But how could any unit hope to get over this. It’s at least 30 klicks to get around.”
Daniels tried to recalibrate her scanners. It was no use…there was some mineral in these rocks that was interfering with her readings. She took a deep breath and thought quietly…how am I going to scout out the other side of this thing? Finally, she flipped on the squad-wide com. “Alright everybody, listen to me. We’ve got to get someone over this cliff and see what is on the other side.” She paused, thinking she could almost hear the groans of her troopers. “Farnum, Varick…I need you to scale this thing and report.” The choices weren’t random. She’d quickly reviewed her unit roster…Farnum and Varick were the most experienced with this type of terrain. Both had served on Granicus during the war, and that planet was one giant mountain range.