Finally, we got intermittent scanning reports on approaching enemy forces. Normally, we’d have a complete breakdown of anything so close, but on Tombstone you generally had less information than you wanted, and even that was unreliable.
Fresh troops meant they were planning another attack, and the lieutenant made his way all along the line, checking and adjusting our positions. Physical proximity really wasn’t necessary for communication, but still, it was a morale boost to have him crouching next to you while he spoke.
“How’s everything, Jax?” He put his hand on my back, a seemingly pointless gesture among armored troops, but one that was nevertheless somehow reassuring.
“I’m good, sir.” I turned to face him, another bit of instinctive body language that had dubious utility when suited up. In non-combat situations I would have saluted him, but the Corps dispensed with the clunky salutes among armored troops in battle. You could barely manage it in a fighting suit in normal conditions. No one wanted a casualty because a Marine was struggling to salute in armor and got his head blown off. And there was no point in advertising where the officers were.
“You’ve come along well, Darius.” His voice was gentle, sincere. “You were nervous as a cat when you first got here, but you are calm and cool now. You’ve been great with the new guys, too. You’re a valued member of this platoon. And you ended up with quite a first assignment. My first was a cakewalk, a quick raid that was over in six hours.” He paused for a second. “You’ve taken all Tombstone could throw at you. I’m proud of you.”
I got a little choked up. This was the first time anyone had really told me I was worth anything. Except my father, of course, but that doesn’t count. I already felt at home in the platoon, but this sealed it. “Thank you, sir.” I hesitated, trying, not terribly successfully, not to show too much emotion in my voice. “That means a lot.” I’d have followed that man anywhere. I’d drawn the short straw getting posted to Tombstone, but I swear there wasn’t a better commanding officer in the Corps than the one I got.
“Carry on.” He crouched down and started over toward Private Samms, about 100 meters to my right. He stopped for a second and turned back toward me. “And stay low.” His head snapped back forward and he was on his way. I had a minute or two to think about what he had said and then all hell broke loose.
My AI warned me about three seconds before the first explosions…grenade and mortar fire. I instinctively crouched lower just before I was pelted with dirt and shattered chunks of rock. The grenades weren’t too bad; we had good cover, and they had to drop one right next to you to cause serious damage. The mortars were another matter. The rounds coming in were heavier than the usual ones; if one of them hit within twenty meters, you’d better have good cover between you and it.
Fortunately for me, they were concentrating the mortar fire to my right, and the worst thing I had to deal with was a grenade landing behind me. It covered me with debris and caused some minor damage to my external sensors, but all things considered, I got off light.
We returned fire with grenades, but ours were no more effective than theirs against troops in heavy cover. They had the exclusive on heavier ordnance right now, and it occurred to me that mortars that big were usually battalion level assets. The Caliphate called their battalions tac-forces, and they were about 35% larger than ours.
“Ok, platoon…” The lieutenant’s voice, calm but urgent. “…we’re looking at a major attack incoming at any time. I just spoke with the colonel…” Holy fuck, I thought…the colonel! He was the planetary theater commander…the top dog. Something big must be brewing. “…and we’ve got support inbound. But we might have to hold out for a while against tough odds.” He paused. “I told him he could count on us. Now you’re not going to make a liar out of me, are you Second Platoon?”
A chorus of “no, sirs” flooded the com, and mine was as loud as anybody’s. We were ready, though I figured if the colonel was getting involved, we were likely in for a rough ride. I was right.
Tactically, the ridge was of limited value, not worth a major fight to hold. We could have pulled back and actually enhanced our longer term positions. We held most of the surrounding hills, and any enemy penetration here would quickly become an exposed salient. But what we didn’t know…what we didn’t need to know…was under the ridge ran a rich vein of trans-urianic element…not the fleeting scraps manufactured in labs that decayed in nano-seconds, but naturally-occurring stable isotopes that were non-existent on Earth and still not fully explained by physicists. These strange substances had been found on a small handful of worlds and, vital for high-yield spaceship drives, they were priceless. The deposits under the ridge were worth more than all of our lives - at least to Alliance Gov - and while the Corps had a different set of priorities, it followed orders. Where we were told to fight, we fought. And right now that was on McCraw’s Ridge. I was positioned almost dead-center, along a spiny Y-shaped rock outcropping…a spot that would later be known as the Cauldron.
Chapter 7
They’d hit us five times the day before. Of course, the days were our own construct, existing largely on our suits’ chronometers. Tombstone took over sixty Earth hours to complete its rotation, and it was never really dark, not even at night, thanks to the electrical activity and chemical reactions in the upper atmosphere. The eerie glowing clouds didn’t give off the light the sun did, but it was enough to see by, especially with your visor set to mag 2 or 3.
Now we were on day two of the battle, though we’d fought more or less continuously, and the second day notation had more importance for record-keeping than any real tactical significance. You’d want it to be correctly noted what day of the battle you were killed on, after all.
I was only a private, barely a rung above the lowly position of “new guy,” so keeping track of planetwide resources wasn’t something I spent much time on. But to my knowledge, our total strength on Tombstone was approximately three battalions. The enemy had more, but only marginally so – about two and a half of their tac-forces – the rough equivalent of four battalions. Now they’d deployed what appeared to be an entire tac-force against us, which was an unprecedented troop concentration on Tombstone. A ten-year struggle between widely-dispersed patrols and platoons was seeing its first pitched battle.
We’d been taken by surprise by the enemy build-up, but the colonel responded quickly, shifting forces from all over to reinforce our position. It’s amazing how minutes can drag into eternity when you’re outnumbered 5-1 and waiting for reserves that are “almost there.”
I hadn’t moved more than 50 meters in the last 24 hours. I was behind the rocky crest of the ridge when the attacks started, with a good field of fire on the broad plain in front of us. Just to my right there was a spur of the outcropping that ran perpendicular out from our location. Any attack on our position forced the enemy to either split his forces or concentrate on one side or the other.
The first attack came right at me, with all the strength to the left of the rocky spine. We hit them hard with fire on the way in, but there were a lot of them, and it looked like they might overrun us. But they’d made a mistake in ignoring the other side of the rock spine. The lieutenant swung around with one of our squads, firing at the enemy flank from the cover of the line of rock. Faced with heavy fire from two directions they withdrew with heavy casualties.