Wrath of Axia (The Arcadian Jihad) (16 page)

“I know how good you are in a fight, Evelyn. You’ve proved yourself time and time again. But we’ll need your unique talents before long, you’re a powerful weapon none of us dare risk.”

Slightly mollified, she agreed. “Very well, but if I see a target I shall engage, regardless.”

They fastened their breathing masks and went through the final airlock to reach the jetty. The boats were streaming back, many bearing the marks of battle. Some were barely afloat, and others were riddled with holes and laser burns. There were scores of wounded being helped out to the medics. There were also the dead, corpses being zipped into body bags and lifted out to go to their final resting place. The maintenance crews worked with manic determination to re-arm the vessels. Within an hour they were ready to go again. Xerxes Tell traveled with Evelyn in a more powerful, heavily armored craft in the center of the flotilla. Smetana was in the lead vessel with Max Biermann. His Hesperian ally would not tolerate a refusal.

“Berg, we’ve been together ever since I can remember. I’ve never missed going into a fight with you.”

“Except when you’re wounded Max. You need time to recover.”

“I’m going with you, Berg, don’t try and argue. You know this won’t end at Settler City. We’ve got a lot of fighting to do before we remove that bastard on Axis Nova. I won’t be left behind.”

Berg relented and Max climbed aboard the lead craft. Rusal and Blas were assigned places in an identical boat that led the second wave. Blas looked around at the armada of assault craft in the underground lagoon. In these days of battles in space and occasional armored clashes on land, it was something he never dreamed he’d come across, let alone be involved in. Smetana’s craft broke out flags on the stubby comms masts fitted to each hull, the old flag of the Democrats, and the symbol of freedom for the human race. As the boats left the cave and started out across the sea, their wake caused a faint luminescence that reflected on the flags, streaming out in the breeze created by the motion of the craft.

He looked at the Admiral, who nodded his understanding. “It’s a stirring sight, Constantine. Now I think I understand the old stories of men riding to battle on horses.”

The boats increased speed to maximum and surged across the sea. Halfway to Settler City the sky started to lighten and it was possible to see all two hundred craft. Rusal’s horse analogy was very apt, and Blas recalled the squadrons of horse in vintage movie transmissions. They were superseded by holographics, of course, but they were still interesting for the snapshot of history they provided. He felt as if they were in the midst of a cavalry charge. All that Berg Smetana needed was a bugler to complete the illusion. But there was no bugler. Instead the only sound that greeted them was the rapid fire from an automated laser cannon, one that their earlier attack had failed to silence. They ducked as the laser blasts punched across the sea. Two of the boats were hit and exploded but twenty boats peeled off to attack, their own guns blazing. Three more assault boats were hit, two damaged and one destroyed, before the concentrated fire of the attackers destroyed the automated gun. If the Settler City garrison had been in any doubt about an attack, they would now be certain after this. Blas listened to the commset, tuned to the Guard frequency. Xerxes Tell was sending a continuous message in an effort to persuade some of the garrison not to oppose them.

“This is your President. The man you know on Axis Nova, as President Fabian Bartok, is an impostor. Look around you, and see how much your life has deteriorated since this murderous thief came to power. I offer you the chance for freedom. Do not fire upon our craft and we will not fire on you. Join us and give democracy a chance. Let us hold fresh elections so that you can once again make your voice heard. I repeat, do not fire on our craft.”

“Do you think any of them will listen?” Blas asked the Admiral.

“Some of them are sure to. Remember, every soldier that refuses to shoot at us is a soldier we don’t have to fight. It’ll help us, at the very least.”

Not every defender was prepared to listen. They were nearing the city, and only fifteen miles out. The tallest buildings were visible on the horizon. As were the point defense systems, they watched the guns open fire and the beams flick out towards them. Smetana shouted on the commset.

“Break, break, Delta and Echo Teams, try and knock out those towers.”

Two of the boats were equipped with more powerful counter-battery artillery instead of being troop carriers, so they ranged on the enemy guns and a long distance laser duel began. The boats had the advantage, as they could maneuver at will whilst keeping their guns fixed on the towers. The defensive artillery had no such freedom of movement. Their heavier salvos caused the water around the boats to boil but none of the shots hit. Their targets were maneuvering too wildly. The guns tracked the towers and poured laser fire onto the city guns, and one by one they fell silent. Some individual guns had opened up on the shore as officers brought their men to readiness. The boats continued their zigzag course, but it wasn’t enough. The sheer volume of fire struck more and more. It was a rare sight, the thick beams of laser fire that seemed to fill every inch of air space between the boats and the shore. They were forced to bunch up as they neared their landing site, so it meant that they offered an easier target. Men screamed as they were hit by, heavy, direct bursts that ripped their bodies apart.

Blas estimated that they’d lost fifty boats already, a quarter of their force and they still had the hardest mile to go on shore. They could lose another fifty before they hit the beach, and then they had to reach the enemy positions. It was going to be a close run thing. Boat after boat was shattered by the heavy gunfire, yet he realized as they were about to land that they couldn’t afford to lose any more of their force. The craft touched shore and he leapt out, clutching a laser rifle. Rusal was at his side. The incoming fire was withering and men were falling all around him. They started to hesitate, tempted to fall back. Blas knew that within seconds they would start to retreat back to the boats and the attack would stall. There was only one thing to do. He ran forward, aware of Rusal’s footsteps behind him. He shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Come on men, for freedom. Kill the bastards before they kill us.”

He reached a fortification, a row of sandbags stacked on the sand. It was primitive, but effective against all but the heaviest laser fire. He could see movement behind the firing slot. Laser blasts ripped out from similar slots all the way along the sandbag wall. There was nothing else for it, braving the gunfire he vaulted the four-foot high wall, turned and opened fire. There were more than a dozen troopers firing from behind the sandbags, but in the heat of battle he’d taken them by surprise. Quentin Rusal vaulted over the sandbags and started to shoot. The two heavy laser rifles, firing from inside their position, proved too much for the defenders. In less than a minute, all that confronted them was the carnage of broken bodies.

“What’s next, Constantine?” Rusal shouted. The older man was flushed with the exertion, with the heated emotion of battle.

“We’ll work along the line of shore defenses,” Blas replied. “We need to keep low. Our troops are firing in this direction, but we should be able to roll them up from behind.”

“Good. I’m ready when you are, my friend.”

Blas looked up and down the line of shore defenses. He pointed further up the coast.

“The main body of our men landed there, so I suggest we go in that direction. We can crawl fifty yards inland so they don’t see us and then just take them position by position.”

Rusal nodded and they dropped to the ground, crawling backwards. None of the enemy noticed, as they had their hands full trying to fight off Smetana’s ferocious raiders. After fifty yards they got to their feet but crouched low and made their way directly behind the next defense position. Another score of men were fighting, and three were lying lifeless on the ground. Blas made a further check on the security of his breathing mask and looked at Rusal. “Ready?”

The Admiral nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They opened fire and once more their unexpected onslaught proved too much for the defenders. Half of them fell, and the rest instantly threw up their hands to surrender. The defense became a rout. The attackers poured over the undefended sandbags, turned and started to attack the other positions from behind. In only a few minutes the shore defenses were a ruin of broken equipment and bodies. Smetana rallied his men and rushed over to Blas and Rusal. Max Biermann was with him as ever, guarding his back.

“That was good work, and it has saved a lot of my men from injury or death. We should have a clear run to the city walls.”

“What about Evelyn and the President? Are they safe?”

“Don’t worry, they’re well guarded. I kept them off planet until a few moments ago when the last defenses fell. Their bodyguards are taking good care of them.”

“Good. What next? How will we breach the walls?”

They knew that the city defenses would be much tougher to penetrate. The massive plasteel construction, reinforced with layers of primitive concrete and steel, were built to withstand almost any kind of explosives and cannon fire that could be used against them.

“Nothing new, we just need to keep hitting them until something gives,” Smetana said wearily. Both men knew that the assault on the walls could cost many lives. “What I could do with is a squadron of ASFVs that could punch a hole in the walls without getting the gunners killed.”

“Would two hundred ASFVs and a thousand marines be of any use?” Blas grinned.

Smetana looked angry. “This is no time for jokes, Constantine. My men are dying here.”

“It’s no joke, Berg. Give me a few moments.”

He contacted the Rex Salis. “Patch me through to Captain Glen. It’s urgent!”

In a few moments, Rafe Glen’s voice came through the commset. “What can I do for you, Constantine?”

“I’ve got Berg with me. We’re up against the city walls, and they’re almost impossible to break through. Commander Smetana said that he would appreciate the use of your armor and marines to help him.”

“Berg! Is he ok?”

“I’ll put him on.”

The two old comrades talked for several minutes. Then Berg handed him back his portable commset.

“He says about ten minutes. They’re landing them on this beach.”

Blas nodded. He went to find Evelyn. She was in the center of a group of men with President Tell. She came out to meet him, and several of the troopers detached themselves and formed a separate ring around her. Blas approved, her guards would die before they let anything untoward happen to her. He watched her approach, admiring her beauty as ever, even in the heat and hell of a pitched battle. He made a vow to himself, never again. As much as this was a battle against tyranny, it was a battle he fought to give the woman he loved the peace and security he knew she so desperately craved. She came up to him.

“Evelyn, Rafe Glen is landing his marines and armor on this beach to help take the city. With any luck, we should be able to mop up Settler City without losing too many men. Once the city is in our hands, the rest of the planet will fall.”

She smiled. “That’s wonderful. Just take care, please.”

“I do take care,” he protested.

“Yes, I know you do. I saw you carefully vaulting over the defenses to take them in the rear.”

 
That silenced him. “I didn’t realize you could see what I was doing. Otherwise, I’d have…”

“You’d have found somewhere out of sight to make your singlehanded attack on the defenses.”

He grinned. “There’s a war on, Evelyn. The men have to take their chances, and so do I.”

“I know. But let the others take some of the risks so that it’s not always you.”

“I’ll try.”

They both knew that it was the way he fought. Blas used speed, skill and a wealth of experience gained in battle after battle to overwhelm the enemy before they even realized he was near. It didn’t always work, but at least he was alive. They looked up as the shuttles started to descend from the sky. Minutes later the first ASFVs rolled out of the hangar doors. Each was crewed by Glen’s marines. Rafe had assured them that they were totally loyal to the President, loyal to the real President. The revelation that the man on Axis Nova had tried to murder President Tell was spreading through the Systems like wildfire. Many refused to believe it, but those who’d known Tell and who’d voted for him after the First War of the Systems, now knew they’d been hoodwinked. Xerxes Tell was a good man, a democrat, and a man who would sacrifice everything for others, not the avaricious bully who occupied the Presidential Palace. Within an hour the entire force of ASFVs was deployed outside the city walls. They immediately began to fire.

They didn’t need to breach the defenses, for a call came over the Guard frequency to request surrender talks. Berg agreed and a small plasteel postern gate built into the walls opened. A portly man came out waving a white flag. Even though he wore a breathing mask, they recognized him as the Governor of Cadmus. He was a man known to have made immense profits by systematically raping the planet of every resource he could get his hands on. Another of Bartok’s cronies, he had not lost the arrogance of his position.

“Who is in command here? Bring your commander to me!”

They laughed and Rusal dragged the tubby Governor over to where Berg was sitting on the hull of an ASFV, taking a rest. Smetana looked down with disdain. “Are you here to surrender the planet?”