Imperfect Sword

Chapter Eight

The bombardment projectiles fell for kilometer after kilometer, picking up energy as they plummeted toward the surface, tracing streaks of fire across the planet’s sky as they dropped through atmosphere that grew thicker with every meter. Rocks had been among the first weapons that humans employed against each other, and these projectiles were really just refined versions of rocks, projectiles of solid metal that depended on mass and accumulated energy to inflict damage on their targets. But where humanity’s first ancestors had lobbed rocks with uncertain aim, human technology and ingenuity had advanced to the point where these projectiles could be dropped from great distances with incredible accuracy against targets that had no ability to dodge.

Targets like buildings on the surface of a planet.

Targets like the snake headquarters complex, heavily protected by walls and barriers, fences and mines, guard towers at frequent intervals, many portions of the headquarters buried under armor and layers of rock proof against most weapons.

The projectiles fell to earth, and the earth and the works of humanity broke beneath them.

Morgan woke to the shuddering of the building she was in. She knew that sensation and, in the instant of waking, unsure where she was or why, wondered if she was one of the targets of the attack. A moment later, as memory returned, she felt a lilt of savage joy at knowing it represented an orbital bombardment falling on her enemies some distance from where she was.

The joy lasted just long enough for her to recall the events of last night and for her to start feeling the stiffness and pain of her body. Morgan took several deep breaths, willing away the pain, putting herself once again in that state where mere physical limitations could not stop her. Going to a medical clinic to get her wounded arm looked at was out of the question. The snakes would have every clinic and hospital within a hundred kilometers of the transmitter site staked out, waiting for someone to show up with wounds from gunfire.

She twisted, pulling out the first-aid kit from the vehicle as well as some emergency medical supplies she had earlier stolen and stashed here in case they were needed. It took some awkward maneuvering in the limited space available to do what needed to be done to her arm to stop the pain and allow it to function again. There would be a price to pay later on for pushing the limb into use despite the injury, but there was always a price to pay no matter what. She took meds to clear her mind as well, and to compensate for the blood loss she had endured, then wolfed down special rations designed to boost healing and blood regeneration.

Having done what she could without access to medical care, the pain blocked, her right arm almost fully useful again, Morgan paused to think through the situation. The bombardment meant that General Drakon was here. He must be very close to the planet or already in orbit. Assault doctrine called for launching the landing as soon as possible after the preliminary bombardment to take advantage of the disruption and damage caused. The shuttles would be starting their drops soon.

It was too late to warn the general. She could not get to a sufficiently powerful transmitter in time even though the snakes who had been hunting her would now have a lot of other things to worry them as the attack went down.

But she had a major assignment yet to complete. Making sure that the snakes could not use their alternate command complex to detonate their hidden nukes on this planet. Morgan had done the preliminary work, but she needed to finish the job so that the codes would go nowhere even though the snake systems would think everything was working perfectly.

If she failed at this, the general would die, and she would as well.

Drakon paused before entering the shuttle he would ride down to the surface. It was already full of soldiers, inhuman in their battle armor, their armored faceplates offering no clues to the feelings of those inside. “Colonel Malin, how does it look on your ship?”

Malin, occupying a different freighter, answered immediately. “The troops are fine, General. I can’t say the same for the freighter crews. General, Haris has been waiting for us. There may be more surprises on the surface.”

“I’m aware of that, Colonel.” He managed not to snap the reply. Malin looked and sounded as if he were reciting an assessment of an issue in which he had no previous involvement. It would be very easy to lash out at Malin, to blame him for championing this operation, but that not only wouldn’t accomplish anything, it also wouldn’t be fair. The reasons for coming to Ulindi had appeared to everyone to be good ones. “I’m also aware that we have no alternative but to get down there and win.”

“General, have there been any messages directly to you from Colonel Morgan?”

“No. Either she hasn’t spotted anything unexpected on the surface, or she hasn’t been able to get to a transmitter.” The possible reasons why Morgan would not have been able to achieve that task, the sort of obstacles that could stop even her, worried Geary at the moment more than the Syndicate battleship light-hours distant.

“Sir, if Morgan hasn’t taken out the links from the snake alternate command center—”

“I know. But her report indicated she had already done the work on that and only needed to activate the bypasses. We have to assume she succeeded. Once you get down, take charge of sending scouts out to check buildings outside of our perimeter. The ground forces down there have had plenty of warning that we were coming, and plenty of time to dig in at their base, but they might have left teams outside it to harass us.”

“Yes, sir. I regret that I proposed this operation, General. There were obviously aspects to the situation that I was not sufficiently aware of.”

So Malin did feel some guilt, though even now expressing it with cold formality rather than a heated statement of regret. “That’s not important at the moment. What matters is frustrating whatever plans Haris has and finding out whatever other surprises exist before they find us. Focus on that.”

“Yes, sir.” This time Malin’s voice clearly conveyed a determination to make up for his error.

Drakon ended the call to Malin, then took one more long look at his display before issuing the next order. He checked the consolidated status reports of the shuttles and the companies making up the two brigades. “Colonel Gaiene, Colonel Kai. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, sir,” both replied.

He called the aerospace commander of the shuttles. “Major Barnes, are all shuttles ready to land the first wave?”

“Ready, sir,” she said.

“Kommodor Marphissa, I’m beginning the assault. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you, General,” the Kommodor answered. “We are unable to precisely evaluate the results of the bombardment of the snake headquarters complex due to the dust and debris masking our sensors, but the complex is assessed to have been totally destroyed.” She was young enough and inexperienced enough for her worries to sound in her voice but had spent enough time in command not to extend the farewell with platitudes or meaningless promises.

“Thanks,” Drakon said. “We’ll finish the job.”

He switched from the external command circuit for talking to the warships and back to the internal circuit tying together every unit under his command. “All units,” Drakon said. “Commence assault.”

He boarded the shuttle, locked one armored fist onto the brace that would hold him in place, watched the ramp seal, then felt the shuttle lurch and fall. All around, other shuttles dropped off from the freighters carrying them and dove toward the surface, firing chaff barrages ahead of them as they fell.

Any landing operation against opposition was a matter of tight guts, pounding hearts, and hope. Hope that your shuttle would make it to the surface without being hit, hope that you would get off the shuttle without being hit, hope that you would find cover without being hit, hope that the shuttle had dropped you in the right place and you weren’t surrounded by enemies, hope that somehow you would survive this whole mess and come out in one piece on the winning side.

Drakon felt the shuttle he was riding rock several times from near misses as it dropped. He called up a display showing the faces of all the soldiers in the shuttle with him, stacked across his helmet’s faceplate like figures on playing cards. “They’re lousy shots,” he told the soldiers, trying to put the best face he could on the situation.

Most of the soldiers smiled, though nerves made a lot of the smiles resemble grimaces. “It’s pretty hot down there, General,” one offered.

“Not nearly as hot as some places I’ve been,” Drakon said. He steadied himself as the shuttle jolted again. The pilots driving these birds were veterans of the aerospace forces, and despite the hideous losses often sustained in landings against opposition, a fair number of the pilots had made drops in the face of determined enemy fire more than once. They were pushing their experience and their birds to the limits.

Drakon’s shuttle was coming down so quickly that his armored boots threatened to rise off the deck of the troop compartment. Another small virtual window on his helmet display showed the view outside, which right now consisted of sky littered with all of the active and passive countermeasures, collectively called chaff, that the shuttles had fired down into the atmosphere before descending. Mixed in with the chaff was the dust and fine debris that had in some cases risen high in the atmosphere from the recent bombardment of the snake headquarters complex only thirty kilometers from where Drakon’s troops were landing. All of that junk did a pretty decent job of confusing and blinding sensors on the ground, which was the only reason any of the shuttles had survived even this far into their drops to the surface. The surface defenses were probably firing on manual aiming, drastically reducing their chances of a hit, but some of their shots were coming uncomfortably close. “Remember the drill when we hit dirt. Most of you have done this before. Anyone who hasn’t, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

That got some laughs, even from the newer soldiers who had joined Drakon’s division after the exile to Midway. Joking with the troops wasn’t something the average Syndicate CEO did, but Drakon believed that the fact that he had rarely acted like the average Syndicate CEO had been one of the things that had earned the loyalty of these soldiers. The average Syndicate CEO wouldn’t have been riding in this shuttle, going down with the troops charged with carrying out his plan, sharing their fate.

Of course, he hadn’t had much real choice. The freighters would be sitting ducks for the Syndicate warships unless that Kommodor could pull off a miracle. At least on the surface, he would have a chance to shoot back at the Syndicate.

The red lights on their helmet displays changed to yellow, warning that the ground was coming up fast. “Brace yourselves!” Drakon ordered. “They’re going to brake hard!”

The words had barely left his mouth before g-forces slammed his armored boots flat to the deck. Drakon grunted as his body tried to compact onto the lower portions of his armor, painfully emphasizing that Syndicate armor designs did not incorporate nearly enough cushioning. His internal organs felt like they were compressing into his waist and legs, too, but he endured it, knowing it would not last.

After so many years of war and so many years laboring under the arbitrary, cruel, and profit-driven Syndicate, Drakon believed that was half the trick to remaining sane. Knowing that nothing would last, that no matter how bad things got, sooner or later they would either get better or possibly worse, but at least different.

The shuttle grounded hard enough to jar Drakon’s teeth even through the armor, the ramp dropping at almost the same instant. “Out!” he yelled, leaping out onto the surface of Ulindi’s primary inhabited world.

He let one foot land, using it to propel himself forward and down toward a building that loomed close by. The door was locked, but Drakon in his heavy battle armor smashed through it as if it were made of tinfoil. That had been a safe bet since the Syndicate Internal Security Service forbade nonofficial buildings from having doors strong enough to withstand forced entry. The rule made it a lot easier for the snakes to get into places, but also for attacking soldiers. Drakon rolled onto the floor inside, barely noting the office furnishings being hurled aside by the impacts with his armor, then came to his feet, weapon questing for targets.

Other soldiers from the shuttle came diving through the door, others through two nearby windows, and several more through the wall. Drakon knew the building could handle the abuse. Like most modern structures, it was built with a strong frame that could flex under stress and curtain walls over and inside the frame that also had some ability to absorb stress and vibration. Punching holes in the curtain walls didn’t weaken the structure much.

The sergeant in charge of this unit ordered the soldiers to take up firing positions and told off several to scout around and ensure no defenders were elsewhere inside this structure. Confident that nearby security was being competently handled, Drakon knelt to study his helmet display.

Shuttles were grounding in a roughly rectangular pattern defined by streets facing the last row of buildings before the open area surrounding the main base of Haris’s ground forces. The buildings offered protection against aimed fire from the base as the shuttles came down. Drakon could see the symbols for soldiers spilling out of each shuttle as it landed, then scattering into the buildings for cover as the shuttles leaped skyward again to rendezvous with the freighters and pick up another load of soldiers. There were few reports of contact with enemy forces to be seen, and those individual enemy soldiers encountered had either faded back toward their base or vanished into the buildings on the other side of the street from those occupied by Drakon’s troops.

As the first wave of ground forces consolidated their positions, Drakon could see his square perimeter taking shape, the enemy ground forces base in the center and the rest of the city outside.

Like many Syndicate ground fortifications, the base had been deliberately constructed inside a dense section of a city, ruthlessly maintaining a clear security area around the base but leaving the buildings beyond that in place. Drakon had been told that the original designs had been intended to prevent ground forces mutinies by keeping them in areas easy for the snakes to monitor, to allow easy use of ground forces to suppress demonstrations or riots by citizens in the cities, and had also been constructed amid cities because the Alliance had once shied away from bombardments of civilian targets. That last piece of logic had lost any meaning as the war went on for decade after decade, and the Alliance began bombing as indiscriminately as the Syndicate mobile forces, but the Syndicate had never made a habit of changing any of its practices just because they no longer offered any benefits.

One significant negative of his forces’ current position was that this first line of buildings facing the base consisted of fairly low structures to avoid blocking lines of sight against targets in the air. At only three or four stories tall, these buildings were overlooked by the taller structures across the street. But since Drakon didn’t intend staying in these buildings, that shouldn’t be a problem for very long.

He had dropped with Gaiene’s brigade, which was forming into a half square centered on the hexagonal shape of the Syndicate ground forces base. Warning symbols glowed all around the outside of the Syndicate fort, cautioning of active defenses as well as mines and other hazards. Having watched the Midway attack force approaching for days, the Syndicate forces had received enough warning to concentrate inside the fort and ensure all of the base’s defenses were prepared.

On the other side of the Syndicate base, Kai’s brigade was dropping and forming into another half square, linking up with Gaiene’s to completely surround the Syndicate soldiers. Under cover inside the buildings just beyond the base’s cleared security perimeter, the vast majority of Drakon’s forces were facing inward, preparing to assault the base, only a few watching their backs for threats coming from outside the circle. With the Syndicate ground forces trapped inside that base, there shouldn’t be—

Alerts appeared on Drakon’s helmet display as a chorus of shouts and warnings cut across the comm circuits. He forced himself to study the information carefully instead of barking out orders before understanding what was happening. Threat symbols flickered in and out as momentary detections registered on the sensors of battle armor worn by the scouts conducting reconnaissance of the buildings outside the perimeter.

“What have we got?” Drakon asked.

“General,” Colonel Kai said, sounding annoyed the way he usually did when something interfered with the smooth progression of a plan. “The squads I sent to search the buildings outside our perimeter are spotting indications of enemy ground forces.”

“How many? I’m seeing contacts fade in and out.”

“My scouts are estimating the enemy in that area at about platoon strength. It’s hard to tell, though, because the enemy ground forces are avoiding contact.”

“Avoiding contact?” Drakon questioned. “Are they running?”

“No,” Kai said. “They are remaining in the area but evading contact whenever my scouts try to close. I have ordered my scouts to cease pursuit because it looked very much like they were being drawn into an ambush.”

There were times when Kai’s caution paid off, and this was such a time, Drakon thought. “Good move. You’re right. If they are staying close but just out of contact, they must want us to pursue.”

“Should I reinforce my scouts, have them hold position, or withdraw?”

Drakon frowned, one part of his attention watching as the shuttles kept rising to pick up the next wave of soldiers from the freighters. Any of the three options could be justified based on what was known. “What does the senior soldier on the scene think?”

“I will link them in and ask. Sergeant Gavigan, what is your feel for the situation?”

Gavigan’s voice was steady, but her words carried uncertainty. “Everything our sensors can see feels fine, Colonel. But there’s something about this that doesn’t feel fine. I’ve got my scouts widely dispersed, and they’ve all got that crawly feeling like people are infiltrating around them. We’re not getting new detections right now. Just that feeling. We sent out gnats, those are what picked up most of the unknowns we spotted earlier, but the enemy must have deployed wasps because our gnats have been dying fast.”

If the gnats, tiny robotic scouts which could not do very much or for very long distances but were very hard for enemies to spot, were being taken out by wasps, slightly larger robotic hunters whose sole function was to spot and destroy gnats, then whoever was hiding from his scouts wasn’t just a patrol caught outside the base. They were equipped to deal with Drakon’s scouts and capable enough to employ concealment and countermeasures to remain almost entirely hidden.

Drakon glanced around at the fine dust in the air from the recent bombardments and the damage to the buildings. “Do you have enough dust floating where you are to spot stealth suits in motion, Sergeant Gavigan?” Even the best stealth suits could not avoid revealing their presence amid smoke, mist, or dust.

“Yes, sir, General. There’s enough dust. We can’t see anything moving…”

“But…” Drakon prompted.

“I’d really like to fall back and concentrate my forces a little, General. If it was up to me. But we’ll push on and see what we can find if those are our orders.”

“Colonel Kai?” Drakon asked.

“We are still pretty thin on the ground,” Kai pointed out. “If I reinforce the scouts, it will have to come from forces preparing to assault the base.”

That decided Drakon. “Bring your scouts back in, to the near side of the buildings across the street from our perimeter, and have them maintain a close watch. Leave snoops behind. I want to see what follows the scouts when they pull back. Have your other forces continue their assigned tasks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kai had scarcely signed off before more alerts sounded. “We’ve got something out there,” Gaiene reported. “Unknown strength, avoiding contact.”

“Are your scouts pursuing?” Drakon demanded.

“With extreme caution.”

“Pull them back. Near side of the buildings across the street from your half of the perimeter. Leave snoops when they fall back. Did your scouts send out gnats?”

“Yes, sir,” Gaiene said. He might be a frequent drunk in garrison, but in a fight he was on top of every detail. “But the gnats are getting eaten.”

“Colonel Kai’s troops ran into someone with wasps on his side, too. We can’t divert forces from preps for the assault on the base, so have your scouts do their best to find out what they’re facing but do not let them stick their necks out.”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.”

Drakon had barely ended that conversation when more alerts sounded, and his display lit with new threat symbols. “Warbirds!” someone called across the comm circuit.

“Engage when they reach effective range—” Colonel Kai began.

“Sir, they’re not heading for ground attack. They’re climbing to intercept the shuttles.”

Damn. Drakon glared at the symbols representing the enemy aerospace craft. His forces didn’t have any antiair weapons with enough range to hit the warbirds if they stayed high, and they were going for the most vulnerable part of his forces.

“Did that charming Kommodor leave anything in orbit to help deal with these fellows?” Gaiene asked Drakon.

Had she? That had been the plan, before the Syndicate flotilla had shown up. “I—” More symbols on his display. Particle-beam fire, coming down from above, spearing four of the warbirds climbing toward the shuttles. “Yes, she did.”

The remaining warbirds scattered, some attempting to continue toward the once-more-descending shuttles. But it was very hard for anything moving at atmospheric speeds to evade a weapon moving at the velocity of a warship’s hell lance. Four more warbirds were stricken by a second volley from high above, some spiraling off like lifeless, falling leaves and others exploding as the weapons they carried detonated.

Protected by the fire of the warships in near orbit as well as by a fresh barrage of chaff, the shuttles started down with the second wave of assault troops. They would land in the same areas as the first wave, on the streets just outside the current perimeter of Drakon’s forces.

And there were unknown forces lurking inside the buildings on the other sides of those streets.

“Screen the drop zones,” Drakon ordered. “Colonel Kai, Colonel Gaiene, pull half the first wave forces prepping for assault and send them to reinforce the units around the shuttle drop zones so the next wave can get down.”

“Are you noticing the curious lack of artillery and missile fire on our positions?” Gaiene asked.

“Yes.” They had assumed the landing areas and the occupied buildings would be getting hit by this far into the operation. “Haris doesn’t have that much long-range bombardment capability. Maybe he moved it out of range of this location and is having to get it back into place.”

“Or,” Gaiene said, “maybe they’re worried about rounds hitting whoever is in the buildings across the street?”

“The snoops my scouts planted are being taken out,” Kai reported. “Someone is neutralizing them before they can provide detections.”

Someone was a lot more capable than the single brigade of professional ground forces on this planet was supposed to be. “Each of you get a company set up in defensive positions across the street.”

“They’ll have to come from—” Kai began to object.

“I realize that,” Drakon said, studying his display. “I’ve got a bad feeling. If we don’t cover those landing zones and protect our rear, our assault could be defeated before it begins.”

“Do we abort further landings?” Kai asked.

“No! Anyone we left on the freighters would be sitting ducks. We need to get them all down here so we can move in on that Syndicate base. The sooner we take it down, the sooner we can move out from it to eliminate any remaining enemy ground forces.”

Shuttles once more began landing in the streets outside, their exhaust pushing abandoned ground vehicles around and stirring up clouds of dust. Soldiers raced out of them as the ramps dropped, fanning out and diving into the already-occupied buildings facing the enemy base.

Threat symbols appeared on Drakon’s display again, multiplying rapidly in the buildings across the street all around the perimeter. This time the contacts stayed solid, and red markers indicated combat under way.

“My forces across the street are coming under pressure,” Kai remarked laconically. “Estimated enemy strength of at least a company.”

“Here, too!” Gaiene announced. “We’re holding.”

Shuttles were leaping upward again to pick up the third and last wave of ground forces from the freighters. Drakon tried calling the warships in orbit but could not get through the jamming that Haris’s forces were employing. He switched to the circuit for the shuttle wing commander. “Major Barnes, what can you and your pilots see of the situation on the ground?”

Barnes, understandably, sounded distracted as she answered. “We’re not too focused on that, General. There’s still a lot of fire coming at us. Damn! Wait.” A pause, then Barnes came back on. “My bird took a hit. Nothing serious. General, I can’t make out details, but some of my pilots have spotted something unusual. Normally, we come in like this, and we see people fleeing the city. People in vehicles, on foot, whatever. Can’t see that here. Wait.” Another pause. “My bird is going to need some work when this is over, General. What we’re seeing is stuff coming in. Vehicles, groups of people on foot, but not crowds.”

“Not crowds?” Drakon pressed. “People on foot coming into the city. But spread out and not crowded together?”

“Yes, sir. Coming in from all sides near as I can tell. Looks like ground forces to me from the way they’re moving.”

“When you get high enough, ask whatever warships are up there to see if they can knock down bridges and interdict other routes into the city.”

“Yes, sir. Got it. I think you’ve got four HuKs still in close support. Before our last dive, I saw all of the cruisers heading off after Haris’s cruisers.”

Four HuKs wasn’t much, but it was a lot better than nothing.

Drakon pulled out the scale on his helmet display. The enemy base, and Drakon’s troops, were located a little way from the city center. Reinforcements coming in would not all arrive at once as those with more distance to travel took more time to get here.

Reinforcements. Was the enemy base nearly empty and being defended mostly by automated weapons?

Or did Haris have on the ground the same sort of surprise that the Syndicate battleship had provided in space?

Why hadn’t Morgan made contact yet? How could she have missed substantial additional ground forces?

“General, something is wrong—” Colonel Malin began. He was over on the opposite side of the perimeter from Drakon.

“I already know that. Listen up, all three of you,” Drakon said, linking in Kai and Gaiene as well. “The birds have spotted ground forces coming into the city and no citizens fleeing it. We need to know how well defended that base actually is.”

“They have been throwing out shots whenever they get a glimpse of our soldiers,” Kai said.

“I’ve seen that. But it’s apparent that we’re going to be facing a much more serious threat outside our perimeter than we anticipated. We may have to assault sooner and with fewer troops. Try probing the base’s defenses to see how much fire you draw.”

“I would caution against a premature attack,” Kai said. “We need enough troops on the ground to not only penetrate the base’s defenses but also hold their gains and expand them. We do not have those forces available yet.”

“I believe that Colonel Kai is right,” Malin said.

“Test the defenses,” Drakon repeated. “Let’s make sure that base is as strongly held as our plans assumed.” He was seriously second-guessing his own decision not to ask the warships to bombard part of the base’s defenses as well as annihilate the snake headquarters. Given the limited bombardment capability of the few Midway cruisers, it had seemed much better to ensure the total destruction of the snake complex and to capture the base intact, along with the weapons and supplies within it. But that decision could not be revisited now. If the Midway cruisers had followed the plan, they had expended all of their bombardment projectiles.

“General?” Drakon instinctively looked up as he once more heard the voice of his shuttle commander, Major Barnes, through a hiss of static and wavering jamming tones. “Sir, we’re loading up now. We’ve lost two birds, several others have hits but are still flyable. What do we do after we drop the last load?”

The plan had been for the shuttles to return to the freighters and await further developments in orbit. But that plan hadn’t anticipated having an enemy battleship bearing down on them. “How long do we have left before the battleship gets here?”

“Twelve hours. The freighter crews are acting like it’s already coming within weapons range, though. They’ll run as soon as we leave with this last wave of the assault, General. I guarantee it. There won’t be any freighters in orbit for us to link up with after the last drop.”

Drakon exhaled heavily, glaring at his helmet display. “I hate to give this order, Pancho, but after your last drops, have the shuttles scatter. Stay real low to avoid any warbirds that Haris still has operational. Tell your people to find spots to land and hide until they get word to lift and rejoin us inside the base.”

“Yes, sir. General, it’s pretty hard to hide something the size of a shuttle.”

“It’ll be easier to hide on the ground than if you’re in the air or in orbit. We’ve taken out Haris’s orbital sensors. We’ll have to hope that Haris’s warships stay focused on our warships and the freighters and don’t do orbital searches for you. Odds are the attention of Haris’s ground forces is going to stay focused on us right here.”

“All that’s true, General. Good luck.”

“Same to you. Tell all of your pilots that they did a fine job, and I’ll stand them all for drinks when this is over.”

“We’ll hold you to that, General. All of my birds are loose and starting the last drop. And… the freighters are scattering. Looks like they’re going to hug the curvature of the planet to hide themselves from the battleship for a little while, then head off in different directions.”

“Understood.” Drakon clenched one fist, wondering if his next sight of one of those freighters would be a ball of fire blossoming high overhead as the Syndicate warships closed in on them. He had no idea where Haris’s two cruisers were right now or what Kommodor Marphissa was doing with her cruisers.

“The pressure on our perimeter is increasing,” Gaiene reported. “I’ve got at least two companies of ground forces pressing on my people holding the far side of the street.”

“Pull another company out of the perimeter to reinforce your people in those buildings,” Drakon ordered. “Colonel Kai, you do the same.”

“General,” Kai began, “we’re not yet under the same strain as—” He paused, then spoke again. “They just began hitting us harder. These are not just probes of our own defenses, General.”

“No. Assume we’re facing significant forces outside our perimeter. Once the third wave lands and the shuttles clear the landing areas, I want you to pull everyone back inside this ring of buildings. We need to do it fast and clean, so no one is caught trying to cross the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

“General?” Malin called. “I’ve been monitoring our testing of the base’s defenses. I have no doubt that the base is strongly held.”

“What are we facing here, Bran? Any ideas?”

“They were waiting for us in space, and they were waiting on the ground. If they have additional ground forces on the same scale to us as that battleship is to the Midway warships, then we could be facing at least a division.”

“How could Morgan have missed that?” Drakon demanded.

“I don’t know, General. My best bet is that the additional forces arrived too late in the game for Morgan to get word to us.”

Drakon glared at his display, where enemy symbols continued to proliferate as the pressure on his outer perimeter intensified. “They must have had some pretty precise information about our plans.”

“Yes, sir. Very precise. Someone close to you, or to the president, must have provided them with good enough information for them to plan this.”

“I already discussed that with the Kommodor. We’ll deal with that issue when we get back.” He refused to say if we get back. “Another half hour, and we’ll have everyone down here. We need to hit that base with everything we can as soon as we can. Help get that set up.”

“Incoming!” someone shouted across the comm circuit.

More alerts pulsed on Drakon’s helmet display, warning of a barrage of long-range missiles on its way. “They’re timed to hit when the shuttles are dropping the last load. Pancho, delay the drop.”

“Got it,” Major Barnes said, her breathing coming fast. “Braking hard. We can’t delay too much at the rate we’re coming down. We’ll reach the landing zones on the heels of the missiles and hopefully miss any shrapnel.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Colonel Gaiene called over his brigade’s comm circuit. “Get your butts under cover or kiss them good-bye.” He switched to speak only to Drakon. “This could be a little ugly if some of those missiles hit the buildings we’re in.”

“I know.”

“The enemy forces engaging me are pulling back,” Kai reported.

“Smart of them,” Gaiene said.

“Yeah,” Drakon agreed. “They don’t want to get hit by their own missile bombardment.” He frowned as one of the missile tracks vanished from his display. “What—?” Another disappeared. “The warships. They’re nailing the missiles with their hell lances.”

“Too bad there are only four up there at the moment,” Gaiene said. “They got another. This might not be too bad.”

“Their hell lances can’t fire continuously for long,” Malin cautioned. “They’ll overheat.”

A detection hovered at the edge of Drakon’s sensor picture. He stared in disbelief. “One of those HuKs is coming really low. He’s getting into real atmosphere.”

A half dozen more missiles vanished, but more warnings sprang to life as other missiles and surviving warbirds bolted upward after the Hunter-Killer that had come perilously low to support the ground forces.

“Get clear!” Drakon shouted at the Hunter-Killer, wondering if they would pick up his message through the jamming.

Whether the crew of the Hunter-Killer heard or not, the warship pivoted on end and shot back toward space, tracing a fiery path through atmosphere as its tortured hull overheated. The pursuing missiles and warbirds dropped back, unable to match the velocity of a spacecraft’s main propulsion.

“She took some damage doing that,” Kai remarked in an admiring voice. “And she attracted a lot of the defenders’ attention by coming down that low.”

“We owe her and her crew,” Drakon agreed.

The blare of the incoming barrage imminent alarms in their battle armor caused them all to hit the floor wherever they were and wait for the few remaining seconds before the surviving missiles released multiple warheads that began slamming into the street outside. Drakon felt the floor of the building he was in flexing wildly, but, fortunately, earthquake proofing also helped structures survive the effects of nearby large explosions. Any windows still intact shattered as designed into clear gravel that fell like hail through the buildings. The street outside was obscured from view as the missile warheads filled the air with smoke and debris. As the thunder of detonations eased, he heard shattered walls of other buildings collapsing. Somewhere nearby, a fire alarm stuttered forlornly amid the wreckage.

“Coming in!” Major Barnes cried as the shuttles dropped, chasing the falling debris back to the ground. “We have no interest in staying any longer than necessary!”

The shuttles landed all around the perimeter, many making last-minute lurches to avoid new craters in the street as they dropped the last few meters. Once more, soldiers came out the ramps and scattered into the buildings, but this time as the shuttles lifted they bent into tight arcs that kept them low as they raced away across the city, dodging ground fire as they went.

Yells resounded in the street near Drakon. He glanced out the blown-out window nearest to him and caught a glimpse of a crippled shuttle cartwheeling across the sky, trailing smoke and fire. The shuttle clipped the top of a building, spun wildly, then crashed into another building farther on. Drakon couldn’t see it as the shuttle exploded, throwing pieces of itself and the building in all directions, but his armor’s sensors dutifully reported the burst of heat, pressure, and debris that marked the death of the shuttle’s flight crew.

He made another check of all comms and sensors for information on the situation above the atmosphere. But with the defender’s jammers still active, Drakon’s surviving shuttles racing away at very low altitude seeking hiding places, and the freighters running for their lives, there was no longer any means of relaying data about events in space.

“All right, you apes,” Drakon called over his command circuit to every one of his soldiers on the ground, all of whom either knew or suspected that this assault was not going as well as planned. “Stand by for assault on the Syndicate base in five minutes.”

“Hey—!” An exclamation was cut off as a lieutenant died.

The soldiers defending the buildings across the street had followed orders, withdrawing as soon as the last shuttles lifted. Most of them had made it across safely, but Drakon saw threat markers multiplying rapidly as the sensors on his soldiers’ battle armor reported a swiftly increasing barrage of enemy fire from the vacated buildings. “General,” Colonel Kai said, “from the volume of enemy fire, I would estimate there is at least a full brigade facing me.”

“Same here,” Colonel Gaiene reported. “General, the pressure on our outer perimeter is rising fast. They’re sending out thrusts across the street at us. If I don’t shift a lot more troops to defending against attacks from the outside, we’ll get overrun.”

“I concur,” Colonel Kai said.

“Shift troops as necessary,” Drakon said. He knew that would leave too few soldiers available for the attack. “Delay the assault on the fort until we’ve stabilized the security of our outer perimeter.”

Neither colonel asked how long the delay would be. They were both busy shifting their brigades to defend against the counterattacks, and they both knew that Drakon didn’t have any answer for how much time it would take before they could launch the postponed attack.

With the pressure on his forces from outside the perimeter, attacking the enemy base might no longer be an option. The victory they had planned for, and had thought would be fairly easy, now seemed impossible.

Drakon looked at his display, hearing the thunder of battle increase on all sides, and wondered whether surviving would be possible.