Federation Reborn 1: Battle Lines (33 page)

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Major White Wolf examined the problem around the spaceport again. There were three interlocking fire bases left to form a perimeter around the spaceport with twenty marine troops and thirty-eight to forty militia volunteers in each base.

Each base also had a patched together squad of mechs and a battered squadron of drones left. Parts for them and the few remaining vehicles were hard to come by so scavenging was normal. Medical care was almost nonexistent, the navy doctors on the ships in orbit had to perform triage and treatment to any wounded from orbit through the mechs and remotes. The on-site corpsman had been killed. Nearly a third of the survivors had been wounded at one time or another. Many were still walking wounded when Captain, now
Major
White Wolf, had taken over. Everyone worked every day; sometimes around the clock if things got heated. The troops were exhausted and barely hanging on she thought.

A wounded patient had to be stabilized and survive long enough to get to a base for treatment. If they survived they might be evacuated by shuttle on a shuttle delivery run. Those were irregular due to the frequent attacks on any aircraft.

One
Skyhawk
shuttle had crashed recently and was wreckage near the spaceport. Another had reportedly crashed on landing, and a third had been shot down by a SAM. They had to make the landings at night under the cover of darkness to keep the enemy guessing and to give the three remaining shuttle crews a chance at survival.

One native nurse and doctor had shown up at Alpha Base to lend a hand with the troops a week ago according to the log. Both were overworked and exhausted. The doctor had been a dentist of all things before the Horathians had shown up. He hadn't known much about trauma and emergency medicine, but he'd picked up a lot recently.

The wolf flicked her ears. There was a lot of that going around she thought. She had one
Warhawk
, the two
Skyhawks
remaining, plus one civilian shuttle she'd brought in. Oh how she regretted not having her assault shuttle! She shook her head. But what was done was done. They would have to make do with what they had on hand.

Having a squad of powered armor would be nice too she thought. Not just the one. Her eyes cut to Jethro's status. She frowned thoughtfully as she remembered his boarding of that destroyer. That pack he'd used ….

“Bast,” she said. The AI didn't respond. “Come on you little witch, I know you can hear me,” she growled, keying a text direct to the AI and then another to Jethro. Jethro immediately replied and sent a link to a virtual chat. She clicked on it and smiled slightly when his image appeared.

“Yes, Cap, I mean, Major?” Jethro said when the change in her header registered. “I um ….”

“I was just promoted by Colonel Forth. Get over it.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jethro replied.

“I need to know about your armor.”

“I can't, um, ma'am; it's classified,” he warned.

“I know it's cadre armor so don't get your fur up,” she replied. “I'm not interested in that as much as your flight pack.”

“Ma'am?”

“Can it work in atmo?” She asked.

He blinked at her and then cocked his head. Slowly he nodded. “Yes, ma'am. I'd stick out though. My stealth doesn't work obviously.”

Bast sent him a text. He ignored it, eyes boring into the major's. He wanted to know what she intended for him to do. Probably something risky he thought cheerfully.

“You'd be a raven. And at night …,” her wolf smile widened enough to show teeth.

His eyes narrowed and his pupils slitted. Then he nodded again and flicked his ears. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good. We're going to strip the marine complements from the other ships. We've got more reinforcements coming in a few days. I want to drop everyone at once. So, here's what we're going to do …,” she said, laying out her plan.

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“I see one! A shuttle is coming in using the night and cloud cover to get in!” a lookout said, pointing to the scope.

Captain Allegra had placed lidar and radar arrays a kilometer away from them and on hilltops along the sight line to the main landing strip of the spaceport. A pair of decoy transmitters were lashed to the top of trees with explosives they had stolen from a mining site.

Squads were out in the hills and surrounding forest. They hated the wet mossy mess but loved using their toys to shoot down the enemy shuttles. Captain Allegra was just glad they had them. He brushed bark, sap, and bugs out of his hair and looked up with a scowl to the log roof above them. What a way to make a living.

“It's definitely lining up on Runway 2, sir. She's coming in hot like she's expecting to land,” the tech said, playing with the scope's controls to get a refined image.

“They think so. I don't. Get Squad 1 and 2 up,” Captain Allegra ordered, pointing to the two groups on his map. He pulled out a cigar, lit it, and then puffed a few times. The glow of the cigar warred with the lights coming from the dim screens. The smoke rose to the rafters above and filtered through the cracks. “They better damn well be up and ready in two minutes and not sleeping or screwing around. Two missiles, one from each squad. Just the two. Don't frack it up,” he growled.

“Yes, sir.”

“But put everyone else on alert. They might try to bring down a bunch of shuttles behind the first,” the captain ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

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“I don't get why they designated us a wild weasel flight. We're not ferrets,” Petty Officer Sanders complained.

“Quit your bitchin and keep an eye on the instruments and your side of the bird,” his copilot said mildly, keying the engines. Contrary to everything they had been doing before this major wanted them to come down fat, dumb, and happy. Well, not too happy. They were towing a decoy they had lovingly rigged behind them on a tow cable. Power was fed through the wiring around the 500-meter-long cable to the decoy; it was putting out a massive here I am signal for the enemy radar and lidar to pick up. The signal was so powerful it bloated out the shuttle's own signature.

“I hope this works,” the chief murmured as she made the final turn to line up with the approach to the landing strip. An alarm immediately went off. Then the klaxon of a lidar hit howled.

Sanders didn't hesitate; he kicked the decoy loose then climbed for the sky. “See?” he demanded as he pulled back on the yoke with Chief Mancheta.

“Just shut up and give us more power.”

“SAM!” the PO grunted, seeing the rising missile out of the corner of his eye. Then it exploded in a shower of fireworks. “What the hell?” He turned to look over his shoulder. “I think we're safe. I'm not sure though. Maybe it was a dud?”

“Don't jinx it,” the chief replied.

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The false landing pass by the
Warhawk
had gotten the Horathian lidar crew and two SAM units to unmask. Jethro had come in behind the shuttle, using her and his energy shields to handle reentry.

Once the lidar and SAMS lit off, he lit off his weapons. He snipered them from the air, which was a new experience. So was the SN-50X with the explosive smart rounds. The first rounds went into the rising missiles and tore them apart like tissue paper. Then he moved to point down. The lethal rain tore apart a lidar truck as well as two squads of infantry with shoulder launched missile pods.

Bast danced a targeting karat around the ground picking out targets for him to engage. Anyone who was out and about at night was a target of his retribution.

“That'll teach them to keep their head down.”

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“Withdraw!” Captain Allegra howled, eyes wide in shock as he waved his people and directed them to get under cover. Whatever was hitting them was either beyond their range or was so stealthy they couldn't see it. He was taking far too many losses, more than the General had allowed for. He ran past a private and scooped up the rifle the terrorized man had dropped. He shoved it into the private's hands and kept going. “They've won this round,” he snarled.

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“Got em, huh kid?” Captain Joshua Lyon asked as Jethro landed behind the shuttles. The major had wasted no time after he'd sniped the enemy SAM units. She'd had the other three shuttles on standby in orbit. They had dropped as soon as their window had opened and came down before he had landed. The panther had provided cover for them.

As soon as the troops and gear unloaded, the shuttles started to lift their boarding ramps and taxi for takeoff for the next load.

Jethro took his helmet off, ignoring Bast's protests and flicked his ears at the officer. Joshua chuckled. They had met only briefly in orbit, but they were already becoming friends. The captain had taken a Recon team with him and had arrived with
Xavier
a short time ago. Somehow he'd managed to convince the brass to allow him to take a pair of Recon squads from Agnosta to Antigua and from there had caught up with
Xavier's
convoy. They were jetlagged from all the travel but ready and eager to get to work. He wished them all the luck Lady Luck would bless them with. They were going to get a baptism of fire Jethro thought, but he was fairly certain the squads were up for the challenge.

Jethro had been shocked to find out that the captain had briefly served with his ancestor, Tobias. He was proud of the Neocat and his achievements.

“Your grandpapi would be proud, kit. Just like him,” the captain said as he waved to his troops to move out. “Come on you apes! You wanna live forever? Get the lead out! We've got the LZ to secure before first light, then we're going to go knock on some doors!” he snarled waving them on to hurry them along.

“Are you real?” a shell shocked and battered private asked, staring at him as he came over from his post. Jethro turned to look at the marine. His IFF read as Bailey. Jethro nodded, flicking his ears once more. His eyes went to the perimeter and scanned on their own. Bast was obviously not happy about being exposed.

“Come on, move,” Sergeant Snorkle said from behind the private. “Don't mind him, sir; we're all sort of stunned and stuff,” the big husky sergeant said. He had a broad face and squad lifter body. His broad nose seemed flattened and misshaped from too many hits. “Glad you're here, Gunny,” he said simply as he hustled the gangly private off and back to his post.

The panther watched them go, concerned about PTSD. He didn't have a choice though; they needed every hand for the moment. He made a note to have all the troops counseled and given downtime when they could spare them.

“March to the sounds of the guns,” he murmured, putting his helmet back on. He looked over to his brother-in-law and nodded to the militia troops around the Neo leopard. “Keep your head down and watch each other's ass and you may survive this,” he said.

Chapter 18

Admiral Subert dealt with the picket ships and training. Junior Valdez's flight school was checked over, but he didn't find as many holes in the school's syllabus or lesson plans as he'd thought.

Commander Matilda's college, enlisted training centers, and academy hadn't needed much overhauling either he had to admit. He'd thought they would have been a mess on the admin side, but he had to admit the woman had run everything professionally. He'd made some minor changes and backed off his planned complete overhaul. He just wished he'd looked into the situation before trying to change it. He'd lost the talents of a good officer in his urge to jump in and fix something that hadn't needed it.

Dealing with the pickets was a different story. The forces on the Seti Alpha 4, Agnosta, and Gaston jump points were reduced to the orbital fortresses. The freed-up ships were formed into small squadrons to begin training as a unit.

Loosing
Damocles
and the services of Captain Harris had been a bit of a blow. The
Arboth
had been replaced by a pair of ships working up, but Harris's experience and his guest lecturing had been helpful. He wished the man and his crew well though he knew Harris was still smarting from being relieved from his post. They were en route to Agnosta to meet up with
Bounty
and the transports that were loading with marines and their equipment. They were all destined for Protodon eventually.

The changes in the change of command, the holes created during the transfers before and after his arrival started to cause problems. He found to his frustration that they weren't hitting the target goals he and Saul had set up before his arrival. He gave his theatrical side free reign to scream at people to get their shit together.

Sometimes that worked. Sometimes they pulled out all the stops to address one problem and ended up neglecting two others.

“If this was any other unit, I'd stand them down and tear them apart. Rebuild them from the beginning,” the admiral stated.

“And we don't have the luxury. This is it; this is all we have.”

“A forlorn hope,” Phil said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He took out a handkerchief, blew his nose and then sat back to drum his fingers on the table as he folded the thing and stuffed it back into his pants pocket. He liked that Commander Sprite had gotten around to improving the ansible connection.