Outsystem (Aeon 14) (10 page)

STELLAR DATE: 3227170 / 08.05.4123 (Adjusted Gregorian)

LOCATION: Gustav Expanse, New Africa, Venus

REGION: Terran Hegemony, Sol Space Federation

The whine of railguns charging sounded nearby and squad one rushed forward to take cover behind a low concrete embankment in the equipment yard. Moments later bits of rock and dust sprayed up into the air as the pellets from the rails smashed into the cement.

Staff Sergeant Williams threaded a scope over the barrier and took stock of the si
tuation. The enemy was slowly advancing behind large CFT shields which absorbed and refracted the Marine’s lasers. The enemy’s railguns, on the other hand, would chew the concrete cover apart in just a few minutes.

“Chang! Where’s those heavies?” he hollered back to squad two, which was moving past several trucks on squad one’s right.

“Thirty seconds, Staff,” Chang replied.

Williams reported to Lieutenant Grenwald on the combat net.

Grenwald signaled his acknowledgement and updated the objectives on the command net.

Squad two reached their designated position and the two slug throwe
rs were assembled. Taking sight over the barrier, they readied the weapons with a smooth precision granted through plenty of practice. Once Chang was satisfied squad two slid the weapons into position and let fire. Slugs over twenty centimeters long erupted from the barrels at velocities exceeding ten kilometers per second. CFT shields could stand up to pulses and energy beams without suffering so much as a scratch, but faced with the kinetic energy the slugs carried, the carbon fiber nanotube shields were torn to shreds.

What was once cover
became deadly shrapnel as the shield fragments tore through the men behind them like they were made of paper. In a few short seconds it was over, and the heavies powered down the slug throwers.

Peering over the barrier, Chang grinned and swore. “Now that’s some messy shit, Sarge.”

“Just be happy I don’t make you go clean it up for taking so long,” Williams growled as he cast an uneasy eye at the amount of concrete the enemy’s railguns had dug out of the barrier protecting the Marines. “Squads, advance!”

Their objective was a communications array on the next hilltop. The original plan was to support an airstrike and catch any stragglers, but command had received intel regarding sensitive data on servers within the communications bunker
.

The brass wanted to review it, s
o the Marines were heading in to do it the old-fashioned way.

“Man I hate Venus.” PFC Arsen vaulted over the concrete barrier and established
cover for his squad from behind a truck. “It feels like it’s spinning too fast. I swear it’s making me dizzy.”

“That’s just your head reeling from how much your mouth moves,” Sergeant Green said caustically. “Now shut up and keep your eye on that tree line. Scan’s clear, but you never know when someone has left a surprise for you.”

The two squads moved up; their fireteams advancing in a standard pattern until they reached the remains of the enemy troops. They were definitely a fringe group of radicals, their motley armor being the first sign, but the railguns they had were the latest spec. Several of the Marines were eying them and Williams signaled Lance Corporal Dvorak to wipe the ID systems on the guns. When they were safe to handle he assigned one to each team’s assist.

“Swap that out with your heavy gunner as the need arises.”

Chang grinned. “I can definitely see the need to use this bad boy.” He checked the ammunition and the reload action. “Why doesn’t the corps give us weapons like this?”

“They’re too concerned your ham hands would put a hole in one of their pretty ships,” Dvorak said.

“They’re the TSF’s ships; don’t see why the corps would care.”

“Cause we’re all one happy military now,” Williams
grunted.

“Yeah, I’d like to see those vacuum jockeys down here taking on enemy troops.” PFC Perez kicked the twitching body of a fallen
foe to make sure he was dead.

“I’d like to see you doing it too.” Corporal Taylor gestured for Perez to move out.

Williams checked the command net to make sure that squads one and two were in position relative to squad three. The command net showed Lieutenant Grenwald making better time. Williams signaled his men over the combat net to pick up the pace.

He singled out the lance corporal heading up the first fireteam in squad one.

Jansen, one/one’s team leader, replied in her trademark calm voice. She never raised it, not even in a firefight. She was on the way to making her corporal rating and Williams expected to see her move to NCO or possibly even OCS after this tour.

She directed her team to pick up the pace and slipped into the trees ahead.

You make sure things are quiet,>
Williams ordered.

Salas sent an acknowledgement over the combat net and led his fireteam off to the left, down the access road; then into the tree line.

Something felt off to Williams. The enemy had hit them too hard over the last several miles for this last skirmish to be their last hurrah. With the platoon nearly at the comm tower, a last line of defense was only logical.

He posted his concerns on the command net and waited to see if anyone agreed.

Sergeant Li with squad three asked.


Sergeant Green said.


Lieutenant Grenwald put in his two cents.

Williams acknowledged that, but pressed his point.

The LT didn’t counter the order, so Green informed Dvorak to keep an extra close eye on scan. Williams was glad that Grenwald had taken his word on the possible danger. He was a good CO as far as they went, though only two years out of OCS. Williams didn’t mind so much; it was easier to shape the younger officers.

The Marines advanced down the slope toward a small creek at the bottom of the valley. From there it was up the hill to the communications array. He could see it poking through the trees: several directional and omnidirectional antennas jutting into the sky. Orders were to take as much of it intact as possible, but Williams’ first concern was always for his Marines.

Williams had started his military career in E Company, 8
th
Battalion of the 242. Working his way up from PFC to Staff Sergeant had built into him the knowledge that this wasn’t a job, it was a life. The men and women around him were family, closer than any flesh and blood. He was responsible for them and he was going to make sure that every single one of them survived this mission.

He kept that attitude firmly in mind; it was his mantra. The minute a sergeant started accepting the loss of the men he or she was responsible for was the minute to get out of the military. His platoon needed him, needed his protection and he wasn’t going to let them down.

That being said, he didn’t mind if they were scared shitless of him. It made the enemy seem a lot less threatening.

Jansen reported.

Sergeant Li said over the command net.

the lieutenant said.


Williams acknowledged. He sent commands to the fireteam leaders over the combat net, instructing them to spread out and take up positions flanking Jansen’s team.

The comms went silent, only passive systems online. Even with the tech available to them,
Marines still trained in using hand signals. They were silent, efficient and needed no electricity to convey.

Once the teams were in position, Williams signaled Chang to set up one of the slug throwers in case the enemy was shielded. Then he signaled Jansen’s team to make their way across the stream. One/one made the crossing at a point where there were several large rocks in the water—providing enough cover and white noise to mask their approach.

One/one’s active camo made them hard to spot as they moved down the bank and into the water. Cassar, one/one’s heavy gunner, was reaching the far shore when he spotted movement and lowered himself quietly into the water, propping his newly acquired railgun onto a rock. He held up four fingers and pointed to his two o’clock. Williams watched him slowly scan the tree line in front of him before the Marine flashed a full five fingers twice and pointed to his nine o’clock.

The
Marines silently passed the counts down the line and Williams signaled his commands for the flanks to cautiously advance twenty meters across the stream and prepare to repel a flanking maneuver by the enemy. Once the teams were in position he signaled Jansen’s fireteam to begin.

If there were only fourteen of the enemy, the two squads had numbers on their side. He wasn’t counting on it though; intel suspected that the radicals holding the communications array had upwards of one hundred armed combatants in the facility. If things went the way they usually did, there were at least thirty of the enemy across that stream, all ready to take out the first clear target.

Of course, that’s why the brass sent in Marines for jobs like this, not the glorified space force security guards.

Cassar opened up with the railgun, flinging fifty-gram ballistic shells at over twenty kilometers per second. They hit with the force of several sticks of dynamite.
Instantly the Marines all realized he was firing fragmentation rounds—something which had not been apparent when the enemy was shooting at the concrete.

One thing
was certain, it was effectively clearing the underbrush. A green-brown mist filled the air as the rounds tore through everything in their path, a red bloom appearing here and there as the rounds hit flesh. A minute later he was out of ammunition and the squads waited for the mist to settle. From the looks of it, six men were hit. Silence rushed in, broken only by the crack of a branch tearing off a tree.

“That’s why they won’t give you one of those,” Taylor whispered to Perez.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get within a thousand meters of you and a weapon like that.” PFC Koller grinned. “It’d be suicide.”

Without warning, laserfire flickered from the far side of the stream, focused at one/two’s position and forcing the fireteam down into the brush. The enemy obviously had sound-sensitive targeting, but their actions revealed their own
locations. The Marine’s combat helmets traced the enemy’s shots by the heat signatures the laser beams left in the air and squads one and two opened up with everything they had. Two other captured railguns whined as they charged and then the first ten meters of trees across the stream ceased to exist.

Chang laughed on the combat net.


Perez was checking his body for burns.

Williams sent them both a slap across the combat net and reminded them that enemies were still across the stream—enemies who were now in possession of shiny new EMF emission data. Unfortunately his necessary reprimand gave away his position as well and he signaled dispersal to those around him and the other broadcasters.

Laser fire continued to flicker from the far shore and the Marines returned the favor, the opening volleys turning into a full skirmish. It played out for several more minutes before the sounds of the enemy retreating could be heard. Williams called for a weapons/wounds check while updating the command net with their positions and targets estimated eliminated.

Corporal Taylor led his team to the Staff Sergeant’s position and prepared for a tongue lashing. Williams looked them up and down, his displeasure a palpable thing.