Sacremon (Harmony War Series Book 1) (47 page)

           
“Fine, then I’m going to be right beside you,” he said turning away from the other man.

           
Orlav’s large meaty hand patted him gently on the shoulder. Orlav was a farmer, he had grown up in Field City and worked those lands for most of his life.

           
He had become the General of the Army of Sacremon because he was level-headed and trustworthy. Many rallied to him and listened to his advice and recognized the care with which he treated every one of those that were around him.

           
After seeing the kind of death and destruction that the troopers visited on those same people something had changed in the man. He was harder, blaming himself for sending them to their deaths, even if he knew that there was nothing that he could have done about it. His large frame had become thin over the campaign of nearly two and a half years.

           
While James Orlav from back then would have looked over what he was about to do with horror, the James Orlav that had survived until this long, felt his lips peel back from his teeth as his heavy mortars started firing onto the trooper’s positons.

           
It took the troopers a few moments to respond but Orlav hadn’t brought up just a couple of mortars, he had brought up
all
the mortars. There were some twenty-thousand mortars littered around the place and they were hammering the ever living shit out of troopers with everything they had.

           
Missiles reached out from combat shuttles that were resting behind the trooper’s positions.

           
Orlav’s last missiles rose up intercepting them as a roar grew from hundreds of thousands of throats.

The people seemed to surge forward.

           
Orlav felt his own throat add to that cry as he followed his people.

***

           
“This is it girls and boys, the day we knew was coming.” Major Huang was on the Division channel, his voice not scared but angry. That anger lit in Mark’s stomach as he fired the repulsor in front of him.

           
Everyone now had a repulsor position picked out. Reclaimer had a lot more weapons than Mark had ever realized and they were being put to work now.

           
Mounted repulsors let out blinding streams of rounds, ripping into the oncoming and yelling colonists. They disintegrated, their bodies not realizing they were already dead as they fell.

           
They piled on top of one another, sanity had left these people. The last four months had turned them from people into anger driven fiends. They didn’t care anymore, they had accepted their deaths and pushed on regardless.

            T
here was nowhere for them to run back to, only poison that would kill them slower.

           
Mortars were raining hell down on the factory, but Captain Nerva had put precedence on reinforcing the factory. Its roof was three stories above them and hard to get through, windows and walls had extra cermite layered over them.

           
Still there were a
lot
of those damned colonist mortars. Holes were appearing in different places. Mark couldn’t care about that as his stationary repulsor’s right gun jammed, he kept firing with his left as he ripped back on the right gun’s charging handle, pulling the round out that was messing his gun.

           
He pulled it’s trigger and rounds fed in from the massive linked ammunition packs that rested on either side of him.

           
Even Tyler was on his repulsor. There was no need for orders, they were fighting for their lives and they knew it. The higher ups trusted them to do everything in their power to keep themselves alive, as they were doing themselves.

           
Mines went off as colonists got further into the dead-man’s land between the factories.

           
They were firing their shotguns and without any accuracy, but that didn’t matter because they had numbers on their side. The repulsor firing ports were small, just a simple slit with cermite above and below it. Another slit higher up allowed the gunner to see what they were hitting.

           
Troopers yelled out when a round or shrapnel came through those slits.

           
Time wasn’t part of reality anymore, Mark worked his guns and sweeped their fire over the area he could hit.

           
The colonist’s clawed forward bloody meter by bloody meter.

           
Their fallen covered the barbed wire and other colonists ran over them like they barely existed, just a part of the horde letting them get further every time.

           
“Where the fuck is the mortar support?” Mark yelled. The colonists were now halfway across dead man’s land.

           
“Dealing with the colonists fucking mortars,” someone yelled back.

           
“Be ready to move back to the next factory if we need to,” Nerva warned.

           
Finally, the mortars put in an appearance, peppering the almighty shit out of the colonists that found themselves in open ground.

           
Colonists were flattened to the ground as if a house had fallen on top of them. The space between the factories was a slaughter house.

           
The mortars had been firing for countless rounds by this time and their crews were getting tired as they dropped round after round down their tubes. Fire slackened as repulsors picked up speed to cope with the shift.

           
The mortars fire dropped off as they found they couldn’t keep up even their slackened rate of fire with the way that their tubes were heating up.

           
The colonist’s mortars were still firing and the supporting mortars looked to deal with them instead, adding their own firepower to the combat shuttles missile packs. They had brought down replacement packs but it took time for the crews to pull off the old packs and hook up a new one. The missiles also couldn’t be used for close area support because their yield would probably hammer the crap out of the troopers as much as the colonists that were following their predecessors.

           
Some smart bastard seemed to have figured out that throwing grenades from cover was a pretty safe bet.

Grenades, like the mortars of the colonists were made with the thought process that more explosive is better.

Surprised they didn’t blow themselves and half the planet away with all these fucking bombs,
Mark complained as another grenade went off, carving a hole in a wall.

           
Walls on the first floor were starting to show breaches and gunners were moving to secondary positions as those holes appeared too close for comfort in their primary locations.

           
The colonists their charge had slowed for the moment because they were making use whatever cover that they could find, which was their own dead all too often.

           
Explosions continued to smash into the bottom floor. Mark, like every trooper in that factory knew it was a matter of time before the colonists gained access to the interior.

           
“They’ve got E-12’s!” Someone yelled.

           
Shouldn’t be surprised they got enough of our dead back there. Grabbing a few guns is no big task.

           
E-12 under-barrel grenade launchers were nearly as powerful as the colonist’s large hand grenades, plus it added longer throwing distance. The colonists came out of cover popping off grenades with their EMF hardware. They didn’t really have the time to aim all that much but they didn’t have to. They were shelling the hell out of the first floor and it was showing. A lot of gunners were having to move or became wounded when rounds found their mark.

           
The other colonists given relief from the first floors guns were now firing up on to the second. Mark swore and tilted his head as shrapnel hit the side of his helmet. He continued firing, as the colonists crossed two thirds of the dead man’s land between the factories.

           
“Move back, I’m going to need missiles on target seven-three,” Nerva said, not having the time to change channels in order to address the combat shuttles.

           
 Mark grabbed his rifle, looking to Tyler who was watching him to make sure that he was coming.

           
“No time for taking in the view!” Jerome said, getting them all into action as they ran down the factories ramps to the first floor and through to the second factory.

           
They were among the last to make it out as missiles rockets could be heard before the ground bucked under the weapon’s strength. The cermite walls and padding that the city rested on acted like a funnel, directing the missile’s destructive power across dead man’s land and into the enemy factory. The weakened walls of the troopers abandoned position gave way here and there, but it was nothing like the hell visited on those that had been so close to overrunning the trooper’s positions.

           
No one stopped running to admire the handiwork of machines made to kill their fellow man.

           
Mark ran after Jerome, right past the troopers on the other side and up to the new gun that he was going to call home.

           
He checked his ammunition belts and made sure his guns were functional by firing a burst into the ground between the second and last good defensive position that the troopers of second division manned.

           
A company and a half of troopers were spread over three floors that ran two hundred meters, half manned repulsors, another quarter manned mortars to the rear of their position and the rest were there to run ammunition, replace people and take pot-shots at the oncoming enemy.

           
Missiles were redirected for other positions that were in worse condition than the forces in seventh district.

           
It took the colonists time to recover from the trooper’s actions. Mark had no idea how many people must have died from that single battle; he didn’t want to know.

           
“Remember, if it looks like they’re going to make a break-in on the first floor move to the second and third floor. The combat shuttles will do the rest,” Nerva said.

           
Mark sighted the colonists and let a burst go with his gun.

           
The distance between the two factories was shorter than it had been at their last position.

           
The colonist’s fire was more accurate because of this and did some decent damage.

           
There was nothing to do but fight their weapons, call out for ammunition or aid if they needed it while fighting on.

           
They had solid positions and support that could hold out; it was just a matter of hoping that the colonists agreed with that.

           
Colonists hurled everything they could at the Troopers defenses, and the troopers replied in kind. They had solid positions, better weapons and aid. If their smart clothes were pierced then they were only liable to have a bit of discomfort if a breeze came along, the colonists still had the gas to deal with.

           
Around the districts, forces were moved to support one another and bring the might of the EMF crashing down on the colonists.

           
They didn’t break, they didn’t run. Mark gave them a silent and unofficial nod, they knew what their fate was if they went back to hide in their defenses, that wasn’t living. Standing here, fighting those that had stepped all over them for their lives. Mark understood it. Hell their cause might be just, but he wasn’t about to just lay down his life for them.

           
The colonist’s mortars were destroyed and their crews dead, the trooper’s support elements fired into the colonists that pushed on with brutal repetition.

           
Mark could actually feel the deadly rhythm of that withering fire. Some mortars had stopped, their tubes stressed past their limit, others were resting as they cooled.

           
“We’ve got a break through, moving to the second floor. Have at it shuttles!” Lieutenant Ortiz said.

           
The troopers moved, relieving some pressure on the colonists who took advantage of the movement. Some inspired asshole fired a mortar sideways from the opposing factory, the round hammered into the lower floors, killing three troopers that were just about to leave their position.

           
The mortar was nowhere near accurate, but it was powerful and took down walls in a few hits, the colonists fire doubled as they saw a new opportunity, making the troopers duck for cover.