A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III) Read online

  He knew there would be no finesse, no elaborate strategies. Once the newly arrived troops were organized, the entire federal force would come out with one purpose…to destroy his army. Once his force was annihilated, the newborn Republic of Arcadia would be defenseless. General Merrick could systematically sweep up any remaining pockets of rebellion. The dream would die, and with it a last chance to preserve freedom. Will was determined to prevent that, no matter what the cost.

  He gambled that the enemy would attack him wherever he was. He chose a fitting spot…the old Sander’s Dale battlefield. He deployed the same way he had, holding the center and the two flanking ridges. Merrick was no fool; he would remember the death trap the center had become for his troops. But Will wasn’t planning to fight the battle in the valley this time. Merrick’s forces had almost taken the high ground south of the lowlands in the first battle, and their failure to do so led directly to their disastrous defeat. This time, Will was certain Merrick would throw his strength against the left…that was where the powered infantry would hit.

  Even if he was right, he didn’t know how much he could do to counter them. The ridge was wooded - partially wooded since the last battle had raged there, destroying many of the trees. The ground was steep and rocky, and the landscape was littered with shattered logs and muddy trenches, half-collapsed and partially filled with water. It was difficult ground to cross, even for armored infantry, and Thompson was going to turn it into a death trap.

  They buried mines throughout the area where the fighting had been heaviest before. They only had a few of the powerful scratch-built explosive devices, but Will was hopeful they would inflict significant losses, even on the powered infantry. He was going to have his troops deployed farther back this time, and the enemy would have to come through the torn up ground and the makeshift minefield to get to them.

  He reorganized the rest of the army, massing those with decent assault rifles on the left. It was a risk – if the enemy attacked anywhere else with the powered infantry, the defenders wouldn’t have weapons powerful enough to penetrate their armor. But if he didn’t mass his better-armed forces somewhere, he didn’t have a chance of even slowing the enemy assault troops.

  Everyone else dug in. All across the line his troops were deployed in trenches, along rock outcroppings, and hidden behind the shattered wreckage of vehicles and machinery from the first battle. They were vulnerable to being flanked, but again Will was gambling. Merrick knew if he flanked Thompson, the rebel army would retire and maneuver to another strong location. The federals wanted to destroy his army, not force it from position to position…he was sure of that.

  Will’s instincts proved correct. The federal army advanced directly against his position. They were completely unopposed – Will didn’t want any of his troops facing the powered infantry until the main battle began. The Marine vets knew what was coming, but there was no reason to get the others talking about how tough the armored troops were. The Arcadians were still a victorious army – let them focus on that, he thought, as they went into battle.

  Kyle Warren stood in just about the same spot he’d occupied during the first battle, though this time he wore a star on his collar and commanded the entire left wing. With the loss of Sanders, Will needed a reliable number two, and he’d opted to move Warren up. The Arcadian command structure was in its infancy, without a clear system of seniority among the higher ranks. But it was important for the army to have a clearly designated second in command.

  Warren peered over the edge of his trench, squinting into his ‘scope. Kyle Warren was one of Erik Cain’s veterans…he knew just what was coming and how unlikely it was that his forces could stop them. He flipped on his comlink. “Major Calvin, I need a report. Are your people all deployed?”

  Ed Calvin was a Marine veteran, a sniper in an assault platoon for ten years. He was badly wounded in the first battle, but he was fully recovered and back at his post. Thompson had put him in command of all of the army’s snipers and asked him to train more. Anyone with any aptitude was drafted into the new sharpshooter company, and Calvin drove them mercilessly. They were armed with the best weapons in the army, and Warren had ordered them deployed all along the enemy line of approach. It was dangerous work, but each powered infantryman they picked off was a big help.

  “Yes, sir.” Calvin had a deep, scratchy voice. “I have 311 troopers positioned in vantage points all along the front.” He paused then added, “We’ll make them pay, sir. You can count on us.” Most of those 311 men and women fell far short of the training and experience of a Marine sniper, but they were all good shots armed with decent weapons. That would have to be enough.

  “I know I can, Major.” Warren had pushed for more discipline and military formality in the army when he moved into the number two spot. Will was a better tactician – Kyle would have admitted that in a second – but he tended to be too familiar with subordinates. They had a different perspective. Warren had fought in several campaigns as an officer, but Thompson had done all his combat service as an enlisted man. Kyle wasn’t a martinet, not by any standards, but he realized the army had grown too large to be managed informally. They were the armed forces of a planetary republic, not a band of pirates.

  “And Major?”

  “Yes sir?”

  “No heroics.” Warren’s voice was firm and commanding. He’d been a little intimidated at first when Will moved him up, but he’d gotten more comfortable with it. “Your people are to take every shot they can get and then pull back before the enemy gets to them. A handful of snipers aren’t going to beat the enemy by themselves, and I don’t want you trying to. I just want you to bleed them…and then get your people out of there.

  “Understood, sir.” Calvin’s rasp sounded sincere, but Warren wasn’t totally convinced. The major knew as well as he did how tough a fight they were in for. Kyle could feel it in his gut – the casualty rate for the snipers was going to be high. Marines didn’t like passing the problem to the next guy, and Warren was afraid Calvin was going to hang in too long trying to hurt the enemy just a little more.

  “Just remember what I said. Pull back when it gets too hot.” He paused. “I mean it, Ed.” Will would have given me shit for that, he thought. He’d pushed for more formality, that was true, but sometimes there were exceptions. He didn’t want to lose over 300 of his best troops before the battle was even in full swing.

  “Yes, sir. I read you loud and clear.”

  “Good. Warren out.” Kyle cut the link. “Good luck, Ed,” he muttered to himself.

  “Fucking Merrick!” Will Thompson was out of breath. He’d been running up and down the line, moving reserves back and forth. The Alliance general refused to cooperate by doing what Thompson expected him to do. So far he’d held the powered infantry completely in reserve, and he’d pushed an entire division through the center.

  The Arcadian forces were strong on the flanks, but the center was only moderately held. The fortifications were heavy, but the troop concentration was light, and the reserves were inadequate. It was looking like the Feds might push right through and cut the Arcadian army in half. Unless Will ordered an attack from the ridges against the enemy flank.

  “No, that’s what you want me to do.” Will was talking to himself as he walked back to his command post. The fighting was heavy, but he was confident his troops could hold. For a while. “No, Merrick. I’m not going to bite.” He looked back over his shoulder, in the general direction of the enemy position. “If I pull those troops off the ridge you’ll be on us with that armored infantry in a heartbeat.” He offered up a grudging smile to his adversary. “No way.”

  The command post was just a rough dugout, burrowed into a small hill. It was braced with heavy logs, three of which were torn off and splintered where a shell had come close to taking out the army HQ. Thompson’s staff was small, fifteen officers for an army of over 18,000. He didn’t have strength to spare for much tail…he needed all the tooth he could get. Anyway, it woul
dn’t have helped much anyway to fill headquarters with personnel with no staff experience.

  The comlinks were going crazy. Every officer in the center of the line was calling for support. They’ll just have to hold on with what they’ve got, Thompson thought grimly. He was down to two battalions in reserve, and he was going to hold onto those to counter any enemy breakthrough.

  The Arcadians were sorely pressed, no doubt. But it wasn’t coming free for the federals. Merrick’s troops were catching hell in the open valley as they pressed their attack against Thompson’s outnumbered but entrenched forces.

  “Captain Kebble, report.” Will looked over at the aide, who jumped up from the readout she was focused on and snapped to attention. Will waved his hand, motioning for her to relax. “Just give me a summary, Jul…Captain.” Will agreed with Warren that the army needed to operate more formally, but he was still retraining himself.

  “Yes, sir.” Juliana Kebble wasn’t a veteran, but she took well to soldiering. Her mother and father had been murdered early in the war by federal forces under General Quinn. There had been a lot of atrocities in the early months of the conflict, and that had infused significant bitterness into the rebel cause. The federal forces had actually behaved fairly well since Merrick was able to purge Quinn and some of the other officers, and now it was actually the Arcadians who were committing most of the brutalities. Will Thompson punished any of his troops participating in atrocities against federal troops or sympathizers in the population, but some of the fringe groups were ferocious, especially to those they viewed as collaborators.

  “General, the entire line is holding, but we are hard pressed at virtually every point.” She started to move toward him but paused and glanced back at her ‘pad one last time before she resumed. “The worst spot is virtually dead center, and it looks like the enemy is prepping another assault. Colonel Horace just reported, and his scouts have identified at least three fresh enemy battalions forming up.

  “Damn.” Thompson was talking to himself, but it came out louder than he’d intended.

  “He has requested that reinforcements be deployed to deal with any localized breakthroughs.” Kebble stood at ease…sort of. At least she wasn’t rigidly at attention. “He has 20% casualties already and all his troops are in the line.”

  Shit. This time Thompson kept his mouth shut, and just thought it. “OK, Captain. Com Captain Bronte, and order him to detach his two best companies. I will lead them up myself to plug any gaps.”

  “Sir…” Kebble looked horrified, but she wasn’t sure what to say.

  Thompson smiled involuntarily, though he tried to hide it. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ve been in worse places than this. But if I’m right, we need to hold this line with what we’ve got. The hammer blow is still going to come on the left.” He could see she wasn’t convinced. Oh well, he thought, it can’t be helped. This is the decisive point right now…it’s where I belong. “Now go com Captain Bronte. And keep this place running until I get back.”

  He hopped up out of the dugout, jogging toward the rear where the two reserve battalions were stationed. It’ll feel good to get back to some small unit tactics, he thought. Just like old times.

  “We will clear that rabble off the ridge in twenty minutes. I doubt I will lose a man.” Richard Gravis was an arrogant ass, but he was also the commander of the Directorate forces. Merrick listened to him prattle on as long as he could stand before he interrupted.

  “General Gravis, we have the enemy at the breaking point in the center.” He was frustrated. Merrick was the theater commander, which by any interpretation of regulations meant he was in charge. But Gravis steadfastly refused to follow his orders, making all sorts of arguments about jurisdiction and chain of command. “He will have to move forces off the ridge shortly to reinforce his center. We must be patient.”

  “You have been patient for far too long, General Merrick. My forces were sent here to end this outrageous rebellion once and for all.”

  Merrick took a deep breath. He was angry, so angry he could barely control it. This little shit was worse than Quinn, he thought, and that was saying something. “General, if you attack before the enemy reinforces the center you will suffer needless casualties.” He took another breath, trying to maintain his calm as he tried fruitlessly to get the Directorate general to listen. “We must preserve our forces. Whatever you think, this rebellion will not be crushed today. No matter what happens in the battle.”

  “General Merrick, the fact that your forces have been unable to achieve a knockout victory is immaterial. But my troops are going to attack now, and we will destroy the rebel army…and with it, the rebellion.” Gravis stepped back and gave Merrick a lazy salute before he turned and walked away.

  “God damned fool.” Merrick spoke under his breath, but he didn’t really care if Gravis heard him or not. The armored infantry would probably break through on the ridge. The rebels didn’t really have anything to face them. But Gravis was going to have more trouble than he thought; Merrick was sure of that. He’d faced this army before, and he knew they weren’t going to just roll over. Not even for powered infantry. Not for anyone.

  “Here they come.” Kyle Warren had moved forward, much farther than prudence allowed, and he could see the armored troops moving on the position. “Sloppy.” Warren had served under Erik Cain and Darius Jax, and he was sure either of them would have had a stroke if their troops looked like the ones approaching his position.

  “Sloppy yes, but there are a lot of them.” Ed Calvin was lying next to Warren looking through his ‘scope. “They’re bunching, that’s for sure. Should make a good target.”

  Warren was sprawled on the ground, peering into his own ‘scope. “That sure looks like Marine armor though.” He took his face from the ‘scope and looked at Calvin. “Your snipers don’t have atomic-powered mag rifles. They’re going to have to hit them in the vulnerable spots to even penetrate.” He let out a deep breath. “Remind your people to focus and make every shot count.”

  “Yes, sir.” Calvin had lowered his own ‘scope and angled his head to return Warren’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the command post, sir?”

  “I don’t need a minder, Major.” Warren had to suppress a smile. He thought about Erik Cain, who was not an officer easily convinced to stay behind at headquarters. The example Cain had set was a commander ready to jump into the middle of the maelstrom, and Warren had followed in those big footsteps.

  “Sorry, sir.” Calvin sounded a little chastised, but he still pressed the point. “But we need you, and we can’t risk losing you in the first skirmish. You need to be more careful this time.” Warren had been wounded twice in the first battle, not far from the very spot they occupied.

  Calvin was technically insubordinate, but Warren understood his motivation…and he was right. It was irresponsible to take crazy risks when he had almost 7,000 troops under his direct command. “I want continual updates, major.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Kyle turned and headed back toward the rear. He was about halfway to the command post when he heard the shooting start. He had to resist the urge to spin around and rush back up to the front line, but he forced himself to continue. Calvin was a good officer – he’d handle things.

  The Directorate troops were surprised. General Gravis had sent two battalions to take the southern ridge. They’d expected to march forward in their powered armor and gun down the terrified rebels as they fled. But things didn’t work out that way.

  First, the woods were full of snipers, hidden in trees, behind rocks, in dips in the ground. Their fire was accurate, and while their weapons had difficulty penetrating the armor, they were scoring hits. The federal force had at least 40 troops down already. Most were just wounded, and their suits’ trauma control systems would probably save them, but the intensity of the resistance was unexpected.

  As soon as they spotted a sniper’s general location, the armored Feds tore it apart with their sup
erior firepower. The Feds had magnetic assault rifles powered by their suits’ nuclear plants. A tree was no cover against that kind of fire, and a two second burst would shatter even the 100-meter tall Arcadian giants.

  The snipers kept on the move, firing once, maybe twice from each location before heading out. If they stayed too long they were spotted, and if they were spotted they were killed.

  The federals were well trained, but this was their first combat experience. Their expectation of invulnerability was giving way to the grim realities of war. The troopers maintained their order and continued to advance, but their swagger was gone. They advanced more cautiously, which only served the Arcadians’ purpose, giving the snipers a few more shots before they had to withdraw.

  Calvin was positioned back a little from the initial point of contact, but the enemy was rapidly closing on his location. He was behind a massive boulder, good cover against even the assault rifles of the Directorate troops. There was a rough line of rock outcroppings here, each 2-3 meters high. He’d positioned troops behind them, creating a thin battle line.

  The Feds had taken losses, but his snipers were losing even more heavily. They’d scored hundreds of hits, but only a small percentage struck a vulnerable spot on the target. Their weapons just weren’t powerful enough to deal with the enemy’s armor. But every sniper who gave up his location was targeted with thousands of incoming rounds, any one of which would wreak havoc on human flesh. At least half of the forward-deployed sharpshooters had been lost; the rest were withdrawing, trying to reach the line before they were spotted and picked off.

  Calvin was hoping the heavier fire from his deployed line would hold up the enemy a little longer. His forces had bled the enemy, but not enough. He was going to try to hold here, at least for a few minutes. They had to take down more of these armored troops. Then his force would retreat, and hopefully the Feds would follow…right into the carefully prepared minefield.