ignore that, as she was led through a brightly painted cafeteria, family-style living quarters, and into a school full of free-breeder children. “This is what we’re fi?ghting for,”
Mary said tightly, as the visitors looked in on a room full of preteen children. “It’s too late for people like Alan and me—
but they will be able to lead normal lives.”
“But only if we win,” Alan said harshly. “Otherwise, the death squads will fi?nd the children and kill them.”
“So, you’ll do it?” Mary wanted to know. “You’ll take our message to your government?”
Vanderveen eyed the room and the children before turning back to Alan and Mary. “Yes,” the diplomat assured them. “I will carry your message to my government. But, will they listen? That’s anybody’s guess.”
6
There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.
PLANET GAMMA-014, THE CLONE HEGEMONY
The assault boat shuddered as it bucked its way down through the atmosphere, and the men, women, and cyborgs of Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st REC waited to fi?nd out if they were going to live or die. Because in spite of the fact that the invasion of Gamma-014 was less than six hours old, the attack had already been described as a “fucking disaster” by General Kobbi, who was certainly in a position to know. The opinion had not been shared with the troops, lest it erode their morale, but Captain Antonio Santana was cognizant of it. All because Commanding General-453 was an idiot.
The campaign to defeat the Ramanthian navy, or chase it away, had gone smoothly. Perhaps too smoothly in the opinion of some, who were aware of General Oro Akoto’s reputation, and wondered if the wily Ramanthian wanted the allies to land. But General-453 had been quick to categorize all such theories as “defeatist nonsense,” as he and his mostly clone staff hurried to harvest what they felt certain would be a quick and painless victory. The only problem was that most of the people in the fi?rst wave, which was almost entirely comprised of Jonathan Alan Seebos, were slaughtered as they landed—in large part because they put down in all of the most predictable places.
And so, rather than the victorious battle footage that General-453 had been counting on for consumption back home, he was forced to watch video of his clone brothers being shot down as they stumbled out of burning assault boats, were blown to smithereens by Ramanthian artillery, and crushed by Ramanthian tanks.
But rather than question his strategy, which would have been to admit that he’d been wrong, General-453 chose to throw more troops at the same objectives. Which meant that as the 1st Regiment Etranger de Cavalerie (1st REC), the 2nd Regiment Etranger d’Infanterie (2nd REI), and the 4th Regiment Etranger (4th RE) dropped into Gamma-014’s turbulent atmosphere, they were slated to land right in the middle of the same free-fi?re zones that the dead Seebos had. And Santana knew that Lieutenant Colonel Quinlan’s battalion, which was to say both Alpha and Bravo Companies, had been given a generous slice of a very ugly pie. Specifi?cally, a long, U-shaped valley that had a Class III hydroelectric plant sitting at its south end. Where, thanks to the ingenuity of General Akoto’s forces, the electricity intended for the city of Prosperity, which was located some thirty miles to the east, had been redirected to a battery of three surface-to-orbit (STO) energy cannons. These world-class weapons had already been responsible for the loss of a destroyer escort and numerous smaller ships. The assault boat rocked as an antiaircraft round exploded nearby and the pilot spoke over the intercom. “Sorry about the rough ride, folks. . . . But we’re fi?ve from dirt, so I’d like to be the fi?rst, and probably the only person to welcome you to Gamma-014! Don’t forget to take personal items with you, duck on the way out, and give my regards to the bugs.”
That produced a chorus of chuckles, as the platoon leaders ordered their people to, “lock and load.” The ship lurched as the wash from an exploding rocket hit the hull, sideslipped toward the ground, and seemed to fall the last few feet. There was a solid jolt as the skids hit hard and bullets began to rattle against the armored hull as the stern ramp made contact with the ground.
Privates Ivan Lupo and Simy Xiong were slated to exit the ship fi?rst and knew how important the next ten minutes would be. Because it was their job to suppress the incoming fi?re and provide the other legionnaires with an opportunity to exit the ship unharmed. So the hulking cyborgs lumbered down onto the ground, turned in opposite directions, and took up positions to either side of the slab-sided ship. Targeting data was acquired, prioritized, and acted on as both war forms opened fi?re. And, because each fi?fty-ton behemoth mounted dual autoloading missile launchers, four gang-mounted energy cannons, and an electronically driven Gatling gun, that was a sight to see! Especially as the cyborgs settled in over their vulnerable legs and transformed themselves into low-profi?le pillboxes.
As Santana rode Deker out of the ship’s cargo bay, he saw that the assault boat had put down next to a burned-out hulk. Judging from the still-steaming bodies that lay scattered about, all of the Seebos on that fi?rst ill- fated boat had clearly been killed. However, based on the fact that a platoon of clones had taken cover in a fi?re- blackened crater and were fi?ring on targets to the east, it appeared that a subsequent landing had been more successful. The entire area was littered with half-empty ammo boxes, packaging for battle dressings, and cast-off equipment.
As the Seebos continued to huddle in their shell crater, the quads targeted Ramanthian mortars, artillery pieces, and the deadly multiple-launch rocket systems located on both sides of the valley. Outgoing missiles roared off their rails, bolts of coherent energy stuttered across the battlefi?eld, and dark columns of soil were thrown high into the air as secondary explosions echoed between the valley walls. Shortly after that, Santana saw the volume of incoming fi?re begin to dwindle and knew that Alpha Company was making progress. Meanwhile the Seebos came boiling up out of the crater, or tried to, but were driven back when Santana ordered Deker to open fi?re. Three bursts from the T-2’s armmounted fi?fty were suffi?cient to push the clones back. “Take me down into that hole,” Santana said over the intercom, and switched to the company push. “This is Alpha Six. . . . Let’s get the wounded out of that crater and onto the ship. Watch for fakers though. . . . It looks like some of those guys would like to take the rest of the day off. Alpha OneFour and Bravo One-Four will prepare to board troops. Both platoons will orient on target Alpha and prepare to advance. The fi?rst platoon will protect the company’s left fl?ank and the second will cover the right. Out.”
The entire battalion had been assigned to attack the STO
battery, but having seen no sign of either Colonel Quinlan or Bravo Company, Santana knew his unit might have to tackle the objective alone. A scary thought indeed. The wounded clones had been carried aboard the assault
