being killed after all. 'I'm gonna head back down and tell my men what I've seen up here.'
'You do that,' Boothe said. 'It's good for morale.'
'You know it,' Callahan said. His panic and anxiety were now gone. It seemed that maybe an end to this nightmare was now in sight.
The Blue Line
September 14, 2146
0332 hours
The trenches in the Blue Line had not been repaired after the first phase of the war. All of the efforts had instead gone into fixing the main Jutfield Gap positions on the theory that the gap was where they would inflict the most damage. As a result the position Jeff and the rest of his platoon were occupying was tattered and blasted, with many of the sandbags destroyed, much of the concrete already crumbled open, and large holes around most of the firing positions.
'If they bring that arty down on us we're fucked,' Hicks said as they repaired what they could and set up their equipment.
'I heard we lost a lot of the AT guys,' said Drogan. 'Is that true, sarge?'
'It's true,' he confirmed. 'Casualties were heavy among the hilltop positions in the gap.'
'How heavy?' asked Jeff.
'I don't have exact numbers,' Walker told him, 'but we're losing a lot to desertion now too. You all saw the desertion line out there, didn't you?'
They had. As they'd climbed up this hill to occupy this trench greater than a hundred soldiers had been awaiting evacuation by the support APCs. And that was just in this section.
'If we lose all the AT teams there won't be anyone to keep their numbers down when they move in,' Drogan said.
'Can you fuckin' blame them?' Hicks asked.
'You're looking at it the wrong way,' Walker said. 'Most of the AT teams are staying.'
'Huh?' asked Drogan.
'They got the shit kicked out of them in the last battle and took heavy losses. They're fighting in an army that allows you to leave without consequences at any time. And yet, despite all that, only a couple hundred are choosing to call it a war. Most of them are willing to climb back up those hills and give it another go. What does that tell you?'
'That they're a bunch of fucking idiots?' Hicks suggested.
'No,' Walker said. 'That they believe in what we're fighting for out here. That they're willing to put their fuckin' lives on the line for it.'
'Exactly,' Jeff said. 'That's why I'm staying.'
'Me too,' said Drogan.
Hicks hesitated for a moment but finally added his 'me too' too.
'Incoming!' a voice yelled over the net.
Jeff looked up long enough to see the streaks of incoming artillery shells heading in their direction. There were a lot of them. He dove down into the trench and shoved himself under the overhang, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Concussions began to slam into them a few seconds later, rocking the trench, sending more sandbags down, filling the air with dust. They hammered in every few seconds, some far away, most close. The barrage went on and on without letup.
'They're hitting up above!' Drogan said after a particularly fierce series of explosions. 'They're going after the AT teams.'
'And they got them,' Walker reported, his voice sounding a little shocked. 'Two direct hits on the upper trench. Heavy casualties are reported and the trench is out of action.'
'Fuck,' said Jeff, his fear becoming palpable now.
The tanks rolled in a few minutes later and started plastering the entire hillside with eighty-millimeter shells. The APCs followed soon after, disgorging hundreds of ground troops and adding their own sixty and twenty millimeters to the fray. Jeff manned the SAW and the other squad members started putting rifle rounds down on the marines but this time the return fire was even more intensive. In addition, someone down below had noted the absence of anti-tank fire from the upper trenches and had directed the artillery fire onto the lower trenches. Huge explosions began to rip into the ground above and below. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot hit in just the right place.
Everyone was right. There was a bright flash of light and an explosion that blew in an entire section of their trench, obscuring even the infrared mode with dust and debris. Several screams echoed over the net, one them cut lethally short. Jeff felt shrapnel lance into his side and his legs, felt the sting of penetrating steel into his body. He was thrown down, gasping for breath, the SAW twisted and distorted from the blast.
His ears were ringing and his mind was not quite sure where he was and what he was doing. Slowly both of these problems faded to the point that he could hear frantic conversation over the continuing blast of explosions. He lifted his head up, remembering that he was in the middle of a battle. He checked his status screen and saw that his biosuit had been penetrated in two places but had sealed.
'Goddammit, Creek!' Walker's voice yelled, cutting through the fog. 'I asked if you're okay! Give me some status!'
'I'm hit,' he said, his voice weak. 'I don't know how bad.'
'Try to stand up!' Walker said. 'If you can walk we need you to. We're pulling the fuck out of here right now!'
'Right now?' he asked.
'Right fucking now!' Walker confirmed. 'If we don't the fucking marines are gonna cut off our retreat!'
He pulled himself to his feet, feeling sharp pain in his left leg, duller pain in his left side and his right leg. Still, his appendages supported him. He looked down and observed that the SAW he'd been assigned to was beyond help. He groped for his M-24 in his back holder and pulled it out. 'I'm okay, sarge,' he said. 'I'll be able to walk out, I think.'
Another series of explosions rocked them, sending more debris cascading through the trench, sending another section of sandbags down in an avalanche. Jeff ducked down, waiting for it to be over.
'Check on Hicks, Creek,' Walker told him. 'I've lost signal on his suit!'
'Hicks?' Jeff asked, that cutting through more than anything else. 'Is he hit?'
'I don't know,' Walker said. 'He was next to you when the shell hit. Try to find him.'
Jeff looked frantically at the section of collapsed trench and saw a piece of warmth in the shape of a leg protruding. He quickly bent down and began pulling debris free, unmindful of the pain in his side with each motion. Drogan, having heard the conversation rushed over to help. It only took thirty seconds or so to uncover him — what was left of him.
'Oh God... no,' Drogan said.
Jeff didn't have the voice to even echo her sentiment. Hicks' eyes were open, unseeing, staring upward. His arms were limp at his side. His chest had been blown open by shrapnel, ripping a twenty to thirty centimeter hole in the torso of his suit. Boiling blood vapor began to rise from this hole the moment they uncovered it.
'What's his status?' Walker demanded.
'He's dead,' Jeff said. 'Took it in the chest.'
Walker didn't have time for sentimentalities. 'Okay,' he said. 'Colinhead is injured. Pick her up and carry her down. We need to clear this trench now! The fucking marines are already halfway up!'
Jeff and Drogan each took one last look at their friend, at the man who had been with them since the start. They then went and grabbed Private Colinhead — who had suffered from a nasty stomach wound — and began to haul her to the rear of the hill.
The Blue Line had fallen in less than fifteen minutes.
'All units from the Blue Line are retreating at best possible speed to the Purple Line,' General Zoloft, commander of Eden forces, told General Jackson. 'They hit us hard, Kevin, and they hit us fast. We had to pull out so fast some of the troops had to leave the wounded behind to keep from getting encircled by the WestHem tanks.'
