Элизабет Мун - Into the Fire

Here the attacking force would expect stiff resistance from the guard units normally stationed there.

“Launch defensive weapons,” Ky said. On both sides of the government complex, the buildings one street away from the original rectangle housed offices, not residences. Now the robotic batteries implanted in slightly hardened positions spouted fire at the attackers, fire they returned. The attack force’s movement slowed a little but did not halt. More and more of them poured out of the constriction of the business district onto the wider avenues that ringed the government district.

As expected, the attackers had personnel carriers, mounting both beam and missile racks, as well as dismounted troops in full battle gear. And with the first launch of missiles against the Presidential Palace, the battle was joined in earnest. As Ky had hoped, all those preparations in the great public gardens around the Palace had focused the enemy’s attention and convinced Kvannis—or whoever was commanding—that the defense plan hadn’t changed that much.

But it had. The robotic batteries simulated fire by actual troops—irregular and, though effective, less than what the batteries could produce. More and more of the enemy moved into the area, focused on resistance from the supposed defenders, pouring heavy fire at the trenches. The heads of their columns were now even with the Palace. Would they see what awaited them, through the snow now blowing out of the north into their faces? The big earthmovers had traveled dark, pushed by the vehicles behind them. Even infrared sensing might not spot them.

“In position,” Massoudian said finally. “Both routes blocked to the north. East still unsecured.”

“Set,” Ky said, and contacted the air base again. She felt the mix of alertness and calm so familiar from space combat. Once an engagement began, once forces were committed, the stomach-clenching wait was over. She watched the screens, the icons marking movement. Just as the attacking infantry overran the trenches and climbed up to the level beyond, the first flight of drones arrived, raining cluster bombs down on what had been the broad central walk. Debris clouded the sensors. Attackers still mounted in their carriers spun their beam weapons, trying to hit the drones, but those were long gone, heading for the harbor and the ships that had brought the attackers. The concussion and flare of that explosion traveled through the snow; for an instant all movement seemed to stop.

As if in answer, the snow thickened. Some of the attackers turned, tried to flee back across the broad avenues to the cover of buildings, but the cadets, stiffened by a few experienced troops, mowed them down. Belatedly, the personnel carriers turned their guns to the other side, but by then the smaller drones had locked in on them. Only two on this side, three on the other, were able to return fire before they blew, one after another, debris shattering windows across the street as effectively as their weapons.

“Timing is everything,” Ky murmured. Several people in the car gave her a startled look. “Old military axiom,” she said.

At both ends, attackers tried to get out of the now-obvious killzone. To the south, they ran into their own still-arriving troops; to the north they met the cadets and troops behind the earthmovers with their impervious blades.

“Should’ve brought real artillery,” Major Oslik said.

“Glad they didn’t,” Ky said. Some of the attackers now ran for the Presidential Palace, encountering the minefield that would’ve been obvious in daylight or clear moonlight. Compared with space battles, this one seemed faster in some ways, slower in others. In space, ships might have only a second or two to attack a target before it was out of range; here, stuck in almost two-dimensional space, troops could pound each other again and again. But the weirdest thing to Ky was the way all the debris fell onto the planet’s surface and stayed there, instead of expanding in a lethal sphere.

She shoved that thought away. The surviving enemy had better armor and more experience than her cadets—they were still very dangerous, more effective one-to-one. And they weren’t about to surrender yet. They could endure a higher percentage of loss before breaking than her green troops.

Those in the main plaza had regrouped and moved cautiously, using every bit of cover, toward Government House. Presumably they knew about the tunnel between that and the Palace. Not that it would do them much good. She called in another drone strike. This time they heard the drones coming and dove for the trenches on that side of the plaza, but the bombs targeted the trenches. The drones themselves went on south, to finish the attack on the two ships.

“It’s just… killing,” someone murmured. “They don’t have a chance.”

“It’s not a game,” Ky said. “They intended to kill the defenders, including our cadets, and seize the President and other government leaders, if not kill them. And there are plenty still alive.”

“If they surrendered—”

“If they surrendered, we’d put them under guard. I don’t expect they will; the media’s been savage ever since the Miksland survivors had a chance to tell their stories. They know they’re not popular. Even in Dorland and Fulland.” Her skullphone pinged; she held up a finger for silence.

“Academy’s now under attack—a small force, maybe six hundred, mix of uniforms and civvie. We’re handling it. Any change in engagement orders?”

“No,” Ky said. “Lethal force authorized.”

“Lethal force, understood.”

What she could now see in the screens showed the first real fragmentation and disorganization of the attacking force. And in that moment she felt for the first time a wrenching sense that these, too, were her people, on her home planet, some of whom she might have known if she’d stayed here. She knew, she felt, what they were feeling and thinking as their plans unraveled around them. She had felt that same confusion and uncertainty herself—and gone on to win engagements, or at least escape destruction. And where were their commanders? Here, or out at the base, or safely hidden somewhere else? She had a sudden urge to leave the command carrier and knew it for folly.

Instead, she reached for the link to Major Massoudian. “Put some pressure on them, advance fifty meters.”

“Fifty meters, understood.”

A new heat signature bloomed in the infrared feed as the earthmovers’ engines spun up. Behind them, the troops advanced firing steadily. Ky watched closely. If the attackers had any ace in the hole, now would be the time to play it.

“Ky—air strike on the way!” That was Rafe in her skullphone. “Under two minutes.”

Nothing showed on the screens. That meant nothing; the suspect air base had a squadron of stealth aircraft. She opened the all-units channel. “Air strike—pull back now.”

“Commandant?”

“Now! With luck they’ll hit their own troops instead.”

She signaled to the command car driver, who immediately started backing down the street. “We need to clear this route for those ahead of us. If that were me, in those planes, I’d hit the buildings on Promenade and Military and the street behind. Try to catch all the defense in one or two passes. This weather—”

A roar in the distance broke through the soundproofing of the vehicle.

“What if they attack the Academy?” asked Osinery.

“They certainly could. All the cadets there should be safe enough in the underground. But since Kvannis knows it will be mostly empty, attacking it would be a waste of his resources. He’s not stupid.” Her helmet picked up the infrared signatures of the four aircraft coming in low and fast. What were they carrying? Missiles, bombs? And what were they targeting?