Jay Allan - Tombstone

The ridge was named after the megacorp that claimed the mining rights in the area. McCraw Resources was a huge mining concern that had a number of places named after it, including an entire planet on the Rim. It was one of several Alliance companies mining on Tombstone, though the only difference between them was which Corporate Magnate managers got the richest. A McCraw may have started the company centuries ago, but now it was basically owned by the government, just like all the megacorps. The Magnates who ran it stole what they could, but in the end they answered to Alliance Gov.

We dug into our new positions, and the lieutenant directed the placement of our SAWs and SHWs. He was very careful about arranging them to maximize their fields of fire and also to provide mutual support. Any enemy attack against one of our heavy weapons would come under fire from at least two others. It made an impression on me how he obsessed over the placements himself rather than just ordering the teams to deploy. That stuck with me years later when I was in his position. I’ve always believed that low-level heavy weapons are a huge key to victory, and that belief started that day.

The enemy had fallen back but not withdrawn entirely. They’d fortified another ridge about five klicks north, and it didn’t look like they were planning to leave. Their position didn’t look quite as good as ours, but it was strong enough to discourage an attack, at least until we were heavily reinforced. We exchanged sporadic long-ranged fire, but it was mostly quiet for about six hours, with occasional excitement when someone got careless and was picked off by long-ranged fire.

It’s hard to stay alert for hour after hour, especially when nothing much is happening. The suit can keep you pumped up on stimulants, but you have to be careful and save that for when you really need it. Otherwise you end up strung out, and you lose as much effectiveness as you gain. But you still have to stay sharp. Snipers can pick off a target at five klicks, no problem, and we’d lost two people already because they let their guard down. Newbs were particularly vulnerable, but I’ve seen veterans lose their focus for a few seconds too, and that’s long enough to get scragged.

Finally, we got intermittent scanning reports on approaching enemy forces. Normally, we’d have a complete breakdown of anything so close, but on Tombstone you generally had less information than you wanted, and even that was unreliable.

Fresh troops meant they were planning another attack, and the lieutenant made his way all along the line, checking and adjusting our positions. Physical proximity really wasn’t necessary for communication, but still, it was a morale boost to have him crouching next to you while he spoke.

“How’s everything, Jax?” He put his hand on my back, a seemingly pointless gesture among armored troops, but one that was nevertheless somehow reassuring.

“I’m good, sir.” I turned to face him, another bit of instinctive body language that had dubious utility when suited up. In non-combat situations I would have saluted him, but the Corps dispensed with the clunky salutes among armored troops in battle. You could barely manage it in a fighting suit in normal conditions. No one wanted a casualty because a Marine was struggling to salute in armor and got his head blown off. And there was no point in advertising where the officers were.

“You’ve come along well, Darius.” His voice was gentle, sincere. “You were nervous as a cat when you first got here, but you are calm and cool now. You’ve been great with the new guys, too. You’re a valued member of this platoon. And you ended up with quite a first assignment. My first was a cakewalk, a quick raid that was over in six hours.” He paused for a second. “You’ve taken all Tombstone could throw at you. I’m proud of you.”

I got a little choked up. This was the first time anyone had really told me I was worth anything. Except my father, of course, but that doesn’t count. I already felt at home in the platoon, but this sealed it. “Thank you, sir.” I hesitated, trying, not terribly successfully, not to show too much emotion in my voice. “That means a lot.” I’d have followed that man anywhere. I’d drawn the short straw getting posted to Tombstone, but I swear there wasn’t a better commanding officer in the Corps than the one I got.

“Carry on.” He crouched down and started over toward Private Samms, about 100 meters to my right. He stopped for a second and turned back toward me. “And stay low.” His head snapped back forward and he was on his way. I had a minute or two to think about what he had said and then all hell broke loose.

My AI warned me about three seconds before the first explosions…grenade and mortar fire. I instinctively crouched lower just before I was pelted with dirt and shattered chunks of rock. The grenades weren’t too bad; we had good cover, and they had to drop one right next to you to cause serious damage. The mortars were another matter. The rounds coming in were heavier than the usual ones; if one of them hit within twenty meters, you’d better have good cover between you and it.

Fortunately for me, they were concentrating the mortar fire to my right, and the worst thing I had to deal with was a grenade landing behind me. It covered me with debris and caused some minor damage to my external sensors, but all things considered, I got off light.

We returned fire with grenades, but ours were no more effective than theirs against troops in heavy cover. They had the exclusive on heavier ordnance right now, and it occurred to me that mortars that big were usually battalion level assets. The Caliphate called their battalions tac-forces, and they were about 35% larger than ours.

“Ok, platoon…” The lieutenant’s voice, calm but urgent. “…we’re looking at a major attack incoming at any time. I just spoke with the colonel…” Holy fuck, I thought…the colonel! He was the planetary theater commander…the top dog. Something big must be brewing. “…and we’ve got support inbound. But we might have to hold out for a while against tough odds.” He paused. “I told him he could count on us. Now you’re not going to make a liar out of me, are you Second Platoon?”

A chorus of “no, sirs” flooded the com, and mine was as loud as anybody’s. We were ready, though I figured if the colonel was getting involved, we were likely in for a rough ride. I was right.

Tactically, the ridge was of limited value, not worth a major fight to hold. We could have pulled back and actually enhanced our longer term positions. We held most of the surrounding hills, and any enemy penetration here would quickly become an exposed salient. But what we didn’t know…what we didn’t need to know…was under the ridge ran a rich vein of trans-urianic element…not the fleeting scraps manufactured in labs that decayed in nano-seconds, but naturally-occurring stable isotopes that were non-existent on Earth and still not fully explained by physicists. These strange substances had been found on a small handful of worlds and, vital for high-yield spaceship drives, they were priceless. The deposits under the ridge were worth more than all of our lives - at least to Alliance Gov - and while the Corps had a different set of priorities, it followed orders. Where we were told to fight, we fought. And right now that was on McCraw’s Ridge. I was positioned almost dead-center, along a spiny Y-shaped rock outcropping…a spot that would later be known as the Cauldron.

They’d hit us five times the day before. Of course, the days were our own construct, existing largely on our suits’ chronometers. Tombstone took over sixty Earth hours to complete its rotation, and it was never really dark, not even at night, thanks to the electrical activity and chemical reactions in the upper atmosphere. The eerie glowing clouds didn’t give off the light the sun did, but it was enough to see by, especially with your visor set to mag 2 or 3.