The time came for the next mission. Once more into the breech, as the old saying goes. From the porthole, I could see a armada of warships. Some were bombarding the planet and other were regular troop transports like the one I'd been riding the whole time. I could see beams of plasma and waves of missiles raining down on the surface. Something really big was going down, and I was feeling ill-prepared for it. The briefing was vague and not much more than an introduction to the various vehicles the enemy was using. Their weak points were shown as were the best weapons for attacking them. Given the choice, I'd rather shoot vehicles than droids or anything man-sized. Aim small, miss small, as the old saying goes. It's always easier to hit a larger target, though often harder to destroy them. That's what the grenades and rocket launchers were for. Given that each of us of could only carry so many, that explained why so many of us would be fighting together in the coming battle.
Time to drop. We were going to be planet-side for a while, so our suits were outfitted with various injectors: nutrients, stimulants, and painkillers. Fighting hard without a good meal is a special kind of hell, and another hardship we'd be forced to endure. My companion and I both loaded up with bandoliers of grenades, a rocket launcher, and carried more rockets in backpacks. Otherwise, the only other weapon we carried was the liquid ammo pistol, but neither of us expected to use it. From the briefing, it looked like the enemy consisted only of tracked armored vehicles, which made me wonder why our side didn't have any to send to meet them. Too costly maybe? It was impossible to say, and the answer wouldn't have mattered anyway. Even so, it was stupid to send out armor without infantry or air support. I dreaded encountering either without suitable armament.
We touched down in the staging area near several other friendly troop ships. A few kilometers in the distance, the battle was raging. The atmosphere of the planet conducted the sound of it well. It seemed to have a thicker atmosphere and higher gravity. For as far as the eye could see in every direction were the ruins of an immense bombed-out city. To my left and right, I could see maybe a hundred or so friendly troopers total. Of course, we weren't told how many of the enemy we faced which I took as another bad sign. The high gravity made our march to the frontline and agonizing trudge. Perhaps the gravity was the reason the enemy stuck to vehicles. It was out of sheer laziness. Why walk when you can ride in style and let the other dumb bastards fumble around. Given the difficulty of movement, it seemed like the best strategy was to find a good hiding place and ambush the tanks as they rolled by.
Various troopers made the "disperse" hand signal, and so I gradually found myself alone. Not too far in front of me were the ruins of a multistory building. I could see windows and holes, so that would give me various options to shoot from. Given the high gravity, relocating wouldn't be easy unless I could improvise something. I figured the best thing would be to wait for a convoy. That way I could disable the lead and rear vehicles and thus trap the ones in the middle. Then it would be easy to destroy the rest of them. I decided to stick to the highest floor I could reach in the hope that the enemy guns couldn't elevate high enough to shoot back at me. You'd be surprised how often tanks and even ships have been destroyed in combat because they couldn't point their guns high or low enough at the enemy. That gave me another idea. After using up the rockets from my perch, I'd try to come at the enemy from street level.
It was an exhausting climb to the top of the structure, so much so that it would be a serious struggle to retreat even in a dire emergency. I wanted to ration my nutrients and stimulants as I had no idea how long I'd be out in the field. At some point, I'd most likely run out of ammo, in which I'd be forced to either lie low somewhere and wait for the evacuation signal, or make the long, slow journey back to the landing zone in the hope that the empire made an ammo drop from us. We'd been briefed about ammo drops, which was one of the few encouraging bits of news that came before we landed. Another advantage of having the high ground was getting an excellent view of the battlefield. I could see several enemy columns and how fast they were moving. So far, none were headed in my direction, so I decided to prepare a few fighting positions near my vantage point. I put a few grenades from my bandolier near openings on each side of the building. That lightened the load a little and so made it easier for me to move from one to the other.
If the enemy armored vehicles were anything like the ones on earth, the armor on the top would be the thinnest and easiest to penetrate. It occurred to me just then that the high gravity meant I'd need to greatly adjust my usual grenade throw, so I practiced tossing around a few chunks of rubble until I was confident I could hit the top of tank that was just under any of my fighting positions. It was a long wait for a column to roll past me. Though the streets were wide enough, they were choked with rubble, and that made it slow going for the enemy. Gradually, the sound of engines and treads became louder. I peeked out from a hole in a wall and saw a column of five tanks. All had sentry guns of some sort on top that were meticulously scanning for threats in all directions. I had no way of knowing what sort of sensors they had, but I was certain that if I used the rocket launcher, I'd quickly be in their sights.
Grenades it is then, I thought. Good. Fortune favors the brave. I armed one, dropped it onto the top of the lead tank, and scrambled to the next fighting position. I barely made it two steps before the enemy sentry guns were lighting up where I'd just been a moment before. It was at this time I became concerned that a stray or ricocheting bullet would set off my grenade cache at that position. It was a stupid mistake not to move them farther from the opening. C'est la guerre. No plan survives the first 30 seconds of contact with the enemy. The good news was that while they were busy shooting at where I wasn't, I was able to arm another grenade and throw it onto the cupola of the trailing vehicle just as the first grenade exploded. Beautiful. I love it when a plan comes together, I thought. There was a good spot to throw grenades to destroy the other stranded tanks, so I decided now was the time to use the rocket launcher.
I loaded the launcher and moved down a few floors. Given that my targets were stuck now, I could take my time in finding a good spot to take my shot. Assuming the tanks had crews, I figured the survivors would all be abandoning their vehicles and trying to escape. A few floors down, I found a suitable window and took aim. The rocket took off with a satisfying WOOSH and I immediately dove for cover. I repeated this action on the two remaining vehicles and thus exhausted my rocket ammo. Good riddance. That launcher was heavy as hell in normal gravity. I figured by this point I'd done enough for the cause, and it was time for a little rest. Using the control panel on my right arm, I gave myself a boost of nutrients and stimulants. My water IV was mostly full, so I let that run a little even though it meant I need to take a leak in the near future. Oh well, my own waste was the least of my problems at this point.
If the enemy attacked my position again, which was likely, they'd attack in greater numbers and destroy the building from a distance. Thus, I had to move. I gathered my grenades and the rocket launcher and moved to the shorter building across the street. Even though the rocket launcher was useless for the time being, I kept it anyway in case I somehow got more ammo for it. Also, I pretty sure I'd get punished if I abandoned an expensive and functional weapon simply because I didn't feel like lugging it around. In retrospect, I really wish they'd just given us a grenade launcher and skipped the rockets. That would have simplified things. In a way, it was nice to know that an interstellar empire could still make boneheaded tactical mistakes like that. Nobody's perfect, no matter where you go in the universe. I made up my mind that I wasn't going to go back for ammo at the LZ until I ran out where I was. As it stood, I had 25 grenades left, and I wasn't sure how I'd use the rest of them.
My mind would have been so much more at ease had I known 142 was nearby. Instead, most likely, it was fighting its own isolated battle, along with all the others. It made sense for us to split up the way we did, yet it dampened our morale. As it got dark, it became harder to see much of anything. It was against our implicit orders to return to the landing zone, but I decided to make the trek anyway. Distances always seem much longer in the night. As I gazed over the cityscape, the plumes of dozens of fires belched black smoke into the sky. We had hit the enemy hard at least, but at what cost? When I reached the landing zone, to my surprise and relief, there were dozens of jetpack type devices lying about. There were also many crates of extra rockets and grenades. Now this would make finishing off the remaining enemy easy work. It was dangerous to fly at night for various reasons, not the least of which was that flames from the exhaust would make me an easy target against the night sky.
There must be something about high gravity planets that affects the weather. The sky was mostly overcast with a few stars and moons shining through here and there. Near the ground, a thick fog a few meters thick slowly slid across the ground. I made a few short flights to get the hang of the device. During some down time, we'd watched a training video on how to use the jetpack. It seemed self-explanatory, though the high gravity meant that I'd need to land carefully to avoid injury. At that point, I just wanted to finish the job, get off that awful rock, and have a nice shower. It's always the little things that make bad situations bearable. A little respite here and there goes a long way. I couldn't wait to be back aboard our ship with my partner and enjoying a nice hot meal all the other amenities on board. They were spartan accommodations, yet so much better than being stuck in the midst of a warzone.
I really hoped 142 and I would survive the battle unscathed, but at that point there was no way of knowing. The enemy is always smarter than you think, and I dreaded whatever hostile surprises laid in store. It was one of those times when a stoic detachment was the only way to stay sane.
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