The explosion of gunfire swept the slope clean of mercenaries, throwing the enemy back on their heels. The aircraft and artillery had shattered their formations, their respective organizations now in chaos. Those that remained on the hillside died where they stood, while those that retreated in disarray tried to rally and prep for a second attempt.

But the Valkyries held the high ground, dug in and set up for what the experts called a “Reverse-Slope Defense”. The ridgeline protected them from enemy weapons, even making mortars and artillery difficult to employ, while giving them clear fields of fire. As long as they could keep them at arm’s length… not to mention preventing the ships in orbit from joining the fray… they had a chance.

The Valkyries discharged another mass volley, eliminating the last few holdouts still clinging to life on that bloody hillside. With that accomplished, they held their fire, conserving their ammo as the three mercenary brigades fought to come up with a plan. A frontal assault was suicide, and without their destroyers and battlecruiser in support, they’d have to do things the old-fashioned way.

Given the way the troops were hanging back, they weren’t looking forward to it.

“Rúna, is your team all right?” she heard in her ear as she looked about. Arthur was right beside her, of course; shell-shocked, but intact. A quick glance showed Becca and Yendrick were still in it, with the scout giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah, we’re good. You?” she asked.

“So far,” Kai answered. “It won’t take them long to regroup, so stand ready.”

“You too,” she answered. “Orders still stand?”

“No change,” he confirmed. “For now, we hold.”

“Copy,” she whispered, before clicking off. She couldn’t afford the distraction just now, neither of them could. If they could just hold on to this ridgeline long enough; bleed the Legion and the Ixi and Zaitai until attacking no longer looked feasible, maybe they could work out a deal. Now that she’d had time to think about it, she was sure that was the colonel’s ultimate plan. They’d never be able to defeat them by conventional means, but what most didn’t realize was that mercenary outfits shared a weakness.

Conflict might be their bread and butter, but it was the warriors in the ranks that were their operating capital. They couldn’t soak up casualties indefinitely, at some point they had to stand down, or face either ruin or revolt. If too many of your fighters lay dead on the battlefield, you were no longer a going concern, and in the cutthroat Perseus Arm those kinds of setbacks tended to be permanent.

But long before that could happen, you were almost certain to face dissension from the ranks. Mercenaries fought for pay, not glory, and dying on some useless ridge sure as hell wouldn’t fill your pockets. Push them too hard, and they’d mutiny.

Which would suit the Valkyries just fine.

That was the hope, at least. Except those same outfits had been at this for a long time, and they knew the hazards of the business all too well. They weren’t stupid, which meant they had to be thinking about a way around that particular mess. But what? As the minutes stretched into hours, as daylight finally broke, Rúna couldn’t help but wonder what they were planning. But they couldn’t stay at full alert forever, so she put them on fifty percent security, and tried to get a little shuteye. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when she felt a hand nudging her shoulder. Her eyes snapped back open to see Gunny Satou hovering over her.

“Sorry to wake you, corporal,” the older woman shrugged, “but we’re passing the word down the line. Word from on high is they’re getting ready for a major push.”

Wriggling in her foxhole, she squirmed around to get a better look at the battlefield. It was hard to say for certain, but something was definitely up. “Okay Gunny, thanks,” she nodded, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What’s the story on our end?”

“We’ve got the QRF hauling ammo and supplies to cache points all the way from here back to the beach,” she informed her, “plus the Sappers are out in full force throwing up obstacles and defensive positions. Gonna be one hell of a party.”

She nodded, taking that in. The Quick Reaction Force was their fleet of vehicles, the Centurion hovercraft plus their wheeled transports. They were their mobile attack force, on-call for backup whenever and wherever they were needed. As long as the enemy was sitting tight, it made sense to use them for pack mule duty. “How soon?” she asked.

“No idea,” the Gunny shrugged. “Up to me, I’d wait till dark, but I got a feeling they’re not that patient.” She glanced over the ridge, wrinkling her nose. “They’re coming, girl. Bet on it.” She shook her head before slapping Rúna’s shoulder. “Gotta go. Keep your shit wired tight.”

“You too, Gunny,” she answered, as the older woman moved off, headed for Second squad. Sparing another glance over the rise, it looked as if the enemy wouldn’t be hitting them quite yet. “Get some shuteye, private,” she told Arthur. “I’ll wake you if things heat up.”

“Sleep?” He stared at her, incredulous. “Who could sleep now?”

“You can’t stay awake forever,” she reminded him. “You want to survive in the Valkyries? Then sleep and eat whenever you can, cause you never know when you might have to do without.”

He was still dubious, but laid down and shut his eyes, nonetheless. Rúna scanned the vale below, looking for patterns, but so far it seemed as if they were milling about, confused and lacking focus. Maybe that was true. Maybe they’d thrown their plans so far off kilter it was taking them forever to get sorted back out. She hoped that was true, but long experience had taught her not to count on it.

Better to assume it was a ruse, a way to lull them into false security before blindsiding them. They were too far out on a limb to let themselves get caught by surprise, so best to suspect everything was a trap. They were on the defense, which left the initiative to the other side. All they had to do was be ready and hold fast. Simple.

Of course, in combat the simple things were always the hardest.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Another hour ticked by, as the sun rose steadily in the sky. There was an odd sheen to the overcast hanging high above the atmosphere, the remnants of Fiddler’s smokescreen. No one was entirely sure how long it would last, but it was certain if it faded the other ships wouldn’t let them try it again. They’d learned their lesson and were now watching the Valkyrie vessel like vultures. The instant it moved they’d kill it.

And then, suddenly, the enemy announced their intentions. Heavy beams of energy swept the ridgeline, driving the defenders from the crest, as battery after battery of enemy cannon opened fire, launching hundreds of bombs towards the dug-in Terrans.

“INCOMING!” Rúna screamed, echoing others up and down the line, dropping once more and covering Arthur even as he thrashed to push her away. It was a panic reflex, one born of surprise and fear, so instead of wrestling with the young private or attempting sweet reason, she hauled off and slugged him hard in the jaw. The kid went limp for a second and then stopped struggling. Good enough. She’d deal with the recriminations later.

The deadly packages completed their arc through the sky and began raining down, detonating with ear-shattering thunderclaps that showered them with debris, but despite the horror of steel rain walking through their ranks, the colonel’s ingenuity was paying off in spades. By digging in on the reverse slope, he’d denied the enemy much of its advantage. Any rounds falling short were deflected back away from the Valkyries, the ridgeline acting as a massive defensive wall. Those projectiles that overshot their targets saw the worst of their effects deflect away from the defensive line on the reverse slope. Unlike a flat plain, being dug into the hillside meant the enemy needed a direct strike to hit their targets.

Unfortunately, some rounds did just that.

The explosions went on, far longer than she would have guessed. They were saturating the ridge with cannon fire, trying to blast them loose and winnow their ranks before they made their assault. An ancient Doughboy from Terra’s First World War would have recognized the tactic immediately, and just as quickly known how difficult it was to achieve. Good soldiers were like rats; they found every crack and crevice possible to hide in. You could blast the terrain from now til the heat death of the universe, until it resembled a barren moonscape, and you still wouldn’t get them all. Hugging the dirt for all it was worth, willing themselves into the very bedrock itself, Rúna and Arthur waited out the bombardment, praying for it to end.

And then, without warning, there was silence.

It took them both precious seconds to realize the barrage had been lifted. The concussions of heavy artillery left those on the receiving end disoriented and shaken. It took time to gather one’s wits... but then, time was the one thing they did not have.

“Come on!” she shouted at him, dragging him forward once more. There was only one reason they’d lifted the siege, and that was to begin their assault. Peering over the lip, she saw the lead Legion and Ixi units were already halfway up the hillside (apparently the Zaitai were bringing up the rear), further than she’d expected. The old Terran Marines would have gotten close enough to the falling bombs to smell the cordite, but then they’d been a special breed, taking calculated risks few others would. Mercenaries, on the other hand, avoided unnecessary hazards at all costs; as the saying goes, it’s hard to get paid when you’re dead.

But now they were coming, and it was time to get busy.

“Arthur! Load HE and blast them off the damn hillside!” she shouted, choosing her own targets with careful precision and picking them off with short, controlled bursts. Those she hit tumbled back down the incline, eventually coming to rest some meters below, creating obstacles for those coming up behind them. Maybe it wasn’t exactly like shooting fish in a barrel, but the odds were definitely in their favor.

Slogging uphill under heavy fire had to be anyone’s definition of Hell.

Only the mercenary brigades they faced were anything but fools, and all three had been in the business for a very long time. There was no way they’d just feed their warriors into a meat grinder, even if they held the numerical advantage. Numbers didn’t mean quite so much when your opponents held the high ground. They had to be up to something…

The buzzing swarm that raced towards them from the rear of the enemy formation put that question immediately to rest. “Drones!” she shouted into her helmet mic, grabbing Arthur’s weapon by the barrel and pointing it at the mass of metal objects screaming towards them, “target the goddamn drones!”

Much of the line shifted their fire as well, but the small machines were hard targets to kill, tough and maneuverable. They bobbed and weaved even as they unleashed streams of energy beams and projectiles, raking death across their positions as the Valkyries fought desperately to knock them out of the sky. With the amount of firepower thrown against them they did fall, in ones and threes and fives… but every gun turned towards a drone was one less aimed at a mercenary. By time they’d chased the surviving machines away, many of them trailing tendrils of smoke, the enemy warriors had all but closed the gap between them.

The chattering of the gun to their left drew her attention for a brief moment, as Tawfiq raked the hillside with deadly accuracy, while Rivka fed him belt after belt of ammunition. She spotted Doc moving into a nearby foxhole, his medkit out as he treated the wounded while under fire, risking his own life to save others. Arthur, terrified and ashen-faced, pumping out one grenade after another to drive them back, while Yendrick and Becca shouted and cursed as the enemy closed in. And she saw Kai, steady as a rock, battling with everything he had. Her squad.

… her family.

A smattering of legionnaires broke through the line, cresting the ridge and throwing themselves into the fray as the fighting suddenly went hand-to-hand. A nearby blast shook the ground as a body tumbled into their foxhole on top of them, the smell assaulting her nostrils sending alarm bells through her skull that this thing was wrong. As she fought to shove the interloper away, her eyes confirmed what her nose had already told her; that this being was too tall, too muscled, and too damn hairy. Arthur’s howls of terror captured the enemy’s attention, just long enough for it to grab for his grenade launcher as it fought to bring its own weapon to bear.

Just long enough for her to jam her sidearm into its gut and empty the magazine, the blasts reverberating within their hole as alien blood and viscera splattered across her face. The warrior shuddered and then went limp, pinning them both to the ground until they shoved it off, with Arthur scuttled back away on all fours.

Another alien face appeared, and with her rifle out of reach and her sidearm empty she gripped her Ixi blade and slashed forward, batting aside its weapon before drawing it across his body in a lethal riposte, the reptilian screeching in agony as she disemboweled him. It clutched at its spilling entrails before toppling over on its side and rolling back down the hill, even as she searched for another target… only to stare in astonishment as the mercenaries began falling over themselves, stumbling back down the hill in full retreat.

Rúna was a veteran of countless battles, on worlds stretching across the length of the Perseus Arm… but none of them had been like this. Something came over her, some strange compulsion she couldn’t quite understand as she climbed to the top of the ridge. Holding her bloody sword high, she screamed at the enemy below, howling her rage and defiance, daring them to come back and try it again. There were no words, just raw fury flecked with spittle and foam as she shrieked like a half-naked Amazon of old.

And then to her amazement the sound grew, growing by the moment as others joined in, lifting their own weapons high even as their cries and roars joined hers, swelling in a massive crescendo as the battalion took their place beside her... those still standing... giving the enemy a primal scream of triumph that would not be denied.

But then the moment ended, as all moments must, to be overtaken by the wounded cries for medics… and the silence of the dead.

It was a victory. One destined to be long remembered, but it had cost them dearly.