The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5) (25 page)

The answer, Billy knew, was that they couldn’t.

Even the most foolhardy or skilled pilot could never judge exactly where their stream of pulsar-bolts would land, and each pilot factored in their own margin for error. The first Eagle pilot had factored in a more than generous margin for himself, and it annoyed Billy.

With the Personnel Carrier still dropping back down towards the Landing Trooper line, Billy caught a brief glimpse of the estate’s animals being driven into the Landing Bays of the Aquarius before his line of sight was blocked by the rise of the western slope. At least the animals would survive, Billy considered as the anti-gravity generator whined loudly once more to stop the vehicles descent.

The second Eagle was just beginning its attack run as the Carrier landed amidst the Landing Troopers who were pouring their deadly fire into the onrushing horde of Templar infantry.

“Sir!” Garn welcomed Billy back to the battle line. “We can’t hold this position much longer!”

“I know, Garn!” Billy replied, jumping out of the Carrier as the tumultuous roar of weapons fire from the Eagle erupted. “Their cavalry is swinging in from the north and west to charge our left flank,” Billy ducked down, and indicated the direction from which he expected the Templar cavalry to charge.

And, as he ducked, a huge cascade of dirt and debris tumbled down onto the Landing Trooper position. The Eagle pilot had made his run perilously close to the Troopers’ line.

“That was close!” Garn smiled as he too ducked behind the Personnel Carrier from the torrent of dirt.

“Get as many Troopers as you can into these Carriers and get back to the Aquarius, the rest follow me on foot!” Billy ordered as the Eagle’s sonic boom cracked and echoed loudly overhead.

“Negative, sir! We’ve only got ten Carriers, it’s not enough for all of us. We all go, or we all stay!”

“That’s an order, Garn!” an astonished Billy replied.

Billy had never known Garn to disobey an order. But, the Landing Troopers were a proud, tenacious and stubborn unit. They left no one behind, alive or dead. And, for a brief moment, Billy’s outrage at the disobedience flared before the more pragmatic mind of a First Admiral asserted itself. There was no point arguing with or threatening Garn. The tough, wily Landing Trooper could hide behind a maze of regulations, and there was no time to argue the finer points of military law on a battlefield.

“All right! All right!” Billy grumbled. “Get the Personnel Carriers out of here and tell them to give us covering fire!”

“Yes, sir!”

Looking over the edge of the Personnel Carrier, Billy saw a huge wall of destruction erupt amidst the attacking Templars. Weapons, armour and bodies were scattered like chaff in the wind as another Eagle streaked overhead, its attack run culminating in another echoing sonic-boom. The twin pulsar-gunners on the Personnel Carriers were adding their fire to the carnage that was unfolding in front of the estate boundary. The heavy CHUT-CHUT-CHUT-CHUT of the twin-barrelled weapons barely audible above the screaming and shrieking mayhem of the Eagle strike.

“Right, Troopers!” Billy ordered into the open channel. “Back to the Aquarius, best of order!” he called and held his right fist straight up in the air. “Over the wall! Follow me!” he ordered and leapt over the boundary wall.

“Come on, lads, over you go!” Billy heard a Troop Sergeant order his beleaguered men as he bundled the agile Troopers over the low estate wall.

“Sling those rifles, Battle Shields and pistols!” Garn ordered as the first of the Personnel Carriers began to lift off.

“Come on, men!” Billy ordered as he stood at the other side of the wall to check that all of the Troopers were getting away.

Turning to his right, Billy saw the first lines of Templars approaching. Like hell-bound spectres, the white coated infantrymen, scorched by flame and streaked with mud, raced towards their enemies wide-eyed with terror and adrenaline driven panic. Their teeth bared, they snarled like wild animals as they attacked to escape the shrieking, exploding nightmare behind them. In a few moments they would be clambering over the low wall of the Muscigny estate, and Billy Caudwell had no intention of being around when they arrived.

With one last look to ensure none of the Troopers was being left behind, Billy Caudwell, the last man to leave the position, turned from the wall and sprinted over the muddy fields of the Muscigny estate. In front of him, the Troopers were already covering the ground rapidly.

It may have been a retreat, but they were going to fight all the way.

South of the Muscigny Estate

King Baldwin the Fourth held up his mail-gauntleted fist to stop the column of blue and white clad knights that formed his personal bodyguard. Behind him, the order to halt was passed by word of mouth down the line of weary and footsore soldiers that trudged along the road from Jerusalem to Muscigny.

Standing up in his stirrups, the young King stared into the distance and saw a strange flying craft diving down from the clear blue sky to disappear below the ridge line. A heartbeat later, the ground beyond the ridge seemed to erupt in flame and violence as the Eagle strafed the unseen ranks of Templar infantry before streaking back into the sky with a deafening roar. Never in his life had Baldwin seen so much violence and fury in one place. The Outlander Admiral had turned his flying machines loose on the Templars, and, for the briefest of moments, Baldwin felt a pang of pity for the men who would be suffering under the ferocious assault of these strange and powerful weapons. As quickly as the feeling arose, Baldwin dismissed it. The hard reality of ruling a Kingdom, and protecting its people made the emotion redundant. The men suffering beneath the Outlander Admiral’s flying killers were the same ones who would carry out the massacre of innocent people in Jerusalem.

Casting his eye across the horizon, Baldwin saw a faint trail of dust blossoming from the west mixed with the dull, flickering flashes of sunlight on burnished metal.

“My Lord Edessa?” Baldwin summoned the Seneschal of Jerusalem forward.

“Your Majesty?”

“What do you make of that? Over to the west?”

“Horsemen, Your Majesty? They’re moving too fast for men on foot.”

“It would appear that our friend the Admiral is already entertaining, with some further uninvited guests about to arrive.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Take half the knights, My Lord Edessa, and make sure they don’t join the festivities.”

“And, divide the army, Your Majesty?”

“From what the Admiral’s picture-box tells us, this Templar upstart has barely two thousand knights, we outnumber him four to one with horse, even with half our knights we are still easily double his numbers.”

“As Your Majesty commands,” Joscelin replied and pulled on his reins to turn the charger.

“And, My Lord Edessa?” the King added. “Please do us the courtesy of not getting killed.”

“Your Majesty.” Joscelin bowed from his saddle, pleased at the compliment, and galloped off to follow his orders.

Scanning the western horizon, King Baldwin the Fourth watched the rising plume of dust carefully. If this was the Templar cavalry, they were a long way from their infantry support. Only a fool or a tactical genius would leave his cavalry so exposed. Raising his hand, Baldwin indicated for his army to advance.

He was going to Muscigny to find out just which one it was.

The Muscigny Estate

Splashing through the heavy cloying mud of the Muscigny estate, Billy Caudwell breathed heavily as he drove himself after the Landing Troopers who were fleeing from the position in front of the boundary wall. The carefully set out irrigation ditches were being broken down, leaving the ground like a quagmire, and the first crops were in danger of being ruined. Overhead, the shrill whine of anti-gravity generators announced that the last of the Personnel Carriers were cleared away from the abandoned defensive position. Driving his legs onwards, Billy also heard the faint ZIP of arrows as they started to land in the mud. The surviving Templar archers were adding their limited firepower to the evolving battle to harass the escaping Troopers. To his left, Billy caught sight of a Trooper with an arrow sticking out of his left leg whilst a comrade hauled him to his feet. Another comrade was aiming steady burst of pulsar-pistol fire into the advancing Templars, whilst protecting his injured comrade with his Battle Shield.

Ahead of him, Billy heard Garn issuing instructions to the Troopers.

“Stand here! Form a line, here!”

Catching up to the Troopers who were forming a ragged line in one of the muddy fields about forty metres from the wall, Billy immediately spotted Garn’s intention. The first of the Templars were scrambling over the low wall of the estate which the Troopers had just abandoned. The wall itself was a barrier and would delay the advancing Templars, even if for only a few moments. But, Garn understood that even the slightest delay broke up the momentum of an attack, making the advancing troops vulnerable.

“Come on, stand here!” Billy joined the rapidly-forming line as he pulled retreating Landing Troopers into position.

The first of the Templars were just starting to clamber over the estate wall when Garn gave the order to open fire.

Immediately, the pulsar-pistols opened up on rapid-fire releasing four pulsar-pellets per second in a vicious stream of destruction. The leading Templars were brutally cut down by the zipping red-hot projectiles as they crested the wall, or a few brief moments after making the hazardous crossing. White coated bodies tumbled like nine-pins from the impact of the projectiles which tore relentlessly into flesh and bone.

“Keep firing!” Billy ordered as he mustered the few straggling Landing Troopers into the makeshift line. “Get those wounded teleported out!”

Already, arrows were starting to drop amongst the Landing Troopers, and, despite their Battle Shields, some of the projectiles were finding their targets.

“Sir!” Garn called into the open channel of the Comms Net. “Aquarius reports power failure on all systems!”

“What!?” Billy exclaimed and made contact with the War Room. “WATO, what’s happening!?”

“Sir! We’ve got power loss on all major systems. The Engineers are trying to fix it now! We’re trying to maintain contact with you on emergency.”

“Do we have force-shielding and the self-defence turrets!?” Billy asked as he watched more Templars falling at the wall.

The pulsar-pellets zipped and whined as they struck bodies or stone with the red-hot ricochets whizzing off in every direction. The Templars trying to cross the wall were suffering heavy losses with bodies piling up on the estate side like cordwood. However, there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of warriors who scrambled, clambered, or sprang over the low wall straight into the torrent of pulsar-pellets. Some Templars, with the heavy, metal shields were afforded some degree of protection. However, the red-hot pellets quickly melted through to strike down the shield-bearers. But, despite the intense fire, some men were already across the wall and starting to advance into the estate.

“Negative, sir.”

For a moment, Billy Caudwell cursed silently wondering what else could possibly go wrong. Then, after a deep breath, the First Admiral began to think. Without the force-shielding and self-defence turrets, the Aquarius would not be able to halt the Templar advance. They would very quickly be able to by-pass the Muscigny position and head down the road to Jerusalem where King Baldwin would have to deal with them. The Templars would most likely be stopped by Baldwin’s troops, but the whole of the Muscigny estate would be ruined. With all of the irrigated fields trampled over there would be no crops and the people would have no harvest. All the hard work of the previous weeks would be for nothing.

“Shut down everything non-essential! Get the force-shielding and the self-defence turrets up!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we have any news on King Baldwin!?”

“Negative, sir. Scanners are down.”

“Right, we have to make a fight of it here! Bring all of the Eagles to station just above the crest of the western slope and send out everyone who can handle a weapon!”

“Erm, Negative, Landing Bay doors are all inoperable, no one can get in or out.”

With another silent, bitter curse, Billy reached a decision. Looking at the partially-completed Citadel, Billy knew that he didn’t have enough Troopers to hold the fortress. If enough Templars survived the slope, they would very quickly overwhelm the unfinished Citadel. And, from the situation down by the wall, the Templars were starting to make inroads into the estate in large numbers, despite the Landing Troopers’ fire. Billy also knew that there were insufficient Personnel Carriers to evacuate all of the Landing Troopers, and Billy Caudwell was not about to play God as to who lived and who died simply for the lack of space on a few Carriers.

“WATO! We have to stand on the crest of the western slope!”

“Yes, sir!”

The part of his mind that was the memories and experiences of Teg Portan quickly ran the permutations and made the decision. The western slope would present a problem to any advancing cavalry, plus Billy knew that he could dominate the northern part of the estate with the firepower from the Eagles, Personnel Carriers and the Landing Trooper pulsar-rifles. But first, he had to get the Troopers onto the crest to establish his position.

“Garn! We have to stand! We have to hold the road and stop them getting onto the southern plain!”

“Understood, sir!”

“Start evacuating the wounded up the slope! Use the Carriers and form them up on the crest of the western slope!”

“Yes, sir!”

Several hundred Templars had already managed to clamber over the boundary wall unharmed. Despite bodies piled three and four deep in places, the white-coated warriors were advancing quickly on the Landing Trooper makeshift line. On the right flank, where the Templars had massed greater numbers, the losses had been heavier, but far more survivors were now approaching the Troopers.

Behind the advancing Templars, the terrifying explosions, the plumes of dirt and destruction had all ceased as the WATO had recalled the Eagles. Those who had survived the savage bombardment would now be free to join the attack on the western slope. And, for a moment, Billy caught sight of the body-strewn rise where the Eagles and the Troopers had decimated the Templar ranks. The scorched ground, smouldering from the hundreds of thousands of pulsar-bolt strikes was churned up beyond recognition.

How men could possibly survive such a holocaust astonished Billy. But, yet, the mud-streaked and scorched survivors now pressed on through the seething hail of pulsar-pellets and into the mud of the Muscigny estate. Behind him, Billy could see the first of the Personnel Carriers landing to pick up the Troopers injured in the fighting so far. There were only a handful of wounded Troopers, however, each one of them would be sorely missed in the forthcoming battle.

Trotting over to one of the Personnel Carriers, Billy liberated a pulsar-rifle from a Trooper with an arrow embedded in his left shoulder. Despite the weapon having little or no recoil, Billy knew that the injured Trooper could never handle the weapon. Checking the weapon over quickly, Billy adjusted the output to the highest setting and wrapped the sling around his left wrist and forearm for greater purchase and stability. The power pack was fully-charged and the weapon set for rapid-fire. The laser targeting sight produced a very thin purple beam which Billy could not discern. Garmaurian physiology was very subtly different from that of humans, and not even the Landing Troopers had been given enough time to adjust all of their pulsar-rifles.

Setting his right thumb on the trigger mechanism high on the pistol-grip, Billy had no concern of targeting mechanisms. On full rapid-fire, the pulsar-rifle was very much a case of fire and then correct your aim according to the fall of your shot. Raising the spindly stock of the weapon to his shoulder, Billy pressed the trigger mechanism with his thumb and loosed a long rapid-fire burst towards the advancing Templars. And, being slightly out of practice, the initial burst tore through a line of Templars, killing the six unfortunate men.

“Troopers! Rifles!” Garn ordered as the Personnel Carrier sped away with the injured. “Disengage Battle Shields!”

The remaining Troopers immediately holstered their pulsar-pistols and unslung the seven-barrelled pulsar-rifles. With the rifles now deployed, the Troopers would find it difficult to fire with the Battle Shield deployed out in the open. The increased risk to the Troopers was outweighed, in Garn’s mind, by the greater firepower of the pulsar-rifles. The Templars had to be stopped before they got onto the southern plain, so greater risks had to be taken now.

“Rapid-fire, commence!” Garn ordered.

Once again, the pulsar-rifles set to rapid-fire sent another cascade of deadly, white-hot pulsar-bolts downrange to smash into the advancing ranks of Templar infantry. And, once more, the advancing Templars ran into the storm of destruction. Those hit directly simply vapourised in burning, screaming agony, whilst those too close to where a bolt struck the ground were injured by heat, blast and flying debris. All along the front of the Templar attack, men were being savagely mown down by the deadly accurate fire.

“Come on, lads, keep it up!” Billy ordered as another smattering of white-crested arrows began to fall from the sky and bury themselves into the ground close to the Trooper line.

The archers stunned in the earlier attack were sufficiently recovered to return to battle.

From behind him, Billy heard the twin barrelled pulsar turrets of the Personnel Carriers starting to add their own contributions to the proceedings. The heavier pulsar-bolts from the turrets scything through rows of Templars and tearing gaping furrows in the ground.

“There are still too many of them sir!” Garn called out.

Scanning the advancing Templar line, Billy knew that Garn was right. Despite horrendous losses, the Templar infantry was still doggedly advancing towards the Troopers. The ruined fields were strewn with hundreds of dead, wounded and dying white-coated soldiers, and their surviving comrades were still pushing on in large numbers. With a very rough and ready calculation, Billy speculated that there were still well over six thousand Templars advancing against less than three hundred Landing Troopers. And, for the briefest of moments, Billy Caudwell simply had to admire the courage of these men who just kept on going in the face of fearful pulsar-bolt fire. Already, over one-third of their numbers were gone.

Admiring your enemies, however, was not the way to win a battle, Billy understood.

“Right, come on, up the slope!” Billy ordered as the Templar advance crept steadily closer.

“Skirmish pairs!” Garn added.

The Troopers, well-established in their skirmish pairs, reacted immediately with one of each pair racing off to the rear to establish himself in a firing position whilst his comrade kept firing. With their comrades in place, some ten to fifteen metres behind them, the second Trooper was then able to retreat under covering fire.

It didn’t take long for the Troopers to make steady progress towards, and then up the western slope despite the harassing arrows that plopped into the muddy ground. However, about half way up the slope, the line of Troopers were just pulling out when one of the black clad figures close to Billy was struck in the back by an arrow. The Trooper fell, face down in the mud, dropping his pulsar-rifle, and, it took several seconds for anyone to notice his demise. The first inkling Billy had of any trouble was the Trooper’s partner racing past his position. Startled for a moment, Billy watched the Trooper sprint down the slope towards the black-clad shape in the mud. Then, having gathered his wits, Billy reacted.

“The rifle,” Billy hissed as he began to chase after the running Trooper.

Billy knew that he could not allow a pulsar-rifle to fall into Templar hands. It might take them only a few minutes to work out how it operated, and the Trooper line would be vulnerable to their own weapon.

“Garn! Covering fire!” Billy ordered as he pounded down the slope.

It took Garn several seconds to realise what was happening before a volley of pulsar-bolts seethed past Billy and the scampering Trooper to strike the Templars closest to their fallen comrade.

The leading Templars, however, were very close to the fallen Trooper. And, as the fallen man’s comrade arrived at the sprint, the first Templar was already set to give the killing stroke. The running Trooper barrelled into the Templar, both of them tumbling down the gentle slope. The Templar was the quickest to recover and stood up, his dagger drawn for the kill. However, even on his back, the Trooper knew how to fight and lashed out with his booted foot. The boot connected perfectly with the Templars right knee, knocking him to the ground with a severe fracture and a loud scream.