Mike had considered calling in a casta himself, but he’d have had to convince Fleet higher that it was a “judicious action.” Fucking bean counters. They were more worried about the loss of the suits, each of which cost as much as a corvette, than the men, but it would still take time. Time he didn’t have. By hitting the unit with a casta, the Posleen commander had done his job for him.

Mike took the time as the plasma washed over his suit to do a quick assault frag. It was pretty straightforward. Custer would have loved it. “Take the outer defenses.”

The Posleen “redoubt” was really a small mountain range rising out of plains on all four sides, the geological term was a ‘basolith’. It was the last major point of resistance on R-1496 Delta and absolutely infested with Posleen and their automated forges. There were heavy anti-ship and missile ports in the upper reaches that had intercepted everything that fleet had thrown at them and actually taken two destroyers out that had stumbled into its arc of fire. The mountains, probably tree covered once but now slagged and black from titanic explosions, were impenetrable from space. That left taking them on the ground.

As long as they had food and materials for their ammo, and Mike bet that the commander had stocked up on both, the Posleen could hole up indefinitely. That couldn’t be allowed. He’d been tasked with clearing this dirt ball and he was damned well going to clear it.

Even while he was speaking with the private the orders flashed down to the division commanders then were split to brigades, battalions, companies and even down to the individual soldiers. The basic order: “CHARGE!!!” was the first thing to hit and then subtleties “CHARGE THAT PLASMA PIT!” were filtered through the commanders. In all it took about thirty seconds, which is a long time in combat. But it sure as hell beat aides de camp on horseback.