Free Company- Red Zone

by D K Williamson

  Taking their seats, the trio could see most of the group was comprised of privates. When the vehicle stopped at the depot, Top Sergeant Holden explained why.

  “Tech and mech troops aside, how many here have ever been in a facility like this?” he asked from the front of the vehicle.

  Four hands went up, three sergeants and one corporal, Matt Hicks.

  “This is the Maelstrom War Machines Corporation depot, the primary distribution point in Nelson City. Every manufacturer in the star system that wants to sell on this part of the planet does it here.”

  “They sell other companies’ products?” someone asked.

  “Not quite. Other manufacturers pay Maelstrom to sell here. This is Maelstrom’s corporate zone so anyone else wanting to sell here has to give them a piece just as Maelstrom pays to sell in other zones. We wanted you to see how this operates. Most depots throughout the system are similar. If you spend enough time in this profession, you will need to know the ins and outs. Follow me.”

  The doors opened and with Holden leading, the troopers filed through the gates and onto corporate ground.

  The building before them was a massive structure, a great edifice with sandstone walls and windows of black. Entering the building, they were greeted by a near deafening sound of yelling people and the sight of the huge crowd that generated the noise.

  “Stay close,” Holden shouted above the clamor. “If you get separated, you’ll likely die here.”

  Pushing together, Holden led them into the throng.

  “You think he was joking?” Vincent shouted over the noise.

  “What?” Sam replied.

  “You think he was joking?” Vincent repeated even louder.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I can’t hear you,” Sam yelled. “I hope Top was joking.”

  Holden crossed to the opposite side of the vast room and stopped at a counter to exchange data with representatives of four manufacturers. Before long, the sergeant waved his arm and led his troops to an exit on the opposite side of the building from where they entered.

  At the exit, Holden looked over his charges and when satisfied there were no missing members of the party, they stepped outside.

  The noise of the crowd was replaced by the cacophony of countless vehicles. Resting nearby was a monster, a 200 metric ton Battlefield Superiority Tank. Its central turret housed an energy cannon of immense size. Grunt rumor claimed such armaments could vaporize a target in orbit. The truth was far different, but fact fared poorly against gossip.

  “That is the polar opposite of our style of fighting,” the top sergeant yelled. “Super-heavy armored tech at the cutting edge of military design. Scary, yeah?”

  Very few answered with anything more than worried looks.

  The top sergeant continued. “Scary as it is, there are even larger versions, but even they can be killed. Believe it or not, light infantry with no vehicle or artillery support can take down a monster like that. It isn’t easy, but it can be done—if you’re good enough. Every last one of you can be if you pursue the path with vigor. Do you read me?”

  Most responded with various calls of bravado.

  “Let’s go see what the gods of war have bestowed upon us.”

  The detail weaved their way around other armored behemoths; rows of conventional tanks; armored personnel carriers both tracked and wheeled; armored cars; self-propelled artillery; fast and nimble light recon and scout vehicles; brutish looking engineering vehicles with plows, dozer blades, cranes, and other accoutrements the likes of which new troops couldn’t fathom their function. Nearby were combat vertibirds of various sorts: some with ancient style whirling rotor blades; more with ducted fans, thrusters, or other means of lift and propulsion. Winged atmospheric aircraft sat near the vertibirds, sleek, fast, and deadly, but rarely seen on the modern battlefield due to potent air defenses.

  Holden led the troops to an area near the railhead, the means of moving the Red Light’s vehicles from depot to armament center to motor pool.

  A long row of vehicles sat near transport platforms awaiting lift onto nearby railcars. Before that took place, the tech-n-mechs had to confirm what rested before them matched that which the company ordered and paid for.

  The bulk of the vehicles were wide and squat tracked transports, more than four dozen in fact. While all were of the same make and basic model, they obviously served many different roles. A great many were armed and armored troop transports. Often called war-wagons, each armored personnel carrier was armed with a turret housing a heavy machine gun or automatic grenade launcher. One track was festooned with antennae and other devices obviously for command and control functions; a full dozen were simply transport and support vehicles that appeared no different than those that carried infantry. A quartet was equipped with blocky armored boxes for carrying ordnance. Others had tow booms for vehicle recovery or a roll top arrangement to allow the use of a trio of mortars. Another pair sported a sizable turret atop the hull with pintle mounts at the upper hatches, vehicles even the greeners knew to be rapid attack tracked vehicles—RATVs by nomenclature—‘Rats’ in trooper talk. One other track carried the red and white marks of a medical vehicle.

  Pointing at the medical track, Fran Smith said, “I’d hazard a guess that’s to address what Hicks mentioned back at the hiring hall.”

  “It is,” Hicks said, overhearing her. “Our own magic-medico complete with a company doctor. Costly, but I heard Commander Hawkwood insisted.”

  “It’s nice knowing he cares,” a nearby trooper quipped.

  Far smaller four-wheeled vehicles sat next to the myriad tracked machines, Hussar high speed reconnaissance cars.

  Perhaps the most intriguing vehicles were the pair of V-MACs: Vehicle, Mechanized Ambulant Combat machines that were almost universally called walkers. With their two legs bent to present a low crouched position and portions of them covered by protective sheets of polywrap, the pair of combat walkers looked odd without armaments. Those that had seen walkers in action knew the almost gawky appearance they currently held was far different than what was seen on a battlefield.

  Walker units were a common vehicle of war. While packing less punch per kilo than a tank, the walking ability provided agility wheeled or treaded vehicles simply could not match when in certain rough terrain.

  The grey-haired senior member of the tech-n-mech section, Senior Sergeant Harper Brown saw that most of the greeners looked on the walkers with interest.

  “Those are Norris Corporation walkers,” he said proudly. “The Ranger line of light V-MACs are top shelf kit and once we install armaments on them you’ll get to see what they can do when we go to Moore Training Grounds. Before that happens, we need to go over every bit of every single vehicle. That’s inside, outside, and everything in between. Top Sergeant Holden will split you up between my tech-troopers and vehicle crew. Do as they ask and this process will go swiftly.”

  Holden began counting off soldiers and matching them up with troopers from the tech-n-mech ranks. Pausing when he reached Myles Rivers, the top sergeant looked at his data screen before calling to Senior Sergeant Brown.

  “Brownie, how many for the walker detail?”

  “One. Jackson’s doing it so there’s no need for more,” Brown yelled in reply. “Just be sure the trooper you send has a functioning brain and isn’t a pants-wetter.”

  Nodding, Holden pointed at the V-MACs and looked at Rivers. “I assume your brain is in working order?”

  “It is, top sergeant.”

  “You’re not prone to unplanned urination?”

  “I’m not, Top.”

  Holden pointed again at the two walkers. “You heard the man. Use your head and remember you’re in charge of each and every member of the detail, private.”

  Myles suppressed a laugh and said, “Got it, top sergeant,” before trotting toward the vehicles. As he neared the walkers, a bald sergeant in vehicle crew coveralls and sporting an enormo
us moustache approached from a different direction. His nametape read, JACKSON.

  “You’re my walker detail?” the sergeant asked.

  “I am.”

  “Put this on,” the sergeant said passing him an odd-looking visored headset. “Vid and commo. You’re going to be my eyes and ears while I’m inside the walker. I’ll tell you where to stand and what to look at. If you hear any grinding, howling, or any other noises you think sound bad, say something. Better you be wrong than quiet. Got me?” he said in a fast stream of words.

  “Got it, sergeant.”

  “Same goes for drips, sprays, or sparks.”

  “Got it, sergeant.”

  “Fires and explosions too.”

  “Got it, sergeant.”

  “Good. Put that on while I get aboard and we’ll get this thing done. There’s a reference mark that projects onto the visor. It should self-calibrate once you have it on. Put that mark on the things I mention.”

  “Got it.”

  Sergeant Jackson walked under the hull while Myles figured out how the headset was to be positioned. By the time he had it fitted the sergeant was out of sight.

  A humming noise came from the walker followed soon after by the quiet whine of servomotors.

  “You hear me?” said Jackson’s voice over the headset.

  “Loud and clear, sergeant.”

  “Taking her up, so don’t wet your pants,” the sergeant said. “Had a greener do that very thing once just before he passed out.”

  Myles laughed quietly.

  “Not joking. It happened,” Sergeant Jackson said jovially. “Ask Brownie. He saw it.”

  The sound of servos grew louder as the legs straightened and the hull rose. Fully erect, the top of the light walker was nearly ten meters from the tarmac and Rivers could understand the fright some might feel seeing such a machine. Looking like a mechanical recreation of the giant carnivorous reptiles of humanity’s distant past, he smiled at the thought of such a creature equipped with energy weapons and rocket packs. With three segments per leg, the appendages were similar to a human leg with a hinge point at the top and another below a short ‘knee’ segment.

  “I got you on the vid,” Jackson said. “Let’s see if we need any adjustment. Look directly at the forward point of the hull.”

  The hull was shaped much like a thick axe blade, a design Myles guessed might deflect frontal fire. Looking at the blade’s edge he remained steady and a few seconds later Jackson said, “Got it. See the little bulge in the cover on top of the hull?”

  “I got it.”

  “Look directly at it.”

  “It looks like it’s loose,” Myles said.

  “Does it now?” the sergeant replied dismissively. A few seconds later he said, “Hey, I think you may be right about that. Good spot. We have deficiency number one. Let me log it.”

  Jackson had Myles walk to different points around the vehicle looking at various parts before directing him to stand beneath the groundpads, or as they were usually called, the ‘feet’ of the vehicle.

  “I’m going to move forward and back and I need you to walk along between the legs and watch the motion of each leg. Stay in the middle and everything will be fine.”

  “Got it. Stay centered or become flattened.”

  “That’s it,” Jackson said with a chuckle. “I’m leading off with the right leg. Watch the left until I tell you to switch. You’ll about face and I’ll walk backwards. Can you handle that?”

  “I can. I’m sure you’ll tell me if I’m not.”

  “Damn right I will,” Jackson quipped. “Watch left and here we go.”

  The walker strode forward and Myles could hear moving parts and humming devices aplenty as he kept pace. Grimacing at the prospect of strolling directly beneath many tonnes of armored machine, he also felt exhilaration about the very same thing.

  At the end of the stroll, the walker rested where it had started and Jackson said, “You can step clear now. I’m going to squat the vehicle.”

  Using movements similar to human kinetics, the walker bent at the knees until the hull was near the tarmac. Several seconds later, Jackson dropped from the bottom hatch in a practiced move.

  Senior Sergeant Brown joined them shortly after. “Unsecure top power mount cover?” he asked looking at his data screen.

  “That’s right,” Jackson replied. “Ran a diagnostic on the mount and it’s fine.”

  “Good. Even so, we need it sealed before we transit to the arms center. Good spot.”

  “The grunt here saw it before I did,” Jackson said with a gesture at Myles.

  “Sharp eyes…” Brown said looking at the private’s nametape, “Rivers. A grunt who’s actually useful,” he said with a smile.

  “That’s why Top Sergeant Holden put me in charge of the detail, sergeant.”

  The amiable senior sergeant laughed. “Keep it up. You’ll go places.”

  “Speaking of going places, we got one more walker to go over,” Jackson said. “Same drill.”

  The process repeated itself save for a secure cover atop the other walker. On completion of the second vehicle check, Jackson moved the walker to a raised square pad near the monorail with Rivers walking alongside. The sergeant expertly placed the groundpads in the red circles on the platform.

  “Stand clear,” Jackson said. “I need to lower the hull all the way to transit position.”

  Once Myles was clear, the hull came down fully to the stops where motion ceased with a solid clunk.

  “That was a pretty loud thump, sergeant,” Myles said.

  “That it was, but it should be. Good to know you’re not sleeping. We’re finished with this one. Once the factory techs fix the deficiency on the other one, we’ll put it on a transport pad as well. That’ll be awhile, so you can head back to your unit.”

  “What about the headset?”

  Jackson laughed. “Good catch. I’d have to pay for it if you ran off with it. Hang it on one of the legs near the hatch. Thanks for the help, private.”

  “It was my pleasure, sergeant. Thanks for the experience.”

  Rivers left the headset where he was told and sought out Top Sergeant Holden.

  . . .

  All of the vehicles were ready for transport by late afternoon. Many of them would be delivered directly to the company barracks, but those that would be equipped with weapons other than machine guns, grenade launchers, and mortars were destined for an arms center, a location within the massive Maelstrom complex and the place of duty for the detail the following day.

  Just as the vehicle depot featured vehicles of nearly every sort, the arms center was much the same with its collection of weaponry, albeit within a smaller area of real estate.

  Vehicle mounted arms spanned the gamut from the centuries-old, tried and true projectile hurling auto-cannon and main guns to cutting edge tech energy weapons. Rocket and guided missile launchers were featured as well. For the Red Light Company’s needs, they required only three different systems: quad mount 11mm heavy machine guns on the right side of the two rapid attack tracks’ turrets; 30mm auto-cannons in the right side armaments bay on the walkers; and 90mm recoilless main guns for both the rapid attack tracks and walkers occupying the left side of the turret and left armaments bay respectively.

  Top Sergeant Holden and Senior Sergeant Brown explained why the four vehicles were armed as they were while under the supervision of the company’s tech and ordnance personnel the arms center workers mounted the weapons.

  “The ninety millimeter recoilless gun is far from largest main gun you’ll see equipping armored vehicles,” Terry Holden said. “Take the battlefield superiority tank we saw yesterday. The energy cannon alone on that beast uses more power than all four of our vehicles here can produce.”

  “Nearly twice as much power,” Brownie added. “Power generation costs coin. The more onboard power generation, the more containment required.”

  Holden nodded. “Brownie is the expert here. The n
inety mike-mike uses caseless ammunition: projectile and propellant in one unit much like our battle rifles and machine guns utilize. Using projectile firing arms provides versatility. The rats and walkers are well-equipped to deal with armor and infantry.”

  “That beast of a tank Top mentioned, the ninety millimeter can kill it if the operator can place the right round in the right place,” Sergeant Jackson said.

  “True,” Brownie said with a smile, “but not an endeavor a walker or rat crew should take on willingly.”

  “Never said it was, Sarge,” Jackson said with a returning smile. “It is nice to know we have something onboard just in case.”

  Brownie nodded. “True. You’re the sole remaining walker crew after Boomoon. Which one will be the new Lunatic Red?”

  “Lunatic? What’s that?” one of the troopers asked.

  “The Red Light has used light walkers for quite some time, several decades as I understand it. Long ago the pair of walkers acquired the names Lunatic Red and Bedlam Red, presumably based on the sanity of those who crew them,” Brownie said with a glance at Jackson, “and the fact this is the Red Light Company. The origin of the names is unknown.”

  “I’m taking the walker that had the loose cover yesterday,” Jackson announced.

  “And why is that?”

  “Two reasons. One, it didn’t faze her and two, it shows she’s a little unruly… like me.”

  . . .

  By afternoon the weapons had been installed and after the Red Light’s experts performed full checks save for live fire, the vehicles were placed on rail cars for the journey to the company’s facility.

  Most of the troopers who were brought along learned they were to serve as a security detachment for the short trip, a duty none of the young troopers were trained for.

  “Shouldn’t we be armed if we’re guarding vehicles with heavy weapons?” one of them asked.

  “The transport train has some already,” Corporal Hicks replied. “I’d say it’s cover to let those of us that’ve never been inside a facility like this see what goes into it. From what I heard, most units don’t bring tourists like us.”

  A sergeant nearby nodded. “Like most good units, the Red Light tries to maintain a high level of retention. Terry knows that and feels that the more troopers understand how and why things are done, the better soldier each might be. A peek behind the curtain you might say.”