“Never faced a hack before,” Lane said. “Sounded odd for an exo-trooper. You may be right.”
“We best head for Carmag’s old line then,” Hooton said. “I’d rather fight from fully prepared positions than our holes.”
Musky grunted. “Give me a trooper to watch my tail and I’ll take the hack down. Just don’t kill us when we rejoin.”
“I know you’ve dealt with them before, but why not just move to the fallback position and engage the hack from there?” Hooton asked.
“We’ll be fifty, sixty meters away on open ground. If we don’t bring it down with the first shots, all the firepower that thing carries comes down on us, Hoot. That happens and we’ll be hurtin’ for certain and if there’s supporting infantry coming behind it….”
“Maybe we should all take a shot at it here?” someone said.
“It’s too damned dark,” Musky said. “We’d kill half of us in the trying. I’ve done this before. While that hack is in the trees, it’s killable if you know what you’re doing. One trooper to cover me and I’ll get it done. Maybe we’ll see what size of an infantry force we’re facing too.”
Hooton grimaced and nodded. “Grab someone and let’s move.”
Musky leaned in close to look at Brennan. “You’ll do. C’mon.”
Hooton whispered to the rest, “Let’s go.”
As the rest headed down, Musky led Brennan a short distance and knelt near a large tree. Seconds later, the clouds above cleared the moon allowing the two Red Light troopers to see a fair distance.
A flare shell popped somewhere high above and before it cast any light Musky shaded his eyes with a hand and scanned the ground leading to the top of the ridge. The sound of insects began to rise in the absence of nearby combat. It took but a few seconds before he caught movement. Pointing, he said, “You see it?”
“I do,” Brennan said. “A HACS.”
“All by its lonesome self. Damn it all do I wish I’d been wrong. You ever fight hacks before?” the veteran trooper whispered.
“Tonight is my first time,” Brennan replied in a voice equally quiet.
“Yeah, forgot you were new. You should’ve said something, but you’ll do fine. If the trooper in the HACS has acoustic sensors, we gotta play it tight. A machine like that can’t move quiet, so we have an advantage if we keep the noise down. Whoever’s in that suit is either really good or really stupid to be going solo. We let it pass us and we come in from behind. You watch our backs for infantry, I’ll deal with the machine. If I fail, it’ll be your turn. A dual purpose rifle grenade will work, but an anti-armor rifle grenade does better.”
The trooper drew an AA60 rifle grenade from his belt and unscrewed the finned tubular base piece. Seeing Brennan looking on with interest he whispered, “The arming delay device in these can be removed. It’s a dirty little trick used so you can throw these like a hand grenade that explodes on impact. It’s dangerous and if you drop it or it hits something nearby it’ll scatter your shit. I’m only doing it ‘cause there’s a chance we may need to work real close if the light keeps dimming on us. The trick is to fire from cover and duck as soon as it’s launched. Stay back, but don’t lose sight of me. The black of night can get you killed.”
“Got it,” Brennan whispered as the flare guttered out.
Losing sight of the HACS and with no sound from the machine reaching them, the pair stepped very cautiously.
Musky moved in a crouch, the de-safetied rifle grenade held in his left hand. Brennan followed a few steps behind and spared occasional looks behind them and up the ridge, but mostly kept his eyes on the veteran corporal. Fearing being isolated as much as being flanked, the young trooper tried to push the stress to the back of his mind and focus on the task ahead.
The crack of a substantial tree branch alerted the two that the HACS was on the prowl again and they stopped and listened. The hum of servos and the rapid clunking of the suit’s feet made Brennan grimace silently at the thought the manned machine might have located them.
Musky pointed at an uncovered fighting position not far away. “This may be the best ground we can hope for. Cover me from there,” he said in a faint whisper. “You see me ready to fire, get down and stay down until you hear the boom. If I miss, engage the damned thing.”
Not waiting for an acknowledgement, Musky crept forward.
As quietly as he could, Brennan slipped into the hole. Shifting his view from behind and then back to the veteran trooper, he hoped his heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it seemed as the machine continued its movement.
The mechanical footsteps ceased followed closely by the sound of collapsing soil which drew Brennan’s attention. A turn of his head brought the sight of Musky standing up in another fighting position and bringing his weapon to the shoulder, rifle grenade affixed to the muzzle. Even though he could not see the machine, the sound of servos and churning soil told Brennan the Keen Steel trooper in the HACS was aware of their presence and was turning to face them. The young soldier winced and ducked.
The odd bark-spit sound of the rifle grenade’s launch was instantly overwhelmed by the explosion of its warhead and a shriek of pain. The hiss of fragments passing overhead faded as the other sounds did as well.
Brennan rose, his rifle in the pocket of his shoulder. Smoke lingered and the biting scent of detonated explosives hung in the air, the night song of the woods now silenced. Despite the sounds of mortar shells detonating to the east, it seemed eerily quiet to the green trooper as he scanned the area and saw no sign of Musky or the hack.
Climbing from the fighting position after finding no sign of Keen Steel troopers, he crossed the ground to where Musky had been. Just five steps from the hole, he saw the scattered pieces of the HACS and the trooper who once operated it in the scant light of the moon that made it through the trees.
A few more steps took him to the Musky’s position, now slumped with loose dirt and a piece of the armored suit partially covering the inert trooper. Stepping gingerly into the depression, Brennan knelt next to Musky and saw the man’s left arm was severed at the elbow, torn free by the right leg of the heavy armored combat suit his opponent wore. Musky’s combat suit had constricted above the wound and there seemed to be little bleeding despite the horrific injury.
Brennan stood and heaved the dripping piece of machinery clear of the hole before he knelt once again. Looking at Musky’s medical display after pulling the cover free, he saw several warning lights blinking rapidly indicating severe medical distress. The panel seemed bright in the dark of the hole and noting the colored tabs the system recommended he pull, he yanked at each in rapid succession.
Musky flailed as the treatment device pushed curatives, nano-meds, antiviral and antibacterial treatments, stabilizers, along with pain suppressants and docs know what else into his wounded body. With his remaining hand, he franticly grasped Brennan by the wrist and held on and suppressed a cry of pain. As the frenetic motions slowed and finally stopped, his grip eased and after breathing heavily for several seconds he rasped, “Did I get the son of a bitch?”
“You did,” Brennan said with a nod. “Scattered him all over the ridge.”
“Good enough for the bastard. I fouled it up. Fouled it to hell. Too close. He was too close, but what else was there to do? Do or die… I think I did both. You pulled all the tabs it called for?”
“Roger that.”
“Then get this fight over with so I can die in a med bay instead of the stinking woods.”
The trooper closed his eyes and his hand fell limp.
Brennan looked at the med panel and saw it recommended no further action other than applying a trauma dressing to the wounded arm and URGENT EVAC VIA TRAUMA BOARD ONLY. As he finished securing the bandage, he looked at the med panel display again and noted the trooper’s injuries and location were logged into the casualty and medevac reporting system. Knowing there was nothing else he could do but clear out in hopes the medics might arrive in time to aid the man, he made rea
dy to rejoin Sergeant Hooton.
Peeking from the slumped fighting position, Brennan saw no movement from up the ridge. Looking downhill he saw faint motion, what he hoped were members of the Red Light moving to the next line of positions. Slithering from the hole, he quietly rushed to join them as flares popped in the sky behind him. A look south revealed the distant silhouettes of at least a few troopers scrambling for cover. The knowledge Keen Steel soldiers were coming sped him on his way.
As he neared the tree line near the bottom of the incline, Brennan slowed and saw the dark shapes of his comrades climbing into the prepared fighting positions some sixty or seventy paces distant.
“Brennan?” Hooton hissed from not far away.
“Roger that, Sarge,” he replied. “The hack is done for.”
“We heard the boom,” the sergeant said as he and another trooper stood from a place of concealment. “If I’d have known Musky picked you I would’ve made him take someone else. Where is he?”
“Tabbed out at the top of the ridge. He needs medevac. His med panel recommended trauma board only.”
“He’s more likely to get evac up there than with us. Are you hurt?”
“Not a scratch. I saw infantry headed this way, but I don’t know how many. I’m guessing the flares mean they’re not waiting until morning.”
“Good guess.” Gesturing to the north he said, “Let’s get in a hole, they’ll be here soon enough.”
. . .
The Keen Steel soldiers came into view. The flares fired by those near the river backlit the reverse side of the ridge where Hooton’s small force waited and made the closing force easy to spot as they went prone. Numbering less than a dozen, it was clear this was no infantry sweep, more likely a reconnaissance. Recon or not, they were the enemy.
As the flare lights dimmed, the troopers rose and closed.
Hooton placed his sights on the point trooper, a small and trim woman who moved smoothly and silently. Waiting for them to reach the edge of the tree line, his finger rested on the trigger.
Hooton’s shot staggered the trooper before she went down. As the other Red Light mercs opened fire, their opponents sought cover and blindly returned fire at the ambush.
Two or three Keen Steel soldiers went down before they made it to cover, more screamed in pain as Hooton’s soldiers scored hits. In less than a minute, the Keen Steel resistance dwindled to nothing and as Hooton’s troopers ceased fire there followed a relative silence.
For several long and tense seconds the Red Light troopers covered their sectors.
“You hear me?” came a call from the Keen Steel side.
“Hear you,” Hooton called back.
“We surrender. I got wounded to check on. Hell, I think we’re all wounded or dead.”
“Stand up slowly and move our way with your weapons up. Put’em on the ground and then see to your wounded. We’re covering you.”
“Who am I talking to?”
“Sergeant Ed Hooton. You?”
“Corporal Graham, Johnny Graham.”
“I know Hoot,” one of the other Keen Steel mercs called. “Hoot, this is PV-one Jasper. We were at Pimlick six years ago.”
“I remember,” Hooton replied.
“You trust’im?” Graham asked.
“He’s no psych job. Yeah, he’s square.”
“Okay,” Graham yelled. “We’re done, Hooton. Coming up.”
One soldier rose slowly, his rifle held above him in one hand, the other arm dangling at his side. Three others followed his lead. After walking forward several paces and placing his weapon on the ground before raising his hand again, Graham said, “Looking at my troopers, okay?”
“Go ahead,” Hooton replied.
“I may need light.”
“Use it, but if it draws fire we’ll do what we need to do.”
“Understood.”
“Before you use the lights, let me notify the adjacent units.”
“Appreciate that,” Graham said. “Lights’ll stay off til you say it’s clear.”
The Keen Steel soldiers saw to their comrades, using lights shielded with their hands to illuminate the task of applying dressings. Within minutes, the wounded corporal stepped from the trees again.
“Can you hear me?” he called softly.
“Hear you,” Hooton replied.
“We’re all wounded… well, those of us still alive. I got two that need medevac.”
“I’m moving to your position,” Hooton said. “Know that you’re covered.”
“No doubts,” Graham said.
Hooton climbed from his fighting position and knelt to look over the area ahead. Seeing nothing indicating a ruse he said, “Brennan, with me.”
The young soldier soon joined the sergeant and the two closed slowly with the rest of Hooton’s troops covering them.
As they neared, the clouds drifted clear of the moon and they could see Corporal Graham’s left arm was bandaged in two places. Nearby was the woman Hooton had dropped.
“You did well for yourse—” the corporal started to say before flares lit up the skies near the river.
“Those dickhead tankers firing flares,” Graham fumed as he glared up the ridge. “Buttoned up in heavy armor on the other side of the river with not a damn bit of fire back there and they act like they expect super heavies coming out of the dark. Goodbye night vision and hello world, here comes a patrol. We should have stopped where the previous fight was. Fuck it,” he said as he returned his attention to Hooton. “We’ll have to carry Harry here,” he said gesturing at the woman.
“We’re pulling back to our unit. Those damned power suits…” Hooton said with a look to the south. “We have one of ours up there, a trooper named Musky. If you’ll get medics for him, we’ll parole you and you’re free to go.”
“Deal.” The corporal nodded. As he tapped at his data receiver to send Hooton the information to make the parole formally binding, he said, “He was still kicking when we passed. We checked him, his med panel indicated he was stable and has him on the medevac list. That hack he killed was a crazy named Telly. Scary son of a bitch. A full on zoner as likely to kill his own as anybody when he’s working. That’s why we trailed so far behind the crazy bastard. That Musky must be crazy too. Taking on a hack alone in the dark?”
“Desperation will do that,” Hooton said grimly as a ruse.
“I suppose it does. Helluva job we got, huh? It’s us grunts taking it in the nose.”
“It usually is,” Hoot replied with a nod.
“While the tread-heads in their armor sit and watch,” Graham agreed. “Good luck to you. Gifford looks to see the Red Light done for, just so you know. There’s more exosuit troopers coming up and the heavy armor will be rolling at first light. I’d head for the nearest border line and cross it. No coin in it, but you’d live.”
“There’s a lot of talk about that,” Hooton lied. “Appreciate the heads-up. See you sometime.”
“We can hope.” The Keen Steel corporal touched the visor of his helmet in parting and led his survivors into the trees.
“He dumped a lot of intel, didn’t he?” Brennan said quietly as the parolees faded into the dark.
“You could argue I did too,” Hooton replied. Gesturing toward the rest of the unit, the two walked north. “I expect Graham has no more loyalty to Keen Steel than we do. He did as ordered and got wounded for it. Faced with death, fighting a fight he’s not likely to survive, or surrender and hope for fairness, he chose the latter. Most likely his contract is up once he returns to Keen Steel’s home barracks. We did him a decent turn and he returned it by telling us Gifford wants to bury us and agreeing to help Musky. He might have been lying about the exosuits, but I was lying about our consideration of heading for the border lines too.”
“We’re a long way from the lines anyway.”
Hoot laughed quietly. “I’d wager Hawkwood put us in the middle of the red zone by design, at least partly. See, if any of us cross out with no
enemy pursuit, the company can have that placed on the record. It probably wouldn’t kill a career, but you’d probably be stuck signing on with garbage outfits and hoping to salvage your reputation. Before Boomoon, a good eighty percent of troopers in the Red Light were multi-contract. That means something. It means troopers stick because the unit kicks ass and its members get paid. It also means the unit looks out for itself. Since half the unit is new and a lot of the returnees aren’t sure about the new commander and the senior leadership, Hawkwood put us in a place to test us and remove the temptation to run for the border.”
“So he doesn’t trust us.”
“Trust is earned. Trust is also a two-way street.”
“I suppose that’s true, sergeant. Will those guys stick to their word, about the parole I mean?”
“They’re all wounded. They don’t want any part of tomorrow’s fight, so I’d wager they’ll report in and head for medevac. That doesn’t mean they won’t tell their comrades how few of us there are down here. They may think we’re Carmag troopers and are spread thin.”
“Will they take care of Musky?”
“Likely. He’s listed so we’ll know if they don’t. Troopers that might leave another to die are bound to meet up with pals of the departed somewhere along the way.” Tapping his data receiver he said, “We know who all of them are.”
“Are we pulling back, Sarge?” Perkins asked from the position he held with Curtis.
“Not just yet. We’ll hold until we have some idea of what’s coming. With them sending just recon elements, I’d guess they wait until light. If things in the middle worked out, Keen Steel needs to conserve their infantry for tomorrow.”
“It’s already tomorrow, Sarge,” Curtis said with a tap on his data receiver.
“Time flies. I need to call umpire channel. Meantime, we’ll give Carmag another hour of help before we pull back. We have quite a day ahead of us and need to rest.”
. . .
Jacks brought Lunatic Red to a halt near the motor section’s tracks. Placed well north of Hawkwood’s command post, only a random mortar shell might pose a threat.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 26