We Dare

by Chris Kennedy

  They aren’t moving, and they’re not going to.

  Mairin snorted. There’s only one way to find out, Grandpa.

  “Red One, this is Six. Stay where you are. Let us catch up to you. Break,” Mairin released the transmit switch and pressed it again a moment later. “Guidons, this is Six. Move out, staggered line formation. We’re pushing the screen farther forward.”

  No sooner had her tank lurched forward than Mairin heard Steinhauer’s voice in her ears. A glance at the commander’s information console told her it was a private laser connection. At least she hadn’t pissed him off enough to make an example of her on the wider network.

  “Captain Shields? What are your intentions?”

  Mairin crouched on her seat and poked her head above the ring of her independently rotatable turret. She swung her machine gun to a firing position that guarded the extreme eastern flank as the column pushed forward. “Sir, I’m moving the screen line forward. The immediate valley to my left is not what the Greys are interested in holding.”

  There was a span of three seconds before the general replied. “I’m trusting you, Shields.”

  His tone was obvious. He didn’t trust her and the cavalry at all, and here she was moving her combat forces closer to the enemy position while they surrounded the stranded forward element. “We’re not poking the nest with a stick, sir.”

  Steinhauer actually chuckled. “Point taken. What are you looking for?”

  “The point where they engage us or if we can see how they got there in the first place. Nothing seems out of place up here, sir. The Greys either came into those positions from the rear and did a spectacular job of camouflaging their infiltration or—”

  “Or they’ve been there all along. Days. Maybe months.” Steinhauer sighed, and Mairin could almost hear the thoughts circling through his mind. “Springfield is the largest human colony on this planet. What would they want in sequestering it like this?”

  Mairin shook her head and didn’t answer. There was nothing more dangerous than a second lieutenant with a map or a general officer asking a rhetorical question. Intelligence officers loved answering those type of questions—combat leaders knew better. As the silence dragged on, Mairin considered pushing the transmit button. The terrain around Ulson and the other lead tank erupted in a flurry of small bomblet detonations.

  “Shellrep, sir. Enemy bomblets. They’re ineffective.” Mairin watched the vehicle condition indicators for her tanks stay green even as they reported multiple impacts. She dropped fully into the tank and slammed the hatch closed above her as the mortar shells continued falling. In a heartbeat, the sporadic firing grew in intensity until it sounded like someone throwing shovel after shovel of gravel at a tin roof. Still, the vehicle indicators remained green.

  They’re harassing you. Seeing if they can make you stop.

  Conner piped up. “Ma’am? Laser comms are down. We’re UHF only.”

  “Copy.”

  “Line of sight is obscured,” her gunner said. “Driver, back off the gas.”

  “Roger,” Booker replied, and the tank slowed more than half its original speed. “I have radar visual on all our tanks.”

  Mairin glanced at the display. The long curve of the hill to their west slowly dropped toward the valley floor. Their cover would be gone in a matter of moments. When it was gone, the Greys would stop lobbing bomblets and engage with direct fire. “Red One, this is Six. Stop before you get into the open. We can take up defensive positions once they turn on us and bring the attack down the—”

  Bright flashes from the distant hilltops flashed again. “Six, Red One, papa kilo fire on the objective. They’re hammering the forward battalion.”

  Jaw clenched in sudden anger, Mairin fought the urge to punch the turret wall. They’ve got the advantage in the defense. If we had coordinated artillery and air support...

  She let the thought trail off as a memory floated up quickly. A classroom. A man in the dark green camouflage of the Army of the 1980s stood at a lectern. On the wall was a screen and a crude graphic of an attack.

  “This is what the Russians would face if they came through the Fulda Gap, people. A steadfast defensive position, though, isn’t enough. If they can’t gain superiority of the artillery fight or the airspace, they’ll stall, and we’ll pick them off one unit at a time.”

  Good God.

  Mairin stabbed the transmit button. “Guidons, full stop. Back up one hundred meters and coil. Move!”

  Her tank slammed to a stop, and Mairin almost bounced off the commander’s display. As her vehicle shot backward, she watched Conner snap to his rear-facing vision block to guide the driver. In less than thirty seconds, the eight tanks sat in a loose circle with their gun tubes pointing outward for full security. The bomblet rounds stopped immediately.

  You realize your bomblets aren’t effective, but we’ve stopped. You want to see what we do next.

  Noted.

  Mairin frowned and shook her head. The Greys had the advantage of the high ground and excellent fields of fire. They could harass anything in the valley. That meant two options. Artillery and aviation. Steinhauer was a proponent of mechanized forces in the attack and a staunch opponent of Fleet aviation. He had twisted the words of the politicians to describe it as a combat disabler on more than one occasion. His relationship with artillery was warmer by comparison, but he believed that artillery was only as good as the maneuver forces that employed it.

  That’s my in.

  With three quick taps on the command screen, she saw the main effort reconstituting for a counterattack. There were two options for her forces after the broken screen. The Greys knew she was there, and they harassed her enough to believe that her rearward movement was indicative of a full retreat. They were wrong, and she could either sit and support the main effort or she could press forward and attack. Either way, she could leverage the regimental artillery by acting as a forward support observer team in name only. The cannon-cockers knew where the enemy was and what to fire on them. All Mairin had to do was give Steinhauer an excuse to let them loose, but under her control.

  “Laser is up.”

  “Get me Durango Six Actual.”

  “Button two UHF. He’s calling you,” Conner smiled. Over the crew intercom, she could hear her entire crew trying not to laugh.

  “These things always go well, huh?” She laughed. “Just don’t record this one, Conner. Got it?”

  “It’s SOP not to, ma’am. You tend to be more colorful when you know the CRD is off.”

  The crew recording device was a combat record for the vehicle that was supposedly incapable of being disabled. Conner had done it within minutes of their drop on Wolc a month before. A quick “hip-pocket” class with the rest of the unit had fixed all five vehicles.

  Mairin winked at the young communications specialist. As she touched the transmit button, her smiled faded, and the cold, calculating part of her mind took over.

  “Sir, request permission to act as a fire support team.” Mairin said. “I think I’ve got a way to skin this cat.”

  Steinhauer’s response was immediate. In the background, she heard a cacophony of shouted commands and intense fire. “We’re withdrawing by fire, Shields. Prepare to displace and return to Assembly Area Baltimore.”

  What? You’re not massing to attack?

  Instead, Mairin asked “Sir, say again? We’re retreating?”

  “We are withdrawing by fire, Shields.”

  “There’s no difference between them, sir. All you’re doing is lobbing a few rounds over your rear decks to make it look like you’re firing.” Mairin seethed and instead of listening to that quiet part of her brain that told her to follow orders and do what she was told, she cut loose. “There’s a forward battalion cut off up there and who knows how many civilians! Now stop the retreat, give me command of the artillery, and get your forces into the fight!”

  “One more word, and I’ll relieve you, Shields! How dare you accuse me of—�
��

  The connection dissolved in a burst of static, and Mairin snapped her eyes to Conner. “Get him back.”

  “I can’t. Termination at the receiving end. No connection.”

  Mairin looked back at the commander’s display. In the center of the main effort’s formation, exactly where the command group should have been, were a half dozen flashing black icons. The operations network was a frantic mess of reports of particle cannon fire at a much farther range than ever observed before. A central cannon picked off targets seemingly at will. The remainder of the regiment was in full, unorganized retreat.

  “All Durango elements, this is Sierra Five. Apocalypse. I say again. Apocalypse. I have assumed command of the field. Pull back to Baltimore and reconstitute. I say again—”

  Apocalypse? The whole goddamned mission failed?

  Again, the connection terminated in a burst of static. Mairin looked at Conner. “They’re targeting UHF! Emergency laser traffic—flash it at every unit you can and order them to relay it, Conner. Do it.”

  “That means that—”

  “Yes!” Mairin yelled. “It means we’ll be radio silent. If we don’t, the Greys are going to kill off every goddamned vehicle that tries to take command of the situation. That includes us!”

  “Roger, emergency laser engaged.” Conner said. “Radio silence, all units. Greys targeting UHF. Relay to all by type. Reconstitute at Baltimore. I’m repeating it.”

  Mairin listened to the operations network grow silent. In a matter of thirty seconds, there wasn’t a human voice on the frequency.

  That’s one problem solved.

  Mairin pushed her laser connection to Ulson. “Alex?”

  “What the hell, ma’am? They’ve figured out UHF comms?”

  Mairin nodded to herself. “Direction finding of radio transmissions isn’t that hard to do, Alex. We’ve done it on the battlefield for a few hundred years, but not quite as effectively as the Greys just did. They’ve simply never targeted it before.”

  “No kidding.” Ulson replied. “What do you want to do?”

  “We’ve got the main effort in retreat to Baltimore. That leaves us and the trapped battalion in Springfield.” Mairin replied. “We don’t know what’s still there and without UHF the likelihood of getting a laser fix on Gaucho Six from this position is somewhere between slim and none.”

  “Which brings me back to my question, ma’am.”

  “Two options,” she forced herself to take a deep breath. “Retreat and cut the main losses or find a way to get our people out of Springfield.”

  “I’m for Option B.” Ulson said. “But we can’t do it by ourselves.”

  “You’re thinking what I’m thinking then.” Mairin said. Looking at their position, the idea came about quickly. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Move your tank out of this position and back to the north about two hundred meters. You should be able to get a direct laser on the artillery battalion on the north side of Lincoln.”

  “Roger. I see what you’re suggesting. What do I tell them?”

  “Give them a fire for effect order on the central gun.”

  “How will they know how to hit it?” Ulson paused. “They’ll need targetable coord...oh.”

  “Yeah, I’m going forward to target it, but you’re going to have to broadcast UHF, Alex. That way I can track it and they can kill it. If you broadcast as you move this direction, maybe just before you reach the high ground, they might not be able to target you.”

  There wasn’t a response for a minute. “What’s our other option, ma’am?”

  “Air support, but that means UHF, too.”

  Or does it?

  “Standby, ma’am.” Ulson dropped off the frequency for fifteen seconds. “Ma’am? I’ve got a drop ship twenty kilometers to the north. I can have them broadcast on UHF. They’ve got a much better chance to get to cover and we can bring in the artillery on the particle cannon.”

  Mairin nodded, impressed. “That’s the second problem covered. But we’re going to have to have more than artillery to make this work. We’re going to need close air support. We’re going to have to get the exospheric pilots down here to do some business.”

  “They won’t like that, ma’am.” Ulson sighed. “I wish the Lancers were here.”

  “That makes two of us, Alex.” Mairin replied. “Switching to Ka band. You have command until I talk the Fleet out of staying in orbit again.”

  “Good luck with that, ma’am.” Ulson clicked off, and the laser connection terminated.

  “Ka is up, ma’am. I have the Sapporo overhead. The window is six minutes and thirty seconds.”

  Mairin tapped her screen and found the callsign list. The Fleet Battle Platform Sapporo’s flag officer was a rarity among the Fleet—a pilot who actually flew more missions inside atmosphere than out during his flying days. If there was a single ray of hope for Gaucho Six and the civilians trapped in Springfield, he was it.

  Mairin scrolled through the callsign list with her finger and found it easily. “Katana Six Actual, this is Saber Six in command of cavalry forces on the surface and declaring an emergency. I say again, Katana Six Actual, this is Saber Six in command of forces on the surface and declaring an emergency. I need close air support vectored on my position. Acknowledge. Over.”

  “Saber Six, this is Tanto Six, all communications for this vessel and its occupants are handled through the command bridge, and you are in violation of—”

  The connection terminated in a heartbeat leaving dead, silent air on the transmission. “Saber Six, this is Katana Six Actual. What do you need? Over.”

  Admiral Kamigawa’s voice was quiet and measured. She’d never spoken to him or any other fleet officers of significant rank, and for a split second, her stomach rolled inward on itself and a fleeting, terrifying thought crossed her mind that she’d really screwed up in calling him before she recognized that she was talking.

  “Katana Six, this is Captain Mairin Shields in command of TDF cavalry forces to the southeast of the area of operations. The main attack has stalled, and the TDF is in retreat. There is a battalion-sized element of armor trapped in Springfield. The Greys have set up a honeypot complete with multiple particle cannons on the high ground. I can’t determine how many there are in the higher terrain, but I can’t get in and get that battalion out without air support.” She took a breath. “Sooner is better than later. I think we can break them, over.”

  “You think you can rescue the battalion and defeat an enemy dug in on the high ground with superior weapons?”

  The question was a quiet challenge. Mairin stabbed the transmit button. “Affirmative, Katana Six, but only with coordinated air and artillery strikes in support of the main effort.”

  “You have command of the artillery forces on the ground?”

  Mairin bit her lip and trusted Alex to do what she’d asked. “Affirmative, sir. They’re preparing to emplace the guns now. Though some orbital artillery wouldn’t hurt in this situation.”

  “You are danger close for nuclear strike, Captain Shields, and the civilians trapped in Springfield would suffer needlessly. I will not have that.”

  There was something in the man’s voice, something that she knew was not a familiarity with the subject but a pained recognition of what she was asking. She took a breath. “I’m not asking for a nuke, sir. I’m asking for non-nuclear munitions. I know the Sapporo and the other platforms have the capability. If you have them, I’d really like them employed on the Grey positions.”

  “The concussive forces are potentially too dangerous for unprotected civilians,” the admiral replied but she could hear doubt in his voice. Mitigating risk was the hardest part of a commander’s work, and it never ended.

  “Sir, the Greys have laid siege to Springfield. If we want anyone alive there, TDF forces or not, we have to act now. We’ll do what we can to alert Springfield.”

  Kamagawa replied but Mairin wasn’t listening. On her display, the enemy situation upd
ated, and a slew of red triangular icons descended from the western defensive position and into Springfield itself.

  “Katana Six, the Greys are counterattacking Springfield. If you can support us, please send it now. Saber Six, out.”

  No sooner had the connection ended than Alex Ulson’s voice was in her ears. “Ma’am? I talked to the artillery commander.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “There’s good news and bad news, just like always.”

  Mairin smirked. “How bad is the bad?”

  “You’re not going to like this at all.” Ulson paused for a moment. “Relaying graphics to you now.”

  Mairin shook her head and realized that Conner stared at her, his mouth agape. “What is it, Conner?”

  “You just ‘out-ed’ an admiral, ma’am.”

  “So?” Mairin smiled. “Sometimes a breach of radio procedure is enough to get the point across, Conner.”

  God, please let me be right about this.

  * * *

  Mairin studied the display for half a minute following Ulson’s report. The artillery managed to find a covered position where the particle cannons wouldn’t be able to immediately target them. That was the good news. The bad news was that only one battery had more than fifty percent of their remaining rounds to fire. Collectively, they were at thirty-one percent combat effectiveness and while they hustled to redistribute rounds and fuses, they wouldn’t be able to keep up any type of suppressing fires for very long.