Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle

by T. E. Butcher

  Kennedy sighed. “Roger, we’ll be on our way then.” Irving smiled as he turned around.

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” she said. Kennedy made his way back to Knight. The man had walked far enough away from the panzerters that he could be heard.

  “ Don’t see any of them turning around,” the big man said. “I take it things didn’t go well?”

  Shaking his head, Kennedy pointed towards the war room. “No, that bitch Irving gave the plan to Santana and of course he went with it.” Knight shook his head.

  “Guy sounds like an old school soldier, the ‘do as I say and if it’s impossible figure it out’ type, hated those guys,” he said before patting Kennedy on the back. “Glad you aren’t one comrade.”

  Kennedy grabbed the biplane that would take him up to the cockpit hatch. “Let’s get mounted up and out of here, the faster I can get away from that Operations officer, the faster I can breathe easy.” The handle of the biplane clicked, then a winch pulled him upward.

  Once he strapped himself in, he relaxed. It feels so natural, without a doubt, this is where I’m supposed to be. As the gate opened, the vehicles rolled out, followed by the plodding panzerters immediately afterward.

  He felt overstep as if it were his own, his crash chair rocking gently with every step. The control grips conformed to his hands after countless hours in the cockpit. The last time I sat here, we’d just held of the Tharcians at the Battle for FOB Blake. Those opening days seem like years ago, the rapid movement, the feeling of invincibility, and as soon as we hit Riverside, all those things came crashing to a halt.

  “Red 1, do you know the name of the river?” He asked. “The one that runs north-south, not the branch beyond narrow field.”

  After a moment, Knight gave him an answer. “I believe it’s called the Grenze, comrade, It means either wall or barrier, I’m not sure which, but it used to be the border before the War of 2112.”

  Huh, barrier or wall, maybe it’s fate? Is some force beyond my understanding keeping me from entering traditional Tharcian territory? Kennedy shook his head, despite being certain he was alone in his cockpit. No, there’s no fate, if there was, Union scientists would have quantified it, measured it, and enabled it to be distributed equally.

  Kennedy let the gentle rock of the Jupiter comfort him. Alloyed plating shielded him from the elements and bullets, alloys created by Union engineers. Union Physicists refined the theories that allowed the Jupiter’s I3 Nuclear Combustion engine to operate and do so safely. Skilled biologists and doctors built the machines that had formed him and grown him while proud Union workers in the distant past donated aspects of their DNA. Indeed, himself and everything around it had been made and guided by breakthrough Union Science.

  But do I really believe that? Kennedy’s reverie came to a sudden and sharp halt with a single word screamed over the radio.

  “Partisans!”

  As he stirred in his bunk, Rieter heard point defenses. The distinct sound, not unlike a massive roll of paper being torn, echoed through Landfall. Are they really testing them again? A loud crashing sound rocked the hotel and Reiter sprang to his feet. He’d gone to bed wearing sweatpants and an old OMI (Ostlan Military Institute) shirt.

  Don’t have time to change. He threw his flight vest on over his shirt, grabbed a coat, and hopped into an old pair of running shoes. Retrieving his handgun and holster from his doorhandle, he ran outing the hall. Everyone else in the hall also rushed out of their rooms.

  Soldiers of all stripes poured out of the doors. Infantry ran towards their base rally points, rifles and kit dangling in their hands. Like him, the pilots ran towards the motor pool.

  A PD turret on the roof of the diner opened up on an approaching dropship, showering them with hot brass. With a shout, Reiter directed them to the motor pool as the dropship crashed into the ground. Despite the violence of the crash, Union Raiders rushed out of the wreckage, eyes filled with violence.

  Reiter dumped an entire magazine from his sidearm. While he hit nothing, he encouraged the raiders to seek cover. The pilots ran faster now. Reiter dove behind a parking barrier to evade return fire from the raiders.

  Reloading, he snapped back more from his handgun. Either he still hit nothing, or their body armor was tough enough to shrug off his handgun, but Raiders began maneuvering after the pilots. While one group moved, another would focus their fire on Rieter.

  Despite its concrete construction, the barrier cracked under the intense fire being poured at it. He dumped another magazine before realizing, to his horror, he’d spent his last one. Shit, I need to get to the Lowe.

  Absent other options, he tried to track how many raiders threatened them. Four currently entered the motor pool while three more help Reiter pinned. A roar to his left caught his attention. An Iglasio rolled down the road as if a madman drove it. Opening up with its coaxial machine gun, the tables suddenly turned on the raiders. Outmatched against the IFV, the raiders could only hunker down and seek cover.

  Infantry ran out the back of the metal brick. If a general saw them, they’d lose their minds over the body armor over night clothes that seemed to be the uniform of the hour. They came around through the building behind the raiders on the street. Pinned against their own cover, they didn’t stand a chance.

  Rieter waved to the commander as he sat in an open hatch near the Iglasio’s turret. “Hey, Hey! Friendly!” The commander waved back.

  “I fucking know, sir!” Stovepipe replied. “With all due respect, get your ass in the robot!” Reiter grinned and saluted the man. One of the infantry tossed him a rifle from a fallen Raider. “Just I case” he’d said. Reiter ran into the motor pool with his rifle up, and the infantry followed him.

  Inside the motor pool, things had devolved into a running battle between the raiders and pilots. The Raiders had better weapons and more ammo, but would be screwed if a pilot managed to mount up. To that end they tossed grenades at joints or units clearly under repair.

  Stovepipe’s dismounts covered him while he ran towards the Lowe. She’s got twin .50 cals in her head, specifically for this shit, aircraft, missiles, and infantry. He stumbled and slipped across the snow. Not to be outdone, the raiders returned fire. Reiter glanced back just in time to see a young man eat a bullet.

  As fire filled his blood, he scrambled into the cockpit of his Lowe. With a hum, the engine roared to life before settling into its natural hum. Rieter disengaged the safeties and looked for the raiders.

  To his horror, they emerged from cover with a struggling Merlin JR looking at him and the infantry. One pointed a rifle at his head and another smiled at Rieter and shook his head. They’re desperate, why? Are reinforcements not coming? Is this not the precursor to an actual attack?

  “Union soldiers, stand down, you’ll be treated fairly if you surrender,” he said over the loudspeaker. As he shifted the Lowe into a kneeling position, he looked around. The infantry had taken up position across from him, they had cover, clear shots on the raiders, and their weapons couldn’t damage the Lowe.

  He noticed Wesser waving to him from behind the leg of a panzerter. The small lieutenant stood in her bathrobe, her coppery hair a ragged mess. She held a finger to her lips and made a circle motion.

  The Raiders focused all of their attention on either the Lowe or the firing squad across from him. While one stood up on a palette stack, presumably to address Rieter, something moved under a stack of spare parts.

  Like a pair of linebackers, Kozma and Merlin sr took one raider to the ground. As their attention snapped away, Mo grabbed Merlin. Steele tackled the one holding his gun on the kid, but as she did, the one on the pallettes drew his gun on her.

  So Rieter punched him. With the Lowe’s fist. As soon as the others had gotten Merlin away from his captors, Reiter set his other hand between them and the raiders. The Infantry opened up on the doomed men, cutting them down. Reiter relaxed, slightly.

  His radar didn’t pick up any returns, but in
the driving storm, he didn’t expect any. “Thorne X-Ray, Fox 6, SITREP?”

  “Fox 6, Throne 3,” Friermann replied. “Actual’s getting patched up, but it doesn’t look like we were the intended target.”

  Reiter furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? Was it a diversion?”

  “Looks to be that way,” Friermann replied. “We got word the 1-4th is getting a contract from a whole gaggle of dropships with a few ending up over the CAV in front of them.” A sharp click filled his ears, a sound Reiter assumed to be another Highland Sap. “The situation’s developing, but the word right now is the raiders are landing pretty disorganized. If I had to take a guess, the weather threw a wrench into their whole plan.”

  The last thing he said stood out to Reiter. “Why would they bother attacking then? Wouldn’t it have been smarter to just wait?”

  Friermann chuckled. “I don’t know, and the person who does is way over our pay grade.” Reiter collapsed back into his chair. Outside, he saw his pilots huddling together for warmth.

  “Do you think? We’ll see a second wave?” he asked.

  “If you want your people to change into warmer clothing, go ahead,” Friermann said. “The rest of the regiment is stood up and ready, if we receive a second wave then we’ll send Fox to the thick of it, but for now rest, change, and recover, it’s going to be a long night.”

  Kennedy grit his teeth as he scanned the snowy woodline. Small arms and rockets, no threat to his panzerter, but he wasn’t the target. With his laser set to strobe, he swept the woodline back and forth. Trees burst into flame and snow turned to whisky steam.

  A rocket screamed out of the forest. It struck one of the ammo carriers, turning the rugged truck into a mushroom cloud that rattled his ears. Damn it. He fired a burst of laser fire where he thought the rocket had come from, but failed to see any effect.

  “We’ve already lost five scout cars and an ammo carrier,” he said over the net. “We’ll have to push through, we don’t have time or the equipment to go chasing rats.” The two remains lead scout cars raced out of the woods to his right and took to the road. Following close on them were the remaining supply trucks, their light PDCs blazing away at shadows in the forest.

  The Red guards stayed back with Kennedy, providing covering fire and big targets for the partisans. Unlike the lighter Martians, their Jupiters were dedicated solely to anti-panzerter combat and thus lacked anti-infantry weapons. But we can make do.

  Snow and Khan followed the next wave of supply trucks, while Knight and the remaining scout cars covered them. “They’re fucking everywhere and nowhere,” one of the scout car crews cried. “It’s like trying to cath rain in a net!”

  “Calm down,” Kennedy snapped firmly. “You’re MAGs, you’re the greatest soldiers in the mars sphere, and farmers will not overcome us with pitchforks.” As if to undercut him, a fleeing supply truck skewed sideways after a machine-gun punched into its cab. It hit a tree and remained there.

  From the view of his panzerter, the partisans blended with the snow and trees. He shot at anything moving in the woods, but could not stop them from lighting the wrecked supply truck ablaze. I hope that’s not the field kitchen.

  Finally, he and Knight fled with the last two scout cars. The odd chattering of a machine gun followed them, but no more Union soldiers died. Kennedy sighed. “That wasn’t as bad as it could have been. We only lost a few vehicles,” Knight said.

  Now that they had escaped immediate danger, Kennedy checked his Command Matrix. With a groan, he replied to Knight. “We obviously lost an ammo carrier, and several scout cars, and one of the parts vehicles.” His matrix chimed with an update. “And our field kitchen wasn’t lost per se, but that vehicle is saying they shot their cargo compartment up.”

  “All those things by themselves are bad,” Knight said. “But we didn’t suffer the loose of anything we can’t easily replace.”

  “Still, this area’s crawling with partisans, and we don’t have a mission profile that’s equipped to deal with them,” Kennedy replied. “It’s like we used to have a unit out this way that did.”

  “Yeah, like the motor batt they threw away,” Knight replied. “This changes how we conduct our mission.”

  Kennedy nodded. “Exactly, if the partisans warn the Tharcians of our movements, we could be in serious trouble, and that’s assuming they don’t attack our headquarters during the operation.”

  They traveled for about three more miles before coming to their pre-planned rally point. Once their headquarters element had been encircled in the protective circle of their subordinate units, Kennedy ordered the field kitchen spun up. “I want hot meals for the entire battalion and 50% security.”

  While their soldiers ate, Kennedy had the red guards and all of his company commanders meet him by the mobile HQ. Unfortunately, some things like the tablet chargers had eaten a few bullets, but their maps remained intact.

  “So the partisans change things, but only slightly,” Kennedy said. “We’ll continue the plan as normal, but I want the recon platoon to leave their dismounts with headquarters.”

  Ballard nodded. “I don’t think that will affect the strength of my group securing Objective Alpha, but should we be concerned?” Kennedy shook his head.

  “No, the Capricorns and Martians are great at dealing with infantry,” he said. “I don’t think they would do much besides try to warn any nearby Tharcians, but that by itself affects our tempo.” He pointed at the map and traced their routes. “I’d originally wanted to be deliberate about this, making sure each point was secure before heading to the next, but now we’re going to have to blitz them.”

  Irwin raised a hand. “So you think they’ll blow the bridges before we have time to take them?” Kennedy nodded.

  “That’s correct, I believe the only reason they didn’t before was they didn’t believe the Motor battalion had a realistic chance of taking the bridges, but if they hear a panzerter batt supported by heavy types is barreling down on them-“

  “They won’t hesitate to blow both bridges,” Ballard finished. “Well, our job just got harder.”

  Knight raised his hands. “Well, what are we waiting for? They might already know we’re here!” Kennedy nodded.

  “That’s my concern,” he said. “Which is why as soon as everyone has been fed and given water, we’ll move out.” He checked his watch. “Let’s call it, thirty minutes, we move out from here, Spears, in need the infantry to do a quick sweep of the estate before your forces move out from there.”

  They acknowledged their tasks and left to update their respective units. Feeling his own stomach growl, he fished a ration pack out of the mobile HQ. Knight noticed his odd choice in cuisine. “You’re not going to get a hot meal?”

  Kennedy shook his head. “Not until we’ve had a successful mission and we stand on the other side of the old border,” he replied. “Besides, if they’re serving eggs again, I’m better off with this, anyway.” He looked more closely at his ration pack. “Even if it uses meat substitutes instead.”

  Knight laughed. “Alright then comrade, we’ll let you enjoy your lab grown food.” Kennedy narrowed his eyes.

  “Are you implying lab grown things are inferior?” he asked. Knight shot him a confused look.

  “No, I would just rather eat something real,” he replied. He’s talking about food, there’s no reason to believe he’s talking about tubers.

  With a shrug, Kennedy smiled. “To each his own, I guess, I don’t mind it.” As he warmed up his “beef and barley stew” he couldn’t help but wonder what the wider Union thought of him. He’d never interacted with a tuber outside of the MAGs. Those tubers he knew, from Ballard to Fletcher, and even Wake were hardly a monolith. But was that also true of tubers outside his sphere? The lumberjacks, the farmers, the fishers, miners and other labor intensive duties they fulfilled for the Union.

  There’s no way fighting the seas for fish, or cutting down trees is as hard as writing a damn newspaper article or fi
xing a computer system. Before he could follow the thought thread to its conclusion, Halphen interrupted him.

  “Comrade Colonel, battalion has been fed and watered, we’ll be ready to move out in five,” he said.

  Kennedy nodded. “Make it so then.” As he downed the rest of his stew, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  6

  As a working party cleared the wreck of a Union dropship, Reiter watched with Col Hawke at his side. The older man’s arm hung in a sling while a booster poured nannies into his system to fix his broken arm.

  “We only avoided disaster because so many of them got lost in the weather,” the Colonel said. “They destroyed some mass greenhouses in Narrowfield, even though they attacked with no sense of organization.”

  Reiter furrowed his brow. “Are we going to face starvation?”

  Hawke shook his head. “No, not yet anyway, but many people will go hungry when you combine this with no imports from space.”

  As they walked down the street, they noticed broken glass littered the area. Reiter kicked a piece of rubble into a large shard. “Think they’ll attack again?” he asked. “Was that just a precursor?” Hawke nodded.

  “I’m not sure where, but General Orban is considering ordering us to fall back to Grunbeck,” he said. “It’s not like higher has done much else, there’s no grand plan, there’s no penultimate strategy, it’s just keep holding out until something happens.” They continued walking down the road. “Honestly, I think the rot started after the last war.”

  Reiter looked at the older man. “What do you mean?”

  Hawke stared at the shattered rubble. “I think they got complacent, the War of 2112 was won so quickly and easily on the ground that our general staff failed to take the Union seriously for decades, even as the Union overhauled it’s military and ground forces.”

  “I’m not sure how much I buy into that,” Reiter said. “Someone had to be aware they could pose a problem again. We had a bit of a naval arms race with them for a while.”