Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle

by T. E. Butcher

  15

  The left flank of the Union’s pincer attack fared hardly better than the right. Their panzerters emerged from the forests surrounding Ironton into the massive parking lot of the Mega Mart. Straight into a pre-planned shooting gallery for Captain Reiter and his First Sergeant.

  To their credit, they pressed on when Reiter downed their lead machine with a shot through center of mass. It wasn’t until 1st Sergeant sniped a second that they began to waver. They must realize they’re out of range, surely they won’t keep pushing.

  “Fox 6, permission to engage,” Stovepipe asked.

  “Hold,” Reiter replied. I don’t want to give away their position yet. Another superheavy round tore through a tinhat. Then they stopped. “Now!”

  Two giant killer missiles streaked from their launchers and dug into the rear most tinhats. One collapsed in a heap while the other, who’d taken the missile in the shoulder, twisted to face his attacker as its arm went limp.

  Green light highlighted one of the Cstalios, annihilating the machine. Before further damage could be done, the tracks popped smokescreens and fell back to their next fighting position. Reiter covered them with more fire from his magnetic rifle.

  Unable to find the Missile Carriers and under fire from the command team’s superior weaponry, the Union panzerters retreated. A few more parting shots destroyed limbs and brought down another tinhat. Do they have more forces in reserve? It seems like they vastly under-prepared for this.

  “Fox 6, Black 1, BDA follows,” Wesser said. Reiter grimaced when she told him they’d lost their sniper rifle, but was glad to hear Merlin Sr could still fight. When Steele called for a medevac, he feared the worst. It turned out Kozma was hurt bad enough he had to be pulled out of his panzerter, and a group of droptroopers were making their way to the vac site with the man on a stretcher.

  That can’t be it, there’s got to be more to their first wave then just that. They’d given a battalion sized element a bloody nose, an impressive feat for a company. Reiter was about to call higher when the scouts got his attention.

  “They got armored vehicles infiltrating Ironton,” Lysak said. “Wheeled, four axles with angled armor.”

  “Let them through,” Reiter replied. “Wildcard can deal with them.”

  “We can take care of them too,” Wesser said.

  “Black team, keep an eye out for dropships or panzerters,” Reiter replied. “Wildcard is more than capable of taking on a motorized column.” I have to conserve our strength, we don’t know when the 12th regiment is going to begin its counter attack.

  For a moment, Reiter basked in the quiet of the night. Then in the distance, he heard the racket of automatic weapons fire followed by a muffled crump. More automatic weapons joined the orchestra of violence, which ended in a crescendo of mortars.

  “Fox 6, Wildcard 2-alpha, scratch five APCs,” the assistant squad leader reported. Reiter sighed and, as he expected, received the medevac request comments later. The squad leader and several others were being escorted to the medevac point by their squad.

  We’ve held off this initial attack, but how long do e have before a followup? Reiter checked his map and referenced the BDAs of his leaders. According to the latest information, we’ve savaged them pretty bad, they would have forced our frontline to fallback if their advance had been more coordinated.

  He looked at their current strength and positions. No way the Union is out of the fight that easily, we’ll see another more determined attack, maybe from dropships?

  “Wolfhound 1, Fox 6,” he said. “Do you have enough drones to get us an air patrol?”

  “If we get an air patrol up, they’ll be vulnerable to long range AA,” Wolfhound replied. “In addition to that, they might not have enough fuel on hand for close air support if they’re also flying patrols.”

  Reiter sighed. “Do you have enough fuel on hand for your gunships?”

  “As of right now, yes,” Wolfhound 1 replied. “But the drones refuel by siphoning of our main cell. We have drop tanks, but we’ve already burned through most of those between getting here and doing what we’ve done already.”

  With a nervous eye to the sky, Reiter nodded. “Roger that,” he said. “Keep everything grounded until we need it, until then we’ll just keep an eye on the sky.” Switching his mic over to the regimental net, he sent up his BDAs and sitreps.

  “Hold your position, Fox,” Friermann replied. “Early and Gamble are pretty messed up on your flanks, so we’re rushing forces from the 4-14th to buffer them.” Reiter acknowledged. Then he waited.

  As another Tharcian panzerter collapsed in a smoking heap, Kennedy gasped for breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. Though the Jupiter boasted thick armor, shells hitting all night still wore it down. Eventually a shell will hit just the right spot and the armor won’t hold.

  “Red 1 and 3, how are you doing?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I’m impressed our panzerters haven’t given out yet,” Knight replied. “They’ve taken plenty of abuse.”

  “I’m worried I’ll burnout the lenses on this strobe laser,” Kennedy replied. Sweat dripped into his mouth and he gagged at how salty it tasted. “I didn’t know the Tharcians had enough forces to maintain this.”

  “That bastard Fuller should have taken the city by now,” Knight said. “We should be getting word to move any minute now.” As a familiar whine filled their ears, Kennedy’s eyes glanced at the sky. Screaming down from a move came a pair of Tharcian drones.

  With a burst of cannon fire and a pair of bombs, they destroyed two more Martians and scattered infantry everywhere. Kennedy and Knight fired on them with strobe lasers as they raced away.

  On his second pulse, his weapon suddenly sparked, and the barrel glowed. Damn it, now is not the time for my weapons to fail! Another diving pair of drones caught him in their sights. More cannon fire, another bomb.

  Kennedy’s machine staggered as he fought for balance. Alarms rang in his ears as he upped pedals and twisted stick in a vain attempt to keep the sixty ton panzerter upright. Despite his best efforts, the Jupiter went down. Armor plating crumpled on impact. His helmeted head struck his damaged matrix again, resulting in distorted lights playing across the crumbling screen.

  “Comrade, are you ok?” Knight asked as he sent the drones tumbling to the ground. Kennedy shook away his pounding headache and shock.

  “I’m fine, I just need to stand back up,” he replied. The Jupiter shuddered as it pushed off of the snowy ground below it. Once Kennedy got his feet under him, the process became much easier. Alarms continued to flash across multiple displays across his cockpit.

  He was struggling to tune out the ringing when another group hailed him. “Reaper 6, Peryton 5, are we clear to pass through?” That the advance forces of the 616th were already here surprised him.

  “Go for 6, where is your 6 element?” Kennedy asked. “Are you about to move on the airport?”

  “Negative Reaper, he’s in a dropship en route to Objective Alpha, we’ll move on bravo after Alpha’s been secured.”

  “What? Alpha isn’t secure?” Kennedy said. “If it’s not secure by now, then we need to bypass!”

  “Negative, Victor reported being fully committed, but just unable to secure the city,” Peryton 5 replied. “We’re going to help them finish up, then move on Bravo with their support.” Another pair of drones swooped down above the tree line, unleashing missile on the panzerter battalion.

  Missiles rose to challenge the drones in the air. Despite their agility, the drones proved unable to shake the missiles from their Hydra mobile SAMs. Kennedy sighed as he looked at the humble four-wheeled vehicle.

  “I’d ask you to leave one of those with us,” he said. “But I know you need them.” As the advance forces passed by, Kennedy realized just how paltry they were. A handful of Capricorn IFVs and Martian Troopers escorted a pair of Hydras and a missile artillery platform. They really think that will tip the balance? Granted, the rest of their batta
lion is dropship based, so I’m not going to see them yet.

  “Is their air presence really that bad?” Peyton asked.

  “Yeah, now that the weather is clearing up they’re using more and more drones, it’s only a matter of time before our own drones will need to come forward again,” Kennedy replied. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’ve been given adequate air defenses.”

  As the advance forces shuffled away, Kennedy scanned the skies again for any errant heat signatures. On finding none, he switched his mic back to the battalion net. “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Well, me neither,” Knight replied. “Most of our battalion is dead or wounded and we’re strung out without much support, I wouldn’t like it either.” Kennedy shook his head.

  “I’m not trying to sound superstitious,” he said. “But it’s like there’s something in the air, this land, these trees, this sky, none of it feel right.” Why?

  As Mo fell back to the Market district, he passed the burning wreck of a Union APC on the road. Hunkering down behind a church, he looked back across the area he just vacated.

  “Black 1, we’re set,” he said as Merlin sr set his machine down in a narrow street. It gave his wingman excellent cover from the sides, but would be difficult to extract himself if they absolutely had too. Scanning with his stolen machine gun, it looked like he had plenty of room to fire the weapon.

  “I’m blind from the air down here,” Merlin said. “Don’t let their raiders get the drop on me.”

  “Well, my air radar isn’t great,” Mo replied. “I’ll know when their dropships get into the city, but they’re pretty fast.” The chatter of small arms ahead silenced both of them. Somewhere among the large homes, gas stations and corner stores, The drop troopers were giving the Union hell.

  When a gaggle of bodies raced out of a gas station that exploded behind them, Mo trained his chest machine-gun on them.

  “Thunder, thunder, fucking thunder!” Wildcard 2-A said. On hearing their running password, Mo relaxed and told Merlin to let them through.

  “Enemy back there?” he asked.

  “Was a couple of APCs and about a couple dozen guys,” the drop trooper replied. “Now it’s one APC and about a dozen guys.” As if referring to it summoned the damned thing, the APC in question burst through the wall of lames at the gas station, its turret swiveling to find the drop troopers.

  While they boasted impressive armaments for their type, the Union machine proved no match for a panzerter with a standard rifle. In a split second, it burned like its comrade. The drop troopers scrambled into the church in front of him.

  Lurking off in the dark night, Mo could see shadows moving beyond the bounds of Ironton. They’re about to come for us again, probably more concentrated. He glanced further to his left to spot Wesser and Smith just inside the perimeter created by market street and the autobahn.

  “You sure you should be there, Black 1,” he asked. “Wouldn’t want to be in 6’s line of fire.”

  “We’re fine here,” Wesser replied. “6 And 7 are providing over watch to gold platoon, we’re safe.” Well, out here safety is relative.

  Shells and eerie green light emerged from the night. While the shells smashed structures, the laser beams melted others and started fires. Mo Leaned over the church and replied with a fire of his own. Merlin fired stream after stream of shells as panzerters revealed themselves.

  As suppressing fire intensified, the pair were forced to keep their machines behind cover. “Black 1, we’re pinned down!” Mo cried.

  “Black 4, we’re moving to-” A screech and a hiss of static ended Wesser’s voice.

  “One, respond, One! Tessa!” MO cried.

  “Four, she’s ok,” Smith replied. “She’s bailed out, collecting her now.” Relaxing just slightly, Mo flipped to company net.

  “White Team, we’re pinned,” he said. “Need some help.”

  Rather than a response from Steele, Wolfhound came into the net. “Hang tight, Black Four, help is on the way.” Within moments, Gunships roared past overhead. They unleashed rockets, missiles, and cannon fire on the Union forces below.

  With the reduced enemy fire aimed at them, Mo and Merlin added their own weapons to the deluge against their union opponents. I can’t believe it, we’re about to beat them back again. As if the thought itself cursed him, missiles streaked towards the gunships.

  Luckily, the gunship pilots launched their drones as a barrier. Discouraged, they broke off their attack and launched flares.

  “Black 2, do you have 1?” Mo asked.

  “Roger, I got her right behind me,” Smith replied. After a moment of shuffling, Wesser came over the net.

  “A little rattled, but I’m ok,” she said. “We need to focus, we haven’t held this position long enough to fallback yet.” Gritting his teeth, Mo turned back to the chaos ahead of him.

  “Alright Merlin, let’s even the odds here,” he said. While Merlin related controlled bursts onto the advancing panzerters and Armored vehicles, Mo and Smith used precise shots to disable weapons, sensors, limbs, and tracked vehicles.

  In return, the Union forces began using cover more than before. While one group attempted to suppress Black team, others advanced on their position.

  Suddenly, more intense fire raked the advancing union forces. White team came out of position on their right flank and began advancing on the enemy using the same bounding movements the Union used on them. Before Mo could think of how good things were going, he heard a sound that gave him chills since the first hours of the war. MAG dropships.

  Crouching in the darkness of a shattered storefront, Dave Webb prayed a stray shell from the panzerters didn’t annihalate them. With the other 9 members of his first squad, they waited for the Union to reach their position.

  “Any Black or White element, Wildcard 1,” he said. “Status?”

  Sergeant Mondragon replied to him immediately. “Both teams have begun bounding back, you should get company soon.” Webb nodded. He’d chosen a planned blind spot in the prepared positions for the panzerter teams. If Union infantry tried to slip by the big hitters, the drop troopers intended to make them pay.

  “Wildcard 1, Wildcard 4,” his platoon sergeant, an intense man named Ausgebucht, called. “We got White 1 to the vac point, but the birds won’t fly with that anti-air around.” Damn, we could hunt them down, but then we’d be abandoning this ambush point. Fuck it, if we don’t kill those SAMs, killing a few APCs won’t be worth it.

  “Roger 4, we’re gong hunting,” Webb replied. As soon as he got off the radio, he crawled over to his squad leader. “Listen up Szabo, Union has some nasty anti-air in the AO, it’s up to us to sun them out.”

  Szabo shrugged. “Are you sure, LT? We only have so many rockets.” LT tapped the older man on an armored shoulder.

  “We got mortars on speed dial, as long as they’re not licking their tubes, we can destroy them and not even be seen,” he replied. With a few terse hand signals, they rose to their feet and scurried out of the store.

  Each trooper wore an armored exoskeleton that completely covered their legs, though at the torso the exoskeleton served more to brace their back with a lightweight armored vest protecting their vitals. A helmet fully enclosed their head and provided comms, optic overlays, and other support systems to the drop troopers. Each man carried an MK-35, with the exception of one squad member toting an MG-2. A third of them also carried antiarmor rockets slung over their shoulders.

  While rushing across the shattered market district, the ground trembled beneath their feet and Webb heard the sound of metallic foot falls.

  “Get down!” His squad leader snapped. They threw themselves into bushes, behind cars and through store fronts. As the footfalls approached, they increased in pace. A massive rifle thundered nearby.

  A tinhat rounded the corner at a run. The hair on his neck stood on end as the panzerter’s rifle hummed. Ghostly green light lit up the street, bringing it an intense heat with it.
Most of it. Something orange flashed behind them.

  One of their panzerters staggered sideways. A red-orange trench glowed in its shoulder. Even with his helmet on, the return fire threatened to rupture his ear drums. The tinhat rang like a gong as the shells pounded its armor. While the panzerter’s duked it out, Webb prayed for it to end, ideally with his machine on top.

  Finally, the street buckled. Section broke and collapsed into the sewer below. Both panzerters crashed to the ground like they plummeted from a beanstalk. The horribly disfigured tinhat lie in a crack in the street, jus a block from the Panzerter IV.

  “Move, secure the pilots!” Webb cried. We can kill two birds with one stone, take a prisoner and recover a friend. Halfway between the two machines, he bolted towards the tinhat.

  As he and several others approached the union machine, he caught site of a wheel of the hatch turning. “We got a live on!” One of the drop troopers cried. The unionist emerged with a machine pistol blazing away. He sprayed wildly at them, but died quickly in a hail of bullets. That’s weird. Reports said they were likely to surrender once their machine had been disabled.

  While his troopers searched the pilot’s body and machine, Webb pivoted around to find their friendly pilot. Much to his surprise, two soldiers in CVC uniforms were escorted to the medic. Webb followed them into the broken storefront when he recognized one of them quickly.

  “You’re that cute, lieutenant,” he said. Wesser glared at him through her cracked visor.

  “While I appreciate compliments, we’re in the middle of a battle,” she hissed.

  Webb held up a hand. “My bad missy, how do they look doc?”

  “Some mild bruising from their restraints, but otherwise they’re fine,” he said.

  Webb glanced at Wesser and her friend. “Do you two have weapons?”

  They each showed him a sidearm. “We got these and a few magazines,” the other pilot, a boy named Smith, said.