Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle

by T. E. Butcher

  “Good enough,” Webb replied. “Come with us, we’re going to kill Unionists, specifically a SAM unit.”

  “Ok,” Wesser said. “Do you have a plan?”

  Reiter held his breath as Union dropships weathered a wall of auto cannon fire from gold platoon’s Iglasios. One plummeted to the ground, but about a half dozen others remained in the air. While dismounts fired AA missiles, Reiter added his head mounted .50 cals to the frenzy. I might be able to tag a few with the magnet rifle, but I need to save the ammo for the panzerters.

  Blasts of chain guns and rockets nicked that thinking as soon as he thought it. While his machine-guns perforated the Union dropships, his rifle shattered two of them. For now, that was enough to convince the dropships to break off their attack, but not before they disgorged their troops.

  Cursing, Reiter turned his machine-guns on the bailing raiders, but was unable to see if he hit anything. As small arms chatter rose from Mega Mart, he figured some raiders had made it through, but until he heard a report from Gold, he wouldn’t know to what extent.

  Shells slammed into buildings across the street. That came from North. Reiter pivoted the Lowe and brough hid rifle to bear. Union panzerters surged down the autobahn. When they saw him take notice of them, they peeled off the main road, smashing through buildings in a vain attempt to find the river.

  The Lowe’s rifle punched holes in their armor. Tinhats crashed through storefronts as smoke and fluid leaked out of the Union machines. One down, and that’s two. Three more scrambled about, blazing at him with lasers and high caliber shells.

  Thanks to MAVAG’s engineers, his thermal coating held of the lasers while his armor rested shells. At this range, their weapons can’t do shit. With a resounding ping, his rifle knocked another Martian out of commission. Of course, that doesn’t matter if they kill everyone else.

  “Fox 6, Black 1,” Wesser called.

  “Go ahead for 6,” Reiter replied. It’s been awhile since I’ve heard from her. As 1st Sergeant added his sniper rifle to Reiter’s gun battle, Wesser updated him to the status of her unit.

  “We lost contact with the rest of Black team, Our panzerter is a loss, and we’re running with Wildcard 1,” she said. “We’re currently hunting the SAM launchers.” Despite wanting to tell Wesser and Smith to come back towards him and evacuate on the birds, he reconsidered. Even heading towards danger, they would be safer with wildcard than stumbling about on their own. It also mitigated the odds that they’d be captured or killed by raiders.

  “That’s fine, Wildcard, take good care of them,” he said.

  “Roger 6,” Webb replied.

  He looked back over at his map. “Black 4, Status?” The final panzerter in his immediate vicinity fell, but he could hear more fighting in the market district. “Black 4?”

  “Hold on,” Mo replied. After a moment, the young man came back. “Me and three are still fighting, havn’t seen 1 or White element in a while.” Small arms fire leaked in over Mo’s transmissions. “We’re helping out some wildcards right now, haven’t seen panzerters in a minute.”

  What’s their plan? To grind us down? Their losses are far disproportionate to our own, at least as far as I can tell. In all they’d lost three panzerters, a Cstalio, a recon Iglasio along with a standard one, and multiple drones. If they attack in a third wave, we might not be able to hold them off.

  With a look at his map, he shook his head. Wildcard needs to kill those SAMs or we’re going to lose Ironton and the airport. Returning to his immediate situation, he checked the skies for anymore dropships. While Gold platoon remained fully capable of beating air attacks, he didn’t want them to absorb an entire attack.

  As things seemed to be calm for a moment, he reevaluated his position. If we can draw them directly down the Autobahn, we can set a trap of them. “Black 4, Fox 6, shore up White team’s position, Focus on protecting the flank.” “Gold Team, I’m sending 1st Sergeant to aide you, Shore up your flank.”

  Switching to the regimental net, he called out to the other commanders. “Early and Harbinger, how are you holding up?” he asked.

  “We’ve seen better days,” Early Company’s commander said. “But we’re still in the fight.”

  “I’m going to try to draw the Union into a trap,” Reiter replied. “Do you think you got enough steam for a counter-attack? Specifically, around the highway?” After a few moments, he got his answer.

  16

  “We need just a few more forces,” Guard-Colonel Fuller said. “There’s a gap opening around the highway, we could drive right down and seize the entire municipality!”

  Kennedy sighed. If that wasn’t a red flag, I don’t know what would be. “I hate to rain or your parade comrade, but it sounds like you’re being drawn into a trap, my recommendation is to begin drawing back, we’ve bloodied most of our division already, we need to fall back so we can rebuild.”

  Unfortunately, Fuller wasn’t hearing any of it. “Now listen here, comrade,” he said. “I know you’ve been engineered to be the perfect pilot, but I was the top tactician in my Officer training, I’m certain I would be aware of a trap if I saw one.”

  With a shake of his head, Kennedy looked south. Green flashes amidst an orange glow indicated heavy fighting in what reports described as an old mining town from the days immediately following the domes coming down. Fo what we’ve spent trying to get it, I’m rethinking its strategic importance.

  “You’re full of adrenaline,” Kennedy replied. “You’re emotional. You’ve lost friends and colleges, you’re not in the best shape to make a nuanced call, I’m not saying you’re bad at your job, I’m merely pointing out you’re in the perfect storm to make a mistake.”

  I hope he listens to reason, this battle is already becoming too costly. “Reaper 6, if we can’t take Ironton, then we’ll lose any momentum we have on this front, and our soldiers will have died in vain,” Fuller replied. “It’s imperative that we take this mining town.”

  Before Kennedy could reply, Surface-to-air missiles left from their launch tubes and soared into the sky. The light of the explosions revealed something Kennedy hadn’t seen or heard because of their altitude: a massive swarm of Tharcian drones.

  Naturally, a great horde of them broke off the main body and dove on their position. “Victor 6, we’re under heavy air attack!” Kennedy cried. Without his stove laser, he stood helplessly to watch as drones screamed by, peppering his battered battalion with cannon fire and rockets.

  While he keyed his mic to order a general withdrawal, something floated into his view. A 2000-lb bomb. The explosion rattled his teeth and knocked out his sensors. As he struggled for balance, he felt the Jupiter take hit after hit from cannons and bombs.

  The heavy panzerter buckled, arms blared. He lost a knee, a hand, an ankle. Pain exploded behind Kennedy’s eyes as the Jupiter fell on it’s back. More systems failed as damaged sections crumpled under the sudden impact. Sparks filled Kennedy’s vision and he tasted blood in his mouth.

  As soon as he could see again, he undid his restraints and seized his machine pistol. Without power, he had to override the door controls and push the heavy door to the cockpit open. Drones still buzzed and swarmed the remnants of the 75th Panzerter Battalion. I need to get to a command truck or track; I need to get a hold of Meyer, this whole operation is about lost.

  Abandoning his crippled panzerter, he ran as fast as he could across the snowy ground. His ass burned where he’d been injured previously. Unable to run particularly fast, he hobbled in the general direction of his forces. A Capricorn fired helplessly at the swarm above them. Without radar guidance, that’s futile.

  Kennedy loped towards the friendly vehicle, waving his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s Kennedy! I need your radio!” At first it seemed like they didn’t notice him. Then the hatch at the back popped open and two soldiers ran out.

  “Comrade Colonel!” one cried. “Get in the track! We need to get you to safety!” Kennedy waved them off as he limped arou
nd to the back of the Capricorn.

  “Who’s the commander?” he asked.

  “I am comrade,” a meek-looking man replied. “Guard-Staff Sergeant Maynard at your service.”

  Kennedy nodded as he got his breath back. “I need your radio,” he finally gasped. “I need to contact division, if that’s not possible, we need to contact Knight, let him know to rely to Meyer that this operation is a loss and we need to fall back.”

  As Maynard handed him a transmitter, the world changed in a flash. Suddenly, gravity left the track and everything floated for a brief moment. Then it came crashing back. The turret broke away. Kennedy was thrown headfirst into a bulkhead. And then he knew darkness.

  “It’s an absolute travesty,” Commodore Mendez said. “It’s outrageous, it’s unacceptable, Vinland has made themselves handmaidens to the oppressor class.” Chaney nodded as he walked with the woman. He’d invited her to watch a demonstration of a newer development of his particle weapon project, but she’d meet him with bad news.

  “A certain associate of ours showed me a sample of a supercrop he got from a Vinnish colony,” Chaney replied. “Do you believe his actions could have provoked them?”

  The Commodore shook her head. “I doubt it, the sample he acquired would warrant halting all trade with us as well as encouraging neutral countries to join them in an embargo.”

  They walked down one of Congregation’s many wooden hallways. They both wore civilian clothes as to not give away the military nature of where they were going. Not that we have any reason to believe Tharcian agents are here. But a directive from the IRS on information control wasn’t something they could just ignore, besides, they were more comfortable.

  “Perhaps our allies could stay their hand,” Chaney said. “Not being so reckless with the lives of anyone not Avalonian would do us all a lot of good in the long run.” Mendez scoffed.

  “You now how the diplomats are about Avalon, they’d rather not go there, and would rather not speak to them,” she said. “Our forces in Olympia have had more contact with Avalon then our own diplomats.”

  “Unfortunately, that may harm their careers more than anything else,” Chaney said. “What good is having an ally if working with them gets you thrown in jail or unpersoned?” They came to a stop before an unassuming little shop. Chaney knocked and an engineer, also dressed in civilian clothes, let them in.

  “So this new development?” The commodore asked. “I take it you have a solution for the rapid degradation?” Chaney sighed. Ever since the PFS Metro had been crippled following the use of its particle cannons in the belt, he’d increased the amount of time and labors devoted to the project in an attempt to salvage something.

  “In a sense,” he replied. “We used the exiting science and architecture to transition to a more reliable weapon system.” He held up his hands. “Rather than trying to accelerate individual particles, we’ve made strides in directing high energy ionized gases, or plasmas.” He smiled. “As long as we have nitrogen gas, these new impulse weapons will have ammunition and plenty of it.”

  As they followed the engineer, he led them to an observation deck. Multiple engineers worked at the impromptu control center. Beyond the thick window stood a pair of panzerters. One, a Terran III, stood with a large tube like weapon. Multiple wires and hoses connected the Terran, and its weapon to generators and reservoirs.

  Across from the Terran hung a mostly intact Panzerter IV. The battered Tharcian machine was held by multiple cables in a hunched over but still standing position.

  “None of the machines we had on hand could handle the power output required,” one of the engineers explained. “Unfortunately, all the Jupiters and Martians are for the soldiers on the front.”

  Chaney waved a hand. “That’s fine, we’ve more than made do with what we have.” Aided by the additional power supplied to it, the Terran raised its weapon and fired. A thick red bolt caved in the Panzerter’s torso, sending molten metal and sparks everywhere.

  The engineers applauded, but Commodore Mendez remained unimpressed. “So your new toy can destroy a damaged panzerter,” she said. “I haven’t seen anything worth informing the ARF of.” The Terran fired again. This time the legs fell away as its arms and head spun from their cables. “Ok, so it doesn’t burn out after one use.”

  With a chuckle, Chaney waved to the Terran. “With this, we can save our metals for warships, vehicles, colonies, and buildings, while all the ammo these impulse weapons will need is a steady supply of nitrogen gas.”

  “What’s the drawback?” Mendez asked. “There’s no way you’ve discovered the perfect weapon.”

  Chaney held up his hands as if to surrender. “As of right now, these would be expensive to manufacture, and it would take additional refining to create weapons for multiple mission sets, also as of right now, power consumption is to great to produce small arms versions.” He looked back at the Terran. “Also they have some mild thermal blooming in atmosphere, nowhere near the extent lasers do though.”

  “And I assume you have some plan for mounting upscale versions on warships?” She asked. “Because Metro is still in dry dock on Los Estrellas.”

  With a smile, Chaney waved her off. “I assure you, comrade, the Metro will never need a refit again once we install naval grade impulse cannons.”

  Webb dove into a snowbank to avoid detection. A tinhat stalked past him and the others, it’s creepy red ring glowing in the night. We’re almost there, it’d suck to get caught now. Their target lay just beyond a low rise ahead of them. A four wheeled armored truck with a rotating missile launcher bristling with anti-aircraft missiles.

  They’d destroyed the unit’s sister about a kilometer away, shrinking the air defenses umbrella the Union possessed. Good thing we had those pilots with us, I’d never turn down extra hands to carry our wounded. He still had six men with him and four rockets capable of destroying the track. As he slowly crawled through the snow and dirt, he swore.

  His issue began and ended with the shivering Union infantry surrounding the missile carrier. If we shoot a bunch of rockets at that SAM, it’ll give away our position. If we lead with the machine-gun and rifles, the SAM carrier will just run away. If I put rocket teams on its escape route, I negate the problem of it escaping, I’ll just keep the MG here and a couple guys with rockets along the escape. I have three rockets I might as well use them.

  His entire stream of thought happened in a few seconds. He motioned to his team leaders, acquired a rocket so one of his riflemen could cover his buddy. After glancing at the SAM, he determined its best escape route out of the clearing would be South of his current position and slightly west.

  His rocket teams crawled towards the route. Webb set a timer on his watch and nodded to his gunner. The other man nodded and crawled back towards a tree further from him. Now we’ll look like a much bigger element attacking them.

  As the seconds clicked down, he grabbed the sling of the rocket and braced himself. Been awhile since I used one of these. The timer hit zero.

  Webb sprang into a kneeling position. The rocket came to his shoulder and ignited. An orange glow trailing smoke streaked towards the SAM. Too high.

  The shaped charge blasted a mighty oak tree. It’s super half plummeted to the snowy ground below. His machine gunner opened fire.

  With sparks pinging off of it, the SAM rushed out of the clearing. As Webb pinged away at the infantry, he witnessed the carrier slow down to avoid the fallen tree. And a second rocket missed.

  By now the infantry picked up on their ruse. Already they used bounding movements in an tempt to flank out his gunner.

  He desperately attempted to suppress the infantry. While he kept them ducking, they still advanced. One shot left.

  Then the final rocket streaked past the SAM carrier. Webb felt his stomach sink while his blood boiled. Fucking seriously? Lord, give me a break!

  Cycling his weapon into full auto, he let loose on the Union infantry. His scattered drop troopers too
k potshots at the Union squad as the SAM began to clear the log. I’d call mortars, but we’re too close.

  God must have been listening, because with a deafening roar, the SAM carrier vanished in a ball of fire and debris. An Iglasio appeared out of nowhere, blasting the infantry with machine gun fire while a Cstalio trailed them. What the hell? Did gold platoon get lost?

  Then he realized the Iglasio lacked a turret, the machine-gun held by a soldier hanging out the top. The other markings indicated a recon variant. Scouts?

  After mopping up the Union forces, Webb approached the two tracks. “Hey, you got room in there?” He asked. In the darkness, he saw a grinning face covered in soot.

  “We don’t have a ton,” the scout replied. “We got a little lost killing a different SAM, some tinhats didn’t take too kindly.”

  Webb shook his head. “Unbelievable, we’re about to get shwacked, you came at the right time.” He waved over his men. “So you’ll give us a ride?”

  “Yeah,” the scout replied. “Just tell me which direction is Ironton.” As they climbed onto the tracked vehicles, they grabbed handholds and sat on flat surfaces. One of the troopers rode in the Cstalio to aide that crew with reloading. Webb and his gunner climbed into the shell where the turret would be with the scout, while the other drop troopers held on. One injured man applied a tourniquet to his arm and sat in the troop compartment.

  The tracked vehicles turned about, smashing through fallen trees and churning snow. As they headed south, Webb kept his eyes peeled. The enemy’s out there.

  “Prioritize the seriously wounded!” Wesser cried over the screaming wind. “Casualties that need surgery first!” As soon as she received word the Union’s Air defenses had been destroyed, she told the dropships to spin up.

  Several drop troopers groaned as Smith and several others moved them onto the waiting pair of dropships near them. While the Tharcian army possessed airborne ambulance versions of the Pegasus dropship that could stow many patients on litters vertically, they could only go two wide on the models they possessed and three deep.