He put the canteen back in its cover attached to his pistol belt and then shoved the ten liter water jug back into the stowage compartment right on top of the other gear. As an afterthought he yanked the pistol belt out from under the jug and laid it so the pistol was easily accessible. Without warning, the tank lurched forward and stopped. Boggs fired the laser cannon at the crest of the next low hill to the front. Galen snapped on his helmet.
“-niner seven five and closing. Over.”
“Boggs, what’s up?” The tank rolled back to drop below the berm of the firing position to break its line of sight with the enemy. The other tanks of the company were doing the same.
“We got contact.”
Galen checked his situation map. Markers for about thirty enemy infantry squads were approaching in a wedge formation, the lead elements about a klick away. He stood in his cupola. “Forward, driver!”
The tank lurched forward and stopped. Galen sent a burst from his rail gun towards the enemy. He couldn’t tell if he hit anything because the setting sun was in his eyes. He changed the ballistics and cyclic rate to default and put it on automatic acquisition and fire. The main gun fired, its coax rail gun sending a burst after the laser bolt. Jones pulled the tank back. The enemy units were moving closer, running. They had crested the low ridge a kilometer away and were using a final piece of high ground to shield themselves from the tank’s fire. They were now less than three hundred meters away.
The situation map showed Sevin’s and Childress’s tanks, the two tanks of the company command element, moving to the left flank. They pulled beyond the skirmish line and dropped to the river bank and faced right. The maneuver gave the defensive line an ‘L’ shape.
Galen closed his hatch. “Pull up and stay there.”
The tank lurched to the berm and stopped. The coax and main gun waited for targets. Four seconds went by. A hoard of Mosh infantry charged the skirmish line. They carried some sort of transparent rectangular shields. The shields resisted bullets, but the lasers cut holes in them with ease. But the lasers took three seconds to recycle. The coax and main gun swept the line. The rail gun in the cupola let go a continuous burst. The light infantry mercenaries stood in their fighting positions and fired their weapons from the hip.
The charging Mosh soldiers stopped and stuck their shields in the ground and lay on their stomachs to return fire. The two tanks of the command element pulled forward from the river bank and began firing into the enemy’s flank. Fully half the enemy was dead and the rest were hopelessly pinned under the fire of the skirmish line. Galen admired the profound stupidity of the enemy commander.
The tank on Galen’s right exploded. “Back us up, dri--”
Galen was shoved upward by his seat. He didn’t understand what was happening until after his parachute deployed. From his high floating vantage point he could make out the tank destroyers hugging the crest of the hill six kilometers away. The two tanks on the left flank and the two tanks on the right flank were destroyed. Three zero was rolling backward with no visible damage. Five tanks were still on the skirmish line but pulled back to avoid being destroyed. The enemy infantry was infiltrating, crawling forward in an attempt to curl around the right flank. Zero one and zero two backed into the river but still had enough height to harass the Mosh with their cupola rail guns. It was enough to protect the left flank. The supporting fire from the enemy tank destroyers suppressed the light infantry in their fighting positions.
The light infantry commander finally set off the anti-personnel mines. The Mosh soldiers were stunned for a moment. Tank zero one charged, zero two following to watch its back. The remaining five tanks of the skirmish line leaped forward, crashing through the berm to get to the Mosh and to get to the lower ground of the kill zone. To get below the line of sight of the Mosh tank destroyers.
Tank one four blew apart, hit by six anti-armor shells simultaneously. That was the end of Galen’s overhead view of the battle. His seat thumped into the ground. He quickly released his harness and ripped his rifle from the bracket on the left side of the seat. He did a function check. It was good to go.
Galen was knocked flat on his back by enemy bullets. His combat suit protected him but the force of the bullets knocked the wind out of his lungs. The helmet blocked his peripheral vision and made it hard to hear where the shots came from. He rolled onto his stomach. A round hit his left shoulder so he faced that way. A Mosh machine gun crew was harassing him from a klick away.
Galen tried to draw a bead on them but his helmet didn’t allow a proper stock-to-cheek weld and screwed up his sight picture. He couldn’t run wearing the bulky suit but the suit was the only thing keeping him alive. He aimed as best he could and sent ten rounds toward the machine gun crew. They returned fire with a sustained burst that put six bullets into the face piece of his helmet. The transparent armor cracked and a spray of laminated plastic pelted Galen’ face. He was blinded. He held his rifle to his chest and rolled sideways down the hill. Anything was better than just lying there. He felt himself being dragged by his feet and then he was sat upright with his back against something solid. Someone removed his helmet.
“Galen! Are you okay?” It was Tad.
“Hell no.” Galen painfully opened his left eye. He could make out two shapes. They were under some scrawny crab apple trees in a low area.
“Help me get his suit off.” Tad picked plastic out of Galen’s face. He wiped a couple of specks from his left eye and a single shard from his right eye. Tad stuck a field bandage on Galen’s right eye and squirted some solution into his left eye. Galen could now see from his left eye. Sergeant Boggs and Tad helped him to his feet. Both wore coveralls; they had removed their combat suits for greater mobility.
“We gotta move, Chief.”
A 45mm mortar shell landed nearby. It would take the Mosh at least a couple more shots to bracket their target with the hip-fired weapon. The mercenaries ran quickly. Branches from the scrubby trees tore at their clothing. Galen held his rifle at port-arms to shove the thorny things out of his way. He heard a tank maneuvering nearby but couldn’t see it. The sound seemed to come from somewhere up ahead.
A burst of bullets ripped through the branches above them. Galen was in the lead and dropped to the ground and lay on his stomach. Tad and Boggs followed his example. Another burst came their way. Galen looked for the source of the fire. A dark lump was on the crest of slightly higher ground four hundred meters to his right. He took aim holding the weapon left handed and fired. Muzzle flashes came from the lump. Boggs slumped, a groan coming from him as he lay flat. Galen put his weapon on automatic and fired at the lump until he was out of bullets. No more fire came from the dark lump.
Tad examined Boggs. “He’s hit in the side. Three holes.”
Galen exchanged rifles with Boggs.
Tad ripped the side of Boggs’ coveralls open to reveal a sucking wound on the right side of the chest. Pink bubbly fluid spurted from the hole and then sucked in when Boggs inhaled. Tad stuck the plastic wrapper of a field dressing over the hole and then put the wadded bandage over the plastic. He held it in place while Galen ran a cravat around Boggs’ chest and tied the knot on top of the wound.
“Tad, let’s get back to the skirmish line and see what’s left of this cluster jerk.”
Tad stabbed an auto-injector into Boggs’ left thigh.
The man grimaced, “What’s that crap?”
“Antibiotics.”
They carried Boggs between them, Galen on the left. They stayed on the edge of the tree line for a hundred meters and then angled across the open ground. It was quiet.
A Hornet sped up behind them and stopped.
“Get on!” came the voice through the external speakers. Galen and Tad handed Boggs up to the three grunts riding on the back deck of the tank. Galen gave Tad a leg up and noticed the vehicle’s bumper number: zero one. Galen climbed aboard and found a place to hang on. The tank sped along and dropped onto the river bank and turned left to run
east, up-river.
Galen helped Tad remove a stretcher from the tank’s rear stowage box and secured Boggs to it. The wounded Sergeant was unconscious. The three grunts--a Corporal and two troops--kept their weapons at the ready. The tank stopped.
“Get off here, all of you!” said Sevin.
They dismounted. Another tank was on the river bank, half-submerged in the water. Tank zero one pivot-steered sixteen hundred mils and sped back the way it had just come from. The other tank pulled up on the dry bank and Galen saw the bumper number. It was his own tank, three zero. It stopped facing up-river. Galen climbed into his cupola. He had to stand because the seat was gone, ejected. Also, the cupola and auxiliary gunner hatches were gone. He retrieved his pistol belt from the stowage compartment and put it around his waist. He picked up the hand mike.
“Who’s driving this bucket?”
“Chief? It’s me, Jones. I thought you were dead.”
“What happened right after I left? How come you weren’t punched out?”
“I had my eject set for eighty percent.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had my seat set not to blow unless the probability of tank destruction was greater than eighty percent. Yours must have been lower.”
“From now on my seat will get cranked to eighty five percent. Good job. What’s your orders?”
“I have to shuttle you guys up to where the Major made his crossing and get you inside the perimeter of the main body. You’re the last group.”
“We’re secure up here. Go.”
Tad stood in the seatless auxiliary gunner hatch. Galen checked the situation map. Sevin was in his tank alone, using the commander’s override to drive it. His tank was the only other one in the old operations area. The screen showed three markers for three under-strength enemy squads. Markers for four tank destroyers moved toward the former skirmish line. The marker for Sevin’s tank left the river’s edge and merged with the markers for the three enemy squads. The enemy units disappeared from the screen. The tank marker dropped into the river and swam downstream for a kilometer. Then it parked facing up the bank and waited.
A tributary met the river on the right side of Sevin’s tank. The tank destroyer markers were three kilometers away from Sevin, moving east on a course parallel to the river. When the marker for the first tank destroyer reached the tributary it disappeared from the screen. The second one also went off the situation map. Galen knew Sevin had shot them in the flank. The two remaining tank destroyers headed down the tributary to close with Sevin. Galen studied the topography and realized Sevin would have a clear shot soon, but against the front glacis of the tank destroyers. Charge seven could score a kill but a charge that high would shut down the tank’s systems for at least ten seconds and make it a sitting duck for the next tank destroyer.
Sevin’s decision became clear. The lead tank destroyer blinked off the screen. Then tank zero one blinked off the screen. The last tank destroyer turned east and ran at top speed along the river bank. Galen checked his auxiliary status screen. Sevin had been in the tank alone, operating it with the commander’s override controls. His status was black. Dead.
“Jones, can we go any faster?”
“This is it, Chief. We got a problem with the left final drive and the track tension is a little sloppy on that side. The computer won’t let us roll any faster.”
Galen studied the situation map. He checked the estimated speed of the enemy vehicle. It would catch up to them before they reached the perimeter of the main body. But three zero was the only operational tank left on the situation map. The task of stopping the tank destroyer was Galen’s.
“Stop, driver. Pivot a half-left and pull a half a klick up into the draw.”
Jones did as instructed.
“Okay, whip it around and back up into the trees. Get us in real good.”
The Hornet was parked facing the river, dense crab apple trees and higher ground on three sides. Galen had a nice view down to the river and was high enough to see the river bank where it met the water. He’d have a clear shot at the MS-100’s left flank.
“Tad, charge seven.”
The MS-100 came at full speed. It was tilted to the right, its right track splashing in the river’s water. Galen waited, waited until he was sure of a good hit. He fired the laser cannon and scored a hit at the base of the hull between the road wheels. A hot glob of metal splayed the inside of the vehicle. The laser bolt was strong enough to continue through the right side of the hull and explode river water into a geyser of steam. The MS-100 veered right and drove into the river with a dead driver at its controls. It continued to shove itself into the river until its piston engine drowned with river water. Its symbol disappeared from the situation map.
The Hornet’s main power was off for fifteen seconds and then came back on line. Galen spoke into his hand mike, “Jones, we can join the main body now. But take it easy, there’s no hurry.”
“Roger, Chief.”
Tad gripped Galen’s shoulder, “Nice shot.”
“I do my best. Did you see Sevin’s work?”
“Yeah. He did well. Too bad he didn’t make it.”
“He knew he wouldn’t make it. But he had to do it. He knew we’d be dog meat if he didn’t do it.”
“I think so.” Tad looked up.
“He knew he wouldn’t make it,” said Galen, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. “He knew.”
Chapter Nineteen
A high-pitched loud monotone tone alarm came from somewhere behind the situation map monitor. Galen pressed the alarm-acknowledge key and looked at the screen. A free-text message appeared at the bottom.
“GO BN FREAK.”
Galen twisted to his left and used the middle finger of his right hand to stab the battalion command frequency into the numerical keypad of his receiver-transmitter. “Romeo eight Juliet six niner, this is nine three tango three zero. Request permission to enter your net. Over.”
“Cut the crap, Chief Raper. War’s over.”
“Last calling station, authenticate papa six, over.”
There was a pause, dead air space. “I authenticate tango alpha x-ray over.”
“And with whom am I speaking?” Galen decided to dispense with proper radio procedure, mostly for the hell of it.
“I’m Major Ross. Come to my location and stand down. Get some rest. Extraction is tomorrow.”
“Say again last transmission.” For the benefit of Sergeant Boggs and the three light infantry troops on the back deck of the tank, Galen switched on the external loud speakers and cranked the volume.
“I say again, this is Major Ross. Come to my location and stand down for some rest. Extraction is tomorrow. And I say again, cut the crap, Chief Raper.”
He turned the external speakers off. “Roger out.”
They arrived at the camp of the main body of the task force. The sun was just starting to come up over the mountains at the head of the valley. There was just one machine gun set up for perimeter defense, more of a courtesy gate guard to greet groups of stragglers or lone vehicles as they entered the area. The guard on duty was a panzer grenadier and he halted Galen’s tank when it pulled up. “Halt. Apple.”
Galen thought for a moment. “Chalk!”
“Right, Chief. You can park by those other cans down by the river bank. Then go check in with the Major.”
“This tank is no can, troop.”
The troop sneered, “Anything with tracks is a can.”
Galen remembered how the troop’s infantry carrier had been destroyed earlier. He decided to ignore the insubordination. “Move it, driver. Get us parked.”
There were six tanks already by the river. Two were missing turrets but apparently still ran because tow-chains connected them to the other four. One tank seemed still intact except the outside was covered with burn marks and bubbles in the ablative coating. The recovered tanks were little more than hulls and fusion bottles. However, the most salvageable and most e
xpensive parts of the tanks were the fusion bottles. Crews were relatively cheap to replace.
Galen dismounted and walked over to the Major. The Major sat on the ground beside his pup-tent nibbling at a ration bar. Galen stopped in front of the field-grade officer and stood at attention. “Sir. Chief Raper reports.”
“Have a seat, Chief.” The Major picked up his field commander’s combat-portable noteputer and poked at the keypad.
Galen squatted and consulted notes he had scribbled on his hand with an ink stick. “Sir, I brought in Chief Miller, he’s wounded, and Sergeant Boggs and Trooper Jones from recon. From alpha light’s second platoon I brought in Corporal Nelson, Trooper McKinney and Trooper Murrell.”
The Major made some entries on his noteputer. “Good.”
“Sir, how did the battle go, exactly?”
“The Mosh commander got ambitious. He made an all-out attack against us, hoping to get by us and capture our boats. Didn’t work, though. You stopped them.”
“Glad to hear it. Too bad about Sevin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw his tank get wasted on the situation map. My auxiliary status screen showed him as black.”
“How far were you from him when he supposedly died?”
“About nine klicks.”
“Well let me explain something. Usually information is passed between vehicles on short-range commo. When units are more spread out the ship in orbit handles the transfer of information on a redundant system and the two systems update each other.”
“Sir?”
“When Sevin’s tank was destroyed it no longer communicated. The transmitter on his election seat was too weak to reach the ship or you. He was too far away.”
“So he’s okay!”
The War for Profit Series Omnibus Page 19