“You think we can head back to the embassy?” Cyn asked.
“I think we’ve earned our pay today,” Sergeant Daly allowed.
Then Cyn spotted the tanks.
“Go around the block again, Sarge,” she ordered her superior. “Not a left, a right.”
“Did you see something?”
“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
The sergeant went around the block.
As they drove up the cross street, they could both see it plain as day. Two blocks up, at least two tanks were parked. The crews were out and doing something.
Sarge pulled the car over and, without a word, they dismounted. Cyn had her rifle, and she counted out three rockets left. Others had joked about taking more than the skipper authorized. Cyn had followed his orders.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Sarge was already peering around the corner. When he glanced back, he had a dark look on his face.
“They’re transferring ammo from one tank to the other three.”
Cyn nodded. Most of the tanks had only threatened to run you down, not that having a sixty-ton tank roll over your sedan wouldn’t flatten you. Some platoon leader had gotten smart and was distributing the ammo wealth.
The sergeant reported their findings on net. Two more rigs were dispatched to support them, but they’d be a while arriving.
Sarge drew his automatic and signaled Cyn to cover him.
He trotted forward, weapon low, and disappeared into a doorway.
Cyn studied the tankers. They were all busy hauling up rounds from one tank and passing them across, bucket-brigade style before handing them up to another.
Cyn took the scene in and began forming a plan.
When Sarge signaled for her to advance past him, she slung her rifle low, unthreatened her silhouette, and, wishing she had on full battle armor, strode like a good civilian up the narrow alleyway to a loading zone.
She didn’t see anything to add to her situation assessment. She signaled Sarge to move forward and across the street. He walked slowly until he ducked into the doorway across from her.
It wasn’t going to get any better than this.
Cyn pulled back the arming handle on her M-6, checked that the safety was off, and leveled her weapon at the busy tankers. Across the way, the sarge stared at them over the sights of his automatic.
He nodded. Once. Twice. As he brought it down the third time, Cyn gently squeezed off a round aimed at the guy about to hand off the shell he’d just lifted from inside the tank.
She hit him square in the chest. He stood there for a second, shell tumbling from his hand, staring at the fountain of blood gushing from his chest—then crumpled.
Cyn was already aiming for the next guy. He got a bullet in the back instead of the 122 mm shell he’d been reaching for.
Cyn skipped one, but went for the guy next to him. He was turning to hand off a shell. She put a bullet in his back, which spun him around as the live round fell from his hands.
Sarge was firing more and hitting less. It was a bit long for a hand gun. Still, no one was thinking of moving ammunition anymore. Everyone was hitting the dirt or scrambling to put a tank between them and the source of the incoming.
Cyn figured they had a minute, maybe less, before one of the 122 mm shells was aimed at her head.
She fit her first rocket and aimed it at the round that had come to a rolling halt on the tank.
She fired it just right, but the rocket only nipped the shell and sent it spinning off the tank even as the antitank rocket only scorched the monster.
Cyn loaded the next round and aimed it at the shell on the deck. She was about to pull the trigger when she realized she didn’t have a red light.
She gently resettled the rocket in place, but it refused to click.
Swearing to herself, Cyn pulled her last round from her bag. Carefully, she sighted it for the deck a few centimeters this side of the shell on the deck. Muttering if not a prayer, then a petition not to screw up, she pulled the trigger.
The rocket flew hot and straight, hitting the deck just a bit short of the target shell and then skittering forward to impact right on the shell’s fuse.
Rocket, shell, and everything close by blew with all the force God authorized.
Screams came from scorched lungs. The two nearest tanks caught fire.
Then another shell contributed to the excitement.
A man ran screaming, his clothes on fire. Sarge, across the way, put a bullet in him. He fell, still screaming. Sarge’s second round blew out his brains and gave him peace.
Cyn looked at her bad round and decided it wasn’t doing any good where it was. With a shout, she threw it overhand at the mess. It landed on its nose and added another explosion to the flames.
Another tank, however, was grinding forward, its turret coming out of train and swinging around at Cyn.
She made a quick dash across the street to join Sarge. “We got a tank rolling.”
“There’s always one that doesn’t get the word. You think it has a round up the spout?”
“It’s acting like it does.”
Sarge looked up the alley to the next street. There were also several back doors into the houses and stores.
Sarge risked a glance around the corner. “Yep, that tank’s pushing one we fried out of the way. Maybe it’s time for us to boogie.”
But before they could turn to run, there was an explosion, followed quickly by another. Sarge peeked around the corner again and laughed.
“The Marines have landed, and the tanks are roasting.”
Cyn allowed herself another peek. The tank that had been shoving one out of the way was now going nowhere. It burned with the rest.
There was a roar as a fourth tank fired up its engines, but that was quickly followed by several rockets going off in quick succession.
“I wonder if they’ll try that stunt again?” Sarge asked no one in particular. “Me, I always figured tank guys for the type never to get out from behind all that metal when bullets were flying. What you want to bet me that any more ammo transfers take place a long ways from here?”
“No way I’ll take that bet,” Cyn said, and when the call came on net to pack it in and head out, she and Sarge did just that.
FIFTY-ONE
RUTH FOLLOWED THE chatter on net. And yes, the Marines were chattering in their elation. They could not only dodge tanks and take them down when they were chased, but they’d gone hunting tanks and burned them where they stood.
The Marines were happy.
And Ruth was starting to feel almost as happy. Despite the grousing from the backseat, they were out of town and headed toward Clear Lake. She would have loved to have her husband give her a report on where the cops and tanks were, but her own eyes were telling her that they were not around her.
Now that they were out of town, there were only two roads they could drive. Ruth began to catch sight of more and more of her rentals. There were a few big SUVs with Marines in them, but mostly it was just the small cars with one scientist each.
Maybe the cars with only one bozo had it better. The two in Ruth’s backseat were now arguing whose fault it was that they were in this mess.
But when Debbie asked if she could just shoot them, Gunny refused permission.
Sad to say, that only silenced the pair for a few moments. Soon, they were back to bickering.
Ruth heard the sonic booms before she saw the contrails from the two shuttles. Now she had to decide what to do next. There was no question that the fifteen scientists had to go up to the Patton.
The question was, who else should take the easy ride out?
Once the scientists were out of reach, even Milassi would have to admit there was little he could do about it. Ruth herself, however, was only too well-known. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Trouble alone dirtside, she should think about staying well out of reach of the local cops for a while until things worked their way out down
here.
So, as Ruth watched the shuttles settle into Clear Lake with a spray of white and steam, she knew she’d have to take the ride up. As the cars collected at the landing, and Marines spread out to secure a perimeter, Ruth went looking for Mary.
“How’s your day gone?” she asked.
“So-so. Seen a few tanks. Blew a few up. You know, the usual day at the office,” the Marine officer said through an exhausted grin.
Ruth found herself wondering if she looked that bad and decided she probably did.
“I’m going to ride the shuttle up and stay a few days on the Patton until things settle down. Milassi knows me and would likely do his best to take this out of my hide.”
Now the Marine scowled. “Milassi knows me all too up close and personal.”
Ruth nodded. “I was kind of thinking that.”
Mary looked around at the Marines going about their duties with little supervision from their sergeants and officers. “I hate to look like I’m bugging out on my troops.”
“I could tell Trouble, that in my professional capacity as an officer of the Alcohol, Drug, and Explosives Enforcement Agency I think you should take some time as far from Milassi’s clutches as possible.”
When Mary’s scowl got even deeper, Ruth quickly added, “In my advisory capacity, I assure you. Or I could go to Izzy herself and have her make it an order.”
“I’m not in her chain of command,” Mary quickly pointed out.
“You want me to go to your colonel? What’s his name?”
“Ray Longknife. You do fight dirty,” Mary said through a scowl.
“I like to keep my friends alive,” Ruth said.
Mary tapped her commlink. “Trouble, is Colonel Ray Longknife there?”
“At my elbow,” Trouble answered.
“And paying very close attention, even if there isn’t a lot to watch,” came in the colonel’s voice.
“Mrs. Tordon, the Alcohol, Drug, Explosives and general pain in the neck Agent, has pointed out that I made the acquaintance of president-for-life-or-much-shorter face-to-face. She thinks I ought to spend some quality time back on the Second Chance while things sort themselves out down here.”
“I was about to make the same suggestion or order it if necessary,” the colonel said.
“I figured as much. I hate it when people are right and I don’t want to hear it,” Mary said.
“Well, you get yourself on one of the Patton’s shuttles all by your lonesome, and you won’t have to listen to us being right.”
“Mary over, out, and off this planet,” she grumbled.
That settled, Ruth went looking for her two former passengers. She found them still arguing.
“Captain Izzy Umboto is flying one of those shuttles,” Ruth pointed out. “She doesn’t stand for any shit. So, whichever one of you has got the smelly pants, you get your sorry ass down into that cold lake water and clean yourself up. Otherwise, you can expect her to have you strip naked before you board her clean shuttle.”
Shamefaced, both of them stepped gingerly into the lake and began cleaning themselves up.
Ruth began to think this might end with no more nail-biting, but as the shuttles approached the landing, word came down from the lookouts on the ridge above the lake.
“We got a platoon of tanks coming up the road.”
Mary quickly asked on net, “Trouble, how do you want to do this?”
“Do they have infantry with them?” came back just as quick.
“That’s a negative, Skipper. They haven’t learned a thing.”
“You got to love them when they’re dumb,” Trouble said with a bit of a chuckle. “My photos show brush along the road approach to the ridge above the lake.”
“That’s what I saw on the drive in,” Mary agreed.
“May I suggest that you deploy a dozen Marines with antitank rockets to meet those tanks halfway? Spread the troops out in the brush before the tanks get there. If they want a fight, they can have it with us on their flanks. We’ll eat their lunch.”
Mary quickly ordered Lieutenant Dumont and Gunny to select a dozen troops, assure that they had plenty of rockets, and get them down the road pronto. That done, she turned to the shuttles and began getting everything organized to get fifteen scientists on board.
FIFTY-TWO
CYN FIGURED SHE had a right to head back to the embassy for a cold one, but somehow, she and Sarge ended up at the lake with the rest. She expected it would be a cakewalk the rest of the day. With luck, she might actually get to cool off with a swim in the lake.
The day had sure been hot enough.
The shuttle was already down, and she was wondering if the guys would keep their underwear on . . . and if they didn’t, would she? . . . when someone reported more tanks incoming.
She’d shot herself dry. She had the right to wave someone else off and wish them good hunting.
She’d done her duty; it was time for someone else to take a turn in the barrel.
But when Gunny waved her over, she went. And when he stripped rockets off others and loaded them in her duffel, she didn’t say a word.
He assigned Debbie to work with her. Perchance to shoot more dragons.
They piled into two SUVs, all fourteen who’d been chosen, and barreled down the road until tanks came into view over a low hill. The lead rig with that Lieutenant Dumont from Mary’s team just kept on driving.
Gunny let out a low whistle but kept his rig right on the lieutenant’s tail.
They couldn’t have been more than five klicks from the tanks when the lead rig slammed on its brakes and came to a screeching halt sideways across the road.
Gunny ordered their driver to block the rest of the road. As soon as they halted, he shouted, “Out! Out! Deploy! Take cover, and keep those safeties on until they fire or we order it.”
Cyn and Debbie were out of the rig and running. Several of the troops went to ground fast, but Cyn kept running, and Debbie followed.
Once they were deep enough in the brush that it provided cover, Cyn started edging forward. She wanted to be within four hundred yards of the tanks with a solid shot at their thinner side armor.
“How many tanks did you get today?” Debbie whispered.
“Two or three,” Cyn said, trying to sound humble, but she was grinning and not doing humble at all well.
“Damn. I hope I get a shot at one of those bastards.”
“You can have mine.”
“You’ll let me take the first shot?”
Cyn considered that and knew very well what the answer was. “Not likely, but there are five of them and only two of us. What’s that, a target-rich environment?”
“I think that’s what The Book calls it.”
They were a good two hundred meters from the road, and about six hundred forward of where the officers’ rigs sat. Gunny had gone to ground, but the lieutenant from Mary’s detachment stood in front of his rig, rifle slung but with an antitank rocket already loaded.
“What’s that guy doing?” Debbie wondered out loud.
“Putting his marker down. This far you may go, and no farther.”
“He want to be the first to die?”
“Either that, or he’s letting them know he don’t scare easy.” Cyn had found where she wanted to go to ground and did, behind several thick bits of brush that offered her good cover, small protection, but a good fire lane to the road.
The tanks lumbered up, shaking the air with their power. But they quit rumbling a good klick back from where the lieutenant stood.
The lead turret opened, and an officer stuck his head cautiously above the hatch. He looked around and seemed pained that he could see so little.
“You there,” he shouted. “You’re blocking the road.”
“It sure looks like I am,” the lieutenant answered.
“Make way for the 2nd Brigade.”
“You look more like a platoon to me.”
“I am the commander of the 2nd Armored Briga
de. Get out of my way.”
“And I am a lieutenant in the Society of Humanity Marine Corps and we kicked your butts in the war. Quit bothering me.”
“You did not kick our butts. We never deployed.”
That was a mistake.
“I know you didn’t. I did deploy.”
“You are not making sense. Are you drunk?”
“Nope. I’ve drunk no beer today. Only tank driver’s blood.”
That put the tank driver in his place. He looked around a bit. His glance swept past where Cyn was lurking but it didn’t stop. As she expected, he saw nothing.
What kind of dumb-ass tank jockey tools around town with no infantry?
“I’ll tell you one last time,” he finally shouted. “Get out of my way, or I will push your puny vehicles out of my way.”
“That would not be wise,” was all the lieutenant said.
Cyn was content for them to keep up this pissing contest for as long as they wanted. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could hear again the screams of dying men. Smell the stink of burning flesh.
She kept her eyes open.
Behind her, a roar began, then grew almost earsplitting. She glanced up. Two darts climbing fast into the cloudless blue sky. What the tankers had come for was on those space-bound ships.
Did that proud brigade commander know his goose had flown?
Or would it have to be cooked as well?
Apparently he knew when the game was up. He followed the shuttles with his eyes for a long moment, then dropped back into his tank and swung the hatch closed with a clank.
A moment later, the tanks did a neutral steer about-face in place. It made a mess of the road, but tankers didn’t ever seem to worry much about that.
In a moment, the tanks were headed back the way they had come. The lieutenant waited until they were all over the hill before he signaled his troops in. After receiving orders from the skipper, they mounted up and cautiously followed the tanks back into town.
The beer that night in the embassy cafeteria was on Colonel Ray Longknife. Cyn couldn’t remember tasting any that good in her life.
To Do or Die (A Jump Universe Novel) Page 26