“I do not believe that we can depend on fighting prowess or even divine favor to bring victory, Tsukabara. God does not aid those who do not carry through an effort. Victory must be wrung by effort from the hands of hard fate. I feel strongly that it only comes through unselfish devotion.”
“Hai, honored Major.” A thought struck Tsukahara. “Honored Major? What will happen after the ships from Earth arrive?”
“That is not our concern,” Aichi said, filled with doubt
9/2 In Transit: 0000 hours
“I WAS GETTING WORRIED ABOUT YOU,” THE TRANSPORT PILOT SAID. “There are Blues all over on the far side.”
Lieutenant Hiltunen strapped himself in the copilot seat, and Engineer Sergeant Nikoskelainen squeezed forward to join him. “We've broken contact Let’s get out of here,” Hiltunen ordered.
Three small explosions lit up the trail they had climbed. “Now, we've broken contact,” Nikoskelainen corrected. “When is the dam set to blow?” the pilot asked, lifting his clumsy plane into the air and hurling it down the cliff toward the river so that he could build up some quick airspeed.
“Now,” Nikoskelainen said, staring out the window.
A huge geyser of white water erupted fifty meters into the air. The Blues on top of the dam who were looking around for the source of the engine noise were suddenly knocked down. For a moment, Hiltunen thought he saw the semi-circular arc of the dam actually ripple in a wavelike movement that dampened out after a second or two. “Nothing happened!” he said, utterly shocked.
Nikoskelainen silently pointed to a jet of water springing from the face of the darn. He began counting, “Ten, nine, eight, seven . . . .” When be got to “one,” the jet turned into a stream and the cracks spread. Suddenly, the face of the dam gave way and the entire left side crumbled.
“It helps if you know some math,” Nikoskelainen said, nodding sagely. ·
For the first time since he parachuted away from the shuttle, Mika Hiltunen began to relax. He never felt the metal slivers that ripped through his body several moments later.
9/3 In Transit: 0016 hours
IN THE TRANSPORT’S COPILOT SEAT, MAJOR JAN SNYMAN TOUCHED THE RADIO. “Ten point one. Break. Snyman here, Stefan, we're on our way in. What is your situation?”
“No contact here thus far.” Lieutenant Stefan van Deventer, the No. 10 platoon commander, was one of The Iceman's protégé and had formerly commanded No. 2 platoon. which was something very few officers were capable of. Van Deventer said crisply, “'The recon platoon's tilt-rotor just landed. The contact team is aboard, and we are initiating refueling procedures.”
“What?” Snyman said, almost to himself.
“Major Aichi says the transport sent to pick up the dam B force went down on the return flight about fifteen kay from the dam. Five dead.” Van Deventer’s voice sounded unnaturally calm. “Unless you say otherwise, I'm sending the recon platoon tilt-rotor to pick up survivors and fly them on to Major Aichi. Major Aichi has agreed to wait. I estimate that this will keep Major Aichi's shuttle on the ground an additional two hours, twenty minutes.”
While Snyman's shuttle had two tilt-rotors at its disposal-its own plus the one from the recon platoon-Major Aichi's only had the one that was now a burned-out wreck. The hair-fine timing in execution that Snyman had prayed for was coming unstrung.
It was on the tip of Snyman's tongue to release Aichi and have the transport return to Landing Zone Two, but he knew that this would add an extra 120 kilometers to the distance the plane had to cover. It would also place the contact-team scientists and Rikki Sanmartin in considerable risk. He closed his eyes. “Pilot willing, Stefan? All right. Hold the plane there until I get in.”
“No, sir,” van Deventer said sharply. “The pilot goes alone. I am not holding up the plane a minute longer than it takes to refuel it, and Colonel Hans and Isaac and your wife would have my head if I let you go on the flight to grandstand. Let Aichi handle it.”
“All right, Stefan.” Snyman said, cursing his own impotence. “Snyman out.”
When his transport landed, the recon transport was already gone. Van Deventer had begun pulling in his men, who had yet to see a single Blue. As Daniel Savichev's Cadillac came in. No. 10 platoon pushed Snyman's transport aboard the shuttle with a practiced ease. The shuttle took off seven minutes later. Snyman made his way back into the cargo bay to make sure people were strapped in and all equipment was bolted down. He noticed Dr. Seki sitting hunched up with an airsick bag in his
hand and an amused, animated look in his eyes.
“Major Snyman. why are your men whistling?” Seki asked, as the shuttle turned sharply to the right on its way to the desolate northern coast.
“It is somewhat difficult to explain,” Snyman said diplomatically, as the whistling--half in earnest—intensified.
Isaac Wanjau, looking thinner but happy, grinned “Russians whistle when other people would boo. Our No. 2 platoon used to call itself 'The Devil's Own,' and we put a lot of people from No. 2 platoon here in No. 10. They suspect that this may be the last operation for them, and they didn't even get to shoot anybody. You can imagine how disappointing this is.”
Landing Zone One: 0124 hours
“HOW MUCH LONGER?” AICHI ASKED KIVELA. A FEW BLUE VEHICLES WERE STASHED at both ends of his oblong perimeter along the highway, their surviving occupants gagged and guarded.
“Another hour, maybe.” Kivela looked up into the sky as another Blue military plane, sleek and needle shaped, flew overhead in the distance, hoping against hope that his flak team could knock it down if it began a firing pass. “I feel naked with the silly shuttle just sitting there.”
“There is insufficient fuel for it to take off and fly around,” Aichi observed as the Blue plane disappeared “How long have you been preparing the shuttle's camouflage net?”
Kivela chuckled. “I think Kalle Kekkonen sent back a chunk of road to study the day we landed. We always thought we might have to do this, you know. Oh, my!” He peered out into the darkness. “We're in for it, now,” he whispered. “Those aren't civilians. It looks like an entire motorized company.”
He touched his radio. “Nine slash one. Break. Kivela here. Wait for the lead vehicle to run a mine.” He looked at Aichi. “We'll be able to shoot at about half of them. I make the intervals between vehicles about ninety meters. See if you can get the mortar to drop some rounds on the rest of them.”
Aichi listened to the engines of the approaching vehicles. “We have a Hummingbird reconnaissance drone we can launch.”
“Do that,” Kivela said
Two hundred meters to his right, Mikhail Remmar watched the Blue column from his toolshed. His gunner, Valeska, was already measuring the distance, waiting for Kivela to assign targets.
”Superior Private Remmar,” Mikhail said in a quiet, commanding tone of voice, “please remove the gum from your mouth. It lacks respect for the people we are about to kill.”
She did so without ever taking her eyes from the view screen.
The Blue column stopped when the first vehicle touched off a mine. It was a serious error.
An 88mm recoilless gun got the second and third vehicles in view, the 12mm machine gun on the slick claimed two more, and Valeska Remmar put high-explosive rounds into the remaining eleven. Riflemen and machine gunners, assigned sectors, cut down survivors. From two kilometers away, the 105mm mortar dropped shells on the vehicles farther back.
In a matter of seconds, half of the Blue force disappeared. The firing ceased almost as suddenly as it began. Several minutes passed before the shocked Blues saw fit to return it.
Mikhail Remmar watched Kivela crawl up to the lead vehicle to examine the shattered body of a Blue whose name was Kikhinipallin. “Superior Private Remmar, that was very fine shooting,” he said with a father’s pride, and that of a vehicle commander. Then he looked over at Prigal. “Why are you glum? And why are you squirming like that?”
“I, uh--”
“Spit it out.”
“I, uh. forgot to hook up my tube.”
“Your whbat?”
“My urine tube!” Prigal shouted.
With the rest of armored car’s crew--father and daughter--momentarily disabled, Prigal cautiously backed the Cadillac to a hull-down position in a ditch.
Reinforcements arrived for the Blues twenty minutes later.
Landing Zone One: 0211 hours
LOOKING DOWN THE LINE OF BURNED-OUT VEHICLES, KIVELA ABSENTLY NOTED that roasted Blues smelled even worse than roasted humans.
War is hell for average people. The Variag's special refinement was to make it hell for their leaders, too.
A round slammed into the dike a few meters from Kivela's head. More holed the Blue truck parked behind him. Although Aichi had released the Blue drivers they had detained once the shooting started, the trucks were a magnet for incoming fire.
Kivela touched his radio. “Nine point one-one-four. Break. Kivela here. Moushegian, the Blues are back in toolshed B.”
“They don't learn, do they?” Moushegian replied. A few seconds later, Kivela saw a flash from the stone structure as Moushegian touched off another directional mine hidden in the thatch. A handful of Blue soldiers were trying to work their way around the flank that faced the mountains, but it would be at least another half hour before they made their presence felt, if at all. In accord with The Iceman's plan, Aichi had blown four canal locks to flood the fields on the river side, activated mines strewn along the dikes, and used the mortar to scatter more mines on the main road to the south. The Blues did not like the mines.
Aichi broke into Kivela's transmission. “Aichi here. Platoon Sergeant Kivela. what is your situation?”
“No change. We can hold our own for now.” Although Uborevich's section had suffered two dead and three wounded, the Blue company fronting them was largely spent.
“Please inform me immediately if this changes. Tsukahara's platoon has been pushed off the mound, and I will need to use second platoon to regain it.”
“Major,” Kivela said earnestly, “the Blues aren't very good, but they're awfully quick to react. The only thing keeping us alive is the fact that the ones with rifles don't seem to talk to the ones flying planes. We ought to think about getting out of here.”
With Blues at either end of the highway, the situation was getting very uncomfortable. The fact that the Blues hammering Tsukahara's platoon were within five hundred meters of Kokovtsov's shuttle was especially disturbing.
“One moment, Platoon Sergeant.” There was a pause as Aichi issued orders to his second platoon. “Please continue.”
“Sir, sooner or later, the Blues are going to figure out what they're doing. If I disengage right now, it will still take my people fifteen minutes to reach the shuttle.” Kivela tried to add urgency to his appeal. “Once the Blues see the shuttle, none of us are going home. The Variag can send another shuttle to pick up Mika's section tomorrow night--after dam A blows, the Blues will be too busy evacuating folks to notice.”
Although Kivela had friends aboard the tilt-rotor, he tried not to allow friendship to affect his professional judgment, and the odds against their holding out until the tilt-rotor arrived were getting worse.
“The transport is low on fuel,” Aichi responded, “and it will be difficult to conceal.” He added diffidently, “After dam A explodes, the Blues are likely to view a shuttle landing as a prelude to another attack and respond vigorously. We must either wait for the transport or resign ourselves to abandoning these men.”
Kivela conceded the point. and he was not pleased by the thought. “Major, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Please?”
“You're risking both your platoons for a dozen of our people. I know why I'm staying. Why are you?”
It wasn't the sort of question Kivela usually asked an officer, but the circumstances were unusual.
“Excuse me one moment,” Aichi said, and Kivela waited, listening to the mortar crew pump out 105mm rounds in support of second platoon's attack. Mortar rounds were beginning to run scarce.
“In listening to Major Kolomeitsev I have come to understand what the Imperial defense forces were like when he and Colonel Vereshchagin first became Imperial officers,” Aichi said “Although the present defense forces are no longer subject to the baleful influence once exercised by the security ministry, in some ways they are like an egg, unfotmed. Having not fought a war for a number of years-indeed, no one really contemplates fighting a war anymore--they no longer have a clear tradition. This highway is perhaps a good place to begin a new one. I do not like leaving men behind. Is this sufficient?”
“Yes, sir. And thank you, sir. Kivela out.” Kivela touched his radio. “Nine point one. Break. Kivela here. Bory, I just talked with Major Aichi. We're going to bold here until Mika's tiltrotor arrives. If I happen to buy it, you do what Major Aichi tells you.” He paused. “Aichi's a good man.”
Landing Zone One: 0243 hours
“REMMAR-SAN, THE NATIVES NEXT TO THE CANAL LOCK ARE BECOMING ANNOYING.” Lieutenant Tsukahara had consolidated what was left of Aichi's first and second platoons, positioned them along what was in effect a final line of defense.”Please give me three rounds.”
With the mortar gone--the Blues had finally managed to coordinate an air strike-- Mikhail Remmar’s Cadillac found itself acting as self-propelled artillery. Using the eyes of the pilotless
Hummingbird reconnaissance drone hovering over the battlefield, Valeska Remmar obediently turned the Cadillac turret 180 degrees and pumped three 90mm armor-piercing rounds through the earthen embankment by the lock.
At a nod from Mikhail, Prigal moved the armored car to its fourth fallback position before the Blues could return the favor. Prigal blinked owlishly. “Valeska, you know why Hummingbirds hum?”
“Because they don't know the words.” She grinned and reached over to slap him backhand across the arm. “My mother told me that one.”
“Hush.” Mikhail told them. “We are receiving a transmission.”
“Uborevich here.” With Kivela down, Uborevich had taken command of what was left of the force holding the far end of the runway. Fortunately, they'd managed to get the wounded and even some of the dead out after the last Blue assault.
“Mikhail, the transport’s about to come in. We're going to pull back and let the machine guns cover our withdrawal.” On either side of the road, GP machine guns mounted with a camera eye and controlled by joysticks from the shuttle would maintain the illusion that Uborevich's men were still in position. “You give us six minutes, then you follow.”
“If practicable,” Remmar stressed “I'm sending one of my crewmen with you. It will only take two of us here.”
“I thought you would. Okay, send her.”
Mikhail reached down beside his seat and pulled out one of the little bicycles. “Superior Private Remmar, you are detached.”
His voice softened. “Give your mother my love. Now, get out of here! Now! That is an order!”
She hesitated just long enough to kiss him. then obeyed.
“You could have told her you loved her,” Prigal complained.
“She knows that” Remmar reached up to close the batch. Uborevich said, “Okay, I see her. Good luck, you two. And Mikhail, if Gerrit changes his mind, can I marry her?”
“I'll see you in hell, first!” Remmar grinned. “I'll save you a cool spot. Remmar senior out” He looked at Prigal. “You have any complaints?”
Prigal shook his head “No.”
Remmar grinned. “Colonel Hans told me I could make you a superior private if I wanted to.”
Prigal shrugged. “Why spoil perfection?”
Sensing something was up when they heard the tilt-rotor’s engine droning, the Blues came forward. The two remote controlled machine guns lasted only a minute or two. Then fourteen 90mm high-explosive projectiles in a span
of eighty-six seconds discouraged them.
“You are slow,” Prigal observed. He looked at Remmar. “You know, there's a rumor these people are cannibals.”
“Prigal, what do you care?” Remmar said irritably. “You've been eating goose all your life.”
IN THE SHUTTLE'S COCKPIT, KOKOVTSOV BEGAN FEEDING POWER TO HIS ENGINES even before the clamshell doors closed. “What about Remmar and Prigal?” he asked Aichi.
“They will not be joining us,” Aichi said.
Van Rooyen, who had taken over as Kokovtsov's copilot, reached over and flicked several switches. “Let us know when you want us to fire, sir.” Aichi was startled by a small explosion on the nose of the shuttle as Kokovtsov began taxiing down the runway.
“Shuttles are not armed,” Aichi exclaimed.
“This one is.” Kokovtsov said apologetically. “We've got a 30mm gun and some rocket pods mounted behind the heat shield Ras just detached. We'll have to replace it before we come down through an atmosphere again.”
Van Rooyen looked at Kokovtsov strangely. “You're awfully talkative tonight, Coconut.”
Kokovtsov shrugged. “We're still on the ground.”
The shuttle picked up speed. “All kinds of shooting up ahead.” Van Rooyen appeared nervous.
Aichi tried to master his own emotions. “Rocket pods are unguided. We would be firing on Remmar as well.”
“I know.” Kokovtsov added uncharacteristically, “That dumb grunt is my friend.”
Aichi caught his breath and nodded. “Corporal van Rooyen, please fire at Flight Sergeant Kokovtsov's direction.”
Kokovtsov reached over and adjusted the angle on van Rooyen's weapons package. Then he lifted the shuttle's nose and shouted, “Now!”
As Kokovtsov fought to keep the shuttle on course, van Rooyen's training took over. In the space of eleven seconds, he fired 192 four-kilogram rockets and one thousand rounds of 30mm.
Cain's Land Page 36