by Mike Moscoe
What the hell am I facing? The political officer had his own official party opinion. Of course, Jolly had stayed behind to make sure Santiago pushed the rest of the troops forward.
But what was he facing? Really. “Major, artillery here, we got tube artillery dialed in on the laser designators that got our two carriers. Mind if we take them out?”
“Do it.” That took no thought.
The gun carriages behind him bucked. The tubes puffed fire silently. A moment later two chunks of the crater rim blew out. A ragged cheer came over the artillery net.
“Artillery, what's your ammo situation?”
“We got five units of fire on the transports, but only loaded out half of one. Sure could use those carriers you just called back to bring up more ammo.”
“They're yours. Now, I need some time to think. Don't bother me unless the devil himself shows up.”
“No problem.”
Major Longknife stood, legs apart, arms folded over his chest, eyes staring at the pass.
What have I got in front of me?
Damned if I know.
What do I know?
They had a damn good laser gunner who kept me from knowing more about them—who was no longer among the living. Gutsy—but knew damn little about his weapon. Only a green gunner would take on a sixty-four-rocket salvo with no backup.
Are all the troops facing us that green? Would be nice. The deployment along that rill line was something only a green second louie would come up with. Are they there, or was he only supposed to think they were? The rockets had homed in on the laser gun, and they'd homed right in on the rill. Could all that be a setup to sucker him in? The response to that salvo had been quick. Whoever coordinated it had delayed illuminating his targets until the last second. Smart move. Why two missiles? Did they have an ammunition problem, or had the salvo killed two troopers? Only real green troops would let battlefield deaths spark their response.
Everything pointed to green troops, but with surprises up their sleeves. Wonder if they are green enough to surrender. Should have made an offer. Longknife glanced at the wreckage of two carriers too late now. “Santiago, I want my van up here fast. I need sensors pronto.”
“It's moving now, Sir. Some artillery with it.”
“Tell my driver to put pedal to the metal. He'll love that order. I need analysis more than he needs an escort.”
“Yes sir.”
Major Longknife squinted at the pass. Who are you? Have I pegged you right yet? How do I get you out of my way?
* * * *
Mary studied the situation in front of her. She'd been dumb not to move those designators as soon as she'd used them. She'd reprogrammed the videos to order the lasers to scoot back into their tunnels as soon as their targets were destroyed.
What else am I forgetting ?
To surrender. But that was out of the question now. The two blasted rigs and the bodies around them had closed that door. She zoomed in on the solitary figure still standing, legs spread, arms folded across his chest. Mary couldn't make her own suit do that. Wonder if that means their suits are better or worse than ours? Wonder if I offed that one, would they all go home? She doubted it. “Lieutenant, they're still coming but hopping. Should we toss a few more rockets at them?”
“Spread out, we wouldn't get many. We don't have enough to trade one rocket for three or four men. No, Sergeant, we wait for them to bunch up again. Then we'll cut 'em down.”
Mary didn't like what she was hearing, but she couldn't fault his logic. She switched channels. “Lek, when are those reinforcements gonna get here?”
“They haven't left. Oh, they've pulled A company out of rummaging through luggage, but the transports are spread to hell and gone.”
“What happened to that crazy lady who was going to put rockets down on the transports?”
Lek snorted. “She's got her rockets and got her command unit to program them, but the fire control computers don't have any power cables.”
“Lek, don't tell me they need a special cable.”
“Okay, I won't tell you.”
“These apes could never run a mine.”
“Ever move a mine halfway across human space, offload it three times at busy stations, shuffle the shipping containers and then try to get it put back together in two days? Mary, they're doing the best they can.”
“Lek, we got guys hopping toward us who intend to kill us. Even your mild disposition has got to take offense at that.”
“Ain't no use getting the dander up over what you can't do nothing about. Now you stay cool, young lady.”
Only Lek would think of her as young or a lady. Mary again checked the situation before her. Nothing had changed, except the guys with guns were closer. No, there were more rigs on the plain, just their side of the escarpment. “Lieutenant, have you noticed the new stuff showing up back there?”
“Yes, Sergeant. A full battery of six rocket launchers, six tube artillery and what looks like a command van. I watched them come up. I think the troop carriers they sent back are headed this way, probably loaded with more rockets and shells.”
“How can you sound so damn calm?” Mary snapped. “They're gonna flatten us.”
“ 'Cause I got no rockets with the range.” He answered her like she might speak to a newbie in the mines. “All we can do is hit them where we can and take what they throw at us.”
“We can hit them.” Mary whispered the secret.
“With what?”
“We've got four SS-12's. They've got a range of fifteen klicks, don't they?”
“You bunch of pot-bellied, sticky-fingered jokers walked off with four SS-12's.” The lieutenant sounded almost giddy.
“Well, we had to have something up our sleeves, lieutenant.”
The kid was laughing. “I love you crazy bunch of military disasters. Where're the Twelves set up?”
“In the rill, with the rest of the rockets.”
“That makes it ten klicks to the escarpment, another one or two to the targets. I'd been thinking of wheeling a couple of Threes into the gap to see if they could do something. Now, we got four that can really do the job.”
“Shall I lay in coordinates and launch them?”
There was a long pause. Mary wondered if the young man had heard her. “Lieutenant, should I...” she started slowly.
“No, Mary. Let me think for a minute.” He was really letting his hair down, what little his buzz cut left him. He'd even called her Mary. “You've been a miner all your life, Mary. You ever find an ore vein and have to wait to flush it out? Is there any mineral that has to be aged in place?”
“No, sir.” The LT knew nothing about mining.
“My instructors said timing was everything. Now I think I understand. If we blast their artillery now, they can adjust their battle plan for what's left. No, Mary, we wait until they commit. Wait until there's a lot of junk in the air and they won't know what to hit with a laser bolt. No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Let's wait and make that poor bastard's plan go to hell in a handbasket.”
Mary grinned; the kid did know how to fight. She went back to her display. The advancing infantry were moving faster, made bold by the lack of attention. She focused on the guy who'd spent such a long time staring her way. He was moving toward a big, boxy rig with a garden of antennas on its top and side. The lieutenant said a command van had arrived. She could spot only one of those boxy bad-hair-day things. That made it the command van, and that fellow the guy giving the orders to kill them. You’re management. You die first.
Now, how do I fight this damn battle?
Major Longknife stepped into his command van. His four staff officers were busy bringing their boards up to date. Most of what the boards showed he'd watched with his own eyes. Here, it was displayed by platoons and with rate of advance precisely calculated. His troops would be at the rim in ten minutes.
Longknife rested a hand on his sensor coordinator. 'Tanaka, there's something out the
re I can't figure out.”
“Yeah, I watched that attack from the artillery net. They got this place wired, but they're either load limited or low on expendables. I would have targeted every troop carrier out there. Why just two buggies?”
“I've been asking myself that for the last hour. Haven't got an answer yet. You?”
“No, Sir.”
“What I can do is adapt, scatter the troops until they're not worth a rocket, and next time we go in, make sure their laser illuminators aren't worth a damn.” The major chinned his mike. “Artillery, what's your smoke situation?”
“Maybe not as good as I thought it was. We biased the unit of fire for the real thing. I've got WP, but maybe not as much as we could use.”
“Tell base camp to load extra smoke on the resupply run.”
“Santiago's already got the troop carriers headed back.”
“Tell him he's too damn fast. Turn the last carrier around and have it reloaded with white phosphorus.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Okay, folks, here's what we're gonna do.” And together, the major and his team started putting together the familiar pieces that had won the 2nd so many battles before.
* * * *
Mary was kicking herself. She'd concentrated so much on defending the platoon's position, she hadn't put that much thinking into defending herself. Most of the riflemen headed her way would hit the rim on the other side of the gap or damn close to it on this side. Still about forty would wash up on the other side of her and walk by her place on their way to the gap.
What are the chances they won't notice my hidey-hole?
Damn slim, with a centimeter gap on both sides of the door. Mary called up the map of the rim's innards. There were other chambers; quickly she sent the moles digging. She needed a bolt-hole. Things were getting complicated.
* * * *
Captain Santiago scowled at the returning troop carrier that now was an ammunition carrier. The driver had to be crazy to race a carrier, overloaded with explosives, but this one was. It made a hard left turn and slid to a rocking halt not two meters from the loading dock. The driver was out of it in a flash.
“Major wants smoke,” the excited driver shouted, forgetting his comm link carried a whisper just as well. “He's got enough high explosive. You got to reload me quick with Willy Peter.”
Santiago threw open the rear door to the carrier. Forty shells in their plastic cradles were crammed on the floor. Every shell was stamped with WP/V, white phosphorus modified for vacuum, or Willy Peter, if you preferred. Each round was laced with crystals to dazzle lasers and heat to blind infrared sensors. A perfect screen for a man to hide behind on a battlefield. “Damn it. You are loaded with Willy Peter.”
The driver looked over the captain's shoulder. “Nobody told me what I was carrying, sir. Artillery just said come back.”
Santiago gritted his teeth; artillery wouldn't know any better. There'd been no time to inventory the load out to each carrier. He'd assumed artillery wanted it fast. To hell with the paperwork. It had worked—except for this load.
“Soldier, now you know what you got. You are a bat out of hell, so drive like one and get this chaff up the line.”
The trooper whirled and bounced off the carrier as he overshot his 180-degree turn. He took two running steps that didn't sit well with the moon's lower gravity and snagged the door to the driver's station before he fell flat on his face. Pulling himself into the seat, he got the rig moving before the door closed.
Captain Santiago chinned his mike. “Artillery, I got a load of WP headed your way just slightly below light speed. I'll have a couple of more loads waiting for you as soon as you get me some rigs to put them in.”
“We'll unload them fast on this end. Thanks for the quick turnaround. I figured you for another five minutes.”
“Don't thank me, thank the driver. Assuming the kid doesn't nosedive into a crater. Santiago out.” No use telling him he could've had the WP ten minutes sooner if he hadn't sent the kid in circles. In the eons of time and space, ten minutes wouldn't matter. Santiago tasted the lie. He'd been under fire; he knew how long a minute could be.
* * * *
Mary checked the outside situation. In the last five minutes they'd gotten closer. Here and there, pairs of soldiers had reached the rim and waited. Inside, the moles had found a place that might save her life—if they had enough time to do their thing. They were chomping away happily on rocks, leaving Mary to wonder if she'd finally given away too much, taken too little. Cassie was always telling her she couldn't make everyone happy. Mary swallowed hard and checked outside.
Troops were bunching up as they reached the rim. That promoted them to targets, but not easy ones. Mary had a mole redrill a hole at an extreme downward slant and sent a designator into it. A one-second light-up was all she risked before sending it scuttling back deep into the rock. The Unity artillery still had time to get a fix; a shell smashed where it had been ten seconds ago.
The designator squealed as it shook. Still, it reported available when things settled down. Mary was none too happy with the test; the targeting beam had still been ten meters out from the foot of the rim. Well, rockets needed a place to explode and scatter flechettes. That would have to do. She got six moles moving to redeploy lasers. More and more hostiles were at the rim, staying fairly spread out, but still worth a rocket.
“Lieutenant, I think I'm going to need a few missiles in a minute or two.”
“We'll have to do this quick. Their artillery has a hair trigger.” As if she hadn't noticed. “Sergeant, you also have company.”
“Yes, sir,” Mary growled. “If you give me a half dozen rockets, I can send one my way without making a spectacle of myself.”
'The rockets are yours. Good shooting.”
This shoot would have to be timed to the split second. “Lek, I need six missiles programmed for a quick U turn as they come out of the canisters. Can you do it?”
“Piece of cake, miner. I can hold them to a one-klick popup. They'll go a few klicks out, then turn back. How do you think the Unies will take to getting rockets in their backside?”
“Maybe they'll bitch to whoever's running those guns and give them a good case of 'Did I do that?'“ Mary managed a chuckle. While Lek finished his programming, the moles dug her hiding place.
'They're yours.” Lek came back on. “Use two on the rifles at your doorstep.”
So the others knew her predicament. Moisture rimmed Mary's eyes. Hadn't been many in her life who cared, certainly not when the missile that saved her life might be the one that wasn't there to save his. Blinking the water away, Mary got back to business. “Three to each side of the crater, and only one on my doorstep. Don't want to hang a welcome mat out.”
“You got a fallback position, Mary?” Lek asked.
“Working on one now.”
'Take care.”
“If I was careful, I wouldn't be here,” Mary breathed as she switched off. She did one more check. Lasers were warm, but not in place. She edged them forward. Holding her breath, she punched six missiles out.
“Rockets incoming,” sensors shouted.
Major Longknife twisted around to face the sensor station. “Any laser designators?”
“None pointing. I got strange electromagnetic emissions, but they don't match anything in the Earthies' inventory.”
“Artillery.” Longknife kept his voice even. “I want WP out there. Air burst at a hundred meters.”
“On the way.”
“Any laser rifles in range?”
“Two LR's at maximum range.”
“Not much help. Artillery, as soon as the lasers light up, I want them smashed.”
“We got twelve rounds of Willy Peter out there,” artillery reported, “and we're reloading with high explosive. Few problems can't be solved with a round of HE.”
“Good.” Longknife settled back. It would be a battle between their measures and his countermeasures. He glanced at the se
nsors board; the rockets stayed low. A laser missed. Its target was turning back. “They're aimed at the rim. Of course.”
* * * *
Mary waited for the missiles to start their turn back to the rim before she lit off the designators. One by one the six red dots on her heads-up display turned to green. Target acquired.
Then all hell broke lose.
The infrared sensors lit up like a fire. The lasers chirped in protest as the missiles' dots turned black. Targets not acquired. Quickly, Mary changed to vid. Giant puffs of white stuff blossomed along the rim, blocking the lasers.
“Willy Peter, Mary.” The LT's voice filled her helmet. “They've blanketing you with white phosphorus. Thick to stop lasers, hot to stop infrared. It'll settle, but in low grav not very fast. The missiles should home on where they were targeted, I hope. Douse your lasers and get them out of there.”
Right. Mary had read about WP as a countermeasure for lasers. Damn, why hadn't she thought about it? Quickly she ordered her lasers to scoot back. On second thought, she ordered everything to scoot. Rocks around her shook. Her missiles were hitting something. Then the chamber really shuddered. Mary danced around like an upped hopper, wishing she had the drugs in her that gave the hoppers the energy as well as the oblivion.
* * * *
Major Longknife scowled. “Check fire, check fire. Flying rocks are doing their job for 'em.”
“Roger.” The artillery barrage ceased. The rain of rocks and boulders on his troops stopped. Wonder how many sensors we killed? How many of our own troops? Damn war.
The incoming rockets had been bad enough. A laser rifle had gotten only one. Some ballsy assault rifle had clipped another. It hadn't done much good; inertia kept the pieces going in loose formation. Most troops had taken off hopping as soon as it was clear where a rocket was heading. Still, flechettes had gotten too many, and the rockets' flight had been short. Unspent solid fuel, still flaming, had speckled others. Plasti-armor that could stop a flechette burned if heated enough. The computer took the injured off net, but not before the first horrible screams. War never got easy.
“Artillery, you got any empty carriers?”