by Michael Ryan
“Born and raised.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said. “Don’t see many full-bloods as pilots.”
“I was playing full-immersion video games at three years old.”
“Older brothers?”
“Sisters,” he said. “Twin sisters, actually. They earned babysitting money by sticking me into one of those Sasstoronic Industries full-immersion pods.”
“That must have been traumatic at three years old.”
“They told me when I was older that I used to cry for my mother. I don’t remember…but I became one of the highest rated online players by the time I was twelve. The rest is history.”
“Nice. Well, I’ve got to run, Burns. Great meeting you, and I wish it had been under better circumstances,” I said. “I’ve sent a burst up with your location. Sorry about your copilot. Hope they find you soon.”
“Me too.”
I left the pilot behind. I wondered how long he’d live, because without decent armor and being all alone in the middle of a battlefield, it probably wouldn’t be long. But I’d done all I could for him; my responsibility was to my platoon.
I searched my maps for Mallsin’s and Abrel’s icons. They were still alive, along with everyone in the squads except for the unfortunate sucker who’d bought it earlier. I surveyed the sky to be sure I wasn’t about to expose myself to enemy helis and then dashed out of the trees towards the Devil Squad.
Elefant Squad was under the cautious eye of Sergeant Peterson, who was a bit too anal for my taste. But I trusted him. He had the lowest casualty rates in the company, so the other noncoms and the lower ranked troops liked working for him. “Peterson,” I said over our squad comm, “how’s things?”
“Sir,” he said.
That was the extent of his communication. It meant everything was as good as he could expect it to be, and he needed no further direction or assistance. I continued running toward the ridge and put Elefant out of my mind for the time being.
“Abrel?” I called.
“Go.”
“I’m at the base of the mountain.”
“I’d hardly call it a mountain, but I see you.”
“What’s the sitrep with the Sixteenth?”
“They’ve hunkered down. Nothing especially bad or good has happened in the last hour. I’ve been hunting for something significant to shoot or something to do to help, but we’re too shorthanded to march into the fray.”
“Roger that,” I said. “Give me three minutes and I’ll join you.”
I dove into a trench to avoid a trio of HE missiles. After the explosions burned out, I stuck my head above the dirt. I saw a pair of low-flying helis coming up the valley. The Drekis didn’t usually send two flying units by themselves. They tended to like bigger round numbers, like eight, ten, or twelve. It was a pattern that reminded me of fighting the Teds, a culture that used a base twelve numbering system.
“Abrel,” I said.
“Go.”
“I’m going to sit tight here…oh shit,” I said.
<
I fired a volley of antimissile defenses and crawled along the trench. The guidance systems couldn’t make such a tight downward turn, and the missiles slammed into the dirt ten meters from my head. “I’ve got to stop using the radio,” I said, and then ran another twenty yards just to be safe.
“Acknowledged,” Abrel sent back.
I was out of range and line of sight, so I hadn’t been able to reach him with the IR-comm. Switching to radio made me a target, so I went back to observing the pair of helis without further comment.
Retreating formations tended to be strange numbers because it was only survivors. But when an odd number of units is advancing, it’s sometimes a sign that something unusual is going on. In this case, it became immediately apparent that the aircraft were transporting two groups of Dreki heavy armor.
Golvin.
They’d tear the pinned-down troops to shreds if we couldn’t get support there.
Twenty-four heavily armored lizards, a dozen from each heli, joined their compatriots on the ground.
I risked a sat-comm relay. “This is Lieutenant Ford requesting an available rail-cannon crew. Priority Alpha-Ten-Sixty.”
A moment later a corporal told me to “wait one” for Wish-Rio leader with the Third Platoon, Yankee Company, of the Seventh Guns Battalion.
Waiting for a battery to come online so you can call for fire is like sitting famished at your favorite restaurant waiting for a delayed waiter. I spent the time ensuring nothing was falling from the sky. The transport helis took off after dropping the armored troops and returned to the rear, and the reinforcements marched forward.
The lizards used heavy field-built fortifications for command centers. The design was ingenious and consisted of a pod sunk into the ground and covered with camouflage. They would then place two or three tanks over the top of the underground bunker’s entrance. To provide overwatch, they’d use a battery of coil-guns programmed to blast anything that even remotely looked like it might be heading in the direction of the command post.
Earlier in the war, JFUA Command had attempted to drop large numbers of rounds on these positions. It ended up being a waste of ammunition unless the defensive positions were all destroyed first. And if we managed to take out the defenders, the bunkers would be abandoned by the time we targeted them.
I watched as a single Dreki dropped out of sight into the underground hideout.
It was good evidence that the lizard had some importance, so I got out my sniper rifle in the hopes he’d pop his head back up after he finished whatever duties he’d been assigned.
“Lieutenant Ford, this is Wish-Rio actual.” A voice spoke through my earpiece.
“Go.”
“I’ve got fifty rounds assigned to you. I need solutions in under three minutes; we’re about to finish up something for the Hundred and Tenth.”
“Roger. They’ll be in your hands in under thirty secs,” I said. Fifty rounds was an excellent allotment. I suspected General Balestain’s influence once again. I wanted to spend the rounds as efficiently as I could, but given the circumstances, I’d have to make a few guesses.
I’d create a diversion if I sent them to the enemy’s command bunker, but I’d probably just end up wasting a lot of HE for nothing. I considered targeting the enemy’s infantry, but ground troops are so mobile that it was only a good plan to go after them if you were trying to funnel them somewhere.
The field of battle I was dealing with was simply too large for that type of plan to work.
Golvin…think faster!
I risked a sat-comm relay to Abrel, Mallsin, and Peterson with the Elefant Squad. “If I can get your teams to put a lot of heat on that bunker, I think we might be able to draw out the defensive guns enough for me to get a location. I’ve got an available RC and I want to put a hurt on them. If I can get the Dreki command to evacuate their bunker, we’ll gain an advantage we can use for leverage. I could snipe one of their officers. Maybe.”
“Roger, Avery,” Mallsin said. “On your mark.”
“It’s all theory, but we won’t know if we don’t try,” Abrel said. “On your mark.”
“If after the missiles you can put some sniper rounds in there along with me, all the better. Randomize your HE trajectories and speeds as much as possible,” I commanded. “On ten, nine, eight…”
The three squads launched sixty missiles at the lizard command bunker, which would be enough to drive their defensive guns crazy. Only a few missiles made it past the guns, and those detonated harmlessly on the Dreki tanks. But the volley had allowed me to triangulate the location of the defensive battery, and I sent the coordinates to the Wish-Rio crew chief.
“Fire for effect,” I ordered. There was no point in trying to bracket the bastards; they’d become mobile if we gave them that much warning.
Fifty HE rounds flew high above me. Their trajectories took them above the small puffy clouds in an otherwi
se clear sky.
I waited with my sniper rifle and hoped for a decent target.
Mallsin looked towards Sergeant Veetea. “You want to help me spot?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Avery is sending a barrage of heat…if we get lucky…”
“Understood,” the sergeant said.
Veetea and Mallsin watched the group of heavily armored infantry. They had split into smaller patrol-sized units and appeared to be ready to head out. If Avery’s guess was right, they were waiting for their command to decide how to best deploy them.
Past battles had taught that if the right leader was taken out, the lizards tended to become disorganized until they reorganized. Considerable damage could be done if JFUA forces could take advantage of them during this period of confusion.
The day was bright, but when the fifty rail-cannon HE rounds exploded, they created such bright flashes they temporarily whited out Mallsin’s DS. The majority exploded in the air before they could do any harm to the enemy. One of the significant disadvantages of firing on a defensive battery was that their whole purpose was to take out incoming, which was precisely what happened with forty-eight of the rounds. But the two that slipped through were enough to do the damage required to eliminate the enemy’s defensive battery.
A huge secondary explosion lit the sky over a distant ridge of green.
“We have movement,” Avery said over the platoon’s comm.
Mallsin didn’t acknowledge the communication for fear she’d be spotted but instead sighted her reticule between two Dreki tanks stationed above the command bunker. She changed the programming on her sniper to insta-fire protocol, but unlike Avery she used her foot as a trigger. Adjusting one of Callie’s hacks had been simple enough.
She rocked her right foot back on her ankle, which lifted the front of her armored boot slightly off the ground.
Watching through her magnified sight, she waited for a flash of armor to appear.
The lizard that first showed itself had activated a camo system similar to the TCI-Armor system, which fortunately didn’t work well with movement. Mallsin’s system picked up a silhouette, and she placed the reticule center mass over it. Shoving her toes downward as though stomping on an ant, the sniper rifle fired.
The APA struck the enemy in the abdomen.
Mallsin could see a faint trace of another camo system behind the victim. The second lizard used his dead comrade as a shield and moved toward a hatch in the side of one of the tanks.
She fired again, but the ballistic dart missed.
An opportunity for a third shot didn’t happen.
Abrel watched from his vantage point.
Being on the ridge gave him a good view, but no actionable sniper shot.
“Sergeant Blaasever, you see anything?” he asked the Devil Squad leader.
“Negative,” he answered.
“Damn, I was hoping to keep up with Mallsin’s and Avery’s kill counts.”
“They’re good shots.”
“So am I, dammit,” Abrel said. “But we’re up on this hill and the angles are shit.”
“That tank is moving,” the sergeant said.
“Golvin, that means they evacuated the pit.”
“Maybe they’ll pull back and give the Sixteenth a breather.”
“That’d be something, at least,” Abrel admitted.
“Damn, look at that,” the sergeant said, pointing across the valley.
A double grouping of Dreki heli-jet squadrons was sweeping over a ridge about four clicks away.
“There must have been some VIPs in that command bunker.”
“They’re in the tanks now,” Abrel said. The four tracked vehicles were racing in retreat, going in the opposite direction of the helis.
“Avery,” Abrel said over his IR.
There was no response, so he risked a radio message.
“Avery, no need to respond back, but there are two groups of Dreki flyers coming in. If we don’t get support…well, you know what’s going to happen to those ground troops.”
A skilled heli pilot can cause a lot of damage to TCI-Armored troops with armor-piercing rounds and an experienced nose gunner. With unarmored boots, the helis can cause a massacre.
Abrel and Blaasever watched helplessly as the aircraft began strafing runs.
I made a successful head shot as the command crew evacuated.
Whether it was a lowly staffer or a lieutenant colonel, I couldn’t tell. But it felt like progress to finally have an attempt work. The tanks sped off, but I ignored them.
Dreki tank armor was exceptionally thick and durable. Firing our missiles at them would be as fruitful as a mosquito dive-bombing a turtle.
Twenty-four Dreki helis approached.
My thought that that couldn’t be good was the understatement of the week.
I put in a sat-comm call to Command.
“This is Lieutenant Ford,” I stated. “Get me someone ranked major or above.” I waited for a response and then added, “Now.”
“You’ll have to wait your–”
“Look, Corporal” – I glanced at the pop-up in the lower part of my DS – “Volunsizzer, a lot of boots are going to die if I don’t get air support.”
“There are more emergencies than yours at the moment, Lieutenant Ford. You’ll have to wait your turn. I’ll call you back.”
<
<
The communication yielded nothing but an enemy response. No good deed…
I fired two flares and two antimissile heat rounds and realized I was nearly out of defensive weapons. Several enemy missiles were fooled, one almost took my head off, and another slammed into the dirt a few meters away. I ran to the end of the trench and jumped out. Abrel and the Devil Squad were still the closest to me, so I headed toward the ridge.
When I reached the slope, I began to climb.
A light pattering of small-caliber rounds pinged off the back of my helmet. It was more of a nuisance than anything, but I turned to see a group of light infantry Drekis chasing me. I lifted my arms and engaged my mini-coils, and they fell like bowling pins after a strike.
I wondered what they were thinking attacking me, but the answer disrupted the thought. Two heavily armored lizards with big guns had me in a cross fire. The lightly armored troops had been decoys. I hadn’t seen the reptiles so callously waste their forces before, so either they’d changed strategies or I’d become a high-priority target. The Dreki to my right fired a continuous stream of high-impact bolts that triggered my suit to auto-lock.
My mind went to oh-shit-I’m-going-to-die mode.
It’s not pleasant.
The second armored soldier was the first’s backup.
He was too close to get a missile lock on me if their targeting was anything like ours.
Of course, if they had programmers like Callie, he might have already hacked the programming and told the damn missile to fire anyway.
If I’d been religious, I’d have begun saying my last prayer.
Abrel saw Avery at the base of the ridge killing infantry.
He noticed what his friend had obviously failed to see – two heavy infantry were flanking him as he killed the soft targets.
Abrel ordered the Devil Squad to move downhill.
“Blaasever, take half the squad to the right. I’ll go left,” he commanded. He armed a KE missile but held off on flipping the switch.
The squad practically fell down the side of the hill.
Avery was being hammered with diversionary fire while the second Dreki lined up a missile shot.
“Double-tap that fucker,” Abrel said over the squad comm. A barrage of missiles streaked at the unsuspecting victim.
The first Dreki soldier switched weapons. Blaasever, having been vigorously drilled the month before by Abrel and Mallsin, was prepared for the move and fired a KE missile. The lizard got off an errant shot, but it streaked upward and posed no danger
as they reached the bottom of the ridge.
The group finished killing the lizards, but it appeared too late for Avery.
“Is he dead?” Abrel asked.
Two corporals dragged Avery to a trench for concealment.
“Status,” Abrel demanded.
“He’s under sedation, but alive,” the corporal who’d first reached him said. “His system locked down. It’s going to take a corpsman to wake him unless you’ve got a hack.”
Abrel did have a crack for getting into Avery’s system, but he was reluctant to use it. “Golvin,” he said. “Can’t risk it.”
“We’ve got an enemy heli coming at us,” Blaasever said. “We need to move.”
“When it rains,” Abrel noted. “Bury him, now.”
“What?” a corporal asked.
“You heard me. Fire some grenades into the side of that trench. Move, move, move,” he commanded.
Blaasever caught on to Abrel’s plan. He jumped into the trench and fired grenades into the dirt. The corporals figured out what he was doing and joined him.
Moments later, Avery was buried under a ton of dirt and stone.
The Dreki heli began its strafing run.
Devil squad scattered like water dropped into hot oil.
“HQ, HQ, we need assistance in sector fifty-seven. Sixteenth Battalion is–”
“Who is this?”
“Sergeant Vestale,” Mallsin answered.
“Our heli-jets are on the way,” the corporal on the other end of the comm said. “Hold one, there’s a Lieutenant Colonel Wiquenzest requesting to patch into your comm.”
“Roger,” she said.
A gruff voice echoed in her earpiece. “Where’s Ford? I didn’t get a termination notice, but his damn icon is off grid.”
“I’m not sure–”
“Dammit,” the officer said. He ended the communication.
Two full squadrons of friendly heli-jets flew into view. The Dreki helis had to give up their slaughter of ground troops.
“About time,” Mallsin said over the squad comm.
“You can say that again,” Sergeant Tunning said.
Mallsin received a ping from Abrel.
“Go,” she said.