“I think that was countermeasures,” Baylor said over the team net.
“We’re good for insertion, Four-Alpha,” Schumacher said. “I’m going down on the deck. Hold on guys.”
Ultimately Doomed II dropped from the sky like a falling elevator, at least that is what it felt like to the passengers in the attack craft. As Schumacher maneuvered up and down over the terrain, the six men of the Special Services team mentally geared themselves up. They knew they would be groundside shortly.
“Stand by,” Schumacher said. “I’m bringing us down.”
Team 4-Alpha felt a light thump from below, and before Schumacher could announce they were on the ground the team was already up and unlashing their gear from the nearby bulkhead.
Within minutes, the boxes and bags of equipment were on the ground alongside Ultimately Doomed II.
“It’s not too late to change your minds,” Schumacher said, now on the team’s communications net.
“Don’t tempt us,” SSG Cook replied.
The team began dragging the gear, headed for some nearby tree cover. As Sparks led his team away from the attack craft, they could hear the crackling static exterior sound of the upper beam gun firing, presumably at Pythan missiles. In less than ninety seconds, they were in the trees.
Sparks broadcast, “ACN-Two-One-Four, we are clear. Thanks for the ride.”
“Good luck Four-Alpha. I have some missiles of my own to deliver. I’m gone.” With that, Schumacher fired the thrusters and boosted for the sky, angling toward the city with the beam guns spitting at Pythan missiles.
The team stayed in place for a short while, organizing and distributing the gear, and observing their surroundings. There was no sign of Pythan presence.
When they were ready, Corporal Estes lead the team out. They had until dark to reach the warehouse area where their search for the hidden vehicle park would take place.
The battle between Space Forces attack craft and the Pythan defense continued while the team moved toward the city of Fitzroy. Booming explosions both on the ground and in the air along with smoke trails billowing up and falling from the skies gave testament that neither side had much advantage.
“Hey, LT,” Cook said quietly over the team net from his position at the rear of the column.
“Sergeant?” Sparks replied.
“Something’s been bugging me, sir. The planners of this little party figured our targets are just sitting in a vehicle park waiting for us to find them, right?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“Why wouldn’t the Pythans have those air defense vehicles out there right now? Why keep them in reserve?”
“Good question. Unless it’s to make sure they have something for when the landing craft start bringing in the infantry, but that doesn’t make any sense. How could the Pythans know this wasn’t an infantry assault?” Sparks said.
“They couldn’t, sir,” Cook replied. “If there is a hidden vehicle park ahead and air defense vehicles actually came from there…”
“They might return sometime after the Pythans figure out the attack is just preparatory.”
“Does that mean we won’t have to crawl through every building big enough to hide a truck, sir?” Sergeant Robinson said.
“We’ll see,” Sparks said, “but I hope so. If it is, that will make it a lot less likely we get found out before we can do our job.”
By the time 4-Alpha was edging into the city, the attack craft had left, except for those that were shot down. The Special Services team had seen a few fall during their journey. The withdrawal of the attacking force was sudden, one minute the craft were streaking across the sky in all directions and at all altitudes, then they all went to the deck and hugged the contours of the ground until they disappeared beyond the horizon. If things went as planned, the attack craft would return at first light with specific targets in mind to prepare the way for the first waves of landing craft and the ground attack that would follow.
By early evening, the team found a location to lie low and observe until dark. If they saw no sign of vehicles, the team would have to try to locate the vehicle park.
The area was mostly light industrial and warehouses, and there was very little civilian presence. Other than an occasional vehicle patrol, there was little visible Pythan presence either. What few patrols they did see seemed to be concentrating their attentions toward Fitzroy rather than outward.
By dark, the team knew they would have to go hunting, but they did have some idea of where they would start. The team had seen a Pythan military truck stopping at two large warehouses where it had delivered boxes, which Pythan troops promptly took inside. The troops were obviously doing something inside those buildings. Those warehouses were where 4-Alpha would begin their search.
The team left most of their equipment in the hiding place and moved into the night. They were kitted with as little gear as possible, only that which might help them accomplish their reconnaissance, and if they found targets, their sabotage.
The first warehouse was occupied by storage boxes and a squad of Pythans, with most of them gathered around a table in a room at the front of the building.
The Special Services team moved on.
The second warehouse was busier. Bright lights shined through a couple of uncovered windows and a half-open sliding bay door. Shouted voices were audible from inside the building, as was a running engine. As they drew near the building, they could see the tires of a large truck from under the partially open bay door.
“Let’s hope this is it,” SSG Cook said in a barely heard whisper over the team net as they stopped and observed the warehouse.
“Sergeant Baylor and Corporal Estes, move forward and see if you can find us some targets,” Lieutenant Sparks whispered.
The two men moved silently down the street, staying in the shadows and avoiding the scant starlight that shined through a clear sky.
A few minutes later, the two disappeared from sight around a corner.
“LT, I think this is the place,” Baylor said quietly over the commo net a short time later. “The bay doors only open out onto the street on the side facing you, and it’s a dead end over here. Our maps are wrong about that. Unfortunately, there are no antiaircraft vehicles or weapons inside the building. There are three light tanks, and several kinds of trucks, and that’s it.”
“How many soldiers are in there?” Sparks asked.
“A couple dozen at least, sir.”
“If need be, do you think we could get in there and put charges on the tanks?”
“Estes and I might be able to pull it off, but it’d be risky, besides, will our demo charges take down a tank?” Baylor said.
“They’d kill a track,” SSG Cook said. “Then again, the fifty millimeter recoilless would too.”
Sparks glanced at his senior sergeant and smiled, realizing he was hinting at the course of action they ought to pursue.
“Cookie’s right. If the antiaircraft vehicles do show up, we might need the demo charges for them. Pull back to our position and we’ll recon some of the other buildings.”
“Roger, LT,” Baylor said.
Within minutes, Baylor and Estes had returned. The team scouted the other buildings that were possible candidates to be hiding places for air defense vehicles, but they found nothing.
In the early hours of the morning, the team returned to their hiding place.
“We’ll keep a two-man watch on the building where the tanks are while the other four catch some sleep,” the lieutenant said. “One-hour observation shifts so everyone will get two hours of sleep before we move into position. If something occurs between now and then, we’ll act accordingly.”
-(o)-
Three hours later 4-Alpha was loading up their gear.
When they finished, they moved to a building that looked down the street where the team had been earlier in the night when they had reconnoitered the building housing vehicles.
A pair of windows would provi
de firing points for the recoilless launchers. The cross street that ran parallel to the building where the Pythan vehicles were parked was three hundred meters away.
Baylor and Estes made their way across the street, then made entry into a building that would conceal them as they crossed an alley and entered another building that afforded them a better view of the Pythan position. This would allow them time to alert the men on the recoilless launchers before the tanks exited the building, provided the two Special Services troops could escape detection.
As the first hint of dawn started to push the darkness away, there was no activity in the building.
Suddenly, from areas all around and within Fitzroy, Pythan missiles boomed from their launchers and streaked for the sky. The Space Forces attack craft were back.
“Too bad some of those launchers aren’t closer to us,” Sergeant Robinson said looking out the window watching the missiles track for the heavens.
“If they were too close we’d have to worry about AC’s hitting us,” SSG Cook replied.
With a few minutes, 4-Alpha began hearing explosions on the ground, and shortly after that, attack craft buzzed all through the airspace over Fitzroy like a swarm of wasps.
4-Alpha saw activity in the motor park building. Occasionally a Pythan soldier or two would step out onto the street and look skyward, then return inside.
The sound of a large displacement engine turning over carried all the way out to the position where the recoilless weapons stood ready.
“Is that a tank engine we’re hearing?” 1LT Sparks said over the team net.
“Negative, sir,” CPL Estes replied. “It’s one of the large trucks.”
A few minutes later, the truck rolled out of the building onto the street and rounded the corner, headed into Fitzroy.
The team sat patiently as the air attacks continued. Sparks picked up some chatter over the radio that landing craft were inbound with the initial forces from the 1st Division. He notified the team.
A trio of AC’s streaked low over the warehouse area at high speed, their mag guns throwing slugs at targets to the north.
An explosion boomed somewhere above 4-Alpha, but none of them could see the source of the noise. Less than a minute later, they could hear thrusters straining at full throttle.
“There’s a AC headed for a crash to our south, LT,” SGT Baylor broadcast. The descending craft was visible from his location.
“See if you can estimate position,” Sparks sent back.
“Will do, sir. It looks—the tanks are firing up! They are rolling up the bay doors. Stand ready.”
SSG Cook and SGT Robinson put their eyes to the flexible cups on the optical sights attached to their 50mm weapons and waited as Lieutenant Sparks and Corporal Smith opened the glass panes in the windows.
“Sir, I’m sending Estes toward you to cover my withdrawal when things kick off, if that’s okay with you,” Baylor said.
“Both of you pull back this way,” the lieutenant replied. “If things go wrong we won’t be able to get you out of there.”
“Roger that, sir.”
To the south, they could hear the crash of the attack craft. It sounded like it had struck a building and landed roughly.
“Tanks are rolling! Baylor said over the team net. “I repeat, tanks are rolling.”
“Get your ass outta there, sarge,” Estes said.
The clack of tank treads and the whine of turbine engines was audible.
“I’ll take the lead tank, Robby,” Cook said in a calm voice. “Remember, shoot the track, I doubt we can punch through the hull with our weapons.”
“Roger,” Sergeant Robinson acknowledged. “LT, Smith, remember to stay clear of the backblast.”
Sparks stood beside Cook with a projectile in hand, watching the street ahead. He saw movement in the building directly across from his position. He jumped slightly before he realized it was Corporal Estes.
“Here we go,” Cook said coldly.
Sparks saw one of the Pythan light tanks coming into view at the end of the street.
Cook tracked the vehicle right to left, timing his shot, while Robinson watched for other tanks.
Cook fired as the front of the tank disappeared behind the building to the left of the intersection. The inside of the room jarred from the backblast, long undisturbed dust shook itself loose from every hidden surface and swirled through the air, while down the street Cook’s 50mm projectile slammed into the rear drive sprocket on the tank’s track.
“Reloading!” Sparks yelled, tasting the dust as he shoved a fresh round into the rear of Cook’s weapon.
The explosion split the sprocket and tore the track free, silencing the engine and bringing the tank to a halt.
Behind the now-immobilized tank came two duplicates.
Robinson fired at the last tank in the procession, missing the lead wheel that was his intended target, but hitting a road wheel and parting the track that flailed sideways as the tank came to a halt.
“Reloading!” CPL Smith yelled.
The driver of the middle tank braked, trying to avoid striking the tank in front of it. He failed, lightly tapping the rear of the disabled vehicle.
Cook fired as the driver reversed, the tank’s turret slowly spinning toward the Special Services team in the building.
Cook’s round struck the side of the track, just in front of the drive sprocket. Robinson fired at the turret, his projectile striking just to the side of where the main gun came out of the turret.
Sparks and Smith both called out, “Reloading,” almost simultaneously.
Corporal Estes crossed from his position on the other side of the street and entered the building where the recoilless operators were waiting for the smoke and dust to clear at the end of the street.
The crewmen of the lead tank were abandoning their vehicle, and as visibility increased, the Special Service team could see the middle tank’s turret had been brought to bear on their position.
A machine gun coaxially mounted alongside the tank’s main gun began to chatter, spraying rounds, glass, and debris through the building.
“Get down, hit the deck!” SSG Cook shouted over the team net.
“Vacate the building. Move south,” Sparks commanded.
Sergeant Baylor crashed through the doorway into the building.
“We have some infantry forming up the street,” he said as he crawled across the floor.
The machine gun chewed away more of the structure as the men made their way to a door on the southern side of the building, dragging their equipment with them.
“Sergeant Cook, you lead,” Lieutenant Sparks said. “I’ll bring up the rear.”
“Do we take the fifty millimeters?” Robinson asked.
“Roger that,” Sparks replied.
A lull in the firing gave Cook the opening he was hoping for. He came up into a crouch, cradling the recoilless weapon in his arms.
“Let’s go!” he said as he launched himself from the doorway. He sprinted for the front of a building twenty meters away.
Estes followed on his heels, trailed closely by Smith and Baylor.
“C’mon, LT,” Robinson said with a smile and a gesture of his head. He rose and dashed out the door.
The machine gun opened fire once again, its operator tracking to the left seeking the fleeing men.
Sparks crawled to the door and saw Robinson sprawled on the street two steps away.
“Move, LT!” Cook yelled over the noise, paying little mind to the fact his voice was audible over the team net. “Drag Robby over here.”
“He’s dead, sarge,” Sparks replied. “His brains are spread on the street.”
“I know, LT. We need his ammo. Bring the recoilless too.”
Sparks grimaced, slung his rifle, then stood and ran to Robinson’s side as machine gun fire raked the building once again.
Sparks grabbed the soldier by his protective vest and ran for the rest of his team dragging the 50mm weapon and Ro
binson’s corpse behind. He looked up and saw Cook sliding into the street with his own recoilless weapon on his shoulder.
The weapon thundered a round at the tank, the loose dirt on the street surface behind the weapon was blown up and became part of the smoke ball slowly dissipating in the air.
A metallic clang, followed by an explosion, sounded from down the street. A quick glance showed that Cook had scored a hit on the tank.
Maybe that will keep their heads down for a little while, Sparks thought.
Baylor quickly stripped Robinson’s body of anything usable. “Ready to move, sarge,” he said to SSG Cook.
“We going south, sir?” the team sergeant asked.
“Roger that, Cookie. You lead. Let’s see if we can find the AC that went down.”
Cook nodded and moved to the corner of the building’s southern side.
The Pythan tank began firing once again.
Sparks knelt next to SGT Robinson.
“Sorry we didn’t do better for you, Robby,” he said patting the corpse on the shoulder.
“I’ll cover the rear, sir,” CPL Smith said pounding a fist on the feed tray cover of his machine gun.
Sparks nodded and moved south. Smith tapped Robinson’s right boot with his own and glanced down at his fallen teammate. “See you soon, Robby,” he said quietly as he backpedaled toward the rest of the team.
The team moved two blocks south. There was no sign of anyone following.
“Motor pool guys got better things to do than play with us,” SGT Baylor commented about the lack of pursuit.
The warehouse area opened into a large fenced-in expanse of grass, where five hundred meters away rested the battered and bent attack craft. It was apparent the vehicle had come in from a north-northeasterly direction and clipped an antenna on the way down, collapsing the support building under it. The AC had slid some distance before digging its nose into the ground and ending up tail high, leaning slightly on its port side.
Cook was surveying the scene with magnifying optics.
“Looks like they’re out of the vehicle, LT,” he said. “At least one of the crew is hurt. The other crew appears to be rendering aid near the hull.”
Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion Page 24