“Let’s move that way,” the lieutenant replied. “I’ll see if I can locate their commo frequency.”
“Estes, cut us a hole through the fence,” Cook said pointing at the enclosure.
As the corporal went to work with a pair of snips, Sparks began scanning through the communications channels.
The sound of thrusters came from the east.
“Those are Pythan,” Smith said as he looked that way.
Estes yanked free the piece of fencing he had trimmed from the barrier, and threw it clear.
“Do we move toward the attack craft, sir?” he asked.
The lieutenant paused in thought. “No. Let’s see where the Pythan bird is going. Let’s move back to the building,” he said pointing to a nearby structure.
The sound of the thrusters grew louder, then to the east a Pythan landing craft came into view a hundred meters above the ground and four hundred meters distant moving slowly toward the downed attack craft.
The Pythan vehicle differed from its Space Forces counterpart of course. The Pythan craft had two large rotating thrusters at the end of short broad wings, and the hull was longer and narrower, giving the Pythan machine more of a conventional aircraft appearance than the Coalition craft.
“Drop that thing,” Lieutenant Sparks said.
“Smith, machine gun,” Cook said as he and Baylor put their recoilless weapons onto their shoulders.
Corporal Smith went prone at the corner of the building and opened fire, sending bursts downrange at the Pythan craft.
The Pythan pilot went full thrust and tried to boost skyward as machine gun rounds tore into his craft. It was too late for that.
Cook and Baylor fired within fractions of a second of each other, the rounds crisscrossing on their way to the target. One round struck the starboard thruster while the other dug into the rear section of the hull.
The still firing port thruster pushed the Pythan bird up and over, the rear of the craft coming apart through the maneuver. The vehicle arced out of sight behind the nearby buildings and crashed heavily. A gout of flame and smoke boiled upward.
Another Pythan craft was nearby, the team heard the sound from the west this time. Corporal Estes ran northward, trying to see through a gap in the buildings that direction. He brought his precision rifle to his shoulder, looking through the optics.
“Sir, I caught a glimpse, but that was it,” he said over the team net. “I think it may be putting troops down.”
Thrusters roared from the west, and within seconds the Pythan craft rose into sight some five hundred meters away.
Chunks of the building above the Special Services team began disintegrating, the pieces falling around them.
“Beam! Take cover,” Lieutenant Sparks yelled.
The Pythan craft tracked left to right from 4-Alpha’s perspective.
Baylor fired a round from his 50mm weapon, but to no effect. Smith knelt and leaned around the corner of a building and fired a ten round burst from his machine gun, then he quickly vacated the position, running to the opposite end of the building. The Pythan beam chewed the area where Smith had been.
“We need to get closer to that damned thing if we want to kill it,” SSG Cook growled. “But I’ll bet a month of a general’s pay we have Pythan infantry closing on us.”
“I’ll draw his fire while the fifty-millimeters swat him,” CPL Smith said.
“If we can’t get the bastard to stay in one place for long enough, we can’t swat him,” Baylor said.
“Well, whatever we’re going to do it better be soon,” Sparks said.
“You have something else in mind, sir?” Cook asked.
“The only thing I can think of is—”
The high-pitched singsong wail of a mag gun fired from a passing Space Forces attack craft cut off Sparks reply.
The Pythan vehicle dropped to the deck and tried to fly under the AC, but the pilot of the Coalition bird spiraled upward and slammed mag gun slugs through the hull of the enemy vehicle. The Pythan landing craft burrowed into a masonry building with a crash, grey dust and smoke obscured the carnage.
The AC did a half-turn and reversed direction, thrusters screaming as it dived. Small arms fire from the Pythan ground force sent tracers through the air as the mag gun spat back a reply. Explosions boomed where the shells landed.
“Is that what you were thinking, sir?” Cook asked as he pointed at the sky.
Sparks laughed. “Yeah. That was my plan exactly. Let’s get to the downed AC while we have some help.”
“Did you catch the name on that crate, sir?” Estes asked.
“No. I saw that it was an ACN, but that’s it.”
“It was the Ultimately Doomed II, LT.”
“Fucking showoff,” Cook said. “I doubt he’s even aware he just saved our asses.”
“Hopefully he doesn’t think we’re Pythans,” Smith said.
The team rose as one and moved through the hole in the fence. The team crossed the grassy area slowly but steadily, covering their move in all directions until they reached their target. The words Keep Swingin’ were visible in the side of the crumpled nose of the craft.
“It’s good to see some friendly faces,” one of the attack craft crew said as they approached. “I’m Lieutenant Dugan, copilot, AC-Three-Zero-Two.”
Sparks noticed Dugan was unarmed. “You don’t have a weapon?”
“A pair of useless personal defense weapons in the crew compartment,” he said gesturing at the attack craft. “The crash bent them a few degrees out of shape.”
From the city of Fitzroy came the sound of battle. The 1st Division was on the ground and the struggle to retake the city was fully underway.
“How’s your crewmate?” Baylor asked as he opened his medical bag.
“Not good, I’m afraid. He took a lot harder hit than I when we came down,” the Space Forces soldier said.
“Let me have a look,” Baylor said as he knelt beside the injured man.
After a minute of examination Baylor said, “Closed head injury. Probably some other internal injuries as well. I can’t do much for him, LT. He’ll need to be medevaced ASAP if he’s going to survive.”
“Can he be moved?” Sparks asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it except in a serious pinch, sir.”
Sparks nodded. “We’ll dig in here and I’ll see if I can get us some help.”
“All right, sir. I’ll docbox him. It might tell us a little more about his injuries.”
Baylor moved to look at Lieutenant Dugan when he was finished with the pilot. The copilot had a severely bruised knee and wasn’t going to be able to move with any speed if the group would need to for some reason.
“Did you take down that Pythan crate?” Dugan asked, pointing at the smoke column coming from the crash site of the first landing craft that went down.
Baylor nodded. “Some of these other bums will take credit for it, but it was me,” he said with a grin.
The Special Services team used the wide furrow in the dirt under the tilted hull the attack craft’s nose had plowed before it came to a halt as a basis for a defensive position.
“Space Forces says they’ll send a medical troop landing craft as soon as one is free. First Division is in a street brawl in Fitzroy,” Sparks said. “It looks like we have Pythan ground forces sniffing around our area they say.”
“Then maybe we ought to move south, sir,” Cook said.
“And the wounded?” Sparks asked, looking to Baylor.
“We do the best we can, LT. I’d guess that getting overrun by the Pythans won’t do them any good.”
“It’s too late for that,” Estes said, looking to the north through the optics on his rifle. “We have company. At the edge of the buildings. Just a tick over five hundred meters.”
“Damn it,” Sparks said with a grimace. “Dig in and get ready to fight. We hold until Third Division gets here.”
SSG Cook pointed to a spot in the furrow. “Smith, there,” he said. “Est
es, to Smith’s right. Baylor, you and I will tuck the wounded under the AC.”
“Sergeant, if you have a spare weapon, I can fight,” Lieutenant Dugan said.
“All right, sir. There,” Cook said, pointing to a spot five meters to CPL Smith’s left, “I’ll get Robinson’s rifle for you to use.”
Dugan crawled to his position as Baylor and Cook gently moved the injured pilot. Less than a minute later, the small force was in place, watching the Pythans who spread out near the edge of the grassy area.
“Let’s use the fence to our advantage,” Lieutenant Sparks said over the team net. “If they try climbing it or cutting through it, we hit them.”
“Let Smith kick it off with the machine gun, sir,” Cook said. “Smith, pick a group that’ll let your weapon maximize casualties.”
“They’re setting up a machine gun in the building in the middle of the row,” Estes said.
“Can you put fire on them?” Sparks asked.
“Roger that, sir,” Estes said.
“They’re moving, LT,” Cook said.
Sparks looked to the team’s machine gunner. “Smith, fire when ready”
“Roger,” Smith said, twisting the kinks from his neck as he settled behind the sights on his weapon.
A group of Pythans moved to the fence in front of the building where Estes saw the machine gun. One of the Pythan soldiers began cutting through the fence, while his companions moved close, waiting for a way through the barrier. Another soldier ran toward them, gesturing angrily.
That’s a sergeant, Cook thought. Now, Smith.
At the moment Cook’s thought passed through his mind, Smith pulled the trigger on his machine gun.
His initial burst tore into the group, startling them and dropping several, while those not hit froze in fear. One of the rounds hit the Pythan NCO in the leg. Despite the wound, the sergeant waved his arms as he yelled at the panicked group, trying to get them to scatter or go prone.
Estes fired into the window where he could see the Pythan machine gun. Cook fired a 50mm round into the group by the fence as Smith fired another burst. Dust and debris swirled from the backblast of Cook’s weapon.
When the dust cleared from the explosion of the 50mm round, the Coalition troops could see their handiwork. Several Pythans lay dead, with a few rolling and flailing in pain.
After a lag, the Pythans began to return fire, but the range was far too long for their 5mm weapons to be effective.
Machine gun fire came from the northwest. Another Pythan infantry force was advancing on 4-Alpha, coming from the buildings into the grass area.
“I can’t get a bead on the machine gun position from here,” Estes said as bullets struck nearby or hissed in the air as they flew past 4-Alpha’s position.
Sparks, on the opposite end of the team’s defensive line, looked northwest.
“I can’t either,” he said. “It’s coming from the buildings over there, but I can’t pinpoint it.”
“I need some elevation,” Estes said. “If you can provide me with some covering fire, I’ll move up onto the hull of this attack craft and see what I can see.”
“You’ll be awfully exposed up there,” Cook replied.
“Roger that, sarge, but they have to get me before I get them. I’ll bet on me.”
“Do it, corporal,” Sparks said. “Yell when you want covering fire.”
Less than a minute later, Corporal Estes said, “I’m ready, LT.”
“You heard the man,” Sparks said.
The team opened fire, shooting mostly at the force to the northwest, which seemed to be the greater danger just then.
Cook and Bishop fired rounds from the 50mm recoilless weapons, once again the backblast kicking up clouds of gritty dust from the furrowed ground.
Estes ran to the backside of Keep Swingin’ and scaled the side of the hull. Once he was on top, he ran to the rear of the craft and made his way to the mangled remnants of the tail section as bullets sailed by and dug into the skin of the remaining control surfaces.
Fitzroy echoed with the sounds of war now. 4-Alpha’s fight added to the din.
“I’m in place,” Estes said as he wriggled into position. “Targeting the MG’s to the northwest.”
Estes rifle barked several times, and the machine gun fire slackened considerably.
“Lieutenant Sparks, Dugan here,” he said on the team net. “I think I see a lot of guys crawling toward the fence to the north.”
Cook brought his magnifying optics to his eye.
“I see a few, LT,” he said. “Maybe another team trying to cut through the wire?”
“Lieutenant Dugan is right, sir,” Estes said from his perch above. “A couple platoons worth. There’s movement to the northwest as well.”
“They’re going to see what we have to offer,” Sparks said. “Once they realize how few we are, they’ll try and bury us.”
“We need to keep them at a distance if we can, sir,” Cook said. “The only advantage we have is our reach.”
“You got that right, sergeant. I’ll direct fire, but if anyone sees a threat, call it out. I’m going to see if I can get us some kind of support.”
A machine gun from the north fired a burst that just missed Estes. He returned fire, and the machine gun fell silent.
“Our commo’s being jammed,” Sparks said. “I can hear some transmissions, but I can’t push through. The Third Division should be on the ground by now. We ought to be able to speak with them when they get close enough.”
“Let’s hope the Pythans don’t move a force in between us and the Third,” Dugan said.
“I see no sign of any infantry, ours or theirs, to the south,” Estes said. His vantage point provided the best view of that direction, with the crashed AC blocking the view for most of the team. “There’s a lot of attack and troop landing craft traffic that way. I hope that means help is coming.”
Clouds of yellowish-brown smoke began to rise from the north across a wide portion of the fence line.
“They’re coming,” Cook said. “Smith, a few bursts in there, but conserve your ammo.”
Machine gun fire erupted from the north and northwest. The fire from the north was inaccurate, the gunners were firing blind through the smoke, but 4-Alpha could not see the machine guns either.
“Northwest, infantry coming straight at us,” Baylor said. “Sixty to eighty men I’d estimate.”
The infantry was moving in a widely spaced line formation, making it difficult to kill them in large numbers. The force wasn’t running, but they closed at a brisk pace.
From the smoke cloud to the north came a force of similar size to its northwestern counterpart. They were widely spread and running directly at 4-Alpha’s position.
“Corporal Estes,” Sparks said calmly, “Silence the machine guns to the northwest. Dugan, fire on the infantry to the northwest. Everyone else, let’s stop the attack from the north.”
A gaggle of acknowledgments sounded from the other fighters.
Fire poured from the Coalition soldiers.
“Remember, accuracy trumps volume in our situation,” SSG Cook said in a fierce voice. A moment later, he launched a 50mm round at the Pythans, aiming for a man at the front of the infantry force. Several soldiers were closely following the man, which led Cook to think the man was an officer.
Inexperienced troops like to huddle together when under threat, Cook thought. Even more so if there is a leader to tag along with.
The explosion threw enough dust into the air to block the sight of the carnage caused by the round. When the dust cleared a few seconds later, it was apparent Cook was dead on target. The officer and the men near him were gone, save for one soldier who knelt in the grass hunched over in pain and shock.
Despite this, the Pythans came on.
Smith fired in accurate and controlled bursts, seeking clumps of men or overlapping targets. He sought to maximize damage with a minimal expenditure of his rapidly dwindling supply of ammunition
.
The other Coalition soldiers continued to fight, Sparks firing and watching both advancing Pythans forces, Dugan doing his best with a weapon that he had little experience operating, Baylor lobbing 50mm rounds, and Estes making precise shots after silencing the machine guns to the northwest.
The men knew they were part of a cold equation of time, distance, and numbers. Could they kill or panic the force closing on them before the Pythans overwhelmed them with firepower, charging soldiers, and cold steel.
At two hundred meters, the force from the north went prone in the shin high grass, and began firing at 4-Alpha. As they did so, the force closing from the northwest broke into a run.
The smoke screen to the north of 4-Alpha’s position dissipated, and as it did, the machine gun fire from the Pythan position became much more accurate, and dangerous. The Coalition soldiers could see three machine guns firing from the roofs of the buildings half a kilometer away.
Estes brought his weapon to bear on the machine guns. The first crew he engaged never knew what hit them, but the other two guns reacted quickly and sent bursts of fire at the corporal.
Bullets chewed through the bent and twisted parts of the downed attack craft from where Estes fought while he brought the next machine gun to view in his sight picture.
Sparks recognized the changes in his team’s situation and realized the threat the northern machine guns presented, not just to Estes, but the entire team.
“Baylor, target the machine guns,” he said.
“Roger, LT,” Baylor replied. “I am getting to the end of my 50mm ammo supply.”
Cook had already shifted his fire to the Pythan force closing from the northwest. As he reloaded, he heard Baylor’s comment.
“Same situation here, LT. I have four rounds left,” he said.
“Understood. Make them count,” the lieutenant replied.
The force from the northwest was less than two hundred meters away. At the sound of a whistle, half of the force went prone and opened fire while the other half picked up the pace.
As this occurred, half of the northern Pythan force rose, and with a yell, charged at the Coalition troops.
Estes killed the gunner on the machine gun crew he was targeting, then shifted his attention to the charging infantry. He sought the leader and quickly located him. He lowered the magnification on his rifle’s optics and gave the man a slight lead, then fired. The leader fell and screamed in agony. Estes’ rifle bullet had shattered the leader’s left hip.
Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion Page 25