“LT, it looks like we got it. You’re synched,” Sergeant Chen said over a headset from his diagnostic console that was positioned on the starboard side of Ticket Puncher’s cockpit, held in place by a lift.
“That didn’t take long,” Pete replied.
Chen scowled. “That’s because we’ve been performing this task on a regular basis lately, sir.”
“Sergeant, do you think constantly reminding me of the loss of the previous two Punchers is going to change things?”
“I do, sir,” he said with a nod. “I used to be an optimist, but that all changed when you got assigned to my bird. ACN’s are special, flown by NIVOs like you, and maintained by the best crew chiefs in the business, like me. The tiny shred of optimism that remains in me hopes you’ll listen for once and think about getting home in one piece, and bring my bird back in some kind of working order.”
-(o)-
“Quiet down,” an amplified voice said over the chatter in the 1st Attack Wing briefing room. “Quiet!” the voice said in a stern tone when the first attempt failed at silencing the attack craft crew that populated the room.
The sound level slowly declined.
“Take your seats,” the voice said. Those that cared about who was speaking could look at the lectern on the right side of the room below the large video display board on the back wall and see a weary Space Forces captain watching the milling crowd with visible irritation.
Within a few minutes, everyone was seated.
“For those of you who don’t know or don’t remember, I am Captain Nadel, First Attack Wing Intel and Planning Section,” the man at the lectern said.
“You forgot about those of us that don’t care,” a voice in the crowd shouted, which led to dozens of catcalls and insults aimed at Nadel.
Nadel ignored the noise and comments. He had become inured to it over the weeks of conducting crew briefings. “As you all know, we resume missions this morning. The entire portion of the wing present on Beaumont will be supporting Land Forces ground operations.”
First Lieutenant Welsh settled back in his seat, only half-listening to CPT Nadel’s voice. Like most of the pilots and copilots in the room, he had already been briefed on his mission, by his squadron commander in his case, and unless there had been any significant changes to the plan there was not much need to pay attention until Nadel began talking about the 22nd Squadron.
“—and the Twenty-Second will be operating over portions of sector five. To the right, in areas overlapping sectors five and six, Land Forces will have one of two concentrations of support floaters operating in close cooperation with armor and infantry units as they push forward, so be watchful of those aircraft.
“Initial strikes by the Twenty-Second will be just prior to, and immediately following, Land Forces artillery attacks, with follow-up strikes on the request of local units.
“After rearming, Twenty-Second will attack Pythan units near the second and third phase lines indicated here,” Nadel said as the map on the display blinked the points he had indicated.
“Once again, Twenty-Second will provide on-call support for this portion of the ground assault.
“As mentioned previously, the Pythan force has been heavily attrited as far as vehicles and artillery go, so your targets will be almost exclusively infantry. Pythan air defense should be limited to shoulder-fired weapons only.”
“What about the sightings of tracked antiaircraft vehicles a few days ago?” shouted a voice in the crowd.
“We have found no evidence of any such vehicles. Without evidence, we cannot classify any such threat.”
“So in other words, you don’t know,” the voice answered.
Nadel pursed his lips and breathed heavily through his nose. “No evidence means we cannot identify a threat. If you feel it a concern, then I would suggest you take adequate precautions.”
When the groans and insults ceased, Nadel continued.
“Thirty-Fourth Squadron, wake up….”
-(o)-
“Ordnance wanted to load you with guided munitions as recommended by someone in higher command, LT,” Sergeant Chen said as Welsh approached Ticket Puncher. “I set’em straight. You’ve got your usual load out, thirty-two unguided missiles with high explosive warheads firing from the port side, anti-missile beams top and bottom, mag gun turret on the starboard side. I installed magnifying optics on the port side in place of the tracking arrays so you keep a close watch on missile fire from that side, you got me, sir?”
Welsh smiled. “Do I detect a note of actual concern, Sergeant Chen?”
“Of course, sir, you’re the only crew I have. Most crew chiefs have a pilot and a co. Just bring this bird back in repairable shape, otherwise I may change my tune. Let’s get you aboard, sir.”
Across the field, in nearly every revetment, attack craft crews and their crew chiefs were preparing to board their vehicles.
Welsh and Chen stepped onto a lift that elevated them to the edge of the cockpit. Welsh climbed aboard and eased himself into the seat, working on placing the sensites that protruded from his back into the exodermal mesh at the correct positions on the seat back. Chen brought up the synching display and diagnostic system on the portable console he plugged into the Ticket Puncher’s systems.
“Green in all fields, LT.” he said as he scanned the readout.
“Control panel shows same, chief,” Welsh replied as he scanned the displays in front of him.
“Good. Let’s get you secured, sir,” Chen said, unplugging the console and securing the data port cover.
Chen leaned into the cockpit and tightened the wide straps that would hold Welsh in place.
Once that was completed, Chen flicked a control on the lift and began the trip down.
“Begin your power up procedures, sir. I’ll talk to you when I get groundside,” he said.
Once on the ground, Chen took up his position twenty-five meters in front of Ticket Puncher and began calling off items on the startup checklist.
When they reached the end of the list, the crew chief directed Welsh to bring up the onboard generators. Moments later the high-pitched whine from Ticket Puncher joined the noise of dozens of other attack craft powering up.
“I am green across the board, chief,” Welsh said over the radio.
“Roger that, sir,” Chen replied. “Rotate your thrusters to vertical.”
The four nacelles moved in unison, stopping when the noses of the thrusters pointed skyward and the exhausts at the ground.
“You are good to go, sir. Switch your radio to Tower Control. Good luck, lieutenant,” Chen said. He snapped a sharp salute, briskly dropping his right hand to his leg when Welsh returned the gesture. The sergeant trotted down the road that ran between the revetments, wanting to be clear before the attack craft took to the air.
Welsh switched his radio frequency to the proper channel and waited. He rotated his head to loosen up the tension in his neck, then leaned his head back with his eyes closed and listened, via his headset, to Tower Control issuing orders to various elements.
The 22nd Squadron was designated to be the first to lift off, with Welsh slated to attack targets designated by Land Forces.
Welsh’s radio buzzed, shaking him to a fully alert state. He recognized the tone as a direct communication with him from the tower. “Drake-Two-One-Niner, this is Tower Control. Stand by for takeoff.”
“Tower Control, Drake-Two-One-Niner, roger, standing by,” Welsh replied. Drake was the call sign for elements of the 22nd Squadron, and the 219 designator was from the Ticket Puncher’s identity number, ACN-219.
Pete knew each member of the squadron would be getting the same call.
A few minutes later, the radio buzzed again, this time on the squadron’s open channel.
“All Drake elements, this is Tower Control. When your individual call sign is announced, you will lift to five hundred meters, then proceed east to the designated assembly zone. Once the squadron is ready, you will be tran
sferred to the MFC, Master Forward Controller. Stand by.”
Within seconds, the squadron began take off in twos and threes at the command of the tower. The squadron quickly formed in the assembly zone and was soon on its way to their assigned sector.
A full three-quarters of the squadron was going to conduct initial strikes before Land Forces artillery opened fire. Once the armored and infantry units moved into the attack, the rest of the 22nd would go to work attacking targets designated by ground units. Pete was part of the latter group, Charlie Flight, commanded by Captain Hokstra.
The squadron flew to a designated area behind where Land Forces units were gathered to await the start of the operation.
When the attack craft that made up the initial strike force were sent into action, everyone knew the assault was underway. Radio chatter from the rest of the 22nd was followed closely by Hokstra’s flight as they hovered in position behind the lines.
The initial strikes seemed to be going well, with little response from the Pythans. That changed when a flurry of air defense missiles flew from the trees. Radio traffic became almost garbled with calls from all twelve attack craft involved.
The squadron commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Brooks, quickly designated craft to put fire on the copse of trees where the missiles originated, and directed others to fire on the incoming missiles with their beam guns.
Light auto-cannon and heavy machine gun fire erupted from other wooded areas, damaging some attack craft. Brooks sent a pair of AC’s to put missiles on the tree line from where the shots had been fired.
The Master Forward Controller came on the radio and announced the artillery strike was imminent and it was time for the 22nd to vacate the area. Brooks ordered the squadron to boost for the skies to get above the path of the incoming artillery shells.
Four surface to air missiles streaked upward from somewhere behind the Pythan lines. These were larger missiles, and could only have been fired from air defense vehicles or emplacements.
Beam guns took down three of the four missiles, but the lone survivor of the quartet exploded near AC-290, Your Name Here, seriously damaging the attack craft.
“We’re hit and headed down,” the pilot said. “We can make Coalition lines, but we’re done for the day.”
From their position above and behind the Land Forces units, Hokstra’s flight could see the smoke trails of the missiles as well as the dark streak left by AC-290’s descent.
“So much for no Pythan air defense vehicles, huh?” Rob Bolan said over the flight’s communications band.
Pete looked to his right and could see Bolan’s AC. He was near enough that he could see the smile on his friend’s face.
“Welsh, I want you to fly defense when we go in,” Captain Hokstra said. “There are only four of us and you’re the most efficient at taking down missiles.”
“You got it, sir,” Pete replied. Fending off missiles was a common and vital mission for attack craft pilots, even more so for NIVOs. Their ability to track and target multiple targets at once with multiple weapons made them especially adept at this.
The artillery strike was brief and furious, and as it commenced the Land Forces armored and infantry units started their movement forward.
“Stand ready, Charlie Flight,” Hokstra said. “The ground pounders will have work for us soon.”
Hokstra was correct. Within minutes, they were dispatched to take down a cluster of anti-armor missile launchers that were causing trouble.
“Bolan, you lead in. I want you to draw Pythan air defense missiles. Welsh, you follow. Hickey and I will attack the targets. Ground units will designate,” Hokstra said, dispensing with call signs within the flight. This was the norm in units where the members were familiar with one another.
The flight came in at low level with Bolan and Welsh a fair distance ahead of Hokstra and Hickey.
As they neared the leading edge of battle, Bolan broadcast, “Going up.”
“With you,” Welsh replied.
The pair of attack craft shot into the sky, Bolan firing mag gun rounds into the trees designated by the ground troops, reserving his missiles for later.
Missiles blasted from the tree line arcing toward both craft. Bolan turned away and climbed, his beam guns pecking at the pursuing missiles. Welsh targeted the missiles chasing his friend while tracking those that closed on his own craft, his neural interface ordering and funneling information through Welsh’s brain, allowing him to process it all at a much faster rate than any non-augmented human could ever dream of doing.
Thoughts and information blurred through his mind, sometimes separate, sometimes meshed, but always allowing him to see and understand the situation around him and act accordingly.
Four missiles closing on Robbo. Nearest is twelve seconds from contact, the last seventeen, he thought.
Three closing on me, nearest eighteen seconds. Missile source to port, need twelve degree turn to bank and target.
Welsh smiled. Solution with time and distance to spare.
He targeted the closest missiles to Bolan and saw the lead missile come apart before he fired.
Robbo and his co are on the ball, he thought, knowing Bolan’s copilot, Frigo, was targeting the missiles and had killed one.
Pete switched to the next two missiles and fired his upper beam at the lead missile and the lower beam at the second. As they turned into falling scrap, he pivoted the lower beam to target the lead missile closing on his own attack craft as the upper beam spat at the last missile closing on Bolan.
Those missiles ceased to be a threat when the beams ripped through them.
“Moving to altitude and attacking designated target,” Hokstra said.
Pete banked and turned as his beams locked onto the two remaining missiles closing on him. As he fired, he sought the spot where the missiles had been fired, and locking onto the portion of the tree line with the magnifying optics Sergeant Chen had installed, he could see Pythan infantry armed with shoulder-fired weapons. He fired eight missiles and came around to bring his starboard mounted mag gun to bear. By the time the scene cleared, he could see his missiles had hit the target.
Welsh turned once again and followed the course of Hokstra and Hickey at a lower altitude than they were flying. He could see four designator beams marking the suspected positions of the Pythan anti-armor units on the display screens in his cockpit.
“Locked onto all four points,” Hokstra said. “Firing the whole load.”
Suddenly the picture on Pete’s screens went wild with designated points.
“Hold, sir!” Pete blurted out. It was too late, Hokstra’s missiles were in the air and scattering as they chased points all over the landscape below.
“Damn it,” Hokstra said angrily. “Dazzlers and spoofs.”
The Pythans had determined the frequency and signature pattern of the designator beams the Land Forces units were using and used the information to program spoofs, which shot designator beams at numerous locations within a given area to lure guided missiles away from their intended targets; and dazzlers which fired beams at the optical port on the nose of the missiles to prevent them from locking onto a designator beam.
“I have a lock on the points the ground pounders had marked, captain,” Bolan said. He was closing on the rest of the flight. “I can designate.”
“Good. Hickey, coordinate with Bolan. Welsh, you and I will watch for SAMs.”
“Roger, sir,” Welsh replied.
Hickey changed the frequency of her missiles to match the designator beam that Bolan would use. Hickey would fire her missiles at the points Land Forces wanted hit ‘blind and dumb,’ meaning without guidance or a designated target. When the missiles drew close to the target area, Bolan would hit the targets with designator beams, which the missiles would sense and lock on to, then follow them to their targets. Done correctly, the Pythans would not have time to lock down the frequency and counter the attack.
Hickey fired her missiles in four flights of
four missiles each, and by the time the fourth cluster of missiles were on their way, Bolan activated his designators in time for the first flight to acquire the target and strike it.
The tactic worked perfectly and four missiles pounded each of the points.
“Look east,” Bolan’s copilot said. “SAMs.”
All seven pairs of eyes in Charlie Flight searched the eastern sky and could see eight smoke trails from the surface to air missiles.
“They’re going to the south of us,” Hokstra said.
“Drake Charlie Flight, this is MFC. A relief flight is en route to your sector. Stand by to vacate. Expend any ordnance if you have targets. Watch for Land Forces units advancing on Pythan positions.”
“Roger, MFC. Will do,” Hokstra replied.
“Bolan, Welsh, find something to kill. Hickey and I will cover you. Maybe we can get clear of here before the SAMs take a crack at us,” Hokstra ordered.
“I’d like to take a crack at them,” Pete said.
“I know, but that’s not our mission right now,” the captain said.
“I’ll pound the tree line,” Bolan said. “See if I draw any fire, Pete.”
“Roger,” Welsh replied. “I’ll trail high.”
Bolan turned to run parallel to the tree line and fired quartets of missiles at the muzzle blasts of Pythan weapons firing from the woods at the advancing Land Forces units.
A few machine guns and light cannon fired at Bolan, but their leads were short and the bursts passed well behind their intended target. Unfortunately, for the Pythans, Welsh had noted their positions and pounded them with missiles.
“Missiles expended,” Bolan called as he pulled up and arced over the Coalition ground forces below.
“Same here,” Welsh said, following Bolan.
“Roger,” Hokstra said. Let’s come around and use mag guns. Same formation. Watch for missiles.”
“Drake Charlie Flight, this is MFC. Vacate sector. Proceed to Crowley for rearming.”
“Roger MFC,” Hokstra replied. “You heard the man, Charlie. Let’s head for home.”
Conflict: The Pythan War, Invasion Page 31