“I’m crouching Lunatic,” Jacks said. “Less chance we get seen and maybe we can get a better look at the tracks.”
“We could get an even better look if we get out and put eyes on. I think I saw bodies.”
“Never leave the vehicle, Myles.”
“What if there’s wounded, Sarge? Cover me while I go.”
“You have the sense of a grunt, but if there are wounded… yeah. All right, but make it quick and don’t range too far. That’s an order.”
“Acknowledged,” Myles said as he released the harness straps.
Quickly donning his frag vest and helm, he placed his rifle by the bottom hatch and opened it. Taking a seat and dangling his feet outside he said, “Be back soon,” before dropping to the ground below.
Watching on the vid screens, Jackson scowled uneasily as Myles moved through the matted grass toward the nearest track, rifle shouldered in the ready position. Stopping and kneeling next to two shapes Jacks was sure were bodies, Myles spent little time there before he stood and moved to look at the exit damage on the left side of the dead track. From there he headed to the rear ramp. After just a few seconds looking inside, he crossed to the other track. In less than a minute, Myles was trotting back to the walker.
The clatter of Myles’ rifle landing on the floor of Lunatic Red’s crew compartment was followed shortly by his hoisting himself aboard.
“They’re Tracks Six-Two and Eight-Niner. I saw tread marks from two more headed toward the road,” he said as he removed his grunt gear. “Eight-Niner threw a track and looks undamaged except for that. Track Six-Two took the hit, fire suppression foam is all over. I think it was an energy weapon. Three bodies that I could see,” he added with a grimace. “There’s nobody near.”
“It was an energy cannon all right,” Jacks replied. “Some might say they are less messy than high velocity projectiles or shaped charge hits. It’s a bullshit argument. Dead is dead.”
“There had to be more than just three troopers, right Sarge?”
“Eighty-Nine is one of Knight’s tracks,” Jackson said. “Six-Two’s a support track. I’d guess they had offloaded their cargo and brought some tech-n-mechs out to fix a thrown track so yeah, a lot more than three. I’d imagine they left in a hurry and had wounded to take care of. Those three left here are beyond caring about where they are.”
Myles detected a slight change in tone from his crewmate and guessed Jackson’s eyes had the distant look he’d seen before. Suspecting Jacks likely knew the T and M troopers and the vehicle crews that were aboard the tracks, he didn’t ask if that was the case.
“We’ll head back to the tree line north and go east a ways,” Jacks said while Myles closed the cabinet.
. . .
Jacks scanned his displays while Myles searched the darkness with the bolter’s optics, the settings for thermals, infrared, and other enhancements showed little but garbled and useless images. Noticing the spotlights had stopped passing beams over the area, he breathed a little easier.
“I’d guess half of the red zone is covered with interdictors now,” Jacks said. “Optics and vid is what we’ve got unless you want to peep out of the top hatch or run through the grass again.”
“Two outings a night is plenty,” Myles replied.
The buzzing of the field telephone startled the walker crewmen. Jacks grabbed the handset and brought it close enough to his mouth to be heard.
“If you’re not Red Light, you’re in trouble,” he said. “I’ll stomp you flat.”
“That’s not funny, Jacks,” a gruff voice replied. “Corporal Davis here, Franklin’s platoon. Did you know Bedlam’s down? They took out a tank before they got dropped. The crew is okay except for being trapped inside. We’re working on digging them out, but Sergeant Franklin’s worried the work will draw fire so the going is quiet and slow. Real slow.”
“Was that the only tank or are there others roaming in the dark?”
“How the hell do I know? Haven’t heard any more and tanks ain’t quiet so take that for what it’s worth.”
“Did Bedlam’s crew try to blow the hatch?” Jackson asked. “There’s an emergency charge built—”
“We know. The walker’s hull is on the ground sitting almost upright. The upper hatch is barely open and jammed solid. The lower hatch is in the dirt and they need to dig two or three meters to reach it. There’s a squad moving west to distract our opponents. I was wondering if you could help out seeing as we’re saving your walker pals and—”
“Bullshit, Davis. You’re leading the diversion, right?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Stow it. We’ll help out, but don’t bullshit a bullshitter, okay?”
“Think what you want, Jacks. Thanks.”
“Thank us by singing our praises whenever we are near from this day forth.”
“Sure we will. Believe that if it makes you feel better. We’ll be in place in fifteen minutes.”
“We’ll be ready. When you start shooting, we’ll join in.”
“Got it. They’ll signal us with a light when they have the crew free. How do we let you know if we can’t get to the field phone?”
“Can you string together ten or twelve tracer rounds? Fire’em in one burst and we’ll probably see them.”
“And give Keen Steel a clear shot at us.”
“Use beamed coms then.”
“They’ll zero us in for sure if we do that.”
“You want our help or not?”
“Fine, Jacks. Tracers then. Don’t get dead, okay?”
“I will if you will.”
Davis laughed. “We have a deal then. If we’re both alive at the end of all this, I’m buyin’ next time.”
Jackson put the handset aside and growled. “This is going to be dicey. We’re going to have to dance if we don’t want to end up like Bedlam. I’ll be using the pounder mostly because the ninety mike-mike will give them a helluva nice beacon to aim at. Stay on the bolter and zot whatever you can hit, got me?”
“Got it. I’ll leave the breech open in case we need something specific.”
“You’re catching on.”
Jacks took the walker southwest to stay clear of Davis’ unit. Finding a pair of toppled trees, he moved behind them to await the infantry force.
Watching through the optics on the bolter, Myles scanned the distant Keen Steel positions. Tanks fired conventional shells and colorful beams from energy weapons. Even though the young soldier had no way of telling what they were shooting at, he knew their targets were north of the bridge.
In the brief light of an energy cannon shot, he saw what he thought to be a track and placed the bolter sights on the spot where he believed it to be. Seeing a flash from the spot a few seconds before a mortar-fired starlight flare popped near the bridge, he held fire and watched intently. Though quite a distance from the track, the light was enough for him to pick out the shape, Myles was sure he’d found a target Jackson might try for.
“I think I’ve found an opposing force mortar track that might be in range, Jacks.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“I was looking for targets when I saw the flash. I put it in the sights the next time it fired and locked the turret. I’m almost sure it’s a mortar track. Saw a flash and then the flare that’s up now popped a few seconds later. Maybe you can tag it with the auto-cannon?”
“You have a range estimate?”
Myles growled. “Long? I don’t know, Jacks. It was eight sight-marks wide at the current settings. It was almost fully side-on, pointed east if that helps.”
Jacks laughed cruelly. “It does, Myles. Noting the marks pins it down, pal. Scoring a mortar track is worth the risk of firing the ninety. Let me look up the data on their tracks and bring up the bolter view. Load a spiker. We’re about to get bold and Keen Steel is about to lose one mortar track.”
. . .
“I got it, Myles,” Jackson said, the eagerness in his voice apparent. “Th
e AI can synch the ninety with the bolter’s point of aim. When Davis’ grunts begin firing, I’ll fire. I’m loping us out of here as soon as the ninety mike-mike goes boom. Maybe they mistake the trees near us for a vehicle. Watch the feeds and see if you can find any sign of a hit. The track has probably relocated, but if not, we’ll make life a little easier on our side.”
. . .
Tracer fire showed the stream of machine gun fire emanating from the tree line behind and to the left of Lunatic Red. Watching on the vid screens, Myles could see the grunts had taken position in three different locations. Spread as they were, it eliminated the possibility that one hit could destroy the entire unit and gave the impression of larger numbers than there actually was.
“Firing,” Jacks said an instant before the walker shuddered as the main gun barked. It took little time for Jackson to put Lunatic Red in motion.
Searching the vids as the vehicle turned, Myles saw no flash or explosion that might indicate a hit, but evidence showed they had tagged something. A flash of flame lit the point where the loader was sure the mortar track had been. It soon disappeared only to return brighter and larger.
A bright red beam drilled a blazing hole in the night air from a position not far from the conflagrating vehicle. Tearing past well east of the departing walker, Myles announced what he had seen.
“We scored something?” Jacks said. “How about that. See if you spot any—”
“Explosions!” Myles interrupted. “It’s gotta be mortar shells.”
“That’s what I was gonna say.”
Another red burst lanced the air, closer this time. Before Myles could call it, another passed directly over them.
“That was too fucking close,” Jacks said uneasily. “Going east and we’ll see if that beast has us somehow.”
Myles gritted his teeth and looked at the vid feeds that showed the area south.
Another energy weapon beam crossed the space from south to north, but passed well west of the walker. Striking the trees on the ridge, it flashed as wood split and combusted.
“Behind us, Jacks,” Myles called.
“That’s a relief. Taking us north. Looks like Davis’ guys are catching hell. I don’t want to run into that. We’ll see if we can’t get it off them. Stand by on the bolter.”
“Any chance we might tag the tank with the energy cannon?”
“That’s one of their big beasts,” Jacks said. “Nose on and at this range, there isn’t a damned thing we can do to them except make them madder. We’ve hung it out enough tonight and Hawkwood will have our hides if we stack up the company’s last walker taking on a piece of iron that big.”
“So we support the grunts and Bedlam’s crew.”
“Spot on. As self-proclaimed king of the battlefield I declare we have gone above and beyond what duty requires and shall from here onward do only our assigned tasks.”
Finding a low spot and crouching to allow the land to provide cover, the two aboard Lunatic Red fired at flashes in the dark.
The muzzle blasts of machine guns twinkled from their places across the river. Myles sought the larger, brighter signs of heavy machine guns. Knowing they were the greater threat to those drawing fire, he hoped to keep as much of it off the grunts as he could.
Firing bolter shots in the dark at targets several hundred meters distant meant not knowing if the bolts hit or missed. Noting that those he did fire at soon ended their attacks, he knew he was at least forcing them to cease or relocate.
Jackson moved the walker to new locations twice after drawing fire. Moving north each time, they found shelter behind a downed stand of trees and a low roll in the ground. With time passing, Jackson began wondering what was taking so long and thought Davis might have decided the tracer signal was too risky.
Watching the vid feeds, a sight caught Myles’ eye. A stream of red tracers flew toward the Keen Steel line, clear as day in the pitch of night.
“Tracers,” Myles said. “A string of them.”
“Got’em,” Jacks said as return fire from south of the river answered. “We’ll cover their move to the woods and then we’re out of here. Davis might be an ass, but he knows what he’s doing. He waited until the flares were down before he fired.”
Parachute flares popped above the river and Myles caught movement on the vid screens and adjusted the image to make out the forms with better clarity. Seeing several odd-looking shapes, he soon deciphered what they were—soldiers aiding wounded comrades and forms of men on a handcart towed by exoskeleton equipped support troopers. “They’re passing north of us just inside the tree line,” he said. “Looks like they have wounded.” Following them on the feeds, he could see they were clear of fire and were moving steadily.
“I’ll take us a ways west and we’ll draw some fire until they’re clear,” Jacks said. “Stand by on the bolter.”
. . .
An indistinct voice hissed from the north, prompting Moss to leave his machine gun and draw his service pistol. Covering the darkness where the voice came from, he said nothing.
“Corporal Hicks?” came a few seconds later, closer now.
“Here,” Moss replied.
The crawling form of a Red Light trooper came into view.
“Been looking for you for a good ten minutes.” Sliding into the position Hicks and Moss held, the trooper sat and leaned against the dirt. The two recognized the man, one of the field intelligence specialists “The word’s given. We’re pulling back.”
“Do we relay?” Moss asked.
“No. They sent several of us out. Pack up and be ready to head for the top of the ridge. When the mortars start pounding the area near the bridge, go. They’ll fire a starlight shell as well in case the barrage can’t be heard.”
“Got it.”
“There’re a couple field intel troopers east of here. That’s my last stop. See you later.”
As the trooper left the hole and took an eastern course, Hicks leaned in close to Moss and said, “I’ll get Sam and Vincent. Police our spot.”
Moss nodded.
. . .
Senior Sergeant Forrester heard the Red Light mortar barrage and grimaced. Knowing it was the conclusion of the company’s actions near the bridge, he also knew all units on the southern slope of the ridge were supposed to be headed north. With no prior warning, he was left wondering if plans had changed or the word simply had not reached him. Forrester made the decision to stay with the plan.
“Pack it up and get ready to move,” he hissed at those near him. “Pass the word. We go in two minutes.”
Nearly every trooper was ready to go by the time Forrester checked with each squad and team leader. Gathering the platoon around him he said, “Bridges, on point. We move in night formation. Unless you want to get acquainted with Keen Steel, stay with your team. Let’s go.”
Bridges led the way. Moving slowly and quietly, he paused often. After one break in movement he stood to continue north, but immediately went prone, those trailing him following suit.
Slowly making his way back to Forrester, he whispered, “An enemy patrol, a platoon it looks like. Fifty meters out, facing north. Do we skirt them?”
Forrester thought for a moment before replying. “No. That might explain why we weren’t advised of the withdrawal. We might have more Keen Steel troops coming from behind or roaming somewhere else nearby. We hit these guys and race north. Watch them while I brief the rest.”
The platoon leader quickly gathered the squad and team leaders and apprised them of the situation.
“We are out here tonight to trim off infantry from our opponents. That’s what we have fifty meters out. We’re going through them with blades leading and machine guns on our flanks. Once through, we go into a break contact move.” Pointing at one of the team leaders, he said, “You keep all the greeners with you. Once we’re through you head for the top of the ridge.”
“You got it, Sarge,” came his whispered reply.
“I have a plan that
will help us, but it’s going to be tricky.”
. . .
Carmag troopers trudged past Sergeant Hooton’s small force in a ragged file. Carrying two wounded and having left three dead on the other side of the ridge, it was obvious the soldiers had not been idle.
Positioned as a reserve unit in case one of Carmag’s patrols had stepped into more than they could handle, Hooton’s unit had not been needed in that capacity despite reports of one Carmag platoon that withdrew after a third of their number became casualties fighting near the island. Once it was clear Keen Steel was still probing and not pushing a strong infantry force up the ridge just yet and with armored vehicles spraying fire from across the river, Carmag began a withdrawal to the north with Hooton’s troopers acting as a covering force. The Red Light sergeant had moved a quartet of soldiers to the top of the ridge to establish an observation post to report any moves Keen Steel might make.
“Your OP is well positioned and well camouflaged,” the Carmag sergeant leading the withdrawing troopers said to Hooton. “Never knew they were there ‘til they challenged us. When the last Keen Steel patrol we were engaging broke contact, we headed north. We’re the last on this part of the ridge. How long do you intend to hold this position?”
“At least long enough for you to settle into your positions barring a major force coming at us. I’d like to get a feel for what our opponent is doing before we fall back.”
The Carmag sergeant nodded in the scarce light that made it through the trees. “We can notify you once we’re in place if you like.”
“You’ve done enough tonight,” Hooton said with a look at the wounded troopers being carried down the incline. “I’ll send one of mine with you. He can return when you’re set.”
“Right decent of you,” the sergeant said.
“Musky, you mind—”
“I’ll go,” the veteran corporal said. “Just don’t relocate on me while I’m gone, Hoot. Tonight’s a bad night for practical jokes.”
Free Company- Red Zone Page 24
