“I agree,” Hawkwood said. “That’s for later. What’s the problem with the Rat?”
“A main gun round knocked a plug of wood out of the barricade, commander,” Lodge replied with a point at the hefty trunk not far from the track. “The plug hit the left rear drive wheel and the track on that side is fucked.”
Looking at the drive wheel, Hawkwood could see it was slightly deformed. With large and small chunks of wood littering the ground nearby, he shook his head. “A piece of wood managed that?”
“Sure did, sir. Enough mass at enough velocity can do wonders.”
Hawkwood glared. “What’s the verdict?”
“Left track is jammed, sir,” Brownie said. “Totally locked up. No fore or aft on that side.”
“I know that. Can it be fixed?”
“Sure can, but not—”
“How long?”
“Two hours once we remove the drive components. We can’t do it here, commander.”
“We’re not quite immobile, sir,” Lodge said. “We can rotate a bit if needed.”
Hawkwood growled. “Do what you can, but if it gets too hot, you bail. That’s an order.”
“I’ve got a strac crew, sir. We came here to win, not die heroically. We know how much heat we can handle.”
“Just don’t cut it too close.”
. . .
Brennan, Curtis, and Perkins watched the trees to the south. Having fended off two anemic attacks by Keen Steel infantry with little effort and no casualties, those in Forrester’s platoon worried more about stray rounds from armored vehicles coming from the fight at the roadblock to their left.
The battle on the road ebbed and flowed. The clank of tracks closing and flurries of exchanges drew worried looks from the grunts every time the fight raged. The sound of energy weapons and cannons along with recoilless rounds, missiles, and small arms fire was equally concerning. Just beyond their sight, those that covered the right flank knew nothing of how the fight at the roadblock was going.
“Fog of war,” Curtis said. “That’s what this is. It’s the grunt version of the fog of war. A tank might come around the tree line and we wouldn’t have a chance. They pound that into you in service school, how you won’t know what the hell is going on but this is the real deal.”
Perkins nodded. “I don’t have a fucking clue about what’s going on anywhere but our little bunker here.”
“Same,” Curtis replied. “We might know more once Hank returns.”
Brennan smiled in relief learning he wasn’t the only one that felt that way. “We seem to be doing fine right here, but if falls apart over there… I don’t know. I just shoot where they tell me.”
“You got it,” Perk said. “We do our jobs and let Hawkwood deal with the rest.”
Curtis nodded. “If it does go to hell, we find Hank and we stick together.”
. . .
What Hank’s three green troopers felt was shared by many, even those at the roadblock. An ever changing obstacle course ran the distance from the barriers to the incline beyond the sight of the defenders. Each attack by Keen Steel shifted the position of dead and disabled vehicles, changing the course as tanks bulled their way forward while every so often a new member was added to the junkyard.
With limited infantry support, the vehicles had to deal with dug-in Red Light soldiers and despite the firepower many of the armored monsters possessed, they found killing off determined troopers armed with anti-tank weapons to be a difficult task.
On the other hand, the soldiers of the Red Light Company found killing heavy armor was no easy feat either. Hawkwood had expected an all-out assault on the road block—an attempt to overwhelm the barricade and those defending it, but with each attack it became clear Keen Steel was trying different tactics, feeling out their opponents’ defenses, but each attack also cost Gifford’s force troopers and vehicles.
The report of foot soldiers moving toward Savon Light Infantry concerned Jack Hawkwood. With no reports of attacks coming from his ally, he had nothing but a gut feeling that it meant anything. Knowing his opponent was trying something other than simply battering at the roadblock, he decided to play a hunch.
After sending a messenger to Senior Sergeant Rod Mitchell ordering him to report, Hawkwood had Corporal Yonke contact Sergeant Jackson aboard Lunatic Red.
Using beamed communications, Yonke soon had Jackson.
“I have a mission for you, Sergeant Jackson,” Hawkwood said. “I need you to disengage here and head east in support of Savon.”
“Can do, sir,” Jackson replied. “What are we facing?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing… playing a hunch if you will. Sergeant Batista reported opfor infantry headed that way and there are indications they may send armor of some form. Savon is aware of the potential threat and I’ll let them know you’re on the way. Be advised, they have moved well north of their original positions. If they don’t need you, get back here soonest. The communications array we placed north should allow you to contact us once you are clear of areas saturated with interdictors.”
“Got it, commander. Lunatic Red, out.”
Senior Sergeant Mitchell entered the command bunker as a line of mortar shells walked across the area.
“Rod, we may have a situation,” Hawkwood said. After detailing what had been reported and his hunch, Jack said, “I want you to take your platoon south along the eastern side of the road, see if you can confirm any of this and discover what Keen Steel’s infantry is up to.”
“Can do. We’ll head out immediately.”
. . .
“Red Light walker west of Savon positions, this is Sergeant Maxwell sending over beamed coms,” buzzed over Lunatic Red’s system. “Are you the support we were told was coming?”
“Roger Savon, this is Lunatic Red,” Jackson replied.
“Recon reports we have two Keen Steel light walkers backed by infantry advancing on our position from our south. We wouldn’t object if you wanted to join in.”
“That’s why we’re here. What sort of infantry are we facing?”
“Mostly basic issue foot-sloggers. Haven’t seen them, but reports say there are a few exosuits.”
“No HACS?”
“No reports of the big exos. Your two walkers are an overmatch for theirs.”
“We’re down to one, but it’ll be enough. We’ll swing behind you to your north. Appreciate it if your troopers don’t light us up. I don’t want to hear any complaints about lost loot this time.”
Maxwell chuckled. “Appreciate the support, Lunatic, but no guarantees about crabbing grunts. We are mostly free of interdictor jamming at our current location. North of us should be clear.”
“Roger that. We’ll slot in between your platoon and the next unit east. Notify when you have eyes on opfor.”
“Will do.”
Jacks took Lunatic Red on a circuitous route behind Savon Company’s line hoping to escape detection by Keen Steel.
As they headed south toward the line, the com buzzed. “Lunatic Red, this is Maxwell. I have eyes on two walkers and at least seven exosuits backed by conventional infantry. It appears they’re moving to the east of my platoon’s position.”
“Roger. We’re well positioned then. Can you tell what the walkers have for weaponry?”
“Roger that. Looks like a matched pair. Each has an auto-loader stub cannon of fifty to sixty millimeters and what I think are emerald schistose energy weapons based on the projection lenses.”
“Thanks, Maxwell. Kindly tell your company mates we’re moving in from the north.”
“Already did, Lunatic. I’ll mention it again.”
Switching to the vehicle intercom, Jacks sent, “Myles, I’m using the thirty mike-mike on the exosuits. See what you can do with the bolter.”
“Got it,” Rivers replied.
Jacks brought the walker forward and drew within view of the fight. Using magnified optics, they saw Savon infantry troopers running in from the east carr
ying tube launchers while their company mates fired at advancing exosuits and a single light walker.
“I’m closing,” Jacks said. “Let’s see if I can get a clear line on the walker. Stay ready to load the ninety.”
Lunatic Red ranged to the west in an attempt to move clear of Savon’s infantry. A light machine gun spat a long stream of red tracers at the Keen Steel walker making Jackson sneer. You’re just drawing fire on yourself, he thought. Knowing the weapon was unable to cause much damage to the walker and with tracers that pinpointed its location, Sergeant Jackson fumed at the waste of it as the walker and exosuits threw fire at the gunner’s position.
The AT missile equipped troopers fired a volley at the walker, six missiles released in quick succession in an attempt to overwhelm the walker’s defense systems. Two failed to reach their target, torn apart in midflight. Another missed high and wide while the other three scored solid hits that toppled the machine. In the background Jacks saw the closing Keen Steel foot soldiers slow and take cover.
Seeing a pair of exosuits sprint forward, Jacks stopped Lunatic Red’s move and brought his sights online.
As he brought the first target into his sight picture another exosuit advanced, a move Jackson was sure meant they sought to move into the gap between infantry platoons. Firing a single shot of 30mm armor piercing ammunition was more than enough to kill his first target. Acquiring the next soon after, he repeated the process. Seeking the third, he found it down near the other two.
“Took three head hits to drop that one,” Myles complained.
“It went down. That’s what matters,” Jacks replied. “Brownie’ll be thr—”
“Lunatic, Maxwell,” came a call, the platoon leader’s voice tight. “The remaining walker is closing on us hard and fast. Five AT missiles fired on it and its bolters took them all down. It’ll be awful close before we’re ready to fire again, but we’ll—”
The sound of the Keen Steel walker’s cannon booming nearby cut off the platoon leader’s call.
“We’re not far,” Jacks replied. “Keep your heads down and Lunatic Red will take care of it.”
The walker jounced as Jackson brought it to a hard run.
“Load a spiker round. I can’t risk an explosive shot that close to infantry. Our target has a view panel up front, Myles. Zot it if you can. I don’t know if the bolter can get through, but it’ll shake up the operator knowing somebody is targeting the human and not just the vehicle.”
“Spiker, up!” Myles replied as the breech slammed closed. “On the bolter.”
Myles looked over the video feeds and saw the terrain flashing by as Lunatic Red all but flew toward Maxwell’s platoon.
Jackson used a thumb control on one of his joysticks to task the onboard AI to identify the opfor walker. Carson LAR VMAC M202 was the result that soon appeared on one of his screens. Locking this information into the targeting system, the AI could now estimate the range of their opponents using the known dimensions of the vehicle.
His HUD presented all he needed to know, and as he slowed from sprint to a halt behind the infantry positions he broadcast, “Maxwell, keep your heads down.” From above he heard the crackle of the bolter.
The sight centered on the walker and as Jacks switched the 90mm from SAFE to FIRE mode, he saw the range tick down to read 467 METERS as the enemy walker strode forward. Seeing a green beam fire at an unknown point, a press of the trigger made the ninety bark and a moment later the Keen Steel vehicle died, staggering at the shot before falling hard onto its left side.
Maxwell’s troops were quickly back in the game, hurling fire at the remaining Keen Steel mercs. As they backed away to the south, Jackson fired a traversing burst of 30mm high explosive rounds to speed them on their way.
Moving closer to the infantry line, Jackson and Rivers stood watch, but saw no signs of any renewed action from their opponents.
Eventually Savon grunts went out in small teams to reconnoiter. Finding nothing but dead or wounded Keen Steel troopers, they soon returned.
“Red Light Walker, this is Commander Newcomen,” came a static-laden broadcast over Lunatic Red’s com.
“Lunatic Red here, commander.”
“Appreciate your efforts. Not just for today, but for earlier as well. I’ll let Jack Hawkwood know of your good work. I think we can handle things from here.”
“Roger, sir. We aim to please. Lunatic Red, out.”
The com buzzed with more static just moments later.
“Lunatic Red, Maxwell here. Nice working with you. What’s your name?”
“We’re Jackson and Rivers. Bringing death and destruction with mobility and style.”
Maxwell laughed. “Good to know. We’re advancing west. My CO says we’re making a try at encircling Keen Steel’s force on the road.”
“You know a hell of a lot more than we do then. We’re headed back that way ourselves, Sarge. Head down and best of fortune.”
“Stay upright, hotshot. Maxwell out.”
. . .
Senior Sergeant Mitchell glared at the tracks in the dirt road. Taking his platoon south parallel with the road, their mission was to assess Keen Steel’s infantry strength and engage if prudent. Finding none, the platoon leader took them much farther than originally discussed. Stopping at the dirt road that ran east-west, they found something concerning.
“They ran multiple armored vehicles east. No doubt about it,” Mitchell said, his voice even more harsh than it usually sounded. “One is a battle tank—one of their larger sorts—and there are likely two other lighter tracked vehicles tagging along. Walker prints, exosuits, and ground-pounders too. The tank is the main issue.”
Adjusting the settings on his helmet’s earcups, he hoped he might detect the sounds of rolling tracked vehicles or falling trees, but the noise from the west and the heavy tree cover made it a fruitless endeavor.
“Are they going after Savon?” a trooper asked.
“Maybe, but those Savon shits didn’t shriek for help. They would’ve if a tank came calling. Even if it did, Savon would back into the marshes. The tankers would be wasting their time and they know that. Tread-heads are dumb, but they aren’t that dumb. They’re looking for a way through to the north to make a run at the victory point or hit the roadblock in the ass.” Pausing to look over his troops, he pointed at a corporal. “Hoskins. Leave your gunner and AT weapons here. Take the rest of your team and haul your tail to the roadblock. Commander Hawkwood needs to know what’s cooking here. Tell him we’ll block the dirt road to keep any more armor from passing and if he has anything to spare, he best get it here as soon as fucking possible. You got that?”
“Got it, Sarge.”
“Good. Get going and don’t let anything stop you. This could cost us. Go.”
As Hoskins and his troopers distributed their AA60 rifle grenades, launcher tube, and launcher rounds to others in the platoon, Mitchell looked west and smiled. “We’ll stop’em,” he muttered.
“Should we follow the tracks maybe?” a nearby trooper asked uneasily. “Scouts or something?”
“No,” Mitchell growled. “You’re not going to run down a tank and if they come back you’re not going to outrun one either. Jackson has his walker out there somewhere. Let him and Hawkwood worry about it. We go west and stop any vehicles that might follow the path the tank cuts. We’ll stop them cold.”
“If we don’t?”
“You don’t need to worry about it. We’ll be dead. Dead is nothing. The fight, that’s what matters. Do your job and we win. Your job is to beat your opponents, not die. It’s that simple.”
Looking over his shoulder, Mitchell saw Corporal Hoskins and his two soldiers head through the trees. Waving an arm to the west, the platoon leader growled, “Let’s go block a road.”
. . .
“Sir, Commander Orff on the field phone,” Corporal Yonke yelled over the noise of the fight near the roadblock.
Acknowledging with a wave of his hand, Hawkwood made his
way to her position in the command bunker.
“Commander Orff, Jack Hawkwood here,” he said after sliding the phone beneath the left earcup under his helmet.
“We may have some trouble coming on my end of the line,” Orff replied.
“What’s the situation?”
“Keen Steel is pushing infantry over at the island. Recon reports bolter stations there that limit the effectiveness of our mortar fire, but we can handle the infantry. Our problem is the heavy walkers. They have crossed the river, I repeat, they are north of the river. Ground pad imprints confirm it. I have troopers looking for them, but their location and destination is unknown at last report. My money says they are using the feeder stream and coming north. I am forming hunter-killer teams under the assumption they are coming our way, but doing so thins our conventional infantry coverage.”
“Roger that,” Hawkwood replied. “I suspect they are trying a move through your sector. The road through the trees is jammed right now. Stand by.”
Looking at the map display for a minute, Hawkwood nodded as he made a decision. “Commander, I’m sending our remaining walker and Dan Forrester’s platoon your way. Savon Light Infantry is moving in from the east to join us in the fight along the road. If you can stop Keen Steel on your end, we have them.”
“Easier said than done, but stopping them is what we came here to do. Appreciate the assistance. Orff, out.”
“Yonke,” Hawkwood yelled at his communications specialist, “is the broadcast array to the north functioning?”
“It is, commander,” she replied. “Anything north of us should be clear of jamming.”
“See if you can reach Lunatic Red.”
“On it, sir.”
Seconds later she said, “Sergeant Jackson is on your comset, commander.”
Hawkwood shook his head at Yonke’s efficiency as he reached for a handset. “Lunatic Red, this is Red-Six,” he sent.
“Send it, Red-Six,” came Jackson’s reply.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 30
