“Location?”
“We’re about two minutes out, northeast of your position.”
“Head west. Keen Steel’s heavy walkers have decided to make an appearance. They crossed at the island and their current location is unknown. Orff thinks they might be following the feeder stream near the island. If they are, Carmag must shift west. Carmag has HK teams out, but that might not be enough. I’m sending Forrester’s platoon to aid in fighting Keen Steel’s infantry. I need you to aid in combating the walkers.”
“Got it, sir,” Jackson said with resignation. “We’re headed there now. I assume Carmag knows we’re coming?”
“They do. Newcomen told me about the walker attack on Savon. With the threat in the east dealt with, we’re trying to close in the road. Good hunting, Lunatic Red. Red-Six, out.”
“What’d I tell you, Myles?” Jackson said as he took Lunatic Red toward their next task. “Big damned heroes or scattered over the landscape. Let’s just hope those Carmag grunts are worth something.”
. . .
“Commander, Carmag, this is Lunatic Red, a walker from Red Light Company,” Jacks sent as he slowed the walker at the edge of the marsh.
“Lunatic, Commader Orff. Thanks for the timely aid. We have confirmed two heavy walkers are in the marsh headed northward. Initially we thought they might swing east to flank your company, but Carmag seems to be their target. Hunter-killer teams are maneuvering to engage. Sending you their com bands now. Coordinate with them. Be advised, Keen Steel dropped interdictors over much of the marsh, so non-beamed coms are spotty at best.”
“Roger that, commander. Appreciate the no nonsense approach. We’ll do everything we can for your HK teams.”
“I promise you they’re strac troopers. Senior Sergeant Jefferson Clark is heading the effort. Get with him and you can formulate a strategy.”
“Got it, commander. Lunatic Red out.”
As he switched bands on the comset, Jackson said, “I’ve heard of Jeff Clark. If he’s as advertised, we’ll have some help out there.”
“Looks like we’ll have stands of trees to use as concealment at least,” Myles said looking at a map display. “Those Keen Steel walkers have enough firepower to blast us through the brush?”
“No. They couldn’t spot us anyway and I doubt they want to expend ammo or energy taking pot shots. You’re catching on to this game, Myles with a Y.”
Stepping from the soggy ground into the water, Jackson kept the walker at a slow pace to prevent unseen obstacles hidden beneath the surface from tripping Lunatic Red.
“Senior Sergeant Clark, this is Lunatic Red,” Jackson broadcast. “I understand you’re on a hunting expedition.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” came a reply crackling with interference. “I’m happy to have you out here. Keen Steel has infantry prowling as well, but the walkers have moved well ahead of them. Despite that, I’ve had to divert half my force south in an effort to slow or stop the grunts so my hunter-killers can work. The southern two-thirds of the marsh is well saturated by interdictors, but direct beam communication is feasible if used carefully. The portions of the wetlands that have heavy tree cover create blind spots for sensors.”
“Roger that,” Jackson said. “Judging by the interference, I’d guess you’re at the edge of the jammed area?”
“Affirmative, Lunatic. I have eyes on you. You are approximately three hundred and fifty meters north of my position. I’ll send you the last known locations of my troopers.”
Within seconds, Jackson brought the map information up.
“Got it,” he said.
“We’re dealing with near a hundred and twenty tonnes of walker,” Clark said. “I don’t know what the combined weight of my platoon and your walker amount to, but there’s a certain imbalance.”
“No doubt about that. But we have the means to kill them.”
“We can hide like mice if we need to, Lunatic. You’re the one that’s going nose-to-nose with them. How do you want to play this?”
“We’re not going head-on with’em,” Jacks said. “If we can keep Keen Steel’s infantry out of the fight, I’d suggest you keep your HKs in the trees while we try to lead them into a position where you have shots. Provided I don’t put this vehicle on her face, I aim to get in a few licks as well.”
“I’m amendable to that, Lunatic Red, but it sounds like you’re playing a low odds game against a couple of opponents that can punch awfully hard.”
“We are, but we’re light on our feet and have a left that can put them down. Besides, we have bunch of marsh-mashers looking to shove rockets and recoilless rounds up their asses.”
“Marsh-mashers?” Clark said with a chuckle. “That’s a new one. Okay, we’ll play. I’ll even cry at your funeral if we get through this in decent shape. We’re headed south and will call when we can. Luck to you.”
“Roger that. Same,” Jackson replied as he started Lunatic Red through the water.
. . .
“Sir, Corporal Hoskins from Mitchell’s platoon has a message you need to hear ASAP,” Ensign Battaglia yelled as she led a trio of soldiers toward Hawkwood.
“We may have armor in our rear, sir,” Hoskins said without being prompted.
“Lay it out for me,” Hawkwood replied.
Presenting the situation as Mitchell had ordered, Hoskins gave an accounting as rapidly as he could, an accounting Hawkwood took as a serious threat to victory. Turning away in thought, he knew he needed to act quickly.
Considering the time it would take to have Lunatic Red return from the west even if it was possible to contact the walker, he immediately discounted the idea. With the two rapid attack tracks being vital where they were, meeting armor with armor was not possible.
Hunter-killer teams, that’s the only solution, he thought. Not ideal, but the only timely response that stands a chance.
“Find Ray Winger soonest,” he said to Battaglia. As the intel specialist left, Hawkwood sought Terry Holden. With Hoskins following, it didn’t take the commander long.
“Top,” Jack yelled over the noise of battle. “We have a situation.”
“You mean one other than our current issue?” Terry replied.
“I do.”
Hawkwood quickly spelled out Senior Sergeant Mitchell’s discovery and intentions. Holden soon understood what they faced.
“Savon Light Infantry is coming in from the east,” Hawkwood said, “but if Mitchell cannot hold and they walk into tanks….”
“I’ll gather what I can and head there immediately,” the top sergeant said. “What’s the solution for the armor? I’d bet the farm Keen Steel is trying to get us in the rear.”
“You don’t have a farm and I’ll have Winger on it as soon as he shows. I’ll hold the fort here.”
Pointing over Hawkwood’s shoulder, Holden said, “Ray’s there and I’m moving.”
Without another word, the top sergeant went to work.
“Sir,” Hoskins said, “Permission to go with Top and rejoin our platoon?”
“Granted.”
“Battaglia told me what we’re dealing with,” Senior Sergeant Winger yelled as he closed. “HK teams, correct?”
“You got it,” Hawkwood replied with a nod.
“I’d think they’re looking to crack us right here.”
“My thought as well.”
“The hunter-killer teams will need tracks. If we can’t catch them while they’re still in the trees, we’ll be fighting them in the open. I’ll have Sergeant Fell name the best for the task.”
“Whatever you need, use it. If we have a tank come visit from the north, we’re in big fucking trouble.”
“On it, Jack.”
. . .
Top Sergeant Holden led his small force parallel to the road. Not far enough to be completely obscured by the trees, he risked the chance they might be seen by Keen Steel forces, but speed was vital.
Along with standard small arms, the troops behind him also h
ad two recoilless launchers and a large amount of rounds for them and to replenish those Mitchell’s mercs were sure to have expended.
Moving quickly through the underbrush, many trailing the top sergeant were concerned he was pushing too fast and if they did encounter an opposing force, there would be little time to react. They were right.
Two Keen Steel troopers came into sight less than forty meters away moving to the southeast and those nearest Holden saw a display of the skills he was known for. In one smooth motion Holden stopped, knelt as his rifle came to his shoulder, and fired two swift shots. The two opposing force troopers fell before they knew they had company.
Seeing more opponents, the top sergeant dropped into a prone position and fired, those behind him following his lead. The storm of fire was answered by a few shots, but within seconds the exchange was over with only two Keen Steel survivors escaping to the west at a dead run.
Rising to his feet, Holden led his troopers through their downed opponents toward Mitchell’s position.
. . .
“Fell is off,” Winger said as he stepped into the command bunker. “Three tracks with hunter-killers aboard.”
“You didn’t go with them?” Hawkwood asked.
“Obviously not, Jack. I’m heading for the left part of the block. We’re weakest there. If Keen Steel hopes to push through, that’s where it’ll happen, but with that junkyard we have out there now, I don’t know how they’ll pull it off.”
“Brute force. I expect at least one more push. Have them ready.”
. . .
Sergeant Fell wasn’t exactly happy about the mission Ray Winger had tasked him with, but it beat sitting and watching Briggs fight the urge to tap his feet.
“Watch the tree line, Briggsy,” he said over the intercom. “The trees hide things, but make sure you don’t hose down troopers from Savon. Winger said they’re headed west to help at the roadblock. They ought to be there by now, but just make sure before you start blasting.”
“Got it, Sarge. How big does a tree need to be to stop a tank?”
“Depends on the tank. Super heavies are nigh on impossible to stop. Smaller vehicles can batter a tree down with enough velocity, but that can damage even a tank. Like I said, it depends. Winger said it was a battle tank so we’re looking at seventy to eighty-five tonnes if the intel people had it right. A tank like that—” he chopped off his commentary at the sight of a falling tree several hundred meters up the tree line, its leafy crown slashing through other trees’ cover on its way down.
Knowing precisely what it meant, Fell threw Nasty-96 into a hard left turn and keyed the broadcast coms as well as the intercom. Still in an area with jamming, the com array sent directed beams at the two trailing tracks, 72 and 81.
“This is Nasty Niner-Six. Follow me. We’ve found our target, but we better make sure that monster hasn’t seen us. Whatever you do, don’t shoot. I repeat, do not shoot!”
Briggs faced his turret toward the threat and saw another tree on its way down some distance in the woods. With the tank not yet visible, he hoped they had time to do whatever Sergeant Fell had in mind.
. . .
A hundred and ten tonnes of armed and armored fury rolled toward the roadblock at a furious pace for a vehicle of such size. If the sight of such a mechanical monster wasn’t terrifying enough, the Red Light troopers facing down the threat also had to contend with all five weapons points on its massive turret spewing deadly fire.
The centerpiece of the heavy tank’s weaponry was an energy cannon, its long projector tube jutting from the center of the turret. A 120mm projectile launching cannon protruded from the right while the left side sported dual tri-barrel auto-cannons. A pair of remotely operated positions atop the turret housed light automatic cannons.
Rat-1 fired a 90mm round at the closing tank and immediately backed down a short incline that would take them clear of the line of fire while the loader slammed a fresh round in the breech. As they rolled, the energy cannon launched a blue bolt at the track.
Hearing the shriek of abused metals and feeling a jolt that passed through the track, Sergeant Davy Cash winced and was mildly surprised they were still alive and operational. Smelling blasted ceramics and molten armor inside the turret, there was no doubt they’d been hit.
“Driver, status,” Cash said over the intercom.
“Green across the board, boss,” came the reply.
“Gunner, loader, report status.”
“Turret systems and quad guns up,” the gunner called.
“Breech is clear with no sign of damage, magazine fully operational,” the loader reported.
Looking at his own station on the right side of the turret, Cash blinked at what he saw.
“Fucker burned off the machine gun, mount and all, above my hatch. Load and let’s nail that son of a bitch.”
Rolling forward, the driver stopped and placed the transmission in reverse mode hoping for a quick trip back to cover as soon as the main gun barked. Blind to what was occurring beyond the roadblock due to his low seat in the hull, he missed the spectacle his three crewmates in the turret saw.
Making no effort to navigate around the numerous dead vehicles that littered the road and the open ground between the east and west tree lines, the heavy tank simply plowed through, knocking aside disabled APCs, armored cars, and light tanks like a mythological giant shouldering away mere mortals as it closed with the roadblock.
The ninety barked and Rat-1 rolled out of sight without taking fire.
“Loader, lance!” the gunner called.
How are we going to stop that thing? Sergeant Cash thought.
Not far from Rat-1’s position, Senior Sergeant Winger directed the infantry efforts.
“We must overwhelm its bolter defenses,” he bellowed to those behind the barricade and fighting from nearby dug-in positions. “Fire in volleys by team and make them count.”
Throwing a launcher tube over his shoulder, he looked at the ad hoc group with him. “Fire at the turret, low, near the energy cannon. Stand ready and wait for my call.”
Looking to his left and right, Winger saw those with him were prepared as the large cannon on the heavy tank fired at positions to his right. As the sound of the high explosive round’s detonation receded, he bellowed, “Fire!”
Standing, Winger saw the dust from the explosion was not heavy enough to obscure his target, but it might aid in hindering the monster’s motion sensors. With the tank’s turret rotating, he took aim at the energy cannon’s sight array, its optic lens and protective cover providing a perfect target.
Ignoring the tube launchers sending rounds downrange on either side of him, Ray Winger fired, blinking involuntarily as his own recoilless round passed down an alley formed by two dead Keen Steel vehicles. The round struck true, the smoke and debris from its detonation dissipating quickly. A grim smile crossed his face as he crouched behind cover. With the optic lens gone and the armored panel covering other sighting sensors holed and deformed, he knew he’d harmed the monster that closed on them. It hurts them, but is it enough?, he thought as he reloaded the launcher.
Drawing ever closer, the tank shook off the minor inconvenience of a dead armored car, the burning and mangled remnants spinning off the road before tumbling through the grass.
Next in line was an inert tank, its weapons silent and its turret and hull pocked with well over a dozen hits from various Red Light anti-armor rounds. Despite weighing much less than the heavy, this obstacle still packed nearly fifty tonnes atop its tracks. With a deafening ring of clashing armor and crumpling track covers on both vehicles, it at first appeared the inert tank might rotate and be shunted aside, but with grip pads squealing as they slid on the road surface, the vehicle squared itself across the front of its assailant. Not bothering to extricate itself, the heavy tank continued on, slowed but using its weight and momentum to keep driving forward.
The inert tank obstructed fire from many of the troopers at the roadblock, but i
t also hindered the heavy, its energy and projectile cannons angled upward to stay clear of the turret on the other vehicle. Pushing onward with its drive whining at full power, the heavy tank and its fifty tonne impediment struck an armored personnel carrier seventy-five meters from the Red Light line. Propelled north by the impact, the APC dropped into a mortar shell crater, its hull digging in and collapsing as the thudding impact of two moving tanks overwhelmed its integrity.
With a deafening shriek of grinding and distorting metal, the inert tank all but meshed itself into the APC before coming to a stop forcing the still charging heavy tank to climb the tangle of vehicles. Almost bounding as its nose tilted upward with jagged scraps of its torn track covers jutting awkwardly, the monster’s underside was now exposed.
Experienced troopers knew the fortunes of war had given them a brief time to strike and those not knowing any better simply followed the actions or heard the bellowed orders of the veterans to “Fire!” Dozens of projectiles from tube launchers took flight just before Rat-1’s 90mm barked, all seeking the relatively thin armor on the belly of the beast while it was exposed and without the protection of bolter defenses. Another volley of recoilless rounds followed as the tank rolled backward and settled to the road surface, the loud clang of the heavy’s energy cannon striking the mass in front of it.
The heavy tank was clearly not dead as its light auto cannons sprayed fire over a long length of the roadblock.
While many Red Light troopers began looking for an escape route to avoid the next charge they were sure would breach their line, even more of the defending mercs quickly realized the heavy was immobile. Though stopped, the fearsome weaponry and thick armor of the tank presented a dire threat.
Jammed against the inert tank, the heavy’s turret had limited movement because of the now defunct energy cannon. Hindered did not mean helpless and with nearly all of the Red Light’s attention rightfully directed at the monster, more armor came over the rise to the south.
. . .
Sergeant Fell grimaced as he looked north over the grass he and Sergeant Muldoon hid in. With the three Red Light tracks parked on low ground behind a grass covered knoll, the two looked for dust clouds or some other indication that might reveal where the Keen Steel armor had gone after exiting the woods.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 31
