Free Company- Red Zone

by D K Williamson

  “It’s too close for me to hit the hull,” Jacks shouted. “I’ll cut its legs off instead.”

  “Then do it,” Myles yelled in reply as he went to work with the bolter, spearing the main gun’s rangefinder with a trio of shots.

  Lunatic Red jolted as the 90mm barked.

  “Loader, HE!”

  Myles squeezed a bolter shot at a vision port before reaching for a red-marked round from the rack. Knowing the round would not stay in place with the breech open and facing downward, he hoped his reflexes would be quick enough to keep him from harm. Holding the round in place with his right hand, he punched the red panel with his left. At the first quiver of motion he felt, he yanked his hand away, the closing action stinging the tips of his fingers as it slammed closed.

  “HE, up!”

  Jackson fired immediately and shook his head at his partner’s speed given the circumstances.

  Watching the vid screens, Rivers saw the round strike and explode on the heavy walker’s lead right knee just as the opposing machine’s cannon flashed in discharge. Lunatic Red shuddered, but stayed intact as Myles’ vid screens went dead.

  “The bastard missed! Barely,” Jacks yelled. “Loader, HE!”

  Repeating the motions of the last reload, Myles called, “Up! Last HE!” as the action slammed closed.

  The 90mm barked and rocked the downed walker. The close proximity of the enemy walker coupled with few functioning systems aboard Lunatic Red to create the normal noise within the crew compartment, Myles could hear the round detonate outside.

  “She’s done!” Jacks growled with fierceness and joy. The ground beneath them shook as nearly sixty tonnes of walking mechanical armored vehicle completed its topple with an enormous splash of marsh water. “A near dead light walker taking down a heavy. No one will believe it.”

  “Yeah they will. We have witnesses,” Myles replied. “Friendly infantry not a hundred meters behind us last I saw.”

  “Yeah? I missed that. How about we get out of this gas chamber and go say hello? I’m shutting down and evacuating the generator’s containment chamber.”

  “Getting free of the harness.” Myles lifted the cover on the chest mounted release and pushed it while hanging on to one of the straps attached to the bulkhead above. Swinging freely, he put his feet down on the rumpled right side bulkhead.

  Jacks slithered his way from the operator’s position while Myles retrieved his rifle and other gear from the now cracked cabinet.

  Shoving a frag vest and helm at Jackson, Myles swiftly donned his own.

  “You know the grunt stuff better than I do. Lead on,” Jackson said once he was equipped. Yanking back the bolt on his submachine gun, he chambered a round.

  Electing to exit via the lower hatch, the two quickly had it open and slithered out, crawling to the side of the walker’s hull that would shield them from incoming rounds. Sporadic rifle fire told them the fight was still ongoing.

  A bullet pinged off one of the walker’s legs followed soon after by a burst from a machine gun that sent rounds buzzing past.

  “That’s from the southeast. Someone saw us exit,” Myles said as he leaned around the hull and returned fire. Seeing tracers from the north headed for the same area told him he had help from friendly forces not far away.

  “Infantry coming up,” Jacks said. “Red Light and Carmag.”

  Myles slid into cover and spotted the Red Light grunts heading where the fire had sourced. One of the troopers slowed briefly and shrugged, a gesture Myles replied to with a point and a smile.

  “It’s Forrester’s platoon. That was my pal Lee Brennan,” Myles said refraining from yelling a greeting to his friend.

  “Fighting on foot? Obviously he lacks your sense.”

  “Obviously,” Myles replied with a pat on Lunatic Red’s hull.

  Very soon dozens of troopers swept past them, a pair from the Carmag Light Infantry Company stopping briefly behind Lunatic Red to reload before moving on.

  Replacing them was a medic, marked by her red and white armband.

  “Either of you need patching up?” she asked.

  Jackson patted Lunatic Red’s hull. “Just her,” he said sullenly.

  “That’s not in my bag of tricks, Sarge.”

  “She’ll recover, but it’ll take more than a field dressing,” Jackson replied. “She got the job done.”

  “Took you long enough to kill that thing,” the smiling medic scolded as she knelt next to them. “When you laid this thing down we figured you for dead.”

  “No, just taking a nap,” Jacks said.

  “More like playing dead,” she replied. “Damn near were. That monster just missed you.”

  Jackson laughed. “Yeah, we wanted to lull them into thinking they had a chance.”

  “So that’s how it was,” the medic replied with a grin. “A couple of big damned heroes.”

  A flurry of weapons fire flared where the infantry had gone.

  “We’re something,” Jackson said with a worried look toward the shooting. “I guess we’ll be okay. I’d love to chat, but it sounds like there’re troopers ahead that may need you soon enough.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said as she stood. “That doesn’t mean we can’t talk later.”

  “Yeah? We need to see about putting Keen Steel under first. Our side’s all out of walkers.”

  The medic smiled again. “So is Keen Steel. That walker you took down was the last heavy in this part of the fight. They say we have our opponents on the ropes. Later, hero,” she said with a wave as she raced toward the fight.

  “You give new meaning to the term battlefield pick up. That something you do on every deployment?” Myles asked.

  “Not every single one. It’s usually only after my walker gets planted like today. I think it’s my sensitive nature and air of vulnerability that does it.”

  Myles rolled his eyes. “Air? Smells more like a line of BS, Jacks.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say. What did I tell you? We’d be dead or heroes, yeah?”

  “Big damned heroes, that’s what you said.”

  “Could we be any other kind? She called us that herself. We ain’t dead and she might have friends that dig quick-handed ex-grunts.”

  Myles shrugged as he looked around and saw few troopers nearby. “Not likely but I’ll apologize if I’m wrong. How about we see if we can find our company? We’re going to be on our own if we stay here much longer.”

  “If you think you can find’em, hero, lead on. There’s bound to be nastier things than Keen Steel in this swamp.”

  “Nothing a rifle can’t handle.”

  They stepped clear of Lunatic Red and edging up the rise saw the downed quad walker. Having fallen on its nose, its crew compartment crumpled under the weight of the rear portion of the hull.

  “Better them than us,” Myles said with a grimace at the thought of being inside the battered vehicle.

  “Hmm,” Jacks said with a shake of his head. “Don’t know how they’ll get that thing out of there, but if the medic was right about our imminent victory, we made the company some coin if true.”

  “We get a share of that, right?”

  “Yeah, Mister Mercenary. If you can get us to friendly forces in one piece.”

  . . .

  As Hank Bastrop sloshed his way toward Senior Sergeant Forrester for orders, his three charges watched the woods where the few remaining Keen Steel infantry fled to the southeast.

  “That was a pal in the walker?” Curtis asked.

  Brennan nodded. “Myles Rivers. A service school classmate.”

  “Your pal is nuts… if you don’t mind my saying,” Perkins said.

  “No way in hell you’d get me to crew a walker,” Curt agreed. “Not a chance.”

  Brennan laughed. “I’m with you on that. I’ll see if I can have him committed when we get back to Novar.”

  Bastrop splashed toward them. “Word is Keen Steel is near done for. Our guys are trying
to encircle them so they probably need numbers. We’re moving east as fast as we can. Maybe we can get coms again and find out if it’s true.”

  . . .

  Corporal Hicks led the way. With his hefty sniper rifle on his back, he carried his short scattergun at eye level as they closed on the command track. With Moss, Davout, and Healey forming an echelon to his left and Somers covering from the tree line, the corporal felt confident they could handle whatever they might encounter.

  A flurry of automatic weapons fire sounded from the east accompanied by the thump of grenades. Slowing for a moment, Hicks looked that way and guessed it was Dayan’s troopers going after the mortar tracks.

  A Keen Steel trooper stepped down the command track’s rear ramp followed closely by another two men. At first, Hicks was sure they were drawn by the fire, but it was immediately apparent the trio was completely oblivious to the fight as well as the closing quartet of Red Light troopers.

  As Hicks stopped and drew breath to call for their surrender, the lead man looked their way. In wide-eyed panic, he clawed for a sidearm at his right hip.

  “Don’t!” Hicks yelled as the other two reached for short-barreled rifles slung over their shoulders.

  Hicks’ scattergun barked just before a quartet of arms joined in the slaughter. Before the three bloody corpses fully settled, Hicks and Sam were closing at a run with Vincent and Moss just steps behind.

  Sliding to a stop near the command track, Hicks called, “We have you completely covered. Surrender and live.”

  “Grenade ready, corporal,” Sam yelled despite having no such device in hand.

  Matt smiled at the ruse before replying, “Hold on to it for now.”

  “We’re not a combat vehicle. What unit are you?” a woman’s voice said from inside the track.

  “Red Light Company,” Hicks said.

  “I am Commander Gifford. Safety your weapons. As I said, we are not a combat vehicle.”

  Switching his scattergun from right to left hand, Hicks leaned cautiously around the edge of the rear hatch and saw four troopers inside, one of whom was toggling switches on a com panel.

  “Freeze or die,” Hicks barked as Sam joined him in covering the vehicle’s occupants.

  The four raised their hands.

  “Are you stragglers?” the woman wearing commander’s diamonds asked as Moss checked the three downed men for signs of life.

  “No, ma’am,” Hicks said, “We’re your captors.”

  “Quite a distance from the battle aren’t you?”

  “I could ask the same of you, ma’am.”

  “Quite,” Gifford said curtly. “We surrender though you will soon be switching positions with us. The arbiters will be sending word of your unit’s capitulation soon. We have armor behind Commander Hawkwood’s barricade.”

  “I don’t know anything about that, ma’am. Step out of the track.” Looking at Sam he ordered, “Get Somers over here.”

  Without saying a word, Sam set off at a trot while Vincent took his place and covered the prisoners with his machine gun.

  “They’re all three goners,” Moss said drawing a nod of acknowledgement from his team leader.

  “What were you doing to the com panel?” Hicks asked the trooper he’d barked at before.

  “I’m not required to answer such a question. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

  Gifford smiled. “He was obeying an order given by me. The idea you had of using the com to compromise our position? That is no longer an option.”

  “Maybe not,” Hicks said as Sam and Barb joined them. Pointing at the prisoners he said, “Moss, Davout, cover them. If one makes a move, chop them all.”

  The corporal gestured for the other two to follow him into the track.

  “One of the Keen Steel assholes did something to the com,” he said quietly. “See if you can figure it out.”

  “I heard what the commander said,” Barb replied. “Probably cleared the unit’s channels, It would be important if they weren’t jammed, but they are. I’ll take a look.”

  A minute later she turned from the panel. “They blanked the entire system. Unit coms, medevac, umpire, and treaty. I restored the latter three. I’m guessing their CO doesn’t want us reporting her capture, but I could have hitched my comset to the antenna array for that. No need. This rig is operational and will reach the arbiters without a problem.”

  Matt smiled. “Nice work. Can you bring up treaty channel? I’m going to talk with Gifford. She won’t like it, but we need to report this. She seems to think the fight’s going her way. Either she’s wrong, things have changed since we left, or Keen Steel has something else working.”

  As Matt exited the vehicle, Sam smiled and said, “You’re pretty handy to have around, Somers. I’m thinking it was worth lugging you over half of Valenz.”

  Barb laughed and smiled in return. “Yeah? You’re pretty useful yourself. I’m thinking we might be pals after this.”

  . . .

  Nasty-96 sat on slightly sloping ground a couple hundred meters north of Muldoon’s hunter-killer teams. Hidden in the tall grass that covered the small hill, the troopers waited to see if the Keen Steel tank might accommodate them and roll into their ambush.

  Sitting next to a worn berm Fell was sure had to be manmade, the purpose of its existence was lost but it served the track chief’s needs well.

  Watching the approaches from the east and north, the berm covered their right side except for Briggs’ turret which provided a view over the small land feature and one he scanned intently.

  Sergeants Fell and Muldoon had agreed the opposing force tank would stay on the low ground to avoid detection and would likely pass to the north of the hillock. Muldoon and his hunter-killers were positioned to adjust given the possibility the enemy might have other plans and as soon as the tank came into view, possibility became reality.

  “The fucker’s rolling up the hill,” Muldoon called. “If we can keep it on the hillock, we’ve got it surrounded. HK teams, listen for my commands so we coordinate fire without tagging each other.”

  “It’s headed up the hump. Northeast side headed southwest,” Briggs said in a worried tone.

  “Not according to plan, but it might work,” Fell replied. “Muldoon thinks so at least. I’m guessing the tank knows their APC support is gone so they want to get a view of the ground between here and the roadblock. Let’s give the HKs a chance. This berm is our edge.”

  Briggs winced at the idea of fighting a monster, but memories of Training Sergeant Verro’s frequent comments about learning to read the ground to find places of protection or avoid positions of vulnerability crossed his mind. Realizing the same basic premise applied to vehicles, it was clear Fell followed the same philosophy.

  “I’m backing us up the slope,” Fell said over the coms, “Briggsy, look for the grey panels on the turret. They’re the target acquisition sensors. They can’t be covered in armor, so….”

  “If I can hit them they can be damaged.”

  “That’s about it. Sensors, vision blocks, vid, all can be damaged.”

  “All right, Sarge. I’ll see what I can do. Just remember I’m sticking up here when you take Niner-Six into cover.”

  “The turret and gunner are part of the package, kiddo. On the gun ‘cause here we go.”

  Fell backed the track along the berm and Briggs soon saw the tank. Grimacing at the weaponry the monster carried, he looked for targets.

  Nasty-96’s presence was quickly detected and as Briggs opened fire on an object at the front of the turret, the remote machine turret atop the battle tank returned fire as well. With rounds pounding an alarming thunk-thunk-thunk on the hull and tracers flashing past, Briggs focused on his shooting, not the incoming.

  That swiftly changed when a sharp cracking sound came from his turret. Leaving a spiderweb scar on the left side armored transparency, Briggs swung his weapon toward the source of the damage.

  With tracers flashing past, the young tro
oper sent some of his own at the turret not knowing if he could a thing to stop it.

  A couple dozen rounds later, a glittering shower of bright particles sparkled in the sunlight and the once accurate fire coming from the turret ceased. While tracers flew wildly over 96, Briggs grinned at the fact he had effectively blinded the turret and sought other targets

  “Bastards,” Briggs muttered.

  “You okay, kiddo?” Fell asked.

  “Scared enough I almost pissed myself, but nothing worse. The gun and turret are operational. I think I knocked out the optics on the tank’s machine gun, but it doesn’t seem our eleven mike-mike can get through to disable the weapon itself.”

  “If they can’t target anything it’s not much use. We can—” Fell snarled at the sight of the tank’s turret turning toward them. “Rolling for cover,” he called. “It looks like you pissed them off.”

  Sergeant Fell brought Nasty-96 into motion. Smoothly accelerating, he sought to keep the track’s movements from spoiling his gunner’s shots.

  As the tank turret spun to face them, Briggs fired a long burst at the point where the main energy cannon protruded. Knowing the tracers would clearly show the tank crew where the fire came from and seeing the maw of the cannon growing from narrow oval to full circle as it squared up, Briggs grimaced and managed an uneasy, “Hey, Sarge—” just before the tank disappeared from sight behind the roll of land.

  A heave of earth, molten rock, and cyan energy showed where the cannon’s shot landed. Dust and smoke clouded the air as Briggs winced at the fearful power of the tank.

  Fell locked the tracks and Nasty slid to a stop, shoving Briggs hard into the left side of his seat. Quickly reversing, Fell yelled, “Stand ready for another shot.”

  The gunner’s sight picture was filled with nothing but dust-polluted air as the track rolled and Briggs sought a hint of the tank’s location.

  “Niner-Six, this is Muldoon. If you’re still in the game, check fire west of the heavy. We have an angle and we’re taking the shot.”

  “We’re here,” Fell replied. “Copy you are west of heavy. Will watch where we’re shooting. Punch out the heavy while we draw its attention. Nasty Niner-Six out.” The track chief keyed the intercom. “You get that Briggsy?”