'Is she looking for someone?” he asked as the infantry and MPs bagged and tagged bodies. “Because we’ve got things to do, she can look over the MPs’ report later.” Kennedy looked over his shoulder.
“I think she’s looking for their leader,” he said. “Or at least someone connected to him.” Knight shook his head.
“Within twenty-four hours, we’ll have their names, their fingerprints, all their known associates, and their favorite breakfast foods,” he said. “What’s the point of looking right now?” Irving shook her head as she looked into bodies that had already been bagged.
“She’s looking for a really dangerous man,” Kennedy said. “Someone who’s as big a threat to our plans as the Tharcians themselves.” Finally, she returned to them.
“He’s not here,” she said. “We need to scour this entire area a mile out.” Knight raised a hand.
“We don’t have the resources to commit to that,” he said. “But we’ve made things safer for convoys, now we can precede with our plans on the 21st.”
Irving sighed. “I hope this doesn’t cost us in the long run,” she said. “But you’re ultimately correct.” They piled back into the command car and made for Landfall. After a few miles of snowy hinterland, they began to see the town.
“Is there any significance to the date chosen for Operation Indignation?” Kennedy asked. Irving grinned.
“The Tharcian’s celebrate a religious holiday on that day,” she said. “Gift giving is one of their traditions, so I decided to partake.” They shared a chuckle before the radioman interrupted them.
“Excuse me comrades, it’s for comrade Major,” he said before handing the radio to Irving. She took the receiver, nodded, thanked her comrade on the other end.
“That was Comrade Meyer,” she said. “She’s agreed to a truce with the Tharcians.” Knight leaned forward.
“When and for how long?” he asked.
“Twenty-Four hours starting at Midnight,” Irving replied. “Furthermore, she wants Knight and Ballard to go with her to Grunbeck to observe the truce.”
Before she or Knight could say anything in anger, Kennedy raised a hand, silencing them. “Meyer is easily one of the smartest people I know. The only reason she isn’t number one is because I also know Chaney,” he said. “That being said, I trust her with my life. If she agreed a twenty-four-hour truce, then she must have had a good reason.”
Knight’s jaw stiffened, and he said nothing. However, Irving raised a finger. “This gives us an opportunity, we can request the MOs begin depopulation measures here.” She smiled. “That would educate and redistribute this area’s people and negate the partisans ability to hide in plain sight.”
Kennedy leaned his head against the command car’s small window. “Hmm, that is a cunning plan,” he admitted. He glanced over at Knight. “You know, observing this truce gives you the opportunity to really observe the Tharcians, how they think, how they move, how they react, all of that is valuable information for us.” Knight shrugged.
“I’m sure they’ll have the same information on us,” he said. Without replying, Kennedy shifted his gaze out the window. Even under the gray skies, he could make out the distant shadows of mountains. Snow drifted down onto a white world below. It’s so serene, so peaceful.
“Comrade Kennedy, have you spoken to Comrade Chaney lately?” Irving asked. He shook his head.
“He’s a busy guy, I’d hate to interrupt him,” Kennedy replied. “Though maybe I should, just to get a feel of the situation in the capital.” With a shrug, he looked back out the window. “I would have liked to attacked by now, but I’m sure the Black Knight will be repaired by the time we attack.”
The Command Car pulled around to the command center. The three officers spilled out into the wet street and climbed the cold stone stairs up to the entrance. Soon, we’ll win this war, it’ll be here before we know it. With a gloved hand, Kennedy gripped the door handle and held it open for the other two. So we win. And then what?
As Reiter walked into Col. Hawke’s office, he noticed additional maps plastered about the conference room. Hawke himself hovered over one, his good arm resting on a table. “Reiter, good, The Black Lion himself joins us,” he said as he noticed the younger man. “Take a seat, I have a few things to run by you.”
While taking a seat from the table, Hawke pointed to an area map. “So we’ve been thinking, the Unis established themselves a cute little bridgehead here, but what if we hit them in Landfall?” He traced his finger down the main road leading out of landfall. “And attacked all the way towards Pulaski?”
Reiter looked from one map to the next. “There are a lot of things we need to consider,” he said. “What forces does the enemy have at their disposal?” Hawke pointed to another map.
“They have a mechanized Battalion near riverside that skirmishes with our scouts, a panzerter battalion near this bridge, and another just south of it, with their motorized forces reallocated to internal security.”
Skepticism crowded Reiter’s thoughts. “How do we have so much accurate information?” To which Hawke smiled.
“There’s a lot of Thracian citizens stuck on the other side, they may not be totting rifles, but they’re doing a valuable service to the country.”
Pointing to the bridges, Reiter traced a long scything line between Grunbeck and Swiezen. “So there’s no doubt this is the path their attack will take, and if they continue, they’ll eventually break out of the forests.”
Hawke nodded. “We can’t allow that, although it gives us a believable path to see them on, I actually want to trick them into going into a city, or rather a town.” He pointed to a large town north of Grunbeck, just slightly out of the Union’s intended path. “If we get them inside city limits, we can slow them down.”
“But how do you trick them?” Hawke flashed a cheeky smile.
“I’ve been talking to 4-14th, they’re moving roadsigns around to decide the Unis,” he said.
“It can’t be that easy,” Reiter replied. “I’m sure they have area maps.” He folded his arms. “They’ll need more incentive.” Like if General Orban herself was standing there in the middle of the Ironton. Then it hit him.
“What if we leak that our headquarters company is in Ironton?” Reiter asked. “And by not rushing to bolster its defenses, we’re hiding it in plan sight.” Hawke snapped his fingers.
“We can have your group and the Lowe’s there as a ‘last line of defense’ while the rest of our regiment attack from the south and the 1-11th comes from the East.”
Reiter smiled. “Now we just need a situation to leak the location of HQ.”
“We may have it,” Hawke replied. “Orban want’s to call a truce for 24 hours on the 15th, mainly so we can evacuate all of our seriously wounded, but she also wants to conduct a prisoner exchange.”
“What does that mean for us?” Reiter asked.
“It means their equal to Orban will be coming here, to Grunbeck, to negotiate the release of prisoners, they’ll also bring observers to verify we aren’t doing anything shady.” Hawke leaned back in his chair and stretched his neck. “Do you have two people that can sit and talk to someone for a while?” Reiter nodded.
“Yeah, I got two,” he said. After looking over and signing some paperwork for Hawke, he left for his own quarters. While he’d been in Hawke’s office, night had fallen over the bustling city. While his breath hung in the air, he stared at the glowing lights of Grunbeck.
Know what, I could use a walk. A nice quiet walk. Children pressed their faces to the glass undoes of storefronts as their parents pulled them along. A whiff of pretzels hung in the air, and he heard music every time a store opened. The more I smell those pretzels, the hungrier I get. Aw to hell with it.
Tracking the scent to its source took little time. Another brick and mortar store, but when the doors opened he also smelled chocolate, peppermint, and cinnamon. Garland wrapped around every long surface, and Christmas carols blared in his ear
s. He turned to leave, but bumped into someone.
“Excuse me,” he said. Then he recognized her. “Oh, you’re that nurse from Landfall.” She brushed a curl out of her face. She wore a brown long coat with a lavender scarf, a matching knit hat did it’s best to contain her thick curls.
“Oh, you’re that Captain with the rude pilot, Smith,” she said. Reiter shrugged and held the door for her.
“He doesn’t know how to be a gentleman, yet,” he replied. “I guess it comes with the territory when you’re the youngest of thirteen brothers.” Amelia gasped.
“Oh Lord, help his poor mother,” she said. Reiter shrugged.
“He’s a good kid,” he said. “Incredibly polite, he just can’t read the room sometimes.” They got in line, kids ran about, looking at chocolates and various other candies being made, while model train circled Christmas trees. “Sometimes I forget it’s even Christmas time.”
Amelia nodded. “Same, although I’m normally pretty busy this time of year anyway,” she said. “Hospitals are normally busy this time of the year.”
As they approached the counter, Reiter squinted at the menu. “You know, I never got to thank you for taking care of Adamski,” he said. “I’ll buy.” Amelia imitated clutching a necklace.
“Captain Reiter, you don’t have to to do that,” she said. Reiter raised a hand and shook his head.
“No, no, I insist,” he said. “Adamski’s been in my platoon for a long time, and I can’t express how grateful I am that you saved his life.” The nurse leaned in and prodded him.
“Is that why you followed me in here?” she asked. “Because you looked like you were about to leave.” Reiter nodded.
“Yeah, it was a little loud for me in here, but I saw you and still owed you thanks.” She pushed him. She ordered a cream cheese and cinnamon pretzel while he ordered a standard salt and cheese one. Before he could walk back to his barracks, Amelia called out to him.
“I was going for a walk, would you mind joining me?” Reiter shrugged. Sure, why not?
“So you like our design?” the representative asked. Chaney nodded.
“We’re willing to invest 2.5 million Labors just for a prototype of your engine, but we expanded that to 7 million for a demonstration worthy prototype,” he said. “We believe your design will complement our Martians nicely.”
The representative nodded and followed him. Chaney led him to a meeting room with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two glasses. “I take it, you’re prepared to sign this deal?” The representative said.
Chaney sat at the table and smiled. “This is a major contract for the Blackburn Locomotive Group, we’re not just talking a contract with a single order, we’re talking licences, repair training, spare parts, R&D teams, and endless options for renewal.” He removed a tablet from under the table, one with the contract he prepared already loaded for the representative to sign.
Tentatively, the representative, a dour woman in her mid-fifties, thumbed through the contract, pausing occasionally to reread something. “You want to use our facilities on Phobos?” She asked. Chaney nodded.
“I do,” he said. “Phobos is the most secure location in the Union and has been a full Martian republic for twenty years.” He stood and reached for the champagne.
“Not so fast,” the representative said. “This would be the most profitable contract Blackburn Locomotive has ever signed, assuming we hit all of these incentives.”
With a smile, the General popped the champagne and poured himself a glass. “Your Union has never worked with MAG research, have they?”
She folded her arms. “We can’t agree to an exploitive contract like this, if you want our technology, you’ll have to fold your incentives into the main contract.”
Chaney poured himself a glass. “In the MAG, we pay for quality, we reward hard work and competence.” Setting aside his own glass, he reached for the other. “Taking this contract will increase the Blackburn Group’s labor share, tremendously in fact, your workforce, and by extension Phobos itself will prosper.”
“Assuming they meet your deadlines and match your quality standards,” she replied. “It is unfair to the people working hard in our facilities if they must break themselves to meet the arbitrary standards of the military.”
Chaney raised his glass to her, then took a sip. “We are in an arms race comrade, our standard ensures we get an advanced machine to the front lines instead of a metal coffin that’s obsolete the second it rolls out.”
The representative folded her arms. “Our society places the worker first,” she said. “Our institutions risk falling into ruin if we abandon that.”
Chaney sighed and rose from his chair. As he paced the table, he held his glass near his face. “You see, that’s interesting, because the implication, in your own words, is that the soldiers on the frontline aren’t workers in the sense your factory workers are.”
He took a sip from his champagne, focusing his eyes on the stern woman before him. “Your workers who operate in total comfort and safety, the second of which is provided by our soldiers and sailors on the front.” He spread his hands and smiled. “Now, they can support their comrades by making a safe quality product, and they will be rewarded when they do.” He leaned over on the table and moved to hand her her glass. “Do we have a deal?”
Snatching the champagne from his hands, the Representative downed the glass immediately. “For the most part, I want to talk through the timeline, some of these smaller pieces we’d like to negotiate.” Chaney smiled.
“We will not alter our combat performance requirements, or our choices in test pilots,” he said. “But anything else is up on the table.” After looking over the contract with the Representative from Blackburn, Chaney agreed to several minor amendments before they signed the contract.
“I hope you’re not taking advantage of our labor pool,” the representative scowled. “If even one person is forced out of work, you’ll have a lot more than me to deal with.”
Chaney wagged a finger. “Your workers will gain the same healthcare and benefits as the military,” he said. “It’s called protecting our investment.” He took another sip of champagne. “Would you like a refill?” He poured another glass for her. “To our successful partnership.”
She nodded and took the drink. “We’ll lay the groundwork before I’m even back in Cascadia,” she replied before taking a swig. Chaney nodded.
“I already have a test pilot in mind,” he said. With a smile, the representative finished her drink and left. Chaney relaxed. As he looked at the remains of his champagne and abruptly tossed it into the fire.
Reiter leaned over the railing in front of him. Below, Mechanics crawled all over the Lowe performing routine maintenance. They serviced magnetic joints, tested its subsystems, and cleaned sensors. His black machine stood apart from the panzerters around it. While the other panzerters resembled soldiers from the 21st century, at least superficially, his called back to a long bygone era, a time of chivalry, honor, and pageantry.
At least, that’s how people remember it. He sighed. The Lowe’s head passed an odd blend of traditional aesthetics and more modern ones. Most of it resembled a knight’s helmet with its round flared shape and single spear tip antenna, but beneath its brow sat a sleek visor and an air filter resembling a gas mask.
“May I join you, sir?” Wesser called. Reiter glanced over at the young lieutenant and nodded. As she approached the railing next to him, her gaze turned to the Lowe. “It seems so…out of place.”
Reiter grinned. “Funny you say that, I was just thinking the same thing.” He looked back to the other panzerters in the warehouse. “I wonder if that’s the look of the future panzerter force.”
“From what I heard, it’s appearance has a psychological impact on the unit,” she said. “Whether that’s from it’s mostly black paint job, it’s unique head, I’m not sure.”
“You forgot its insane durability,” Reiter replied. “Even now, most of
the Union’s weapons barely scratch it, it took three elite heavy panzerters employing a reckless but well-coordinated strategy just to get a mobility kill.”
Wesser looked at him. “How does it feel, sir?”
“How does what feel?” he replied.
“Being invincible,” she said.
Reiter sighed. “I’ll let you know when I find out.” He pointed to the Lowe itself. “In the cockpit, I have pictures of everyone we lost in this damn war.” He looked back at her. “I’m only one man Wesser, I can’t save everyone, as much as I’d like to.”
“You don’t have to,” she replied. “We’re all capable fighters, with good, reliable equipment.” She set a hand on his shoulder. “With all due respect, sir, you need to take your own advice.”
With a shrug, Reiter stood up. “Kozma is a good dude, but his drive to save the day will get him killed if he’s not careful.” He looked down at the warehouse floor. “This isn’t about how I behave, this is about someone else.” He turned and walked towards the stairs.
“Sir, where are you going?” Wesser asked.
“To the cockpit, want to help with maintenance?” he said. As she blinked in confusion, she followed him down the stairs. “The mechanics will need a pilot to check the range of motion in the hands and arms, I want to show you what it’s like to be me, even if its only a few minutes.”
After a short walk across the warehouse floor, they came to the feet of the Lowe. A maintenance ladder reached up to its upper chest. Reiter waved to the head mechanic before pushing Wesser towards the ladder.
“Get up in their,” he said. “I’ll sit in the jump seat.” She crawled up the ladder, and he followed. She could very easily lead a company or higher before this is over, she needs to understand the weight of that. As they climbed into the cockpit, Wesser gasped at the wall of pictures.
“All of these people,” she said. “This was the old Fox company?” Reiter nodded as he sat down.
“Yeah, that’s our old Captain and XO right there, that’s my platoon sergeant and Lugosi,” he said with a bitter smile. “The last thing I said to him was chewing him out for smoking while we mustered.” He pointed at a tall chestnut haired woman with an arm around Mo and Steele. “That’s Bartonova. She was like an older sister to most of the company.”
Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle Page 12
