Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle
Page 14
Mo’s weapon flashed. The blue glow hurt his eyes, but he heard the tin-hat topple. A crash like thunder ruptured his ears, and a second tin-hat went up in a column of fire.
“Didn’t think I could touch you at 1600 meters, did ya?” Merlin said.
Mo smirked as he overtook the retreating scouts. “3, I appreciate the shit talk, but don’t shoot me in the back.” He glanced behind him. Merlin’s machine lay prone, the barrel of its 155-mm sniper rifle still smoking. The scouts almost reached him.
“Don’t worry four, I’m paying attention,” he said. “You got another one approaching.” Mo looked back to his front, switching between thermals and optics.
“Where? I don’t have anything,” he replied.
“That’s a big motherfucker,” Merlin said. A shell leaped past Mo and deflected off something nearby. “Damn it, shot bounced.”
Now Mo could see it. Under the weak starlight, his sensors revealed a large red fat-man. Shit, it’s one of those guys. The fat-man squared up to him as Mo backpedaled. Instinctively, he fired controlled burst after burst into the fat mans chest.
Then one burst didn’t stop until the weapon emptied the magazine. An alarm told him the barrel had melted and warped. As Mo cleared the enemy, Merlin fired again. This time his shell smashed into the fat-man’s head.
“Tharcian soldiers,” a voice said over the net as they retreated. “I’m going to kill all of you one day.” What the hell?
After an hour of running at full tilt, they regrouped north of Ironton. “Is everyone here?” Wesser asked. It turned out they’d lost Recon 3. Recon 1 simply refused to talk t them unless he deemed it “absolutely necessary.”
“Other than them, we’re all here,” Recon 1 said. “No, thanks to your people.” What planet does this dude live on?
“What did you expect us to do?” Mo replied. “We don’t deploy recon tracks to stand in front of them.”
“The hell do you know about recon?” Recon 1 asked. “Nothing, your Black 1 senselessly got a track full of decent men killed for no good reason.” Mo couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“No good reason?” He said. “What are you even going to report?”
Recon 1 replied immediately. “The contents of my report don’t concern you, only me and the commander, but Black 1’s inadequacies will be included.” Mo’s head pounded.
“Fuck you,” he finally said, and killed his radio.
Chaney folded his arms and scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know what to say, how did you catch this guy?” Kennedy sighed as he sat awkwardly in a folding chair in the former recording studio. “And why are you sitting like that?”
“Well, him, or at least one of his comrades shot me in the ass,” Kennedy said. “And after a long struggle, I overpowered him and detained him.” With a shake of his head, Chaney looked back at the man on the other side of the one-way mirror.
“I can’t believe you nabbed this guy,” Chaney said. “His knowledge could accelerate our progress on the particle weapons project.” He looked back at Ballard. “Oh and did you tell Ballard to meet us like I asked?”
Kennedy nodded. “I told him, he’s not about to get bad news, is he?” Chaney shook his head.
“No, it’s actually good news, for him anyway,” he replied. As he spoke, the door opened. A taller woman with yellow green hair entered holding a tablet, Ballard followed her.
“Comrade Brigadier, Comrade Colonel, here’s comrade Ballard, just as you asked,” she said. “Now about this frontline inspection-”
He raised a hand. “It can wait, comrade…”
“Major, or Irving if you desire to be informal Comrade,” she replied. Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind being informal…Chaney shook his head.
“Sorry if I’ve disrupted things here, but Comrade Ballard, I have an amazing opportunity for you.” He handed Ballard a tablet he’d been holding. “I’d like you too look it over.” He looked back at Woody Pete. “As for this guy-”
“We need to execute him,” Irving said. “He’s too dangerous to risk going free.”
Chaney raised an eyebrow. “He’s also a brilliant engineer. We could use his expertise.” He glanced back at the partisan. He sat in his cell, flexing his jaw from side to side. That’s weird, but it looks like someone hit him in the face. Maybe he’s relocating his jaw?
“You want me to be a test pilot?” Ballard finally asked. “You mean I’m leaving the front?” Chaney looked at Kennedy.
“I pulled a few strings so that there’s always a spot among Kennedy’s people for you,” he said. “And I twisted a few arms while vastly overselling how dangerous being a test pilot was to get you the best part.” He paused and grinned.
“What did you do?” Ballard asked before Chaney took the tablet and revealed a different document. “Am I getting Penny on weekends or something?” Then he saw the words and his jaw dropped. “No way, you can’t be serious!”
The MAG scientist raised his hands. “Do I look like some cruel dick to you? No, you earned this, to hell with any non-tuber that thinks otherwise?” Irving raised an eyebrow.
“Is there something I should know?” she asked. “Like an illegal child?” Chaney shook his head.
As Ballard collapsed into a chair and sobbed, Chaney explained his situation to Irving. “It’s a good thing comrade, the little girl that thought of him as her daddy this whole time has been legally adopted.” He gestured to Ballard. “In a huge win for tuber’s rights, the Union and Congaree legal recognize Ballard as her father.”
Kennedy patted Ballard on the shoulder. “Better back your snivel gear,” he said. “It’s chilly this time of year.” Ballard hugged his commander.
“You better not start half assing things,” he said. Kennedy looked incredulous.
“Have you seen my rear end? What choice do I have?” Out of the corner of his eye, Chaney thought he glimpsed Irving smirk.
“I hate to put a downer on things,” Irving said. “But we still have a dangerous partisan here, and a frontline inspection to conduct.”
With a nod, Chaney dismissed the statement. “Yes, yes, we’ll get to that,” he said before walking over to her. “Your duty is a vital part of the war effort, but let’s be serious this is historical, let’s just soak it in for a moment.”
Both tablets suddenly buzzed loudly, like a weather service alert. Chaney looked over Irving shoulder as she opened the notification.
“Tharcian surrender is imitate,” Irving read. “As of 2300 Peninsular time, Demios’s defenses have been invariably compromised by a raid that used torpedos carrying Nerve agents, Union ships bombarded the second moon with said torpedos in a hit-and-run attack, estimates run that 60% of the moon’s working population have died.”
As Irving read the last part, Chaney whistled. “That’s like 70 million people, hell the war could be over right now!” Briefly, he remembered the words of the NC Secretary. I hope your big victory’s worth it. Despite his own stated confidence, Chaney felt uneasy about the turn of events. If it wasn’t then we just did more harm than good.
Field Marshall Hausnerr looked around the table. Staring back at him, sat representatives of the Roosevelt government in exile and the Olympians. A monitor displayed a tenuous link to the woman who’d assumed leadership of Olympia’s space territories, while diplomats from Vinland also sat at the table. Hausnerr eyed them suspiciously, as the country to the south, across the Mariner Gulf, remained neutral in the current conflict. Perhaps they look to gain something by brokering a peace deal?
One of the Olympian reps snorted. “Let’s just skip the formalities, we know why we’re all here,” he said. “We’ve lost.”
Hausnerr shook his head. “We will not surrender, Tharsis will never surrender.” Another Olympian rep nearly spat her drink.
“That’s hardly reasonable,” she said. “If you don’t, you’ll continue to waste your people’s lives.”
The Marshall looked at the Roosevelt contingency. “And what is
your opinion? Would you waste your forebears’s hard fought independence just to put the boot back on your neck?”
“Well, we have talked about offering a separate peace to the Union wherein we maintain a protectorate status,” the leader of the Roosevelt group said. “We hardly have a leg to stand on.”
Hausnerr narrowed his eyes. “You lot remember the terms of the Alliance, correct?” The rep held up his hands and nodded.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “No separate peace arrangements, we understand.”
“And what of your mighty fleets?” The Space administrator asked. “How can you protect us from the Union and Avalon when you can hardly protect yourselves?”
He looked away from her, as he still needed time to process the attack on Deimos. “I’ve been unable to reach Admiral Von Braun, but I’m sure once things at Deimos have been sorted out, he’ll be able to answer your questions.” Damn it man, what the hell happened up there?
“Marshall,” the Vinland delegate said. “We understand your president is unavailable while she addresses your Congress, but I’m inclined to remind you that we’re available to negotiate a peace agreement between your two sides.”
With a sigh, Hausnerr stood and paced the room. “Excuse me if I come off as an old man ranting, he said. “But allow me to briefly address our people’s history and why we won’t surrender.”
Some Olympian reps rolled their eyes, but the other delegations seemed to listen earnestly. Hausnerr took a breath and began. “Our people were utterly devastated by the world wars of Earth, the first two ruined our economies, and killed off much of our future.” He looked at the Olympian delegates. “Then our people were dominated by the Soviets, we had autonomy in name only, all of our blood, treasure, and youth fed the Soviet machine.”
Shaking his head, he continued. “Then there was the Prague Spring, the Berlin Rose, the Warsaw uprising, we told our oppressors we’d had enough, so the Kremlin made examples out of our capital cities, atomic fires ruined our homelands, and set us on a long exodus that would eventually lead us here.”
“Yes, but just because they both call themselves a Union doesn’t make them the same!” Another Olympian delegate said.
Hausnerr looked at the Roosevelt delegation. “Did anything I say sound familiar?”
“We’re all old enough to remember the Acadian Martian Republic,” the delegation leader said. “If we had to choose, we’d stay the free state of Roosevelt.”
One of the Vinland diplomats leaned over and whispered something to his boss. Her face suddenly tightened. “Are you sure? Where? When? Why?”
“Is their something we should know?” Hausnerr asked. “If so, please share.” The lead diplomat hurriedly stood up and left the room, her phone in her hand. He narrowed his gaze on the whisperer.
With a grimace, the young man explained himself. “We just received a report from our homeland, we’ve been ordered to cut ties with Avalon, the Union, and any of their allies.” Whoa, that’s interesting.
“Are you at liberty to share why?” The Space Administer asked before she looked at someone off screen and her eyes widened. “God, Almighty.” She looked back at them. “It’s the Orkney archipelago, Avalon attacked one of the colonies with those same gas torpedos.”
The whisperer turned red. “Supposedly a Tharcian hospital ship caught refuge there, Avalon demanded they hand over the vessel and its crew, they cite their neutrality and the Geneva convention, and then they attacked them and breeched the colony.
Hausnerr shook his head. “Well, on behalf of the Central Alliance, we’re willing to extend membership to Vinland.” On that bitter note, the Ostlan Conference ended, no closer to peace, and much more embroiled in war.
10
“Why did you stay?” Irving asked. Kennedy watched their prisoner’s reaction carefully. Woody Pete simply stared at the floor.
“Because my home is here,” he said before doing that odd thing with his jaw. Maybe it’s a personal tick? As Irving continued with her questions, Kennedy paced about. Chaney thinks this guy is super valuable, but I have the impression I’m staring at a caged wolf. He shuddered. The only other people to give him that particular feeling were Wake, and Knight’s two subordinates.
“Why did you attack us?” Irving said. “The Union military never harmed you or your family, so why attack us?”
Pete snorted. “We both know that’s a crock of shit young lady, I know you were at my house the night my wife died.” Irving recoiled from the mic.
“How did he?”
Kennedy sat down and took the mic. “He could have seen your face and recognized your voice,” he said with a hand over the mic. “Let me try talking to him.” Lifting his hand, he addressed Kennedy. “What I think she means Pete is why didn’t you remain peaceful when our forces entered your territory, I understand there was some unpleasant business with your family, but you could have petitioned the Union government for redress and left our armed forces be.”
For a moment, Pete sat silently. Then he chuckled. The man’s chuckle grew into a haunting laugh. “Do you really think I’m that naïve?” He paused. “Though I guess I could potion for redress, I studied your people in civics, doesn’t seem to bad.”
“So you would be interested in working for the Union government?” Kennedy asked. Pete wagged a finger at him.
“I said it didn’t sound bad,” he said. “I mean granted you people manufactured a slave caste and anyone that steps a little too far out of line gets crushed, but yeah, seems like a great system.” He propped his feet up on his table. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, I could live the high life while the tube people do all the actual work.”
Kennedy took a few deep breaths and realized he’d been gripping the mic stand hard enough to leave impressions of his hand. “Well, it seems like you’ll need to be re-educated so that you can fit our society better, but the Union would be proud to have you.”
“Re-educated, huh?” Pete replied. “I think I’ll pass, I might lose all of this valuable physics know-how you need, but let’s talk more about you Mr pilot, since you know so much about me, I think its time I learned more about you.”
Irving covered the mic. “We’re playing a dangerous game indulging him,” she whispered. “I don’t like this, how does he know so much about me?” Kennedy raised a hand.
“I think he recognized you,” he replied. “He’s trying to intimidate you, but I’m going to shift his focus.” Setting a hand on Irving, he looked back at Woody Pete. “To satisfy your curiosity, I’m a simple tuber who happens to be a pilot, that is all.”
The Partisan cocked his head. “Really? I don’t believe that’s it.” Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms. “You see, you fought incredibly hard, not just well, hard, which tells me you’re fighting for something more than mere survival.”
“It was you or me,” Kennedy said. “I choose the most efficient way to end the fight.” Pete spread his arms and rocked in his chair.
“Now see, there’s training, and then there’s conviction,” he said. “I fought the Union to avenge my family, including my brother you killed personally, Mr pilot, but you fought even harder. If you wanted to live, there was no reason to leave your panzerter.”
Kennedy licked the inside of his teeth. This guy’s digging for something, but what? “I’m just a good soldier,” he said. To his surprise, Pete shrugged.
“If you say so,” he said. “A shame too, such a skilled and brilliant warrior. Too bad you can’t even get a seat at the table.” Shaking his head, he stopped rocking his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “You see man, they took my family from me, but they have denied you that and so much more.”
As he leaned away from the mic, he allowed Irving to resume her line of questioning. I don’t need him to tell me the score, they have given us a raw deal. Though I guess, even if we win all this, can we trust the First Minister? Or the NC Secretary? What about civilians? Surely they won’t care for it.
“That has to be the worst Christmas tree I’ve ever seen,” Mo said. Reiter clapped the younger soldier on the back.
“Don’t rain on their parade,” he said. “It’s great that the Merlin brothers are feeling festive.” A short Christmas tree occupied an empty corner of the hanger. The brothers had “salvaged” some cheap ornaments and made some out of junk they’d found around the warehouse. Reiter’s favorite was the empty pack of cigarettes stuffed with tinsel.
Steele smiled as she set a star on the top. “My parents used an angel as a tree topper,” she said. “But I couldn’t find one worth the money.” Kozma sat on an ammo can, shuffling a deck of cards.
“My parents used to hide a pickle on the tree,” he said. “Whoever found it would earn a candy bar.”
With a nod, Reiter sat down on another ammo crate. “Yeah, my old man used to do the same thing for us,” he said. “You know it’s a good thing we’re observing the season and not letting it just slip away, hell two hundred years ago there was a truce on Christmas day.”
Wesser smiled. “It’s a nice thought, sir, but I don’t think the Union shares our traditions.” She pointed to the cards as Kozma shuffled. “What games do you know?”
“Eucher, Spades, War, Bridge, Kings, poker, jacks, slap, spoons-“
Mo held up a hand. “Ight, we get it, you know a lot of card games,” he said, adding “sir” after a delay. “Does anyone else know spades?”
“I’ll sit out,” Reiter said. “Even better, I’ll referee.”
Wesser raised an eyebrow as she sat across from Kozma. “What kind of game is spades that you would need a referee?”
“You’ve clearly never played a card game in the military,” Mo said as he sat next to Kozma. Steele took a seat across from him and they began playing. Reiter pulled out a notepad and pen to keep score.