Armored Warrior Panzerter: Eve of Battle

by T. E. Butcher

  Wesser-Mo proved to be a much more effective at communicating while Kozma-Steele drew good hands routinely. Reiter smiled while clarifying rules and providing the occasional commentary. Eventually, Kozma-Steele bagged out, allowing Wesser-Mo just enough points to win.

  “Well, great game you two,” Steele said as she helped clean up the cards. “I think I’m going to lie down for a bit if anyone needs me.” While she left, Reiter looked up at the Lowe.

  The mighty panzerter loomed ominously in the improvised hanger. Soon, we’ll have to fight again. He thought about the red panzerters he’d encountered before. Which reminds me.

  “Mo, Kozma, I will not have any issues with you two observing the truce, am I?” he asked. The two soldiers slouched slightly. “Look, you two are grown men, whatever issues you have need to be pushed aside so you can be professionals, so let’s talk about this.”

  Kozma took a deep breath. “Mo has been hostile or abrasive since I landed here,” he said. “I know you’ve got a big opinion of yourself, because you’re the first Tharcian ace in twenty years, but I’m an officer damnit! You should respect me!”

  Before Mo could say anything, Reiter raised a hand. “Is that all Kozma? There’s no other reasoning for your behavior?” the lieutenant shook his head. “Ok, Mo, now you may speak.”

  Mo stood up and pointed at Kozma. “Look, I did nothing! This dude shows up out of nowhere with a degree and acts like he’s the shit when he barely knows anything, and hasn’t really done anything.”

  Reiter narrowed his eyes. “So this has nothing to do with Steele?” His words caused the younger man to stammer and stutter. “Look, I’m not great with social ques, but if I picked up on that without being told, I know for damn sure that everyone else did.”

  Mo and Kozma looked at the floor, causing Reiter to sigh. “Look, think of this truce thing as a get along shirt, I need you two to cooperate, even if you’re in different platoons, am I clear?”

  “Yes sir,” the pair answered and saluted. Alright, that’s taken care of.

  Reiter stood and stretched. “Alright then, now I’m going to go lie down for a bit,” he said. Just before reaching his quarters, Wesser stopped him.

  “Hey thanks for ultimately handling that,” she said. Reiter shook his head.

  “No need to thank me, you did the legwork, got your facts, and came up with the solution, I just did as you asked,” he replied. Relaxing slightly, he stepped away from his door. “We’re supposed to get a new first sergeant tomorrow, that should be interesting.”

  Wesser’s back stiffened. “Well, I hope I make a good first impression,” she replied. He waved her off.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” he said. “A first sergeant serves mainly administrative purposes anyway, he shouldn’t have a huge impact on your specific duties.”

  Mo and Kozma sat in a small restaurant booth with some very awkward company. Across the table from them sat two union pilots, one of whom rode the one of the red machines that had given Reiter trouble. They stared at menus and tried to avoid talking to each other.

  “I’ve never had beef before,” one of them finally said. “Is it any good?”

  Mo shrugged. “It’d put it above chicken, but under lamb if I’m over here ranking meats,” he said. “Do they not have a ton of cows in the Union?”

  The other pilot, the one who drove the red one, shook his head. “Not particularly, most of our meats come from the ocean or are lab-grown.”

  “That doesn’t sound appeasing,” Kozma said. The Union pilots shook their heads.

  “It isn’t,” they said. Mo bit the inside of his lip.

  “Do either of you know Lt. Fletcher?” he asked.

  The pilot across from him, Ballard he believed his name was, raised an eyebrow. “About yay tall, silvery hair, lot of personality?”

  Mo nodded. “Stupid good at puzzles, yeah that’s her,” he said. “She’s alive and well if it matters to you.” Ballard smiled at him.

  “Well, that’s nice to hear and hear our people were saying she would end up on a dissection table.” Mo and Kozma looked at each other.

  “Why?” Mo asked. “It’s not like it’s hard to figure out how she’s been enhanced over a regular woman and hampered.”

  Now it was Ballard, and his friend Knight’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean by hampered?”

  “Well, our medical staff said her lady bits had been severely damaged,” Mo said. “So they sent her to the rear for reconstructive surgery.” Concern darkened the Union pilot’s features.

  “That procedure is expensive,” Ballard said. “Not to mention if she returns, she’ll face consequences for getting an illegal surgery.”

  Mo blinked back his surprise and didn’t respond until after their drinks came. “Illegal, so all that stuff was done to her on purpose?”

  “Yes,” Knight said. “She’s a tuber, her biology is tightly controlled, she needs to finish her first service period before she can have her organs rebuilt, this is to offset the cost of the surgery.”

  “Well, here something like that is pretty routine,” Kozma said. “People need things find after car crashes and stuff all theme.”

  “It’s regrettable,” Knight said. “But it’s how things are. She needed to go through the proper channels instead of letting your government subvert her.” He took a sip of his drink. “Besides, we at least allow people like her and Ballard to exist.”

  Mo shrugged. “I think you misunderstand why things like artificial humans are outlawed in Tharsis.” Ballard folded his arms.

  “Well, if I’m illegal, what is there to misunderstand?” he asked.

  “You are not illegal,” Kozma said. “The process that made you, however, is.”

  Mo nodded. “So are there any sports in the Union?” In a vain attempt to diffuse the conversation, he learned that the Union had nothing like sports or entertainment as he understood it. As conversation after conversation ground to a halt, the young soldier sighed in frustration. “It’s like talking to a wall.”

  “Or first sergeant,” Kozma added. “Man, that guy is annoying.”

  Shaking his head, Mo continued. “He won’t affect your duties, Reiter said, you’ll hardly notice him, the man said.” The two Union men chuckled.

  “This first sergeant you speak of reminds me of this operations officer back in our battalion,” Knight said.

  Ballard cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he did so a few octaves higher. “You might be experienced, but I’ve been educated, your memory doesn’t trump my science, the numbers don’t care about your intuition.” He shook his head. “She’s wasted so many lives.”

  Mo snorted. “Our people are hardly better, ‘hey, I’ve got Union raiders camping out on my lawn can we counter attack?’ ‘no, hold until relived’ and they sit around safe while we fight.”

  “Ironic you say that,” Knight replied. “Irving herself hasn’t seen combat, maybe there is something there.”

  “Well, our 1st Sergeant’s seen some shit,” Kozma said. “Problem is, it was twenty years ago, and he insists everything we do is wrong.” He sighed. “At least I got good people under me.”

  His statement caused Knight to shift in his seat. “My soldiers are good at killing,” he said. “And that’s about it, they’re probably going stir crazy right now.” Mo made a mental note to memorize Knight’s hull numbers.

  “You know what?” Mo said. “Let’s get some beers.” He ordered them a round. When the drinks came, he proposed a toast. “To those who couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck about us.”

  Maps and monitors filled the makeshift war room, and Kennedy felt himself becoming stir crazy. We are doing way too much sitting and not nearly enough fighting. He stood with Meyer, pouring over maps after she’d received orders from higher.

  Army Command couldn’t be clearer: Capture Vaterburg before the new year. The Capital of the Germania province lay in their invasion corridor, but mountains, rivers, forests and cities sto
od between them and their goal. So, how do we get there?

  As he worked with Meyer, it became evident that the quickest path to Vaterburg would be to drive between the cities of Swizen and Grunbeck, seize Narrowfield from the rear. And then drive on to Vaterburg. The problem lay in doing all of that in two weeks.

  “This is getting outrageous,” Meyer said. “Even if we take Vaterburg, the logistical mess behind us will leave us vulnerable to counterattack.”

  Kennedy nodded as he looked over the maps. “Here,” he said. “Thie medium town called Ironton is the key.” He pointed to a town closer to Grunbeck than Swizen, but still mostly between them. “There're highways that pass through here to the other two cities, as well as Narrowfield further south.”

  As she followed the lines on the map, Meyer shook her head. “They could very easily counter attack along the roads, I would rather attack through this airport.” She pointed to a small airport East of Ironton. “Then we can land cargo planes and draw up supplies and reinforcements much quicker.”

  “But we’ll need to be moving fast,” Kennedy said. “Ironton possesses enough infrastructure for us to maintain steady command and control of the operation, and it’s defensible.”

  Meyer shook her head. “Do you remember our initial advance?”

  “Yeah, I remember being dropped on the airport,” he replied. “I know what you’re getting at, seizing that airport when we did dropped a deuce in their coffee, and it allowed us to keep pushing fresh forces right up to the line.” He pointed to the airport on the map. “We also benefited in that we didn’t have to defend it very long, after that one counterattack, they never tried to retake it because we pushed them so far elsewhere.”

  “Well, it seems like you just made my point for me,” Meyer replied. Kennedy shook his head.

  “My point is this airport is exposed relative to our advance, and slightly out of the way,” he said. “All that in addition to not airdropping onto it, its likely the airport is severely damaged before we can take it.”

  Meyer cradled her chin in her hand. “They’ll certainly have scouts in the area,” she said. “What if we compromise?”

  “I’m listening,” Kennedy replied. Meyer traced a long line from their bridgehead to Ironton. Then she took her other hand and split from her previous line towards the airport. He nodded. “A feint, I see, with what forces?”

  “Your battalion will move on Ironton with force,” Meyer said. “When the scouts report your movements, they’ll orient their defenses on Ironton, allowing us to slip our infantry into the airport.”

  “Thus giving us both objectives at once,” Kennedy said. “That would leave the enemy from Grunbeck south isolated, and threaten the rest with being cut off.” Kennedy scratched his chin. “I don’t know, I’d like infantry attached to my forces to stay with them, Panzerters are good at destroying buildings and we need this place intact as much as possible.”

  “Then we’ll use the motor battalion to take the airport,” Meyer replied. “I know they aren’t at full strength yet, but we need them in this fight, and that may be a simpler objective.” She pointed to FOB Nike. “We can use the raiders to sell the illusion of a large attack on Ironton, then have the bypass the city and attack the airport.”

  Grabbing a tablet, Kennedy checked the status of the raider battalion. On paper, they still looked the elite force they’d been when Druza led them into Tharsis, but most of their best leaders, including Guard-Colonel Druza himself, had been killed in battle since.

  As he handed the tablet to Meyer, he scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Their setback the other day has me wondering if we can rely on them like we did a month ago.” He raised his hands defensively. “Not to say they aren’t well trained or disciplined, but the current battalion is run by leaders who attained their position through attrition, and most of them hadn’t fought together or participated in an attack like the one we planned.”

  “You’re worried about brain drain?” Meyer asked.

  “Correct,” Kennedy said. “I think our last plan with them was sound, but a lot of navigational errors created a near disaster.”

  Merry smiled. “Your concern is noted, I’ll inform comrade Walker that she needs to double down on map reading and navigational training.” Finally, she sat down, a weary look crossing her features. “Thank you for talking this out Kennedy, sound advice isn’t abundant in my position.”

  Kennedy scratched his head. “Honestly, I’ve just been imagining what Blake would have done, but I seem to deviate from him quite a bit.”

  “Of course you would,” Meyer said. “Your not a computer running a program, you’re a man with your own different experiences, Blake could have figured out how to win the War of 2112 in as many ways in his time as a MAG, but we’re fighting a different war.”

  Kennedy nodded and stretched. “Understood, I’ll head back to my headquarters and draw up som plans, do we have maps of Ironton?” After accumulating a tablet and some physical maps, he made his way to the command car. My own experience, huh?

  “We need to rein in our ally or otherwise cut ties with Avalon,” Chaney said. He normally didn’t speak out of turn or comment on strategic or political decisions, but he no longer cared what the others thought of him. “We can’t associate ourselves with these psychopaths, hell the gas attack on Deimos just blurs the line between us and them.”

  Secretary Pearson’s caramel cheeks bloomed red. “Brigadier Chaney, you have no right to criticize foreign policy choices or grand strategy,” she hissed. “If you know what’s good for you, stick to research and development.”

  “What’s good for me is another country not joining our enemies,” he said. “Yes Avalon helped us crush Olympia in a month and some change, but if we’re not careful, they’ll piss off, oh I don’t know, Brazil, The First Nation, The Americans, Vinland, Japan, the NSA, India, all the above, who’d be the worst for us to end up fighting?”

  “That’s quite enough from both of you,” The First Minister said before coughing. “While not nis area of expertise, comrade Chaney raised valid points, we need to be more careful about these things, I’ll have a conference with Arthur V and we’ll denounce our gas attack, call it a necessary evil or blame a rouge admiral, whichever is better.”

  One of the Commodore’s attending the meeting shifted a bit uncomfortable. “That could hurt the fleet’s morale if you throw a popular commander under the proverbial bus,” she said. “But we’re not exactly in a great position to flex our naval muscles at the moment.”

  Secretary Pearson folded her arms and sank in her chair. Like a pouting child. “Please Commodore, explain yourself.”

  The woman in question looked at the first minister as well as the army staff before sighing. “Until Los Estrella’s facilities are finished, our shipbuilding has fallen behind the Tharcians,” she said. “They have shipyards in the Jupiter Sphere fully capable of resupplying and repairing their vessels as well as making even more of them, on top of this, we’re still working overtime to replace the torpedo boats we lost in the attack on Deimos.”

  “Aren’t those escort vessels anyway?” a general asked. “Shouldn’t we have had a lot of them in the first place?”

  “We did,” Commodore Mendez replied. “But we used most of them in the Mars sphere in a massed attack with the goal of ending the war in a single blow.” She looked around the table. “They’re not much good in direct battle, we found Tharcians outfit all their vessels with extensive point defenses, but their great for destroying cargo vessels and transports, and a large part of our strategy was to strangle their ability to bring their full economy system-wide to bear.”

  One of the Generals snorted. “They can have all the cargo vessels they want, we posses a direct link from our greatest space asset to the surface, an ever-flowing pipeline of resources and a monument to our great society.”

  “An incredibly vulnerable pipeline,” Chaney added. “Look, I get it, I’m the ideas guy,
but our strategy is going to need some work, or we run the risk of defeating ourselves.”

  “Nothing comrade Chaney or comrade Mendez have said has been unreasonable,” said Guard-Marshall Baldwin. “I’d like to schedule a teleconference between us, Fleet Admiral Rodríguez, and Secretary Pearson, if that’s possible, and then meet with Avalon’s leadership.” He looked at the First Minister. “If that’s alright with you, Comrade First Minister.”

  The First Minister nodded. “Thank you comrade Marshall, Avalon needs to be reprimanded for their abhorrent behavior and brought into line for the strategy to defeat Tharsis.”

  “Their forces proved capable enough in Olympia,” another general said. “Perhaps we could use them to shore up our forces in Gallacia?” Finally, people are talking sense.

  “Your conference may need to wait,” Commodore Mendez said. “He’s currently in the belt and hard to reach.”

  “Why?” Pearson asked. “Why has our illustrious Admiral deigned to go to the belt?”

  To her credit, Mendez managed to not look so nervous. “He grew unsatisfied with our inability to locate the Tharcian base in the belt, so he took up the search himself.” She sipped some water before continuing. “If that base falls, it cuts off a vital supply line for Tharsis.”

  “Pardon my ignorance,” the First Minister said. “But why hasn’t a fleet set out to destroy the Tharcians in the Jupiter Sphere? If they have resources outside our area of influence, then those resources must be seized or destroyed.”

  “Because the defenses in the Jupiter Sphere are strong,” Mendez replied. “Not to mention such a fleet would be harassed by their forces in the belt and suffer supply issues.”

  “It seems we’ve underestimated aspects of our opponent’s industry,” Baldwin said. “We’ll have to refine our strategy in a future conference. If all heads have nothing more to report, then this meeting is adjourned.”