Day returned, dispersing the night in a mirror of the battle which had occurred at the beginning of the trip. One minute, the world was in darkness, which the tank’s sensors interpreted as a collection of grainy image-enhanced greens. The next, everything was bathed in a yellow-white light that heated the ground and the thin atmosphere to a level which would have been fatal in moments for an unprotected visitor to this world.
“Six hours to go, if this estimation is correct,” said Duggan. “We’ve made better time than expected.”
“On the other hand, we have to fight in this,” said Vaughan. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the cover of darkness.”
“Me too,” Kidd agreed. “This damned wind hasn’t let up either. It’s blowing at an almost-constant thirty klicks an hour.”
“We deal with what we’re given,” said Duggan.
“We’ve had it easy for too long,” said Kidd, with a mock-grimace. “We don’t want to be getting soft, do we?”
Not long after, Ortiz spoke to Duggan over a private comms channel. She was in the second tank and he hadn’t conferred extensively with her up until this moment. She invited the Ghast Red-Gulos into the channel in order to plan for the coming battle.
“I’ve studied the terrain surrounding the enemy installation, sir,” she said. “It’s flat as can be. I can’t see how we’re going to surprise them.”
“We’ll get our surprise, Lieutenant, though it won’t be because we sneaked up on them,” Duggan replied. “There’s no time for a cautious approach – we’re in an all-or-nothing situation.”
Red-Gulos laughed. The Ghasts were usually restrained and the sound was comforting, since it meant he was up for the fight. “Two tanks and two artillery launchers should be enough firepower to give our enemy a shock, Captain John Duggan. I am not sure how long we will survive once they realise how few we are.”
“We have no time and no air support,” said Duggan. “Worst of all, we have no choice. If either of you have a better plan, I’m happy to entertain it. Otherwise, we’ll position the launchers one hundred klicks out and they’ll commence bombardment as soon as the tanks reach the perimeter. We’ll head directly for the central building, see what’s inside and take it from there.”
It was only a plan in the loosest sense of the word, though Duggan knew there were occasions when forceful, direct action was the best approach. These days, he preferred a meticulously-prepared assault, but he could remember half a dozen times from his past when an all-guns-blazing attack had worked for him.
“What if they know we’re coming, sir?” asked Ortiz.
“I’m sure they know we’re here on Nistrun,” he replied. “Whether they are expecting us to attack them is another matter. If we arrive and find a dozen tanks arrayed against us, we’ll beat a hasty retreat.” He knew he was embracing madness, yet it made him feel better to shrug away the burden of caution.
Ortiz wasn’t one to shy from a fight. She made one or two suggestions, without sounding negative about the whole affair. Red-Gulos was similarly pragmatic and between the three of them, they added a tiny amount of polish to a plan which Duggan could not deny was anything other than a turd.
“This is like being back in a Ghast ground assault unit,” said Red-Gulos. The language modules hesitated fractionally at his words, conveying the impression there was no direct translation. Duggan had no idea if Red-Gulos was offering him a compliment or an insult. He let the Ghast have the benefit of the doubt.
At two hours distance from the target installation, Duggan got news that threw his most basic of plans into disarray.
“Sir?” It was Ortiz.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Byers is on the comms here. She just saw a ghost at the extremes of detection range. It moved fast and now it’s gone.”
Duggan felt himself go cold at the words. “How sure is she?”
“She didn’t want to commit one way or another, but I think it shook her up, sir.”
Duggan cursed inwardly. A ghost on the sensors was a fleeting sight of a possible object, often so ephemeral that a poor comms operator would miss one entirely. The tanks weren’t good at detecting orbiting spaceships, but they could still catch the occasional sight of one.
“I need a heading,” he said. “Was it going to the base?”
“She isn’t sure.”
“I need something, damnit!”
He heard the sound of a short, heated conference, quickly resolved. “Byers doesn’t believe it was heading towards either the base or the Crimson, sir,” said Ortiz.
“Did she get a reading on the size of the ghost?” he asked, hoping to wring something useful out of the conversation.
“Nothing, sir. It could be a misread.”
“You’re amongst the Space Corps’ finest,” said Duggan bitterly. “It’s not a misread. We have an enemy spaceship of an unknown size and type in orbit above us.”
“What do we do now?”
“We pray, Lieutenant.”
Duggan clenched his fists in helpless frustration. The fact the convoy was still intact meant they’d already experienced a minor miracle by avoiding detection. They were going to need a few more miracles to get out of this predicament.
CHAPTER FOUR
“WE’RE IN THE CRAP, HUH?” asked Kidd. There was little privacy on a tank and she’d overheard most of the details.
“That about sums it up,” Duggan agreed. He didn’t want to talk about it, since he needed some quiet time in order to think.
Kidd ploughed on regardless. “I was always told that if you worry about the stuff you can’t change, you’ll never accomplish anything. It’s the fear, sir. That’s what holds you back. Not, you personally, of course – it could mean anyone.”
“Thank you, soldier,” said Duggan. “I’d like some time to think.”
There was little new or insightful in Kidd’s words, but they somehow helped Duggan come to a decision. He couldn’t pretend there was no enemy spaceship above them, yet there was nothing he could do to make it go away. It had certainly come to Nistrun in order to find them. Whatever action Duggan took, the enemy would eventually find the Crimson and the armoured convoy. There was a remote chance they might destroy the Crimson and assume their work was done. If it came to that, the soldiers who remained would be no more or less stranded than they currently were. Duggan swore under his breath.
When death was inevitable, the choice of how to experience it became the most important thing there was. On top of that, a new plan was beginning to form in his mind. There were no specifics as yet – he had far too little information to allow for certainty. It was going to be one of his most daring yet, such that he feared to picture it in his mind in case he started to believe it would work.
“Lieutenant Ortiz, there’s a slight change,” he said. “We’re going to assault the main enemy structure, but we’re leaving the artillery unmanned at the agreed distance of one hundred klicks.”
“There’s to be no bombardment, sir?”
“We’re going to play it by ear – the guns will make an easy target for an orbiting craft and anyone with them will be killed, so we’ll need to operate them remotely.”
“You’re up to something, sir.”
“Maybe,” he said, unwilling to give anything away. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
At the agreed location, the convoy drew to a halt. The troops in the two transports dashed out and clambered aboard the tanks. There was a considerable amount of mock-grumbling about the additional passengers, the presence of whom turned an already uncomfortable ride into a very uncomfortable one.
“You could fry eggs on the ground out there,” said Cabrera from the passenger compartment. “As long as you don’t mind breaking your teeth on the gravel when you eat them.”
It was a throwaway remark which nevertheless produced a few laughs from the others. The troops were experienced professionals, but they knew about the ghost on the sensors. There was tension and
the men and women were grateful for an opportunity to release even a fraction of it. The Ghasts didn’t laugh – they sat impassively in their metal armour and waited for whatever would come.
The tanks moved off, the monumental thrust from their engines pressing the occupants hard into their seats. Duggan checked the rear sensors and stared for a moment at the motionless artillery. It would be easier if they remained unused, since it would mean his inchoate plan was working better than expected.
“Sixty klicks to go, sir,” said Vaughan after a while.
“One hour of peaceful contemplation,” said Kidd. “Then we can start shooting some alien bastards. As long as we don’t get reduced to cinders by a surprise missile strike.”
“Do you ever shut up?” asked Vaughan fondly.
“Only when I’m shooting at Ghasts. By which I mean Dreamers, of course. Some of my best friends are Ghasts.”
At a different time, Duggan would have enjoyed listening to Kidd’s dry sense of humour. While he was trying to figure out the best approach into the enemy base, it was somewhat distracting. Nevertheless, he let her talk and did his best to tune out the noise.
The images they had of the installation were rough and unclear. The greys of the alien structures blurred into the similarly-grey rock upon which they’d been placed, making it difficult to see where one ended and the other began. Duggan hoped he could discern something of use by staring hard enough. After fifteen minutes, he was left with eyestrain and conjecture. One thing was clear - the base was haphazardly arranged, or followed a pattern that made no sense to human eyes. Buildings sat at angles, some close enough that they almost touched, others several dozen metres from anything else. Finally, he reached a decision.
“We need to alter our approach by a few hundred metres,” he said to Vaughan.
“Where to, sir?”
“I’ve overlaid a course onto the map of the installation. I’d like you to follow it.”
“All the way?”
“Yes. All the way, without stopping.”
“We’re not going to fit through at least three of those gaps, sir.”
“We’ll fit,” said Duggan grimly.
“Are we taking point?”
“I’d be no leader if I sat back. Make Tank Two aware of the new course.”
“Right you are, sir. I’m sending them the details.”
Duggan contacted Ortiz and Red-Gulos, to let them know what he hoped to achieve.
“We ignore everything until we reach the target?” Ortiz said.
“If we can. Once we’re inside, we find their comms gear. That’s now the primary objective.”
“We’re going to miss Lieutenant Chainer, sir.”
“He’s on the Crimson, Lieutenant and we’ll have to deal with it. I have full confidence in Byers and McLeod.”
“Do you really believe the enemy spaceship will fall for this?” asked Red-Gulos.
“If they don’t, we’re all going to die,” said Duggan. “There are many possible outcomes, most of which will see us dead one way or another.” He laughed. “Besides, you Estral are unfamiliar with the intricacies of human mistruths. I intend to take full advantage of our differences.”
“You make many assumptions about the naivete of our enemies,” said Red-Gulos.
“There’s nothing else I can do,” said Duggan.
When he finished talking, Duggan stood and attempted to relieve his muscles by stretching in the confines of the cockpit. The situation was no better than it had been since they crashed on Nistrun, but he felt much better for having a new set of goals which could give them a chance. It wasn’t so much that success would allow them to return home to Confederation Space, but it would open up new opportunities. The chance of a chance, he thought. A thousand doors lay in front of him, with only one of them unlocked. If he could get everyone through to whatever lay beyond, he’d have far exceeded his expectations. In the circumstances, it was enough to give him renewed purpose and vigour. The tiniest of hopes was infinitely better than no hope at all.
“We should be able to get a view of the target shortly, sir,” said Vaughan. “It’ll be a poor image from this far away.”
“Put it onto my screen as soon as you get a sight of it,” said Duggan. “If the place is defended, it’s going to get hot in here.”
The reality was that the enemy base would try to communicate to the spaceship above and if the vessel had offensive capabilities, it would easily destroy the tanks. Likewise, even a couple of basic defensive emplacements would pick them off from afar. The tanks had countermeasures, but they wouldn’t stave off a sustained attack. The only chance was for the base to be effectively undefended. It was unlikely, though not entirely beyond the bounds of probability. A monitoring station was designed to look upwards, rather than for a ground-based assault.
“Here you go, sir,” said Vaughan. “There’s too much dust to allow a clearer picture than this one.”
An image appeared on Duggan’s screen – it showed a wavering collection of metal structures, a good twenty kilometres away. Even though the ground was mostly flat, there were sufficient undulations for the installation to slip in and out of view.
“Doesn’t look like much,” said Kidd. “The same as the other places we destroyed, only smaller.”
“Have you ever seen anything pretty way out in places like this?” asked Vaughan.
“I live in expectation,” she replied.
“If you go on looks, this could be a Ghast base,” said Duggan, finding himself drawn to make a response. “Hell, it could even be one of ours somewhere.”
“If you don’t like grey, you’re in the wrong business,” said Vaughan without turning. “I’m bringing us around a little.”
Vaughan altered their course slightly, taking the tank in a direction which would cut to the right of the installation.
“Fifteen minutes to go if we maintain this pace,” said Kidd, the humour gone from her voice with the approach of battle.
“I’m taking us into this depression,” said Vaughan, altering course again to bring them into a wide, shallow bowl with smooth sides and a covering of grit. “It might buy us a few minutes.”
“Good job the latest gravity engines don’t kick up dust,” said Kidd.
“They’ve not kicked up dust for decades,” said Vaughan with a shake of his head. “You were born in the wrong century.”
“Are you saying I’m old?”
Duggan recognized the talk as a sign of the soldiers’ nervousness. Some people talked, while others sank within themselves.
“We’ll leave the bowl shortly, sir,” said Vaughan.
“Don’t slow down,” Duggan replied. “This is the critical time.” He put on his suit helmet and the others in the cockpit did likewise. Once the seal about his neck had tightened, he patched into the internal comms of both tanks and instructed everyone to prepare. He gave them a couple of minutes and then repeated the mission objectives for the final time before arrival.
“This one is going to be tough,” he said. “In addition, our goals might change at a moment’s notice. We lack all the usual intel we’d have before a raid like this one, so everything is fluid. Once we’ve secured the objective, that’s when the real fun begins.”
“I think the fun is about to begin already,” said Vaughan. “I think we’ve triggered an external perimeter alarm. Look!”
The secondary tactical screen to Duggan’s left showed an object arcing outwards from the base. It climbed to a height of twenty kilometres and then began its downward journey.
“That’s a rocket,” said Kidd. “Type unknown.”
“Time to spray and pray,” added Vaughan.
The Gunthers were equipped with two external Last Chance batteries – these were little more elaborate than a computer-targeted chain gun which could fire at a vast rate. In a world of technology, there were still few overtly better countermeasures than firing a quarter of a million rounds per minute in the direction of an inbound
missile. The troops referred to the method as spray and pray, though there weren’t many more effective ways to defend a vehicle. The hull of the tank grumbled under the recoil.
“Got it,” said Kidd with unflustered satisfaction. “There’re another four in the air.”
Duggan checked the tank’s speed and distance from the target. “Three more minutes until we’re inside the perimeter.”
It wasn’t the ground-launched missiles he was worried about. Against those, the tanks stood a chance. The major concern remained the spaceship. Since the personnel on the base had detected the arrival of the tanks, they would have alerted the vessel. Unless it’s on the far side of the planet and out of comms sight, or so far out into space they won’t get here in time.
“Last Chance, don’t fail us now. We got all four, with another five coming straight after.” Kidd laughed – it was a sudden, infectious sound. “Makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it?”
“Always has and always will,” said Duggan, the words wrenched from his mouth. “We’re going to smash these bastards and show them what the Space Corps is all about.”
In his seat up front, Vaughan tipped back his head and howled.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT FIVE missiles were destroyed by the Last Chance batteries. The chain guns smoked as they ejected their rapid-fire bursts of high-velocity rounds from the shoulders of the two Gunthers. Sharp fragments of a shredded missile rained down upon the ground, one or two pieces colliding harmlessly with the hull of the lead tank. The sound of the contact reached those within, producing a series of bravado-filled comments from soldiers who’d seen it all before.
Another wave of missiles rose and fell, once more failing to penetrate the hail of slugs directed towards them. Whatever weapons the Dreamers had on their base, they weren’t the most appropriate ones to use against oncoming tanks.
Guns of the Valpian (Survival Wars Book 6) Page 3
