“Beats me, Haus,” the smaller man said, looking over his shoulder and through his night vision. “Looks close enough, cap them!”
The larger man took his gaze from the old-fashioned optics and skull fucked the gunner with his eyes that even in the relative ambient light of the three-quarter moon the smaller man could see, making him swallow nervously.
“If I want your opinion, piss-ant, I’ll rip your head off and then shit down your throat to give it to you!”
“Sorry, Haus, my bad.”
The larger man sneered then looked back into the optics. “Just inside the AT-4’s maximum range.” He said, more to himself than to his now mute partner. “But they are stopped, and that makes an easier shot than if they are closer but moving, plus they are not running IR right now, or they’d likely be lighting us up.”
The big man tapped lightly on the roof and the driver, a younger fellow with a thin spotty beard and a “Prospect” patch for a name tag leaned his head out.
“Right here is good. Going to be a big mess down range in a few seconds, when you see it go up, move on it.”
“Yes, Haus,” the driver said. The man was nervous about his first op against something other than the DEVO’s. He kept his voice down not aware that the target could not hear them as they were sealed up in the armored rig unlike them. Their open-air vehicle lacked a single glass window, all of them removed to give them clear fields of fire. The man wasn’t really named Haus, that was a name for someone whom the Crewmen held in esteem. In this case, the second in command of the Crewmen operation who only answered to the “boss” who led the Outfit. Yet the nickname stuck, even the other Outfits referred to him by it. The driver hoped to get a blood drop badge or two tonight and maybe lose his “Prospect” patch.
In the right passenger seat was another full-fledged member riding shotgun, literally. The squat powerfully built bearded man gripped the M240 belt fed machine gun mounted to the swivel post on the dashboard, the barrel of the weapon extending out where the windshield had been.
“Keep your eyes peeled, prospect! Fuck’n DEVO’s can jump you out of no-where’s.” The passenger discharged a mouthful of spit and chewing tobacco through his side window.
The driver nodded to the man in the seat next to him debating whether he should put the vehicle in park or just hold it with his foot, now pressed down hard on the brake.
The man everyone called Haus bent down and picked up a nearly three-and-a-half-foot cylindrical tube. Carefully laying the AT-4 across the roof of the cab the man pulled the transport safety pin from near one end. He didn’t bother doing any of the other ten pre-fire safety checks. He had little use for checklists and had used the weapon before.
The AT-4, mostly obsolete now in the mid twenty-first century was a self-contained, anti-armor weapon among other applications. Lightweight, it is man-portable, meaning a single person can carry and fire it. Designed initially to penetrate lightly armored vehicles. If equipped as the Crewmen were tonight, with the HEAT or High Explosive Anti-Tank round it possessed what is known in military parlance as a “Beyond Armor Effect” able to penetrate up to sixteen inches of standard military armor. A HEAT round didn’t just penetrate the armor, it devastated the interior of the tank. Overkill for the mission at hand, but Haus wasn’t the type to take a risk, he wanted one shot and one kill at least as far as the vehicle was concerned. The occupants, if any survived, he would hunt down and kill the old-fashioned way. The way he preferred.
Keeping the AT-4 pointed toward the front of the rig over the cab he lifted it and pivoted his body sliding his right shoulder under the tube until the weapon rested on it, the only position it was designed for. He pushed the cocking lever forward and rotated it down, readying the weapon for firing. Popping the sights up he made a last-minute adjustment to them, selecting the aiming device position for maximum distance.
Inside the cab, the driver saw some DEVO’s or rather their shadows moving between rail cars to their left as his leader leaned over the cab. Haus centered the JLTV rig in the front and rear sight aiming for the middle top of it allowing for some drop off; if it hit high, it would still hit the turret and most importantly take out the feared Vulcan. Haus hoped he would be able to salvage the cannon and a good deal of ammunition, but those were secondary concerns. He was after what rightfully belonged to the Crewmen.
The prospect, nervous from the moving shadows placed the truck in park, taking his foot off the brake a split second after doing so. He twisted in his seat and brought his semi-auto ten-gauge shotgun with the explosive shells in the hundred-drum magazine underneath up to the open window in case a creature came close, he wasn’t going to risk getting bit, a very real possibility by remaining in one position. The DEVO’s, sooner or later would be all over them.
The hood of the truck dipped a tad to the left as the driver let off the brake and the transmission gears settled against the parking pin. Haus pushed down on the safety with the index finger of his right hand as he depressed the red trigger button with his right thumb, his left hand gripping the carry strap just under the forward portion of the tube in pistol grip fashion as his left elbow rested on top of the truck cab. A flash illuminated the entire area around the pickup truck, especially to the rear where the black blast exploded into the night air with a loud “swoosh.”
The barrel nudged slightly forward and to the left, as the truck moved ever so faintly under Haus as the transmission cogs settled in place.
“What the fuck?”
The one-and-a-half-foot-long, 84mm AT-4 projectile raced from its tube, the fins popping out to stabilize its flight. At ten meters, it completed its automated arming procedure and flew towards its target, covering the 280 plus meters in less than a second. The impact and explosion separated the entire axle assembly from the fifty-plus ton rail-car lifting it into the air. Making shrapnel of a good portion of the wheels, axle and other parts of the freight car that now lay buckled, and tilted down and to the right just off the tracks broken free from the car in front by the explosion. Hundreds of crates of dried, rotten produce a flame scattered all around as well as more burning inside the freight car.
Haus saw the flash of light and subsequent explosion where the JLTV was centered in his sight, it looked like a solid hit despite the slight movement of the truck under him as he fired.
“Let’s move, Light ‘em up, mates!” Haus’s voice and New Zealand accent cut through the night air. The mini-gun next to him spun around then lit off. The M240 on the hood did the same as the driver threw the truck into gear and drove towards the flaming wreckage trying to hold on to the wheel as they bounced along the railroad tracks. A second vehicle a hundred or so meters back and off their left side began moving, lighting up their weapons, bringing them to bear on what was left of the heavily armed INFIL-rig, hoping that the AT-4 did its job but not wanting to take any chances.
Chapter Six
A flash of light caught Keith’s attention in the distance at their ten o’clock position while his superior awaited his explanation about there still being a lot more gold. Andy detected the flash through the corner of his left eye a quarter second after Keith. He twisted his face away from Keith and toward the flash when a massive fireball lit up the inside of the rig, followed nearly as quickly by the heat that penetrated the windscreen and right-side windows as the fireball rolled over the JLTV.
Andy’s skull slammed back against the headrest as the front of the JLTV lifted as it was pushed back several meters by a tremendous pressure wave. Andy, blinded by the intense flash and the roaring flames of the shattered freight car to his right squinted hard trying to get his night vision back. While his eyes were still adjusting, his ears were still working, protected both by the JLTV and the headset. The unmistakable sound of hail on a tin roof filled the air; experience told him it wasn’t hailing.
Andy Ignored the red and yellow lights on the dashboard and MFD’s in front of him telling him that there were any number of things wrong with his belov
ed JLTV. He shot his eyes to the intense muzzle fire being directed towards him from the ten and eleven o’clock positions from at least two vehicles racing toward them, each with multiple weapons trained and firing. The tracers licked out at his rig like laser beams. Lacking any type of stabilization system, the gunners were erratic in their fire as their vehicles bounced over the railroad ties or raced over the tracks. Andy knew it was not cannon fire and the JLTV could withstand it, but not for long once those guns got closer and on stable ground. They could not penetrate the armor—probably. But they could disable the JLTV and then they would be sitting ducks. They were not DEVO’s they were far more dangerous.
“Logan ten o’clock!” Andy screamed hoping that both his gunner and primary weapons system were up and functional.
“On it!”
Logan depressed the left foot pedal hard. The spot lights on the turret as well as all the torch lights on the front and right were out, damaged or blown off the rig. Logan didn’t know what hit them, but he hoped the Vulcans withstood it from within their Armored sheathes.
The sighting system was up, and Logan did not need the lights, the IR was active. Logan cursed himself mentally for getting distracted by looking through the open freight car and not scanning the open area in front and to the left of their position. But then why the hell did Andy stop here?
Even before the first vehicle came into the sight as the turret still spun to the left Logan depressed the trigger with both thumbs, firing all four Vulcans, the vibration passing through the turret calmed the anxiety racing through his veins as he guided the sights to the two targets racing towards them. The stream of cannon fire arced like water from a garden hose as the heat of the rounds blasting through the much cooler air made a current of light in the infrared view sweeping from right to left. The first few rounds of the left leading edge of that cannon fire touched the trailing vehicle shredding it to pieces, leaving nothing for the munitions behind them as the pickup truck disintegrated in a ball of flames, torn metal, and body parts
“Holy shit!”
It was the only thought Haus had time for as he saw the flashes from the center of the inferno where the JLTV had been. Haus, in an instant, processed what was happening and in the next instant placed himself in movement. Being a man of action and quick decisions, he wasted no time. Spinning right Haus shoved the man next to him with the mini-gun out of the way. Not to save him from the incoming fire but to get him out of the way. Haus jumped over the edge of the truck bed, landing hard and rolling before quickly getting up and running. From a full sprint, he dove under a fright car, his body slamming to a stop against the far rail. Haus pulled himself over it and down the slight embankment on the other side. He scooted so the wheelset of the freight car was between him and the incoming fire hoping that he had enough cover.
The man holding onto the mini-gun nearly went over the right side of the truck bed with Haus, only the grip of the mini-gun now swinging wildly up and to the left kept him in the truck as it bounced over a set of tracks. A brilliant light bathed the mini-gunner, and a split second later he felt the heat from the explosion of the truck at his eight o’clock. The gunner, partially blinded by the intense light had no idea where it was coming from. His last conscious thought was of the second rig they hadn’t spotted since he saw the first one go up from the AT-4. His life ended before he had the chance to solve the mystery, as did most probably the driver and the other gunner as their truck and they were torn to pieces by the first few explosive rounds. The dozens of others impacting what was left of them and their rig chewed through the leftovers.
Seeing the second rig go up Logan lifted his thumbs off the butterfly triggers as he panned left and right. He looked for more targets primarily with the trigger handles moving the Vulcans independently of the turret within their range of motion and expanding his field of fire with the foot pedals,
“Good hits, but we need to move before something hits us again!” Logan shouted over the comms in case either Andy or Keith failed to notice his handwork lying in crumpled burning heaps 150 meters, give or take off their ten o’clock position.
“There are some problems with the rig! Keep covering while I work through them.”
“Hurry up! I don’t like being stuck here. Most of our lights are out, and I don’t want to shoot up a flare. I don’t know what hit us, but it wasn’t DEVO’s, and I don’t want to give them a target!”
Logan, no rookie had a pretty good idea of what hit him, or at least who pulled the trigger. It had to be an Outfit. It puzzled Logan why they would use such a powerful weapon. Due to their extreme supply restraints, Outfits mostly stuck to smaller munitions.
When they could, they smuggled heavy weapons in, or stole them from infiltration team members they captured or killed. Even then they mostly hoarded the firepower. They had to protect themselves from other rival groups who sought the same territory and weapons. A chill went up Logan’s spine. What if that was a deliberate near miss to disable them and save the JLTV for later salvage?
It was not unprecedented. The Outfits coveted their equipment and weapons. If they could, they would strip them of all their gear, and even their tanker suits, then let the DEVO’s have them.
“Come on, Andy! We need to get the hell out of here!”
Andy ignored Logan and his case of nerves as he vented out what they already knew and were feeling. There was no more gunfire, but that wasn’t what concerned Andy. He was worried about another rocket attack. He steadied his nerves by reminding himself that type of weapon was not carried on just any of the rigs utilized by the Outfits. It was rare they would have something like that available and rarer for them to use it.
Still, the idea that another one might be brought up to engage them at that very moment made him more fearful than he was generally accustomed. Glancing over to the burning carnage of the railroad car gave him all the facts he needed to know about his chances of surviving a direct hit. Even the near miss wreaked havoc on the JLTV, never designed to go into battle against an adversary armed with what must have been some type of anti-tank missile. Something the INFIL-teams were not even allowed to possess let alone deploy, although the Vulcan was nearly as deadly. The bureaucracy of the regulations often was contradictory.
Andy stared at the myriad of yellow caution lights. Those were not his primary concern, however. The red ones were. His flotation system that would have allowed him to escape out over the bay was out. That system, airbags mounted on the undercarriage and filled by compressed air was a last-ditch escape plan, but one he did not ever want to use if he could help it. If it were compromised out on the water, the heavy vehicle would sink like a rock. Plus, the JLTV was no amphibious rig, it could get swamped quickly in the sometimes-rough water of the bay not to mention the strong currents and myriad underwater obstacles that could easily snare or puncture the flotation system. Still drowning or more accurately asphyxiating at the bottom of the harbor or bay in the sealed-up rig was still preferable than falling prey to the DEVO’s, or the Outfits since your fate was the same either way.
Ignoring that red warning light Andy moved to the next. Transmission oil reservoir was out, they had what was left in the transmission itself and the Lines. If they went dry, the tranny would seize up and so would their ability to move. The last red light was the worst news, the front right tire had zero air pressure, and the wall had been compromised, meaning the tire was misshaped as the massive rig pressed down on it, flattening and bending it. They could not drive on it, at least for long.
Andy taped the red tire light and held his breath as the next screen popped up. There was a green light illuminating the foam repair option.
“Thank God that is still working,” Andy said, more to himself as Keith scanned the distance through the pulldown optic system.
Andy selected the “PSRZ” option and held his breath again as the pressurized foam canister built into the armored wheel pushed its contents into the tire. The foam, originally designed to fill no
oks and crannies in a wall or other structure to insulate it quickly hardened when it met oxygen, so it was firm and getting extremely rigid by the time any of it hit gaps in the tire. The foam would expand out from the holes but as it hardened it moved less as did the foam behind it. When the foam canister became half-way depleted a second canister filled with compressed air activated, pushing air into the foam expanding in the tire. The compressed air did two things, it pushed the foam already in the tire out toward the tread and side walls, making it denser. It also sped up the hardening process. Within fifteen seconds, the tire regained its shape and was now a solid piece of foam encased in the armor sidewalls, with Kevlar and steel belted tread. Andy breathed a sigh of relief when the red tire light changed to yellow.
Andy scanned the half dozen or more yellow lights. Most were not critical systems, the torch-light system, front winch and a handful of other things pertaining more to sensors mounted on the front bumper and grill area that allowed the JLTV to “see” or detect things. Additionally, the GPS antenna was gone, which eliminated their ability to navigate. Andy knew his team would be monitoring his movements but would assume that he was taken out when the link became broken.
In any event, it didn’t matter. It was a violation of the rules to do a rescue mission this far in after sunset. It would be suicide, or as it was sometimes referred, “DEVO-cide.” As if Andy needed another reminder how alone he, Keith and Logan were. Surrounded by probably now what would be tens of thousands or more of the creatures in the general vicinity hunting them, not to mention the outlaw groups.
Andy brought up another menu on the touch screen and selected a button. A backup three-foot light bar popped up from behind the armored bumper, coming to life as soon as it emerged and providing the JLTV with a good 500-meter light barrier. Aside from it, the only remaining lights were the left facing roof torch-lights that were still going bright. Andy killed all the lights and went to full night vision mode. Accessing the HUD controls on the steering wheel, he expanded the system so that it covered the windscreen, giving them a full view out the front in full night vision capability. Andy switched over to the IR option on the forward torch-light bar above the bumper. It gave them nearly a click of “light” that bounced back to the IR cameras built into the top of the bar, which were fed into the HUD and onto the windscreen in a wide-angle view of the terrain ahead.
METAVERSE GAMES: OMNIBUS Page 5
