by CN Stoesen
He dropped the tablet onto his desk and leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.
"Sergeant, you had been out on patrol by yourself for the past three days, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded as he knew the answer.
"Then you haven't heard the news. Captain Weaver went out with third platoon on a recon of sector 142."
She knew that sector. It had seen some of the most vicious fighting of the war. Buildings there were unrecognizable as they had been reduced to rubble. It was an area that few militia have entered as of late. Taking an entire platoon in there was risky.
The lieutenant watched her face for a minute before going on.
"The captain and Sergeant McAndrews entire squad were lost. Sergeants Alistar and Doyle suffered thirty percent casualties in their squads. The survivors dragged Lieutenant Reynolds back. We aren't sure yet if he will survive."
"My God! What happened?"
"The Union was conducting a battalion level exercise in the area. Our patrol blundered into it. They didn't stand a chance. We are being reorganized. Your squad will be reconstituted. We will not be using you for solo long range patrols anymore. Instead, you are being promoted. Congratulations."
With a quick swipe of his hand across his tablet, he smiled at her.
Her tablet beeped.
"Well, go on. Take a look."
Duncan lifted the tablet and saw the orders for promotion. She was now the platoon sergeant and could add another two stripes to her uniform sleeve. He had promoted her two grade levels for this.
"Sir, why in the hell..."
He cut her off, "You are the best qualified and you have survived this war from the beginning in uniform. Before it began, you were trained with the peacetime militia. You know as much as I do about running this unit. So you get first platoon. I, on the other hand, was given command of the company without the bump in rank."
He gave her a wry smile.
"Look, you're good at keeping the newbies alive. We're getting raw recruits to flesh out the company. Even so, each squad will only have six men each instead of a full complement of ten. We are holding on but the Union is bleeding us white. They have far more troops to put in this fight."
Duncan nodded her head in understanding. Lieutenant Reynolds was the last officer led platoon as the other two were led by sergeants. Her former platoon leader has been in sick bay for the past month recovering from toxic dust inhalation when a building he was near exploded. She had been managing her own squad and the platoon since then. Duncan utilized solo long range patrols to manage her sector. This way she could minimize risk yet still show an active presence across her area of the front. Now, she could no longer do that. She looked at the roster of her platoon.
Duncan knew the names of all the squad leaders as they had served together for the past year. Sergeants Jenkins and Kettles had been there for a while. Her former squad is now led by Corporal Jerome DuBois. He was one of her people that the Union classified as foreign fighters. He was from Neuvo France. It was a nearby system with two habitable worlds. While having never rebelled against the FUP, they had supplied several mercenaries to systems in conflict with them. He was a solid fighter, and it had been an easy call to promote him.
His squad was short a man even though they had received replacements. The first and third each had six men, including their leader. While DuBois' only had five men. Each squad boasted a heavy gunner. This was their main support weapon that required a harness for the operator to maneuver with it. it required a dedicated loader to assist the gunner. It produced a tremendous rate of fire that could overcome any opposition short of a mech. One rifleman from each squad carried a rocket. But in reality, units carried multiple rockets into action. On occasion they had two or three per man. This was a one shot disposable weapon that launched a shaped charge up to 100 meters. The explosive was strong enough to penetrate vehicle or mech armor but wasn't very accurate. All squad members, except the heavy gunner, carried rifles like Duncan's.
She tried to remember the names of all of her men. Duncan knew the ones that had been with them for a while but she had seven recruits added to their ranks. It was always hard remembering who they were until they had been in battle with her for a while.
Duncan chatted with the lieutenant for a while longer until he dismissed her. She gathered her platoon together. As she was talking with the squad leaders, her tablet vibrated in its holster at her hip. She frowned and picked up the tablet. It was new emergency orders. Her platoon was to move to sector 142. Another platoon had engaged the Union and got themselves pinned down. They needed relief so they could pull out.
"All right people. Let's mount up and get going."
Mount up wasn't quite the right term any more. Her platoon had begun as a mechanized unit with large armored personnel carriers. Those didn't last out the first year of the war. There were no replacements available. They were now just foot infantry. There were units that had captured mechs and gotten them back into service in other cities but not here.
They could catch a ride on the subway that still served their portions of the city. Stations beyond their control were destroyed in the retreat. With underground rail traffic restricted to only the military and with their priority orders, they were at their station in minutes.
Chapter 5
Major Dietler shook in his sleep. He was dreaming about his mech's destruction. The march deep into enemy-held territory was easy. There was absolutely no resistance. As they turned down a street, they cautiously advanced over the piles of rubble. That was when time slowed. The view-screen was punctured and his driver, Corporal Dennis Tremaine convulsed in his seat as the incendiary round tore into his body and lodged against his spine. The second one pierced the roof above him and slammed into the control console. He watched the readout screens and controls begin to melt from the heat. The third punched through and took the head of his gunner. That one dug through the back of the gunner's chair and set it alight.
Flames were now licking up from his control panel. He started to struggle to free himself from the safety harness when the explosion came. He blacked out from the concussion. His next sight was of the driver's body smoldering. The seat and body of the gunner were also in flames. He unlatched the buckle and dropped to the floor coughing. He felt around for the escape hatch. Pulling up on the locking mechanism allowed him to push his chair over and out of the way from the tube. He punched in a sequence of numbers and the bottom dropped away and he jumped feet first in the hole. He saw the ground approaching rapidly.
Sitting bolt upright, Major Dietler panted and wiped sweat from his forehead. Looking at his surroundings, he was still in the hospital room but he wasn't chained or bound in any way. The door was even open. His ankle prevented him from standing and getting a closer look but the hallway was busy with nurses and doctors doing their business. There was no visible sign of a military presence.
A nurse appeared at his side, "Sir, please lay back down. That ankle will never heal with you moving it about so much."
And in the blink of an eye, she was gone. The major couldn't fathom he was being treated at a civilian facility and not under guard. Why the hell would they do that?
Chapter 6
Duncan led her platoon out into the underground station. In moments, the subway retreated down the tunnel. She opened a channel to her squad leaders.
"Listen up. I want all of you to stay frosty up there. We know the area but they have all the tech. Use your scouts to probe ahead. Call in what you find and don't just engage. Wait for the order. We need to locate a thin point in the FUP's perimeter and punch through. I will try to raise Driscol on the net. Hopefully, they still have people to save."
The surrounding men all responded with a military sounding grunt of "Hooahh!" as an acknowledgment. That was a good sign. If they had given a proper response, it would mean they weren't up for this fight. It pays to know your people.
"First squad, head
up the north exit and second squad up the south. Third squad, you will stay here as the reserve."
The two squads moved out as ordered. They clambered over the debris that clogged the escalators that hadn't worked in years. Soon they were out of Duncan's sight. She was monitoring the radio traffic. Thus far, they were keeping quiet as expected.
Time slowed. Duncan hated to wait. She wanted to be out there with the lead elements but knew was no longer her role. The tablet she carried for communications back to headquarters vibrated against her hip. Staring down at the device she frowned. It was very rare that they would try to contact her in mid mission.
"What the hell?"
She pulled the tablet from its case and unlocked it. There was a message from battalion command. It was likely that their company commander didn't even know about this yet. They were ordering her platoon to abandon the link up and return home.
Duncan pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't believe they were abandoning them like this. It wasn't safe to raise the two squads on the radio net. That could be intercepted and could spell death for her people. She assigned Corporal Morales of third squad to relay the message to DuBois of and she would find first squad. Sergeant Kettles argued that she shouldn't go but the withering look she gave him put an end to the argument.
Running to the broken escalator, she began the journey up to the surface. At the Subway entrance, she ducked behind a wall and flipped the safety off of her rifle. No sense in worrying about that if trouble came by.
To the north was a bombed out intersection. To the east was a street that ran parallel to a row of barricades on her side and across was the ruins of some apartments.
She scanned the area. The platoon had left tracks in the dust and debris that covered everything in this part of the city. Only a heavy rain could temporarily wash away the grime that coated the ground. The surface portion of the subway station was a low pile of rubble.
Visually searching the nearby buildings, Duncan looked for any sign that there were watchers. Satisfied that there were none, she bent low and sprinted to the barrier by the street. She crawled to a hole in the barricade and looked across.
Prior to the invasion by the FUP, the area across from here was dominated by four apartment buildings of at least six stories each. Now she stared at the ruins less than half of their previous height that were tall piles of rubble and deep craters. The road wasn't heavily damaged. But the intersection to her left was severely damage.
As she scanned the buildings, she spotted a flash of green light. It pulsed several times before going dark. She fished her flashlight from her pocket and flashed back the response challenge. It was at least elements from the squad she was chasing.
Looking up and down the street, she vaulted the barricade and ran for the ruins and towards the flashing light. She had to weave between the craters and jump over smaller debris piles.
As she approached the building, she had to slow as she climbed the debris pile. She noticed that there was a hollow in the rubble pile where the light had originated. These were common in these bombed out ruins. Rooms that remained fairly intact within a collapsed structure. She had used plenty of these to ambush enemy patrols.
As she entered the darkened space, she saw the squad leader and his heavy gunner looking out a window that faced the inside of the city block. A third squad member stepped up to her.
"We found the command headquarters of the troops surrounding the lost platoon," he whispered in her ear. "Go take a look."
She moved forward bent over in half. The ceiling was low next to the window. Only the bottom portion of the original window frame was accessible. It made for an ideal ambush point. Sitting next to it was Sergeant Jenkins. The man was chewing on some kind of leaf.
Tobacco products hadn't been available for centuries but humanity always seemed to search out a substitute. This was a local plant that produced a mild calming effect when chewed. It wasn't an illegal substance, but it wasn't considered by many to be very sophisticated to chew around others. People looked down upon users as lower class or to borrow an ancient term, redneck.
Jenkins smiled with his green stained teeth and handed her the binoculars. She looked down into what was a plaza in the center of the ring of apartment buildings. There were tents with several men scurrying between them. There were three mechs that stood guard around them forming a triangle.
"The mechs ain't movin'," Jenkins whispered. "Those are the battalion command tracks. Look, they lack the heavier weapons of the standard ones and have triple the coms gear."
She nodded in agreement of his assessment. It looked exactly like the one she had destroyed earlier. She gave an exaggerated sniff of the air.
"I smell an opportunity. When I open fire on the mech on the right, you take the one on the left. Have your heavy gunner spray the tents. Let's give them a welcome to the neighborhood."
The surrounding men gave her wide grins as they looked forward to the coming duck shoot.
"3... 2... 1..."
After saying one, Duncan fired inferno rounds at her designated command mech. The projectiles punched into and sometimes through, the armor of the mech. Simultaneously, Jenkins and the other soldier shot at their targets. The heavy gunner joined in and deafened them all as in the confined space his weapon belched death onto the tents below.
Duncan concentrated her fire on the right knee of the mech. After the third shot, smoke poured from the joint and the metal buckled. She switched targets to the command console where the crew compartment was and punched five rounds into it. Her fifth shot missed as the mech collapsed. That round went past the walker and blew a hole in a ruin beyond it.
She looked at the larger field of battle now. The tents had collapsed under the heavy gunner's weight of fire. There were several bodies littering the ground but some were still moving. In particular, there were three men advancing up the back of the rubble pile with weapons.
Dropping her hand to her pocket, she withdrew a grenade, pushed away the safety seal and activated the trigger. She counted to two and hurled the explosive towards the advancing men. It detonated between two of them. Only one recognized the threat but didn't have time to react before it exploded. One man flew backwards as his body was shredded by shrapnel and explosion. The closer soldier disappeared in the fireball and she couldn't spot him.
The third advancing soldier was writhing on the ground clutching a ruined arm. He was far enough away not to be killed outright but still took a grievous wound from the explosion.
Return fire from the plaza came in. The survivors of the initial attack reorganized and fired back at the threat.
Jenkins dropped to the floor and tapped his throat mike five times in rapid succession. This caused the other members of his team in the neighboring buildings to open fire. This new threat forced many of the survivors to flee for cover among the ruins on the far side of the plaza opposite of Duncan and first squad's position.
Many didn't survive the run as the rifles of Duncan's unit began steady aimed fire. As the survivors reached the far ruins, they came under attack from the top of them. These men were cut to ribbons.
Duncan stopped firing and took to the binoculars again and saw that the platoon they were there to rescue was now running down the face of the far ruins to join their position.
"Damn it! Covering fire. Protect those men."
She then switched frequencies on her radio net and called out, "Welcome home boys. Your chariot awaits you."
"Roger that," came back the terse reply.
She switched back to her own platoon net and ordered Jenkins, "Get your men out of here. I will cover them once they get past the tents."
Jenkins nodded to her, spit a nasty green glob onto the ground and called out on his squad network. Firing ceased from either side of them. Jenkins and his men backed out of the position.
By the time the first trooper from the cut off platoon reached them, Jenkins' men were already in the subway station and heading be
low. Duncan crawled out of the room she was hiding in and waved the militia troops up the ruins.
As she turned to survey the area behind them, she saw a large mech coming down the street from the north.
"Well, shit. This sucks." She keyed for the command net again to reach out to the climbing platoon.
"Keep your asses down. Mech to the north. Just over a half click out."
She was opening the tube of her rocket launcher. Taking a knee, she aimed and fired. It jumped out and flew towards the approaching mech. Needless to say, she missed. The missile hit the building to the mech's left and exploded. A shower of rock and debris pelted the large metal behemoth.
Another rocket leapt up from the ruins and raced out towards the approaching walker. This one fell short and blew a new hole in the street in front of it. The mech paused in its movement as the sensors were checking its surroundings.
A third rocket sped towards the mech as the lost platoon's men raced across the street towards the subway station. This one found its mark but only a glancing blow on the right arm of the beast. The monstrosity didn't even move.
It raised its left arm and fired on the street as the infantry crossed. Rounds kicked up dirt, road and debris as the heavy machine gun rounds tore across the open ground. Infantry dove into shell craters to avoid being hit. So far, Duncan could only see one man who was hit by the mech. He'd been torn in half. But movement across had ceased as the infantry sought cover.
She discarded her rocket tube and held her rifle. The mech was too far away for inferno rounds to be effective. But there were still people with their head in the game. Rockets lanced out from the ruins and from the road as squad leaders barked orders to get their men acting instead of reacting. If they were to remain still, they would soon die.
One rocket was destroyed as it flew into the stream of machine gun fire that the mech was laying down on the road. The other was more accurate and slammed into the left leg of the beast. It tore the frontal armor of the walker apart and exposed internal components. Small tendrils of smoke rose from the leg for a moment before a puff of white exhaust bloomed from the injury as its firefighting systems took over to extinguish the flames.