The War for Profit Series Omnibus (19 page)

“So you slapped off your command net.”

Galen looked to his left. He knew he was wrong.

Sevin leaned back in his turret. “I’ve done the same thing a time or two before. Hell, all tank commanders do it from time to time. But you have to remember to turn it back on. You have got to get in touch with me as soon as you get the chance.”

“I’ll just leave it on.”

“That isn’t the point! You were off my net for half an hour! No voice, no nothing! All your data comes to me over that command net and all my info gets to you the same way! Suppose I wanted to put some intel on your map? Hell, I thought you might be dead.”

“I won’t let it happen again.” Galen looked away.

“Damn right. Now here’s the deal. The Mosh commander is sending a full-strength motorized battalion after us. Your little stunt apparently pissed him off.”

“So we just sit here and do target practice?”

“We make it look that way. Then when they range us with their mortars, we fade into a mobile defense and keep giving up ground all night, then cross the river and link up with the Major’s group. Then maybe an end-run down the south bank of the river.”

Galen said, “We’ll be tired tomorrow. Amphetamines for breakfast?”

“You know better than that. No amphetamines until day three. Tomorrow is only day two. Get back to your tank.”

Galen walked back to three zero and climbed into the cupola. He put his helmet back on and watched his sector of the firing line.

“Nice planet,” Galen spoke through the vehicle internal communications system.

Sergeant Boggs stood in the auxiliary gunner hatch. “Kind of wish we could stay here on furlough.”

Trooper Jones sat in his driver’s seat with his helmet off so he could eat a field ration.

Galen watched a patrol re-enter the skirmish line. “What are they up to?”

Boggs said, “Setting out anti-personnel mines and clearing lanes of fire. We’re expecting a massed infiltration.”

“If I were the Mosh commander I’d make a full-strength attack against the main force at the low end of the valley.”

“It wouldn’t work.”

“Well, this won’t either.”

Boggs reached into the turret and pulled out a field ration. He took off his combat suit helmet and started eating. The sound of Jones securing his helmet and then the sound of his breathing came to Galen over the intercom. “Jones.”

“Yes, Chief?”

“What do you think of all this?”

“We kicked ass, but it’s pretty boring right now.”

“I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“How about those MS-100s? I didn’t think slug-throwing guns like that could perform very well.”

“What do you mean, Jones?”

“The way just one gun tore up the infantry carriers.”

“They have ballistic computers.”

“Yeah, but the computer’s only as good as its data. The MS-100 took out ten moving targets in less than a minute.”

Galen said, “It wouldn’t have, if a platoon of tanks crossed the river with them. Wish we could have been there. We’d have nailed the bastard before his first shot impacted.”

“We did okay, Chief. We nailed the backup tank destroyer and let the Mosh redleg know they weren’t anything special.”

Boggs’ voice carried over the intercom. “Your turn to chow.”

“Thanks.” Galen removed his helmet and hung it on the external hand grips of the cupola rail gun. He grabbed a field ration from the stowage compartment behind his seat and ripped one edge of the green plastic bag open. He stood in the hatch and dumped the contents on the flat spot of the turret to the left of the cupola. The largest packet was ‘Beans and Rice in Chicken Gravy.’ Galen tossed the packet over his shoulder. He also tossed the ‘Coco Powder’ and ‘Cinnamon Apple Butter’ packet. He reached behind his seat and got out his canteen. He dumped the instant coffee and sugar and powdered creamer into the canteen, put his hand over canteen’s top, shook the mixture and then drank it all without stopping. Galen pulled the ten liter water jug from underneath all the personal gear in the stowage compartment behind his seat and refilled the canteen.

He put the canteen back in its cover attached to his pistol belt and then shoved the ten liter water jug back into the stowage compartment right on top of the other gear. As an afterthought he yanked the pistol belt out from under the jug and laid it so the pistol was easily accessible. Without warning, the tank lurched forward and stopped. Boggs fired the laser cannon at the crest of the next low hill to the front. Galen snapped on his helmet.

“-niner seven five and closing. Over.”

“Boggs, what’s up?” The tank rolled back to drop below the berm of the firing position to break its line of sight with the enemy. The other tanks of the company were doing the same.

“We got contact.”

Galen checked his situation map. Markers for about thirty enemy infantry squads were approaching in a wedge formation, the lead elements about a klick away. He stood in his cupola. “Forward, driver!”

The tank lurched forward and stopped. Galen sent a burst from his rail gun towards the enemy. He couldn’t tell if he hit anything because the setting sun was in his eyes. He changed the ballistics and cyclic rate to default and put it on automatic acquisition and fire. The main gun fired, its coax rail gun sending a burst after the laser bolt. Jones pulled the tank back. The enemy units were moving closer, running. They had crested the low ridge a kilometer away and were using a final piece of high ground to shield themselves from the tank’s fire. They were now less than three hundred meters away.

The situation map showed Sevin’s and Childress’s tanks, the two tanks of the company command element, moving to the left flank. They pulled beyond the skirmish line and dropped to the river bank and faced right. The maneuver gave the defensive line an ‘L’ shape.

Galen closed his hatch. “Pull up and stay there.”

The tank lurched to the berm and stopped. The coax and main gun waited for targets. Four seconds went by. A hoard of Mosh infantry charged the skirmish line. They carried some sort of transparent rectangular shields. The shields resisted bullets, but the lasers cut holes in them with ease. But the lasers took three seconds to recycle. The coax and main gun swept the line. The rail gun in the cupola let go a continuous burst. The light infantry mercenaries stood in their fighting positions and fired their weapons from the hip.

The charging Mosh soldiers stopped and stuck their shields in the ground and lay on their stomachs to return fire. The two tanks of the command element pulled forward from the river bank and began firing into the enemy’s flank. Fully half the enemy was dead and the rest were hopelessly pinned under the fire of the skirmish line. Galen admired the profound stupidity of the enemy commander.

The tank on Galen’s right exploded. “Back us up, dri--”

Galen was shoved upward by his seat. He didn’t understand what was happening until after his parachute deployed. From his high floating vantage point he could make out the tank destroyers hugging the crest of the hill six kilometers away. The two tanks on the left flank and the two tanks on the right flank were destroyed. Three zero was rolling backward with no visible damage. Five tanks were still on the skirmish line but pulled back to avoid being destroyed. The enemy infantry was infiltrating, crawling forward in an attempt to curl around the right flank. Zero one and zero two backed into the river but still had enough height to harass the Mosh with their cupola rail guns. It was enough to protect the left flank. The supporting fire from the enemy tank destroyers suppressed the light infantry in their fighting positions.

The light infantry commander finally set off the anti-personnel mines. The Mosh soldiers were stunned for a moment. Tank zero one charged, zero two following to watch its back. The remaining five tanks of the skirmish line leaped forward, crashing through the berm to get to the Mosh and to get to the lower ground of the kill zone. To get below the line of sight of the Mosh tank destroyers.

Tank one four blew apart, hit by six anti-armor shells simultaneously. That was the end of Galen’s overhead view of the battle. His seat thumped into the ground. He quickly released his harness and ripped his rifle from the bracket on the left side of the seat. He did a function check. It was good to go.

Galen was knocked flat on his back by enemy bullets. His combat suit protected him but the force of the bullets knocked the wind out of his lungs. The helmet blocked his peripheral vision and made it hard to hear where the shots came from. He rolled onto his stomach. A round hit his left shoulder so he faced that way. A Mosh machine gun crew was harassing him from a klick away.

Galen tried to draw a bead on them but his helmet didn’t allow a proper stock-to-cheek weld and screwed up his sight picture. He couldn’t run wearing the bulky suit but the suit was the only thing keeping him alive. He aimed as best he could and sent ten rounds toward the machine gun crew. They returned fire with a sustained burst that put six bullets into the face piece of his helmet. The transparent armor cracked and a spray of laminated plastic pelted Galen’ face. He was blinded. He held his rifle to his chest and rolled sideways down
the hill. Anything was better than just lying there. He felt himself being dragged by his feet and then he was sat upright with his back against something solid. Someone removed his helmet.

“Galen! Are you okay?” It was Tad.

“Hell no.” Galen painfully opened his left eye. He could make out two shapes. They were under some scrawny crab apple trees in a low area.

“Help me get his suit off.” Tad picked plastic out of Galen’s face. He wiped a couple of specks from his left eye and a single shard from his right eye. Tad stuck a field bandage on Galen’s right eye and squirted some solution into his left eye. Galen could now see from his left eye. Sergeant Boggs and Tad helped him to his feet. Both wore coveralls; they had removed their combat suits for greater mobility.

“We gotta move, Chief.”

A 45mm mortar shell landed nearby. It would take the Mosh at least a couple more shots to bracket their target with the hip-fired weapon. The mercenaries ran quickly. Branches from the scrubby trees tore at their clothing. Galen held his rifle at port-arms to shove the thorny things out of his way. He heard a tank maneuvering nearby but couldn’t see it. The sound seemed to come from somewhere up ahead.

A burst of bullets ripped through the branches above them. Galen was in the lead and dropped to the ground and lay on his stomach. Tad and Boggs followed his example. Another burst came their way. Galen looked for the source of the fire. A dark lump was on the crest of slightly higher ground four hundred meters to his right. He took aim holding the weapon left handed and fired. Muzzle flashes came from the lump. Boggs slumped, a groan coming from him as he lay flat. Galen put his weapon on automatic and fired at the lump until he was out of bullets. No more fire came from the dark lump.

Tad examined Boggs. “He’s hit in the side. Three holes.”

Galen exchanged rifles with Boggs.

Tad ripped the side of Boggs’ coveralls open to reveal a sucking wound on the right side of the chest. Pink bubbly fluid spurted from the hole and then sucked in when Boggs inhaled. Tad stuck the plastic wrapper of a field dressing over the hole and then put the wadded bandage over the plastic. He held it in place while Galen ran a cravat around Boggs’ chest and tied the knot on top of the wound.

“Tad, let’s get back to the skirmish line and see what’s left of this cluster jerk.”

Tad stabbed an auto-injector into Boggs’ left thigh.

The man grimaced, “What’s that crap?”

“Antibiotics.”

They carried Boggs between them, Galen on the left. They stayed on the edge of the tree line for a hundred meters and then angled across the open ground. It was quiet.

A Hornet sped up behind them and stopped.

“Get on!” came the voice through the external speakers. Galen and Tad handed Boggs up to the three grunts riding on the back deck of the tank. Galen gave Tad a leg up and noticed the vehicle’s bumper number: zero one. Galen climbed aboard and found a place to hang on. The tank sped along and dropped onto the river bank and turned left to run east, up-river.

Galen helped Tad remove a stretcher from the tank’s rear stowage box and secured Boggs to it. The wounded Sergeant was unconscious. The three grunts--a Corporal and two troops--kept their weapons at the ready. The tank stopped.

“Get off here, all of you!” said Sevin.

They dismounted. Another tank was on the river bank, half-submerged in the water. Tank zero one pivot-steered sixteen hundred mils and sped back the way it had just come from. The other tank pulled up on the dry bank and Galen saw the bumper number. It was his own tank, three zero. It stopped facing up-river. Galen climbed into his cupola. He had to stand because the seat was gone, ejected. Also, the cupola and auxiliary gunner hatches were gone. He retrieved his pistol belt from the stowage compartment and put it around his waist. He picked up the hand mike.

“Who’s driving this bucket?”

“Chief? It’s me, Jones. I thought you were dead.”

“What happened right after I left? How come you weren’t punched out?”

“I had my eject set for eighty percent.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had my seat set not to blow unless the probability of tank destruction was greater than eighty percent. Yours must have been lower.”

“From now on my seat will get cranked to eighty five percent. Good job. What’s your orders?”

“I have to shuttle you guys up to where the Major made his crossing and get you inside the perimeter of the main body. You’re the last group.”

“We’re secure up here. Go.”

Tad stood in the seatless auxiliary gunner hatch. Galen checked the situation map. Sevin was in his tank alone, using the commander’s override to drive it. His tank was the only other one in the old operations area. The screen showed three markers for three under-strength enemy squads. Markers for four tank destroyers moved toward the former skirmish line. The marker for Sevin’s tank left the river’s edge and merged with the markers for the three enemy squads. The enemy units disappeared from the screen. The tank marker dropped into the river and swam downstream for a kilometer. Then it parked facing up the bank and waited.

A tributary met the river on the right side of Sevin’s tank. The tank destroyer markers were three kilometers away from Sevin, moving east on a course parallel to the river. When the marker for the first tank destroyer reached the tributary it disappeared from the screen. The second one also went off the situation map. Galen knew Sevin had shot them in the flank. The two remaining tank destroyers headed down the tributary to close with Sevin. Galen studied the topography and realized Sevin would have a clear shot soon, but against the front glacis of the tank destroyers. Charge seven could score a kill but a charge that high would shut down the tank’s systems for at least ten seconds and make it a sitting duck for the next tank destroyer.