The War for Profit Series Omnibus (65 page)

I made my way over to the large group standing around Six. He stood by a command post carrier, the broad flat flank of the tall vehicle his briefing screen. Captain Blythe projected an image on it: an overhead map of the area of interest. Stallion Six said, “Gentlemen, the sun will be up in half an hour and then I’ll have to draw on this thing with a piece of chalk, so let’s make this quick.” He held a cleaning rod in his hand as a pointer. “What we have here is a blue line, about ten meters across, shallow swift water not more than a meter deep in places. We also have some low hills along it, and north of the hills are some low scrubby plants suitable for masking the movement of our tanks and infantry carriers. Along the south edge is lower ground, where a column of armor could move undetected from a distance. And right here is the location of the Indig camp. Big, like a village. Hundreds of motor homes and other assorted vehicles, and mobile stores and what-not, to include some larger factory and processing plant types of vehicles.”

The slide changed and showed cartoon-like depictions of Indigenous vehicles. “What I want to do is attack into the town, with minimal destruction, just enough to show we mean business. Then we’ll hold the town hostage and use that as leverage to get the warriors to stand down and take their happy asses on back inside the longitudes where the employer wants them. Now all we have to do is figure out the plan.”

Then Captain Fiaco, the Alpha tank company commander and Stallion Six’s fiancé, raised her hand and spoke, “I want to go down town.”

“Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking right now. Alpha, you’ll get to the blue line and move north and at the last hill you’ll get on top and look like you’re going to give supporting fire. The enemy is anything but stupid and will try to knock you off that hill. Bravo, where you at?”

The Bravo commander stepped forward. Six said, “You’ll be…”

Coyote, the Scout squad leader interrupted, “If I may speak.”

Six said, “Speak. Loud enough for us all.”

“That is the largest village I have ever seen in my entire life.”

Six waited until Coyote stepped back. “Thank you, Coyote. I appreciate your input. Like I was saying, Bravo, you’ll move along the East side of the river and hang back behind Alpha and then when Alpha gets on top of that hill you will move farther North, cross the river and circle in behind the village. Cut off their escape. The last thing I want to do is have to chase down several groups of Indigs. I want to get in there and get the whole mess of them in one big package deal. I want to get this done and get back home to Mama as soon as possible. Charlie?”

The Charlie commander said, “Right here.”

“Your job is the most critical so don’t think I’m handing you a shit sandwich. You’ll move along the lower ground south of the village, then emerge on line and present a serious threat to the village itself. That will cause the warriors to pull back from their attack on Alpha to defend their wives and kids and sweethearts. And don’t kick their asses, just keep up the fire and let them think they can win that fight. Then Alpha can charge downhill into the warriors that still stand against them, and then charge into town and lock that place down. In their minds it will look like an overwhelming force, mercenaries every which way they look. That will knock the fight right out of them and their wise leaders can surrender without losing the respect of their people. Right?”

The whole group said, “Right.”

“One last thing, I’ll be with Alpha. The rest of HQ Company tanks will be with ALOC and the XO, Major Wood will be in command of the maneuver battle while I’m out with Alpha. Major Delagiacoma will be here, managing the TOC.” He stood at attention for three seconds. “Success!”

“Success!” From the group, in unison.

Six said, “Commanders and above, come see me.”

The rest of the leaders dispersed to disseminate warning orders to their troops. I hung around at a distance. Then a Scout jogged up and addressed Six directly. The eight Commanders and three Field Grade officers stood in a huddle with Six and stuck out their right hands, stacked palm down at waist height. Then in unison they raised their hands and said, “Break!” and moved away quickly.

As Captain Blythe jogged by I caught up with him. “What’s up, Sir?”

“The Scouts report that the Indig scouts saw our tracks. We’re attacking now, right now!”

I ran to my tank. The mechanics were just putting the upper hull back on. The sun was coming up. I paced back and forth and waited. I knew the worst thing anyone could say to a mechanic is “hurry up.” Mechanics are very technical-minded with a strong sense of right and wrong. Things are either broken or not, they either work or they don’t, and there is only one way to do anything, and that’s the right way. Mechanics take as long as it takes to do whatever they are doing the right way. Telling a mechanic to half-ass a job to save time, telling a mechanic to “hurry up,” is like trying to get the Pope to say he’s not Catholic.

Finally they lowered the turret in place. I waited for what I knew would take ten minutes for them to verify the seating, seal and connections at the swivel base. The chief mechanic told me, “She’s good to go.”

I gripped her hand and shook twice. “Thanks.”

I climbed into my cupola, Caldwell dropped into the driver’s seat and Parks snuggled into the weapons station. I sent up a green status and we rode to the head of the parked ALOC column and awaited orders. The generator trailer was still attached. I climbed out and stowed the electrical cord and ensured the trailer brakes were still disabled for towing behind a tracked vehicle, then got back in my tank.

I received a free text from Stallion Six.

I want you up top in my crow’s nest. Monitor comms.

It contained the grid coordinate for the high hill I’d been on earlier with the Scouts, the same hilltop Six had just been on. I acknowledged the order and copied it to Major Wood and Captain Thews as well, so they’d know what I was doing. I dismounted and unhooked the generator trailer and got back in.

“Caldwell, you feel lucky?”

“Sure, Sergeant. What’s up?”

“Get us on top of that hill. Show me you can drive better than Giovanni.” Giovanni Martini was Six’s driver, considered best driver in the Battalion, best by test in a training environment anyway. But I liked Caldwell better. She took more initiative and didn’t hesitate to do what was right, not afraid to ignore a bad order when she knew better. But she damn sure followed orders otherwise. She turned away from the hill in a wide arc and made a run of a hundred meters to gain the necessary speed. Moments before reaching the base of the hill she said, “Gun up” to remind Parks to raise the laser cannon so it wouldn’t scrape. He needed no reminding, but it was standard procedure for the driver to say that. The tank climbed the hill, Caldwell anticipating the track slippage from side to side before it happened. Sure, the traction control can try to do something about it after it happens but often, when exceeding the authorized up-slope climb rating of sixty percent, it’s too late by then. We stopped at the top. From my vantage point I could see the three parallel columns as they began to diverge. Six was easy to spot, the Battalion Guidon attached as high as possible to his sensor mast.

My comms blinked in and out, data bursts getting through whenever Tumbler’s magnetic field would allow. The up-link to the ship above went green and would remain so as long as I didn’t move. I sent a free text to Six.

In Position
.

He sent back
RR
. Roger.

The four remaining tanks of the Battalion HQ lined up at the base of my lookout point. Then ORF-2 joined them, crewed by two mechanics with Captain Blythe in the cupola. They lined up in column at fifty meter interval, then four cargo trucks parked in the spaces between them. Major Wood, the Battalion XO, parked his skimmer at the head of that line of vehicles and set it hull-down. I checked my reports. The S-1 OIC was in the first tank, the S-2 NCOIC was in the second, Major Deskavich was in the third and ORF-2 at the rear. There were no orders causing this. I figured it was because there was a battle about to start and these guys were a little miffed about not being invited. But then again, they had nothing to do at the moment and they looked like they were ready to escort a logpac as soon as it was called for. Likely, right after the battle. They were just showing initiative, I guess. Good thing they did.

The TOC crew set up its tracks and dome. The aid station also got started on its mobile hospital, parked it level and staked it down and expanded the sides and attached the tent extensions. I glanced at statuses and realized it was the Mech battalion TOC and aid station that had been set up. The Stallion Battalion vehicles were still march-ordered, ready to move if needed elsewhere. The Mech Battalion commander was in his TOC, second in command certainly, burdened with the more mundane aspects of battlefield management. Plenty of transmissions between there and Stallion Six were relayed through my comms gear.

The Stallion maintenance vehicles also lined up, parallel to the HQ tanks. The Mech maintenance section set up shop, which included a five meter high half-pipe tent with a sturdy frame that supported an overhead crane for use as a repair bay. In the distance to the rear I saw the ground-mobile Air Defense guns approaching. Slow, getting stuck and un-stuck. I guestimated their time of arrival as tomorrow or the next day. Or some other time in the distant future. On top of my lookout point would be a great place for them right now but it would be impossible for them to get up here.

Charlie split off from the axis of advance and made its way into the low ground south of the village. The column had a Scout at its head, followed by the Infantry company commander in his skimmer, then alternating with a tank followed by an infantry fighting vehicle, all down the line to a single armored recovery vehicle at the end. They came to a halt and faced toward the village, still eight hundred meters away. They had intended to be spread out on-line beyond the far end of the village, but the village just kept going. Charlie’s left flank didn’t even extend halfway along the southern edge of the village.

I got a status from the HHS and Infantry HHC mortar squads. They were in position ready to fire, requesting registration and a fire plan. They were told to stand by. Six was still working on salvaging his plan for a surprise attack. Sure, some Indigs knew something was up. But they still couldn’t know how much of what was coming at them, or where it was, or when or if an attack was coming. The mortars would have to fire almost twenty five klicks, and normally that would be a piece of cake. But the magnetic field around Tumbler made most of their electronic gadgets useless. Also, the effects of the atmosphere and the gravity and the planetary rotation hadn’t been worked out, hence the need for registration. They’d have to fire ‘dumb’ rounds with simple impact fuses. I knew I was in the perfect spot to manage their registration, spotting their rounds against a known point. But that would surely have the Indigs up in arms and ready to fight. It would destroy whatever surprise remained. So the mortars stood by.

Bravo was given a change in plans. They crossed the river early and massed behind the first large hill, the one directly east of Charlie’s line. I’ll call it hill number one. They waited. Alpha went beyond, farther North than planned, past hill two and then in behind hill three, the one furthest North. Alpha was moving farther North, searching for the northern end of the village so they could circle around. Charlie reported that in the village all they saw were a very few women and children going about their business. The assumption was that this period of daylight was the Indig’s time to sleep in, curled up all nice and comfortable in their motor homes. Charlie got its warning order to be prepared to move forward and bring the Indigs to battle. The infantry dismounted and prepared for a cautious advance.

Alpha came around the right of hill three, and one platoon split off with infantry support to the right at a high rate of speed and then faced left to give supporting fire. The rest of Alpha charged the village but at a range of six hundred meters met with resistance, fire from antitank guns set up at the edge of the village. Traditionally, such guns were used mainly to protect camps from beefalo stampedes. Today they opposed tanks. Alpha retreated behind hill three and then drove up the back side and started picking off the guns one by one. All of Alpha couldn’t fit on the hill so the platoon that had split off earlier stayed behind the hill.

Six called for more ammunition, so the five Battalion HQ tanks headed that direction, toward hill three. It would take them half an hour to get there, maybe longer, the cargo trucks slowing them down. The Indigs began a charge of hill three, a surprisingly large group of infantry wearing powered battle armor. The powered battle armor was also used as a way to protect warriors during beefalo hunts. A man wearing it could withstand being run over by a two ton animal, was protected from being gored by the horns, and had the strength to kill a mature bull with a single punch, the speed to run down a young bull. And they carried weapons that could blast through the thickest beefalo skulls. Many also carried antitank rockets. One-shot dumb rockets, suitable against light armor. Effective against the rear or top armor of the Stallion medium tanks.

From where I sat, it looked like a thousand Indigs at least. They were closing on the base of hill three, where they’d be able to mass below the firing arc of the Alpha troopers on top. The tanks and the infantry fighting vehicles were able to pick off plenty of charging Indigs when they were in the open, but still, most of the Indigs made it across and more kept coming. Another thousand. They began a massed infiltration, crawling through the tall grass of the hill’s slope, closing on Alpha. Sure, the Eliminator was the perfect weapon for destroying powered armor at close range, but each Alpha troop had only fifteen rounds of armor piercing. Them and their company of infantry support, that was a hundred and eighty mercenaries. 2,730 rounds. They didn’t have enough ammo to kill all the Indigs. And still more came. They had massed at the base of the hill and were crawling up three sides already. They easily could have surrounded the hill if one platoon had not been at the base of the back side. That platoon was being overwhelmed. I saw a tank explode, an infantry carrier set on fire.

Six then ordered Charlie to start their attack. They charged the village and stopped two hundred meters out and formed a skirmish line, the infantry dismounted and on line in front of the tanks. They began taking aimed shots at the village, keeping the volume of fire to a minimum. Just enough to get the Indig’s attention, to draw the force away from hill three, to make the Indigs face off against Charlie, to protect their village. The ones still moving across the open ground changed direction, turned to their right and ran toward Charlie’s skirmish line.

Six led Alpha’s charge down hill three, to overrun the Indigs who were crawling up the hill, to smash the mass of Indigs at the base of the hill. The tank’s main guns fired on charge two for the most part, taking out individual targets. They were saving their juice for aggressive maneuvering, couldn’t spare the energy for higher gun charges. They moved across the indigs, blasting holes right through them, running over them. The Alpha infantry was now mounted, their fighting vehicles spewing grazing fire from their turrets, dual ten millimeter Gauss machine guns. The platoon trapped at the base of the hill was able to break contact and move in behind the charge. Well, three tanks and two IFVs, anyway. They’d lost some vehicles and troops at the base of the hill. The Indigs they overran were squashed. Alpha made its way up onto hill two, faced the village and gave supporting fire to Charlie’s skirmish line.

Bravo then joined the battle. They moved to form a skirmish line connecting Charlie’s right flank to hill two. The bulk of the Indigs were about to be caught in the kill zone of an ‘L’ shaped defense. Charlie was trading fire with un-armored Indigs at the edge of the village. Their Scout had been standing on the turret of the Charlie commander’s tank when a single bullet hit him in the face. His head exploded and Master Sergeant Gates, the Charlie commander, had blood and brains splattered on him from the waist up. But that was Charlie’s only casualty at that time. There was a hill to the left of Charlie, about six hundred meters away. The Indigs amassed over a thousand warriors there, nearly six hundred of them equipped with powered armor suits. There was also a company of light tanks. The light tanks were used by the Indigs to push around large herds, and for blasting away at the faces of retreating glaciers, as well as bust up frozen ground to get an early start on planting fruit and vegetable gardens. They also used them to settle differences with other Indig clans, from time to time.

Today they found the flank of a Stallion tank a lucrative target. They came around that hill and attacked Charlie’s left rear and flank. Charlie 11 took six rounds in its left side simultaneously; its turret flew up and spun away. The rest of Charlie’s first platoon faced left and traded blows with the light tanks, turning them into scrap in short order. But the Indig dismounts closed on them and swarmed them. They shifted to a diamond formation and used their rail guns to scratch each other’s backs, spun their turrets to knock off dismounts with the main gun. Gates ordered his infantry to mount up and then withdrew his forces to the base of hill one.

Alpha made another charge to get back up on hill three. A surprisingly large number of Indigs emerged from the village to charge hill three again, this time with a dozen light tanks as support. Alpha was right back into the same situation as before, but worse. Indig light tanks came to the edge of the village and began lobbing chemically-propelled high-explosive shells onto the top of the hill. The Stallion tanks had to come to the edge of the flat-topped hill to return fire, had to bring their guns to charge five to get a kill on the Indig tanks. A relatively slow process. By the time the Indig tanks were eliminated, a large force of Indig dismounts had reached the top of the hill and were ready to charge. The dismounted Alpha infantry repulsed the first attack, and the second. But Indigs were still coming, free to run across open ground to the base of the hill, the tanks busy looking for Indig tanks and mortars, picking them off whenever they fired. But not preventing the massed infiltration. The infantry were dug in, waiting for the next charge.

Bravo was cut off and unable to form its skirmish line. Bravo withdrew and got back up on top of hill one and established a solid defense. Charlie was beat back and went around hill one and then moved up on top to join Bravo’s defensive lines. From my position I could see the front slope of hill three at a flat angle. Parks was zoomed in and was firing at charge one, taking out an Indig every so often. Not bad, considering we were twenty klicks away. Very hard to indentify targets in the tall grass, so he shot at anything that looked like movement.

A platoon from Bravo moved toward hill two but was in danger of being swamped by powered Indigs. Another Indig light tank company came out of the village to charge the platoon’s flank so they swung right and got back up on hill one. I looked and saw that the area, the Indigs all over the place, would be a perfect target for an artillery unit, a Redleg’s wet dream. I called the mortars. “Registration. Azimuth four nine hundred, range two four thousand.”

They fired. Eight smoke rounds. They landed beyond the village. “Right two hundred, drop two thousand.”

The smoke landed in the southeast corner of the village. I was about to make another correction when I heard Six on the comms. “Stop it! Stop shooting that shit! We got this, I don’t need no mortars. We’ll finish today and head on back to Mandarin tomorrow!”

I said, “Check fire, end of mission, mortars.”

A double-click over comms from the mortar chief.

Comms got squirrely again, worse than before. An Indig drone circled over the battlefield, obviously jamming transmissions. An infantry fighting vehicle gunner on hill one took it down with rail gun fire and comms improved. The BN HQ tanks made a run at hill two, wanting to provide supporting fire for Alpha. They had to send the cargo trucks to hill one, and Charlie and Bravo had to take the logpac for themselves. All of the medical supplies and ammunition, anyway. They left the chow alone.

The BN HQ lost two tanks, blown to bits by antitank rockets fired at their ass ends by Indig dismounts. The three remaining tanks got inside the Bravo/Charlie perimeter and joined the defensive battle there.

I saw a charge of Indigs sweep halfway across the top of hill one before they were stopped. I called the mortars. “Hey, fire HE. Give it to them, right three hundred.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“But Stallion Six himself, he said…”

I was getting pissed off. “Just fucking do it. If he don’t like it he’ll call again and tell you to stop.”

“This won’t be just your responsibility. I’ll get canned right along with you.”

“Just fire the rounds. Please?” I switched to a husky, seductive voice. “I’ll suck your dick if you want.”

There was a long pause. Mortar rounds landed near hill three. Then the mortar Chief said, “Eat me, fag.”