Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars (19 page)

The hangar deck was abuzz with activity as Chief Monkey Wrench was overseeing the changing out of the Soviet computers to replace them with American ones. It was not a new process. Every hangar deck mechanic had to learn how to convert a Soviet tank into an American one in their basic training, and they were working with marine precision and efficiency.

The only team that wasn’t working on the conversion was the one repairing CPT Viking’s tank, which was damaged by an HE artillery shell. The pilot was eagerly anticipating its repair so he could join the others. The shop was filled with the noise of air-powered tools, arc welders, grinders and men shouting back and forth to each other. It was a stark contrast to his usual noise level inside of his suit, in a suit outside, where the only thing he could hear was the radio and his own heartbeat. Chief Monkey Wrench gave him the thumbs up signal.

“Thirty minutes Captain—we’ll have you shoving off at the same time as the ten new tanks.” The pilot smiled and nodded, grateful that he wouldn’t be sitting out the charge of the Soviet tanks on their post. He didn’t want to say he was on the sidelines when someone asked him, “Where were you during the Soviet assault on Eagle 2?”

Chief of Security SGT Casper was busy interrogating the two Soviet prisoners. To their credit, Lieutenants Gavrikov and Ivasheva weren’t giving up anything. They were the best-trained and disciplined soldiers the Soviet Union had. The chief decided they wouldn’t get anything without torture, and he wasn’t authorized to do that. He doubted they were even telling their real names. After an exhausting interrogation, he reported back to COL Red Fangs.

“Colonel, the prisoners are alive and well, but not being cooperative.”

“It’s okay. The trap is set, and we don’t need them as bait.”

“Yes, sir.”

It would have been good to get something from the captives, but he was holding their post out as the bait and that hadn’t changed. Concealing their capture helped with the deception. To reveal their capture to the Soviets would tip his hand that he’d acquired the Soviet tanks.

COL Red Fangs raised his first officer on a not-so-secure radio channel.

“Status report?”

“We lost one tank in the artillery battle, leaving us with four. We may have four more built by the time the Soviets arrive.”

“We’ll have to depend on our last artillery piece to whittle them down before they get here or we’re done.”

COL Red Fangs switched over to a secure channel. “Now, what’s the real status?” he asked.

“If we have enough time, we will have nineteen tanks by the time the Soviet tank regiment assaults our post.”

“Then make sure that last big gun slows them down,” COL Red Fangs said.

“Yes, sir. I’m already working on it.”

The Soviet first officer was considered the highest priority target outside of guntower range, and MAJ Cherenkov was the next priority, especially if he got close to the American post. SGT Monitor had located LTC Averbukh’s heat signature and relayed the coordinates, direction and speed of travel back to LTC Judgment Day. The Soviets were twenty-five minutes into their charge. SGT Rolling Thunder had been broadcasting shells which dispersed anti-tank mines in the line of attack forty kilometers from the post in all directions, with the exception of the Soviet first officer’s location. They specifically laid two heavy minefields on each side of his direct path, forcing him to hold a tight course. The artillery crew waited for him like a cobra with its hood spread and eyes fixed with their racks loaded with high explosive shells.

SGT Monitor fell back to the American side of the broadcasted minefields and started back toward the post in reverse, keeping a fix on the Soviet first officer’s position as long as possible. His vehicle in reverse was slower than the advancing Soviet tanks, and had orders to return to post at full speed when the Soviets came too close. The Soviets pressed a circle around the last spy drone and destroyed it. SGT Monitor held his position, knowing that he was barely out of reach of the enemies he was spying on, much like a cat teasing a dog just a foot off the end of his chain. He knew it was dangerous. At any moment, the status quo could change, and the dog might break free of its chain.

The first four Soviet tanks hit the minefields placed by the artillery shells and blew up within thirty seconds of one another. The explosions sent chunks of metal and body parts mixed with smoke and fire flying outward in all directions. It was reported to COL Glaskov, who ordered them to reduce their speed by forty percent and be on the lookout for mines. Even at this speed, six more tanks were lost in the minefields. The Soviets reduced to half speed. The American forward observer noted the speed reduction and reported the change. COL Red Fangs was delighted with the news. The extra time would give them some more tanks from the factory—maybe only one or two, but that was enough. The American satellite has just flown over and the Soviet tank count was confirmed at thirty-three. The Soviets still thought they had forty-three, with their back door crew.

SGT Rolling Thunder and his crew got his last laser sighting of LTC Averbukh’s position, direction and speed of travel. The artillery crew loaded HE shells into the big gun, and fired every fifteen seconds for two minutes where the Soviet should be, where he was going, and where he had just been. The Soviet saw the first shell strike the ground in front of him, making the ground tremble, and felt the shockwave rock the nose of his hovercraft up and back. He righted his craft, came to a full stop, and put it in reverse. The second shell struck his tank and made a breach in the hull large enough to drive a truck through. The second shell took his life and scattered the smoldering pieces of his tank and body along the lunar surface. His wingman, who had been moving westerly toward the American post and five kilometers north of the first officer, reported LTC Averbukh’s death to COL Glaskov.

The Soviet commander cursed and informed MAJ Cherenkov that he was now second-in-command.
It was still all right
, he thought.
MAJ Cherenkov is a fearless and skilled pilot and the men will follow him in the charge. After all, that’s what we’re doing, attacking their post. All of the strategy has been worked out, and attacking is all that’s left. Yes
, he decided,
he’s a good man for this
.

SGT Monitor began moving as close as possible to the Soviet charge, moving back and forth, looking for MAJ Cherenkov’s heat signature. He was getting dangerously close. All of the spy drones had been destroyed. SGT Lookout had to fall back to the post when he got too close to the Soviet line and suffered severe damage to his ship. Finally, SGT Monitor locked in the Soviet Major’s heat signature and started toward the post, keeping track of the major and relaying his coordinates to the last American big gun.

SGT Rolling Thunder’s crew got the coordinates for MAJ Cherenkov and started to fire using the same technique they’d used on the Soviet first officer. The Major flew as close to the minefields on each side as the big gun tried to direct his path with high explosive fire. They hoped to be able to nail him before he ever got near the post. The Major was bolder and flew in a snaking pattern, making it harder to obtain a firing solution. The hardest chargers of the Soviet tank regiment were two minutes from the minefield surrounding the American post.

A mine blast violently ripped through MAJ Cherenkov’s tank and blew his gun turret off, sailing it twenty feet into the air. The mines continued to slow the first wave of Soviet attackers—five more Soviet officers who had followed the major lost their lives; their tanks having been savaged by the American welcoming party. American radar confirmed the Soviet tank count at twenty-eight. The death of MAJ Cherenkov was noted by the rest of the regiment and it took the fire out of the Soviet charge. COL Glaskov was informed and none too happy about it.

Right on cue, the Americans started bringing the Soviet transponders up the cliff and into the post, mimicking the enemies’ assault to their flank. The reconditioned tanks and their new tanks, nineteen in all arrived at the line with COL Red Fangs in front of the guntowers. The Americans now stood to defend this post behind their defensive grid with twenty-one tanks to the Soviets’ twenty-eight. In COL Glaskov’s mind, he still had ten more.

SGT Monitor was still on the job and had identified the Soviet commander’s heat signature. His laser target designator pinpointed the colonel’s tank and sent the coordinates to LTC Judgment Day. The American first officer relayed the coordinates to the artillery crew, with orders to stand-down, but stand-ready until further orders were given.

The remainder of the Soviet regiment was within ten kilometers of the post now, soon to be within American guntower range. COL Glaskov checked his onboard radar. Something was wrong; he was reading over twenty tanks in a line. He saw no evidence of damage to the post. There was no way the Americans could have that many tanks this quickly, unless… There was no reason for his tank unit inside the American post to be on radio silence now. They should be attacking by now. COL Glaskov keyed the mike and radioed his team leader.

“CPT Dvorkin?” There was no answer. He got no answer from any of the other tanks. But the transponders were still transmitting from all ten tanks… One thousand more meters and they would be within guntower range and in fierce fighting. He quickly did the math. Without his ten tanks attacking the American post from the inside, this was now an entirely different battle. If the Americans found a way to convert those tanks they would have a strong edge behind their defensive grid. At best, there would be a draw and what was left of his fleet would be in shreds. With any luck, a few of his ships would survive and be left to limp back to their post, leaving most of the alloy-x on the battlefield for the Americans to recover. In such a weakened condition, the Americans might well attempt a siege on their post. He cursed his misfortune under his breath as he saw his political aspirations evaporate like dew on the Russian grass.

“This is COL Glaskov. To all boards, break off the attack and regroup where we started.” The Soviet tanks were within one hundred meters of American guntower range when the order came.

LTC Judgment Day noticed the Soviet retreat and didn’t give the order to fire on COL Glaskov. SGT Rolling Thunder received a message that the Soviets had called off the attack, but stood ready in any case. He still had the firing solution for COL Glaskov’s tank in his computer and was keeping it updated.

The Soviet commander opened a channel to the Americans.

“COL Red Fangs.”

“Yes, COL Glaskov.”

“Well done, you are a worthy adversary. We will meet again. Next time, I will not underestimate your ability to use deception. I will win next time.”

“You’re a worthy adversary as well. I have two of your pilots to return if you wish to honor the accord.”

Glaskov was silent for a few seconds as he considered this news. “I would like them back.”

“In exchange, I want a favor from you.”

“Yes?”

“I want to send a delegation to the D’Alembert Crater under truce to place a memorial for the men of Eagle 1.”

“Agreed. We can meet then to renew the accord. We will serve dessert this time.”

Col Red Fangs suppressed a snicker at that remark. “Very good, until next time.”

The Soviets sent a single craft to the American post to pick up their pilots. COL Red Fangs was relieved that he wouldn’t lose more men in the final assault. The factory kept building more tanks, just in case the Soviets changed their minds. He was sure that the Soviets wouldn’t be able to carry back more than a fraction of the alloy-x on the battlefield, which was good news for them. They had the materials to finish building a post. With the alloy-x field they found on the southern rim of the crater, they should have enough to finish a proper post here and export the materials to build a proper post on Mars.

The Soviets returned back to their starting point, slowly and carefully this time, avoiding any mines. COL Glaskov had fifteen scavengers load up and head for home. They were only able to recover one-eighth of the alloy-x that they brought with them. The deaths of his first and second officers had been a great loss for him. His first officer had been offered a command here once he was promoted to the politburo. He’d turned it down in favor of accepting the command of the new post the Soviets were soon to establish on Mars. He knew he would lose him soon, but not like this. He was a brilliant, fine young officer and now he was dead. MAJ Cherenkov’s death was costly in another way. He inspired the men like a legendary hero of old. His death would be hard on morale.

CPT America returned back to Luna with more equipment, food and supplies two days later. He also carried the granite memorial monument with the names of the members of Eagle 1, and a second one for the artillery crew who died in the failed assault on Eagle 2. The Soviets and Americans met at D’Alembert crater and signed an accord over tea and gozinaki, this time provided by the Soviets. The Americans were careful to eat and drink modestly. The Americans placed the first memorial stone there; the second one was placed at Eagle 2. Another memorial for Eagle 1 was erected in front of the post HQ at Eagle 2. A bronze statue of a marine facing down a Soviet tank with his sidearm served as a reminder of the steadfast courage of the men of Eagle 1.

GEN Colson was pleased with the reports that more alloy-x metal was harvested than they needed to build a proper post on Luna. The icing on the cake was that COL Glaskov’s politburo appointment was withdrawn. There was more than enough alloy-x to build a post on Mars. The next step was to choose the personnel and commander for the new post. He poured another cup of coffee, two sugars and one cream and sat back down at his desk. He looked again through the two files of men to whom he’d considered for the post on Mars, deciding on the naval lieutenant commander. He would have full control over his team selection. It was time to take the war with the Soviets to the next world…

VIETNAM