A Tuesday To Remember Pt 2
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They'd been watching for almost an hour now. APCs continued to shuttle tank crewmen from one landing ship to another and tanks continued to come down the ramp where they would drive to a staging position and await assignment to a prepared position on the perimeter. Meanwhile the bulldozers continued to work like mad, preparing those hull-down positions.
"No way in hell anything is gonna get in that perimeter," Lisa observed. "We could throw every tank in Eden at them and they'd throw them all back in ten minutes."
"Yep," agreed Lon. "And there's too many of them for us to start sniping with our own ATs. We'd hit three or four of them — maybe — and then they'd rake us with eighty-millimeter fire. There's not enough cover or even concealment out here to protect us and the nearest place we can bring down a Hummingbird without having it plastered is six klicks back."
"We'll have to pound them on the march," Horishito said.
"But we won't have as much time to do it in," Jefferson pointed out. "They're only a hundred and twenty klicks from the city and only seventy-five from the gap."
"We're gonna have to work twice as hard," Lisa said. "So will the Mosquito crews."
"You got that shit right," Lon said. "If we don't slow them down somehow they're gonna get to the gap before our reinforcements get there. If the gap falls without the ACRs inflicting heavy casualties on them the 2nd Infantry might not be able to hold — especially if the reinforcements aren't there yet either."
They all pondered that thought worriedly, none liking this sudden debut of what appeared to be sensible thinking on the part of the WestHems.
"Our whole doctrine depends on slowing them down," Jefferson said. "There has to be a way to do it."
"Nothing that we're gonna be able to do," Lon said. "We're stuck out here observing and reporting. And what we're observing and reporting is bad news."
The news became worse a few minutes later. It was Lisa — whose sector of responsibility included the middle portion of the landing zone — who spotted it first. She saw flares of heat from one of the ships. Her trained eyes grew wide as she saw that the ship in question was a hover-carrier and that the flares of heat were caused by excess interior atmosphere being vented out due to the opening of many doors on the side of the ship.
"Shit on me," she said. "Sarge, take a look at ship two-seven — the hover carrier. They just opened every goddamn door on the side."
"The launch doors?" Lon asked, alarmed. He quickly reduced the zoom on his goggles and began panning in the direction where the ship designated as twenty-seven was located.
"The launch doors," Lisa confirmed. "And now I'm getting heat flare from inside almost all of them. They're sending hovers out! An assload of them."
The discipline instilled in the special forces members prevented the rest of the team from abandoning their areas of observational responsibility to take a look at what Lisa was reporting. For this reason Corporal Spunkmaster — one of the recent replacements for the two casualties from phase one — was the next to make an observation.
"I'm getting the same thing from landing ship one-eight," he said. "That's the other hover-carrier. Multiple doors opening and heat flare of engines from inside."
"Jesus Christ, sarge," Jefferson said. "You think they picked up a transmission from us or from one of the other teams?"
"If they know where we're at we're fuckin' toast," said Horishito, a hint of fear in his voice. "There ain't nowhere for us to hide out here!"
"Everyone chill," Lon said as he finally managed to zoom in and see what Lisa had reported. "If they knew we were out here they'd hit us with their arty first. This looks like... like an air strike."
"An air strike?" Horishito said. "But they haven't set up a forward refuel point. How are they gonna... oh shit," he said, as the ramifications of his words suddenly struck him.
"Holy shit," Lon said. "Now we know why they landed so far forward. They won't need a fucking forward refuel point from here. Eden is within their range!"
"The 250s," Lisa said. "That has to be what they're going after! The 250s and maybe the air launch facilities for the Mosquitoes and the Hummingbirds!"
"Shit," Lon said. "Why the fuck didn't someone think of this?"
The hovers began to emerge from their ship, easing out on flares of bright heat and then rising into the air and drifting outward. In only twenty seconds more than thirty of them had launched from each ship. They began to form up some two hundred meters above their ships.
"Jefferson," Lon said, "send off a priority report about this. Hovers assembling above the LZ in large numbers. Prepare for air strike. Will report more when they move out."
"Right, sarge," he said, turning on his communications gear and quickly setting up the message. Before he was even done transcribing it the entire compliment of hovers had launched and assembled.
"What's our count?" Lon asked.
"Sixty-three of them," Horishito said.
"That's my count too," Lisa confirmed. "All of them attack hovers."
As a unit, the formation of hovers turned and began to move to the east, accelerating as they went, but descending and staying less than one hundred meters above the ground. Before they were out of sight it was clear that they'd accelerated to their top Martian speed of one hundred and seventy kilometers per hour.
"Send the next message," Lon told Jefferson. "Six-three attack hovers moving east from the LZ at one-seven-zero, altitude one-zero-zero."
"Sending it," Jefferson reported. "I hope there's someone up there to hit them."
There was someone up there — three different flights of Mosquitoes circling and awaiting further instructions — but all of them were running low on fuel. Brian and Matt's flight of two were the closest and they'd just sent off an encrypted message to flight command letting them know they would need to head in for refuel in the next ten minutes. They had been awaiting their reply when the emergency action message came over the radio frequency.
"Fuck me," Matt said as he listened to the message. "Boss, did you hear that shit?"
"I caught some of it," Brian said. "Repeat it."
"Six-three attack hovers have just launched from the Eden LZ. They're heading east at one-zero-zero meters AGL, moving maximum speed. All units move to intercept if possible."
"Sixty-three of them?" Brian said. "Shit. I was hoping I'd heard wrong." He looked down at his fuel gauge and clicked his lips a few times.
"They gotta be going after the 250s," Matt said. "If they get through they'll kill them!"
"Get us an intercept course right now!" Brian told him. "We need to drop as many as we can!"
"Boss, we got the fuel to do that? If we go turnin' and burnin' while we're on low we might not make it back to the base."
"We need to try," Brian said. "If we have to ditch before we get back then we have to ditch. Now get me that fucking course and then open up a channel to our wing."
Matt didn't hesitate for an instant. "Right, boss," he said, flipping over to the navigation screen. "Plotting it now."
"If we find them fast, hit hard, and identify their path for the rest of the Mosquitoes we should be able to pull back and make it to base." He shook his head a little. "Should be."
"Right," Matt said, his fingers flying over his screen, trying to intersect their current position with an imaginary line where sixty-three hovers moving one hundred and seventy klicks an hour would be at the time they got in the vicinity. "Broad fuckin' daylight," he said. "It'll be harder to pin them down from a distance. And if we get too high they'll be able to engage us."
"We need to find them," Brian said. "That's the most important thing. Get me some kind of a course so I can get moving!"
Matt's course plotting was far from complete but he knew at least the basics. "Turn to one-seven-two. Prelim look has an intersection of them and us in about six minutes."
"Doing it," Brian said. "And get the wing on the line. Fuck radio silence. This is an emergency."
That was a simple flip of a switch. "You're hot," Matt told him and then bent over his plot again, barely noticing the sharp turn of the aircraft to the right.
Their wing had already followed them through the turn and accelerated to maximum right alongside them. Brian keyed his mic and told them what they were doing.
"Brian, the fuel's gonna be awfully fuckin' tight here," said Collins, one of the recently trained pilots.
"No shit," Brian told him. "You head back to base if you don't wanna risk it. You're well within doctrine and I won't think any less of you. But I'm going after those fuckers and if we have to ditch on the way back that's the breaks."
There was a slight hesitation and then Collins said, "I'm with you. Lead the way."
"My sis is working on it now," Brian told him.
They flew on in silence for another fifty-two seconds. Finally Matt came up with an official estimated plot. He found it wasn't all that different than his instinctive guess. "Turn left to one-seven-four," he said. "If they follow their course and speed from the LZ as reported and if the time is right that will put us out over the valley right in front of them."
"Got it," Brian said, making the adjustment. "And ship it to the wing and to air command."
"Already done, boss," Matt said. "They're reporting all of the other flights are moving in as well. Their positions and courses are coming up on our screen now."
"Fuckin' aye," Brian said. "Get those cannons charged up. I want us to hit fast when we find them. Hit any of them you can."
"Right," Matt said.
They reached the intercept point exactly on time. The two aircraft shot out over the valley and then turned sharply to the west. They saw nothing but emptiness below them.
"Where the fuck are they?" Brian asked, his enhanced eyes looking for something, anything that resembled heat in the infrared spectrum.
"They're not exactly here," Matt said. "They're either in front of us or behind us. So they're either going faster or slower than we thought."
"Which is it though?" Brian asked. "Are they in front of us or behind?"
"How about we split up?" Matt suggested. "We go east and Collins goes west? That way one of us should come up on them."
"With only half the firepower," Brian said. "And they might be winding their way through the mountains instead of following the valley. If they're doing that neither one of us will find them."
"So what do we do?" Matt asked.
"We don't have much time. We need to climb and look down from above."
"Climb? Are you crazy, boss? If we go up high and they spot us they'll pot us out of the sky!"
"I want to do it," Brian said. "I think it's important enough to risk our asses for. If you object, tell me now and we'll keep searching low."
"Fuck," Matt muttered. "You're determined to kill my ass, ain't you?"
Brian grinned. "You want to live forever or something?"
"Naw," Matt said. "It would be boring. Let's do it."
"I knew I liked you for a reason," Brian said. He flipped over to the wing channel again. "Collins," he said. "We're going high and we're gonna find these fuckers. Circle right here and we'll vector you in."
"Brian, you can't do that!" Collins shot back. "They'll shoot you down if you're caught up high!"
"We'll spot and drop," Brian said. "We made our decision in here. You just do what you're told."
"Brian, this is against standing orders!" Collins said. "You know that!"
"I must've been absent the day they told us that order," Brian said. "Start circling and get ready to move in."
"Brian..." Collins started.
"Do it!" Brian said. "We're going up." He pushed forward on his throttle and pulled back on the stick. The aircraft began to climb, streaking into the pink Martian sky, the hillsides and the valleys dwindling quickly below them, the altimeter blurring with altitude it rarely showed.
"Nothing yet," Matt said, terrified as he watched them pass through a thousand meters and continue upward. Even if they did manage to not get shot down they had just burned up a good portion of their precious fuel climbing up here. The chances of making it back to the base were looking slimmer and slimmer.
"They're out there somewhere," Brian said. "The instant you see them, get a position and we're diving back down."
"Right, boss," Matt said, looking out in all directions, his head swiveling like a radar dish.
It was when they got to thirty-two hundred meters above the ground that he spotted something. "I got a heat blur!" he said. "Moving fast. Now two, now three! It's them! The rear elements of the strike. They're in the mountains north of the valley. Locking position now."
"Hurry it up!" Brian said, leveling off and preparing to dive. "If we can see them they can see us. Out of sixty-three of them one of them must be looking!"
Matt quickly marked the position on the map, got their speed and course, and then told the computer to coordinate it and give him a longitude and latitude. This only took three seconds to accomplish. It took another two for him to broadcast the position of the hovers to command so it could be forwarded to every other unit in the field. It was only five seconds but it was too much.
They never saw it coming. Eight of the hover gunners below had spotted their heat signature and six of them locked on and fired their anti-aircraft lasers. Five of them hit right on the hottest spot — just forward of the rocket outlets. The laser energy burned into their engine, searing through the hydrogen and oxygen delivery system and the main combustion chamber. A tremendous explosion resulted, blowing the aircraft into pieces. The computer controlled ejection system sensed the fatal injury to the aircraft the instant the first laser hit and automatically ejected the two crew members in less than a tenth of a second but even this was not quite fast enough. The aircraft had not been designed to absorb so much damage at one time.
For Matt it all happened in an instant. There was a bright flash, a loud noise, and he felt himself jolted harshly and spun backwards through flame and smoke. He felt a sharp, agonizing pain lance into his backside, right where his buttocks rested against his seat. There was a brief loss of consciousness and then he was looking at the ground far below and feeling a thrum of rocket power from beneath. Ahead of him he saw their aircraft falling to the ground in pieces, falling faster than he was. It took him a moment to realize where he was and what had happened. It was the pain that brought him back, the pain in his left ass cheek. It felt like he was on fire.
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