The road was on fire.
Gunfire crackled all around as orders on both sides were yelled, the voices trying to be known above the din of noise.
Emelia huddled in the panther, the sounds of battle surrounding her and the screams of the dying.
The rest of her squad was with her, the hatches down and Kenneth at the gunner’s seat; whipping the remote-controlled turret around to take pot shots at any heads that poked up.
Earlier in the afternoon, just a few minutes ago, those hatches were open, and they were all enjoying the breeze, keeping their eyes out still but still relaxed. After all the drones were keeping an eye out and the battalion commander was satisfied by the drone reports that the way was clear.
Hell, they’d even spent the morning waiting around for a bandit camp to be cleared out. It’d taken them over two days after the battle to get forty kilometres from the bridge. With bogs needed to be bridged and routes scouted, but yet…
They were passing through a forested area, verges on each side of the road with the bushes being thick and dark. A perfect ambush spot.
They trundled through the forest, Kenneth and Alexandra reminding everyone to keep their eyes open. It was just so peaceful. But a bit too much as even then her heart was tensed up.
She didn’t know if anyone had gone through the forest before ahead of them. But for some reason she thought no one had. Especially after what happened.
An explosive rocked the convoy and deafened them all. The explosion ripping the ground bellow the lead APC to pieces. The vehicle rolling forwards without any power. Hopefully the V shaped hull helped to protect the crew, but no one was sure.
And nobody was going to check any time soon as muskets opened up on them at close range. Then just as the troops started to close their hatches a hidden mortar… thing… dug into the verge blasted out a torrent of flaming liquid that splashed into the panther behind them, the men screaming and wailing inside as they burned.
A rockslide sealed the deal, closing the road ahead of them and presumably at the rear end of the company column.
And so they were, hatches down, the road covered with medieval napalm and a bunch of angry locals outside with support several minutes away.
It was far more terrifying than that little skirmish in the forest and she knew that she wasn’t going to be staying inside of the APC for this entire engagement.
Another explosion from outside of the vehicle resonated inside. More screams from over the radio but silence still there was silence from the battalion commander.
Though, it seemed that the time she was going to dread was approaching as company command decided on a course of action. They were the ones stuck here and they we’re going to get out of it.
“Alright you lot!” Kenneth bellowed, “We’re being attacked on both sides so our platoon is going to start spraying the enemy with suppressive fire. First the HMGs get them to stop shooting at us, then you open your hatches and start shooting them from up there. Our own troops will then try to storm their positions, do not shoot our own, got it!?”
Another boom resonated from outside, but everyone nodded. Alexandra's and Zachary’s faces stern and unflinching, their confidence calming her.
She gripped her rifle and tried to control her breathing. Safeties flicked off, semi-auto switched to full auto.
“You alright lass?”
She turned around to meet eyes with Zachary, nodding in response.
The M2 rattled as it poured fire into the forest, the moments stretching out as the wait for the order drew out. Every chug of the MG acting like a tick of the clock.
“Everyooone! Out!”
The hatches slammed open as they all squeezed their rifles out, resting them against the top of the vehicle. They all didn’t even bother to spot any targets before squeezing the trigger.
Wild musket shots cascaded all around them, all of them going wild as their users ducked.
The blast of a cannon replied to their attack, taking off the arm of a squaddie in the vehicle in front. The woman screamed, collapsing into their APC as blood sprayed all over it.
Her breath started to quicken, her blood running cold as she tried to keep firing, her squad cycling reloads as the assault team got closer to the ambushers.
But an issue occurred, because of course it did. The stead chugging fire of the 50. Cal stopped, the last rounds plinking onto the top of the vehicle.
“Private Emelia!” Corporal Kenneth screamed from inside, “Help me get this MG loaded! I need you to pull up the box!”
Her eyes widened for a moment before she moved into action.
Squeezing herself back into the vehicle, fumbling around with the racks inside, dropping her rifle as she hauled the box of ammo out and up.
With her arms straining she managed to squeeze it out and lugged it onto the roof, her body following up, a musket ball pinging by her face and ricocheting off the roof of the Panther.
On said roof Kenneth was kicking the MG, not flinching at all at the close call, his face still set in stone.
“Private, pass it over! I don’t have any time to waste here!”
“R-Right.”
She tried to push it over with no luck. Another push and again she couldn’t push it far enough.
She was going to regret what she was going to do, but she did it. She put both arms on the roof and hauled herself onto it, scampering to the box and hauling it into it’s mount on the MG.
Kenneth ripped open the lid, opened the top of the MG, checked the chamber, then pulled the belt on and slammed the lid down. A final, clack following as he charged the gun.
“Get in.”
She didn’t need another word as she slipped back into the vehicle, the two locking eyes again as they saw her rifle, left on the floor.
----------------------------------------
Edward was having the time of his life.
He was riding in the armoured battalion’s column advancing forwards; and he wasn’t just sitting in one of the IFVs or trucks, oh no.
He was sitting in the weapons operator position in a Defender MBT. One of the tanks didn’t have that optional crew member so they invited him to ride with them on his final day planet side. That tank was the platoon’s 2IC’s tank.
The crew of Báinidh were a rather friendly lot. They were all Scottish, which wasn’t exactly a surprise given the brigade he was in and the name of the tank. That and the gunner, Peter, did end up offering him a can of Irn-Bru. Edward had refused but he did feel a little bad about it, the poor lad seemed a little dejected.
The inside of the tank was industrial as expected, with lots of painted metal, little mechanical greebles and thick displays with controls made of hard plastic. He was sitting on left of the turret, where a loader was in a conventional tank. But the cassette style autoloader put behind a bulkhead behind him in the turret removed the need for that. So instead, a seat and a console was here so he could control all manner of things: from cameras placed around the hull, the remote controlled turret on the roof, to the Switchblade multi-purpose suicide drones placed in box launchers on the turret.
Frankly it was a lot. Though all those systems could also be controlled by the commander, whose name was Baltair. The ginger sitting right behind Peter on the right of the gun. Out of view was Veronica who was driving the tank, the suspension giving a surprisingly soft ride for a military vehicle.
Overall, he was thoroughly enjoying the experience. The company was nice too.
THUD
Everyone stopped chatting.
“Did you… Hear that?” Peter muttered, “It sounded like some sort of explosion.”
Edward felt himself tense up, flicking the monitor to display the camera feeds and sure enough.
“Hey, Baltair,” the admiral muttered, “Do you see that smoke cloud? Bearing 2-7-3 in the distance?”
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The Commander flicked his display to his thermal sights, the camera whirring as it turned. “Yeah, I’ve got hot smoke I can see coming from there. I need t-“ He placed his hand against his headset, a message coming through.
He turned to Edward, “Right sir, we’ve got to respond to this. For your safety I’d suggest you’d get out. W-With all due respect sir.”
Edward bit his tongue before it said anything stupid, thinking his exact words over for a moment. “And if its fine by you sergeant I’ll go with you. I don’t think I’m at any risk here and it’s a good idea to have as many eyes out as you can. And don’t be frightened to give me any orders you need to.”
Baltair swallowed. His mind clearly running through what sort of shit that might pop up if he said yes or no respectively. He then gave his response, “Báinidh to Buadhair, copy that, we’re right behind you. And- The admiral is following along… Yes, got it sir… Báinidh to Baidealach, we’re going in, follow me.”
The commander turned back, “I’m sorry sir for the language but the Lieutenant says he’ll fucking piss on our corpses if you dare die.”
“Tell him to wait till the wreck goes cold unless he wants to burn his cock off.”
Peter barely restrained a laugh, his chest wobbling as he covered his mouth.
“I- I-I think I’ll refrain from passing that to him sir, I don’t think it’ll be good for my career. Driver, get us towards that coordinate, I’ve sent it down to you.”
“Go‘it sarge!”
The quiet trundle of the tank changed into a whine as it started to galop. The armoured beast swerving before bolting forwards towards the fight.
“Right, Admiral you have the 20 mil. Peter, get the fire control warmed up and load HE.”
“Aye!”
With a few flicks the whirr of computer fans joined in the cacophony of sounds. A beep followed and then came the gun’s motors, the breach jolting up with a whine before then settling back into it’s level position.
A warning light flashed to then signal a series of mechanical clatters as a slot opened in the ammo compartment behind them and the breach opened. Barriers slammed out to guard a passage to the gun breach before a round was slammed in, the breach clunking shut as the ram retreated back into the ammo compartment. The door shutting with a clank.
The loud and highly mechanical procedure took only four seconds between the gun breach starting to raise to the loading position, to the ammo door being closed. It was system of engineering beauty that Edward couldn’t help but admire. The gun now bobbing up and down again, keeping itself level even as the tank bounced on the rough and muddy terrain outside.
It struck him that he should actually be doing his job rather than musing about the intricacies of an autoloader however. So, he whipped his head around to his console. A few buttons brought him back to the optics on the remotely controlled 20mm autocannon turret again.
Outside he could see the other three tanks of the platoon. They had formed up into a sort of staggered diagonal line, with first and second section in their own little “blocks”. The two tanks of A section riding close together with their section, section B following a bit behind to the right.
They were closing in on the ambush as Edward swore he could see the flashes of rifle fire in the distance. The tree line of the forest and the road cutting through it visible.
How the fuck did this happen though? Any competent commander would have sent their scout company ahead and combed through that forest. He knew that and he was in a completely different arm of the armed forces. Though, Victor had left such details to the battalion commanders once their formation was across the bridge and they spread out across the various tributary roads. But there was no way a battalion commander of this brigade was so stupid? Were they a newbie? Overconfident?
Such thoughts were blanched from his mind as he saw a discoloured patch in the long grass start to move. They were barrelling right by it at 60 kph but he could just about make it out. The discoloured grass then stood up.
And it threw a burning satchel right at platoon commander’s tank, Buadhair.
He was too late to stop the satchel from being thrown but milliseconds after it had left the man’s hand a cascade of 20mm high explosive rounds ripped them into a fine mist. Edward’s hand on the trigger and cross hairs on what was a person.
The satchel exploded by the turret of Buadhair but it kept rolling, it’s 20mm turret turning to its side and sending a controlled burst into the grass; red chunks blasting from it.
Baltair lurched, “Holy fuck!” he spat, “Admiral! Do you see any more of those fuckers? Shit! I should have fucking spotted them!”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, it didn’t do anything to them.” Edward assured, locking eyes with Baltair, “Just keep your eyes on anything they could hide in.”
The commander nodded, eyes locking back to their optics.
They galloped closer and closer, the battle becoming clearer and clearer.
“Okay we’re taking front here! Driver, turn to bare 0-0-3” Baltair called out, his arms tensing up a little, his eyes scanning his thermals until he spotted something by the edge of the treeline facing them.
“Gunner, HE, artillery! Traverse right!”
The turret motor whined into action, the turret turning before stopping with a mechanical clunk.
“Identified!” Peter barked; eye set to his sights.
“Fire!”
“On the way!”
As the main gun fired the breach blasted backwards, and Edward swore he could almost feel the wash of air roiling from it. The sound of the gun resonated around the tank, though thankfully the caseless ammunition meant that there was nothing to be extracted. Speeding the rate of fire up.
The round flew through the air, shooting straight into the treeline where a blast soon followed, followed by another blast as the enemy’s powder exploded.
“Target!” Baltair barked, barely taking a breath before issuing another order. “Gunner, HE, Infantry! Traverse left!”
The cannon levelled, the quick mechanical flourish of the autoloader following as the turret turned. The loading finished with a beep as the gun was freed to depress down.
“Identified!”
“Fire!”
“On the way!”
Another blast of the cannon. A blotch of hidden infantry blasted from existence on the other bank.
“Target, ceasefire! Gunner, HE, Infantry! Traverse Right!”
Clunk.
“Identified!”
“Fire!”
“On the way!”
Another blast. Trees ripped asunder as the shockwaves tore into them.
“Doubtful! Re-engage!”
“On the way!”
“Target!”
Another blast. This time limbs flew as the shot flew slightly higher.
The shots from the other tanks were also visible, the formation creeping further and further to the melee. In the ambush he could make out a set of troops laying heavy suppressive fire as another infantry crawled up the slope to flank to the bulk of the enemy in a brutal close quarters fight.
And on the corner of his screen was something insane.
Another cavalry charge against them. As if they had not learned from the last time. This time it was a small stream of light cavalry, rushing in from the road up north. They were presumably hoping they could encircle the trapped infantry and weren’t expecting the enemy to respond with reinforcements in the time it took them to get to the battle.
Edward could help but shake his head. “Commander! Cavalry bearing 0-4-2! I’m engaging!”
He pulled the trigger.
A stream of 20mm rounds followed, ripping a line of cavalrymen and the mounts to ribbons as the spent cartridges fell onto the roof like a hailstorm. Oh yeah, It’s a RH-202. It fires 800 rounds per minute. He’d need to be a little lighter with the trigger or else he’d waste all the ammunition in a few seconds.
He fired several, more controlled bursts across the charging cavalry. Swathes being ripped up by the autocannon.
He felt the turret turn as Baltair gave the order to engage them. The whine of the motor shaking him out of his single-minded focus mowing down the men in front of him.
“Gunner, HE, Cavalry! Traverse Right!”
“Identified!”
“Fire!”
“On the way!”
A high explosive round landed straight into a clump of them. Several of the horses being blown into the air with their riders tossed by the blast.
At that point, the rest decided to run, whipping their horses around and galloping in the other direction. Some riders had no choice in the matter as their horses did so on their own, not wanting to face the wall of bullets.
“Target, ceasefire. Buadhair has given us the order to stop.”
They all slumped back into their seats. The tank grinding to a stop.
----------------------------------------
“Victor, how the fuck did this happen?”
“I let a fucking mon-“
Edward tuned out that last part as a series of expletives that even he wasn’t brave enough to say spewed out of the general’s mouth.
“- get into this position! I don’t quite know what I’m going to fucking do, but that man getting a promotion was a fucking mistake.”
“I- I can agree with that. Just tell me if you want him on the shuttle to the fleet and onto the next ship home before I go up.”
“Oh I will. I just have to talk to that-“
Another set of colourful insults passed Victor’s lips.
The man had been absolutely ballistic even before he got to the ambush sight where the clean-up was well underway.
First Battalion’s scout company had finally arrived and were unpacking their kit including their robot pack dogs which sprung up and into life as they were switched on. A AVCE was clearing out the rubble blocking the road and an APC recovery vehicle was slowly towing a burnt Panther away to the maintenance unit. At the end of it all the death count was at nineteen men and twenty-two wounded. Most of which could have been avoided if the commander wasn’t an idiot who recently replaced the last one.
“Well.. Anyway, how was your first taste of ground combat ey? A bit more exhilarating that your usual flyboy shit?”
Edward’s mind flicked to the gruesome images of men being blown to pieces and their gory bits scattering everywhere. The haunting images not sitting well in his head as his psyche had already started trying to bury them.
But it still wasn’t anything like the heroism he needed to prove himself with. At the end he didn’t affect the outcome here at all. But he settled on an answer.
“It was… More graphic in a visual way…”
“Oh, that’s for sure!”
A voice yelled from the ridgeline. “Sir! I’ve got something interesting!”
“Well bring it over then, what is it!?”
“Well- uh-“ The scout stammered, slipping down the slope and stumbling the last few steps towards the two, “It’s a musket sir.”
“And what’s so different-“
Edward grabbed onto it and held. His eyes studying it. He’d had a look at the other handguns the kingdom used, and they were clearly early matchlock affairs. Large, bulky, and unrefined. This was a flintlock like you’d might see in the Napoleonic war. This was much more refined with a far better, if still rudimentary, understanding of firearms.
His eyes glanced other the rounded barrel, noting the evenness of it’s radius. “This is far better than anything they’ve had before. This represents them jumping ahead by about two-hundred years in less than half a week…”
Victor’s eyes widened, “What the fuck? You tellin’ me they jumped that far, with this?”
“Yes. The design is far better. Look here, it’s a flintlock, not a matchlock like the other ones they’ve had. Its shorter and this barrel…” Edward shook his head, “The tools they’d need to make this are far beyond what they should have… I think they have to have some sort of old workshop they’ve found with modern tools and a few schematics. Hell, there might be an enclave somewhere that still has something approaching modern manufacturing knowledge…”
“And why would they only be using it now?”
He shrugged, “Hell if I know. But this. This complicates things.”