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PAVLOV’S HOUSE
“Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die”
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Charge of the Light Brigade
She studied her map box carefully. Safely tucked inside an armored vehicle and in route to their next objective seemed like an appropriate time. Some might have found the cramped darkness inside the back of the Lioness unnerving—no windows, no leg room, and most certainly little warning if one’s life was to be shortly ended by something like an ATGM. She didn’t really mind: it was in someone else's hands for now. The moment they stepped down the ramp and out the back, it was her problem.
She glanced across the front line, if it could really be called such. Things were too fluid for the time being. Red diamonds marking friendly units were maneuvering on either side. Suspected enemy locations and units marked by blue rectangles opposed them. Regimental Combat Team 1 had been tasked with assaulting and then holding The Neubacher Gate District Atmospheric Processing Station, for reference marked here as ‘Smoke House 3’. 1st Battalion, 1st Rifle Regiment would proceed down Rhinos and Leefa Strasse in an armored thrust tipped by India and Mike troops 3/1 Lancers. Lima troop, the RCT’s Light Armored Reconnaissance, would screen their southern flank as they moved and then establish defensive positions near Korky Bridge a kilometer and a half from the Objective. 3rd Battalion would be held in reserve to exploit breakthroughs when the time came.
Their Northern flank they left to the Cydonians, 4th Knight’s Guard Mechanized Infantry Brigade to be specific, they had their own objective to assault near Government Hill, but in doing so would cover RCT-1. The rest of the Southern flank was their problem, or more accurately it was 2nd Battalion, 1st Rifles problem. She just happened to own a small chunk of it. 2/1 Golf Company was to hold a series of intersections in the vicinity of Libertalia Station Memorial Park, in order to prevent encirclement and maintain ground lines of communication. Her platoon had the one smack in the middle at the north end of the park itself. She’d already identified the best spot to fit her commander's intent. Overlooking the Park was a nice big rockcrete building already gutted by fire during the chaos preceding this little excursion. During Imperial times it had been a satellite office of the Central Buero of Taxation. No surprise, angry locals lit it up the first chance they got. It offered a commanding view of the surrounding cityscape, particularly across the K and a half of semi-open ground of the park itself and would serve as the corner-stone of her platoon’s defense.
The Lioness rocked to a stop and the ramp dropped, letting in a stream of sunlight and the unmistakable stench of battle. Since Operation Ares Sword had begun three weeks ago the air nearly everywhere inside Greendome had become thick with an ever present putrid and acrid mixture of stinks, burnt propellant, combusted housing insulation, vehicle exhaust, explosive fumes, broken sewer mains, and the dead; it was utterly inescapable and ever present. She tried her best to ignore it. Eventually she’d stop smelling it, or at least that was what she told herself. The last man exited, and she flipped her map box back up into its stowed position flat against her chest plate and darted out of the vehicle and quickly took stock of the situation.
ISR had done a decent job for once and everything was in a similar position to the last time she had seen it on a Tri-D a few hours prior. What they’d taken to calling Pavlov’s house, a three story and monolithic construction of rockcrete, stood centered across the northern tip of the park. Most of its windows were already at least partially broken. Streaks of soot from a long since extinguished fire ran upwards from every sill. Age and strife marred and scrapped its face. It had sat mostly vacant for years now. Its insides gutted and looted, what few articles remained undisturbed were either too large or too worthless to bother removing. Despite its lack of comfort it was the most solid structure for kilometers and would require only minimal fortification.
Libertalia Station Memorial Park, commemorating a battle fought in orbit during the 2nd Independence War was a roughly 500 meter wide and 1400 meter long strip of manicured greenery, one of the many from which the city of Greendome took its name. Criss-crossed by cobblestone paths and stands of poplars and young oak trees it was once a paragon of serenity. Being midway through the biannual Martian spring some flowers had already started to bloom and the trees had only just recovered their leaves. Given recent events it was in a state of mild disrepair. The unkempt grass in its central meadow was criss-crossed by the furrows of vehicle tracks which had easily upturned the loamy black soil. Articles of trash were randomly distributed throughout it, some stuck by the artificial wind into unkempt hedges but it still represented a rare and beautiful replication of nature as most Martians knew it.
“Sergeant Rybeck, take 1st Squad and punch out security. 2nd and 3rd start clearing the compound. I want Weapons and Pioneers to start emplacing. We don’t know how much time we’re gonna have.” She ordered. They keyed acknowledgment and set to work like a well-oiled machine. There wasn’t any need for specifics; the plan had already been briefed in detail. She quickly directed the Platoon’s four Lioness IFV’s into defensive positions tucked into alleyways or behind twisted wrecks that were probably streetcars at one point. Their sensor masts elevated, barely peeking above cover.
“Rand!” she called out, glancing over her shoulder. Her RTO dutifully trotted over and faced away from her, taking a quick knee. She jacked the comm umbilical into her Combat Enviroment Suit.
“Cutlass, Cutlass 2. Emplacing at Pavlov’s house.” she called out. The response from the Company TOC was delayed but came through loud and clear.
“Cutlass 2, Cutlass Romeo, rodge, be advised Devil Ear is reporting multiple signal sources about five K out and maneuvering towards your position. Likely QRF, approx… Mech Platoon minus, Break”.
She flipped down her map box while the information streamed in synchronizing with the upper net. Blue smudges appeared, sliding their way north right towards the park. The distant rumble of Chemrail autocannons distracted her for a second. “Lighfoot is already reporting contact, best get into a defensive posture quickly, over.” The transmission finished after its pause.
“Rodge, tango mike” she responded, disconnecting the umbilical and letting it snap home in Rand’s radio. “Hear that, Rand? Welcoming parties’ already on its way.” she asked, letting a confident grin slip out.
“Already Ma’am?” He asked, looking somewhat nervous. “No time to waste… Senior Sergeant Karoff, status!” she called out glancing around for her platoon sergeant.
“Weapons is still emplacing ma’am, 1st and 2nd are up!” Karoff responded by shouting down from an upper floor window, already inside the main structure.
“Hurry them up, we've got maybe fifteen minutes!” She called back while motioning Rand inside the brutalist building.
They jogged inside past the bullet cratered bust and plaque commemorating Grigory Pavlov in the building’s foyer and up the stairs. Moving past burnt up faux-wood plastic furniture and mutilated desks, their boots making a distinct crunching sound over the heat-cracked linoleum tiling. They entered into the second floor Conference room, its broad tall windows overlooking the park. Weapons was already hard at work knocking them out with rifle butts and boots, while gun teams slid desks together and assembled their tripods. Rifleman Tybalt dumped his spare barrel bag and threw it open while Rifleman Svertson broke down MAAW recoilless rifle rounds from their transportation packaging and neatly arrayed them for immediate employment. “Hurry up gents! We ain’t got time to fuck around, Federal’s are already on their way here.” SSgt Karoff snapped.
She approached the window and flipped down her snoopers, watching as 3rd Squad and the pioneers put down the finishing touches launching a half dozen canisters of scat-mines over the last three hundred meters of the park. They’d have more time to perfect the setup later. Right now they needed to get to cover. “Krieger!” she called out while flipping her snoopers backup not even bothering with her comm for now.
A figure roughly 50 meters away on the street below turned to look up at her. She signaled ‘rally’ with her arm and he nodded. “3rd, inside now. Leave the rest of the obstacles out for now, we'll finish setting them up later.” came over the platoon net almost instantly and they dutifully filed inside.
She glanced upwards towards the far end of the park and spotted the first one about 1600 meters away rounding a corner. The squat and angular profile of Federal LIV-26 APC. She easily identified it by the rounded coffin shape of its turret, its wide-set and partially protruding wheels and the distinct reddish brown, tan and volcanic rock black camouflage pattern of random polygons common to all Rift Republic Federal Army vehicles. 30mm Autocannon, 8mm coax and with option for another on a scissor mount, four VLS cells for AGMs mounted on the back of the turret and room for 8 dismounts in the rear. All the time she’d spent studying intel flashcards had already proved useful.
“Svertson! Kill it!” Karoff called out to her left.
“Back blast clear!” Svertson shouted
The K34 Multi-Purpose Anti-Armor Weapon was ‘officially’ rated to be safe to fire indoors, but the concussion from the recoilless rifle being fired pounded into all of their chests and sent paper ash and dust flying all over the room. The round arced out, subtly adjusting its trajectory as it flew. It impacted just left of center on the glacis blowing out the front of the vehicle and knocking off a wheel or two as the blast sent it sliding down the road on its belly, a shockwave booming out of the hatches. It ground to a stop in another twenty meters as the 2nd, 3rd and 4th all rounded the corner, turrets turning toward them.
“Roshan, Fire!” Karoff ordered and the room once again burst with dust. The round flew true impacting in the side hull of the tail vehicle in a bright flash. The 2nd vehicle rolled behind an intervening building across the park while the 3rd slew its turret to the left and then up.
She briefly observed a burst of flashes erupt from its coax before she ducked down under a symphony of snapping angry hornets. “They’re dismounting, engage, engage!” Cpl. Dygalo called out and the staccato of one of their medium machine guns answered. It was a long, nervous burst.
“Malcolm, slow the fuck down. Left 10, add 100, alright, and slow the fuck down” Cpl Dygalo steadied. A more disciplined burst followed. “Talking guns, alright!” Dygalo further instructed and the two guns answered in alternating bursts.
She glanced at her map box and then peaked her head over the balcony snoopers down looking for the LIV-26 that just engaged them. It cut behind a hill into a thicket of manicured trees doubtless dropping off its infantry complement. She raised her rifle over the edge and tagged it on the platoon battletrak. “See it Red 2?” She asked over voice comms.
“Yeah, rodge ma’am we got the track.” returned over the net. One of the Lioness’s in the street below rumbled out from behind the ruins of a streetcar and let off a long burst with its autocannon into the thicket, airbursting rounds creating a hellstorm of debris.
“It’s suppressed. Svertson!” SSgt Karoff called out. The Rifleman moved back into firing position, steadying the MAAW on top of a large industrial printer. He fired the concussion rattling all of their teeth. They watched the shell fly out but cursed collectively as a charge from the LIV-26’s active protection system fired and intercepted the round in air. The other LIV-26 peaked back around the building it was using as cover and fired half a dozen autocannon rounds into the building, shattering bits of the plaster facade and sending rock splinters flying mercifully engaging the wrong floor. Red 3 on the opposite street returned with a burst of its own autocannon as the LIV-26 reversed back around the building.
She wracked her brain quickly as the dismounted troops began to return fire. “Hey Guns up on the left building, keep them pinned!” Cpl Dygalo called out lasing the building in question while returning fire snapped overhead. The two gun section quickly took up the slack. “Red 2, keep that other one fixed and push. 1st Squad shadow Red 2. Red 3 and 4 keep sight line on that building we’re gonna force ‘em out.” She layed out calmly.
Red 2 advanced slowly down the right flank of the park, 1st squad following it from the cover of peripheral buildings while Weapons’ gun section kept the other enemy squad pinned.
“Lachensky, where are my mortars?” she shouted across the room.
“Eh, like 2 seconds ma’am” There were a few low thumps from behind them as the 1st barrage of 61’s went off arching high overhead. One of the LIV-26’s APS fired off intercepting one of the mortar shells in air but the other two landed true exploding in the foliage. The trees swayed as the LIV-26 rolled out from cover and made a dash for a different hill. Red 2’s was already waiting, sending a hail of 30mm electro-chemically propelled sabots into its side. It swung its turret around to respond, letting off a missile from one of the VLS cells in the back of its turret while ineffectually firing its cannon towards Red 2.
A hail of sparks erupted as Red 2 peppered the LIV-26 with autocannon fire and ground it to a halt, smoke trailing from its hatches. The missile however, was fire and forget, and dutifully streamed towards Red-2 which launched a defensive cloud of IR Smoke and reversed. The missile changed attack vectors mid flight and arced up high for a top-attack but the Lioness’s APS fired at the last second intercepting the missile a dozen feet above the vehicle sending a cloud of shrapnel harmlessly skittering off the vehicle.
The second volley of mortar shells exploded in the tree line leaving the infantryman sheltering within no good options. They moved to retreat through the rear of the thicket but 1st Squad was already in position and inflicted a withering toll as they ran the gauntlet across the street and out of the park.
“Fire for effect, system aided.” Cpl. Lachensky called into his comm while peeking his head and designator over a window sill. The targeting data was sent straight to the company’s mortars. Within a few seconds a ‘shot out’ ping returned. Red 3 and 4 were lying in wait for this moment.
The first volley went out and as expected the last remaining LIV-26’s APS shot down 2 of the three rounds. But, it got it to move. Its smoke launchers fired, engulfing the left most perimeter street in a blinding cloud and it tore out from behind the building and roared up the street turret firing blindly through the smoke. Red 3 and 4 returned fire, both sides catching a few glancing hits but nothing meaningful before it rounded the next corner out of the kill zone.
She surveyed the destruction. Someone was crawling out of the commander’s hatch of the LIV-26 that Red-2 had destroyed with a rifle in hand. “Kill ‘em!” Corporal Dygalo called out commanding both of his Machine gunners to fire. Tracers streamed out and ripped through the man's body which then fell limp against the hull of the vehicle.
“Platoon, status” she called out over the net.
“1st Squad Yellow, Green, Up”
“2nd, Yellow, Green, Up”
“3rd Yellow, Yellow, Up. Rifleman Stockton took some shrapnel to the arm, he’s alright though.”
“Pioneers, Green, Green, Up.”
“Weapons, Yellow, Green, Up.”
“Red 1, Green, Green, Up.”
“Red 2, Yellow, Green, Up”
“Red 3, Yellow, Green, Up”
“Red 4, Yellow, Green, Up”
“Solid copy on all, 2nd get Stockton over here so Doc. Restrepo can have a look. Otherwise 1st consolidate with 3rd and conduct BDA.” she ordered. She glanced around, the tension of combat had given way to relief. There was some fist bumping and celebratory cursing but she didn’t pay it much mind for the time being.
“Rand!” She called out, somewhat annoyed that her RTO wasn’t within arms reach. He emerged from behind a desk mopping the sweat off his face.
“God damn ma’am…” was all he managed to utter.
“Keep ducking off like that and I’m gonna put you on a leash.” she scolded. She wasn’t even really kidding about the leash part, having seen an RTO from 1/1 Delta get drug around by their platoon commander via a dog leash attached to their gear. She connected the umbilical again. She couldn’t blame him too much. He was scared. To her eyes, Rand was still a kid. He still seemed scrawny even after all his initial training. He hardly looked old enough to be holding that rifle. The only thing that seemed even worthy of shaving on his boyish face was a dark patch of thin stubble sprouting from a birthmark on his chin “Cutlass, Cutlass 2 just came into contact with that enemy LAR platoon, 3-by-LIV-26’s destroyed approx, 12 enemy casualties have more accurate numbers in 10 mikes, still conducting BDA.” she transmitted.
“Cutlass 2, Cutlass 6. Solid on all, good shit. Continue holding and improve your positions. We’re gonna be here for a while,” her company commander replied over voice.
“Rodge 6, 2 out.” She paused for a moment while data from the platoon’s snoopers was synchronized with the upper net and then disconnected from the umbilical just in time to watch Rifleman Tybalt and Cpl. Dygalo light cigarettes off the hot barrel of their machinegun.
“Well done, Lt. Petrova.” Senior Sergeant Karoff complimented, slapping her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Got the old man’s instincts”
“Yeah, it’s not so hard when my Platoon Sergeant actually lets me have the fight for once.” she joked back. Her mind quickly returned to the situation at hand and she folded down her mapbox using it to project a holographic of the topography onto a nearby table. SSgt. Karoff and her studied it carefully with her for a few minutes, both of them drawing on the Tri-D with styluses to get a better idea of the scheme of defense. She quickly ran through a mental checklist: security had already been established, automatic weapons were emplaced in advantageous positions with interlocking fields of fire. ‘Entrenchment’ or at least their version of it had already begun.
The platoon after their short respite was hard at work deploying the extra fortifications they’d brought with them, the dismounted APS was already up on the roof near the optic-dazzler. Various shot locators mounted on the vehicles were being tuned for the local acoustics and were switched from autistic to mesh-network mode. Sandbags were being stacked around fighting positions. She had always wondered why they were called sandbags, they didn’t have any sand in them. They had already identified alternate and supplementary positions. The Pioneers were doing their piece, using one of the Lioness’s to push wrecked vehicles around the roadway. Not enough to block entirely but enough to canalize incoming forces. They placed mines in dead space across the park to make anyone passing through think twice. Triple strands of mem-wire in X shaped patterns stood arrayed across the other likely angles of dismounted approach. The goal was never to stop, only to delay and canalize. That’s when they’d do most of the killing.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Slow and blunt the enemy's advance. Force him into disadvantageous positions. Present him with dilemmas for which there are no good answers. Pin him with your automatic weapons and then engage him with indirect fire, in this case, mortars. If he moves, he walks into your fields of fire. If he stays, he has mortars on top of his head. The same fundamentals had always applied.
1st and 3rd Squad finished conducting their Battle Damage Assessment. Cannon fire and MAAW shells thoroughly trashed the three LIV-26’s. Crew managed to bail out of them before they started burning up too badly, except for the unfortunate who Malcolm and Tybalt had nearly shot to pieces. There were 11 more confirmed KIA, all Rift Republic Federal Army regulars. A few blood smears and trails behind that stand of trees moving back off into the city where evidently some were dragged off.
There were two more mostly dead. One was inside the back of the first LIV-26 they’d popped. The first indication something was wrong was the smell of burning and cooked flesh. He was burned over the front half of his body, skin charred and cracked, portions of fat in less exposed places rendered and dripping, still strapped into his safety harness. He was missing both legs and split halfway up the pelvis when some of the stored ammunition had gone off. Sergeant Rybeck reportedly was certain he was dead but when he moved closer to inspect his finger twitched. The only reason he was still kicking an hour or so after the fight was that his combat environment suit kept hitting him with doses of anti-shock until it ran out. He died when they attempted to move him, and his upper and lower body didn’t come out as one piece.
The other one was in a real bad way, but it was out of their hands. He’d made it as far up as the edge of the minefield when one of the mortar shells knocked him over onto a handful of toe-poppers. One blasted off his hand and part of his forearm, the second went into his side where his suit armor ate most of it, the third wedged itself in between his lower back and tail plate and made a messy red crater on top of breaking his back. Fourth went off just above his knee when he rolled himself onto his stomach, cracking his femur and whipping what remained of his leg around his back at an odd angle. Again, his CES did an admirable job of keeping him alive, tourniqueting all the severed limbs and inundating his system with enough anti-shock to keep him barely hanging on—for the time being, at least. His breathing was slow, ragged, and labored. They opted to leave him in place mostly on the account of him still being in the middle of an active minefield. He’d die in his own time.
She could’ve thought of a score of other reasons that’d pass the sniff test as to why they didn’t render aid to a wounded enemy combatant. It wasn’t as if she or anyone inside the chain of command really gave a fuck. Oh no, another dead Federal; it’s not like he was bonded anyways.
It wasn’t so much a position born of distaste for her. Though she, just like every other Martian, had no love for Earthers or their proxies, it was mostly indifference.
They continued working. Sgt. Santiago rigged any buildings offering too tempting of positions for the enemy with explosives, she made sure the Park Maintenance Annex that escaped LIV-26 sheltered behind was at the top of his priorities. Pavlov’s house itself was subject to several modifications. Holes in non-structural sections of flooring were knocked and ladders placed down for easier access. Doc Restrepo and his aid combat-lifesavers established a casualty collection point in the basement. The process took many hours and dragged on into the night she wanted to keep working but everyone was tired, even her. SSgt. Karoff however, made the appropriate recommendation to begin a watch rotation and she caught on. Their fighting positions weren’t of much use if everyone was too exhausted to attentively man them.
The Federals approached much, much more carefully the next time, trying to squeeze through gaps in buildings flanking the park to get a better look. They’d already considered this as a possibility after being buzzed by and shooting down several ISR platforms during the day, mostly hand thrown drones.
Sgt. Santiago’s pioneers stuffed the back alleys flanking the park with mem-wire. Expanding several of them into a confined space caused them to twist, contort, and tangle together into an evil mess of mono-edge that would have even the most determined engineer looking for an easier way around. They added to the frustration with another generous helping of mines.
The first indication that they were, in fact, subject to an infiltration was the crack of half a dozen toe-poppers going off. Someone must have tripped. Shot-spotters instantly pinned the grid and they ripped through the suspect building with machine-gun fire.
Most buildings in this district had a brick facade but underneath was a flimsy prefab which quickly gave way under the hail. Only Pavlov’s House and other government facilities were real rockcrete. Svertson fired a HE-DP shell through the gap formed by one of the collapsing walls, which air bursted perfectly just beyond it. The rest of the little scout squad beat-feet.
So far, they’d been in the most active sector in 2/1’s area of responsibility, but nothing major. Syncing with the upper net confirmed her suspicions that the Lancers up the road were taking the brunt of the enemy's counterattack at the moment. Federals and Noachian Mercenaries both were probing in concert, looking for weak points in the line. For the most part however, they were trying to avoid being decisively engaged.
The Federals main priority for the moment was reinforcing their own defensive positions at Smokehouse-3. In the hours that had passed since 1/1 began their assault, they’d made slow progress: pushing up a few blocks at most. Every time that they breached an obstacle belt on the approach to the station, Fed's would mass emplace scat-mines into the gaps with mortars before even a full company could get through. 1/1 was only half-way through the 1st belt and just barely moving past Phase Line Rico now. RCT command was biding their time before committing the reserved 3rd Battalion, obviously waiting for a clearly successful axis of advance. Casualties were moderate but mounting and the battle was still in obvious contention with the distant echoes of cannon and small arms fire audible throughout the night. Her mind strayed to her friend fighting up there right now. She’d be fine. Dalia was the best she knew, junior officer at least.
‘Focus on the task at hand, the mind is the most important weapon but useless if absent from the battle,’ she thought to herself, repeating one of her father's maxims. It annoyed her slightly that it was something that rose to the top of her mind at this particular moment. It wasn’t like it was some private moment or unique advice; the same maxim and a few scores of others were quoted endlessly across all of the ‘canon literature’. They were printed in the introduction and chapter headings of books like The Martian Way of War and Vom Moderne Kriege. Things like that were all she had to remember him by.
“You know, Ma’am, staring at the map isn’t gonna make the campaign end any faster.” SSgt Karoff cautioned. She waved at him dismissively but obliged his comment and snapped her mapbox closed, banishing the Tri-D display. She glanced at her chrono, the sun would be up in a few hours. “Get any rest at all?” he further questioned.
She shook her head “Nope, not a wink.”
“Get an hour or two Rand ‘ll wake you if anything major happens though I’m pretty sure you’ll be up on your own if it comes to that.” Karoff counseled.
“In a few minutes, how are the troops?” she questioned, rubbing her eyes.
“Moral’s high for the time being, place hasn’t started to wear on ‘em yet. I had a leaders’ huddle while you were on the link with Battalion. Pioneers are done emplacing, Sergeant Weiss had some concerns about their alternate positions but she and I hashed it out. 1st’ BDA on that other probe turned up two very dead Federals. Oh, and Doc looked over Stockton. I know he looked pretty bad all bloody when you saw him earlier, but he got patched up pretty good. Everything else is ship-shape.” Karoff back-briefed her.
“Try to keep the boys occupied with little stuff. I want to stave off boredom and any complacency that comes along with it for as long as possible. Battalion also wants an analogue per-stat scrub in an hour. 2nd Reg is having some kind of issue with the vitals reporting function of their bond chips. We’re all up and reading green across the board, so it shouldn’t take too long. Just can’t be too careful.” She stood up from the singed office chair as she explained, moving over to a darkened corner of the room where her iso-mat was unrolled under a table.
“Too easy ma'am,” Karoff replied.
She crawled under the table and unbuckled her helmet and propped it under her head, lifting her arm over her eyes to shield them from what dim light remained inside Pavlov’s house.
“All this for a little bit of blood and soil,” she mumbled to herself as she let sleep take her.
She remembered something about the green fields of Alba Mons, hardy gene-engineered grasses stretching out across the gently sloping horizon. Subtle Marsquakes rocked the ground, growing stronger until–
Her eyes shot open, and instantly she was thrust back into the world. Memories of being awoken in the middle of the night a half dozen times just to stand on line and scream the Rifleman’s Creed flashed to the front of her mind.
But it was just Rand. Rand’s stupid boyish face. She blinked away the sleep and glanced at her chrono. Two hours and twenty-eight minutes.
“Ma’am, Senior Sergeant Karoff told me to wake you.” he explained somewhat apologetically.
“What, what’s going on?” she questioned, still not fully awake. She blinked again. Rand looked especially ashen and sweaty.
“Tanks, 1st platoon got hit by tanks.” he responded somewhat shaken. She frowned and rolled out from under the table, grabbed her helmet and stood up. There was a buzz of activity. Equipment was being moved around and SSgt Karoff was barking orders in between bouts of talking on the company and battalion nets. She pulled up the most recent logs and skimmed quickly. There wasn’t anything immediately useful.
Doc Restrepo was making his rounds, dispensing single tablets straight from the blister pack into the riflemen’s waiting hands. His bedside manner had always been impeccable; he was a positive and friendly force in the platoon that seemed a panacea for wounds of the flesh and soul. His rectangular face and crooked nose seemed only to accent the disarming character of his smile. As he approached, her eyes briefly glanced to ‘Ephesians 2:4-5’ scrawled small and plainly above his right eyebrow.
“Care for an adult refreshment ma’am?” he asked, holding out the pack.
“Dextro?” she asked.
“BAS took most of my diet-meth, saving it for a rainy day, but got plenty of Maxallyn here,” he responded. She held out her hand and he dutifully dispensed a single 200mg tablet into it and moved on to the next person. She swallowed it without a second thought.
“Senior, what’s this about tanks? Where’s CAAT?” she questioned, approaching SSgt Karoff from behind chasing a bit of sleep from her eye with her thumb.
“Probing attack on 1st, they pulled back but not before knocking out Blue 3. Dygalo! Move all the burnable shit over there.” he explained, interrupting himself briefly to scold Cpl. Dygalo.
“Casualties?” she questioned further.
“Eh, Redieker’s burned up pretty bad, but he made it back to the RCT shock-trauma. Beaudroux’s paste. Few others with little shit.” he explained while laying out the situation on his own map box.
“2 Platoons of No-ak Maddox’s and maybe a couple squads of Federal infantry pushed down Maus Strasse, ran straight into one of 1st’s OPs. They tracked the lead one with a MAAW. Blue 1 and 3 went to finish it off with missiles and it popped Blue 3 center mass with its cannon when they rounded the corner. 1st hit ‘em with Company mortars and No-ak’s backed off before CAAT could get there. They slinked off and aren’t doing much for now.” He drew lines on the map while blue smudges slid around another few kilometers beyond the limit of their defenses and she considered their position. “We don’t really have the organic assets to do much more than stall them if they get ballsy,” he counseled.
She nibbled on the tip of her gloved thumb for a moment in thought. “Seems like they don’t want to be locked down for now.” she thought aloud.
“Plan?” Karoff questioned.
“They’re fighting for information, best to try to fix them. Let’s move 3rd’s OP up to this building.” She tapped on a corner low-rise apartment a few hundred meters beyond the park. “Just to get eyes on what they’re doing. If they get made they just double back the way they came down this alley. I’ll see if Captain Eckartt can get CAAT down here and we’ll go from there. Rock’s in their sector for now. Rand!” she explained, then shouted over her shoulder.
He was actually standing right behind her where he was supposed to be for once and jumped from the shock. He didn’t say anything but handed her the umbilical.
“Anything on the hook?” she asked while connecting and then sending her request up the chain.
Rand shook his head. “Uh, nothing big really Ma’am, Devil Ear has that group holding still. Longsword tried to get eyes on with the Grey Eagle but they forced it off before it got a good look.” he relayed while scrolling through message logs.
She nodded. “Cutlass, Cutlass 2 get the smart-pack I sent, over?”
“Affirm, 6 is looking over it right now. Did you have any changes to your Log or Per-stats, over?”
“Neg, over.”
“Rodge, wait one. 6’s pushing it up the chain.” She thumbed her second channel over to the Battalion net.
“Too bad we can’t shoot anything bigger than 81’s inside the dome. At Veracruz if we saw a troop concentration like that we’d’ve just pasted the whole grid with rockets,” Karoff half complained and half reminisced.
“The rules do more than set boundaries; they influence the way the game is played,” she replied while listening.
“Saber, Cutlass 6.”
“Go for Saber 3, Cutlass 6.”
“Rodge, You got the Smartpack I forwarded?”
“Affirm, Saber 6 can send Claymore 1 your way. Scion has priority for fires at the moment. Link hand-off for Claymore 1 in ehhh, one-five mikes”
“Rodge, Cutlass 6 out.”
She drummed her fingers on the heat-warped table in thought for another few seconds, staring seemingly blankly into the Tri-D map display.
“If we can get Bat Mortars we can knock out that whole group,” she mused.
“Sure about that Ma’am?” Karoff questioned.
She glanced towards Rand. He seemed even more nervous about the thought of doing anything proactive.
“We get them to bite on 3rd Squad and draw them into our defense. Just far enough and then have the Mortars drop Scat-mines here, here, and here. They won’t be able to get out.” She penned mine symbols on a few key intersections which the system quickly translated into templated markers.
“Could work.” Karoff thought aloud. “We put Red 1 and 2 here. 3 and 4 over here, Hold whatever CAAT victor we get in reserve then have them flank up Dynamo Strasse once they’re fixed. Catch ‘em in a crossfire.”
“No, that’s perfect.” she commented.
“Uh ma’am…” Rand questioned holding one hand shyly up.
“Yes?” she glanced up.
“Doesn’t that lock us in here with them as much as they’re stuck in here with us?”
“Seems that way, but we hold all the commanding terrain and have the advantage of preparation with CAAT to back us up in the firepower department,” she explained. “Senior, give 3rd Squad a warn-o 15 mikes Claymore 1 just populated on my sitaware. When they get here we’ll leaders huddle and brief the op-ord. Speed is of the essence.”
“Right-o ma’am,” Karoff responded, unslinging his rifle and moving into the next room.
She studied the map again, racking her brain for the next few minutes if she was missing anything, especially anything obvious.
“Leaders on me,” she put out over that platoon net. There was a quick flurry of acknowledgements and the key leaders filed in dutifully over the next couple minutes. Sgt. Rybeck, 1st Squad Leader; Sgt. Weiss 2nd Squad Leader; Sgt. Krieger 3rd Squad Leader; Cpl. Dygalo Acting Weapons Squad Leader; Cannonier Corporal Lachenski their Forward Observer, Pioneer Sergeant Santiago, SSgt Dygalo, herself and of course PFC Rand. She counted taking a quick mental role; they were still waiting on one.
She glanced out the rear window of Pavol’s house as tracks rumbled into earshot and watched the four Ocelot Fire Support Vehicles of Combined Anti-Armor Team 1 rumbled in. It was based off the same roadgear as the Lioness, but was shorter in stature with a low profile unmanned turret. Its steeply sloped cheeks bristled with panels of Igelpanzerung composite stand-off armor. The turret was just barely tall and wide enough to stuff in the same chem-rail main gun used in the Jaguar Main Battle Tank, minus the coaxially mounted machine gun. Pop-up racks of Autonomous Guided Missiles and stowage for main gun rounds took the place of the shortened passenger compartment. Their crews had already taken to camouflaging them with pieces of trash, sections of optic netting, fragments of rebar and small chunks of rubble and sprayed it the same muddy gray color as most of the buildings. From the front at least they were well disguised. The hexagonal tiles of reactive armor paneled over its gently sloping glacis and low side-skirts were hardly noticeable.
While they weren’t meant to engage tanks tit for tat in a direct engagement, they did provide an anti-vehicle backbone to their defense. Their own organic AT, split between Weapons, their Lionesses, and disposable rockets dispersed among the line squads was meant to deal with probing actions by maybe one or two tanks or lighter vehicles. The Ocelot, much like its namesake, was an ambush predator, and what it lacked in armor it made up for with speed and firepower when hunting its chosen quarry.
With CAAT backing them up, they could confidently take on the two platoons of No-ak’s lurking just beyond sensors.
Someone popped out of the hatch of the lead Ocelot and then spent a few seconds fiddling with the data-umbilical jacked into their CES. Once unhooked, they jumped down and jogged inside Pavlov’s house while the other Ocelots pulled off to the side of the road.
“Kinda bold dontcha think ma’am?” Sgt. Weiss piped up cutting through the side chatter between NCO’s.
“Regiment’s motto is ‘attack, attack, attack’, no? Better to take this on our own terms than wait.” She responded.
“Uh, anyone got tips on how not to get pasted by a Maddox?” Sgt Krieger asked in jest.
SSgt Karoff smacked the back of his helmet.“For starters maybe keep that slack-jaw closed, less likely to get shot off, Krieger.”
“Gee, thanks Senior, I'll keep that one in mind.” Krieger quipped back grinning while he readjusted his non-issued but stylish looking eye protection. It was typical behavior from him: always cocky, always loud mouthed. She sort of thought he was compensating for his height, since even she had half a head on him, but more often it came out sounding like a joke. Karoff had other opinions, namely that his rank had outgrown his attitude.
The figure she spied from the window entered the room distorted panting emanating from his mask. “Man, fuck running.” He flipped up his visor and unbuckled his mask, approaching her with an extended hand. A disgusting manicured Lancer mustache stared at her. How he’d managed to keep it waxed to a point on either side under a mask eluded her.
“Lancer Lieutenant Eichmann.” She shook it and gave him the customary two shakes while the touch pads embedded in their CES palms traded information.
“Rifle Lieutenant Petrova. I trust you got the Smart-Pack Captain Eckartt sent?” She queried.
He nodded swiftly.
“Right, let's get into it. If I could direkct your attention to the map.” She toggled the projection from her map-box.
“About 1.5k beyond the outer line of defense, Devil Ear has approx 2 platoons of No-ak Maddox tanks and a platoon-plus of Federal infantry. They’ve been bouncing down the line looking for a weak point. So far they haven’t found one. They’re holding for now but I'm not really of a mind to let them lurk out there and wait for them to attack us.” She gestured towards the characteristic blue smudges of radiating EM sources. “To that end, 3rd will move their OP a few hundred meters forward here and get eyes on to confirm. If they are who and where they’re supposed to be, we’ll proceed. 3rd will engage them, just enough to make it look like a startled patrol and then double to their original OP. Provided they take the bait, we’ll spring the trap. That’s ‘hook’.” She looked to Cpl. Lachenski.
“Saber Fires graciously handed me down two pre-planned targets. Alpha Echo 3205 and Alpha Echo 3210.” Lachenski paused to fiddle with his own map-box projecting his fire-support overlay on top of her map. “We got two high density FASCAM allocations…”
“You mean Scat-mines?” Sgt. Rybeck asked.
Cpl. Lachenski stared at him wordlessly for a second before resuming. “We have two high density FASCAM allocations for those targets, 150x150 meter boxes,” he paused toggling on the projected locations. “Time from shot-splash to full density is about 60 seconds. So keep ‘em interested. Trigger for both targets is two or more tanks crossing this intersection.” he tapped his finger on the crossroads in question. “Any other calls for fires are on sort of a permissive basis, Sovereign has designated the Smokehouse-3 push to be priority of fires, so we get what we get after that from Bat. Company’s Mortars are ours to play with, though.”
“To that end, Red 1 and 2 will be in defilade here and engage the 1st tank after they cross the trigger ideally boxing them in. The pro-word is ‘Line’. There’ll be plenty of infantry to lock down too, so Weapons and Pioneers will remain in position to provide support by fire. 1st will cover 3rd as they relocate. I want 2nd covering our left flank in case they try to loop around. Once they’re committed Red 1 and 2 will pop-smoke and relocate while 3 and 4 take up the slack. Pro-word is ‘Sinker’, Lt. Eichmann, it's mostly your show from there.” she motioned to him. He took over for the next portion.
“Yeah, right, so like, once they’re fixed about here-ish, Wendigo, and my track Whiskey-Sour will move from positions here and here to engage from the right flank. Maddox has pretty good APS so volume is the word of the day. We’ll ripple our AGMs and then bounce here. Whatcha-ma-call-it and Wham! will then take their turn.”
“Whatcha-ma-call-it?” she blinked.
“It’s my Platoon Sergeants track, I didn’t name it, so uhh… anyways.” Lieutenant Eichmann paused clearly, having lost his train of thought. Naming vehicles was a classic Lancer affectation. To a Rifleman, their Lioness was just a ride. To a Lancer, his Jaguar or Ocelot was a steed, a trusted companion to which they lovingly cared for, an individual with quirks and personality.
“Anyways…” he repeated, “they'll displace and we’ll alternate from there. Ocelot’s not really meant for engaging infantry so that’s, like, up to you guys. Rifle Sergeant…” Eichmann paused to read his kill-patch. “...Kreiger, your guys are closest to us, so like, watch our backs and sides. I don't want any Fed Inf getting too close.”
“Not to worry, sir, not to worry. My boys will have you covered.” Krieger replied with another cocky grin.
“And one last thing.” Petrova cut in. “Remember, No-ak’s are bonded, so the Army is entitled to a fat check upon repatriating them. Don’t hesitate to kill, but any of ‘em throw up a white flag and I don’t want any ‘accidental discharges’, check?”
“Check, rodge ma’am,” they dutifully replied.
“Let’s get to work then,” she ordered. The leaders dispersed and moved to their staging positions for last minute preparations.