Chapter 14B

Lon and his squad saw the dust cloud long before they saw the first of the WestHem armor coming down the valley below them. They were spread out atop four different hills on the south side of the valley, some forty-five kilometers from the landing ships, just outside of the effective range of the 150-millimeter guns on the ships. They were heavily laden with anti-tank lasers and charging batteries. Supporting them were two sniper teams on hills to the east and west of them and two mortar teams further south. On the other side of the valley — which was just over thirty kilometers wide at this point — was another team of the same configuration.

"What do you think, sarge?" asked Lisa as she spied the dust drifting hundreds of meters into the air and blowing towards them on the wind currents. "They taking the middle?"

"Looks like they're going right down the old poop chute all right," Lon agreed. Though the WestHem marines probably thought that sticking to the center of the valley afforded them protection since it was as far as they could get from the hills, it was actually exactly what the Martians wanted them to do. If they were in the middle it meant they were in range from both sides of the valley instead of just one. It also greatly increased the time it would take for WestHem infantry troops to get to the ambush sites.

"Want me to send a report?" asked Jefferson. "I can get a good lock on the sat from here."

"Not yet," Lon replied. "The Mosquitoes are already in the air, circling about a hundred klicks behind us. Let's wait until we have an actual visual on the OPFOR so we can give them exact targeting data."

"Right, sarge," Jefferson said. "Standing by on the update."

The dust cloud grew closer and closer and soon began to drift over the top of them, obscuring everything beyond twenty meters or so in the visual spectrum. The team switched their combat goggles to full infrared, allowing them to peer through the dust. Soon the ground began to shake as the vibration from thousands of tank and armored vehicle treads was transmitted along it. The shaking was hardly noticeably at first but it grew steadily more intense, to the point where you could feel it rattling your teeth and your bones. It was not a pleasant sensation.

"That feels evil," Lisa said. "I know it makes me sound like a girl to say that, but..."

"I'm just glad you said it first, Wong," Horishito put in, "because you're totally down with it. It is evil."

"Look," said Jefferson, who was on the easternmost hill. "They're starting to come into view now."

They all looked and saw the tiny forms of WestHem main battle tanks appearing one by one, stretching across more than a kilometer of the valley floor.

"Wow," said Horishito. "Look at all of them."

"I am," said Lon. "And this is only the vanguard."

Another ten minutes went by, during which more and more tanks came into view, rumbling along at just below thirty kilometers per hour, kicking up tons of dust. The vibration of the ground grew worse, to the point that small pebbles and rocks were starting to move and roll down the hill.

"Okay, Jeffy," Lon said. "Send off the first report. Vanguard in sight, moving westward at approximately thirty klicks, holding to a one and a half klick area in the valley center. Tanks in front, semi-circular formation, multi-battalion strength."

"Got it," Jefferson said. "Sending it off."

When the front tanks reached the point where Lon and his squad could have engaged them if they'd wished, the APCs began to come into view. They were grouped tighter together in ranks of eight. More tanks were spread out to either side of them.

"Send another position report," Lon ordered. "And then start scanning for command vehicles and marking them."

"You got it, sarge," Jefferson said. He spoke to his computer for a second and it sent off a com laser to the satellite. He then began focusing his ESM detector on the APCs, scanning for any vehicle that was utilizing more than one radio frequency. Like with the individual soldiers on the ground, anything using more than one frequency was more than likely an officer — a lieutenant at least, possibly even a captain or a lieutenant colonel.

"Anything?" Lon asked after three minutes had passed.

"Not much chatter going on at the moment on any frequency," Jefferson replied. "I guess they're not very talkative. Wait... there's one." He smiled, looking directly at the APC in question and using a finger on the kneeboard of his biosuit to put a mark on it on the combat computer. "Got ya, you fuck." As long as this APC remained in Jefferson's sight, it would appear as dark blue to the other team members and therefore a primary target.

"I got him too," Lon said, watching as one out of the hundreds of APCs in view suddenly changed color. "Wong, how about you?"

"Me too," she confirmed.

"Okay," Lon said. "Looks like the program is working. Keep marking them, Jeffy, and they'll be the first through the pearly gates."

"You know it, sarge," Jefferson said. "I'm getting an update from command. Two flights of Mosquitoes are inbound. One from the south, one from the north. ETA less than five."

"Right on," Lon said. "The moment they finish their runs, the fun begins. Let's get the ATs charged."

Lisa was one of the four squad members in possession of an AT-50 laser. She pushed the charge button and trained it out over the valley towards the collection of armored vehicles. She zoomed her combat goggles in a bit, pulling the images closer, and placed her targeting recticle on one of the closer APCs, noting that the range-finder read 8356 meters — just over eight kilometers. The official maximum range of the AT-50 on the surface of Mars was fifteen kilometers (assuming, of course, that one had a direct line of sight to one's target). Beyond that too much of the energy of the laser shot would be absorbed by the atmosphere on the way to the target for a burn-through of the armor to be guaranteed.

"Hey, sarge," she said as something occurred to her. "What's the word on this dust affecting the range? Won't it absorb more of the energy than the atmosphere alone?"

"It will absorb some," Lon replied. "The loss of energy should be low enough that we can still penetrate at this range though."

"Should be?" asked Horishito.

"I know," Lon said. "It's more theory, but so far all of our theories have been good ones, haven't they? Just stick to the nearer targets until we know for sure."

They waited, watching the targets rumble by, oblivious to their presence. Jefferson continued to scan and located two more probable command vehicles. They too were turned blue by the combat computer.

"The Mosquitoes should be here any second now," Lon said. "Once they start making their runs and the commanders start barking orders at everyone Jeffy will be able to pin down more of them."

Less than thirty seconds later the ground started vibrating in a different manner. Sound reached them, an ominous whine of semi-rocket engines swelling up from behind. While their brains were still processing this information two Mosquitoes suddenly appeared from the hills behind them, hugging the terrain as was their habit. They passed right over the top of Lon and Lisa, clearing them by no more than twenty meters, close enough to send dust swirling off their hilltop.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lisa said, both terrified and exhilarated.

Even before the words were out of her mouth the two aircraft had banked out over the valley and their lasers began to flash. They banked back into the hills a few kilometers further west and disappeared. Down in the valley four APCs were now destroyed, blasted apart after having high intensity laser energy burn through their hulls, exploding their ammunition stores, their hydrogen tanks, and their oxidizer tanks. A combination of smoke and blood vapor from the shredded bodies within drifted up from each to join the dust cloud.

"Goddamn they're fast," Lon said, shaking his head in admiration. As many times as he'd seen the Mosquitoes in action, he was still awed by the sheer speed of their attacks. "Jeffy, how's the scanning? Did that get their attention?"

"Oh fuckin' aye," Jefferson affirmed. "They're chattering up a storm down there. I've got at least six more command APCs identified. Should be comin' up on view in a few seconds."

Sure enough, seven more APCs turned blue. They were scattered throughout the portion of the formation that was visible.

"AT holders," Lon said, "start picking your targets and tracking them. Remember your zones of fire. Let's not waste shots by having two of you hit the same target."

On the far side of the formation three more APCs suddenly exploded one after the other. None of Lon's squad had even seen the Mosquitoes that had been responsible for the attack.

"Yes!" Horishito yelled triumphantly. "How do you like that action, assholes? Looks like our little Mosquitoes got somethin' for your ass, don't they?"

"One of them missed," Jefferson said sourly. "What's up with that shit?"

"Just on one shot," Lisa said. "Give the guys a little credit. They only have four seconds or so to pull off two shots."

"True," Jefferson said, "but they also have computer assist to find the firing zone, don't they?"

"Yeah, but..." Lisa started.

"Okay, guys," Lon interrupted. "We're starting to edge into the land of too much non-essential chatter here. Jeffy, are you still scanning? It looks like they're maneuvering about down there. Aren't there command APCs issuing orders that you should be identifying?"

"Yeah, sorry, sarge," Jefferson said. "There will be a few more on view in a few seconds."

The APCs were indeed maneuvering about, spreading out from their tight formations and scattering over a larger area. The tanks were also spreading out as well as putting on speed and starting to zigzag in evasive courses. The anti-air vehicles had all stopped and were pointing their laser cannons towards the hillsides, radar and infra-red dishes turning madly in search of the aircraft that were menacing them.

None of this did any good. The first pair of Mosquitoes, the pair that had passed over Lon and the others on their first run, suddenly emerged from the hills again, this time about four kilometers to the east. Their lasers flashed and four more APCs exploded into smoke, debris, and blood vapor. The Mosquitoes disappeared again. More than twenty of the anti-air vehicles fired their laser cannons after them but all of them were too late. They did nothing but pepper the hillsides or send their laser energy out through the atmosphere.

No sooner had this pair disappeared before the other pair reemerged from the other side of the valley and took out another four. They too escaped before any of the anti-air vehicles could get a lock on them.

"That's it," Jefferson said. "The Mosquitoes are pulling back. They will be circling twenty klicks south of us in case we need them to cover our retreat."

"Good fuckin' deal," Lon said. "Okay, people. It's time for us to get to make our presence known. AT holders, commence firing. Primary targets are the command APCs. Stick to your zones."

Lisa smiled beneath her helmet, adjusting the AT-50 on her shoulder. It was charged and ready, her targeting recticle resting on one of the blue APCs. Her finger went to the firing button and slowly, smoothly, she pushed it.

Callahan was a little nervous but not really alarmed just yet. He had not actually seen any of the APCs get hit, had not actually seen any of the Martian aircraft that were hitting them, he only knew they were under attack because Captain Ayers had told him they were under attack.

"It's those Mosquitoes!" Ayers told him and the other platoon leaders on the command frequency. "They're coming in low from the hills and hitting us. All platoons need to go into evasive maneuvering!"

Callahan passed the order along to his squad leaders but wondered just what good it would do. If they were being hit with lasers, which moved at the speed of light after all, what good would zigzagging around do? "What about the SALs?" he asked Ayers. "Why aren't they taking the aircraft down?" That was what they'd been told would happen if any of those greenie aircraft dared trying to engage the armor on the march. SALs were ringing the entire formation and they too fired lasers that moved at the speed of light.

"They appear and disappear so fast the SALs can't get a lock on them!" Ayers said. "It's just like when they hit the hovers at the LZ."

"But we have twenty times as many SALs out here now," Callahan said. "None of them are able to get a lock?"

"It seems that the greenies have been practicing this maneuver," Ayers said. "Somebody is out there guiding them to their targets and they're keeping their exposure time at four to five seconds. We simply can't lock on and fire that quickly."

"Clusterfuck," Callahan muttered, not bothering to close his transmission link first. Why in the hell didn't they know the greenies operated like this? Obviously they'd practiced this maneuver for years. Had the marine units stationed on the planet held them in such contempt that they'd never bothered learning what their tactics would be?

Ayers had no answer for him. Callahan shook his head in disgust and then looked at his screens, trying to get a sense of what was going on outside. He could make nothing out of the confusing array of infrared enhanced images so he opened the hatch on the APC and stood up, poking his head out to take an actual look around. Like before, the dust was so thick he couldn't see a thing. He set his goggles for infrared enhancement and looked around. Still, nothing seemed unusual except for the fact that all of the armor was maneuvering wildly about. He could see no burning APCs or tanks, could see no Martian aircraft in the sky. They must have hit further back in the column.

"What about getting some dismounts out there with hand-held SALs?" Callahan asked Ayers. "If we put enough lasers into the air we're bound to hit one of those things."

"I've passed that idea onto battalion," Ayers said. "They're checking with regimental about it now."

Callahan shook his head in disgust and continued his look around. Wondering about who was guiding the aircraft to their targets he began scanning the hillsides to the south just in time to see the flash of Lisa Wong's weapon sending a burst of laser energy out. It was followed by three other flashes in close succession. He didn't know where the first three flashes went but he had a pretty good idea about the fourth. Two hundred meters to his left an APC suddenly exploded, the turret flying into the air, shrapnel flying in all directions, blood vapor and smoke boiling out into the atmosphere.

"Holy fuck!" he yelled in horror. Twelve marines had just died in the time it took him to blink an eye.

"They're hitting us again!" Ayers said. "No aircraft spotted!"

"It wasn't aircraft!" Callahan reported. "AT-50 fire from the south! Spread out among at least four hilltops!"

"Confirm AT-50 fire?" Ayers demanded.

"I saw it with my own eyes!" Callahan reported. "Let me get the coordinates." He called up his map display and quickly read off the grid and hill numbers. By the time he'd done this several other units had reported the same information.

"We got it!" Ayers said. "Regimental is ordering the tanks on the left flank to engage."

"They're not close enough!" Callahan said. The tanks could only engage dismounted troops with their main guns or their machine guns and the range on those weapons was only four kilometers for the former and less than a kilometer for the latter.

"They're moving them in!" Ayers said. "Continue evasive maneuvering. They're sending a company from the 324^th to take that position!"

Callahan opened his mouth to ask why in the fuck they were doing that when it was reported that more laser flashes had been spotted, that more APCs had been hit, this time from hills on the north side of the valley.

"It's a fuckin' ambush!" Callahan said. "Screw going after them, we need to get the fuck out of here!"

"We need to take them out!" Ayers countered. "We're going after them. Bravo Company is moving to the north position along with the tanks from the right flank."

Things were suddenly becoming very clear to Callahan. "Cap," he said, "that's just what the Martians want us to do! They're drawing us into a trap!"

"Regimental is ordering it, Callahan!" Ayers said. "They did not ask for your goddamn opinion on how to counter the enemy!"

"Well maybe they should!" Callahan yelled back. "I've been out here. I know how these Martians fight. They're trying to get us to hold here while they pick us off from out of range and then as soon as we get in range to counter them they're going to disappear! We need to push through this area as fast as we can!"

"You're out of line, Callahan!" Ayers returned, quite pissed now. "You do what the fuck you're ordered to do and shut your ass about everything else!"

"Yes sir," Callahan said through gritted teeth. At just that moment the lasers flashed again. He saw another APC — this one about three hundred meters away — explode with a spectacular, lethal flash.

"Keep it up, guys, keep it up," Lon encouraged. "We still have a couple of shot cycles left before those tanks get into range."

Lisa nodded but said nothing as she waited for her AT to charge from the last battery she'd put in. So far she'd fired three times and had scored three definite kills on command APCs, watching with glee each time as they'd exploded into wrecked piles of steel and smoke. Each hit equaled at least twelve marines who would not make it to Eden, who would not challenge the armored cav units and the infantry behind them. She felt almost guilty that she was getting a thrill out of this mass slaughter she was participating in that was very close to sexual in nature.

Her weapon beeped, indicating it was charged and ready to fire. She already had another target in sight, another blue tank in her zone, another officer and the squad he was riding with. She pushed the firing button and the APC exploded at the same instant. Her smile grew wider, the wetness between her thighs grew wetter. She ejected the spent battery and took another from her case, slamming it expertly into place and hitting the charge button.

"Lead tanks are at fifty-five hundred meters," Lon reported. "They're hauling ass. Seventy-five kph. One more shot and then let's do what we do best."

"Run away," said Horishito. "I'm down with it, sarge."

Lisa took a moment to zoom out and glance at the approaching armor. No less than sixty main battle tanks were bearing down on them like wildfire, their guns pointing forward at the hills. Behind them was a stream of APCs — at least thirty of them — moving nearly as fast. Yes, it was about time to blow this scene. She zoomed out a little further, found another blue APC in her zone of fire and sighted in on it, zooming back in until the APC was the only thing in her view. The charging beep sounded and she fired, watching it explode. "Last shot out," she reported, turning her combat goggles back to normal magnification. "Ready to haul my ass."

The other three AT holders reported the same.

"All right," said Lon. "Let's go. You all know the drill."

Within thirty seconds all ten of them had their equipment stowed and were scrambling down their respective hillsides, careful to keep the bulk of the hills between themselves and the approaching enemy. Their timing was none too soon. As they started heading south, towards the waiting Hummingbird that would extract them from the area, the hilltops they had just occupied erupted in a cataclysm of explosions and flying dust. None of them could resist taking a look back.

"Fuck me," said Lisa in fearful awe as she watched high explosive shells rip apart the place where she had been lying less than two minutes before, as she watched other shells go streaking overhead.

"Now you see why timing is the important thing in this war," Lon told them. "Let's keep going."

They made it to their pick-up point five minutes later. The Hummingbird was sitting at idle on the ground. They climbed inside and a minute later they were in the air, heading back towards the safety of Eden.

Eighteen hundred meters to the west, atop yet another hill, Corporal Brogan Goodbud lay nestled behind a boulder watching as the WestHem tanks blew the shit out of the hills where Lon Fargo and his team had just been. In his hands was his M-64 sniper rifle, which he hoped would soon be put to use. Three meters to his right, behind yet another boulder, was his spotter, Private John Rimmer.

"I just got the word," Rimmer told him. "Main team is safely away. No casualties."

"Static," Rimmer said, nodding in approval. He was glad they'd made their escape in time. Nothing could have lived through the plastering those tanks had just inflicted.

"Rick and Glory are still in position on Hill 678," Rimmer said, referring to the other sniper team located three kilometers east of them. "The mortar teams are standing by at Hill 650 and Hill 589."

"Right," Goodbud said, looking around. The tanks had stopped firing and had formed up in a protective semi-circle around the hills. The APCs were now moving forward, spreading out into position behind the tanks. He checked the range on the closest tanks to their position and saw that it was only nine hundred meters. That was a little too close for comfort. "Tell Rick and Glory that we do no more than three shots. Nine hundred meters is within potential detection range for our gun flashes. Reiterate that in a stern manner if you will. I know the pickings will be rich but we're not out here to get ourselves killed."

"You got it," Rimmer said, looking nervously at the tanks, wondering if even three shots was maybe two too many. Nevertheless, he recorded his message and ordered it sent. Since the other teams were well over half a kilometer away it did not go out over radio waves since this would potentially give away their position. Instead, the message was encrypted and sent via communication laser to a com satellite where it was then re-broadcast by the transmitter in Eden. As such, it took almost six seconds to get a reply. "They understand and agree," he reported.