“This will exhaust most of our stock of Hiberzine, Colonel.”
“I am aware of that, Hauptmann,” Colonel Isabel De Gaullejac said.
Isabel De Gaullejac had been a hardcore French socialist liberal, and there were no more hardcore socialist liberals on Earth, even after the Posleen had landed on Earth. There was no benefit, she felt, to soldiers and there was no way that an extraterrestrial race could possibly be as violent as they were portrayed. It was simply a plot to advance the military-industrial complex and she would not let her sons be squandered to make profits for the corporations.
She had held that unshaken belief right up until the retreat from Paris. But nearly dying from starvation, not to mention nearly feeding the Posleen, had broken her disbelief. At which point she became just as fanatical in the reverse. A trained doctor, she now commanded the SS medical corps and if she had any qualms about that remaining from her younger and more naïve days they never surfaced.
“But the order is valid and will be obeyed,” the Colonel said. “Circulate the order to all medical personnel. Put in a priority request to be resupplied with Hiberzine if we pass any inhabited planet. It is too useful a drug to not have in our inventory. We are going to need it.”
Frederick watched the coprsmen approach unhappily. As each of the troopers in the compartment were given their injections they relaxed so much as to appear dead and their faces flushed. With tongues bulging out slightly and their eyes open they looked not so much dead but as if they were sleeping nosferatu, the original vampire legend of the living dead.
“One little shot and you’ll wake up refreshed and ready for battle,” the corpsman repeated as he gave Aderholder his shot. They were saying that with everyone, as if that was going to make people feel better.
“Just go ahead,” Frederick said, cutting off the mantra. “I’m not afraid.”
“That makes you unique in this ship in my experience,” the medic said.
But Frederick didn’t hear as his body settled into stillness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Damn, those are pretty things,” Adams said, watching the video.
They weren’t sure where the file had come from, just that the Himmit had obtained it. It was Hedren plasma mortars, which were going to be one of their major bugaboos. The mortars had at least the range of the 120s and there were bound to be mortar to mortar counter-battery duels.
The rounds were green fire drifting across the firmament. Despite it being broad daylight they could be tracked by eye, seemingly moving in slow motion. Then they dropped and dropped finally bursting in a hemisphere of green fire that torched everything in its zone. The vegetation, which had a faint purple sheen like that of Barwhon, burst into fire in a circle beyond the explosion.
“Very pretty,” Sergeant Moreland said. “Gist, think you could figure the counter fire trajectory?”
“Not sure, Sergeant,” the senior gunnery computer said. “I’d need a bit more data on scale. Off-hand, I’d say they were firing from two thousand meters. If that’s accurate, I could more or less determine their position. Give me any sort of compass or sight and I could do it for sure.”
“Which is the one of their many weaknesses,” Moreland said. “You can see the damned things. You don’t have to use a fucking computer and radar to figure out where they are. There arty works the same way, only from further away. Incoming is going to be Mark-One eyeyball time. Our shit is, comparatively, invisible. Keren, what is the most effective round we have for troops in the open?”
“Variable time or prox, Sergeant,” Keren replied automatically.
“Why?” Moreland asked.
“It throws out a wider dispersion of shrapnel,” Keren said. “More footprint equals more casualties.”
“This system has no shrapnel,” Moreland said. “If you’re not directly in that rather narrow footprint, or real close, you’re golden. Now, it’s a pretty serious footprint if it hits in our perimeter and anything in the footprint is, literally, crispy fried. But it’s a narrow footprint compared to shrapnel. Twenty five meters versus fifty. That matters.”
“It’s got one benefit,” Sergeant Richards said. “It’s like napalm. It’s very fucking scary.”
“Keren, you scared of this system?” Moreland asked.
“Very, sergeant,” Keren said.
“You gonna run if we’re taking fire?”
“Nope. Didn’t run at The Mall. Ain’t gonna run from no plasma artillery.”
“Scary don’t win wars.”
The rounds were small. Normally, mortar rounds were rather long and tapered with fins on the end and charges arrayed around the fins. The exception that Keren recalled was 4.2 inch mortars which used rifled barrels for spin stabilization.
These looked sort of like 4.2 with fins and a weird circular foot. They weren’t much longer than a 4.2. But they had nearly twice the range. And you could pack nearly twice as many into the track as 120s. On the other hand, if the ammo racks took a hit, the blow-out panels had better work or everyone in the track was going to be a crispy critter.
“Ready on the right? The right is ready. Ready on the left? The left is ready. Commence firing three rounds, contact, slow, tube mount.”
The mortar could be fired from either the tube or the breach. For automatic fire there was a reload mount that hooked to the breach. Currently it was stored and they were doing it the old fashioned way, dropping the rounds down the snout of the barrel.
The mortar had a weird sound to it. There was a super-sonic crack but it was muted. And over it was a sort of ZIIIP! and whine as the electro-drive shoved the round back up the tube. It sure as hell wasn’t the crashing explosion Keren was used to.
The effect downrange, though, removed any question he had about the mortar’s utility. The rounds were landing all around the decrepit bulldozer that was the target. Direct hits were ripping pieces off the construction equipment, which was rare to see with normal rounds.
The whole company had gathered for the first mortar live fire and Keren was glad it had gone well. Lay-in and targeting had used the computer adjustment system so it was about ten times as fast as normal. Altogether the system worked really well. He figured the CO brought the rest of the company to see that, yeah, mortars had their place.
“Cease fire,” Sergeant Moreland ordered. “Ensure clear on all weapons.”
“Okay, troops, this is why you’re really here,” Cutprice boomed from the range tower. “I’ve been pretty interested in the anti-artillery system these things boast. I want to see how they do against our mortars. I’ve obtained permission for the elimination of one standard AFV from inventory… ”
Keren stared in amazement as two brand-new tracks approached from the woodline. As he watched a figure jumped out of the lead track and hustled to the rear one. Unless he was much mistaken, it was the First Sergeant.
“Mortars, mount your automatic thingies,” Cutprice said. “Target the remaining track. Start with slow fire, Sergeant. On command, prepare to go to maximum.”
“This is gonna be interesting,” Cristman said, setting the gun for automatic adjustment.