A 45mm mortar shell landed nearby. It would take the Mosh at least a couple more shots to bracket their target with the hip-fired weapon. The mercenaries ran quickly. Branches from the scrubby trees tore at their clothing. Galen held his rifle at port-arms to shove the thorny things out of his way. He heard a tank maneuvering nearby but couldn’t see it. The sound seemed to come from somewhere up ahead.
A burst of bullets ripped through the branches above them. Galen was in the lead and dropped to the ground and lay on his stomach. Tad and Boggs followed his example. Another burst came their way. Galen looked for the source of the fire. A dark lump was on the crest of slightly higher ground four hundred meters to his right. He took aim holding the weapon left handed and fired. Muzzle flashes came from the lump. Boggs slumped, a groan coming from him as he lay flat. Galen put his weapon on automatic and fired at the lump until he was out of bullets. No more fire came from the dark lump.
Tad examined Boggs. “He’s hit in the side. Three holes.”
Galen exchanged rifles with Boggs.
Tad ripped the side of Boggs’ coveralls open to reveal a sucking wound on the right side of the chest. Pink bubbly fluid spurted from the hole and then sucked in when Boggs inhaled. Tad stuck the plastic wrapper of a field dressing over the hole and then put the wadded bandage over the plastic. He held it in place while Galen ran a cravat around Boggs’ chest and tied the knot on top of the wound.
“Tad, let’s get back to the skirmish line and see what’s left of this cluster jerk.”
Tad stabbed an auto-injector into Boggs’ left thigh.
The man grimaced, “What’s that crap?”
“Antibiotics.”
They carried Boggs between them, Galen on the left. They stayed on the edge of the tree line for a hundred meters and then angled across the open ground. It was quiet.
A Hornet sped up behind them and stopped.
“Get on!” came the voice through the external speakers. Galen and Tad handed Boggs up to the three grunts riding on the back deck of the tank. Galen gave Tad a leg up and noticed the vehicle’s bumper number: zero one. Galen climbed aboard and found a place to hang on. The tank sped along and dropped onto the river bank and turned left to run east, up-river.
Galen helped Tad remove a stretcher from the tank’s rear stowage box and secured Boggs to it. The wounded Sergeant was unconscious. The three grunts—a Corporal and two troops—kept their weapons at the ready. The tank stopped.
“Get off here, all of you!” said Sevin.
They dismounted. Another tank was on the river bank, half-submerged in the water. Tank zero one pivot-steered sixteen hundred mils and sped back the way it had just come from. The other tank pulled up on the dry bank and Galen saw the bumper number. It was his own tank, three zero. It stopped facing up-river. Galen climbed into his cupola. He had to stand because the seat was gone, ejected. Also, the cupola and auxiliary gunner hatches were gone. He retrieved his pistol belt from the stowage compartment and put it around his waist. He picked up the hand mike.
“Who’s driving this bucket?”
“Chief? It’s me, Jones. I thought you were dead.”
“What happened right after I left? How come you weren’t punched out?”
“I had my eject set for eighty percent.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had my seat set not to blow unless the probability of tank destruction was greater than eighty percent. Yours must have been lower.”
“From now on my seat will get cranked to eighty five percent. Good job. What’s your orders?”
“I have to shuttle you guys up to where the Major made his crossing and get you inside the perimeter of the main body. You’re the last group.”
“We’re secure up here. Go.”
Tad stood in the seatless auxiliary gunner hatch. Galen checked the situation map. Sevin was in his tank alone, using the commander’s override to drive it. His tank was the only other one in the old operations area. The screen showed three markers for three under-strength enemy squads. Markers for four tank destroyers moved toward the former skirmish line. The marker for Sevin’s tank left the river’s edge and merged with the markers for the three enemy squads. The enemy units disappeared from the screen. The tank marker dropped into the river and swam downstream for a kilometer. Then it parked facing up the bank and waited.
A tributary met the river on the right side of Sevin’s tank. The tank destroyer markers were three kilometers away from Sevin, moving east on a course parallel to the river. When the marker for the first tank destroyer reached the tributary it disappeared from the screen. The second one also went off the situation map. Galen knew Sevin had shot them in the flank. The two remaining tank destroyers headed down the tributary to close with Sevin. Galen studied the topography and realized Sevin would have a clear shot soon, but against the front glacis of the tank destroyers. Charge seven could score a kill but a charge that high would shut down the tank’s systems for at least ten seconds and make it a sitting duck for the next tank destroyer.
Sevin’s decision became clear. The lead tank destroyer blinked off the screen. Then tank zero one blinked off the screen. The last tank destroyer turned east and ran at top speed along the river bank. Galen checked his auxiliary status screen. Sevin had been in the tank alone, operating it with the commander’s override controls. His status was black. Dead.
“Jones, can we go any faster?”
“This is it, Chief. We got a problem with the left final drive and the track tension is a little sloppy on that side. The computer won’t let us roll any faster.”
Galen studied the situation map. He checked the estimated speed of the enemy vehicle. It would catch up to them before they reached the perimeter of the main body. But three zero was the only operational tank left on the situation map. The task of stopping the tank destroyer was Galen’s.
“Stop, driver. Pivot a half-left and pull a half a klick up into the draw.”
Jones did as instructed.
“Okay, whip it around and back up into the trees. Get us in real good.”
The Hornet was parked facing the river, dense crab apple trees and higher ground on three sides. Galen had a nice view down to the river and was high enough to see the river bank where it met the water. He’d have a clear shot at the MS-100’s left flank.
“Tad, charge seven.”
The MS-100 came at full speed. It was tilted to the right, its right track splashing in the river’s water. Galen waited, waited until he was sure of a good hit. He fired the laser cannon and scored a hit at the base of the hull between the road wheels. A hot glob of metal splayed the inside of the vehicle. The laser bolt was strong enough to continue through the right side of the hull and explode river water into a geyser of steam. The MS-100 veered right and drove into the river with a dead driver at its controls. It continued to shove itself into the river until its piston engine drowned with river water. Its symbol disappeared from the situation map.
The Hornet’s main power was off for fifteen seconds and then came back on line. Galen spoke into his hand mike, “Jones, we can join the main body now. But take it easy, there’s no hurry.”
“Roger, Chief.”
Tad gripped Galen’s shoulder, “Nice shot.”
“I do my best. Did you see Sevin’s work?”
“Yeah. He did well. Too bad he didn’t make it.”
“He knew he wouldn’t make it. But he had to do it. He knew we’d be dog meat if he didn’t do it.”
“I think so.” Tad looked up.
“He knew he wouldn’t make it,” said Galen, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. “He knew.”
Chapter Nineteen