Sevin continued, “We have a surprise for them, something to stop them in their tracks, but as always, be prepared to take action in case that measure fails. Command and control is limited, so this is one of those fights where orders will be scarce. Feel free to take action and exercise initiative in the absence of orders. We all understand each other?”
Loosely said, almost in unison, strained, the gathered group said, “Hooah.”
“Be sure you wear your darkened desert daytime goggles, this is very important. After the first round goes down range you can take them off if you want, but until then have them on. Okay, one last thing. Chief Polar has an after-action logpac parked in Eight, twenty kilometers to our rear. If we’re successful, she’ll come forward and support our advance and conduct the collection of casualties, prisoners and enemy equipment. Otherwise, she’s our fallback position, and has two ground-mobile heavy rail guns and a company of Hornet light tanks with her to secure your retreat.” Sevin took two steps back.
Galen stepped forward. “Any questions? No? Well then, prepare to be challenged!”
“Check!”
Galen and Sevin stood on top of the tank, peering into the distance with binoculars. The dust cloud was getting closer, kicked up by the armored air cars and the commander’s skimmer, the Twelfth Legion of Doom getting closer. They were in column, then slowed and turned left, and then faced right and approached on-line.
“They’ve detected us,” said Galen.
Sevin said, “Most likely they’ll close to three klicks and dismount, knowing the maximum effective range for our main guns against large targets are two and a half klicks.”
Galen said, “They sure don’t want us hitting their armored air cars while they’re full of troops. And their dismounts, in powered armor suits, will be hard to hit once they dismount and start running. Not as dumb as I thought. You plan better work.”
Sevin spoke into his communicator, “Polar, we have contact.”
Galen ducked down into the tank and slid open the cover of the ammunition magazine and extracted a round that was painted bright yellow, a radioactive symbol stenciled on it, the letters ‘EMP’ stamped around it three times. It was an expensive round that cost more than ten year’s take-home pay for most enlisted mercenaries. But this contract included the cost. It would still be very profitable. He screwed the fuse out of its tip and removed the locking pin and then began adjusting the settings. Stone watched and read from an instruction list he had written earlier, after making all the calculations manually with pen and paper, using the small abacus mounted in the turret to the right of the Commander’s seat and the gunnery tables printed in the hard-copy manual of the Hellcat tank.
Stone said, “Fuze, seven point two.”
Galen made the adjustment and said, “Seven point two.”
Stone looked at the device. “Confirmed. Fail-safe, one hundred.”
“One hundred.” Galen set the proximity fail-safe fuse to detonate the round if it fell back to within one hundred meters of the ground.
“Confirmed, one hundred. You are within prescribed parameters.” Stone signed the bottom of the instruction sheet and handed it to Galen. “Good luck.”
Galen screwed the fuse into the projectile, checked its seating and fit, opened the breech of the 90mm main gun and inserted the round. Then he shoved the round hard as he could into the barrel, seating it solidly. Then the closed the breach and cocked the igniter handle.
Galen read from the instruction sheet. “Gunner, elevation eight seven four.”
The gunner elevated the gun and said, “Eight seven four.”
Stone checked the bubble. “Confirmed.”
“Azimuth, one three seven seven.”
The turret turned a few mils to the left. “One three seven seven.”
“Confirmed.”
“Pressure, sixteen.”
The gunner pulled a valve that allowed vehicle fuel to enter the main gun’s combustion chamber, under pressure from the gunnery pump, as a fine mist. The needle of the pressure gauge on the side of the breach moved from zero to a couple of ticks beyond the straight-up position to a reading of sixteen.
The gunner said, “Sixteen.”
Stone checked the gauge. “Confirmed.”
Seven peered down through the hatch. He said, “Any time now is fine.”
Galen gave Stone a thumbs-up. Sevin tossed his personal communicator away.
Stone yelled, “Fire!”
The gunner pulled the firing trigger; the EMP projectile pushed into the sky in a high arc and came down above the center point of the approaching line of armored air cars. The EMP bomb went off with a bright flash and sent a visible shockwave through the air. The air cars lost power and plowed into the ground, most of them settling into a rough nose-in-the ground halt, others flipping end-over-end to land upside down, the troops trapped inside the overturned open-topped vehicles. The command skimmer slid sideways and rolled a couple of times; the diodes and capacitors of its laser gun burst.
A single armored air car on the far left flank continued on, unaffected, too far away from the EMP. A full company of tanks, C company, fired a volley at it; vaporized it seemed, in a cloud of dark dust.
Galen stood in the loader’s hatch and put his hands on the grips of the loader’s machine gun. Sevin stood behind the turret and tapped Galen on the left shoulder and pointed. Sevin’s old personal communicator had burst and was burning feebly, the plastic of its outer casing on fire. Sevin then scanned ahead with binoculars and then tapped Stone on the left shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up.
Stone raised his flare gun and fired a green flare out ahead. The battalion of tanks moved ahead at a walking pace, a squad of infantry waking with each of them, one fire team to the side of the tank, one fire team behind. As they closed on the enemy line, Legion support troops who weren’t wearing powered armor came forward to check on the wrecked and disabled vehicles. Some had removed Legion troops from their disabled battle armor and provided first aid. The only non-electronic weapons the Legion had were a very few side arms, knives, and pointy objects picked out of the wreckage.
At a distance of a hundred meters, Stone fired an amber flare to signal a halt. The infantry battalion commander signaled his troops by hand, the message passed along the line. The riflemen began moving forward, crouched, ready to go to ground and then return fire at the first sign of trouble. Galen removed the loader’s machine gun from its swivel and climbed down the front of the tank. Sevin walked beside him, pistol drawn.
Sevin turned to walk backward and yelled at Stone, “Signal Polar to come forward.”
The turret of Stone’s tank turned to the rear, the gun elevated to eight hundred mills and then fired three white flares into the sky. Galen looked back and noticed the sun would set in less than an hour.
Sevin faced forward again. “This was too easy.”
Galen said, “The element of surprise. I just hope the bonding commission doesn’t cut me in half for this.”
Sevin said, “What for?”
“Using a nuke.”
“It’s not a real nuke, just an EMP bomb.”
Galen said, “Well, even for an EMP, it can only be fired by a field grade commander.”
Sevin said, “When they gave you that exception to policy to be the Brigade commander, it gave you the authority to take all the actions of a Brigade commander. You have nothing to worry about.”
They walked up to the overturned skimmer of the Legion commander. The laser gunner was dead, his battle suit burned and bubbled on its surface, a metal rod from the laser itself sticking through his chest. The driver was trapped in an immobilized battle suit under the skimmer, but his eyes were open and moving. The Legion commander himself was face down on the ground, about ten meters behind and to the left of the wrecked skimmer. Galen held his machine gun pointed at him while Sevin undid the back plate of the power suit. After a couple of minutes of unsnapping and unbuckling, the Legion commander stood in front of Galen, barefoot, wearing only underwear and a t-shirt. That’s what they wore under their powered battle armor suits.