He took four more deep breaths, let the last one out in a long blow and leaned into the rifle.
Orostan shook his head as the data-link from Oldoman’s tenar went dead. “Not even maneuvering; what a stupid abat.”
The majority of his force was headed down Oakey Mountain road towards the last reported position of the human team. A few oolt had been left behind in case the humans slipped by, but the better part of six thousand Posleen were on the road with Orostan and his picked Kessentai near the front. At the front, however, were a few more of the more “expendable” oolt.
Who were trying to run through a rain of steel. The majority of the artillery available to Mosovich had not been pointed at the Rabun Lake area. The fire down there was from one battery of 155, trying to draw the attention of the Posleen off of the real moves of the team. The rest of the artillery, nearly two brigades, had been prelaid for support along their actual line of march. Some of it was set on the actual target that he had called for fire on, while the other tubes were set to fire on additional possible target points.
At his brief call for fire, the guns that were already set up simply pressed the firing button and went into reload. The other guns, those set on other Target Reference Points, were required to swing from their initial azimuth and elevation to reengage. But the system was fully automated for such a tiny adjustment and within fifteen seconds they had fired.
The time of flight was nearly forty seconds, so the Posleen force was given time to flay their surroundings for upwards of a minute before the first rounds began to impact. And then, forty seconds later, fifteen more batteries rained down.
After that it got bad.
“Their artillery is killing us,” Cholosta’an muttered. “As usual.” The God King swept his tenar back and forth as they went down the road towards the distant thunder of artillery. The habit had stood him in good stead in the face of human snipers and, because he never assumed that there were none around, he had survived when many of his age-mates did not.
“Hmmm,” Orostan said noncomittally. “It is killing some of us. But we have them definitely localized,” he added, tapping at the hologram in front of him. “They are transmitting now. Two bursts of communication have come from this hill. As soon as we crest the ridge they will be in view.”
“Yes,” Cholosta’an noted. “But so will we, Oolt’ondai. And I note that you are not maneuvering.”
“So I’m not,” Orostan said, flapping his crest in agitation at his own stupidity as the symbol for another Kessentai dropped off the hologram. “But they are quickly retreating up the hill. They should soon be out of sight and the artillery will abate. And we will soon be in position to pursue them closely; they will not be able to adjust their artillery then.”
“Are we going to try to cut them off?” Cholosta’an wondered. “Where do you think they are going?”
“I think we can directly pursue them,” Orostan commented. “The hill on this side is not heavily wooded. Once we get through this artillery we can charge the slope. Humans are slower than we are; we should be able to run them to ground.”
“That sounds… easy, Oolt’ondai,” the younger Kessentai noted, suddenly remembering that Orostan had never actually faced humans. “But are you only going to send those who are expendable into the artillery? Or are you going to run through it?”
Orostan paused momentarily in thought. “That’s not a bad question,” he admitted, looking at the three dimensional schematic. “I think, all things considered, that we’ll send the majority of the force through the notch, because that is the only route that will accept it. But you and I will swing to the east of the road, out of the main artillery fire.” He tapped the map, which gave a good view of the immediate area. “There is a hilltop here to the east. It’s still across the valley from the humans, but it will give us a view of their approximate position without going through the main fire.” He paused again as the next oolt entered the hammering artillery. The data-link of the Kessentai stayed up, but the condition marker of the unit indicated that it was, more or less, shattered with better than forty percent casualties. “And I’ll probably send a few more units around as well.”
“Sergeant Major, this is Major Ryan.”
Mosovich didn’t reply; he knew the UWB was detectable, but he could listen just fine. As long as the Posties didn’t start jamming.
“You’re leaving the edge of the sensor zone, so we won’t know where you are. But we’ve got a good read on the Posleen and there’s damn near five thousand of them on your tail. I’ve called for some obscurement and I’ll adjust fire to follow you up the hill, but you’d better scram. Good luck.”
Mosovich glanced at the far saddle and nodded to himself. A salvo of variable time rounds was coming in at the moment and the air was filled with black puffballs. The beauty of the scene belied the shrapnel that he knew was flying downward from the red-cored explosions. A rank of Posleen was shattered under the line of fire even as he watched.
But even as the line of Posleen went down another God King stumbled out of the fire and then another. It was definitely time to leave.
Nichols peered through the scope and hammered out another round. The big rifle pushed his stocky body back at least four inches, but he quickly brought the weapon back into battery and started searching for another target. It had long been determined that the artillery messed with the sensors the God Kings used to find snipers so the shots were not as supercritical as the first had been. But every round helped and the team was laying down fire right alongside.
Mosovich swore softly as he picked out another target in the gathering light. Their position was not as concealed as he would have liked. And, despite the artillery, some of the normals were surviving the gauntlet in the gap to spray the hillside with fire. None of it was aimed — they couldn’t see where the team was firing from — but as soon as the sun came up that happy circumstance would surely change.
Mosovich, however, could see the normals fairly clearly. The Land Warrior system was proving its worth again, giving him the capability to easily direct and redirect fire on the targets in the gap, enhancing the team’s vision and permitting them to communicate clearly. Shoot, move and communicate was what war at all levels was about. But it was especially critical at the level of the small team and the suits were a real boon.
They weren’t perfect though. Advanced research on them had more or less been halted at the start of the war and even with the Galactic power systems they were fairly heavy. They also did not have GalTech clarity levels in low light; there was a particular problem with depth perception that seemed insoluble without the Galactic ability to make continuous micro-sensors.
But what they did, they did very well. Mosovich picked out another target, bringing the aiming bead onto the target and squeezing the trigger of the Advanced Infantry Weapon. The system used a series of sensors in the suit and the weapon to determine the accuracy of the shot and whether any inaccuracy was the fault of the weapon or the operator. If any inaccuracy was an environmental input, whether a temperature change in the barrel or a shift in the wind, the system automatically compensated on the next shot. If it was the fault of the operator it simply sulked in electronic silence. In this case it determined that the 7.62 round would miss its target point by less than three centimeters in the four hundred meters of flight. Since this was well within its margin of error, it made no adjustments.