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
'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.
'Good,' Goodbud said. 'It looks like they're going to start dismounting here in a minute. As soon as they do, start finding me some green helmets.'
'You know it,' Rimmer said.
The APCs all came to a halt. Their rear ramps opened and biosuited marines began to emerge, hundreds of them, all carrying M-24s or SAWs. They formed up into units and began to move forward, towards the hills, moving slowly and awkwardly.
'I can't believe they're dumb enough to try this after what we did to them last time,' Rimmer said. 'Don't they ever learn anything?'
'They do but their commanders don't,' Goodbud replied. 'At least not for awhile. Their doctrine says to dismount and engage any enemy forces so that's what they're doing. Like General Jackson said, their predictability and their underestimation of us is what will be their undoing.'
'I suppose,' Rimmer said. 'It almost seems unsportsmanlike, doesn't it?'
'Almost,' Goodbud agreed. 'But who said war had to be sportsmanlike.'
The marines passed through the gaps between the tanks and continued southward, towards the hills. They moved more slowly now, more carefully, as if they expected the special forces teams to engage them at any second.
'Tell the mortar teams to sight in on grid 47-2, 47-3, and 47-4,' Goodbud said. 'Ten meter fused high explosive. Fire on my mark.'
'Sending it,' Rimmer said. Eight seconds later, 'acknowledged.'
The dismounted marines moved closer and closer to the hills, spreading out a little. Slowly but surely Rimmer began to identify those among them who were speaking on multiple radio frequencies and turned their helmets to a green color. By the time they reached the flat area Goodbud had chosen as the killing ground, sixteen had been 'tagged', as the expression went.
'Okay,' Goodbud said, 'this is it. Have the mortar teams fire for effect, maximum rate.'
'Fire for effect,' Rimmer repeated. 'Maximum rate.' He sent the order off.
Goodbud zoomed his goggles in on one of the green helmets and adjusted his rifle, putting the recticle on his face. His finger went to the firing button and he waited. He didn't want to shoot until the mortars began to fall. The idea was to use the confusion and chaos they caused to cover their fire.
'Here they come,' said Rimmer, who was looking off to the south and had spotted the white streaks of the mortar shells arcing over the hills. 'Get ready for the big bang.'
The marines apparently spotted the incoming rounds as well. They began to dive to the ground, falling in that slow manner the Martian gravity caused. Goodbud didn't look away. He kept his recticle on his target, following it to the ground. When the mortar rounds began to explode, showering the formation of marines with shrapnel, he fired,
