Sara began screaming.
“Hang on!” Nan flogged the engine and tried to push past the wreckage of the lead APC. They almost made it when the rear of the car slid out into the ditch. Nan slammed home the low range all-wheel engagements as the heavy vehicle strained to climb out. “Shit, it’s too soft, we’re stuck!”
Hanlon screamed into the comm, “This is Delta Tango, units report status!”
A coughing voice came over the comm, “Delta Tango, this is Spots and Durz in APC-2. CI offline, APC systems are dead, deploying now.”
APC-1 didn’t respond at all, feed from the recon drone was gone too. Nan could hear muffled small arms fire outside the car. “You two Ok back there?” she called.
Gale Webster was in full Marine mode. “We’re good Gunner, Sitrep Lieutenant?”
Hanlon said, “APCs are down, recon down, two grunts digging in, we’re stuck but at least we still have comms, I think. Making a distress call now.”
***
“Bosun,” the ship’s voice broke his reverie. “We are receiving an emergency transmission.”
Gus jolted, “OK Annie, let’s hear it on speaker.”
The voice of what could only a be panicking 2nd Lieutenant crackled over the comm, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, all stations, this is Delta Tango 01 High Priority requesting immediate extraction!”
Gus calmly replied, “Station calling, this is Alpha Delta 367, what is your status?” He was already jamming his flight helmet into position and sliding on haptic feedback gloves. His scalp tickled as the interface calibration began. He checked for IFF transponders and saw he was the only thing flying in the area near the call.
Gus asked, “Annie, where is the nearest rescue asset?”
“A reaction force is scrambling from the capitol at this time.”
Hmm, Gus wondered, why is a reaction force scrambling?
The comms boomed, “Alpha Delta 367, this is Commander Harrison Grey of Kragus Special Operations, you are ordered to continue your approved flight path and not get involved.”
Gus recognized the voice, Harrison “Hazy” Grey, how do I keep running into THIS asshole? Why is Special Operations involved, anyway?
“Alpha Delta 367, we need help NOW!” He heard sustained weapons fire in the background. Lots of shouting. Gus swore under his breath and knew his day was fucked.
“Better just call me Annie D kid, looks like we are gonna get personal, give me a sitrep.”
An assertive woman’s voice came over the comm, “Annie D this is Delta Tango 01. We have highest priority asset on board. Taking steady small arms fire. Enemy is closing on our position.” Shouting orders over the comm, “Spots, lay down suppressing fire! Sending location and topo of area now.” There was a distinctive accent to her voice.
Gus shook his head and asked, “Is that ‘Fancy’ Nancy Stanski I hear?”
“Gusty Joe, is you? HA! My prayers are heard. Stop fucking around up there and help a gal out.”
Grey sounded over the comm, “Johansson, this is a direct order, DO NOT engage! Return to your flight plan.”
Gus ignored the comm, “Hang on, Gunner, the cavalry is on the way.”
Nan called to the back of the car, “Ms. Webster, looks like I found us another ride.”
“Gunner, for the rest of the day, I’m Major Webster,” she said while fastening the chin strap on her helmet.
“Yes Ma’am” Good, I got the feeling we are going to need all the Marines we can get today. “I gotta check on my Marines.”
Nan grabbed her rifle and hit the dirt running. There are many like it, but this one is mine, she repeated mentally. APC-1 was impaled by a steel beam the explosion had driven straight up into the body. The machine was pinned in place and blocking the road.
Nan headed for the underbelly hatch. She could hear Spots and Durz behind her, returning fire in a slow, deliberate manner. Good job, boys, conserve that ammo.
She reached the hatch and tapped. Nan grinned when she heard a weak reply and saw the center hatch bolt start to rotate. Smoke drifted out as it opened and she heard coughing inside. “Sing out!” All she could see was a waving hand.
Nan took a deep breath and stuck her head inside. The emergency lighting flickered through the smoke. Patterson lay just inside the hatch, coughing. Zeta was out cold, still strapped in her weapons station, a bleeding gash on her nose. The CI was offline.
Nan grabbed Patterson and hauled him out onto the ground, then went back inside to check on Zeta. “Hey Marine, you in there?” She confirmed a pulse and breathing. The Gunner grabbed the first aid kit from the bulkhead and broke a stim salt under the unconscious Marine’s nose and began to count to herself, 3, 2, 1.
Zeta sputtered and thrashed, “Shit!!!”
Nan joked, “Glad to see you could join the party, Corporal. Time to rise and shine. See if you can get the CI back online.”
“Aye, Gunner,” the still stunned grunt replied.
Nan’s head shot back out of the hatch to check on Patterson. “Can you fight?”
Patterson shook his head and growled, “Fuck yes, you seen my spitter?” He used the nickname for the standard issue Spitzer caseless 10mm bullpup rifle.
Stanski reached back inside and grabbed the rifle and a belt of magazines, “Spotz and Durz are already out there, follow the noise.” She pulled herself back inside. “OK Zeta, what you got?”
The dazed Corporal blinked to clear her eyes and started flipping switches. A hum came out of the console and lights began to flash. “Starting a reboot now, Come on Baby, sing for me.”
A static voice came out of a speaker, “G, G, G, Good Afternoon Corporal Zeta, I have sus, sus, sustained serious damage. Are we near a repair facility?”
Zeta responded, “Sorry Baby we can’t fix you now, how are
