Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars (15 page)

“2LT Surveillance addressed the commander. “Colonel, I have the Soviet commander on the horn, and he is quite upset.”

“Patch him through to my station.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

COL Red Fangs answered the call. “Good afternoon, COL Glaskov. Have you reconsidered and are calling to surrender?”

“I will take much pleasure in killing you.” This was followed by a sharp click, announcing the call was terminated abruptly.

The post commander called his first officer. “I thought I should let you know. The cake kicked in, and he’s upset,” laughed COL Red Fangs. “It isn’t botulism, but it will have to do. Well done, Bob.”

“Sir, thank you, sir.”

CPT Watchful Eye addressed his commander. “COL Red Fangs, sir?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Sir, two squads of Soviet tanks have just left the Soviet line headed in the direction of the Frost Crater.”

“Are they within artillery range?”

“Sir, no sir. Their path appears to be following an arc staying just five kilometers outside of artillery range. They appear to want to stop our scrap salvaging and are careful to stay out of artillery range.”

“Where’s the scavenger crew now?”

“Sir, they’ve been salvaging at the east rim of the Frost Crater for about thirty minutes. They should leave for Eagle 2 in about ten minutes.”

“Scramble the artillery and call the scavenger team back in, now! Put the post on yellow alert status. Scramble the two tanks. Send them to meet the Scavengers.”

“Sir, yes sir.” He opened a radio link. “Yellow alert, I repeat, Yellow alert! Artillery scramble! This is not a drill! LTC Judgment Day, report to the bridge.” He called the Scavenger crew on the radio. “All scavenger units return to post now at full speed. MAJ Loki and CPT Ares—scramble to escort the scavengers home.”

All teams had been on alert and were waiting on the call.

“On my way,” replied LTC Judgment Day.

“Roger that, Eagle 2,” replied SGT P-38.

“Roger wilco,” responded MAJ Loki.

Within two minutes, MAJ Loki and CPT Ares were travelling at top speed to rendezvous with the scavenger crew.

All six artillery crews scrambled quickly to man the big guns. They’d been warned this might happen and had already set four of them up in the direction of the Soviet line; the rest were aimed at their squads. Only one forward observer vessel had been built. SGT Monitor was flying out immediately to get a target fix on the Soviets. If their squads decided to change their mind about attacking the American scavengers, he had to get a firing solution ready.

SGT P-38’s crew started back to the post with his precious cargo. He knew that the scrap they carried would make a difference in the post’s survival.

July 16, 1970—Zero Seven Thirty Zulu

LTC Judgment Day was on the bridge taking over the artillery battery with the assistance of CPT Watchful Eye and 2LT Surveillance. COL Red Fangs busied himself watching the progress of the post construction. 1LT Boolean was summoned to the bridge to take up a work station to assist COL Red Fangs, and to keep an eye on the Soviet front line. The light on COL Red Fang’s workstation announced that he had an incoming call from MAJ Termination, the construction foreman replacing CSM Rainmaker.

“Yes, Major.”

“Sir, the oxygen extraction plant is complete and producing. The steel plant is likewise up and rolling.”

“Very good, get the steel mill rolling out the parts to construct a proper post barracks/HQ. Once that’s up, build a fire direction center building. It’s time to build stuff out of something other than alloy-x.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

SGT Monitor was within range of the Soviet tanks and completed laser sightings, and measured speed and direction of travel of several of the tanks in the Soviet squad. The Soviets were still holding their course, just out of range of the American big guns. He radioed the readings back to the bridge.

“Sir, the Soviets are staying out of range, no firing solution.”

“Very well.”

July 16, 1970—Zero Eight thirty Zulu

“Sir, LTC Judgment Day, the Soviet squads have reached the Frost Crater and are holding their position. Our scavengers will be back to the post by ten hundred hours.”

“Very good. Cancel the yellow alert. Get the artillery crew back to work, but keep an eye on the Soviets.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

The captain sounded the orders on all channels. “Yellow alert is canceled, all hands return to their workstations.”

July 16, 1970—Zero Nine Hundred Zulu

LTC Judgment Day’s demolition team was rigging the natural staircase to blow fissures wide enough that the Soviet hovertanks couldn’t span across them. These wouldn’t be blown unless the Soviets retreated before getting stuck on the MTS mines. The preferred plan was to have the Soviet tanks trapped by the powerfully magnetic MTS mines and take the tanks intact and the pilots alive. The mines would be remote controlled to ensure all of the enemy ships would get into position before they were locked down. If that didn’t work, though, he would blow the ledge and drop it on top of them, as the mines had been strategically placed just below the heavy rock ledge. If the pilots started popping out of their tanks to use a tool to try to dislodge and destroy the mines, snipers from above would get them.

July 16, 1970—Fourteen Ten Zulu

MAJ Termination hailed the first officer. “Sir, The scavengers have finished their refit, and have just left to go place the mines.”

“Excellent! How much scrap do we have?”

“Sir, if we build nothing but artillery pieces, we will run out of scrap by seventeen hundred today. By then the temporary post HQ structure will be finished, and our fittings, fixtures and equipment to finish the permanent HQ should be arriving by freighter. Once we have the environmental systems and lighting up at post HQ, we can unload the four ships we’re living out of and recycle them to make the last few artillery pieces and a couple of tanks.”

“Very good, as you were.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

July 16, 1970—Seventeen Hundred Zulu

Morale was an element of management just as well as food, equipment and weapons. The fact that the Americans had held all of the Soviets outside of artillery range was a victory of sorts. It bought them time to get ready for the attack that would surely come when the Soviet big guns arrived. COL Red Fangs decided that he wouldn’t take his supper on the bridge, but with the men in one of the freighters serving food. For the first time since being there, he was feeling optimistic about the siege to come. He hailed his first officer.

“Bob, join me for supper.”

“Sir, yes sir. Be there in ten.”

The mess crew was serving spaghetti and meatballs, hard biscuits, fruit cocktail, and hot coffee. The redeeming quality of the spaghetti was that if you dumped enough hot sauce on it, it was edible. COL Red Fangs decided that if they lived through this experience, he would press for better grub. His first officer grabbed a tray and sat down, prayed and made the sign of the cross.

“Here, try some good old Louisiana hot sauce. It makes the spaghetti bearable,” he said, grinning.

“No, thank you, sir, I never developed a taste for it.”

“That’s right, I forgot. Yankees don’t eat the stuff. In Texas, they just put a baby nipple on the hot sauce bottle and hand it to the kids when they run out of milk.”

The post’s first officer was glad to see his commander joking again. Having the men see him laugh was good for morale.

“Status report?”

“Sir, the minelayers left to mine the path of the advancing Soviet artillery at fourteen hundred fifteen this afternoon. We now have nine artillery pieces on the line. We started building steel for the main post HQ building at ten hundred. The oxygen extraction plant is operational and is able to produce the oxygen we need for the main post HQ building and anything else.”

“Any indication that the Soviets are sending anyone around to our back door?”

“Sir, no sir. So far our satellite has accounted for all of the enemies’ tanks either escorting the artillery, at the Frost Crater, or on the Soviet front line.”

“Keep an eye on them. We need some of the tanks to split off and make a run for our back door. It won’t be good for us if they don’t take the bait.” The colonel finished his meal, excused himself and went back to the bridge until it was time for bed.

July 16, 1970—Eighteen Thirty Zulu

COL Red Fangs retired to his quarters and read for a while from The
The Art of War
. He came to a passage of interest.

“The siege of a city is only done as a last resort.” Master Sun

Red Fangs consider the maxim by Master Sun and considered his situation. The last resort? For the Soviets, there was only one choice. Soon the Soviets siege on the American post would settle once and for all if the Americans could stay here. He placed a cassette tape in his player, took off his shoes and lay down on the bed. The Credence Clearwater Revival version of “The Midnight Special” played while he thought about the meeting.

“Well, you wake up in the mornin’

you hear the work bell ring.

And they march you to the table

to see the same old thing.

Ain’t no food upon the table

and no pork up in the pan.

But you better not complain, boy

you get in trouble with the man.

Let the Midnight Special shine ‘er light on me,

Let the Midnight Special shine ‘er light on me,

Let the Midnight Special shine ‘er light on me,

Let the Midnight Special shine ‘er everlovin’

light on me.”

As the music continued to play, he fell into a deep sleep. His cassette played until the tape ran out.

LTC Judgment Day had gotten the Tigers–Cubs baseball game from last Sunday downloaded from the satellite and was enjoying the game in his quarters over a cold beer. The only thing better would be to watch it with his little brother. The game was a much needed distraction to help him unwind so he could focus later on the unfolding events ahead. His hometown team the Detroit Tigers, won 3–2, and he hit the rack.

July 16, 1970—Twenty hundred Zulu

The Lunar steel plant had completed building the structural steel for the shell of post HQ. The construction team moved quickly to put up the structure right next to the water and fuel tankers. The barracks were chiefly constructed of tungsten steel, a by-product of the oxygen extraction plant. Once the shell was put up, the construction crew would weld the seams and stress test the welds. All of the outside fittings would be welded into place, and finally the structure would be sprayed with fireproof insulating foam two feet thick, then when it set would be sprayed again with a heat reflective finish. The building wouldn’t be complete until the final environmental equipment and interior fittings would arrive on July 17, seventeen hundred.

July 17, 1970—Zero Hundred Thirty Zulu

COL Red Fangs washed the sleep out of his eyes, shaved, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and headed for the bridge. Now, that the brief but tense moment over the scavengers had passed, the calm before the storm continued. 1LT Boolean didn’t have anything unusual to report. His first officer joined him on the bridge for their daily meeting and to share breakfast in private. Both men grabbed their cups of coffee and breakfast trays, made their way back to the cargo hold and took a seat. COL Red Fangs held his peace in quietness as LTC Judgment Day prayed silently. His first officer finished by making the sign of the cross, and looked up.

COL Red Fangs took the lid off of his coffee cup, blew on it and had a sip of the dark, bitter liquid. “Status report?”

“We now have ten artillery pieces on the line. Our next fleet of six ships is to arrive at zero four hundred today with our last one hundred and twenty men, equipment and supplies. The minelayers are still out. In that regard, no news is good news since they’re on radio silence running in redfield mode and haven’t radioed a distress call. In any case, everything is running on or ahead of schedule, with two days until the artillery battle.”

The post commander was silent. He knew full well he would lose most if not all of the sixty-four men of the artillery counter-battery during the Soviet attack. These men were cross-trained and highly skilled in other areas and not easy to replace, not to mention the values of their lives. He could see no other way to defend this post, but knowing that wasn’t making him feel any better. Regret hung thick in the air like cigarette smoke in a Subic Bay bar, and his first officer sensed what he was thinking.

“I don’t want to lose any of the men either. We will go to any lengths to minimize the losses,” injected LTC Judgment Day.

COL Red Fangs smiled as he remembered a quote by GEN Patton. “Yes, let’s see what we can do about getting the Soviets to die for their country, rather than our men.”

“That will remain my priority, but even so, I expect the losses to be extreme.”

“Make sure all of the men have the opportunity to go to church services the morning the Soviet artillery battery arrives if they wish.”

“Yes, sir.”

July 17, 1970—Fourteen Hundred Zulu

The two squads of minelayers had returned and were in the process of being refitted back to scavengers. COL Red Fangs was watching the activity over his monitor with keen interest. The refitted scavengers would recover scrap from the artillery pieces lost during the artillery barrage. His second crew of men was eating breakfast now, and when done, all three hundred sixty men would be on duty at once, at least for a couple more hours. The pieces were all falling into place, and destiny was calling in two more days.

The Soviets had broken off into four units of hovertanks and were doing routine patrols just outside of the perimeter of the American artillery range. The action had two purposes. The Soviets didn’t want any alloy-x salvaging going on, or anyone leaving the post to attack the artillery escort arriving on the 18
^th
. It also gave the men something to do; COL Glaskov didn’t want them getting lazy from inactivity. The Soviets tanks swarmed like bees just outside of the American artillery range. Watching them day after day would take its toll on the men inside the post; the psychological warfare was every bit a weapon as his artillery or tanks.