Huber tensed, waiting for the third salvo; possibly more than a thousand rockets, launched against combat cars whose guns were dangerously hot from dealing with the previous hundreds of projectiles. Instead, cyan light flickered behind the hills. Moments later, rolling orange fireballs mushroomed in response.
“Highball, this is Flasher Six,” the unfamiliar voice called. The tone of crowing triumph was evident despite the compressed and tenuous transmission. “Thanks for your help, troopers. We’ve got it from now. Flasher out.”
“The hell he says!” Deseau snarled, turning a furious face toward Huber. “El-Tee, are you going to let them tankers have all the fun? We’re not, are we?”
Another volley of 20-cm bolts speared into the plains from higher ground somewhere to the northeast. Again whole truckloads of bombardment rockets exploded, the fuel and warheads going off in split seconds. Flasher Six commanded at least a company of tanks; their main guns were raking the Firelords, probably from beyond the distance an unaided human eye could see.
Tribarrels didn’t have that range . . . but the combat cars weren’t nearly that far away, either. Huber checked the terrain display and made an instant decision. Like Frenchie says, why should the tankers have all the fun?
“Highball, this is Six,” he said. He might get in trouble for this in the after-action debriefing, but that would be a long time coming—if he survived. “X-Ray elements will halt inside the valley at point Delta Michael Four-one, Three-seven. India elements will dismount to provide security. Fox elements will take hull-down positions in the valley mouth—”
The C&C display obligingly detailed firing positions west of the river for each of the eight combat cars.
“—and engage the enemy. Hit the calliopes first, troopers, and any vehicles that aren’t running—but my guess is that with the panzers shooting them up they’re going to have forgotten about us till we give ’em reason to remember. Six out.”
Padova tilted her fans for greater forward thrust. Lieutenant Messeman’s cars were passing through the X-Ray element, slewing from side to side in the wakes of the big vehicles. The terraces narrowed on the steeper slopes above the cataracts; the C&C box had set their course along the road in line ahead now that air defense was no longer the primary concern.
Huber hadn’t taken the guns out of air defense mode, though, because there was still a chance that the Firelords would try to carry their enemies with them to Hell. A slim chance. They were all mercenaries; their war was a business, not a holy crusade.
Sensor suites gave the task force few details of what to expect in the plains below. At this distance electronic and sonic signatures couldn’t pinpoint targets, and the cars didn’t have a line of sight. Obviously Flasher had the enemy under direct observation, but the link between the tank unit and Highball was too marginal for complex data transmission.
There shouldn’t be a big problem. The artillerymen were so busy getting out of the frying pan that they weren’t going to worry about the fire.
Because of the angle, F-2’s cars were in position before Fencing Master tore through the stunted nut trees on the upper slope. Messeman’s gunners opened fire while Deseau screamed angry curses at Padova. She ignored him, swinging them with necessary caution around a spur of rock into the position the AI had chosen. Here they’d be sheltered from possible snipers higher up the hill.
The plains beyond were full of targets. After a volley into their rocket-laden trucks had put the Firelords off-balance, Flasher concentrated on the calliopes in firing positions on the lip of the escarpment. The multi-barreled 3-cm powerguns could be dangerous even to tanks at long range. Main gun bolts had blown all of the calliopes to shimmering vapor before the combat cars nosed over the rise, but there were enough other things to shoot at.
Huber swung his tribarrel onto a ten-wheeled truck trying to flee through a field of sorghum. He squeezed and watched his plasma snap in cyan brilliance across the bed loaded with bombardment rockets in five forward-slanting racks. Before the third bolt hit, the vehicle erupted into rolling orange fury, searing a black circle from the crops.