You command a mobile fortress. But, in a city, its always about to be sieged.
Naklau Mawalski, as a tank crewmember, and a tank commander no less, kept that mantra in mind at all times. He had to, for not just his sake, but for that of his men, and especially while they were in the midst of where they might all come under fire. They were 3 soldiers, all crammed into one contained, space age electronics-jammed space, and whoever commanded them had to be calm, and collected in the heat of action.
At the moment, Mawalski and his crew, of an Aegis Main Battle Tank, were headed for exactly that. Their 68-ton, cinder-shaded armor plated combat machine was the next step in armored warfare: swaddled in sharp edged, angular contours of 6th generation, non-explosive reactive armor plating, linked solid-state treads, with armor panels hanging over them, laced with sub-layers electrical currents to short out the detonators of C4 charges pesky hostile infantry might seek to stick on it. A row of smoke grenade launchers was affixed to the side of the lozenge-shaped turret, and the emitters of its Trophy anti-missile defense system were placed around the hull.
It wasn't just durable, though; it packed a formidable bite as well, armed with a 130mm rifled cannon, firing an array of ammunition, from sabot, to thermite, to the coveted HESH- perfect for dealing with anything that moved on the ground that the Aegis caught in its sights. To back up the ' big stick ', as Aegis crews called that cannon, was a coaxial .50 caliber machine gun, and a 20mm autocannon turret mounted on its main turret. All of its weapons were gyroscopic stabilized, giving them the ability to fire with accuracy that approached that of a laser, even while the Aegis was on the move, and especially when traversing rough terrain.
It was an indisputably deadly work of mechanical engineering, which was strongly juxtaposed against its current surroundings.
It was rumbling its was down the narrow, winding streets and alleys of Tehran, easily one of the most unappealing cities on Earth- at least, as it was right now. Said streets were badly pockmarked by numerous asphalt-less sections, and strewn with litter. It was lined by dilapidated, worn down buildings that might actually have been stylish , if their Persian architecture had been preserved. Either way, though, Tehran couldn't have been more far away from the blend of slick modern design, and archaic medieval buildings, that was the style and appearance of Warsaw, where Naklau hailed from.
Here in Tehran, though, there was only the remains of a country that'd been in bad shape for a long time, in the grip of one irresponsible regime to another. The current one, though, was even more so than the previous one: a terrorist organization that'd gotten far out of hand, and mutated into something much worse:
The Global Liberation Army, as they called themselves. The GLA.
It was a insult to the concept of Liberation that they called themselves that. The GLA was nothing but the scourge of Europe, a disease, an infestation. They were a far cry from a gaggle of ISIS- wannabe's with AK74's, demented plans, and RPGs; instead, they were organized. Well funded and supplied, with a fleet of actual combat vehicles, not just technicals and AK74's (, though, the massive number of technicals they did have seemed to be designed to be gun trucks, rather than just Toyotas with Kord machine guns stuck on them ).
To put poison on the corrosive cake, they had influence. Like the plague they were, they'd mutated the governments and nations of Eurasia, collapsing them, and/or turning them into thrall states under their thumb. Vast swathes of the world, between the European peninsula, and the borders of China, were now dominated by the GLA, as they used promises of wealth, and the chance to fight for a cause, to form a massive army, bent on ceaseless rampaging.
The EU would not stand for that.
The forces of the coalition wouldn't stand by as the GLA expansion approached their borders. Although they were not as numerous as their adversaries, they had the edge in training. In technology and discipline. They had the refinement of the French, the technical expertise of the Germans, the passion of the Spanish, the ancient knowledge of warfare of the Greeks, and the stubbornness of the Polish. The EU was a powerhouse now, turning Europe into what the Hellenic league had been: a force of the European continent that would stand up its rival in Asia.
That was that had brought Mawalski and his men out here. They, and their comrades of the rest of the 45th Armored Cavalry Regiment, were part of a full scale EUAF invasion into the GLA controlled lands east of Anatolia. They were, essentially, repeating what Alexander the Great had done: storming into Persia, to topple it once again.
As a component of that grand plan, the Aegis tank advanced into the city, moving fast, but not speeding. They'd come over 2,000 miles to get here, and now they were in the confines of an enemy town. They couldn't afford to abandon caution now, any more they could afford to be too careful.
Especially Mawalski. He actually had his head and shoulders up out of the Aegis's main top hatch, though the tank did have an extensive suite of video feeds inside it that gave the crew virtually perfect situational awareness. Still, Mawalski felt better actually looking for himself. Until combat began, he wanted to watch what was coming this way.
The air was pleasantly warm, at least. It was summer in Persia, and the Aegis' climate control was calibrated to match.
The Pole put a gloved hand up to shade his eyes, peering downrange. They were still on the street, about halfway along it, headed for what looked like a sweeping intersection at the end of it. Good. Wide spaces were always better for tankers.
Suddenly-
Vrrrmmmm !
Chmk, chmk, chmk !
The sound of vehicle engines cracked out. The engines that were installed in pickup trucks, and 8x8 heavy hauler ones.
GLA ! No doubt about it. That was them.
They're inbound from the left. Must be, and we must have only a few seconds before contact !
" Sir ! I have hostiles on my scopes ! Closing, quickly ! Time to hunt, eh ?! "
It was his gunner, Kazlam Wyazkan, whose compartment was just to the left of Mawalski's, further down into the tank. His voice sounded in Mawalski's earpiece, coming in crisply and cleanly, courtesy of the EU's tireless devotion to having flawless communication systems on all levels of their military.
He'd proven himself already: accurate, methodical, and overall very skilled. Very fortunate for a tank commander. He also happened to be Mawalski's brother in law, which had led to more than a few arguments/ reconciliations along their long road to Persia.
Well, at least combat was a great leveler. Mawalski could always count on him to be on task, and dead on when the lead began flying.
" Yes, indeed. I hear them too. Lighter vehicles. Load HESH ! "
He dropped back into the turret, slamming the hatch shut seconds after he did. There was no point in risking getting a stray round to the face, when he had so much armor at hand to stand between him and that.
" Rowalski, ahead full ! Get us up there ! "
The Aegis' hydrid engine rumbled and hummed louder, as the driver, Vyrak Rowalski, fed power to it. He was an enthusiastic solider, nearly as much as Wyazkan, with a penchant for sometimes sleeping in his driver's compartment whenever the crew as bivouacked in the field. All that rest, though, led to how eager he was to push the Aegis to its quickest when they were on the move.
Such as, well, now.
Bzmmmm.
The Aegis accelerated, and Mawalski brought up the targeting brackets on his commander's screen, adjusting the focus and aim of his external camera. It was unlikely he'd spot anything before Wyazkan did, but even so-
They reached the square- about the size of Trafalgar, if Mawalski remembered his visit to London correctly-, filled with a wide and sweeping roundabout, and an big, azure shaded arch monument ( to what, though ) taking up the bulk of the center, surrounded by a bed of neglected flowers.
Then, around the far left end of the ostentatious thing, out of one of the other streets that fed into the square-
A Quad-Cannon rolled into view.
Typical GLA. The Quad-Cannon, as the EUAF had named it, was a big, lumbering halftrack as shabby as any GLA vehicle: half a Soviet era work truck, with his back wheels taken off and replaced with a tracked assembly. A 40mm, 4 barrelled cannon was mounted on its bed.
For a vehicle of its size and condition, they could actually move pretty fast. The Quad-Cannon that had just appeared was doing at least 60mph, black smoke spewing out of its exhaust chimneys.
It was headed to its right, taking it past the arch, and cleanly into the Aegis' sights.
" Quad- C ! 10:00 ! ", Mawalski called to Wyazkan.
The 40mm guns couldn't really wound the Aegis' armor, but that didn't matter. Those cannons could, and would, do awful damage to EUAF gunships that were airborne over the city.
" Roger, sir ! I have them ! "
Now, those GLA scum would find out what they were up against.
Now they would understand. They were dead men rolling, as far as Mawalski was concerned.
They didn't even know it yet.
Yet.
" Gun ready ! "
' Its all in place now ', thought Mawalski, smirking.
" Fire. ", he ordered.
Bwoom !
The 130mm roared, and the shell completed its journey downrange in a fraction of a second.
It slammed into the cab of the speeding truck, and blew it quite literally to pieces. A roiling orange firecloud blossomed from the impact point, and flaming chunks of metal bounced and tumbled everywhere. The heat from the from the blast caused the cannon's ammunition to combust, and more explosions violently chained their way across, over, and around the burning wreckage.
A perfect shot
" Tak ! ( Yes ! ) ". Mawalski clenched a lifted fist.
' Nailed, as the Americans would say. '
That wasn't all, though.
The echos of the the first explosions hadn't died away yet, before more GLA appeared. The rest of the racing engines Mawalski had heard;
A trio of- surprise, surprise,- technicals thundered into the square, having been trailing the Q-cannon. Its obliteration hadn't slowed them down, and they were going even faster than the Q-Cannon. 70 mph, at least.
" Wyazkan, fire at will ! "
The gunner required no encouragement.
It was a perfect shooting gallery now. The destroyed truck had completely disrupted the flow of the entire convoy, with he vehicles behind it forces to rapidly change course, often with only seconds to spare.
Speed hadn't saved the quad-cannon truck, and it wouldn't save these technicals, either. They were weaving around the Q-Cannon debris field, and were headed for the next road that led out of the square at full tilt. The Aegis, capably driven by Rowalski, moved to head them off, getting an even better line of sight.
That, and Wyazkan, was a good shot . The GLA were about to find that out, again.
The Aegis cannon boomed again, aiming between two of the technicals. Another high explosive warhead exploded, and threw the back end of the lead technical clean off, skewed the front of it around, while the trailing technical simply disappearing into the fiery conflagration.
A few wheels did come rolling, though, on fire.
More wreckage, and more unfiltered chaos on top of what was already there. The whole enemy column was now completely disorganized, with the remaining vehicles further in trail reacting to the armored assault by either powering through the killzone, or closing on the EUAF to engage and cover the others.
It was a perfect killzone. The GLA did best in hit and run strikes, not one like this, all head on and slugging it out. They wore down their foes with subterfuge, influence, and guerilla warfare. As the EUAF and the GLA had both realized, though, get them into a head on clash, and they were outmatched.
Not that it would deter them from throwing everything but the kitchen sink. That in of itself was sometimes all that stood between them and outright defeat.
Not this time, though.
" Good effects on target, Wyazkan ! ", Rowalski observed.
" Tak. Thanks. "
" That can't be all of them ", the gunner added. " Rather a light convoy. Where're their tanks ?
Mawalski was about to remind him that the GLA didn't really have any vehicles in their fleet that truly qualified as a tank ( as far as the EU measured ), when he noticed movment off to the far right of the square.
What was that ?
Yet another technical appeared, careening around the corner of the street that was closer to their right, opposite of where the turret was aimed.
This one, however, was armed with a TOW missile ! The gaping, muzzle of the launcher stood out with alarming clarity to Mawalski's experienced gaze.
" AT ! , AT, right side ! ", he called out.
" Right side !? Ok, on it !
There was no fear when he spoke, but he felt great concern. The Aegis MBT, after all, had 6th Generation composite armor, which was specced to resist RPG hits, not that it was an excuse to invite them to be fired at you. The best defense against them was to hit that first.
Best defense, was a good offense.
But, that technical had appeared off the main gun line. If Wyazkan couldn't reorient the turret fast enough-
Vmmm
He was on it, though. The Aegis turret began to swivel-
Boom !
An explosion consumed the Technical ! It was smashed out of existence by a direct hit to its front, vanishing in fire and smoke.
Another tank shot had nailed it !
" Mawalski, you slothy lout ! You were nearly scrap metal ! "
Stakwis. Mazk Stakwis also a native of Warsaw, called in over the radio.
Mawalski recognized him. They'd been rivals during Tank Commander training, always neck and neck in scores. After being assigned to the 45th, they'd continued it, always stribing to push their tanks and crews to the utmost of their abilites.
Stakwis; own Aegis rumbled forward, having arrived on the scene from somewhere further back along the street Mawalski had driven his through. The muzzle of the cannon barrel smoked, freshly fired.
A real save in the nick of time. Well, probably. Mawalski liked to think that Wyazkan would've gotten to it first.
Still.
" I think we owe our countrymen a thank you ", Rowalski suggested.
" Good effect on target ", Mawalski called, sounding part relived, part jealous. " One second faster ".
" That's often all the difference ", Stakwis replied, as his tank rumbled into a flanking position. Its side armor panels were marked by a red slash, surrounded by a border of white. Representing the Polish flag.
The EU armored combat rollers now were side by side, nearly at the intersection itself. The fires of the burning GLA vehicles they'd annihilated were still burning and smoldering, sending columns of black smoke high into the air.
All in a day's work.