Girls, Panzers und Beer

by Darkpenn

The SOCAL team was the tournament favourite. But they had not counted on a scratch-up bunch who defied convention … and everything else.

Girls, Panzers, und Beer

The SOCAL team was the tournament favourite. But they had not counted on a scratch-up bunch who defied convention … and everything else.

1

"Well, that was pretty easy," said Jasmine, as she, Blake and the rest of the crew dismounted from their Pershing tank. She waved to the six other crews. With their tanks securely parked and under tarpaulins everyone began to move towards the pavilion.

"No losses for us, hardly even the paint scratched," said Cher. "First-round victory."

"I would have thought that the Ukrainians would be more of a challenge," said Quentine, the driver. "But their equipment wasn't anything near our standard and their tactics were ancient."

"Well, Southern California University does put a lot of resources into its tanking program," said Jasmine.

"Hey, look, there's the French team," said Blake, the gunner. "Wonder how they did. Probably won. Home-ground advantage."

The Californian girls watched as the bus carrying the French team stopped near them. The French girls silently filed out.

"I'm guessing not so well," said Cher. She pointed to several tank carrier trucks that were transporting the damaged French tanks to the Repair and Recovery area. "Hey, look, the results are up."

The first-round tallies were going up on the results board. French team: Defeated, 7-0.

"Whoa," said Blake. "Who did that?"

They looked at the other side of the board. The Australians. The French, highly rated at the start of the tournament, had been beaten by the hardly-known, first-timer, Australians.

Jasmine, as team commander, waved to Dominque, the leader of the French team. Dominique came over. Under the tournament rules she was not allowed to say anything about the match and their opponents but her stunned look spoke volumes.

"What happened?" said Jasmine.

Dominque shook her head. "I have no idea," she said. She walked away.

"Odd," said Cher.

"You think!?" said Blake.

Quentine pointed at the results board. "I guess that tomorrow we find will out," she said. "Since we won our match 7-0 and so did they, we're matched against the Australians in the second round."

2

It was after dinner. Jasmine had called a meeting of her commanders and the deputy-commanders of all of the tanks in Team SOCAL, as well as several of the support team specialists, to discuss the coming match.

"The bottom line is that we don't know much about these guys, since this is their first international tournament," she said to the group. "The national tournament in Australia is pretty small and amateurish, so there isn't even any useful data from there. But Stacie here, who heads our Opposition Research team, will tell us what we know."

Stacie stepped up. "We know that they mainly drive a type of medium tank called Sentinel AC2. Five, plus two Churchills," she said.

"Sentinel?" said Nicci, commander of Tank 3. "Never heard of it."

"No-one has, not really," said Stacie. "We know that it's a very old design. The tank is slow, poorly armoured, and its main gun – a low-velocity 9-pounder – has no chance of piercing Pershing armour unless it's right next to you, maybe not even then. The Churchills are a bit better but they were designed for infantry support, not tank-on-tank battles. All of them are under-powered, so not good as climbers."

"Great!" said Opal of Tank 7. "Easy meat!" Everyone nodded.

That's probably what the French said, thought Jasmine.

"We know the names of their tanks, from the competition entry documents," said Stacie. "There's Box Jellyfish, Cone Snail, Funnel-web, Bandy-bandy, Bristle worm, Woma, and Blue-ringed Octopus. The last one is the leader tank. The team name is the Redbacks. Whatever that means."

"What incredibly stupid names," said Nicci. "Shouldn't they be named after cute Australian animals? Like koala, and kangaroo, and … things like that."

"I have no idea what they all mean," said Stacie. She handed out some folders – rather thin – with the information they had.

Jasmine led the group through her tactical plan, emphasising how they could make best use of the wide French plains, the hills in the south, the central forest, and the marshy area in the west. She had the feeling that not many people were paying attention.

Eventually, the group broke up and returned to their dorms. Everyone was looking forward to a second-round victory.

3

The girls of B dorm, which was for the crews of tanks 3, 4 and 5, were beginning to settle down for the night when there was a loud knocking on the door. Nicci answered it.

"Hi!" said a tall, suntanned girl. "I'm Narelle! I'm on the Aussie team. We thought we'd drop by and say g'day."

"Uh, hello," said Nicci. "Uh, please come in."

"I'm Joyce and I've brought the beer!" said another woman, bustling in behind Narelle. She carried a massive slab of beer cans on each shoulder. Suddenly, there were eight large girls in the room and they were handing out cans of beer. Another woman, Pam, was taking bottles of pre-mixed cocktails from a backpack.

"Uh, according to the rules we're not supposed to talk about our tanks or our tactics or anything," said Nicci.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" said Narelle, as another of the Australians, Lizzy, pulled a portable boom-box from a duffel-bag and turned it on. "This is just a social call. The rules don't prevent you from having a little party, do they?" Now she was taking pizzas and packets of snacks from a pack.

Nicci noticed that a plastic cup of cocktail drink had appeared in her hand. It looked … awfully good. She looked around: her team-mates were already getting into the swing of things.

"You're sure to beat the crap out of us tomorrow, so we might as well have some fun tonight, eh?" said Joyce.

"We've already booked our flights back for the day after tomorrow!" said Lizzy.

"At least we got a trip to France out of it!" said Pam, over the music. "Something to tell the olds about, eh? Am I right?"

"So, you don't expect to win?" said Nicci.

"Of course not! You guys are the favourite to win the whole shebang. Your tanks are state-of-the-art and ours are scraped-together POS. So we're happy just to have the chance to be on the same field with you for a while."

"Until you blow us to bits!" said Narelle, laughing. Some of the SOCAL girls from the adjoining dorm, hearing the music, came in and were immediately handed drinks and pizza.

Nicci considered. If that was how it was going to be … She looked at the cup she was holding. "Sure, why not?" she said, taking a gulp.

4

It was well after midnight when Narelle and her companions piled into their jeeps to head back to their part of the compound.

"Seven crazy and very fun gals," said Melanie to Nicci.

"True," said Nicci. "But there was eight of them."

Melanie counted the people in the jeeps as they sped away. "No, seven," she said. "There was probably one that got too drunk and is sleeping it off somewhere."

"Yeah, probably," said Nicci, yawning.

5

Morning. The girls of Team SOCAL were lined up in front of their tanks, ready for the 9.00am start. As had been decided by a coin-toss, the Australian team had already left, heading out into the field.

Jasmine walked past the line. She noticed that many of the girls were looking, well, a little the worse for wear. Even Nicci. Especially Nicci.

Jasmine drew Nicci aside. "How is it that half of Team SOCAL are suffering from killer hangovers?" she said.

"It was the Aussies," said Nicci. "They came over and we had a few drinks. Maybe a few more than a few. But don't worry, they said they are sure they are going to lose. And we didn't tell them a thing about our tanks or our plans."

Jasmine looked back at the somewhat ragged line. Suddenly, one of the girls broke ranks and ran behind a tank. There was the sound of violent vomiting.

"Uh-huh," said Jasmine.

"They're party-girl amateurs," said Nicci. "Even they think that their tanks are not really in the game."

"Did you happen to ask them how they beat the French?"

"As it happens, I did. She – Narelle – said that it was just beginners' luck."

A siren went, signalling that it was time for Team SOCAL to move.

"You had better be right," said Jasmine. She gestured for everyone to get into their tanks and start up.

In a column, the seven Pershings went through the main gate.

If they had been watching instead of nursing headaches they might have seen a patch of dirt by the side of the road lift up, and a steel bar emerge as the tank at the rear of the column began to approach. Then again, maybe not.

6

The column had gone a kilometre when Jasmine, in the lead, was startled by a message through her headphones: "This is Opal in Tank 7! We've lost all power on our right side! Severe transmission damage!"

Jasmine halted the column, jumped down and ran back. Several of the other commanders joined her.

Opal and her crew were standing by the damaged track. "What the hell is this?" said the driver. She pointed at a steel pry bar that had become twisted around the major rear sprocket wheel. The bar had sliced through the track, and when the sprocket wheel had jammed it had created a cascade of damage all through the wheel set, which had caused the transmission to overheat and jam.

They managed to extract the bar. It was part of an on-board repair kit. Every tank had something like it.

"This is not one of ours," said Opal. "Could it have fallen in during repair?"

"Not a chance," said Jasmine. "There are inspections exactly to ensure that it does not happen. No, this was done deliberately."

"I remember reading about something like this," said Blake. "When Russia attacked Finland in 1939, the Finns would hide in holes by the road and stick metal bars into the tracks of Russian tanks as they passed. I think that that is what happened here."

"They just happened to get lucky, get it in the right place to max the damage," said Opal.

"Don't think so," said Jasmine. "You don't disable a tank with a stick through luck. You do it by knowing exactly what you are doing. And you know that because you have studied blueprints of Pershings."

One of the field judges, Harrison, approached them. They explained the situation to her.

"Is this, you know, legal?" said Nicci.

Harrison considered. "The rules state that anything that is on a tank at the start of a match can be used," she said. "And this bar is part of a tank kit. Also, the rules do not require that tank crews have to fight in their tank. So there is nothing to stop crews from fighting independently, although they would have to stop when their tank is destroyed. I don't think that it has ever been done, but it is within the rules."

She looked at the tank. "Can you move?" she said.

"Not a chance, and no possibility of field repair," said Opal. "We need a workshop and a new transmission."

"Then put up your flag," said Harrison.

"So we are down one, without a shot being fired," said Jasmine.

"Still, six Pershings can easily beat five Sentinels and two Churchills," said Nicci. "They're crap."

Jasmine looked at the white flag flying from the disabled Pershing. "How hard can it be?" she murmured.

7

Jasmine, back in her tank, was leading the force southwards, line abreast, at top speed. She looked around at the troop. Usually, Team SOCAL moved in formation with practised precision but today they were all over the place. Half the tanks looked as if they were being driven by girls with intense, painful hangovers. She sighed.

There was a call from Opal on mobile radio.

"We found the hole," said Opal. "Look at this." She sent Jasmine a picture. It was a scraped-out depression in the earth, which has been covered with branches and dirt. At the bottom of the 'hole' was a crushed-up beer can. Australian beer.

"Guess she got thirsty," said Opal.

"No, it's a message," Jasmine said. "So someone hid there for, well, a long time. Since midnight, maybe, soon after the party started. Nine hours, not moving, hiding in the dirt, waiting for the last tank in the column. Knowing that sticking a steel bar in a particular spot would bring the tank down when it was a kilometre away. So she could then just walk away."

"Patient," said Opal.

"Yes," said Jasmine. "And very carefully planned." She touched the intercom on her helmet, to connect to the other tanks. "Stay alert," she said. "Watch out for … anything suspicious."

"Like … what?" said someone.

"Uh, well, patches of dirt that look disturbed, things that are out of place, anything … not right."

"Hard to do that at this pace," said Nicci.

"Yes, so … cut speed by half," said Jasmine.

They trundled onwards.

8

"There!" said Blake. She pointed at the top of a hill. She handed Jasmine the binoculars. Jasmine ordered a line-abreast halt.

Four Sentinels. Not moving. Just out of range.

"What are they doing?" said Cher.

"As far as I can see, nothing," said Jasmine. "No, wait, I can see some girls. They are sitting in … well, they look like deckchairs. The fold-up canvas type. And they're wearing … bikinis. Damn … I think … I think they are … sunbathing."

She continued to wait and watch. Nothing much happened. The Redback girls ate some sandwiches. One of them saw Team SOCAL and gave them a wave.

Jasmine could sense that her troops were getting impatient. There was a target sitting right there, right there, waiting to be destroyed. They could take out half of the opposing force, and the Pershing guns had better range. The Sentinels would not even get to shoot back.

She wondered why the hairs on the back of her neck were prickling. What was it that Stacie had said? That Sentinels were not good at climbing. So how did they get on top of a hill?

Jasmine realised that her palms were sweating. Another two hundred metres would bring them in range, even firing on an upward trajectory. Two hundred metres. The ground ahead looked undisturbed.

She examined her map, and then touched her intercom. "Nicci," she said. "Swing around into that patch of forest on the right. Make sure that the other Sentinel and the Churchills aren't waiting to flank us. Farrah, go around to the left. Check the valley there."

The two set off.

In a few minutes Nicci called. "Nothing here," she said. "No tracks, nothing. I'll go to the next rise, and stop in that grove of trees."

"Almost at the valley, nothing yet," said Farrah.

Jasmine nodded to herself. "Load up," she said into the intercom. "Move forward at quarter speed and fire when in range." She continued to study the group on the hill.

One of the Redback women got up from her deckchair and stretched. She pulled a jacket over her bikini top and walked forward. She took something from her pocket and threw it. A smoke grenade.

"That's not going to do much," said Blake. "Too much wind up there. It will be gone in twenty seconds."

Her analysis was right. In a short time the area was clear. There was no sign of the Redback girls and their deckchairs but the tanks were still where they had been.

"Fire for effect!" said Jasmine, and immediately all four tanks fired.

A few moments later there was a series of explosions on the hill. When the smoke cleared, all the tanks were gone. Completely gone.

"Advance to the crest," said Jasmine.

"Where is the wreckage?" said Cher, peering through the binoculars. "Shouldn't there be some wreckage, at least?"

They reached the top of the hill. Jasmine and Blake got out.

No wreckage. Only some plastic sheeting. It was the colour of tanks.

"What the hell?" said Blake.

Could it be … ?

"It's a trap!" shouted Jasmine into her radio. "Everybody down the hill! Full speed!"

Their tank was already moving when Jasmine and Blake caught up and climbed in.

"What is it?" said Cher. "Did we destroy them?"

"All we destroyed was some party balloons!" said Jasmine. "Inflatable decoys!"

The four tanks were screaming down the hill, Jasmine in the rear.

Then the thought came to her: this is what the French would have done. Walked into a trap.

And then: but the trap wasn't at the top of the hill. It's at the bottom.

"Pull up!" she shouted into the intercom. "Right wheel, and traverse for incoming targets!"

Too late. Jasmine in Tank 1 and Bethany in Tank 6 managed to bring their tanks around but 2 and 3, carried by their own momentum and the downward slope of the hill, ran onto the flat ground.

And then Jasmine saw them. Two Sentinels and a Churchill coming around one side of the hill, and the same from the other side. Pincer.

"Enemy tanks on the left and the right!" she shouted.

"Don't worry about it," said Hannah in 3. "They only have nine-pounder popguns. They couldn't hit an elephant at this dist – "

And then Tank 3 burst into flame as it took two hits, one from each side. Its flag went up.

Silva in Tank 2 had seen the danger and was manouvering desperately. It took a hit from a Churchill but it was not enough to stop it. It fired at one of the Sentinels. Watching, Jasmine was expecting the lightly-armoured Sentinel to go up but the hit had no effect. Then she saw that the Sentinel had extra layers of armour welded to the front. And its gun was no longer a nine-pounder. It was now a hi-velocity 18-pounder. A tank-killer cannon.

The gun barrel had blue circles painted around it, and there was a symbol like a squid on the side.

Blue-ringed octopus.

An ancient memory floated up to her, a snippet from a nature documentary she had seen many years ago. About poisonous creatures. The blue-ringed octopus was one on the deadliest in Australia. And there had been something about the funnel-web spider being the most venomous in the world, and a deadly snake called a bandy-bandy.

Now the Redbacks were closing in on Tank 2. For the kill.

Bethany's voice came into her headphones. "Do we assist or retreat?" he said. She was watching the Redbacks through binoculars, as Jasmine was.

"If we go in they'll wrap us up too," said Jasmine. "So … we retreat. Sorry, Silva."

"You guys, go!" said Silva. "We'll try and hold them here as long as we can." Her tank was turning and firing, turning and firing. But caught in a crossfire it had nowhere to run. It was just a question of time.

Jasmine and Bethany turned away and retreated at high speed, out of the danger zone. Both commanders looked back at the Australian tanks.

"Damn, those are some ugly-looking tanks," said Bethany. "Bits welded on, modifications that aren't even in the same class, their paint doesn't even match."

"And yet," said Jasmine, as she watched Tank 2, burning, raise its flag, "we are now down to four tanks and they haven't even been scratched."

9

Nicci halted her tank in a grove of trees. She and her crew were listening to the radio as the debacle unfolded.

"I think," said Nicci to the others, "that we were lucky to only lose two."

"Plus the one that got its transmission shredded by a stick," said Dionne, the gunner and radio operator. "Uh, what's that noise?"

There was a metallic tapping from … above them. From the closed hatch.

"It sounds like … someone knocking," said Sheri, the driver.

A voice from outside called: "G'day in there! Anybody home?"

"Oh … fuck," said Nicci. She climbed up and opened the hatch.

It was Narelle.

"Hi, it's me," she said. "Don't know if you remember meeting last night, you ended up pretty wasted. How are things?"

Nicci was stunned. "Uh, things are … well, they're getting along. What are you doing here? Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I've been hiding in a tree. Waiting for you. You took your own sweet time getting here, let me tell you, I thought you'd never arrive. Anyway, I climbed down and now I'm going to destroy your tank. You cool with that?"

"Er, no. Not at all."

Narelle shrugged. "Well, doesn't matter much," she said. "You know what this is?" She held up something that looked like a knapsack.

"Uh, no."

"Oh. Well, not a surprise, it's pretty old tech. It's a satchel charge. Basically explosives packed into a bag. I've tied one to your engine vents and put another on your gun bearing. And this one goes here." She pushed the charge she was holding into the space between the turret and the tank body. She held up a little box. "And this is a radio detonator. I press this button and they all go boom."

"But if you do that won't you be killed?"

"Oh, I'll jump off first and run for cover. Duh. There's no way you can remove the charges before I push the button. But look, here's the thing. This is a really nice tank and I don't really want to destroy it. I mean, it's very … clean. So would you prefer to just run up your flag thingy?"

Nicci stared at her. Narelle smiled. "Say, you want a beer?" she said. "I brought extra. Might be a bit warm, but hey, we can live with it, beer is beer, right? One for you?"

"Uh, not right now. Excuse me a moment." She ducked back into the tank interior and explained the situation to her crew. They were astonished.

"But I don't want to see our tank blown up," said Dionne. "We just painted it."

Nicci sighed. Then she pushed the button that sent the flag up, and a message to Tournament Central.

They climbed out. Narelle was sitting on the barrel, an open beer in her hand. She dug into her pack and passed some more cans around. "Very sensible choice," she said. "This is a really pretty tank."

"I bet you were bluffing," said Dionne. "There's nothing in those packs except maybe some sandwiches."

Narelle shrugged. She took the satchel from the gun bearing and threw it into the air. She pushed a button on the detonator. There was a pretty significant mid-air explosion. "Huh," said Dionne.

"But speaking of sandwiches, I have some," said Narelle, pulling foil packets from her pack.

"This is all very unfair," said Nicci, as she took a sandwich.

"Yes," said Narelle. "It is. Really unfair. But we are Australians. So … there you go."

10

Farrah called. "We have spotted an enemy force in the valley," she said to Jasmine. "Not moving. So sign of life, nothing. Five Sentinels. Facing the wrong way, all of them. We can pick off at least two, if we get a bit closer."

"No movement, no people?" said Jasmine.

"Nothing."

"They're decoys, fakes. Balloons. Link up with us in the forest at co-ordinates G7. Fast as possible, we need to consolidate our forces."

"The fastest route is straight past the decoys."

"Do it, and don't worry. Maybe stick a pin in as you pass. Don't bother wasting a shell."

Farrah directed her driver to go through the valley. The first 'tank' they passed was a fake. So was the second. The third was not. Neither was the fourth. They swivelled and fired at point-blank range.

Flag.

11

Jasmine and Bethany had reached the cover of a forest when they received a message from Nicci. Then Nicci, as the rules required, signed off. Then there was message from Farrah explaining how they had lost another one.

"We under-estimated these guys," said Jasmine, as the girls gathered together for an update briefing. "Very seriously. From drinking half our people under the table to the inflatable decoys."

"And their tanks are really very strong," said Cher. "They don't look like much but their guns are killers and they know how to use them. Modifications, upgrades, god knows what. They must be really heavy with all that stuff but it doesn't seem to bother them. Must have modified their engines too."

"All that guff about how they thought they were going to lose," said Blake. "Just a trick so we would blunder in. And having people hide in holes and up trees? Who fights like that?"

Everyone looked around at the surrounding trees, half-expecting a Redback to appear with a backpack of beer and explosives.

"Who fights like that?" said Jasmine. "People who want to win. People who are very brave and very patient and very clever. And unconventional. Against people like that, all our fancy tactical training and formation driving mean absolutely nothing."

But the fault lies with me, she thought. I made the wrong decision every step of the way. They played us. Played me. I should have realised by their tank names. Deadly Australian creatures. Names chosen by smart, determined tankers.

She looked at her watch. After one o'clock. Team SOCAL was down to two tanks. The match ended at six o'clock, and unless she could come up with a way to kill at least six of theirs with her two, Team SOCAL would be pronounced the loser.

And now all the Redbacks had to do was wait.

But they wouldn't, would they? They were fighters. They wanted 7-0. And they would want the lead SOCAL tank. Her.

A plan began to form in the darker corners of her mind.

She switched on the radio to Tournament Central. It was an open band communication.

"This is team leader, Team SOCAL," she said. "I am informing you that another of our tanks is no longer able to continue. Damaged in the fight and unable to move. Our last tank, my tank, is also damaged but fifty per cent operational."

A voice came through the speaker: "We have no indication of a flag raised. If a tank is abandoned you should – "

Jasmine turned the radio off.

"But the Redbacks will be able to hear that," said Cher. "They're sure to be listening to the Tournament open band."

"I'm counting on it," said Jasmine. "Everyone, mount up."

12

Jasmine looked back at the black smoke streaming from the back of her tank.

"Reduce speed by one-quarter," she told Cher. "And turn west."

"That's pretty difficult territory," said Cher. "If we get backed up against the marshland – "

"Just do it," ordered Jasmine. "There's a path through, fairly solid."

"How do you know?"

"You remember how we arrived at the tournament site three days early? Well, I spent one of those days walking around the marshes."

"Huh. Why did you do that?"

Jasmine said nothing. But she thought: It is the leader's job to know things. Just in case.

She looked back. She could see two columns of tanks coming after her. They were gaining.

Looking the other way, ahead, she could see the marshlands. She did some rough calculations in her head.

"Reduce speed by another quarter," she said. "We want them to think that we are disabled and running, remember."

"At this rate they might catch us before we get there," said Quentine.

"No they won't," said Jasmine. "Not quite. But they will be in firing range in another minute so prepare for evasion tactics."

Sixty seconds passed as the tank rumbled towards the marshes. Then Blue-ringed Octopus, the leading Australian tank, fired.

"Step on the gas and evasion right!" said Jasmine. The tanked swerved, and the shell missed.

"Do we return fire?" said Blake.

"Not yet. Reduce speed again."

Several of the Redbacks were firing now, but the range was long and the Team SOCAL tank, jinking and swerving, was able to evade.

And then they were at the marshlands.

"There's a large fallen tree over there, you see it?" said Jasmine to Quentine. "The ground is firm there."

Quentine headed for it. They followed the path, at slow speed, into the swamp. "Stop here," said Jasmine. "Traverse turret."

The Redbacks stopped at the edge of the marsh, just out of range.

"They're not coming in," said Blake. "All they have to do to win is sit there."

"Give them a shot," said Jasmine.

"Too far to be effective," said Blake.

"Not the point," said Jasmine. "Cher, you can stop the fake fire now. It's done its job."

Blake fired. The shell hit some trees near the enemy tanks.

Jasmine was watching through binoculars. She could see the commander of Blue-ringed Octopus watching her.

"They're not moving," said Blake. "Guess that didn't do it."

Slowly, Jasmine lifted her hand, knowing the enemy leader was watching.

She raised her middle finger.

She saw the commander of Blue-ringed Octopus give a grim smile. She gave some orders to her crew.

The Redback tanks, in single file, began to come in, following in the tracks of Jasmine's tank to stay on the firm ground.

"Move us on," said Jasmine to Quentine.

The tank passed a mass of undergrowth that had formed around a pair of fallen trees. The enemy column was following, moving cautiously.

Jasmine looked ahead. This was where the path ran out. "Bring us about, prepare for action," she said to her crew.

"A dramatic last stand?" said Blake.

"Not exactly," said Jasmine.

The Redback column came on. Almost in range … almost …

And then there was an eruption of fire from the tangle of undergrowth. Branches and foliage were blasted away, revealing Bethany's tank. It was sunken nearly up to its turret in mud. But its gun could turn and fire, and that was all it needed.

The upgraded armour of the Sentinels was designed to absorb fire from the front. The rear of the tanks was vulnerable.

Bethany's first shot, at close range, took out one of the Sentinels. The second took out a Churchill.

"Not very sporting," said Blake to Jasmine, as they manoeuvred to get into the action.

"No," said Jasmine. "Not very sporting at all. But effective."

But the leader of the Redbacks was good. She was ordering some of her tanks to traverse turrets to fire on the hull-down Pershing and the others to stay focused on Jasmine's tank.

Damn, thought Jasmine. This idea was depending on them panicking.

"Quentine," she said. "Time for a charge, I think."

"Alright!" said Quentine, running up through the gears. All tanks drivers love charges. The Pershing surged forward, smashing down trees.

They crashed into one of the Sentinels and pushed it off the path. Weighed down by its heavy frontal armour, it immediately began to sink into the mud.

"Traverse right and take out that Churchill!" said Jasmine.

"On it," said Blake. The turret swung and the gun fired. The Churchill took a direct hit from short range on the gun bearing. Its flag went up.

Two Sentinels were pounding the turret of Bethany's tank. The tank was immobile but was a small target. It got another shot off, hitting one of the Sentinels. The track sheared away and the tank ground to a halt. Not dead but wounded.

But now one of the other Sentinels was only a few metres away. It fired, and the turret of Bethany's tank shook from the concussion. Smoke began to pour out. Flag.

In Jasmine's tank, Blake and Cher were firing and re-loading and firing again while Quentine struggled to evade incoming shots. The tank was taking hits but it was still mobile – just.

Then Blue-ring Octopus came smashing into the Pershing from the side, pushing it up against a massive tree. Quentine tried to pull away but there was no traction on the mud. Desperately, Blake traversed the turret for one last shot – and, at close range, took out another Sentinel. Then a shell from the immobilised Sentinel slammed into the turret, destroying the gun. Inside the tank, it was like a cathedral bell ringing.

"That's it," said Jasmine. The flag went up.

The crew members looked at each other.

"Fuck … me," said Blake.

"Everyone alright?" said Jasmine.

"Will be when my eyeballs stop bleeding," said Cher.

There was a rapping on the hatch. "Need any help?" said a voice.

Jasmine popped the hatch. There was a red-haired girl smiling at her. "I'm Jackie," she said. "Redback leader. My friends call me Jack. So … you can call me Jack. Hell of a fight."

Jasmine climbed out. She introduced herself and they shook hands. She saw that Redbacks were helping Bethany's crew out of their battered, half-submerged tank.

They set about the salvage. The Sentinel that had lost its track was repaired and its crew got the tank operational. So the final tally was 7-5.

"You guys want a lift back?" said Jack. "Your pick-up trucks might take a while."

"Sure," said Jasmine. Her crew and Bethany's crew climbed up onto the Redback tanks.

Jasmine and Blake were sitting next to Jack on Blue-ring Octopus. "Do you think you can get your tanks repaired in time for the next round?" said Jasmine.

"Oh, there won't be a next round for us," said Jack. "We have to go home. We're out of money. Tanking is a pretty marginal sport in Australia. No corporate sponsorships, not much university help, no support crews. We were only able to get here because most of us worked two jobs to scrape up the funds. We don't even have any spare parts for repairs and we can't afford to pay for the workshop space."

"That's a real shame," said Jasmine. "Because you've brought some new tactical thinking to the whole business. And – even though we lost – you made it fun."

"Hmm," said Blake. "So you need spare parts, techs, and workshop space."

"And we've got squat," said Jack.

Jasmine and Blake looked at each other. "As it happens," said Jasmine, "our workshop space is paid for until the end of the tournament. And we have plenty of spare parts. If they don't get used we'll just have to take them home."

Jack stared at them. "And what do we have to do in return?" she said.

Jasmine considered. "You have to teach us," she said, "to think outside the box. Deal?"

"Deal," said Jack.

Coda

The Redbacks did not go on to win the tournament. But they finished a creditable third. Not bad. Not too bad at all.

END