Seeing the Elephant, Chapter Five

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: This belongs to Henson and Co or to David Drake. Rating: K Time: The future.

Author's note: This is a crossover between the universes of Farscape and Hammer's Slammers. Seeing the Elephant was an American Civil War term for seeing combat.

Previously on Farscape...

Aeryn, John and their friends have joined in a human led K'hiff assault on a bunker complex occupied by Peacekeepers. As Peacekeeper resistance crumbles, Aeryn comes across a small party of Peacekeeper prisoners.

And now on Farscape...

"Report!" I barked to the prisoners.

The man stared at me. In my armor and helmet he must have assumed I was another human.

"Med Tech Rami Tolls, and this is Comm Tech Orli Kem."

The boy seemed to come out of his daze a little. "I'm junior cadet Rohdri Bahannon, you will talk to me. I'm in charge here."

"You're not in charge of anything anymore." I growled at him. "Now listen, all of you." I noticed the male had put his arm around the woman protectively. Well, techs didn't have to meet the high standards of warriors, thank the Goddess. Long term relationships among techs did occur and while frowned upon, command rarely did anything about it unless it became too obvious.

"Listen to her, Cadet." Tolls said.

I squatted down beside them. "You've been captured. There's a good chance that the Peacekeepers will lose this battle and you'll be isolated in this part of the Universe for the rest of your lives. Even if you do win, you'll be considered irreversibly contaminated and the surviving Peacekeepers will have neither the means of the interest in getting you off this planet. Do you understand that?"

The techs nodded and the boy just stared. The girl didn't seem to be aware of me. "The K'hiff, the locals, are interested in recruiting people with useful skills. Certainly a medical tech qualifies. Did you save any supplies?"

Tech Tolls nodded and gestured to a black canvas bag nearby. "They checked it for weapons, but left everything alone."

I turned to the woman. "You can be of use, too. Do you two want to live?"

Both techs nodded. The boy didn't move.

I stood and approached the K'hiff guard. "Do you speak English."

He nodded. "I spik 'N'glis. Better den you I t'ink."

That was all I needed, a comedian. "These people want to defect to President Azzule. President Azzule needs technically trained people, as you know. He will reward you for bringing these people to him, I'm sure." That last part finally got his attention. For the first time, he seemed to show some interest in his prisoners.

I turned back to the prisoners. "Remember, these people don't have translator microbes. You may have to learn their language. You'll have to learn a great deal, and unlearn a lot more." I thought about my own situation for a microt. "You will probably find your new lives are different from the old ones, but better."

I turned and started down the trench when the male called after me. "Are you former Officer Aeryn Sun?"

I almost admitted to it. But they were still highly indoctrinated Peacekeepers, even if they were still in shock over being defeated and taken captive. Would advice from the despised traitor Aeryn Sun be taken? "No, I'm a human, like my husband." I answered back without turning around. As I turned the corner of the trench I ran straight into John. He made no effort to hide a huge grin.

We found only two more Peacekeeper prisoners, both badly injured. The first one died before I could do more than check him out. The second had a severe chest wound, but I thought he might be able to get help. I ran back to where I had left the prisoners. Only three were there. The male cadet was gone. "What happened to the boy?" I asked Tolls.

He shrugged. "He tried to grab one of the alien's weapons. They killed him."

I swore softly, but only for a microt. "I need your medical help for an injured Commando. Will you help?" Tolls reached for his bag and found the guard's rifle in his face.

"Stay!" The guard growled. I started to argue with the guard until I saw John headed for me. One look at his face was enough to tell me that I was already too late. I turned and tried to make the guard see some sense. "This man is a healer. These are his tools. You need to let him keep them. President Azzule will want to know where his tools are."

The guard snarled at me, but picked up the black bag, and after carefully examining it, handed it to the tech.

"Hey, Commander and Officer Crichton. Up here." I looked up to see one of the mercenaries standing on the edge of the trench looking down at us. " Sergeant N'Demi is ready to go. We got us a second target remember?"

I nodded and then turned back to the prisoners. "You'll find humans aren't so bad. Good luck."

I was walking away with John when the woman called to me. "Good luck to you, Officer Sun, and thank you." I kept walking.

N'Demi was ready to leave as soon as John and I got back to the jeeps. "We have some good news for a change, Officer Crichton. We finally got through to Santa Barbara Central. The Regiment doesn't have a battery in range of us, but the light cav has a section of infantry guns. We're going to use them on the Top Dog's personal, private fort and blow the shit out of it."

Blowing up the local Top Dog's property seemed to main point of that statement but I wasn't too sure what the rest was about. Neither was John, apparently.

"Mind running that by us again? Everything after the good news part?"

N'Demi swore and then apologized. "Sorry. I keep forgetting that this is all completely new to you people. You don't know from nothing about anything."

"No problemo, Sarge. I've felt that way for a few years now."

Again, Sergeant N'Demi did something with the artificial intelligence unit in the jeep. "Okay, people. Show and tell time. I have this patched into your helmets, Commander Crichton. Everyone listening?"

We got acknowledgements from D'Argo, Jool and Chiana. N'Demi continued. "Hammer's Regiment is a mercenary armored regiment, roughly five thousand effectives. The main combat power of the regiment is the tank battalion. Seventy plus 170 ton armored, air cushioned vehicles, run off of fusion bottles rather than power cells like the jeeps. They're armed with 20 centimeter powerguns." She reached up and slapped the power gun mounted on the jeep. "This tri-barrel is a 2 centimeter job. The tank gun just ain't ten times bigger, it's about a hundred times more powerful. Okay so far?"

We all nodded. Hezmana! I wasn't positive just how heavy 170 human tons was, but it was a lot frelling bigger than anything the Peacekeepers had ever thought of using on a planet. But what the frell this had with liquid containers, I hadn't a clue.

N'Demi continued. "Next is two battalions of combat cars. Bigger than jeeps, smaller than tanks. They've got mebbe one hundred and sixty combat cars, plus command vehicles. Combat cars go about thirty tons, are run by a fusion bottle like the tanks, and most have three 2-centimeter tri-barrels. A few are rigged with some 5 centimeter stuff, but I hear that's an experiment that ain't workin' too well."

"Next," N'Demi stood and waved her arms at the mercenaries around us, " is the infantry battalion." That brought a ragged cheer from her soldiers. "Ten infantry on skimmers is a squad. Three squads, plus command and heavy weapons in jeeps is a platoon. Four platoons is a company and four companies is a battalion. An' no matter what the damned panzer boys brag about, you'll always need infantry and you ain't ever gonna have too much infantry." That brought a murmur of approval that I was not surprised to find that I joined in.

"Lastly, we got an artillery battalion. Twenty-four tubes, that is, twenty-four guns, firin' rocket propelled 200 millimeter shells out to between ninety and a hundred and twenty clicks. Santa Barbara Central is the nickname for the AI that handles fire control for the artillery. Named after the patron saint of gunners."

N'Demi stood with her hands on her hips and looked down at us. "Everybody got the picture so far?" We all did.

"Lastly, we got the companies. Companies are smaller than battalions. So you got a headquarters company, supply company, medical company, engineering company, and so on and so forth. And that's Hammers Slammers." She waited just a microt and added, "Usually."

That got some grins from the mercenaries. I was beginning to understand how John must have felt when he arrived on Moya, trying to absorb a mountain of new information.

"The Hurate's World Protective Force is the toughest damned force anyone's put together in a hell of a long time. There's a total of ten regimental sized units on planet. Normally you'd get one or two first class units like us, and the rest would be low grade infantry regiments to mop up and do garrison work when the shooting stops. Not here. Every one of the units is top of the line. And even so, Hammer's Slammers are still the best. That's why Colonel Hammer was picked to command the Force. An' that means he's gotta worry about more an' just the Slammers."

N'Demi pointed over the hill to where the damaged bridge was. "We hired us an engineer construction company as well as Rodino's Armoured Sappers, to work on keepin' the damned infrastructure in one piece so logistics work right an' you don't have a damned convoy of ammo sitting in a damned swamp with a freakin' blown bridge at either end."

"Naturally," N'Demi continued, "we got a lot of logistics and support type units to handle a force of over sixty thousand, but we'll talk about combat power. Colonel Hammer's hired him a battery of long range missiles. He can provide fire support to anyone on this continent with them. He's got a calliope unit, too."

The sergeant waved at John as he started to say something. "And no, Commander, we don't use the calliope in the regimental band, which we ain't got anyway." I still had no idea what a frelling calliope was.

N'Demi kept talking. "A calliope has a dozen 5 centimeter powerguns mounted together and fired together. A calliope can knock anything that sticks its nose over the freakin' horizon from a light spaceship in low orbit to an artillery shell a couple of clicks in the air. Normally, Slammers don't use calliopes, since our AI is good enough to slave all of our vehicle mounted powerguns onto any targets our sensors pick up. But, a battery of calliopes makes sure every regiment on planet can fight without worrying about what's being shot at it."

"But, now we get to the cav." About frelling time I thought. "Formally, it's Captain Sir Montague Rolley's Own Troop of Light Cavalry, but we just call it the cav. Rolley has a separate command and he's a subcontractor to the Colonel for this assignment."

N'Demi grinned at John. "No, Commander, they don't use horses. Did cav still use 'em in your day."

John grinned. "I'm not that old, Sarge, but sometimes I feel that way."

"The cav does scouting, screening of the main force, economy of force missions and anything else needed. Basically, they just covers all of the areas between the main regiments that Colonel Hammer may get interested in. And if it runs into some Peacekeepers, they can fight, too. Captain Rolley has him sixteen or eighteen combat cars, specially adapted for reconnaissance, a platoon of four or five light tanks, and best of all, two 15 centimeter infantry guns that are in range of us and are waiting to drop some on the friggin' fort."

N'Demi lifted her helmet visor up and looked straight into my eyes. "So, Officer Crichton, think the Peacekeeper's can handle us?" She waited just a microt and then added, "Even if we are a useless human army, Captain D'Argo?"

D'Argo jumped like he'd been stung. "How in the frell did you do that? I thought humans didn't have translator microbes." D'Argo glared at John and I moved myself over to emphasize my closeness to John.

N'Demi laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it. "We don't have translator microbes. But we have AIs that are powerful enough to guide a starship in boost space. And we have to do a lot of work at translating languages. There are hundreds of K'hiff languages on this freaking planet alone, so we got a lot of translator programs for the AI. So we record everybody's language and compare your conversations with what Commander and Officer Crichton say to you in English. Before you know it, we have a translation of what you've been saying."

D'Argo was still mad, so I spoke up quickly. "With this group of Peacekeepers, you'll have no problems. Whatever dragged all of us into this Universe blew up any running engines. The Command Carrier and cruiser have no power and they're headed for the general vicinity of the sun, I suppose."

N'Demi nodded. "Intel says that both ships are gonna miss the sun and swing around it and into a very eccentric orbit. When this is over, we should be able to salvage those ships."

I nodded. This group of humans would have no trouble understanding our technology. "But, usually, the ships would stand off the planet fifty or sixty thousand metras, er, kilometers, They'd shoot up your vehicles and supply dumps from space and you'd have no defenses against that. When you'd been softened up, they'd send in Prowlers and Marauders for closer in work. Only when you'd been broken would they send in Commandos."

D'Argo grunted affirmatively.

N'Demi was distracted by something. Then she slapped the side of her helmet. "Perfect timing. We got a reinforced company of K'hiff regulars screening the damned fort and the guns are good to go. Load up, people. We're outta here."

A half an arn later, John and I were looking down on the Top Dog's fort from a hill about a metra away. N'Demi was to one side of us, communicating with the artillery. There were a good two hundred K'hiff infantry in the woods around us. So far, the Peacekeepers, if they knew we were here, hadn't reacted.

The fort grew closer in my visor screen as N'Demi changed the setting for a close up. Then two puffs of dirty smoke appeared on the top of the fort's flat roof.

"Splash!" N'Demi called to the far away guns. "Fire for effect." After a few microts another puff of smoke appeared and then another and another, every few microts. I could feel the explosions through the ground.

"Not exactly "Independence Day" down there." John said. " Are you sure those shells are working right?"

N'Demi nodded. "We're using shaped charges to cut through the roof. It's a good meter of reinforced concrete, but those shells are gonna make it look like a Swiss cheese. Most of the explosive energy is focused down and into the concrete, where we can't see it. When we get enough of the roof blown off, we'll be tossing some high explosive inside. But, believe me, the people on the receiving end are getting the full treatment, Commander."

We sat on the hillside for another two arns. Twice the Peacekeepers tried to fight their way out of the fort, and each time they were easily driven back by the K'hiff infantry. Finally a patrol of K'hiffs was sent in. They quickly established that all that were left of the Peacekeepers were body parts.

Team N'Demi was told by their superiors to stay where they were overnight and meet up with the cavalry unit whose artillery had taken out the fort on the morning.

"Human rations are as appealing as food cubes." D'Argo grumbled, throwing the remains of a plastic package of rations in the fire we had lit. I chewed on my rations and silently agreed with him.

Jool smiled at him, which seemed to brighten the Luxan's mood. "At least were in a position to still eat."

N'Demi gestured towards a mercenary heading for our camp. "From the grin, I'd say Cuchillo did him some good trading for food." She raised her voice. "How'd you do?"

Cuchillo had a pail of something that smelled better than any food cubes in the Universe and a large cloth sack in the other hand. "I ran into a bunch of militia with weapons that should'a been in a museum. I had a couple of the Peacekeeper plasma rifles and they had food. Like the best trades, each side thinks they got the best of the deal." While everyone's attention was on Cuchillo and the food he was distributing, I noticed Chiana slip into camp from the same direction Cuchillo had come from. I was sure Cuchillo was right about trades.

John and I ended up sharing something called a sleeping bag that night.

"It's crowded in here, Aeryn, but I think we'll manage."
I moved slightly to get a little more room.

"Hey. You don't have to grab all the room, honey."

I shoved John just a little. "You mean that you want to hog the bed just like you always do."

"I do not hog the bed!" He replied indignantly.

I just snorted.

"Well, I don't hog the bed."

"Of course not, John. I just somehow always end up pushed over to the side of the bed."

John slid his arms around me. "I always want to be as close to you as possible, that's all."

One of his hands started to move lightly over my stomach and the other pulled me closer, if that was possible. I put an arm around him and pulled myself on top of him. My mouth found his as he started to pull my top up.

"God, you're fantastic, baby." John muttered. That was followed by a high pitched Nebari giggle from the other side of the jeep and an explosive cough followed by, "Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Crichton." from Sergeant N'Demi.

I kissed John lightly and slid off of him. We fell asleep in each other's arms.

I awoke the next morning to a vaguely familiar aroma.
"Coffee!' John exulted. "C'mon Aeryn, time to get up," John shot out of the sleeping bag and headed for the other side of the jeep, pulling his boots on. "I love you too, John." I mumbled under my breath.

We sat around drinking coffee, which I admitted I was beginning to like and eating what was left from dinner last night. The military rations remained untouched. N'Demi briefed us on what had happened overnight and what her orders were. "More Peacekeepers are moving out of the forests and headed for the two groups already setting up on the plains. Just to make things interesting, some of the Peacekeepers on the plains are deciding they like fighting K'hiff in the forests better than fighting panzers on the plains. They're headed for to woods. Christ, life is interesting."

That certainly interested me. Different groups of Peacekeepers making diametrically opposite tactical moves? "Sergeant N'Demi, that is very unlike Peacekeepers. Normally the chain of command is sacrosanct. Do you have any idea why they're doing this?"

She shrugged. "They're confused. Your comms aren't that different from ours, so our jamming systems mess up a lot of your comm traffic. When intel gets a lot of transmissions coming from the same place, we figure it's a headquarters and drop a firecracker on 'em. Er, that's we attack the headquarters with artillery. Boom, no more HQ."

I nodded. "Peacekeepers are used to having absolute command of local space and the planetary air. Ground troops aren't trained for operations like this."

"Life's a bitch." Cuchillo said laconically.

"Which brings me to the latest orders from Regiment, people." N'Demi looked around to make sure we were all there and paying attention. Once we attracted Chiana's attention away from Cuchillo, she went on. "They still want your intel, but they want to try to push as many of the PK back to the plains. They also don't like all the little groups of PKs that are wandering around. Afraid we'll get overrun by one of 'em."

"As if." Cuchillo added.

N'Demi glared at him. "Want to talk to Major Steuben about tactics?" Cuchillo laughed and shook his head.

The sergeant stood up and tossed the remainder of her coffee in the fire. "So we meet up with Rolley's cav about ten clicks that-a-way. Once we got the PKs back where we want them, we head for Regiment." N'Demi stood and yelled to her people. " Move people, we're burning daylight."

We all piled into the jeeps and off. The roads were strangely empty after yesterday's congestion. We saw an occasional bit of trash by the road and once a broken down wagon. There was a single pillar of smoke rising in the air off towards the plains. We saw nothing living until we got to Rolley's camp.

"Yo, Slammers?" Came a voice in my helmet.

"Who'dya think, moron." N'Demi muttered under her breath. Then she replied. "That's us. You're expecting us?"

"Affirmative. Captain Rolley wants to talk to you. Up front. Tank Zero Five."

We drove through the company. The vehicles were much larger and more heavily armed than the jeeps, much less the infantry skimmers. There was much more room between the human vehicles than there would have been between any sort of Peacekeeper vehicles and the jeep sped towards the captain. I got only brief glances at the unit. A crew, loading their vehicle while singing. "…come drink and sing and lend your aid…. " the rest was lost as we sped past. We slowed down slightly for a group of humans kneeling to eat something given them by standing human. A scarf around his neck whipped in the breeze as we passed. Two soldiers standing at either end of an unfamiliar machine, arguing.

"There's tank Zero Five." John said tapping my shoulder.

Humans are a conspiracy against translator microbes. I nudged John. "That's a frelling liquid container?"

John and the mercenaries laughed. "Christ, Aeryn…" John began.

"That is a tank, Officer Crichton." N'Demi broke in. "I doubt if your hubby has seen anything like it."

John nodded. "Well, like it, yeah. Sort of."

"Rolley's tanks are nothing like ours. That," she gestured to the tank we were now almost stopped at, "goes about 70 tons, a good hundred tons less than our tanks and has a 10 CM powergun, less than a third the power of ours. But it sure as Hell could ruin your whole day."

We pulled up behind the tank and dismounted the jeep. It wasn't as big as a Marauder, but it was a damned sight bigger than the jeep. It was a good eight motras long and towered over us at least three, maybe four, motras. A squat gun barrel stuck our of it's turret. Standing on the green mottled vehicle was a group of humans. As soon as we arrived, three jumped off and ran towards other vehicles. The human remaining waved to us. "I'm Captain Rolley. Come on up."

Sergeant N'Demi motioned for John and I to follow her. N'Demi introduced us to Rolley. He was a tall, slender human with a smile for everyone and hands for me. His arm slid around my waist and began stroking my bare skin between my vest and pants. "You're an alien? Hard to believe." He said with a smile.

I smiled back. "I am an alien, but I've lived with humans long enough to pick up some of their habits." I stopped smiling. "Such as breaking the arms of people who touch me in places my husband wouldn't approve of. Want to see how well I've learned human ways?"

Rolley laughed and dropped his hand. The smile didn't dim one bit, though. "Sergeant, we're going to rake over the countryside for the next thirty of so clicks. We'll use a wedge formation, tanks at the front and combat cars as the wings. My mortars, artillery, sapper squad, my infantry and your infantry will be at the base of the wedge."

He nodded to me, "The lady, and her husband, of course, should probably ride with my tactical command vehicle. It'll be in the middle of things and should be quite safe for our guests. It's Red 45. See Lieutenant Marbot of the headquarters platoon. He'll be coordinating fires and other support for my attack. He should have some room for you two." He nodded to us, turned and began clambering into his vehicle.

The three of us jumped off. Both John and N'Demi said something simultaneously as they landed. It sounded like, "asshole".