Chapter 39
Bob Beechum wasn't sure if he was having a bad day, or a good day.
No, it was more extreme than that - this was either a horrible day, or an awesome day.
On the horrible side, his PRT base was about to be attacked, and things at the base had generally fallen apart - apparently as a result.
On the awesome side, since all the leadership at the base, except him, seemed to have disappeared, it was a chance for him to demonstrate his leadership skills and possibly get promoted.
If he wasn't killed.
The day had started out normally.
Just like the other days for the 3 weeks or so that Bob - fresh out of officer candidate school as the new Lieutenant Beechum - had been at PRT Armory Depot, Concord Massachusetts, he'd been working on sorting out personnel records.
There were some interesting discrepancies in there - things like certain officers living lifestyles that were much more expensive than their pay could support.
Whether it was expensive cars or houses, or gambling habits - there were things here that suggested possible extra income sources. Since those extra income sources had been hidden rather than declared, that meant probable corruption.
Bob had kept this to himself, wanting to build an airtight case before becoming a 'whistle-blower'.
But now it looked like it wouldn't matter.
They'd gotten an alert that a threat was headed straight for them - 3 Landkreuser super-tanks, which had previously shelled some other PRT outposts in the area.
They'd been sent images, and some statistics - confirmed and inferred - on the Landkreusers.
They'd been informed that three airstrikes were inbound against the Landkreusers.
They'd been asked to hold at all costs.
And then all their communications had been cut or jammed.
Bob had expected there would probably be a meeting among the officers to coordinate their efforts. So to prepare for that, he'd looked over what resources the base had that could be relevant to such a fight.
In some ways, that was a lot.
It some ways, that was very little.
They were a storage depot for heavy weapons - mainly artillery, but also 50 tanks. And those 50 tanks had recently been ordered to be taken out of mothballs and readied to fight if needed.
On the other hand, there were few personnel assigned to this base, and only a total of four officers.
So they couldn't man most of what they had.
After Bob had reviewed things for a while, he became worried, and went looking for the base commander, Major Anders.
He couldn't find him, even though he was sure he'd seen him on base that morning.
Nor could he find Captain Kozlowski, the second in command.
And Lieutenant Hunt was also missing.
Bob went back to his office and checked his computer. It said that Major Anders was out on vacation, Captain Kozlowski was out sick, and Lt. Hunt had been sent to Philadelphia for a day, to coordinate some things with a PRT depot there.
Bob was sure that none of those entries had been there this morning. If they had been, he'd have had a formal notice that he was in command. To not have received such a thing, suggested all three other officers had put in for time off without checking with each-other, and that was against regulations.
But regardless, that left him in command.
So Bob called in his 4 sergeants for a meeting, to coordinate their resistance to the oncoming tanks, now just 60 miles away.
Just two of his sergeants showed up.
Sergeant Stayner had just transferred in with his tank crews a couple days ago. He reported that they were ready, and eager to finally actually get access to the tanks. Bureaucratic reasons had thus far kept them from getting near the tanks they were here to crew if need arose.
The sergeant did repeat his complaint that his men were only half-trained privates, not real crews, but stated they'd do their best.
Sergeant Lassiter in charge of artillery reported that he already had UAV's headed out to start spotting, but that only 51 of his men had stayed, which was only enough to more-or-less man 7 of his 155mm artillery pieces.
Lt Beechum nodded, saying "and that brings us to the 'elephant in the room' - why is this base suddenly like a ghost-town? Where did everybody go?"
He looked at Sgt. Lassiter, who'd been at this base for years, but it was Sgt. Stayner who spoke up, saying, "It has all the hallmarks of systemic corruption from the top on down, with lots of equipment and supplies 'going missing' but really being sold on the black market, as you yourself have been investigating."
"How'd you know I was investigating that?" Bob asked.
Sgt. Stayner grimaced, "Sergeants have their ways, but even a blind man could see the other officers flaunting wealth they shouldn't have had - like cars that would cost five years of their full salary even if they saved every penny, spending nothing on food or other expenses. Add to that the fact that you're new here, obviously not 'sharing the wealth' and you spend a lot of time looking through the records, and it's an easy inference."
Sgt. Lassiter spoke, "He's right. The major, captain, and other lieutenant have all been lining their pockets that way. It's to the point where I keep my own strong rooms locked up with the critical gear I need, and nobody but me has a key. And the majority of the troops here learned by example and followed their leaders."
He sighed, "Everybody, starting with the other officers, is grabbing what they can and leaving. The officers each took their own cars and a truck - driven by a favorite crony - full of other things. On my way here I saw the last couple vehicles assigned to the base,similarly piled high with valuables, leaving as well, followed by the few personal cars on base, then even some guys on foot carrying what loot they could. I guess they figure there is no profit in actually doing their duty and fighting the enemy. I tried to stop some of them, but got ignored, shot at, and almost run over. Sergeant Abercrombie, as he drove away, called out that I should save myself rather than stay and get killed under the orders of some wet-behind-the-ears new lieutenant."
"How?" Bob asked. "How did it get this bad?"
"Like everything else, little by little, then growing over time. We're an out-of-the-way backwater, with little turnover and less oversight. Add human nature and it's a recipe for this." Sgt. Lassiter spread his hand to indicate the whole base.
"There's more to it than that. Our phone and internet lines got cut about the time the radio jamming started. That takes access an insider would have. Any idea who?" Bob asked.
"I wish I did know that, so I could help string them up," Sgt. Lassiter answered, clenching his fist.
"Fair enough," Bob allowed. "so now we have to decide how best to fight. Before they got cut off, High Command said they had three airstrikes inbound against the Landkreusers. First some attack helicopters, then some F-16's, then some B-52 bombers with anti-ship missiles. So we can hope for good results from those. But we also need to prepare to do what we can, just in case. For that, it will help to know how the airstrikes go. Sergeant," he turned to Sgt. Lassiter, "you said you have UAV's up for spotting. Can they send us a video feed of the enemy - hopefully film the airstrikes on them so we can see the results and take them into account in our planning?"
Sergeant Lassiter grinned for the first time during this meeting, "Yes, sir! I have 3 regular UAV's we sent up, which then returned immediately on automatic, since they couldn't receive our signals due to the jamming. So then I sent up the good ones: two stealthed unjammable UAV's that use laser communications. I'll send their take to this computer," he gestured to one in the corner where a secretary sometimes sat, "if you don't mind. Then we can all monitor it as we talk."
"Great, do it." Bob ordered. He turned to the other man, "Sergeant Stayner, get your men readying your tanks. The M1 Abrams' tanks you have are among the fastest in the world, and I want to use that speed to get a good position from which to fight. So get them practicing driving ASAP."
"Yes sir!" responded the sergeant, who then opened the office door, leaned out, gave a few orders to an assistant waiting there, then returned.
That reminded the Lieutenant that communications were going to be a problem, since the PRT normally depended on radios and those were currently being jammed.
He mentioned that and asked for suggestions.
Sgt. Lassiter replied, "I have extra controllers for my stealthed UAV's. We can tie two or three into the same UAV and use that to communicate between those two or three controllers. Only one controller will be able to send flying instructions to the UAV, so it won't get a conflict and crash. But all can relay communications through it."
"Excellent. Do that." Bob ordered. "I want three forces coordinated. The artillery can't move without vehicles to tow it, so it'll stay here. The tanks will be in two groups, advancing to the east - one concealed in the hills to the north, and the other concealed in the hills to the south. Those Landkreusers are huge, but they have some of the same design considerations as regular tanks, among which is the motivation to put the most armor where the enemy will most likely be: to the front. That inference is supported by the fact that they have the most guns pointing forwards, indicating they prefer to keep the enemy in front.. So I want to attack them from the sides, when our tanks, to the north and south of the enemy get into position. If they're stupid, they may even turn to face one group, leaving their rear armor - likely the thinnest - pointed at our other group."
He looked at Sergeant Stayner, "Sergeant, I know you don't know their design - nobody does. But you know tanks and what they need and how they work. Can you give us some guesses, based on what you see here," Bob gestured at the computer, where Sgt. Lassiter was now displaying real-time video, from two different perspectives, of the three oncoming Landkreusers, "as to where our best targets would be? I want to know where our shots are most likely to penetrate and hit something vital. Seriously, those things are bigger than barns! I don't want to penetrate the armor only for our shot to detonate in a maintenance access corridor or break room or something like that. but, while you think, let me first say,"
Bob turned to the other sergeant, "Sergeant Lassiter, you said you have enough men to man about seven guns. I know we're supposed to have some of the new Excalibur II guided rounds for your weapons. We can feed images of their targets to those, and they will guide themselves in on them, as long as our aim was reasonably close to begin with. So what I'm wondering is this: Can your men set up an artillery piece aimed at a certain spot, ready to fire an Excalibur II round there, already loaded with the image of a Landkreuser, then move on to do the same with another gun, then another. I'm hoping that way, we can get an initial barrage of many guns, with one man at each prepared gun ready to fire it, then move to join the gun crews servicing the 7 guns that will continue firing. Will that work?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Sergeant Lassiter grinned evilly. "We'll give those super-tanks a fight after all!"
They all got to it, discussing things and giving orders until there came a knock at the door.
"That will be the local Protectorate capes, here to help us," Bob said, adding a loud, "Come in."
The door opened and in walked what looked like a circus act or a comedy skit.
The man at their head, wearing the huge powdered wig and black robes of a British judge, plus a Zorro-style mask, spoke, "We came, despite the ongoing dispute over pay. What do you need?"
"Thanks for coming," Bob said. "I am Lieutenant Bob Beechum, this is Sergeant Stayner, and I expect you know Sergeant Lassiter. We're facing that," he gestured to the screen displaying the three super-tanks, advancing in a V formation.
"I'm new here," Bob continued, "and I apologize that I don't yet know your names or powers. Can you please give me a quick summary of those so we can plan?"
There were gulps and other expressions of dismay, but the capes were solid fellows and soon their leader gamely started the summary.
The man dressed as a British judge pointed at a green flying eel, and said, "Well, Mister Wiggly here is a Case 53 mutant who can fly up to about 200 mph, goes semi-transparent while flying, making him hard to spot, and has a stunning electric attack like an electric eel, plus the slime generation ability of a hagfish. He can make two kinds - super sticky, or super-slippery slime. That's all very useful for taking down criminals - he's one of our best - but I don't think it will do anything against tanks the size of barns."
"At least he can scout for us," Bob said, "and who knows what else we can think up. Please continue."
"OK," the man continued, "Then here's Geo," he gestured to a man all in black, with various geometric designs all over his clothes and a mask that looked like it was grown from several kinds of crystals - some making hexagons, some squares, and some in at least 3 other shapes, "he does...that.", and pointed at Geo.
While the leader was speaking about him, Geo had flattened himself - literally made himself two-dimensional - and gone out the closed door, by walking through the tiny gap between door and frame on one side, then returning through the equally tiny gap - too small to slide a piece of paper through - on the other side.
He ended by sticking his hand in-between the frame and door of a nearby wall-safe, then pulling his hand back out, showing it was empty to allay any concerns about that.
"Impressive," Bob allowed, "Maybe you can actually get inside one of those tanks - called Landkreusers - if we can get you close. Can you go through airtight doors? Tanks, when 'buttoned up' as those are, are usually designed to be impervious to poison gas and similar."
"I don't know," the man allowed. "But I'm willing to find out."
"Good man," Bob responded. "And who is this?" He asked, turning to look at a man dressed as a dentist, complete with the same kind of masks dentists wear.
The cape Leader grinned wide and proudly exclaimed, "Lieutenant, meet The Floss! He's one of our best. Well, for stopping ordinary criminals and capes that is - I don't know about Land Cruisers." He pronounced it as he expected the words would be pronounced in English.
"The Floss," he continued, "can make an infinite supply of dental floss - the tough kind, like Glide, made of Kevlar - and control it to some degree. He can shoot out a stream of it and wrap it around a bad guy, tying him up. Or he can wrap it around something like a street light and swing from it like Tarzan. He can set it up like a snare - like one of those you see in movies that grab you by the ankle then dangle you from a tree. He can make a web out of it, covered in little loops so folks get entangled in the web. And he can make a bunch of tentacles out of it, each one able to lift about 5 pounds. But he can't split his attention among them, so, in most ways, he can't act as if he has dozens of weak arms - not with each doing a different thing anyway. But if each holds a pistol, they can all fire them, though they'll all be 'shooting from the hip' so to speak, with none of them really aimed. Still, it looks tremendously scary when they're all holding knives and he advances menacingly on you. That's made many a criminal wet himself and flee, or, better yet, surrender!"
The Floss took a small bow.
"OK, and you are?" Bob prompted.
The cape leader nodded, careful not to let his huge powdered wig slip. "I'm Gravitas. I can manipulate gravity. I fly, though clumsily and slowly except for straight-line sprints, where I can hit 600mph. I can shield myself, or others, to some degree by making zones of sideways gravity in front of them, so bullets and such miss. I can reverse gravity and toss people into the air, though," he hastened to add as the PRT Lieutenant brightened up, "I can't make it strong enough to lift even a normal tank, much less a Land Cruiser. But I have got a graviton blast that rips things to shreds, even steel. That should affect them, or at least about a basketball-sized piece of them at a time."
Bob nodded and started to respond, but was cut off by Sergeant Lassiter saying "Here it comes! The airstrike! See the sensor mast just barely poking above the trees there? That's what the attack helicopters do just before attacking."
All eyes turned towards the computer monitor just in time for the attack to start.
They all watched - mostly in silence, plus some explanation from the experienced sergeants - as three dozen Apache AH-64 attack helicopters suddenly popped up from where they'd been hiding behind trees, hills, or buildings, and started launching missiles at the Landkreusers.
"Those are mostly Hellfire antitank missiles they're firing, though I do see some AGM-65 Maverick guided air-to-ground missiles as well," Sgt Lassiter said. "They're heavier and have bigger warheads."
The narrow angular helicopters each had two stubby wings, from each of which dangled 2 weapons pods full of missiles: either 4 of the 108 pound Hellfire missiles or 2 Maverick missiles, weighing 463 pounds each.
Each of the 4 missile pods on each helicopter fired at the same time. And each launched one missile at a time, with about half a second in-between each launch from the same pod.
So, within 2 seconds, all their missiles - 144 Maverick and 288 Hellfire - had been fired and the helicopters hurried to seek cover and disengage. Mostly this meant descending back behind the hill, building, group of trees or whatever they had previously hidden behind, before they'd suddenly popped up to attack.
They were quick, but not quick enough.
The laser turrets on the Landkreusers, being intended for missile defense, were designed to rotate and aim super-rapidly.
Not all of these laser turrets could bear on the helicopters. But those that could reacted immediately. The few that were already pointed in the right general direction started firing even before the helicopters did.
Laser hits started burning through parts of three helicopters: a stubby wing, a rotor base, and the middle of a fuselage.
These helicopters were tough, and built to resist damage, and the lasers were meant for anti-missile work, and were a bit smaller than optimal for anti-aircraft work, so the helicopters were not immediately destroyed.
But they were taking damage, counting down rapidly towards being destroyed, and more lasers were about to join in.
But then the first missiles flew from the attack helicopters and target prioritization software intervened.
To the laser turrets' software, small fast targets coming at you were a bigger threat than miscellaneous aircraft were.
So the lasers switched to shooting down missiles.
They did that about the same time that the first 20mm antiaircraft cannon started firing.
Each Landkreuser had twelve twin-mounted 20mm cannon, with three pointed by default in each of the four cardinal directions.
They could swivel quickly, though not as fast as the lasers could.
And some had not had far to swivel before they could start shooting.
20mm shells started exploding in-between the Apache attack helicopters and the Landkreusers, as they encountered missiles and their proximity fuses detonated, sending shrapnel or beehive payloads - many small steel balls - sleeting into and around the missiles.
The 20mm ammunition feeds alternated between 3 kinds of shells - proximity-fused shrapnel rounds, then beehive canister rounds packed with little metal balls and fused with a different kind of proximity fuse, for the best chance that one type or the other would succeed, then a plain contact-fused high explosive round, in case the target was something other than missiles or planes.
Missiles got hit, by lasers, shrapnel, and little balls, which also sleeted among the helicopters, damaging them after chewing through their Kevlar armor.
Some missiles hit Landkreusers.
One 88mm gun fired, hit a helicopter, and knocked it's flaming wreckage from the sky.
Helicopters also got hit by 20mm HE rounds, which mostly did not penetrate, but chewed up both armor and other components.
The lasers could hit one missile at a time, but the 20mm rounds were a lot more variable. When the proximity fuse on one of those detonated, the resulting cloud of shrapnel or cone of metal balls could hit more than one missile - possibly even all four in a group.
That was a downside of firing the missiles so fast. Firing from two to four missile pods at once meant the missiles went out in groups of 2-4. And their short flights - from one to four miles depending on what cover it's firing helicopter had found - didn't give them much time to separate due to things like slight vagaries of the winds, or different flight characteristics between types of missiles.
So while many 20m shots missed, some hit multiple missiles.
And the ones that missed missiles kept flying along in a straight line and often hit the helicopters that had fired those missiles.
So for a while the whole battle site was a confused and chaotic scattering of explosions.
And suddenly it was over.
The Hellfire and Maverick missiles had either hit their targets or been shot down.
The last few helicopters to disengage had either succeeded, or been shot down.
And the lasers and 20mm cannon, with no targets left to shoot at, went silent.
There was also silence in Lieutenant Beechum's office, for a moment.
Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "We lost a lot of helicopters."
"Fourteen, by my count, with most of the rest damaged," Sergeant Stayner replied, all business.
"But lots of missiles hit the big tanks,, which have all this wreckage on top" Gravitas pointed out.
"Yes, dozens of Maverick missiles, and well over a hundred Hellfires, hit the Landkreusers, which, you will note, are all still moving this way. The wreckage is their rocket-launching rails, which were empty - apparently the source of the earlier bombardment of PRT assets around Boston." Sergeant Lassiter noted.
It was true. All three Landkreusers were still driving towards the PRT base in Concord. They were speckled with scorch marks and tiny little holes, and the launch-rails above the turrets were now so much twisted and scorched metal. But they had very little other damage.
Sergeant Lassiter pointed some out, "See, here, on the leading tank, there's a wrecked 20mm turret. Judging from how wrecked it is, that must have been hit by a Maverick missile - their 126 pound HEAT warheads weigh a bit more than a whole Hellfire missile does."
"Is that it?" Gravitas asked incredulously.
"No," the sergeant replied, "I see two more turrets were hit: a 20mm one and a laser turret. See the scorch marks with the little hole in the center? I can't tell if the laser is still functional or not, but the 20mm gun barrels are at odd angles, so that one is probably out of commission."
Sergeant Stayner opined, "All those HEAT warheads would have been great against regular tanks. But these Landkreusers are just too big. It's like stabbing a cow with a sewing needle - the needle just isn't long enough to reach anything vital. We probably wrecked some air conditioning units, some equipment lockers, some motors for running ammunition hoists, and things like that. In other words, non-critical secondary systems are probably all we hit. I know if I was building a tank that big, nothing critical would be within a few feet of the skin. And the fact that they are still moving suggests they had the same thought."
"So," Gravitas said, "If I hear you right, it's like the difference between stabbing someone in the torso, and stabbing someone's bedroom while he's in there. In the first case, he's got major problems, but in the second case, the knife may penetrate all the way through the bedroom wall and put a gouge in his dresser or something like that, but it just can't reach him?"
"Exactly." The Sergeant replied. "High Command says these things are armored like battleships. So we need things that can hurt battleships. What has hurt battleships in the past is big bombs - 500 pounds or more, and preferably armor-piercing - plus torpedoes, and the main guns of other battleships. But even with those, there are no guarantees."
"Why?"
"Well, bombs worked so well because battleships were originally designed before airplanes and bombs were a thing, so they have their armor where it'd be the most use against other battleships - on the sides, where the main gun shells would hit. That was often 12 to 15 inches thick. They generally had fairly thin armor - only around 2 to 4 inches thick - on the decks, where bombs usually hit, because if an enemy main-gun shell happened to hit there, it did it at such an angle that it would skip off like a rock skipping across a lake. We don't know where these Landkreusers have their thickest and thinnest armor, so we don't know where a comparatively small 500 pound bomb would likely penetrate. Torpedoes, with warheads containing about 2000 pounds of explosives, and big 2000 pound bombs, are the best bet, since they just tear through even really thick armor. But we haven't got those." Sergeant Lassiter opined.
"So what are we doing here? Why try?" Gravitas asked.
"We can, and will, probe their armor protection with our artillery. But we can't expect the 95 pound shells to really do much other than tell us more about the enemy armor scheme. They won't hit any harder than the 108 pound Hellfire missiles did. We'll do what we can, and so will others, and where no one part of us could succeed, between the whole team, we will."
"OK, but why are their turrets still rotating?" asked The Floss, pointing at the screen showing the Landkreusers.
Bob brought up a window on his computer screen, read for a moment, and said, "That's why. Radar shows a flight of F-16's inbound. Twenty-seven of them."
He turned to Sergeant Lassiter, "Isn't that about all we have?"
The sergeant nodded, "Yes, on or near the east coast anyway. We have some more out west. The economic collapse in the '90's hit the air force especially hard. Planes are expensive to buy, to operate, and to maintain. And when people are slashing budgets, with others arguing that we don't need planes since we have capes, planes are an obvious target for cuts. Then the banking collapse made it worse. With nobody being willing to loan the government money, they have to stay within a budget or shut down. They are not used to that, to put it mildly, even though for the first century or so of our country's existence, they managed it just fine: they only went into debt to pay for wars, and then they paid that off within a few years. They even paid some Revolutionary War debts they arguably didn't owe."
"You're crazy!" muttered Geo.
"No, it's true - look it up." the sergeant responded.
"All of that is great, but let's get back to the business at hand," Bob interjected. "Sergeant Lassiter, can you turn a UAV camera upwards? Maybe we can catch sight of the bombs as they fall."
"Yes, Sir," agreed the sergeant, adding, "For a job like this, I'm willing to bet they use 2000 pound guided bombs and drop from high altitude to avoid getting shot - that antiaircraft artillery can only reach so high, after all: about 30,000 feet as I recall. Anyway, a 2000 pound bomb is big enough we may be able to catch a glimpse."
"They're coming in fast: 1200 miles per hour," Bob observed, "You haven't got long - that's twenty miles a minute and so you have maybe 3 minutes... and they just fired. Radar now identifies 54 Harpoon anti-ship missiles in flight from 50 miles out, and the F-16's are turning away. High Command said it was the B-52's that were armed with anti-ship missiles, maybe they got their wires crossed, or maybe it's both groups of planes."
By this time, on one part of the Sergeant's computer screen, the video feed from the UAV's had moved to show empty sky. The other part of the screen showed the Landkreusers finishing rotating their 88mm and 150mm turrets to be ready for firing upwards, towards the incoming missiles once they got in range.
One Landkreuser - the one with three big guns in its main turret, was rotating the big turret and aiming those guns as well.
Geo pointed at that and laughed, "What? Do they think those big clunky things can hit speedy little missiles?"
"It's worth a try," sergeant Lassiter commented, "Our battleships in WWII fired their main, 16-inch guns at kamikaze airplanes. I don't know what the success rate was, but I do recall at least one account of a hit. So they spend three rounds for a chance at success, and may get lucky. And if they have the right kinds of rounds - like proximity-fused shrapnel or beehive rounds - then the odds of success go way up."
"Does it mean they're scared?" asked The Floss.
"Maybe, but probably not, for a couple reasons. If they can identify the missiles as Harpoons, then they know," he consulted another window on his computer screen, "that they have only a 488 pound warhead. If that hits their thickest armor, then they probably don't take any significant damage. They can't be sure where it will hit, but they can be sure that there are only 54 of them, coming from 50 miles out and at 537 miles per hour. Given the Landkreusers just shot down most of a group of 432 missiles, fired from only 1-4 miles away and traveling several times as fast, I doubt they'll have trouble shooting down these Harpoons."
"There went a year's budget," Sergeant Stayner sighed. "Those missiles are expensive. They buy just a few a year and save them up for needs, since they can't afford to buy many at once. This was a waste. The 2000 pound bombs are a lot cheaper and would do more on a hit."
"They may have been concerned about their much more expensive planes getting shot down if they got closer. They don't know what the effective range of those lasers is." Bob allowed. "And speaking of expensive planes, here come two, no three, B-52's - the third airstrike we were told about. All are at 50,000 feet, but one is 50 miles behind the other two for some reason. But now that we see them, we know enough about the timing of things to get you capes out and into action."
Gravitas nodded, "OK, what's the plan?"
Bob responded, "We'll have The Floss use his floss tentacles to help the artillery crews unpack artillery pieces and prepare them to fire. Later, he'll pull several triggers at once. Mister Wiggly will go out now and scout approach routes and places where the tanks can fire from cover, preferable 'hull-down' with only their turrets showing. Later, we'll have him carry messages back and forth. Geo will go two-dimensional so Gravitas can carry him along with him as he gets close to the enemy. Gravitas will try his graviton blasts at the Landkreusers, but first he will drop Geo off someplace where Geo can try getting inside a Landkreuser. Geo, have you got things you can do to impair them once inside?"
Geo grinned and pulled out two long knives, "These get super-sharp when they're just two-dimensional."
Bob got excited, "Can they cut through a Landkreuser's outer armor?"
Geo shook his head, "That would take super-strength as well as super-sharp knives, and I don't get any strength boost. But, once inside, I can cut hydraulic lines, electric lines, and all sorts of other vital bits. I can also insert these," He took out a brick, and a steel wedge of the type used for splitting logs, "into tiny cracks or seams while they're two-dimensional, then release the two-dimensional effect. They expand so fast it's basically an explosion, shoving apart whatever things they were in-between, such as an engine and it's cylinder-heads."
"OK, that's the plan. Anybody have something to add? We have," he looked at the screen again, "maybe 3 minutes before the missiles hit or get shot down, and I want all of us moving just after we see whatever result they have. That'll give Gravitas and Geo about ten minutes to do their thing before the B-52's get here. Shortly after they get here, our artillery will be in range of the enemy and after that it will be too dangerous to be downrange of them, near their targets, the Landkreusers."
"Shouldn't we have started a while ago, and already be out there doing what we can?" asked Geo.
"Others may send you out to do battle with enemies you know nothing about, in situations where friendly fire may get you, but that's not my way," Lieutenant Beechum responded. "One of my favorite sayings is 'He who fails to prepare, prepares to fail'. It's true. You needed to know what you are facing, both from the enemy and from friendly fire that may endanger you. And we needed to know what you could do, so we could integrate that into our plans. But now it's about time to get out there, for all of us."
They ironed out a few more details as the Landkreusers started firing.
It turned out that the 11-inch guns did have proximity-fused shrapnel shells - they knocked down a Harpoon missile with their first volley.
As the missiles moved closer, more and more guns came into range and started firing at them, gradually knocking down more and more missiles.
There was time enough for the big 11-inch guns to fire a second, and then a third volley before the last of the Harpoons got knocked down and the guns fell silent again.
"OK men, that's our signal! Everybody get moving. Sergeant Stayner, I'll join you with the tanks in two minutes. I'll go with the northern tank force and command it. You take the southern force. Go."
The room emptied rapidly, as Lieutenant Beechum's printer started generating a printout.
Bob looked at a map while waiting for the printout, pausing only long enough to move the printout from the printer to the much-faster photocopier. He set that to make 50 copies, so each tank could have it's own. The printout showed the Seal-team hand signals, and would enable the tank groups to communicate within the group despite their radios being jammed. He'd just have each tank commander ride along with his torso sticking up out of the commander's hatch, then they could see each-other and pass basic messages along by hand-signal.
He wasn't sure how to hurt the Landkreusers, but he was sure he and his guys were going to try. They'd use strike and fade tactics, to take advantage of the M-1's speed. Any tank the Landkreuser was focused on would 'fade', or seek cover. And any tank the Landkreuser was not focused on would emerge from cover only enough to fire, then fade while reloading. The hilly terrain was well-suited to this, and the area Bob had chosen for the engagement even included the old tank practice ground, where various hull-down firing positions had previously been dug. With those, they could pull in to firing position, fire, then back down to safety again very quickly.
Bob expected that if they shot the enemy enough, they'd find whatever weak spots existed in their armor. Then they could exploit those.
And maybe they could create weak spots, he thought, as the computer display showed Gravitas near the Landkreusers. He was pointing his finger at the nearest super-tank - the one with two small main turrets, which was holding the right-rear position in their V formation, after the one with one huge gun.
As Bob watched, he could see small puffs of confetti - no, it was sparkly in the sun, like metal filings would be - puffing out from the side of the Landkreuser where Gravitas was pointing.
Things looked good until the super-tank started firing back and Gravitas was obscured by the smoke of many small explosions.
Moments later, the explosions petered out and all was quiet again as the enemy continued driving forward, with no sign to be seen of Gravitas.
Bob saluted the screen, wanting to show respect for the brave man, especially in case Gravitas had died.
Then he scooped up his 51 copies, and his maps, and headed for his office door.
It opened before he could get there.
Sergeant Stayner came in, looking grumpy and saying, "Sir, we're screwed."
"Speak."
"In short," the sergeant replied, "our tanks are going nowhere and doing nothing. They looked fine to a quick inspection, but we found they have almost no fuel, and no ammo at all. The first tank that was ready, we were using to give crews a quick refresher - having them take turns in it driving one lap around the base. Then it ran out of gas. The fuel gauge still reads full, but the tank is bone dry. After that, we inspected the other tanks and found they are all the same - fuel gauges read full, but they've been siphoned down to just a few gallons left - enough to drive maybe 3 or 4 miles. Somebody rigged the gauges to hide the fact they'd been stealing fuel. We found their siphon. We also looked in the main fuel storage tank for the base - it's empty too."
"And the ammo?" Bob asked.
"The tanks all have full ammo racks - full of inert practice rounds disguised to look real." the sergeant shook his head, "again, the thief wanted to hide the fact they'd stolen the ammo. I guess they sold it on the black market. Some expensive electronics, like thermal-imaging sights, are missing too."
Before Bob could respond, the door opened again.
Sergeant Lassiter came in, looking frustrated and saying, "Sir, we're screwed."
"Speak," Bob sighed.
"Sir,, the enemy is close enough that it's time to load our artillery pieces. So we looked in the base magazine, where the shells should be. It's empty sir. To quote The Grinch they 'left nothing but hooks, and some wire'. Not exactly, but you get the idea."
"So we're helpless?" Bob asked.
"No Sir!, Not entirely, anyway," Sergeant Lassiter looked predatory now, "I knew there was some corruption going on, with people stealing things to sell - though I had no idea how much! Anyway, since I knew there was some, I kept the expensive new Excalibur II guided shells in my own safe."
"No office safe could hold that - maybe one or two if it was a long safe. Those shells are big." Bob prompted.
The sergeant laughed, "Not an office safe - basically a special shed I had built and have the only key to. We have fifty shells, sir. I have them being loaded now. Depending on how fast the B-52's are moving, and whether they are armed with missiles or bombs, we may be able to fire so our shells get there at the same time as theirs."
"Good work, sergeant."
The office door opened again
Gravitas the cape came in, looking scorched and with many small tears in his robes and wig. He was carrying Geo - still in two-dimensional form - draped over one shoulder, like a cape. He was saying, "Sir, we're screwed."
"Speak."
"On the bright side, I can damage those things. My graviton blast makes a small area of intense, random, strong, rapidly-changing, and tiny gravitational fields. It's effect on their armor was to turn a toaster-sized piece of it into metal confetti. If they didn't shoot back, I could defeat them. But," he indicated a cut on his cheek and his shredded robes, "They do fire back. A lot. A lot more than I can protect against. Worse," he gently laid the other cape down on the floor, "Geo is dead."
"I'm not dead," came a thin voice from the floor.
"What's that?" Sergeant Stayner, strained to see.
"He says he's not dead," Sergeant Lassiter explained.
"I'm getting better," came the thin voice again.
"Do you think you'll pull through?" asked a grinning Gravitas.
"I feel fine. I think I'll go for a walk," joked Geo, from the floor, then explained further. "Gravitas dropped me off in a good spot, and I lay flat to hide. That generally works really well. But they must have seen me somehow. When the nearest tank got to about 200 feet away, they shot me with a laser, then a lightning bolt. I'm really durable when two-dimensional - like what's here is just a representation of me, not really me. But still, after the lightning bolt, I don't remember anything else until I woke up just now."
Gravitas spoke, "After they shot him, they ran over him with one of their tracks. I thought sure he was dead. I fought while I could, then picked him up on my way back. I don't think I could have stayed any longer - the bombers are due anytime now, aren't they?'
In response to his question, Bob looked at his computer screen, then said, "Radar says the two leading bombers are over the Landkreusers right now."
They looked to the computer screen and saw a bunch of small dots begin to plummet from high in the sky, down towards the Landkreusers.
While they looked, there was a thumping at the office door. When opened, Mister Wiggly flew in, and said, in a surprisingly deep resonant voice that James Earl Jones would be proud of, "We're screwed, the tank guys say they can't move or shoot."
"We know. Anything else?" Bob responded.
"Not really," said the deep voice.
They all exchanged details while watching the bombs - which Sergeant Lassiter identified as 2000 pound GBU-10 Paveway II guided bombs - fall towards the Landkreusers.
In a moment,puffs of smoke began to appear near the 72 falling bombs.
Then some started to hit and detonate the bombs, resulting in much larger puffs of smoke.
"They must have radar and computer assistance with their shooting, to accurately shoot down bombs like that. We figured as much when they were shooting down missiles, but it's a sort of confirmation." Sergeant Lassiter remarked.
As the various sizes of guns on the super-tanks all joined in, many more puffs of smoke, of all different sizes, filled the sky.
The trailing B-52 continued on while the bombs from the other two bombers steadily got shot down.
The trailing plane was still just short of the PRT base when the last bomb from the other planes got shot and detonated harmlessly, high in the air above the enemy.
"What do we do now?" Gravitas asked.
"Maybe the last bomber has stealthed bombs?" Sergeant Stayner suggested hopefully.
"What!?" Bob exploded.
"Sorry, Sir!, I..." Sergeant Stayner began.
"Not you, Sergeant, this," Bob gestured towards his screen with one hand, while the other was pushing the refresh button, in case there was just a display glitch.
There wasn't. He sighed and said, "I'd say run for your lives, but there's no way we can get away in time. The third B-52 just dropped a MOAB bomb right on top of us, with basically 11 tons of explosive. Everything in a 1.5 by .5 mile area is toast. Men, it has been a pleasure to work with you..."
He got cut off by an unexpected cheer.
He looked to see the other screen, which showed all the lasers from the enemy super-tanks firing together at the MOAB bomb. The 11-inch gun turret was slewing to aim at it too, when the bomb blew up in a fantastically large explosion, miles above the PRT base it had been aimed at.
"What is going on? What does this mean?" Gravitas asked.
Bob was silent a moment, considering, then said, "While I disagree with their methods, to put it lightly, I think this is High Command's way of telling us that they think the enemy wants to capture the weapons at this base, has the means to do so, and that High Command is very intent on them not doing so. That also explains why the enemy shot down the MOAB, and why they haven't fired their longer-ranged guns at us. They want to capture what's here. So our duty is clear."
"To die?" Geo asked cynically.
"No, thankfully," Bob responded, " We need to deny the enemy the opportunity to take the weapons we have here."
He picked up a map of the base's surroundings and drew a rough circle on it, saying, "Mister Wiggly, this is about how far our tanks can get before they run out of fuel. We need you to find 50 spots - one per tank - within this area where the tanks can hide. Use old barns, haystacks, ravines - whatever works. I don't believe the enemy will stay in this area long, so the harder it is for them to find the tanks, the fewer they get. Sergeant Stayner, have your men coordinate with Mister Wiggly and the other capes to get the tanks hidden. We'll have Sergeant Lassiter's men fire off all the artillery ammunition they have as soon as the enemy is in range - just a minute or two now - and then take all the gun breech-blocks out and hide them too, maybe send them out with the tanks. The guns are useless without their breech-blocks. And, though the shells are not likely to achieve anything more than the Hellfire missiles did, the enemy can't capture shells we've already fired at them, and we'll have done what we can. Then everybody flees. Then I want only volunteers: those that feel able - especially the capes, if they can - to hide near the tanks and defend them if they get found, since it'd be infantry, not super-tanks, out looking for them. We can handle infantry. Any questions?"
They discussed a few fine points, made arrangements, then all hurried towards the door.
As they passed through it, Bob said, "Do your best men. I'm buying steak dinners after this for the ones that do."