"I got it," he told Brian. "We'll swing in from the east and pop up to five, zero, zero AGL, egress to the west. Total exposure time, four point three seconds."
"Sounds good," Brian said, violently cutting them to the right around a hill and then leveling them again. "Put it on screen."
"Don't you wanna check it first?"
"Can't take my eyes off the terrain," Brian told him. "I'll have to trust you on this one."
Matt took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "On screen. Shipping it to the other planes." He pushed a button on his screen and locked in the plot. He pushed another button and the plot was beamed to the other three aircraft via a short-range radio burst. The navigation carrot on their heads-up display swung to the right and they began to follow it, homing in on their targets. Matt called out the course corrections as they came up, counting each one down. Soon his ESM display began to make some noise.
"I'm picking up three distinct active IR and radar sweeps from the target area," he announced. "Frequencies indicate SAL-five-seven phased sets on standard search setting. Probability of detection, zero."
"Got it," said Brian.
"Come right to two, seven, three in five, four, three, two, one."
The aircraft banked right, spinning around another set of hills, and leveled out again. They climbed a few feet to clear a smaller hill and then dove back down again. Behind them, one by one, the other three Mosquitoes matched their moves exactly.
"Coming up on the IP," Matt said after the next bank. "Charging the laser, activating air-to-air search mode."
"Copy," said Brian.
"Active IR and radar getting stronger, still no chance of detection."
"That's what I like to hear. No active airborne?"
"Nothing," Matt confirmed. "I guess the hovers don't wanna overload their ESM sets."
"Their mistake," Brian said.
They flew on, skirting through a narrow gully. The laser set beeped, indicating it was charged and ready. They reached the Initial Point, or IP, made their last turn, and then screamed on towards the last hill between them and the marines.
"Let's do this thing," Brian said, putting on some power and pulling up on the stick. The Mosquito began to rise into the air.
Lon, Lisa, and Jefferson were deployed atop Hill 655, five kilometers northwest of the circling hovers and the company of dismounted infantry beneath them. The hovers were clearly visible to them, circling in simple, overlapping, mutually supporting patterns. Some of the infantry and armor were visible as well, but most were obscured by the hills between Hill 655 and the target area. That didn't really matter though. The dust cloud produced by the armor pointed out their position as clearly as a holographic arrow on a simulation screen. And if Lon, Lisa, and Jefferson lost sight of the targets for any reason, Horishito and two other squad members were deployed 450 meters further west on hill 648 and Brannigan and the remaining squad members were deployed 380 meters further east on hill 703.
Lon knew the flight of Mosquitoes was on their firing run. After all, it was he who had given them their target coordinates. He had his eyes peeled and his infrared enhancement mode set to high but even he didn't see them at first, they moved so quickly. The first clue he had they were in the neighborhood was three flashes from the circling hovers as they were struck by anti-tank lasers. One of the hovers, apparently targeted by two of the aircraft at once, simply exploded in mid-air. The other two went spinning wildly out of control.
"Yes!" Lon said, pumping his fist in triumph. "Three down with one run. Not too fucking bad."
Lisa caught the barest glimpse of the Mosquitoes as they dove back downward. Just before disappearing behind a hill there was a flash from the belly of one. One of the other hovers flashed with the telltale signature of a direct hit. It dropped out of the sky like a rock, the pilot and gunner firing free on their ejection seats. "Four," she corrected. "They took another one on the egress."
"Annoying little mosquitoes huh?" Lon said, referring to that long ago WestHem general who had given the aircraft its affectionate name. "I wonder what that asshole thinks about them now?"
"Nothing," Lisa said. "He's one of the military consultants for InfoServe now. They'll never even tell him the Mosquitoes had anything to do with their losses."
"True," agreed Lon.
"Hey, sarge," said Horishito from the next hill. "Fifty bucks says they take at least five on their next run."
Lon thought that over for a second. "You're on," he said. "Those guys are good, but they ain't that good."
"I'll take a little bit of that action," Lisa said. "Fifty on five."
"Covered," Lon told her.
The next run began twenty seconds later. This time they saw the four Mosquitoes pop up over a hill to the north of the hovers. They climbed to altitude and their lasers began to flash. Hovers began to explode and fall out of the sky. Five were hit but only four went down. The fifth began limping its way back toward the landing zone, trailing smoke and wobbling but still airworthy. The Mosquitoes disappeared within seconds.
"You owe me fifty bucks!" Horishito yelled.
"Yep," Lisa agreed. "Me too."
"No fuckin' way," Lon said. "They took four down. The other is still flying."
"We said they'd take five," Lisa said. "The fifth one is out of commission. That means it got took."
"But its still flying," Lon protested. "Take means destroyed."
"The fuck it does!" Horishito said. "You can't go changing the..."
"All right, guys," said Lon. "Let's discuss this later. Too much chatter on the net."
"Oh, now its too much chatter on the net," Horishito said.
The fifth hover reached the outer perimeter of hills, wobbled a little bit more, and then suddenly exploded with a bright flash of light. There was no ejection. By the time the flash faded, even the debris was gone.
"Fifty fuckin' bucks," Lisa said.
"Fuck yeah," agreed Horishito.
"All right," Lon said. "I know when I'm beat."
This left only three hovers still flying over the formation. Though they were inanimate objects it was clear by watching them that the men crewing them were now extremely nervous. They circled faster, putting distance between each vehicle. Jefferson reported that active radar and infrared had come on line from each of them.
"Those guys are shittin' in their pants about now," said Jefferson.
"Let's go double or nothing," Lisa suggested. "I say they take all three on the next run."
"I'm in on that," Horishito said. "All the way to the ground even."
"No thanks," Lon said. "I've learned my lesson about betting the no-pass line."
It was fortunate he didn't take the bet. The Mosquitoes appeared again, this time from the west, and the remaining three hovers fell in less than two seconds.
"Put it out, Jeffy," Lon ordered. "All aircraft down. Friendly aircraft are egressing. Sniper and mortar teams are free to engage."
"Transmitting," Jefferson said.
Atop Hill 474, 1600 meters to the west of the WestHem marine's westernmost troops, Corporal Brogan Goodbud lay nestled between two large boulders, looking through specially engineered combat goggles at the head of one of the WestHem marines. The magnification was so great he could make out the serial number atop the marine's visor, could tell what color eyes his target had. Goodbud held in his highly trained hands an M-64 sniper rifle, a weapon engineered and built by a Martian company specifically for the use he was putting it to. It fired a two-millimeter projectile at hypersonic speed, more than twelve times the speed of sound on the Martian surface, almost twice the velocity of the standard M-24 rifle most of the troops carried. At this velocity, and with modified combat computer support, Goodbud could hit an object the size of an apple from almost two kilometers ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Right now, his target was considerably larger than an apple and considerably closer than two kilometers. The travel time of the bullet to the target would be a mere two tenths of a second. He was as good as dead.