The Mosquitoes shot back over the battlefield, rising up from behind the hills and making an almost leisurely run. Lon, watching them as they passed, saw their lasers flash in the infrared and just like that four more of the APCs were dead. They banked off to the left and disappeared, spinning around to make another run.
"We've got troops dismounting," Jefferson announced from his position with the laser team. "Four o'clock."
Lon looked down and saw that eight of the APCs had stopped. Their guns were now blazing to provide cover for the biosuited infantry troops taking up position behind them. Many of the troops had laser tubes in their hands. They began to pan through the sky, searching for the Mosquitoes. "Horishito, Gavin," he said, "keep blasting those APCs as quick as you can get your weapons charged. Displace between shots. Go for the lead ones first."
"Copy," Horishito and Gavin answered in unison.
"The rest of you," Lon said, "start putting fire on those troops."
Following his own orders, Lon aimed his M-24 through a gap in the rocks and put his recticle on a group covering behind one of the APCs. His weapon was set for three round bursts. He pushed the firing button smoothly and the rifle fired with short, high pitched pops, the casings ejecting to the right and behind him, falling with exaggerated slowness in the weak gravity and clattering on the rocks. Though the bullets were being launched from the weapon at extremely high velocity, the recoil was negligible thanks to the design of the rifle's action. The rounds could be seen in the infrared spectrum as rapid streaks of red moving downrange. He moved the recticle slightly and fired again. Dust began to rise from the area where the bullets were impacting and several of the troops were hit in the chest and head. From around him came the pops and crackles of other weapons, including the 5mm squad automatic weapon being fired by Matza. Lon was gratified to see that the newest member of his squad was operating the bipod mounted SAW very well. He was using short, controlled bursts and aiming at the greatest concentrations of troops.
"Strike one," Lon said into the laser link as he fired. "This is shadow six. Be advised, dismounts are out with hand held SALs. We're engaging them with small arms fire."
"Copy, shadow six," Haggarty's voice replied. "Keep 'em occupied if you can. We're coming up for another pass in about ten seconds."
"Van Pelt," Chin yelled over the continued thumping of the tank guns, "get some fire on those small arms positions. They're killing the anti-air crews!"
"Just gave the order, boss," Van Pelt replied. "Sections five through eight are shifting fire. I'll have the empty APCs keep plastering the AT-50 positions."
"How long until we can get some dismounts on those hills?"
"Another thirty seconds or so," Van Pelt told him. "The first units are coming into position now."
Even as he said this an infrared flash appeared from the hill and another APC died. Two seconds later, before fire could even be shifted to the new position, another flash took out another one.
"Goddamn they're good with those things," Chin said with frustrated admiration. He already knew that he had lost the battle. The simple ten man squad of special forces soldiers and their air cover had already "killed" fifteen of his vehicles and more than a hundred men. All he could hope to do now was catch them before they escaped; something that was doubtful at best.
"Mosquitoes! Six o'clock low!" someone screamed over the net.
Chin looked behind him and saw the distinctive thin shapes of the anti-tank craft screaming out of the hills and heading directly for them. He could see the cannon turrets on the bottom spinning back and forth, seeking new targets. The dismounted soldiers, most of whom were cowering behind the meager cover of their APCs, began panning their hand-held lasers back and forth, trying to get a fix on one of the aircraft. One of the men stood to free up his range of motion and was promptly hit in the head by automatic weapons fire, the rounds spraying misty vapor off of his helmet and instantly shutting him down. He kicked the dirt in frustration and then sat down to wait out the battle.
The cannons on the Mosquitoes flashed and four more of the APCs were dead in the dirt. Six of the anti-air crews managed to pull off a shot at them but none hit. They whizzed over the far end of the column and disappeared back into the hills.
Tank and APC rounds were now slamming into their positions with alarming frequency. Rocks, dust, and soft shrapnel were flying through the air in an actual cloud, pelting everyone's helmet with debris. Down in the valley the APC's were pulling up to the hillside, positioning themselves to dismount their ground troops, who would then start moving in force up the slope to engage them. Though the tactical display showing in his goggles told him that all of his men were still alive, he knew that would change if they stayed much longer. It was time to do what special forces did best.
"Displace and retreat," Lon ordered, firing one more burst down at the soldiers below. "Rally at the LZ. Let's get the fuck out of here."
In an orderly fashion the men pulled their weapons in and rolled down the back of the hill until they were safe from stray rounds. Matza safed the SAW and slung it over his back. Gavin and Horishito did the same to their AT-50s. Everyone else slung their M-24s on their shoulders and began moving as rapidly as possible down the hill.
"Strike one," Lon said to the Mosquito crews. "We're bugging out. No casualties taken. Thanks for the fun, guys."
"Anytime, Lonnie," Haggarty told him. "We owe you guys a bong hit tonight for slamming those SALs for us. This was the most fun I've had in a year."
"We'll take you up on that, Brian," Lon answered. "See you there."
It took them only a few minutes to reach the bottom of the hills. Once there they trotted as fast as they could to the north, putting a few more hills between themselves and the battle area. They puffed hard as they went, all of them showing discharge warnings on their air supply screen. This was understandable and expected in post-combat maneuvers. Finally they rounded the last hill and they were at the landing zone.
"Deploy in defensive positions," Lon told them.
They formed a protective circle in the boulder field, weapons trained outward.
"Jefferson," Lon said. "Are you still in contact with the hummer?"
"They're moving in now, sarge," Jefferson responded. "ETA less than a minute."
The ETA turned out to be accurate. From the north the bulky flying H that was the Hummingbird came over the hills at stall speed, it's wheels down, and then nosed up, it's thrusters showing an intense red on the infrared displays. It dropped out of the sky and thumped to the ground, raising a large cloud of red dust that obscured it completely.
"Get on board," Lon barked. "Move, move!"
They moved, rushing over the sandy soil and into the dust cloud, their infrared sensors guiding them to the open ramp. One by one they trotted up and took a seat, quickly strapping themselves in and securing their weapons. Each person called out their name and the word secured once they were ready for flight. When the tenth person was safe and accounted for Dave pushed the ramp button and sealed them up.
"Lifting off," said Rick, applying throttle even as he did so. The aircraft shuddered and pushed into the sky, moving forward as the thrusters were directed towards the rear. Within a minute they were out of the area.
"Digital perfect," Lon said, slumping into his seat as they pitched and dived through the hills. "Good mission, guys. Damn good mission."
"Van Pelt here, boss," came the voice over the radio link ten minutes later.
Chin was watching his tactical display as the small blue dots that represented the dismounted infantry moved over the map. More than a hundred soldiers had advanced without opposition to the top of the hills where the ambush had come from. "Go ahead," he said, already knowing what was going to be said.