Half an hour after the rest of the company drove off in the last of their APC’s, things were back to normal. Over their heads, Fed and rebel tanks took potshots at each other from extreme range. For miles up and down the checkerboard battlefront, artillery from both sides crumped, but never around Brown’s position. After their daring little airborne raid, the rebels seemed content just probing federal positions.
A sudden uptick in the cannon fire nearby put Brown on edge. He pumped his fist and hollered along the trench. “Looks like it’s our turn to be tested. Let’s not be the weak point the bastards exploit!”
While his soldiers might listen to him, the Gods of War didn’t give a shit. All the other probing attacks were mere diversions. Brown’s weakened position had long since been selected for the rebel breakout. While the sergeant major powered up the guidance unit to a Javelin anti-tank missile, a small smoke screen erupted behind them. Right between his infantrymen and their supporting tanks a mile away. Suddenly feeling quite alone, Brown peered over the ledge to see what stunts the enemy were pulling now.
“Well, shit.” Nearly a hundred rebel tanks and infantry fighting vehicles took advantage of the blinded federal armor and rushed their way. Clustered together like that, at least they’d be easy prey for his artillery. Brown hollered at the rest of his troops. “Hit ‘em at maximum range! Slow them down and our artillery will wipe them out!” His small group of fighters opened up with everything they had. A single platoon rocking the heavy firepower of a company. What a sight to behold.
And beheld it was. While Brown tried to guide in an artillery fire mission, the enemy beat him to the punch. Over all the gunfire and rocket engines, a slight whistling filled the air. “Incoming!”
Brown didn’t worry too much. Bunkered down in their deep ditches, far superior to any foxhole, anything short of a direct hit should leave his men unscathed. That would have been true, if the enemy artillery weren’t using radio-proximity fuses in their shells. Instead of exploding on contact with the ground and wasting most of their energy in the earth, the rounds detonated seven meters above their targets. Exposed to the sky, blast and shrapnel rained into the trenches and impaled the soft-shelled inhabitants.
Sergeant Major Brown’s world went dark as something heavy cracked his helmet apart. His war was over.
Part III: Off the Rails
“Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.”
Chapter 9
While Assault Group leader Sophie Kampbell might have no patience for journalists, the young militiamen under her command were, well, young men. When this pretty brunette turned on the charm, they couldn’t turn off their bragging.
“Oh yeah, I cleared that Fed bunker myself with a XM25 grenade launcher after the artillery dazed them. Took a couple of prisoners. The medics are fixin’ them up right now. Those air-bursting smart rounds were all like, bah bah bah. The Fedefucks never knew what hit ‘em.” The eighteen-year-old kid flexed his tattooed biceps while pantomiming some Rambo moves.
Jessica managed to mask her extreme boredom and mild disgust. She forced appropriate awe in her voice. “Amazing! You fellas saved the day. Not to mention pulling all those regular army troops out of trouble.”
“Hell yeah we did! Freedom!” A bunch of the armed youngsters high-fived and chest-bumped each other. Jessica tried not to cringe and stuck to her core theme.
“Right, but who ordered your unit into battle?”
One of them ripped open a package of luxury field rations. Jessica raised an eyebrow. Even their food was better than their regular military counterparts. “The same sponsors that bought all this gear.”
She wanted to be careful, but needed to provoke a reaction if she was ever going to get something interesting out of him. “So you’re all, like, mercenaries?”
Her sudden shift from awe-struck to accusatory threw the fighters off-guard. “Hell no! We fight for freedom and the American Way. Wherever it’s in danger.”
“Of course, of course and you proved that today, but who are these mysterious benefactors that fund you patriots? Surely they deserve some credit.”
The kid spit. “Are you kidding? I didn’t see any of those lawyers and businesspeople out here fighting. Just a bunch of rich—”
An older Brigade militiaman cut him off. “That’s enough. You know the cardinal rule: Never discuss Freedom Brigade business with a non-member.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica caught the young female leader of this militia band shove some zip-tied federal soldier out of the medic’s track. She kicked him in the back of the legs and forced him to his knees. Sophie waved a pistol with one hand and screamed something in his face. Even hunched over, with two other men pushing him down, Jessica could tell the guy was quite tall. Sophie took a deep breath and whispered something to her prisoner.
Then she raised her weapon to his head.
Jessica wasn’t about to miss this story. She bolted over, her cameraman struggling to keep up. A few feet short, real fear snatched her breath away. Brown, her John, raised his head and spit out blood at the granite-faced girl in front of him.
“Fuck you and the rest of your SS wannabes!”
Sophie didn’t even glance at the spittle on her boot. “You’ve got guts. I can respect that. Too bad you’re fighting for the wrong side. Nothing personal, but I can’t have prisoners running around stabbing my people.” She tightened her grip on the trigger.
“Nooo!!!” Jessica slapped her hand away. Sophie’s shot struck the ground a foot in front of Brown. He didn’t even flinch… but his eyes popped out when he noticed who had saved him.
“What the fuck is your problem, lady? Somebody get this damn civilian out of here!”
Jessica ignored the cold muzzle a militiaman stuck into her back. Her cameraman pissed himself in terror.
“Executing thugs in lawless areas is one thing, but murdering detainees is a war crime!” Avoiding eye contact with Brown kept Jessica’s voice from quivering too much.
Sophie waved her hand, but more nervously than in simple dismissal. “I tried to be fair and had my medics patch up the federal wounded, but this man took my generosity as a sign of weakness. He grabbed a scalpel and cut up one of my fighters trying to escape. So mind your own business.” Sophie turned her back on the reporter and raised the weapon again. One of the militiamen began ripping stuff off their camera, giving Jessica a flash of inspiration.
“That’s a live feed, you know.” The lie came out smoother than she felt. “Yeah, that’s right. Broadcasting straight to our network. Raw footage of the ‘heroes of Colorado Springs’ massacring unarmed prisoners. That’s going to be viewed by millions in the next few minutes, unless I call the network.”
Sophie’s finger twitched over the trigger for a good ten seconds before she finally holstered her weapon. Her unknown masters were incredibly flexible, but they had one unbreakable rule: Never attract negative publicity to the Brigades. Jessica fought the urge to collapse with relief.
“Ok. It’s your lucky day, asshole. Team leader! Load up all these Fedefuck prisoners and hand them off to the nearest regular Army outfit.” Sophie spun around and sized up Jessica. “Since you care about the president’s henchmen so much, you get to ride along with them. Get out of my sight. We’ve got a war to finish.”