“Incoming message from Sergeant Major Jacob Mosovich, Fleet Strike Reconnaissance.”
Horner vaguely recognized the name; Mosovich was one of the old hands who had been transferred to Fleet when they swallowed the U.S. Special Operations Command. He also vaguely recalled that Mosovich was the team leader of the LRRPs at 12th Army so he was probably the team leader sent out against the globe that had landed opposite Rabun Gap. But that didn’t explain why the sergeant major was calling him directly. “Put it through.”
“General Horner, this is Sergeant Major Mosovich,” Jake said.
“Go ahead, Sergeant Major,” the general said. “What is the reason for the call?”
“Sir, we just got hit with an EMP round by the Posleen and you’re just about the only person we can talk to.”
Horner rocked back and smiled broadly. “Better and better. From that globe down in Georgia?”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant major replied. “These guys aren’t acting like Posleen at all, sir. They’ve got patrols on all the roads, real honest to God patrols, they’re taking out sensors, they’re using some half-way decent tactics from time to time, they seem to have expected us personally and now they are all over our asses. And using some sort of EMP round to take out our Land Warrior suits and communications.”
“What’s your status at present, Sergeant Major?” the general asked, waving at the AID to bring up a map.
“We’ve temporarily broken contact, sir, and we’re trying to put some distance between us and the main force. We hope to be able to stay out of contact, but I won’t put money on it. The primary mission is blown, though, sir.”
Horner looked at the map and smiled again, tightly. He’d driven through that area a couple of times in better days and the terrain the team was entering really didn’t favor humans all that much. “Looks like it’s getting ready to flatten out, Sergeant Major. I’d send a flying team of ACS down there if I had anything to give you.”
“Oh, we’ll make it out, sir,” Mosovich answered. “But we do need to talk to our artillery folk. And we can’t at present.”
Horner gave an unseen nod to the distant team. “AID, connect directly to secure communications and get the sergeant major back in touch with his artillery, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” the device answered.
“Will that be all, Sergeant Major?” Horner asked.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Well, good luck,” the general said. “I’ve made a note that I want to see your raw debrief. But that can wait until later. Make tracks.”
“Roger that, General. Mosovich out.”
Ryan looked up as the planning officer came in the Tactical Operations Center.
“It looks like they’re gone, Major,” the PO said.
“I sincerely disagree, Colonel,” the engineer replied. “We lost a sensor at the same time. It looks like they used something along the lines of an EMP to take out their communications. Which means they might or might not be out there someplace. Their intention was to cross the Soque and swing west of Batesville. So I have the arty laid in to cover that movement.”
“That’s the point,” the planning officer snapped. “That artillery is laid in there ‘covering’ what is probably a terminated team. We need to talk about retasking.”
“We can ‘retask’ when we’re sure they are gone,” Ryan snarled. “Until then the damn artillery can just stay pointed. It’s not like it’s going to wear out the tubes or the personnel to stay up.”
He snatched up the buzzing secure phone and snarled: “What?”
“Stand by for connection to Continental Army Command,” an electronic voice chirped.
“You might want to tell the commander we have an incoming from CONARC,” Ryan said to the planning officer.
The lieutenant colonel gave the major another look and left the room as the tone on the line changed.
“This is the Office of the Continental Army Commander,” a light soprano said. “Stand by for direct transfer to Sergeant Major Jacob Mosovich. All connections on this system are fully secured. A directive has been issued for the full debrief of the sergeant major and his team to be forwarded to the attention of the Continental Army Commander. Stand by for transfer.”
“Bloody hell,” Ryan said with a chuckle.
“That you, Ryan?” Mosovich asked.
“Good to hear from you, Sergeant Major,” the major said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I can imagine what was being said. Well, the report of my demise was exaggerated. As usual.”
Ryan laughed as the corps commander strode into the TOC. “Well, Sergeant Major, we’re set up at three or four points on 197. I’ll list ’em out for you and you can get ready to call.”
“Gotcha,” Mosovich said. “Glad to be back. I’ve got to slither down this damned mountain now.”
“I’ll be standing by,” Ryan said. “That was Mosovich, sir,” he continued, turning to the corps commander. “He’s using his AID to bounce through CONARC’s AID and then into the secure phone net.”
“So it wasn’t CONARC calling?” General Bernard asked.
“Not directly, sir,” Ryan agreed. “But there is a directive to send Mosovich’s full debrief to him, direct and personal. I get the feeling he wants to know what the hell is going on out there.”
“The directive to take a look at the globe came from Army,” the S-2 said. “But it looked like a rephrase of CONARC.”
“Well, I guess if General Horner is going to get his debrief we’ll just have to get the team back, won’t we?” General Bernard asked tightly. “Is there anything we’ve missed?”
“We could try to send a flying column out of Unicoi Gap,” the planning officer said. “We’ve got a battalion of mech up there. There’s no report of heavy Posleen presence near Helen. If they didn’t run into one of these heavy patrols they could, possibly, make it to Sautee or so. South of Sautee there’s indications of the outer forces of this globe landing.”
“Send a battalion in in support,” Bernard said. “And have them send out a company. Tell them to move down to the vicinity of Helen, get in a good hide and stand by for further orders.”
“I’ll get on it, sir,” the planning officer said, heading over to the operations side.
“I hope I haven’t just sent out a forlorn hope,” Bernard commented.
“Well, we already did that, sir,” Ryan said, looking at the map. “The question is whether we can get them back.”
Mosovich looked down the hill and shook his head. There was a very steep, very high road cut then the road, which was clear at the moment, then another cut down to the river, then the river and on the far side a short bank and dense underbrush. The best bet, again, would be to go down the hill fast, but that would mean doing a rappel. The distance wasn’t far enough for their static rappel systems to engage effectively. And they didn’t have a rope that was long enough to loop around a tree. So when they got down, the rope would dangle there as a marker. So they’d have to take it in stages.
“Mueller, rope,” he hissed, pulling on heavy leather gloves.
“Gotcha,” Mueller said, pulling the line out of his rucksack and shaking it out. The Army green line was the sort of stuff to make a serious climber blanch, simple braided nylon with a very high stretch rate and rather high bulk, but it had a number of features in its favor. One of them was that when doubled over you could “hand rappel” if the slope wasn’t absolutely sheer. “Good” climbing ropes were much thinner than the green line and had smoother outer layers. The benefit of the first was reduced bulk and the benefit of the second was reduced wear from “rubbing.” But there was no way anyone could slow themselves going down a slope with “good” line without using, at the least, a “figure-eight” rig, and a ladder rig was better. So, using the “bad” green line, the team would not have to stop and get full climbing gear out. Just hold on and hope for the best.