From: Beth Fulton <beth.fulton@m...>
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 2010 15:09:48 +1100
Subject: [GZG] Fiction - Fighting Through
G¹day Guys, Next instalment. We're out of the city after this at least for a while so hopefully a tank battle or two to come. Derek is also trying to get the new stories up on our google area soon (for any who are interested). Cheers Beth > [quoted text omitted] Fighting Through There¹s not an awful lot of privacy on the frontline. Those in the worst situation are the roving patrols that cover the desert passes between Osuga Valles and Vinogradov. They sleep in their bedrolls in the sand and their latrines are bags or holes. In comparison the compound in Marin is a palace. It¹s actually an aging heavy salt refinery on the waterside of Marin, but at least its got defensible walls, a mess hall, real latrines, even a shower block. Mind you, the showers are not all that appealing since a heavy rocket attack took out the filtration-heater unit. Gelid saltwater showers aren¹t that much more attractive than being dirty most days. Most of us hotbed the cots in the dorm. The transients pull up their sleeping bags and flop on the bare cots, but the long-term inhabitants keep bedrolls stashed underneath, pulling there¹s out when its there turn to kip. In the centre of each bedroll you typically find a stash of personal treasure  tri-vid of loved ones, a pressed four-leaf clover, favourite book, clean socks. I was semi-conscious listening to the murmur of morning, then WHOMP. We were all instantly awake, bodies rolling to the floor as the building shook. WHOMP. I could feel plaster from the roof pattering on the back of my head and down my back. I slithered forward along the length of the cot until I reached my armour. Wiggling into it I scrambled up, pulling zips shut as I pushed up. I dragged on my boots and took off running for the door. Pausing momentarily, as the door slid open, I grabbed a face mask from Robin, who was pulling them from the rack and thrusting them at each passing body. I sealed mine as I swung out the door. Outside was chaos. Automatic weapons fire could be heard outside the walls, but also coming down from high positions on opposing ridges and even tall buildings further toward the port road. Bullets kicked up dust and cracked plaster off the taller walls and around high windows. Larger munitions whistled and boomed, showering all about with chunks of wall. Bodies were running this way and that, some to get to firing positions, others to get ammo, or to carry messages, or to secure equipment. Some were in full kit, many weren¹t. Armour, clothing and shoes more often made up of what was to hand. I ducked under an overhang as more plaster and rock wall rained down, dodged past a pair carrying out crates to the howitzers in the courtyard, skipped through a cobweb of scaffolding rather than bulldoze through a team clearing rifles and ploughed up stairs headed for the sangers on the roof. As I cleared the final vertical ladder, it was like finally clearing the river Styx. What had been chaos below was a hail of murderous activity up here. Bullets were flying in all directions. The Kra¹Vak had launched an audacious dawn raid, encircling the compound before opening fire. Bent double I zigzagged my way toward a spot along the eastern wall, where I new I could nestle in (with relative safety) and get good coverage with my lens without getting in anyone¹s way. I could feel what passed for stiff morning breezes on Mars tugging at my jacket, and their whistling added to the mad cacophony. My ears twitched as I heard a more sinister whine overlaid on the wind. Diving the last few steps I slid in tight against the wall, tucking in against the mortar strike that hit hard against the wall just over the lip from where I was sheltering. The wall shook, but held. I rolled over, jamming may back into the defences and started to pan around for good shots. With a clatter two small AV12 VTOLs rose out of the belly of the compound, banking low over the roof and strafing the Kra¹Vak positions in the rooftops across the street. There was a pause in fire from that side, but it did nothing to relieve the encompassing fusillade. The down draft from the Mantis¹ engines, was kicking up the fine Martian sand, adding to the assault. I dared to raise my head briefly over the wall to see if I could pick out any of the Kra¹Vak under fire from the hovering VTOLs. The front of the building opposite was crumbling, large chunks crashing to the street below, ripped open by the steady BAP of the chain guns. As more gaps opened in the masonry the visual enhancers in my specs picked out bodies popping up to fire and dropping again, muzzle flashes, longer bursts from plasma rifles and arcing lines of tracer fire. As the sun cleared the western peaks it stabbed in haphazard shafts through the dust creating crazy interference patterns on the armour of the attacking Kra¹Vak. Swirling opalescent greens and purples, flashing briefly visible in the red-orange mélange. Snapping frantically, trying to capture the effect with my monocle mounted camera, a curse started to form as a shadow flowed over me and across the scene occluding the effect. I turned my head left and up, the curse dying in my throat, as my eyes found ³Katie², the compound¹s sole remaining AM-9A2 gunship rising up above the maelstrom. With skill I could hardly comprehend, the three VTOL¹s somehow managed to tail in together, covering the 360 degrees of the attack between them. They couldn¹t stay up there forever, but they were giving some small respite. * * * Under the steady the steady thrum of the VTOL engines and rattle of small arms I rose up so my nose was just below the line of the sand bags. My spec¹s registered ghostly purple symbols moving house to house on an approach road, the mesh-like make up of the little figures indicating that Mark¹s motes were the source of the intel. I was keen to spot the real thing however, my eyes straining to catch even the hint of movement beyond the dust being kicked up by the on-going fire from our positions and the Kra¹Vak already in the closest buildings. I couldn¹t pick out any new bodies however. Couldn¹t see any real movement at all. A small blue icon, in the shape of a camera formed to the bottom left of my vision, blinking ominously. My camera was fast running out of memory. I flicked a quick look at my watch. 06:13. It¹d only been 20 minutes. How couldS. Then I realised that in the made rush to get off my cot I hadn¹t changed mem-chips. Keeping my eyes on the roads approaching the compound, I dipped my fingers in my leg pouch and came up empty. Frig. I reached up to switch to live upload. I¹d found that if I was judicious I could piggyback my footage on the automatic carrier waves the military issue spec¹s used to send position information back to the ops room. Zzzt. The icon went solid red. Out of power? That¹s impossible. I ducked my head down, pulling my spec¹s off so I could detach the monocle for a closer look. Even squinting the grinding sand immediately whipped into my face, getting in my eyes and making them water. Groping I rammed the spec¹s back on, blinking madly to flush my eyes. At that moment I heard the whistle of approaching rockets. I instinctively hunched in against the bottom of the wall, pulling my legs up and curling my arms over my head. ³Incoming!² Baz¹s warning and the rockets arriving together. WHAM. But they hadn¹t hit the roof. I felt the heat of the exploding VTOL, even though I¹d clamped my eyes shut they still registered the flash of the explosion. I looked up between my arms to see the shrieking AM-9A2 careening off to the left, its tail severed by a Mantis that had become a fireball. The Mantis spun off to the right, bouncing off the far wall, slicing up a sanger and the people in it as it toppled over the side. BOOM. The mushroom cloud of fire and dust rolled back up over the wall and across the roof. Shredded, dagger-edged sections of the Mantis¹ fuselage and engines cartwheeling up and away, or slamming into the roof and embedding themselves in sandbags. One piece came bouncing end-of-end across the roof at me, ricocheting off an old mortar crate about a metre from my legs and deflecting in an arc that took up over me and down into the street below. My heart was pounding. Another explosion off to my left marked the end of the terminally wounded gunship, which had ploughed into an old bottling plant a block down from the compound, hopefully taking dozens of Kra¹Vak fighters with it. Only Pippa¹s Mantis remained on station and from its violent shuddering and rocking that was only down to Pippa¹s amazing skill at the stick. I could see holes in the side of Pippa¹s Mantis and wasn¹t surprised to hear moments later that she was being forced down too. We were on our own. A big push in the southern front of the war meaning all other air support was already soaked up down there, over 600km away. My attention focused on the explosions I started badly when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find Paulie kneeling beside me. ³Here. We need all hands on deck Jock. Hopefully you can fire this thing as well as you can that camera of yours.² Paulie handed me a rifle and a bag of magazines. ³Remember, that way.² He said with a grin, pointing off the roof in the general direction of the Kra¹Vak. Clapping me reassuring on the shoulder he took off zigzagging back across the roof to the sanger on the north-eastern corner. Looking around I figured my current position was as good as any. No point moving over to either of the closest sangers, they were both full. There was only a gapping gash in the sand bags where the northwestern sanger had been; a couple of posts and part of its top-cover hanging loose and precariously over the edge of the compound¹s roof. I settled myself more comfortably into the nook and hefted the rifle in my hands, fitting it against my shoulder and steadying myself against the bags. I wasn¹t new to rifles. I¹d done the basic familiarisation all embeds do - the policy of previous conflicts that the media would not be participating abandoned on the assumption the Kra¹Vak would hold no quarter on neutrality. I had also hunted a little with my grandfather twenty years ago. I¹d never shot a humanoid before though and I was scared to death. Scared of how I¹d react, scared of getting hurt and worst of all scared of cocking the whole thing up. Rising up I started firing at any movement I could see in the tears in the building across the street. BLAT, BLAT, BLAT. Something over there spotted me, as I was suddenly surrounded by bullets snapping into the sandbags on either side of me. Hunching down I held my rifle over the top of the wall, firing blindly. ³Calm down son. Better to look what you¹re doing.² Iron George slid in to my left, immediately popping up and putting a series of short controlled bursts into the building across the way. We were quickly joined by Jeff Hayes and Lt Russ Wilcox, weapons at the ready. I turned back to the fight. * * * It felt like we¹d been exchanging heavy fire four an age. I was eating through my collection of magazines, but we seemed to be pushing them back. We¹d repelled at least four rushes across the street at our gates. The sun was sitting fairly high in the sky now, throwing almost no shadow. Looking through my sights I saw a body threading its way through rubble on the third floor of the building directly across from me. I held my breath watching carefully trying to maximise my chance of a hit as the silhouette flitted in and out behind walls, uprights, doorframes. I was afraid I¹d left it too long when my target emerged from a room and moved down a hall that had been exposed by action earlier in the day. I squeezed the trigger in a short burst and what felt like a heart beat later the body spun, taking the hit in the torso, it stumbled, bounced off a wall and slid out of view. I could only hope it was dead. Filled with an odd mix of relief and satisfaction, I scanned back along the building face looking for another target. I caught the time as I slid out yet another magazine. 11:33. We¹d been at this over four hours. I pulled my final magazine out of my bag, my sweaty fingers fumbling with the magazine. It turned out it wasn¹t a full magazine either, but it didn¹t look that bad. I jacked it in with the heel of my palm, released the bolt and checked I hadn¹t knocked the selector to anything but semi-automatic. As I was finishing my check I felt Hayes rise to fire again. Suddenly his head snapped back and he tumbled backward, splaying turtle-like on his back on the ground. I heard a bullet wing away, ricocheting off across the roof. Shaking himself he rolled back up onto his toes and retook his position by the wall. Looking left and right he asked if we were all ok. I could see where the slug had ripped through the side of his helmet. Blood was running down below the hole, dripping off his ear. ³Jeff, you¹ve been hit.² ³Can¹t be, it doesn¹t even hurt that bad.² He said raising his fingers to his ear. ³Oh I see what you mean.² Sliding down behind the wall until he was almost supine, he slipped his helmet off and started wrapping a bandage turban-like around his crown. His slick fingers struggled to seal the end. ³Let me.² I put my rifle by my knee and bent over to help. Sliding my fingers over the end of the bandage to complete the seal. Picking up his helmet I noted both the jagged entry and exit fissures. How the hell had the slug not killed him? I handed the helmet back to him and he tried pulling it back on. The bandage was too bulky however and he discarded the helmet before picking up his rifle again. Taking my lead from him I too rejoined the fight. Unfortunately it looked like our luck had turned. ³They¹re massing for another surge.² Said the tense voice in my earbud, I¹d stopped trying to pick the voices, I needed to concentrate elsewhere. I put down a few short bursts, dropping at least one body. A grenade bounced in over the top of the wall. Before any of us could react, BOOM. Russ took the worst of it, shrapnel peppering his back. ³Russ?² ³Flesh wounds Jock, the armour took the hit.² Russ hissed, obviously in pain, but continuing to fire. I could see a constellation of bleeding cracks splayed across his back. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another grenade fly overhead and clatter in behind us. Iron George saw it too and was quicker of the mark, rolling over, up on to a knee and lobbying one back over the wall in one smooth motion. His body jerked, and he half fell, half rolled a metre or so back across the rooftop. Hayes and Wilcox kept firing, but I turned my back to the wall and looked to Baxter. ³What¹s wrong!?² I yelled, trying to be heard above the constant crack and pop of the small arms fire all around us. ³I¹m hit. Leg, neck, arm!² he had a hand to his neck, which he pulled away covered with blood. Crawling caterpillar like, his wounded leg under him and his good leg in front he slid back over to our position. ³Let me look.² I said ducking down and pulling his rent trousers back to find jagged edges of protruding bone. ³Christ, your femur¹s snapped!² I said looking up into his face. ³Medic! Medic!² I immediately called over my comms. ³Well first we should get rid of this² Baxter said pushing his fingers into his ragged forearm and pulling out a spent Kra¹Vak slug. ³Here, wrap it up.² He said forthrightly presenting his forearm to me. A little in awe and shock I pulled an absorptive bandage foam spray from the aid pouch on my leg. I reached out and held his hand, rolling his forearm left to right to ensure a good coverage. Then holding his chin I washed out the wound on his neck. It was actually just a small cut and that was easy to patch up. ³Thanks.² Baxter pulled a stimpack from his own aid pouch and jabbed into his leg above the break, sucking his teeth hard as it hit home. He sucked in a few deep breaths and then spun round to face over the wall again and began firing. If he could I could. I peered down my sights to see a small group crouching in the lee of a half torn wall. One was in the process of loading a grenade launcher, its breach a dull black hole. BLAT, BLAT, BLAT. Two fell. BLAT, BLAT, CLICK. How could I be out? The magazine hadn¹t look that empty. I double-checked. Sure enough I had gone ³black². The magazine was empty, as were all my others. I caste about over my shoulder looking see if there was anything I could scavenge. Reg, the senior unit medic was running at full pace, bent double across the roof top, skating the final few metres on his side, legs bent under him. ³Boy you guys know how to make a mess!² He said, surveying the wounded around me. With bullets flicking around us, Reg quickly assessed and dressed Baxter¹s leg wound, stopping the blood flow, for now. ³We should really get you out of here Sir.² ³No. That¹d just expose others to fire getting me off the roof. When there¹s a lull, or its dark.² ³Sir that could be hours yet. The bleedingS² ³It didn¹t hit anything too critical or I¹d be dead already. I¹m staying here, if we don¹t see those Krek¹s off we¹re all dead.² Reg did not look reassured. ³I¹ve got four more stimpacks son. Get out of here.² Iron George growled. Nodding his head off in the direction of the body of the compound where there were undoubtedly other wounded. ³Oh and take Jock with you. He¹s out of ammo here, but he should be able to help you. He¹s a dab hand with a bandage.² I felt like protesting. It felt like leaving would some how let them down, but I realised I wasn¹t being dismissed, but sent into a new role. I closed my mouth and nodded to Reg. ³When you¹re ready.² As I rose to my toes, Baxter reached out and grabbed my elbow. I looked down at his vice like grip and up into his eyes, raising my eyebrows questioningly. ³You did good kid. Now get.² My heart rose about ten notches as I pelted off after Reg. * * * Regrouping down in the hospital, Reg laid out my new role for me. ³What level of training have you had?² ³I did the embed¹s course obviously and I¹m certified St John¹s, but that¹s it.² ³Right. This is a full medkit. Short of surgery you can cover it with this. However, you don¹t touch anything in this red section unless a real medic tells you right? Pain killer meds, prawn jabs, patches, stimpacks, foam, plastifast, tourniquets, BFs (blood factors), telescopic splints, scalpels and tweezers². He said slapping his hand on different bundles in the roll as he went. Next he handed me three tablet sized containers and a small palm scanner. ³Those make a grav-floater. Anyone who won¹t make it up there you stick this under them, preferably shoulders, buttocks and boots, but depending on what they have left its your call. Hit this, this and this to activate it. Make sure your feet are out from under it when you do. Then push them like a cart back here. Don¹t worry about coming down off steep drops, it will let them down ok, just try not to hit walls too often, they get pernickety. And that is a scanner, should pick up their subdermal tags. If it doesn¹t run it over their specs and it should bring up which BF to use and any meds to avoid, it¹ll come up in orange down on the lower left of the right lens. If that fails most of them still have their blood group written on their various limbs. Find one and check it. All straight?² ³Yes.² Nothing in the kit looked too different to what I¹d seen in the first-aid courses I done. ³Right. I¹ve switched your comms unit to also pick up the med chatter. Listen for calls and relays there. If you see anything straight to hand then obviously go do it, but the dispatcher will also be calling locations you¹re needed. Ok?² ³Yep. All good.² Seconds later, ³Jock, casualty north-eastern corner, room 4-57.² A small map appeared in the corner of my vision with a pale orange route marker and a lightly flashing red objective. ³Confirmed.² I answered back, loading my kit into a small backpack. Nodding at Reg, who smiled reassuring, I took off. Moving through the compound the chaos of the morning hadn¹t slackened. There were still bodies and bullets flying in all directions. When I reached 4-57 I found 3 knots of bodies. One spotting for artillery and two spread across firing positions improvised from windows and fresh blown holes in the walls. Quickly scanning the room I found my first patient, Private Louise Plumdale curled in a corner, hissing in pain through clenched teeth. Checking her over I found a bullet had blown through both legs. I jabbed her with a painkiller and then set to wrapping bandages tightly around her wounds. ³Am I gonna be ok?² ³Yep Lou. I think we might need to take you down to the hospital, but you¹ll be fine.² Reaching out she gripped my forearm. ³You sure? Megan turns 6 next week. I need to be around for herS² ³It¹s going to be fine.² I said, gently but firmly moving her hand so I could seal up the last bandage. I started to lay out the stretcher pads. Looking up I realised that one of the soldiers taking a brief rest, leaning against the wall watching me, was Al. ³G¹Day, Al² I offered as I scuttled crab-like across the floor to straighten the middle of the pads. Al nodded wearily, managing a half smile. BOOM. The wall blew in and Al catapulted into me. The room filled with noise and dust and my ears were ringing. Stunned and winded it took me a few seconds to collect myself and push the moaning man off me. Patting myself down I seemed ok. The harsh flood of light form outside was making the haze glow eerily and dust was settling rapidly on everything. Someone was shrieking, Al was moaning, his right leg torn off, his left gone just below the knee, blood spreading rapidly across his groin, his hand mangled and his face a bloody pulp. The dust turning the blood into a lumpy mud and I could smell burnt flesh. As I clamped my hands down hard on Al¹s leg and started pulling out BF¹s, clotting factors and anything else I can think of I called out to see if there were other wounded. Seems everyone had scrapes and cuts and bruises, one had a deep cut along his brow and another was missing half his hand and had burns up his arm. Al is by far the most serious. He would need to move him first. ³Med-C this is Jock. We¹ve taken a direct hit in 4-57. Original objective is secure, but I have a triple with serious head wounds. Bringing him in first. Also have one walker, burns to his arm and missing 3 digits. Over.² ³Acknowledged Jock.² Came back the curt reply. I guessed this was nothing new for today. Sliding the pads under Al¹s shoulders, lower back and remaining leg I activated the stretcher and it gently lifted off the ground. Creating a quiet but steady hum on the very edge of my badly abused hearing. Before pushing off I stepped over to my original patient, checking she was as comfortable as she could be. ³You're gonna be ok Lou. Right? I¹ll make sure someone comes up to get you ok? You¹re gonna be alright.² ³Its alright Jock. Get Al some help, I can wait.² Squeezing her hand. I flashed her a last smile and returned to Al. I slid my hand into the guide and was in the process of entering in the brake release when Al reached out and gripped my arm. ³Am I ok?² he asked. ³You¹re hurt pretty bad Al, but I¹m getting you to help now.² ³No am I OK?² he said through gritted teeth, flicking his eyes down toward his groin. ³Oh.² Leaning over I gingerly pulled back his torn trousers. Of all the things I didn¹t think I¹d be doing today. ³Yeah looks like it¹s all there.² ³Thankss² he slurred, lying his head back down on the stretcher. I flicked off the brake and pushed off, directing the other wounded soldier to go ahead of me out and down to the hospital below. * * * As the day flowed on I was incessantly on the move. Out to injured. Patch them up. Argue with the most heavily wounded to convince them that they needed to at least get some attention from someone more qualified than me. Find them a bed in an ever shrinking amount of space down at the hospital. We¹d run out of floater pads and their power sources hours ago and I¹d joined up with a young mechanic Sandy Morison as a stretcher team. ³Take him into the old staff room.² Dr Marshall directed us as we brought in CSM Pete Lovell. ³We¹ve set up a small command room in there for the Lt Col, they can keep each other occupied.² As we shuffled through the door we saw Iron George lying on a coffee table giving orders to someone on the other end of a vid-link. His leg was in a splint, portable command pad propped on his chest. I¹d heard he¹d finally run out of stimpacks and succumbed to the realities of his wounds about 45 minutes ago, I¹d expected to find him in poorer shape. Pete Lovell was a lot less healthy. He¹d taken heavy machine gun fire up his left side, maiming his leg and puncturing a lung so that he whistled every time he breathed. It was a sad indication of our situation that he was not a top priority concern. Sandy led us over to a bench diagonally across the room from where Iron George lay, where we set Pete down. As we gently set the stretcher down there was a deep throated chuckle from the Lt Col. ³That is good news, I¹ll let the troops know, it should raise their spirits.² I caste a glance at Sandy, who just waggled his eyebrows and pulled a ³yeah wish I knew too² face before turning back to Pete to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. I wove my way round the stacked furniture over to Baxter. ³All ok Sir? Pain ok?² ³Doin¹ fine Jock. You look beat though, here take this, keep your energy up.² He said slapping a nuti-bar down in my hand. ³You sure?² I asked offering the bar back. I was ravenous, but he was hurt and heaven only knew when we¹d get a break for a decent feed. ³I¹m sure. I¹ve got a scoop for you media hound. The cavalry is on its way. Mixed NAC-NSL relief force is coming in by GEV across from Istia. They¹ve past San Juan already.² He said with a grin. I knew we weren¹t in the clear yet, but I felt lighter, springier. My relief must have shown on my face as he said ³I thought you¹d like that. Now get goin¹, I¹m sure you¹ve got plenty to be doin¹ ². I split the bar with Sandy as we moved back down the corridor. The news about the relief came over the earbuds just as I was about to explain to Sandy. Some scoop, but I didn¹t care. There was cheering and whooping and everyone seemed to stand a little straighter. Time for celebration was short lived though as we were rapidly directed to ³Just have a look about². Sandy and I knew no one had checked the mortar group of late so agreed to check in on the FST. Coming out of the hospital we paused to let a fire team pelt past, off to reinforce the latest hole. We turned left and trotted down the alley between the two main central buildings in the block. Coming out the other end we crossed the vehicle lot, a unit of wombats sat there idle and the lone Mantis off in the corner. Sandy looked at it forlornly as we jogged past. ³We tried, but we just don¹t have the kit here to fix her. She¹s too badly cut up. So many holes it¹s a wonder she didn¹t blow too.² He said, his brow crinkled. ³And Pippa?² ³Oh she¹s fine. Mad as a cut snake, but physically ok. I think she¹s off with the heavy gun group in the southeast corner dealing out some serious revenge.² That I could imagine. As we rounded a scout sled we found three soldiers - Bruce Randall, Corporal Gary Lewis and Sergeant Simon Marsh - from fire support trying to manhandle boxes of mortar shells up to their firing position. ³Can we lend a hand?² ³Yep. We¹ll send these five up first. They¹re gliders are ok, so one each. Then we can come back for that one, it¹s going to need people power.² Simon indicated a dented crate off to the side, sitting in the dust. Its glider pad was dark. We each grabbed the handle of one of the active crates and guided them up the gantry. Reaching an arch Simon directed us into a small storeroom, where they were lodging the crates until needed. We then trudged back down to the broken crate. ³All right. Everyone got a grip?² Simon asked. As we each nodded he said ³Up.² Grunting with effort, jarring ourselves on corners and railings we wrestled the crate to the roof and into the temporary store. Breathing hard I felt flushed and could feel sweat trickling down my back. I followed the group out onto their platform and went from hot to clammy to chilly in seconds. I¹d never been so cold as on Mars. As the FST got back to work I wandered amongst them handing out nutri-bars and water bottles from my backpack. Jess McDougall was sitting cross-legged with binoculars up to her eyes looking out from a covered position built into a tall wall of sandbags. She was reading off coordinates of potential fire positions to Mel Brown who was sitting beside her marking them with a touch of her finger on a 3d projection of the surrounding area. One at a time the symbols would expand and brighten as Gary and Bruce brought a fire mission down on that position. The whoosh of the mortars and the clatter of their preparation setting up a steady staccato beat. As I got to the two girls Mel looked up briefly, accepting the food and water for both her and Jess. She quickly stowed it in beside the wall. Jess didn¹t break concentration for a second. Looking at the image dancing before Mel. I realised that the thick scatter of purple markers were all OEdanger close¹ to us. I knew we¹d been in trouble today, but this brought it home; particularly to the accompaniment of the whoosh and roar of another mortar launch. They had been at this for hours and while I could see they were wearing red noise-cancelling air-plugs I knew from bitter experience that the little plugs weren¹t all they were cracked up to be. ³While we don¹t mind the help Jock, to what do we owe the pleasure?² asked Simon loudly, trying to be heard over the mortar and his own hearing protection. ³Just checking you¹re all in one piece. A few people have been a little hesitant to call in today.² ³I could murder a steak, but we¹re all ok.² Simon replied. Looking around I could see a few cuts and some grazes, but nothing too serious. ³Ok then, we¹ll be going.² I gave him a thumbs up, to help get my message across the noise. Moving back toward Sandy and the way down. ³INCOMING!² Jess screamed, diving to the ground just as the sand bags in front of her exploded back across their position. Bodies were blown or dived in every direction. As they began to stir, pushing debris away it looked miraculously as if no one had been hit too bad. All except for Gary, who had been walking directly behind Jess when she¹d called out and hadn¹t had time to dodge. He had fist-sized wounds to his arms, chest, legs and buttocks where shrapnel had sliced through him. I raced to his side and dragged him out of view of the gapping hole in the wall. Pulling open my medpack I pushed home a vial of painkillers and started trying to stem the bleeding. Putting tourniquet¹s around his limbs and stuffing bandages into his chest. ³Man down.² I called into my comms. ³Multiple shrapnel injuries. He¹s bad.² ³Acknowled---. We¹re shor- o- space, but bri-g him -n.² The voice flicked in and out and my ear bud crackled. It must have been nicked in the last exchange. Another piece of equipment to replace at the end of all this. Off to my side Sandy had grabbed a grenade launcher and was firing rounds down on any Kra¹Vak he could see through the new hole. I could hear the explosions as he peppered them. The Kra¹vak weren¹t slow to return fire though and small arms was now ripping up the position, coming in through the gap in our defences. Mel and Bruce stayed with the tubes and started dropping shots madly on the closest known Kra¹Vak positions, even as bullets danced about their feet and flicked off struts and the boxes around them. Simon had grabbed a rifle and with Sandy was trying to cover the platform. I¹d stabilised Gary as best I could, but there was no easy way of getting him out of there and every time I tried to move him across to the gantry, lines of Kra¹Vak slugs would rip up a line of plaster, sending me skittering back behind cover. Dragging the stretcher wasn¹t going to work so I hefted Gary up across my soldiers. Turning I lined myself up with the arch across the other side of the platform. Big breath and go. I sprinted across the opening, feeling slugs flick plaster into my legs as I went. Adrenaline kicking in I kept on going straight down the gantry and across the vehicle lot. ³Woo there Jock.² Reg said as he met me coming the other way. He helped me get Gary to the ground. We could hear the intense fight above us and I wanted to get back. ³Go. I can take it from here.² Reg said, waving me off. I dashed back up the stairs. Diverting into the store I picked up a machine gun I¹d seen there earlier, curling one arm around it, draping a belt of ammunition for it over my shoulder, I grabbed a rifle with the other and went back out on to the platform. Dashing back along my path, slugs again ripped by my feet, showering me with plaster and masonry chips. Through all this Mel and Gary kept firing the mortar. THWOMP. THWOMP. The Kra¹Vak were firing heavy slugs and RPGs at us. The floor and walls rocked with explosions, but none proved as deadly as that first one that had caught Gary. For the second time that day I knelt in behind sand bags and started firing on the enemy. The Kra¹Vak moved around, probing form an angle to take us out, but Simon was faster, moving us to counter them every time. Simon had called in our predicament. We needed help badly, but there would be no relief as it was obvious to us all that this latest surge was coming from all directions. That relief force better get here soon. * * * An hour crawled past, then two and then three. We were losing the light fast and our ammunition stores were heavily depleted. Mel and Gary had long since emptied the last of the crates. They¹d fired grenades until we ran out of those too and both now had rifles. Gary was firing an illume round every 15th shot, to try and help us and blind the Kra¹Vak, who seemed to welcome the dark. Simon was firing the machine gun in a constant BRRT, BRRRRT. ³Stoppage." he called, handing down the weapon for me to clear. Turns out I¹m amazingly good at fixing jams. I passed up a second gun I¹d found in the stores. We¹d been playing pass the parcel with the two guns for the last 45 minutes. They were getting through about 180 rounds before they¹d stop and we¹d have to swap again. The guns were jamming as they¹d burnt off all their lubricant. Any that was left was clogged with the fine Martian grit that filled the air. Sandy had been the one to come up with the idea of using cooking oil to grease them up and I¹d liberated a half empty drum from the mess hall. My rifle had been blown apart during the first hour, the slug and part of the firing mechanism going straight through my hand. I¹d wrapped it up as tightly as I could. Everyone had some wound or other now, nothing to do but hold on. The relief force was within 2 clicks now, but under heavy fire. We could actually hear them crawling toward us. It could be a long night. ³We running low again Jock.² Simon called. I got to my feet, crouching, rocking on the balls like a sprinter. Mentally counting 1-2-3-go. I raced across the opening, arms waving wildly as Kra¹Vak tracers followed me across. Into the store. Last crate of belts. Three belts over each shoulder and four in my arms. Back to the arch. 1-2-3-go. Half way back and it felt like my head had been hit by a wall, or at the very least a Clydesdale. It whipped around and my feet went out from under me. My mouth was full of blood and teeth. Gathering myself and as many of the belts as possible I pushed up, bent over, I half stumbled, half slid, back to Simon. Arms out ahead of me. I collapsed down beside him and put my hands to my face. The filter was shattered and there was blood everywhere. Sandy was immediately beside me. I tried to ask him what it looked like, but I couldn¹t get any sound out. The piezo generator in my mask was destroyed and I could tell from the laboured action of what was left of my mask that the battery was depleting fast. My specs were cracked and sparking too, but through one sliver I could just make out Sandy pulling out his trauma kit. I went from scared to terrified (he told me later he could see my jugular pulsing through the gash in my neck, if I¹d known that at the time I think I would¹ve passed out). Sandy eased my mask off my face. I needed to stay calm. It felt like I was drowning, but he couldn¹t treat me with the shattered mask on. He poured saline through my cheek and then sprayed a foam bandage up my neck and across the side of my face. Then he gently eased a new mask over it and activated the seal. The adrenaline was wearing off now and I was starting to shake. We both flinched as a string of giant explosions roared through the air, lighting up the sky to the north and making the building quake. Something major was to hand. Straining we tried to see what was going on when a flight of Valderik SA-36 fighters roared overhead. The cavalry had finally arrived. * * * The battle had lasted for fourteen and a half hours. By the end of the battle we were a hair away from being taken by the circling vulture-like demons of exhausted logistics. Over 80000 rounds had been fired and 80 crates of mortars had been emptied. Nine out of ten of the occupants of the base in Marin had been wounded, three in ten seriously. This had been the stiffest fighting the OU had experienced in their three years on Mars. They had held though and had apparently seriously weakened the enemy forces in the process. In the week following the attack the NAC-NSL relief force had managed to push the Kra¹Vak out of Marin altogether. Except for a few small pockets, the human forces now held the majority of the ground on the eastern half of the peninsular north of Severns. The Seige of Sol was still on going and the Kra¹Vak still held their main Martian production centres, but more of the outer system skirmishes were going our way and the Kra¹Vak had lost the marginal grounds in the north and south of the Martian warzones. It really did look if things were turning around. News was patchier from the Outworlds and not always positive, little has been heard from some of the captured worlds in more than five years. Nevertheless hopes were rising with each new Kra¹Vak defeat.