From: Mike Wikan <mww@n...>
Date: Mon, 28 Jul 1997 10:11:15 -0400
Subject: The Kinetics of Discipline (Part 1) Fiction
Alright. I have received quite a bit of mail egging me on, so I can't resist just one more story. Here goes nothing! The Kinetics of Discipline by Michael Wikan Lt. Van Dorn eased his eyes a few centimeters out of his foxhole. Dug into a dip between hillocks, his company blocked the advance of the Jhi'Dki Alliance infantry into the Khmer Valley. The heaven overhead was painted with the contrails of missiles and superiority aircraft that stood out starkly against the red-violet sky. Easing his binocs to his eyes, he rapidly located the enemy forces closing on his position. Centered in his field of view, some 5 kilometers away, were the Alien enemy. Three Razorwing Grav tanks floated on repulsor fields surrounded by several platoons of Jhi Soldat infantry in Power Armor. Normally, the thought of them being 5 klicks away would have afforded him some comfort as the enemy would be crossing relatively open ground. Today it was no help. the Jhi Soldats, Gene engineered for violence and the battlefield, were bounding forward at an incredible 45 kph and even as he watched they were unlimbering their heavy weapons. "Prepare fire order Charlie-Tango-Niner" Van Dorn spoke into his helmet mike. "AUTHENTICATE" chirped the central battlecom over the net. "Tango, Alpha, Tango, Mike, Execute." He spoke with clipped precision (Battlecom had the oddest tendency to misinterperate spoken words so he took care) "AUTHENTICATION CONFIRMED"came the reply "SHOT IN THE PIPE." Relocating the enemy quickly, the Lt. saw they were now in a headlong rush towards his position- at an astounding 60kph...Even as he ordered his men to engage the enemy, the sky screamed overhead as the rocket propelled submunition rounds came in on the enemy advance. darting at seeming random, the dark forms of the enemy Soldats dispersed as the rounds came in. the Razorwings simply deactivated their Repulsor fields and slammed into the earth, kicking up plumes of gray dust. In the air, some 500 meters overhead, several hundred miniature explosions rolled in the air as bomblets sprayed out in a pattern designed for maximum coverage. The ground rippled and heaved as the 1 kilo explosive penetrators accelerated straight down and detonated. Dirt fountained skyward in huge gouts and through the smoke and dust, secondary explosions fireballed to the sky. Van Dorn finished his order to his men and the two tribarrels in the firepits to his east and west screamed as if in rage, kicking out thousands of flechettes per minute downrange toward the artillery's beaten zone. His helmet AI painted the streams of rounds onto the inside of his now lowered visor. Even now, out of the dust cloud, something moved. To his adrenaline heightened senses, it seemed as if they moved with infinite slowness as 20 Jhi Soldats surged out of the cloud toward his line. He didn't need to order the rest of his men to open fire as the Jhi arrowed in on their position. Van Dorn raised his rifle and began firing at the onrushing enemy even as they passed the brush marking the 800 meter distance mark. 16 left. 600 Meters and the western Tribarrel exploded from a precise hit from a Jhi Plasma rifle. 15 left. 400 Meters and three privates from third platoon vanished a haze of blood as a Soldat quad Railgun ripped through their firing position. 13 left. 200 Meters and the world shrieked as a Jhi Fusion Torch whipped by, narrowly missing him as it bathed the defensive line to his east with seven thousand degree fire. Second platoon gone... And then they were into his line. Like blackened and bloody djinn, the Soldats descended on the embattled human defenders......