o’clock!” Deckard shouted over the assault
net as he ran, but it was already too late.
Five treaded vehicles burst from behind the slope and rolled onto
the airfield, their turrets scanning in all directions for targets.
Then the slaughter began.Machine guns mounted on the tanks
opened fire, yellow flashes bursting from the muzzles as
anti-aircraft rounds began tearing into Fedorchenko's platoon.
Deckard hit the ground, hoping to avoid being detected by
the tanks. He was out in the open in the middle of the airfield, just
like Fedorchenko’s men. He watched helplessly as a half dozen of
his men burst into pieces as they tried to run, turning the snow red.
The gray-colored tanks rolled across the airfield.The
rotating turrets on top had 12.7mm DShK machine guns loaded into
their cradles. Deckard noted two rectangular radar dishes sticking
from the sides of the turrets like ears. There was also a sensor
suite on each gun platform for thermals. Two of the tanks locked on
to Samruk's second platoon over at the barracks and took off on a new
trajectory.
Fedorchenko’s men had beaten an embarrassing and chaotic
retreat, desperate to find some low ground to take cover in. Their
numbers had been thinned out as they crossed the airfield. They were
still in danger of being overrun by the armored vehicles, as the
tanks were not about to be slowed down by Kalashnikov fire.
Deckard panted, his body already covered in sweat from the
brief run. The great irony of the Arctic was overheating inside all
of your cold-weather gear. Fedorchenko’s men were staring down
three tanks, and no matter how badass an infantryman you were, enemy
armor could steamroll right over you in the blink of an eye, reducing
you to a pink, gooey paste.
That was when Deckard had a dumb idea.
He might be able to peel one of the tanks away from Fedorchenko’s
platoon so they would face two instead of three, maybe even giving
them a fighting chance. Getting to his feet, Deckard unloaded on the
closest tank, about a hundred meters away, with his AK-103. His
rounds sparked off the side of the tank, drawing its attention. The
treads on one side of the tank reversed while the other continued
forward, making a sharp right turn toward Deckard as the gun turret
sought him out.
As the tank swerved toward him, Deckard sprinted, but not in the
opposite direction. He ran straight toward it.
Crazy as it sounded, Deckard knew that trying to outrun the tank
was pure suicide across open terrain. His only chance was to charge
it, knowing that the machine gun had limits to its elevation angle.
His hood flew off his head as he ran directly at the tank, sweat
running down his neck. Thick gray smoke suddenly burst all around
Fedorchenko’s positionas his men deployed thermal smoke
grenades. The tank was now facing Deckard, and he was staring right
down the barrel of the Russian anti-aircraft gun.
Deckard dived forward as the DShK opened fire.
* * *
The Russian robotic tank swung toward the two new Samruk
International recruits. It was only their second mission with the
company and they were already being run to ground by robots with
machine guns.
Maurizio and Jacob were quickly separated from the rest of their
platoon as twin tanks suddenly assaulted the barracks and opened fire
on the Samruk International mercenaries. So much for following the
clues and unraveling the mystery of what happened to the base on
Kotelny Island. The answer had became immediately clear to them.
The Italian and Danish mercs did what all the others had
done, the only thing they could do: run and try to find cover. One of
the tanks homed in on them, firing bursts that chewed through the
snow next to them. By zigzagging a few times they had managed to
avoid being cut down in the open snow drifts. The computer targeting
programming the tank used clearly had a hard time leading targets,
but they both knew they only had seconds before the machine gun fire
walked into them.
“This way,” Jacob
net as he ran, but it was already too late.
Five treaded vehicles burst from behind the slope and rolled onto
the airfield, their turrets scanning in all directions for targets.
Then the slaughter began.Machine guns mounted on the tanks
opened fire, yellow flashes bursting from the muzzles as
anti-aircraft rounds began tearing into Fedorchenko's platoon.
Deckard hit the ground, hoping to avoid being detected by
the tanks. He was out in the open in the middle of the airfield, just
like Fedorchenko’s men. He watched helplessly as a half dozen of
his men burst into pieces as they tried to run, turning the snow red.
The gray-colored tanks rolled across the airfield.The
rotating turrets on top had 12.7mm DShK machine guns loaded into
their cradles. Deckard noted two rectangular radar dishes sticking
from the sides of the turrets like ears. There was also a sensor
suite on each gun platform for thermals. Two of the tanks locked on
to Samruk's second platoon over at the barracks and took off on a new
trajectory.
Fedorchenko’s men had beaten an embarrassing and chaotic
retreat, desperate to find some low ground to take cover in. Their
numbers had been thinned out as they crossed the airfield. They were
still in danger of being overrun by the armored vehicles, as the
tanks were not about to be slowed down by Kalashnikov fire.
Deckard panted, his body already covered in sweat from the
brief run. The great irony of the Arctic was overheating inside all
of your cold-weather gear. Fedorchenko’s men were staring down
three tanks, and no matter how badass an infantryman you were, enemy
armor could steamroll right over you in the blink of an eye, reducing
you to a pink, gooey paste.
That was when Deckard had a dumb idea.
He might be able to peel one of the tanks away from Fedorchenko’s
platoon so they would face two instead of three, maybe even giving
them a fighting chance. Getting to his feet, Deckard unloaded on the
closest tank, about a hundred meters away, with his AK-103. His
rounds sparked off the side of the tank, drawing its attention. The
treads on one side of the tank reversed while the other continued
forward, making a sharp right turn toward Deckard as the gun turret
sought him out.
As the tank swerved toward him, Deckard sprinted, but not in the
opposite direction. He ran straight toward it.
Crazy as it sounded, Deckard knew that trying to outrun the tank
was pure suicide across open terrain. His only chance was to charge
it, knowing that the machine gun had limits to its elevation angle.
His hood flew off his head as he ran directly at the tank, sweat
running down his neck. Thick gray smoke suddenly burst all around
Fedorchenko’s positionas his men deployed thermal smoke
grenades. The tank was now facing Deckard, and he was staring right
down the barrel of the Russian anti-aircraft gun.
Deckard dived forward as the DShK opened fire.
* * *
The Russian robotic tank swung toward the two new Samruk
International recruits. It was only their second mission with the
company and they were already being run to ground by robots with
machine guns.
Maurizio and Jacob were quickly separated from the rest of their
platoon as twin tanks suddenly assaulted the barracks and opened fire
on the Samruk International mercenaries. So much for following the
clues and unraveling the mystery of what happened to the base on
Kotelny Island. The answer had became immediately clear to them.
The Italian and Danish mercs did what all the others had
done, the only thing they could do: run and try to find cover. One of
the tanks homed in on them, firing bursts that chewed through the
snow next to them. By zigzagging a few times they had managed to
avoid being cut down in the open snow drifts. The computer targeting
programming the tank used clearly had a hard time leading targets,
but they both knew they only had seconds before the machine gun fire
walked into them.
“This way,” Jacob
Similar Books
