Rogue Forces

“I got it,” Wayne Macomber responded. He had had his electromagnetic rail gun out and ready ever since the first mortar shell had been fired toward them about an hour or so ago. Charlie Turlock’s millimeter wave radar system built into her CID robot scanned the skies around them for miles, allowing her to detect the projectiles and instantaneously transmit tracking and targeting information to Wayne’s targeting computers.

Charlie Turlock also carried her electromagnetic rail gun, but all of her projectiles had already been expended shooting down mortars and her reloads had been blown up when the Sagger destroyed the first Humvee. The forty-millimeter rockets in her backpack might not be fast enough to intercept the mortar shells, but Macomber’s rail gun was more than capable. He simply raised his rifle, using his suit’s powered exoskeleton like a precision aiming platform, and followed the tracking information relayed from the CID unit. He didn’t have to lead the mortar round very much—the electromagnetic rail gun projectiles flew a dozen times faster than a sniper rifle bullet and destroyed the round easily.

“Salvo!” Charlie shouted. “Four more inbound!”

“Bastards,” Whack muttered. That was the first time they’d fired more than one at a time. He hit all four easily, but now problems were developing. “I’m getting low on ammo—I’m on the last magazine, six more left,” he said. “I’m also going to need fresh batteries for the rifle and for me.”

One of the technicians ran over to the remaining Humvee, searched for a few moments, then ran over to Macomber. “No more fresh batteries left,” he said. “We’ll have to plug you in.”

“Swell,” Whack said. The tech unreeled a power cord from a storage hatch on the back of Macomber’s suit, ran it back to the Humvee, and plugged it into a power receptacle. “Charlie, you’re going to have to try intercepting any more rounds. I’m going to boost my power levels before we have to start moving out. I’ve got just enough juice in the gun to fire the last remaining projectiles.”

“Roger,” Charlie responded. “I haven’t seen any of those rounds explode, and the projected track shows them missing us. Maybe they’re not live rounds. They’re lobbing them in just to see what we’d do.”

“Glad we’re providing them with some entertainment,” Whack said. “Can you compute the firing location?”

“Already have. They haven’t moved it. I can take it out if you want, or drop a gas rocket on them.”

“I don’t want those guys riled up just yet, and we have to save ammo,” Whack said.

“Another helicopter inbound, guys,” Patrick McLanahan radioed. “Coming from Turkey this time, higher speed. Might be a gunship. About ten minutes out.”

“Copy,” Wayne Macomber replied. “Okay, Doc, time to pack it up.”

“Patrick said ten minutes? I’ll take that.”

“No, because in ten minutes we’ll be in range of whatever missiles or rockets that chopper might be carrying, and then it’ll be too late,” Whack said.

“All right,” Jon said dejectedly. “We got the laser radar and satellite comm boxes. I guess that’ll have to do. Too much stuff for one Humvee; we’ll have to put it all on the trailer.”

It didn’t take long for the group to pack up their equipment. Whack led the way, carrying his rail gun high so the Turkish soldiers could all see it. Charlie carried her spare backpack in her left armored hand and her empty electromagnetic rail gun in her right, hoping just the sight of it might scare some of the Turks. All the engineers squashed together in the surviving Humvee, and all their tools, equipment, and retrieved boxes were in the trailer.

“How long until our help arrives, General?” Whack asked on his secure command channel.

“They look like they’re changing formations, Whack,” Patrick asked. “Try to stall as long as you can.”

“What about that chopper?”

“Couple minutes more.”

“Those numbers aren’t matching, General,” Whack said grimly. On the Turkish command channel he had detected, he said, “Listen up, Captain Evren. We’re coming out. We don’t want a fight with you guys. We’re going to bring our stuff back into the base. Make way.”

“No, Americans,” Evren responded a moment later, the surprise that his radio channel was being used by the robots obvious in his voice. “You will be detained and that equipment confiscated. You assaulted members of my unit and myself. For this you must be punished.”

Whack stopped the convoy. “Captain, listen to me very carefully,” he said. “You know what we can do. What you might not know is that we have an unmanned aircraft circling overhead. If you don’t believe me, look up.” At that instant Patrick shut down and restarted the engine on the AGM-177 Wolverine he had orbiting over the area, which caused a streak of brown smoke to become visible for a few seconds. “That is an attack drone, and it can take out all of your armor and your men with guided bomblets. I’ll order it flown over your positions before we move in, and when it’s done we’ll take care of anyone that’s still standing. Now move aside.”