When the Devil Dances

“So is a gunner for a SheVa,” the major said, walking to the front of the gun. “On the other hand, so is the chassis for an Abrams and I’m about to use six of them like so many wood-chips. Keep that firmly in mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So how’s it going, Major?” Mitchell asked.

“Great,” Ryan said, climbing out through the treads of the SheVa. “This might actually work. And if it doesn’t, we can always blow it out.”

“So I understand,” Mitchell said sourly. “Okay, is everyone clear?”

“My team is up the hill,” Ryan said, pointing to where the engineers were clustered.

“My guys are breaking out the champagne,” Chan said, pointing to her formation.

“Okay,” Mitchell said. “Let’s get out of the way and see how it goes.”

They walked up the slope until they were at the level of the upper deck of the SheVa and Mitchell stopped to catch his breath. “Christ, did we actually drive over these slopes?”

“Yep,” Chan said. “I sort of figured that the only thing keeping you going was it was dark and it was hard to realize how stupid we were being, even with third generation night vision systems.”

“Well, think of it this way,” Ryan said, gesturing at the torn slope to the west. “You made some dandy ski slopes!”

Mitchell let out a belly laugh and keyed his throat mike. “Okay, Schmoo, try it nice and slow.”

* * *

Reeves carefully ran the motors up to ten percent and then engaged the transmission. The SheVa had originally been designed without the latter system, but it was added late in the game in recognition that sometimes “throwing it into gear” was the best way to handle a situation.

* * *

In this case the SheVa rocked up on its ersatz traction enhancers then rolled backwards. There was a massive metallic sound from the six Abrams chassis and the loud, sharp sprong of a fracturing torsion bar.

Captain Chan gave out a whimper and grabbed her helmet with both hands. “I just started thinking about what this loss report is going to look like.” Behind them the officers could hear the crews of the MetalStorm guns cheering. “My career is toast.”

Mitchell tried not to laugh as he turned to the side and keyed his mike. “Okay, Schmoo…” He paused for a moment and snorted before keying the mike again. “Gun it!”

* * *

“Are you sure, sir?” the driver asked.

“Oh, yeah,” the major replied. Behind him the driver could faintly hear cheering. “The nature of the mission dictates that whatever means necessary are used to get the SheVa out; that looks like it means gunning it. Whatever the cost in materials.”

“Yes, sir!” Reeves answered, turning the power to thirty percent. “Here we go!”

* * *

The treads of the SheVa began thrashing against the rear decks of the Abrams chassis, tossing them up and down to the screams of torn and abused metal. The gun rocked forward, partially up on the smaller tanks, then back down as treads and road-wheels began to spring off of the smaller vehicles.

“It looks like your tanks’ treads are humping mine,” Chan said unhappily. “I wish the crews would stop cheering; that’s not a very good testimony to my leadership.”

“I think it’s a great testimony,” Mitchell said as the SheVa rolled back down then acclerated forward and up. “They kept getting in them.”

With a final surge the SheVa pulled up out of its entrapment and, to the sound of tortured and stressed metal from the abused tanks, it pulled out of the gully and up onto reasonably solid ground.

“Now as long as we don’t have to dig ourselves out again,” Mitchell said grumpily, “or run into any more of those flying tanks, everything should be fine.”

“Well, I don’t think I have to worry about getting back in that tank again,” Chan said; the rear deck had crumpled on hers and the power pack was in pieces on the ground. “I guess we’re walking from here on out.”

“Only if you want to,” Mitchell said. “Your turrets are on our top deck; you can ride in those.”

“That’s an… interesting idea,” Chang said.

“You might have a little vertigo and motion sickness problem,” he admitted. “It’s high. And you can tag along as well, Major,” Mitchell continued, turning to Ryan. “Although I guarantee I can take a bridge down faster than you.”

“Sure,” Ryan said. “But can you do it from out of sight of the Posleen?”

CHAPTER 36 Dillsboro, NC, United States, Sol III 1514 EDT Sunday September 27, 2009 ad

Major Ryan stepped off the SheVa as it began the complicated process of crossing the Tuckasegee River without killing anyone.

They had run into the rear ranks of stragglers near Dills Gap and many of them had latched on to the SheVa. The gun had four “loading points” and each of them was now covered with soldiers.