Chapter 5.

"Badger" Jackson". Terminator transport.

15.aug.2119. Afternoon.

Central African Front, no details. Shovinistic soubriquet is replaced by abstract "@enemy"

 It was getting on for the evening. The vehicles were parked at a distance from each other opposite the three-story shield headquarters building, dotted with all sorts of communication gadgets - masts, plates and white boxes.

 For half an hour, the soldiers in full gear had been sitting in silent vehicles and waiting. "Badger" once again glanced at the interlink screen - the tablet was attached to the left, deep under the back of the driver's seat. The ill-fated height and the adjacent sector were now being intensively processed by artillery "run from everywhere" - this is how the remnants of the previously entrenched "@enemy" units were being destroyed.

 There was no doubt that in the near future the enemy would take action to return the height under their control. More precisely, in the very near future - perhaps their columns were already on the march. The work had to be done in this very interval of only a couple of hours.

At some point, the lieutenant, sitting in the front seat of the neighboring car, came to life and began to look around. At the same time, Harrison also came to his senses, and a few seconds later he turned on the power to the engines.

 The command to take off was finally given. Again the buildings began to go down, but now the cars were moving smoothly and without any music. The target of the sortie, that very height, was forty-five miles to the south.

 Time to arrival, ETA was forty minutes. Now there were three people in the car - Harrison, "Badger" and Carter. The machine gun was removed and a launch canister with six multi-purpose missiles was installed in its place. These could hit both a ground target, for example a light vehicle, a car, and an air target like a drone. And for a helicopter, such a missile could well, if not interrupt the further flight, then seriously complicate it.

 The aircars were racing over the plain. Here and there old explosion craters were visible, covered with greenery. Jackson had once heard that a static front with comparable intensity, if this were one of the classic wars of the past, would have left no stone unturned here - so much metal was then forced to be thrown at each other indiscriminately by both sides.

 This was also surprising in the wars of the past - what was taking place now and, it seemed, testified to the high intensity of fire, could not be compared with the destruction of those wars.

 However, when something flies at you and hits you, you no longer particularly care whether tons of steel are falling from the sky nearby, or everything else on the battlefield is intact, and, unlike in the old days, in the present, in this war, everything that flew in tried to aim and not go to waste. So think about when it was easier. Never...

 A column of two dozen heavy tanks appeared ahead, or rather, it could be called a column rather conditionally - the vehicles were moving in a dispersed formation and, of course, not one after another. Fortunately, these wheeled M5A2s moved without difficulty off-road.

 Ahead of the group, drones were circling - these were usually busy scanning the ground for mines. Such drones searched for plastic mines using ultrasound, every now and then descending and landing on an extended probe - in this way they resembled giant insects, either laying eggs or stinging the ground.

 The column was not displayed on the interlink - the tablet, or rather the account installed on it, accepted only what was needed for a specific task.

 If such a tablet fell into the hands of the enemy, it should have been as useless as possible for the one who captured it, during the period of time until the account was blocked.

 A layer was superimposed on the usual topographic map accessible to anyone, where the area adjacent to the height was highlighted with a green spot, as if it were a weather map. A distant headquarters computer summarized all incoming data on what was happening in the sector and it summarized it, among other things, into an abstract quantitative indicator, just like a health rating in a simplified game. Here, instead of health, the indicator characterized safety.

This two-digit figure, in addition to the map, was, of course, not the only thing that reflected the tactical situation - marks of distant enemy fortifications were also available.

 It must be said that, despite its outward primitiveness, the sector security rating, or rather its changes in one direction or another, gave a completely relevant idea of ​​the threat level. In addition, the outlines of the green area were changing - now it was spreading to the south - an artillery attack was pushing the enemy back.

 There were also marks of active firing positions of "@enemy" - now they were disappearing one after another.

 Suddenly, a series of supersonic booms were heard - several attack aircraft passed nearby, less than a mile away.

 Judging by the ornate silhouettes with gracefully curved noses, these were Russian fighter-flankers, obviously staying below the enemy radar level. As a rule, they were hunting for radars - they launched their missiles, which then independently fought - provoked enemy air defense, exchanged data, transmitted data to the interlink. Not finding a radar, such missiles could hit a pre-designated secondary target. Everything as usual.

 If you were especially lucky, such a missile could knock out an AWACS, which would not hurt now - despite the fact that the onboard RWR, a radar receiver mounted on a trough, did not record any radiation, it reliably followed from the interlink that a couple of bastards were hanging around in the enemy's close rear. More and more often, the remains of broken equipment began to appear. Both our own and the enemy's. For the most part, these were thoroughly destroyed machines that there was no point in evacuating. We came across the remains of some large aircraft, either a transport or a bomber.

 Finally, the terrain began to noticeably rise. In the distance, the ill-fated hill appeared, where the last volleys of the artillery brigade were still pounding - by the time the three flat-bottomed boats were in the immediate vicinity of their destination, the gunners should have finished firing - everything was synchronized by the unified combat environment, UCE.

 Checkpoint "delta", twenty seconds, - Harrison announced.

 Meanwhile, "Badger" and Carter were already bending over the cargo, which they had been transporting since Fort Savage. When they took off from the forward operating base, they had removed the lower part of the case, leaving only the upper cylindrical cover a couple of feet long. Now they were carefully sliding it off. The lower part was now packed in an internal fabric cover, which did not need to be fiddled with, but unceremoniously cut a few cords and thrown away. As well as the cover, under which the bizarrely folded copter was hidden. In a couple of dozen seconds, both were already holding a pole sticking vertically above the car, on top of which a drone was buzzing louder and louder. Then the pole slipped out of their hands and rushed upward. The cover remained on the floor of the car.

 What the drone had dragged to the target was the flag of the United States. Now it was folded like an accordion and wrapped in its own additional cover, which, with an electrical impulse, was supposed to fly apart to the sides and release the flag.

 The frontline craftsmen adapted a cartridge for remote installation of equipment in the ground and a standard copter for this not quite standard action, designed, among other things, to raise the morale of the guys currently riding in the M5A2 column, and many other fighters.

 To put it in a very high-flown way, it was necessary to inspire ordinary people in the rear around the world. Well, those who were following the events.

 The flag was now busily moving to its destination. However, it was not the only one. The other two transports were already slowing down, approaching the Echo checkpoint. Harrison headed there too. The artillery explosions had already died down by that time.

 Ten seconds later, the Lieutenant, holding the pole of the second flag in his hands, was already jumping off his vehicle. Another flat-bottomed boat, in which, like the Lieutenant's, there were only two people, was passing by and providing cover. Harrison energetically approached the position and braked just above the surface. The Badger and Carter rushed towards the Lieutenant.

 Meanwhile, the vehicles began to circle the position, like sharks taking their prey. In this case, everything was the other way around - carrying a whole arsenal of defense and ECM systems on board, the flat-bottomed boats covered the landing party. The Lieutenant was hoisting the flag.

The pole was retractable, telescopic. In addition to the US flag, there was also the flag of the United Bloc Forces. The cameras were filming continuously. Carter stood next to the lieutenant and both began to pose silently. "Badger" walked around them, taking both a wide and a close-up shot. Then the three stood by the flag, looking at the car hovering in the distance - now filmed by the car's video system.

 Carter waved his hand and made a thumbs-up gesture. Then "Badger" felt the lieutenant nudge him in the shoulder - "Badger" turned and saw that he was taking out an interlink tablet.

 The screen above the map displayed the coordinates of the position where they were now. The accuracy was about one meter. The lieutenant brought the display closer to "Badger"'s camera and demonstratively clicked his finger on the coordinates, then shone his satisfied face into the camera. He also made a "Hail Victory" gesture.

 The threat rating on the display, as far as "Badger" noticed, stopped decreasing, but did not think of increasing either. The green zone also became fixed in a somewhat static state. Meanwhile, the machine that had dropped the Lieutenant had stopped its guard flight and was heading towards the position - the job was done and now it was time to get out.

 "Badger" crouched down and looked up at the waving flags. He did this in order to photograph them from yet another angle, from which they looked higher than they actually were.

 Then he stood up and headed towards Harrison's machine, which was moving over the plateau and slowing down.

 Suddenly, something screeched and there was an explosion.

 Something was burning in my left leg now. Most likely, it was a slow-moving drone - the "@enemy" often sent them to patrol the frontline zone. However, their own did the same.

 If there were no flat-bottomed boats with their howling engines nearby, the approach of the bastard could have been heard a little earlier, a few seconds earlier - this alone could have changed something. On the other hand, the flat-bottomed boats had their own defense systems with optics, ultrasound and even radar. The latter, however, still had to be used wisely, and in such sorties it should not be turned on at all - like all active radars, it gave itself away with radiation. Unfortunately, these onboard systems were not all-powerful even with the radar turned on, and a low-profile paper drone, as it could be called, with a certain skill and luck of the operator could still slip within a few dozen yards of the vehicle and drag its half-pound of plastic explosive to the landing party.

 "Badger" rose and grabbed his leg. Probably, one of the small fragments or just a flying stone hit him. One way or another, it did not penetrate the Kevlar pants, although it stung noticeably. That's all.

 "Badger" looked towards the flag. Surprisingly, it stood as if nothing had happened. The worst thing was that a mangled vehicle lay nearby, from which a stunned fighter was crawling away, trying to get up. It seemed that it was not the Lieutenant, but the driver. "Badger" didn't immediately make out such details

 - It turns out that something more serious than a "paper bird" hit there, - flashed through "Badger's" head, - the flat-bottomed boat would have fought off that.

 He himself was already limping towards the wrecked car.

Carter, who was not injured at all, was there faster, and, having assessed the situation, rushed to the mangled hull. He was shouting something over his radio and waving his hand towards Harrison's car hovering nearby. The one in which they both had arrived.

 In the wrecked flat-bottomed boat, in an unnatural pose, sprawled on the seat, lay the lieutenant. Blood was slowly flowing from his mouth. The first thought in "Badger's" head was that it was good that it wasn't pulsating, although later he realized how stupid that was.

 The machine, which had not been dropping anyone off all this time but had been flying, providing cover, descended and took on the driver of the stricken transport. Basta, who was in it, pulled out two tubes wrapped in thick fabric from a side niche. He wanted to go to the victim, but Carter began to shoo him away with gestures, to the machine.

 - Go up, we'll sort it out ourselves! - "Badger" supported.

Basta, who had no choice, jumped back up and the machine went up. It was impossible to say that it was somehow incomparably safer in flight, but still, firstly, you are no longer on the ground and what has an impact fuse is now detonated "somewhere there", below, and not next to you. Secondly - movement. A static target is much more vulnerable.

 From somewhere in the guts of the mangled machine a hissing sound was heard and a characteristic smell was felt, reminiscent of the smell of gasoline. Gel began to leak out of the damaged tank.

 If it had been ordinary hydrogen, and not a gel saturated with hydrogen and deliberately made smelly, everything would have blown up here long ago.

 In the meantime, Harrison was already descending nearby, having managed to do some manipulations with the seats and throw back the right side. One of the purposes of the flat-bottomed boat was to transport the wounded. This in itself was already a serious plus for the further fate of the unconscious Lieutenant.

 The front seat folded out and together with the back one formed a lying place, quite wide, contrary to the technical specifications, allowing, if things were really bad, two people to lie down.

However, now Carter and "Badger" would have to share one free seat between their two asses. A small thing, but if something happened, for example, if it was necessary to shoot back, then this would already be a problem.

 Having unfolded the flimsy stretcher, "Badger" and Carter began to pull out the unconscious Lieutenant. It turned out that he had a problem with his left leg, which dangled like a whip. Blood had already soaked his trouser leg.

 Having laid the wounded man on the stretcher, the soldiers quickly dragged him to the side and laid him down on the place that had been completely prepared by that time. Then they grabbed him and the stretcher with a belt, after which they jumped right over the lying man onto the side - this was much faster than running around the machine. They slammed the side wall when the flat-bottomed boat was already rising.

 "Badger" settled down right next to the side, at the left side. Meanwhile, Carter began to fiddle with the Lieutenant. The trough began to turn, moving in an arc. At some point, the wreck of the damaged vehicle, which was in good view at the time, seemed to come to life and spewed out a couple of lights that shot upward.