2953-04-01 – Tales from the Service: The Distracted Siroccos
Edward Isaakson found himself leading the other two troopers over the ridge. A stand of blocky boulders a little off to the left from their intended path sheltered them from being silhouetted against the sky, but beyond these, they had little choice but to crawl on their hands and knees between the scrubby, tree-like shrubs which dominated the upper hillside.
From a few feet away, these plants looked flexible enough to push aside, but they proved iron hard to the touch, immovable. Edward had no choice but to crawl along a sinuous path of least resistance, and soon lost any certainty that he was tacking toward the ravine they’d seen from the summit.
Pausing for a rest and a stretch where the overhanging shrubs covered a three meter wide hollow in the hillside, the trio heard scrabbling behind them, and were soon joined by Lieutenant Ferrera, sans the bulky communications pack. He slumped down across from the other three, rolling his shoulders. “Regimental is getting in on the action. They sent a scout patrol our way, radios chattering, speakers blasting, sensors pinging.” He pointed to the other side of the valley. “But they’re not going to crest that hill.”
“A distraction.” Nemes grinned, wiping dust off his face. “They’ll be on standby to scramble, all eyes that way.”
“That’s right.” Ferrera nodded. “If we can get close enough, it’ll distract them enough that we can get our rockets off.”
“They’ll have counter-missile systems.” Edward shook his head. “Point defense. Chaff. All on automatic.”
“Most of those systems are disabled on the ground. At least on our air platforms.” Ferrera grinned. “And we’ll be so close they won’t have time to lock on.”
“It’s still near enough to suicide as makes no difference.” Castellan shrugged. “If one of those birds gets into the air, there won’t be enough left of any of us for the burial duty to bother with.”
“If they get airborne, find cover and stay there.” Ferrera gestured toward the dirt below them. "Our flyboys are probably itching for a piece of this action too, so those Siroccos will have time for only one or two strafes before they have to run for home.”
This, Edward noted, was no refutation of Castellan’s concern. Still, the risk might well pay off – intact Siroccos, only superficially damaged, could possibly be turned around against The Incarnation. Edward grinned at the thought of watching enemy fortifications getting the sort of laser haircut usually reserved for the FVDA.
Ferrera noticed Edward’s grin. “Something funny, Issakson?”
Edward shrugged. “Not really, sir. Just wondering what it would be like to have a few Siroccos on our side for once.”
“If we pull this off, we’re going to find out.” Ferrera gestured forward. “That ravine should be about another hundred meters on. Quiet from here on out.”
The quartet crawled through the underbrush for what felt like three hundred meters before Ferrera disappeared suddenly into the little ravine they’d been seeking. The others followed him, finding themselves able to stand up at its bottom without showing themselves, if they didn’t mind walking in the muddy rivulet which had carved it out.
From there on out, the approach was relatively easy. They were quiet the whole way, but as they began to hear the sound of idling aero-engines, they started to creep even more silently. Motion visible to the Siroccos’ onboard sensors was the chief concern, but loud noise could theoretically be detected as well.
At last, they reached the place where the ravine spilled its muddy water out into a chattering brook running down a grass-overhung channel in the middle of the meadow. Their cover could get them no further, but it didn’t need to. The nearest Siroccos were lined up only a few dozen meters past the brook.
Using hand signals, Ferrera instructed his troopers to lay down their carbines and then demonstrated the settings they should assign on their rockets: short range, heat-seeker, fragmentation, arming distance minimum. Edward clutched his five nervously; when the moment was right, all he had to do was pop up out of the streambed and hurl them one after another toward their targets. The little guided munitions should do the rest.
He was just wondering how they would know when the distraction was being made, when Ferrera held up three fingers. They all held their breaths. He lowered one finger. Then another.
When he dropped the third, all four leapt to their feet and began to hurl the cigar-sized munitions.
The heroic actions of Lieutenant Ferrera and his patrol in disabling nine Siroccos on Mathelson came at a cost. All four of them were injured to some degree when three of the aircraft got airborne and strafed their position, and Private Nemes died of his wounds the following day.
Unfortunately, the captured aircraft do not seem to have been turned around against their creators. Most likely, this is because, like Coronach interceptors, the controls of the Sirocco are integrated with Incarnation implant technology, which Confederated personnel are understandably reluctant to employ.
