Wounded Beast [Tankiverse fanfic]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Wounded Beast

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 
The small campfire flickered fitfully, a welcome companion to the chill of the night. Even inside the dilapidated barn that offered them some cover and, more importantly, concealment, the wind found its way through cracks in walls and clothing alike.
 
Dwight poked the fire with a stick, stirring the embers and sending up sparks. “They sent a patrol today.”
 
“Yes. It was to be expected. If not today, it would have been tomorrow.” Auschun stretched and tried to get comfortable, lying on his blanket beside the fire. “Quit with the poking; you’ll set me alight!”
 
“Next time, we will fight?”
 
Auschun lifted his head to stare at Dwight. “We have already had this discussion, Tactical Officer. We will not fight until we are found. We strike, we hide, we move. One shot only.”
 
Deila joined in. “That patrol today, we could have destroyed. First shot to disable the heavy. Kill the two scouts as they tried to close range. Finish off the heavy, then pick off the convoy.”
 
“This we know, Deila. No one doubts your skill or courage. But for such an assault, they would respond in force. We would be of no more use.”
 
Deila stared into the flames. “It galls me.”
 
“It galls us all, Deila,” grunted Auschun. “Except, possibly, for Peter.”
 
As if on cue, the enormous blanket-covered lump spread beside the tank’s tread snored violently. The others all laughed.
 
“Maria, tomorrow, when the sun returns, you will inspect the treads, yes?”
 
“Of course, Commander. But it will be as I told you. The steel from which we made the replacement links was not hardened. It is mild steel, and it will not last. The links will break again, and the harder we use them, the sooner that will happen.”
 
“Peter has been very gentle. We will see that he continues to be so.”
 
“Still, Commander, they will break. And if we are lucky, it will take only hours to replace them.”
 
“Understood. You will inspect them in the morning. If they are badly worn, we will stay here and replace them preemptively. If not, we will wait until the cover of darkness, then move to our next point of attack.”
 
“Sir!” rang out from around the fire.
 
“Dwight, our fuel reserves?”
 
Dwight gestured at a flatbed farm truck, a fuel tank mounted on its bed. “After refueling, we’re down to under 200 liters reserve.”
 
“Very well. In the morning, you will leave us, and go buy fuel. Meet us at the abandoned grain silos in three days’ time.”
 
“Get some fresh meat if you can!” chimed in Deila.
 
“And beer!” added Maria.
 
“How you can drink that Gak piss is beyond me,” growled Auschun. “But if you can bring us such things, we will all be thankful.”
 
“I can but try, sir,” responded Dwight. “Although the Gaks have not yet started rationing fuel in the occupied areas, panic buying has caused a scarcity of luxury goods. Meat and beer may be hard to come by. Still, it is no effort for me to try!”
 
Breakfast the following morning was the same as had been every other meal for the past four weeks: concentrates and freeze-dried. High in protein, vitamins, fiber, and calories; completely devoid of flavor and texture. Food for the body, not for the soul.
 
Dwight waved goodbye from the window of the flatbed, his civilian farm garb completely convincing in the beat-up utility vehicle. Maria spent a couple of hours carefully scrutinizing the treads before pronouncing them usable in their current condition. Peter, having no duties while the tank was idle, returned to sleep promptly after breakfast. Deila entered the tank, performed her inventory, and returned to report to Auschun.
 
“Commander, the ammo count.”
 
Auschun looked at her with some amusement. “And has it changed since last night’s count?”
 
“No, Commander.”
 
“And yet you persist in counting it twice per day.”
 
“As is required, Commander.”
 
Auschun looked approvingly at her. “Quite right, Deila. Quite right. Very well, what is the count?”
 
“Armor piercing, sixteen rounds. High explosive, twenty-three rounds. Anti personnel, seven rounds.”
 
“And your assessment, Gunnery Officer?”
 
“We are ill provisioned for combat, sir.”
 
“Assessment and count noted, Gunnery Officer. Job well done. You may perform your daily maintenance then have the remainder of the day off. We roll out at dusk.”
 
Auschun appeared collected in front of his crew, the very image of a proper commander, but he was troubled. Deila was right, and Maria was right. Their tank was wounded; their ammo inventory, laughable. Their only option for fuel was purchasing it from the enemy. To be so far behind enemy lines, unsupported, in such a condition… There was but one end for them. Still, if they were careful, and clever, and if their luck were to hold, he could well imagine staying free long enough for each of those twenty-three rounds to strike Gak targets. It was with that thought he ultimately lulled himself to sleep.
 
Watching Peter climb into the tank was something that never ceased to fascinate Asuchun. Peter was a bear of a man. In a barroom scenario, Auschun would confidently bet a week’s wages that such a man could not fit through the hatch, much less fold himself into the confined driver’s space. But Peter did so, and he did so with the grace of a ballerina and the flexibility of a gymnast. Behind the tank’s controls, those huge human paws could coax the most delicate of maneuvers out of their sixty ton, fifteen-hundred horsepower beast.
 
As soon as the tank was warmed up, Auschun authorized Maria to recheck their intelligence. The risk of their satellite uplink being detected was small, but it did exist. Maria moved to Dwight’s empty station and initiated the uplink.
 
“Confirmed, Commander. Our target is scheduled to depart at oh-four-thirty, the day after tomorrow.”
 
They drove through the night at a moderate speed, reaching a wooded area of concealment long before dawn. The day they spent taking turns on watch and napping in the shade beneath the tank. During the night, they moved again, arriving at their destination near midnight. Again they were in a wooded copse, overlooking a country road roughly two kilometers west.
 
The crew climbed out (Auschun pausing to marvel at Peter’s graceful self-extraction) and spread camouflage netting over the tank, embedding branches and leaves.They paused for a brief snack of protein concentrates, then returned to their duty stations to wait. WIth the engine off and the hatches sealed, the interior of the tank quickly became stuffy, but Auschun wanted no risk of a residual heat signature to betray them to an ill-timed glimpse from an IR camera.
 
The sky lightened; the edge of the sun broke the horizon. Tension in the tank rose. Deila, in particular, became more intent on her sites, waiting for the expected convoy. “Dust on the horizon, Commander. They are punctual, these Gaks. We must remember to thank them for that someday,” she said.
 
“Duty, Gunnery Officer. The time for jokes is not now,” admonished Auschun.
 
“Sir. Range is approximately four thousand meters. Speed is approximately sixty kilometers per hour.  Likelihood to hit currently favorable.” Deila’s voice was suddenly flat; emotionless; professional.
 
Auschun consulted the map, looked at the clock, and the chart showing the elevation of the sun. “Let them come, Deila. Let them come. The higher the sun, the less likely they are to see. The closer they come, the more deadly our hit. Let them come.”
 
“Three thousand five hundred meters. Speed constant. Likelihood to hit very favorable.
 
“Three thousand meters. Speed constant. Likelihood to hit high.
 
“Two thousand five hundred meters. Speed constant. Likelihood to hit approaching optimum.”
 
“Gunnery Officer, you are clear to fire at optimum trajectory. Driver, stand ready.”
 
Seconds ticked by. Auschun licked sweat from his upper lip.
 
“FIring,” said Deila. The tank, large though it was, shuddered with the recoil. A vehicle in the center of the convoy erupted in a cloud of smoke and flame.
 
“Target hit, Commander,” said Deila, her voice still flat.
 
“Reload high explosive and stand ready. Driver, continue to stand ready.” Auschun watched his monitors closely. Unless there were some indication that the convoy had spotted his tank, he would simply sit here until the enemy regrouped and fled. If, against all probability, the convoy elected to stand its ground and start searching...well, the moment the Gaks received solid intelligence on his position and strength, his mission would be compromised. That must be avoided at all costs.
 
The convoy actually did not pause, but increased speed. The trailing vehicles swung wide into the meadows to clear the wreckage of the burning truck; their dust trails chased them up to and over the horizon.
 
“Well done, well done. We post watch in rotation until sunset, then we will break cover and move to the silo. With a little luck, Dwight will be awaiting us with steaming beef and cold beer!”

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

Edited October 17, 2018 by Hippin_in_Hawaii

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

Approved

 

I didn't make any edits here, since I'm pretty short on time and I didn't see any issues on my quick read-through. Let me know if I missed something. Also, once again, nice story section Hippin.

[GrandExecutioner 1,403]

Nice ;)

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Approved

 

I didn't make any edits here, since I'm pretty short on time and I didn't see any issues on my quick read-through. Let me know if I missed something. Also, once again, nice story section Hippin.

 

Thanks!

 

I did catch one capitalization error that eluded me until after posting, even after I made two passes through specifically to check for such things. Something about seeing it on the forum makes my eyes fresher!

[LOLKILLERTOTHEDEATH 1,921]

Nice! Looking forward to the next one!

[r_trooll15 827]

I liked the use of that metaphor:

Peter was a bear of a man

[pieface101 285]

Very well done, though I prefer my steaks medium rare.

 

I liked the dialogue and characters, although I do feel that you could potentially flesh out their backstory and motives a bit more.

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Very well done, though I prefer my steaks medium rare.

 

I liked the dialogue and characters, although I do feel that you could potentially flesh out their backstory and motives a bit more.

This is installment 2 of a 6-installment arc. It could be you'll get your wish!  ;)