"Tarik to Anderson--report!" Tarik yelled into his communicator. "Come in, dammit!"
No response. Tarik had to assume the worst.
"Hartman, take Anderson's section. Lay down as many mines and ordnance charges as we have left between us and the tanks. Deveraux, get as many of the civilians as you can away from the compound, then get into a transport and provide us with close air support," Tarik ordered. The Hammerheads were starting to run low on ordnance and fuel; they needed to return to the Sutherland to refuel and rearm before they could provide further support.
"Can we help in any way?" an older G'kar amongst the former slaves asked.
"Who might you be?" Tarik asked, recognizing the tattered remains of a G'kar uniform on the slave.
"I am Subcommandant Mer'an, senior officer amongst the military prisoners in Az'reel," Mer'an announced. "There are sixty-five of us who are willing to assist in any way. Many of the civilian prisoners may join us."
Tarik thought for a moment. "Have your troops erect a barricade across the compound running northeast to southwest. Use whatever you need to. And double-time it!"
"Understood!" Mer'an said, then turned and barked orders to his followers. Immediately over a hundred of the former slaves pitched in to work as the Marines provided covering fire.
Captain Morgan Bicardi, a/k/a Hammerhead 2-6, pulled up and away from the place where he'd dumped his ordnance, thus seemingly assuring Captain Anderson's death. "A place in Sto-Vo-Kor awaits you, my friend. You have died with honor!" he yelled as he began to circle back around.
[Hammerheads, this is Boyle--form up on my starboard for a final pass,] the squadron commander ordered, none too pleased with the situation.
As Bicardi brought his plane around an alarm sounded in the cockpit. <Warning--60% damage to starboard aileron. Unable to control rate of roll.>
"Tigre, do a flyby--I'm reading damage to my starboard aileron. I'm having trouble controlling my roll rate," Bicardi said as he fought the stick.
[Your wing's torn to pieces! You're not going to set that thing down in one piece!] Talia reported.
"Major, this is Bicardi--I'm going to have to eject!"
[Understood. I'll inform Colonel Tarik to initiate search and rescue.]
"Absolutely not!" Bicardi yelled as he struggled to keep his Hammerhead on course. "Don't jeopardize the infantry on my account!"
[Don't go Klingon on me you son of a bitch!]
"It is a good day to die," Bicardi said as he lined his fighter up on a Mulluran tank. "Eject! Eject! Eject!"
Bicardi pulled the handles of the ejector seat. Explosive bolts blasted the canopy free of the plane, which had begun to spin on its roll axis. As Bicardi's seat fell away, antigravity units built into his flight boots activated, lowering him gently to the ground. Or they would have, if the concussion from the impact of his Hammerhead against a Mulluran tank hadn't thrown him to the ground with force.
[Tarik, this is Boyle. Bicardi's down. Request search and rescue at soonest opportunity.]
"Understood," Tarik said. "What's your status?"
[We've got to bug out, sir. Bicardi managed to destroy one of the tanks on his way down and we've knocked out three others, but we're running mighty low on consumables. Estimated time to rearm and refuel is 45 minutes; we'll be back in 55 minutes.]
"Good luck. We'll keep them diverted," Tarik said, noting with great satisfaction that the barricade had been nearly completed.
Tarik surveyed the line. "Concentrate your fire on the tanks--we can handle the infantry close in but we want those tanks out of the picture immediately!" he ordered. The order was relayed to fire teams up and down the line. Several photon anti-tank weapons and heavy phaser cannon had been deployed; the phaser cannon that constituted the light arms of the Hawke transports had been removed from their mountings and placed on the line as well.
He scarcely needed to give the order. As soon as the tanks moved into range, Hartman began detonating demolitions charges and the firing line opened up on the tanks. In addition to the heavy weaponry, infantry (including the G'kar POW's) provided harassing fire with small arms against the enemy infantry. Grenades, smoke bombs, anti-tank charges filled the air between the Marine lines and the advancing Mullurans.
"Wallace, you'd better get in with those reinforcements quickly," Tarik said to himself. The effort was valiant and sure to make the history books, but it wouldn't hold forever.
Bicardi stood up what felt like an eternity later, about 50 meters from a burning crater where the remains of his plane and the enemy tank lay. A Mulluran infantry squad was approaching his position. Bicardi played possum until the point man of the squad neared his position. He jumped up with a loud snarl and grabbed the hapless Mulluran, stunning him with a open-palm blow to the back of his neck. Two other Mulluran soldiers fired on him, but he used the stunned Mulluran as a body shield. Grabbing a discarded Mulluran rifle, Bicardi then proceeded to wreak havoc on the squad.
Six dead Mullurans later, Bicardi decided to try his luck on a tank. A telltale shimmering of the air indicated when the tanks dropped their shields for firing. The tank commander very wisely (or stupidly, depending on how one assessed the situation) kept his head outside the cupola even during this vulnerable period. Bicardi crouched down, waited for a tank to drop its shields.
Before the tank could fire, Bicardi got off one well-aimed shot, and disintegrated the Mulluran from the shoulders up. The tank crew panicked momentarily before the gunner traversed the turret in Bicardi's direction. Klingon to the core, Bicardi charged the tank and rushed up onto its deck. The gunner and driver emerged from their hatches to confront him but they weren't a match for the enraged and grounded Marine pilot. He grabbed the gunner and threw him off the tank. He shot the driver out of hand as the tank ran over the gunner.
"Hmm...I wonder if a tank could do as good a job as a plane in this case," Bicardi said to himself as he climbed into the driver's seat. No gunner, but I can at least take out some of these infantry! he thought as he bore down on another squad of infantry.
"I don't believe it! That son of a bitch is running over his own men!" Hartman said as he examined the approaching enemy lines.
"I don't think that's one of them," Tarik said. "Tarik to Bicardi--come in please."
[At your service, Colonel! This isn't a Hammerhead but it'll do for now!]
"Run your tank at a 45 degree angle to the enemy's line of fire and get behind our lines! They're on to you!" Tarik said. Sure enough, a Mulluran tank was swiveling its turret in Bicardi's direction.
[Understood. Watch for atmospheric fluctuation around the tanks--they have to lower their shield to fire!]
"Acknowledged. Now get your butt behind this barricade!"
[Yes sir!]
The Mulluran tank fired but missed. A Marine fire team opened up on the offending tank and disabled it. Soon Bicardi's commandeered tank was behind the lines. Bicardi just barely made it out the hatch as two other tanks demolished the one he'd stolen.
"Captain Bicardi reporting for duty, sir!"
"Excellent work, Captain," Tarik said dryly. "For the duration you're my XO. Take command of the left flank and coordinate fire against the tanks. The more tanks we destroy, the more we can break the infantry."
"Understood. All right, ladies, let's get to work!" Bicardi yelled at the Marines and G'kar manning the left flank of the line.