"Roger, Tootsie Six," Hans Wager responded. "Holman, move us—"
But Holman was already feeding power to her fans. You didn't have to tell her what her job was, not that one . . . .
Four more artillery shells burst in black plumes across the sandy furrows which Blue Three had to cross. The remains of Blue Three's cupola glowed white, and there was no hatch to button down over the man in the turret.
Hans Wager's throat burned from the gases which filled his compartment.
He didn't much care about that, either.
"Willens, bring us—" June Ranson began, breaking off as she saw the Yokel tank.
It was crashing through the woods twenty meters to
Janacek's tribarrel was on target first. Half the burst exploded bits of intervening vegetation uselessly, but the remaining bolts sawed the Consie's legs off at the knee before hammering the sloped side of the turret.
The outer facing of the armor burned;its ceramic cores palled inward,through the metallic backing. It filled the turret like the contents of a shotgun loaded with broken glass. Smoke puffed from the hatches.
The tank continued to grind its way forward for another thirty seconds while Janacek fired into the hull without effect. The target disintegrated with a shattering roar.
Ranson's multi-function display indicated that both the remaining blowers in her element were within fifty meters of
She couldn't
A tank ground through the screening foliage like a snorting rhinoceros, bow on with its cannon lowered. June Ranson willed a burst through the muzzles of her tribarrel . . . .
Cyan bolts slashed and ripped at glowing steel.
Stolley swung forward. His bolts intersected and merged with the captain's. The cannon's slim barrel lifted without firing and hurled itself away from the crater bubbling in the gun mantle.
"No!" Ranson screamed at her left wing gunner. "Watch your own—"
Another Yokel tank appeared to the left, its gun questing.
"—side!"
