I wasn’t the only one who was spurred into service by the attack. I was to become a member of the largest class of recruits ever to graduate from the academy. Most of my training was a blur. I only recall images of different scenarios, a few words of our instructors, and the constant pain from being overworked. That’s not to say that any of that held me back. When you live for revenge, it’s amazing how little you feel and the focus you can conjure.
All my life, I’d been blessed with a knack for memorizing information and picking up skills. That’s not to say I could glance at a page of text and be able to recite it instantly, but my mind was always sharp enough to retain information over long periods of time. Throughout my earlier adventures in modern education, I never spent much time studying, but I still stayed near the top of my classes. For the first time, I was completely focused – mind, body, and charred, empty soul – on my training.
Through every action we practiced, through every movement, tactic, repair, punch, kick, shot, and step, I gave my all, committing everything I learned to muscle memory. My abilities did not go unnoticed. I graduated in the top 1 percent of the class, having broken several records for multiple combat skills. Without so much as an interview, I was given a field promotion and assigned as a squad leader. From that moment on, I would be responsible for the lives of twenty-four other soldiers and would ultimately have to defend my decisions in the event of their deaths. I told my men straight out that I was not planning on returning to Earth, that they should prepare to do the same, and if they had any problems with it, they were free to transfer to another unit.
None did.
At the end of those six months, we were finally briefed on our objective.
We were herded into our massive classified auditorium, all four thousand of us, and were greeted by the commander of the infantry wing, a Lieutenant General Edwards. He stood alone on the stage in front of a massive display which was filled with a detailed map of our solar system, as well as the alien system, Sol Bravo. Both maps were superimposed in front of a picture of the galaxy with arrows detailing their current locations.
“Soldiers,” he began, “What I am about to tell you is classified above top secret. It is the reason that so many of you are here today, why you were trained so fast and so hard. While the outside world believes Sol Bravo is the only battlespace, we have only recently discovered that this is not true.” A dull murmur of hushed whispers filled the hall for a moment. The commander continued.
“While the battle for Sol Bravo should be completed within a few short months, there will be another battle which must be fought to ensure our survival as a species.”
The chart above him changed to a layout of the galaxy with several areas highlighted. “As you know, Sol Bravo lies fifteen thousand light years away from our own system, at about the same radial distance from the center of the galaxy. Sol Charlie, as it has been designated, is located in a cluster just over four thousand light-years beyond that, only somewhat closer to the galactic center. It is because of the dense collection of gasses in the surrounding space that it escaped detection so long. We were originally tipped off by a series of enemy communications that suggested its existence.
“This created a panic among all of the commands, as you can imagine. Currently, we do not have the manpower to wage two full-scale wars, nor can we ignore either one in preference to the other. This dictates a change in our strategy. Rather than use larger, planet-wide invasions as we have relied on thus far, we will be using smaller groups of forces to isolate different planets from space. We will accomplish this by knocking out launch sites, defense networks, and communication systems on each one. If this goes as we have seen it so far, the planets will be unable to communicate, unable to launch vehicles, unable to participate in the fight. They will be cut off from space, buying us the time we need to wipe them out completely.”
Edwards took a deep breath and paused for a moment. “Your mission will be to make the initial assault on the first planet in the system, allowing us to establish a foothold to continue the assault.”
The screen zoomed in on the planet. “This is your target, Planet Ash. It is on the outskirts of the habitable zone, and our preliminary intelligence suggests that the atmosphere is similar to that of Earth. The planet is somewhat colder than Earth, but still survivable with basic skills and instruments.
“While this task is extremely dangerous, your performance so far has been beyond reproach, and I believe you to be the best qualified to carry it out.”
The general briefly looked about the room at the stone cold faces all around him. “At this time, I’m releasing you to your squadron commanders, who will brief you on your specific duties. Dismissed.”
The subsequent briefing by our squadron commander was a total fire hose. It was going to be our job to drop in first, before anyone else, to disable the defense grid that protected this relatively isolated and unprotected planet from marauding enemy ships. We truly were on the tip of the spear. Fear gripped many of my contemporaries; I could see it in their eyes as the commander spoke. We might have been doomed from the start, but the feeling didn’t paralyze me in the least. I just wanted to go out there, get it started, and get it over with.
We marched out of the hall in silence, straight back to the barracks, picking up our gear on the way and moving out to the armory. The rows of lockers blurred past as I reached the one bearing my name. “Grant, J. D.” was etched into a metal plate on the door, which more closely resembled a small garage. Behind it sat all the equipment I would need to bring a world of hurt to our enemy.
I stood beside the other soldiers as the doors dropped into the floor. Something quickly caught my eye: the scratched and dented armor I brought with me was missing. In its place was a new set of standard armor, reflecting a perfect, soft glow from the lights above. The smell of burnt Kevlar was replaced with that of oil and epoxy. Without another thought, I pulled it on and checked out my rifle.
Our main armament was the HK-ZG1 which fired armor piercing, caseless, hollow pointed, .45 caliber rounds of various materials, including lead, brass, titanium, and uranium. It could fire in orbit, under water, or immersed in liquid nitrogen thanks to a solid state charge built onto the back of the bullet among many other advancements.
Rather than use a traditional brass shell and powder propellant, the ZG1’s caseless ammunition is accelerated by detonating a small charge of high-explosive fused to the back of the bullet. This tiny package allows for lower recoil, less exhaust gas, and a huge reduction in weight. Whereas traditional rifles of similar size can accommodate 20-40 rounds, the ZG1 can hold a 120 round magazine in nearly the same weight and form factor.
The round and platform were the finest ever produced, replacing entire lines of SMGs, assault, and sniper rifles. Only the HK-LG sniper rail gun had a greater range: up to 10 klicks with good optics, but the price is that to this day, the weapon still requires a 30 kg power plant to operate. As a squad leader, I also carried two pistols chambered for the same cartridge along with various knives, wires, and sensor suites.
We strapped on the various packages to our armor and continued our march down to the launch pad where we were scheduled to meet our shuttle. As I stepped out into the waning sunlight and made the journey across the tarmac, I had a brief hint of nostalgia that I would never again see another sunrise on Earth. Then, as if someone poured a mixture of blood and oil across the vision and the memory of a happier time, I snapped back into reality. I had nothing left here. And it was time to take my fight to the enemy. I adjusted the grip on my rifle as I stepped onto the loading ramp, fully expecting to never again set foot on my home planet. Good riddance.
From an outsider’s perspective, humanity’s current inventory of spacecraft and associated technologies allows for efficient and timely travel in and around our interstellar neighborhood. While this is mostly true, with the first generation of faster-than-light engines allowing us to cover great distances in minutes instead of years
, it does distort the truth. For even though our ships are capable of such speeds, their accuracy in reaching their destinations is abysmal. Due to the random fluctuations induced at the quantum level when bridging space, there is little chance to exit exactly where you plan to. These jumps to somewhat random destinations require pilots to routinely drop back into real space to correct their course and re-plot trajectories.
This is part of the reason that we have only explored a moderately small corridor around the galaxy. The choice between making dozens to hundreds of small jumps to reach the galactic center or making one blind leap of faith with the result being a trip into a star or being flung into deep space was hard to swallow. Most pilots and administrations have been content to explore closer to home, work out our problems, and leave the rest to the next generation.
Conversely, from the perspective of a soldier on his way to war, the scene is much different. We had about a week stuck on the ship while it made its jumps across the stars with nothing to do but train, plan, and clean our gear no fewer than twenty times a day. While most crews could be put into a sleep resembling hibernation, as soldiers we were allowed to do no such thing. If our ship ever came under attack, there would be no way for us to be revived fast enough to provide any defense. Muscle atrophy was hard enough to fight off in the distorted gravity produced by the ship even when awake and active.
As we watched the stars fly past every hour of every day, one could almost forget the gravity of our situation and that we were no doubt flying to our doom. Before our final jump into the middle of the system, we assembled together to don our gear and prepare for battle. When the course was plotted, all one thousand members of my squadron gathered in the main briefing chamber across from the launch bay. Once the ship arrived at its destination, we would have only minutes to hear our final orders, board our orbital drop pods, and make the launch to start our mission.
We were making possibly the longest drop ever made in the pods so our frigate could stay out of range of the orbital defenses. The ship rocked as it made the final jump, a countdown appeared on a screen in front of us, and everyone collectively held their breath. Only 30 seconds to go.
The engines shuddered as we slowed back down and corrected course flying into our target. Within moments, every radio lit up with our commanders reacting to changing intelligence on the fly. From what I could make out, our target planet was not defended by the standard forces we had seen before. Rather, it was surrounded by several large battle stations locked in geosynchronous orbits, which our enemy deployed to defend the surface. Improved intelligence poured in as our ship’s sensors pinged the ground.
I heard at least ten people talking on the radio net at once. With so many voices sounding at once, I concentrated in on one or two conversations of interest. There was still a command station which linked all of the orbital and surface defenses together, and it was still our target. However, in order to reach it we would first need to disable the station flying directly above the installation. I briefly considered the prospect of dropping from one ship to another. No one said it would be easy.
A buzzer sounded, calling us to board our pods in the bay. In short order we were ready to go. I took a walk around my squad’s pod, checking each one before the launch. I don’t think I was looking out for their best interests as much as I wanted to know ahead of time which ones might buckle once we left. It was better to know it now, lest I get surprised by a shot from an unguarded flank later. They were as ready as I was, and I didn’t think we’d have any problems.
I took my seat, tucked my rifle into the holder in front of me, and strapped myself in. There was a collective rumble and hiss as the doors on all the pods clamped shut. More orders came in over the radio, but nothing had really changed. Our leadership had updated our landing locations on the massive station so as to provide a more probable chance of finding a way inside.
I gripped the handle of the door – which could be hefted off its hinges and used as a shield – in anticipation and waited for the launch. I didn’t have to wait long. I could feel the pressure changes as each pod dropped out of the floor and blasted its way toward the station. Finally, our number was up and our pod was on its way. I did not feel the movement so much as I felt a surge of blood to my head due to the rapid acceleration along with the dissipation of the artificial gravity.
We tumbled away from the ship and followed the mass of other pods straight to the station. It wasn’t long before we began to hear the dull rumbles of explosions in the distance as the aliens sought to blow us out of the sky. I realized that we must be hitting some kind of an atmosphere if we were actually picking up sounds from space. My display switched from an estimated countdown to an altimeter, which was clicking down far faster than I felt comfortable with. When there were only a few hundred feet to go, the retro rocket ignited, which slowed our descent back down to make the impact manageable.
I gritted my teeth as we slammed into the surface of the station. “Here we go!” I shouted. “Everybody out! Form up, find a way inside!”
In one smooth motion, I picked up my rifle while simultaneously pushing the door straight outward with me as if it was a medieval shield. It was half the weight I remembered from training. I peeked around the edge of the panel looking for targets. Smoke and fire filled the air, and I could barely make out the surface from the sky. Through the debris, I spied a rise in the surface which could have been an airlock. “Squad, I’ve got an airlock. Fall in on me!” I ordered to the others as they folded in around me, interlocking shields to form a circular barrier to protect us as we made the maneuver over to the entrance.
Bullets screamed through the air around us, kicking around the dust and smoke even more than before. Multiple shots slammed into my shield, and it was all I could do to hold it in place. A soldier to my side wasn’t as lucky. A single high-energy round slammed into the side of his armor and he dropped to his knees in pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a thin plume of oxygen billowing out of the tear. There was nothing I could do for him.
A half dozen more rounds punched through him a moment later, sending his shattered body careening into the atmosphere. We only heard him scream for a second before the pressure change of the impact caused his armor to implode around him.
“Bring it in tighter!” I shouted as we neared the hatch.
My squad shuffled forward with our shields more than 30 percent overlapped, making us much harder to knock down. When we got over the hatch, one of my men began cutting through the outer layer of metal.
“Breach team, form up on me and prepare to clear,” I ordered.
The three members of the breaching team pulled back from the perimeter, shouldered their rifles, and drew their pistols, following my lead. As the other soldier finished with the torch, I removed a grenade from my belt.
“Frag out!” I yelled as I kicked clear through the metal panel and dropped the loaded charge down into the station below.
We leaned away from the hole and braced for impact as the explosion sent a blast of heated shrapnel back up at us, then jumped into the hole as a unified group. Whatever was living below would be completely unprepared for a fully armed squad of four soldiers dropping straight in from the ceiling.
I hit the ground hard but kept my shield up and pistol drawn. We were in a basic control room with several aliens standing back, still in shock from the explosion. Every member of my team fired in unison at the stunned creatures. They took a few volleys from our pistols before crumpling to the ground.
Throughout the past, I had heard horror stories about men taking lives and regretting it forever. In that moment, I felt nothing. There was a focus in every one of my movements that I had never experienced before.
One alien in my field of view attempted to make a run for the hatch leading deeper into the station. I sprung at it, slamming the creature against the wall with my shield as hard as I could. Pushing its body against the wall as hard as I could manage, I heard a sickening crunch
as bits of its skeletal structure splinted under my weight. I ignored his flailing attempts to escape, reached around and fired a burst of rounds into his side. The far side of the alien’s body exploded into a chunky mess of organic matter that I didn’t have the need to identify.
“Clear,” I stated coldly, releasing my victim from its trap. The lifeless form flopped onto the ground, still seeping blood and guts from multiple holes.
Content the room was safe, I glanced up the shaft to the rest of the team on the surface.
“Everyone, get down here. We’re moving into the station.” I looked at the control panels. I pointed at two of my soldiers who were already with me. “See if you can figure out a way to disable the surface guns. Breaching team, guard the door.”
Two of the other squad members set to work on the controls and disabled the surface guns. The rest of my surviving squad members jumped down through the hatch and joined us in the station. Several other squads joined us as we prepared to blow the next door.
We never got the chance. It didn’t take a minute before a fully armed group of aliens charged through the airlock and engaged my squad. They fought harder than the first group we attacked but still did not provide us much of a challenge. When the last one fell, I dove forward and jammed the door open with my shield before it could be locked shut again. The squads saw the opportunity and barraged through into the hallway beyond.
I heard intense gunfire from the nearest fire team, as well as some random shouting over the radio. While I stood on the shield, I reloaded my rifle and prepared to join them. I gestured to a remaining soldier to take my place. He nodded in understanding and ran over.
I charged off down the hallway leaving the shield in the door. At the next hallway intersection, I found myself thrust into the middle of an awful mess: we had apparently taken a four-way intersection and were now attempting to defend three non-secured hallways. Shots flew in above the makeshift barricades and nearly took my head off before I could react.
MissionSRX: Confessions of the First War Page 2