Reggie’s Red Team included Frank and Lin, plus newcomers Monty and SwampFox. Monty had his Ferret named Tallyho and SwampFox a Chi-Ri called SwampThing. Reggie promised himself that part of integrating the new guys would be remembering all their juggernaut names.
Facing off against them were Chase, June, Chipz, Spike, and Harper of the Blue Team, with Chase acting as platoon leader.
This was it, now. All of Wounded Legion, back down to just 10 members. It had hurt losing Ellie, who had shown real promise, and the decision to cut Mapple loose was based more on overall flakiness than disloyalty, but for the first time since expanding Wounded Legion, he felt good about everyone he was bringing into battle.
Their simulated battlefield was a historic city with Earth-style apartments and roads, right where scattered suburban hobby farms gave way to a geometrically laid out city that looked like a spoked wheel from an aerial view.
“Keep a sharp lookout,” Reggie warned. “We’re the firepower team, not the scouting team here.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” Monty boasted, piloting Red Team’s only light juggernaut. “I updated my build for the simulation to try out that scanner package June runs.”
“How’s the Ferret handling under the added weight?” SwampFox asked. “Thought June got away with it because she’s in a bigger jug.”
Reggie waited, and with Chase off on another platoon frequency, there was no frat-boy chuckle at the mention of June’s jugs. There was never any thought of cutting Chase loose—he was too damned good at Armored Souls—but he made keeping things on a professional level a lot more challenging. Chase needed to be shot at—preferably a lot—before he took the game seriously.
“It’s slower, but I’m loving the vision and tactical intel gathering. I’m used to getting the light version of this stuff uploaded to me, but now I’m starting to get spoiled with the details.”
“Just watch out for Artemis,” Reggie warned. “If you two spot one another, it’s time to high-tail it back to the rest of us. Now, the rest of you, head for Foxtrot-one-zero.”
“Straight at ‘em,” Frank said. “Nice.”
“Straight at the objective,” Reggie said. “Blue is going to be trying to outmaneuver us, separate us, pick us apart. We need to get to the city center and put them on a clock to come get us. Then we can hunker down and use the buildings as cover when they try to oust us.”
“What if they try the same?” Lin asked. “They’re faster. They can get there first.”
“They’ll want to stay mobile. Monty’s going to watch for them to ambush us before we can get into position. If they can isolate us, their maneuvering advantage will give them an edge.”
“Roger that,” SwampFox radioed. “Want me to get out ahead and start the timer?”
“Negative,” Reggie replied immediately. “That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t want anyone but Monty getting more than 300m from the rest of the team. Frank and Lin are our big guns. We want to turn a phone booth into a mosh pit. Rushing in one at a time is for extras in a kung fu movie.”
“You got it, chief,” SwampFox replied.
Reggie watched his mini-map. There was no sign of Blue Team. What was Chase up to? This was a training exercise, not an opportunity to show off fancy tactical tricks to prove how clever he was. Simple basics, Reggie had told him. Stuff everyone can use. Get everyone used to working with their platoon mates.
The buildings loomed just ahead. Vortex casually crushed a terrestrial vehicle that looked suspiciously like a Chevy Caprice, even though this wasn’t Earth, then walked through a chain link fence that clung to his shins for a few steps before disentangling.
“Reminds me of Germany, back in the big one,” Frank commented as they reached the city limits. “Got that grimy, old-world charm.”
Monty grunted. “Me. I’ve only ever been stationed in deserts. Wouldn’t mind one of those cushy European assignments.”
Reggie held his tongue but smiled.
“Was a little hairier when I was there,” Frank replied. “What with Mustache MacGoo still running things and half the world’s armies marching up every street.”
“Me and Swampy got a bet going,” Monty said. “I say there’s no way you’re that old. That you’re making this shit up.”
“I’m mostly made of paper and oatmeal these days,” Frank retorted. “But back in my day, we drove tanks with a pair of long sticks, and they handled like turds on a dry lawn. I’m deaf in one ear from a German artillery shell—can’t remember which because these days I’m damn near deaf in both. I fought in Korea and Nam. Life caught me at just the right age to get sucked into all the big wars before the Cold War turned the world into a bunch of nervous Nellies afraid of getting microwaved from the sky. My memory might not be what it used to be but only because I’ve filled it up with more living than the four of you put together, I reckon.”
TARGET DATA ACQUIRED
The mini-map lit as three of the Blue Team’s juggernauts had been spotted.
“Got ‘em,” Monty replied. Then, a beat later, “Oh, shit!”
Reggie watched Tallyho’s armor light up with first yellow, then red damage indications before he took refuge behind an apartment on the outer limits of town.
“Nice work getting out of there,” Reggie said. “Everyone fall back into the city. Lin, keep them honest.”
Honesty was the best policy, but enforcing it with a Gunnery L18 pilot aiming an Anti-Matter Projector was even better.
Artemis was one of the three Monty had spotted, along with Alvin and Chaser.
Reggie scowled. He was going to have to chat with Chipz about his Pixie’s name; Chaser was too close to Chase for his liking.
Where Chase and Spike had ended up was anyone’s guess. They were Blue Team’s heavy hitters—such as they were—but despite finding three of their juggernauts out in the C-24 region, the remaining two were nowhere in sight.
[City Center Capture in Progress]
A timer appeared on Reggie’s heads-up display, counting down from 10 minutes.
“Well, that answers that,” Lin said. “You want me to hold them off out here or join you in the city?”
“Keep them pinned in the ‘burbs,” Reggie ordered. “Get to the best cover you can find, and make them pay for coming near you.”
“Roger that,” Lin replied.
“Hey, what outfit were you with, anyway?” Monty asked. “Never did get to hear.”
“I’m a… civilian,” Lin replied sheepishly. “I host a daily gaming stream.”
“Hey,” Monty said reassuringly. “The choice to serve or not serve is your privilege as an American.”
“Um, technically… I’m Chinese,” Lin replied. “Can we maybe table this until after the battle?”
Reggie watched the mini-map, wondering what the trap was. Chase was no fool. Far from it; Chase prided himself on cleverness at the expense of practicality at times. There had been occasions where Reggie had the impression Chase would rather lose brilliantly than win ugly. “Hold up, everyone. Don’t get within sight of the capture zone. Cut north at Foxtrot-one-three. Take the next right, then come out at Bravo-one-five.”
“We’re not taking out the guy capturing the city?” SwampFox asked, taking SwampThing on a swerving turn that nearly overbalanced the Chi-Ri.
“No,” Reggie said. “That’s the trap. Lin, on my mark, fall back and get out of sight in the city limits. The rest of you, double-time it.”
Red Team was running a wheel maneuver. Just as Reggie and the others were about to emerge from the city at B-15, he signaled Lin to pull back with Yulong.
Artemis, Alvin, and Chase pursued Yulong once the threat of her Anti-Matter Projector was removed.
They were sitting ducks as Vortex, SwampThing, and Tallyho opened fire from a wide-open flank. The only flaw in the plan was that Gremlin was too slow to arrive before the three Blue Team juggernauts took cover behind a row of stone houses.
“Lin, time to double ba
ck,” Reggie ordered. “They’re all yours. Frank, watch out behind us.”
In the scramble to recover from his trap being baited, Chase and Spike came around a corner to take Reggie’s detachment from behind and ran smack dab into a pair of boxcar-sized swords and a Tiger-class heavy juggernaut pilot who knew how to use them.
Reggie split his forces, sending Monty and SwampFox to chase the Blue Team in the suburbs out of cover while he went to back up Frank and pick off whichever of the two Blue Teamers tried to get around behind him.
It was over in no time from there. Yulong strode confidently in, knowing her allies had her covered. Frank mauled Diablo as Spike tried without luck to maneuver Nails into position to lend aid with Vortex dumping plasma into his rear armor.
There was hardly time to register the mission updates as the Blue Team, out-positioned and outmaneuvered, was torn apart.
[Primary Objective: Destroy Blue Team Juggernauts 0/5]
“Woo!” SwampFox whooped. “That’s how it’s done!”
“Little lady,” Monty said. “Don’t matter where you’re from. You’re one of us.”
“Thanks,” Lin said quietly over the simulator’s radio. “Never been around many military guys before Armored Souls, and in game it’s hard to tell who’s real and who’s hamming it up. You boys are all right.”
“Must be hell playing on China time,” Monty mentioned offhandedly. “You work a night shift or something?”
“No, I’m a streamer, remember?” Lin said. “And I’ve lived in the US since I was five. Um, Cali accent? Hello? I didn’t get that in Macao. I just haven’t gotten naturalized or anything. My older brother did.”
“It’s not a requirement for Wounded Legion,” Reggie pointed out before this became a recruitment effort. Then it occurred to him. He could hear it in Lin’s voice. That veneer of plastic cynicism and abrasiveness she wore like a raincoat had slipped away. Monty had made a personal connection with her in a way that Reggie had never even attempted. He’d alienated so many of their recruits by keeping them at arm’s length; he vowed then and there not to continue that mistake. “But if you’re ever interested, we’d be welcome to have you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
In the early hours of the morning, between the end of the simulated run and the morning dawn that would call the healthy, able-bodied players back to their day jobs, it was movie night in the Green Zone. What they watched didn’t matter. Nachos and beer went with anything, and Armored Souls was able to stream the latest digital releases for free since Reggie’s account had every bell and whistle enabled.
They laughed and drank throughout the movie, trading good-natured jibes over one another’s performances in the training mission.
It was a relief. After losing half his troops to infighting and the looming threat of Liberty Clan over the future of Wounded Legion, it felt good to cut loose and just enjoy the world for a while.
And when everyone parted ways as dawn approached, Reggie stayed up a little longer.
He had planning to do for Wounded Legion’s next conquest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
It was two days after movie night, and Reggie had selected the first target of Wounded Legion’s rebuilding effort.
Ten juggernauts lined the cargo hold of the drop ship, each secured in place and neatly lined up. The pilots had nothing but time on their hands as they trekked across a swath of galaxy that few small factions would have bothered with. Half an hour each way just in transit, it was far and away the longest Reggie had ever ventured for a mission.
And that was the point.
The Dundee Proving Ground was a Corpex Munitions SRM factory planet. They produced small batches of experimental missiles and tested them on a crater-pocked missile range just outside the factory campus.
“So I came out of the latrine and everyone was standing there with their cell phone cameras, clicking pictures,” Monty said, finishing up his turn at storytelling. “God. I couldn’t go online for weeks without seeing that picture pop up in my feeds.”
“How about you, Chase?” Reggie asked. “What’s your most embarrassing work story?”
Chase hemmed and hawed for a moment. “I dunno, guys. I haven’t even finished grad school yet. I don’t know if I can compete with infantry hazing.”
“C’mon, Chase,” Lin said. “I played along.”
“Yours involved a boob slip on stream,” Chase countered.
“Is yours any worse than that?” Lin shot back.
Chase sighed. “Fine. OK. So I was an undergrad at age 14. Off to college. Working for peanuts at the campus computer lab. Hell, my parents had to sign a form just for me to work at all. So this girl comes in, not long before closing, totally desperate. Her and three friends. Well, she recognizes me from Comp-Sci 102 class and begs me for help. Virus. Unrecoverable program. Long story short, she’s willing to put out for help passing this assignment. I was a big kid, grew my scruffy little beard out… she never thought twice about my age. Then one of the other lab monitors comes over and says, loud enough for her friends and half the lab to hear, ‘Anything you do to him is a felony.’”
The entire drop ship roared with laughter over the radios.
“That’s a whole new level of cock-blocking,” Lin remarked once her giggling died down.
“Laugh it up,” Chase said. “But you think dating was hard in high school? Try being college jailbait.”
“You’re last, Reggie,” June said. “The rest of us all showed ours. What’ve you got?”
Reggie sighed. He’d hoped they would arrive before his turn. Frank alone ought to have taken up half the trip with his shaggy-dog anecdotes. He questioned whether undercutting his air of authority was the best way to bring the team together.
No. That was the thinking that had kept recruits at arm’s length and cost him their loyalty. Better to suck it up and tell his story.
“Back when she was still getting used to being a military wife, my ex sent me off on a fishing trip with some of the guys from my unit. Packed me a bag lunch. Sandwich was tuna, and she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea I didn’t like tuna in a sandwich. So I did the grade-school thing and traded lunches.”
“Wow. You rebel, you,” Chase said dryly.
“Shut up,” Reggie griped. “The embarrassing part was that my wife had written a note on the napkin. I didn’t catch on until the other guys were passing it around, holding back from busting a gut. Turns out, wives don’t write ‘have a nice day, love, Mom’ on their notes. Davis was asking around to see if inheriting my lunch got him a free pass for all the stuff Daisy promised to do when I got home.”
“Ouch,” Lin said.
There were commiserations all around. Reggie’s story was filed away along with everyone else’s—just one of the guys.
Their arrival at the Dundee Proving Ground came as a relief. “On the ground in two. Let’s rock this missile fest. No casualties. No freelancing. Stick to the plan and we’ll have ourselves a little private arsenal.”
[Primary Objective: Force the Surrender of Dundee Proving Ground to Wounded Legion]
[Secondary Objective: Shoot Down Incoming Missiles 0/?????]
“How hard is it hitting those things?” SwampFox asked as they tromped down the cargo ramp and into the badlands of the Dundee Proving Ground. “I’m more used to firing them.”
“It takes a little practice,” Chase said. “But you’ll get the hang of it.”
Everyone had refit their juggernauts with Point-Defense Lasers and at least one Beam Cannon if they weren’t already packing. Dundee Proving Ground was defended primarily by their own major export: short-range missiles.
“Not sure I like how many question marks are in that mission objective,” Frank grumbled. “Could be millions of the bloody things.”
“Under a hundred thousand,” Chase said. “The max is 99,999, but it could also be as few as 10,000.”
“Comforting,” Frank muttered.
“Shouldn’t ha
ve to face them all,” Reggie said as Vortex lumbered across the badlands. “We don’t plan on waiting until they run out of ammo.”
The distance to target ticked down.
1,500m
1,300m
900m…
Reggie tensed. With a base max range of 600m, there was almost guaranteed to be other factors in play at a specialty munitions factory. Advanced targeting systems, NPCs with perks, or even custom missile designs with extended range were all options.
“Look sharp,” Reggie warned.
This was the first mission he could remember with Frank running point. The hulking mass of Gremlin was up front to take the brunt of indiscriminate fire from the base and shield the rest of the legion from as much damage as possible.
800m
The sky erupted. It was like watching a movie where medieval archers launched volleys of arrows so thick that the heavens resembled a coarse blanket of arrow shafts. Except that each of these carried an explosive charge and a simple guidance system aiming it for Reggie and his troops.
“Fire!”
Lasers fired out in all directions and colors as Beam Cannon designs competed for kill counts. It looked as if the roadies for Pink Floyd, AC/DC, and KISS had a contest with their laser light shows without music.
The mission objective jumped wildly.
[Secondary Objective: Shoot Down Incoming Missiles 12/?????]
[Secondary Objective: Shoot Down Incoming Missiles 35/?????]
[Secondary Objective: Shoot Down Incoming Missiles 117/?????]
Missiles got through the screen due to sheer numbers and because the smoke and debris for so many of their brethren created visibility problems for the juggernauts.
Vortex shook and rumbled with impacts, but Reggie couldn’t afford to tear his eyes from the firing range overhead to check for damage. His freshly swapped-in Beam Cannon-Ms and Point Defense Lasers were all still responding, and Vortex kept pushing forward, so there was only so bad things could get.
Wounded Legion: a mech LitRPG novel (Armored Souls Book 2) Page 14