“That gun fire must be coming from the Iraqi Army,” Snow said as she looked over to Evans.
“Should I launch the UAV now, ma’am?” Evans asked again.
“Not yet, wait until we get a half of a click from the old city center. Right now, I want you to try to raise Romeo 2-6 and get ahold of command. We need to let them know we’ve arrived at the waypoint and we’re standing-by.”
Evans nodded and switched back on his radio.
“Romeo 2-6, Romeo 2-6; this is Romeo 2-5; what is your current location and status? Do you copy, over?” Evans said, but again it looked like all he was getting was static. Snow became a little more concerned now. The normal radio chatter had ceased completely since they moved out from their last waypoint.
“Romeo 2-6, Romeo 2-6; this is Romeo 2-5; what is your current location and status? Do you copy, over?” Evans said again, shaking his head when he failed to hear a response. “I’m not sure what’s going on, Lieutenant. I can’t raise them. In fact, I’m not hearing anyone; it’s all static and this strange wobbling noise. I believe we’re getting jammed, ma’am.”
“The jamming filters?” Snow asked.
“All switched on. I’m gonna try HQ again, ma’am,” Evans said. “Papa Bear, Papa Bear; this is Romeo 2-5; we’re currently in position at waypoint Charlie-Eight. Do you copy, over?”
Evans shook his head. The wobbly noise was loud enough that Snow could hear it from Evans’ headset. It was clear they weren’t going to get through.
“Keep trying, Evans. Okay, back to the Humvee. Mallory, I want you to trade places with Scott; he needs a break,” Snow said as she and the others walked back.
“Oh thank god!” Scott exclaimed with relief as he hopped out of the turret; his face had already turned a reddish-pink color. Mallory climbed up and took his place, grumbling about the heat as he did.
“Where to, ma’am?” Barnes asked as Snow got back into the Humvee.
“If we continue for one more click, we’ll come up to a cloverleaf intersection near the University of Basra; a hospital and police station are also in the area to the northeast. We might be able to make contact with any remaining Iraqi Army or Police units, if we head in that direction,” Snow said, though she knew she had no idea where they actually were.
“Lieutenant, I have a bad feeling about this,” Barnes said as he looked up out of the windshield. Snow looked up too and saw the remaining helicopters egress towards Kuwait.
“Yeah, I know what you mean, but our job is to scope things out. So let’s get a move on it,” Snow said as Barnes put the Humvee in gear and moved forward slowly.
The closer and closer they got to the city center the more the number of abandoned vehicles began to taper off, making travel on the highway a little easier. The University of Basra to their right was mostly on fire and the hospital up the way on the left looked like it was too. There was no sign of life anywhere. The sounds of sporadic gunfire and explosions had ceased as well. It was quiet, all except for that strange electric hum. Snow felt like she and her team were utterly alone -- for now.
Chapter 1
Three weeks … Three weeks, two-hundred-and-fifty causalities, no ground gained, no ground lost, and High Command still tells us we’ve won. We’ve been winning this way for too long, Captain Rex Fischer thought as he and his Dark Horse Commando Squad, CS-13 were exiting their Phaeton dropship Dark Horse One.
A young courier was waiting at the end of the lowered ramp, waiting to meet Fischer with another order.
“It’s looking pretty big this time, Captain Fischer! These orders are straight from General Snow, sir!” The barely eighteen-year-old private shouted over the noise of the Phaeton’s winding down thrusters.
“Yeah okay; squad, take five!” Fischer yelled. Fischer was distraught; he and his squad had been on the Brandy Station Front for three weeks and had a few close calls. All he was hoping for was some time to get his squad some rest. He feared the orders he was just handed were going to tell him a different story.
“Don’t worry, Cap, I’ll make sure Sanchez doesn’t hog all the beer in the R&R room,” Sergeant Hartford said with a grin.
“Hey, what the hell are you talking about Hart? You drink beer like it’s going out of style!” Corporal Sanchez shot back at her.
“Come on you two! The Cap’s gotta read those orders,” First Sergeant Martin said as he was herding the two away. “He doesn’t have time for your guys’ crap!”
“Martin!” Fischer yelled to get his attention. “There better be at least two beers waiting for me inside!”
“Aye-aye, Cap!” Martin said with a wink.
After hearing this, Sanchez and Hartford looked at each other and then raced to the R&R room with Martin and the rest of the squad following behind. Fischer, seeing this, cracked a smile -- the first in awhile
“With that much energy, maybe we should’ve stayed on the front a little longer,” Fischer said to himself.
Fischer glanced at the orders but didn’t read them; his eyes were too heavy and tired.
“Sir, you need to read these orders, sir!” The private yelled over the sound of a landing dropship. “I have to report back to the General as soon as you’re finished, sir!”
Fischer barely heard the kid this time as another Phaeton landed quickly twenty yards to his right. Fischer gave a quick glance to the sunset as it was dropping below the laser wire fence. He then turned his head back to the private, gave him a look of exhaustion, and then looked down to the orders.
“Damn it,” Fischer said as he crumpled up the paper. We can’t go right back out again, damn it! One million robots… those numbers would’ve been unthinkable a few years ago, now it seems to be every other week. We just can’t keep up this pace.
“I’ll inform General Snow that you received the orders, sir,” the private said, and then turned to leave. “Oh… crap, I almost forgot. Major Rayne wants to see you in the command building in fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Thanks, private, that’ll be all,” Fischer said. The private saluted Fischer and then ran quickly towards the C&C building. Damn, there’s no way Martin is going to keep the last two beers away from the squad until I get back, Fischer thought.
Fischer began slowly making his way over to the command building; there was no real hurry, those beers were a lost cause anyway. Across the tarmac he could see more dropships coming in. He could just barely make out the unit insignias on the Phaetons, but the red on them tipped him off. Must be the CS-10 “Red Hats,” looks like they had it pretty rough, Fischer thought.
The Red Hats were a tough unit, probably the toughest in the 2nd Battalion. The Red Hats were famous for their red helmet they would wear into battle. Their commander, Lieutenant Samantha Harlan had her troops -- a few years back -- paint their helmets red, so as she put it, “So those damn Robots know who’s killing them!” Fischer smirked at this as he had tried to explain to Harlan on numerous occasions that the robots only detect infrared and heat signatures. Harlan would then respond with “Well then, at least everyone else will know who’s doing the killing!”
As Fischer was observing The Red Hats coming in, he heard someone call out “Hey Fish!” He looked around and saw someone running up to meet him; it was Captain Julian Rhodes, commander of CS-11 “Master Blasters.” The Master Blasters were known for their penchant for heavy weaponry and heavy handedness. Captain Rhodes was no exception: he only carried two weapons into battle, a COTAX Systems 76mm Laser Cannon and a custom-made semi-auto pistol that fired ten gauge explosive rounds. It’s said that there’s a pot floating around the Master Blasters to see who can fire Rhodes’ pistol without breaking their hands; none have claimed it so far.
“How’s it been, Fish?” Rhodes asked. “I heard the Brandy Station Front got hit hard. Is your squad doin’ all right?”
“Yeah, the squad’s worn out, but doing all right,” Fischer responded. “I just … we’ve got to hit those bastards with an offensive, but instead High Command shuf
fles us around to plug up gaps and shore up the line.”
“I know, man. We’re supposed to be the offense, but the grunts just can’t hold their own long enough for us to do anything else,” Rhodes said. “So did you hear, Fish?”
“Hear what?”
“Oh, I guess you haven’t seen Rayne yet,” Rhodes said. “Looks like the HRUOs are planning a major push for Grantsburg.”
“Yeah. One million robots -- it’s unreal,” Fischer said.
“How do we keep up with it? Every month their goddamn numbers increase!” Rhodes said as he looked down and then back up at Fischer. “Heh… do you remember, Fish, when we used to think fifty-thousand was a lot? Ha! And those were only the Mark Ones and Twos!”
Fischer stared blankly off for a second and then shook his head. How many is it going to be a year from now? He thought.
“I’ve got to go meet Rayne. Rhodes, you should probably go say ‘hi’ to Harlan,” Fischer said. Rhodes looked over to his right where the Red Hats were.
“Yeah, I think I’ll wait until they’ve rested a bit,” Rhodes said, with some concern on his face. “They had it worse than y’all, Fish.”
Fischer started back for the command building.
Oh hey, Fish!”
Yeah?”
“If you want to meet up later, I’ll be in officer’s club around 2200 hours, if you come by the first round is on me!” Rhodes yelled.
“Sure thing, Rhodes!”
Rhodes jogged back toward the officer’s barracks as Fischer continued toward the command building. Looks like I might still get a beer tonight after all, Fischer thought.
*****
Fisher entered Major Rayne’s office and saluted.
“Ah, Captain Fischer,” Rayne said as he was returning Fischer’s salute. “Please, take a seat. Your unit had a tough fight out there, but you held the line, Fischer. Your Instant Action Reports indicated that your unit accounted for forty-percent of the destroyed or disabled HRUOs; excellent work, Fischer.”
“Thank you, sir,” Fischer said.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now from General Snow, that your unit is going to be sent back to the front in a few days,” Rayne said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn it, if it was up to me, Fischer, your unit would get a few months of R&R for what you did on the Brandy Station Front,” Rayne said.
“Sadly, it’s not up to you, sir,” Fischer said. “Major, is it correct that we’re going to be facing a million robots with only one division and a minimum amount of air support!?” Fischer asked with some frustration.
“High Command’s resources are stretched thin, Fischer. The HRUOs mount attacks like the Brandy Station Front fifty times a day, every day on a thousand-mile front, and that’s just on this continent. It’s a miracle that we’re even holding on as it is,” Rayne said.
“Sir, we need to go on the attack and take out some of their factories. The robots have a hard time pic-”
“I’m well aware of it, Captain, trust me,” Rayne interrupted. “I’ve tried to ask General Snow to send us out, but command has their hands tied at the moment. Look, Fischer, the truth is, right now if the commando squads aren’t there to shore up our defenses, we risk a general collapse of our frontlines, and that is unacceptable.”
“Sorry, sir, it’s just …”
“I know, Fischer, but command has reassured me that they’re forming up new laser rifle divisions every day.”
To replace the ones we lose every day, Fischer thought.
“I do have some good news for you, Captain Fischer. You’re getting a new junior officer for your unit and she’s practically straight out of the Academy,” Rayne said.
“This is supposed to be good news, sir?” Fischer asked, sarcastically.
“Oh, come now, Fischer, don’t be like that. Here’s her file. Her name is 2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes, from New Omaha. Graduated top of her class at NOU, afterwards she entered the Academy where she received extremely high marks. After that, she enrolled at the Special Weapons School where she became proficient with the 60mm plasma mortar, and she is apparently deadly accurate, according to her record,” Rayne said, and then handed the file over to Fischer. Fischer looked it over and flipped through her file.
Paper-clipped into the file was a picture of the young 2nd Lieutenant. Her straight, dark-brown, almost black hair hiding underneath her new, blue cadet beret suggested to Fischer that this was her Academy graduation photo. Her grayish-green eyes had a confident, eager gaze to them. Her facial expression displayed nothing but the utmost seriousness and professionalism. Her textbook salute in the photo - typical of most of the high-performing cadets to come out of the Academy - reflected that.
Four days… Fischer thought, as though he could foresee her death already. “Good, I can use a plasma mortar; let’s just hope she knows how to use it in the field, sir,” Fischer said, and then closed the file and handed it back to Rayne.
“That’s more like it, Captain. You’re dismissed,” Rayne said.
Fischer left Rayne’s office and headed to the R&R building to check on his squad. 2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes…
Chapter 2
“Watch your step and have a nice day, ma’am,” the bus driver said as Brookes was stepping off.
“Thanks, you too,” she replied.
Orion Airbase was a hectic place these days. Brookes barely had a moment to look around before she was in someone else’s way. Walking toward the administrative building to check in, she dug into her pockets to make sure she still had her assignment orders; which they would surely ask for once she got there. She found them slightly crumpled up in her left pants pocket. She was relieved when she found them and hurriedly tried to iron them out with her hands as she opened the door.
“Next! Rank, name, and orders,” the clerk at the check-in desk said.
“2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes, reporting for duty,” Brookes said as she presented her orders to the bored-out-of-his-mind clerk.
The clerk quickly stamped her orders a couple of times.
You’re to report to Major Rayne; 2/14th Phaeton Special Forces Battalion. You’ll find his office is in the Command Building, next!” The clerk barked, as he waved Brookes out of the line.
“Thanks! Now, to find the Command Building,” Brookes said awkwardly to the clerk who had already gone on to the next person in line. Brookes shrugged her shoulders and headed out the door.
*****
“2nd Lieutenant Madison Brookes, reporting for duty, sir!” Brookes said as she saluted formally.
“At ease, Lieutenant Brookes; we’re a little more informal here in special forces - unlike the regular army. Take a seat, please,” Major Rayne said, with slight amusement.
“Yes, sir,” Brookes said as she took a seat.
“Would you like anything to drink, Lieutenant?” Rayne asked, and then went over to a small dark mahogany bar to the left of his desk.
“Thank you, but no thank you, sir,” Brookes replied.
“Very well. I received your file yesterday, Lieutenant. I’m very impressed,” Rayne said as he poured some whiskey into a small tumbler.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Top of your class at NOU, High Marks at the Academy, and your proficiency with the PM-2 60mm plasma mortar is top notch,” Rayne said. He sat back down at his desk, and then flipped through her file.
“It’s my specialty, sir,” Brookes said, as her face lit up a bit.
“So I see. Lieutenant Brookes, I have to ask why you chose the Phaeton Special Forces over, say, the Mortar Brigades? I’m sure they would’ve been more than happy to have you there,” Rayne said, as he closed her file and opened a box of cigars, offering Brookes one.
“I wanted to be where I can do the most good, sir,” Brookes said, waving no to Rayne’s cigar offer. “From the IAR’s that I read at the Academy, it seemed that the Phaeton Special Forces - the 2/14th in particular - have done more to keep this war from turning into
a complete disaster than High Command itself, sir.”
“Well, these are elite soldiers, Lieutenant, but what makes you think you have what it takes? Sure, you have some skills; however, the front is vastly different from the simulators at the Academy. It’s a real war out there, Lieutenant, do you understand that?” Rayne said with all seriousness as he lit up his cigar.
Brookes paused for a bit and sternly replied “Yes, sir!”
*****
Brookes was sitting at a booth away from the enlisted bar in the R&R building. The place was empty - save for the bartender, and a napping corporal on the other side of the room. She had been nursing a tall stout for almost an hour since she made her way over to the bar. The TVs in the place all had the Global News Network on, but there was no real news on - just celebrity gossip and sports. During the commercial breaks there would be recruitment ads and anti-robot propaganda.
"Pfft… if it wasn't for those ads most people would completely forget that there was anything going on," Brookes muttered to her beer.
Major Rayne had just two hours ago assigned Brookes to The Dark Horses.
“Captain Fischer’s squad … twelve-year-old me would be jumping for joy,” Brookes said, continuing her conversation with her beer glass.
She was going over and over in her head about what she would say to the Rex Fischer once she met him.
“Do I tell him how much of a hero I think he is? No, I’m sure he hears it all the time. Just act normal and everything will be okay,” Brookes said to the half-empty glass, which had no other choice but to listen.
Suddenly, two soldiers burst through the front bar door, slamming it violently into the wall, which caused the sleeping corporal at the other end of the room to yelp out “Robots!”, as he scurried under his table.
"First!" the male soldier running in proclaimed.
Robot Wars: Thrown Into the Fray Page 2