Krieger Platoon

by Jay Ivanovich

  The occupants all piled out into the street, still coughing heavily from the toxic fumes, and took cover behind an abandoned car. Valor coughed and growled simultaneously. “Oh…hell no! No one messes with my tank! Whoever this kid is, he’s gonna die!”

  Alighten drank from his canteen in an effort to remoisten his smoke filled throat. “Its ok…We can still fix it up…” The entire tank became engulfed in fire just as he spoke, and the main engine block exploded out the front armor panels. “Uh…never mind…”

  Valor went into an angry cursing fit, only to freeze a moment later as the drop ship slowly made its way back around a building down the street in front of them, and hovered a few yards away. “Ah…fuck my life…”

  Armor Two rolled up behind the drop ship and fired a massive barrage of unguided missiles, and then sped off down the opposite street. The drop ship immediately turned to pursue the new threat, just as Armor Three drove up right behind the team. Gaillard yelled at them over the loud speaker. “GET IN!”

  The team rushed into the back of the ARV before the door was even fully down, joining Matt, Cholius, and Willits in the troop bay. Matt shook his head and scolded himself. “This is why I always bring my launcher! I could have shot that shit down in an instant.”

  Cholius grunted a laugh. “Yes, and this is the one time you decided not to bring it.”

  Matt shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t think I’d need to use it against our own aircraft…”

  Armor Three threw it in full reverse, made their way down several side streets and ended up right in front of the original target building. Gaillard yelled back into the troop bay. “Armor Two is coming back around! Everyone strap in tight!”

  Armor Three position itself behind an overturned truck for a little extra cover, as the sound of the ships chain gun drew ever nearer. Armor Two peeled around the street about five blocks down and b-lined it straight toward Armor Three. The drop ship came around the corner in close pursuit, and fired two missiles almost instantaneously. Armor Two activated its flare counter measures making the first missile miss entirely, but the second spun out of control and detonated directly in front of the ARV, crippling it.

  Gaillard yelled back to Baranov in a commanding tone. “Fire!”

  Baranov calmly refused. “Wait. Still locking on…”

  The drop ship bolted forward, low and fast, having spotted the last ARV. Gaillard started having a panic attack. “BARANOV, I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING THROAT OUT IF YOU DON’T FIRE!”

  Baranov muttered something in Russian under his breath, and began to count down out loud. “Three…two…one…Dasvidaniya.”

  The tank rocked backwards as the 105mm shell exited the barrel and shattered directly through the cockpit of the drop ship, making it implode upon itself in a very satisfying fireball as it skidded into the side of a building. Everyone aboard breathed heavy sighs of relief and began to cheer, before Bag yelled up to Gaillard. “Get us over to Armor Two! NOW!”

  Gaillard maneuvered the tank around the drop ship debris, and drove up directly next to the now totally fire engulfed ARV. Armor Three’s ramp lowered, and the group of soldiers rushed out to search for survivors; all except Bag who stopped halfway down the ramp and began staring at the burning wreck of the tank.

  Bag watched the black smoke billow up from the fire, and felt the almost unbearable heat radiating out from the wreckage. The heat…and the smoke…reminded him of the large twisted metal fire pits and bone piles the Raiders on Earth left behind wherever they attacked. The horrifying sight of crucified people along his home town’s old freeway off ramp… The people whose only crime had been to be in the wrong place when the raiders had ran through… He could still hear their low tortured screams… Bag’s heart began to beat furiously as a hand laid down upon his shoulder. “Hey kid, thought I died didn’t-”

  Bag almost jumped out of his skin, turned at Jon in combination of terror and rage, then covered his eyes with his hands and breathed in slowly and deeply. Shit… Why did he do that?

  Jon recoiled out of concern. What the hell was that? Looked like the man had just saw a ghost… “Bag? Jesus…”

  Bag looked up at Jon with clearly disturbed eyes, his voice a hoarse, gloomy whisper. “Did anyone else make it?”

  Jon sighed and glanced over at the wrecked tank, and lowered his voice. “Conrad and Wolfe were still inside when it caught fire… None of us could get to them in time…it just got too damn hot… Everyone else is alright though...” Jon dropped his gaze in respect towards the soldiers he spoke of as he finished his words.

  Matt walked around from the other side of the wreckage, and immediately noticed the look of anxiety on Bag’s face. “Hey…James has a piece of shrapnel in his leg and I need your Bio-seal, I’m all out.”

  Jon grabbed his own bio-seal and tossed it at Matt, who nodded in thanks but stared back at Bag. “Hey Bag, are you alright?”

  Jon grunted dismissively. “He’s fine, go help James.”

  “Are you sure? He looks pretty pale…”

  Jon turned and screamed. “I SAID HES FINE! GO HELP JAMES!”

  Bag nodded slowly to Matt, then turned back toward staring at the fire. Matt hesitantly walked away, but continued to look back over his shoulder just in case he was needed. What the hell was that about?

  Jon stood there silently trying to figure out what the hell Bag’s issue suddenly is. This isn’t the time or place though… Jon nudged him on the shoulder then motioned him inside Armor Three. “Come on, we need to find a ride out of here before something ELSE happens.”

  Chapter 20 – Tip of the Spear

  Brett stared expressionlessly out of the conference room window, watching the first of the moons begin its rise up into the night sky. This day had continually become stranger, first the whole ordeal with Pierce about getting kicked out of Command and Control on HIS base…and now a surprise promotion to regional commander? Thankfully after this pointless meeting he could return back to Fort Greg and maybe get a few hours of sleep. He was exhausted, and the politics were compounding it.

  “General Travis, are you still paying attention?” General MacAnthony stopped mid-sentence and waited patiently for Brett to respond. Both he and Brett were wearing near identical of the dark green class ‘A’ dress uniform, with the exception of the 4 silver stars on MacAnthony’s shoulders and Brett’s Krieger patch, which had been drawing some strange frowns.

  MacAnthony was still staring and waiting for Brett to respond. Oh that’s right, he was talking about restructuring the Officer corps…guess Brett had to actually pay attention now. Brett continued to stare out the window for a moment, but nodded passively toward MacAnthony as he continued his brief to the President. MacAnthony gave him a subtle frown, then continued. “The formation of the Combined Ground Forces and Combined Space Forces is an exceptionally good step forward, and will free up much needed funding, and also make logistics much more simplified. We can see the logistical nightmare the Air Force experienced dealing with this insurrection and they haven’t fully deployed any of their forces. Could you imagine what will happen when we go to war with the European Union?”

  WHEN we go to war? General Barsha thought to herself. That wasn’t a certainty. President McNeal’s death very well could have been the EU’s doing, but it was a move that didn’t make sense for them. They wouldn’t risk politically isolating themselves, which already happened to them and the US, from the backlash of such an attack. Last Barsha heard, the EU was trying to offer their support in finding out what really happened, but Clarkson of course refused outright.

  She’d had enough of their warmongering now, and stood up and slammed her fist into the table in rage. “How dare you insinuate that my Air Force has sat around and done NOTHING! I haven’t seen any naval ships above Fort Laurence, New Boston, or New Austin, and they’re being hit just as hard…if not worse than Crystal City! I’ve lost hundreds of fighters and transports just organizing the evacuation of those cities!”

&n
bsp; MacAnthony held up his hand to stop her, and attempted to calm her. “General, I was only pointing out that you haven’t had a very strong presence thus far, and it’s obvious that you don’t even have enough fuel to get the bulk of your aircraft off the ground.”

  Barsha stared at MacAnthony, none too amused. How dare he say that, when he damn well knew why she didn’t have enough fuel. How did HE get chosen for Chief of Staff? The man had snake written all over him… “I don’t have fuel because it was all sent to Admiral Al Hakam.” She glared at the Admiral from the corner of her eye as she spoke.

  Admiral Al Hakam, who wasn’t even in dress uniform and only wearing his sloppy looking blue Navy jump suit, cackled in response. “Are you on your period, General? Perhaps you should think about what you say before you make a total ass of yourself. My Navy has been busy defending the inner cities, which are the most important strategic targets we have, would you disagree? The fact of the matter remains, we have already discussed this with two Presidents and you are the only one who has ever been opposed to it.”

  Barsha stared at him as if she wanted to climb over the table and rip his throat out. The only one? He was the only one that DID support it! His hypocrisy infuriated her. “You lying, vile piece of shit… You are using this situation to further your own damn goals! If General Puller were still alive to see this, he would rip out your black heart with his own hands!”

  MacAnthony glared at Barsha and raised his voice as if he were speaking to a subordinate, when in fact he was the most junior officer in the room. “How dare you accuse a higher ranking flag officer of lying! You should be ashamed of yourself, Lieutenant General.” He shook his head at her like she was a disappointment to him… He had some nerve.

  Brett cleared his throat and risked speaking. “Excuse me, but that isn’t accurate. I personally spoke to General Omar and General Puller at length about the merge. Their stances against it is one of the reasons why the Krieger program was approved at all. It was supposed to be a compromise to see how well the branches could work together.”

  The room glared at him silently, and he could feel their hate almost radiating from them. But he had to speak up, what they said was not true at all. Barsha however was looking at him very curiously. She relaxed in her chair, and carefully straightened her crisp air force blue dress uniform to even out the wrinkles she’d caused when she’d stood up so suddenly in anger. “General Travis, you’re in charge of Joint Base Fort Greg… Correct?”

  Brett was about to answer when President Clarkson cleared his throat and stood up from his seat at the head of the table. “That will be all, General Barsha.” Barsha glanced at him, then sighed and sat back heavily in her chair. Mr. Clarkson continued to glower at her though, and his tone became very unprofessional and downright rude. “I said…that will be all. You are dismissed. Get out.”

  Barsha passed him a look of absolute surprise. President or not, how dare he speak to her that way! “I am the Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force! I have a permanent seat in these meetings!” She countered back firmly.

  “As of a few minutes ago, the Air Force doesn’t exists… and neither does your position. You’re dismissed. Get out!” He stood with his knuckles against the table, staring at her with a sour look on his face.

  Al Hakam crossed his arms and glared victoriously at Barsha, who stared at the others in the room in absolute shock. Barsha made her way out, but subtly made a curious passing glance at Brett, who forced himself not to show an ounce of emotion. They dismissed a Chief of Staff for asking him a question? All of them agreed with the move too… There some serious political maneuvering going on. Oh God, what has he gotten himself into?

  The President sighed loudly, then readjusted his pants as some of the rolls from his obese belly had cascaded over the belt line. “It’s like working with spoiled children… Thankfully we don’t have to deal with that one anymore.” Then glared viciously at Brett. “Why is a lowly 1 star in my meeting in the first place, General MacAnthony?” He snapped over to him.

  MacAnthony cleared his throat and nodded toward Brett. He almost seemed afraid of Clarkson… “General Travis here is my chosen replacement. I would like him to be the next regional commander for the southern frontier.”

  “I said, why’s he here?” Clarkson snapped back again.

  MacAnthony cautiously glanced at Brett and then back to the President. “I wanted to keep him in the loop, Sir… For the most part, what I know, he knows. We’re going to need trustworthy people soon, thought it’d be good to start early.”

  The President scowled directly at Brett, but seemed to accept that reason. “You should teach him some fucking manners next time you bring him into our meetings… You know what, I could give a shit about this anymore. I have a nation to rule.”

  Brett remained sitting as the President and Admiral Al Hakam quickly left the room. MacAnthony remained in the door way, waiting for Brett. He sighed and spoke quietly to him, on a more personal level. “Brett…Damnit, you can’t be speaking out of turn like that! This is a delicate time, and it requires a lot more tact than normal… Anyways that aside, are you ready for your next promotion?”

  Brett shook his head. “Honestly, I can’t say that I am.” He WAS being honest.

  MacAnthony didn’t seem to like that answer. “Well, I’m to be made Chief of Staff of the combined ground forces, so you ARE going to take my position as regional commander. It’s a big promotion, but you’re the best…well, only suitable candidate for it. I expect you to keep your mouth shut and do the job you’re assigned to the letter. The President demands it.”

  The President DEMANDS it? The wording of that didn’t feel right. Brett chose his words carefully, but made sure they were still the truth. “Sir, I’m always ready to defend the Constitution of the United States.”

  MacAnthony nodded and smiled at that. “Outstanding. We’ll work out the details a little later, since we obviously didn’t have the time in that meeting. Now head back to Fort Greg and start closing things down, your replacement should be there in a day or so. We’ll be relocating a lot of assets from your base and a few outlying units, especially that special operations experiment you had going. We’re about to retake our place as the most powerful in history, so deal with the growing pains and move on, roger?”

  “Roger that…” Brett replied blankly. He pretend not to care too much when he asked the next question though. “What experiment would that be though, Sir?”

  “Kruger or Krieger or whatever the hell you just called it. Naval Special Warfare’s being revived, so we are pooling all our assets to make it happen. I was going to tell you sooner, but I knew you wouldn’t care anyways.”

  Brett feigned a smile…and lied. “I completely understand General. I don’t care at all.”

  MacAnthony smirked. “Good. There should be a drop ship you can use out on the tarmac, otherwise you’ll have to take a cab to the airport and work it out yourself. Navy’s kind of busy… you understand right?”

  Well that comment was eye opening. MacAnthony didn’t care about anyone but himself. He strutted away to catch up to the other political leaders, leaving Brett standing motionless in the doorway. Head spinning. He just got drafted into a political game that he did NOT know how to play, nor wanted to learn how to. What the heck was going on?

  Brett made his way out the front doors of the White House, and down to the single idling Navy drop ship that would take him home. The White house looked like an absolute fortress of sand bag bunkers and entrenched tanks, and the entire skyline of New Denver was now filled with the silhouettes of dozens of massive Navy warships of every variety, more than any one city would ever need in defense…

  As he took the final steps up the ladder and into the pitch black cabin of the awaiting drop ship, the door slammed and locked behind him. The light blue combat lights came on a moment later, and General Barsha was sitting in the chair directly in front of him, pistol in hand. “Sit down and stay quiet!”


  She made it obvious she was not in a debating kind of mood, and neither was Brett. He sighed and did exactly that. “I’m too damn tired to argue with you.”

  Barsha called up to the pilot, very authoritatively, without so much as blinking. “Get this thing moving! The General has somewhere to be, remember?”

  The drop ship spun up its engines and accelerated straight up into the lower atmosphere, then began its short forty five minute trip to Fort Gregg. At least that’s what Brett hoped was going on. Barsha holstered her side arm, and breathed a sigh. “Sorry for that, just couldn’t risk you giving our little rouse away.”

  Brett stretched himself out on the chair, and didn’t hide the frustration in his voice. “What’s this about?”

  Barsha smiled at that. “I’ll cut straight to the point; I need your help. Those bastards brought me into that meeting just to screw me over one more time. They honestly think I’m just going to walk away with my tail between my legs… I know you only from reputation, but the reason I care at all is because you stood up to their lies…even though they looked like they wanted to kill you on the spot.”

  Yeah he got that impression too. Brett hesitated to answer. “What Admiral Al Hakam said was a complete lie, and I had to stand up to that. But if you’re asking me to get involved in some kind of political fight…”

  Barsha sighed and waved her hand indifferently at him. “What they did wasn’t just wrong, what they did was illegal and unconstitutional, and don’t pretend like you think differently. Do you know who else was supposed to be in that meeting? Congressional oversight... But since most of Congress died in the attack, President Clarkson is using his war-time authority to do whatever the hell he wants, and no one is even batting an eyelash. Its tyranny. Plain and simple.” Her voice ended in a sneer.