by Tripp Ellis
“Maps have been sent to your PDUs of the AO,” Sutton stammered. His eyes were wide, and his face was pale. He had already said it previously, and was about to continue repeating instructions.
“Don't worry, LT. We got this," Willoughby said with a grin. He didn't look nervous in the least.
Zack wondered if he just hid it well, or if he was able to truly remain detached. Zack felt like he had imbibed a pot of coffee. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His stomach fluttered. No amount of training could ever fully prepare you for your first battle. Targets on the range didn't shoot back.
Crusher Platoon had been in the thick of it before, and most members of the platoon had long ago accepted death as a possible outcome.
Zack followed the platoon up the ramp. He jumped up, grabbed the bottom rung, and climbed into his MAV. He put on his helmet and powered up the vehicle. The jaws of the transport slammed shut, then the platoon was once again shrouded in darkness. Exhaust from the Mavericks was vented out of the cargo hold, but it didn't take the air long to become stiflingly hot. The bulkheads rippled and warbled as the Endeavor made its final quantum jump to Crylos. It was the last moment of calm before the storm.
Zack focused on the task at hand. He took slow steady breaths and pushed out any negative thoughts, doubts, or concerns. He was going to approach it like it was just a big video game—one in which you couldn't re-spawn.
"I hear they're rounding up civilians as slaves," Ozone said, his slightly shaky voice crackling over the comm line. “But they aren’t taking any military POWs."
“Don't get captured, and you will be fine," Diesel said.
“I don’t plan on it.”
Zack was hoping against hope that his foster parents and Honor were still alive. But he hadn't been able to contact them since the attack. The only ray of hope was that they hadn’t been officially reported as deceased.
Zack felt his stomach twist in knots again as the Endeavor emerged from slide-space. It was like another shot of adrenaline. His heartbeat skyrocketed. This was the moment of truth.
Zack could hear the rumble of cannon fire as the Endeavor’s massive turrets swung into position and pummeled the enemy warships. The mammoth super-carrier quaked as the enemy returned fire. Directed energy blasts slammed into the hull. It was like two prizefighters standing toe to toe, trading punches. Zack wondered how long the Endeavor could hold out.
He felt the MLV lift off the flight deck and accelerate out of the bay. The space surrounding Zack's home world was in chaos. Plasma bolts streaked across the star field in all directions. Swarms of UPDF fighters clashed with the enemy. It was like someone had kicked a nest of angry hornets. The fighters dodged and weaved and dove and rolled. The heavy warships fired nuclear missiles at each other. Defensive targeting systems attempted to incinerate them before impact.
Hundreds of MLV's launched from the fleet and descended toward Crylos. The slow lumbering barges were like sitting ducks.
The Endeavor fired several smart missiles down to the surface of Crylos in an attempt to soften up the landing area.
Zack was able to glimpse at the maelstrom by tapping into the landing vehicle’s camera feed. A neighboring MLV exploded in a blinding fury as a plasma cannon incinerated it. Despite the armor plating and electromagnetic shielding, it was no match for the high-powered weapon. It was a grim reminder of how fragile even the toughest of vehicles could be.
Hordes of enemy fighters attempted to shoot down the landing vehicles. Several swarmed around Crusher Platoon’s MLV. The plasma turrets swung into action, spraying a stream of projectiles at the attackers.
Several Navy fighter escorts swooped in to defend Crusher’s MLV. There may have been a good degree of inter-service rivalry, but at times like this, they were all thankful for one another.
Between the attack fighters and the turret gunners, short work was made of the enemy fighters. One by one, the alien ships exploded, spiraling debris into the vastness of space.
The MLV shook and rumbled as it entered the violent upper atmosphere. They were lucky to have made it this far. Zack had witnessed dozens explode in the short distance between the flight deck and the stratosphere. The MLV rattled, and it sounded like it was going to rip apart.
They had beaten the odds by making it past the destroyers. A small wave of relief washed over Zack. The next challenge would be the landing. They would have to evade the anti-aircraft guns and the enemy’s mechanized divisions on the ground. Hopefully the brass had planned well and weren’t putting them down in the middle of the ant pile.
The MLV broke through the clouds, and the ground below became visible. It was hardly recognizable to Zack. The once stunning landscape was now war-torn. The architectural marvels had been razed.
Brilliant orange plasma bolts streaked toward the landing vehicles from ground plasma cannons. It was a sight to behold. Watching the glowing projectiles as they vaulted upwards was almost mesmerizing. Almost.
A massive bolt rocketed within inches of the MLV. Other landing vehicles were dropping like flies, exploding in brilliant balls of amber flame. They billowed black smoke as their twisted carcasses tumbled to the ground.
Zack watched as another stream of plasma bolts blasted toward his MLV. It was a disconcerting feeling, having no control over the situation. There was nothing he could do to alter his fate. One of the bolts clipped an MLV ahead of Crusher Platoon’s, shredding the vehicle.
Zack could see fragments of the hull spiral away, along with bits and pieces of the Mavericks contained within.
A massive chunk of shrapnel slammed into Crusher Platoon’s left engine. The impact rattled Zack's skull. The engine exploded, and the MLV spiraled out of control, plummeting to its doom.
45
The MLV quaked and tumbled through the atmosphere. It was a disorienting spiral of chaos. If Zack wasn't feeling queasy before, he was now.
Zack saw glimpses of the ground below flash across his HUD as the landing vehicle twisted out of control. His first thought wasn’t of panic or fear—it was that he wasn't going to get to fight. His platoon was going to end up as a mangled pile of wreckage on the ground.
The MLV pilot pulled hard on the controls, trying to stabilize the descent. With a skillful use of landing thrusters, along with port and starboard navigational thrusters, the pilot was able to get the death spiral under control. The craft leveled out, and the descent slowed to something more manageable. The MLV listed along, sputtering on one engine.
Navy strike fighters targeted the artillery positions with guided smart missiles. But it did little to minimize the incoming weapons fire.
Crusher Platoon’s battered MLV made its final descent. The heavy behemoth thundered to the ground with a violent jolt. The steel jaws opened, but the front ramp ground to a halt halfway down. It was stuck.
Nails was in the first row of Mavericks. He marched forward and kicked the ramp with the foot of his mech repeatedly until it flopped to the ground. The platoon flooded out of the vehicle and got their first taste of the battlefield.
Plasma bolts filled the sky, zipping in all directions. The platoon had landed on the outskirts of the city of Utonia. They had touched down in Hurst Park, though it took Zack a moment to realize where he was. It was anything but a scenic, recreational area. The Tarvaax had lined the park with a modernized version of the old Czech hedgehog obstacles—crossed and angled iron I-beams that looked like giant jacks. Despite the several hundred-year-old design, they were effective against tread tanks and mech units. Rings of concertina wire were threaded between them. The hedgehogs were a nuisance and slowed down forward progression. The extra pause that it took to navigate the obstacles could be the difference between life and death.
Walker tanks navigated the obstacles with a little more ease, but their elevation made them prime targets, drawing the attention of the heavy cannons in the enemy bunkers.
Hurst Park began in the suburbs and ran through the center of Utonia. It was a perfect
way to funnel a large number of troops into the city, except for the fact that it was heavily defended now.
More MLVs had landed, and swarms of Mavericks poured out of the transports. They formed a moving wall that extended as far as the eye could see. The battalion of mechanized warriors marched forward, peppering the enemy positions with plasma bolts. Regular infantry were marching alongside. Zack was glad he had the protection of a mechanized vehicle. But even that wasn't enough—a walker tank not far from him crashed down after taking a massive hit. The ground quaked as it slammed in the dirt, twisting into a smoldering heap of metal.
Navy and Tarvaax fighters clashed overhead. The rumble of explosions and the sound of plasma weapons filled the air. The battlefield was quickly covered in haze. The acrid smell of scorched tanks and mech units mixed with the sharp scent of plasma bolts, blood, and oil.
Hollywood only made it a few steps off the transport when he was hit by a heavy plasma blast. The impact tore off one of his mechanical limbs and knocked his vehicle back. He staggered to regain his balance. But two more quick blasts were more than his armor could handle. They pierced the armor plating, turning the cockpit into a flaming bucket of hell. Sparks and fire showered from the torso. The giant mech collapsed to the ground, billowing smoke and fire. It was a grim reminder how perilous the situation was.
The onslaught of Marines pummeled the enemy positions. But it wasn't doing any good. A force shield deflected every plasma bolt hurled at the enemy. The shield lit up with a bluish glow at each impact, then quickly faded.
Zack crouched down and took cover behind a hedgehog. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. A rifle platoon huddled around him. They liked to stick close to the mechs for added protection.
Zack used his optical zoom to survey the battlefield and get a better look at the enemy positions. The Tarvaax had dug a massive trench that spanned for miles, blocking this side of the city.
There were multiple bunkers. Enemy mech’s lined the trench. Heavy cannons were positioned on rooftops. Behind the trench were tanks. The Tarvaax must have known the Marines would attack from this position. The enemy was well prepared for the invasion.
“Either they've got really good intel, or someone leaked our plans," Diesel said.
“Never attribute to malice that which can be explained by stupidity,” Nails said. “Probably those nimrods in the press."
"These are the cards we drew, now we've got to play them,” Willoughby said.
Zack switched to his 50 caliber machine guns, but they weren’t getting through the force-shield either. A horrible helpless feeling washed over him. Marines were dying left and right. Explosions detonated all around. It was madness, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. The gut wrenching reality that they probably weren't going to survive was starting to seep into the minds of the invasion force.
The cannon that took out Hollywood was protected in one of the fortified bunkers. It was making mincemeat of the approaching Mavericks. The strike fighters had pummeled it several times, but nothing was getting through the force-shield. It didn't matter how many bombs they dropped on it, or plasma bolts they fired—after the smoke cleared the bunker was still there, and the enemy canon kept flinging molten death at the invading Marines.
“We’re totally fucked!" Cosmo screeched.
"Priority one is taking out those bunkers,” Sutton said. "If we can take one down, we can take the others down."
Willoughby tried to contact the Endeavor to call in a fire mission, but the Tarvaax were jamming transmissions. It was difficult to communicate with the other platoons, much less the super-carriers battling it out in space.
“What about the mobile artillery?" Diesel asked. "Are they in position yet?"
“How come they don’t ever go in first?” Big Papa asked.
“Because they’re not as dumb as we are," Cosmo said.
“Call in an artillery strike," Sutton commanded.
“It’s not going to work, sir.”
“We won't know until we try it. Call in the artillery strike!”
Willoughby focused on the bunker, and marked it with the reticle of his sight. The bunker’s grid coordinates popped up on his HUD. “Rainmaker, this is Crusher 1-Alpha, do you copy?"
There was no response.
Willoughby barked into his comm line again. “Repeat. Rainmaker, this is Crusher 1-Alpha, do you copy?"
“Rainmaker 2-Bravo. Go ahead, Crusher."
"I need a fire mission to bust this bunker ASAP. Grid coordinates 1-7-5-6-2-3. Danger close. How copy?"
“That's a solid copy, Crusher. Coordinates 1-7-5-6-2-3. Danger close.”
“Affirmative.”
“Copy that. Sending a special package your way, express delivery."
It didn't matter how advanced modern warfare had become, it was hard to beat good old-fashioned artillery in certain situations. Shells could be launched from rear positions with pinpoint accuracy.
The Krüger-Schmitz M-298 was a mobile artillery platform that fired 155mm rounds in a variety of flavors. The preferred munition for busting bunkers and armored positions was the M788-S9-HAPDU (heavy armor penetrating depleted uranium) round. It was affectionately known as the Terrible Turd. It had an incendiary liquid gel core (S9) that when oxidized burned at over 4000°. A round could pierce through damn near anything, then spray the molten liquid throughout the impact site. It was like the devil himself had taken a big crap on the enemy. It was a fan favorite among infantry personnel.
The Krüger-Schmitz had a barrel that was 20 feet long, and the entire unit weighed 65,000 pounds. It had 4 Hughes & Kessler engines, and could be deployed from a destroyer or super-carrier, or nearby forward operating base. Once on the ground, and in position, it could be ready to fire with less than 20 minutes of set up time, and had an effective range of 20 miles.
Willoughby could hear the low-frequency thud of the M298 firing in the distance, but he was less than optimistic.
46
The whistle of the artillery round grew increasingly louder. It tore through the sky and slammed down, detonating against the force-shield. The explosion was blinding, splattering S9 gel in all directions. The molten liquid dripped down the side of the force-shield, pooling on the ground in flaming puddles.
Zack watched with somber eyes as the last bit of hope vanished. His eyes scanned the battlefield. It was strewn with the carcasses of walker-tanks, mechs, and Marines.
“We're going to have to move on those positions," Sutton said. "I want first, second, and third squad to advance through that force-field and take out that bunker.”
It was the worst idea the 2nd Lieutenant had ever offered up. And he had offered up some bad ones in the past.
“Sir, with all due respect, nothing has been able to penetrate that force-field so far,” Willoughby said. "I have my doubts that a mech unit is just going to be able to walk through.”
"It must be velocity sensitive. A slow moving vehicle should be able to get through." The LT didn't seem to be basing his supposition on any observational fact, and the entire platoon knew it.
Willoughby didn't like it, but he was going to carry out the order.
“I think I might know another way into the city," Zack said.
Sutton dismissed him. “Son, the only guaranteed way into the city is through the enemy.”
Willoughby grimaced. ”You heard the man. Move! Move! Move!"
Zack grabbed the hedgehog in front of him and tossed it aside. He ripped through the concertina wire and barreled forward. Then he dropped his Maverick to all fours and bear crawled across the ground. His cockpit and weapons rotated parallel to the ground. It gave the mechanized vehicle a lower profile.
Crusher Platoon advanced toward the enemy trench. A torrent of plasma bolts rifled in either direction. Enemy artillery rounds exploded all around them. It was a miracle that anyone made it more than a few steps. Ozone took a direct hit. When the smoke cleared, his mech was scattered across the terrain in
a dozen pieces.
Zack plowed forward, blasting at the enemy mechs in the trench with a combination of plasma bolts, bullets, and rockets. Nothing was effective. Even without a protective force-field, they would have been difficult targets to hit, with little surface area exposed.
Zack continued his drive forward, pushing aside the hedgehogs as he encountered them. A rifle platoon followed behind him, using his mech as cover as they advanced.
T-Bone tripped some kind of mine or IED. It tore off one of the mech’s appendages and splintered shrapnel through the cockpit. Sizzling metal sliced through T-Bone’s flesh, painting the interior bulkheads red.
Zack could hear the screams of agony over the comm line.
A steady onslaught of plasma fire was coming from the trenches. Zack tried to keep the Maverick as low to the ground as possible, weaving his way through the obstacles.
A wave of enemy fighters streaked overhead, pummeling Marines with rockets. There were explosions all around him, and mech units were falling right and left.
The platoon held up a little over half way to the shield in a depression that provided a modicum of cover. Their numbers had dwindled considerably. At this rate, there was only going to be a handful of them left, if any at all.
“This is madness. Nothing is getting through that force-field," Cosmo said.
Plasma bolts rifled overhead.
“Keep moving,” the LT barked over the comm line. He was in the relative safety of the rear area.
Willoughby's face tensed. He didn't like the idea of sending his troops to die on a futile errand.
“I’d like to see the LT charge that bunker,” Big Poppa muttered.
Zack watched as a phalanx of mechanized Marines from another platoon stormed the perimeter. They marched toward the shield in a single file line. They launched a series of smoke grenades, that billowed thick clouds over the battlefield, obscuring them from view.
They charged forward through the smoke—plasma bolts darting all around them. They emerged on the other side of the thick haze, steamrolling toward the perimeter. The point man took the brunt of the enemy onslaught. After a few blasts, the lead Maverick fell to the ground, and the phalanx continued. One by one, the Mavericks dropped like dominoes. But they were inching closer. The last one managed to slam into the force field before becoming eviscerated by heavy weapons fire. There was now irrefutable evidence that the force-field couldn't be breached by slow-moving objects.