9 days later, March 26th, 2265. 09:00 St. Mary’s Station – Marine Command
John was settling into his office this morning and reviewing any messages that came in. He had been iced out of most of the planning for the upcoming mission. That was a frustrating but not altogether unexpected development. Fleet Command wasn’t going to let a green lieutenant manage ship movements or their tactics during a massive troop insertion. John didn’t even know if he was capable of handling such a situation yet.
The initial plan had three entire carriers devoted to delivering atmospheric aircraft to secure and create a no-fly zone around the compound. Another three were dedicated to launching void fighters, drones, and cutters to control the space above the planet. Hundreds of frigates, cruisers, and corvettes would be included in that part of the plan as well.
Four transport frigates were planning on the landing just outside the compound to deploy eight armored regiments. That was in addition to the two-hundred platoons of special forces and three hundred platoons of Marines that would be delivered via landing craft. He was staring at his platoon on the map, but unhappy with the other dot next to them. Additional personnel would be delivered after certain areas were captured to review or capture any relevant intelligence.
John took in the current plan and was amazed at the assembled forces. The Navy technically had amassed more ships at once in battles, but he couldn’t remember a ground assault like this happening in his lifetime. The battle of Capri Prime involved a fraction of these forces, though there was an element of secrecy to that mission that the current one is completely ignoring.
His point of concern was that Fleet Command had diverted a substantial portion of their SpecFor forces, Naval Special Forces, to be included in this assault. This was a not-so-subtle way of ensuring Dr. Norman and his research were captured. John frowned when he saw that, for even he was having trouble with how he could take out the good doctor.
John’s exploits, both good and ill, had given him sufficient leverage to request where he and his platoon would be assigned. The central compound was his first and only choice. His partner platoon from SpecFor was a Lieutenant Commander, so he wasn’t actually in charge of developing a plan of attack, though he was doing just that and sending it on to his senior officer for review.
Erica then walked into his office and stared at the holographic display, “Holy shit. This is really happening, isn’t it?”
John nodded as he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, “Except we now have overlords. I’m not technically in command of our platoon. Some Commander Dickface or some such.”
“Come again, sir?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Clearly not,” Erica said as she sat down.
“Fleet Command is sending a substantial portion of its SpecFor platoons. Those activated assets are higher up in the chain of command.”
Erica’s eyes bulged a bit, and she was stunned into silence.
“Yeah, this is no longer our show.”
Erica made a gesture to the door console and waited for the door to close before speaking, “How are you going to kill him with them near us?”
“Good question,” John answered with a sigh, “I’m not sure. I’m worried about their tactical proficiency. While we’ve been working, they’ve been getting fat. I guarantee you this, we are not going to be their human shields or make suicide charges though. I’ll commit fratricide before that happens.”
“Sergeant Aakre of the Fourth was hearing some sketchy rumors.”
“Go on,” John asked as he looked at his senior sergeant.
“He heard from an officer stationed on the CNS Las Vegas that NI is attaching combat assets to this too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. A good chunk of the SpecFor operators are less like combat assets and more like would-be assassins. I doubt they will want to get into the thick of it so they’ll probably be on overwatch,” John stared at the central compound for a moment, “Hmmm, I wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“How closely do the eggheads scan the software on our armor after deployment?”
Erica shook her head, “They worry more about the physical condition. The reliquaries are supposed to wipe the software and reinstall it and the Vis. What they actually do is just wipe the cache and make sure the OS is operatable, but they don’t do any deleting.”
“Do you know our suits have a kill switch on them?”
Erica shook her head once more, “I do now, sir.”
“We’re going to go in without it installed. Just in case.”
Erica leaned in and whispered, “You don’t think…”
“I’d rather be wrong and not need it than… Well, you get the picture.”
“How are we going to get that installed?” Erica continued to whisper.
“I’ll take care of it. My VI should be able to do that fairly easily. How are the replacements integrating with the rest of the platoon?” John asked curiously.
“We lost more than Paul and David. We lost twelve more because they failed their psych tests.”
“I had presumed we’d have lost more. The things we’ve seen and been up against…” John let the sentence hang.
“Were horrific and not natural. Evil. Despicable.”
“All of the above,” John said as he looked at Erica.
“They’ll be ready. There’s two that just feel off.”
“Do you trust them?”
Erica nodded, “Most aren’t plants. Darryl knows five of them. Paul served with another three. Derek graduated with a couple. But the other two come with paper references but can’t track said references down.”
“Let’s keep the kill switch kept between us for now. I’ll be taking Vanessa’s new squad with me in the attack. I’ll keep watch on the sketchy pair.”
“Understood, when are you expecting to find attack orders?”
John shrugged, “I dunno, I’m hoping within a week. Within ten days is a sure bet.”
“What… Uhm, are the expected mission casualties?”
“Expected to be thirty-nine percent, but the mission will be considered a success if we’re under fifty,” John wore a grim look, “This has the hallmarks of being a bloody meat grinder. They are going to fight tooth and nail until the very end. Expect traps and fighting dirty. The quicker and harder we hit the better. But even still, that’s not going to kill the enemy resistance.”
“We’re bringing the fight to their home,” Erica was shocked to hear those figures, “But I didn’t think it’d be that high.”
“Expect a frightened, angry, and very petulant enemy willing to lash out in any way, shape, or form,” John said rubbing his eyes, “And that’s ignoring what kind of freakshow defenders they can drudge up from their basement of horrors.”
“What’s the likelihood of receiving more Broadswords?”
John grinned, “I’ve managed to divert fifteen more suits. Couldn’t round up any more than that though.”
“How are we going to equip them?”
“Walking tanks. If something blinks in that compound, I want it fucking annihilated,” John said as he brought up his plan of equipping the heavy power armor.
“Holy shit. Underslung GAU-23B assault cannons, plasma fusillades, micro-lances, coffin-mounted micro missile launchers, and twin plasma blast guns. As if that wasn’t enough firepower everyone is equipped with the new BS-T76 twin-barreled assault rifle.”
“There’s no kill like overkill,” John said as he stood up and stretched, “Drill them hard for the next couple of days. Tell me who you want in those new suits. I want people testing out those weapons. The heavy weapons are getting split up evenly.”
Erica grinned, “Which one are you going with?”
“Brrrrrrt,” John grinned.
“Figured as much,” Erica then saluted, “I’ll spread the word and get them ready.”
John nodded before Erica left his office. He looked out the window to the drilling Marines and felt a deep uneasiness about the coming mission. There was no lack of frustration welling up too. The addition of the SpecFor forces to the attack made doing what he felt needed to happen substantially more difficult.
Eve then began to playback the mission he had concocted. A few details were modified here and there. Within an hour it was ready for John to share it with the man that would ultimately command his and the SpecFor platoon.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Being under the command of someone else was nothing new in the military, but the dynamic changing just before the final assault was almost too much to bear. He was worried that it would result in more casualties. SpecFor units were known for their capabilities, but they were also known for their arrogance. Most, but not all, units looked down upon the marines as second-class warriors.
That was an unfair view for sure, but nevertheless, it was one that was ever-present. If the squads couldn’t mesh well then, more lives would be lost. John was worried that perhaps his actions in response to the terrorist attacks on the station brought this about. Or worse, it brought his now less-than-favored status from Fleet Command.
3 days later, March 29th, 2265. 14:45 St. Mary’s Station – SpecFor Temporary Offices
Lieutenant Commander Patrick Cunningham was silently reviewing John’s plan. He said nothing and didn't give off any visual clues for John to presume what he was thinking. John remained seated and calmly waited. There was a thought he had that the commander was making him wait to see how he would react, so John simply decided to play that game and give him no tells to read into his mindset either.
“Your work is quite impressive. I cannot argue with the logic nor with the notations and thought you put forward,” Patrick said, “But we aren’t doing this. One squad of mine will be paired with yours.”
John answered immediately and without emotion, “That will result in sub-optimal efficiency. The squads have had literally no time to train with one another. My troops will obviously accept the help yours provided them and vice versa, but no trust is built. The squads won’t know instinctively how they would react.”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“Sir, your proposal frankly increases the risk of casualties to an unacceptable level. On both sides of the coin.”
“Yet the presumed casualties lay within the acceptable limits Fleet Command has estimated.”
“Why would you willingly choose to lose the lives of your subordinates when an alternative plan provides better odds?”
“Are you challenging my command?” Patrick stared at John intently.
John shook his head, “I am not challenging it. I am however questioning an order that doesn’t make any sense. Why are you ok with losing lives when an alternative plan shows that we can drastically limit the loss and achieve our objectives,” John paused a moment and then smiled, “All the while my platoon is used in part to ensure the special forces gain access to the computer core here, and our mastermind here.”
“What are you saying exactly?” Patrick leaned in cautiously.
“That’s the crux of my plan. We join with you for the initial assault, then we peel away here and here to guard the rear,” John pointed at the map, “That way any reinforcements that come in from the rear, and there will be reinforcements, are handled by us. We’ll also be nearby to assist with any fresh forces you come across. I’m not an idiot, sir. The writing on the wall is clear as day for me, there’s no glory in this mission for me, that’s why you and yours are here.”
“We’re here to ensure the success of this mission.”
John nodded, “Yes, and to be the ones responsible for acquiring the target alive. SpecFor will be hailed for ensuring his continued existence and the capture of his research records. Again, Fleet Command was never going to allow us normies to walk away with those honors. I’m not here to polish my star or make it appear shinier than it is. I can’t win this political game so I’m choosing to not play that game. But I do want to do everything in power to ensure my men live through this battle.”
“You are knowingly and willingly throwing away a chance at notoriety?”
John stared straight ahead at the Commander, “I’ve burned too damned many bridges on this mission. The moment Fleet Command stepped in I had lost. Like I said, sir. I want to bring home my platoon alive. We’ll be your rearguard so you can take home the crown. We will do that willingly and aggressively to ensure our enemies don’t get a chance to thwart your claims.”
Commander Cunningham leaned back in his chair and looked at John. He tried to read the young lieutenant but got nowhere. John’s stony features showed no outward signs of deception. The words, while lacking any emotion, clearly showed that he understood he had lost the game.
“What are you hiding? Capitulation isn’t part of your repertoire.”
John chuckled and gave away the first sense of emotion, “It isn’t, but this mission is bigger than me. This is the first time in my career that I’m playing the game that was dealt to me. I’m doing what I believe is best for the people that rely on me.”
Patrick nodded, “You’re being a commander. This isn’t a mission worth risking your life over.”
“It is and isn’t, sir. But I know I’m not meant to win this. The powers that pull the strings don’t want me anywhere near this asshole. Why not then support the group that they want while I accept the personal loss for the greater good of my platoon?”
“This is most unexpected. I hadn’t thought you would be capable of putting others' needs ahead of your own. And that you would help me claim that which you so desperately seek willingly,” Patrick nodded, “I can think of a couple of minor modifications here and there but in general I can live with your plan. I’ll even be gracious enough and do you a favor and provide you with sufficient credit in this proposal. Your dismissed.”
John stood up, saluted, and left the room. Patrick didn’t see the grin on his face. Nor did he know though that this was exactly what John wanted to happen. John wiped the smile from his face and quickly headed back to his office.
As he was walking out of the temporary SpecFor wing he noticed his tablet was ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it.
“Lieutenant Lief here.”
“John,” the familiar voice said, “We need to talk.”
“Sure thing director, I’ll be back in my office in ten.”
“No, meet me at Mario’s Pizzeria, head there now,” Director LeCroix said.
John shrugged and turned to head toward the commercial district. A slice or two of pie sounded good to him. He had skipped lunch to work on that ridiculous battle plan. Though John found it very odd that the Director reached out to him. It was no secret that the Director continued to dislike John and very obviously didn’t approve of how John had handled himself throughout the operation.
15:13 Mario’s Pizzeria
John strode into the pizza shop and looked around. True to form Director LeCroix was sitting in the back corner of the restaurant. The booth couldn’t be seen from any of the windows at the front of the restaurant or from the hostess’ station.
John slid into the booth and smirked, “I doubt this is a social call, so what’s got your panties in a twist?”
“Always with the sarcasm,” Director LeCroix sighed as he shook his head, “Do you know what SpecFor is planning?”
John nodded, “I think you mean what Fleet Command is ordering SpecFor to do? If I’m correct they are going to use the expeditionary Marine force as fucking meat shields for the SpecFor fucks that come in for the glory.”
Director LeCroix stared at John.
“Oh, come on Director. That was their plan from the very beginning. Jesus, it took all of about three seconds to work that out.”
“Before I continue with this, why did you help one of mine escape? That wasn’t your call to make.”
“I could ask you why you green-lit lethal force against the crew of the Des Moines if they didn’t cooperate.”
Director LeCroix looked like he wanted to slam the table, “No kill order or lethal force directives were authorized for that operation. That order rested solely on the shoulders of the idiot that you killed.”
“Why the show of force in the first place? There was no tactical benefit in doing that. Plus, you knew I was going to spill the beans anyways.”
“I sent them there to protect you from doing something foolish,” Director LeCroix sighed, “Your position became untenable within NI…”
“Ahh, Fleet Command came down on you to divorce me. You didn’t seem to fight that order much, or at all.”
“Because I didn’t want to. John, your loyalty was never in question. Your ability to follow orders…”
“I’m a bit of a maverick. I understand that, but you had no right to order shit when we came back to friendly territory.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree then. Back to my initial question, why did you let the Commander go?”
“The punishment didn’t meet the crime. Her life savings and investment accounts were seized. Fair point on that, but life in prison? Or hell, even the death penalty? I’m not even the slightest bit sorry, those punishments would be excessive. And that’s presuming y’all wouldn’t just off the bitch. You saw the report on what those videos did to people.”
“That was my…”
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t have permanently silenced her,” John leaned down and spoke.
No response came from the Director.
“I appreciate your feelings on the matter, but she came clean. Fully clean. Something your boy Dexter didn’t do. She was manipulated into being a bad actor and was highly incompetent to boot. The crime she was truly guilty of was pinning her future on the true bad actor here. She’s now facing life in exile with barely enough money to get a new life started. And speaking of money, you found one of my stashes and cleaned it out, I think that we’re square now.”
“Fine, I’ll consider that matter closed,” Director LeCroix looked unhappy, “One more thing on the attack. Fleet Command is using a new form of encryption for which we do not have a key to decipher it.”
John chuckled to himself, “I almost feel honored, I’d be willing to bet they are going to try to discredit me in some way. Almost, mind you, plenty pissed at needing to deal with this bullshit now.”
“Again, you’re not taking this seriously.”
“I just pitched a battle plan where we break in together, then fall back and hold the rear so that blowhard Cunningham gets his glory,” John smiled as he took a sip of water, “And he accepted the plan.”
“Interesting. But I still don’t like how they are hiding secrets. There’d be no need to use encryption that we can’t see through.”
John looked at Director LeCroix, “Why are you telling me this?”
The answer would need to wait as the waitress came over and took orders for the two. Director LeCroix ordered a salad. John shook his head as he ordered a personal pan pizza, the house special with extra meat.
“This doesn’t mean I like or approve of you Lieutenant. I don’t. But I find myself on your side when it comes to Dr. Norman. He is a cancer that needs to be eliminated. I also don’t agree with the sneaky manner in which Fleet Command is handling things.”
“Karlsson behind this?”
“No, at least not that we can tell. I believe that he’s tacitly supporting or willing to look at the other on his end. He doesn’t have the support from the admiralty he once did. We don’t know who, in the remaining Fleet Command seniority, wants Dr. Norman alive, but it’s a safe bet the R&D folks are pushing hard for that.”
John frowned, “Why on Earth would they support this? If the Alliance finds out anything about Dr. Norman, and they will quickly, it’ll be another war. The Mercantilists will support them privately, if not openly as a way of absolving their sins.”
“I’m not sure. But I’m just not sure how we’re going to fight this.”
“How many of my replacement Marines were planted by Fleet Command?”
“Two.”
“Were they SpecFor?”
Director LeCroix nodded.
“But none of the other additions in the other platoons are?”
“That’s correct. If I heard your conversation correctly your Sergeant already confirmed that for you.”
John grinned as he took a deep breath in, “How dirty do you want us to get?”
“Officially? You need to be clean as a baby’s behind,” Director LeCroix laughed, “Unofficially, we both know that you will do what you need to win and live. I can’t promise you any overt support from NI because we don’t know how this will play out.”
“Well then. What is NI willing to do to back up the Marines?”
Director LeCroix was about to lean down and answer, but their food showed up. John quickly shook pepper flakes and grated parmesan cheese on his pizza. He also looked disappointed in his former boss’ meal.
“Before you answer that, I need to state the obvious. You invite me to a pizza shop, and you order a damned salad.”
“Some of us weren’t blessed with perfect biology. My doctor has ordered me to eat this six times a week. High cholesterol, who knew?” Director LeCroix grimaced as he took a bite of his salad, “Officially we can’t help.”
John almost yelped a little at the heat the molten cheese and sauce retained.
“Oof. Not good enough, sir. We need your backing or at the very least all your intercepts.”
“If I give you those then they’ll know we’re behind it.”
John laughed, “You don’t keep up with current events much, do you? I stormed into a meeting and called them cowards. Threatened them too. They don’t have eyes on what you just told me. If they did you wouldn’t be here speaking to me.”
“Tacit support then, if it gets out that it came…”
“From you or another analyst, I’ll just own it. Used some old codes or access I hid from years ago. They already know I’m a bit of a maverick, they will buy that.”
Director LeCroix nodded, “Do you need anything else?”
John flashed that impish grin that the Director had seen countless times. That mind of his was always planning, always scheming, and rarely up to any good. Ironically that side of him came to his aid more often than anyone ought to believe it would.