Much debate and numerous changes were made to the operation’s plan over the previous two weeks. Almost a comical amount of minute changes, all of which were haggled and argued over for hours, were ultimately agreed upon. Still, when wholesale changes were made that came in that rendered large amounts of work and effort wasted. Sadly, this was fairly commonplace anytime SpecFor got involved in any operations with the regular military.
While the soldiers of SpecFor were amongst the best equipped and trained, they were also the most arrogant. Marines were rarely enthused by their inclusion in any mission they were assigned to. John was struck by the aura of superiority that all of the members gave off. It was impressive, in a very odd and unusual way, that from the top to the bottom each member thought they were better than everyone else.
That arrogance made it incredibly difficult to work with them though. Not only while in the planning stage, as was evident to all thus far, but while deployed they were equally challenging. Their skill sets and advanced equipment set them apart from their fellow warriors. But SpecFor insisted that all missions must revolve around them.
That led to a natural antagonistic mood amongst the Marines and Navy towards these specialized warriors. Rumors and innuendo abounded about past missions and how poorly the plebs were treated. That only added to the complications and angst suffered throughout the planning process.
Thankfully the numerous admirals and generals were able to more forcibly get SpecFor to listen for a change and accept revisions to the plan that actually made sense. It was widely assumed that they were told to stand down on the void and air superiority plans, if for no other reason than their recommendations were utterly useless. But it was impossible for those same flag officers to cut through all of SpecFor’s arrogant bullshit.
This biggest sticking point was how the initial deployment would work. A great amount of arguing happened with who was assigned to what dropships and where they would land on the campus. It was painfully obvious to anyone with a working set of eyes that the Marines were being dropped into places that would shield the SpecFor forces.
While the Marines weren’t afraid of conflict, and in fact wanted to fight, they didn’t appreciate being assigned as designated meat shields. That SpecFor was so obvious about their plans was a shock to Marine command and further eroded any trust with the other side. Eventually, the concerns with the deployment were overcome, but the lack of trust would remain throughout the battle plan.
16 days later, April 14th, 2265. 01:25 Nyx Prime
The void erupted with hundreds of unscheduled, unplanned, and dangerously close wormholes from slip space. From these portals spewed nearly a thousand Confederate ships. Local traffic scattered immediately to avoid unwelcome visitors. Curiously, to the crews of those panicked ships, the planetary defenses didn’t fire upon them as an attack wing made up of cruisers dove into low orbit.
Several carriers, along with their escorts, followed behind a carefully measured distance. Within three minutes of the fleet arriving at the system, the cruisers were in position and began a heavy lance bombardment of specific points near the campus. Their targets were anti-air weaponry surrounding the campus they were there to assault. A spaceport and airport at the southwestern corner were also targeted. No building was left unscathed when the barrage was empty.
Meanwhile, in the void above the planet, the Union’s military vessels burned away from the enemy fleet but kept in visual range to observe. Their movements to an outside observer would suggest they not only didn’t expect the visitors but weren’t sure what to do. Their communications were being jammed by an unknown source, but they rightly believed to be a ship in the Confederate Fleet. Even if they wanted to message for orders or help, they’d receive no help beyond what they could provide to one another in the system.
Those very same Union ships then saw several carriers dip into the upper atmosphere briefly. Their hulls began to burn bright. Hundreds, if not thousands, of aircraft were disgorged from those carriers and through the fiery explosions occurring at the end of their ramps. The air battle was on, but thanks to the initial bombardment there were precious few defenders in the air, and those that were up were shot down in moments.
Most, but not all, anti-air weaponry had been eliminated. There were many that survived but operated at reduced capacity. But the bombardment had achieved its objectives by softening up the defenses sufficiently to control the air. The remaining defenses would draw blood, but the swarm of aircraft would ultimately destroy and overwhelm whatever defenses remained prior to the drop ships arriving on the scene.
The next wave of carriers came about twenty minutes later. Hundreds of drop ships were launched, this time they were ferrying the ground assault army. Or at least part of it. With those drop ships came four frigates that were specially designed for atmospheric entry. The Confederates were sending their mechanized army in with their assault forces.
It was at that point that the Union’s military vessels understood what was going on. Several of the captains wanted to do something to assist the base, but the older and wiser captains shut those arguments down hard. They were at such a numerical deficit that all they could do was rile up the Confederates even more than they already were. Within forty-five minutes the void and air battle was over. The defense of the base was now solely up to the personnel stationed there.
02:05 The National Institute for Technological Advancement – Central Command Chamber
Dr. Norman looked, and felt, like a rat trapped in a cage. The room had silenced the alarms, but the flashing red lights continued to remind the workers of the very danger they found themselves to be. The room was a hub of activity, but many in the room were paralyzed with fear.
“Sir, we’re detecting new contacts. Four landing frigates and hundreds of drop ships,” one of those workers said.
Agent Paul Leonard walked over to Dr. Norman, “Our air defenses are gone. We have five minutes to get our troops moved into position to try and take out some of those drop ships.”
“They are already moving in place. Their orders are to fire and move. Staying in one place is a death sentence with that many eyes looking down,” Dr. Norman hissed.
“I suggest we apply a guerilla-style to all counterattacks. I also think the vault should be…”
“If I open the vault…” Dr. Norman was interrupted.
“They likely know about your misdeeds. We may as well make their forces bleed for every inch they try to take. It is the only way we will survive the night.”
“Sir, I recommend we stop dispatching convoys to leave the campus. They are all getting shot at,” another worker said, “And those that were trying to run away just got gunned down.”
Dr. Norman nodded and opened a channel to all buildings and personnel, “We have been betrayed by the ones we worked for. They have allowed this travesty to happen. Nevertheless, we will stand and fight. Arm and armor yourselves. We are in process of activating the contents of the vault. Use any and all means to stop or stymie the enemy. Hit them and run so that you can strike them again.”
Paul stepped forward and whispered, “Sir, I have a plan for us to escape if our initial counterattack works.”
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Dr. Norman nodded, “What is your plan?”
“The stealth field was successfully attached to the transport earlier this week. It won’t last long but it should get us outside of the aircraft’s operational range.”
“Ensure that it is ready, I would prefer…”
“A loss today is painful, but the mission can continue if you are alive,” Paul said quietly.
“Ever the practical individual. Very well, if they punch a hole…”
“Sir, the frigates have touched down just outside the campus. They appear to be a combination of heavy and light tanks. Several regiments are presumed to be stored on each,” a woman shouted as a camera focused in on one of the frigates.
“Our assault troops will be in position shortly,” another said.
“Hold fire on the landing ramp. The ship's kinetic and EM shielding will prevent any such counterattack from being successful. Focus on the tanks at the bottom of the ramp,” Dr. Norman said, “And remind them to not dilly-dally in any one place for too long.”
“I’ll head down to the vault and prepare things there,” Paul said.
“Good, I’m unlocking and authorizing the use of all prototypes that are currently working, or capable of attacking our aggressors in some way.”
The men parted ways. Dr. Norman was simmering inside, never did he think he’d be assaulted in this way. Literally in this case, prior to today he felt had dominion over the Union. But after observing the situation in the void and the lack of air support from the Air Force, he knew that his organization's very existence was in danger. And the only one capable of securing his legacy was himself.
02:20 The National Institute for Technological Advancement - Dagger 1 Dropship
The dropship was shaking violently as it transitioned into the upper atmosphere. They were rocked by a combination of wake turbulence and high-g maneuvers. The troops inside could feel the tremendous forces placed on them.
“We got a shitload of missiles inbound,” one of the pilots said, “Hold onto your asses.”
John sighed in his helmet.
“Inbound missiles?” Erica asked, “Thought we took out the air defenses?”
“Oh, we took care of the hardened positions,” John said, “That doesn’t mean the troops on the ground can’t fire handheld launchers at us.”
“HANG ON!” the pilot interrupted their conversation.
The dropship banked hard right then dove sharply. The pilot’s job was made substantially more difficult by how many drop ships were in the same general area. Flares were being dropped left and right. Chaffe was launched and every electronic countermeasure that could be utilized was.
Coming to their rescue were the air fighters that were loitering in the area. Micro-missile pods were launched en masse at the incoming hostile missiles. While effective dozens of missiles made it through. Many of those missiles were confused by the variety of countermeasures.
Several found their targets and impacted on or exploded near the drop ships. Two drop ships, one being dangerously close to Dagger 1, had the missiles breach the drop ship and exploded inside it. Those drop ships rolled out of control and broke apart as the forces imparted upon the planes.
When the missile exploded outside of the drop ships, they generally were able to survive, though reentry into a planet was no longer possible without repairs. Only one more drop ship, this time one of the elite ones containing a SpecFor platoon, was downed as the cockpit was annihilated by the shrapnel.
“ETA to the surface is three minutes. Going to be a harsh landing,” the co-pilot said.
John pulled the restraint down tighter onto him. The pilots were going to spin the plane around and apply maximum thrust while the hovering engines fired up at the last possible moment. The maneuver always is as uncomfortable as it sounds as it is normal to take more than twenty g’s briefly.
All of the marines were in agreement though, they liked their chances outside of the dropship than inside it. At least there they had some control over their own safety and weren’t simply along for a ride.
“BANKING RIGHT!”
The drop ship banked to the right suddenly and hard. More chaff and flares were launched before they leveled out for a brief moment. Then the drop ship sharply dropped its nose once again. The dropship was in a twenty thousand feet per minute dive. The feeling of weightlessness ended as soon as it started as the drop ship groaned when the pilots pulled back and slowed the descent.
“Fucking hell,” John said sarcastically.
Before any of his platoonmates had the ability to comment the drop ship rolled over and dove down hard.
“Sorry, this is necessary,” the pilot said.
“Dunno about y’all, but I could do without knowing how close to death we are,” Arianne said.
John chuckled to himself, “Then you haven’t been watching the external feeds. It’s a proper fireworks show outside.”
“SIXTY SECONDS!”
Just then the dropship's engines roared louder. John’s curiosity got the better of him and he opened the external field in his helmet once more. The visuals he saw were stunning. Hundreds of missiles were launched seemingly every moment. The campus was growing larger every moment.
John wasn’t an anxious person by nature, but he wanted out of the drop ship at that moment. As he was thinking that he noticed several areas that didn’t have any missiles being fired from. He took that moment to radio the pilot.
“I know y’all are busy, but is bravo-twenty-two a backup drop zone for us?”
“It is and no one has claimed it.”
“Drop us there,” John said quickly.
“Done and done,” the co-pilot said.
“TWENTY SECONDS!” the pilot shouted into the coms.
John was not alone in bracing for the pain that was about to come. Unlike most of the platoon, he only had a single hand that could hold onto the restraint. His powered fist would most likely crush the restraint. Everyone in the hold was braced and ready for the inevitable.
The Marines can think they were ready, but no one is truly ready for the maneuver to happen. The engines screamed bloody murder an instant before the drop ship violently rotated. Thankfully the restraints all did what they were designed to do, but then the pain started.
John was plastered to his seat. Within his armor, he could feel his chest pull away from the breastplate slightly. The combat suit was literally squishing down as his weight pressed against the rear of his suit. But as quickly as that happened the pain ended.
“GO GO GO GO!” shouted the pilot over the coms.
The side doors and rear ramp opened immediately. John reached down with his left hand and locked the Gatling cannon into place. He then budged in front of Arianne to exit the dropship. Twenty-three seconds was all that was needed for the ship to disgorge its precious cargo.
“Commander Cunningham, we missed our insertion zone. Two plus klicks to the southwest, how copy?” John said as he scanned the area.
Just as suddenly as they came the dropship increased power and flew off. Presumably to someplace safe and out of harm’s way several kilometers to the south. Though where it was destined to go mattered little to John.
“Copy that,” Commander Cunningham responded, “We are to the north by northeast of you. Sending you our new coordinates to meet. Be there in thirty.”
“Understood,” John said, “We’re going to sweep this building that we’re using for cover, then we’ll be off.”
John turned to face the squad,” Erica and Darryl, take up defensive positions here. Derek, you are with me. We’re going to sweep this building.”
Lance Corporal Sean Gunderson, “Uhm, we have a bit of a hike to get to the rendezvous point.”
John nodded, “And we have a building that hasn’t been cleared of hostiles. I’d prefer to not get shot in the back,” the squad couldn’t see John’s smile, “Breach the door Corporal.”
Arianna slapped his pauldron and smiled, “You should just roll with our CO’s eccentricities. Makes it easier to sleep at night. Plus, he hasn’t been wrong yet.”
The squad moved into position. Sean quickly set four charges on the door, which detonated when he took a step back. The shaped charges did their work as advertised and severed the locking mechanism. He brought his gun to the ready position, slid the door open, and entered the building. Arianna and Vanessa followed immediately behind him. Paul was a step behind them.
John, in a moment of brevity that was unexpected, was spewing out a string of curse words as he helped clear the building. As it turns out hauling around a big fuck-off Gatling cannon in one hand and a hilariously oversized powered fist in the other makes it nearly impossible to do anything quickly or quietly.
Five minutes later every room was inspected, and no one was found. Half of the building appeared to be dorms of some sort. There were a couple of labs and a section with some offices. Though what the labs and offices were used for couldn’t be immediately determined in such a sweep. John did send a request for an intelligence team to return to that building and investigate it more thoroughly.
Just as the Marines began to file out of the room Corporal Richard ‘Dix’ Eng called out, “Contacts moving down the road.”
“Friendlies?” Erica asked.
“No IFF response,” Dix said, “Resending.”
John had run through the building to the exit that was nearest the hostiles. He looked out and saw a dozen people creep through the campus. They stopped about two hundred yards from the building. He burst through the door and let his Gatling cannon rip.
The unidentified contacts began aiming devices, shoulder-mounted ground-to-air launchers, up in the sky. That would not stand. The Gatling cannon had a slight lag as the barrels spun up to speed before any rounds were fired.
John was able to fire off three quick bursts before stopping and using his plasma blaster building into the top of his powered fist. The marines followed suit and dropped the squad to the man moments later. They ran out from cover and closed the distance between the squads and verified the kills.
John was smiling as they inspected the enemy squad, “Gun goes brrrrt.”