02:55 The National Institute for Technological Advancement – Corner of Block 2A
Bursts of gunfire were constant and could be heard in the distance. John peeked around the corner of the building they were using as cover. Almost as soon as he had done that rounds were incoming from a bunker some four to five hundred yards away.
John’s platoon had landed in one of the more heavily contested zones of the campus. John had cursed his shitty luck for choosing this backup grid to be dropped off at. After clearing the first building they’d been constantly fighting off defenders. Adding to the misery that they felt, their SpecFor partners also chose a backup landing zone. Which, naturally, of course, added more distance between the platoons than was desirable.
“Hold up,” John said as he raised his hand.
John took a couple of steps back from the building and spun up his Gatling gun. He took a sidestep and let the high explosive rounds fly. He hopped back into safety after a two-second burst. His kinetic shields were dropped down to seventy percent in that brief amount of time, not in cover.
Paul ordered his drone to fly up from the top of his coffin to see what damage John did to the bunker that fired on him. Aside from some minor chipping of the material, the bunker was holding strong. A few rounds may have made it inside the bunker, but it was clearly still active.
“You’ll run out of ammo long before you do anything to that bunker sir,” Paul said.
“That is a wide-open field we need to run across. They have a clear line of sight practically to the edge of the campus.”
“Fat fucking chance of running through that,” John said, “Half of us would be cut down. Paul, did those bunkers have gun placements on the north and south edges?”
“Negative. If we go…”
“We’re half a click from friendlies,” Vanessa said, “IFF just registered a return contact.”
Sean pointed at a damaged building down the street, “Contact, friendlies two o’clock.”
John activated his infrared sensors and then opened up the coms, “Commander, we have eyes on you.”
Commander Cunningham answered curtly, “Good, run to the point designated to rendezvous with us.”
John sighed before speaking, “That’s a no-go sir. The enemy is firmly entrenched, losing half my platoon this soon isn’t going to do anyone any good.”
“We need to be at the central base in twenty minutes. Necessity demands sacrifice.”
“Just sent you an amended plan,” John transferred the route to the Commander, “I’m not losing half my platoon for no good reason.”
There were several bunkers in the open field between buildings. The gun placements in them faced east and west. Either a lone attack from one side or a pincer from both was the best way to eliminate the threat of the bunkers.
“That’s a negative. Lieutenant, you are rushing the field.”
“Already on the move. We’ll take out those bunkers for y’all so you can move forward, sir,” John smiled as he shut the coms down with the so-called friendlies.
John pointed to the end of the street. That was enough for the platoon to get into motion. Darryl’s squad took point. They were equipped with Broadsword power armor suits and loaded to the tits with guns and shields.
“Is that wise, sir?” Erica asked on their platoon’s leadership channel.
“I have to ask the same thing,” Derrick concurred, “Pissing off SpecFor rarely ends well.”
“Running through a hardened kill zone is about the damn dumbest order I’ve heard since I was on the Des Moines,” John answered matter-of-factly, “That didn’t end well. That order here won’t end well. I’m not above ordering anyone to their death, if and when it’s necessary. Charging through an open field to reconnect with friendlies and losing half the damn platoon is fucking idiocy at its finest.”
The platoon continued to jog down the street. There was a choreography in the movement of Darryl’s squads. A quick scan down an intersection before a squad dashed out into the street and held position waiting to absorb any attacks. When the last member of the platoon finished crossing the street the squad jogged backward covering their rear.
There were less than three blocks from getting to the bunkers when Jerad spoke up, “Dagger Actual, hearing from SpecFor that you aren’t being a team player, copy.”
“That’s an affirm Dagger Actual,” John said, “Didn’t feel like sending the platoon on a mad dash across a hardened kill zone.”
“Understood, ETA on linking up?”
“Estimate three minutes from… Mark. Four bunkers need to be cleared. The first is in sight now.”
“Understood, good hunting out there,” Jerad said as killed the connection.
John pointed at the bunker’s door. They could see several large guns and recoilless cannons sticking out. All of them were continuing to fire bursts of fire downrange at things unseen. The platoon immediately split into two and hugged the side of the buildings on each side of the street as they walked forward.
Those stuck in the heavy power armor wouldn’t get a chance to clear the bunker. The trio that was equipped with the plasma cannons would get to play a role in breaching them at least. And breach they did. Each one fired a lone shot, separated by two seconds a piece. Three large, very energetic, and not to mention blazingly bright flashes of blue plasma were fired.
The first one melted the door. The second one impacted the far side of the bunker and fried several electrical devices. The third and final one impacted and destroyed the door that connected it to the second bunker.
John led the heavies to the rear of the bunker and hunkered below the guns and got into position to do the same to the second pair of bunkers. Just as the plasma cannon trio fired off their salvos to break the other set a squad of marines opened the door behind them and ran toward the other bunker. Thirty seconds later the bunkers were clear, never to fire a round again.
“Commander, bunkers are cleared. The field is clean. You are free to run forward. Marking position where we will reconnect,” John said to his SpecFor ‘allies’ before killing the shared coms and speaking to his platoon, “Move out, I’d like to reach that point before the other assholes.”
The Marines under his command chuckled and complied with the order. The position was marked in their HUDs.
03:27 The National Institute for Technological Advancement – One Block from Central Command
John’s platoon had taken up a position overlooking the Central Command building. John scoffed at that designation, the building itself was positively massive with each side being dozens of blocks long. It was so large it was visible from orbit.
“How in the hell are we to assault that?” Paul asked as he scanned the building.
“With a fuckton of us,” Veronica responded but without any bravado.
“And carefully, if you think there were ambushes and traps outside, that applies doubly so inside,” Erica said.
“Found an opening yet?” John asked.
“Yes sir,” Darryl said as he shared an ideal ingress point, “Not much in the way of external defenses either.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Has anyone else breached the compound?” John asked as he continued to look at the scans they had taken.
“We’re the first platoon that is in position for the assault. ETA is twenty minutes on the rest getting into position,” Jerad cut into the conversation, “Casualties have been below estimates thus far.”
“Jerad, any word on Marine losses due to SpecFor idiocy?” John asked.
“You weren’t the only platoon that politely said no to insane requests. It seems it was wise to warn the masses of the possibility of suicidal orders.”
“So it seems,” John sighed, “The problem comes when we’re in close quarters with one another.”
Erica then walked up to John and spoke to him privately, “Are we still going with the plan?”
John nodded and put a finger up to stop her from talking. They had visitors approaching from the rear. Their sister platoon from SpecFor cautiously approached them. The body language of the newcomers was easily discernible to all.
There was a swagger to how the rank and file walked. Confidence oozed from them. But the commanding officer gave off none of that swagger. He was walking with a purpose, not only that he was angry. His sergeants gave off similar vibes.
“LIEUTENANT!” Commander Cunningham shouted.
John continued his scans of the building and didn’t turn to face the Commander, “Sir.”
“WHEN I GIVE YOU AN ORDER YOU WILL DAMN WELL FOLLOW IT TO THE FUCKING LETTER,” Cunningham continued to shout as he approached John.
John continued to look forward and scan for any weaknesses in the building. His scan was interrupted when Commander Cunningham attempted to violently pull at his shoulder. Unfortunately for the Commander, John was in the much larger power armor. The attack, of sorts, was barely registered. Nevertheless, John flew into action with a speed and ferocity that clearly took not only the Commander by surprise but the SpecFor platoon as well.
During John’s spin around the large, powered fist grabbed the Commander’s breastplate and the momentum of the move shoved the commander into the building’s brickwork. The inbuilt plasma blast gun rose out of the fist and charged itself.
John’s platoon raised their weapons at the SpecFor platoon before they had registered what had happened. A Mexican standoff, amongst friendly forces, was the cherry on top of the shit sandwich they had been dealt this morning. John then leaned closer to the Commander.
“I will follow orders that are not only lawful but ones that won’t waste my men’s lives needlessly,” John hissed, “Crossing an open field, without cover, in front of four hardened positions is no lawful order. It is a simple waste of resources. If you want to write me up after this is done, please waste your time doing so.”
“I mean, not all of us are men,” Arianne said sarcastically, “Just saying.”
Despite the seriousness of what was happening laughter could be heard from John’s platoon. Despite the seriousness of the situation, and the fact that all of them were pointing their weapons at supposedly friendly units, the brief moment of brevity cut through the tension. But the Marines were still focused.
“YOU WILL UNHAND ME AT ONCE!”
“You will sit there and accept the indignity that an officer outside of SpecFor outperformed the lofty delusions you have of yourself,” John calmed himself down, “Trying to fight me in this position is going to end badly for you.”
Cunningham hadn’t registered the fully charged plasma blast gun rippling with energy that was sticking out of John’s fist and was pointed at the backside of his helmet. That was ignoring the massive fist that could crush his breastplate, and likely upper torso, with minimal effort. It was only now that Cunningham realized he was in a less than opportune position.
John deactivated the gun and let go of the Commander. His Marines lowered their guns with a gesture from his Gatling gun. He laughed at the silliness and awkwardness of needing to point a gun at someone to make a point.
“Losing bodies before assaulting our target is sheer insanity, sir. For this to be successful we need everyone here. I still care nothing for glory-seeking. My platoon remains steadfast to the plan. But let me make something abundantly clear, you don’t command my platoon. I do,” John said turning his back to the Commander.
Commander Cunningham poked John’s breastplate, “When all of this is done, I am going to have you investigated. I will make it my life’s mission to get you Article 32ed out of the military.”
“Please attempt to do so,” John said calmly, “In the meantime, we’ve identified our ingress point. I’d like to hear your tactical assessment of our discovery.”
Cunningham looked back at his sergeants. A conversation was clearly occurring behind had behind closed doors. A few moments later Cunningham nodded curtly.
“I presume you have devised a plan to breach that door?”
John nodded, “We don’t believe it’s a hardened door. It’s a common freight door. A few volleys from our plasma cannons ought to do the trick. Now we just need to wait for the rest to get into position. Speaking of that, Jerad what’s the status.”
“Fifty percent are in position. ETA is now ten minutes. Four platoons are being held back because of losses…”
Commander Cunningham interrupted the Chief Warrant Officer, “That is suboptimal. Have command order them to assault the central building.”
“Commander, the platoons that were held back were SpecFor forces. Two dropships were struck with anti-aircraft while they were disembarking. The other two lost during several heated confrontations with the enemy. If you want me to pass forward your recommendation I can do so.”
The Commander took a step back and rose his hand, “No. No, thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
John spoke to his platoon’s sergeants only, “Fucking typical.”
Derrick said quietly, “Everything has played out thus far the way you predicted it would.”
“What about defensive positions? Anything on the exterior of the building?” Commander Cunningham asked.
“None that we can identify, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some more senior and battle-tested eyes to review the scans. The real problem, as I see it, is when we get inside,” John shared the construction plans for the building, “Unless I’m mistaken, that building is somewhere at the center of this monstrosity that they constructed above and around it.”
“We’ll need to access a terminal,” Staff Sergeant Lance Aakre said.
John looked at Vanessa and nodded, “Seems like they didn’t receive the update from Command. Send it to them.”
“Send what?” Cunningham asked, “Partial schematics. But I agree with your assessment Sergeant Aakre, we will want to access a terminal inside the command. But even if we do that there’s no guarantee we get the layout.”
“Their network has thus far been locked down. Precious little information has been gleaned from accessing terminals in the buildings that we’ve cleared getting here,” Derrick said.
“You’ve cleared buildings already?” Cunningham asked.
John walked past the stunned officer and continued his scans of the building, “I don’t like being shot at in the back. Nor do I like attacking without sufficient intel. The latter of which we’ve been trying, but largely failing to rectify.”
“What do you know?”
“There’s a fairly large warehouse on the other side of those walls. Suggest we clear it, then split up as we go deeper into the building.”
Commander Cunningham shook his head, “No, splitting up won’t work.”
“We’ll cover less space and most of our backup won’t be able to engage in the counterattacks that are coming. To use your statement, combining forces here would be suboptimal.”
Jerad then broke through their conversation, “Estimating five minutes before squads are in position. Command is recommending holding in positions after everyone is in position. They are reviewing data that the Marines have recovered during their fights to get into position.”
“Jerad, what’s the status of the cavalry?”
“Tank squads are assisting with the elimination of remnant hostile locations in the outer campus. Additional personnel is being deployed to help with the cleansing and intel gather. Other mechanized squadrons are pushing forward to support the platoons that aren’t taking part in the final assault.”
“Suggest we have those squads move closer to the inner circle in the event we need backup,” John said as he noted several more items of interest, “Erica, I want our heavies equipped with micro-lances to attack at these points. They could be defensive in nature.”
“On it, sir,” Erica said as she pointed at the platoon members with those weapons.
Jerad then broke back into the conversation, “Command is denying that request. Clearing the compound is more important. They recommend falling back and regrouping if enemy resistance is stronger than expected.”
John turned to face the Commander, “What heavy weapons did your team bring?”
“Four micro-lances and four Gatling cannons.”
“Sir, I suggest the micro-lances coordinate with mine in attacking those locations I’ve marked. They could be nothing, but I suspect they are defensive in nature. Also recommend the big guns are up front, be pretty easy to mow down the enemy if they were dumb enough to attack en masse from that location.”
Commander Cunningham nodded, “They won’t however be on the front line, we aren’t as up-armored as you are.”
“Make sure they slave their fire-control systems to IFF signals to control their firing arcs. I’d rather not our men take damage to piss poor trigger control. Also, I suggest we get into position. We need to go back down that street and over a block.”
The Commander nodded and the Marines and SpecFor personnel began jogging down the road. John’s Marines seemed to be more alert to their surroundings. He noted that it was strange that the special forces didn’t have the same degree of situational awareness that he had drilled into his Marines. They were walking around in enemy territory without a seeming care in the world.
Erica gave John the answer he was trying to find out privately, “Sir, SpecFor hasn’t been involved in a large operation like this in years. They are usually used in precision strikes. Their aloofness is because they have been trained to do a very specific task.”
John nodded to himself as they jogged, “What a pickle we’ve found ourselves in. Ensure the squads are on the watch for any hostiles. We aren’t going to get any help from them until after we’ve been fired upon. I’d prefer we be the ones to get the drop on our enemies.”
They arrived at the intersection that led directly to the large freight door. John didn’t want everyone to wait on the same side of the street. He looked around and found some buildings a street to their east that they could use as cover.
“Commander, I’m going to get my Marines over there. Suggest your heavy weapons attack after ours do. We’ll take the initial attack.”
Commander Cunningham smiled in his suit, “And should any auto-defenses be activated it will be that much easier to eliminate them from behind their hardened location.”
John nodded and then led his Marines away. His general feelings and opinions towards SpecFor were that of apathy. The group had its uses, but he never directly worked with any of them before. Having interacted with them on the battlefield, the few occurrences to date, have led John to new emotions. Ones of disgust and distrust. He wasn’t sure that they’d be betrayed, but he knew the Commander cared little for his Marines' lives, it was up to John to ensure that they’d live to fight another day.