The massive launch bay fell silent bar the never-ending hums and hisses that seemed to keep the spaceport running. The Soldiers had finished assembling and now stood in attention in orderly lines. Each Marine dressed in full gear and the anticipation of combat plastered on their grim faces. It was quite a sight. Over four hundred Third Regiment Void Marines poised for combat in urban camo drop suits. There were regular marines with their standard issue LA-rifles that could shoot both lasers and ammunition, and then there were specialists of varying sorts. He spotted missile crews, snipers, communication squads and demolition crews. Each man and woman knew what was expected from them on the battlefield. All were welll trained and, bar for the fresh recruits, a weathered veteran of many past battles. On the far right side of those soldiers, a small detachment of Fifth Branch special operatives, of which he was in charge. ‘The hammer and the needle.’ he thought to himself.
A trumpet heralded the general’s approach. The Void Marines were about to receive the same briefing that they had already had in private. A tall, elderly woman wearing a regal green uniform, adorned with ribbons and medals, entered the launch bay with several lower ranked officers following behind her. He recognized captain Debois who was in front of the parade, right behind the general. The captain was dressed in his usual black uniform, neatly ironed as usual and polished to the point where he could use his shoes and brass buttons to blind half the battlefield.
The general stepped up to a platform and a microphone drone shot up and began hovering around her head. She cleared her throat and spoke with a haughty, pompous voice. ‘Today is a grand day for our military operation. Today is the day we retake the west from those ignorant cultists. Our objective today is the western waterworks. Our mission is simple, yet I shan’t delude you by claiming it is easy. We are to take the western waterworks and give our allies of Fifth Branch enough time to execute a special operation. Once they have concluded said mission, we will fall back to the spaceport.’
He could hear a few of the Void Marines grunt at the mention of the Fifth. One of the marines within his earshot even vocalized what many of them were thinking: ‘Dirty work for us, glory for them.’. A cynical chuckle escaped his mouth. He couldn’t blame the marine for those words. The captain had a nasty habit of ensuring everyone heard about the great successes the Fifth achieved in this conflict, often omitting the great part the Void Marines and other branches had played in those successes. The captain was nothing if not a politician.
The general either didn’t notice the grunts or chose to ignore them, as she continued without pause. ‘Simply put, we swoop in from the skies, surprise and overwhelm their defences, and then perform precision sabotage. A classic hammer and needle operation.
Today we cut off their water supply and force them to either surrender or retreat at great expense.’
She interrupted her speech to allow a moment of silence to fall over the room. A dramatic pause that she had most likely planned carefully to create extra gravitas for what she was about to say.
‘I know the past few months have been rough. We have lost many good men and women. We’ve gone through more battles than what anyone should ever be asked to bear through. We have retaken the North from them, today we retake the West. With those two regions under control, the East will soon fall too. The end of the terrorist cultists is neigh. Without them biting at our ankles, we will easily crush the Southern gangs and fully restore order in Salt Petersburg. The filth will soon crumble under the might of our focused efforts.’
Cheers erupted here and there in the crowd, yet most of the marines remained stoic. Their faces plastered with the grave expression of someone who knows that for all the pretty words, slaughter lay ahead.
‘I’m not a politician. I don’t have any pretty prospects to sell you. The road will be tough and not all of us will live to see the day when peace returns to our world, but I daresay the worst will be behind us after today. The path to total victory is clear to us now. We will defeat the cultist scum!’
The general took another dramatic pause, probably expecting the crowd to erupt in an ecstatic roar. It did not come. Most of the men and women here had heard these speeches before. They were usually a far cry from the reality on the ground. Besides, the general could speak about us versus them all she wanted, but each marine in the crowd, bar for the officers, were residents. This entire religious uprising and the violent response by the central government had accounted to little more than residents killing residents whilst the citizenry cowered behind their massive walls. To make matters even more complex, he was certain that a good chunk of the marines in the crowd was at least somewhat sympathetic to the ascensionist cause and would have joined the uprisings if their circumstances had allowed it.
His thoughts were reflected by one of the marines nearest to them who whispered just a little too loudly to the woman next to him. ‘No cultist ever called me a slum dweller. Nor did they ever suppress their fellow residents or treat them like dogs.’
He shot the marine a dirty look. A pang of fear shot across the marine's face, giving him a look like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The Marine wisely shut up. Speech like that was usually rewarded with either a good lashing or worse. Not that he was going to rat out his fellow residents, but one was expected to report such transgressions. Failure to do so could lead to communal reprisals, making anyone overhearing such remarks an unwilling accomplice to the deed.
He looked around him and could tell that the marine with the runny mouth may have been a fool, he did express a common sentiment amongst the men and women of the Void Marines’ Third Regiment. Morale was low and grandiose speeches did little to assuage that. It didn’t matter though. These soldiers would do as they were told. The Void Marines, just like the Fifth, had their ways to ensure compliance. Soon, the citizen officers would be barking orders again, and the resident soldiers would be firing upon their fellow residents. Same old story.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The general signalled for the other officers to take over from here. The present lieutenants happily obliged and began snarling at their platoons to embark their Minoutars. Four hundred pairs of boots sprung into action, stomping over the metal grates that made up the launch bay’s floor and filling the grand hall with a rhythmic noise like a wardrum.
The captain walked over toward him and his men. ‘I wanted to personally wish you good luck, sergeant Dane. I trust you and your men will accomplish your mission without problem. You’re some of the finest men the Fifth is fortunate enough to possess. Have you informed your men of all the details of this operation?’
‘Thank you captain, and yes I have. Wait for the Marines to take hold of the water plant, then swoop in and dismantle the engine’s fuses. We’re not to damage anything, just get the fuses out. Enough to make the plant inoperable, easy to fix once the insurgents surrender.’
‘Good lad, now get to your Minoutar and await further orders.’
‘Yes, captain.’ the men responded in unison.
Soon, twenty Military issued Minoutars, each carrying over twenty soldiers, launched in rapid succession. Each soldier strapped in securely. Many of the Marines in their Minoutar had their eyes closed during lift off and were clutching their dog tags. A superstitious habit that was believed to bring good luck for their landing. He could tell that the men and women weren’t as confident in their mission as the general had been. Many seemed to be hoping and wishing, perhaps even secretly praying, that the promised element of surprise would actually be there. For these Marines were hardened veterans and they knew full well the danger of going in hot. Even the bravest Marine fears being shot out of the sky, impotent to stop their demise by the hands of a laser beam or distantly launched projectile.
It was an interesting difference between the Marines and the Fifth. The Marines had the habit of flying helmetless, opting to not put on their helmets until just before landing, where operatives of the Fifth put on their helmets before entering their ships. He had once asked a Marine why they didn’t put on their helmets, as was stated to be obligatory by official manuals. The marine had replied that they preferred to die fast and painless if their ship got hit mid-flight. A logic he couldn’t find any fault in considering how the chance of being rescued mid-void was practically zero, and a closed void suit did little more than postpone the inevitable.
Lieutenant Ida, who was in command of the mission, spoke over the communal intercom channel. ‘Atmospheric entry commences in two minutes. We land in seven. Local time on arrival is four fifteen AM. Sunrise will be at four fifty-three. Let’s move in fast and hard. We’re landing in a red zone. Residents have been ordered to evacuate the area weeks ago, so use full force and assume everyone you encounter is hostile.’
Aggressive music commenced playing on the Minoutar’s speakers. A standard procedure to hype up the Marines for the ensuing combat.
He huffed loudly, knowing that nobody could hear him outside the confines of his helmet. Those evacuation orders were a farce. Hungry and weakened residents were expected to move to so called safe zones on a moment’s notice. An impossible ask for destitute families carrying their children, sick and elderly. It didn’t help that they often had to traverse perilous terrain through active warzones. All of this was made even worse by the fact that today’s safe zone could be declared tomorrow’s battlefield, forcing the poor, exhausted and malnourished families to make the journey all over again.
The ship began to rumble and exterior sounds became noticeable. They were entering orbit. It wasn’t long before distant explosions could be heard. They didn’t sound impressive, but he knew the noise was mostly muffled by the thick steel walls of the Minoutar and the altering done on top of that by his combat helmet’s sound system. Besides, they were still at least thirty kilometers away from their designated landing site. Special operations like these were usually preceded by a rapid orbital bombardment using five thousand pounder shells, shot from one or several of the spaceport’s defence bastions. A gruesome yet highly effective way of overwhelming an unsuspecting enemy. Completely annihilating any defensive positions they may have built up amidst the large concrete buildings of the western slums. Such wanton destruction allowed Void Marine operatives to swoop in and out of the freshly destroyed area mostly unopposed, before the enemy ever had a chance to reorganize and get reinforcements into the area. It usually worked like a charm, but only if the ascensionists hadn’t been forewarned of their coming.
The explosions became louder and louder until not even the thick hull of the ship in combination with their helmets could offer much protection against the deafening roar that each explosion brought with it. Then, total silence but the sounds of the ship’s jet engines burning through the air. ‘We land in thirty seconds!’ lieutenant Ida spoke through the intercom just a little too excitedly, revealing he suffered from the same nervousness that each man and woman aboard the ships felt.
The bombardment had been coordinated perfectly as usual, starting mere minutes before they swooped in and ending less than a minute before they landed. Whomever had been unfortunate enough to be on the ground never stood a chance to resist them. Likely dead before they even realized what was happening.
Explosions began sounding again. Smaller explosions this time that sounded closer than the shells had been. Before he really had a chance to realize what was going on, the ship slammed into the ground. It skipped and bounced a few times before finally coming to a complete stop. An unusually rough landing that was explained as soon as the hatch opened and the Marines poured out. He immediately spotted dents, scratches and chip damage on several of the ships. The result of bullet impacts and nearby mid-air explosions. Upon closer inspection, he realized three of their ships were missing. 'So much for the element of surprise' he grumbled to his men. He took a moment to look around and assess the situation. It was as if they had entered the apocalypse. Their landing zone was a public square on top of a hill. All the buildings surrounding it had been carefully laid to waste. Fires had erupted all around them between the ruins of what had once been a busy commercial hub. Store signs could still be spotted here and there where buildings hadn't collapsed completely. No matter what direction he looked at, there were thick, toxic clouds of smoke and fires blazing everywhere. Absolute mayhem that nobody without a full suit couldn't possibly survive. What had, up to recently, been a thrawling neighborhood, housing hundreds of thousands of residents, had been laid to waste within minutes due to the aerial bombardment.
And yet... Despite the total annihilation of everything within a three kilometer radius, the Ascensionists had been able to not only survive, but to also return fire and take out around sixty five Marines before they even set foot on the ground. This wasn't some desperate rabble they were at war with anymore, the Ascensionists had managed to form themselves into a well oiled fighting machine, capable of surviving even the worst horrors that the central government could throw at them. It was a far cry from what they had faced when the initial uprisings had begun only six months ago. What had started as desperate residents rioting over food shortages, had turned into an organized military force capable of withstanding the government's finest.
Sounds of gunfire began to erupt. At first there were just a few solitary shots, but soon that turned into a hail of bullets flying in both directions. There would be no element of surprise today. 'Looks like they knew we were coming, men. Get ready for some heavy fighting.'. He looked over his shoulders and saw his men stand right behind him, ready to get into action. 'Jabs, Atis on me. Hoog report to central comms. We’ve got no time to lose if we want to make it out of this mess alive!’