Breaking news!
Earlier today, the city of Jack’s Point’s declared its secession from the state. The town mayor and police captain’s locations are unknown, with an armed group calling themselves the ‘Polarii Revolutionary Council’ announcing they were liberating the booming factory town from the ‘imperialist shadow forces’.
Governor Katrina Polk has announced martial law in the province.
Responding to the Tribune’s request for comment during a press conference, the Governor said the following:
“We are doing everything we can to guarantee the safety of our citizens from terrorist violence. I ask every loyal citizen in Jack’s Point to stay in their homes and prioritize the safety of themselves and their family above all else.”
-The Aurora Tribune
…
Terrorists capture the town of Jack’s Point!
The armed group ‘Polarii Revolutionary Council’ has managed to subvert law and order by force, and lock down the town.
Colonel Gerhard Richmond, the commanding officer of the National Guard, has ordered the mobilization of fifteen hundred of our valiant soldiers to defend against this unhinged madmen!
Speaking during a joint conference with the commander of AMF-P, responsible for all akritan marine and naval deployments on the planet, Colonel Richmond vowed to ‘defeat extremism, by force if necessary’.
-Polarii Times
—
Katrina rushed through the corridor, her bodyguards forming an airtight cordon between her and the orbital’s spacers.
‘Composure is strength.’
The age-old adage rank in her head, clearing away the noise and panic of the day’s events.
Only hours ago, she’d been in a conference room in the newly-furbished government headquarters, in one of many meetings with her cabinet about the cycle’s budget. It was an enjoyable, if tiring, affair; the government had run something like a thirty-five percent surplus and they were finally able to implement a slew of upgrades to the educational and health services.
Then her security attache whisked her out of the meeting and into a convoy of armored vehicles headed to the local spaceport, where she met up with Colonel Richmond of the nascent ‘national guard’. They were both promptly shoved into a navy shuttle to Polaris Station.
So here they were, headed to the station’s war room under military escort.
“Here we are, ma’am.” The seniormost bodyguard gestured to an armored door.
As Katrina and the colonel entered, they found the conference table inside already occupied by a pair of marines. Akritan marines, to be precise.
“And what might you be doing here, gentlemen?” She asked them.
The pair quickly stood up and saluted. “Lieutenant Colonel Sanders and Major Kidd, madam Governor, of the 12th Marine Regiment. We’re here to help you deal with your…bug extermination.” The senior of the pair answered, his voiced tainted with disgust.
Katrina frowned at the lieutenant-colonel’s words. “As much as I appreciate the gesture, gentlemen, Polaris can deal with its own internal problems. That’s precisely why we created the national guard, isn’t that right Colonel Richmond?”
“Well…” The colonel muttered, looking suddenly embarrassed. “Not…quite, madam.”
That made Katrina do a double-take. “What do you mean not quite, Colonel? Are you not responsible for liberating that town, oath-bound even?”
“He is, and he could do just that…but not without civilian casualties.” Lieutenant Colonel Sanders cut in, much to her chagrin.
“And your marines could do better?” She spat out, recognizing her folly a moment later.
“Certainly.” Sanders nodded, turning to his second in command. “Please show them, Major.”
“Madam and sirs, if you’ll look at the hologram.”Major Kidd gestured to the center of the table, where a large holographic map of Jack’s Point and the surrounding plains had appeared.
Jack’s Point was built on a hill in a former volcanic zone, which meant that the rebels had managed to entrench themselves easily. There was even a barbed wire fence with guard towers, meant to keep the nastiest of fauna away. Now the rebels were using it to defend themselves.
“Orbital and drone footage suggest the terrorists have managed to manufacture some heavy weapons using local production facilities, in secret. We’ve seen heavy machine guns, sniper rifles, and even what appears to be rocket-propelled grenade launchers. Combine all that with the police arsenal -flechette rifles and light body armor- and you have a dangerous force capable of fighting against light mobile infantry like your national guard.”
Katrina shook her head. “It’s a whole less lighter than your marines. I recall you don’t keep vehicles as part of your standard inventory.”
Sanders nodded. “You’d be correct, and if we were approaching the same way your people woud then yes, we would be at a comparable disadvantage. However, we won’t be doing that.”
The hologram shifted, showing a flight of shuttles flying over the town.
“I dare not say all my marines are well-trained for aerial insertion, but I have a platoon of men on loan from the 101st Marine-Raiders who are certifiable demons in any environment.”
That made Kathrine flinch. She hadn’t been informed of that deployment…though a quick glance at Colonel Sanders showed a man well-aware of it. Had she simply not been informed? It wasn’t like she’d been paying too much attention to the National Guard, with most funding going to the resource-hungry navy.
Sanders continued without pausing.
“Lucifer Platoon will be dropped in via shuttle and descend using grav-chutes, gathering in squads to eliminate command and control units as well as heavy weapons emplacements. Disorganized and without heavy firepower, the insurgents will become easy pickings for the advancing national guard mobile companies.”
“Of course, this is but a plan. We need your approval to go and save this city. Do we have it?”
—
“One minute.” The pilot’s voice came crisp through the comm speakers.
Curt acknowledgments rang out from the pair of squads that had been sitting inside the passenger compartment. Their usual kits had been enlarged to include the wing-like grav-chutes, and the shuttle’s interior had gotten particularly tight.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Nineteen marines comprising two squads stood up from their seats as one, forming two neat lines in front of the cargo doors. There was little stress among the battle-harded troops; they’d fought and won against much worse odds.
This was hardly a hardy insurgency trained for years and supplied by state actors; it was a grassroots movement of anti-dynasty rebels who had made their weapons out of coolant pipes and mining explosives. The best-trained amongst them might’ve gone on hunts with rifles before, but none had been even remotely related to the military or law enforcement
“Thirty seconds. Doors opening.”
Red alarms lit up on both sides of the cargo door as it opened, air escaping as pressure equalized between inside and outside. The marines remained unmoving thanks to their magboots, though some chuckled or laughed as pre-battle made its way through their system.
Air assaults were rare, as modern air defense systems rendered paradrops extremely lethal. It was good that the insurgents had none of that, apart from a heavy machinegun or two that was far too bulky to point straight up.
“Ten, nine, eight…four, three, two, one. Jump, jump, jump!”
One pair after the other the marines jumped out of the shuttle, moving in sync with those dropping from the shuttle directly to their right. Two shuttles, four squads and forty marine-raiders raring for action.
Both of Polaris’s moons were out of phase, ensuring a dark landing. The insurgents used campfires and LED lamps to see, but the marines used a suite of night vision, thermal imaging and millimeter-wave radar to see in any environment.
Sergeant Sylwester Goralski’s voice came out smooth over the encrypted comnet, calling out to his squadmates.
“Bravo Squad, this is Bravo-1, fire team leaders check in.”
“This is Bravo-1-1, all marines accounted for.”
“This is Bravo-1-2, all hands on deck.”
“This is Bravo-1-3, all troopers accounted for.”
Sylwester grunted in satisfaction at the prompt responses of his fire team leaders.
“Understood, team leaders. Proceed with the plan, and try not to shoot any civvies.”
…
Sergeant Goralski stood in front of a holo-table, presenting the plan to the rest of Bravo Squad.
“We deploy chutes in fifteen seconds, landing in thirty. We’re going for their headquarters.”
…
“Chutes.” Goralski ordered through the comm, suddenly feeling like one of the clouds was trying to lift him.
His vision was laser-focused on the grey, drab town hall that the insurgents were using for command, control and propaganda. A square block of concrete with few windows and fewer decorations-
…
-three stories tall and set at the very center of the town’s grid layout.
“We’ll be landing on the roof. Live drone feeds show a pair of snipers, one for each of the town gates. Our own sharpshooters will have to take them out during our descent.”
…
His helmet’s audio amplifiers barely picked up on the wizz of the subsonic flechettes. Guided by veteran sharpshooters supported by stabilized suits and ballistic computers, the rounds landed square on the enemies’ heads.
…
“Our sharpshooters and heavy weapons specialists will set up firing positions along the roof, to cover the other squads’ landings and deal with potential reinforcements. Meanwhile, fire teams one and two will proceed to make entry-”
…
“Here!” Goralski gestured to the padlocked door leading to the third floor.
The pairs of sharpshooters and grenadiers set up beside the dead enemy snipers, setting the gored, unarmored bodies and cheap hunting rifles aside as they set up their own weapons. Instead of titanium-ceramic bodies and depleted uranium bullets, they carried weapons and ammunition standard for polarii guardsmen. Guns made of cheap aluminum bodies and loaded tungsten-core bullets.
One of the troopers stepped forward, stabbing a cylinder with a key-shaped portusion into the lock. A few seconds of whirring later, the door unlocked and opened wide. The rest of the soldiers formed a line behind the first trooper, moving into the stairwell without speaking a word.
…
“Fire Team Two will secure the stairwell and provide fire support, while team one will clear out the rooms. Each floor we alternate to keep pace. We’ll proceed floor by floor until we reach the ground floor, then secure the entrance and wait for the cavalry.”
“And remember; we’re not here to liberate the town, just make the game easier for the national guard. If anybody asks who you are, evade the question. Hearing that the anti-imperialists got wasted by the very ‘imperialists’ they are fighting against is bad press no matter how the brass twists it.”
…
“Oi, d’ya hear that?”
“Naw, what?”
“I swear, I heard somebody-”
Turning around towards the stairs, the insurgent came face-to-face with the point man’s rifle.
THWACK THWACK
Two ten-millimeter rounds later he was down a brain and a pair of lungs. His comrade didn’t fair much better; he was dead before he even rose from his plastic chair.
The marine-raiders spread out like sunset shadows, using their thermal imagers to fire at insurgents through wooden doors. It appeared the terrorists were using the topmost floor as some sort of barracks, sleeping bags and pillows covering the floor of what had been offices only the previous day.
Some of the criminals were lucky enough to die in their sleep; others not so much.
“Third floor clear, proceed.” Goralski ordered, switcing out the magazine in his battle rifle for a fresh one. He was annoyed.
Modern purpose-built CQBR rifles where light, internally suppressed and designed as a bullpup configuration to reduce size. Polarii guardsmen were issued significantly cheaper multipurpose rifles, which were bulkier, longer and heavier. Next time—
“Contact!” The second team’s corporal reported as the stairwell turned into a war zone. “Throwing flashbang!”
Screaming erupted from inside the second floor as the ill-trained and ill-equipped revolutionaries experienced the full force of a military-grade stun grenade.
Team two stormed into the main corridor immediately after the detonation, putting rounds into anything that as much as twitched. Goralski saw men and women, dressed in puke-stained hunting gear, crawling against the floor like drunken pray. His troopers dolled out mercy by the magazine, though they were careful to scan each terrorist’s face in case—
“I got one!” One of the troopers announced, holding up a blond, pale-skinned woman by her hair.
Goralski approached, using his helmet camera to scan the woman’s face. Seconds later the result came back.
Identification Confirmed: Maria Regan, deputy-chief councilor, Polarii Revolutionary Council.
Grunting in pleasure, the sergeant immediately contacted his superiors.
“Lucifer Actual, this is Alpha-1. We’ve found one of the VIPs, scratch her off the list.”
—
Katrina stood war room hours later, feeling uniquely drained.
She had just…sat there, watching as the akritans made a mockery of a well-organized, armed and fortified insurgency that had managed to fly under the radar of the nation’s police and military. At no point during the operation had she given any order, merely providing verbal consent before the lieutenant colonel ordered Lucifer Platoon into the breach.
The commandos and their entire support apparatus, from reconnaisance drones to orbiting warships and the marine commanders in the room with her, was entirely separate from the national guard’s, and ultimately answered to the Duke, not her.
It wasn’t the outcome that bothered her, not at all. The insurgents’ commanders were dead, their anti-vehicle munitions sabotaged. Polarii guardsmen were already streaming into the city under the cover of armored trucks; by dawn the town would be back under her rule.
Neither had the means posed an issue. So what if a few dozen insurgents were dead with no chance at surrender? They’d formed an armed rebellion to support fanciful ideology that promised everything and gave no evidence of success. Let them die, Polaris was better without them.
Yet the fact the akritan dynasty, which was already fighting on one front against the leonian royalists, and supporting a nanscent nation in Nimbus, could devote the manpower and resources to maintain a garrison of marines and warships in a foreign planet’s orbit…it made her afraid. Afraid because a sliver of the surviving forces of a noble house that had been decimated during war was better at dealing with insurgencies than the entire polarii military.
In these past two years, she’d relaxed. The Duke showed no sign of wanting to annex her planet, and instead formed deep economic, cultural and military bonds with the polarii people. Only now did Katrina realize that the sense of equality was false.
Her economy was booming, but only because of the dynasty’s massive hunger for raw materials and basic manufactured goods. Polariis around the globe had more food on the table than ever before, yet the percentage that originated from Polarii soil was a fraction of the years before.
The nation had a military, a growing navy and national guard that kept it safe from invasion…yet it was trained and equipped by the very people Katrina wanted to remain independent of. She was certain that the officers running her military were firm believers in the Akritan-Polarii alliance, and would have her replaced on the spot if she as much as hinted at turning her nation towards isolationism.
Which…she wouldn’t.
As much as the present horrified her, it was still good. More than good; life for the average polarii couldn’t be better. Katrina was certain that most of that could be attributed to the dynasty’s presence. Advanced factories, fertile farms. incredible productivity and R&D operations that her own team of top scientists gawked at. Hell, they’d turned a lifeless iceball into a near-habitable world, and the sandy plains of Cradle Valley were already feeding over half of the system’s population.
Yes, Polaris was no longer an independent nation. She was no longer beholden to naught but herself and her people; the Duke’s ‘advice’ could change legislation and drive change, moreso than hers had ever been able to.
But maybe…maybe the price of independence was worth it.