Svetlana knew that even though her country and America had grown far closer following Russia's defeat in World War III, the United States still retained something of a mistrust of the nation, owing it to a cold war that the peace after it boiled over was only half as long as.
Thus, when she was retasked to New 'Couver, a joint US-Canada world, she knew things had gotten bad.
Victoriaville, the capital of the Canadian portion of the planet, was already a smoldering husk when the EU's forces arrived on-world, and the American portion was doing better only by virtue of being hit later. Already, a suffocating shroud of pitch-black smog was enveloping the planet, as the Poslushi continued to dump thousands of tons of incendiaries on its massive forests and blow open major coal seams to ignite them too. Svetlana didn't know why they were doing this; after all, with the power their weapons possessed, why not just destroy the military presence on-world? Then again, why didn't they just destroy the military presence on Novoarkhangelsk, instead of all but erasing its one lifeline?
Svetlana didn't have time to answer this as she strained, alongside a dozen others, to push the burned-out hulk of a Neo-Sherman off the road leading into Fort Grozny, the encampment built on what used to be Victoriaville's town hall. Row after row of incinerated buildings lined the street far into the distance. Some were still burning, others completely gutted, and one or two would fold in on itself like a house of cards and implode every few minutes. Behind her, a military checkpoint loomed, soldiers covering nervously behind Jersey barriers, rifles at the ready.
With a final grunt, the group successfully pushed the Neo-Sherman into a ditch beside the road, and not a moment too soon. A fire-engine red car rounded a street corner and began to drive towards the now-clear checkpoint. The driver was unseen behind the tinted windshield. As it came within a hundred meters, it squeaked to a stop and the driver hastily exited, a younger man in an expensive leather jacket. The car was a newer model too; perhaps it was a sweet-sixteen gift from a rich parent?
Svetlana tried to remember her English studies. "Show me your hands!" she commanded, and the driver dutifully obeyed. She pointed him over to another soldier, who searched him while she went to examine the car. Inside, it was packed, ten people in a four-door sedan, three or four people to a seat. As she popped open the trunk, three more came out. Whatever hell had occurred here had apparently been far better than where they came from, if they were this desperate to get here.
Svetlana sent the rest of the refugees the way of the checkpoint as the sniffer came over. A walking chemical detector on four folding legs, it scurried past Svetlana and leapt effortlessly into the vehicle, crawling over every surface, occasionally stopping to take a sample. When it was finished, a chime played and an LED mounted on its chassis flashed green.
"Clear!" Svetlana yelled to the men in the checkpoint. Then, she and the dozen began to push the car out of the way. Most free space in Fort Grozny was taken up either by rubble or refugee accommodations; they wouldn't have room to keep it.
Seeing this, the freshly-searched driver sprinted over. "That's my car, you Russkie jackasses!" he cried. "I'm sorry, did you want to find a parking space? You're going to lose it anyways; get over it." Svetlana replied curtly, already regretting volunteering for road and checkpoint duty if this was what it consisted of. The driver gave her a furious glare, and she thought for a few seconds that he would try to lunge at her, but he shrank away and instead stormed back into the camp.
It was a decision that saved his life, as that very moment, another vehicle turned onto the road, a cargo truck, and it was going fast. It tilted to the side as it made the turn, nearly capsizing, then righted itself and sped toward the checkpoint. "Vadim, warning shot, two shots!" Svetlana barked. The soldier nearest her jumped into action, discharging his rifle once, then twice into the air in an attempt to dissuade the driver. He showed no signs of stopping.
"Everyone to cover!" she ordered, and the dozen behind her ran for the barriers. Then, the driver came into view. They held themselves unnaturally straight, their hands holding the wheel with disturbing conviction. Worst of all, there was a metallic black covering on their face, and as they broke the 500-meter line, they gunned it forward even faster. Svetlana's heart dropped and her eyes widened as she realized what was happening.
"BOMB!" she screamed, leaping behind the Neo-Sherman for cover. Then, all hell broke loose as the entire checkpoint unloaded every weapon they had into the incoming vehicle. Svetlana leaned out from behind the tank just in time to watch the driver's head snap back in a spray of blood, the truck suddenly veering off-course a millisecond too late. Svetlana had just enough time to pull herself back to safety as the truck went airborne and tumbled into the checkpoint.
Then, the world exploded. A deafening blast knocked Svetlana over, and even managed to shift the Neo-Sherman dangerously close to crushing her feet. A twisted shard of metal struck a nearby building and ricocheted off, spinning mere inches over her head before skipping off the asphalt like a stone tossed into a lake and soaring miles into the distance. As she got up, ears ringing and disoriented beyond belief, she knew she was lucky; a single glance at the checkpoint proved as much. Almost no trace of human life remained there, Vadim and all the others vaporized in an instant, the only remains a single fragment of the truck's chassis partially embedded in the ground, about the size of a bathtub.
Someone was yelling, but Svetlana was all but deaf. Then, a combat medic grabbed her hand from behind and yanked her back into Fort Grozny with him. Soldiers were running here and there, pushing aside civilians and manning machine guns and ATGM launchers. Svetlana ducked out of the way of an IFV as it barreled past to fill the hole the bomb had blasted in Grozny's defenses. Just barely registering in her hearing was the guttural buzz of AK-820 CIWS emplacements, and she could see as their bright red tracers swept across the sky, occasional starbursts in midair punctuating their bursts. Finally, as Svetlana's hearing started to return, her radio bleeped.
"All forces be advised, multiple hostile contacts inbound to Victoriaville, possibly enemy armored units. Bundeswehr armored columns are en-route to intercept, but expect combat and bombardment."
Svetlana cursed under her breath. This day was just getting better and better.
---
Johann jostled in his seat as the Leopard 6A5 rolled over a bump in the road. Recovering his bearings, he continued to look through the swiveling camera mounted on top of the turret. The trees were zooming past as the tank shot off towards Victoriaville. Behind it was another Leopard, and then another, going back until they had a full platoon of four.
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The one behind them had been outfitted with a new sensor package, which took the form of a set of tall antennae protruding from its hull. Supposedly, it was pinging the entire area all around with electromagnetic radiation, everywhere from radar to X-ray. Johann didn't know how the hell they calibrated the thing, but they had apparently done so correctly.
"Contact, vehicle, two hundred meters, bearing oh-three-one." their commander stated over the radio. Johann quickly turned his camera to face northeast, and sure enough, a few of the trees were rustling and shaking. Johann couldn't tell precisely what was in there, but it had to be big.
"Johann clicked a button on his camera console, placing a digital marker on a particular copse of trees for his unit to see. "Go to hull-down here." he said. Dutifully, Hersch, the driver, pulled to the side and quickly maneuvered the tank until only its turret was exposed through the brush.
"Launching recon drone." the commander of the tank to Johann's left said, and with a faint plunk, a tiny quadcopter was fired from a tube on the back of its hull. Johann switched his display to watch the input from the UAV as it ascended. The forest extended for miles in all directions, only briefly interrupted by a scorched-bare spot surrounding Victoriaville. Then, the camera focused downward, giving them a bird's-eye view of the surrounding area. From so far up, he could see the incoming enemy easily, could watch as their four-meter, chicken-legged armor suits tracked through the forest, unimpeded by the trees where a human tank would be slowed to a crawl. They numbered about two dozen, and they were only the vanguard. The drone moved up slightly, putting the Poslushi tank into view.
Four spindly legs supported a body far too large, weaving effortlessly and insect-like over and around obstacles. The chassis was a glittering white cylinder, suspended at least ten meters off the ground. Some sort of anti-infantry weapon was mounted on its top and, presumably, the bottom, and mounted on one side was a long, slender gun barrel. It seemed simultaneously cutting-edge and hopelessly archaic, just like the rest of Poslushi tech. As it stomped forward, the barrel trained itself on a target in the direction of Victoriaville and let loose two projectiles with a strangely-muted discharge.
"Registering magnetic interference. Perhaps some sort of railgun?" the sensor-equipped tank's commander mused.
"They're getting close. Leopards One and Two will prepare to give enfilading fire to the exosuits. Three and Four, train your guns on that walker and prepare to hit it with all you've got. On my command, all fire." Johann said into his radio. The other three tank commanders spoke their assent. Then, Johann turned to Hiedrich, his gunner.
"Load HE. I'll take over the autocannon, you blow up anything that survives the initial volley."
Heidrich nodded, then began fiddling with the gun's autoloader. There was a loud THUNK as the cannon chambered a shell. Then, Johann spun his chair around, grabbing hold of the joystick controlling the Leopard's thirty-millimeter roof-mounted autocannon and swinging the gun into place. A few moments later, the first of the exosuits passed in front of his tank, muscling aside vegetation and rocks with ease. Their rifles were longer than Johann was tall, and he didn't doubt that they could obliterate someone in a single shot. He had to resist the urge to start shooting before it was time, but as the ideal time approached, the hairs on his neck stood on-end.
Johann put his radio to his mouth, his other hand resting on the joystick's trigger. "Right, then. Open fire."
SHTAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP. The pulsing roar of the autocannon filled the tank as it spewed a stream of high-velocity slugs into the passing armor suits. Their armor may have been resistant to small arms, but a gun firing projectiles the length of Johann's hand was anything but small. A single radiant violet beam scorched the frontal armor of the Leopard, but nothing else came their way after the bullets tore the suiters limb-from-limb. Simultaneously, Johann looked back briefly at the drone feed to see the walker staggering backwards, smoke pouring from four holes punched in its hull, two entrance wounds, two exit wounds. Still, its chassis swiveled to face them and its gun fired off two more shots into the tank with the package.
"They got our driver! Jesus Christ, it's like a meatpacker in here!" the commander screamed over the radio. Johann turned to Heidrich and yelled, "Load HEAT! I'll aim the gun, just keep the shells coming!" then jumped into the gunner's seat. The turret spun seventy degrees to the right, coming to a stop facing the walker. Then, the gun rose, ten degrees, twelve degrees, fourteen degrees, incredibly fast but still far too slow as the walker's gun trained itself upon his tank.
THUNK. The shell popped into place just as the gun rose to center on the walker's tin-can hull. Johann did one final adjustment, then depressed the gun's trigger.
The two both fired almost at once, and that was what saved the Leopard. The round struck true, unleashing a jet of devastating liquid copper that all but eviscerated the machine, and as the recoil rocked the tank backward, the enemy gun, acting on the last order from its now definitely-deceased pilot, let loose another burst, which would've perforated the tank's vulnerable topside if its motion hadn't put its frontal armor in the way instead. Instead, there was an incredibly loud PING! and Johann's ears were left ringing as the projectiles spun off into the distance.
A few seconds later, Johann got the courage to speak up. "Is everyone okay?"
They were Leopard One.
"We're good." Leopard Two called.
"All clear." Leopard Four said.
"We're hurt, badly." Leopard Three said.
"Can you keep fighting?" Johann asked.
"They knocked out our autoloader; it's a miracle our ammo didn't cook off. That, and, well..." Johann knew what he was talking about.
"Head back to base, then. I'll call for an escort." Johann replied, then put his head in his hand. The adrenaline of combat was beginning to wear off, and he was starting to feel tired. And this was only the beginning.
Great.
---
Admiral Kuznetsov was a proud man, and he wasn't above admitting that. After all, those with a particular force of personality were more likely to find themselves among the upper echelons, no? However, as the super-powerful cameras of the RCX Nikitovna focused down on New Vancouver, he could feel his pride deflate a little.
Sure, the combined militaries of the EU were driving off many, if not most of the invaders, but the damage had, for the most part, already been done when they got there. It was estimated that they had had nearly two full days of free reign on the planet before outside forces arrived to help, and in that time, tens of thousands more had died, been driven into the wilderness, or, more forebodingly, simply vanished. He could see as helicopters descended onto rooftops, emergency responders frantically searching any buildings they could land on but finding nothing. Vehicles of all kinds burned in the streets, their owners taken in the blink of an eye. And, worst of all, he watched as the collection shuttles loaded up with shuffling, defeated people, then took off to rendezvous with their motherships on the other side of the planet. Even as a hardened veteran, he found it almost unbearable to watch.
Then, he saw her face. Svetlana's face, or, more accurately, her lack thereof. Her shining smile was hidden behind a cold mask, her golden hair shorn short, her body bruised and broken from years of hard labor. She was unrecognizable, and horribly so. Georgy stepped back, his heart pounding and his skin paling at the mere thought of such a fate for his niece. Then, his fatherly horror at such a notion turned to a mix of terrible things, as suddenly, each and every person loading onto those shuttles took the form of his beloved Svetlana, and it made him sick. He had to excuse himself from the ship's bridge, tracing the path back to his office. When he arrived, he shut the door behind him, and then screamed on and off for nearly half an hour. In anger, in fear, he didn't know, but when he was done, all had clarified and was replaced by cold resolve. He would find the man--no, the creature--responsible for this, and he would make him pay. He would grab him by the collar and watch as the life drained from his eyes in penance.
For Svetlana, and for all the other Svetlanas out there.