Who knows what would have happened if humans had been left to just play. There are ruins of those who came before that somehow ascended to something else, possibly pure energy, and went beyond the petty concerns of the universe. The humans have surpassed those ancient people's achievements, who knows where they might have gone. Instead, each of us, every one of us, have attacked them, and forced them to turn what could have been technology for peace and advancement into the cold tools of war. - Thoughts of Terra - Blanarkak Numekrekvian, Mulmanik Philospher
Corporal Vak-tel, Telkan Marine Corps, stared at the sheet in front of him.
The 7th Telkan Marine Division Chain of Command AKA The Dumbass Conga Line
Commanding Officer: General Kretok (AKA The Old Man AKA Lumpyhead)
6th Infantry Regimental Commander: Field Colonel Shrekna (Vak-tel wasn't sure the Old Man could put his boots on the right feet without help from his aides, but he sure as hell knew how to snatch an award from a Private and candy from a podling at the same time)
3rd Infantry Brigade Commander: Colonel Navek
17th Rifle Battalion: Lieutenant Colonel Riltepop
Kilo Company (Rifle): Captain Kemtrelap
3rd Platoon Leader: Lieutenant Gretilk
3rd Platoon Sergeant: Gunny Heltok
Third Squad Leader: Sergeant Letrill
Vak-tel sighed and rubbed his face. On either side of him were his room-mates, Private First Class Nrexla and Lance Corporal Juvretik, both of which were staring at the TO&E (Table of Equipment and Organization) with same look of disgust as Vak-tel. Private Cipdek was sitting across the table from them, twiddling his fingers as he hot-linked his datalink the Captain's again.
Vak-tel just shook his head and turned the page.
The RoE was posted.
All eight pages of it.
"Have you seen this shit?" Nrexla asked.
"Which?" Vak-tel asked.
"Check out number one-sixty-two of the RoE," Nrexla said.
Vak-tel looked at it and groaned.
AVOID FRIGHTENING CHILDREN OR ANIMALS
Juvretik burst out laughing. "If there's kids downrange they've got bigger problems than us scaring them."
"Check out two-thirty-eight," Vak-tel said.
"Avoid damage to infrastructure, including roads, power lines, transmission towers, and underground pipes and cable," Nrexla said. He shook his head. "Guess that means no medium atomic demolition mines."
"That's number seven: no atomic or nuclear devices, no thermonuclear detonations," Cipdek said, not looking up. "Hah! Got it! He used his daughter's birthday for his password."
"You're going to end up in jail for that," Vak-tel said.
"Would you rather not know?" Cipdek asked.
"Hey, you're the one who will go to jail, not me," Vak-tel said.
"I love number one: do not endanger, frighten, threaten, bully, cause emotional damage or stress, or conscript any civilians or government workers and officials," Nrexla said.
Cipdek tossed a glittering marble to the holo-emitter on the table and it brightened up.
"...exactly are we supposed to fight this war?" Colonel Navek asked.
"These are the Rules of Engagement. Follow them to the best of your ability," FC Shrekna said, his voice stuffy. "We are guests in the Ornislarp system. They would appreciate it if they were able to live there when the battle is over."
There was silence for a second.
"You are aware, sir, that the enemy is currently fighting for control of the system," Colonel Navek said, his voice low and slow.
"That is an issue for Space Force. We are concerned with the ground fighting side of things. The enemy has landed in light numbers according to intelligence," FC Shrekna said.
"On a planet we are less than an hour from reaching," Colonel Navek said. "When, exactly, sir, do you plan on having the men load up into the dropships?"
"Once I am briefed on the situation on the ground," The Old Man said stuffily.
"Where fighting is already taking place," the Colonel said.
Field Sergeant Impton, AKA Ivan Wektaki the Telkan, of the Black Skull Blood Drinker Vodkatrog Warsteel Horde, stomped up and sat down, making everyone jump slightly.
"Do not be guilty," Impton said. He leaned forward. "Why do you watch show with mental defectives. Charlie Moo Moo much better."
"Division Commander's meeting," Cipdek said.
"Plotters and planners. No real Telkan in bunch," Impton snorted. "Better if mother knocked on head, sold milk."
The got snorts of amusement.
"Trying to find out what we're looking at for deployment," Vak-tel said. "Maybe we can get an edge."
Impton snorted. "Came to get you. Show you edge."
The Field Sergeant stood up. "Come."
Sighing and only rolling his eyes a little bit, Vak-tel got up. "You guys coming?"
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
The others all nodded.
Impton led them down the armory, which was manned by a Rigellian Saurian female.
"Any word?" Impton asked.
"Suits are still warming up," she smiled. "Dropship and drop pod guys are getting pissed. Last six hours they've been told 'you're how we're going in' then 'no, you're how we're going in' and ordering the others to re-pack their gear."
"Then it will be fuck fuck circus with very bitey monkeys," Impton said.
The Rigellian female nodded.
"These are friends," Impton said.
"He borrow money off of you?" the Rigellian asked.
Vak-tel shook his head.
"You owe him money?" she asked.
Cipdek shook his head.
"Huh," she looked at Impton. "OK, what do you want?"
"Stick in secure EPROMs full of crackerjack. One for greenie, one for my boots," Impton said.
The Rigellian closed her eyes. "You aren't in their chain of command."
Impton reached up and tapped his cybernetic eye. "I will be."
The Rigellian smiled. "All right."
"Let us go. Morgue," Impton said.
The group followed the older Telkan to the morgue, watching the Senior NCO talk to the armorer there for a long moment.
Then they followed when he sidled up to a Rigellian female in one of the cafeterias, complimenting her, passing her a holocube under the table of new music he'd pirated off of a source. Then another Rigellian, passing off a twelve hour athletic championship holocube to her in return for more information.
Less than an hour went by before Impton finished talking to a pair of green mantids that were up on one of the "greenie highways" in an access corridor. The greenies flashed laughing emojis and moved on, leaving Impton rocking back and forth heel to toe for a moment.
"Drop pods," he suddenly said, turning and hustling back toward the one of the staging bays.
"How do you know?" Juvretik asked, hurrying to catch up to the older Telkan, who moved surprisingly fast for someone with a limp and a cybernetic leg.
"Greenies ordered to activate Yuri's express elevator," Impton said. "Only one reason. Hot drop."
"Great," Nrexla said.
"Ever pod under fire?" Impton asked.
"Negative," Vak-tel said.
"Then this will be new for you," Impton smiled.
Vak-tel got that sinking feeling in his gut again.
0-0-0-0-0
--tab two gums put one on each side back teeth-- 621 said.
"Why?" Vak-tel asked.
--so don't chip teeth when pod launches-- 621 answered.
Vak-tel did as his green mantid battle-buddy suggested, chewing on first one then another till they were soft and putting the wads on his back molars.
The whole squad was inside the stuffy confines of a mission configurable drop pod. Sergeant Letrill's face was in one corner of his HUD, talking to someone, the NCO forgetting to turn off his internal helmet cam and hang up the call to the whole squad.
There was a faint vibration.
--here go-- 621 said.
"Wha..." Vak-tel got out.
The sudden accelleration slammed him back against the seat, the restraint bar locking down tighter. He almost puked as his stomach shot up into his throat.
I have launched from the main troop carrier. My payload is thirteen Telkan Marines and one mission configurable war-core. Initial thrust is 22G but my internal inertial compensator keeps the Telkan from feeling much more than 2.5Gs.
Jamming is sporadic but I know it will pick up as I approach the planet. I run encryption hashes and link up with the BATTACNET systems from the ships and the surrounding sattellites.
My stealth coating should hold during my reentry at MACH-8.
Ranging pinging from groundside is sporadic, but I know it will pick up.
I am on trajectory, one of nearly five thousand smaller drop pods. There are armored vehicle drop cradles and three BOLO drop systems heading down with me. I shift position, dropping slightly behind a Chernobog Hellfire Descent Pod, joined by the rest of Kilo Company's drop pod.
All systems are nominal.
Upper atmosphere turbulence is below MILINT projections.
Update from Fleet BATTACNET warns of heavy ground emplacements.
I add my jamming ability to the Hellfire Pod, joined by the rest of Kilo Company's pods.
I am on trajectory.
There is heavy cloud cover, but my own sensors combined with the rest of Kilo Company and the Hellfire Pod are showing that local Ornislarp forces are heavily engaged with power armor ranging from the half-ton to nearly eight thousand tons.
The Hellfire Pod orders Kilo Company to fire jamming flares right as I see it.
A BOLO.
Telkan Marine Division MILINT orders us to veer off, try to get out of line of sight.
Fleet orders us to veer closer, rotate, and increase thrust.
I am disposable. I realize that an inverted reentry followed by a low altitude ejection will allow the Telkan Marines to use their Icarus Systems to safely land. My own Icarus System will be of use also.
I run the numbers.
Jamming is increasing.
I am ordered to get closer to the BOLO as well as get away from it.
The conflicting orders leave me no choice.
I rotate and fire my thrusters, increasing my speed to MACH-12. I blow my stealth panels at the same time as the Hellfire Pod does the same and the rest of Kilo Company.
I have been in flight for nineteen and a half seconds.
Ground fire has begun, but it is poorly aimed, most of it missing. The BOLO fires but misses, something I relay to MILINT immediately. The Hellfire Pod has its battlescreens up, the equivalent of a heavy cruiser, but the second shot does not come.
We are twenty-three seconds into the flight, picking up speed from our high orbit launch at 500 km.
The Hellfire Pod grabs me and the rest of Kilo Company with tractor beams even as it fires its retrothruster.
Our speed is fast enough that the atmosphere around us is turning to plasma and we are leaving streaks across the sky.
My armored shell takes hits from plasma flak cannons but they lack the strength and temperature of the plasma wave formed around my forward bow.
Cargo biometrics show high stress but that is within expectations.
At thirty-three seconds the BOLO fires again.
And misses.
The statistical impossibility is something I upload to MILINT.
The BATTACNET is full of hash and garbage. I do not bother trying to reset it.
The Chernobog has ordered the Hellfire Pod to make a Nifty-Hit less than a kilometer from the BOLO. It orders us to pop drogue chutes at 1000 meters and then activate Icarus at 100 meters.
I signal assent.
Groundfire is picking up. It does not matter, nothing is in the caliber or energy liberation range to damage my warsteel Mark-One hull.
We are forty-two seconds into the drop. I am at less than five thousand meters. I roll and complete the maneuver by three thousand meters, firing full retro-thrusters, including directional thrusters.
The Hellfire Pod streaks away, suddenly encased in a rectangle that makes the Hellfire Pod blurry inside of it.
It slams into the ground with the kinetic force of a thermonuclear weapon at less than a hundred meters from the BOLO. The kinetic shock wave does not push me off course and I use it to pop the drogue chutes to reduce my speed as much as possible.
The BOLO's battlescreens collapse with a sensor-aching crack. Anti-personnel strips explode even as armor is warped and twisted by the near hit from what is the equivalent of a Godrod Strike.
At fifty-eight seconds I activate my Icarus System. Energy flares around me right as I strike the ground.
I blow the hatches and begin conversion to an infantry support base.
The Chernobog roars as it stands up, taller than the BOLO, taking two steps and slamming one great fist, surrounded by blue graviton energy, into the side of BOLO. Armor explodes outward and the whole thing is momentarily hidden by a torus of dirt exploding from the ground as the kinetic shock is transferred to the ground.
I wish my cargo a good time with a little tune as they exit the pod.
Vak-tel staggered out from the pod, shaking his head.
The pod was playing some kind of happy upbeat song and he only caught the lyrics "I told you'd I'd shoot, why didn't you believe me?" as he took two stumbling steps.
He was looking right at Yuri when the massive Chernobog stopped the BOLO from turning its turret with one hand and drove another punch into the side of the cupola with the other. The Chernobog was driving one knee into the side of the BOLO and Vak-tel saw the skirting rip away and the next knee strike rip away running gear and lift up part of the side deck.
"FORM UP! LET'S GO, MEN!" Sergeant Letrill bellowed out.
The beacon appeared.
Two kilometers.
Vak-tel followed Letrill as the squad moved out in leaps and bounds, leaving Yuri behind to play with his new toy. The drop-pod had configured for mobile fire support and scuttled after them.
Oh, this is gonna be fun. Vaktel thought.