Episode 35
This is Totally FUBAR
I hit the virtual Esc button and found myself back in the familiar confines of my control module. There was an audio chat request from Cherri already waiting for me. I knew Command was going to cut the comms soon, so I immediately clicked on it.
Cherri’s first words were, “So, what did you think of the wizard’s 50 shades of truth theory?”
“More like 50 shades of bullshit, if you ask me.” I was done with the wizard, and his riddles. I needed to focus on our upcoming mission. Moving on, I asked, “What does the mission profile look like. I began opening my orders while Cherri brought me up to speed.
“Well, it looks like we’re babysitting some replacements.”
I was elated to hear we were finally getting replacements. “Replacements? It’s about time! How many did we get?” Hopefully there were a lot of them, since last I’d heard, we were well below half strength.
“We don’t know yet. It seems that information is above our pay grade.”
Regardless of how many replacements there were, their training was the most important factor. I wondered how well the rookie Marines had performed in the combat simulator. After all, their scores would be publicly posted. So that wasn’t above anyone’s pay grade.
“How’d they do in the sim?”
“That’s the other thing. There aren’t any sim scores posted for them.”
I recalled, when I’d first arrived here, how obsessed everyone was with sim scores. It was very strange there were no scores for the replacements.
“No scores? Did Command implement a new policy about confidentiality … or something?”
“Not that I know of. I hope they’re not rushing Marines through training just to get boots on the ground. If they are, the combat casualties are going to skyrocket.”
I couldn’t agree more. “What about the mission. How many Marines are going in?” I reasoned that if the number of rookies going in wasn’t too high, the mission would still be manageable.
“According to the orders, it’s going to be the biggest operation since the Trappist 1-e mission. Everyone’s going on this one.”
It was clear this was going to be a disaster.
Cherri then pointed out one critical factor which could determine our survivability. “Check your orders, you’ll see that all of us veterans have been assigned to cover the flanks of the assault. We’re not part of the main assault force. The assault troops are all rookies.” She let the sink in a moment before adding, “They’re going to get crushed.”
Exactly what I was thinking. “Has anyone met any of these rookies?”, I asked, hoping there was someone who could provide some insight into how capable the new recruits might be in combat. Even without sim-time they could have had some extra classroom, or special bootcamp training, or something.
“No. I checked with a couple of marines, but no one has met any of the replacements. This is totally FUBAR.“
Of course, she was right. This was no way to run a war. It was like Command was using these rookies, and us, to conduct some kind of experiment. Mix a bunch of untrained troops with a handful of highly trained vets, throw them into combat and see what happens. There was no way this was going to end well.
As I frantically read through the orders looking for some way to mitigate the impending disaster, Cherri spoke, interrupting my concentration.
“Listen Josh, they’re going to cut the comms any minute. You and I will be defending opposite flanks of the assault force, so we won’t see each other until after the mission.
I don’t want to create any distractions for you, but it’s going to be chaos on the battlefield, and I need you to promise me something.”
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I hoped she wasn’t going to ask me to be careful in combat. Soldiers who focused on being ‘careful’ in combat, were the ones most likely to become casualties.
She paused briefly before continuing. “If things go sideways down there, and I don’t make it out, promise me you’ll use that security token I gave you.”
It seemed an odd request, considering I had already promised her that I would use the token to retrieve her memories from the wizard. Besides, if only one of us was coming back from this mission, the odds were decidedly in her favor, not mine.
Regardless, I did my best to sound reassuring. “Of course, I will. But don’t worry, we’re both coming back to the ship.”
After an uncomfortable silence, we wished each other good luck and ended our discussion. It was only afterwards that I realized we had never discussed what I was supposed to do with her memories after I retrieved them. Something about that particular loose end bothered me enough that I decided to text her. However, when I tried, I found that Command had already blocked the comms.
Knowing the installation of the control modules would begin in minutes, I reluctantly turned back to my orders and started cramming the mission data into my CPU.
This mission was an assault on an enemy occupied planet, Proxima Centauri b. A frozen ball of ice containing a proto-atmosphere which could, at least theoretically, support human life. Consequently, it was considered a strategic planet, and worthy of the USMC’s efforts to remove any potential obstacles to human habitation.
Just as Cherri had mentioned, we would serve as flank defense for the assault force. We would be in a supporting role, rather than directly in the line of fire. I also noted that Command had declared a 300 meter ‘buffer zone’ between us and the main assault force. Why the hell we would need that much real estate between us was beyond me.
Studying further, I learned that I was still in 7th squad and DJ had been promoted to sergeant. He was taking Merc’s place as squad leader. This made perfect sense, as he had been Merc’s second in command and was the natural choice to lead the squad. A marine who went by Wheezer took over DJ’s old job as corporal.
The mission objective was described simply as an “enemy position; map coordinates A43”. Consulting the map, it appeared this was an arbitrary point in the enemy’s defensive line.
To the uninitiated, the absence of any other details would suggest that this was going to be a straightforward mission. Unfortunately, the lack of detail was a hallmark of Command’s habit of launching a mission without adequate intel on the objective. Consequently, the designated objective could be anything from an innocuous patch of dirt to a heavily defended enemy strongpoint.
For the sake of the assault team, I hoped it was the former.
My orders specified that I had been assigned, not to an armored assault vehicle for this mission, but an MK12 combat-bot. This was a welcome upgrade for me. I had never felt comfortable bouncing around the battlefield in a heavily armored box.
In spite of its lighter armor, the improved maneuverability of a bipedal weapons platform would give me better survivability in combat. It was essentially the same platform that many of the veterans used so effectively in combat.
This particular model was armed with a 30mm autocannon and a 60mm grenade launcher. With so much firepower in my hands, the squad would be expecting me to step up my performance on the battlefield.
Just then, the accelerometers in my control module began registering movement. The loading process had begun. I activated my optical sensor and confirmed that my module was being loaded into the transporter. Soon, I would be installed into a MK12 and packed into a shuttle for insertion. This ‘box’ would be my ride to the battlefield below.
As I rotated my optical sensor back to its stowed position, the ship’s charging grid came into view, and I paused it briefly. Something about the grid looked different. I noticed there was a large section totally devoid of control modules.
During my previous inspections, the grid had been completely packed with modules. There weren’t any empty sections. At the time, I had wondered why Command wasn’t using its surplus of control modules to reinforce our dwindling troop strength. Now, it looked like Command had suddenly begun pulling thousands of modules to create replacements.
I was glad they had started filling the pipeline with new troops but was puzzled by the urgency, and why they were rushing partially trained troops into combat. This seemingly desperate measure did nothing to bolster my confidence in Command’s decision making.
I thought back to the wizard’s comment about Command’s recent shift towards ‘speculative’ tactics and technology and wondered if it was on to something.
I was jolted out of my meditations by the robotic arm of the transporter, as it gripped my module and inserted me into a MK12 combat chassis. I powered up and ran a quick systems check. There were a few minor faults, which I was able to clear without much trouble.
The view from the cockpit of the MK12 was very different from what I was used to. At almost 3 meters tall, I sat over 2 meters higher than in my old AAV. Consequently, I had to recalibrate my optics software to compensate for the added height.
As I was doing this, my MK12 was hooked up and loaded into a box. With 19 squads consisting of 19 marines, each box carried 361 marines, and brought a lot of fire power to the battlefield. However, on this mission, there would be only 4 boxes of veterans. The remaining boxes, 15 in total, would consist of raw recruits with no combat experience.
I was deposited into a form fitting cradle and strapped in for the perilous flight to the planet’s frozen surface. Surrounded by fellow marines preparing for combat, I recognized the familiar avatars of my squad mates in my immediate vicinity.
No longer total strangers, we had become a sort of family of necessity. Our fates were inextricably connected. The collective wellbeing of the squad was crucial to our personal wellbeing. Consequently, mutual protection was one of our highest priorities.
I surveyed my combat family. Everyone was staring straight ahead, no doubt cocooned in private thoughts. I wondered if they were weighing their odds of surviving this mission. In spite of the danger waiting below, and unlike my first combat mission, I wasn’t obsessed with the myriad ways in which I could die on this one. I wondered why that was since I certainly hadn’t become any braver.
Instead, I realized I had simply become resigned to my fate, whatever it may be. With the chaos of combat being so unpredictable, the very notion of trying to manage so many lethal risks now seemed ludicrous to me. It was a relief to let go of my unrelenting anguish at the probability of death in combat.
As I settled into a state of calm acceptance before battle, I thought back to my earlier conversation with Cherri. Choosing to remind me about the token just before launching into combat had left me with a lingering anxiety. Did she have some kind of premonition?
Suddenly, my serenity began to wobble. For the first time, I considered what my world would be like if something happened to Cherri. Even without any memories of our previous life together, I realized I had come to value her presence in my life now. I couldn’t imagine going back to being a self-contained, self-sufficient, one-person social unit.
The floor beneath my feet trembled as the shuttle’s engines started.
Right before we said goodbye, I had confidently reassured Cherri that we’d both return from this mission. Now, I realized there was so much more I wanted to say to her. Needed to say to her.
I hoped I’d get the chance to tell her.