Part I
July 15, 2027: 1017 Hours
Fort Santa Monica, Los Angeles, California
Sergeant Johnathon Ambrose padded quickly down the long hallway leading to the conference room. Despite his brisk pace, he was still running late, dodging and dipping his way past a sea of other personnel. It was his nature to be punctual, but today had been far more hectic than usual, and unexpected circumstances had seen John's attention distracted. He slipped his way between a pair of junior officers and made a right turn, coming face to face with a set of massive double doors. Muffled talking struggled to get past the doors. They'd already begun - were probably already done with the meeting, in fact. John sighed, took a moment to compose himself, and then slipped in as quietly as possible.
Eyes jumped onto him from all across the dark room for a brief moment, noting his arrival. Even the speaker, Captain Merrick, took a quick pause.
"Take a seat, sergeant." The captain told him before continuing on with his presentation.
John nodded slightly and scooted his way between rows, brushing past knees before finding a seat next to Nellis.
The only light in the room was from a projector displaying a tactical map on the far side of the room, casting an eerie glow to the many faces gathered within the chamber. It was a highly detailed map overlooking the Dallas Stronghold. John had already gone over the operation and knew the details, but the intricate web of arrows and Xs on the map still had him scratching his head. He leaned over to Nellis and whispered.
"Is this the same plan from Tuesday?" He asked."
"Not quite. We're not spearheading the assault."
That caught his attention, and John focused on Captain Merrick as he finished up the briefing.
"...2nd platoon will come in behind the attack force and hold down the southern quadrant, providing security in the case of a Federation counter-strike. We believe this is unlikely, but we're not taking any unnecessary risks. After we gain control of the base, we'll set up a defensive perimeter to secure it until command can allocate reinforcements." Captain Merrick said. He took a slow look around the room. "Any questions?"
Nobody raised their hand. It was a crystal clear operation, and would go by smoothly on paper. John wanted to ask why 2nd platoon had been called off in the assault, but he opted on keeping his mouth shut. Ever since the US had won the major victory down in Chile, everyone was eager to get at the Federation and push them out of North America for good. For the first time in a long time, the US was on the offensive, and John couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment at being cut out of the first attack.
"Dismissed."
Captain Merrick pressed a button on the wall behind him and the lights came on. The room filled up with chatter and talk almost instantly. John stood and turned to face Nellis.
"Does he really think they're going to try a counter attack?" John asked Nellis as they shuffled their way out of the room. "With what's been happening lately, I wouldn't be surprised if they just gave up the city."
Nellis slipped her way out of the river of people and John followed her, standing off to the side of the long hallway John had used to get to the conference room.
"We'll get a shot at them soon - you should be glad about it. We'll be sitting back relaxing while the rest of them do the hard work." She said.
John was tempted to go back into the room and request for his squad to be put into the assault force, but thought better of it. He was eager to get some real payback on the Federation for everything they'd done, but Nellis was right. As if suddenly remembering something, Nellis perked up, brushing strands of black hair out of her face.
"Oh yeah, you have a new guy." She said, turning and heading down the hall behind the rest of the crowd. John caught up with her and walked next to her.
"Since when?"
"They were going to assign him to my squad, but Henry actually recovered, and so he's with you now."
They made it to the exit of the HQ and emerged into brilliant sunlight and heat. Fort Santa Monica had taken a lot during the Federation attack, and many buildings and roads had been damaged severely. There were still craters scattered about, and many of the buildings were still sporting holes and rubble from the amount of explosive firepower that'd been used. The city itself wasn't the only thing that'd taken hits, however. Many had lost their lives in defense of the fort, both military and civilian. Casualties hadn't been staggering, but they'd been considerable even still. It was a US victory on paper, but John couldn't help but feel that the battle had cost the US far more than it did the Federation - despite the numerous casualties the US had inflicted.
The HQ was one of the buildings that'd taken the most damage. Because of it's significance, it was also one of the fortunate buildings that'd seen immediate repairs. Even now as John and Nellis walked down the street there were crews working on the outer shell of the HQ.
"I'm the only person still alive from my original squad. I've seen new faces come and go, but there hasn't been a new guy in Alpha-Two in almost 2 years now, which is a record. We don't need another rookie."
They banked around the side of a construction crew, making sure to keep their distance. Heavy bricks and equipment were being hauled up and down, and it wasn't uncommon for someone to get hit in the head with something.
"You think he might get killed?" Nellis asked him.
"They're better off assigning these new guys to the defensive garrisons."
"We need all the help we can get, John. And I've got to report to the lieutenant, so I'll see you around." With that, Nellis crossed the street and left. John watched her as she went.
After the orbital rods fell back in 2017, John hadn't hesitated to enlist. Hell, he wouldn't have even had a choice, as the government had instituted the draft shortly afterwards. But John was, as of now, a special case. He was one of a small number of people still alive who'd been serving in the infantry ever since the start of the war. It wasn't a lie when he said that he'd seen new faces come and go. The war had been so bitter for the first 8 years, no one who'd graduated boot camp with him back then was still alive. No one except for Nellis, that is. Out of everyone he'd encountered over the years, he'd served alongside her the longest. As a result, they'd developed a strong bond over the course of the war. John considered Nellis the only family he had left.
When the Federation attacked Santa Monica, it'd came as a surprise. The only warning they'd gotten was the sudden appearance of a massive Federation fleet on the radar. The invasion was one of the few battles of the entire war that'd involved naval, air and ground forces all together. The result was massive destruction. John hadn't been at the fort when the battle started - he and Alpha-Two had been outside the base on a reconnaissance op. It wasn't until the battle had reached it's height when his squad had been immediately recalled: command was bringing in everything they had in a desperate defense to keep the fort from falling. John had rushed back to the base as fast as he could, but the battle was over by the time his squad arrived. And the damage had been done. For the longest while, the fort had been in somewhat of a state of confusion and bewilderment.
Wounded had littered the street, both civilians and military personnel. Fires had been raging all across the base, and buildings had been giving away from the strain of damage they'd taken. The medical center had been overflowing, but it was the only bastion of hope for hundreds of people. John had ordered the squad to help out as best they could, giving support where ever they could.
Even now, looking around at the base, John could still see the aftershocks of the battle. Due to the struggle for adequate supplies, a strain was put on the civilians who lived within the fort - most of whom were volunteer workers trying to do whatever they could to help out. Hopefully re-taking the Dallas Stronghold would relieve everyone of some weight.
John made his way to the barracks, grateful for the comforting air condition that greeted him as he entered. Another unfortunate problem that'd arisen after the attack on Santa Monica was the nearly complete destruction of one of the barracks houses. Crews had been at work on the structure ever since, but the amount of damage it'd sustained was nearly total. As a result, the remaining barracks houses were partially overflowed. This one in particular was no exception - there were bunks and soldiers all over the place.
After maneuvering his way through the dense jungle of marines and soldiers, John made it to the top floor where the rest of Alpha-Two was. He walked down a wide hallway filled with doors on either side. Dipping into one of the doors on his right, John came to face his squad.
When he'd first been assigned to Alpha-Two, John had been a lance corporal with no prior military experience. In less than a year's time, he and Corporal Thomas were the only 2 members of the original crew still alive. A few months later, that'd all changed when Thomas was hit with several rounds of MG fire and discharged from the military. So, technically, John wasn't the only one from those days still alive, but he hadn't seen Thomas ever since that incident. John had been put in charge of the squad then, and as the years went by, numerous marines had filled in as replacements. The new Alpha-Two hadn't lost a man in almost 2 years, and John was beginning to develop a strong friendship with the squad - and a very slight hope that somehow, they might all make it out of this war still alive instead of in a casket.
They were lounging about as usual on their bunks, reading letters and playing cards and doing whatever. Corporal DeMarcus had been here the longest out of all of them, filling in as a transfer from some other unit about 4 years ago. He'd already had a lot of experience coming in. The others had all been fresh as peppermint. Ricardo, Luis, Dawn, and Raven.
They all looked up at him as he entered the room. DeMarcus pulled off a pair of earphones and leaned forward on his bunk. "I heard we got a new guy. Who is it?"
John walked across the room to the window overlooking the street outside. It was a busy day, and he wanted to lay down and get some much needed sleep, but he still had a lot of paperwork to do.
"Yeah." He replied simply, still looking out the window.
"So he's new, like, completely new? Don't they know we're too badass for FNGs?" John heard Ricardo say.
John turned around. Ricardo was sitting cross-legged, playing cards with Luis and Dawn. They were engrossed in the game, and John saw a pile of money sitting within the center of them.
"I ain't babysitting him." Ricardo spoke while placing a card down. Luis and Dawn grinned at him. "Where's he at anyway?"
Coor was dying from the heat. He was going to be K.I.A before he even fired his weapon. What made it worse was that he was lost. The outdated map of the fort he'd studied last week was completely different from the sprawl he was in now. He'd expected a lot of rearrangement to take place after the Federation invasion, but this was unprecedented. What also made it worse was that his bags and gear were weighing him down with each step, and Coor guessed that he must've looked stupid, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Sweat rolled down his neck, soaking up his shirt like he'd just hopped out of a swimming pool. Damn.
He walked over to a team of guys working on a radio relay inside the garage of a 2 story house. They had a large fan blowing on them, and Coor couldn't help but stand in its path.
"You guys know where 2nd platoon is?" He asked them.
One of them pointed in a direction across the street and nodded that way. "Try that way."
Coor ducked across the street and maneuvered his way through buildings rather than staying outside the entire time. It made his trip slower, but he didn't care. The entire day had been hectic, long, and tiring for him - despite the fact that it wasn't even 4 O'clock yet. He'd gotten up earlier than usual that morning, finishing up some last minute paperwork before catching the helicopter out of Detroit. His next stop had been Union Stronghold, where he'd undergone a long series of signing off documents and an hour's worth of listening to tapes and videos detailing the current situation at the Liberty Wall frontline. Immediately afterwards, reports started coming in of Federation troop movements somewhere near Louisiana, and that'd unexpectedly got Coor caught up in a whirlwind of activity. The next thing he knew, he was helping load and unload Ospreys and supply trucks. Airplane flights heading to any of the frontlines had gotten grounded, which resulted in Coor being stuck at the stronghold for another 2 hours filling up supply crates and loading weapon magazines and helping one of the mechanized battalions load some of their tanks and APCs onto transport helicopters and stocking equipment and at one point helping out in an unnatural situation in which an 18-wheeler truck had gotten caught up in a ditch, taking part in the massive 50 man+ effort to get it out.
By the time that was done, the reinforcement group Coor had been a part of was air-lifted out of the stronghold via old, cheap model Sea Knights. The ride was stuffy and uncomfortable for everyone on board, which included soldiers, marines, a sharp-faced Air Force officer, and even some civilian workers. The fact that there were just as many civilians as military personnel highlighted just how bad the situation was at the Wall; Coor commended them for volunteering.
The next time they'd stopped was in northern Nevada at the McDermitt-Winston Stronghold. That was around mid-day. That was also around the time it started getting hot as hell.
After riding in a troop transport truck the rest of the way, Coor was almost more than grateful for finally arriving at his destination. Santa Monica had more or less been what he and the other military guys had expected. The civilians had been caught off guard at the sight, though, and one of them - a doctor who went by the name of Lisa who'd been convinced by her parents to volunteer - asked Coor what'd happened. The government had been keeping the true situation under wraps for the most part.
"A massive invasion force attacked. One much larger than what they've been telling people," Coor had told her. She'd put her hand up to her mouth in shock before asking,
"How many people died?"
"Too many." Coor had told her. "That's why the government's asking for so many volunteers."
Finally arriving at the barracks, Coor dismissed his reminisce of the day. Inside the barracks was an entirely new maze he had to unravel. A sea of bunks and mattresses covered the floor, and it momentarily resembled an old camping trip Coor had gone on back when he was a kid. This was no camping trip though. He walked over to what he assumed was the main desk and let his bags fall to the floor, giving his shoulders some much needed relief. The guy behind it was a young army PFC and had a bandage wrapped around his head and his left eye. Damn.
"New guy, huh?" the private asked him.
"Something like that," Coor said. "You were here during the attack?"
The private sighed and nodded slowly. "Yep. It was my 2nd day here. Didn't think I'd get a Purple Heart this early on in my career. We gave them just as much hell as they gave us, though, trust me."
Inwardly, Coor hoped he wouldn't get nicked that badly so early on. Even more so, he hoped the government could spare the number and send him home if he had a wound that bad. The fact that the PFC was still here spoke volumes as to the state of the Western Campaign.
"I'm Coor." He said, sticking his hand out.
"Julio." The private said, shaking Coor's hand with a firm grip.
"You mind telling me where I can find Alpha-Two?"
A look spread across Julio's face, but Coor couldn't exactly discern what it meant. "You're looking for the top floor. Yeah, those guys get the top floor - nicest place in this joint. They're in room 709. Good luck." Julio said.
Coor nodded, picked up his bags, and followed a series of signs pointing to the stairway.
By the time he got to the top floor, his legs were beginning to burn from all the extra weight. Damn. Before enlisting, his mom had always preferred to take the stairs.
It was a big, wide hallway, noticeably less crowded than the floors beneath it. Doors ran the length of each side, and within each one was a different squad. The dynamics of the war had all but seen the complete merger of the branches of the military, for the most part. Barracks were no exception, and this hallway was even housing guys from the Air Force. Coor found 709.
This was different from infantry school. Back then - which wasn't too long ago - the only time you were on your bunk was if you were asleep or if you were getting ready to go to sleep. These guys weren't doing any of that. All of their eyes zoned in on Coor the instant he stepped through the threshold, and he somewhat froze up, like a deer being caught in headlights.
They sized up Coor, and Coor sized them up. He let his eyes scan them piecemeal. Three of them were huddled around on the floor, playing a game of cards with what looked like a sizeable amount of money being wagered. One of them in particular had a slight smirk on his face. An older guy was busy reading a letter, his ears plugged up with earphones. On a bunk furthest to the right, up against the wall, was another girl reading a book.
"You're Coor?" The guy with the smirk on his face asked.
Coor glanced around the room and said, "You're Alpha-Two?"
"You sure you're not supposed to be downstairs with the rest of the truck drivers?" He asked.
The older guy, the one with the earphones on, sat forward on his bed. "Never mind him - he does the same thing to all the rookies. I'm DeMarcus." He said. Coor shook his hand and ignored his inward question of how DeMarcus could hear despite the loud music playing from his earphones. "You can get the top bunk." DeMarcus said, pointing to the bed above him. "Sergeant Ambrose might come by later on. You do what he says, when he says it, and how he says it; you might still be here next week."
