Act 1/Chapter 1 – "A Broken Tradition"

The Gallian Force promptly set up its own task force to bring Haas to justice while the Federation fought Jerithia's conventional army. Operating out of central Avietan at Firebase Damon, Taskforce Echo-2 under the command of Colonel Ustinov of the Gallian Marines had one single objective, and only one. Kill Haas, at any cost.

The date was November 15th, 1965EC. Squad Nine had been sent out to make contact with squads Five and Seven after they failed to report in during their recon into the jungle hours earlier. Dusk had already set by the time Squad Nine was moving, much like any other operation that Captain Alan Conte was in charge of.

"All right, let's get it moving ladies, time to go to work!"

He slammed his fist against the APC's door a few times, signaling their pilot to return to base. The air here felt unbearably humid against Conte's skin as he cut through the vines hanging down from the trees around him. The first thing that caught his eye in the darkness here was the corpse of a Gallian Marine laying face-down in the mud not even ten meters from where they had just been dropped off. Conte looked around; making sure the rest of his squad had followed him instead of engaging in horseplay back where the APC had dropped them. The rest of Squad Nine immediately jumped to alert, scanning for hostiles at what had been an ambush site earlier.

"Sergeant Gunther, check the body for his tags. I want an idea of what situation we just stepped in to."

Sergeant Aaron Gunther, not exactly someone who was green at this point. Noone who lasted more than a week in this jungle without dying could be called green anyway. Fought during the later portion of the First Jerithan War five years ago that had ended in the nation being split into Avietan and Jerithia under influence of the Federation and Empire respectively. Conte wasn't much different; having been a rather successful tank commander in the first war following his graduation from Lanseal following it's reopening. Either way, both were career men who had the luck to visit the same country twice for the same reason. Gallia's neutrality truly was dead, all hats off to an alliance with the Federation.

"Yes sir!"

Aaron knelt down to the corpse, slowly looking around for any booby-traps the ALF might have put on him. Right on his dog tags a single strand of wire stood rigged to a Ragnite charge, ready to detonate if anyone pulled the tags.

"Standard ALF trap on the corpse. Stahl, defuse kit, will ya?"

Stahl threw him his defusal kit, cringing as he expected Gunther to trip the bomb and rain in a hail of gibs. Gunther gave himself a moment, clipping the wire in a way that almost set the explosive off from tugging on the wire. He set aside the now-defused bomb, checking the dog-tags of the mutilated Gallian corpse right away.

"It's Lieutenant Hoff of Squad Five, sir!"

Conte sighed as he removed his gaze from Hoff's corpse, lighting a cigarette as he thought of his next course of action now that the ALF had already killed one of the squad leaders. Up ahead Corporal Dahl, one of Squad Nine's scouts, was already inspecting the path of footsteps that fled the area, a sharp contrast to the horseplay Gunther and Stahl had already engaged in.

"You owe me 25 Ducats the moment we're back in camp, Aaron."

"Screw you, Stahl, I said the whole of both squads!"

"Nope, you said it was just a radio malfunction… Say, didn't your daddy ever tell you not to gamble on casualties? It just jinxes everything."

"Yeah, so? My mother and sister told me that I shouldn't join them Marines when I did during the last war."

"Point taken. You still owe me-"

Dahl began screaming at everyone as he ran back to the squad, ducking down to the nearest cover.

"ALF ambush! Get down, hostiles armed with R-38s!"

The entire squad hit the deck, narrowly avoiding getting cut down by the fire from the ALF shocktroops. Occasionally one would reload their cumbersome drum magazine while out of cover and get picked off from Gunther's GAR27 or Dahl's Rowen-D. The pattern continued on for the next five minutes until eventually the uncoordinated guerillas retreated into the jungle. Conte looked out at the array of Avietanese corpses, spitting his cigarette down onto what looked to be a conscripted child-soldier he had gunned down.

"Kids these days… Raised to think war is some schoolyard game. Well, no kill streak for you kiddo." Conte lit himself another cigarette, taking one of the ALF soldiers' packs this time, "Gunther, take his R-38. He won't be needing it anymore."

Aaron swept up the rifle, slinging his GAR27 to his back as he thought of a witty one-liner for his new gun.

"Ho ho ho, now I-"

"You have another machine-gun. Great. Twenty-five Ducats, stat."

"Shut up and get to defusing any mines they might have left for us, Stahl. Gunther, don't get cocky or that gun's going to jam on your before you know it, and for god's sake take their ammo before we go. We're going to follow the trail the Dahl found, see if we find the rest of the unit if they're not dead yet."

The rest of Squad Nine, Stahl, Dahl, and Hayes were new recruits, enlisting the moment they heard that Gallia would be mobilizing. To people like them the military was some sort of adventure, a retreat from the rat-race of urban life in Gallia. Others decided it would be better to enlist right away, predicting an eventual draft anyway that would force them to join regardless. Some just followed their inner patriotism, following the war propaganda that cluttered the media encouraging any man over the age of 17 to enlist.

After 30 minutes of following Dahl's lead down the trail of footprints left by the other two squads, Squad Nine had finally reached the end of it- An abandoned fortification from the First Jerithan War in the middle of a jungle clearing. ALF corpses littered the yard here like they were grass. Spent casings provided contrast against their farm-clothes strewn about. Anyone not already dead offed themselves as Squad Nine approached in awe.

"Looks like Five and Seven gave them a run for their money. Investigate the bunker, see if they're around."

"Yes sir! Door's already broken through and- Oh my god…"

Gunther hit his first against the concrete as he stared in shock at the scene before him.

"Son of a bitch! I'm going to fucking kill you for this, you hear me, Haas?!"

All of squad Five and Seven, sans their officers, sat motionless on the concrete, executed from behind one at a time with a pistol. Crude graffiti on the wall behind them spelled out "The fate of all who oppose Haas – The true messiah of the Darcsens". Conte inspected all of their tags and shook his head before lighting himself yet another cigarette. Something was beyond simply amiss for him now.

"This still leaves Lieutenant Kowalski of Seventh Squad unaccounted for. Gunther, Dahl, search for her, she still may be nearby... Goddamnit, Darcsens don't even natively live out here in Avietan, what does Haas see in stirring up a bunch of Avietanese to interfere with us stopping an invasion of their nation?"

"I wouldn't know sir. This isn't like any Darcsen would do to begin with. It doesn't make sense."

"What are you waiting for Gunther, I wasn't asking you. Get searching!"

Gunther and Dahl began to search the basement level of the bunker. ALF corpses lined the walls, the stench and insects shuffling around made the air nigh impossible to breath. Most of the doors here were already open and presumably clear of anyone, not a single light shown down here except for from the staircase. The last door at the end of the hallway remained shut, until that is Dahl kicked it down.

"Get back! Explain yourself!"

In front of them was Lieutenant Kowalski, still alive and breathing in the chokepoint she had created. Her uniform was torn up from various rounds cutting into it and the sharp branches of the plants in this jungle. A shot up and ruined Kevlar vest sat disposed on the ground behind her as the two stepped forward to investigate.

"Sergeant Aaron Gunther and Private Jan Dahl, Squad Nine, Mam. We're here to evac your squad… Or rather just you at this point, Mam."

"Well about damned time! Our handhelds got jammed as we fled here to hold out. Until Haas' men arrived, that is."

"What about your mission? What have you found on Haas?"

Kowalski began pulling out a pocket-map, trying to remember what she had to say from what she had found.

"Of course. We've found out where he's hiding at. More importantly, about Haas…"

"What is it? We need all you can give us!"

"It's Haas, He… He's-"

A single shot roared down the hall, splattering Kowalski's brains on the concrete wall behind her. A single Darcsen assailant began to aim at Dahl, squeezing the trigger until Conte interrupted him with a knife to the side of his throat.

"Case-in-point proof of the Darcsen Calamity, gentlemen."

Gunther picked up Kowalski's map, dusting it off and shaking a spider off it as he retorted Conte's remark.

"Or as my old-man wrote to me about, a self-fulfilling prophecy"

"Shut it and hand me that map, Sergeant."

Gunther handed the map over to Conte and gave Stahl a punch where he kept his wallet.

"Looks like you owe me 25 instead, it was radio failure."

"Consider us even then. Because they had one-hundred percent casualties, Aaron."

"Twenty-five Ducats. Now."

"Hell no. Not only is your old man a stuck-up college professor, but apparently he's a dark-hair sympathizer."

"Twenty-five or you're getting fragged, asshole…"

"Also, I heard your big sister's one of those bimbos in one of those porno magazines too, any truth to that Aaron?"

Conte fired his pistol into the ceiling, shutting Gunther and Stahl's mouths instantly. The map folded up in his hands and slid perfectly into his front pocket as he gathered his thoughts.

"Keep em' shut, both of you, and stop screwing around like a bunch of dumb Porcavians. Dahl, radio in for extraction. Tell them we need ten body-bags…"

He tapped his cigarette out and glanced at the map again as he thought solemnly of Five and Seven's sacrifices that day. Everyone knew it could end like it did for them, but occasional people got cocky and forgot. Then things like this happened and reminded everyone of how easily death could take them. No amount of faith in Yggdism could protect from the bombs, bullets, and traps the ALF had out here. Conte couldn't stop himself from staring at Kowalski's gored corpse in shock, with her dead before he could even possibly help. All he could do now was pray he wasn't next.