The Terran Crusades: Chapter 3
March 8th 2371
7th PAC Frontier Army HQ
New Haket, New Louis
0615 hrs.
Colonel General Dallas Reagh, the Senior Commander of what was the 7th Frontier Army, paced behind his paper ridden desk. The large and spacious office had served as his command post for the past year. Many sleepless nights had passed, as the commander had devoted all his energy, and all his ability in keeping the army alive for another month, another week, hell; he had taken a desperate gamble to keep the army from breaking, just for another day.
The time for him to step down had arrived. The slightly overweight, forty-two year old, had done admirably, given his situation. Out numbered four-to-one in infantry, five-to-two in armour, and two-to-one in artillery, that he had held out for over a year had earned him incredible respect back home, and a legendary reputation.
Be that as it may, he knew he had many difficulties commanding the half-million man army. Now with ten times that number on the ground and more arriving everyday. Yes the time for him to give up his command had come, and he was proud. Proud to have served with honour and dignity, proud to have led the army through its darkest days, proud that he had been given the impossible and survived it. But most of all he was proud of the men who had followed him.
The large wood door opened and four, dark green suited, men marched into the well lit office. Reagh instantly stopped pacing and saluted his warm, blue eyes wide, in surprise at who the Prime Minister and Supreme Command had sent. Dressed in a dark green command uniform, was Reagh's mentor and close friend, Marshal Montgomery Fiske.
"At ease, Dallas." Fiske's voice was smooth, cultured, cold. His accent signaling his home of New Britannia. "We've known each other for too long for formalities, old friend."
Reagh nodded and quickly dropped his hand to grasp the one that Fiske had offered. A small smile came to the weather-beaten face of Fiske, as the two old friends exchanged pleasantries.
"I see you managed to add some more to your collection there, Monty." Reagh smiled, pointing to the dozen and a half, gleaming medals on Fiske's chest.
"Well you know what Napoleon said, 'Men will fight long and hard for a piece of coloured ribbon.' I guess I'm proving them right." Both men smiled lightly at joke.
"Speaking of which, I have something for you. Captain Bates, the medal." The small man behind Fiske handed him a velvet box, "in recognition for your dedicated service and defense of New Louis against undeniable odds; I present you with the Protectorate Armed Corps highest honour: The Star and Wreath. Wear it with pride my friend."
Fiske pinned the gold star, surrounded by a fine gold wreath on to Reagh's left breast. Taking a step back the Fiske and the three men who had followed him in, saluted.
Without showing any emotion, Reagh saluted the older man in return. "Thank you, sir. But the real praise belongs with the men."
"I know."
"Well I should bring you gentlemen up to speed on the situation here Monty."
For the next two and a half hours, the Colonel General briefed the four newcomers on his past tactics, how the enemy had behaved, while on the attack, and while on the defense, of the moral, and state of his troops, and finally on his current offensive to retake Geta, from the Guard.
Fiske listened dispassionately, his cold, almost soulless black eyes, never betraying a hint of emotion. Now and then he would ask questions on the abilities of the soldiers and the enemy, giving his approval, or disproval to proposed plans and actions, based on the information given to him by his friend, which he knew to be accurate.
"Very well, Dallas. As I said before you've done well."
"Thank you Monty. The COM links are open if you wish to talk to the men." Reagh held out a small head-mike towards him. .
"I will." Fiske closed his eyes for a moment as he fitted it on to his head. Fiske allowed the memories of past battles and campaigns to wash over him. The sounds of distant artillery, the crackle of small arms fire, the screams of atmospheric fighters as they passed over head.
Fiske took a deep calming breath. "Soldiers of the 7th Frontier Army. This is Marshal Montgomery Fiske. Since man discovered the killing power of bone and flint, to the forging of bronze and steel, to the explosive power of gunpowder we have killed each other, we have slaughtered each other. We have never known a true and lasting peace. For we as humans know only war.
"We have warred for country. We have warred for territory. We have warred for honour. We have warred for freedom and liberty. The Protectorate was formed to defend our freedoms, to defend our liberty, to defend our beliefs. But how can we defend, when we are always on the defensive? How can we keep them from advancing when we only withdrawal?
"We cannot. No more shall we take the defensive, no more shall we retreat, no more shall we allow the Guard to purify our homes and our worlds. For now on we ADVANCE! We take the fight to them. We take the fight to their homes, to their worlds!"
Fiske paused a moment to allow dramatic effect.
"Their fleet has been broken. Their backs are against the wall. They will not hold us back. They cannot hope to withstand our rage! Our fury! I call on you this day to kill them! Not because it is your duty to the Protectorate. Not because it is your duty to the PAC. But it is your duty to your mothers, to your fathers, to your sisters, to your brothers, to your children, to your wives, to your husbands.
"They demand that you kill the Terrahumanists! They demand that you count not the days, nor the kilometres, nor years! They demand that you only count the number you have killed! Then we will have peace. A true and lasting peace, one that our children and their children will see! A peace whose seeds will be sown here! At New Louis!"
Fiske breathed deep and heavily before shouting the battle cry of the PAC. The name of the first purified planet to be liberated. One that haunted the dreams of every soldier who had been there.
"ITORA!"
March 8th 2371
234th Armoured Battalion HQ
90 kilometres outside Geta
0835 hrs.
Captain Edward 'Motor Ed' Lipsky was a man who enjoyed the simple things in life. Things like his against regulation blond mullet, things like heavy metal, and hard rock, and gorgeously hot babes. But when it came to vehicles Motor Ed, had three demands: One, it had to have armour platting, (babes totally dig the armour platting. Seriously they do.) Two, it had to have a massive amount of fire power, (hey, you can't turn the world into your own personal scrap yard with out it.) Finally it had to be fast, (feel the wind through the lion's mane, dude. YEEEEHAAAAAAA!)
Well, two out of three, wasn't bad. The sixty-six ton tank, had the armour platting, 18cm of heavy duty reinforced alidum infused titanium. It had the fire power, three 90mm accelerator cannons, which would rotate after firing, allowing the cannon's accelerator engine to cool after being fired. The Trident also came equipped with a duel anti-personal accelerated machine gun. The problem was in speed. Because of the high gravity the Trident couldn't afford to go faster then thirty kilometres an hour, or else the engine would over heat do to the intense strain, and the Trident would break down.
Motor Ed stared lovingly at the large green, tri-barreled Trident tank, and listened to the hiss of spray cans, as his gunner and driver, spray-painted two large black wolf heads on to the side of the large machine.
"Six kills in two days dudes, we are seriously kicking major ass. Seriously." Motor Ed grinned wickedly as he used one of the barrels to swing up on to the turret. "We keep this up and we'll use up the paint supply. Seriously."
His two crew members, watched with some amusement, as their commander flailed his arms in an air guitar, having served with him for over two years, they were used to his eccentrics.
Motor Ed swung down from the large tank, he had lovingly christened Babe III, (the other two were now burned out husks, scattered on two other planets.) Standing back with his men, he admired their handiwork. Four large wolf heads with several smaller ones where painted in neat rows, on the tread guard, just beneath the scrawling white letters of the Trident's name. Forty-Seven kills. It was a testament, that although Motor Ed and his crew were… odd… in their machine, they were deadly.
The speakers in side the camp suddenly came to life, as a cold, accented voice, that sent shivers down their spines, interrupted their pleasant thoughts, and idle chatter. "Soldiers of the 7th Frontier Army. This is Marshal Montgomery Fiske…"
"Who the hell is that?"
Motor Ed slapped his gunner in the back of his head, his large, calloused hand making a satisfying Thwack, when it came in contact with the gunner's helmet.
"Dude, shut up, seriously. The boss mans talking, seriously."
The driver looked confused for a moment. "I thought the boss man was Colonel General Reagh? Why isn't he in charge? They have no right to replace him after everything he led us through."
Motor Ed, being the fair officer and leader that he was, dished out another quieting back-of-head slap, this time to the driver.
"Dude, seriously, you're cramping his style. Seriously. That Fiske dude was the one who led the Itora expedition. Seriously, he was."
Ed's mind flashed back to that day, and the sights he had seen, the things he had done. He remembered it all. The hallow emptiness of the survivors, the gleefully cheerful smiles of the Purifiers, as they went about their grisly business, of purifying a planets population. But most of all what they had done. Done to those who were broken, done to those who were mindless, done to those merciless animals. He hide it of course, buried deep beneath a carefree and, what others would call, an obnoxious, attitude.
The two crew members lapsed back into silence, their respect for the usurping Marshal growing instantly larger. They had heard the grisly tales, secondhand, or straight from someone who had severed there. But to be commanded by the same man who had led the campaign?
As the man's speech continued, it increased in tempo, and volume, the men found themselves cheering, and clapping with approval of the Marshal's speech. When the Marshal had finished his speech with the cry of Itora, the eight hundred man battalion shouted back as one.
"ITOOORRRRAAAA!"
Slowly the sound of cheering was drowned out by the sounds of Talon drop ships, as they quickly approached the rally point. Again the cheering broke out. The time for the attack had arrived.
"About time they showed up, seriously. I was startin' to get impatient. Seriously."
The three men watched as the large transports offloaded troops from the 376th PAC Battalion. Men who had once walked with something akin to exhaustion, and desperation, now they stood straight and tall, as if some heavy burden had been relieved from their shoulders, and new life had been breathed into them.
"You Captain Lipsky?" A deep, baritone voice, that brokered no non-sense, asked.
Ed's two crew members cringed, one of the top things that their commander hated, was being called 'Captain,' 'Captain Lipsky,' or 'sir'. He preferred the terms, 'boss' or 'boss-man,' or simply 'Motor Ed.'
Motor Ed's head whipped about so fast that the stay ends of his blond mullet struck his gunner across the face. He glared at the offender, taking an instant disliking to the large, green helmeted, brown eyed captain.
"Dude, seriously, the name's Motor Ed! Not Captain, not Captain Lipsky, Motor Ed. Seriously dude, you're totally dragging me down. Seriously."
For his own part, Captain Steven Barkin, did not think much of his fellow officer. Were Barkin was dressed in full battle uniform, of dark green, his crew-cut brown hair, hidden beneath his tactical helmet. Captain 'Motor Ed' was the complete opposite. His hair screamed against regulations, while his standard issue, jumpsuit had its sleeves removed, showing of his muscled arms, and tattoo. Were Barkin was clean shaven; Ed's lip proudly displayed a handle-bar mustache.
"I really don't care what you call yourself. We got an appointment with the Terries, at Geta." Barkin's smile and tone, became dangerous, as he checked the sightings on his rifle. "And I'm not going to miss it for the world."
"So you're the ones who'll be guardin' our asses, for the assault?"
The nod from Barkin was all he needed. "YEEEEEEEHHHHHHHAAAAAAA!" Ed's arms flailed as strummed his air guitar. "Well what are we waitin' for? I hear the Terries are neglecting hot lead in their diet! Let's mount up!"
Ed turned to climb into his tank, when he noticed, a soldier, already resting comfortably on the turret, reaching a large handout to pull another man up. Another one things Ed did not like, were people touching his baby, before him.
"Hey dude, seriously that's not cool, touching another man's ride? Seriously, didn't your mother teach you anything?"
Ron looked up in surprise. Quickly dismounting, he threw a sloppy salute, as the larger man pushed past, glaring at him. Felix looked at his friend and shrugged.
"Don't ask me, Ron-man. I guess the man's a little touchy about his, tank."
Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, well if I had a bon-diggity tank like that, I too would be a little protective of it." He ran his hand over his rust coloured stubble, "still, I think I'm going to ride on that other Trident, you know."
Renton nodded in agreement. Climbing onto the turret, the two friends sat back and relaxed, as the armoured column began its journey towards the port of Geta.
March 8th 2371
Port Geta Perimeter Defense
Port Geta New Louis
1451 hrs.
Lieutenant Kim Possible was tweaked. In fact she was very tweaked. Will Du, in his arrogance, had only given the Industrial Sector's defending forces piecemeal reinforcements, and those were not equipped with any sort of anti-armour, or heavy weaponry.
Geta hadn't changed since the Guard wrest control of Geta from the PAC. Piles of rubble, tank barriers, and barbed wire blocked off streets. SAM sites now dotted the roof tops of the buildings. Ammo dumps had been created in key buildings, along with medical stations, and supply dumps. The only difference now was that Kim wasn't here to drive the PAC out; she was here to keep them out. And that made all the difference.
Kim leapt from the Heron transport, landing lightly on her feet and into a city of confusion. Sergeants led squads of troopers to their placements on the defensive lines, large, black and grey, Timber Wolf tanks moved down the large highways.
A corporal rushed up to her throwing a hasty. His brown jumpsuit, heavy flack armour, and helmet clashed with the dull grey, and sterile white of the city. "Ma'am, Captain Du wishes for you to report to him immediately."
Kim quickly returned the salute. "Of course corporal, where is he?"
The young man nodded. "Of course this way."
Following the soldier through the small city, she caught the looks of the soldiers. They were afraid. The shoulders slumped, and they slouched heavily as though they were carrying a heavy burden. She was not used to seeing the Guardsmen like this. She didn't like it, not one bit.
Kim snorted when she saw the building Du had chosen for a HQ. The large and prestigious Two Crowns Hotel. Just like him to choose the best for himself, Kim thought bitterly.
Captain Will Du was already waiting for her in the foyer. Surrounded by officers, he scrutinized her intently as she approached the map table. He allowed no emotion to touch his face, or enter is eyes.
"So kind of you to join us Lieutenant Possible. We were just finalizing the defense plans of the city."
Kim glanced down at the map, and raised a slim eyebrow. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"
Will nodded his consent. His dark eyes never wavering from her, as she studied the map.
"You have left the Industrial Sector rather weak. If they hit there hard enough, the heathens will break through and cut us off. We should shift men from the residency and move them into the Industrial."
Kim was taken aback when Will chuckled. The cold, emotionless sound reverberated off the decorated hall.
"That was the kind of amateurish call I have come to expect from you, Lieutenant." Will chuckled again before continuing, "the Industrial Sector is open to swamp ground, and rough terrain. There is no way that the PAC will be able to move their armour through that. I expect, as a top Reaper, that the most they'll have to deal with is a patrol or two."
Kim knew she should've expected something like this from her smug, and arrogant superior, but to disregard such a horrible weakness?
"Sir, that's what the French thought about their Maginot Line, in the 20th. They thought that it would be impossible for the Germans to flank them by coming around through the Alps."
"Enough Lieutenant. The heathens will not risk their heavy machines in such a gamble, but since you feel so strongly about it, I'm placing you in charge of that sector. Take Kilo, and Lima companies. Its a great way for an amateur like you, to build up your confidence."
"That's ferociously unfair…"
"Enough Lieutenant. Your dismissed, all of you."
With that, Kim knew she had no choice but to obey and head for her command.
A burst of fire caused Kim to dive for cover, as a Trident tank's machine gun, fired into the building from which she had been using for her snipping. The sounds of heavy caliber, and cannon fire had quickly drowned out the sounds of the small arms fire of her men.
Du had been right. The swamp had prevented the PAC from moving their vehicles directly towards Geta, the heathens, had stolen a march and had moved around the obstruction. With in half an hour over a quarter of her four hundred men were either killed or wounded, while the rest were running for cover.
Kim quickly moved back towards the window, and sighted down her scope. The man, who had sprayed her building with machine gun fire, had set his sights on a different target. Quickly she drew a bead, made corrections for the gravity, and fired.
The PAC soldier's head snapped back in a spray of blood, and collapsed in the turret. Smiling in satisfaction, Kim pulled the bolt back, and fired again. A heathen, trying to climb into the now vacant machine-gun turret, was struck in the neck by the shot. It was futile. Kim knew this, but she had to continue the fight anyway. Her men were counting on her to get them through this alive and in one peace.
Her COM-link soundly came to life, a panicked voice at the other end delivered news she so did not want to hear. "Lieutenant, PAC troops have broken through at all areas. We not getting any help here!"
A large explosion suddenly tore a large building, which had been providing supporting fire, apart in a large ball of fire. The building collapsed, in a shower of rubble and fire. Distantly she could hear men screaming "Mjolnir! Mjolnir!"
As she glanced out the window she saw the hulking behemoth slowly turn, aiming its large and deadly rockets straight at her, and her men. "AWWW SHIT! GET OUT, GET OUT OF HERE!" She screamed to the men who had used the buildings cover.
"COME ON, MOVE, ITS AIMING RIGHT FOR US!"
Kim and her men tore down the buildings stairs as fast as they could run. Quickly gathering anyone they could find. A few metres from the door the building shook under the impact of the Mjolnir's Reaper rocket.
As Kim cleared the door she felt a great wave of heat rush over her, as fire gutted the building, causing it to collapse. There was no choice.
"This Lieutenant Kim Possible requesting permission to fall back to Head Quarters. Repeat we need to fall back to Head Quarters."
A desperate voice answered her. A voice that was not Will Du's. "Negative, Negative, Kilo Lima, you are to pull out of Geta. Repeat you are to pull out of Geta. We have been over run, Repeat we have been over run. Get out of there now!"
Something green caught her eye. As Kim turned towards the HQ, she noticed that no longer was the black and red banner of the Republic flying, but a yellow star and wreath on a dark green background. The banner of the Protectorate was flying high and proud. Geta was lost.
Well I introduced some new characters, hope I managed to capture them alright. I've also settled on the ranking systems, The PAC use the old Soviet Union ranking system, while the Guard use the Commonwealth, as such Lieutenant is pronounced Leftenant. I've also noticed several mistakes and inconsistencies through out the story so I fixed those as well. So read enjoy and don't forget to leave a review. Seriously, we writers love them.