X Nate, two days after the meteors came. X
My terror didn't last long. They just dragged us over to a patch of grass, probably so our blood wouldn't stain their parking spots, and shoved us down. I landed face first in the grass and didn't get up. I was paralyzed with fear—my breath caught in my throat. The guys who had caught us seemed to be mumbling, but I couldn't hear them over Russell going crazy beside me while trying to stand up. One of them knocked him back down with his rifle.
"Fucking cowards," I heard one of them speak clearly, followed by what I knew was a pistol being loaded. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for it to come, my mind going strangely blank in anticipation.
"Gerald!" Instead of a gunshot, I heard someone shouting behind us. "What are you doing?"
"They're deserters, Private Powell. I'm shooting them." The guy holding the gun didn't sound the least bit disturbed about it, either.
"Deserters?" Hearing the other voice speak again, I realized it was Macy, showing up to save me again. For once, I didn't mind her rather unusual appearances to help me. I cracked my eyes open and tried to listen in, catching a glimpse of Russell lying out cold just a few feet beside me.
"Where'd you find them? Did Captain Bradford sign the order?"
"They were conspiring to commit desertion and theft. That's the same as committing it, and the penalty is just the same." The soldier towering over me snarled.
"You're overstepping your authority, Corporal," someone else warned.
"They're kids, Gerald." It was Macy speaking again. "They're nothing like the group that deserted the other day, and there's no reason to be that harsh with them." More people seemed to show up, and what was going on behind me turned into a shouting mess where I couldn't make anything out—with me lying face down in front of everyone.
I decided to prop myself up with my elbows and take a quick glance behind me, and my eyes immediately locked on the gun just inches from my face. I think they called it tunnel vision, as my mind was registering nothing else but the black of the barrel facing me and the hand holding the trigger. I felt sick, lightheaded, and extremely heavy all at once. Then, everything in front of me turned black, and I fell back to the ground—I was probably out cold before I even hit the dirt.
I woke up a while later under a red sky. I groaned but didn't get up, feeling too tired to move.
"Well, good morning sunshine!" Someone loomed over me, and I jumped up in surprise.
"What?" I asked, looking around. It looked like we were on a roof, and my stomach dropped a couple of inches before settling down. Looking around, I realized I wasn't in the base—I was in a town! There were a few soldiers near the ledge manning a big machine gun, and there were two other soldiers beside me, including the one who woke me up.
"What happened? Where am I?" What the hell had happened while I was out cold?
"You passed out—so scared you forgot to breathe!" one of them laughed. I knew these guys; I'd seen them at mortar training, but couldn't remember their names. "They decided you were innocent and gave you an assignment anyway—decided to drop you off here so you could start right away."
"They—they let me go?" I asked. I saw that gun. I should've been dead… They'd actually let me off?
"Captain Bradford from Battalion CP gave you and your friend a pardon, seeing as you're both young and all." He shrugged. "Cap'n gave that guy who was going to pop you leniency, too. He's been a little screwy in the head since some of our guys killed each other and ran off. Your name's Nate, ain't it?"
"Yeah..." I nodded, calming down as I realized I was no longer in danger of dying... Where's Russell?Had he been shipped off to help a bunch of random strangers?
"Mine's Marcus." He pointed to himself. I couldn't really see anything about how he looked through the uniform besides that he had dark skin. He had a weird accent, though. Maybe he came from southern Rubinelle?
"Eugene." The other one extended his hand. He had the same accent. His face fell as I shook it limply. "At least you can use a mortar," he said bluntly. I shrunk back. "Anyway, I guess we're a team now." He motioned to the mortar behind him, set up and pointed upwards towards the sky. I looked across the rooftops. There was another big machine gun set up on a roof across the street.
I didn't want to look down, or stand up for that matter. There was no way they could've got me up here while I was awake. "So uh…" I faltered. What do I need to know? I was actually in the field now, wasn't I? "Who's our boss?" I asked. One of the soldiers at the machine gun turned around and stood up. He looked older, like he was thirty or something. He also looked a lot more serious.
"I'm Second Lieutenant Whitley. Even though you're not done with training, you've been assigned to Company A's Heavy Weapons Platoon. Since this platoon is severely under strength and does not have a dedicated mortar section, you are under my direct command." He stopped and looked down at me. "Stand up, Private!" he yelled. I scrambled up.
"They tell me your MOS is in mortar fire." I had no idea what he meant. "You better live up to that, Private, and you better well understand your duty—or you'll regret it." He leaned forward and looked at me straight in the eye. I thought I saw a vein sticking out while I tried not to break eye contact. He finally backed off.
"So, what do we do exactly… sir?" I added that last bit quickly when his face turned into a dangerous shade of red.
"We provide indirect fire support for Company A, Private," he said. I was glad he didn't sound angry. He patted the machine gun. "Not as much as a tank or artillery piece could do, but enough to help the company if we're behind enemy lines for a while."
"Company," I repeated to myself. I remembered what I'd learned in basic. Since it was basic math, I could actually remember it. "Two hundred soldiers in a company, five companies in a battalion, four battalions in a regiment, and four regiments in a division."
"It's not always like that, but good organizational skills." Lieutenant Whitley nodded. "Yes, Private; we're in the 334th Regiment, under Colonel Hans Otto, 81st Battalion, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ryan Emmert, Company A, under Captain Elizabeth Sallee, and this is Company A's Heavy Weapons Platoon under my command." He finished all that in a single breath. "Memorize all this in case you get lost."
I nodded and mentally repeated the information several times in my head. I can remember that.
"You're lucky we're still organized," Lieutenant Whitley went on. "At least a fourth of the division is gone, including officers. Company F is being commanded by a lieutenant now, and I'm pretty damn sure there's a corporal leading a platoon somewhere in Company D." I didn't understand how any of that could be a problem, so I just listened.
I wonder where Russell was assigned. I sat down when I saw he'd stopped speaking and had gone back to the gun. Marcus took his helmet off and lay down. I stared at his unnaturally red hair, probably dyed. Eugene wasn't even looking at me.
I carefully edged over and looked over the side of the building. It was the same street that the trucks were parked on; I could even see the truck I'd fallen asleep in. Looking back and forth, I couldn't figure out where they had dragged me. I'd been too scared to look at anything but the gun back there.
Macy.I remembered her. She'd saved me, hadn't she? "Do you guys know Macy?"
"Who?" Eugene yawned. Marcus was asleep already.
"She's in Bellus' squad," Lieutenant Whitley said. "She's in the same company as we are. You can thank her later, Private. She's the one who convinced me to take you lot."
Did she?It went quiet again. I scratched the back of my head. I couldn't hear anything else. "Is there anyone else here, sir?" I asked.
"Company A and C got sent in here with a few recruits," Lieutenant Whitley told me. "Some of them are terrified. Don't blame them."
I don't either. I looked up at the sky. My stomach flipped like I was falling. I quickly tried to focus on something else.
"Lieutenant Whitley!" a woman yelled bellow. He got up and looked over the side of the building.
"Captain Sallee." He quickly saluted, and I chanced a glance at the woman standing below.
She's in charge?I tried to commit that to memory so I wouldn't get in trouble later.
"What do you got, Lieutenant?" she asked.
"A mortar and a pair of 240s," he called back. I noticed the machine gun across the street looking at us. They must have been part of our group.
"Pack them up and get ready to move out. We have a target." My breath got caught in my throat again.
"Woohoo!" Marcus jumped up behind me.
"Who're we going after, Ma'am?" Lieutenant Whitley asked.
"There was supposed to be a trial at the base yesterday—a band of mercenaries the immigration authorities found trying to sneak in the county. Apparently their transport convoy was wrecked and they got free."
"And they took their frustration out on the town." Lieutenant Whitley finished.
"They're rapists, murderers, and thieves. We're going to put them down. Pack up those guns, the company is moving out in twenty minutes."
"Guess it's time for real fighting." When I turned around, Marcus had already packed the entire mortar away in its case.
"If they're mercs, they probably already got experience," one of the soldiers at the machine gun said. I felt like I was going to pass out again.
X Vera, three days after the meteors came. X
The human mind was something I was considering studying if—the word itself pained me—I made it to college. Interaction between people was something I'd wanted to learn about since enlisting. I was curious as to how my acquaintances dealt with the lack of privacy always present and how they managed to become effective pilots despite having completely counter-productive personalities. It was mysterious to the point of being frustrating.
It must be a good sign if I can focus on that.There was a certain amount of comfort and security at the naval base since we'd landed that cleared the mind. Though they only had a single ship at port, it was still staffed. They'd already given us quarters and said they'd try to contact our fleet. I had doubts they'd succeed, though. In the mean time we were free to stay here. In honesty, lying in the good bed I'd been given, I didn't want to leave.
The idea terrified me. I didn't want to see the rest of the world. My parents had done so much: set me on the right path, taught me to be a proper lady, paid for my education—everything. I didn't want to think of them as dead; I didn't want to accept that there was a war going on, either. Success could be salvaged, but not if I was dead. I wasn't a coward by any means; I was strong, independent, and I very well knew the risks. But nuclear war or whatever had occurred, it was beyond my expectations.
With such idiocy in control, I should've expected this. I hoped whoever was behind this was dead. I snuggled in closer to the bed but didn't fall asleep for another hour at least. Despite my misgivings, I would still get up tomorrow morning. What I wanted didn't always translate into what I had to do after all, and that would be whatever was necessary.
I found some comfort the following day in people not too different from me. Heather and Amy had similar goals and fears now, too. Since we'd all considered a partnership in the near future, it was clearly logical to discuss all that had happened so far. The base wasn't capable of housing an entire fleet, but it had sufficient means to repair larger ships. The waterway stretched out and around a hill that hid the ocean from us. We chose a meeting place outside one of the docks used to shelter ships from inclement weather.
"Someone is responsible for this." Amy's mouth was curved in a smile that seemed forced than her usual one. Throughout the year, I'd noticed her intelligence at times seemed close to being dominated by her anger. She was a smart girl, although perhaps there was something just a little below the surface.
"Lazuria probably," I agreed, "or it could've been retaliatory." I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt; our side had a history of making idiotic moves.
"Either way," Heather said with a heavy heart, "we're all in trouble. Civilian structures and society never fare well in times of disaster and warfare." Her words were true.
"Well, it's no use trying to change the situation," I said. "We need to focus on what we can do by ourselves." I paused for a moment. "Besides, I have no idea what to do next," I admitted. Admitting weakness was not a weakness in itself, but I felt dismay when I realized they didn't have any suggestions that could help.
Plan—we need a plan! How else could we move forward? Things deteriorated into silence while I turned to look at the base. The first thing that caught my eye was a destroyer, a slightly older version the Navy used based on a traditional ship with guns. In exchange for the gun battery in front, it had a missile cell for firing anti-ship and anti-submarine missiles. The rear battery had also been replaced with an anti-air missile system based on the ones that the Army and the Marines used for mobile defense. It made the design more efficient at killing people.
Killing. For some reason the idea repulsed me now. It wasn't cold feet, like I said. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. But, just staring at the weapons made my stomach turn. I turned around.
"We're being watched," Heather told us. I risked a glance where she was staring and saw Kerrigan looking at us from behind a nearby fence, not even trying to be subtle. I turned my head back. Her commanding attitude hadn't changed, but she'd taken to harassing the base commander about various things. She wanted to get us into combat quickly. My stomach turned again.
"Our odds of applying for a transfer are even lower now," Amy said, a false cheer in her tone. I could not tell what was going on in her mind.
"Let's just go back to the quarters." I rubbed my arms. Since arriving, I'd changed back into my flight suit; it offered the most protection from the elements and dress code standards were still very loose. "It's too cold out here." We had no idea what the date was. Kerrigan did not move as we were walking, staring right at us when we passed. I kept my eyes straight ahead.
"Unfortunate that she didn't die, don't you think?" Amy said under her breath when we were out of her earshot. I frowned; it was a bit extreme. She wasn't that bad. Okay, maybe she was a little—
"Do you hear planes?" I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of jet engines.
"Huh?" Heather and Amy were caught off-guard. Suddenly, the base sirens started going off. I was momentarily shocked.
An attack—there really is a war. The sound of anti-aircraft guns firing sent me into flight mode. We'd started for the nearest building, but didn't get there in time. The sound of jet engines got louder as Lazurian planes suddenly raced overhead, firing their payloads as they did. The ground shook and we all fell over each other. There was crashing all around as chunks of concrete went flying. We all just pressed ourselves to the ground, staying as close as possible. I risked raising my head, and a small sound escaped my throat.
The base was nearly destroyed. Buildings were burning or collapsing, as well as most if not all of the stations. The destroyer I'd seen earlier was firing at the planes above, and I ended up looking at the worst possible time. At that moment, four planes dived at the ship, firing their weapons. For all its advanced weapons, it stood no chance against the numbers. I found myself staring in shock at the flaming wreck that was sinking into the water.
Then, someone grabbed me and dragged me up. "What the fuck are you doing? Get inside!" one of them was yelling. He pushed me towards the building.
"Come on, just walk!" It was David. What he was doing out here, I wasn't sure. I was still in shock as I stumbled into the building.
Moments later, when the three of us—Where'd David go?—were huddled in the building hallway along with a few other base personnel, my mind cleared considerably despite the noise outside. That had just been a moment of shock. We'd been shown a lot of combat footage, but with the intention of us being on the giving end.
Those had been Lazurian Su-25s; attack craft their Air Force and Navy used for attacking ground and naval targets. They were essentially identical purpose-wise to the A-10s our squadron had used, and they'd been sent to destroy this base, a good wartime target.
We could've stopped it if we had our planes, I thought defiantly. For now, we could do nothing but huddle in fear as the bombing continued outside. I should've been out there stopping this…
There was an increase in the sound of jet engines, and a series of more explosions. One of the base personnel came in supporting one of his other teammates. David followed behind, carrying another wounded person. He looked calm.
"Our own planes just got here!" he announced. His news was met with cheering. The most I did was exhale in relief. "They're ours," David said, kneeling down in front of us. "It's a couple of boys from the Pontus." This news seemed to lift all worry temporarily from my shoulders.
The RNS Pontus was one of the other carriers in the fleet. Aside from her and our carrier, there was another group made up of a carrier and five battleships, their designs dating back to the Great War, which made up the core of the fleet. Had the fleet come to pick us up already? It was amazingly convenient. I hadn't seen any escort planes, so there was a strong chance they'd regain control of the skies.
"Lady Luck's been kind to us," David reflected.
Not that I believe in it, really. I stood up. "When are they picking us up?" I asked.
"They're dispatching a pair of cruisers; they should be here soon." As he said this, there was a distant crash that shook the ceiling. "I'm going to go try and help clean up." He ran back outside.
Well, he's brave; I'll give him that, I thought. My insides squirmed suddenly; to get to the cruiser, I'd have to go outside. I didn't want to see outside. I could tell Heather and Amy were with me on this—and for that matter, most of the others who had holed up in this hallway.
I sat back down at the wall. I didn't think about our fortunate recovery. I didn't think of what we'd do once we got back to the fleet. I didn't even pay attention to the time. I didn't realize Kerrigan's presence some time later till she loudly cleared her throat.
I honestly took offense with her calm demeanor. People had just died! Even if we were officers, people geared to deal with loss since it was a part of war. It was horrible to be indifferent. Everyone else was shaken, me included, though I was reluctant to admit it.
"There's been a change in plans because of the Lazurian threat." She said it in the same commanding tone. "Helicopters from the RNS Tempest will be coming to pick us up, as the cruiser is unable to dock by this time. We're being reassigned to the RNS Pontus for the course of the war." The last word tore at me. I scolded myself inwardly.
I'm stronger than this. I'd admitted this was possible; I should have been fine.
"They'll be arriving shortly." She left without another word, no doubt to track down the rest of her flight. I found myself very curious about what she was thinking. Likely about glory, I thought. It was a disgusting fact about a lot of officers: they sought fame on the back on disposable pawns. There was a war going on, and now we were the pawns.
I reflected on this fact bitterly for several minutes. I had a much larger purpose than to die such a meaningless death. Sometime later, we were informed that the helicopters had arrived. I stood up on my own, a new resolve fresh in my mind. I was strong; I'd survive no matter what. My resolve faltered when I stepped outside and I immediately looked at the ground.
"Don't we have to get our things?" someone asked. I realized after a moment it was Hannah. So, none of the others had died. Why hadn't I thought about them before?
"A plane crashed into the barracks. If any of you had something there, it can be replaced," Kerrigan said coldly. I didn't risk looking. I felt even more frustrated at her pessimistic view and with the fact that I now had nothing else to my name.
Walk. Just walk. I told myself. I could see the helicopter; it was just a mile ahead. Just keep watching the helicopter. I stood erect and walked purposely toward the aircraft. It was the only thing in my sights. I didn't look any other way. Captain Stancill's flight was already present. A tightness that had seized my chest eased as soon as I stepped into the cool interior. I shook my head. That was pathetic! I was stronger than this!
"Sit down, sit down," one of the crew members said, using his rifle to guide us. I eyed the weapon with unease. Being a search-and-rescue crew, of course they would be armed.
"The Pontusis an old ship, but it should have some planes in storage for us to use." Stancill looked at us gravely. "I know things seem rushed, and that all of you are scared—it's natural," He gave a reassuring pat to a boy from his own flight.
Natural or not, it's still a weakness.I had to get it out of my system.
"The simple fact is that we'll be going into combat soon." There was a low hydraulic whine as the back ramp came up and sealed itself close.
"These guys say they're fine—they just want us to go make sure no ships are out there," the pilot called over the intercom.
"We have an important mission now," Stancill said, "and that's to protect Rubinelle from aggression." My stomach felt uneasy. As soon as I got into a plane, I knew I'd do just that, but the whole situation was making me feel off. I shouldn't have been nervous, but I couldn't disperse the feeling.
I didn't even realize we'd reached the carrier till Tanya put a worried hand on my shoulder. Even deep in thought, I realized the trip had been short. I turned and looked out the window. The hill that had shielded the base was visible in the distance.
Why didn't they tell us they were so close?
"Hey!" a voice shouted. "Get moving!" One of the deck hands was standing at the bottom of the ramp. I flushed. We needed to clear off the flight deck: it was protocol. I'd been doing it for a year—why did I forget it now?
I nodded and quickly walked towards the interior of the ship. "It's hard to tell the difference," Tanya remarked quietly. I nodded in agreement as I watched the crew work around the planes already parked on the flight deck. The carriers belonged to the same class, so the layout would be nearly identical.
When we got inside, a sailor offered to show us to our new quarters. The path was nearly identical to the one I'd followed for a year, except for a major detour near the end—wartime construction might have affected the design. I'd been in the old carrier after it beached itself to use the bathroom and attempt to retrieve any valuables. The halls there had been flooded and dark. And though I hadn't gone to see it, the flight deck was heavily damaged and empty of people and aircraft. However, the flight deck here was operable, the insides unscathed.
They could not have experienced that storm. Thinking about it, was there a weapon that could cause storms in a specific area? Nuclear arms were out, but that storm hadn't been a coincidence. "Has intelligence confirmed what caused this?" I asked.
"No Lieutenant; nothing really," the sailor answered. I was slightly pleased to be referred to by my rank when most of the old crew at the Odin usually referred to us as 'kids' or some other degrading term. The fact that no one else—even from Naval Intelligence—knew what it was disturbed me.
David was lounging outside a room that I assumed had been assigned to Vincent, Josh, and him. He nodded as we passed. I kept a tight-lipped expression of my mouth. He looked almost bored.
We passed another compartment where Amy and Hannah were assigned. The former waved. She was probably glad to be back in a familiar environment. Tanya bid me farewell. As I stepped into the next compartment, where I knew we'd be, I couldn't help but feel a slight déjà vu.
The room was slightly different. There wasn't an individual bathroom built in—there was probably one big one assigned for the whole section. There wasn't a TV mounted above the door, nor were there chests, just lockers. Aside from that, it still had the feel of a prison cell. I could manage nevertheless.
"No privacy anywhere," Heather complained. She'd climbed up on one of the top bunks, reclaiming the same arrangement we had before.
"And all our stuff is gone," Kayla added sourly.
And we're going off to war, I thought as I sat down on the bunk below Heather. "Maybe this is just a sporadic conflict?" I suggested, sitting up. "Whoever attacked surely faced a retaliatory strike."
"And they may pursue peace to prevent further damage," Heather finished. I smiled and nodded.
Of course, that leaves the task of fixing all the damage.At that minute, the ship's intercom system cracked to life, emitting shrill static for several moments before Admiral Ryman's voice echoed throughout the vessel.
"Brave men and women of the Rubinelle Navy, I, Admiral Benjamin Ryman of the Rubinelle 9th Fleet, would like to extend my greatest thanks for your orderly and efficient response to the current and unknown crisis." So, even the powers-that-be had no idea what happened either. "I know that not all of us are present yet," he went on, referring to those still traveling with the Rangers. Now that I was safe myself, I felt a bit of pity for them.
"However, waiting is a luxury we cannot afford. We cannot mourn the loss of our fellow men who did not survive." I made a mental note to ask how many of the fleet's sixty-seven ships were left. "Our country needs us more than ever, and so, for the time being, we will shift our efforts to commencing humanitarian operations as soon as possible."
That caught me by surprise. A military wasn't formed purely for fighting, I understood that. In fact, helping people seemed a sound and more beneficial activity to me. However, such operations were difficult during a war. Those planes had come from somewhere nearby. We should've been hunting them. What is he thinking?
"Our first destination will be an island forty-seven miles northwest of here. It was a Navy base in the last war, and it still has some inhabitants. From there, we'll move south towards Swan Cove before moving back north to the port in Ruby Keys. I want every ship ready to fire, every plane fit to fly, and every man and woman ready for whatever is thrown at us. There are difficult times ahead, but I know that we will face them without fear." The intercom went dead.
In a way, I had to admire him; speaking was a rather difficult talent to master, but I still had a bad feeling about the next few days. Madeline shared this view.
"What if there are more Lazurian planes out there?" I asked.
"I assume that we'll be sent to perform top cover while the fleet does what it needs to be done." Heather shook her head.
"What are you all so grouchy about?" Kayla climbed into a bunk and was pulling a blanket over her head. "There's been war before, and they always told us it would happen again." She was acting as if nothing had happened. She was calm and collected. "We should've all been ready for this."
She was right—we should have. But whether or not we truly were was yet to be seen.
XX Author's Notes XX
What with school and all, updating has become a rather difficult task.
Just a bit of trivia: Pontus was the Greek god of the sea. I'm turning a bit to the mythology of Greek and Norse cultures for capital ship namesakes; I think the names fit well for something as powerful and historically significant as a ship.
I am conflicted on whether or not to use any classic maps in the upcoming war. On one hand, they technically exist outside the DoR universe. On the other hand, some of them would make good battles. Some input from my viewers would be nice. Also, the RNS Tempest was a ship name suggested by user ZeroDragonSP
Please review and you are welcome to submit any ideas/characters you may have. Six chapters in has netted some three hundred views, better than its predecessor.
