Demon Clans of Arnfair & Sarus #2

Ch11: Silent Waves

"We'll start the war from right here"

Brig. Gen. Theodore Roosevelt Jr., son of the former president, who landed with his troops in the wrong place at Utah beach on D-Day

New Atlimas - Point Beauregard – Naval Base docks

September 30, 2104

09:42:19 hrs

While a lot of attention was focused on the Gate in Central Square, not a lot of press was focused on the one in the Gulf of Maine, several miles off the coast of New Atlimas.

That didn't mean that it wasn't discussed in the upper echelons. There was still plenty of time spent discussing that particular topic.

Ever since the Normandy 6 patrol group encountered and single-handedly eliminated an enemy fleet numbering several thousand ships in a single encounter, it was ample cause for alarm as that many hostile vessels were concentrated in a single location.

It also suggested that there had to be major hostile facilities on the other side of this Gate able to accommodate them.

That was exactly the case, as Count Giraud had stated that on the other side of the Gate in the Gulf of Maine, there was a major set of fortifications on the coast, situated on a peninsula on the far Northwestern side of the continent.

Said fortifications included a sprawling fortress for housing a troop compliment, along with a central castle, fortifications on the beaches, and a pair of cothons to dock ships. The size of those cothons was stated to be able to house several hundred ships each.

It was also mentioned that this particular location wasn't a major site for projecting long-range naval power. Meaning that there were other locations capable of housing much larger concentrations of enemy ships.

Additionally, while locations such as this weren't capable of projecting large amounts of naval power, it did provide a prime stepping-stone location for seafaring trade to make its stops before heading on to major trade hubs. Maritime trade did make up a significant portion of revenue and supplies for the Empire, after all.

Therefore, it was critical to put the stranglehold and tighten the noose, cutting off vital trade, and hunting down and destroying any naval threats.

A task that fell to the US's maritime special forces units.

Currently, a newly-promoted Captain Allen Harper was at the docks, readying his gear.

He was a career frogman, coming from a family with a lineage of naval special warwfare, joining the SEALs at age seventeen; one of the youngest to ever join. Although he wasn't the first to do so, he did join a very tight cadre of those who endured the hell of training at the same age. No sooner had he earned his trident, that he was baptized by fire that was now being dubbed as the "Global War on Terror 2.0." Only six years in and he was given the opportunity to join the fabled SEAL Team 6. Maybe it was due to his upbringing and heritage, or the fact that his brethren in NSW were now dying at a faster rate than before, but he quickly rose through the ranks and eventually became the commander of Team 6.

He wasn't alone either. In the nearby hangars, also readying his gear, was a newly-promoted Captain Mitchel H. Becket.

Like Harper, he too was a career jarhead, coming from a family of Marines. Coming from a family lineage seemed to be a growing trend as of late. Harper first enlisted as a Scout Sniper, and like Harper, he too was thrown into the flames of the new Global War on Terror straight out the gate of training. He soon made his way into the infamous Force Recon, quickly rising though its ranks. After several years, he successfully tried out for MARSOC, joining the First Raider Battalion, where he quickly distinguished himself as a leader.

Like Walker, both men received orders to go in, and were informed that they would be promoted to field commanders. Now they were simply waiting for their full briefing and the green light to go in.

Both operators were broken out of their focused trance of gear-prepping when a voice boomed over the base's loudspeakers. "All advance team personnel, proceed to control for debriefing."

Both men dropped what they were doing and started making their way to the headquarters complex for the complete rundown of their coming mission.

On their way, they took note of the gathering fleet. Off in the distance, they could clearly see the silhouette of the USS Donald J. Trump supercarrier and her escort group, as well as the nearby amphibious assault ships and the Afloat Forward Staging Base ships.

In their immediate vicinity, they could see countless dozens of drone ships from the Ghost Fleet docked in port, neatly lined up according to their category. Unmanned submarines and surface ships of varying sizes, all meant to augment their fleet's numbers, awareness, and number of weapons.

With a fleet of this size, they were certain they could take on just about anything that the new world could throw at them.

Although it may have seemed like overkill sending a carrier and her escort fleet against an enemy utilizing wooden ships with sails, the sheer distance they were to travel, the vast scale of a literal empire they would be taking on, the numbers of hostiles they could potentially encounter, and not to mention any possible fantasy sea monsters that were currently unknown to them that could be lurking beneath the waves, prompted High Command to put their best foot forward.

Smug confidence aside, both men, taking separate routes, hitched a ride on some passing M-ATVs, and soon, they were at the HQ building.

The pair of android grunts standing guard automatically snapped into salute as both men passed, and whether out of protocol or mere habit, they returned the gesture.

Waking through the halls on the way to the main office, both operators kept silent. It was common for special forces to remain tight-lipped, especially around others.

Their shades and silent demeanor fit in line with the often-thought-of image of special operations troops, with their different air about them as they strolled past their non-spec-ops brethren.

Typical operators.

"So, do you think that we'll be working together on a joint op?" Becket asked in a low voice, breaking the silence.

"Maybe, maybe not. You know how SEALs are usually sent in for special recon, right?" Harper quipped back.

"True. Although did you hear the briefing of what Giraud said? That there are some facilities that could house several hundred ships and a full troop compliment? Maybe us Raiders could have some fun as well." Becket replied.

"I guess we'll have to see what's in store for us then." Harper affirmed.

The pair finally reached the main office, and Harper knocked on the door. "Come in." A voice replied.

Entering, it was Lt. Gen Bradley H. Winters sitting at the desk. "General." Both operators greeted while giving crisp salutes.

"Gentlemen." Winters replied, promptly standing up and returning the gesture. "Have a seat." He motioned to the two chairs in front of him, and the three took their seats.

"Here's the latest intel, gentlemen." Winters began, bringing up a holographic screen from his desk. "The latest feeds from drone ISR caught this. Looks like there are more ships gathering in port. Intel suspects the enemy wised up and decided to bolster their defenses after we wiped out their fleet during their attempted invasion."

Both operators took a moment to soak up the latest news. "Sir, what numbers are we looking at here?" Harper inquired.

"We can't be certain, but we estimate upwards of six hundred ships docked at the moment, and we suspect more are on the way. We also estimate at least ten thousand troops are currently garrisoned there."

While their expressions didn't change, both operators' minds were spinning. Being outnumbered by large margins was nothing new to them, but facing an enemy with that many troops.

"There's no way we could take on that many troops so soon after crossing the Gate, sir. What's our play?" Asked Becket.

"Those troops and the defenses you see aren't the whole picture." Winters replied, zooming in the feed on several tiny pieces of land some ways away from shore. "See these several tiny islands here? The enemy has several guard posts stationed there. They're meant to act as an extension to existing defenses and act as an early warning system."

Harper caught onto the implied action. "So our mission is to eliminate those guard posts first?"

"Exactly. Harper, you and your team will enter the Gate first and eliminate the guard posts. Once that's complete, some recon and assessment is in order. Once your recon is complete, Becket, you and additional teams will cross to reinforce the advance team. You will then conduct raids or an all-out assault on the enemy positions depending on the intel."

Harper sucked in a silent breath; he was already formulating various methods of how to execute the recon mission. "How will we be going in, sir?" He piped up.

"The Gate opens up into open waters, and is relatively close to the enemy fortifications; only a couple of clicks by our estimates. Those aforementioned guard posts are also in a prime location to spot any incursions from our side." Winters replied. "We can't risk you being spotted right away after entering, so Zodiac boats and RHIBs are out of the question. You'll have to infiltrate with SDVs instead under cover of night."

"Right, then. So who will be on my team?" Harper inquired.

"You'll be rolling in with 1st Platoon from Team 9. I'm sure they'll appreciate learning from a vet." Winters replied.

Ever since the Emergence of the Third Cold War and the renewed Global War on Terror, SOCOM had to step up its game in training more special operations forces troops to cope with all the turbulence in the dangerous new world. One of the many steps taken was an expansion of Naval Special Warfare. Whereas before there were only eight SEAL teams, there was expansion going on, and now there were nine SEAL teams, with more in planning.

"Understood. So how soon are we to go in, sir?"

"You may have heard that Major Walker and his team had entered the Gate in Central Square earlier today. You are to go in today as well, as soon as your gear is prepped. We already have everything on standby."

"Roger that, sir."

"Alright. Dismissed, gents."

The two operators snapped a brisk salute, and Winters returned the gesture. The two then turned heal and left the office, heading towards their respective destinations.

The two of them now remained silent and tight-lipped as ever, now that they had their official orders in hand.

Eventually, Harper made his way to the docks, where his 16-man team was waiting for him. They were relatively green, although they all had at least one combat tour and several missions to each of their names.

Also waiting for Harper were a pair of Proteus Mk3 submarines (1). Unlike the first iteration, this version was much larger, able to hold up to eight frogmen, along with vast improvements, such as improved sensors, radar, navigation, and all-new holographic controls, along with the analogue controls.

Along with all their equipment, one of the subs had an extra, somewhat-bulky package attached its back. A technician came over to do a final inspection. "That package is compliments of the General. It's a hardened comms relay. We can't receive wireless signals past a certain distance inside the Gate, so you'll have to install it once you reach the other side."

"Understood. Hope it won't interfere with the propeller." Harper quipped.

"Don't worry. As long as you don't go too fast, you should be fine. Good luck on the other side, sir."

"Appreciate it. Thanks for the package."

Once the team had prepared all their gear, they clambered into the mini-subs, powered them up, and slowly egressed out of the harbor towards the Gate in the Bay, riding on the surface of the water. They soon stopped short of the control point, which was now also covered in a metallic dome like the one in Central Square.

Unlike the Central Square gate, the Gate in the Gulf of Maine had to have additional controls and facilities, such as stilts and a base to accommodate the dome. There were also additional controls to ensure nothing slipped past beneath the waves, as well as ports and extensions for security and personnel to be stationed right at the point of entry. While fortifications couldn't be as extensive like the one in Central Square, there were regular patrols, as well as several 5-inch guns mounted on the far harbor extensions pointed directly at the barrier.

"Warlord, this is Neptune. Teams are green and are standing by. Requesting permission to enter." Harper called over the radio.

"Permission granted. Standby." Winters replied.

After several moments of silence, alarm klaxons blared and red lights flashed as the massive metal doors slowly swung open. The waves generated from the swinging doors rocked the small craft, but the operators standing inside with the hatches opened weren't phased.

"Warlord, Neptune. We're going in."

"Roger. Godspeed, gentlemen. Warlord out."

Harper switched channels. "Alright boys, hatches in. Dive, dive. All ahead, half speed."

After a series of affirmations, all the frogmen hunkered down and sealed the hatches, slowly submerged, then proceeded forward into the black abyss of the Gate.

While in transit, it was just like any other of their previous submerged missions. It would've been much more nerve-racking had they ridden on the surface. But now, beneath the waves, locked in metal tubes in cold water, relying only on their sonar and holographic displays for navigation, it didn't feel quite as nerve-racking.

Harper and the others briefly wondered what it must've been like for Walker, with his team having to ride through on buggies. Was the transition as creepy as he had heard?

After what felt like several hours, the lead sub Harper was in picked up a light on its forward locking camera sensors. "Neptune Actual to Neptune elements. Eyes on a light. Ready up."

The comment renewed the vigor in the divers, and they all silently 'hooyawed' behind the snorkels and wetsuits.

After several long moments, the mini-subs paused, and they raised their periscopes. They took their time surveying their environment.

"The intel was right on. I'm seeing three different islets, each with castle towers." Harper remarked. "Alright, launch the Blackwing drone (2). Let's get a better idea."

The frogman next to him worked on the console for a moment, and not too long after, the lead mini-sub raised an integrated tube launcher, and with a muffled 'whompf,' the drone spread its pop-out wings and took to the completely black night sky.

The frogmen inside took their time as the drone loitered over coastline, reconnoitering over the outlying outposts, getting a layout and better grasp on enemy numbers.

After roughly half an hour, the drone was ordered to return to the subs. It popped open its parachute and quietly splashed down in the water. After several minutes, a robotic arm was extended to retrieve the drone.

"Alright, I'm calling it in. Neptune Actual to Warlord. Infiltration successful. Recon of enemy observation posts complete. Proceeding with elimination."

"Roger Neptune. Green light on phase one. Out."

"Alright. We'll take the islets one at a time. Neptune elements, all ahead quarter speed. Head towards that eastern-most one."

The subs restarted from their idle state, and both subs slowly proceeded to the outermost islet.

Once the subs were about a quarter of a mile away, Harper came on the radio. "Neptune Actual to Neptune elements. Power down." The subs slowed down, and once near some rocks on the ocean floor, they deployed their integrated anchors. Each sub had a pair of pressurized harpoon guns integrated into their hulls, keeping the subs in place.

Once the subs were firmly anchored in place, the hatches were finally opened, and the frogmen inside slowly emerged, quietly stalking in the water towards their objectives. They silently swam right under the watchful gaze of enemy sentries, and eventually, Harper and his teammates slowly began to emerge from the blackened water behind some rocks.

It didn't take long for the team to rally up, and once they had removed their swim-fins, they quickly made their way off the beach and hid in some shrubbery.

It didn't take long for the team to get eyes on the first castle tower. "Alright, I got eyes on the first observation tower. Alex, get that drone overhead." Harper ordered.

The communication specialist took out the quadcopter drone from its watertight compartment. It was a favorite model among special forces. With modifications allowing for longer endurance and a reduced acoustic signature, this particular variant was also equipped with cloaking and a modified, suppressed weapon.

Its rotors whirred to life, and quickly rose to an altitude of around five hundred feet. Its hyperspectral sensors got to work, quickly picking out roughly a couple dozen hostiles around the perimeter, and atop the tower, they could see a fire pit with bronze mirrors, as well as a pair of ballistae mounted on the corners.

"Alright, this tower seems to be the least defended. Let's do this quick." Harper briskly whispered. "Luke, take three guys and flank the far east side of the tower. Ben, you take another three straight up the middle. Joe, take a couple guys and make sure no one escapes out the back. Everyone else, with me. Alex, you stay hear and man the drone, and watch our backs."

A series of rogers followed, and the platoon quickly split up to close in on the tower from all sides.

Most of the sentries outside the tower were either sleeping in tents, or on guard duty. Although, the ones on guard duty could hardly be considered being on duty at all, as they were practically drifting off at their posts.

They must really not be expecting any activity or intrusions at all.

Complacency kills.

The two teams quickly silenced all hostiles, either with their knives for the sleeping sentries, or their suppressed weapons for the ones sleeping in tents. The frogmen moved quickly, going from tent to tent, putting a double tap into each slumbering hostile, switching targets with blistering speed.

Once they were done with one tent, they moved onto the next, repeating the process until all hostiles were neutralized.

Once they were done, the three teams rallied at the main entrance to the tower, quickly silencing the barely-awake sentries with headshots. The sound of the bodies dropping were muffled by the damp grass.

The frogmen stacked up at the door, with Harper as point man. He checked the door by pulling ever so gently, so as to not make a sound. Only a slight budge.

Locked. Harper then motioned for a silent entry, and their breacher came forward with a crowbar, while the rest readied their weapons. The breacher placed the tool in position, and with a smooth motion, gave an abrupt yank, breaching the lock, and then he quickly backed away, allowing the assault team to make entry.

Two guards asleep near a small fire greeted them, and they were quickly neutralized, their bodies caught by two of the SEALs before dropping on the floor, so as to not make a sound and alert the others.

A stairway was at the far end of the far end of the room, and without missing a beat, the team advanced, slowly making their way up the stairs, weapons ready. The tactical view on their headsets' HUDs showed another half-dozen slumbering hostiles. The view came courtesy of their drone, which was hovering outside the tower and tracking their progress, its suppressed weapon ready to lend a hand.

The team shuffled right past the beds, shooting the hostiles as the tread past on their way to the next flight of stairs at the end of the room.

This process repeated a couple more times before they reached the top of the tower. Here was where the team made a brief stop.

Three guards were immediately facing the staircase, while another four stood guard, gazing out over the sea. "Alex you got eyes on the top of the tower?" Harper whispered into his tac mic.

"Affirmative. I count seven tangos, three at the staircase, four on watch."

"Copy. Use the drone's suppressed weapon. Take out one, me and two of my guys will drop the other two. then we'll take care of the rest."

"Sounds good. Move on my mark…three, two, one, rifle." The suppressed shot quickly dropped on guard. His companions barely had time to let out a confused shout before Harper and his two partners quickly emerged and dropped the other two, then proceeded to take out the remaining four, with help from Alex's drone.

"All hostiles down. First observation tower neutralized." Harper affirmed. "All elements, rally down at the entrance, and bring in the drone."

The platoon then hustled back down the staircases, past the bodies of the neutralized guards, and were soon at the foot of the tower, where Alex was waiting with the drone nearly packed up.

"Alex, how are we looking? Any alarms yet?" Harper inquired.

"No movement so far, sir. We're still in the clear." Alex replied.

"So far, so good. There's roughly a half-mile between each islet. Let's get wet again boys, we're swimming to our next objectives." Harper ordered.

Without another word, the platoon jogged down to the waterline, waded out to sea, and descended into the black, watery depths, swimming along the seafloor to their next objectives.

The next observation tower was roughly the same, with nearly the exact same number of guards. Nearly the exact same scenario played out at before, and the team cleared out the second tower in record time.

As they waded onto shore for their third objective, it became evident that this one would be more of a challenge, because as their drone became airborne, it became clear that their were additional facilities.

Some of which included anti-infantry barriers, additional buildings surrounding the tower, a small dock, and fortifications, albeit crude ones.

Alex once again got the drone airborne, and began marking hostiles. "I'm counting at least twice as many hostiles as the previous towers. I'm also seeing some blind spots, especially around that dock at the far side of this islet, and some of the buildings at the foot of the tower."

Harper grunted silently. "Agreed, we're gonna have to take this slower than before…Alright…Joe, you take one and secure that dock. Luke, take four guys and eliminate anyone on the perimeter. Ben, take another four and clear out those surrounding buildings. The rest of you, with me. Everyone rally at the tower entrance once you're all clear. Alex, control that drone and watch our backs."

A series of silent affirmations followed, and the teams quickly split off to complete their objectives.

Valerian Observation Tower

Rapun 17, 1037 IC

25:07:42 hrs

Manius del Caldus was standing guard at his post, spear in hand and a scutum in the other. His scutum was painted blue, unlike the traditional purple or red that the rest of the Imperial Army had. He was but a simple soldier, hailing from the rural Sarus regions in the South.

While it was a strange way to name a region, Sarus referred to the entirety of the coastal region in the western territories of the Empire. While other people had their own names for the various regions, the Empire simply called the regions by their demographic, relative locations.

He didn't have any surviving relatives that he could recall; they were probably dead anyways. An adventurous soul at heart, he had run away from home at a young age seeking adventure, but his early years weren't as thrilling as he had hoped.

He initially supported himself through petty thievery, sometimes joining up with bandits, or simply trying his luck on his own. It seemed like he wouldn't get the life he desired.

Then he chanced upon an Imperial envoy at a fishing town, calling for able-bodied men in their seafaring conquests. Seeing this as his chance to finally taste the adventure he so desired, he quickly stepped forward to serve as a Marinus.

He quickly found his place, and served in several battles, as well as encounters with various pirates.

Now, though, due to recent events, he was unable to sail the seas due to a current lack of ships to form a substantial fleet. He had heard rumors of a terrible disaster, but couldn't surmise anything substantial as of yet.

Setting the thoughts aside, he made his way up to the top of the tower, and began some light conversation with his compatriots. "Another pleasant evening, isn't it, Gallio de Faustus?"

"Indeed it is, Caldus." The middle-aged man replied. "It has indeed been quite around here, ever since the invasion fleet left port for the Gate."

"I have heard some rumors about their fate. Do you what befell them?"

"Don't take it from me, but I overheard some of the men say that they met a terrible fate, with the entire fleet slaughtered to the last man."

Caldus doubled back at that statement, and almost stumbled where he stood. "What!? What makes them say that!?"

"I do not know, but it seems that the men were fairly certain about what happened."

"But how could they have been wiped out? That fleet numbered several thousand ships! No foe could possibly stand up to a fleet of that size!"

"Still, the fact remains that none of them have returned. Perhaps they encountered terrifying new creatures, or the enemy's ships are far more powerful than our own."

"…I suppose that those could be plausible reasons why…Well, at any rate, I must return on my rounds before turning in for the night."

"Very well then. I'll see you in the morning, then."

Caldus then spent a moment to look out over the waves before making his way down the stairs, out of the tower, and towards his tent.

As he was approaching his tent, Caldus thought he heard some quiet wisps, but shook his head, hiking he was just hearing things from the fatigue, and continued. However, he continued to hear those noises, and now was curious. He had never heard noises like that before, and decided to investigate.

As he began walking towards the source of the strange noises, he began noticing some oddities. "Hello? Is anyone there?" No response. That was strange, and now he was beginning to get worried.

He turned a corner, and was horrified to find several of his compatriots dead, some of their bodies pierced by strange, small holes, and others with their throats slit and eyes frozen wide.

"Intruders! Wake up, men! To arms! To Arms" Caldus called out in a panic.

However, no immediate answer came, and none of his companions came running to his aid. Now, he was terrified, just simply considering the possibility that he may be the only one alive from whatever was in their midst.

In a full-blown panic, he thought of doing the only thing left he could do. He ran as fast as he could back to the tower, intent on making his way to the top and sounding the alarm to alert the main fortress on the shoreline to send reinforcements.

However, as he approached the tower, he could see that the door was wide open, and a pair of guards lay dead at the door.

Now his panic knew no bounds. He now knew that sounding the alarm was completely imperative at this point.

But as he was only a stone's throw away from crossing the threshold, he barely stopped as he saw something. For a split-second, he could've sworn that there were several man-shaped figures emerging from the darkened interior of the tower.

He didn't have time to continue his panic or consider the identities of the figures, as the life violently and abruptly left him and he dropped dead, a pair of tiny holes perforating his chest.

"X-ray down." Harper whispered into his tac mic as he brought his rifle down slightly. He and his fireteam had just finished clearing the tower as the other teams had finished sweeping the rest of the site. They were rallying at the foot of the tower when he spotted a potential hostile running towards them, and he dropped him with a double tap.

"Clear over here. What about the rest of the site?" Harper asked the rest of his platoon.

"Dock's secured." Joe said.

"Perimeter clear. Quick and clean." Luke reported.

"Buildings clear. Had a couple of close calls, but nothing we couldn't handle." Ben said.

"Copy all." Harper acknowledged. "Alex, recall the mini-subs. Have them surface near our position, out of sight of the enemy coastline."

"Copy that, sir." Alex replied. The mini-subs were semi-autonomous, and could be completely autonomous if necessary. The latest iterations could now be remotely controlled by individuals. Within minutes, the pair of subs soon surfaced near the beachline.

"We're all clear over here. Should we clean up the mess?"

"Don't need to." Harper replied callously. "We still have a job to do…If you really want to, dump the bodies in the water."

If the frogmen were repulsed at the suggestion, they didn't voice their thoughts, nor did their expressions change. Training necessitated it, considering their profession.

While they considered the possibility, they decided to leave it for later. The frogmen took out various equipment, like laser designators, communication equipment, rocket launchers, ammo, and silent mortars (3).

The platoon then took up their positions atop the observation tower, and began placing their weapons and equipment, settling in for a protracted stay. The final tower was the closest to the enemy shoreline, providing an ample view for the majority of the extension of the fortifications.

"Warlord, this is Neptune Actual. Enemy observation posts eliminated. Proceeding with recon. Standing by for Phase Two."

"Warlord copies all, stellar work. We're standing by for Phase Two. Proceed with recon and call it in when ready. Out."

"Copy, Warlord. Neptune Actual out." Harper replied.

He and the rest of the platoon then began their surveillance, preparing for the wave that was soon to come…

To be continued…

After-Action Report:

Phase zero complete

Phase one successful: All enemy forward observation posts neutralized; no survivors

Forward recon to commence shortly…

Standing by to proceed with Phase Two…

End Report

Sources

(1) is-this-semi-autonomous-mini-submarine-the-seals-next-s-1720675827

(2) /2016/05/us-navy-to-deploy-submarine-launched-drones/

(3) the-war-zone/23443/russian-commandos-are-getting-silent-mortars-that-are-as-quiet-as-a-suppressed-rifle