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Magnificent-class Troop Carrier Breathtaking, Martian Stratosphere, over the Aurorae Chaos
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Oliver Khulmano couldn't wait to get the hell off the reeking and cramped troop ship. The Legionnaire's platoon, the 5th, the Khans, had been cooped aboard the Breathtaking for three weeks now waiting for the invasion. Waiting for word that the shield had dropped over Mars.
That word had finally come. Space Force observers near Luna had been the first to see the energy signature disappear from their sensor scopes. Immediately, a powerful signal had been sent from Earth to its fleet, hidden, along with the majority of the 7th Conquest Fleet of the First Order that hadn't taken part in the Nal Kuat raid, rimward of the Sol System. The Fleet immediately hyperjumped. They had a war to win and they were eager get it started.
The Breathtaking had lived up to its name during the build-up for invasion. It carried the ten thousand Legionnaires, support personnel, enlisted and officers of the 34th Legion. Its cargo holds were filled with cots, hammocks and the personal gear of the Legion. Another Magnificent Transport, the Lavish, followed the Breathtaking and was also assigned to the 34th Legion. The second transport's holds were full of almost eighty thousand tons of supplies and nearly two hundred vehicles. What the Breathtaking also contained, that everyone liked to complain about every chance they had, were dozens of backed up toilets, plugged showers that always ran cold, steam-filled barracks and cargo holds that caused Oliver to wake up in a pool of his own sweat every night and a galley that served vitamin and supplement mush that was nearly inedible and gave most of the Legionnaires the runs. It was a claustrophobic hell.
The Breathtaking housed a particular creature that defied the young Legionnaire's understanding, the Space Force Sailor. Or Spaceman, depending on who you asked. Extremely proud of their starships, as if they had been constructed by the hand of President Harris himself, they prowled the decks of the transport snapping at any of Oliver's comrades if they dared to venture out of their assigned areas. The notion that a Legionnaire would venture out of their assigned area was absurd to Oliver. His officers had told him where he was supposed to be and it was treasonous to be anywhere else. He thought of the sailors of Space Force as overzealous worriers. It wasn't they who would have to win the fight on every planet from Mars to Palpatine Prime, they were merely the bus drivers who would carry the Legionnaires from victory to victory. Little of the glory of the Confederacy would fall on them, he felt.
Oliver didn't understand why the sailors were so possessive and proud of their ship anyway. Built in the last year according to some alien design the Confederacy's new ally, the First Order, had given them, along with Spielbergs, Narutos and Eiffel ships, the new warships had multiplied Space Forces numbers five-fold and theoretically allowed them to go toe to toe with the Empire's fleet. Because they were mass produced in such a short span of time there was more of a concern for functionality than comfort of their crews and passengers. Space Force sacrificed decent life support functions for an upgraded hyperdrive and crew personal space for equipment housing state-of-the-art shields and turbolasers which, unknown to Oliver and his fellow Legionnaires, would be considered mediocre by the Empire and trash by the First Order.
Oliver got out of his cramped bunk when the first alarm rang, informing the Legionaries the fleet had jumped for Mars. The space quickly filled with other Legionnaires who scrambled to put on their armor and get ready for the approaching landing. Despite the crowded quarters, Oliver had little trouble donning his Mjolnir power armor after nearly ten years of wearing the protective gear nearly every single day. By now he wore it like a second skin.
Once the Mjolnir was on and running through its system checks, Oliver walked backwards towards rows of rucks hanging from the wall. A Chappie robot stood waiting for him. The machine matched Oliver to his ruck and snapped it into place along the back of his exoskeleton's hard points. The exoskeleton carried the 300 kg load and kept it off of Oliver's own skeleton.
The ruck had been the only thing the Legionnaires had been allowed to bring with them to Mars. It would haul the ammunition, tibanna, food, water, replacement gas filters, grenades, smoke grenades, anti-personnel mine, uniform change, first aid kit with one bacta dressing per Legionnaire, lighter, hygiene kits including his toothbrush and gum as his one personal item. He had been living out of his ruck for three weeks now.
"OK-7/8/35, your backpack is secure." The Chappie reported.
Oliver didn't say anything. Robots were almost as bad as 4th-class citizens. Instead he just shoved the robot back into the wall as he passed. The Chappie just took the punishment as due course and then went on to help the next Legionnaire.
Feeling the extra height his Mjolnir armor provided him, the Legionnaire stretched his muscles before ensuring his weapons were easily accessible. They'd been issued E3 Phasers with enough tibanna to last a week, according to the Legion's quartermasters. Oliver had his E3, a copy of the Imperial E-11 blaster rifle, holstered on his hip. Like most Confederate Legionnaires he preferred having his B1 Battle Rifle at the ready. After all B1s, with their voice activated ranging and ammo selection, had kicked the Empire off of Earth in the last war, so there was no reason to think they couldn't do the same on Mars.
Battle rifle in hand, Oliver joined a long line of Legionnaires being directed into the Breathtaking's forward hull. Once inside, sailors manned the breach door controls while Legion officers shouted at the Legionnaires to bunch closer together.
Someone slapped Oliver on the back of his helmet. He couldn't quite turn around and face the slapper, but as he swiveled his head he could see Corporal Lockwood moving down the line of Legionnaires delivering similar slaps to everyone in her squad. Satisfied with her count she went over and reported the squad's readiness status to Sergeant Rook.
Near the side of the bay was a large grouping of the Legion's High Command. They looked excited about something. Suddenly there was a small lurch in the ship that pressed every Legionnaire forward into the next man in the formation.
"NOW ENTERING MARTIAN ATMOSPHERE. SURFACE STRIKES ARE UNDERWAY. FLEET COMMANDER SAYS WE ARE A GO FOR INSERTION." The overhead PA system reported from the transport's bridge, causing a raucous cheer from the legion.
On the top of Oliver's helmet heads-up-display a relative altimeter appeared showing the decreasing altitude of the Breathtaking. The ship shuddered somewhat as it made impact with the red planet's upper atmosphere. Oliver wished he had an officer's HUD, that way he could see where other ships in the fleet were relative to his own and whether or not his Legion would be the first to step down on Mars or if another Legion had already beat the 34th to the surface.
Someone elbowed Oliver in the side, before asking the joke that had followed Oliver ever since he had been issued an operating number. "You OK, O-K?"
Oliver looked over to his best friend Ethan Thompson. "You know it, E-T. Ready to kick some ET ass." Oliver referred to the derogatory nickname every Confederate soldier reserved for their Imperial enemies, which unfortunately for Ethan Thompson matched his own operating number.
This time it didn't seem to faze his friend. "Me too, buddy. Me and you. This is the day we get the Medal of Honor."
"Hell yeah, bro. I got enough explosives on me to take down that Tarkin Tower thing we heard about all by myself." Oliver was assured of his own bravado. He was a Legionnaire. Legionnaires were the toughest and best soldiers in the galaxy.
The hull started to creak and moan as wind resistance and Martian gravity started to play on it. There was an audible pitch to the engines that rose and threatened to silence all conversations. The commanding general of the 34th decided at that moment to offer some words of encouragement to the packed ranks of Legionnaires.
It was everyone's first experience with combat and the Earth's first incursion onto enemy held ground so it was tough to concentrate on what he was saying over the roar of the engines. Oliver wondered why he didn't send a text to their HUDs. He caught some of what the officer was saying but not all of it. ". . . The eyes of the President are upon you . . . any Legionnaire who falters in the face of the enemy will be sho . . . take back what is rightfully ours."
The words he did catch filled Oliver with what he thought was pride and resolve. He couldn't figure out why pride made his mouth run dry and sent shivers up and down his back.
"Thirty seconds!" A sailor with a bullhorn shouted. There was another change in pitch from the engines followed by a vibration in the decks, which Oliver could feel through his armored boots.
"This is it, man." Thompson shouted. Oliver nodded in response.
A text scrawled across Oliver's HUD from Sergeant Rook. "Squads, stick with your leaders. Don't clump up together and clear the landing zone as fast as your sorry asses can move."
"5th on me!" Corporal Lockwood shoved her way in front of Oliver and Thompson. Well at least she's not in back of me to cut me down if I slow up, Oliver thought.
"34th, fix bayonets." A general command scrolled across Oliver's HUD from the commanding general. He dutifully attached the 40 cm blade to the end of his B1 and locked it into place.
A red light near the breach door turned to green followed by a screeching buzzer telling anyone that could hear it to clear the exit. The press of eager Legionnaires prevented that from occurring as the shock troops at the front of the formation were pushed into the metal doors.
There was a small sucking of air as the compartment was decompressed when the door started to crack open. Oliver heard a small pop in his helmet as it sealed and unhelmeted sailors around the bay were yawning or holding their ears to compensate.
A bright light pierced the compartment as the door swung open. Oliver squinted slightly before his helmet's face plate polarized to protect his vision. The doors swung fully open. An air horn sounded out and the Legionnaires of the 34th Legion thundered out onto the Martian plain where they were met by . . . nothing.
The landing was completely unopposed. The Breathtaking was one of five transports disgorging Legionnaires out into the Aurorae Chaos, a jumbled mess of plains, chasms, ravines and outflow channels that spilled out from the Vallis Marineris into the massive Chryse Planitia region. The five Magnificent transports had set down among a small fleet of smaller transports unloading specialty armored, combat engineer, anti-aircraft and artillery units. Another five Magnificents hovered above the landing, including the 34th's equipment hauler the Lavish, slowly making their way towards the surface to unload their cargos.
A convoy of Spielbergs swooped by overhead releasing A1 fighters from their underbellies. X1s and Y3s emerged from orbit and pierced the upper atmosphere. They swooped low over the first waves of deploying Legions then raced away to attack targets over the horizon. Revenge corvettes landed on the high ground and dropped off forward artillery and air observers. Europe Frigates cruised by in low orbit unleashing volleys of heavy phaser fire on targets in the Margaritifer Terra Highlands, the main military target of the invasion and the home of Mars's lone Stormtrooper Legion. The largest ships in the Confederate Space Force, the Eiffel cruisers, pounded the military zone from orbit and provided security for the landing. Oliver was disappointed to notice that not a single one of the First Order's massive Star Destroyers was over Mars. Everyone knew they were the real ship-killers of the Alliance.
The first thing that struck Oliver was the lilac sky of Mars, so alien from Earth's blues. The local terrain was covered with the red hues he had been briefed to expect but from a small hill he could see green fields a dozen kilometers to the north. A giant plume of smoke on the horizon marked the Margaritifer Terra and drew the Legions like moths to a flame. It was there that they would meet and destroy their natural enemy; the Stormtrooper.
The Legionnaires of the 34th pushed their perimeter away from the Breathtaking. Within minutes they had pushed their security zone around the transport out of blaster rifle range, then E-WEB range. A half hour after landing they had pushed it out beyond proton mortar range and the officers were hoping to extend it out of light artillery range by early afternoon.
Oliver never had much of a chance to stop. NCOs and officers barked at any Legionnaire who slowed down. They raced across open spaces, ambivalent to hidden dangers that failed to appear as the invasion grew. Towering, two-legged AMP 5s waddled forward with their side-arm cannons firing on distant high grounds and choke points. Scouts raced ahead on light dune buggies and dirt bikes. Oliver enviously watched them jumping over obstacles as they charged east towards the army's objective.
The Breathtaking, carrying only infantry, was one of the first ships to take off again from the surface and allow more cargo ships to land. An Eiffel descended to thirty kilometers and provided refueling and rearming services to Y3s returning from bombing missions. Some of them would carry out more than twenty bombing sorties that day.
Two hours into the invasion, the 34th made its first contact with the enemy. Flying speederbikes zipped into the Legions flank and unleashed a volley into a truck hauling water and supplies, killing its driver and setting the truck ablaze. Before anyone could react the pair of attackers had vanished away to the south. The Legion didn't slow down, a bulldozer pushed the truck out of the supply column as they continued east.
An hour later two Legionnaires in the 789th Battalion were killed when one of them stepped on a concealed mine. Four more mines were rapidly discovered by the Legion's engineers. The march slowed to look for hidden subterranean dangers. An hour later an Abrams X tank rolled over a large explosive killing its crew. Oliver kept glancing towards the ground after that and wishing his balls would stop trying to climb up into his belly.
Everyone had feared the dreaded 'H' fighters the Empire had used so effectively in the last war, but none dared show up on the day of the invasion. By afternoon stories started filtering through the ranks of how the Y3s and their escorts had caught rows of Imperial fighters lined up as if they were on parade on the tarmacs inside the Margaritifer Terra. The Confederate air units had shredded them before they could even be manned.
The 34th took up defensive positions for the night about an hour after sunset. It was still a three day march to the Margaritifer Terra, and the enemy citadel needed a lot more working over by Space Force before the Legions got there. Air reconnaissance units reported the Empire's units shattered from air attacks but other reports mentioned the enemy was forming up and moving west to face the Confederate advance.
It was during chow that evening that the first artillery rounds fell among the resting Legion. Large shells roared in, sending piles of supplies and Legionnaires alike flying through the air. Tents and vehicles caught fire. Oliver threw himself flat along with the rest of his squad as lightning-imbued shrapnel cut through the air above them.
A minute later it was over. Attack helicopters raced into the hills overlooking the Legion's camp and spent the rest of the night hunting the enemy's mobile artillery with rockets. Every few hours another quick attack crashed down on the camp. Oliver dug a hole to sleep in, not that he got much rest that night.
They awoke for a quick breakfast before dawn and started their advance as the sun rose in the east. The extra hour in Mars's rotation as well as the lack of sleep made Oliver feel as if he was moving underwater. Private Calfor, acting as the squad's medic, gave Oliver several energy pills to take with water. Within minutes his heart rate had quickened and Oliver felt as if he had just slept for days.
The enemy's presence was heavier on the second day of the advance. Stormtroopers on the backs of large green lizards could be seen crossing hills and ridges in the distance. At every choke point and crossing the Legion was met by hidden snipers and more and more land mines. Artillery fire, though sporadic, continued to fall throughout the day. Several times the Imperial troops would appear in numbers of forty to eighty troopers, causing the Legionnaires to shift their formation and prepare for a firefight. The change in formation usually took about fifteen minutes for the 34th to shake out for an assault, but by the time officers were ready to attack, the Stormtroopers had fallen back once more.
Frustrating as it was, air attacks were certainly charging a heavy price on the defenders. Y3s continued to patrol overhead and dive on targets of opportunity. Anti-aircraft fire downed some of the bombers but by afternoon on the second day the 34th was reaching positions full of dead Stormtroopers whose units had been caught in the open by the Confederate aircraft. Oliver was fascinated when he marched past a dozen of the big lizards eviscerated by air strike and pushed to the side of the road, their riders had been stripped of their armor and thrown unceremoniously atop a pyre by the 34th's forward units.
The second night was no better. Nervous sentries continuously fired flares into the sky and machine guns tore into the dark at the slightest noise from outside the perimeter. Helicopters buzzed ahead and shot up anything with a heat signature, though they discovered by morning Imperial robots were using the night to drop heat simulators to fool Confederate sensors all up and down the line.
Oliver awoke on the third day to the sound of a large battle several kilometers to the north between the border of the 34th and the 17th Legions' lines of advance. News quickly passed through the columns that a large grouping of Stormtroopers had been flushed from their hiding spot and caught in a nearby ravine where a battle had erupted.
It was close to lunch when Oliver's column reached a small ridge twenty kilometers from the Margaritifer Terra. Sixty Stormtroopers sat along the bottom of the ridge under guard. Atop the ridge was a large group of Confederate officers peering east with their binoculars and laughing at one of their own jokes.
Oliver's company commander, Captain Bygar, called a halt in their advance and ordered the company to fall out and eat their MREs. The exhausted Legionnaires fell out across the road from the captured Stormtroopers and for the first time Oliver got a look at the hated enemy.
The Stormtroopers wore orange and white armor over black body suits marking them as members of the 212th Stormtrooper Legion, who Oliver had been told to expect as the defenders of Mars. They had been instructed to remove their helmets. The ETs looked dirty and stressed. Many of them stared longingly at the food the Legionnaires were eating. Some of them were injured and had blood splattered across their armor. Two or three just lay in the dirt unmoving and Oliver wondered if they were dead or sleeping. Flies swarmed around one of the fallen and Oliver noticed his eyes were still open as the insects crawled across the Imperial's skin. The ETs looked much like Oliver and the rest of his squad mates. Fit soldiers who fought for the wrong side. Oliver didn't know what to expect. He hated them, he knew that in his gut, but were they really the same enemy that had once burned the Earth?
One of the officers on the ridge waved something about. Oliver looked up at them and for the first time noticed they weren't officers from the 34th but wore the unit patches of the CIA. The Confederate Intelligence Agency served as military intelligence and field police. Their word was law. The officer on the ridge talked with his comrades who pointed at the long device in his hand. He flipped some kind of toggle on the thing and it immediately began to glow along one side and even from a hundred meters Oliver could detect a slight whirring sound. He suddenly realized what it was the officer was swinging around; a sword.
The officer and his friends climbed down from the ridge and approached the first Stormtroopers in the line of captives. The officer pointed at one of them. "We pulled this out of a burning farmhouse not far from here. What do you call this thing?"
The Stormtroopers looked up at the man. Oliver could tell the alien soldiers didn't want to talk to the Intelligence officer. Oliver couldn't blame them, as he didn't want to ever talk to Intelligence either. One of them, a pink-skinned human, finally answered. "It's a vibrosword. An antique."
"Ah, that explains why we've never seen you guys use them. A weapon of a more civilized time perhaps?" The Intelligence man made a display of swinging the vibrosword back and forth. His comrades laughed. The Stormtroopers looked worried.
"Something like that, sir." The Stormtrooper replied.
"Who wants to try it out?" The officer asked the other CIA officers. They all cheered and laughed. Each of them jostled the others to be the first.
The officer holding the vibrosword shouted to the Legionnaires guarding the prisoners. "Line them up on their knees."
The Legionnaires responded automatically. An order was an order, no matter what to them. They picked up and shoved the Stormtroopers into a rough line along the road side. The enemy soldiers knelt forward, staring down at the road. They were breathing heavy and sweat was pouring from their faces. Guards kicked and beat any Stormtrooper who resisted. They fell on one, a brown alien with small horns on his head, who tried to resist. The guards landed a hundred kicks and blows from their rifle butts on the Stormtrooper until he was no longer moving, then one of the guards finished him off with a single shot to the forehead.
The officer with the vibrosword evidently wanted to be the first to try out his new toy. He stepped to the first Stormtrooper in the line, which happened to be the pink-skinned one who had told him what the weapon was. "Don't worry." The officer laughed at the Stormtrooper. "This will hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me."
With a grunt the officer swung the blade downwards. His unskilled aim had been sloppy and he glanced the blow off the Stormtrooper's armored shoulder pad before it bit into the alien's neck. The vibrosword impacted with a sickening wet thud. The officer was disappointed he hadn't neatly decapitated the captive and was embarrassed in front of his comrades. He angrily pulled the vibrosword free, raised it again and sliced downwards. It took him four tries to cut the captive's head free from his body. The torso fell forward and spilled red blood out into the roadway.
The lunching Legionnaires celebrated with shouts and cheers of "C! E! N!" NCOs went up and down the line encouraging the elite soldiers to rally around the strange punishment detail happening right in front of them. Oliver joined in the raucous cheering between bites of his MRE.
Irked his first kill hadn't been as clean as he would have liked, the officer moved immediately onto the next prisoner. He tried again and again and it wasn't until his fifth prisoner that he managed a clean decapitation in a single stroke.
There was a lot of laughter along the line of Legionnaires, Oliver among them, at the pathetic execution carried out by the CIA field police. Any chance to knock the entitled Intelligence service soldiers down a peg or two was a welcome distraction for the Legion. The officer who had performed the sloppy beheading turned red in his face. Angry at his poor performance or that he had done it in front of mere Legionnaires, Oliver couldn't tell. "Oh, you think you can do better? Who is in charge of this column?"
"I am, Major." Captain Bygar stepped forward. "These are my men. We are advancing into the highlands."
"The whole army is marching into the highlands, Captain. Your men look like they need a lesson in respect first." The Intelligence Major spouted. Oliver didn't like where this was going. The CIA could send them back to Earth to the boredom of guarding Australia from the New Mandalorians or worse, worked to death in the Canadian strip mines searching desperately for rare ore to replace all the durasteel they used up making the new fleet.
"Captain, take this stupid thing and see if you can do any better." The officer held the vibrosword out to Captain Bygar. The Legionnaire took the alien weapon and looked it over several times. Unlike his men Bygar hadn't been raised in the Legions. He had been old enough to have served in the Earth-Empire War in the European Army. Oliver wondered if the Romanian officer was familiar with swords.
Bygar grabbed the vibrosword with both hands tightly around the hilt and spun on the next kneeling Storntrooper. The blade connected perfectly between two vertebrae and sliced neatly through the meat of the enemy's neck. The head lopped off and fell into the road while a geyser of blood shot into the air.
The Legionnaires cheered wildly. Oliver nearly dropped his lunch.
Bygar spun the blade around and offered its hilt back to the Intelligence officer. He looked displeased to have been shown up by a mere infantry officer. "A thousand dollars, Captain. If you can kill thirty in less strokes than I can."
"As you wish, sir." Bygar replied. The two men decided to swap the weapon between themselves after executing each Stormtrooper. Sergeant Rook kept score.
The next Stormtrooper crossed himself before the killing stroke fell. It was another messy kill. The next Stormtrooper waited until the blade was falling before shouting. "Long live the Empress!"
It took the CIA officer twenty minutes to finish his clumsy executions. Bygar did it in ten with far fewer strokes. The other Intelligence officers watched their comrade fall further and further behind while the Legionnaires whooped and hollered with every death.
The guards rolled the bodies into a nearby ditch, kicking the dismembered heads like soccer balls into the pit. Puddles of their blood, all red despite being from different alien species, pooled in the road as tiny rivulets inched their way towards the dining Legionnaires.
Oliver's company watched it all. Hunger and deep seated hatred for the enemy and a cultural faith that they were better than aliens prevented them from looking away or throwing away their lunch. This was war after all. Hadn't the Empire done the same sort of things on Earth twenty years ago? No one seemed to remember.
The Intelligence Major, admitting defeat, pulled out a wad of Confederate bills and paid Captain Bygar his winnings. Bygar told the Major to keep the money as he'd rather have the vibrosword. The Major smiled and gave it to the Legionnaire.
"They should have used pistols. What do you think O-K?" Private Thompson observed to Oliver. He had a point. It would have been quicker and less sloppy.
But they had not come to Mars to be neat. Oliver thought of another alternative to dispatching the Confederate's enemies. "Grenades."
Thompson laughed. "That's fucking dark, man."
"Company, on your feet." Captain Bygar shouted. His new weapon was strapped to his back. His commands were echoed by a dozen NCOs and officers up and down the line.
Oliver stood up and threw his trash on the ground. His muscles were sore from pausing after three days of marching. He shouldered his B1 and took one long look at the pile of bodies. He hoped all alien enemies of the President eventually shared the same fate. This was just a start and up ahead lay the original nest of the Empire, Amidala City.
Ahead of the Legion lay endless victories.
Behind them, rotting in a ditch, lay only defeat.
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Up Next- Meeting of the Sides