The predawn silence was punctuated by the whir of turbines and the rumble of diesel engines. The first vehicle, a Bradley Autonomous Control Vehicle rolled forward onto the stone circle. A figure moved up to the circle and with a flash of light from their hands, extending into the circle, it disappeared and emerged on a far-away world. And so followed the armored column. MQ60A5s, M1A4s, and Griffin Infantry Support Vehicles rolled up one-by-one attended by an entourage of light support vehicles and ammo carriers.
The Anomaly functioned off of a simple activation using aura. One had to simply channel their aura, either through contact or through a semblance, into the circle and it would switch the positions of whatever was standing on the two connected circles.
The Anomaly was somewhat particular about what qualified as "Standing" in it. The object or person couldn't be making contact with the ground outside of the circle, which itself was 15.19 meters in diameter, limiting some of the potential items that could be shipped through. There were theories that The Anomaly could only transport a certain maximum mass and that by making contact with the ground it was trying, and failing, to transport the entire Earth, though they as of yet had not discovered the exact value of such limitations.
The current system for transport revolved around a jumpmaster who had their aura unlocked. As of now this was a member of the Atlas military that volunteered or was voluntold to help. Jump cycles started on the Earth side with at least one scheduled jump every 30 minutes Earth time to check on the Remnant side and make sure they didn't need to transport anything back.
In normal operations the Jumpmaster would take whatever was being shipped from Earth to Remnant, wait until that shipment had been moved to a safe distance away and whatever personnel or equipment that was being shipped to Earth was boarded and then would activate the circle again, shifting back to Earth. Any personnel and equipment heading to Earth would then clear the circle and the new load would be moved onto the circle.
The far end posed other problems. Located on an island 40 kilometers off the western coast of Sanus with it being significantly further to any major settlements like Vale, the Remnant end of the circle not only left the forward defensive position exposed to large ocean-going grimm, it was outside of rapid response time from Vale, meaning that to adequately defend it, at least from the perspective of U.S. HICOM, a large garrison had to be permanently stationed on it.
The island at this time was a buzz of activity. Bulldozers dug entrenchments for the MQ60s at key positions around the perimeter of the island. A Stryker Brigade was already there, having been airlifted to the entry site a week prior while orders were dispatched and the Armored brigade was transported.
Floating in the sky above them like a pair of sharks were two Atlesian Warships. There was a small contingent of Atlesian troops on the island but they had mostly acquiesced to the United States' claim after promises of a future deal being worked out. The Atlesians accepted such promises after it was made clear that if they did not agree they would just get help from Vale and leave Atlas completely out of any deal. Seeing as there were no other inhabitants to challenge the claim the U.S. asserted and the Vale Government hadn't exercised any real authority over the island, they won by default.
Daniels watched this unfold from the new HQ, overlooking the coastal plain of the island from its one modest hill. Beside him was Major General Hugo McKay, who was now in overall command of the operation.
Speaking to his peer Daniels said, "Well I can't say I'm exactly sad that the DOD strong armed Homeland Security about this. I know it will save me money on Ibuprofen."
McKay chuckled, "I'm kind of dreading it. At least the locals seem more friendly than some of the other places around though that ain't exactly saying much."
Daniels sighed as the cool sea-breeze blew over him and said, "This place really does beat the pants off Arizona, I will miss it."
"Ah ah ah, not so fast." McKay admonished, "I'm keeping you on in an advising role."
Daniels did a double take. "But-" he started.
"But I put in a request to the Joint Chiefs, they got your boss to sign off on it." McKay said, cutting him off.
"Holy shit, you didn't." Daniels said.
McKay chuckled, "Danny boy, when will you learn that rank hath its privileges."
They watched for a while longer, drinking coffee and seeing the start of a new extension of the United States unfold below them.
Daniels and McKay sat across from the titular General Ironwood in a meeting room on one of the Atlesian warships.
"So, you're here to make a deal?" He asked.
"Yes." Daniels spoke. "Our government believes we can help each-other out."
Ironwood nodded and said, "I believe that could easily be the case, so what are you offering?"
McKay spoke this time, "We've heard about your issues getting into space. We can help with that."
Now that got Ironwood's interest and McKay continued, "We are willing to offer information on the manufacture and usage of hypergolics and nitrogen based fuels and explosives. These are not based on dust and are used on our rockets when putting satellites into orbit."
"And what do you want in return?" Ironwood asked, suspicious.
"Aura and dust." Daniels said, "Aura specialists, experienced soldiers, and other personnel to activate and train a cadre of our troops in its usage as well as dust in substantial quantities for us to experiment with. We'll work out the exact details as we go."
Ironwood nodded, saying, "That's a god's offer there. I would say I accept but I won't know how the other council members will view it. I'll propose it in an emergency meeting once we finish and we'll work it out from there."
"Thank you, that would be very helpful to both of our interests." Daniels said.
"Congratulations your ODA has been selected for a classified training operation, pack your personal belongings and kit and be ready for pickup at 1130." Captain Jairo Mays read to the group of assembled Green Berets. The ODA, or Operation Detachment Alpha, was the 12-man tactical unit of the Green Berets, specializing in unconventional warfare as well as training and advising of local forces. In this case their ODA was helping local Iranian National Army units mop up elements of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard after the successful Green Revolution.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Ops Sergeant Scott Poole asked.
"That means we get ready. Command must have a good reason to pull us out of the hottest zone of Iran." Warrant Officer Miguel Torres said, already stuffing things into a sack.
"Should. Command should have a good reason to pull us out from where we're needed." Mays corrected, reflecting some of the doubts of the men under him. Sensing the bleariness that the detachment was currently displaying he said, "We've got time, head to the mess and have breakfast, be ready by 1100. Dismissed."
The ODA got up and filed out of their plywood, sheet-metal, and sandbag crackhouse of a barracks and to the equally dubious "mess". They sat around, talking, joking, and eating. It was a hair before 0600, they could take their time a little today.
Poole stopped by Mays before he headed to breakfast and asked, "Is there a reason we are not turning in our weapons to the Battalion armory?"
Mays shrugged, "I have no clue, but if that means what I think it means this 'training mission'" he said with air quotes, "Is going to have some pretty nasty OPFOR."
Poole just nodded and continued.
Junior Medical Sergeant Martin Williams was silent as he ate. He mechanically shoveled food as he ran through the op that they did about a week ago again in his head.
Sniper hits Kelly, he goes down. Edwards and Ward send a recoilless rifle round into the building. Place crumbles. Run over to Kelly, he's bleeding, neck wound. INA troops move up next to us, covering fire. Win the gunfight. Grab Kelly's harness, pull him to cover. Get the patient to safety. INA troops get back to cover. Bullet has severed the Carotid Artery. Bleeding in spurts. Packing won't help, blood needs to flow to the brain. Need to reconnect the artery. Others hold him still, give him morphine. Reach into neck wound. Grab exposed ends. He goes unconscious. Clamp the proximal side. Staple the two together. Wrap with constriction tape. Cauterise with laser. Bandage melts too, fusing to artery. Sealed. Release clamp. Wait. It holds. Pack the rest of the wound with gauze. He's still breathing. Apply pressure dress around it. Stop the bleed. Secure head with brace. Still breathing. Get out stretcher, move away from combat zone, 500 meters. CASEVAC via Griffin IFV. Get a saline drip in-
He was snapped out of his trance when Poole sat down next to him. Poole looked at his tray of food and sighed, saying, "You need to move on. We all loved Kelly like a brother but you need to stop beating yourself up over this. No-one here blames you." He interposed his head with Williams' gaze and pointed to the other team members. He continued, "Now I know you're the 'new guy' but Jesus christ man, what you did was better than anything I have ever seen and I have seen some 18 Deltas do some wild fucking shit in my time." He paused, "Hell as the fucking Junior Medical sergeant nonetheless."
"But it wasn't enough." Williams muttered.
"And that's fucking life. If you hadn't tried to save him he would've bled out right there and then. An air embolism wasn't exactly on the high list of concerns when we pulled him out. I know the 18 X-ray program ain't the normal pipeline but out here in the field you need to get it in your head that shit isn't always going to be peaches and cream people you know are going to sometimes die. And yeah you can ruck well and shoot Rev Guards without a problem but accepting that people around you can be hurt and killed is a whole different set of skills that they don't teach you when you get the Green Beret." He said but backed off in tone a bit as he noticed the effect on Williams. More carefully he said, "The team trusts you. They saw what you did for Kelly, they take comfort in knowing you're with us in case we catch some. By God you're the best 18 Delta I've seen and I couldn't be more happy to be in the same ODA as you."
Williams snorted and a crack of a smile formed.
"So why don't you join in?" Poole said, giving Williams a friendly slap on the back.
Ironwood was seated in his office as Winter walked in.
"Take a seat." He said, not looking up from his paperwork.
She walked up and continued to stand in front of him. He looked up and sighed.
"That was an order specialist." He said, placing some of the documents in a file.
She complied and sat down.
He finally focused on her. "Do you know why you are here?" he asked.
"Yes sir." She said, looking straight at him.
"Then you know what I should do." he said, steepling his hands.
She just nodded dully.
"Now fortunately the U.S. just brushed it off and sent an invoice for the bomb they used but you need to understand what you did, jeopardizing an alliance with a potential future ally, is completely and utterly unacceptable."
Winter moved to speak but Ironwood cut her off. "I know you were mad about Weiss and frankly if I were in your position I would be too. But your emotions getting in the way of your judgement indicate you are not fit to serve on the front lines." He paused, letting her take in what he was saying, "I know I would've done almost the exact same thing as the U.S. commander if I were in their shoes. I do not blame them for what they did. Yes it was nasty. Yes they should've treated your sister and her team better. But they were faced with the unknown and when people face the unknown they get scared. We need to make it a mission to reach out to them and secure an alliance if possible because frankly, their involvement could make Atlas The global superpower." He didn't add that the manpower and weaponry they brought could turn the tide against Salem but only time could tell if that hope would come true.
"So where does this leave me now?" Winter asked dully.
Ironwood sighed and said, "You're going to be stripped of your rank and forfeit your pay but we aren't going to try you for treason."
"That's hardly reassuring." She said.
"It's what you deserve. You are dismissed." He said coldly.
She got up and was partway to the door when he cleared his throat.
She turned to him and he said, "One more thing. I've sent you a new assignment. You're going to Earth as part of our joint training force. Orders are on your scroll. That is all."
She soluted and left.
Their ODA was picked up by a V-280, side doors opening as the rotors were in the vertical for approach. Williams took a moment to appreciate the engineering that went into the machine as he got in and settled down. His belongings, kit, and weapons were all with him as he made idle chatter with the others. Soon they stopped, put on music over earbuds, and most importantly slept.
The flight from north of Tehran to Joint Base Balad in Iraq took just over an hour. In his moments of lucidity Williams looked out over the Iranian countryside, marked with ridges, valleys and sporadic human habitations.
They landed on one of the panyards, a distance away from a spooled up C-130 that Williams was sure was against some regulation. They were quickly ushered over to the waiting aircraft where they found several other ODAs already boarding the aircraft. Their ODA quickly joined them.
Mays was shooting the shit with the other team leaders. Williams walked up and looked for a seat. His eyes furrowed when he saw a familiar face. "Son of a bitch." he muttered as he walked up to fellow Green Beret. "Mike!" He yelled. The dusty blond turned and a grin a mile wide split his face.
"Damnit Martin, I thought I ditched you in North Carolina." He joked.
"Ah you know me, can't pry me off that easily." Williams responded. Sergeant Michael Smith motioned for Williams to sit next to him and another operator.
Speaking to his team member Michael said, "Reno, meet Martin Williams, we did Robin Sage together."
The man next to Michael in a deep southern accent said, "Pleased to meet you Williams." and extended his hand in greeting.
Williams firmly shook it and sat down, stowing his gear. He turned to the other operators and asked, "You here for the 'training.' I take?"
"Yeah, but you should probably be more careful with that. Command has been pretty anal about keeping this airtight." Reno L. Clark, as his name tape revealed, said.
Williams nodded, pursing his lips and asked, "You think it has to do with the stuff stateside?"
"My guess is it does. Hell they called up a full Stryker Brigade from the Nat Guard on short notice. Maybe some full-spectrum exercise or some shit." Michael said, wrestling with a pocket on his ruck.
"My guess is it has to do with the new exosuits they've been promising for forever, you know, the ones with enough battery for us unsupported folks to use." Reno said, involuntarily massaging his back.
"Amen to that if it's true." Williams said, feeling the soreness in his own back despite only pulling light duties the last few days.
"Still doesn't make sense to me. Like why not just pull some guys from stateside rotations, equip them, then deploy them, and then pull us out and then train us?" Michael asked.
"That would be the intelligent choice. Military don't do intelligence, especially when it could help some boot on the ground like me." Reno said dryly.
"Still look up to you for putting up with their bullshit on a daily basis. I just blow shit up." Michael said.
"And I have to say you excel at that." Reno said.
"From you that means everything." Michael replied.
Butting in a bit, Williams asked Reno, "You an 18 Zulu?"
"Foxtrot, but that just means I get to still be the messenger." Reno replied coolly.
Williams nodded and they settled into a comfortable silence.
45 minutes later it was distinctly less comfortable in the Iraqi heat. Apparently there was one more ODA due to arrive. They waited for another hour and a half, which given the situation was actually pretty lacking on the "wait" part of "hurry up and wait", not that anyone was complaining when the C-130 started rolling down the taxiways.
From there it was off to Al Udeid Airbase in Qatar. They stepped off the C130 and were immediately directed to a C-5 where they joined yet more ODAs and other special operations personnel.
The flight out of Al Udeid was quiet and when they touched down at Ramstein Airbase in Germany the (relatively) cool air was much welcomed, if it was a touch more humid than they may have liked.
They were shown to a separate shelter where they were fed and housed for a few hours while the C-5 fueled up. They spent the time talking amongst themselves, reconnecting with former ODA teammates and people they knew from the pipeline. SOF was a pretty small community and it was pretty much a guarantee that each ODA had around one to two degrees of separation from at least one member in another. Eventually they were shown back out to the plane and took off across the Atlantic.
While some had stayed awake on the flight from Al Udied, everyone slept on the flight to Joint-Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst, New Jersey. When they landed they again didn't get to enjoy being stateside as they were again shuffled off to a repurposed hanger.
They ate and slept but did little talking this time. The travel was starting to eat away at them.
They were called out again and again, they loaded up.
When they landed again they were met with familiar desert heat, this time from Tucson, Arizona. Davis Monthan Airbase was a surreal experience. On one side was a city, on the other, row upon row of mothballed aircraft.
Williams thanked god that instead of some hanger they were led to a makeshift, if air conditioned, barracks. They were organized by ODA and Williams bunked with Ward. Ward was about as terse a man as they come. Williams liked that about him and it made Ward an excellent bunk-mate.
They were called by Mays to bring their weapons and ammunition to the on-base armory. They quickly got the necessary items and then spent 4 hours waiting as every other ODA was doing the same thing and apparently there was an issue in the recording software and an M-25 grenade launcher appeared out of thin air for all the personnel at the armory could tell. For a $30,000 weapon that wasn't an insignificant event.
Personally, as Williams slowly cooked along with his ODA teammates, he thought that the DOD would be thrilled to learn that weapons could be materialized out of thin air.
They got up to the booth and he turned in his SCAR-MX and ammunition for it. The armorer didn't even blink as he sent the item number to Williams' Integrated Communications Device, or as everyone who wasn't in DOD procurement called it, his tablet.
They went to the mess and ate. The food was nice after the long trip and associated bullshit.
They had the evening off which was a blessing. They all slept, as soldiers do, waking for dinner at the mess and a briefing from Mays.
They were going to start classroom training tomorrow with some new device or thing, Mays wasn't exactly clear and to Williams it was apparent he had no idea what was going on as well. The important information was breakfast at 0630 and he would get them for class at 0740 from the barracks. It wasn't that Mays didn't trust the ODA to get to class on their own, he just liked when they walked as a group, an opinion that the members shared as it gave them time to talk about the upcoming exercise or range or whatever was on their minds.
Breakfast was a step up from a FOB in Iran but that wasn't exactly saying much. MREs were most of their diet back then and it showed when every single member of the ODA had to use the head.
They headed back to the barracks and got what they needed for the day. Water, snacks, the works. Being able to shower off the previous day had been a godsend and their field funk was mostly faded and fresh laundry just heightened that feeling.
So when they walked out of the barracks to meet Mays at 0740 they were in good spirits. Mays led them to a building that branded itself the "Kennedy Professional Development Center." Poole muttered something about the airforce but Williams couldn't catch it. They walked in and Mays went to a table setup just inside the entrance. He greeted the receptionist and said, "ODA-5234, Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th SFG for the 0800 appointment."
Williams sent a silent prayer that the paperwork had been properly filed. He could deal with mud, the enemy, and trauma wounds that most would write-off as death sentences but the infuriatingly glacial pace some elements of the military operated at boiled his blood a little.
God or the staff of this impromptu operation were feeling gracious and the receptionist smiled and pointed them on their way. They gave her courtesy smiles and nods as they walked down the halfway into a meeting room.
They were still a bit early but another ODA was already there. They greeted each other and sat down. Mays struck up a conversation with their CO, apparently they were part of the same special forces company at some point in the 1st SFG, deployed to The Philippines during the South China Sea clashes of 32'.
Williams was snapped out of his eavesdropping when two people entered the front of the room. One was familiar, at least in dress. Some Major by the rank stripes on his fatigues. The other, the other Williams had no idea what the hell to think of.
She was dressed like one of those cosplayers he'd occasionally hear about. Sure it was definitely high-quality material and appeared well tailored but that, combined with white hair that was definitely not to regulation even though it was in a bun, and William couldn't help but raise his eyebrows with incredulity.
He wasn't the only one. Several of the other operators both in his ODA and their partners for this course were doing the same.
Sensing the skepticism that he was facing the officer at the front of the room said, "Let me make one thing clear. Nothing about what is said in this room will leave it unless you are given express permission to disclose it. Failure to maintain secrecy is punishable under UCMJ article 92 and you will face dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of all pay, and confinement for two years. And let me make it clear you will face those charges if you so much as moan a word of this while you're fucking your girlfriends!"
"Well that certainly set a different tone." Williams thought but kept to himself. They didn't need this talk but if this major had a hate boner out for them as it seemed then giving him an excuse to throw the book at them was a dangerous game.
The woman cleared her throat and said, "Ah, thank you Major, I am Private Winter Schnee of the Atlesian Military and I come from a different planet."
The final words of her sentence were less heard and more felt like a grenade going off in the room next to you, leaving a hemisphere of blood and viscera around it only for some forensics people to pull bone fragments from the ceiling.
The room was silent until one operator said, "Bullshit."
Simple as that. Why the fuck should they believe some civy probably brought in for some Bird Colonel's stupid prank that would end with their early retirement but was most likely cooked up for an elaborate (and doubtless prescription drug fueled) revenge plot against the son-of-a bitch that took the posting he or she wanted.
The woman sighed and held out a hand, on which appeared an elaborate series of geometric circles seemingly made from white light.
This got the attention of everyone in the room with the exception of the major who just surveyed the shocked expressions of the members of the ODAs.
"What the fuck." Williams heard Mays mutter.
"This is the power of aura. An ability native to my planet but usable by the humans on Earth." She explained coolly.
"What exactly does it do?" Poole asked, "Because if it's just making some spinning circles I can't say I can think of many uses outside of signaling, granted I'm not an 18 Echo so that's out of my expertise but still."
"I'm glad you asked." The woman said. Williams did not care for the tone she used. Maybe his time in SF was coloring his view on formality and rank but the way she seemed to just feel better than them rubbed him in all the wrong ways.
No matter how much Williams might want to give a piece his mind she continued, "Aura is found within all living things and once it is unlocked it allows a number of abilities normal people are not afforded." She took out the sword that was at her side, a detail that Williams cursed himself for not noticing. She promptly shredded a piece of paper to show it was sharp, took it in one hand, brought it up, and stabbed her other hand.
Williams involuntarily got up, expecting spurting blood and a skewered extremity. Except that wasn't the case. The woman held up an unmarked hand and as Williams slowly sat down she explained, "Aura can be used to enhance one's body, shielding it from damage, giving its muscles more strength, or giving endurance that no person without aura could dream of."
More looks were exchanged and the CO of the other ODA asked, "So what does unlocking one's aura involve?"
Instead of directly answering his question, Winter said, "Aura is a manifestation of the soul as we understand it. Unlocking it isn't easy and it isn't risk-free." She sighed, "To mitigate adverse reactions a specialized Aura manipulator is needed. Even then as people age, unlocking an aura becomes more and more dangerous."
The major took a turn to speak. "You will be given a choice. Being passed out are the side-effect rates for aura activation with age, physical health, and various other factors." An aid carrying a thick stack of pamphlets passed one out to each Green Beret. The major continued, "Those who are willing to participate in the program will be removed from active duty rotations and put into the pipeline for Aura-Enhanced Soldiers. You will have the advantage of skipping straight to advanced training given your previous SOF experience."
There was a pause and the major stated, "There will be a Q and A session at 2000 hours, after dinner. Dismissed."
They walked back to their "barracks". Williams spent a good hour pouring over the pamphlet.
For those in excellent health, as they all were, with supposedly some of the best aura manipulators at the ready, the risk was significantly limited from average or poor health individuals.
Still risk of side-effects rose from 2% at 18 to 3% after age 20, from 3% to 5% by 22, and only higher from there. Mays was 32 and would have a 20% chance of side-effects.
Williams himself was 21, and only a few months away from the next risk-hike though he supposed it might not matter due to a six month range on the percentages.
Of those side effects about 20% were short-term memory loss or alteration, 2% long-term memory loss or alteration, recoverable, .1% long-term nonrecoverable, 30% Seizures and other neuromuscular issues, 30% extreme pain short-term with an additional 5% being chronic recurring for an average of eight months. 13% of all activations resulted in comas, with 92.3% of those comas lasting less than a month, 5.8% of comas lasted longer than a month but less than a year, and the remaining 1.9% lasting more than a year.
Williams read this, lips pursed. He had skipped the benefits page so he went back to read what the advantages were.
The average aura user could take a couple 7.62 NATO rounds and a little more without their aura breaking. For the sake of his personal ethics and general workplace safety instincts Williams sincerely hoped that was based on some mathematical value and not practical testing.
Other than that obvious boon a user could expect up to an 800% increase in strength if channeling full aura into a muscle group, a tripling of endurance, and improved rest, recovery, and healing.
It was attractive but it came at significant personal risk.
And then there were semblances. Apparently one could get some unique ability supposedly dependent on their personality and current stress in the environment. Williams inherently disliked that. It was up to chance whether it would be useful or not and chance was just something you avoided in ops.
He sat up when Mays entered the barracks. Slowly the rest of the ODA got up, expectant of some new information.
Instead Mays said, "I want to do some planning around the training."
They all caught his drift and pulled up some chairs in what was some sort of unused service room. They spoke in hushed tones, trying to avoid the wrath of higher-ups.
"So what do you want to talk about exactly?" Poole asked.
"I want to figure out if it's worth it since outside intel isn't giving me any sort of analysis." Mays clarified.
"Well it would just be if the chance that it will save your life is greater than the chance it will ruin it. Then it will be worth it." Ward, their Communication Sergeant, said.
"I disagree slightly, it's more complex than just that." Williams said.
Ward let him continue. "You have to consider the potential to mitigate lifelong injuries and weigh that against lifelong disabilities given by an adverse reaction." Williams explained
"Alright, so what percentage of folks get disabled in the military?" Mays asked, guiding the group along.
"About 25 percent but that varies significantly in severity. Overall about 13 percent have a disability rating over 50%." Williams said, looking at some statistics on his tablet.
"What does that mean?" Poole asked.
"40-60% is about what you get for a leg amputation, obviously something like that is pretty life changing so that's where we'll draw the line." Williams continued.
Mays nodded and Poole added, "But we have to look at cause, would an aura help you with an IED? Those cause most deaths and injuries by a long shot and I'm pretty sure no magical space armor is going to help you from being mulched by a repurposed 152mm shell."
Williams nodded along with the line of thinking and the brainstorming went on.
Eventually, after lots of hair-pulling and number crunching, it was decided that 27 was the magic age at which it became statistically less worth it to undergo aura unlocking assuming the current state of affairs continued. Their findings were diligently recorded, quietly pocketed, and duly spread among the other ODAs and special forces units.
Williams went over to where Michael and Reno were billeted. In his pocket were a few handwritten copies of their findings. No printing here, the risk of discovery was too great. He found them looking over similar pamphlets to what they were given. He coughed lightly, announcing his presence.
They looked up and Michael said, "Martin, you're here."
Quietly taking out the papers Williams handed them over and said, "I see you guys got 'the talk'. Here are some calculations my ODA did on whether or not we should do it. Pass these along to other units when you're done."
Michael quietly took the papers, passed a copy to Reno, and started reading through them.
After a while he said, "27 huh, what do you think Reno?"
Reno was absorbed but said, "Seems sound enough, kind of a dick move for command not to put this together."
Williams shrugged, "Command probably didn't think to, at least that's what I would like to think, they probably just want as many people with aura as possible which is why we got to play this close to our chest. I don't know about you but the Major that was in charge of our demonstration had a stick shoved so far up his ass if he was stationed at Thule he'd be a goddamn popsicle."
Reno grunted at this and said, "Thanks Williams, I'll talk with some of the other 18 Foxtrots that I know."
"Good, just keep this on the down-low so command doesn't burst a blood-vessel." Williams said.
"I will." Reno said in a tone that soothed Williams' nerves.
He'd faced hunter-killer atgm teams, snipers, the constant threat of IEDs, airstrikes, and artillery barrages, but crossing command was definitely one of the most precarious positions he felt himself in.
Lunch was… interesting. The mess was silent yet the tension in the air was so thick it could be cut. A few glances were given to Mays' ODA as a whole. Scuttlebutt spread faster than the papers and their rudimentary analysis of the situation had shifted some opinions on the matter.
Before anyone could come over and talk to them more, a person in officer's dress stepped up on a stage at the front of the room. He tapped a microphone and it sprung to life.
This got everyone's attention and what little conversation existed died down.
The officer spoke, "It has come to our attention that the side-effects of certain procedures has everyone very concerned. To sweeten the deal a pay raise of 15% is offered to all willing to undergo it, including backpay since enlistment."
"Including backpay?" Poole mumbled. "Hell, maybe I should do it."
Williams did some mental calculations and while it may not be a massive jump for him it would definitely be quite a lot for some of the older guys.
He shot a look towards Mays and he could see the man concentrating, obviously mulling over the amount of money.
PT was a refreshing break from the thinking. Williams finished his deadlift set and let Ward take over while he drank a protein shake and rested his legs a bit.
They were doing 3-rep sets, slowly working up the weight and then down as they tired.
Ward finished and Williams took over, taking the opportunity to feel his muscles tighten and flex as he lifted the barbell. It currently had just north of 400 pounds on it and he strained to straighten. 1… 2… His muscles just couldn't get to three. He started, got halfway, and dropped the weight.
Ward managed to get to 430 before he couldn't make 3 reps so they started working down from there.
Williams imagined being able to lift up to 4,000 pounds. The simple concept of being able to lift up most cars was insane for him. "Fucking hell." he muttered reflecting on the topic.
"Thinking about aura?" Ward asked, finishing a set.
"Yeah, how could you tell?" Williams asked.
"Who isn't." was his simple answer.
Williams got back to lifting.
Williams was lined up outside of a nondescript building that could hold any number of functions for the untrained outside observer. He however knew that it was where everything was going to change for him and the other men and a few women in the United States Special Operations Forces.
He took a few deep breaths and took another step forward in line. His heart-rate was elevated but wasn't spiked with the adrenaline of combat. What bothered him was that what lay ahead was a roll of the dice.
Granted, much of combat was just a roll of the dice. Does that mortar round hit you or the building next to you? Does the IED go off when your convoy passes it? Does that child Islamic Revolutionary Guard hit you with their spray of bullets or does it just go over your head?
Well maybe aura could take a little bit of that chance out of the whole matter.
It was his turn.
He walked in, was given a ticket and waited. The wait wasn't long but he saw an operator get wheeled out, strapped down and screaming in pain until he was sedated. He took another deep breath.
His ticket number was called. He walked into the indicated room and was motioned to sit down on the ground.
A woman in a nondescript medical gown sat down in front of him and said, "Please give me your hands." The door closed behind them leaving them alone in the room.
He complied and she put one of his hands around the back of her neck and grasped the other onto her forearm.
She mimicked him and he noted her hands felt cold.
She felt his slightly increasing heart rate and said, "Relax, breathe, follow with me. In… Out… In… Out."
He breathed with her and they were as one for a moment.
Then it began. "For it is in growth through which we gain immortality. By your plow, hand, and soil you will create. Protective, nurturing, exposed to the unknown, I release your soul and plant thee."
A sensation, not quite warm, not quite cold flowed through her into him. He got flashes of images. A farm, a family, a girl, her. As he stared into her closed eyes he saw creatures of blackness tearing through a town, a teenager trying to fight them with a polearm and running after it was broken in two. The same young woman crying over a bleeding boy, desperately trying to revive him.
Then it was over and the woman opened her eyes and pronounced, "It's finished, your aura has been unlocked, please exit through the door. Make sure to not exert yourself the rest of today while it charges up."
Williams stood slowly, unnerved by what he saw. Before he left he asked, "What was the boy's name?"
The woman had a distant look and said, "Hvede, he was my brother. Who was the soldier that you saved?"
"Kelly. He didn't make it." Williams said.
"I'm sorry." She said.
"Likewise," he said, and left.
He was separated from his ODA as per new assignments but managed to talk to them as he packed up his things from his rack and foot locker.
Mays was reading a book and asked, "How was it?"
"Fine, I guess, a little weird but quick enough. I still wouldn't recommend it to you, I think the risk is too high." Williams said, putting some things in a bag.
"And I will take your recommendation into consideration." Mays said, not looking up.
"Thank you." Williams said.
Mays closed his book and got up, walking over to Williams. Williams turned and Mays stuck out his hand.
"Until we meet again." Mays said.
"Until we meet again." Williams echoed and gave his hand a firm shake.
He was assigned to a provisional detachment where he met some familiar faces.
"Mike, Reno!" He exclaimed as he entered the barracks. "And Poole?" he added a little more confused.
Poole was splayed out on a rack, woozy. "Hayyy Willumssss." he slurred out.
"They got him drugged up to the gills." Michael explained, "Acute pain reaction."
"Aw shit, I should take a look at him." Williams said, dropping his stuff off and walking over to his former, and now current ODA teammate.
"Nah he's fine." Reno said, "Docs say it's over now and all that's left is for the drugs to run out of his system."
"Shouldn't he be in the infirmary?" Williams asked.
"I don't know, I'm not the 18 Delta." Reno said, "I'm just the intel guy."
Williams sighed and looked at the empty room that was their barracks and asked, "So who else is being assigned here?"
"I don't know." Reno said.
"And if he did he would keep it a surprise." Michael jabbed.
They got another surprise when Ward and an unknown 18 alpha stepped into the room.
They all quickly got up and saluted the officer but he shook his head and said, "Jesus Christ would you salute your own CO?"
"Uh, no." Williams said.
"Then don't salute me, I'm Devin Hashimura and I'll be your CO." he said, and then paused, adding, "Also instead of normal ODAs we're going to be operating in split teams."
"When did they decide that?" Michael asked.
"Just now, seems higher-ups are riding by the seat of their pants." Hashimura said.
"And who is this surprising?" Reno asked sardonically.
Hashimura just shrugged his shoulders and asked, "So could you all introduce yourselves."
They had Hashimura as CO, Poole as the incapacitated Ops Sergeant, Reno as the Intelligence Sergeant, Michael as Weapons Sergeant, Williams as Medical Sergeant, and Ward as their Communications Sergeant.
That left them without an Engineering Sergeant. Hashimura assured them that the role would be filled but it was obvious he and the others weren't convinced in the slightest by such platitudes.
"Radar contact, bearing 133 West, range 50 kilometers. Atlesians are 30 kilometers to our North and can't respond." The radar operator drilled out from the command center of Joint Base Contact Island.
"Alright, raise the base's alert status." Major General McKay ordered.
"SeaGuardian is en-route." The air controller informed that one of the base's maritime drones was vectored to make visual contact. The SeaGuardian itself was a modified MQ-9 Reaper drone with a surface-search radar suspended below it, the surface search radar that detected the unknown object approaching the island. This drone had to be quickly modified to long-range radio control over the normal satellite uplink due to the lack of requisite infrastructure on Remnant and as such constituted almost all of their early warning capabilities for such threats.
"Harpoons are ready to launch." A weapon's officer announced.
The group waited in silence as distance to the contact shrank to 42 kilometers.
"We have visual contact, confirmation of grimm." The air controller reported. The Grimm itself was mostly hidden by water but a large hump could be seen extending at least ten meters into the air.
"Fire Harpoons." McKay ordered. On the other side of the island a box launcher containing four Harpoon anti-ship missiles fired and they streaked away into the evening light.
They waited as the distance between the missiles and the grimm closed.
"Missiles are within Guardian's guidance range." The weapon's officer announced as the SeaGuardian drone took over control of the terminal guidance, feeding radar information to them. The missiles spread out, a pre-programmed move to counter CIWS systems but was entirely unnecessary when dealing with grimm.
They crossed the horizon as one and the grimm started to rear out of the water at the sight of several objects rapidly approaching it.
The command center got a look at the tentacled, bony mass that constituted the grimm right before the missiles angled up and then dived down, plunging into the grimm and detonating their massive shaped-charge warheads.
The smoke cleared revealing significant damage but not complete destruction. The SeaGuardian drone had increased its distance and a good thing too as the creature thrashed about, flinging bone fragments and water thousands of feet in the air.
It returned to its course and increased velocity, closing more rapidly with the island.
"Get Excalibur rounds loaded. I want artillery to dust that thing." McKay ordered.
The M109 Paladins and Griffin Self-Propelled guns loaded and elevated in anticipation of the order to fire.
"In range." The weapon's officer announced.
"Fire, three rounds each." McKay ordered.
Artillery thundered as guided munitions were sent on their way. The rounds were rocket boosted and adjusted trajectory based on their inertial guidance systems and information fed to them from platforms like the SeaGuardian.
The first volley impacted, tearing apart more tentacles and cratering the massive creature though a good portion missed due to the more imprecise nature of inertial guidance compared to GPS, another nasty byproduct of them not having the satellite constellations of Earth. It thrashed and swung at invisible enemies, enraged, only to be hit by the next volleys in the stonk.
McKay chewed his lip as the grimm still didn't die. Speaking slowly he said, "We'll hold off until we get within range of more conventional rounds. This is quickly becoming overly expensive."
The weapons officer just nodded and relayed the order to hold fire.
The lack of GPS was really not doing them many favors as most of the cheaper medium-range precision guided munitions had that as their only guidance system.
"Target is approaching 16 kilometers, permission to use copperheads?" The weapon's officer asked.
"Granted, fire for effect." McKay said, folding his arms.
Again the artillery batteries boomed. This time their munitions were the M712 Copperhead, a shorter range, laser-guided, shaped charge warhead, round for the 155mm tubes of their artillery. They were also a hell of a lot cheaper than the Excaliburs so the batteries continued to fire as fast as they could load new rounds.
The SeaGuardian UAV played an active role again, providing terminal guidance for the barrage. The grimm withered under fire and eventually stopped moving, floating in the ocean as rounds continued to impact it.
"Cease fire." McKay ordered and it was relayed to the batteries.
The beast lay broken in the water and started to turn to mist.
"Reduce alert status." McKay ordered and around the base people secured weapons, going back to their normal duties.
Zhou Hanying had the enviable job of being Minister of State Security. It was nice in that he was positioned high up in the ranks of The Chinese Communist Party with his position granting him significant sway to place people into jobs and thus gain favors but that boon came with a whole host of headaches and stresses.
When you had to answer to the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party the pressure and stress associated ensured that Hanying's doctor and therapist stayed in business. Hanying had to strike a balance. He had to keep them informed on what was going on around the world but being excessive and not paring down would lead to them finding someone better suited for the job.
The worst part of all was when he couldn't give conclusive answers to what was happening which happened a lot more than he was willing to admit. If he didn't give some sort of conclusive answer they would seek someone else out who could. At the same time if he drew them to the wrong conclusion they would use him as a scapegoat for corruption or some other charge.
It wasn't like they weren't corrupt, they were, if they wanted to twist the laws to where they could touch Hanying, they just needed someone to blame when someone royally fucked up enough for the public to blog about it.
So here he sat, looking at movements of U.S. troops over the last two months wondering what the hell he was going to tell the Central Committee.
He looked up as the department head was making his presentation.
"As you can see in the satellite images the town was completely destroyed. We ran an analysis on the blasts found and they are congruent with their Small Diameter Bombs and their MK 82 500 pound bombs. Due to the dispersed nature of the latter we can assume they were precision guided as opposed to carpet bombed. Other impacts are unidentifiable, possibly from other missiles or cluster munitions."
"Get to the point, why would the U.S. bomb one of their own towns?" Hanying snapped.
"Uh, we don't know, I've contacted other bureaus but they haven't been able to provide information other than the troop movements." The department head said.
"So you're sure that they've moved two brigades, one of them an armored brigade mind you, out into the middle of nowhere for some reason?" Hanying asked.
"Yes, uh, we didn't get any satellite footage as various U.S. bases both on their mainland, on the Korean peninsula, and along the first island chain, including Okinawa and the Penghu islands, turned on their dazzlers so we were focused on what activities they might be hiding there. We did get a number of social media posts that show large vehicle movements into that area." he said, holding out more pictures of the evidence.
"So? That could just be an exercise?" Hanying asked, knowing that other things were afoot but he wanted to cultivate this department head as a potential successor.
"Well as you can see they're constructing an airfield here. There are a number of air bases and airfields nearby so the construction of it is completely superfluous." The department head responded.
"So that brings us back to the question of why. Why would they bomb a town? Why would they move two brigades far away from any active theaters or away from places where they could be quickly deployed? Why are they building an airbase when they have one 90 kilometers away and there is no obvious need for more?" Hanying asked, pinching his brow. Grimly he said, "The Central Committee is going to love this."
His frustration was interrupted by a knock at his office's door.
"What is it?" He asked, annoyed.
The voice from the other side said, "Sir, the American President has made an announcement regarding recent events. It's best if you see it yourself."
At that same moment he received a notification on his smart desk. It was a video of the current U.S. President in a press room, looking tired and generally worn-out. Hanying supposed that wasn't uncommon these days but it was significant enough for him to notice. He hit play.
The President spoke, "Over the past two months a series of events have occurred without explanation in the Southwest of this nation. I feel obligated to speak on this as 241 citizens of the United States were killed as a direct result of these events. It was not an attack by any power this world knows, nor was it a natural phenomenon." He paused, looking around, taking a deep breath, "People of the United States, and of Earth, the nature of the events that took place in Arizona were of extraterrestrial origins." He paused again, looking into the camera. "After the initial alien presence was detected it was too late for the town of Drycreek Arizona. The town was thoroughly destroyed and its populace killed. We acted swiftly in response, destroying the creatures, if you could call them that, with both air and ground forces. At that point it became clear that we were not dealing with the natural. After death they left nothing but bone, reportedly evaporating into mist. We managed to track them down to an anomaly. This anomaly leads to another world. In the time since several humans arrived from the other side, reflecting an independent civilization from our own. We confirmed this through DNA testing and have since established limited contact with the civilizations on the other side as well as establishing a secure perimeter around The Anomaly. They call their planet Remnant and appear to speak a version of English. Going forward we move to establish normal relations with them and intend to act in mutual benefit. Thank you and God Bless America."
He stepped down and left. Everyone was too shocked to ask questions but an announcer said, "The President will not be taking any questions at this time." anyway.
Hanying looked dumbly at the screen. Of all the possibilities he had considered this was not one of them.
He sat back in his chair and chewed his lip, a nervous habit he had worked hard to eliminate. He was not looking forward to his next meeting with the Central Committee.
The phone rang.
It was them.
Hanying changed his mind, he hated this job.