First in, Last out
The Siege of Combat base Gloria
Taggart stood in the cavernous Drop-Bay 1 of the TCS Concord. His entire battalion fit easily into the hold, over 120 marines, 24 Goliaths, 12 Arclite's, and 10 Dropships. All of them fit into the bay with enough room to hold at least another full battalion. The air was filled with the smell of oil and grease, there was the soft hiss of a welder as someone made last minute adjustments to armor. The attitude was strangely subdued, with no one yelling or making jokes.
Taggart's battalion was preparing for combat. Men stood together in small groups, going over their equipment. The marine infantrymen were camouflaging their CMC suits. The suits were splash anodized a jungle pattern camouflage then the grunts attached bushels of synthetic grass to the suits to break up the outline. The synthetic plants were an exact match for the elephant grass on Taurus III, the only difference was that they wouldn't die, negating the practice of replacing them every few days. While camouflaging the massive CMC suits might have seemed ridiculous to an outside observer, to the marines it was extremely practical. It had been discovered that Zerg, unless under direct orders of an overlord had an extremely poor sense of sight. No one knew exactly why this was but there had been several documented cases of Zerg running through a camouflaged marine group while on their way to another location.
Weapons lay all over the deck in various states of disassembly. Even torn down for cleaning, the marine weapons oozed pure menace. The C-14, long and cumbersome, and the marine Heavy Machine Gun, with its tripod and ammo bin, looked like they were designed purely to kill. There were muted clicks and snaps as the weapons were worked over with the finest of instruments. They were lovingly cleaned, recleaned and then popped back together. Ammo was being loaded into magazines and grenades were being clicked onto their hard points on the CMC suits.
The pilots of the Goliaths and Arclites were busy also. They too were camouflaging their vehicles and making last minute adjustments. Weapons were sighted in, the twin 30mm autocannons on the Goliaths swaying back and forth with electronic whirrs like sleek, black cobras. Missile racks were rotated and there was the occasional whine then clump as a tank lowered its supports and went into Siege mode. The soft preparations for war were almost peaceful, belying the violence they would create in just a few short hours.
Taggart had received the order to drop onto Taurus III two weeks ago. The TCS Concord had immediately broken pattern with the KTF fleet and headed for Taurus III. Taggart was uneasy, the Concord still only had one Battle cruiser and some Valkryie Frigates for heavy escort. If the Taurus III situation really turned out to involve three broods of Zerg, they would be in over their heads. Thankfully the reports still indicated that only one Zerg brood was on planet and that it was scattered. The Concord would move into low orbit over Taurus III, drop the 9th Marine's and then bug out and rejoin the fleet. Taggart was being dropped onto some area called 'The strip' in his briefing information. It was as good a place as any. After one combat drop on top of a Zerg hive that was at full readiness, any Drop Zone that was reasonably secure was an improvement. After dropping they were to sweep northward to take the pressure off Combat base Gloria. The operation was slated to last for three days.
Taggart shuddered at the unwanted memory. For one second his minds eye was filled with the image of burning drop ships and marines. The screams over the radio as the first wave was annihilated from the air by spore colonies and mutalisks. He shook it off and returned back to business, his own gear lay stretched out in front of him. An officer's CMC suit, a C-14 rifle, spare magazines, two HE grenades, two incendiaries, two smoke grenades, Four cassettes of 40mm grenades for his C-14's grenade launcher, Two weeks worth of C-rations and three gallons of water in his suits water bladder. The men of his battalion headquarters were nearby talking in hushed tones. The Sergeant Major, Taggart's two radiomen who would maintain contact with the TCS Concord and the marine command on the ground, a marine to act as a bodyguard and finally a Forward Observer. The FO, with his own radio, could call down fire from either the Concords section of Wraiths or from the Battle cruiser escorting her.
Taggart's notepad hummed, it was 0900, time to go. Taggart turned towards his men "Saddle up!" he shouted, his voice loud in the quiet of the Drop- bay, the call was immediately echoed by Sergeants and Corporals. "SADDLE UP! SADDLE UP! SADDLE UP!" The calm was immediately transformed into a controlled confusion as marines stepped into their armor and crews manned their vehicles. Taggart climbed into his own armor with a practiced ease. He slung his C-14 over his shoulder and booted up the tactical computer that came with the suit. The display blinked into existence in a corner of the suits visor, displaying his men as blue circles, Goliaths as triangles and tanks as squares. Looking up he noticed 2nd Lieutenant Harold struggling to get the last few latches on his suits legs closed. Walking, over Taggart popped them all with a few smooth motions. Taggart smiled calmly at the young officer. "Relax son, you're going in on the first wave, just listen to your company commander and you'll do fine." Bullshit Taggart thought even as he said it, most likely you'll be dead inside the first twenty minutes. Walking down the line of Dropships he made a crank-it-up motion with his right forearm and he heard the whine as the engines came online. Walking behind the first dropship in line he stood up on the ramp, "First wave, Load" Alpha companies 120 Marines would be on the first wave, the Goliaths and Arclites would be on the second wave. The marines scrambled into their respective dropships, one squad to a dropship. Taggart's headquarters minus Hatfield clomped up the ramp also along with a squad from Alpha. Hatfield would ride down on the second wave in case the first took heavy casualties.
Taggart moved off the ramp as it started to close and sat on one of the benches along the side of the dropship. He clamped himself in and waited. Across from him sat one of his radiomen, he gave him a thumbs up and got one back.
Private First Class Jeremiah Peterson, the radioman, was absolutely terrified. This was his first combat operation and his first combat drop all rolled into one. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing other than staying on the old man's ass. Looking at Taggart he couldn't believe how calm the guy was. There was a sudden kick as the drop ship fired its engines. Peterson gripped his rifle tighter, sure that he was going to start gouging metal anytime now. The dropship rolled forward into launch position hovering a few feet above the deck. There was a sudden roar and the drop ship punched its afterburners and shot out of the Drop bay through the now open magnetic field. There was a pause and the next drop ship launched and then the next. All ten drop ships were clear of the bay in under thirty seconds.
Because the TCS Concord was in low orbit, the drop ships were only in space a matter of minutes before hitting the atmosphere. The drop ship bucked back and forth as they hit the air, rattling their passengers and crew. If I weren't so terrified, Peterson though, I'd probably be hurling my guts out. Out the small view port on the side of the ship he could see drop ships from 2nd and 3rd Battalions spilling from their own drop bays. The fact that they wouldn't be going in alone gave Peterson some comfort. The flight was short, only about fifteen minutes. The pilot reported that they were over the Drop Zone and that it looked hot.
Well that's dumb, Peterson thought, telling us the temperature. A quick popping sound caught his attention, the popping corresponded to holes suddenly appearing in the floor of the Drop ship. He realized with a sudden rush that they were under fi-
Taggart saw the young radioman get hit. Spines were ricocheting all around the cabin and it was only a matter of time before someone was hit. The spine slapped him to the side as if he had just taken a backhand in the face. He slumped limply against his restraining harness. Blood drained from his mouth and down the front of his suit. Taggart didn't know if he was alive or dead, either way he couldn't do anything thing and if he unstrapped he would go flying about.
The belly gun on the drop ship kicked in, the twin autocannons hammering away at the jungle below. Taggart doubted the gunner could see anything, he was probably just shooting up the jungle floor. He remembered when the drop ships used to be unarmed, their only defense was surprise and speed. Taggart didn't know any old drop ship pilots.
Taggart peered out the nearest view port. He could see the strip of cleared ground that was going to be their Drop zone. Red smoke drifted from the DZ, someone had popped it as a signal. Red smoke, the universal indicator of a hot DZ. The pilot came in on Taggart's private com channel inside his suit. "We're coming in hot, ten seconds." Taggart nodded to the sergeant leading the squad in the ship. He started barking out commands while Taggart undid his restraining straps and stood up. Holding on to one of the hand holds on the ceiling he quickly made his way over to the ramp. The ramp lowered as the dropship flared for a quick hover, a landed drop ship was a dead one. The lowering ramp revealed a barren strip of dead land, bordered on both sides by jungle. Taggart noted with satisfaction that the other nine drop ships were in perfect formation behind his.
Time slowed to an instant stand still, the ramp lowered to its full down position. Taggart, now on the ramp watched as the ground slowly advanced towards him. The dropship leveled out of its approach. The view from the ramp gave him a gods eye view of the world. He could see Zerglings already rushing from the tree line. A spine from a Hydralisk snapped past his head. First in, Taggart thought, and jumped from the ramp at a height of ten feet.
His feet hit the ground. The Battle of Taurus III had begun.
The Siege of Combat base Gloria
Taggart stood in the cavernous Drop-Bay 1 of the TCS Concord. His entire battalion fit easily into the hold, over 120 marines, 24 Goliaths, 12 Arclite's, and 10 Dropships. All of them fit into the bay with enough room to hold at least another full battalion. The air was filled with the smell of oil and grease, there was the soft hiss of a welder as someone made last minute adjustments to armor. The attitude was strangely subdued, with no one yelling or making jokes.
Taggart's battalion was preparing for combat. Men stood together in small groups, going over their equipment. The marine infantrymen were camouflaging their CMC suits. The suits were splash anodized a jungle pattern camouflage then the grunts attached bushels of synthetic grass to the suits to break up the outline. The synthetic plants were an exact match for the elephant grass on Taurus III, the only difference was that they wouldn't die, negating the practice of replacing them every few days. While camouflaging the massive CMC suits might have seemed ridiculous to an outside observer, to the marines it was extremely practical. It had been discovered that Zerg, unless under direct orders of an overlord had an extremely poor sense of sight. No one knew exactly why this was but there had been several documented cases of Zerg running through a camouflaged marine group while on their way to another location.
Weapons lay all over the deck in various states of disassembly. Even torn down for cleaning, the marine weapons oozed pure menace. The C-14, long and cumbersome, and the marine Heavy Machine Gun, with its tripod and ammo bin, looked like they were designed purely to kill. There were muted clicks and snaps as the weapons were worked over with the finest of instruments. They were lovingly cleaned, recleaned and then popped back together. Ammo was being loaded into magazines and grenades were being clicked onto their hard points on the CMC suits.
The pilots of the Goliaths and Arclites were busy also. They too were camouflaging their vehicles and making last minute adjustments. Weapons were sighted in, the twin 30mm autocannons on the Goliaths swaying back and forth with electronic whirrs like sleek, black cobras. Missile racks were rotated and there was the occasional whine then clump as a tank lowered its supports and went into Siege mode. The soft preparations for war were almost peaceful, belying the violence they would create in just a few short hours.
Taggart had received the order to drop onto Taurus III two weeks ago. The TCS Concord had immediately broken pattern with the KTF fleet and headed for Taurus III. Taggart was uneasy, the Concord still only had one Battle cruiser and some Valkryie Frigates for heavy escort. If the Taurus III situation really turned out to involve three broods of Zerg, they would be in over their heads. Thankfully the reports still indicated that only one Zerg brood was on planet and that it was scattered. The Concord would move into low orbit over Taurus III, drop the 9th Marine's and then bug out and rejoin the fleet. Taggart was being dropped onto some area called 'The strip' in his briefing information. It was as good a place as any. After one combat drop on top of a Zerg hive that was at full readiness, any Drop Zone that was reasonably secure was an improvement. After dropping they were to sweep northward to take the pressure off Combat base Gloria. The operation was slated to last for three days.
Taggart shuddered at the unwanted memory. For one second his minds eye was filled with the image of burning drop ships and marines. The screams over the radio as the first wave was annihilated from the air by spore colonies and mutalisks. He shook it off and returned back to business, his own gear lay stretched out in front of him. An officer's CMC suit, a C-14 rifle, spare magazines, two HE grenades, two incendiaries, two smoke grenades, Four cassettes of 40mm grenades for his C-14's grenade launcher, Two weeks worth of C-rations and three gallons of water in his suits water bladder. The men of his battalion headquarters were nearby talking in hushed tones. The Sergeant Major, Taggart's two radiomen who would maintain contact with the TCS Concord and the marine command on the ground, a marine to act as a bodyguard and finally a Forward Observer. The FO, with his own radio, could call down fire from either the Concords section of Wraiths or from the Battle cruiser escorting her.
Taggart's notepad hummed, it was 0900, time to go. Taggart turned towards his men "Saddle up!" he shouted, his voice loud in the quiet of the Drop- bay, the call was immediately echoed by Sergeants and Corporals. "SADDLE UP! SADDLE UP! SADDLE UP!" The calm was immediately transformed into a controlled confusion as marines stepped into their armor and crews manned their vehicles. Taggart climbed into his own armor with a practiced ease. He slung his C-14 over his shoulder and booted up the tactical computer that came with the suit. The display blinked into existence in a corner of the suits visor, displaying his men as blue circles, Goliaths as triangles and tanks as squares. Looking up he noticed 2nd Lieutenant Harold struggling to get the last few latches on his suits legs closed. Walking, over Taggart popped them all with a few smooth motions. Taggart smiled calmly at the young officer. "Relax son, you're going in on the first wave, just listen to your company commander and you'll do fine." Bullshit Taggart thought even as he said it, most likely you'll be dead inside the first twenty minutes. Walking down the line of Dropships he made a crank-it-up motion with his right forearm and he heard the whine as the engines came online. Walking behind the first dropship in line he stood up on the ramp, "First wave, Load" Alpha companies 120 Marines would be on the first wave, the Goliaths and Arclites would be on the second wave. The marines scrambled into their respective dropships, one squad to a dropship. Taggart's headquarters minus Hatfield clomped up the ramp also along with a squad from Alpha. Hatfield would ride down on the second wave in case the first took heavy casualties.
Taggart moved off the ramp as it started to close and sat on one of the benches along the side of the dropship. He clamped himself in and waited. Across from him sat one of his radiomen, he gave him a thumbs up and got one back.
Private First Class Jeremiah Peterson, the radioman, was absolutely terrified. This was his first combat operation and his first combat drop all rolled into one. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing other than staying on the old man's ass. Looking at Taggart he couldn't believe how calm the guy was. There was a sudden kick as the drop ship fired its engines. Peterson gripped his rifle tighter, sure that he was going to start gouging metal anytime now. The dropship rolled forward into launch position hovering a few feet above the deck. There was a sudden roar and the drop ship punched its afterburners and shot out of the Drop bay through the now open magnetic field. There was a pause and the next drop ship launched and then the next. All ten drop ships were clear of the bay in under thirty seconds.
Because the TCS Concord was in low orbit, the drop ships were only in space a matter of minutes before hitting the atmosphere. The drop ship bucked back and forth as they hit the air, rattling their passengers and crew. If I weren't so terrified, Peterson though, I'd probably be hurling my guts out. Out the small view port on the side of the ship he could see drop ships from 2nd and 3rd Battalions spilling from their own drop bays. The fact that they wouldn't be going in alone gave Peterson some comfort. The flight was short, only about fifteen minutes. The pilot reported that they were over the Drop Zone and that it looked hot.
Well that's dumb, Peterson thought, telling us the temperature. A quick popping sound caught his attention, the popping corresponded to holes suddenly appearing in the floor of the Drop ship. He realized with a sudden rush that they were under fi-
Taggart saw the young radioman get hit. Spines were ricocheting all around the cabin and it was only a matter of time before someone was hit. The spine slapped him to the side as if he had just taken a backhand in the face. He slumped limply against his restraining harness. Blood drained from his mouth and down the front of his suit. Taggart didn't know if he was alive or dead, either way he couldn't do anything thing and if he unstrapped he would go flying about.
The belly gun on the drop ship kicked in, the twin autocannons hammering away at the jungle below. Taggart doubted the gunner could see anything, he was probably just shooting up the jungle floor. He remembered when the drop ships used to be unarmed, their only defense was surprise and speed. Taggart didn't know any old drop ship pilots.
Taggart peered out the nearest view port. He could see the strip of cleared ground that was going to be their Drop zone. Red smoke drifted from the DZ, someone had popped it as a signal. Red smoke, the universal indicator of a hot DZ. The pilot came in on Taggart's private com channel inside his suit. "We're coming in hot, ten seconds." Taggart nodded to the sergeant leading the squad in the ship. He started barking out commands while Taggart undid his restraining straps and stood up. Holding on to one of the hand holds on the ceiling he quickly made his way over to the ramp. The ramp lowered as the dropship flared for a quick hover, a landed drop ship was a dead one. The lowering ramp revealed a barren strip of dead land, bordered on both sides by jungle. Taggart noted with satisfaction that the other nine drop ships were in perfect formation behind his.
Time slowed to an instant stand still, the ramp lowered to its full down position. Taggart, now on the ramp watched as the ground slowly advanced towards him. The dropship leveled out of its approach. The view from the ramp gave him a gods eye view of the world. He could see Zerglings already rushing from the tree line. A spine from a Hydralisk snapped past his head. First in, Taggart thought, and jumped from the ramp at a height of ten feet.
His feet hit the ground. The Battle of Taurus III had begun.