Marine Corps Space-Air-Ground Combat Center (MCSAGCC)

29 Palms California, United Americas

1527 14JUN2184

A sapphire blue sky looked down on a barren landscape colored in shades of tan. The dry, gusty wind gave no relief from the afternoon sun. Several dust devils could be seen twirling in the wide valley. All native creatures instinctively took refuge from the baking heat, which now soared to over 113 degrees. Other creatures however chose to remain active. Four Armored Personnel Carriers, scouts for an armored battalion, moved across the desert landscape. They approached a barrier minefield looking for signs of the force which put it there. The scout commander in the lead vehicle keyed the radio to report to his commander. The mines were obviously placed in a hurry and there was no sign of their retreating opponents. His troops would be able to create a path in a matter of minutes. Unknown to him, he was being watched.

Several miles distant sat a ridge, clumps of brush scattered at the crest. The scout commander had scanned the hillside looking for observers but gave the crest only a cursory look, as anyone there would have been silhouetted against the sky. A well-camouflaged tarp had been placed over a shallow depression along side the brush, protecting two marines from the intense sun while they watched the valley below. Advanced optics allowed them a clear view of their opponents. As they expected, the infantry dismounted from their armored vehicles and prepared to breach the minefield. Unfortunately for the infantry, they were walking into a trap that the two marines now sprung.

"We have them LT," said Corporal 'Tiger' Mifune, the wiry second squad leader.

Lieutenant Felica Keouakuahu'ula, flashed a grin back to her squad leader. At twenty-eight, she was somewhat older than average for a First Lieutenant having begun her career as enlisted before making the jump to officer. A decorated veteran, she was the Platoon Leader for the highly unusual unit designated Reconnaissance and Tactical Survey platoon, one of only three such platoons in the entire Corps. Nominally attached to Delta Company, 3rd Recon Battalion the platoon would usually be assigned and report directly to the local commander. Today they were the eyes for Lieutenant Colonel Anderson, Commanding Officer of the 4th Marine Regiment.

"Call the artillery please Corporal Mifune, preregistered mission," she consulted her overlay, "Bravo three."

"Aye aye ma'am." The Corporal picked up the handset but before he could send a message their radios blurted out an announcement.

INCOMING, INCOMING

ROUNDS IMPACTING

SUCESSFUL TAC-NUKE STRIKE

The two marines looked at each other and spoke simultaneously, "Oh shit."

They looked back towards their own APC, which had been concealed in a depression since last evening. The marker strobe on the top surface flashed red marking 'kill.' The side hatch slammed open and out stormed the Platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Lutellis Tucker. Even from a distance they could see that the husky marine's chocolate complexion was turning a shade of purple. "No way! NO FUCKING WAY!" he roared. "Lieutenant Keo I'm calling bullshit and waving the flag on this one! There is no fucking way in hell they could have known this fucking vehicle was here, not the way we crept in last night! And I know for goddammed-MOTHERfucking sure they could not have seen it without a satellite."

Keo slid back out from under the tarp. "At ease Staff-Sergeant." Barked the Lieutenant.

"Sorry ma'am, but you know we're being screwed. We put a lot of work into setting up this OP and we get hit for no reason.."

"I know Mojo," she said using Tucker's informal call sign, "let me see the status board." She took the intell unit the Tucker held out and glared at the display. Wiping some stray hair out of her eyes, she read the data indicating that her platoon was now so much radioactive vapor blowing across the desert. "I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation why OPFOR decided to do a recon by fire. Exactly on our position. With a nuke." Keo's teeth were gritted tight by the end.

Cpl. Mifune emerged from the hide. At 5'4' the Japanese-American stood two inches taller than his Lieutenant but was still nearly a foot shorter than the platoon sergeant. He carried the portable radio with him. "Ma'am, it's Blackhorse calling for Kilroy," he said indicating their headquarters was calling the recon marines.

"For the love of.." she began, finishing with a frustrated sigh. The Lieutenant traded the intell unit for the radio and replied, "Blackhorse this is Kilroy, send traffic, over."

"Kilroy, Blackhorse has message for Kilroy six, over." The command wanted to speak to the recon command.

"This is six actual, over" Keo confirmed that she was personally taking the message.

"Status board shows you have taken 100 casualties, break. Blackhorse six actual is calling endex for your unit, break. Account for personnel and equipment then report to six actual at your earliest convenience how copy? Over." The training was over for the recon platoon and the force commander wanted to see them ASAP.

"Solid copy Blackhorse. Will be enroute to MAGTF in ten mikes. Kilroy out." She looked at her senior NCO who appeared to be ready to break into another tirade. "Well it sounds like the Colonel wants to speak to us," she cut him off before he could begin. "Maybe he will explain where that nuke came from. Interesting how quickly they called after the hit."

"Yes Ma'am it sure is." Tucker's restraint was visible.

"Call everyone in Mojo, we'll have a powwow by the APC in three mikes."

"Aye, aye ma'am." Tucker turned to Mifune. "You heard the lady, make it so. I'll get Khan and his bunch of misfits rounded up."

As the two NCOs hurried off to carry out her order she walked to the strip of shade along the APC. She took the moment to remove her helmet allowing the wind to cool the sweat that had built up. A few strands of black hair escaped and flew free, but not enough to warrant adjusting the bun she wore it in. What she really felt like doing was peeling off the armor and letting the wind at the sweat that covered her body. Instead she settled for taking a drink from her canteen.

Soon the group gathered around; taking the cue from their leader they removed their helmets and drank their tepid water. Keo looked over the dirty faces of the men and women who had been in the field for a week now. Frustration was apparent along with cautious curiosity of what was going to happen. "Do we have everyone?" she asked Tucker.

He well knew that the Lieutenant had already done a mental roll call. "Squad leaders?" He asked simply, though he too already knew the answer. After receiving three thumbs-ups he reported back. "All accounted for, Lothar is in the vehicle monitoring the radio. Her squad leader can fill her in." He looked at Corporal Khan who nodded.

"OK, here's the scoop. First, we are all dead." She was interrupted by a chorus of boos and catcalls. "The enemy dropped a nuke on us." A louder chorus punctuated with profanity followed.

A swarthy dark haired marine spoke up above the rest, "A fuckin' nuke LT? How fuckin' lame."

One of the largest marines in the unit, a giant man tattooed with spiders and webs, holding a M56 spoke up, "What was the matter LT? Were we doing our jobs too good again?"

She looked to her smart gunner giving him a 'could be' expression then continued. "Second, since this was a very lucky hit and interestingly timed, I am guessing it was rather specifically arranged. Were I a betting woman I would put money that a mission is coming down the pipe."

"So what does that mean to us now?" the swarthy marine asked.

"I'm glad you asked PFC Castillian. We will make sure we are ready for a mission. When we get back to cantonment I want weapons cleaned and secured in the armory. The APC needs a full LTI, unit gear maintained and packed for embarkation. Pack yourselves for rapid deployment; we should be fully ready for sixty minute alert duty." Groans came from the assembled marines; one woman slapped Castillian on the back of the head. "I would like all of that done by 1900."

"1900 LT?" Mifune asked, "That's going to take some jumping to meet."

"Very well, 2100 then?" A smile played around the corners of her mouth. "I had been thinking we might get the chance for liberty call and go to mainside for a beer, but if you'd rather work…"

"BEER!" the marines shouted in unison.

She let the smile come out, "All right, I'll see what I can do. Staff Sergeant Tucker and I will go to MAGTF and see what the Colonel wants to talk about. I'll mention your hard work out here and see if he will cut us some slack."

"At least it will get us out of the heat." Tucker told the marines. He wiped the sweat on his bare scalp and running down his face. "You would think after four hundred and seventy-two years the Marine Corps would have developed some goddam air-conditioned armor." He looked at the waiting marines, "OK people, the LT has given the word and that beer is not going to come to us. My throat is really fucking parched so you all better get moving; you know what I get like when I miss out on my comforts. Squad leaders load your people, we're going back to camp."