AN: Not much to say here. Although, expect Mars to uh… get his ass kicked by Artemis for a stunt he did here. Also, this chapter will try and showcase the sheer scale of this war along with the American response to the invasion. Final note, I am open to snippets, run the basic idea by me and I might declare it canon. You can send these to me on Spacebattles.
August 13, 2016
1725 Hours
Thalia Grace
75th Ranger Regiment, 1st Battalion
"Dammit Mars"
As the light cleared, Thalia looked down and silently prayed to her father and Artemis to punish the war god. As Leo would put it, this was simply not cool, she had thought that running around in Hoplite Armor had been difficult enough, due to the cuirass weighing twenty-five pounds. But she often wore only the cuirass and maybe a helmet.
But Mars had just clad her, probably without remorse, in mortal wargear. It wasn't particularly heavy like she expected, but it felt really bulky, after glancing down, she decided that may have been the webbing. How the hells did she all of a sudden know this stuff?
That's when she noticed Foley staring at her. "Uh, damn. What the fuck did Mars due to you?" he asked, shocked looking her over.
"What do you mean?" Thalia asked, a sinking feeling in her gut. Her voice sounded a little off, she wasn't sure why though.
When the man didn't answer immediately, Thalia got worried...wait a minute, why did her perspective seem different from prior to Mars pulling a vanishing act? She felt different, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
She heard Dunn's voice from behind her. "Uh, did Ms. Grace have a growth spurt after that flash of red light?"
Oh. Thalia thought as contemplated those words, technically it was out of Mars' abilities, but then again he was a God.
Foley stammered out. "You could say that, I think we need to have a team meeting."
No shit. Thalia most certainly agreed with that idea, she just wanted to know what Mars had done to her and so help him if he had affected her hunters… well… she was fairly certain that Artemis would do something about it.
"Right, I'll go get everyone else." Dunn said, still rather shocked over something, but Thalia wasn't sure that she was going to like it.
She glanced at the two other hunters in the room and then the Lieutenant of the Hunt swore to herself that if she saw Mars again within the next ten years, she would blast him into next week with lightning. A stupid idea to be sure, but considering that it appeared that both Erica and to an extent Reyna had gone through a significant age up?
Reyna hadn't been really affected by it, probably due to her time being a Legionnaire, it made her appear older than she really was. Hells, now that Thalia thought about it, the Roman Demigod could probably pass for seventeen, maybe eighteen. Not to mention she didn't have the almost casual stance of a Hunter, at least when they weren't shooting, but a stance similar to the Rangers.
Erica on the other hand looked shocked and horrified at what had happened to her, it looked like she'd been aged by four years. Indeed the older hunter was also taller by a couple of inches, which meant that Mars had certainly done some weird godly shit. "Uh, you alright Erica?" Thalia asked, then clamped her mouth shut in shock, her voice was now a little deeper than it had been before Mars had vanished.
Erica shook her head. "No ma'am, I am not." there was an unsaid, I feel violated, from her. Thalia sympathized, she felt the same way too. But she figured that this was the least of their problems.
Thalia worked up the courage to speak again as she put a hand on Erica's shoulder. Her voice seemed maybe an octave deeper, but it still felt wrong. "We'll get through this together." and to Thalia's relief, the other girl nodded.
Though, this was probably going to give her nightmares as if she didn't have enough. She probably had about twenty different ones with dozens of variations, though she figured that she would probably be up to thirty before the week was out. Which was a happy thought.
"Thanks Thalia, that makes me feel better. Think Artemis will let us take turns hitting Mars like Nico did when Leo returned to Camp Half-Blood with Calypso?" Erica asked in a whisper.
Thalia couldn't help it, she laughed at that thought. Then she jumped when Foley snarled under his breath. "Honestly, the bastard fucking deserves it."
Reyna nodded. "No shit, dec-" she caught herself and then continued. "Sergeant, gods, that's going to take some getting used to, I almost called you Decanus."
"What the hell does Decanus mean?" Erica asked, fumbling over the latin word.
"The answer is in the question, deca means ten. So it obviously has to refer to something regarding ten, given that it sounds like a rank, it probably means Leader of Ten." Ramirez said and Thalia had to admit that the Private was probably right on the money given how Reyna looked positively gobsmacked.
The former praetor stammered several times before answering. "Not quite, it means Chief of Ten, though Leader of Ten is accurate enough."
Yep, Ramirez certainly had some Athena blood in him if he could figure stuff like that out fairly quick, Thalia mused.
She jumped when Dunn's voice sounded off outside as she swung her rifle around, it had been almost automatic instead of drawing her bow. "Friendlies coming in!"
The other Rangers along with Febe and Sanya walked in, one thing that was surprising was that Sanya didn't seem to have the tube in her chest anymore. But, then again she knew that all of the Gods had healing powers to some extent. It's just that some were better than others at it. A sucking chest wound, as far as injuries went, was relatively mundane all things considered, if somewhat difficult for Nectar, Ambrosia, and Unicorn Draught to set right.
"Right, can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?" The medic demanded, his name tag read Jamie Sutton.
Foley very carefully answered. "Specialist Sutton, how much do you know about Greek and Roman mythology?"
Thalia suddenly felt like she was in the same room as a pressure cooker pushed to the absolute maximum that was about to explode sending Greek Fire and poison in addition to shrapnel flying in all directions, a room that had no windows and one door, with said door being locked and barred while on the other side of said door was a hungry fully grown Drakon that wanted to eat her.
Sutton gave the Sergeant a very dry look. "The extreme basics and not much else, so what does this have to do with anything?"
Ramirez snorted. "The myths and legends are true, although only certain variations of said myths and legends."
Thalia and as she was certain, the other hunters had to not laugh at the shocked expression on Sutton's face. But then the man glowered. "With respect sir, you have got to be pulling my leg."
Foley glanced at Thalia, seemingly asking for permission silently and she nodded. "Remember a couple of years ago how we had that freak superstorm that tore through large swaths of the country that was seemingly fighting itself?"
Sutton turned sad and angry. "My immediate family was wiped out by that thing, EF5 wiped my hometown of Higginsville completely off the map. The reason I survived was because I was in Bootcamp at the time. So what the fuck does that Superstorm have to do with mythology?"
Thalia took that opportunity to speak up. "It was caused by Typhon, a child of Gaia, a massive monster so impossibly huge and powerful that merely flapping its wings created a freak weather event around it."
Sutton paused, he looked at them like they were crazy, but there was something about his posture that seemed different. Thalia was extremely good at reading body language, having spent so much time with wolves (along with meeting Lupa a couple of times), she could see subtle tells about how the man was feeling. "For what it's worth, I know how you feel, you feel like your world just expanded tenfold and that everything you've ever known has been thrown into question. You're at the point where every demigod has just learned what they truly are and thus they've had their whole life turned upside down. I was at the point you are now when I was about seven years old."
Sutton nodded ever so slightly, a normal person might have missed it. "I see, it's just, this is a lot to take in."
To Thalia's right, Febe snorted. "An understatement if I've ever heard one, but hey, I think we can talk about existential problems later and focus on the bigger problems that we have, like what's next for us in this whole mess. I feel like I've been going non-stop ever since the Russians fell from the sky."
"I have to agree with Febe, it's been only just over an hour since the first VDV landed. They would likely be forming up into larger and more powerful formations by now, moreover, if primary landings in the Delmarva Peninsula were confirmed and we don't destroy a particular bridge. The Russians can roll right into Washington D.C virtually unopposed." Foley said, holding up placating hands.
Thalia saw the others nod and she nodded as well. "So what's the plan right now?" The man with the CG slung over his shoulder asked, his nametag read Axton Sosa.
"Best bet is to wait until Badger-Three arrives, they'll likely have a battlefield ambulance with them so they can evacuate Raptor. Then we have to figure out where we're needed next and for the command staff to give us our orders." Foley replied as he looked around at them.
"Badger-Three? What the hell sort of name for a unit is Badger-Three?" Sanya asked and Thalia blinked when the assembled Rangers all broke down laughing.
Alright, what the hell is the joke? Thalia wondered as Foley shook his head clearly bemused. "It's actually a callsign, the name 'Badger' is indicative of a company sized formation within a unit and the 'three' means that said formation is the third platoon within that company. It varies greatly and in some cases can get a little absurd, I remember back when we were fighting in the Middle East how one tank company had the callsign of Pencil." the man said.
That's, oh lord, that's amusing. Thalia knew she shouldn't laugh, but she would later admit that she giggled. A tank formation with a name of pencil, talk about hilarious. "Okay, that's frankly ridiculous, why would a unit get such a callsign?"
Ramirez snorted out a laugh. "They're assigned at random, it's so that way if the enemy can intercept transmissions they can't figure out what's what."
Foley, with an amused grin plastered on his face continued. "Badger-Three in this case means we got a Stryker Platoon heading our way, four Infantry Carrier Vehicles carrying a platoon of infantry between them which is just over forty men and women, a Light Tank, and a troop of six Pitbull UGCVs. Though I wouldn't be surprised if they also got a medical evacuation vehicle with them."
Thalia filed that information away, it seemed substantial enough for what they were guarding.
"Where would we go next?" Febe asked, her voice hadn't changed all that much Thalia noted. Oh yes, she absolutely hated what Mars had done to her and her Hunters.
Thalia watched the leader of their group with curiosity evident in her expression. Then he answered. "To be honest, it could be anywhere up or down the Eastern Seaboard. But we're likely going to be putting out fires until the frontline stabilizes, I am willing to bet that we're going to be in D.C before the week is out."
Thalia felt like her heart had dropped out of her stomach. A battle in Washington D.C? Oh Gods, that wasn't good at all. "You really think so?" She asked and Foley nodded.
"I am sure of it." the man replied.
Shit, that wasn't good, lovely. Thalia glanced at the others and saw a range of emotions amongst the Rangers, they were angry but that anger was focused, it was terrifying to see. The hunters had mixed reactions but she could tell that most of them were terrified at the thought of a battle in D.C, it was something that even scared her. America's capital, becoming a vicious battleground once again just over two hundred years after the War of 1812.
She realized that this was most certainly going to be worse than the Battle of Manhattan, she looked over her hunters and wondered how many would be left after this war was over. Thalia knew that only about thirty or so Hunters of Artemis actually traveled with Artemis at any given point but that there were dozens of "Chapters" so to speak all around the country, these could be larger than the main group by a substantial amount.
"So what the hell did Mars do to you guys? Besides seemingly making you older and giving you proper military equipment?" Dunn asked.
Thalia shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, but she could feel something draped around her neck, "but we'll probably find out more as we go along."
"I think that Mars somehow managed to enlist into the Army, wait no VDF judging, you're appearing on my IFF."
Febe paled, Erica and Sanya swore, Reyna shrugged in confusion, and Thalia growled under her breath in a vicious tone. "Dammit Mars."
Near Fredericksburg Virginia
General Atomics Q-28 Avenger
1745 Hours
It went unnoticed in the skies of enemy occupied territory. The USAF Drone was a General Atomic Q-28 Avenger, the dual variable cycle turbofan engines it had produced a low whine that was barely audible. The stealth UCAV was reconittering possible evacuation routes for civilians to flee from Washington D.C to the south, using its Synthetic Aperture Radar and Multi Spectrum Sensor to scan the ground as it motored south following Interstate 95.
But something got tagged by the wide area AESA radar that made the AI, Culdee, that was controlling this particular Avenger send a ping through the command network to check something that was outside his mission parameters.
The return ping came through two seconds later and with its engines completely inaudible to those below on the ground. Culdee did the AI's equal to a nod and then the Q-28 reacted to his inputs immediately, it came about into a tight bank as it brought its sensors to bear onto the target that had gained the AI's attention in the first place.
Within minutes they were in view and Culdee felt the closest thing to shock and alarm that he, an AI could feel.
Parked comfy cozy along the coast of the Potomac River near and upon Fairview Virginia were Colossai, Beriv Be-2500s. A significant number of them, judging by numbers of aircraft he was seeing, there was the better part of a Regiment at least that had been deployed directly to the south of the Capital.
For the next few seconds, an eternity for an AI, Culdee considered contacting the immediate superiors of his controllers. But then logic protocols overrode those thoughts and the AI decided to ring a bigger alarm bell and contacted the Pentagon. The AI hoped that there was someone who could take his call, the place had been bombed once already and he wasn't sure if its command center was still intact. But he hoped that it was, because they needed to do something about this.
It took but a moment for the Pentagon's own Command AI, which identified itself as Killdane, to receive his Priority Red Alpha ping over the battle network and it immediately demanded why a much lower ranked AI like him was sending such a ping into the Pentagon.
He sent information packets and for ten long seconds Killdane didn't respond, almost as if it had been shocked into senselessness by the information his data packets contained and then the reply came, find those units and destroy those Colossai.
Culdee came around and entered a shallow dive, the internal weapon bay opened and six AGM-169s kicked clear, their engines blazed with light and they rapidly streaked downwards. The bay closed and Killdane deployed flares and chaff as his Avenger came upwards, alerts pinging indicating that a SA-22 Greyhound Gun-Missile System was engaging. Two, four, six missiles inbound, wait there was an aspect change in the missiles, they were going for the JCMs.
Alright, Culdee could work with this and it made sense, a Colossus carried so much fuel that if a fuel tank ruptured and ignited, you would have an instant inferno. One that was unlikely to be controlled unless you brought aerial tankers to the party to contain the blaze. With that seemingly handled, Culdee continued climbing and turned his sensors towards Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania.
Down below the missiles launched by the Greyhounds began intercepting JCMs. Within moments only two missiles remained to continue hurtling downward dive as they streaked down upon a Colossus. The Greyhound went to guns, its dual 30mm 2A38M autocannons came to life, each gast principle gun spat in one second nearly forty-two high-explosive rounds towards the lightweight missiles. It was enough firepower to literally tear a fighter in two with a single burst, one of the JCMs died in an instant as it was blotted from the sky. But the other missile continued diving and it got just close enough that when the Greyhound reengaged and destroyed the interloper. The blast sent white hot fragments punching through the relatively thin skin of the Colossus and some of those fragments ripped through fuel lines, igniting the mixture of fuel and vapors within. Fire spurted from the jagged gashes as the Colossus began to burn, the aircraft's triple redundant fuel lines for the five engines on its starboard side biting it in the ass.
Culdee did the electronic equivalent of a nod at the sight of the thick black smoke that was beginning to billow from the aircraft and its ruptured fuel system. That aircraft was as good as destroyed. He hoped to have had more, but to be frank, it was a miracle that any JCMs had gotten through at all thanks to the SA-22. But the AI figured that he had at most a few minutes to check out Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania before the Russians vectored a fighter onto him and he needed to run like hell.
He pushed the Avenger into the supersonic regime, leaving a double shockwave in his wake as he streaked towards the city. He pumped out more flares and chaff, he noticed that already a general air defense warning was going out over the Russian BeeNet. The ECM equipment could detect the radars for an SA-17 Grizzly Battery, frantically searching for him, signal strength was rising rapidly and soon enough it would detect him and engage.
The Grizzly was a much different beast than the Greyhound, the latter was designed for short range air defense and it showed in the performance of its missiles and guns, he could literally fly over the engagement envelope of the Greyhound. But the Grizzly was designed for medium range air defense and had the ability to intercept Anti-Radiation Missiles that were homing in on the radar.
Targets were racking up, oh this couldn't be good. The Russians were digging in at Fredericksburg, they had inadvertently blocked the one good road based evacuation route. This needed to be solved, ASAP. Culdee sent another ping to the Pentagon just as his EWAR gear confirmed that the Russians had him on radar, he threw the Avenger into a crushing snap turn, pumping out flares and chaff. Three seconds later his sensors detected a missile from a Grizzly screaming into the sky with his name on it.
Nothing for it, Culdee pushed the engines into afterburner and began jinking, pumping more flares and chaff into the sky that was just beginning to darken as a lethal dart streaked upwards chasing the drone which continued crushing snap maneuvers that not even a Raptor could hope to follow and that thing could turn and roll inside a phone booth.
The missile launched by the Grizzly got closer and closer as it bore in, ignoring the flares and chaff as it blasted through the air. Culdee was preparing his final gambit to try and survive the missile as that thing could effortlessly reduce his ride and more importantly him to shattered wreckage that was falling from the sky trailing fire.
Culdee snap rolled the Avenger then went into a Split-S and made a dive for the deck, turning into the missile as he did so, dropping flares and chaff across the sky. The missile took the bait and exploded somewhere above him.
With that taken care of, Culdee could now look over the data he had gained while running for his life from the missile that the Grizzly had sent streaking his way.
It wasn't good, he had seen Russian vehicles grinding down I-95 heading for Thornburg, lovely. He continued motoring south.
[Interrogative Culdee, status of the Russian forces in Fredericksburg?] It was the Killdane at the Pentagon.
[Division-strength, I had a SA-17 take a pot shot at me. We need a formation that can kill this ASAP.] Culdee replied.
There was a half-second's pause followed by the Killdane going. [Son of a bitch, we got practically nothing that can counter that. The 306th Strike Regiment in D.C is still mobilizing and they don't have the numbers to kick this out. We have a battalion of Rangers in Richmond and the 8th Armored is moving up from the south, the latter currently have orders to push into the Delmarva Peninsula. I am requesting permission from the CSA to have those orders rescinded and reassign the division to commence an immediate assault upon Fredericksburg Virginia to clear them out.]
That was probably the best they could manage on such short notice, a company of Rangers and an entire division, Culdee didn't know what exactly that 8th Armored Division had at its disposal. But he hoped that it would be enough to dislodge the Russians and get something to the District of Columbia that could hold the line. They were lucky that the 8th and the 75th Rangers had been moving up to Dover for a deployment to Europe and the Middle East respectively when this had come down, which meant that they were the only ones who could be scrambled at this time to engage.
[Affirmative, Killdane, what are my orders? I am Winchester on JCMs and countermeasures.]
There was a pause, in reality a split second, and Killdane answered. [Motor south to Cunningham Field to resupply, we need you back out there.]
That would have to do then. [What about Dover?] Culdee replied a microsecond later and wheeled his drone around and began to motor south. For the moment, he was out of the war, until his drone could be rearmed and refueled.
[Dover AFB was overrun as of five minutes ago, that's about the only piece of solid intelligence that we got on known major gains of the enemy. Local police along with armed civilians are engaged in the streets against VDV in cities up and down the Northeast Corridor with varying results.] Killdane replied and Culdee couldn't believe it, that was the location of the majority of their strategic airlift capability, their C-5 Galaxies and C-77 Pelicans it had just gone poof.
That was a stinging loss, they wouldn't be able to relocate forces quickly en masse in response to the Russians with the loss of those Strategic Airlifters. That was a major strategic blow that had likely just put the defense of the Northeast in jeopardy since they had just lost the ability to relocate vehicles and men in large numbers. Which meant that the units in the Midwest would have to drive in order to reach the frontlines, they were literally days away from the front once they got mobilized instead of hours.
This situation was literally getting worse by the second and who knew how long it would take for aid to arrive from the mobilizing units or what sort of state that 8th Armored would be in after breaking through that Motorized Rifle Division.
No, the AI decided. If they could break through that Motorized Rifle Division. Far too much depended on 8th Armored succeeding at Fredericksburg Virginia, in an environment where air power was likely out of the question if the radar pings the EWAR gear was accurate. They had at minimum an S-300, but if Culdee was a betting AI and he wasn't, but in this hypothetical, let's say he was, he would wager that the SAM battery out in the Delmarva Peninsula was an S-400.
Just to be safe, he sent another ping into the battle network giving a probable identification on the big radar set that the ECM gear was detecting. Immediately, a request went out for a Wyvern or Morgan Combat Team sortie to kill that installation.
How long would it be until one of those could be whistled up with the appropriate gear so that it wasn't a suicide mission? Who knew how long, but until that could be done...anything in Washington D.C, Philadelphia, Baltimore, even as far north as Staten Island would have nothing for air support until that S-400 was taken care of.
Even for an AI capable of several million computations per second, it was an extremely sobering thought, no air support when it was truly needed. That was going to be hell for any and all units.
1800 Hours
Pentagon
The Pentagon, the vast headquarters for the United States Department of Defense was partially down, the portion of the structure facing the yacht basin was in ruins. Thick black smoke boiled into the sky that was just beginning to darken with smoke as that part of the building burned. Inside, massive fireproof doors had already contained the blaze so there was no risk to the rest of the building. That didn't change the fact that dozens of lives, both military and civilian, had been brutally extinguished when black bombs had torn that area apart.
Chief of Staff of the United States Army, General Macy Donavan felt a heavy metaphysical weight upon her slim shoulders, the whereabouts of the overall commander of USNORTHCOM was unknown and thus until it could be determined. She was in-charge of the defense of the Northeast.
She reached a hand up and brushed bushy black hair out of her storm grey eyes. "Killdane, SITREP!" she barked as the holotable in the makeshift command center that had been hastily thrown together finally booted up and synced to the patchy battle network.
"Not good madame." Killdane replied, his avatar appearing in a holotank, appearing just like a Viking Warrior. "To say that the situation is FUBAR would be understating it. The 306th Strike Mechanized Regiment reports that they'll be fully mobilized within the hour, other divisions are reporting varying levels of partially mobilized across the Northeast. As for areas under occupation, it is confirmed that large portions of Maine have fallen, ditto the Delmarva Peninsula, airstrikes have already been performed on the bridges leading out of the Peninsula into Annapolis and Norfolk respectively. Rhode Island has also fallen in its entirety, the latest report regarding Massachusits isn't looking too well either with most of Cape Cod confirmed to be in enemy hands. On a slightly positive note, thanks to Twitter we know that USS Constitution has left Boston under her own power, however, the Russians will more than likely ignore her and she's basically useless in this situation."
Macy groaned, the situation was well and truly buggered. "Any units we got in Maine or Rhode Island that haven't surrendered, tell them to go to ground and commence guerilla operations. Try and contact USS Constitution via cell phone, I want to know what her Captain's plan is. Have Station Chatham put together a mission to supply her if they're still in our hands. Tell those men that they are then to join Constitution's crew complement, she needs non-perishable food items."
"Sorting orders ma'am, please note we still don't know the status of the President or Vice President. This came down upon us so suddenly, we still don't know where everyone is." Killdane said and Macy had to suppress another groan, the world was in chaos around her and she was supposed to be that rock.
"Ma'am!" An aide cried out, "Report about Peterson AFB just came in!"
That got Macy's attention. "What is it?" she demanded.
The aide, no intern, answered in a shaky voice that was filled with terror. "Peterson was hit by cruise missiles, that has to be why we can't contact them. They're picking up the pieces over there."
Macy swore softly, the situation truly was right buggered which meant until further notice, the Pentagon likely was there primary command center until they could figure out who was in charge of USNORTHCOM. Which meant, as the senior most member of the Army in the building and quite possibly in USNORTHCOM, she was in charge of the Defense of the United States of America.
The metaphysical weight upon her light brown shoulders seemingly tripled, she took in a deep breath. The people of the United States of America were depending upon her to lead them through this war. She glanced at her coffee and swore softly again at the sheer incredulity of this, she technically wasn't in-charge of USNORTHCOM but until they figured out who was, someone needed to take command. "Get me a list of all active callsigns at the Divisional and Brigade level along with any Special Forces callsigns, now and then can someone get the Commandant of the Marine Corps and the Chief of Naval Operations up here! Additionally, what's the status of the Commandant of the Coast Guard?" she barked fiercely and the room leaped to complete her commands.
This war was going to be a chess match, she needed to know what her pieces were going to be and what she had at her disposal. Given that HQ for USNORTHCOM had just been smashed, she didn't know what that was and thus she needed to know ASAP.
Before long callsigns began to pop up in a holographic display on the holotable which currently displayed the United States from the Virginia-North Carolina Border, to as far west as the Smokey Mountains and the Ohio River Valley, up to the Maine-Canada Border.
The callsigns streamed in, along with the unit they represented. The number of assets she had at her disposal was dreadfully slim. Two Armored Strike Regiments, three Mechanized Infantry Strike Regiments, an Air Assault Strike Regiment, a single Armored Division -with all of its Brigade Combat Teams praise all the gods, even the assholish ones-, a battalion of Rangers, a team of Marine Raiders, six SEAL Teams including famed SEAL Team Six, and a few teams of Ghost Recon. Right now her main sledgehammer was 8th Armored unless the Commandant of the Marine Corps could work some freaky black magic and get the formations at Camp Lejeune rolling ASAP.
Which wouldn't be that hard Macy mused, if the Commandant of the Marine Corps told a Marine unit to jump, they wouldn't ask how high, they wouldn't ask how high, they would just steal a Delta II and punch themselves into orbit. Because in the military, when it came to the USMC, the Commandant of the Marine Corps was the closest thing to God that there was.
In response to that thought, thunder boomed, actual thunder not the hellish blasts of artificial thunder from bombs.
Right. She could work with this. "Status on those Ghost Teams, are any of them in Ghosthawks?" she demanded of Killdane.
There was a pause from the AI. "Yes ma'am, one platoon of Ghosts is airborne, thirty-six operators. They're requesting instructions for deployment."
Thirty-six men, on paper it wasn't a lot but anyone who had been in the military knew that thirty-six special forces operators was something that properly employed gave even division level commanders nightmares just due to the sheer amount of carnage that they could unleash. What was worse about the Ghosts, well if they were put on your scent, it didn't matter if you ran, they would still find you, and you would only die tired.
"Killdane, cut orders for that platoon, send them to the Delmarva Peninsula to kill that probable S-400 battery."
One of the data feeds detected something, a launch from a range of 230-miles, yep S-400. That data feed immediately cut out. "Report from Thunderhead, they've been launched upon by an S-400, they've shut down their radar and they're diving for the deck to evade!" Someone wearing an Air Force uniform shouted.
"Killdane, please tell me that you got a general area for that launch." Macy snarled angrily as she heard the Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force begin barking out more orders to put a halt on all air support missions until that S-400 could be killed. Considering the kill probabilities that those beasts had, it was the right decision, even if it was a terrible, painful one that would see many good men and women killed.
There was a pause before the AI answered. "I did, should I cut deployment orders to the Ghosts?"
"Do it, the sooner we get that S-400 killed, the sooner we can start running air strikes." Macy said bitterly as running feet echoed through a hallway nearby.
Then the Commandant of the Marine Corps followed closely by the CNO and a small escort of Marines burst into the command center. Immediately they began sweeping an attentive eye over the situation and holographic table that was displaying the general situation.
Another man spoke up, he was wearing the markings of a Chief. "Ma'am, just got word on the Douglas A. Munro Building," that made Macy pause, that building was the headquarters for the Coast Guard, "it was hit by three bombs during that air raid that hit D.C earlier, it's mostly down."
That made Macy and the CNO, an Admiral Whitcomb if she remembered properly swear in unison. "Alright, Admiral Whitcomb, I think we should fold all USCGC units into the Navy for the time being." she said and the Admiral nodded.
"That is exactly what I was thinking, but this couldn't have happened at a worse time. Strike Group Nimitz has her ass hanging out in the breeze, but we got nothing that can support her. Gerald R. Ford has a scratch strike group centered on her and we got planes making their way towards her but she has no ordinance and fuel until that zoomie Super Herc can get to her. As for Coast Guard units, we got three Legend class Cutters that we can use right now, Hamilton, James, and Munro; then we got a significant number of Medium Endurance Cutters, about a half dozen that are trying to make an RV near Bermuda and then figure out a plan of action, as for USS Constitution, she has no radio, we have no way of contacting her other than cellphone and that can be tracked." Admiral Whitcomb said after sparing a quick glance at the holotable.
"What are the ship classes and numbers that USS Gerald R. Ford has escorting her?" someone with a California accent asked.
"Not much, she has a Burke, two Constellations, and a quartet of Freedom class Small Surface Combatants." a midwest accent replied.
"We need additional forces up here in order to repel the Russians, Commandant, how fast can we have the 2nd Marine Division move?" Admiral Whitcomb asked.
Macy nodded, she could handle the situation here but they needed to coordinate otherwise they would be torn apart piecemeal.
Commandant Harper Hughton drew himself up. "It would take the better part of a couple hours, don't expect them to start moving for a while. I can however have the MEUs moving probably right now, we got three at our disposal. Where do you want them General?" This was unprecedented, having the head of the Marine Corps ask the head of the United States Army where his Marines would be needed most. But this was an unprecedented situation.
Admiral Whitcomb glanced at her. "Your call General, where do you want those MEUs?"
Macy glared at the holographic map. "We will need one at Norfolk for sure, maybe two. I think we should set up another one in Richmond as a QRF to head to either Norfolk or Fredericksburg."
"Why the hell do we need something in Fredericksburg?" General Hammond, Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force asked.
"Killdane." Macy asked and the AI gave a flourish.
"A USAF AI drone under the control of the AI Culdee discovered a Russian landing in Fairview Virginia along with Russian forces in Fredericksburg and Thornburg, estimated to be a Motorized Rifle Division in strength. They're in a perfect blocking position to prevent reinforcements from reaching Washington D.C from the south, along with having cut off a possible evacuation route for the civilians." Killdane explained and Hammond, Whitcomb, and Harper promptly glared at the holotable.
"Status on the 8th Armored?" Harper demanded.
"Full strength save for a platoon of Strykers that got dispatched to assist a Company of Rangers with evacuating Raptor from the area after his helo went down." Macy explained, pausing before deciding to continue. "I was thinking about ordering the rest of the division to Richmond and getting the 15th Mechanized Strike Regiment up there as well."
Hughton nodded. "Macy, that might be our best bet. I'll light a fire under the MEUs at Camp Lejeune and get them moving north ASAP. Hammond, what can we expect for air cover?"
Hammond growled bitterly. "Barely anything, the Russians have a S-400 in the Delmarva Peninsula, it's already taken a potshot at one of my AWACS birds."
"We got a Ghost Team heading there now, but it will still take time for them to arrive." Macy said and Whitcomb shook his head in response.
"We're not going to crack a dug-in Russian division without air support if we're using just a battalion of Rangers, an Armored Division, and a Mechanized Strike Regiment without rendering those units combat ineffective. That's unacceptable and we need that division gone now which means that we need air support for this." The CNO said, and Macy resisted the urge to curse under her breath, the man was right.
Hughton was consulting his personal AI and a devious smirk played across his features. "I agree, however, I got good news, the two Horsemen at Cherry Point just landed after completing a sortie. I am going to shanghai both to kill this bitch, you can reassign the Ghosts to somewhere else. I recommend bringing up two full MEUs to Richmond to take part in the attack on Thornburg and Fredericksburg."
That decision freed up a lot of options, but most importantly, it allowed Macy to be more devious with her special forces. "Let's have the airmobile Ghost Teams assume ambush positions along the Susquehanna River, they're to blow the US Route 40 and I-95 bridges that cross it. Then focus upon the US 1 Bridge, hold it as long as their anti-tank ordinance allows and blow it too. Then bleed the Russians who go gallivanting off into the woods after them white."
"What about my SEALs?" Whitcomb asked as Hughton made himself busy with coordinating that Wyvern strike.
"Correct me if I am wrong, but don't we have a Littoral Patrol Squadron in Norfolk at the moment?" Macy asked, she never really did follow deployments of USN assets.
"We should, but I am expecting them to have suffered losses. Are you thinking of using them to shepherd SEALs up to D.C?" Whitcomb asked, seemingly a little surprised.
"I am, might be the best bet here." Macy said, marvelling at how well they were beginning to click.
"I'll get on it, they might be able to catch Colossai on the Potomac in Fairview and we could do some damage to that Division, might even catch their command vehicle and its accompanying staff. In fact, if they see it, that's a priority target." Whitcomb agreed, seeing what Macy was getting at. Then the man added. "I'll also tell Naval Special Warfare Group Four to hit Dover AFB with a torch and burn operation."
Hammond sighed. "Tell them to prioritize the air traffic control tower, the radar towers, and the Pelicans. They're more important than the Galaxies. Also, please tell them to at least try and rescue some of the staff of the base. We can have a Morgan or Drake with runway cratering bombs put the place out of action for good later."
Whitcomb nodded. "Consider it done," he paused as if considering something, "status on Raptor?"
Macy sighed with relief. "According to Major General Smith, he received word from Hunter 2-1 about fifty minutes ago, he's secured. Badger Three has linked up with the rest of Hunter Company and they're about twenty minutes out. Also according to Hunter 2-1, he found some strays from the Virginia Defense Force that got chewed up and spat out by VDV. They fitted them with some spare gear that they had since they were heading up to Dover AFB to be deployed to the Middle East."
"Excellent, Hunter 2-1 is to be commended for securing the Senate Majority Leader. Same with those VDF guys or gals." Hammond said with a nod.
"I'll file the paperwork for a commendation when I have the chance, Bronze Star?" Macy asked the room in general.
"At minimum." Hughton answered off-handed from where he was, working furiously to coordinate the Marines on both coasts and the US Army on the West Coast.
Macy changed the subject. "Right, so Special Boat Team Twelve is going to be hitting Dover AFB, I was thinking that we have half of Special Boat Team Twelve hit Dover AFB and the other half secure Govenor's Island in New York City to deny the Russians a nice forward observer position since from the looks of it, we're going to have a rotten bitch of a battle there."
Whitcomb snorted. "That is hilarious overkill for an operation against Dover AFB, the men and women of Special Boat Team Twelve know that place like the back of their hands, whenever they deploy, they go up to Dover so the C-5s, though with the new Mark VI Special Operations Craft, they need C-77s. We'll have one boat hit Dover, another one will be with the Littoral Squadron and will hit Dahlgren, the other ten will head to New York City. They'll help coordinate the defense of the city with the NYPD and hold Govenor's Island at all costs. Under the Strike SEAL organization that was adopted in 2005, each SEAL Team is composed of three troops divided into four platoons, each platoon has three squads of eight Operators plus a small Headquarters element of six men, for thirty total. The new Mark VI SOCs were designed with this organization in mind, they're sleek trimaran boats that are relatively stealthy coming in at twenty-eight meters in length and each one is capable of carrying a full platoon of thirty SEALs and each Special Boat Team has twelve boats."
"Oh." Macy replied, she hadn't really considered the whole Joint Strike Organization had been an attempt to create a unified SF Organization, Strike SEAL had been the Navy SEAL portion of the Joint Strike Organization. She was more familiar with the Strike Delta and Strike Green portions of the Joint Strike organization.
"It's alright, you're just a grunt anyways." Whitcomb replied and Macy gave a slight smile at the moniker, it was honestly the first time she had smiled in what felt like days.
"Would it be plausible to double load the boats and hijack one of the Riverine Squadrons so we can get some more SEALs up there?" Macy asked after sparing a quick glance at the holographic table. Nothing was demanding her attention right now.
"Would be a little cramped on those things, but it should be doable particularly since it's unlikely that they'll need too many RHIBs. Good thinking General, that would allow us to get basically two SEAL Teams up there and then we could cover more ground." Whitcomb mused, he then continued. "Killdane!"
"Yessir?" The AI asked.
"Cut the deployment orders we've discussed regarding the Littoral Squadron and the SEALs." Whitcomb growled, his voice deep and guttural like an Earthquake.
Killdane nodded. "Done."
Whitcomb looked at the Holographic table and he barked out more orders regarding the SEALs with a rapid fire tenor. "Cut orders for SEAL Team Two to secure Newport News, drive the Russians out of the shipyard, I want SEAL Team Eight to reinforce Norfolk, SEAL Team Ten is to secure NAS Oceana, SEAL Team Eighteen is to immediately deploy to Richmond, and I want Seal Team Six to work with the National Archives and get as many historical documents out as they can along with protecting the convoy from VDV. I want one of the task forces from Six to assist with the evacuation of Annapolis."
Hughton looked up from his little epicenter of controlled chaos, the man was in his element Macy noted, he may have been a mortal and herself a demigod, but she was amazed by just how well he was coordinating the mobilization of several different formations on opposite sides of the country. It was something that her mother would certainly find impressive, hell she found it impressive. The expression on the Marine's face was that of determination. "Wyvern Teams Famine and Pestilence are airborne, the amount of time that S-400 has left is limited."
Well that was damn good news, she looked at the status of the Strike Regiments and tapped the icon for 23rd Armored Strike Regiment and routed them to Richmond as well. All told, they were assembling a force that contained literally hundreds of Strykers and tanks, plus literally dozens of IFVs, and gunships. But would they be enough? That was the million dollar question and she couldn't micromanage the battle, this battle would depend on the ability of General Smith and the Colonels under his command.
Macy looked at the Holographic Table again and sighed deeply. It was difficult to not look at various icons and view them as chess pieces, when in reality each marker represented dozens if not hundreds or even thousands of men and women. The symbols representing the formations gave a sense of detachment.
1835 Hours
Near Carlson Virginia, south of Petersburg Virginia
For the people of Carlson, it was as if a great earthquake had suddenly struck. The ground was shivering, windows were rattling, but the deep earthly rumble that accompanied tectonic movements was absent. In its place was the deep roar of nearly a thousand engines, the clattering of caterpillar tracks upon pavement, and the squeaking of suspensions.
Nestled deep inside the M1212 Archon Command and Control Vehicle, an enormous edifice of a C4ISR vehicle capable of coordinating an entire Division with little trouble. Major General Roberto Smith, a short, greying man of Spanish descent from Texas scowled at the holographic table. This war had come out of fucking nowhere and now his formation was apparently the only division that was fully mobilized and moving.
"I don't give a shit about collateral damage to buildings, but watch for fucking civilians! CSA is depending on us to clear out Fredericksburg, so blast Ivan to mierda and get a fucking move on all brigades!" The general boomed angrily as the snarling roar of the GE/Honeywell LV100-8 1,600-horsepower gas turbine engine that powered the fifteen meter long command vehicle echoed all around him.
This shit simply sucked, he had shitloads of firepower at his disposal and he wasn't being used to launch a spearhead against Ivan's landings. Instead he was being used to open up an evacuation route and he was going to have to do it with no air support, aside from his AH-80 Blackfoots and RAH-66 Comanches. This was going to suck.
He glanced at the status report for his Brigade Combat Teams, callsigns: Centaur, Drakon, and Wendigo. Three Brigades with nearly 14,000 frontline soldiers between him and that didn't even begin to cover the Support Brigade, his formation had a Heavy Combat Aviation Brigade which contained his AH-80s and RAH-66s, CH-67 Hurons, UH-80 Ghosthawks, UH-60M Blackhawks, RQ-7C Shadows, a Fire Support Brigade which contained his divisional artillery in the form of M270s and 203mm equipped M350 Hoplites along with their RQ-7B Shadows, an Air Defense Brigade with its Patriots and NASAM II Batteries, and finally a Sustainment Brigade. All things considered, it was a frankly massive force that was at his disposal.
But more than that, he had countless millions of civilians who were depending on having a clear run to safety on the roads via the I-95 through Fredericksburg. He looked at the map and nodded, besides his formation the 15th Mechanized Strike Regiment and 23rd Armored Strike Regiment, which gave him even more mechanized infantry and tanks at his disposal. He also saw orders for a pair of MEUs to RV with his formation at Richmond, this was in addition to elements from the 75th Ranger Regiment.
Those same orders also said that he was going to be the Battlefield Commander for this tremendous joint formation. As for what was arranged against them, a dug-in Motorized Rifle Division of Black Guards judging by the equipment that had been spotted. How many men and women would die dislodging them? That question was something that he wouldn't find out until he actually committed. But what he did know was that this was going to be hell.
Montrose Elementary School
1840 Hours
Thalia looked over the hunters, a strange weight that she hadn't felt since, since the Battle of Manhattan was settling over her. Mars had well and truly screwed her, Erica, Sanya, Febe, and Reyna. But as much as she hated to admit it, the Roman War God had probably given her and the hunters under her their best chance at surviving this blasted war.
It was a sobering thought, but to be frank, that didn't make what Mars had done anymore right. If anything she felt violated and prayed to Artemis to make Mars pay for what he had done. She would admit that she was more than a little happy when she heard the screech of a Hawk outside, she could tell that Artemis just told her that she would handle it.
She could hear an extremely loud clattering outside that was progressively getting louder. Foley shouted for the hunters and some of the Rangers to get outside.
Thalia grabbed her rifle and quickly wound through the halls and out of the school. They dashed to the sidewalk and she gaped at the oncoming vehicles, there were more Humvees and JTLVs. But that wasn't captured the Huntress's attention, no, it was the five large eight-wheeled vehicles that had remote weapon stations prowling for targets with cages surrounding them and the tank that was prowling up, its angular turret sported a main cannon that made the 75mm gun on the Sherman she'd fought during the Battle of Manhattan look very dinky.
"STRYKERS!" Jamie shouted, jolting Thalia out of her stupor.
The Strykers were intimidating machines, but something caught her eye. The fifth Stryker actually had a red cross emblazoned upon it. Ambulance maybe? But her attention was on the tank, it certainly looked imposing.
Hydraulics suddenly hissed and ramps came down, then men and women in uniforms surged out of the Strykers. Thalia quickly lost count at how many, but within moments they had set up a perimeter. One of the other men who got out had a different rank device.
Foley didn't salute, instead he offered a nod. "Captain Young."
"Good to see you Sergeant, where's Lieutenant Barrett?" the Captain asked.
Thalia suddenly felt like she was intruding in a private conversation. "Dead, we got caught in an airstrike. Picked up some strays from the Virginia Defense Force prior to that, they seem to be sticking with us."
The Captain swore softly then looked around and saw her. Thalia felt like she wanted to melt into a puddle and not be seen. The man was tall and powerful, but seemed to be maybe thirty-something? "I take it that it's been rough, Private?" he asked and Thalia nodded.
Rough, that was an understatement. This whole day had been one of the most brutal she had ever gone through in her entire life. "Yes sir, it has." she replied to the Captain.
Captain Young nodded at her answer. "Understandable," he said and Thalia got the impression that she was going to get grilled later.
She heard other orders being barked out and soon the other Rangers of Hunter 2-1 filed out of the room while someone carried Raptor to the eight wheeled ambulance. The next twenty minutes after that was a blur of activity that not even Thalia could keep track of everything, but some time during that point the Ambulance left. It didn't have a siren going, she noted.
She was now picking at something called an MRE. "They've improved these things greatly since I last had one." Febe mused as she tore into a Cheese Tortellini meal with vigorous gusto.
Ramirez looked up from where he was eating an MRE himself. "When did you last eat an MRE?" he asked curiously.
"I did it on a dare back in the winter of 2006." Febe shuddered after admitting that.
Thalia looked at her shocked. "Were they really that bad?"
"I had the Vegetable Cheese Omelet meal."
"Ah, the Vomelet. You managed to choke that down?" Foley asked, shocked. He had apparently been walking by.
Febe shook her head. "No, but the Ares campers who dared me to do it said that even they couldn't force it down after coughing part of it up due to how horrid it tasted." she answered, looking a little embarrassed.
Given that it was called the 'vomelet', Thalia doubted that it looked particularly appetizing or, well, tasted particularly good. Considering that even Ares campers who were known to eat just about anything found it hard to eat...that was saying something. "How do Satyrs like it?" her mouth asked before she could stop herself. Dammit, why did I ask that?
Febe gave a devil may care smirk. "Stephanie tricked one of the Satyrs into trying one, a fellow by the name of Hedge if I recall right. He ate it without even taking it out of the wrapper. It did give him indigestion though."
Well, giving a Satyr indigestion was extremely difficult to do. Thalia was honestly impressed that something mortals made could give a Satyr who could literally eat just about anything. "Honestly, the vomelet would probably even give minotaurs indigestion." Foley grunted as he continued on his way.
After the sergeant left, they continued idle small talk for some time.
Thalia swallowed a bite of meat. It wasn't the worst thing she'd ever eaten, but it wasn't the greatest either. If she had these to look forward to for the foreseeable future, she wasn't going to be happy about it.
That's when she heard shouting. "Platoon! We're mounting up, HVI in Highland Springs needs evacuation!"
Then she heard Foley shout. "Hunter 2-1, I just checked with the Captain, we're moving with Badger Three!"
Shit, it never ends does it? Thalia thought as she cast a look over her hunters as she got to her feet. "Guess the break's over girls."
"Already?" Sanya whined as she stood up.
"Guess so. Welcome to the joy of hurry up and wait. We finished the hurry up part when we rescued Raptor, now we have finished the wait part and we're hurrying again to some objective."
Nearby
The seven foot tall minotaur rubbed its claws through the dog that was the size of a pickup truck. With the mist seemingly collapsing due to the war that was breaking out, he could be much more liberal with raising trouble. He pulled out a baton and flicked it, the weapon expanded into a vicious looking Adamantine double-headed battle axe. The mortal world would sing with fear at the name Asterion.