Lights flashed green along the floor and ceiling and everyone sprung into action; tank crews jumped in their vehicles to fire up all systems, Ogres stood there with their arms parted as Wolverines loaded them full of ammunition and spare gear, while the Guards themselves strapped on pre-filled combat webbings, trading shotgun shells and grenades depending on what attachment they carried.
Having the Ogres along was a must, a luxury Konstantin hadn't been able to give up since Kosovo, when the things saw their first deployment, nearly fifty years back. Unlike the RDA's AMPs, Ogres carried on-board weapons in the form of a Vulcan 20mm rotatory cannon on the left shoulder and caseless 5mm LMGs build into the forearms. Its massive talons lacked the dexterity of an AMP's hands, but they would still dig a trench faster than ten Guards could.
Once all of his troops were outfitted and with fifteen seconds left, Viktor grabbed himself a webbing from the reinforced compartment built in the floor and quickly fastened the straps around his waist, chest and thighs. The two tanks would pour out first, to clear the way and give something solid for his men to hide behind, and their crew were already firing the massive diesel engines.
As he looked at the Heavy Battle Tanks, Konstantin wondered if it had been wise to bring such monsters in a diplomatic mission. The things bristled with weapons, their dark green and black camouflage and V blades attached to the front gave them a nightmarish appearance.
But then the ramp dropped, revealing a vast field of concrete, and Major Konstantin had other things to worry about than spooking a bunch of tree huggers.
Cheap concrete cracked under the T-191s, ground to fine dust in four parallel lines that bloomed ten meters out as the armoured vehicles positioned themselves back to back, to cover each other's weak spot.
Combat boots hammered that dust further and the tanks were soon swarmed by Spetsnaz in combat gear, like blue and grey fire ants assaulting a pair of very angry turtles.
Every shooter was aiming at the RDA facility, forty meters ahead, but Ogres positioned themselves at the edges of the cluster, watching over the formation's flanks.
The walls were still standing and, as the shuttle lifted off, the Russians were greeted with more concrete and steel at their back. The natives had gone in through the front door, it wasn't even a fight.
On Viktor's map, the facility showed up as a pentagon with his troop occupying the top right edge and the control center standing in the middle. A bit to the right of it were the barracks and vehicle storage. All other facilities were irrelevant at this time.
He pointed to Lieutenant Morokov and, with a sharp hand gesture, sent him and his men to the barracks, along with two Ogres, while he himself took sixteen Wolverines and an Ogre to the control room, leaving the task of establishing a perimeter to Colonel Popov.
Normally, as a two star officer, Konstantin would have stayed back and given orders from a safe distance, but it was impossible on Pandora, communications simply weren't reliable enough.
Of course, he stayed back as his men breached the command center and only stepped into the airlock when told to by an officer at least five ranks underneath him. This was not a question of skill or rank, these men had learned to work together, they functioned as a family and the introduction of a new member would have impeded their combat effectiveness.
They cleared ground level in a minute and split into four groups to cover the whole facility faster. Viktor stayed with those headed for the top of the tower. If anyone really lived here, they'd be up there, looking out the giant bay windows to figure out what the hell is going on.
The door was already wide open when they reached the top of the stairs and, standing in the middle of the room were three Avatars with heavy machine guns pressed to their shoulders and dressed like Dian Fossey. Deciding against the use of knockout gas, Viktor made his way up the file and tapped a Corporal on the shoulder to take his place by the door.
A career Sergeant was on the other side, loading his Saiga semi-automatic shotgun with high-spread buckshot. A slight shake of the Major's head caused the other man's shoulder to drop in disappointment.
Viktor knocked on the door frame and, after a few seconds, poked his head around the corner.
"Hello… I am…" 7.62mm rounds pinged off the railing at his back, ricocheting off the walls and clipping the soldiers who were still down the stairs. The burst lasted five seconds, after which Konstantin just growled to himself before speaking again, from cover this time "Tak-tak-tak-tak… Okay, here's what will happen, boys, I'm going to enter this room now, something shoots me, I kill it. It kills me, the tanks outside will kill it, your move."
And he stepped out, facing three weapons normally meant to be mounted on combat helicopters.
Nobody shot him, but they did not lower their weapons. "Who the fuck are you?" Asked the only female, from the right.
"Major General Konstantin, Spetsnaz Alfa group." No point in hiding it, they were race traitors anyway, it's not as if they could go tell the Allied Nations about Russian soldiers taking over their mining operation.
"A Major?" One of the men, the one in the middle, spoke, dubious, "Why would the Russian send… How many? Two hundred guys?"
Fishing for information? Already Good, then the show could get started.
"Major General, "Corrected Konstantin, smiling under his mask, "that's division level, chuvak."
The girl turned to her companion with a puzzled look. His face had gone pale and he could not articulate an answer, so she asked directly to the Major, "What, that's big?"
"We took Kosovo in twelve days with half that."
Not to say he commanded fifteen thousand Spetsnaz, but he let them think so, for entertainment and intimidation purpose.
"W-w-w… What are y-y-y-you doing here?" The last member stuttered rather pitifully.
"Same we've been doing for the last decade; providing Unobtanium to countries free of corporate influence. Used to be we stole it for the RDA, but since you threw them out, it seems we'll have to step in."
The woman licked her lips and her ears flattened like and angry cat's. "You mean… You can't do that! We won!" She sounded like a child complaining about the unfairness of a game, "You think you can just come here and take up where they left?! We beat them, we'll beat you as well!"
"Izvinite, but you can't..." He pointed at the tanks through the windows, but before he could continue, she laughed bitterly.
"Steel and bombs won't stop Eywa, nothing can stop Eywa!"
With a sigh, Viktor walked up to the window, conscious that there was a full squad of Wolverines ready to tear these monkeys apart at a single command.
"Look at us, chuvak, we're not mall cops, you've never faced anything like Russian Spetsnaz before, don't fool yourself. We won't retreat, we won't surrender and we won't turn over to the enemy. All of the men here abandoned Earth for a shit pay they probably won't get to spend, because they believe in this mission." He turned and leaned back, his backpack pressing against reinforced glass. "You can't stop us, we'll burn this whole moon in nuclear fire if that's what it takes, we just want the rock…"
She went to protest, but he silenced her with a sudden hand gesture. The Sergeant leaned out from his cover, realized the Major was merely lifting his finger to emphasise his point and begrudgingly returned to cover. "But, we're not the RDA, and that's the important part, we don't answer to shareholders and are not looking to make a profit." He fetched a small Russian flag from his pocket and held it out for them to see. "You work with us, we'll control the Unobtanium market and nobody will set foot on this planet unless we say so. Throw us out and, when the RDA comes back, they'll burn every square centimeter of jungle from orbit."
The three conversed in some gibberish, probably a Na'vi dialect, for a whole minute and Viktor was just stuffing the flag back in his pocket when something exploded on the runway. An Ogre, hit by an incendiary missile fired from the refinery.
It took Viktor a moment to understand. The three had not been talking amongst themselves, they were speaking in small radios on their necks, coordinating the ambush while he was busy trying to make peace.
Tall blue aliens emerged from the jungle, fell from the sky and jumped out of every corner to fire arrows and stolen weapons at the Spetsnaz on the runway.
Missiles flew from both sides and Konstantin looked back to the three Avatars in time to see them open fire in his direction. The shots were inaccurate, but they filled the air with enough lead to poison a small town.
Five direct impacts forced the officer backward and through the window.
The thing shattered rather dramatically but none of the sub-standard ammunition got through and Viktor was up in time to see blood gush out of the woman's neck, courtesy of the Sergeant by the door. The man with speech impediment tried to avenge his friend, but was interrupted by a five rounds burst from Konstantin's Kalash. The last Avatar was decapitated by sniper fire from another platoon.
From the catwalk, Viktor could see everything, and it did not look good. The natives had Anti-Air, meaning no shuttle retrieval.
"Davaii! Davaii!" Boomed the Major, shouldering his AK from a prone position to cover the troops down by the runway, "I want sniper fire on the refinery! Volkov," his radio whined with interference, but the man responded soon after, "Bumblebees, fire at will, everything but the tower and barracks!"
Clusters of rocket tubes spun to target the Na'vi climbing out of the jungle and hiding in the facility itself, saturating impact areas with a foul smelling gas. The natives hesitated a bit before charging right through the clouds, unhindered. Then there was a spark and there was silence.
Forty fuel air explosive went off at once, shattering bodies like ragdolls, sweeping structures away and popping the eardrums of anything within twenty meters of the blast.
The Na'vi pulled out of sight, bringing their wounded along. Just as the Major had warned them, they were not prepared to face special forces, but the speed at which they understood that and broke off went beyond anything he had ever seen. These apes were fast learner for sure.
All section leaders requested permission to pursue, but he denied them.
Getting back up, Viktor cringed at the damage caused to the mining equipment, but noticed with satisfaction that there were barely any wounded, the heavy body armours having done their job.
"My prishli s mirom, suka." He'd have spat on the ground, were it not for his gas mask.
The sergeant, his Saiga at the ready, scoffed at the quote. It was from Mars Attack, what the invaders had said before going on a killing spree.
The natives would try and ask their goddess for help as soon as the word reached them… Or perhaps it already had… How had they set up an ambush mere minutes after the Spetsnaz landed?
No matter, their next task was self-evident; the tree of souls had to burn, and fast.