The Terran Crusades: Chapter 4
March 8th 2371
Twelve Kilometres outside Port Geta
Port Geta, New Louis
1137 hrs.
The column, composed of over a dozen Tridents, and two dozen armoured personal carriers, rumbled over the, cracked and badly paved highway road. Broken pieces of cement and pavement were crushed underneath the heavy treads and wheels, while the distant shape of Port Geta, and the sounds of battle, drew ever closer.
The PAC soldiers, dealt with the stress and the fear of the upcoming battle in each of their own ways. Some read or reread letters from family members, others looked at photos of wives, husbands, children and other dear ones, while yet other chewed on bits of food while swapping stories, boasts, and insults.
Sergeant Major Ron Stoppable had his own way of dealing with pre-battle fear. He had stretched out as best he could on the crowded tank. His weapon clutched lightly in his hands, his back resting against the heavy plate armour, a lit syntho-cigar dangling from his lips, and relaxed, as the tank rumbled beneath him. To the amazement of Brick, and several others who shared the ride, he seemed to have fallen asleep.
Yori and Felix, however, were not overly surprised. They had seen their friend assume this position, dozens, if not hundreds of times before. Marinating, Ron called it. When stressed Ron would seek out a comfortable nook, cranny, or just about anywhere he could lie down comfortably, then Ron would zone out and relax, until the problem either solved itself, or went away.
"What's Sergeant Major Stoppable doin' ma'am?" The blonde haired, Corporal Flagg asked.
"He is, as he calls it, marinating, Corporal-kun."
Brick turned his head to look back at the prone Sergeant Major. "Marinatin'? It don't look like he's cookin' there ma'am." He stated in obvious confusion. Both Yori and Felix chuckled at the large man.
A sudden bout of viscous cursing took their attention away from the marinating Sergeant, to the tank in front of them, and onto a soldier who was viscously tearing apart a letter. The unexpected commotion even caused Ron to open an eye, in an effort to see what was happening.
"What's wrong with Anders-kun? I've never seen him do that before, he usually treasures those letters."
Felix grimaced, as he shifted uncomfortably. "His wife just sent him the divorce proceedings." Anders had shared the news with Felix only a couple of hours before, "she's taking everything, the kids, the dog, hell the only thing she's leaving him with is the kitchen sink. Apparently he wasn't earning enough leave time, and she met a nice Lieutenant Captain desk jockey, stationed back on their homeworld."
Yori shook her head sadly. Anders was a good man, who loved his wife and children very much. When ever he received a letter, picture or vid, he would share it with whoever was around, before placing it in his kit. Every night Anders would reread them, or look through the photos, as though trying to forget the day, the bloodshed, and, for a little while, return home.
"Doesn't she know we're at war?"
Felix shrugged. He had heard of this before, hell, he had seen it before. Men and women becoming bored, while their spouses and loved ones were away fighting. Sometimes nothing came of it, other times, well, Anders' wife was a prime example. Damn civvies.
"I know for a fact that my girl will never leave me." Felix declared, as he reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a worn photo.
The photo was of a younger Felix, dressed in civvies, with his arm around the waist of an attractive Hispanic woman. Yori took the worn photo, and glanced at it, smiling at the youthful, happy, faces.
"She is very pretty, Renton-kun. Where did you meet?"
Felix smiled as he remembered happier times. "Her name's Zita Florez. We met on the planet Hikolat, in a nightclub; she was on leave from the 419th, and I had two week pass from the base. We just hit it off you know, dancing late into the nigh-"
"Renton, my friend you are so full of shit your eyes are brown!" Both Felix and Yori's heads snapped over to Ron. The grayish-blue smoke from his cigar framed his face, as he stared accusingly at his friend. "That's not the real story on how those two met."
Felix made a pleading jester for Ron to keep his mouth shut, while Yori looked at him curiously. Ron smiled, the opportunity to embarrass his friend, was just too good.
"Really, Stoppable-san? Then what really happened?"
"It was on Retoria, me and Felix here, were scouting ahead, looking for any Terries trying to ambush us as we withdrew. Retoria, as you probably know, is hot, barren wasteland and we had been marching for a few hours, so I decided to call a break. What we didn't know was that Felix's thigh sheath had become loose and undone. So when we sat down on some rocks for a breather, Felix's bayonet handle dug into the rock… ha, ha, ha… and the blade… ha, (snort), ha… cut through the weakened sheath and went straight into Felix's left ass cheek."
Ron couldn't take it any more and burst out laughing. Yori, trying to keep her dignity as an officer, tried to keep her face solemn. Tried, but failed, and soon she too was laughing, Felix looked at both of them with an expression of betrayal.
Ron finally calmed down after a few moments to finish the tale. "So anyway he begs me not to take him to the medical tent in our battalion, he doesn't want anyone to know. So later that night, I took him over to the 419th's medical tent, Zita happened to be the head nurse on duty. So as she sewing this poor bastard up, I tell her the story.
"When she's finished, Zita looks at him and says 'I bet that was the hardest thing shoved into that great ass of yours.' Felix, being the fine gentleman that he is replied. 'Baby, if you want to see something better than my ass and harder than that knife just name the time and place.' To, in my surprises, she replies. 'Just one question, your bunk, or mine?'"
Felix turned beet red, as his superiors, and anyone else listening to the story burst out laughing. Felix shot an angry glare at Ron, who merely smiled as he took another puff on his foul smelling syntho-cigar.
An artillery shell came whistling out of the sky, and suddenly exploded off to the side of the convoy, sending clods of dirt and rocks into the air. More landed to the sides, showering the soldiers in grass and dirt.
The tank behind them, suddenly exploded in a ball of fire, throwing men up into the air like rag dolls. Ron covered his head with his free hand as he ducked, trying to minimize the target.
"Awww crap dude. They got Shelly. Seriously that's bogus. Hey, Barkin dude, you better do something about that artillery. Seriously dude, we're sittin' ducks out here. Seriously we are!" Motor Ed shouted over the radio from the second tank.
"I'm on it! I'm on it!" Barkin snapped, "Romeo 1, come in Romeo 1, this is Mike Delta. We are under attack by heavy artillery and tanking causalities. Repeat, We are under attack by heavy artillery and taking causalities. Over."
High above the fighting, Romeo 1 and several of his attack Talons heard the radio broadcast. "This is Romeo 1, we read you Mike Delta. We are moving in to engage. Just keep your heads down."
"Copy that, thanks Romeo 1." Barkin adjusted the frequency of his radio to contact those of his company. "Alright lock and load boys, and girls. You know our objective; escort the tanks and APCs through the markets and into the centre of Geta. Be on the look out for snipers and antitank weaponry! Remember, you are no good to me dead! You with me Mad Dogs?"
"WROOF! WROOF! AHROOOOO!" Came the proud response, as the convoy moved in to the small streets of Geta's market district. Ron followed the men as they leapt off their tanks, and exited their APCs.
Save for the whistling, and explosion of artillery shells, which were coming with fewer and fewer frequency thanks to Romeo 1, the place was quite, dead. No one moved in the streets, the buildings had long been boarded up. The whole city was a ghost town. Slowly the PAC troops moved down the road, their weapon swiveling from side to side, checking, doors, windows, and roof tops. Nothing.
"Move up. Be on guard for anything." Barkin's orders were crisp, clear. Slowly, ever so slowly, the men of the 376th battalion, and the 234th armoured battalion, moved up the road and into the narrow streets of Geta.
A brown, flak armoured soldier leapt from an alley. He shouldered a large grey tube and aimed it at the convoy. With a burst of orange and red, he let fly the projectile, before he was cut down in a merciless hail of bullets.
The missile struck the lead tank, turning it into a burning ball of orange and red. As several soldiers were cut down by the flying bits of shrapnel, the windows and roof tops, suddenly came alive with brown armoured troops.
The veteran troops of the PAC, instantly responded, by diving beneath what cover there was and returned fire. Ron aimed carefully at a window and fired a controlled burst. A brown clad soldier's head snapped back in a spray of blood, as he fell out of view.
"Dude, seriously there is no way we're advancin' until you boys clear out those building! Seriously." Motor Ed's voice crackled to life over the sounds of small arms fire, and the cries of men.
"Right! Soruchi! Take a platoon and clear out the buildings on the left! Lucky, take Renton, and Anders' squads and clear out the buildings on the right! The rest of us will sweep the streets! ITORAAAAAAA!"
The men raised the battle cry as they charged to their objectives. A shooter on the roof stood up to take a shot, only to be cut down by a controlled burst of fire, from Felix's rifle. With practiced ease, Ron pulled a grenade and threw it through a shop's front window. The explosion shredded the defenders as Ron and his men clambered in through the broken window.
"Felix, move up stairs, the rest of us will clear the basement!" Felix nodded as the men broke in half and quickly moved to secure the first building.
Sounds of gunfire could be heard from the upstairs, as Ron moved towards the basement. The barred reinforced door, proved no match for Brick, as he slammed his large body against it. As the door burst open, Ron rushed into the blackened room.
Not being able to see, he missed his step and fell down the stairs. Landing with a heavy thud, and a slight groan, he groped blindly in the dark room for his weapon. A faint click, however brought everything into light, as the LCD flickered to life and Ron found himself sitting in a Guard storage depot. Real alcohol. Real coffee. Real cigars. Ron and his men, or more literally Ron, had stumbled into a jackpot, they could make thousands off of this stuff.
"Booyah!" Ron hollered. Quicker than a flash, he had leapt up and grabbed several packets of Cubans, quickly stuffing them into pouches on his vest. He scooped up his weapon, and climbed back up the stairs. The men smiled at their Sergeant, as he joined them.
"No wonder you're called Lucky, Sarge!" Brick grinned, as he glanced at the large stash. The men grinned and nodded in agreement.
"Roof top secure Ron-man." Felix's voice crackled over the radio, "We're ready to move on to the next building."
"Roger Felix. Regroup at the south western wall. Oh and by the way Felix, when this is done, first drinks are on the Guard."
By the time the group of men had regrouped at the designated wall, their faces were plastered with wide grins.
"So where is it?" Felix asked as he and his men joined them, "where's the stash?"
Ron gestured towards the basement with a nod of his head. "But we first got to clear out these buildings."
"How? We step outside we'll get cut down in the cross fire!"
"We go through the walls! Brick, set a charge on the wall, the rest of you prepare to breech!"
As Brick set a large pack of explosives on to the centre of the shops grey wall, the rest of the men jumped, and scrambled behind cover. Brick slowly stepped away from the active charge. With a grunt and heavy thud, Brick leaped over an upturned table. He looked over to Ron who nodded. "Do it."
Brick's large thumb pressed down heavily onto the detonator. The wall erupted in a blast of fire, smoke, and dust. The charges had done their work. A large hole had been blow in the wall, and the PAC troops could hear the Guards' cruses, and blind stumbling.
The sound of rifle fire drew Ron's attention. Anders had rushed into the hole before the smoke had even cleared. Ron watched as Anders fired into the stumbling and cursing Guard, cutting them down, with controlled bursts from his rifle.
The medium sized man then drew his side arm and stepped into the room, quickly followed by the rest of the squads. With neither pity nor mercy, Anders kicked a crawling, injured Guard over on to his back. The Guard raised his hands in surrender pleading. Anders just raised his pistol and shot him in the head.
Ron shook his head in disgust, as he grabbed Anders by his shoulder. "What in the hell do you think your doing? The man was wounded, helpless, he was surrendering!"
Anders, grey eyes narrowed at his superior. "He was a Terrie, and they sure as hell didn't show any mercy for our boys at Foret. I'm just evening the score. Besides they started this war, its all their fault. They've cost me everything."
Killing for vengeance, doesn't help. If anything it turns you, it corrupts you, until your something else. A monster. It will eat away at you, until you are nothing more then an empty shell. Brock was right, he was seeing it first hand, though it wasn't the first time, and Ron knew it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.
A loud crack of a pistol shot came from behind Anders who stiffened as his eyes widened in surprises. Ron stared, as Senior Sergeant Jacob Anders, slowly toppled to the floor, blood running freely over his back.
Ron looked up to see a wounded Guard shakily aim his pistol straight at him. In that moment Ron knew he was dead. His mind quickly flashed as prayers shot through him, as he brought his rifle up, already knowing it was too late.
A sudden rattling of rifle fire broke Ron from his thoughts, and hasty prayers as the wounded Guard convulsed as bullets slammed into his body, and dropped back down, dead.
"No wonder we call you Lucky." Felix smiled as he lowered his weapon, his smile faded however when he glanced at the prone body of Anders. "Shame about Anders though." Felix said sadly as Ron reached down and pulled off the dog tags.
"Seventh time you've saved my ass there, Felix. I guess I ought to start trying to pay you back. Alright boys, same as before, Felix take up stairs me and the rest of us got this level."
The next five stores were taken in the same manner. The fighting was up close, personal, and bloody. By the time they had cleared the fifth building, Ron's men had suffered over twenty dead, and six wounded, accounting for over half of his men.
"How many more do we have to go Felix?" Ron asked, as he wiped sweat from his brow with a gloved hand.
Before Felix could answer him the radio came to life, and a panicked voice screamed over the sounds of small arms fire and explosions. "This is Delta Company, repeat this is Delta Company! We're pinned down in the market square and are taking heavy causalities! We need assistance! We need… Ack!"
"You hear that Charlie Company? Delta needs assistance! Move in and give them a hand! Let's show these Guard bastards what fire and steel can do!" Came Barkin's orders almost immediately after Delta company was cut off.
"Roger Captain B, we are almost at the square, we have one last building to clear. How about you Yori?" Ron asked over the COM-link
"You are ahead of us, Stoppable-san. We still have two more buildings to clear before we reach the square. You will have to, as you say, 'start the party with out us.' Soruchi, over and out."
"Will start moving the tanks down the street now that the majority of the buildings are secure. Lucky clear that last building and give what ever assistance you can to Delta. Barkin over and out!"
"Someone get a charge on that wall now! Delta's waiting for us!"
The wall again, exploded and collapsed in a ball of fire. The Guard troops on the other side were taken by complete surprise. Their concentration had been solely on putting suppressing fire on the scrambling forms of Delta Company in the square below.
Ron's squeezed a burst into the shop. A Guard, who was taking pot-shots at the PAC troops below, was thrown from his window and into the square. The rest of the Guards were quickly cut down, as they turned to deal with the new threat.
From above their position, Ron could hear the sounds of heavy machine gun fire. He looked to Felix, who nodded at Ron, as he ordered the men to take up firing positions, and take some of the heat off Delta. Those machine guns would come in very handy.
Both Ron and Felix took positions at the bottom of the stairs. Felix quickly pulled a grenade and tossed it up the stairs, and into the hallway. The screams of "GERNADE!" could be heard just before it exploded.
Ron and Felix rushed up the stairs and sighted down the hallway. Several bodies lay strewn across the hall, the victims of the frag's shrapnel. The sounds of machine guns had stopped, only the sounds of small arms fire, from downstairs, and in the square could be heard.
"This feels…" Felix paused as he searched for the right word.
"Trapish?" Ron supplied
"Not a real word, but yeah, let's go with that."
Suddenly the door at the end of the hall burst open, as two Guards fired at the two friends. Ron fired quickly as he ducked into an empty room from the hall. His bullets clipping one of the Guards in the neck. Blood sprayed from the wound as the man collapsed.
Felix unclipped another grenade and threw it into the opened door. The explosion lifted the man from his feet and flung him into the hall. His back shredded from the shrapnel, as blood oozed onto the hard wood floor.
"Upstairs clear. Felix Get on that fifty cal. I'll get on this one lay some fire on those Terries!"
The two machine guns roared as large caliber bullets flew into the cover the Guards were using. Ron's lips formed into a snarl, as he swung the weapon across his field of fire. He watched as the Terries were torn apart by the heavy weapons, as they tried diving for cover.
A Timber Wolf tank decided that it had enough of Ron and Felix's machine gun fire. It's single-barreled turret turned slowly towards them and leveled. "Awww shit! Hit the deck Felix!" Ron screamed as both he and Felix dived to the ground.
A large explosion tore suddenly tore apart the Timber Wolf Tank, as the ten, late, but very welcomed, Tridents poured into the smoked filled square. The Guard had enough, the machine gun fire had torn their men apart and now their tank was a smoking ruin. They dropped their weapons and slowly put up their hands in surrender.
But the PAC wouldn't have it. As the Guard threw down their weapons, the men of the 376th opened fired again. Both Felix and Ron watched in disgust as helpless men were butchered.
"Disgusting, isn't?"
Felix and Ron turned to see Captain Barkin looking at them. His face streaked with smoke, dust, and sweat. His eyes holding nothing but contempt as the Guard were killed mercilessly.
"Isn't there anything you can do sir?" Ron asked, feeling sick to his stomach.
Barkin shook his head. "I wish there was, but Major Yaleson is in charge. And right now he's out their helping them." He shook his head sadly, "Come on, the Industrial Sector has already fallen we got to get ready for the push."
Both of his subordinates saluted and turned to follow, when Felix suddenly grunted and collapsed. The faint sound of a sniper rifle just barley heard over the ensuring slaughter below them.
"SNIPER! GET DOWN!" Barkin roared, as both he and Ron hit the dirt.
Ron turned and saw the blossoming blood starting to leek from his friend back. "FELIX! NOOO! DAMNIT NOOO!"
Now how's that for a cliffy! Mwhahahahahaha! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always please review, and don't forget to vote for your favourites the Fannies! Remember every vote counts.