Gold Rush I: Awakening

Golden Fortress, Main Living Complex

December 3, 8:30 PM

Recruit David Carroll, aka Pits, walked wordlessly down the corridors of the base, feeling refreshed from the shower he had taken moments before. Ever since he got the news, he had started taking an extra session at weight room every evening. With him walked Recruit Trent Brackett – the only person he had told about what had happened. Sticks wouldn't understand, and the others had kept away from the issue out of courtesy or disinterest.

The weight room... no, the training was starting to make him feel alive again. The burn in his arms and legs... across his lungs and heart, the struggle against that feeling it would not dominate him and forward into the next moment-

It helped him forget. And Brackett – no, he'd recently been rebranded "Wreck" by the squad – Wreck made sure not to remind him as well. They were just two buddies coming back from the weight room. Nobody was trying to forget nothing. And that was how it was. With only one more week left before their field exam, David was relieved that he felt up to the task again.

With the high that David had from the exercise, Wreck was the first to notice. "Hey... Pits, look. The Captain's actually... out. As in, not in her office."

David looked over across the hall, and sure enough, there she was – Captain Steele. David had only seen the Captain a couple times: the first was when she had addressed the recruits upon their arrival at the Golden Fortress. During the speech, he'd had to remind himself repeatedly that this was a human being he was watching, not a highly advanced robot imitating one. For one thing, all of her mannerisms seemed more tightly controlled than even the most wooden actor he'd seen. He kept a count of the number of times he'd caught her blinking during the speech – hell, he could tally that on one hand.

Seeing the Captain talking with an officer in the hallway, she didn't seem any different than she had up on the podium. Just like before, rigid, intimidating, and robotic; the officer seemed pretty nervous too. The two of them caught a brief snippet of the last thing the officer said as he and the Captain entered the conference room.

"-ready as always, but... I assume there was a reason you didn't page me about this?"

As the recruits passed by, Wreck shuddered a little. "Yikes. If the Moonies come knocking, the Captain could kill 'em all just by staring at 'em." David couldn't help but agree. The strange event bounced around the two recruits' minds, distracting them from noticing that the hallways were more or less deserted aside from the two of them.

The officer, Lieutenant Jeremiah Volke from Engineering, entered the conference room and gave a small start as he noticed that every other command officer and most of the Sergeants on the base were now seated there. The Captain's eyes bored into him as he stared around the room; he hastily found a seat and lowered himself in it so as to escape her gaze.

"Good. We're all here now." The Captain's lips turned slightly upwards. "I've specifically called you here individually to ensure that the soldiers don't get wind of this... yet. We have planning to do beforehand."

Without waiting for any of the officers in the room to speak, Captain Steele pushed a couple buttons on the desk and brought up a screen with a field of symbols. "A reinforcement company under the command of an OF-Lieutenant has been dispatched to relieve us, ETA unknown. I will be frank with you; there are no guarantees that they will arrive safely and complete. Additionally, our scouts have reported a movement of Blue Moon forces towards the base, under the command of an enemy OF."

The silence in the room after those words reflected well the quiet resignation and resolve with which the base's senior staff received this news. Lieutenant Volke, along with a couple junior officers, had a completely different reason behind their silence. The Captain glanced briefly around the room, one calculated look per person, then continued. "I have sent your assignments to your datapad consoles. The brief battle plan is as follows: the training staff, along with the Special Operations squads, will lead an evacuation of all training platoons towards the vector of the relief company. I will update you as long as possible on the company's status and any necessary deviations. The rest of the staff will prepare for battle."

"The worst possible battle conditions: Blue Moon intercepts the relief company. The enemy OF is experienced, with a large force of units. Blue Moon's forces are waiting in the Dark Spot between the Golden Fortress and the capital even though our scouts do not report movement within 15 miles of the base. Under these conditions, we will pull back from the fortress and take advantage of the disorganization visited on the Blue Moon forces by the relief company. The objective will change to a retreat to the capital for all units."

"The best possible battle conditions: The relief company arrives intact. In this case, the recruits will return to the base and the relief company will act as reserves during the base's defense. Are there any questions?"

Lieutenant Volke, fighting down the mix of anticipation and fear in his gut, left his question unvoiced for a second, hoping that another officer would speak his thoughts for him. His wish was granted shortly, as a young, pretty officer across the room spoke up: "Captain Steele. Do we have any intelligence on the approaching Blue Moon forces?"

"Any updates will be sent to your terminal. Any other questions?" The Captain left the answer implied; she struck Volke as the type that never wasted time speaking more words than she felt necessary. Another person, this time a Sergeant that Volke recognized as in charge of the training platoon, stood. "No questions. I recommend the end of this meeting. We have no time to waste."

"Agreed." The Captain paused and looked around, her eyes resting first on Volke, then on the young lieutenant who had spoken earlier. "I understand that some officers present in this room have never been involved in true combat operations. Do your best to carry out your duties regardless. If all goes well, I will see you on the other side." With that, the Captain removed her portable terminal from the system and left the room in discussion with that Sergeant. Lieutenant Volke narrowed his eyes, watching the scene; then, as his worries and hopes overtook him, he left the room to prepare for his first real battle.

"Captain. It's happening?" Sergeant Levins glared at the lieutenant who had spoken up earlier as he noticed trying her to listen in; she shrunk back, confirming his worries. "What the hell are we going to do with all the new meat? I mean, even our officers..." He quickly glanced over to the young woman, then at Volke. "These little boys and girls are supposed to be officers? How the hell... " He couldn't force the words out; the edges of his vision were like a kaleidoscope. He took a moment and steadied himself, breathing in and out rhythmically.

"We go to battle with what we have. That's all there is to it." The Captain's face betrayed no contradiction to those words, but Levins knew her well enough to know she was also not happy with the arrangements. And yet, she never even showed a hint of panic. Her way of dealing with this kind of pressure was much different than anything Levins had seen before... except from COs, of course. Then again, if the Captain had Breakcom potential, there's no way the military wouldn't know about it. After noticing what a ridiculous possibility he had just entertained, the Sergeant mentally hit himself; he'd seen that kind of wishful thinking get soldiers killed before, and now he was doing it too.

Levins looked down at his terminal; the training platoon was to depart in one hour. With that deadline in mind, he headed for the motor pool, mentally checking off the things that needed to be done before he woke the kids up.

Training Barracks 3

8:00 PM

"Alright, you maggots! Yes, that's right, get up! The lot of you!" Those words weren't something that Recruit David Carroll expected to hear at this hour. He rolled around and saw the rest of his squad looking just as bewildered. The voice over the PA system continued: "Training Platoon 3! Get your crap together and haul your butts to the west motor pool in the next fifteen minutes!"

"We're moving out?" Sticks blinked. "Wait, what? This late?"

"What's wrong, Sticks?" Turd's mouth became unnaturally wide, trembling like he'd overdosed on some black-market stimulant. "We ARE supposed to be on call at any time, after all."

Of the group, only Wreck was getting his stuff into his bag. "C'mon, guys. Shut up and pack." Seeing this, the rest of them followed his lead.

"Hey, hey, Pits. Don't we still have two more weeks in Basic?"

David sighed. "Stuff it before I do it for you, Sticks." He noticed that Far was already packed and standing at the door; he guessed she had kept it all in her bag just for cases like this.

The PA system crackled back to life just as David put the rest of his belongings in the bag. Without waiting for the next barrage of admonitions from Sarge, he and the rest of the squad rushed out of their room and down the hallways. David could see several other squads already in motion, heading down the wooden halls in the same general direction.

"West motor pool? Isn't that away from the enemy?" Turd looked around at them.

"That's about right. Don't pretend you don't get what's going on here." David tried to ignore the jackhammer pounding away at his chest.

"Damn." The young recruit snapped his eyes back up, and fell silent. The silence persisted the entire trip to the motor pool. David's eyes continued rolling around, sizing up the rest of the recruits that joined them in their march. It wasn't as though the blank grey walls of the tunnel he had just entered held anything interesting to distract him with.

At the end of the hall and through the double-doors, the familiar buzz-cut head of Sergeant Levins came into view. As they approached, the Sergeant handed Turd a scrap of paper and waved the group towards a vehicle at the far end of the structure that had always reminded David of a parking lot. In the midst of his worry, David could see for the first time the bottom of a tattoo sticking out from under his rolled-up sleeve.

"Huh... Alpha 7. That's near the back." The four recruits ran through the crowd of men with uniforms and wrenches, arriving soon at a vehicle near the wall.

David had never been one for the look of the Orange Star APC. It was a boxy vehicle somewhat resembling the mutant offspring of a civilian SUV and a cinder brick. Scratch that... this one looked more like a crossbreed with a well-loved stuffed animal, metal patches and all. It didn't even have a mounted machine gun. The rest of the squad had similar reactions, but none as extreme as Wreck, who looked like a fisherman who had just caught a tire.

"What the... is this..." The shocked soldier just couldn't keep it in. "Have they been using the same damn cars since they built this place?"

Still, the four of them piled into the vehicle, breathing in the stench of rusting armor and dried blood. A few moments later, another four recruits piled into the vehicle behind them, dropping down on their seats with a loud *thunk* from the equipment on their backs.

To David's right sat a wrinkled, but not exactly old man, who took one look at them and scrunched up his grey face even further. "Recruits? You can call me Lieutenant Lockburr. I will give the orders from here on out."

From the front of the vehicle came a voice: "Everyone in? Alright now. I'm Private Hudson, and I'll be your driver for today. Double-check your safeties and hold tight to your seats, ladies and gentlemen; we don't want anyone getting hurt before the action starts."

The APC's transceiver crackled to life. "This is Sergeant Levins. APCs move out according to the standard order. Light Armor 2 will lead. Recon 3 will tail. Recon 6 is already scouting our path. Good luck and don't stuff up the channels; things could get nasty."

Sticks started to open his mouth, but fell silent after a glance from the Lieutenant. One wordless minute later, the engine powering the old military vehicle coughed a couple times, then chugged to life.

Minute after minute passed as the old APC swayed and rattled. Sticks tried to stand up, but Lieutenant Lockburr gave him a sharp glance. "Recruit Marvin. It is against safety protocol for an untrained soldier's head to leave the safety of the vehicle... unless you consider a stray bullet to be the perfect snack."

Sticks slumped back down in his seat. David could hear the chatter from the driver's area, but nothing intelligible. He knew that it would be considered against protocol to sleep under these circumstances, but he didn't see much else to do. Besides, how likely was it that anything was going to happen?

...oh, right. For all he knew, the Moonies had set up a big welcome party for their favorite enemies, and the group of them was headed right for it.

Golden Fortress Command Center

8:25 PM

"Captain Steele. All training squads are away. Enemy units have been spotted along the expected approach vectors. There appears to be at least one armored company in the group, but no artillery. Captain... that's a lot of mech infantry."

The Captain tapped the table once. "Well. They'll hit us along the east wall, probably send some scout teams to look for alternate approaches. I'd expect mortar teams to try and soften us up. We don't expect any aircraft in the area, but they may send a couple B-Copters. We have one armored platoon ready, along with several commando units, but only static anti-air at the base. Lieutenant Volke, have you completed the check on the base's artillery weapons?"

The lieutenant saluted stiffly. "Captain, sir! All four corner emplacements are fully checked and ready for both anti-air and anti-armor targeting."

"Good. That gives us something they don't have. They can't fire their mortars without getting in range." The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Return to your position and keep us posted, lieutenant."

As the lieutenant jumped and bounded out of the room, Captain Steele turned to the transceiver. "All platoon leaders. The enemy will be upon us soon. I have uploaded the enemy's force composition to your datapads. Expect heavy weapons, but likely direct-combat units only."

"Our battle plan is to hold the line at the fortifications outside the east wall. 1st Platoon mans the bunkers in front of the base. 2nd Platoon will provide sharpshooter support from atop the walls. Prevent the enemy from breaching our defensive walls; defend the artillery at all costs. I will update you on the enemy OF when intel becomes available. Good luck."

Alara Region, Droma's Company 1st Platoon

8:40 PM

Lieutenant Nemorov had served under two other OFs in the past. Of the three of them, he felt that Droma ranked in the middle, but that was only because his previous commander's Comnet was perhaps the most awful thing he had experienced in his 9 years in the Blue Moon military. OF-Lieutenant Droma's Network, in contrast, felt dangerous – but even more dangerous to his enemies. Nemorov could feel the power in his hands. He also observed that feeling with caution; Droma's Network tended to make the soldiers unstable, bloodthirsty. It was up to Nemorov to keep his head and make sure he got his platoon through this.

Nemorov hadn't survived for so long without developing a few tricks. For one thing, he had figured out how to detach his mind from the network enough that he didn't get caught up in the whole emotional oneness of it too much; with an OF like Droma, giving in to such feelings would get him killed. At the same time, he had to remain connected enough to respond automatically to his superior's orders. All this while the bullets fly. All in a day's work.

A cue from the Network told him that the enemy was up ahead. Nemorov sent cues through the Network, and his platoon responded, taking their positions inside the forest. Another cue told him that rear elements had prepared their mortars and would be ready to fire soon. He could hear the pounding of the base's artillery guns; from satellite images, there were at least four, one at each corner of the base, but there could be more inside. Most of the enemy's visible forces were infantry, concentrated in bunkers just outside the east walls, but there appeared to be some to the north and south in case anyone was stupid enough to try to attack from the exposed slopes on the sides of the base.

All in all, there appeared to be less than eighty soldiers in the bunkers defending the base. Of course, Nemorov reminded himself, there could be more of them inside the complex.

The sound of the mortars firing sent a chilling wave of pleasure through the Command Network. The lieutenant shivered; he would never be used to the kind of bloodlust that Droma's Comnet was made of. Still, it was better than the what the Orange Star soldiers – known among the infantry as Bowlheads for their distinctive helmets – inside the base faced; without a Breakcom in command, they were sitting ducks. Nemorov wondered how messy war had been before Breakcoms had first emerged. How could anyone conduct war under such conditions? The logistics, the communications... all the little details would be such a mess.

And of course, there were other perks too... Nemorov smiled as the mortars fell, his face displaying the look of a magician's assistant eagerly awaiting the audience's reaction to his troupe's opening trick.

Captain Steele could tell immediately that something was wrong. Even under the withering fire of the artillery, the enemy infantry still did not emerge from the forest; satellite images showed that they had set up to shell the base with mortars. When a group under the command of an OF does something counterintuitive, that usually meant they were setting up a situation that worked in favor of the OF's command ability. In her experience, OFs weren't usually clever enough to hide their abilities.

The Captain knew she couldn't afford to be rash, though. She would see what the enemy was planning when their mortars went off; doing something drastic now would only weaken her position.

So she observed the effects of the first barrage on the line of defenders. As the shells hit the ground around the fortress' bunkers, she did not see anything out of the ordinary at first. As more shells landed, she started to notice something odd...

"This is Captain Steele. Do you observe anything unusual from the mortars?"

"1st Platoon leader, r-reporting. Uh... no, sir..."

"2nd Platoon leader. N-not that I know..."

"Armored 1. Our armor's not taking these things well. No breaches, but there are some strange dents we're getting from the shrapnel. Permission to pull back into the base?"

"Permission granted... for now." Steele switched to the full intercom. "All units. Be aware that the enemy OF's command ability has been identified. Expect extra penetrance from any shrapnel or other metal debris; the enemy OF may be able to affect its properties to an unknown degree."

That's one unknown factor dealt with. Steele felt that in small-unit battles, OFs were at no special advantage... aside from their OF power, that is. She hoped that the battle would be short enough that the enemy OF wouldn't have a chance to use it, but with an aggressive ability like that, she figured he would try to take the Golden Fortress himself if his men failed. That would prove to be quite a problem unless the relief company pulled through.

And several minutes later, when the enemy switched to smoke shells, she knew the attack was imminent.

9:30 PM

It's time. Amidst the twin roars of the mortars and the fortress' artillery, Lieutenant Nemorov and his squad followed the rest of the platoon as they advanced forward, charging across the plains through the smoke. He could see several soldiers fall along the way, but the majority of his men made it to the ditch that had been dug by the company's first volley of mortars. Normally, low-yield weapons like that barely carried enough power to scatter the dirt, but Droma's abilities allowed the mortars to punch a shallow trench near the enemy's four bunkers. It had been Nemorov's idea, but he'd made Droma think he came up with it. Victory came first; the credit for it was of lesser importance.

Nemorov could hear the pounding of the enemy's machine guns, but it didn't concern him. In a few minutes, the smoke had cleared enough that he could make out the enemy's bunkers ahead. With a signal, each platoon's heavy weapons specialists prepared the rocket-propelled grenades, and aimed for the gunports...

One deafening moment passed, and then Nemorov looked up to see the results. Most of the RPGs had missed the gunports, but they had managed to destroy all of the bunkers' mounted machine guns, and possibly injure the defenders inside.

All they had needed to do was cause a little bit of havoc, after all. The tanks that were moving up now would handle the rest. Nemorov and his men crawled southward to avoid getting in the way of the tanks, as shells flew overhead and hit the bunkers in a shower of concrete and superheated metal.

10:05 PM

"What the-"

The world around David Carroll rocked around like some kind of carnival ride, snapping him out of his trance. He jerked his head up abruptly and turned to the source of the voice; the driver was struggling with the controls. That didn't look very good. And what that rattling noise on the-

A scream from Sticks let David know he wasn't the only recruit who had spaced out. Colors danced in front of his eyes as a small nagging voice in his head suggested that maybe, just maybe, that rattling might be the sound of bullets striking the vehicle he was now riding in.

Oh... oh, oh... shit. Oh god, oh god... No no not how I go no coffin on wheels what hell I doing here can't even shoot oh god

"Hang on! We're punching it!" The rattling of the world grew even more pronounced, but it didn't feel like the APC was going any faster. Even the Lieutenant was starting to look a little blue in the face.

And then, everything jerked sideways and disappeared in a bright light, then darkness. A sea of noise and motion blocked David's senses for a while, with small points of pain as punctuation. When things started to make sense again, he felt the odd sensation of being pulled by his arms through a hole that felt too small.

"Ah..." David moaned. Everything, all of the universe was spinning around him.

"His head smacked right into the hull, Lieutenant, I don't know-"

"Dammit, drag the guy with us if you have to. Get the hell into the gas station before they fire again. The Sergeant's group is running interference but- and what do you think you're doing over there, Recruit! Do you like the idea of being shot that much, damn it?"

"Sir, the enemy-"

"If that's a yes, then go out there and end your misery. If you want to live, then get your thick head down!"

A few moments later, David felt himself fall; whoever was carrying him had put him down. He opened his eyes, watching strange, blurry, bright shapes move around above him. As his vision refocused, he realized they were a cracked ceiling and several tube-shaped fluorescent lights, and he was lying on a tile floor with strange, loud noises going off around him. A face that he recognized as Wreck's came down from the top of his vision; some of the tension in the face disappeared, and then the face withdrew from David's vision.

"Hey! He's awake! Pits is awake!"

"Good. Keep your head down, Recruit; we've got work to do." As David got up, Lieutenant Lockburr walked over to him. "The Moons were waiting for us. We're in a Dark Spot so we don't know the size of the enemy, but Command confirms there is no OF in charge. Get with your squad, Recruit; there's an armored company on the way under the command of one of ours. Remember your training and don't do anything stupid; these are the moments that make or break a man." With a hard slap on the back, the Lieutenant moved on to another recovering recruit. David half-squatted, half-ran over to the gas station convenience store's large, broken front windows, where his squad kneeled behind a thick concrete wall, Far looking through a pair of binoculars at the trees across the highway.

David scoped out the gas station; there were about seven recruits covering the front windows, as well as an eight-man squad of commandos; their presence eased the pressure on David's chest a little. One APC sat in the middle of the highway abandoned, smoke emerging from the front, and a second sat on the side of the gas station with a soldier manning the gunport.

The sounds he had heard earlier, which he now knew to be the sounds of gunfire, no longer filled the air. He moved up and joined the rest of his squad, relieved to see that Far, Turd, Wreck, and Sticks were there.

"How's it look?"

Sticks jumped a little, while Far and Wreck didn't even turn around; only Turd answered. "As screwed up as before. It's real luck that the five of us made it out unharmed so far. You see the other recruits over there? Their APC broke down after just a few bullets bounced off. We've got company out there in the woods – bastards just stopped shooting at us for some reason. I don't like it. We don't even have any mortars or nothin', just our rifles, a rocket launcher and a couple MGs." Turd beckoned to the mounted gun he was at.

"Movement, 11'o clock, beyond the treeline. No signal." In response to Far's words, Turd squeezed off a couple rounds on the MG, filling the room with noise.

"Uh, what's the signal?" David didn't know why, but he felt compelled to keep the conversation going.

"They'll contact us by comm, or if they can't, they'll pop a blue flare. Funny, huh?"

David set his rifle down against the wall, shaking. How the hell could those two be so calm right now? As he'd expected, Wreck was silent but tense and Sticks looked like he'd all but crapped himself, but Far looked more or less calm, and Turd's quivering looked more like... excitement? This wasn't what he'd expected at all.

And that moment,

"GET DOWN!"

He couldn't tell whose voice it was. All he knew was that a split second before the voice rang out, the sound of impending danger filled his ears, and his body dropped to the floor as a hail of bullets hit the wall, engraving their deadly message around him and the others.

He couldn't stand up and shoot. His vision blurred as the wall in front of him shattered; he rolled unconsciously to the side, and then everything descended into a cloud of chaos. In the midst of the confusion, he heard a deep growl, then a scream; he recognized it as Turd's voice. His roll had brought him to where Far had been, but now she had retreated behind an overturned shelf with a scoped rifle. He didn't dare to look towards the other squads.

David crawled across the ground, barely daring to look up. When he did look back at the broken wall, he still saw nothing but smoke and trees. Hah... you're kidding. How can we fight something we can't even see? Turd was still at the wall, firing away... and David saw Sticks cowering in the corner. At that moment, it hit him: they were all going to die here if nothing changed. Turd, Sticks, Far, Wreck... and himself. The thought warmed him a bit; perhaps if he died here, he'd be able to see Ralphie again...

...but if he went like this, he really couldn't face Ralphie, could he?

It felt as though the air had gone silent around him. He could feel the fear, but it didn't bother him anymore. If he was going to die here, he sure as hell wasn't going to go cowering like that. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd be able to take a few Moonies with him.

And so Recruit David Carroll turned around, took aim at the trees... and opened fire.

Golden Fortress Command Center

10:22 PM

"Captain Steele. The front line has completely fallen. We've managed to disable most of the enemy tanks, but their infantry are through the wall and in the base, and our armored platoon is down."

"Damn. And we've lost the two eastern batteries, too..." The Captain flicked her cigarette, then looked down at her command console. "And the bunker squads?"

"None of them are responding anymore, sir."

"Hm... this isn't good. But now..." Captain Steele looked around the room at her support staff. "Now they're on our turf. They've managed to stagger us, yes. But our duty is to defend this fortress. We haven't lost until they've taken this Command Center. I intend to stop them long before that."

Blue Moon Forward HQ

A temporary HQ had been established near the fortress, complete with a Break Amplifier. The entire setup consisted of several tents, monitors, and a large, noisy generator, all within a hillside cave Blue Moon scouts had located near the Golden Fortress. In the Amplifier sat OF-Lieutenant Droma, somehow looking tense even in the midst of the Comnet trance. In fact, his body trembled, almost in pain. Next to him, scrolling electronically through several casualty reports, sat a man who despite his layers of fat looked capable of wrestling a bear into submission: this was the Lieutenant Baich that Droma despised so much. At this moment, he did not look very happy with his current position.

This was because of the simple fact that OF-Lieutenant Droma was not supposed to be using the Break Amplifier. He had not been judged stable enough or skilled enough to control his OF Power. The Lieutenant didn't even know what Droma's amplified power could do, but he knew it would be fruitless to try and stop the OF-Lieutenant; if he tried to bypass him and call OF-Colonel Sasha like he was supposed to do in a case like this, he probably wouldn't survive. Droma was vengeful and Baich wasn't exactly the best at running or hiding.

Of course, there was always the third option: kill the bastard while he was distracted. Yeah, let's pretend I could do that. Still, he looks so vulnerable right now... maybe if I wait for my chance...

Because, well, let's be honest: this clown really is going to get us all killed if he keeps this up. I've never seen what happens if you botch a Power, but it doesn't sound good...