FoZ is not mine.
D-Day+0
The Battleship UNS Gotterdammerung fired another salvo of low-power railgun darts at the beautiful world below. The lipstick sized projectiles flew down and splattered across the garden world below, forming mushroom clouds and devastating enemy positions and fortifications. Some splattered across heavy-duty deflector shields on military bases, and heavy duty MASER beams soon flashed across those areas below.
A pair of specialised heavy cruisers activated their fuzzfield, scrambling space-time within the area. This would ensure jump wormholes could not form within ten light seconds of the Task Force assigned to take the world of Damone 3. Not that the defeated remnants of the Bosphuraq 24th Fleet could do much at this moment.
With the Strategic Defence network around the planet effectively neutralised, the UN Navy had seized full control of the orbital sector. Now the 16th Spaceborne Cavalry Brigade would be dropped down in sixty dropships, one platoon per dropship, each company moving to accomplish its assigned objectives.
Captain Michael J. Bannon glanced at the OPORDER he had pulled up in his visor. He read through the orders one more time and dismissed it with his mind. His Rifle Company had received his orders and he would accomplish his objectives with whatever resources he had available. His Battalion Commander chattered away in his ear, doing last minute checks before they would be thrown out of the UNS Hotel California and into harm's way.
"All units, this is California Actual. Prepare for launch." The Air Chief of the Hotel California said.
The massive cylindrical starship opened its hangar bays, revealing hundreds of dropships, both drones and fakes, as well as multirole fighters for the vicious air war that would soon turn this gorgeous planet into a blood-soaked mess, like so many others. Humanity had been embroiled in this Forever War for a few thousand years now, forced to spend the lives of their population to support this horrific waste of life.
"All Delta elements, prepare for launch." He echoed dutifully. His platoon leaders passed it down to their own platoons. The Battleship fired another salvo at a carefully selected list of targets, more mushroom clouds appearing. What a waste, he thought. Everyone was strapped into their acceleration couches.
"Hey, Bang-Bang." He opened a private channel to the Third Platoon Sergeant.
"What's up Sir?" Gunnery Sergeant Danny 'Bang-Bang' Ferrero said. They had been firm friends for the five years they'd spent together in the company, first as a platoon leader transferred in, then taking command as the Company Commander when the HQ platoon had been destroyed during a drop on another operation against the Thuranin. It happens. Leadership dies, promote the survivors and get replacements in.
"Take good care of your LT. He better not kill my platoon."
"Relax, sir! I got this, don't you worry your lil' buttcheeks about this." The Hispanic warfighter said. He could practically hear the smug grin in his voice.
He chuckled.
"Right. Good luck dude."
"You too, boss man." The link turned off.
"Launching in ten, nine..." The crew chief of the dropship began the countdown, and Captain Bannon closed his eyes and muttered a small prayer.
"Three, two..."
Hundreds of dropships and fighter spacecraft spat away from the Assault Carrier. His dropship accelerated to over six G's and felt a massive weight pressing down on him, as if a small elephant settled on his chest. The corners of his vision blacked out, and he focused solely on breathing.
The dropships entered orbit and dove straight down into the planet at a calculated angle, the air turning to plasma around it as the massive dropships made contact with the atmosphere. The Battleship fired another salvo of railgun darts. An electronic warfare frigate dipped down into the atmosphere and began filling the battlespace with jamming waves, hoping to jam and disrupt anything stupid enough to open fire on the human force during their vulnerable drop into hell.
Damone 3 had a singular moon orbiting the planet. In a few minutes, her orbit would put it in the path of the sun, and a total solar eclipse would form over the central continent. A spectacular view for anybody on the ground would form for anyone on the ground, although they had much better things to do than to watch the solar eclipse. Once through the atmosphere, the dropships decelerated and activated their stealth fields.
On the ground, the enemy infantry formations assigned to patrol the expected sectors let loose their missiles, and the bird-like alien infantry quickly displaced to avoid being struck from orbit. A pair of missiles streaked towards the five dropships holding Delta Company, 2nd Battalion, then another pair. Then, another pair. Four pairs of missiles flew out to meet the local threat, and the dropship's MASER point defence turrets started shooting at the missiles. Two were destroyed, then four, then six...
More missiles sped out to replace losses. This was an important world to the Bosphuraq Empire, and they had clearly prepared for such a scenario.
The missiles flew at hypersonic speed, desperately racing in to be the first to kill one of the dropships and score bragging rights against their peers in the microseconds before detonation. They sped faster and faster, accelerating at hundreds of gravities... when the dropships fell off the face of the planet. Stunned, they pinged away with their active sensors, confused at how five dropships flying low and fast and trailing plasma could possibly disappear. They analysed the faint traces of the dropship and discovered that the trail just stopped at a certain point in the sky.
With disgust, the missiles all activated their gliding wings and began to loiter around the area, decelerating for a loitering patrol for the seventeen minutes of fuel they had left.
/
Five Scarab dropships containing two hundred and twenty seven personnel appeared suddenly and without warning into a night sky. Stunned, the lead pilot pinged Captain Bannon to alert him to whatever happened.
"What the fu-," Across the flight of dropships, yells of surprise rang across the intercoms of the dropships as those with access realised something was wrong. The terrain was wrong, the stars in the sky were wrong - the moons.
There were two secondary moons. One red, and one blue moon. They hung motionless in the cloudless night sky. They were not supposed to be there. This was not Damone 3.
Captain Michael Jason Bannon stared at the image on his visor, his brain struggling to understand what just happened.
"Fuuuuck." He groaned. "All Delta elements, sound off."
"This is Delta 1-6, reporting." The clipped, professional voice of Second Lieutenant Daniel Croft sounded through his helmet speakers.
"Delta 2-6 here." The more casual tone of First Lieutenant Albert Gottfried checked in.
"Uhh... Delta 3-6 here, what's going on?" The wavery voice of Second Lieutenant Jeffery Garger rang through his ears. He was with the unit for the past month, and Bannon was not impressed with him.
"Delta 4-6 good to go, our dropship just took out a stealthed missile! Think the fucker came in with us after we appeared... wherever we are." The Weapons Platoon Leader, Second Lieutenant Edmund Kelley reported in.
"Delta 6-5 is ready, HQ Platoon is good to go." First Lieutenant Adam Levonn said.
"Roger that, Delta 6-7 is ready. Wait out."
First Sergeant Anthony Black, his Company First Sergeant, also affectionately known as Top (behind his back of course) pinged him and his XO.
"Hey, sir. We should probably set ourselves down on some defensive position while we figure out what the fuck just happened."
"I know, I was just thinking that. I'm going to deploy our platoons on at the base of that forested hill over there."
"Yeah, that's a good spot. I'll get started on building our Company HQ there."
"All Elements, this is Delta 6-6. Get your dropships over to this large hill and set your platoons up in a defensive triangle at the base of the hill, defending cardinal direction. First platoon take the north west, second the north east, third takes the south. I'll need 4th Platoon in reserve at the Company HQ. I'll need Arrow Flight to run CAP afterwards while we figure out what the fuck is going on. Understood?" He ordered.
His platoon leaders pinged him in acknowledgement and the dropships began moving towards the hill.
"Delta 6-6, this is Arrow Lead. Arrow Four has eyes on what appears to be a village, at least six kilometres South East of our target hill. Over."
"Roger that, Arrow Lead. Can your dropship AIs form a map for us yet? Over."
"Affirm, give us another minute. It's almost done, we'll ping you when its ready. Over."
"Roger that, 6-6 out."
The company landed on the hill without harassment. They had jumped from the dropships at twenty metres above ground, landed, formed an all round defence, and lay prone, their weapons ready and safety catches off.
/
"Movement, acoustic warning too. In the trees, two hundred metres. Three humanoids. I think they're aware of us." Private Kieran Lambert in Third Platoon said, pinging the area where he had seen movement and his suit's sensors analysed the area. The figures moved again and the suit helpfully drew a red outline around the figure. At the same time, the suit automatically shared the information to his platoon through the LOS* laser link. He watched them, zooming in on them. They were strange. The figures were small and hunched over. They had green skin and wore thin pieces of fabric and a belt that barely covered their genitals. They carried small holstered knives on their belts, with small knapsacks on their backs.
They had long green triangular ears.
Fucking goblins? Where the hell did we land, Middle-Earth? Kieran thought.
"Hey, Henry. They're fuckin' goblins dude."
"Holy shit, they are! Looks like they're getting curious, too." His squad leader said. "Alpha team, prepare to engage, gonna kick it up the chain."
"First Squad, set your ammo to low velocity and wait until they reach 50 metres. Then, you drop them. If they run beforehand... drop them." Their platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Jeffery Garger said over the squad net. So he was listening in on their comms.
"Huh. What he said. Only Alpha."
The goblins moved towards them slowly and stealthily, occasionally stopping and sniffing the air. One of them jabbered quietly to his teammate, and the other shushed him. They heard him anyway. The acoustic sensors on the mechsuits of the Spaceborne Cavalry are sensitive enough to pick up and triangulate a human whisper at 200 metres.
The platoon of human infantry lay prone, their armour and visor virtually invisible in the foliage, their weapons trained on the unknowns, ready to blow them to pieces.
The leader stopped, sniffed, then his eyes opened dramatically. He shouted a monosyllable word before turning around and scattering. The two goblins with him turned around and tried to run. Keyword: tried.
First Squad didn't wait for orders.
/
"6-5, this is 3-6. Contact report. One minute ago, a hundred metres south-east of 3rd's location. Temp grid 985035. Three... goblin type creatures, fireteam minus in size. Engaged and destroyed. Over."
"3-6, this is 6-5. Roger. Did you say, goblin? Over." His XO said over the company net.
"Affirm. These are honest to God goblins, sir. Sending details to you now. Wait out."
Huh. Garger hadn't messed up his contact report. That's good.
Bannon and his XO stood in the command dropship which contained the mobile fabricator. With one of these, the fabricator could take in raw and damaged resources and turn them into somewhat high quality components to make things like ammunition, minor spare parts for the mechsuits, repairs. Usually those are held at the Battalion level where the field maintenance companies could use, but dropships were not numerous and the dropship had enough space thanks to the light headquarters platoon, which was really more of a reinforced squad sized element of twelve men and women.
Three of the dropships had landed in a clearing and covered with stealth netting to prevent them from being spotted from the air, as were the HQ inflatable tent. The other two dropships had been deployed on recon, mapping out the general area for thirty kilometres in each direction from Hill 60, as they had taken to calling their new home for the foreseeable future.
So far, they had discovered six villages close by, as well as what appeared to be a small fortress around eight kilometres to the East. He received the message and a replay of the action. He played back the footage and watched the scouts get ripped to pieces by low velocity slugs. Not one round missed, thanks to the excellent FCS* of the M25A5 rifles they were issued.
Odd, he thought. How did they detect us? Was it our scent? Impossible, we're wearing mechsuits and we're still sealed in. Perhaps its the unique smell of a mechsuit? Better stop speculating, might as well ask our AIs.
"Suit. Perform analysis. How do you think those... goblins detected us?"
"Please wait. Report is being generated now." The soft, feminine mechanical voice of his Suit AI said. The suit AIs were pretty damn smart - they could make very educated guesses about enemy positions and intentions from the most miniscule amount of data gathered from his troops, especially to help him lead his company into battle. "Assumption: We believe the enemy smelt us. The wind was blowing downwind towards them, and they detected the slight scent of the exotic materials our armour is made of."
"Yeah, figured that. Thanks, Suit."
Bannon keyed his mic. "All Delta elements. Set up your harbour areas* where you are. This is a verbal WARNO. Be here for forty five minutes at Company HQ for revised orders. 6-6 out."
/
Date: 28/07/(22)132
1. Situation:
a) Enemy: Unknowns. Multiple towns within 20 kilometres of Hill 60. Fortress located six kilometres south east of Hill 60. Further reconnaisance required.
b) Friendly: Line Company alone on another planet that is NOT Damone 3. Four platoons of infantry + Four Scarab Dropships + limited logistical support from fabricator available.
2. Mission:
Company is in defensive positions on Hill 60. Company will conduct reconnaissance on the locals.
3. Execution:
Intent: Gather further actionable information on the locals. Secure a supply of food.
a) Scheme of Manoeuvre.
i) First and Second Platoons will launch a squad-sized recon patrol each at local dawn to observe Town 1 and Fortress 1 respectively.
ii) If required, 3rd Platoon will act as airborne QRF. Weapons Platoon will set up Smart Mortars away from Hill 60.
/
LOS*: Line of Sight laser link. How most species in the galaxy exchange data at squad and platoon level. Very difficult to track unless you have god-like sensors and can identify the atomic backscatter from particles being pushed away by the laser during its flight.
Harbour area*: British Army slang for a temporary patrol base. Usually established in platoon strength. As the characters wear mechsuits, they have no need to shelter from the elements as their armour is void-proof. When you think of the mechsuit, think of the Mjolnir HALO type of armour, but significantly more advanced. This may seem OP, but remember, the military only pays for the minimum required to fight effectively. Starships are bloody expensive after all.
AN: Welcome to Albion, Captain Bannon. Your Company of Mechsuits will cause significant problems for everyone on Alfheim.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've recently gotten back into the swing of writing, with my first attempt being Warfighter - tale of a spaceborne cavalryman.
I think it's pretty shit tbh and will probably leave it up while I work on this, because I like seeing the funny numbers going up in my traffic tab. While I was writing the second chapter, I kept thinking back to how this premise is just so overdone. Louise summons a familiar, he causes problems bla bla bla.
Now, a rifle company of powersuit-equipped infantry arriving in the middle of disputed territory in Albion controlled by two warring factions, plus dealing with monsters? Good lord, this will certainly be more interesting. Inspiration for the idea is taken from the Drifter Series: Revolution and Freedom by General RTS. I just hope I have the commitment for finishing this little book.
Remember, no plan no problem.
Sunrayz out.
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