Chapter Five

1603 Hours, July 26, 2554 (Military Calendar)

Central City capitol building

Tabah Region, Planet Demeter, Itami System

'I honestly don't know,' Morgan said as he removed his helmet. 'This place raises so many questions, I wouldn't know where to begin.'

Argento gave him an understanding, almost solemn nod.

'Yes, that's a common reaction,' she said. 'Many Landers feel totally overwhelmed by their new reality once they learn the basics. After all, how could such cruelty exist amongst our fellow man? So let me start with some of the most common questions.

'As far as we can tell this has been going on since, oh, 2314? That's the earliest recorded date we've been able to find so far, though according to what little I know of Earth's history it can't be much earlier than that. Slipspace travel didn't come about until the 2290s, right?'

'Something like that,' Morgan said.

Argento nodded again.

'Second,' she said. 'is that yes, the people who send the Landers also come to attack them less than a month later. This whole planet is just a hunting preserve for them, and we are the game. That's how it's been since time immemorial. Larger cities like this, or River Town, are generally spared their attention. Perhaps because we pose too much of a challenge, or we no longer offer them the experience they wish to seek.'

'Meaning you do, on occasion, get hit?' Morgan said.

'Yes,' Argento said. 'Though as I said, it's a rare occurrence. When they do, they usually just sweep through in their vehicles firing wildly at everything around them without taking captives. Destruction for destruction's sake is their goal.

'Thirdly, the number of people taken, and who. Each wave of Landers is different from the last in terms of size. It's usually no lower than six or seven-thousand strong, scattered across the three powers, and never any bigger than twenty thousand. The average comes out to thirteen-thousand people a year, and totals maybe three million people in all?'

Morgan could only blink in response to that number. He had known the real figure was likely to be greater than his own lowball estimates, but to that extent? Again, his mind rebelled at trying to fathom the sheer scope of the kidnapping operation needed to sustain those numbers. The number of ships alone that were needed numbered in the dozens at the very least, to say nothing of the boots on the ground that actually had to go out and find their victims ahead of kidnapping them.

Worse still, it was as large as that yet none of the UNSC's various intelligence organs had gotten so much as a whiff of it. Either that or key personnel within them were being paid off, or active participants, and directing investigators down blind alleys when they weren't arranging 'accidents' for people who got too close.

That thought chilled him to the bone.

'And the people?' he eventually managed to say.

This time Argento shook her head as she said, 'There's no link. They come from a variety of colonies, lifestyles, professions. There truly is no one thing that can link them all together. At least, none that we're able to figure out from our end.

'The people they kidnap are just that. People.'

She lapsed into silence to allow Morgan a chance to process everything but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't bring himself to accept such a thing had truly happened. Even if the logistics were possible, which they may well be given the resources organisations could amass, it still banked on there being enough people to staff and fund it who were okay with the idea of treating others like something akin to an animal in a zoo, or an attraction at a theme park. He just couldn't accept it.

'This is the part most people had trouble with,' Argento said. 'Actually accepting the fact such thing could exist, and that it's happened to them.'

Now it was Morgan's turn to nod, absently, as the aide from before returned carrying a polished silver tray with their drinks. Argento poured them both a cup and placed Morgan's before him though he didn't notice it at first, still lost in his thoughts. She sat down and took a preliminary sip of her own and regarded him for a moment.

'Do you mind if I ask some questions of my own?' she said.

'Uh, sure,' Morgan said, blinking as he returned to reality.

'What brought you here?' Argento said. 'Other than a ship, I mean.'

'A mission from ONI,' Morgan said. 'They'd picked up chatter about the place and the feeling was that the Innies were intending to use it as a staging ground to amass a fleet potent enough to challenge the UNSC. My orders were to soften them up ahead of an invasion, if that were the case.'

He paused then added, 'Assuming the raiders didn't organise everything just to get a Spartan here, given the apparent scope of their reach.'

'That's one possibility,' Argento said. 'You would pose quite the challenge for them to surmount, those that wish to test their mettle.'

'They do that as well?' Morgan said.

'It's believed so,' Argento said. 'Some lifeboats that came down were, initially, filled purely with Landers that had some manner of military background and were allowed more time than usual to establish themselves, to erect defences and create weapons and such.

'More recently, our isolated Ranger postings have been hit by raiders rather than the nearby towns. We can only assume there are some up there who prefer to see how they stack up against military personnel rather than townspeople.'

'Are there any concrete facts about the raiders you can tell me?' Morgan said.

'Sadly, no,' Argento said. 'All we know of them is just conjecture. They aren't known for communicating with us, or leaving people behind. Any we capture usually kill themselves via a cyanide capsule or a bullet to the head. Secrecy is of the utmost importance to them.'

'I imagine it would,' Morgan said, though inwardly he was still disheartened by that fact.

The more he could learn about the raiders, the more effectively he would be able to plan operations against them and start to put an end to this horrid scenario he found himself in. Only knowing that their next attack was two months away, and without a means of actually knowing where it would take place, limited him in that regard.

'What about the other two powers?' he said. 'The Azure Kingdom and the Black Mountain guys. Would they know more?'

'They might,' Argento said, nodding. 'Though I doubt their knowledge on the raiders is any better than ours. We may not agree on everything, but we at least agree that dealing with the raiders is of paramount importance. That means exchanging information on them, without expecting recompense.'

She got up and pulled out a leather cylinder from a nearby shelf, opening it to reveal a heavy sheet of parchment that she spread out on the table between her and Morgan. On it was a map of the planet's main landmass they were on, plus the boundaries of the three power's territories.

In terms of area the lands of the Azure Kingdom were by far the largest, much of it woodland with several mountain ranges thrown in for good measure that helped serve as natural barriers between them and the others. Next was the Western Republic, where Morgan was now, and as the name seemed to suggest it was on the western reaches of the continent. Again, Morgan found himself exasperated by the unoriginality they had when it came to naming places.

Compared to the Azure Kingdom it was roughly half the size and located mainly in deserts and vast, grassy plains that looked to be sparsely populated. Morgan could only count maybe fifteen towns and cities large enough for inclusion on a map of this scale, against the forty plus settlements of the Azure Kingdom, but it was still a bustling metropolis next to the Empire of the Black Mountain.

It was half as small again as the Republic, meaning it was absolutely dwarfed by the Azure Kingdom, and the only city of note marked down was the capital. Terrain wise, the place was a maze of mountain passes and valleys covered in what Argento said were thick, untamed forests filled with vicious beasts. Hardly the most appealing place to live, but that also made it the most difficult of the three to attack.

'I imagine making contact with them is on your agenda?' Argento said.

'It is,' Morgan said. 'The more I can learn about the raiders, the better equipped I'll be at fighting back against them.'

'What, you don't think we're doing that already?' Argento said.

The tone of her voice suggested she was less than pleased by Morgan's comment, and when he glanced up from the map at her he saw an irate expression adorning her face.

He offered a half shrug back and said, 'I figured you are, but being locked in what amounts to a cold war I can't imagine your responses are all that coordinated with the others.'

'And what makes you think you'll be able to change that?' Argento said.

Morgan shrugged again. 'I'll ask nicely?'

Argento gave him another, stronger look of irritation before sighing and shaking her head as she said, 'Well, I wish you luck with that.'

She waited a moment longer then made to roll the map back up, slotting it back into the leather case it had come from before sitting down onto the sofa.

'I can't speak for the Azure Kingdom or the Empire of the Black Mountain, but you will have the Republic's full support,' she said. 'In return, we will in all likelihood ask you to conduct some operations on our behalf. Not against the others, mind, but against the more sizeable bandit encampments within the Republic. Consider them a test of your abilities as a Spartan.'

'Fair enough,' Morgan said.

'Good.'

Argento stood and held her out which Morgan accepted once he got to his feet, saying, 'Let us hope you're enough to turn the tide.'

0830 Hours, July 27, 2554 (Military Calendar)

Fort Caracal

Tabah Region, Planet Demeter, Itami System

The military heart of the Western Republic was almost identical to the various bases Morgan had served on during his combat career, though considering that most of the Rangers had been UNSC service personnel prior to their abduction it was to be expected. About the only difference between them and Fort Caracal were the vehicles that filled it, with many of them appearing to harken back to the machines used during the mid-Twentieth Century with their thin skinned and slab sided constructions, or the piston driven aircraft that lined a solitary runway to the south of the base.

Morgan could only see a select handful of them from his position in a conference room as he waited to meet the base's commanding officer but even at this distance, there was something strangely endearing about the archaic design they had, or the low drone of their engines as they passed by overhead, and as with his first impressions of Rock Ridge it wouldn't have taken much to convince him he had travelled back in time.

In some ways that would have been a more appealing situation to find himself in, not least of which was the fact it meant there was no sinister and shadowy organisation responsible for the kidnapping and hunting of some three million civilians, plus who knew how many more locals that had been born on the planet.

A slight grimace creased Morgan's features at that thought but he pushed it from his head as the door leading into the office opened, revealing a well built man dressed in a close approximation of the UNSC Army's battledress uniform, coloured a drab khaki to match the desert terrain outside, with the four silver stars of a general on his shoulder boards.

Morgan came to attention and snapped off a salute, saying, 'Sir, Spartan Morgan, UNSC Spartan Branch.'

'General Tom Mack,' the general said as he returned the salute. 'Western Republic Rangers, formerly of the UNSC Army.'

He held out his hand and Morgan shook it as he said, 'I'm former army myself. Airborne, 212th Division.'

'501st,' Mack said. 'Armour, though, so I guess to you I'm just a leg.'

'I'll try not to hold it against you, sir,' Morgan said, offering a wry smile.

'I'm sure you won't,' Mack said. 'Come on, let's start this tour.'

He turned and made for the door with Morgan close behind, navigating the bland hallways and corridors until they were outside again, climbing into the back of a waiting truck that took off with a plume of black smoke from its twin stack exhausts once they were aboard.

'Cigar?' Mack said, holding out a pack to the Spartan. 'They're no Sweet Williams, but they're better than nothing.'

'I don't smoke,' Morgan said. 'Beer's more my vice.'

'We have plenty of that,' Mack said as he plucked a cigar from the pack and went through the process of lighting it, quickly producing his own plume of smoke. 'But we'll save it for later. So, what did our esteemed commander in chief tell you about the Rangers?'

'Not a whole lot,' Morgan said. 'After our meeting she insisted on giving me a tour of Central City to show off everything the Republic accomplished, despite everything. I know you're called Rangers and most of you are former service personnel, but that's it.'

'Definitely not a whole lot,' Mack said. 'But then, there's not a whole lot else to explain. Fundamentally, the Rangers are no different to any other UNSC formation you might find outside of our gear. We have engineers, medical staff, transport, signals and communications. Even a press unit, for all the use we get out of it.

'What I reckon you're more interested in is the combat side of things.'

Morgan gave a nod of the head as the truck continued down the roads, passing by no end of Rangers who all, to a man, stopped and stared at the sight of a fully armoured Spartan standing next to their commanding officer, and had it not been for nearby NCOs barking at them to carry on they might have given chase.

'There's basically four units,' Mack said. 'Two infantry, one armoured, one aviation, each on par with an understrength regiment. When we get Landers with a military background, they're folded into whichever unit matches their background.'

The truck pulled onto the base's lone runway and began driving past the aircraft Morgan had seen from the conference room with Mack saying, 'If they have an aviation background, regardless of whether they're Army or the other, lesser branches, they come here and learn how to fly these babies. Not quite as glamourous as what they were used to, but we gotta work with what we got.

'Same goes for anyone that used to drive a tank, though in both cases there's a sharp learning curve as you might imagine. No electronics, no neural links, just old fashioned wires and mechanical linkages. More than a few come back traumatised by the experience, but they soon get the hang of it.'

'What are their capabilities?' Morgan said as he motioned towards the planes.

'Nothing too spectacular,' Mack said. 'Four .50 calibre machineguns mounted in the wings, each with around 500 rounds, plus mountings on the underside for dumb rockets, bombs, even external fuel tanks if they have to go long distances. Speed wise, you're looking at maybe 350 knots? Quicker still once all the ordnance is gone but not by much. We call them the Starfires.

'And over there-' He pointed to another section of the runway. '-are the Mules. Transport aircraft mainly, but a few have been converted to serve as gunships. Twin .50s and a 75mm howitzer.'

Like the Starfires they had an archaic look about them thanks to the propellers and large control surfaces, and if anything they looked remarkably similar to the aircraft that had once carried Allied paratroopers during the Second World War, units Morgan had a vested interested in learning about given his MOS.

Soon they were rolling onto a section of the base where the precise structures gave way to the vast desert but even here, the terrain had been altered to accommodate the needs of the Rangers. Morgan could see a huge course was carved into the rocks and sand, and on which several hulking vehicles were rolling across to create huge plumes of dust. Even from afar he could hear the screeching of their treads and the occasional dull whump as a cannon was fired, or a round struck home on some distant target.

'They're the Pumas,' Mack said. 'One 105mm cannon, effective out to four klicks, plus a coaxial .50 for the gunner and another mounted atop the turret, for the commander. On a good day you'll get them going maybe 50 kilometres an hour.'

'And how many do you have?' Morgan said.

'Like I told you, an understrength regiment,' Mack said. 'Sixty tanks all told across three battalions. Two are deployed on the borders and the third is back here, for training and refitting.'

The situation was similar if not slightly worse when it came to the Republic's aviation strength, having only three squadrons worth of aircraft but of those, one was made up of the Mules and tasked with entirely logistical support outside the gunships, and there were only four of those in the entire Republic. About the only saving grace was that the conversion process was quick and simple, and the turnaround with an experienced crew was just a few hours per plane.

Still, Morgan found himself grimacing slightly the more he learned about what the Rangers could bring to bear in an engagement. He guessed their technology was just about on par with that of the early to mid-1940s, given the lack of automated systems or computerised tracking equipment, which wouldn't bode well if they had to go up against the modern 26th Century equipment he knew the raiders almost certainly had access to.

It was still possible though planning any operation would require careful doing and even then, casualties would be astronomically high on the side of the Rangers. Provided, of course, it was just them contributing to the fight. Morgan still had to meet with the leadership of the Azure Kingdom and the Empire of the Black Mountain, so who knew what else he might be able to bring to bear.

'And the infantry component?' Morgan said.

'Two regiments,' Mack said. 'Able and Mike. One for us, one for the jarheads, making for around five-thousand troops in total.'

Combined with the armoured component and their available aircraft, that put the Ranger's combat strength at something akin to an understrength division, or two well-equipped regiments, not including the support staff. Adding them in could theoretically boost their standing size to encompass two, maybe three full divisions, but seeing as they weren't able to operate on the same level as frontline infantry meant the actual effectiveness of those formations would be lower than expected.

'Now, you want a lot of troops, you'll want the Azure Kingdom,' Mack said. 'A single one of their legions has five-thousand troops and they've got at least ten of those, minimum, spread across their lands, plus armoured formations of their own.'

Morgan looked to the general in surprise at that. An army of such a huge size, comparatively, would be able to sweep aside any defence the Rangers might hope to mount, so given the frosty relations between the Azure Kingdom and the Western Republic he found it odd they hadn't just launched a campaign to eliminate a political foe, and said as much.

'Two reasons why they haven't,' Mack said as he finished taking the final few puffs of his cigar. 'The first is psychological. Both sides know who would come out on top in a fight, and knowing that gives them this warm sense of superiority inside. Invading us puts a stop to that, right quick.'

'And the second?' Morgan said.

Mack took one last drag on his cigar then tossed it to the ground and regarded Morgan for a long, long while before speaking.

'They've got lush green forests and sparkling blue lakes, all brimming with resources. What do they want a fucking desert for?'