The Pentagon
Day-4
June 5th
1995
Confederation of Concordia
"Alright, move, move, move!"
Staff piled into the first two Bradly IFVs as Carville made his way to the back. There, Colonel Fraser was checking a map, his brow furrowed - behind him, about five staff officers, including the woman with the Tommy Gun, were being helped into the back of the vehicle by a pair of soldiers.
"Fraser, I want you in the middle vehicle," said Carville.
"Yes sir, but, uh, what route are we taking?" asked Fraser.
"Down through Alexandria and over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge," replied Carville. "Better to avoid the main road."
"Understood, sir."
"Saddle up, boy, we've got a long ride ahead of us," grunted Carville.
Fraser hurried to the middle IFV-an M6 Gavin, while Carville climbed into the rear IFV. He checked the lever-action rifle, grimacing - it was going to be a hell of a ride.
"This is Baker-One, we're ready to roll!"
"Copy Baker-One," the driver said. "This is Baker-Three, ready to move."
"Copy Baker-Three - forward the Light Brigade."
"Eagle is on the move!"
The White House
The Secret Service agents bundled Ritson and his army attache towards the three IFVs rolled up at the front of the White House. Marines were gathered all around - some had been gathered up so quickly that they were still in their dress blues. The captain of the marine guard was standing next to the lead IFV, barking orders to everyone around. She saluted as the President reached her.
"We'll put up a fight here, sir, make 'em think you're still here," she said.
"Why aren't we taking Marine One?" asked Ritson.
"Too obvious, sir," replied the captain. "Enemy aircraft own the skies, they'd blast you a second."
"Where the heck is our air support?" demanded Ritson.
"Comms are a mess, Mr. President," replied the captain. "Nobody knows what anybody's doing."
Ritson shook his head.
"This is supposed to be the most powerful country in the world," he muttered, climbing into the back of the middle IFV.
"It will be again, sir," the captain replied, saluting. "God luck and godspeed."
The door closed - the President and his detail were illuminated by the sinister red glow of the IFV's internal lights. There was a roar - the vehicle rocked and began to move…
The "Pentegram"
The big, commando took a drag of his iho stick before lifting his magnoculars, his hotshot lasgun slung over his shoulder. He couldn't have looked more stereotypically Imperial if he tried - under his carpace armour he wore a tunic with the aquila, and his helmet was adorned with the Imperialis of the Imperium of Man's forces This was Tarklin - just Tarklin - one of the Imperium's most skilled commandos.
"Hmm… riflemen… some armour…" he muttered. "And… what is this?"
Just behind the cordon, at the front entrance, a line of three infantry fighting vehicles not unlike a Chimera had rolled into the parking lot. They were big, long, six-wheeled vehicles with heavily sloped frontal armour, small turrets with autocannons, and a heavy machine gun next to the cupola. About two dozen officers, many wearing uniforms, were hurriedly gathering around them - and at the rear, Tarklin could see a bald general officer with a cigar.
"The Bald one," he muttered.
He lowered his magnoculars, reaching into his breast pocket and producing a map - it had been torn from a guide of some sort. He let out a low 'hmm' and circled the intersection of a Street Branch Avenue. Nodding, he turned and strolled back to the van, climbing in the back, where there sat a small squad of Tempestus Scions.
"Captain, what is the plan?" one of them asked.
"We cut them off at this... Hill," replied Tarklin, his thick Necromundan accent underlining his words. "Get me radio with strike force, I want them dropped off there, got it?"
"Yes sir," nodded the scion. "We'll hit them there." He glanced down at a mechanical gadget in his hand - the BTL-5V1, 'Sigilite - a radio with a six-sided vox radio on one side, a digital altimeter on another and a miniature computer on a third. He flipped down a button and spoke into it.
"Strike force, Tarklin here," he began. "We are making our way to the Hill to cut of the Road Branch Avenue, got it?"
"Got it, Tarklin, sending over the plan now," replied a female voice from the other end, drowned out by a subvocal chatter.
Approaching the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, Washington DC
Day 4
The IFVs sped off the turnpike onto the I-495, the big concrete bridge over the Potomac ahead of them. General Carville stood in the command cupola of his vehicle, watching for any threats - he had exchanged his general's cap for a helmet in order to look less conspicuous. North of the bridge he could see fires licking the skyline - the enemy had reached the city of Washington.
"God damn it," he muttered.
He turned south, just in time to see three black dots approaching quickly down the Potomac - a trio of aircraft, coming in fast. He grit his teeth.
"Choppers, 3 o'clock!" he growled.
"This is Bravo-Three, eyes on VTOL's."
The turret shifted to the right, and with a steady phut-phut-phut it began to fire. One of the VTOL broke left, but the other two flew on. The middle one bore straight on the centre IFV, Bravo-Two.
"Bravo-Two, he's comin' for you, evade."
"Breaking right, breaking right."
Bravo-Two lurched to the right, but it was already too late. With a flash of red and a sound, the VTOL fired a red concentrated beam of light. For a brief second, Carville could see Colonel Fraser peeking out of the cupola - then Bravo-Two was a ball of flame.
Phut-phut-phut! Bravo-Three's 20mm gun found it's target. The offending VTOL began to spin, flames licking the engine - it tumbled down into the Potomac, splashing into the cold water.
"Got 'im, still one more."
The third VTOL shot over Carville's head, but it was already scrambling to turn and make another run. The brief window of vulnerability gave Bravo-One the chance it needed. There was another burst of fire, and the final VTOL exploded - a round must have hit one of it's laser emitters or whatever it used. The fireball tumbled into the suburb of Alexandria and was gone.
Bravo-Three shifted, passing the wreckage of Bravo-Two. There were loud bangs as the rubber tires burst from the heat of the flames - a jet of fire poured out of the cupola, shooting high into the sky. Even from a few metres away, Carville still winced at the intense heat - the air smelled of cordite and burning rubber.
"Bravo-Three, can you pick anyone up?"
"That's a negative, Bravo-One, they've brewed up. Nobody's getting out of that."
"Copy, Bravo-Three, keep moving."
Carville stared back at the burning IFV as it disappeared behind them - he could still see the flames long after the hulk itself was out of sight.
The corner of Intersection
The van skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, and the Scions burst out of the rear.
Tarklin looked around - there were a pair of Valkyrie VTOL's dropping infantry on either side of the intersection, and a heavy Main Battle tank was idling on one side if the Street. This was a Leman Russ, a formidable piece of military technology. Packing a menacing 120mm rifled gun in its turret, the tall hull was sloped at the front, but the sides were comparatively flat. Even so, every angle was impressively armoured. If the Russ did have major flaws, they were its somewhat slow speed and the cramped conditions in the turret.
Tarklin marched up to the tank, banging on the side with the butt of his Hellgun. The commander burst out of his hatch, scowling.
"The hel is your problem?!" he demanded. "We just had this frakking thing painted!"
"Move tank into trees!" ordered Tarklin. "I don't want rebels seeing it until they're on top of us!"
The commander glanced to his right - there were trees on both sides of the Street.
"Which trees?" he demanded.
"Use initiative," grunted Tarklin. "Just make sure you cannot be seen, okay?"
The commander grumbled to himself and climbed back into his tank. With a low growl, the tank began to traverse to the right, rolling towards the treeline.
"Make sure to hide infantry too!" called Tarklin, walking towards one of the Valkyrie's. "I want complete surprise!"
He strode to the front of the Scions, checking out their situation and gesturing to Lieutenant Arleus - an older man, from the look of him.
"Rear up and around the corner," he ordered. "If anything decides to come around the front of the buildings, I want them to get a faceful of guns!"
"You got it, Tarklin," replied Arleus. "Be ready, just in case."
Tarklin peered out from the side, watching as the Leman Russ rumbled toward the concealment of the trees. The commander, seemingly still grumbling to himself, complied with the order, and the tank disappeared from the sightline of the street.
The Leman Russ commander grumbled more as he drove the tank into position behind the trees. "Complete surprise, he says. As if hiding a tank the size of a hab block is some easy feat."
Once hidden, he poked his head out of the top hatch. "You call this initiative, Tarklin? All I see are trees. Tree troops, tree officers, blasted tree rebels everywhere!"
Tarklin sighed. Sometimes the tank-riding brutes lacked imagination. "Just wait here quietly, Russ-rider. Let the Scions do their work surprise the heretics."
He moved to check on his infantry positions. After dispatching a few well-meaning but directionless new recruits, he called over the vox bead in his ear. "Strike force, this is Command. What's the sit rep on those rebel scum? I want their locations marked on my augur so we can blast them to the Warp."
A crackled reply came back. "Command, this is Strike 1. Sector is clear of hostiles...for now. But the natives here are wily - better prepared than those pig-farmers back on Armageddon. Recommend tightening our grip on this region of Nova Arcadia before the rebels grow bold once more."
Tarklin grinned. "Then tighten we shall, Strike 1. The Emperor protects...and he guides my bolter to rebel skulls!" He ended with a hearty laugh, eager to purge more heresy from this new battlefield.
In the distance, the rumble of the Leman Russ's engine could still be heard, now concealed among the trees. The Valkyrie, having completed its drop, ascended into the sky, disappearing behind the skyline.
Tarklin and his Scions moved with purpose, navigating through the streets with a blend of caution and speed. The element of surprise was crucial, and Tarklin's experience in covert operations served him well. He reached into a pouch and retrieved a small vox communicator, linking up with the other squads.
"Status report," Tarklin spoke into the device, his voice low and commanding.
The responses came in, confirming the squads were in position and awaiting further orders.
"Good. Hold your ground until the rebels are in our trap. We strike as one."
As Tarklin moved through the shadows, the looming presence of the Imperium of Man's Battlefleet Scolaris above, unaware of the intricacies of this unfamiliar dimension, hung in the back of his mind. The conflict on Nova Arcadia was escalating, and Tarklin knew that every move counted in this war against the perceived heretics.
CCS Saratoga
Atlantic Ocean
Nathan Hale was in the armory bay of the carrier CCS Saratoga. He was a tall human male with blue eyes and a gruffy looking face which had given him a rather tough facial expression while his muscular body was hidden by his Concordian M81 BDU and PASGT system. While he normally had brown hair, his head was shaved due the US military's hair style code.
He had holstered his M1911 .45 caliber pistol and his K-Bar fighting knife and strapped a few frag grenades to his ammo belt.
But before he left, he reached for one more item. It was a picture of him and his step-sister Susan. He hadn't seen her in over a year since he joined the Concordian army. Hale's birth parents died when he was only a child and Susan's family took him in. Joining the army created a rift between him and his sister though and they hadn't spoken for a while.
A loud alarm roared throughout the carrier and disrupted Hale's train of thought. The siren was a signal for all troops to prepare for battle and Hale wasted no time. He grabbed his M5A2 Folsom Carbine (a Concordian Assault Rifle Design from 1951 which had been chambered to fire the powerful and accurate .276 Pederson Intermediate Cartridge) and headed to the carrier's deck.
The deck of the Saratoga was very busy with activity as Concordian Army, Naval, and even Marine personnel were running about to their battle positions. The deck was full of highly advanced U/AV-17 Hawk VTOL (Vertical-Take-Off-Landing craft.) Thanks to the discovery of micro-semi conductor chip in 1924 by Serb-Concordian inventor Nikolai Tesla (which wouldn't be discovered until 1947 in our world), mankind was able to develop more advanced and fuel efficient technology.
The VTOL was developed in 1937 by Igor Sikorsky and it was a very versatile and powerful machine. Apart from serving as a fast troop and supplies transport, it also had two frontal 7.62 machine guns and two door mounted .50 caliber M2 Browning heavy machine guns to provide close range air support to the troops. Next to the VTOLs were Grumman F14 Tomcats and F-18 jet fighters. Nathan was a part of the 1st Ranger Battalion of the Concordian Army Rangers, which was to be sent to the front to York.
Nathan Hale's unit was a part of Operation Deliverance, a top secret Concordian/Edenite military operation aimed at assist the Edenite in the defense of their nation The rangers' mission was to secure the city and regroup with the Edenite forces which were already on the ground there. The CCMC Aviation Corp would deploy a few jets and ground attack aircraft to provide air support to the Concordian Army Rangers.
Hale headed towards the VTOL whose call sign was "Arrow Two" that was his battalion's call name. Several other Concordian army soldiers were boarding their VTOLs cradling their rifles and equipment carefully. Some soldiers had M249 LMG's for suppressive fire support while the medics and engineers were issued MP5 submachine guns. Hale got into the VTOL which was loaded with nervous soldiers and equipment, the squad leader, a Concordian Army lieutenant named Adrian Black gave the signal for the VTOL's pilot.
"We're good to go!" he shouted to the pilot as he closed the VTOL's passenger doors. No sooner, the U/AV-17 took off. The VTOL's propellers first took off and landed like a helicopter but once it was a safe distance in the air, it's propeller engines tilting forward and it flew like a regular propeller driven airplane. Soon after, over half a dozen other VTOLs took off and followed suit. They would arrive in the city of York in a few minutes. Little did they expect the meat grinder they were about to be thrown into…
"The Concordian soldiers had no idea what kind of enemy they were facing. Fearing the loss of Eden would cause a national panic in a country that was already in a state of fear due to due to Washington DC and other cities on the East Coast being captured in the 2nd Wave, the Concordian government enacted the "Special Wartime Protocol Zeta 3. Newspapers, radio waves, and even television signals became state property and a nationwide curfew was declared. Only the highest groups in the Concordian government and the military knew the truth. The military operation was an exchange; the Concordians would supply the Edenite royal army with tanks, ammo, and humanitarian supplies. In exchange we would be giving them one secret weapon which could potentially change the outcome of the war. Something the Concordians couldn't build themselves. I was part of the team who was to meet the Concordians. My team managed to contact the scoutelements and we headed to York to meet the Concordian soldiers, but we were ambushed on the way there. There was no way to warn the Concordians. They were on their own, fighting an enemy they knew absolutely nothing about because they were not veterans of the fighting on Continental Euronia or the fighting breaking out currently . We don't know the exact details of what happened there. All we know was that Nathan Hale was the sole survivor!"
The Concordian VTOLs arrived over the ash filled skies of the pile of rubble and ruins that was once the peaceful city of York. The whole city of York was in ruins. The streets were full of craters from what appeared to be artillery fire and abandoned trucks and even a few cars. The building were only bleak shells of what they used to be. Many of them had large holes blasted out of them and where full of thick piles of stone, wood, and metal.
Some of the the buildings and debris were on fire which appeared to have been freshly started. From the moment the VTOL's entered Edenite airspace it became clear that the rangers had entered the wasp's nest.
The VTOLs rocked rapidly as they were bombarded with tracers and flak of an unknown enemy. Some of the VTOLs fired back with their machine guns but it was futile. Whoever the enemy was, he was hidden by the buildings and smoke. Nathan Hale sat in the cramped VTOL struggling to hold on to his rifle and stay in his seat as the enemy flak bounced off the VTOL's armored hull.
"Hang on back there gentlemen!" the pilot called from behind "Approaching the drop zone!"
The VTOL approached the ruins of what appeared to be a small street although it was difficult to identify due to the fact that the street was full of artillery craters and ruins. The VTOL tilted it's rotors upward and steadily and carefully towards the targets it's rotors kicking up debris.
Once the VTOL was steady, the cargo doors were opened and two soldiers activated it's fast rope mechanism. Two rod looking devices dropped four very strong nylon ropes to the ground.
The soldiers including Hale got up and shouldered their rifles and equipment. Lieutenant Black, being the squad leader was the first to fast rope.
"Go go go!" he shouted the orders to his men. Hale grabbed on to the rope and fast roped down to the ground. His landing made a crackling sound as when his boots hit the concrete road he had stepped on broken glass and barbed wire. Fortunately his boats were thick and he wasn't hurt. The rest of his unit soon followed until a total of eight soldiers where on the ground. Lieutenant Black then began issuing more orders.
"Okay boys, you know the drill. First we need to reestablish contact with Arrow Three and….."
Suddenly, Black was interrupted by a very loud whistling sound that was coming from the sky. Hale looked up and was shocked in awe as he witnessed a red laser streaking and whistling through the sky slam straight into Arrow Two's VTOL with a fiery eruption!
The rocket had struck the VTOL's fuselage right below its fuel tank setting the craft ablaze and Hale and his squad could only watch in horror as their only life line and method of support spun out of control and crashed behind was appeared to be an abandoned pony school crashing and created a small cloud of smoke, ash, and fire.
"Holy shit!" Lieutenant Black gasped. "C'mon we're getting outta here!"
He then turn to a young red headed corporal named John Kowalski and tapped his shoulder. Despite what had happened, the middle aged commander kept calm. After all, he did serve in the Concordian conflict in San Giano.
"Kowalski!" he shouted at the frightened corporal. Kowalski jumped with fear and his rifle was shaking very noticeably in his hands, but he soon came back to his senses.
"Sir!" he answered back trying to stay in character.
"Your squad go now!" he ordered through all the chaos and tilted his head towards where he wanted them to go. Kowalski nodded back nervously and signaled his men to charge. He then turned his attention towards Hale.
"You're with me! Let's go!"
Hale nodded and with adrenalin pumping through his body, he armed his battle rifle and sprinted alongside his lieutenant. The rangers ran across the wrecked streets trying their best to not trip or fall over any debris. However, after running for only about 50 meters, Kowalski and his squad suddenly stopped.
"Sir up ahead!" he screamed towards Black as he pointed the direction. Black and Hale took cover behind an abandoned taxi and got a closer look at what Kowalski was looking at.
"What the hell are those things!?" he shouted flabbergasted at the site he was seeing. Hale was definitely surprised too. Up ahead crawling from the debris were what appeared to be some humans! At first the rangers assumed they were probably survivors, it became clear that they weren't once they got closer.
These were standing on guard holding strange looking guns that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. But that wasn't the least of it, the tangos were wearing heavy overcoats of a greyish blue color with a rolled blanket around their shoulders. Some even had red shoulder armor. On their heads, they wore ushanka's with winged skulls. With them, was a man in a black and red uniform with black hair and sideburns. He had a very charismatic aura about him. A lot of them were laughing and one of them took a potshot at something, there was a scream before a corpse of a civilian dropped down. It was pretty obvious that these were not friendly.
"Take cover quickly!" Black ordered.
Hale, let his training and soldier instincts take over and he took cover behind the carriage. He aimed his Folsom and fired a long burst at the nearest soldier he could see. the .276 Pederson was powerful and accurate yet it was lighter and had a much softer recoil compared to the M16 rifles Hale had been trained with. The bullets impaled the soldier spraying blood and skin as it tore the man apart. He gave a gurgle as he fell to the hard ground dead and a pool of red blood formed underneath him, he never even saw Hale fire.
The others snarled and aimed their weapons ready to avenge their fallen comrade. What the guns fired; Hale had no idea, but he had no time to question as he ducked to avoid the returning counter fire.
When the hostiles fired their weapons, they made a distinctive high-pitched "crack" or "snap."sound and they fired with very rapid succession of volleys which appeared to be small red beams of heated las energy. While they were traveling at a much slower speed then a bullet, Hale got a firsthand look of what they could do to a person. Their radioman, a ninteen year old private named Jenkins from New York state, tried to duck behind a wall to avoid their fire but he was too late.
He screamed in agony as the energy bolt struck him in his left arm and back. The bolts sizzled as they tore open a large cavity of his back spraying blood and flesh everywhere and obliterating his left arm off! Jenkins's MP5 and his radio fell off him and hit the ground with a loud clank. Jenkins slumped over and rolled over on the ground leaving a trail of blood as he rolled over on his back, gave one final groan, and soon left this Earth.
A fellow Ranger charged out from her cover and tried to rescue her fallen friend's body laying down a volley of suppressive with her M249. While she managed to kill one of the hostiles and injured another, she met her friend's fate as one of the enemies energy blasts struck her breast and tore open her chest cavity.
Hale swore he could've saw that LMG gunner's still beating heart fly out as the gal slumped down next to her fallen comrade and died. Hale quickly took aim at the injured soldier which had killed the two rangers and opened fired putting the wounded bastard out of his misery. The rangers and the soldiers just stood there fighting a war of attrition; lead bullets and energy bolts soared through the air. As the two sides were fighting, Jenkin's fallen radio activated and transmitted a distress signal.
"This is Arrow One! Requesting assistance! We are under attack by some sort of walking tank! We have multiple enemies and…*shhhssss*" the broadcast was cut off by static.
Hale paid little attention to it and continued his fight with the unknown troopers. He had just taken out another one of them when suddenly a VTOL with both of its engines on fire and its fuselage and cockpit riddled with blast holes flying out of control from behind some wrecked grocery stores. The VTOL, who Hale could identify as Arrow one by the symbols on its fuselage, spun rapidly and violently out of control and crashed into a building only a few feet away from where Hale's team had been fighting.
Before anyone could react or say anything the VTOL slammed into the abandoned building and crashed sending a ball flame and debris crashing down and knocking Hale, his unit and the soldiers to the ground. Hale landed on a pile of loose dirt with a grunt but thankfully he was lucky to be unscathed.
He quickly got back to his feet and dusted off his uniform and picked up his rifle which he had dropped. He wiped the dust off his face and noticed blood on his fingers from a cut he had received on his right cheek. But it was only a flesh wound and nothing he should worry about as he had experienced much worse. His team on the other hand wasn't so lucky. While the soldiers he had been fighting were dead, his entire unit had been wiped out. If the enemy fire didn't kill them, the VTOL's crash did.
He saw Kowalski slumped on a slab of wood which had fallen from a nearby house; his bloodied helmet and rifle were laying next to his feet and his head had a large, fatal gash and was leaking so much blood and brain matter, Hale couldn't tell the difference between the blood and Kowalski's red hair.
Lieutenant Black was also dead, he had been impaled by a metal pole, possible a street sign. He was laying on his back, his motionless eyes were still opened and blood was leaking from his mouth and shattered chest. His death appeared to have been instant.
Hale had no time to mourn though. He quickly gathered up his fallen men's dog tags and he also took a few supplies from their bodies. Ammunition and spare magazine and anything he could carry. He then reloaded his rifle and proceeded down the road to the rendezvous point.
Commissar Ciaphas Cain. Hero of the Imperium!
Cain pretented to be a corpse as he watched that last soldier go...where was Jurgen when you needed the guy. He honestly had not expected the crash. How had they not noticed the insertion? A squad of the 597th Valhallen dead, and he would have been too... He let out a long sigh of relief as the lone surviving human soldier finally disappeared down the ruined street, clutching a variety of pilfered gear. He waited a painstaking few minutes before finally daring to extricate himself from beneath the corpse he'd been mimicking.
"Blast it Jurgen, where are you when I need you?" He grumbled, brushing dust and debris from his absurdly ornate Kommissar garb. The crash had caught everyone by surprise it seemed. A whole squad of Valhallan veterans snuffed out in an instant!
Cain surveyed the aftermath grimly. What a mess. At least this new enemy used projectile weapons rather than demons or aliens. Almost refreshingly normal. Though their transport craft were worrisome - too fast and well armed.
A groan startled him. One Valhallan lay pinned but still breathing. Cain bent to assist before remembering his duty.
"Stay strong Guardsman, the God-Emperor watches over you." He intoned solemnly, giving a swift snap of the neck. No need prolonging suffering.
Now then, to cover this up before the Inquisition started sniffing about. He'd claim the squad overwhelmed this advance patrol, of course. With any luck he could get back to Jurgen and a hot meal before filing full reports.
One could only hope further "heroic" clashes were on a smaller scale. Cain had more than enough glorious victories to last several careers, after all. He gave a jaunty wave to the fallen as he beat a hasty retreat, pride of the Imperial forces or not.
Some rest and recuperation were desperately needed. Cain grinned at the thought of nestling in with a stacks of contraband cinnamon rolls. The Emperor protects, and all that. He got up and limped over to an enemy corpse. crouched down next to the still-warm corpse of the fallen soldier, prodding it gingerly with the barrel of his laspistol. He wrinkled his nose - even for an experienced Commissar, the stench of death was hard to stomach.
"My condolences, sir." He whispered politely, as if the dead man could still hear. Good manners cost nothing after all.
His quick inspection revealed little - some battered plastek body armor, an assortment of pouches, and the weapon. Cain lifted it gingerly, turning it over in his hands. The design was unfamiliar, unlike anything in the Imperial armory of man-portable guns. It was heavier than a lasgun too.
"Projectile weapon old chap, but nicely engineered." Cain remarked to the corpse. "I'm afraid I don't recognize your tribe however. Tourists to Holy Terra perhaps?"
No response, unsurprisingly. Cain sighed and tucked the weapon under his arm. Best not leave technology from unknown realms laying about, even if it was unusable to him.
Rising with a groan, he brushed off his skirts and gave a final salute. "Farewell unknown warrior. May you find your way to the Emperor's side, where the cinnamon rolls are endless and the paperwork minimal. Cain out!"
With that rousing benediction, he turned smartly on his heel and set off to rejoin the squad. One could only hope the next clash involved fewer explosions and friendly fire incidents.
General Andrii Chenkov
"What!" General Andrii Chenkov of the 597th screamed "Rebels have landed, but we just captured this bloody town!"
"If it helps" an aide began "our sensor arrays...weren't on yet". the entire roomful of officers was silent.
The aide cringed back as General Andrie Chenkov's face turned an alarming shade of puce.
"Weren't on yet?" Chenkov bellowed, voice dripping with contempt. "Do you have any idea how much those arrays cost the Departmento Munitorum to produce?"
The roomful of officers sat frozen, none daring to meet the General's furious gaze. A few glanced sympathetically at the unfortunate aide.
Chenkov began pacing like a caged animal, fists clenched behind his back. "We take this town with minimal casualties. Job well done, medals for all!" He spat. "Then somehow, some way, an unknown enemy force lands undetected? Have our sensor techs become so incompetent?"
An older colonel cleared his throat. "With respect General, perhaps we should focus on repelling this new threat, rather than casting blame..."
"Be silent!" Chenkov roared, rounding on the man. The colonel visibly shrank into his chair.
Chenkov resumed pacing, mind racing. "Send word to plan Valkyrie at once. I want air and armor support overhead within the hour! Loadhot targeted for suspected landing zones. And you!"
He pointed an accusatory finger at the trembling aide. "When this is over, you will be begging for latrine duty on the Strike Cruisers, do I make myself clear?"
"Y-yes General! Right away General!" The aide fled as if pursued by demons.
Chenkov glowered at the frozen officers. "Dismissed! I want this new enemy crushed before sunset. The Emperor Protects...but he helps those who help themselves. Move out!"