Chapter 18
Suffer with me
June 5th, 1995
Fort Lewis, Washington
Republic of Cascadia
"Let's go, Avery!" The Lieutenant yelled as the soldier-in-training raced across the sand. Coming to a six foot wall, he grabbed the top and vaulted over.
"You think you can stand up in battle? Are you fast? Can you can outrun a soldier?"
Another soldier ran beside him, desperately trying to overtake him. Together, they came to a huge vertical net. Grabbing the ropes, they started to climb to the top.
"Let's GO! The pair behind you is catching up! You can't let that happen!"
Putting his leg over the top of the net wall, he let gravity do most of the work as he climbed down. Losing his grip, slipped, falling the last two meters.
"Pick yourself up!" The Lieutenant screamed as Avery scrambled to his feet. Coming to low barbed wire, he got onto the ground and started to crawl under it, avoiding the barbs above him. Coming to a mud filled ditch, he turning perpendicular to it and rolled across. Crossing under the last of the wire, he sprinted for the finish.
He crossed it, breathing heavily as he abruptly stopped in the sand. The rest of his company crossed the line in their pairs, all panting and exhausted.
"Form up!" Lieutenant Roberts called. The platoon scrambled into three rows, hands behind their back at the position of ease.
"Congratulations, first platoon, on breaking the record! You now have the WORST time in the entire REGIMENT!" Roberts called out to the men and woman. "For this achievement, I am rewarding you with fifty pushups! Get on the ground!"
The platoon dropped to the ground, moving up and down at the officer's call. "Sarcastic bastard," one of the girls muttered.
"What was that?" The Lieutenant was suddenly leaning over her. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing, sir!" The girl yelled out.
"Good," Roberts nodded and stood up. "Thanks to Private Rosenshine, you're doing one hundred pushups instead of fifty! Starting now!"
Once complete, the troops fell back into ranks. For a few moments, Lieutenant Roberts merely observed the unit.
"Go back to your barracks and change out of your PT gear! You have three minutes! Go!"
"Yes sir!" The men and women turned and sprinted toward their quarters, Avery included. "Avery! On me!" The lieutenant shouted. The private turned toward the officer. "You're fucked now," one of the other men muttered. Another wished him luck.
Moving to the Lieutenant, Avery tried to keep the apprehension off of his face. "Sir?" He asked. What had he done wrong now?"
"Private, you've done very well these last few weeks, and it's abundantly clear that you have leadership ability. Captain Markson has seen fit to promote you. Congratulations, Sergeant Avery. You'll be taking over First Squad."
Dumbfounded, the newly minted Sergeant shook his officer's hand. Roberts handed him his badges. "I want these sewn on by tomorrow. Clear?" He asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Avery thought he could see the barest hint of a smile on his face. "You have two minutes to change out of PT, Sergeant."
"Yes sir!" He shouted. Turning, he sprinted toward his barracks, a small smile appearing on his face.
June 5th, 1995.
London, United Kingdom of Eden
"The invaders are halfway across Eden now, sir. According to our best estimates, they'll be overtop London in just two weeks. I know we have tens of thousands of Eirendalian refugees in the nation, but we need to seriously start to consider evacuation, sir."
Blair let out a long, loud sigh before speaking. "I guess we can't delay the issue any longer, can we?" He asked. "Very well. I'll speak to my ministers about it." He sighed. "I never like running from a fight, but I guess I don't have a real choice here."
"Yes, sir. On the Francovian front, the OFN divisions and Francovian infantry have dealt massive casualties against the Invaders. However, they think that they'll be at the coast within two days. They simply can't stand up to the enemy armour."
"And our own forces?"
"Our armour and infantry divisions of the Edenite Army of the Rhine have linked up with the Ulraznavian panzer divisions. That would be 5000 Ulraznavian and 1000 Edenite tanks on the front, sir."
"Good." Blair nodded. "How about the Libbies? What are they up to?"
"Well, they're mainly focused on their own defense at the moment. Their army recruiting levels have been shooting through the roof, sir. "
"Right." Blair sighed once more. "Anything else?"
"No sir."
"Well, alright then. Oh, and Jenny?"
"Sir?"
"Send the Ulraznavian my regards."
"Yes, sir." With a quick salute, she about-faced and left the office.
Johannesburg, Republic of Suid-Azania.
June 4th 1995.
Day-3 of WW3.
"C'mon guys, hurry!" Sgt Hansie Morkel shouted as the 10-man squad dismounted the Ratel IFV. Pvt Piet van Heerdens nearly stumbled and dropped his Vektor R4 Assault before a hand grabbed him by his neck collar and hauled him up. Getting a good look at his savior, he found it was the cold, and ruthless PFC Mischa Oosthuizen. She pushed the assault rifle into his chest wordlessly before they advanced. Piet struggled to keep up, chastened by Mischa's rough handling. As the newest and greenest member of the squad, he was desperate to prove himself to the hard-bitten veterans. But so far he just felt like a dead weight on patrol.
"Spread out, eyes open!" Sgt Morkel ordered, scanning the deserted streets ahead. The invaders had pushed through this area days ago, but intel warned they could double back any time.
Mischa stalked forward confidently, R4 assault rifle sweeping back and forth. She moved like a predator, silently daring any enemy to show themselves. Piet tried his best to mimic her alert posture.
A loud crash made them all spin their weapons toward an alleyway. Garbage cans rolled across the pavement stirred by...a mangy street cat. They all lowered their rifles, laughing tensely.
"Jissus Christus, it's just a fokken poes," Mischa spat. "Keep frosty people!"
Piet felt his face burn, embarrassed by his skittishness. Gripping his R4 tightly, he continued forward. He wouldn't let any more rookie mistakes happen on his watch.
They approached a deserted market square, shops shuttered and lifeless. Suddenly Mischa held up a fist, dropping to one knee. "Contact!" she hissed. "Enemy patrol, across the square."
Piet squinted where she was indicating. Sure enough, a handful of bizarrely armored troops were visible, oblivious to the danger.
Sgt Morkel tapped Piet's shoulder. "Take the shot kid. You got this."
Heart pounding, Piet raised his rifle. Carefully bracketing the center invader in his sights, he squeezed the trigger.
The R4 bucked against his shoulder, dropping the enemy with a burst of fire. As one the squad opened up, scything through the patrol in a withering crossfire. In seconds the threat was neutralized.
Piet whooped, exhilarated by his first kill. Mischa slapped his back in approval. "Lekker shot!" Maybe he wasn't so useless after all.
They moved quickly, stepping over the bodies. All of them were humans wearing strange body armor with winged skulls and double headed eagles. the squad merely stepped over them, Piet spotted movement among the corpses and saw that there were two of them alive, a soldier, and someone who looked like a priest. He took out his canteen, hoping to give some water to the two before Mischa shot one of them, the soldier.
"What the fuck? He was unarmed" Piet saw that the priest guy got agitated, and was raising his double eagle thing the same way a priest on earth would raise his cross.
She smirked "Standard rules of engagement are out Voorhaan, these bastards didn't show mercy to anyone on the first day when their ships landed"
Piet quickly scrambled up, "C'mon, he's harmless, looks like a sweet old man"
"You wouldn't know that". a burst from Mischa's Vektor shattered his legs, "And besides...look at the squad, do they care?"
Piet looked back to see the rest of the squad. Sure enough, they were ignoring the scene playing out. Piet was dumbfounded, unfortunately, Mischa took this time to execute the priest-looking guy as well, a horrific grin on her face. The others winced and shrugged
Piet watched in horror as Mischa ruthlessly gunned down the pleading enemy survivors. The priestly figure crumpled with a look of shock, while the soldier spit curses before going still. Neither had posed a threat, yet Mischa showed no mercy.
"What the hell!" Piet exclaimed, rushing over. "They were unarmed, this wasn't right!"
Mischa sneered, ejecting her empty magazine. "Don't get squeamish on me now, rookie. This is war - kill or be killed."
The rest of the squad shifted uncomfortably, but none spoke up. Piet turned to Sgt Morkel beseechingly. "Sarge, you saw that! Those were cold-blooded executions!"
Morkel grimaced but shook his head. "Doesn't matter now, kid. What's done is done. Eyes forward."
Piet felt sickened. He had been naive to think the squad shared his ethics. But he couldn't stay silent.
"No, this isn't right! We're supposed to be better than these invaders, not stoop to their level. If we lose our humanity, what's the point of even fighting?"
Mischa rolled her eyes. "Don't get high and mighty with me, you little shit. I'm trying to keep us alive."
She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You want to die a noble death? Be my guest. But that's not how the world works."
Piet stood firm. "I won't just stand by while you murder helpless people. If that makes me naive, so be it."
The two glared defiantly. For a long tense moment, Piet thought Mischa might actually shoot him.
Finally she spat in disgust. "You're not worth the bullet, fool. Let's move out!"
She stalked off. Piet took one last sorrowful look at the bodies before following. He had stood his ground, but at what cost? The squad's trust in him was likely shattered beyond repair.
Still, he refused to compromise his conscience, whatever the consequences. Right was still right, and wrong was still wrong, no matter how dire the war became. He only hoped the others might someday understand that too.
Southern Johannesburg
Russell Kenye eased the Valkiri rocket battery to a stop in the vast, grassy plain and peered out the driver-side window, feeling the cool night air touch his face. As soon as he stopped, his gunner leapt out of the cab and scrambled to work its jacks into place so that its twenty-four long, slender steel barrels would be aimed squarely at their target.
All around them, the yellow headlights of more Valkiris cast their glares about the field as the other crews made the same preparations, all of them trailed closely by supply trucks packed to the brim with more rockets. Tanks snared around and surged headlong in front of them, grass crunching beneath their treads. Above the commotion, squadron of fighters screamed by.
Easily fifteen miles away but engulfing the entire horizon, the blood red, flames of the burning city shone an eerie pale light on them all.
Russell heard the jacks clank into place, followed shortly by the Valkiri's passenger-side door opening and a broad-shouldered young man in a beige army uniform squeezing into the seat next to him. It was the truck's gunner, Pieter.
"Okay, we're set. Soon as we get the word, we're letting 'em fly." He was staring at the radio.
"About damn time," said Russell. "Been waiting for this for two days." He was shaking, certainly with anticipation, but also with fear; there was a distinct jitteriness to it.
"Nervous?"
Russell swallowed and adjusted the straps of his helmet. The absurd idea popped into his head that he was too young to be here, even though he was in his early twenties and Pieter, who didn't look a day older than eighteen, wasn't complaining. "Huh? No, I'm f-fine."
Grinning, Pieter shook his head, his eyes not leaving the radio. "Come on, man, my drill sergeant was scarier than this. They're not even shooting back. You gonna puss out? You'd better not puss out."
"Look, I'm staying put." Russel's hands clamped onto the steering wheel. "We're fighting aliens, I think I'm allowed to be a bit nervous."
"You're a Cape Town boy, aren't you?" Pieter didn't have to wait for an answer; Russell's grimace said everything.
"Shit, you should be glad you're here. You could've been starving in a refugee camp, instead they gave you a gun and a chance to pop some aliens probably. Don't know what I did to get stuck with a scared kid, though."
Lucky was a funny way of putting it; he'd very nearly been press-ganged into service. He wasn't a soldier by any means, and joining the army was very close to the bottom of the list of things he wanted to do in his life. The only reason he'd signed up was because by the time the recruiters had swarmed his camp, spending another minute there was even lower. By the time he could see every bone of his ribcage, being given a week's training and thrown into the line of fire in exchange for food and a warm bed had seemed like a good deal.
Russell's was about to say this when he heard popping noises from somewhere ahead and saw a few orange pinpricks dot the sky. Mortars, from the sound of it. The men firing them were miles away, but compared to him they might as well have been staring the bubble point-blank. Was it his imagination, or had they made it flicker a bit?
"Look, you think I'm not gonna fight back when I lost my whole damn town?"
"I didn't say that. I said you're a scared kid. Scared kids don't make good soldiers."
"We'll see," Russell said simply. As soon as he finished, the radio flared to life, and almost before he had time to register what was happening, Pieter slammed the fire button.
Russell jammed in his earplugs just in time. He reflexively ducked his head as the rockets screamed barely ten feet behind him, and for several seconds, he was aware only of the ringing they left in his ears. Then his hearing finally began to return and he lifted his head. Even the fireballs erupting and smoke billowing from his Valkiri and those around him, and the unceasing sharp cracks piercing the night as the rockets burst from their tubes, couldn't compare to what he saw when he looked up.
The sky was crisscrossed with dozens of smoke patterns, lit up by the trails of the rockets as they slashed through it like gleaming knives. They seemed to come from everywhere, but all their white-hot fury converged on the burning shell ahead.
Then the echoes faded and the Valkiris fell silent. It seemed to have lasted an eternity, but a glance at the clock told Russell it hadn't been more than a minute.
"Load rockets, move, move!" The order was barked from somewhere in the smoke-choked field almost as soon as the last missiles were away. Russell could hear a pair of crewmen sliding the first rocket of the next batch off of the rack behind him, followed shortly by it scraping against the tube as they aligned it and eased it into place. One down, twenty-three to go. He remembered from his training that it would be nearly ten minutes until the Valkiri was ready to fire its next salvo, and hoped Pieter would be distracted enough not to talk to him. He wasn't.
"Watch it! Look ahead! Ten seconds, they're gonna hit!" Pieter seemed to have forgotten his contempt of Russell and was leaning forward in his seat as much as the cramped cabin allowed. Russell held his breath and counted the seconds.
Right when Pieter had predicted, the sky ahead boiled in the flares of their explosions. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, certainly too many for Russell to count, and their hammer blows echoed across the field as their firelight seared it.
"Beautiful. Beautiful. You see that? That's what life's all about!" His statement was punctuated by another, much smaller round of fiery bursts. Russell guessed they were missiles from fighter jets.
The sounds died down for a few seconds. For a minute, the entire hill was silent minus the ambience down in the city.
"Like an egg, Cape Town Boy, like a fucking egg. Don't forget, it's not just us hitting it. Last I heard, those damn Concordians had four carriers' worth of planes bombing it, there's God knows how many missile cruisers out there shooting, the Vostokvakians had subs torpedoing it...or maybe that was the Dao. Can't keep shit straight with two dozen countries all going at it." He laughed. "'Course, we're the only ones on the ground."
"Weren't we getting support from Euronia?"
"Yeah, planes sitting miles away. Apparently if we get torn up here on the ground, they'll just torch everything from a safe distance and act like they're the real heroes."
"You don't sound too bothered by that."
"You're right, I'm not. Cause this is our fight, and our country. Us? We're the only ones brave enough to fight some horses face-to-face."
"Didn't Maniba lose cities to the invaders too? Aren't they fighting on the ground like we are?"
"Fuck cares about them?"
From behind them came the cry. "Rockets loaded!" Pieter dropped the subject immediately.
Beneath the Ocean.
The vessel was some kind of submersible craft, the inside of which reminded her of the inside of an Imperial Naval warship, only without a single holographic auspex interface anywhere to be seen. Various pipes and switches and blinking lights and little monitor screens covered the walls of what was clearly the main control room. The crew, too, in their uniforms and their haircuts, looked almost like they could have belonged to the Imperial Navy, though she noted many of them wore blue-and-white striped shirts under their dark coats. And all of them looked at her with the same look of curiosity and surprise on their faces as she was brought aboard.
Lt. Karla Kovacs was dragged, her hands in steel handcuffs, down a narrow hallway, away from the command center, and then shoved through one of the doors into a tiny room. It must have been the quarters of one of the superior officers aboard this vessel - simple and stark, but functional. Indeed, maybe a little too plain: the absence of any holy trinkets anywhere throughout the room, or indeed the entire ship, indicated that these men did not honor the Emperor. Karla did, however, note the presence of a certain red pentagram, as well as a crossed golden hammer and sickle shape adorning many of the surfaces, in lieu of the sacred Aquila. These were the same sigils as those she had seen on those rebel aircraft she had battled just hours earlier. She'd counted how many crewmembers there were, 5 men and 5 women.
Karla sat huddled in the sparse quarters, shivering in her soaked flight suit. Her initial relief at not being mistreated had faded, replaced by uncertainty and unease. These captors were human but spoke a strange tongue and bore unknown sigils. Nothing made sense.
When the captain entered with dry clothes, she murmured gratitude despite the language barrier. Donning the oversized garb, the same one they wore, down to the striped undershirt, she studied her captors closely. The captain seemed professional, if wary. The political officer and guards were harder to read.
Karla realized with a start the map spread before her depicted unfamiliar lands. This was Nova Arcadia, a full map. Shocked, she could only stare dumbly as the captain indicated their location.
Another woman was ushered in - the enemy pilot she'd grappled with earlier. Karla scrutinized her in the cramped space. Out of her flight gear, she seemed ordinary. She exchanged a bemused glance, and the other pilot scowled.
The pilot drew a rough approximation of her Valkyrie while conversing with the man and woman. When finished, she passed it to Karla expectantly along with pen and paper. Understanding dawned - they wanted her to do the same.
She carefully sketched her fighter's sleek frame, adding the Chaos symbol on the tails with a faint smirk. The commissar shouted furiously at the provocation. But the humor was lost on him alone. The commissar was something else altogether. A tall, athletic pretty brunette, her fatigues and striped undershirt made her look even more threatening. The captain seemed to be the same age as all of them, in his 20s. His short blonde hair and features looked like they were carved out of granite gave him a seriously commanding aura. He had been lazily smoking what looked like an ihlo stick for the entire "Interrogation"
The commissar stood up, and began to jabber rapid fire at the three, before storming out in a huff, the captain followed quickly attempting to calm her. The other pilot glowered at her for a short bit before going out as well. Karla grinned in satisfaction. If they were this easy to rile up then she was going to be very comfortable indeed. She gave a high laugh before settling in to her new cell. She was expecting worse, considering that she was (allegedly) on a lost dark age of technology planet where the traitorous governor was believed to be consorting with the Ruinous Powers, she supposed she could have ended up far, far worse off in enemy custody.
June 4th,Dao People's Republic
Tan Ling hated his current position. Where he had been a platoon leader just a few days ago he now commanded a regiment of peasants that had been drawn up to face the alien threat. They were undisciplined, ill-equipped, and poorly trained in the time he had to command them.
Of course, this was only made worse by the lack of formal ranks. Where he might've been a Lieutenant Colonel or Colonel in a western army he was just "Commander" here. Sorting out his chain of command was even worse than the disrespect that the peasant soldiers gave him.
He silently cursed Mao for his interference in the military for what felt like the hundredth time this hour. In the same stream of thoughts, he reminded himself that for Mao's faults he still was to be respected for his efforts in establishing Communism in Dao.
Still, these were his men and he had a duty to protect them as well as defend Dao.
They were marching through the mountain valleys on the way to Xining. He had already set a rear guard and ordered the demolition of the roads up the valley but he doubted those would hold despite some early success. The political officer that had been in charge of the regiment had wanted to defend those valleys. Ling and some of his close confidants knew this would be suicide and so that political officer had an unfortunate accident as she was cleaning his service pistol.
Ling grimaced at the thought of dumping the woman's body off the side of the road. It couldn't be helped but that was cold comfort to him.
He was a fool to think that mountains were impassable to the armored foe. From the scattered reports they had intercepted, the aliens had outflanked the units to their east.
Ling wasn't a particularly well-educated man but he did know that river crossing with armored vehicles were especially difficult. Given the lack of apparent engineering vehicles that he had seen, the river would be a far better position to take up.
He crushed the traitorous thought that the defense depended on the depth of the river with the argument that being trapped on this side would be just as bad. Maybe the mud and soft soil could cause the aliens to become immobile, it was hard to tell, but for the moment Ling needed his Regiment to march.
Calumet, Colorado.
June 4th, 1995.
On the third day after the invasion, food started to run short for the group. They knew now was the time that Jed needed to go to the city and hopefully get more. Jed fitted Matt with one of the backpacks from the store, and Arturo went unladen.
"We'll be back before nightfall", Jed said.
"Alright, be careful", Robert replied, and the ones who were staying waved goodbye as the three left the clearing.
After about three hours of direct walking, they made it to the point where they could see the city. From what they saw, there was no real damage done.
"So are we going to just walk back in", Arturo asked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Aardvark", Matt scoffed, "We aren't, are we, Jed?"
"No, I think we're going to have to sneak our way back in again..."
So, creeping along the grass, they found that the outer limits were not defended at all. There were checkpoints at all the main entrances, but that was all for real defense on the outside. The three snuck into an alleyway, and slowly made their way into the city. Coming to the streets, they joined the crowds and thankfully did not attract any attention to themselves.
Just after three days, the town looked a lot different. Out of many buildings, hung Alien Flags, displaying double-headed eagles. There were several smashed windows, and some of the buildings looked abandoned. The streets weren't as occupied as usual, but enough to hide the three young boys. Once a patrol was gone, they quickly walked up across the road before a quick squeal and rumble signified the arrival of armored vehicles. Most of the occupying troops for tan uniforms and armor. The convoy here was painted mostly in dark green and the troopers in the transports wore Khaki fatigues and green armor. All of them had the words XXth painted in white on them. The tanks were ugly-looking, ill-proportioned vehicles, looking like the tank from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade except someone had decided to squeeze it and make the insides cramped.
"Holy shit…" Arturo mumbled.
"Well, boys…looks like the enemy has cavalry now." Jed looked left and right, before motioning to the other two, "C'mon let's go, supermarkets just around the corner." They quickly ran around before reaching a zebra crossing, where a few guards were smoking cigarettes. The boys stopped and watched as a familier car drove past, officers and a few girls inside it and at the wheel.
"That's the mayor's car," Matt exclaimed. "They got Darryl's dad's car."
"Look at the size of that tank!"
"Jesus…"
They walked across and found that no skyscraper was free from posters and the large one, the one that was city hall now had sandbags, barbed wire and even AA cannons. The thing now resembled a fortress. Matt suddenly spotted a familiar face.
"Louis!" he whispered, "Hey louis!" the boy turned sharply and spotted the three before turning his head back and walking off quickly.
"Was he scared of us?" he asked the other two as they walked.
They passed the massive building that was once the Headquarters of the Colorado Mining Corporation, it was also different most notably the massive I that now emblazoned it's front wall. There were soldiers at the library burning books at a bonfire. It was slowly becoming a surreal scene for them. Stopping near a bench, they were thinking through the options when Jed suddenly spoke up.
"Let's ask Alicia, she'll know." The three entered the shop behind them, giving a look to the two soldiers who were patrolling the area. The store's shelves were mostly empty, probably during the panic. Jed found Alicia hunched over a magazine, EarPods in her ears.
"6 toothbrushes please" Jed watched her look up, eyes widening in shock.
"Oh, Jed!?"
"Hi. How's your sister?"
The shock had not left her, "What? Where'd you come from?"
"The mountains. We've been hiding…"
Alicia became alert, "Are you crazy! You gotta get out of here."
"We will" Jed calmed her, "But first we gotta find out what's going…"
Alicia turned her head, Jed followed. On the upper floor, was a man in black and gold garb with a large, peaked cap. He stared at them, before going back to browsing the shelves
"You don't understand. They know who all of you are, and they're looking for you"
"Who?"
"The inquisition" Alicia checked to see if the man was looking at them, "That's what most of us call the guys who set themselves up in CM Corpo Headquarters."
There was silence. "Inquisition?" Arturo asked, "Like the one from Iberia during the medieval times, the one that burnt people?"
Alicia shook her head. Jed felt a chill run down his spine at Alicia's ominous words. The Inquisition. It sounded like something out of a history book, or a nightmare.
"Look have you seen my father. I called, there was no answer. I went by the station, it was empty. And what do you mean, they're looking for us specifically?" he asked nervously.
Alicia leaned in, lowering her voice. "Okay, listen. I'm gonna tell you something I'm not supposed to talk about. They took a lot of people away. The day after the invasion, some of those creeps came around asking about all the young men and women. Didn't speak a word of Edenite but they wanted to know where you all lived, who your families were. Gave me the serious creeps."
She cast another furtive glance at the man browsing upstairs before continuing. "Word is they've got a list of people they're hunting down. Folks who might cause trouble for the occupation. You three are on it for sure."
The boys exchanged uneasy looks. "Jesus," Matt muttered. "We gotta get out of sight, now."
"The drive-in…they took them to the…Jed? Alicia looked up to see all three of them heading out, he turned his head towards her.
"I hope you find him" she said, the three merely went out quick, next destination in mind.
Divine Right, Flagship of Lord Admiral Cardin Vallin.
Orbit above Nova Arcadia.
Prioress Superior Ludmilla of the order of the Valorous Heart walked down the steel corridor to the ship's firing range. Usually, only recruits or Guardsmen with downtime went to the range but she had a lot of free time in her hands. Especially after the last meeting with the various commanders and the Lord Admiral. General Fulani's speech had certainly ruffled quite a few feathers of the more zealous commanders. She was certain High Marshal Helbrecht of the Black Templars and Prioress Isabelle Castilla of the Order of our Martyred Lady would have ripped the man limb to limb had not cooler heads, like the Lord Admiral prevailed.
It certainly was an interesting idea. Defeat. To some in the Imperium, that was a word that was heretical, but it was not something impossible. The defeat was something rare in the Imperium, and an entire planet holding off an entire battlefleet and the Mechanicus and colonist ship squadrons and defeating them was unheard of. But it wasn't improbable. Just a day ago, the combined efforts of a few units of her battle sisters and two entire Guard regiments had taken the city of Köln (In her files the translation of the city's name came out as Cologne, which was funny to say at least) after two days of fast-paced action unlike any they had ever seen. And the casualties were insane, even by Imperial standards. In fact, there was intelligence to suggest that the rebels had withdrawn from the city on their own accord.
Presently she realized she had arrived at the range. Nodding at the crewmembers at the door, she entered the large room. All the booths were empty minus one, which was being used by General Fulani. She walked up to him.
"General." Fulani turned his head at the sound of her voice.
"Prioress," he acknowledged, "What can I do for you?"
"Your tactical analysis certainly ruffled a few feathers in our last meeting." She began to prep her bolter for range use. Fulani nodded.
"Yes, I'm surprised that I wasn't shot or killed" he gave a dry chuckle before turning his attention back to the range. It was then when Ludmilla truly got a good look at him. Fulani was not wearing the standard flak armor of the Imperial Guard, rather he was wearing the sort of body armor she'd seen the rebel troops wear in pic files.
"Ingenious, no?" Fulani said without turning, "They have melted down standard Guardsmen flak armor and turned the material into the type of body armor their soldiers usually wear. It's much lighter and still has the same protection set as regular flak armor" he began to fire his weapon, there was a quick succession of sounds, BARAKKA BARAKKA before he stopped to reload. "I took this weapon off of a dead officer, it's remarkably compact and light, a perfect CQC weapon." He stopped and quickly affixed a cylindrical tube to the front of the weapon.
"They're evolving…" Ludmilla said with undisguised wonder.
"Yes, just as I thought, and their technology is pretty advanced too, observe this." Fulani aimed downrange. Ludmilla watched curiously as Fulani affixed the cylindrical attachment to his scavenged weapon. Even stripped of its heretical sigils, the sleek black firearm was unlike any she had seen before.
Fulani aimed downrange, the gun now emitting only muted cracks rather than thunderous barks. "Impressive, is it not? With such advanced technology, no wonder our forces have struggled to counter them."
Ludmilla nodded reluctantly. "A disquieting thought. Though faith in the Emperor shall prevail, we must take care not underestimate these savages."
She hefted her bolter. "Reliance on mere material advantage breeds weakness of spirit. The zeal of our crusaders shall overcome any technical tricks."
Fulani raised an eyebrow. "Zeal is potent, but not indestructible. These primitives fight with skill and cunning. If we dismiss them as mere savages, they may well hand us a grave defeat."
He reloaded the scavenged weapon. "I tasted such defeat on Armageddon. Their Beast Claws could shred Terminator armor like paper. We prevailed through adapting, innovating and respecting their strength."
Ludmilla's eyes narrowed. "You suggest defeat here is possible? Such heresy merits death."
Fulani met her gaze evenly. "I speak truth, not heresy. The wider Imperium knows nothing of this world. If we fall, there will be no vengeance or rescue."
He waved a hand expansively. "Look how rapidly they innovate against us. Perhaps fate has ordained this planet as theirs to defend. To deny possible defeat is hubris."
Ludmilla bristled, but held her tongue with some effort. She disliked his pragmatic attitude, but he had a point. The Crusade had stalled rapidly in recent weeks as the enemy matched them blow for blow.
She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "You have given me much to ponder, General. But now, I would see your skill against the targets."
Fulani's lip quirked in a hint of a smile. He dropped into a shooter's stance without another word, raising the scavenged weapon one-handed.
Ludmilla watched closely as he proceeded to rapidly demolish the range targets with precise, controlled shots. However the war turned, Fulani's capability was not in doubt. She wondered if wider Imperial Command would be so adaptable when confronted by this strange world. He lifted the stubby weapon with newfound respect. "And I look forward to testing this against its former owners soon enough."
Alright, I think nows is the time a few negative reviews popped up. I mean aside from one user, nobody else is dropping reviews. I'd like to know what others think of my story. And a little negativity also helps me improve.