Once more unto the breach

by PapaFrankuu

The crew of an experimental Abrams tank found themselves in a world where Combined Arms have long since become obsolete and mechs called Feldreß ruled the battlefield, amidst a civilization that is more than eager to dig its own grave. Crossposted from AO3 under the author name Lukenstor(underscore)Systems

4. Rules of Engagement

Chapter 4: Rules of Engagement

"I really think the dividing line is the thermal imager and its associative FCS, if you at least have THAT, you're useful. And again, there are these videos of Ukrainian BTR-4s with their 30mm cannons, the guys make it look like a video game, he's pumping away… he's got a thermal imager. If you don't have a thermal imager, you are not worth the effort to be put into the field today."

– Nicholas "The Chieftain" Moran

April 29, Stellar Year 2148

It's already close to mid-day, yet the dense blanket of Eintagsfliegen hovering above the battlefield left the only natural light source at the distant horizon, creating the illusion of dawnbreak. Almost beautiful, in a way, if it wasn't for the ominous shimmering layer of silver seeping into view like spilt mercury.

"Handler One to Undertaker: multiple enemy interception forces detected at grid points 30 and 50, consisting of battalion-sized units of tank and dragoon types. All units, you are to advance immediately and eliminate the threat."

The Legion are attempting to push through a long abandoned rail yard, a vast expanse of mostly flat terrain devoid of any significant natural cover. Whatever structures once stood this area have long since been reduced to rubble due to continuous shelling.

A tanker's playground, as Ochi would have called it, not so much for their haphazardly constructed, skeletal shaped suicide machines.

"Though, with so many of them. I bet you're all gonna bite it!" The swine sitting comfortably behind the safety of the Grand Mur gleefully remarked, fully aware of the disadvantageous terrain the squadron is forced to fight on.

Spearhead squadron hasn't even been established for a whole month yet, but they have already changed handlers 4 times. There'd been the meek, the bad, the negligent, but this one is definitely the ugly, the type that openly complains about losing bets because of how consistently the squadron has completed their objectives without casualties.

"Undertaker to all units, spread out and engage!"

"Roger!"

"Alright, let's do this!"

Arcs of light streaked across the dark sky as the Grauwolf vanguards unleashed an inaccurate barrage of 76mm rockets, black clouds of death erupted all around the Juggernauts as the rockets smashed into the earth, temporarily obscuring their vision. Tracers zipped across the battlefield as the Ameisen laid down suppressive fire with their general purpose machine guns, the bright streaks of orange light directing the Löwen to their intended targets.

"Charge! you filthy swines! Fight until you drop!" The Handler cackled manically over the comms, no doubt this will be a good day for his wallet.

The .50 cal nose mounted machine guns rattled as the squadron began suppressing the hordes of self-propelled mines using the dense smoke as cover to close in the distance. Shin carefully guided his vanguard forces through a gap in the enemy formation to start dismantling the Legion's formation. The more heat he can take off his squadmates by applying pressure against the Legion's tanks, the better.

"This is Helianthus, rig's taken damage! I'm immobilized!"

"Falke here, moving in to provide cover!"

"March Hare, enemy on your 10! Get a move on!"

"Evading!"

"Black Dog, spotter group on your 3 o'clock, four units, distance 1,000."

"Roger that, Undertaker!"

"Laughing Fox to Gunslinger, multiple Löwen approaching from our 2 o'clock, they're trying to flank us."

"Ha, not on my watch!"

"This is Artemis, someone get these dragoons off me!"

"Hang in there, Artemis, help is on the way!"

"Damnit, they have me boxed in. Forget it, Sirius! Just go on without me, get out-AAARGH!"

The transmission was abruptly cut short when the charging Grauwolf slashed with its vibration blade, cleaving the UGV, and the processor riding inside, cleanly in two.

Another one, lost.

"Son of a… they got Artemis!"

"One down already? Heh, all bark, no bite. Get your shit together, you worthless Eighty Six!"

559, the number of comrades Shin had journeyed with over the past 5 years, the number of those he inevitably had to send off, Mina included. He bears remembrance to every single one of them, and the memory of her is still fresh in her mind. A gentle soul, capable of holding her ground despite her delicate appearance, didn't stop Kujo from dotting on her like a little sister, though.

None of that meant anything to the Handler sitting in his remote command room behind the minefields and the Grand Mur, to him, she's just a statistic, an inorganic drone component, a liability to be disposed of. The same applies to the millions cast out onto the "battlefield with no casualties" and left to rot, none of that meant anything to degenerates like him.

Shin is not in the mood for this bullshit.

"Everyone, prepare to sever the connection."

There's no need for him to elaborate further, his squad members one by one disconnected without questioning his intentions.

Now it's just him and the Handler, Shin increased the synchronization rate on his RAID device and scanned the chaotic battlefield for the largest cluster of Black Sheep in the enemy formation.

Right there, a formation of Löwen perched on top of a slight hill that is shelling his Squadron, with only a few Ameise escorts providing targeting support. Shin pushed his overdriven rig harder, deftly leaping out of the way of an incoming HEAT shell, and slamming into a distracted Grauwolf, driving his high frequency blade into the Legion's angular hull. Old man Aldrecht can give him hell later on for all these risky stunts, but unless there's a better way of squeezing out even half-way adequate performance out of the Republic's prized failure, he had no other choice.

Shin sometimes wondered if somewhere out there, civilization is still stubbornly clinging on. The Republic's fronts seem to be just a dumping ground of old Legion models, its decrepit armed forces pose so little threat towards the Legion, that they might as well take their time and slowly deplete the Eighty-Six's already thin numbers while focusing on more strategically significant targets.

But as the old White Sheep reserves are slowly but surely depleted, more and more Black Sheep rolled off the Weisel's production lines to replenish the Legion's numbers. The Handler was simply lucky that they hadn't run into that many of them during the previous engagements, but that luck is about to run out today.

As Undertaker surged forward, what at first sounded like static noises and corrupted, garbled radio communications increased in intensity. The Handler's laughter and jeers were replaced by confusion.

"Eh, what the hell is that?!"

Silencing an Ameise in his path with a well placed HEAT, Shin fired his wire anchor into a wreck of a Löwe nearby and rapidly reeled his rig in, as a shell shrieked past him and erupted in a shower of dirt and debris.

"Neues Ziel! Panzergranate, PANZER!" The Löwe's CPU shrieked its final orders repeatedly as its turret spun to meet the rapidly approaching Undertaker, its aim sluggish and inaccurate now that its eyes and ears had been knocked out.

"Hey, stop this! Oi, I meant it!" The Legion heeded no attention to the Handler's panicked demands.

"Damnit, we're pinned down! Where's our artillery support?! Stirbt, Ihr Bastarde! Mayday, Mayday! Heil dem Reich! I can't take it much longer! We're getting blasted! Someone get a medic! I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding… Mama! It's hot, it's hot! Feindliche Artillerie, Runter! hELp Us GeT Me oUTta HERE sAnITäterI'MunaRMeDitHURtSIThURTshEILDEmReICHtHiSCAn'TBEHappeNiNG"

The cacophony of screams, curses and laments of the other Legion CPUs blasted through the comm channel, a choir of the damned souls trapped on the battlefield, condemned to fight in an endless conflict. Shin has long since grown accustomed to the Black Sheep's voices, having to endure them during every single one of his waking seconds. Eventually it went from harrowing to an inconvenience, to a tactical advantage, allowing him to pinpoint Legion positioning and movement far better than any radar system could, something his squadmates have grown to depend on even.

But for the imprudent and the meek cowering behind the Grand Mur, who never had to witness bloodshed or even hold a weapon in their entire lives. This is all just too much, like a maelstrom of grief, rage, fear and despair threatening to shred apart every last thread of one's sanity.

"Stop it! Ge-get away!"

Shin paid no attention to the handler as the latter fell apart faster than a house of cards, he extended his rig's blades and violently lunged forward, effortlessly severing all four of the Löwe's left legs. As the tank toppled to its side like a marionette with its strings cut, Gunslinger blasted a sabot right into its vulnerable top armor as if on cue, setting off its ammo storage in a brilliant flash.

"Cut it out! SHUT UP!"

Shin maintained his momentum as he set his sights on the next Löwe, the Juggernaut's compact frame allowing him to slide directly underneath the Legion's massive ground clearance. Before the tank's sluggish CPU can even react, Undertaker is already positioned behind it.

As Shin pounced on his prey, sinking his blades into the tank's turret like a spider's fangs, the Handler's frail psychic gave way like the Löwe's armor, and let out an ear splitting scream, not unlike a pig in front of a butcher's cleaver.

---

May 10, Stellar Year 2148

"Gunner, Sabot, Tank, Traverse Left!"

"Identified, 1500!"

"Fire!"

"On the way."

"Target! Cease Fire!"

Applause can be heard from the benches as Civilians and Journalists alike watch and document the exercise unfolding in front of them, it is true that the Foreigners use their tanks in a notably different approach, and it is quite a spectacle to behold them wielding the slow and ungainly tank that defended their way of life with such great effect. The generals of the old armored divisions however were too busy taking notes and discussing amongst themselves.

Honestly, the Republic's M5A2 "Bulwark" medium tank was actually a somewhat capable design, for early Cold War standards that is. It seems to share the same design philosophy as the Leopard I's: if it's going to be knocked out by an enemy tank in one hit, then it's preferable to place emphasis on mobility and firepower instead.

The tank can hold as much as 50 rounds for its main gun, and can reach speeds greater than 40mph thanks to its relatively light weight. Much like Thunderclap, the Bulwark is also armed with a 7.62mm machine gun and a 30mm autocannon, however, the weapon mounts were reversed: the machine gun is installed on the pintle mount while the 30mm is fitted coaxially and fed by an external ammo box, making it far less effective at engaging targets positioned on elevated terrain. For some reason, the main gun is fixed in place, instead the entire turret oscillates to elevate the gun in a manner similar to the Flakpanzer IV Kugelblitz.

While Thunderclap is literally covered in sensors to ensure an unhindered view of the battlefield for the crew, and Slavic Space Program despite being far more lacking on that aspect still possessed a thermal sight for the gunner; the Bulwark featured neither night vision nor thermal sights, forcing Jackson and his fellows to rely on their naked eye.

And thanks to limited hull space, some of the shells ended up being stored inside the oscillating turret itself, A.K.A. the part of the tank most likely to be hit, without the Abrams' blow out panel protections. So if they get hit by a penetrating shot, it would be over before they even knew it.

What is more concerning, however, is the Bulwark's M4A3 "Abbot" main gun. It resembles the venerable Royal Ordnance L7, a rifled 105mm tank cannon. According to one of the more chatty logistical officers, 120mm cannons were still in development stages when the Legion invaded, and the project was later on dropped as they are simply too large to be fitted onto the small Feldreẞ hulls RMI was forced to hasty cook up.

There is absolutely no way the miniscule amount of 120mm shells the Republic has in storage can last long, even if the ammunition is compatible with the XM360A1, how in the world are they supposed to get enough shells for Thunderclap to last the whole tour?

At least they still get to hone their skills in the event they are forced to rely on inferior hardware, it took them nearly a month to know how the Bulwark works inside and out, the tank didn't even came with any manuals so they had to identify with trial and error, luckily it didn't take long because they recently had a visit from former Bulwark crewmen who once served in the now defunct San Magnolia Armored Division, they then taught the crew on how to use the Bulwark to its fullest potential, this went on for about a week and a half before Jack and his crew are well-versed with the machine. Most of the veterans who saw combat abhor the current state of their government as they also fought alongside the Coloratas who got deported to the 86th sector after the initial invasion. Jack recalls the various answers that these men have given them when they were having small talk, even in different worlds, soldiers who actually saw the real horrors of war behave all the same.

"This is why we're feeling quite skeptical about your country, and how your democracy somehow managed to last this long. We gave power to the people once as well, and you can see what happened." A ragged looking ex-Chef du Char who identified as Lieutenant Jean-Luc Gauthier told Jackson, the look on the man's face is one that Jackson saw one too many times during his volunteering days, worn by both Russians and Ukrainains alike. Exhausted, disillusioned, with every ounce of fight left in them stomped out by grueling, unrelenting combat.

"Sure, they are Colorata, but they fought and bled for our nation with no less ferocity. And the government is going to just trample all over their sacrifices like this?!" Gauthier's driver, Soldat Alain Rousseau, announced his thoughts indignantly.

Even so, Jackson couldn't help but feel a tad bit irked by the private's comments. Maybe this is where the core issues of the country lie. They can't help but judge a book by its cover, and consider the "colored folks" as fundamentally different. In times of great turmoil, it didn't take long for those who are different to be branded as "acceptable targets."

It's the same mistake that America once committed, and Jackson felt a shred of relief that his homeland didn't wander further down that path.

"As much as we wanted to protect the Colorata, it's almost impossible to keep your every move under wraps, especially with the Ministry having a stranglehold on every single retired personnel's assets and liabilities, they won't do anything to your family, but they will surely brand you as a collaborateur and ruin any opportunities you may have, and simply starve you out until your family can't take it." An aging gunner named Paul Renaud described their plight during the Republic's dark days, the marks war has left on him are evident: both of his legs were replaced by prosthetics, with a red star and golden laurel medal to match.

"There would have been a time when we'd be on the frontlines fighting with you guys, and as much as I'm ashamed to admit it, that time has passed. We tried, we all did, but in the end it felt like it made no difference, we were down to our last men, yet those murder bots just kept on coming..."

"Hey, I'm the last person to blame you folks. Peer to peer engagement is no laughing matter, we've seen how gruesome things were first hand." Eric tried to console the downtrodden gunner. On the killing fields of Ukraine, things are not so different. While the Legion may be incapable of taking prisoners, the Ukrainains were quick to teach him and Jackson that it's better to die fighting than let the orcs take them.

"Well. that's a relief. At least you guys have the experience beforehand. When the war first broke out nine years ago, I was still a complete rookie and had no idea what I got myself into." replied Rousseau, "And believe it or not, it got even worse when we started conscripting Ei… en masse, before the Juggernaut came into production, they were just given whatever they could dig up from the reserves and thrown against the Legion. Was stuck in the hospital ward back then but I heard it was a fucking massacre…"

"Jesus, talk about desperation." Chris can't help but be reminded of the days of Stalingrad, when some Soviets were sent to the front without even their service rifles thanks to collapsing logistics. "But still it's impressive how you guys managed to go to Hell and back."

"The rulebooks they gave you back in the academy? Throw them out, forget about what you know." Gauthier said sternly, "Things change drastically when you are fighting an enemy that is limitless in quantity. The only way we even managed to meet you today is to avoid direct confrontation with the Legion's armor battalions, our tanks are simply outmatched in every aspect compared to the Löwe. And we strongly advise you to do the same, even if your tank is pre-Great War tech that's worth 10 Löwen, there will always be an 11th gunning for you. Take advantage of terrain, set up kill zones with our drones, and catch the Legion with their pants down. Don't get complacent like how a lot of us did nine years ago."

"Thanks for the heads up, I'm glad Ukraine managed to teach us more than a bit in mobile defense tactics. Also, you said pre-Great War? Don't tell me somebody was dumb enough to push the big red button?" Jackson had a sinking feeling that they weren't talking about the same Great War he learned about in history classes.

"Oo-krayne? What's that, your last theater of operations?" Renaud inquired, sounding a bit quizzical, "But about the Great War, that is exactly what happened, at least according to whatever snippets of muddled history we managed to preserve over the last several centuries. C'est ridicule, n'est-ce pas? We haven't even managed to recover what we have lost, yet now we are on the verge of driving ourselves to extinction again!"

Great, not only is this world under siege from a militaristic empire's army of spider bots gone rogue, but it's also still reeling from the aftermath of a nuclear exchange. The crew can barely contain their surprise at the revelation. The more Jackson learned about this world, the more it made his head spin. He can't help but be reminded of the anime series that Eric likes to talk about. But instead of landing in an easy as pie scenario like when a horde of Roman knockoffs tried to ransack Tokyo, or when America found itself the dominant superpower in a new fantastical world. He and his fellow 19Ks somehow ended up trapped in a nightmarish blend of Metro and Cyberstan.

The servicemen then moved to discussing tactics on how to combat the Legion, something that the Crew needed badly, seeing that they have yet to see these things in combat, every bit of intel helps.

"Anyway, back on topic. Your secondary armament packs a decent punch, so use it to focus down the Legion's scouts, tanker logic would have designated them as the least dangerous targets, but there are plenty of crewmen in the graveyards who can tell you how much of a mistake that would be. The Löwe may trump us in terms of firepower and mobility, but those Imps really cheapened out on the sensors. Without the scouts, they'll struggle to hit the broadside of a barn. But it's not just their tanks that rely on the scouts for targeting, the same applies to the Legion's Skorpion batteries. They may not have those fancy extended-range guided shells you were mentioning, but once they get their coordinates they will turn that area into the surface of the moon." Lieutenant Gauthier advises, having shown training footage of the tank to them.

"Got it, shouldn't be a problem, suppressing crunchies and PCs is exactly what our CROWS is designed for. As long as we can get a steady supply of 30mm shells that is." Despite the various deviations between weapons development of, Jackson was surprised to discover that munition types are somehow shared between the two worlds. Like how the Bulwark's 30mm cannon is also chambered for the 30x113 mmB shells.

However, there is still one pressing issue. "But where are we supposed to requisition 120mm shells for our main gun? I can see that you guys have plenty of 105s but those have been rendered obsolete for MBTs decades ago in our world."

"120mm shells? Now that might actually be a problem here, the only AFV on this front that uses a gun of this caliber is the Löwe, you can try to salvage their wrecks but that would be quite risky." Renaud recalled from his experience.

Well, that is far from good news, there's a reason why it's ill-advised to approach disabled tanks, booby traps, spilt fuel and hydraulic oil, UXOs*, radiation from the depleted uranium sabots… the list goes on. Jackson had his fair share of experience scavenging the battlefields, but tank wrecks are just one of the many things he won't approach without a second thought.

"I remember getting a peek at the ammo rack of a mostly intact Löwe that we managed to cut open, the shells should be sorted in the turret bustle, their main processing unit is located below the turret, so if you need to scavenge some ammo with less risk of detonation, aim for the hull when the opportunity presents itself." The gunner pointed at the depiction of the spindly looking spider tank on the Legion identification infographic, "We also have scavenger drones that cut apart wrecks and bring them back for recycling, so I think you can order them to salvage shells for you. They aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed but they are programmed to know how to avoid danger." He then helpfully added, noticing the concern on the crew's faces.

"Appreciated, at least we have a solution on hand now."

"Just, one more thing, a lot of folks believe that we're the last bastion of civilization left on this continent. But surely some of the other larger nations managed to survive as well. I mean, we somehow managed despite the sorry state of our military!"

"I sure do hope that someone is out there, I don't even want to imagine just what happened to those smaller countries that barely have a standing battalion of mall cops and weekend soldiers." Eric tried his best to sound hopeful.

"The Legion is going to shut down within a couple of years anyway due to their built-in failsafes, and their numbers will start to thin out soon once their factory bots deactivate for good. We haven't managed to reclaim much of our lost territory, but you guys may make it further than any of us ever did. So if you do run into survivors out there, be sure to tell them we need all the help we can get here, don't let their sacrifices be all for nothing."

Jackson caught a glimmer of hope breaking through Gauthier's somber demeanor. This only deepened his sense of unease that things were even worse than they appeared. In this rundown world, hope felt like a luxury they couldn't dare to afford.

"You have my word. We'll keep pushing forward in search of help. For all of your sake."

---

May 12, Stellar Year 2148

"Goood mornin', major. You're alwaaays so on time, can't wait to play with yer dolls again, eh?"

"Oh, loook at thaaat fiercee loook she's givin' us, as piercin' as the Saaaint's! Could it be her second comin' has descendeed at last, in a neaat little package? Hahahaha…"

Same nonsense, different day. What would her father say if he ever got to witness the current state of the Republic's military.

This time Lena simply shot the passing drunkards in uniforms a disapproving glare, and continued on her way, she had more important things to attend to.

"Ah, good to see you again, Major Milizé. I hope you had a good night's rest." As Lena made her way toward another group of Handlers huddled around a table, one of them—a young girl about her age with a bob haircut—stood up to greet her.

"Thanks for asking, Clémentine. I've rested well." That wasn't actually true, as Lena stayed up quite late sorting through all the reports Undertaker had sent her. "I also have Spearhead Squadron's engagement reports ready for you."

"Damn, you're quick. Thanks a lot, Major." The curly-haired, pointed-chinned officer named Maurice collected the files and started passing copies to the other Handlers. "Wait, turns out he really does write like this?"

"Man, this reminds me of that cringe inducing fantasy novel I tried to write when I was twelve!" The square jawed and heavy set officer Aurélien remarked chuckling, "And no, I am not handing out copies of that shiterature, not even for money, shut up!"

Lena couldn't help but chuckle at the ridiculous interaction, but deep down, she felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps this was Undertaker's way of expressing his inner child—a chance he was likely deprived of after years spent in concentration camps and on the frontlines.

"But still, not a single patrol report?" Maurice's buddy Émile interjected.

"I specially asked for those as well, even then Undertaker didn't send me any, in fact I am starting to wonder if he goes on patrol at all."

"But how come the Legion never once caught him off guard? Jeez, I wonder what kind of uncanny superpower this Undertaker fella has. Would be nice to not have to rely on those rubbish old radar sets!" Maurice quibbed, sounding rather interested.

"Speaking of the supernatural, look, it's our unexpected visitors."

Clémentine gestured towards the large wall-mounted TV in Palace Blancneige's great hall, which is currently broadcasting an interview of the three tank crewmen. This is the first time Coloratas are depicted on live TV in Lena's recent memory.

The people of the Republic were quick to brand the Colorata as 'subhuman' whenever it was convenient. Yet, when asked about those of other nationalities, these same Republicans would perform a complete turnaround, regarding them as somehow different from 'les cochons sous forme humaine'. The irony in this logic is so intense that it's almost palpable. Lena couldn't even begin to imagine the mental gymnastics her countrymen had to perform to reach such a conclusion.

Intrigued, the group of young officers gathered in front of the TV, eager to learn about this unusual military force straight from the horse's mouth. All the while trying their best to ignore the racial slurs and drunken jeers being hurled at the screen.

"I must say, there is quite a stark contrast between the modus operandi of the Republican Armed Forces and yours. Could you enlighten us on why your military still relies on combined arms warfare and what most might consider dated weapon designs? What advantages does this offer compared to the modern, Feldreẞ-focused approach?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly describe our hardware as 'dated,' but they do have a lot of history behind them. Take the Abrams, for instance; it's been around for six decades now. The one we're driving is its fourth generation," replied Eric Baker, the dark-skinned Orienta who was identified as the tank's driver. "The key takeaway here is: America is a democracy too, as you know. This means we have a budget to consider. It may be a massive budget, but when you have the largest military in the world and dozens of export customers, that budget dries up fast! We might procure our gear from the lowest bidder, but we design it to last. It's just way more economically sound to design something that can be easily upgraded to stay relevant for several decades than having to start from scratch every few years."

"That is indeed a logical solution, could you explain why the US military has not adopted a similar approach with the Feldreẞ? Is it purely a matter of budget and tradition, or are there other strategic reasons behind this choice?"

"We did consider the concept of... what do you folks call it, the Field Dress?" replied the youthful-looking gunner, Christopher Woods, struggling a bit with the unfamiliar term. "Anyway, we did consider it at one point many decades ago. General Electric looked into animals like the moose for inspiration on how we could create walking tanks. But that idea got shelved quickly when they realized that mechs simply don't offer enough advantages to justify them. They're much harder to maintain, worse at crossing certain types of terrain, and even if they could, their supply trucks will likely get stuck. That's a serious issue since a mech can't carry as much ammo or fuel as a tank. Even today, most of the mechs we use are smaller models designed to haul supplies for infantry."

The response from the gunner elicited some jeers along the line of "skill issue" from the surrounding crowd, with the TV bearing the brunt of the assault.

"You see, this is where combined arms come into play. Our doctrine puts heavy emphasis on the synergy between different units," the commander, Jackson Westbrook, added helpfully. "Tanks either lead the way and draw enemy fire or hunker down and hold the line; infantry help cover the tanks and provide fire support from unexpected positions; and artillery and air support deliver precision strikes to knock out HVTs and cripple enemy logistics. Sure, a mech might be multi-role, but is it really worth all the trade-offs of designing an entirely new and overly sophisticated platform?"

"But considering the high casualty rates often associated with armored units, made evident by the treacherous Empire's ill-fated attempt to reclaim the Alliance, why does your military persist in using tanks and other dated AFV designs to bear the brunt of the assault? Wouldn't it make more sense to transition to more advanced and more humane technologies?"

"O-tsi-sga! As far as I see things, just because something takes a lot of casualties, doesn't mean that something's obsolete! By that logic, infantrymen would have been rendered obsolete by machine guns." Apparently Baker found that question rather absurd, as he tried his best to conceal his chuckle. "And if you fail at combined arms and face a particularly dead set foe, you are going to take heavy losses."

"To be fair, more than once our experts have questioned the validity of the tank." Woods is turning out to be quite the chatterbox. "Take Yom Kippur for instance when ATGMs first made their mark, or when Russia tried to take Ukraine and saw their tanks beaten back by drones costing less than 10% of their cost! But when that happens, we simply incorporate new technology into the tanks and adapt. There is simply nothing else that can do a tank's job better at a reasonable cost."

That is when the channel abruptly changed, whoever had the remote either got bored or fed up of being lectured on.

"Malédiction! Et juste au moment où les choses commençaient à devenir intéressantes…" Clémentine muttered, her voice tinged with irritation.

Ever since Lena's homeland transitioned from the Royaume de Fleur-de-Lys to a republic, the old tongue was gradually phased out in favor of the continent's common tongue. Most Republicans nowadays only know a few words and phrases of the Fleur-de-Lys tongue here and there. However, former noble houses like the Milizés and the Leclercs persistently drilled the language into the minds of their youngs. It does become useful when one doesn't want to be overheard, though.

"Cela m'a vraiment surpris qu'ils aient permis de diffuser cela en direct à la télévision." Lena still could note the hint of pride in the crew's voices, "Il n'y a aucune chance que le gouvernement, aussi fier qu'il soit, permette à une équipe étrangère de leur donner des leçons sur la manière de mener une guerre."

The other members of Lena's little group are also deep in discussion.

"Budget issues, eh? Now where have I heard that before?" Aurélien shook his head and smiled, "Guess democracies face the same issues no matter where they are."

"We don't even know what type of 'democracy' they even practice." Maurice remarked skeptically, "For what we know, they may be just civvies who must enlist to earn the right to vote!"

"Excuse me, Major Milizé, but are you sure there's more to it with this country's armed forces? They admitted that their equipment is made from the lowest bidder, just like our Juggernauts, except their designs appear even more low tech."

"Actually, I'm sure of that, Émile. Anette told me that the tank is more than meets the eye. Also they did mention that they have dozens of export customers. There's no way they could take such a large market share by pumping out low quality weapons."

"Also, isn't it odd that their stuff all seems to be made by private contractors? General Dynamics, General Electric, General this and that… How do they even maintain standards, or even keep things classified?"

The very notion of private contractors handling the design and production of weapon systems is nothing but absurd. Since it's widely believed that only the government should have control over matters that relate directly to national security. Therefore most weapon manufacturers like RMI are state-owned, ensuring that all planning and production are directly aligned with national interests and adhere strictly to security protocols.

"Still, there is one thing they talked about that has caught my interest." Clémentine tried to steer the conversation back on more important matters, "Combined arms warfare, my fellow Handlers, do you think it's a strategy we can execute reasonably well? Surely it will be more effective than the way our military is fumbling about now."

"I agree with Captain Leclerc as well, this can work wonders for reducing casualties." Aurélien decided to voice his support as well, "There's no way anyone can win a war with just one weapon, much less that suicide machine."

"But there's still one problem we can't solve," Maurice interjected to point out the elephant in the room, "And that is the Legion is already doing that and is still consistently outdoing us in all regards."

Without the Imperial high command overseeing them, the Legion eventually restored to a strategy that is essentially a crude form of combined arms warfare, launching wave after wave of ground based offensives under the cover of artillery from the rear and the Eintagsfliege swarms from above. But despite these primitive tactics, it's still better than throwing barely trained, badly armed convicts at the problem, hoping it just goes away. Not only that, the Legion still outstrips the Republic in terms of both quantity and quality, their automated factories capable of replenishing losses far more efficiently.

Thankfully they are all programmed to shut down within a couple of years, because there is no way that the Republic would be able to cling on for any longer.

"Besides," Maurice continued, "the Legion can also take the airborne element straight out of the formula."

"The newcomers may be able to give us some pointers," Lena said hopefully, "They do seem to have an established air doctrine, as well as experience on launching offensive campaigns from the skies. I'll have to ask Lt. Penrose for the footage Private Woods gave her."

"Doubt they would be able to tell us much, they're army grunts, not flyboys. And besides, they never have to fight something as unhinged as the Legion before, no?"

---

June 4, Stellar Year 2148

"I can't believe we are letting such a treasure trove slip right through our fingers, all because of some stupid politics!"

"Come on, Gustave. At least the Brigadier General permitted us to analyze the wreckage of the tank after the Legion disables it."

"Like we are going to find out much from debris scattered across a mile-wide radius and fried electronics! I don't care if they are 'lesser races' or whatever bullshit the government spews, they should be treated like royalty if it means we can gain access to their weapon's secrets!"

"Keep it down, dammit! You want the entire Republic to hear this?"

Lena couldn't help but look a bit curious as the two technical officers noticed her presence and hastily saluted her as they walked by. It seems that the entire affair with the mysterious tank is only becoming more and more complicated.

She still remembered well what Annette said about the US when the whole incident first started, her friend actually got authorization to talk to one of the crew members, and what was gained from those meetings only further confirmed Annette's suspicions.

"It's like staring at a dark reflection of the Republic, replace all the incompetence with a militant ferocity that would impress even Giad, and you get the USA." Annette had told her this during a lunch break, "Actually not just that, Giad will be envious of them, the Empire has long since dreamt of world domination, but America has more or less done it already. They don't call themselves the 'World Police' for no reason."

Lena tried to brush those concerns to the back of her mind for now and made her way into Brigadier General Karlstahl's decorated office.

"Major Vladilena Milizé reporting for duty, sir." Lena announced her presence and saluted.

"At ease, Lena." Jérôme smiled warmly at her, "The reason that I have requested your presence is to inform you of a change in your squadron's composition."

"Does that mean that we are receiving reinforcements, Uncle Jérôme? Spearhead Squadron had already suffered three casualties when I was assigned to them. If that is the case, we should be able to bring the squadron back to full strength."

"Not reinforcements in the conventional sense, Lena. We have managed to reach an agreement with the American tank crew, they will provide assistance on defending the Republic against the Legion while our R&D division will focus on understanding the circumstances that brought them here, and potentially find a way back to their homeland."

"We are going to enlist them into military service just like that?" Considering what she has learned about America so far, Lena harbored some doubts whether they'll be quite willing to help a nation like the Republic that has committed unthinkable atrocities against the Colorata. But on the other hand, maybe they are willing to help just for the sake of helping the Eighty-Six? And helping the Republic does seem to be their only way of getting a ticket home…

"After reviewing your expertise and recent achievements, Lena, command has deemed it fit to place the crew and their tank under your command. After their brief exercise and preparation period has finished, they will be assigned to the Spearhead Squadron. However they will retain command over their tank."

"To the first ward? But… but, are you sure they are experienced and equipped enough to handle the worst the Legion has to throw at them, Uncle Jérôme? Surely it would be better to perhaps deploy them to a ward where the fighting is less intense, or give them more time to prepare."

"Investigation into the crew members shows that they seem to possess at least several years of combat experience already, in conditions that are on par with the 1st Ward of the Eastern Front no less. Despite their tank's lacking mobility, even at the bare minimum, it possesses sufficient firepower and environmental awareness to play an effective fire support role."

"That is reassuring, Uncle. But… I am not sure I possess sufficient expertise in commanding heavy armored assets like a tank." While acquiring some much needed heavy firepower for Spearhead is something Lena wants, the insane acrobatics Undertaker has to perform in order to effectively eliminate tank type Legion units are concerning to say the least. But tanks have been widely considered to be an outdated form of AFV due to their terrible attrition rates during the Defense of Wald and later on in the Legion War. How to properly utilize heavy armor is not something they teach in the military academy anymore by the time Lena enlisted.

On top of all that, there is just no way a tank would have been able to keep up with Spearhead Squadron's lighter and more mobile Juggernauts. Lena can't even start to imagine how badly she may disrupt her unit's cohesion if she failed to coordinate her units properly. She can't afford to lose not just some of the Republic's best chances at holding back the Legion's unrelenting onslaught, but actual, decent people that she knew deserved much better.

"As per last time, if you consider this plan unreasonable, you are always free to reject it. Even if the tank becomes destroyed, the blame will not be shifted onto you. It's a type of armored asset the current generation of handler's aren't expected to make effective use of, after all." Jérôme Karlstahl gives a disclaimer but Lena shakes her head and shows a determined look that reminded him of Vaclav.

"I will accept this assignment. I can always retrieve pre-Legion volumes regarding armored warfare from the library to better prepare myself. Spearhead Squadron is of utmost strategic importance to the Republic, I believe their endeavors should be assisted in any way possible."

Karlstahl can't help but smile a bit, this girl truly is a handful. While her enthusiasm, energy and sense of duty and honor are admirable, the power of the individual is always limited. No matter how strong, an individual can only do so much against an entire corrupt system that cares not for morality and rules.

The sooner she learns that, the better. Or at best she's getting into trouble with Delacroix and his ilk again.

"Very well, here are the documents regarding the crew members and information about the tank they are commanding."

"Thank you, Uncle Jérôme."

Lena couldn't help but feel rather perplexed as she reviewed the American servicemen's profiles. Grave Robber, Sticky, and Lefty? Just what kind of callsigns are these? Amongst the Eighty-Six, earning one's callsign is a symbol of perseverance, skill, and sheer luck—a defiance against the extreme attrition rates of a Processor's first year of service. These Americans seem to either have a very unusual sense of humor or force embarrassing nicknames onto those who fail to perform or have disciplinary issues. She sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter.

Lena also remarked that only one of the crew members is a Vespertina, while the other two are a Meridiana-Orienta and a Meridiana-Deseria respectively, both of which are rare ethnicities even amongst the Eighty Six. She felt rather thankful that Spearhead Squadron turned out to be a rather amicable bunch, because the twisted notion of racial supremacy isn't exclusive to the Alba, sadly.

She recalled how Maurice once commanded a squadron that put the racial minority member up as a "scapegoat" for the others to vent their frustrations upon. "I can't believe these folks are so eager to eat each other even under these circumstances, like isn't what the Republic's doing to them bad enough already? And apparently this isn't the only squadron that pulls shit like this!" She recalled him complaining about the whole ordeal once, "Of course, when I told them that, they just said it's a response to an issue with morale which we ever so helpfully caused, and that I should just go back to oinking out useless orders."

Once more, Lena hopes that despite the unexpected turn of events, she can still help guide Spearhead through the final and most treacherous year of their mandatory military service.

---

June 13, Stellar Year 2148

Chris is at awe staring at all the charts and schematics surrounding him, Annette is a workaholic that's for sure.

After the Training Completion "Ceremony" held by the San Magnolian MoD concluded, they were given Badges to signify the cooperation between the United States and the Republic of San Magnolia under the "Authority" of Jackson, as he is their senior officer. Jesus, they even gave them each a specialized San Magnolian Military Uniform to sell the act. After that overbearing shitshow, Karlsthal gave them a bit of freedom to roam around the Liberté et égalité and to be treated as Enlisted Officers of the San Magnolian Military, but the caveat is that they are to be escorted by their rank and file guards, something that pissed the lower ranked soldiers even more, he also advised them that they stay away from restricted areas.

That is, if the guards are accompanying them, it does not say anything about them getting bribed with smokes and cash to make them leave him to his own devices. With that, Chris used that opportunity to wander around to the more uncrowded areas to see what makes the "Republic" tick.

If he can avoid getting called out by an Officer with a higher rank that he has.

Fortunately for him, it was Anette that caught him red handed trying to sneak into an ongoing class about formations and maneuver elements.

"Hey, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out there shaking hands, getting pictures taken, congratulating the government for giving you asylum and all manner of various media shenanigans?"

"Well, it got boring really quick, so I left Jack and Eric to handle it themselves, they did say that they got it under control so I wondered, 'why not see what your military is capable of from the inside?' And now here we are, please don't tell Brigadier General Karlstahl that I bribed my escorts to get out of my hair."

"Isn't what you're doing technically espionage and sabotage?" She gave him a squinted look, trying to look as serious as possible.

"Woah, you're being a bit of a tight ass right now, what? Recent marriage proposal came from another old geezer who looks at you as if he's already undressing you with his eyes?" Chris rose to his full height, as he was crouching earlier to try and get inside the classroom.

"W-What the hell are you spouting out right now?" Annette splutters as she blushes a brilliant crimson at his jab. Somehow the Private (well, Corporal if you take into account his recent enlistment to their military) managed to accurately hit the mark, as she just recently rejected yet another marriage proposal that morning from a well known associate of her relatives, Annette found him to be somewhat of a creep as he seems to have a preference for young girls that are more than decade younger than him.

But alas, there is not much she can do about it, those that are in her age gap are quick to judge her for associating with "les cochons" or in some cases of her Imperial heritage. She once contemplated getting a name change before realizing just how hopelessly convoluted the process is, even if she bribed away her savings. The only options left for her are the ones who typically won't be as judgemental but are too old, or the ones who didn't remember the dark days because they are too young.

Chris noticed that she did not retort with her usual sass against the joke, putting two and two together.

"Wait, so I'm actually right? Damn 'Nette, you just can't catch a break when it comes to getting hitched huh? From innocent little boys to dirty old men to third wheels they come a-flockin!" Chris laughs heartily at her current predicament, both of them have been constantly hanging out ever since they got here, and they became surprisingly close over such a brief period of time, close enough to the point where she shares some of her personal life details and the plights that she is currently facing, like her hopelessly naïve friend and how she bizarrely keeps getting marriage proposals from all kinds of suitors.

"Cut it out, Private Woods, or I will have the MPs remove you from this wing." Annette folds her arms as she stares him down… Well, up in this case as their height difference is massive, 160cm to his 185cm. But her icy stare made him reconsider his chances and smoothly diverted her attention.

"Remove me? Will you do that while you are currently researching the sophisticated art of thermal imagery without my consultancy?" Chris asked coyly. Unlike Lena who isn't a very tech savvy person, Chris quickly became one of Annette's outlets in geeking out. Upon mentioning how the thermal imager is basically standard issue for AFVs back on planet Earth, Annette was inspired to delve into the technology herself with the help of some of her colleagues in R&D.

The mention of her project made Annette's dour expression soften and her argent eyes lit up with excitement.

"Now that you mention it, I made a small prototype of a thermal camera last week using RMI's latest Automated Fabricator. I just had it delivered to my office, want to see for yourself if it works?"

"Well, I've got some time to kill so why not?" Chris nods as Annette starts walking them back to her Lab/Office.

"Just keep this on a down low, I don't need the Internal Affairs hounding my ass anytime soon." Chris chuckles at this.

After that brief recall, Chris examined the prototype thermographic camera in front of him, the clunky device looked like a fusion of a Polaroid Camera and a Sony 4K Camcorder. He can't help but be reminded of the Javelin's CLU, except this one far cruder looking.

"Uhhh… how did you folks cook this up in the first place? As far as I know your military ain't got any kind of thermal tech, the furthest you guys got are Night Observation Devices, and It's not that good as well judging from the Night Sights of later model Bulwarks." Chris picked up the slightly heavy prototype, it has three sensors of varying sizes, as well as a pretty sizable LCD screen, it seems to be lacking a lot of buttons, probably a touch screen variant?

"Believe it or not, I had to scour the libraries and dig up old volumes to know more about the concept of Thermal Vision, and by old I mean ancient, dated back centuries ago. Had to study infrared radiation and invisible light. We also had some salvaged Ameise sensor components collecting dust in storage, so at least it helped a tad bit with reverse engineering."

"I see, I think you really went overboard with this one. Have you already tried to turn it on at least, give it a few test runs?" He asks as he notices that it does not have a viewport to peek at, unlike the ones connected to Thunderclap's FCS.

"Yes and no, I have already tested its power, but the device still lacks its OS, something that I will be rectifying right about-" As she is testing this, she grabs the device from Chris' hands and plugs it in her computer, "Now."

More clacking can be heard as silence enters the room as Chris wanders around the lab to check her other projects, there are a lot being worked on, with some papers marked as Failed or In-Progress. He wonders how she became the lead scientist for their R&D when they have not yet released a single successful project for their military? Best not to ask her unless he wants to get out of this country intact.

A loud beep was heard from the device as it boots up, Annette then picks it up and finely calibrates the device, Chris just watches her in fascination as she types on her computer and taps the Thermal Device's touchscreen at the same time. He ignored the obviously messy desktop that's filled to the brim with notes and spreadsheets, it reminded him of his sister back in Doe Valley, oh how he missed his family. He snapped back to his epiphany and continued to look at his white-haired friend as she worked her magic.

"Wow, did not expect you to be able to work that fast." Chris remarks, clearly impressed.

"I'm not the head of the San Magnolia Research and Development division for nothing, I was the one who led the development of the first non-Radio communications device ever." Annette announced with just a hint of pride in her voice. "Which reminds me, I have to gather all of you so I can perform a mental examination on you guys then I can start making your Para-RAID devices."

"Well you better do it fast, the brass said that we are departing on the 15th, not sure what time though, so this is the only free day we have as we have to do full maintenance work on Thunderclap tomorrow to see if something broke after being neglected for so long, seeing as no one touched her for almost three months.

"Can you not word it that way?" Annette complains with a slight blush on her cheeks, she should be used to his manner of speaking by now but sometimes he says something more bizarre or dirty than the other. She then notices that the thermal imager has finished setting up and she then stands up and calls him.

"Hey, the Imager is ready, let's run it in the field testing area, it should have enough targets that we can point the thing at to get a conclusive result."

Chris then does a mock salute, wanting to value the last day that they will be talking.

"Lead the way Ma'am!" said Chris with a grin, Annette just scoffed at his antics.

---

The two were now sitting at a tower overlooking a wide testing area, or weapons range to be more exact, it's just that every vehicle and weapon that RMI made are tested here, a vast plain with differing elevations the farther the range goes, perfect for guns rated higher than 7.62x51mm.

"Woah, This one has a better resolution compared to our first generation of thermals! Good job on the first try 'Nette!" Annette at first wasn't sure if Chris was jesting or genuinely complimenting her, thankfully the appreciative look on the Private's face suggested the latter, the image return from the thermals is akin to their third-generation devices, with a few more tweaks and updates, this can be upscaled to 4k quality, something that is apparently commonplace in Chris's homeland.

"There are still things that I need to improve, one is the refresh rate of the return image, it needs to be of high quality, second is the low frames per second, the abysmally low frames that this device processes can be detrimental when in combat, thirdly is the housing, its a problem as it currently too small and crumbersome to be installed on our vehicles, also making one to be used by the Juggernaut processors and Frontline Personnel will be hard to approve, knowing that the brass does not like handing out expensive equipment outside of the Gran Mur."

Chris felt confused, why would an AI for a mechanized asset require a full imager? Won't it just need tweaks to the algorithm and replacements for the old sensors in order to detect thermal signatures be enough?

"Why would you have to remake the whole thing just to accommodate some drones? As far as I know you just need to replace specific parts." Chris questions, at this Annette slightly stiffens, mentally cursing for her earlier slip up, she then tries to steer the conversation away from it but first she needs to give an answer.

"Well this is the first time we will be upgrading our equipment, so you know, trial and error." She explains, thankfully Chris seemed to have bought that excuse.

"Hmmm, I suppose so." he then continues looking through the thermals.

Annette then continues her small talk by bringing up their upcoming deployment.

"So… you are finally being let loose, huh?" Annette inquired, sounding somewhat incredulous.

"Being let loose is a bit of a stretch, and you should know that better than anyone, no offense." Chris groans, knowing that the conversation is now about their shoddy deployment.

"Hahaha, none taken. I suspected that it sounded a bit good to be true. The official saying is that you are going to be transferred to the counter-Imperial R&D department to help you guys find a way back to your home in exchange for giving military assistance in the frontlines."

"That's more or less true, but there is more to it than that I'm afraid, and the situation is a lot more complicated than they let on 'Nette, the assistance we will be providing will not be instructional, but direct combat, they are deploying us to the First Ward on the Eastern Front." Chris muses.

"Did you just say direct combat? and at the FIRST ward no less?! I… what were they thinking?" For once Annette was truly taken aback.

"Lemme guess, front row seats to the Legion offensive?" he asks with a raised eyebrow

"Yes, the 1st wards on each of the fronts are our first line of defense, literal buffer zones to take the blunt of the Legion's assaults."

"Well that's just peachy, I guess that way they won't be able to uphold their end of the bargain then? Fighting a robot empire is cool and all, but fighting them using only one type of AFV is not it."

"Look, this won't be the end for you. I know the drone handler assigned to that ward personally. She is experienced, only people like her are assigned to such a position. I'll ask her to take care of you guys." Annette tried her best to reassure Chris, despite deep down knowing things won't be this simple. Of course she isn't doubting her best friend's skills, but how to integrate a tank into 6 platoons worth of Juggernauts is anyone's guess.

Annette briefly considered just throwing aside this facade and telling Chris the truth about the Eighty-Six. No, no, no, she wanted to kick herself for even coming up with such a foolishly reckless idea. There is absolutely no way that he will take the truth well. Sure, he will not be pleased with her hiding it from him too, but telling him right now likely will result in him attempting something like a breakout in sheer desperation or fury. And it won't take a genius to figure out who spilled the beans on him.

"Thanks, Nette. Any idea what we can expect there?" Chris gives her a look of gratitude, at least there is someone in the military who does not treat them like Circus Clowns trying to show off.

"Heavy armored columns and constant artillery barrages, so you should keep yourself on alert at all times. The Legion won't fight to the last and will retreat if they deem their numbers too low to maintain combat viability. Don't give pursuit though, they'll shell anyone who does."

"Do you guys have anything that can perform counter-battery then?"

"Used to, those interception cannons are severely outdated, they're inaccurate and prone to misfires. The logistics teams deem it too risky and not worthwhile to try and fix them up anymore."

"Oh that is just wonderful, no artillery, no infantry, and no air support, I am surprised even throwing as many drones at the enemy as you could manage to keep them at bay."

"Hey, look on the bright side, at least the Legion won't perform any air strikes, but they got scores of aerial jamming drones. Radio is going to be worthless out there, like what I said earlier before we came here, I'll have to set you guys up with your own Para-RAID. It's what we use to maintain contact with the logistics crew in the FOBs, as well as the drones themselves." This would have been a dead giveaway, but Private Woods had no idea that the RAID device is only capable of brain to brain transmission, and the Republic simply lacked the scientific capabilities to create hardware capable of simulating human consciousness, hence leading to the farcical design that is the manned UGV.

As cool as the concept of a neurolink is, Chris is still having second thoughts about actually receiving one himself. For all he knew it might be an enabling device for mind reading or even mind control, he could just imagine the CIA, KGB, and Beijing drooling over such a possibility.

A short silence envelops the two, before Annette speaks again as she recalled something that is somewhat important for her friend to know.

"Oh, and one more thing I need to bring up, some say that the 1st Ward is… haunted apparently."

Chris mockingly widens his eyes with a fake horrified reaction "What does that even mean? Is us being sent to this world not scary enough? Don't tell me we have to contend with skinwalkers or some other horror shit now?!"

Annette giggles at his faux look of horror "Well, yes and no, there's a reason why they change handlers ever so often for the eastern 1st ward. A lot of them resigned claiming that they've heard 'voices of the dead'." Annette opted not to mention that one who committed suicide, the military just chalked it up to him mistakingly setting the synchronization rate of the RAID to the maximum, since her analysis of the device showed no faults. But she knew things were far from this simple.

"Could be some psy-ops the Legion is pulling off?" Chris couldn't help but feel a bit relieved, should have not played too much S.T.A.L.K.E.R. back then and let his imagination run rampant, he supposed.

"Sadly that is one of the few questions I can't answer." Annette mentally cursed those imbeciles at the Transport department, those wretched sloths can't get anything done, "I tried to requisition some RAIDs the Handlers used but it didn't turn up with anything useful. And the logistic teams keep on coming up with excuses like how there is no room on their flights to bring some drone parts back or something."

"Let's just chalk it down to Legion psy-ops for now, thanks for the heads up." Considering how the Republic's drone handlers most likely never actually saw actual combat, it's not surprising that such a tactic proved to be rather effective. Operation Wandering Soul worked out as well as expected when the Vietcong simply returned fire at the direction of the speakers. While Chris is far from eager to learn its effects first hand, it's still a better alternative to a multitude of other possibilities his paranoid mind conjured up for this absurd world.

Both then enjoyed the silence as they continued to test the thermal imager, satisfied to have some questions answered, hopefully nothing bad will happen once they were sent out.

---

June 13, Stellar Year 2148

The normally peaceful barracks erupted in thunderous laughter, Haruto and Daiya were out of breath and wheezing, clutching their stomachs and hammering on the table, much to the irritation of those who were already upstairs in their quarters. Even Shin himself was joining in, laughing heartily in drastic contrast to his usual stoicism.

The only ones not laughing in this conversation are the Handler who was sent into a coughing fit after having spat out her drink. And Kaie. whose face was drained of color after realizing just what her choice of verbiage indicated.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I got the words all mixed up! I meant maiden, pure maiden! Like, you know… the kind of girl who thinks the world is full of flowers and unicorns and what not, who's got this perfect, unblemished idealism she has to protect and…"

Ah, Kaie Tamiya, while she might be one of the nicest people on this side of the continent, she is a little prone to recklessness. Her mouth always seems to be one step ahead of her brain, which leads to awkward moments like this more than once.

"What I'm trying to say is", Kaie continued after the laughter had mostly died down, finally regaining her composure, "you're not a bad person, okay? So let me just give you a heads up: you are not cut out for a job like this, and you should definitely not be mingling with folks like us, we are not fighting for some noble cause. So just don't get yourself too involved, switch with someone else… before it's too late."

The current handler is definitely a rare occurrence, as far as Shin and most of Spearhead are concerned, the worst type of Handler are usually the ones that cared too much, and for one very simple reason. 'Whoever is stupid and industrious is a menace and should be removed immediately' Shin recalled a quote he read from an old Giadian general.

While thankfully she might not have been stupid, the 6th Handler is indeed misguided and stubborn. Much like most of the Republic's sheltered higher class, what she actually knows barely even scratches the surface of this ugly, cruel world. Normally Shin wouldn't have bothered with the swines rolling about in their luxurious pig pen, but those who are kindhearted are already far and few in between, and he rather not let the dainty little major learn the truth the hard way.

"Thanks, Kirschblüte. But this is my sworn duty, I cannot simply set it aside and let someone else shoulder it." The Handler responded after a brief silence, possibly contemplating what she has just been told, but what came next raised a few eyebrows to say the least, "Oh, and one more thing, I'd like to inform you that the request for reinforcements I have submitted has finally gone through, your new squad members should be joining you on your next sortie."

"Reinforcements? B-" Kaie hastily corrected herself, "that is definitely great news, it's surprising that command would approve it so soon, though."

"Admittedly, I'd have to hop through a few loops to get reinforcements requests approved most of the time. But it seems that Command does realize the importance of this squadron." The Handler remarked, with a hint of exacerbation in her voice. Thankfully she didn't catch on to Kaie's little slip up. "They will be supplying some… specialized equipment for dispatching Legion heavy armor."

No, that is definitely not the case. Shin exchanged a solemn look with Raiden as several other squad members silently disconnected from the resonance and started a hushed but enthusiastic discussion. Spearhead Squadron is far from the "illustrious team of elites" the Handler's been fooled into believing, whoever's being sent their way, the Republic wants gone, badly. But for what reason exactly?

---

June 15, Stellar Year 2148

"Grave Robber, what do you think is that? Some sorta cloud that's following the assault?"

In the distant, dawn skies, a large swathe of dark clouds hovered at low altitude over the area designated as Point 478 on their map, a stark contrast to the pale blue summer skies. Yet these clouds exhibit an abnormal silver-ish glint to them, and the weather showed no signs of thunderstorms inbound.

Jackson adjusted the elevation of his CITV, indeed these aren't any normal clouds, they should not emit such a notable thermal signature. Zooming in, he uncovered several small signatures breaking away from the main cloud.

"Yeah, those are clouds alright, clouds of small butterfly drones or Eintagsfliege as they call it..."

"So those are the jammer drones the Pseudo Frenchies were talking about? Fuckin' hell, it looks like a von Neumann swarm from here." Eric comments as he then checks for crossroads or any kind of alternative paths that they can take.

It is a truly awe-inspiring spectacle, a gigantic swarm of miniature drones numbering in the millions, perhaps billions, forming a glittering silver cloud large enough to blot out the entire stretch of sky over the battlefield. A Modus Operandi befitting the enemy's name.

"My name is Legion, for we are many." Chirs immediately thought of the infamous verse from Mark 5:9, "Looks like we're gonna have one massive exorcism on our hands now."

"If only we had our black angels with us, just how many BUFFs do you think we need to clear a swarm this size out?"

"A flight of them at least, I'd say. We may have to restart the production of the BLU-82s just to deal with them."

"I say MOABs will do just fine, as long as we detonate them above the aforementioned swarm."

The sheer scale of the Legion's operations only became apparent to Chris when he actually got to witness it in action first hand, it's a completely different experience from watching archived footage of their invasion, as well as reading combat reports from those who survived. His mind is still having trouble wrapping around the fact that their enemy will use something as overblown and inefficient as this for electronic warfare and air defense, but hey if it's stupid but it works, it ain't stupid.

While it may not be able to stop their rotary wing assets, CAS with fixed-wing aircraft would be impossible when a swarm this dense is hovering about, the same applies for precision strikes, laser guidance won't work when everything on the ground was blanketed over by several layers of metal bugs. And considering that the swarm consists solely of ECM drones, they most likely would be able to jam nearby GPS receivers too. On top of that, gathering ELINT will be a difficult process as well, considering the level of disruption the drones can pose.

As Thunderclap slowly approached the contested point, the crew felt the surrounding temperature gradually drop. Currently, it's the middle of summer, but with the metal swarm above dense enough to blot out even sunlight, the battlefield turned as chilly as an autumn night.

"Man, it feels like we're in a scene from the Matrix." Eric mused, "Kinda fitting really, we're going into battle against a machine horde born out of human malice underneath a sunless sky."

"I sure hope nobody is stupid or desperate enough to try starving the Legion with the same method, 'cause damn it's getting chilly here. And Eric, are you seeing this? Is it… actually snowing outside?" Chris comments, left in awe by the weather altering spectacle in front of his eyes.

"I don't think so, the air's not that cold to emit snowflakes, it does look like snow though… Jack, you think the swarm up there is shedding something?"

"Seems to be the case. Thankfully. they don't seem to be affecting the tank in any apparent way. I doubt they're meant to be offensive weapons, otherwise, how is anyone, even drones, supposed to fight under all this?"

No one seems to have a definitive answer as they continue driving forward to their rendezvous point, slightly losing the miserable feeling that they have due to what happened earlier before they drove off to the frontlines.

They were asked to deploy at dawn at 4am, when they arrived only a handful of the San Magnolian Logistics Division were seen and a fuel truck that is connected to their towed tank, it was starkly different compared to the attention they were receiving two days ago, the atmosphere was completely different when they don't receive any kind of fanfare from the Ministry of Defense or the Public Relations Unit, they did get to meet some RMI personnel that Chris' friend sent so they can install the Para-RAID ear-pieces, well to call it an ear-piece would be a lie as the device needed to be attached to their upper portion of their upper ear like an Earring.

They were given a small lecture on how to boot the device and instruct them on how to use and remove the earpiece from their ear as well as calibrate the devices for them so they could resonate with the CO and the rest of the squad's UGVs when they were rudely interrupted by the San Magnolian servicemen's Commanding Officer and his two subordinates who don't look to friendly as they shoo the RMI personnel away from them, not only did they tell them to "figure it out yourselves if you think your fancy colorful arses are so clever", they also tore up the provided technical manuals written just for them right in front of their faces. The trio never really stayed long enough to gain sufficient understanding of the RAID with Annette during her medical examination, as they were abruptly marched out by the Republic's enlisted on the 13th. (Those guys for some reason don't like them talking to their female officers and were pushing them around to get it done immediately).

The Officer just smirks at their actions while giving an insincere apology before telling them that they need to get to the rendezvous point immediately without delay or else they will face severe consequences for insubordination, seeing no point in arguing as the order came from the Brigadier General himself barring that last part, they just dropped the issue and mounted up, and proceeded to head west towards Point 478.

Everyone inside tried their best to conceal their nervousness, they felt almost naked, stranded in the middle of a combat zone without any infantry or aerial support against an enemy that seemed to possess both. This is as far from the combined arms warfare the Army drilled into them as possible. They may have their stuff and tank back but that won't change the fact that they are now headed to battle tactically blind.

A feeling of dread is twisting and thrashing inside Jackson's mind, the last time he felt like that was during his initial days in Ukraine. Sure, he's well aware of the capabilities of GDLS's creation, but it doesn't change the fact that this isn't a tried and trusted design that has made its name on the grueling battlefield; this is a prototype with all the quirks and kinks that came with one. A particular concern of his is how the Republic simply doesn't possess the same level of logistical prowess the United States does that made so many of the latter's military feats even possible, everything from Thunderclap's MEGGITT autoloader, to the distributed aperture sensors embedded in its hull, to the advanced aluminum based solid state batteries that feed its tree hugger of a hybrid drivetrain.

But now is not the time to fuss about how they are supposed to even get spare parts. The more pressing issue is to actually make sure he and his crew make it out of the coming storm in one piece.

Jackson pulled out an old folded photograph taken several years ago from his pouch, and silently whispered, "Valerij, my friend, wherever you are, please wish us luck and watch over us."

Point 478 turns out to be a densely vegetated marshland area, which is far from an ideal location for armored warfare. Worse still is that apparently the map provided to them is outdated, some of the landmarks marked on it have long since crumbled or are reclaimed by nature. Eric had to carefully navigate Thunderclap along the long abandoned and overgrown dirt path; if they ended up stuck in the mud, there would be no ARVs or even simple tractors nearby to help them out.

Despite the scopes being clear for now, Jackson was far from eager to get caught with his pants down, "Sticky, ready the active camo, set it to ambient mode."

"Copy, Grave Robber, active camo is a go."

Underneath the outermost layer of the XM1E4's armor plating, lies a layer of robust hexagonal Peltier panels, integrated as part of the tank's armor; they are governed by another onboard AI module that constantly gathers thermal signatures of the tank's surroundings. When activated, the Peltier panels are rapidly heated or cooled down, to either match ambient temperatures or change the tank's thermal profile into that of something else entirely, like an unassuming supply truck or even an innocent civilian car.

In contrast to the long-range precision strike capabilities of aircraft and artillery, tanks often engage within visual range, and combat is considerably more hectic as a result. The human eye has long since been known to be unreliable, having a limited amount of photoreceptor cells and lacking the tapetum lucidum needed to perform well in low light conditions. Radar is equally unreliable as the excessive amount of clutter on the ground makes it difficult to accurately pinpoint a target's location. But one method that has proven to be consistently effective is the detection of infrared emissions, something that is emitted constantly by every living being and every piece of machinery that produces thermal energy. Tanks in particular emit a large amount of waste heat from their engines, as well as from their tracks due to friction. Thus, unless a tank is hiding behind a solid barrier or a wall of compound smoke screen that deflects the infrared spectrum entirely, they will light up on a thermal sight like a Christmas tree.

The Swedish division of BAE Systems, however, sought to find a more effective countermeasure than chemical smoke. It took them the better part of 2 decades to develop and perfect this iteration of the ADAPTIV active thermal camouflage system, requiring the conjunctional developments of advanced optical fibers to ease the load the camo system has on the carrier's power system, as well advanced AI to achieve sufficiently fast calculations to convincingly conceal something that is constantly on the move like a rotating tank turret.

But the end result is impressive, to say the least, with the combination of ADAPTIV, thermal barrier coating in the paints, and the extensive clutter in the wooded area, Thunderclap should be able to approach the Legion undetected. But while the dense plant life made it easier for Thunderclap to conceal itself, it also provided obnoxious obstructions to the enemies' thermal signatures.

As Chris is swiveling the gun side by side, Jack decided that it's time to contact their Handler of their status and location, just as he was about to grab his radio he suddenly recalled that they don't use radio communication thanks to the metal blanket above, and instead use the Para-RAID that they got from the RMI earlier.

"Handler One to all units, I have picked up a new contact, ETA 10 minutes… it appears that the reinforcements have arrived."

"Laughing Fox to Handler One, new contact confirmed. Shit, that lone signature is our "reinforcements"?"

"Sure have taken their damn sweet time! Well, better late than never I guess!"

"Undertaker to Handler One, can you advise the new arrivals to get into position? We're already under contact with the Legion, but I cannot resonate with them."

"Understood, Undertaker. I am trying to establish a connection as well… but it seems that their RAID device has been turned off." Lena frowned a bit as she examined the status of the newcomers, Thunderclap it seems to be called, on her info screen, which frustratingly still says "NO SIGNAL".

"Oh you gotta be pulling my leg, they're sending backup in without even calibrating the comms? Typical of these swines, just why…" someone's voice, Cato'Nine's most likely, sounding exasperatedly frustrated can be heard in the background.

---

"Lefty, any luck in getting this fancy neurolink gizmo to connect to our CO yet?"

"Negative, sir! I'm sorry, Lt. Penrose only gave me instructions on how to turn it on. She is not the one in charge of calibrating the resonance to the CO, not to mention those assholes that shredded our manuals." Chris remarked, still livid at those logistics personnel for the disrespect they did to them and to the technicians Annette sent, Chris swore to himself that he is gonna give those smug assholes a solid kick in the nuts next time they meet.

"Worry about that later, we're now entering the combat zone. I'm detecting multiple signatures… Ah shit, the IFF seems to be IN-OP. Completely forgot that you need to update the IFF library before any incursion." Jackson sighs in annoyance before he continues.

"Alright, Lefty, remember to check your fire. Be advised that the Juggernauts are the ones with 4 legs!" he reminded the crew as they approached the contested point, numerous bright signatures lit up on his CITV, all of them marked "HOSTILE" by the onboard FCS IFF AI.

"Copy that, Grave Robber. Avoid targeting the small dudes."

Because of their less-than-friendly encounter on their very first day in this twisted nation, the system registered the "Juggernaut" as an enemy in its threat library. But thankfully the crew still remembered what the Republic's spindly-looking UGV looked like, apparently, they were the only machines on the Republican side on the front, and they also produced a rather unique thermal signature. Currently, they are the only ones the crew can see that have a tetrapod form, the other side seems to consist of a mix of large hexapode mechs and gigantic arachnids carrying tank turrets, with several small tracked SPGs mixed within. The massive amount of heat the machines' sophisticated drivetrains produced made them highly visible on the Abrams' thermal sights.

Thunderclap slowly pulled up before a small defilade near the edge of a clearing in the woods, in typical hull down fashion, exposing as little of itself as possible, the CITV and the Primary Gun Sight on top of the turret swerved about vigilantly, scanning the surrounding area for targets. Ready to provide covering fire should the need arise.

As they got into a berm to provide support, the two sides continued to exchange fire, and given the looks of it, it looked like the Juggernauts had the situation already under control, and were actively pressing the advantage despite their numerical inferiority. The UGVs cut through the dense forest, knocking out the Legion mechs with precise shots and breaking up the enemy's formation. Jackson recalled that the Juggernaut's main gun is of relatively small caliber, putting its firepower on par with IFVs at best. This seems to indicate that most of the smaller Legion units are not very armored if all it takes is just one shot from the Juggernauts to finish them off.

"Alright, I'll be designating the smaller Legion units as 'PCs', they seem to have equivalent levels of armor." Eric and Chris both responded in confirmation.

The large spider tanks seemed to prove to be more of a challenge for the Juggernauts, however, and required more unconventional methods to bring down. Jackson spotted a lone unit perched on top of a large cliffside in the distance, firing shells into the top of the spider tank's turrets and occasionally changing positions to evade retaliation.

"What the hell is that one doing?" Chris's attention was drawn in by a rapidly moving signature, glowing brightly from the sheer amount of heat its power pack is producing, clearly being pushed to its very limits. "Is it… engaged in melee combat with the spider tanks?"

The sight currently displayed on his display panel is as spectacular as it is baffling. If you are forced to combine armored warfare with melee, you are doing something terribly wrong, reality is not Star Wars or Armored Core after all. Yet right there before his very eyes the lone spider mech weaved through the enemy formation, throwing them into disarray, and effectively cutting apart spider tanks with a pair of smoldering hot blades and blasting into their poorly protected backs with its main gun. Sometimes even leaping on top of a target to fire into the top of its turret.

What in the name of God are the enemy escorts doing? Why the hell are they not delousing* each other? Chris wondered as he watched one of the spider tanks make a seemingly desperate yet futile attempt of leaping at the Juggernaut to crush it under its hefty mass, an act that is as impressive as it is farcical.

"Wonder how they programmed it, must have some wacky anime protagonist code embedded on it. And look, that one nearby is planning to join in on the fun!" Eric quibbled as he directed his attention to another lone Juggernaut that started its advance. It evaded a shell fired at it that was notably off the mark and started approaching one of the large spider tanks that seemed to be isolated from the rest of the enemy group.

---

The stray shell flew too high and landed in the woods, erupting in a shower of splinters and dirt. Kaie has precious seconds to make her approach before the Legion's advanced autoloaders complete its task which will force her to go back on the defensive again.

Before her eyes sat a juicy target, a Löwe that seemed to be separated from the rest of the group. The terrain they're fighting on now is fairly disadvantageous towards the Legion's tank units, as, despite their impressive all-terrain capabilities, their enormous sizes makes it rather difficult for them to maneuver in the densely packed woods. The complex terrain of the area forced the Legion to split up into small groups, allowing Spearhead to methodically divide and conquer the targets.

Right now the Löwe is unknowingly presenting its sides, and a perfect opportunity, to her. Despite its incredibly durable frontal armor, a tank's side armor is far less evenly distributed. While her 57mm cannon cannot reliably penetrate the side of the turret, a well-placed APFSDS can smash through the side of the hull and potentially achieve mobility kill. Now she just needs to jump in that small clearing to get into effective range…

"GET AWAY FROM THERE, KIRSCHBLÜTE!"

"!?"

The Handler's warning came too late. What appeared to be a flat stretch of grassland in front of her turned out to be…

"Wetlands?!"

The Juggernaut is a bad joke of a design, and it doesn't take someone with an engineering degree to figure that out. Despite weighing only 10 tons which is fairly light for an AFV, all of that weight was focused on 4 small points that barely even add up to the size of a human foot in terms of area, which resulted in the same amount of ground pressure as a fully loaded heavy tank. Soft terrain is just as much of a mortal enemy to the Juggernaut as did any Legion.

As soon as Kirschblüte's Juggernaut landed, the front legs of the Feldreß plunged into the murky depths of the wetland, water gushed into Kaie's cockpit and her engine bay was flooded soon after, the screens in front of her started to flicker, and died one by one as their power supply was cut. In an effort to cut down the production costs as much as they possibly could, RMI didn't even bother to waterproof the Feldreß's cockpit, as if to mock the very concept of ergonomics.

---

With a soft whirring sound ending with a dull clunk, the Löwe spun its turret around towards the commotion. The tank is only outfitted with basic optical sensors and ballistic range finders, so its environmental awareness is fairly poor. But the situation before it is clear enough.

One of the Republic's Feldreß is stuck in the rough terrain, alone and defenseless. Data-linked Ameise units informed that no other hostile units were within range to provide support.

According to intel, the squadron it's facing today consists exclusively of HVTs, veteran pilots with years of experience, actually capturing one in pristine condition is easier said than done.

"Ziel wurde isoliert und immobilisiert, Assimilierung Protokoll wird eingeleitet."

The tank let out a low, guttural growl befitting of its name as its power pack's output surged. It started strafing towards the stranded hostile while slowly pivoting its hull around, moving with uncharacteristic quietness for a 50-ton war machine. The eight-legged gait was a bit unstable thanks to the soft terrain, but the Legion's high-grade shock absorbers and better weight distribution allowed the Löwe to traverse terrain that the Juggernaut would struggle to. There's no need to fire a shot now, its 120mm main gun and .50 cal HMG lacked the precision needed for this job.

---

"Wait, somethings wrong. Why isn't that unit evading or returning fire?!" Eric says alarmingly as he maneuvers the tank to a better firing position.

"Damnit T-800's getting too close, it's up to something! GUNNER, SABOT, TANK!" Jack overrides the turret controls so Chris can easily line up the shot.

"IDENTIFIED TANK!"

"Up!", the onboard computer announced, alerting Chris that the depleted uranium tipped KEP had been loaded successfully into breach.

---

"Kirschblüte, get away from there right now! Bail if you have to!"

"I… dammit I can't!" Kaie would have to hit reverse somehow to free herself, her Juggernaut's hull is stuck in a depressed angle, preventing her from returning fire. All of the controls are no longer responsive now that engine power is lost. She tried to pry open the canopy of the Juggernaut, but it was no use, the hydraulics were all dead, and the massive gun resting on top of was simply too heavy for her to lift.

Kaie's Juggernaut, in all effectiveness, is now her sinking, cramped metal coffin. While all visuals to the outside are lost, she can still hear the steady rhythmic metallic clanks and mechanical whirring getting more audible, announcing that the Löwe she was previously hunting has turned into the hunter, and is now right on top of her.

It could have just launched a HEAT shell and there would be nothing left of her, or simply unleashed a spray of .50 caliber machine gun fire, but it opted to enter melee range instead. Kaie immediately realized the enemy's true intentions.

"No…"

In the past, when she envisioned herself reaching the end of her proverbial road, it always involved her being able to choose the way out. But now it seemed that a watery grave right here would be her final destination, confronting her is the worst-case scenario, one she has no control over. It's like being strapped face down onto a guillotine, the blade will descend, she just doesn't know when.

"I don't want to die."

---

"FIRE!"

"ON THE WAY!"

A cacophony of deafening noises rang across the battlefield, the sound of metal slamming violently against metal, the sharp crackling report of a cannon that resembled a lighting strike, and the shriek of a sabot piercing through the air at hypersonic speeds.

"DOUBTFUL, RE-ENGAGE!"

"Shit!" Chris cursed furiously under his breath as he ordered the autoloader to index another dart. How the hell did he even miss that shot at this close?! While the spider tank's silhouette is absolutely enormous, easily the size of a trio of Challenger IIIs stacked together, the actual hull of the tank is relatively small, about the same size as the turret. It seems that not requiring a human crew allowed the enemy to considerably reduce its profile.

In his rush to get the round out, he was not aware that the range indicator did not calculate any range at all, that's when he noticed that the automatic rangefinder is not working due to the tank's onboard GPS system being jammed by those butterfly drones he saw earlier, due to that, the resulting shell barely grazed the enemy's turret and flew off into the distance, and so did the friendly UGV as it was flung away violently by one of the spider tank's multi-jointed legs. Now alerted by the commotion, the enemy spider tank is now committing towards its new target.

"GUNNER, COAX, TANK! SHOOT! USING THE CROWS!"

"ON THE WAY!"

"SHIT, HE'S LOOKING AT US!"

7.62mm machine gun rounds and 30mm multi-purpose rounds smashed against the target with predictably poor effects. The spider tank pointed its main weapon, a 120mm smoothbore whose barrel is as long as its hull and turret combined, at Thunderclap, and opened fire.

PZZT-BOOM

By some miracle, the shell slammed straight into the berm Thunderclap was hiding behind and detonated, the ground in front of the tank erupted, showering the tank in dirt.

"Up!"

The time it took for the tank's Meggitt autoloader to ready the next shot felt like the most agonizingly long four seconds of Chris's life, the computer's update could not have come at a better time as he pressed the Tank's backup Laser Rangefinder to Laze the target.

"IDENTIFIED 650!"

"KILL THAT FUCKER!"

"ON THE WAY!"

This time, Chris made sure he didn't miss.

The depleted uranium-tipped dart struck the target's turret at speeds exceeding Mach 5, piercing through the thick composite material like a hot knife through butter. The extreme kinetic energy smashed the depleted uranium into blazing hot powder, spreading into the interior of the tank's turret.

And if one thing that doesn't mix well with oxygen at high temperatures, it's depleted uranium powder.

With a blinding flash, the enemy tank was consumed by a massive ball of fire as its ammunition storage cooked off, sending shrapnel and molten slag raining down in all directions.

As a large column of gray smoke rose into the air, Chris managed to get a good look at his handiwork. The gigantic metal spider now lay collapsed and smoldering, its turret lying overturned beside it, having been sent flying from the force of the detonation.

"Target, cease fire!"

Chris can barely contain his excitement and relief, his heart pounding so hard it may straight up burst out from his chest, he just had his first enemy kill but not before having the closest call in his life.

While he has been a 19K for more than four years, all those years were spent training, theory crafting and boring guard duty. He was never deployed outside of the US. Unlike his fellow crewmen, Chris was chosen to be part of the testing program because of his performance in exercises, not for sheer experience.

Eric and Jackson, on the other hand, looked simply pleased. This is nothing new to them, more than once they have seen enemy tanks go up in such a spectacular fashion that would make the 4th of July's fireworks celebration look tame. The only difference this time is that this tank walks and is unmanned.

"Driver up, we need to check on the downed friendly unit." Jackson ordered, his tone returning to his usual seriousness once again.

"Copy, Grave Robber, you seem to be deep in thought, you thinking of something?"

"Yeah, Sticky, something's unusual about these drones." Jackson ponders. These UGVs are behaving way too oddly, especially the one that just got knocked out, as far as he knows, even if it somehow got mobility killed, a half-decently programmed drone will still attempt to retaliate. The way it just seemed to freeze up left him with a gut feeling that something was seriously wrong.

With a menacing snarl of its diesel engine, Thunderclap steadily advanced towards the disabled Juggernaut, which was sent flying by the spider tank and is now resting at a 45-degree angle against a gnarly tree growing out of the marsh.

Unsurprisingly, the flimsy-looking mech was FUBAR*ed. Its back-mounted cannon was completely detached, most of its legs had snapped at the joint, and the hull was bent out of shape. Why does a drone have such a large canopy like this? Chris wondered to himself, and at that moment he spotted crimson-colored liquid that was seeping out from underneath the wreckage.

The abrupt realization slammed into Chris like a freight train, obliterating any remnants of the excitement he had felt mere moments ago. In its place, a profound dread gripped him, so intense that it seemed to twist his stomach into a knot.

"Guys! T-there's someone inside!"

"Fuck! There is? I thought they said they are autonomous?! Grave Robber, we need to get that pilot out of there!" Eric exclaimed as he drove into the dry area beside the wetlands.

"Shit, we can't do that now, hostiles inbound! Driver reverse and activate engine smoke! Gunner, HEAT, Anti-tank! Traverse right!" Jackson curses as he spots multiple contacts converging at their location from the CITV.

"Identified Anti-Tank, 400!"

"HEAT up!"

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

"Target! Gunner, HEAT, PC! Traverse Left!"

---

"Kirschblüte…?! God-fucking-DAMNIT! They got her!"

"Wait, who fired that shot?! Is that the newcomer?"

It literally missed the Löwe by hair's breadth, but it came from a weapon that Shin, despite his years of experience, had never heard of before. It sounded way louder than the Juggernaut's 57mm and was completely unlike the thunderous report of the Löwe's 120mm. Instead, it's a loud, sharp crackling noise, like a violent discharge during a lightning storm.

Alerted by the near miss, the Löwe spun its turret around to retaliate in kind. The shell flew into the woods and detonated. The processors feared for the worst, one hit from a Löwe's main gun is enough to destroy any conventional armored asset, because of the lack of comms, they can't confirm the status of their reinforcements. But that one missed shot may have just cost the newcomers everything.

"Undertaker, I'm going to collect her, buy me some time, we can't just leave her there!"

"Negative, Snow Witch. They're using her to lure us out, we can't afford to run into an ambush." Shin knows that this is a well-established tactic, using a downed ally to bait out and take down would-be rescuers. Something like the Legion, programmed to indiscriminately target anything marked by their IFFs as hostile, would have no qualms pulling off something like this. He could hear Anju slam her fist into her instrument panel in frustration and anguish.

"We'll have to cremate her then-"

PAK-BOOM

The sharp crackle rang out again, this time immediately followed by the Löwe's explosion.

"Just one shot? Damn, what heat are they even packing?"

The answer was revealed when the metal beast lumbered its way out of the cover of the forests, like a crouching predator slowly sneaking up on its prey.

"I have a visual, it's some sorta tank, not bearing any markings I recognize!"

"What the fuck are they doing? They're taking the bait!"

"Dammit, we can't tell them to pull back without comms!"

As if it somehow can telepathically hear their warning, thick, white smoke coming from the engine decks starts to envelop around the tank in all directions, enough to cover the whole area they are hunkering down in, forming a dense barrier that proves impossible to see through, hiding both it and Kischblüte's wreck from sight.

"Kirschblüte, confirmed down. Fafnir, go cover for the 4th platoon. We still have a few Legion on the scope and they're closing in on the tank's position. Let's finish them off before they can regroup and take advantage of the situation." As heavy as their armor may be, Shin knows well that a lone unescorted tank is incredibly vulnerable. There is a reason Löwe units are always accompanied by Ameise and Grauwolf units to cover for their multiple blind spots and ward off flanking attacks.

"Roger that."

With that, the processors of Spearhead Squadron recomposed themselves and continued with the operation. This is not the time to have one's judgment clouded by emotions no matter how dire the situation is, lest they be joining their fallen comrade in the afterlife.

The unidentified tank continued at its own pace, the sound of its main gun and secondary autocannon discharging rang out from behind the cover of the wall of smoke.

---

"Scopes are clear, all remaining Legion units are retreating." Jackson can finally breathe a sigh of relief as he watches the Legion units pull back under the cover of artillery fire, but that didn't stop the Juggernauts from pursuing and systematically exterminate the chrome-laden machines down to the last, likely the pilots seeking vengeance for their downed comrade.

The worst may have been over now, but there is still a pressing issue on their hands.

"Jack, we really need to bail that mech pilot out now. The wreck seems to be in an unstable position, we'll have to tow it out before it sinks."

"We should be able to attempt a rescue now. Eric, grab the first-aid kit. Chris, go out there with him and winch the wreck out. I'll keep the tank operating and keep watch for any remaining hostiles."

"Roger! Come on Chris, hustle up!"

The adrenaline rushing through Chris is wearing off now that the battle is over, and dread is creeping up from the depths of his mind again, threatening to consume it and paralyze him. These are not UGVs, there are people inside, and the shot he missed… he might have just gotten someone killed because of his mishap. He tried his best to keep his emotions in check as he prepared to disembark and assist Eric in the salvage operation, but for all he knew it may already be too late. One thing is bugging him for sure, why didn't Annette, Gauthier and any of the others say anything about them?

The two of them hurriedly dismounted as Jack advanced the tank forward to shadow the wreck from the last known enemy position, Eric was already carrying the first-aid kit that is located at the cargo racks in the turret bustle, meanwhile, Chris grabbed the crowbar and the tow winch cable as quickly as he could. They trekked across the wetlands briskly towards the wreck and systematically looped the ropes around so it can be secured, as the wreck is fully tied up the two signaled Jackson to activate the winch, once done Jack then slowly drives the tank forward until he feels the resisting tension of the cable, just as the Juggernaut wreck is starting to sink into the murky waters, he then applied more power to the tracks to then pull the Jugg out of the wetlands.

With shaking hands, Chris hurriedly inserts the crowbar into the gap of the slightly deformed and ajar canopy, but as he tries to apply pressure in leveraging the canopy open, all it does is break pieces of its armor, making a linear hole where he can just barely see the slumped pilot inside.

"The hydraulics of the canopy is keeping it jammed, the crowbar just tears off bits from it!" Chris exasperatedly grunts as he is trying other spots to pry it open.

"The armor is too brittle in some areas, garbage heat treating… Fuck this, I'm getting the sledgehammer. Find stable portions and try those, don't smash the canopy or or we will risk riddling the person inside with shrapnel!" Eric strides back towards the tank to bring out the heavier tool, Jack still keeps his eyes on the scope as he prepares to fire a volley of smoke grenades as the engine smoke previously emitted has dissipated.

"Okay, I got it, Chris, on three?" Eric saw Chris finally got a non-fragile part of the canopy that seemed to be connected directly to the hydraulics keeping it closed. The crowbar is now at an upright angle as he is already putting pressure on the tail end.

"Yeah!" Eric then positions the hammer in the middle portion of the crowbar to brute force the tool downward.

"One..." he straightens his back.

"Two…" Eric then raises the hammer and Chris grunts as he pulls all of his weight down on the crowbar.

"Three!"

BANG

In one swift strike, the broken hydraulics gave out and the canopy flew open to reveal its passenger.

Chris was truly taken aback by the scene inside, she's the first "local" that wasn't white from head to toe that he'd seen in the past few months. A young Asian girl barely in her adulthood wearing what seemed to be a beige camouflage patterned field mechanic's uniform that's converted into pilot fatigues. Her harness was undone, likely due to a failed attempt to bail. Her personal level of protection is even worse than the mech's, no helmet, no flak vest, nothing- and the results clearly show. She had a bloody bruise forming at her forehead, probably from the impact she took from the swing of the Spider tank, she has every manner of small cuts and bruises around her arms, but the main problem is a metal shard from her cockpit stabbing into her torso from the left side of her hip, and it's the one bleeding profusely.

"Let's pull her out slowly, ready?"

Chris nods, visibly shaken, securing her underarms while Eric holds her knees.

"PUUUUULLL-!" They both exclaimed as they pulled her out of the wreck and onto the collapsible stretcher that Eric had already set up beforehand.

"You think she's gonna be okay? It's not too late, right?"

"It's hard to tell from all this blood, I need to get a closer look! Just keep calm for now!" After they had laid her down, Eric scanned her for severe injuries as he opened up his Med-Kit.

"Okay, she still has a pulse, but it's weak, we need to stabilize that stab wound first. Chris, get me a Celox Hemostat, we can't pull the shrapnel out yet but we can at least stop further bleeding, then we can cover her torso with gauze."

Chris hurriedly fishes for a Celox-A Applicator and hands it over to Eric who is busy checking the girl for any more injuries that urgently need attending to. Thankfully there is none, and Eric immediately sticks it on the visible wound beside the large metal shard sticking out, as he pushes the applicator down, the Celox granules slowly expand as it fills with blood, as soon as the wound is fully covered and the metal shard is not moving around, Eric then cuts the shard short so they may apply gauze and bandages around the area. As he is doing this Chris is already removing dirt around the girl's body to prevent more foreign objects from entering wounds further and applying adhesive bandages on slightly bigger wounds.

"She's stabilized, we can carry her back to the tank or call for CASEVAC. Chris, how's that Para-RAID activation holding up?" Eric asked despite deep down realizing the desperation and futility of the current situation. If the Republic is callous enough to declare these "drones", do MEDEVAC operations even exist out here if they're all going to pretend the pilots didn't even exist? Surely it will be more convenient to leave them to die and keep the secret…

Chris was attempting to link up PARA-Raid again when he found the dark bores of two large autocannons gaping right at him, Eric was quick on the draw and was already aiming at the two Juggernauts with his MCX Raptor.

"FRIENDLIES!?" Eric asked loudly. immediately sensing danger, Thunderclap rolled forward and positioned itself between its crew and the Feldreß, as it also aimed its gun barrel to the two unknowns who seemed to be apprehensive at the newcomers.

Out of nowhere another Juggernaut appears, sporting some sort of fox-like Insignia, however this one is a lot more aggressive and hostile as it skids to a halt, aiming its gun at them, this one did not hesitate and fired, time seemed to slow down between the crew and the two other Feldreßs as the 57mm sabot sails through the air and right to the tank.

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POP-BOOM

A small explosion erupted in mid-air between the tank and the aggressive Juggernaut, breaking the sabot round into pieces, flying fragments off to different directions.

"MISSED!" But how? Theo was feeling dumbfounded, he couldn't have missed at this range against such a large target, even if the round failed to penetrate he should have seen the results of the ensuing impact. But instead it seemingly exploded in mid air, as if hitting some sort of invisible barrier.

A rapid cascade of cracking erupted as one of the crewmen hastily retaliated with his assault rifle while the other dragged the injured girl behind the tank for cover. The three Juggernauts also dove for cover, preparing to open fire as well. At that same moment, the Tank's loudspeakers came to life.

"BLUE-BLUE, CEASE FUCKING FIRE! YOU'RE SHOOTING AT FRIENDLIES!"

The barrage of automatic fire ceased.

This definitely isn't right, Shin has encountered Legion units equipped with voice modules more than once, in order to fool their targets into a false sense of security before striking. But return fire from the opposition would have never elicited such a reaction from the Legion, they would have simply fired back. But instead, this voice sounded genuinely furious, in an all too human like manner, as if trying its absolute best not to retaliate in kind and send whatever that is threatening him and his comrades to Kingdom Come.

After a few seconds of silence the Tank speaks again.

"You better have a good reason for shooting us, otherwise we are gonna have a problem here."

"Laughing Fox, stand down! They have already secured Kirschblüte, no need to do anything rash."

Shin's Juggernaut appeared right behind him, his iconic insignia depicting a Headless skeleton shouldering a shovel, he is accompanied with 19 other Juggernauts with their own varying insignias and loadouts.

For being a singular unit reinforcement, they sure look intimidating.

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Terminology:

UXO: Unexploded Ordnances. explosive weapons (bombs, shells, grenades, land mines, naval mines, cluster munition, and other munitions) that did not explode when they were employed and still pose a risk of detonation.

Delousing: The act of using anti-personnel weapons such as machine guns to cover for another friendly AFV that is being swarmed by enemy infantry, like removing louse from the back of a horse.

FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. A slang commonly used in the military describing to break or severely damage something.

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Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this one, we had to remade the whole chapter 3 times due to not being up to our standards.

We are using the Anime as the basis for the timeflow and engagement of the story so if there are moments in the LN that we have not included, we might do so in the upcoming chapter.

Thanks for reading.