Kaie held onto the side of the Humvee they were rolling back to base with, listening to Shin and Handler One chatting each-other up over the matter at hand:Their newfound saviors and allies. She looked over to the US Rifleman on her left, watching the man scan the horizon through the scope on his modular rifle. In the turret of the truck, there was a woman manning a fifty-caliber MG, similar to the ones mounted on the arms of their Juggernauts. Finally, in front and behind them were tanks, the rest of Spearhead's Juggernauts which had been recovered and IFVs.
Rotary-wing aircraft also moved in with them. Attack helicopters by denomination, namely American AH-64D Apaches, but with added support from Soviet Mi-8 Transports. Now, Kaie had only really memorized all these names because she had wound up talking to one of the Soviet soldiers in digital flora and asked him about it. A kid named Oriel, who was about the same age as her, if not a little older.
She looked at her leg, which was in a cast now, courtesy of the two militaries' medical aid, then sighed deeply, scratching her neck and shifting uneasily on her chair. The two American soldiers in front of her spoke, with the driver stating, "Look, all I'm saying is it's kinda odd that Command slapped us down with this particular unit. I know the Joint Chiefs want us stationed with Spearhead while we clear out a path, but…"
"Tim, it's not our goddamn job to question it," The female riding to the man's right spoke, "Command wants our asses sat down with the kids at their dinner table, that's fine by me cuz it means we won't be dropping in as often. Shit, I'm glad they're leaving a few Soviet units with us, too," and she peeked out from the window at the Helos overhead, some of them being Soviet Airborne.
She had dark skin and brown hair, alongside dark-green eyes. Her hair had been cut to standard military length for women and she was wearing the double stripes of a Captain on her collar. Shifting her rifle over, barrel still pointed at the floor, she added, "The fact the VDV helped us near the Yalu when the Norks tried their luck speaks volumes…"
"Thawing relations and all, boss," The MG gunner quipped, taking a knee to look at the Captain.
"You good there, Kaie?" Another US soldier asked as he cradled his rifle close. She looked over the attachments, noting the scope, laser system, flashlight and all, all attached to what they called the Picatinny rail system. She could hear the others talking over the Para-RAID, too, though she'd 'turned the volume down' on the psychic link, so to say.
She lifted a hand and gave a thumbs up, smiling at the soldier. He nodded, smiled back and leaned against the seat, letting Kaie look out at the rest of the convoy through the armored-up Humvee window again. She smiled a little, watching the raggedy Juggernauts most of the 86th had been driving provide security to the sides.
The convoy itself continued rolling on down the path, radio chatter passing over the net about the base itself. The Choppers above began their descent as the convoy of transports emerged from a thicket of trees and shrubs. The transports then rolled onto the tarmac of the base and right next to the command post building.
As troops began to dismount, Kaie was handed her crutches and was about to exit, but was stunned when the young Russian man she'd been talking to walked over to the door and opened it. He offered her a hand which she took, blushing and smiling, before she stood up. He helped her prep her crutches, then looked around and said, "Nice digs…"
"Heh. It's kept us warm and fed so far," Kaie replied as she started walking. She added in a murmur, "But the extra mouths might mean we have to overfeed the chickens and make the growbed for our crops larger," as they entered the place. The man had also picked up her FAL and slung it over his shoulder, the strap of his own AEK rifle crossed with the FAL.
"We don't eat much," Joked the boy. Oriel Kiselev, she recalled. She chuckled a little as he led her inside and to the rest area, which was surprisingly less barren than he'd come to expect, considering the child soldier angle. The place was, however, rather obviously in need of a glow up, meaning replacing the dead neon tubes in the lighting apparatuses, the wallpapers and some other things.
Thankfully, the Convoy had come with a platoon of SeaBees here to assess the situation and fix whatever needed fixing. Alongside them were Soviet Army Engineers who would help construct the defenses. Oriel set her rifle down beside the couch as she, too, plopped down on it. It was a worn, old thing made of ripping brown leather.
A little awkward, the young man looked around at the various items of interest, like the desk, the couches, the various toys and other familiar items. Even an ancient dartboard stood, hanging off of a wall in the rear of the open room. He said, "You guys really need new furniture… Half this stuff looks like those torn jeans that were all the rage back home and in the US…"
"I'll take your word for it, molodoy," She quipped as she looked over the cast on her leg, noticing various signatures from the medical staff at the base. Oriel, meanwhiile, stared at her with a raised brow. She told him, "Oh, yeah… Right, I do speak your language, holy crap," before grinning and switching to the language itself, Russian, and stating, "I was born in the Far East. Large trade country known as the Rin-Liu Trade Federation. Moved here with my folks…."
"Holy shit, talk about luck," Oriel smiled as he sat himself down, "Any particular reason you all moved from there, or…?"
"From what little I remember? My dad had a work placement with San Magnolia…" She sighed deeply. Oriel showed her to stay calm by gently lifting his hand when he saw her struggling to remember. She was the eldest of the Eighty-Six, the eldest member of a caste of child soldiers deployed by the bastards beyond that giant stinkin' wall the Drones had spotted.
"And then you guys and girls wound up in the line of fire for not fitting the whole 'Aryan' vibe of the San Magnolians," Oriel sighed deeply, "Ain't that some shit…" only to hear Kaie chuckle at that. She seemed a little confused at the terminology, but by God was she adorable with that laugh. He smiled, then sighed and took his helmet off.
A pair of US Soldiers walked in with Anju and Raiden, the latter stating, "And this would be the rec roo-" only to pause as he saw Kaie and Oriel. He grinned, while Anju seemingly beamed, before teasing, "Sorry if we're interrupting your little sesh there, Kaie," before turning to the US soldiers and stating, "Kaie'll say she hasn't seen a good-looking man in forever if you ask her," which caused the girl to blush.
"And it's true," The girl shot back, grinning, "You overestimate yourself there, Shuga. You, Nouzen, Rikka and the others aren't the shining example of gentlemen either," and that caused the Army troopers to laugh. Even Oriel smirked, to which she blushed a little. Raiden snorted and was about to retort, but Anju grabbed him by the shoulder and shook her head.
He nodded, "Well, you win this round, Kaie," then added, "Celebrate it without any interruptions, you two," and that final jab actually got Kaie and Oriel to stutter. He laughed happily, then walked out of the room, before breathing a deep sigh as they walked. He looked at the soldiers and said to them, "You guys saved us from having to unceremoniously lose someone else. Kaie's… One of the vertebrae making up the backbone of this place."
"Glad to be of service," The American Lieutenant leading the platoon behind him stated as they walked down the narrow hallway. He told the boy, "We're gonna be setting up outside until the SeaBees and Soviet engineers get this place's upgrades done," as he shifted his own M4A1 onto his back, making sure not to bump the scope on anything.
"What kind of upgrades are you all considering for the FOB?" Raiden asked. They entered another somewhat larger area, namely the kitchen, where they could see through the windows. American M1A2 SEPv3 and SEPv4 Abrams rolled into the motorpool, much to the chagrin of a very grumpy old man… Who soon seemed to calm down when he saw the maintainers of the US Army tanks jump out of their transports.
Raiden snorted, while the Army officer told him, "Simple things. Electrical, enhancements on defense. Shit, we might even place some E-SHORAD around, considering. Add a platoon of Paladin and Msta systems for artillery support and a few multi-launch rocket arty systems and we've got basically everything covered."
"How big are the units that are staying with us again?" The boy then asked again, watching as a few more helicopters from both forces gently touched down in the rear area of the base. More infantry dismounted from them, weapons stowed over their shoulders. Male and female soldiers alike, too. The Msta heavy artillery support vehicles and Paladins also rolled in.
The Russian in the group told him, "Three or four brigades, mixed. VDV and Army 82nd Airborne, with supporting attack helos from 1st Air Cav and the Union's VDV air support units," as he lifted up a tablet and handed it to the executive officer. Raiden himself pruned through the information, noting the high numbers they were deploying across the entire defensive perimeter.
The US Army man told him, "Yeah, we're surrounding San Magnolia while Command's figuring out what to do with them."
"Don't be too harsh," Raiden quipped, arms crossed, "We still have our Handler in there," to which the men nodded. Moments later, Raiden was out on the porch, drinking actual coffee as gifted by the US Army troops present while trying to work through his own feelings on their presence. So many of these guys and girls had that exact same stare that the average Eighty-Six had, but they were that much older than them.
He sipped from the warm, bitter liquid, then watched a pair of Airborne and VDV drop a ball on the tarmac and start kicking it around. They were already making themselves at home, to nobody's surprise, he thought to himself. He felt something slam into his chest and nearly coughed out the Coffee he had in his mouth, then looked down to see a radio and a familiar hand with fingerless gloves on.
He looked up at Shin as he took the Radio, asking, "Suppose there's news?" as he tuned it. Shin sat down next to him and handed him a frequency for it. 39,5mhz. He set it, then listened in. He also saw Shin was a hint surprised at what he'd heard. Understandably, Raiden soon thought, because the officers were talking about setting up camp nearby San Magnolia and beginning to operate from within.
"They're already deploying Minesweeping vehicles to help clear the path to the Capital," The Undertaker said as he leaned back, crossing his arms to his chest and watching the soldiers go about their business. T80s and Abrams tanks all parked, crews dismounting not too far from them, before Shin also added, "And they asked me to tell the Major."
"And?" He asked, still listening to the various callouts from units. Overhead, the chop-chop-chop of Helicopters blades rippled and large transport copters, twin-rotor, one high and back, one low and front, all colored Khaki, flew in. They bore the marks of the US Military on their sides, but with additional crews from the Soviets.
"That," Shin spoke rather bluntly, looking at him. He said, "I told the Major to expect a surprise in Sector 01… She said they already picked them up on Radar and most of the Country's scrambling right now to figure out a way to greet them. President's even called an emergency meeting of her Cabinet…" and he caught a can of soda mid-flight without even looking. He looked over the red can with white writing, then gave a wave to the American rifleman that'd tossed it to him and popped it open, letting it hiss. His XO nodded.
"Wait, HER," Raiden then started, leaning forward, "Last I remembered the president was a guy."
"Yeah," Shin shrugged, "Apparently, not anymore," and he took a sip, feeling the soda stinging his throat and tongue. "President Jeanne Monet was elected after the main president was killed in a mysterious accident…" Shin added, which got a laugh out of Raiden. One of the same leaders of the Government that threw everything they knew into the grinder of this war was dead.
Even as he was now, Raiden couldn't help but feel a hint of joy at it. He leaned forward, drinking his coffee, then kicked the football as it rolled toward him. The Army soldier and VDV caught it, both of them giving a thumbs up to the young man as they kept on playing. Shin himself nodded in approval… Maybe, just maybe, this meant they wouldn't need to put more of their own out of their misery.
He felt the pistol on his thigh, then sighed… Pipe dream. He knew it was, considering most adults abandoned them in the end…
Eastern Sector.
Security Convoy, callsign 'DELTA-4'
The mixed minefield ahead was quite honestly a nill factor. Most of the mines seemed old and many were exposed, but they could still pose a threat to any unprepared Allied unit. Mitigating the risk of casualties was gonna cost some, not to mention finally making it through the wall ahead. Honestly, the Wall, 'Gran Mur', wouldn't be a problem. They could 'kick the door' with little opposition.
The Minefield, though? That's when you call the Army Engineers. They rolled forward with their minesweeping equipment:The M58 Mine-clearing charge launcher. A half-mile long string of C4 strapped to a rocket motor and attached to an engineering vehicle, either a modified M113 or a Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected Vehicle, or MRAP.
The Engineers stood at the front of the formation with additional minesweeper attachments for the M1A2s leading the formation, while the Soviets had brought forth their own UR-77 'Meteorit' Mine-Clearing Line Charge Launchers, plus tank-mounted secondary mine-sweeping equipment. The entire convoy would clear a two-mile-wide and several-mile-long corridor to the territory ahead.
The breach would then be guarded by secondary Brigades of the Soviet and United States Armies to ensure no enemy vehicle rolled through while they were in the middle of the chats. And if the chats went well, that the 86 in the area could be provided proper shelter by Army Elements from both parts of the Alliance, plus their additional comrades.
"This is Delta-4, convoy is in position and line charges are ready for deployment," The Colonel in charge of this mixed platoon stared ahead at the Gvozdika-based line-charge throwers and their own M113s with the towed launchers in the backs. He listened into their commanders give the order, then gave the go-ahead with a chop of his hand.
Three US launchers and three soviet launchers fired their payloads in unison straight ahead, all arrayed neatly to cover as much area as possible. The rocket motors screeched, launching forward the masses of explosives while the Engineers watched them go forward their given distances. When the motors died and the explosives made landfall, the Engineer commanders hit the det.
Six separate line charges exploded, ripping the ground wide open and blowing mass amounts of smoke high into the sky. Dirt and debris landed around the vehicles and even on top of the Colonel's head. He wiped it off, then sighed and waited for the smoke to clear. Of course, their 'buddies' in San Magnolia had picked up the movement.
The gunner of his Bradley reported, "Sir, counting maybe two squadrons of those kids deployed to our AO. They're keeping their distance, but thermal has'em," to which the Colonel simply gave a nod. He had seen them in the corners of his eyes, the quadrupedal, thin-skinned and poorly equipped mechanoids belonging to the Republic's 'Juggernaut' fleet.
SIGINT had caught transmissions from across San Magnolia about all of it, too, though no mention of the kids being used as their weapons. Just 'Processors'. It was honestly kinda heartbreaking, the Colonel thought to himself as he watched the minesweeping tanks move in next. He paused as he heard a man climb up next to him and saw a red flag on the shoulder.
"Colonel Ustinov," The man spoke, "We got the go-ahead."
"Tak-toychna," The man spoke as he sat on the turret, leaning his own AEK on his shoulder and stating, "I'm riding with you for today. Command wants us to keep close just in case those jammers come back while we're going in," and he waved forward the BMP-2M that his command unit rode in on. The Colonels nodded to one-another, then ordered the Convoy forth.
As the tank minesweepers moved in the same six-vic lineup, the lighter transports began rolling forward, toward the Gran Mur. As they drove further inward, the group watched the towering wall get ever-closer, its glistening metal and rusting turrets glowing in the sunlight of mid-day. The guns atop it were clearly non-functional, one peek through binoculars showing the damage.
The wall looked completely decrepit, whatever paint on it having long been stripped off by the elements. The Watchtowers were alight, though, some bearing ground scan radars that were able to seemingly punch through the clutter. Going by some flashing red lights in one of the towers, they'd spotted the advancing convoy.
The Colonel spoke, "Steady as she goes, ladies and gentlemen," before adjusting his helmet. The vehicles rolled further through the minefield, AP and AT mines being swept aside by the forwardmost tanks while the Convoy continued its calm advance. Overhead, Apaches, Mi-28 Havocs and Mi-8s gently flew, dropping pamphlets to the top of the tower.
"Blockage up ahead," The Colonel sighed. It was the wall itself, obviously, but the decrepit thing had enough holes in it that he was more concerned about it collapsing on top of them than anything else. He ordered, "Keep the vehicles rolling forward. AVRE Mortars, hold fire… Let's not have that whole thing crumpling down on us."
The Armored Vehicles of the Royal Engineers, most of which were British Trojan-class AVs, replied with laughter over the com. There were visible openings in the wall's bottom, to nobody's surprise, and the internal skeletal structure was visible. The vehicles rolled on through the first layer of the wall without opposition.
And through the second…
And upon reaching the main boulevards, they saw the turnout:Tens, to maybe hundreds of thousands of people had walked out onto the streets. Silver-haired and silver-eyed, almost uniform in looks save for their clothes and bug-eyed at the sight of combat vehicles from another nation rolling through the Gran Mur like it was pretty much nothing.
An Army rifleman yelled to them, "You fuckers should really upkeep that wall better!" while the Colonels both noticed that his tank, which had a de-mining kit and plow at the end, had scratches across its paintjob. The American Colonel sighed deeply, then dipped back into his Bradley while the Soviet Colonel stared on in disgust.
This place was too homogenous. Too grey and… Almost French.
He looked over at the Hungarian and Romanian People's Army representatives as they rolled on in beside them on BMP-1s, BMP-2s and MLI-84s, the Romanian, elongated variations of the BMPs. A few BTR-60s and 80s from both armies also moved in with them, right alongside an East-German battalion of T72s and BTRs, most of the troops riding on top.
The deeper they rolled, the more they saw both 'soldiers' and the Police of San Magnolia staring at them from among the crowds, hands on their sidearms. All it took, however, was the glares of Military officers from both sides of the Alliance for the men and women to raise their hands defensively. The main boulevard was…
"This is the most leisurely Thunder Run we've ever done," Ustinov said to his American counterpart as the man poked up and out from his vehicle's hatch. He added, "And my father was guarding the left flank of units during the Baghdad Thunder Run in '04," while tapping his foot on the side of the vehicle's hull.
"Heh," The American Colonel snorted, "Well, it's nice not to be shot at every once in a while," and he offered his Soviet counterpart his flask. The man took it, sniffed the contents and smelled decently strong alcohol. He took a swig, winced and clicked his tongue, before capping the flask and handing it back to the American, who told him, "And then there was our Thunder Run through Beijing."
"Ha," The Soviet shot back, "The Chinese at least had the balls to fight back… And damn, did they give us all bloody noses down there," before he pulled himself back a little, watching as they rolled by houses, schools and plazas where people had been simply enjoying their day until recently. They gave waves of the hand, laughter echoing among the soldiers.
One tank, which had speakers attached, began playing a very familiar riff from its hull. The Colonels laughed, while the troops aboard the IFVs began singing, "Oh, Shah really don't like it!" with smiles on their faces. The rest of the units sang back, "Rockin' The Casbah! Rockin' The Casbah!" while the civilians stared on, stunned.
Some more calm members gently danced with the tune played from a god-damned Abrams MBT. Probably a coping mechanism to your own country basically not firing a shot to oppose hostiles. And hell if the Generals' gambit didn't really work out. After the rumors spread throughout the ranks about the fucking Internment Camps and how the 86 were all mostly kids, blood was boiling.
Even so, the SEATO-NATO-PACT Alliance was playing it cool. The UN had had to authorize the intervention in here with the additionals that it would grow if the situation really called for it. There were already major debates about expanding the deployment of the Task Force to two Full Army Groups from each side.
When the vehicles reached 'Sector 1', AKA the Capital of the Republic of San Magnolia, Liberté et Égalité(The French influence and subsequent jokes grew after that) they were on a wider boulevard, to the sight of actual hundreds of thousands of people and even a news report. Overhead, allied Helicopters swung in for landing right at the end of said Boulevard. A massive Palace stood at the end, presumably home to the government.
And to the right, the Military members of San Magnolia had stepped out onto the steps of what was called 'Palace Blancneige', the command and control center for the 'Processors'. A couple of vehicles stopped in front of it, infantry from the 1st Infantry Division, the Big Red One, descending from the holds of their Bradleys while the Hungarian and Romanian BMPs halted, their own soldiers jumping out and off.
Two American soldiers examined the men and women ahead, soldiers clad in dark-blue uniforms, eyes wide as saucers and obviously colored silver, like their hair. The one off to the left, a slightly tanned gentleman, spoke, "Look at'em all, Hass. I'm guessing this is what it'd've looked like if the Nazis won… Holy shit…"
"Mm," The one to his right nodded, staring up at the group. He told his buddy, "It feels like looking at fucking clones, man…"
"Gotta admit some of them are kind of cute, though," The Latino spoke, locking eyes in the moment with one with short hair, glasses and a labcoat. She blinked, staring at them as she cradled her tablet. There was another longer-haired one beside her, wearing the full SanMag military uniform. He added, "Their uniforms look a bit too Cabaret for my tastes, though."
"Agreed, Jim… Fuckin' agreed," Mumbled 'Hass'. He looked over to the right as the Romanians and Hungarians helped the US troops form a cordon, then said, "Good to see you guys could make it to the party. You're seeing this, correct?" only to get nods of approval from two pairs of twins, each with a man and a woman.
The PKM-carrying Romanian of the group said, "And I thought you all looked the same."
"Ha," Hass snorted, cradling his rifle, "Okay, Commie."
The PKM gunner snorted, while his sister laughed and his Hungarian buddy and his sister respectively gave thumbs up at that quip. The Romanian male added, "Christ, it's genuinely insane that they've made the exact same shit the Nazis wanted… Also, hey, anyone have any idea why the fuck we're staying here?"
"Forming a cordon between the Military and the Convoy," Jim replied as he leaned his M7 rifle on his shoulder. He added, "Running interference until the Colonels or some other high-ranking officials can come knock at these guys' door and say hi. Probably get their surrender in triplicate. Signed and everything…"
Hums of approval echoed from the groups of soldiers. The entire team, however, paused when they saw that same young woman and her concerned glasses-wearing egghead buddy descending the steps, the latter being dragged by the hand by the one in a proper uniform. She stopped in front of them and greeted, "Hello… I'm Major Vladilena Milizé…" Her accent thick. She said, "I need to speak to your leadership…"
The group exchanged glances, then looked at her, surprised… This was gonna be fun to explain to command.