Operation Black Dawn, 1995
Special Operations - Back at Base
October 1995/December 1096
Two days after the Lungmen Operation
"Motherland, forgive us. Forgive us for bringing your sons back wrapped in zinc."
- Motto of the Russian Air and Space Self-Defense Force's C-130 'Cargo 200' Pilots, 1967
Efreytor Anatoly Smirnov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Camp Tiber - Dated December, 1096
I shivered as the coldness of the weather blowing through the barracks windows caught up with the fact that I was caught lacking in sufficient cold weather gear. The AK I was issued with lay beside my barracks bed, as I blew hot breaths into my hands. I knew I should've brought an overcoat with me, but by the LORD I did not. Maybe this is God's way of punishing me for saying his name in vain one too many times.
The rest of my squad, however, were relaxing together at a table, seemingly impervious to the cold. Maybe it was just me, but damn I felt pain everywhere. Maybe I did catch a cold, and my body is taking the punishment from God. Or... maybe the squad had some form of heating, while me attempting to sleep after tending to the Podnos mortars unfortunately led my body to take the cold weather painfully.
God works in mysterious ways, I suppose. Even if it's freezing me.
"Hey, Tolya!" One of my squadmates shouted, watching me shiver with eyes of - hopefully - concern.
My father taught me all about dedovschina when I was younger, and I was thankful it was dismantled after the fall of the USSR. Yet, being in these cold barracks worried me. An innate suspicious part of me couldn't keep my questions in check. But all things considered, I was likely paranoid and babbling.
"You okay man?" He continued, "You look like you're freezing your balls off over there." He moved his thumb to point at the table he was sitting at, as if he was trying to offer me a place. "Wanna get over here?"
"Y-Yeah," I let out weakly, trying to hold myself together. It seemed the cold weather of a dying gray sky was too much. "J-just... u-uh... trying to relax is all..." I say, trying to tighten my grip on my jacket. But my hands appeared to be very brittle, as they shivered. I'm fairly certain I almost cut into myself.
"Tolya, I dunno about you man," He notes. "But I can tell when you're really freezing your balls off over there." He made a hand gesture that translated to 'get over here'. "If you don't like freezing your nuts off... Would you care to join us?"
"I... uh..."
"Tolya..."
I sighed. He saw through my attempts - not that there were any - to cover up the fact that I was basically freezing like a Noddie in a Cryonics laboratory. Alright, I could do anything else except suffer in cold weather. It wasn't even snowing! But, apparently, my shivering hands said otherwise. I swear my teeth chittered a lot, and much to my irritation it did nothing but make my teeth feel like.
Why did I have to feel so cold?
I grabbed my rifle and brought it with me to the table, leaning it against a table leg. Safety on and chamber unloaded. And I sat down on an empty chair the squad left for me, still freezing but to a less painful extent. I pushed my chair into the table, and set my hands on the table.
"Alright, I'm here. What were you all discussing?" I raised my eyebrow.
"Oh, I?" The man who called me - nametag Vladimir - responded. He looked young for a veteran. He was our squad sergeant, a man in his thirties, and smiling as if he was barely holding back a sarcastic answer.
"Nothing much, just called you here to check on you," He turned his head to look at two soldiers on the other end of the table. "But those two? Fucking hell, Ilyin, and Kiril won't stop arguing about Japanese artwork! It's amazing how two Vladivostok boys can engage in a conversation for hours on end regarding some Japanese cartoons that I'm too old to talk about!" He snickered, a grin forming in his face. "Hey, you two! What are you arguing about this time?"
Ilyin and Kiril were both foster brothers, from the same family. Born and raised by immigrants in Vladivostok after the Second World War, the two became the vitriolic brothers of the squad. But they were so vitriolic you'd swear they were fighting.
Ilyin was a skinny man with a motor-mouth, but was a good shot with an AK rifle. Kiril was our automatic rifleman, using an RPK-64. He was not too muscular, but was still bulkier than Ilyin. Both of them were prone to petty arguments, but give them a target and they'd annihilate it.
Today though, Vladimir's question led me to actually try listening in on what they were squabbling about. Unfortunately, it was something that I did not expect. Was Vladivostok less pious with their words?
"Kiril, all I'm saying is - the American girls are hotter! I mean look at XM1A3! She's got a 125mm cannon that obliterates all enemy units, a sexy body, tough health, and she's a damn good speaker too! Or, hell, look at F-35! She's fit, excellent at throwing TOWs, and she's fast as hell! The Americans have style and sex appeal, man, even if depicted from the eyes of Taiwanese artists!"
Oh, they were talking about Taiwanese artwork? I thought that Vladimir called them Japanese cartoons though? I turned to look at one of my squadmates, who shrugged.
"Ilyin, obviously the Allied Nations girls are way, way better! Dude, Harrier's the most reliable gal you'll need! In fact, she'll be all you need! I wouldn't settle for anything less than a VTOL, veteran, and battle-hardened gal. Or you have Gunter von Esling, a grumpy, coffee-fueled secretary aircraft carrier who'll annihilate your enemies so long as you give her some rest and coffee. Both of them are really hot as hell, too!"
What the... Are they talking about characters derived from... vehicles? And ships? What kind of discussion were they having? And did they refer to them universally as girls? In my confusion, I turned back to Vladimir. He shrugged and chuckled, shaking his head afterward.
"Ilyin and Kiril are like that all the time. You can tell they had a discussion somewhere by how hot the air was." He chuckled. I'm afraid I let out a snigger too, just barely avoiding making it loud.
Vladimir turned to them and smacked the table.
"Oi! Will the two of you finish your damn argument already?" Vladimir asked. "Poor Tolya over here's been freezing his balls off and none of y'all ever came to say hi?" He asked, watching as the two of them changed their glances toward me. I sighed in defeat. I was going to tell Vlad that it was embarrassing, but I kept my mouth shut.
"Hey, Tolya." Kiril said.
"Hello, Anatoly." Ilyin greeted me.
There I was, the local mortarman. A man with dirty blonde hair, a steel helmet from the 60s, and a vest that was slightly under-armored than the average grunt's vest. Unlike Ilyin or Kiril, I was called a skeleton with an epidermis. As if I was nearly on the verge of Anorexia. I've managed to obtain a healthy amount of food, but I still look like a skeleton. People chuckle at me for that but never doubt my mortar gunnery.
I smiled back. "I see that the two of you have been having a passionate discussion. Is this about those new Video Games I hear about? Ones that you can store on your phone?" I ask, hoping to get some questions answered before I bring up another topic.
"Oh, yeah. We were talking about a game called Combined Blitz. Think of it as a, err... what was the term?" Kiril put his thumb and index finger on his chin to think, prompting Ilyin to respond. "It's a tactical role-playing game that also doubles as a real-time strategy game. Though it has an aspect of the gameplay called 'gacha'. A Japanese term, or something. Used to refer to toys you'd get from vending machines. Now refers to a game where you basically gamble your money away." Ilyin stated, making a gesture of throwing air money away.
"Isn't that... a little wasteful?" I asked. "I thought you'd have better things to spend it on?" I scratched my cheek, wondering what'd drive a man to do so.
"Oh, definitely, but I play the game for free and spend hours on it at the base so it's not my problem." Ilyin bragged. "In contrast, however," he points his thumb towards Kiril. "This guy has been spending money on a free-to-play game just to win. Though it's ten dollars per month, I still prefer to joke that he's thousands of Rubles in Credit Card debt."
"Oh fuck you Ilyin." Kiril shot back, raising his middle finger.
Ilyin gave him a wink, a middle finger, and a stuck-out tongue. "Bleh." He muttered, before turning back to me.
I was just perplexed at how a free-to-play game could generate such heated discussions as earlier. Though I would have asked about the game proper, I had another question in mind. Especially since I've spent at least several days in this camp after the storm that caught our camp.
Apparently, we sent explorations to the outside and sustained casualties. A whole squad caught NCID, an APC was destroyed with its crew confirmed KIA, a Harrier went missing, and two personnel confirmed missing. Of course, it could have been combat, but here's my question.
Where's our Command Network?
"Hey, uh, guys. I've got a question." I let my head rest down, trying to gather my thoughts on the whole thing. "Where the hell is our command network?"
"What do you mean?" Vladimir asked
"I mean, you notice that we haven't gotten mobilization orders from New York? Not even to clean up a mess nearby. It's just been the two commanders ordering soldiers around."
"Come to think about it, yeah it's kind of odd that we've never gotten orders of mobilization for... several days now," Kiril noted suddenly. "We'd usually get cleanup or escort orders, but so far the only orders I've heard around were people getting shifted around for expeditions. And we all know what happened to those. Casualties, casualties, casualties." He solemnly shakes his head.
"I thought it was just odd, but now it's suspicious. What the hell is going around this base?" Ilyin asked. "At least two soldiers are dead, two are missing, and we have a squad with NCID. What the fuck does the outside world look like if those are our results?"
"Exactly!" I noted, pointing my hand in the air, index finger up. "I hope that Command has answers to the whole thing." I sigh and position my head to rest on my hand. I don't have time to be angry at Command, nor should I. I was to respect positions of authority, but still. "I'm... concerned. To put it bluntly."
"Oh, 'concerned'. Tolya, we're stuck in bum-ass nowhere in Italy. You're supposed to be more than concerned when our expeditions to the outside result in casualties rather than reestablished communications." Ilyin smarmily fires back, a snarl forming on his face as he looks at me. "Two crewmen are dead, two men are gone, an entire squad has NCID, we have damaged aircraft coming back, and Command refuses to disclose the reason why." His head slumps down to his neck, staring down to the floor.
I sigh, the cold weather giving us a sense of dread as the table falls silent. Not many of the soldiers in my squad commented alongside Ilyin, Vladimir, and Kiril. I could still feel their fear though.
"So, are we stuck here?" One of the supposedly silent soldiers asks.
"...I suppose so," Vladimir notes. "But we still need to find out where the hell we are. We managed to recover a civilian from a nearby operation, but," Vladimir sighs. "They don't speak Italian."
"The hell? Are we not in Italy right now?" Another soldier asks. "I thought that the storm just knocked out our communications!"
"Hopefully we're still in it, and we're just dealing with a local who doesn't speak Italian or English. Otherwise, though..." He stops commenting for a second.
Everyone at the table stares at Vladimir before they lower their heads.
Looks like we really are stuck here and trying to cling to home.
God forgive me.
The door to our barracks opens, prompting us to turn around. It's our Quartermaster. I raised an eyebrow at this. What was the Quartermaster doing outside of the Armory? I was about to ask him what was going on when he spoke first, snapping the table out of dread and fear-filled silence.
"Commander Fitzgerald wants us assembled. Now." He points his thumb to the exit. "They're calling for all of us to assemble for the briefing."
"All of us? Like," Ilyin asks, trying to ask. "All 4,000 of us?"
"Yes." He adds. "And they've also gathered the Noddies too."
"Oh bloody hell! Those greasy gray fucks too?!" Vladimir stood up in anger. "I'll die before I lay anywhere near a fucking Noddie!" He protests.
My eyes wince in response, and I swear I felt a part of me cringe. I do not have the best opinion of Nod, but I would say that they aren't ontologically bad people. Just people who are still on the other side of our conflict. Yet, I could also understand his anger. This alliance of Nod and GDI at Camp Tiber was little more than a publicity stunt to bring attention to NCID and away from the global tensions rising between the two blocs as environmental damage damages our home.
But still, they're with us now. Better not antagonize our only ally.
"Vladimir," I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's just go."
"And group up with fucking Noddies? God no." He answers. "I would sooner shove a pen up my ass." He's moving his knuckles and fingers, constantly tightening and untightening them. He was angry.
I shake my head in disapproval. "Vlad. I know you hate Nod, but by God," I tighten my grip on his shoulder. "Temper yourself in the house of the Lord," I let go after he turns his head to me. A smirk enters my face, and I follow on. "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." I glare at him with the righteous fury of the Lord. "Temper, temper."
Vladimir sighed, ceasing his fist tightening, before looking at the rest of the squad. Ilyin was standing up, confused, and Kiril had already left the chair to approach the Quartermaster. I smiled as he relaxed his expression. "Fine. You win, Anatoly." Victory.
"Now let's go," I grab my rifle from the table and walk out to meet with the Quartermaster. "Wouldn't want to miss this big event." I turn back to look at them. "Nor would I want to piss off our wealthy commanding officer, I hear he's got wealth behind his name."
The squad chuckled as they exited the barracks. At least, this would just be over with and they could go back to doing other things.
Though, what was so important about Commander Fitzgerald's words?
Brigadier-General Jean Fitzgerald [Allied Nations - Allied Nations Overcommand] - Camp Tiber - Dated December, 1096.
I tried to push my hair into the peaked cap as I prepared to go address soldiers on the stage. The peaked cap was a different beast compared to the PASGT helmet I usually used. While the helmet tried to ensure that you loosened it at just the right position, the peaked cap needed to make sure that all hair was centralized into the hat to ensure a proper fit. As it turns out, trying to centralize all hair into the hat was a pain.
General Yang and I were behind a stage waiting for the soldiers. We were going to be called by the IDAP Volunteer-Coordinator when they arrived.
But... I just couldn't break the news to them. They're stuck in a world completely alien to them, and they have no way out of it.
They were going to riot. They were just... God. They were stuck here. I had known this, and my intel officers had known this. Yang knew this.
But I couldn't just break the news to them. I looked down at my legs, trying to collect my thoughts and figure out what to say I wrapped one hand on another fist, twiddling with my thumbs as I try to find the right things to do. I glanced at the officer's cuffs on the uniform, folding them in by rolling them up.
I eventually felt a hand on my shoulder, looking up to see General Yang trying to assure me. He reluctantly let out a smile.
"It'll be okay, Jean," We've finally discussed this thing over the breakfast table at the Communications Center. We had to finally break the silence to the soldiers, even if it meant damning me. "You'll have to address them. Better now than never."
I weakly shook my head, letting a small 'mm-hm'. But I still wasn't de-stressed, in fact, I was still twiddling my thumbs.
It had been several days since the start of their stranding in Terra, but we refused to disclose the information to the infantry. The ones who did get to participate in the operation had been given a gag order, ensuring that nobody spoke of it.
However, there are APC two crewmen listed as KIA and two men listed as missing. Not to mention, aircraft and vehicles returned damaged. And there's a Harrier missing. People were demanding answers.
"I... I don't know," I responded, pressing my right thumb on my other thumb. "I... I just can't bring myself to spit it out..." I stopped, breathing heavily in-and-out as I tried not to panic. "W-what if they blame me for this whole thing? I'm supposed to be their commanding officer, but I just lost three men..."
"Jean. Look at me." He pulled my face to stare at him. His assuring smile turned into a glare. "I was but a peasant child raised and trained into the Secret Police of the People's Republic. I have had to give eulogies that were about as insincere as you might think they were. I have learned that whatever faces you, you need to confront it lest you let it fester."
"B-but... how the hell am I supposed to address them?" I let out, vainly trying to not let Yang hear I was in pain. I kept breathing, in and out.
"Jean. You just have to be honest," He grasped both of my shoulders. "No use trying to wrap it in euphemisms. No use in trying to conceal and obfuscate the reasons. I have learned that soldiers. Are. Used. To. Bullshit." He shook me each time he punctuated his words. "If you don't address it honestly and instead lie, they'll be more pissed when they learn the truth," He sighed and let go of my shoulders.
"Just tell them we're stuck with no way out. They'll eventually find out."
"But they'll riot!" I fired back. I strongly had the feeling that they'd actually get pissed. Pissed at me for dragging me into this hell world they've found themselves in.
"Inform them of the Chronosphere malfunction then." He gritted his teeth and sighed, shaking his head. "I... asked the Chronosphere technicians. It'll take years for it to be fixed."
"Years?!" I asked. "How many, Yang?!" I tightened my fist, ready to punch a wall. Godfuckingdamnit!
"About two. One and a half if they're able to find a budget and resources for the repair," He turned and leaned against the wall, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "We'll have to do something. Hell, I thought of consolidating our area of operations first. Just so we have a base to fall back onto when we get discovered or are..." He sighed and lit the cigarette. "Forced into a corner." He put it in his mouth.
"How so?" I slowly crossed my arms, eyebrows squinting.
"We'll..." He stopped, before turning to face me, with the eyes of a defeated man. "We're going to go back to Chernobog."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Yang stopped leaning against the wall and began to make hand gestures, which he guessed were visual metaphors. "We are running out of time here, but..." He responded, pulling out photographs taken by the U-2 spyplane.
Then again, I almost forgot we had one.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Our jackpot. We spotted a Reunion camp in this area. If we can take it over, we can establish a refugee zone. But it's not permanent, we have to move out afterward."
"A refugee zone? What for?"
"People still alive."
I scoffed. "In Chernobog? They're all killed by this point, why scavenge a rotting corpse?"
It appears that for Yang, apparently, that was a contentious issue, as he stares back angrily again. "Jean, listen to me." He grits his teeth and snarls. "There are people dying out there just to get the hell out of Chernobog. They're fleeing to Lungmen en masse." He said.
"But should we rescue them?" I asked. "We're stretched thin and barely hanging on, we've... lost two men already." I
"Jean, for Jiang Qing's sake..." His palm met his face, and his expression turned extremely sour as if simply frowning wasn't enough. "Look at these fucking photographs then!" He pulled some more out and shoved them into my hands. "Look at this shit!" I attempted to shove them off, but Yang pushed them. "Look."
I finally budged and looked at the photographs, nearly scattering them as he flipped through them. I would've dismissed them, but the moment I laid my eyes on one, I knew something wasn't right.
My eyes widened and I swore to the end of my days that my heart stopped upon seeing the first one. Though these photographs were taken from high up in a spy plane, I could make up details.
None of them were good details.
One photograph showed what appeared to be prisoners lined up for a crossbow firing squad execution. Another showed burning buildings. And another one showed what appeared to be the site of a mass grave, as he saw holes dug in the park to fill with people. And one showed blood stains next to what appeared to be a squad of Reunion. One could only infer what happened.
I looked at the photographs.
I did not know what to do with them.
My hands shook for a while before I finally regained the courage to look back at Yang in the eye, still frowning at me.
"Wh-what's this?" I tried to sputter out, but Yang didn't have any of that. He yanked the photos away and tucked them back into his pocket. The glare he possessed bore through my eyes, and I couldn't do anything besides whimper sheepishly.
"Those," he closes the pocket. "Were images caught by U-2 Spyplane when I sent them to survey the mobile city," he looked back at me again. "They were going to continue these atrocities in Lungmen."
"...I should've expected that," I replied. Fuck, man... I could only sigh and shake my head. "But still, I don't think we can mount the resources to conduct a rescue operation." I made a throat-slitting gesture. "It would... drain us of our resources." I weakly let out, only for Yang's expression to change to one of sadness, then sigh. He shook his head, lowering it too.
"Jean, think about it," he pleaded. "We need this. We have no HUMINT to fall back on, our manpower is going to collapse if we don't find new sources, and..." He stopped, before turning his head to a flagpole bearing the IDAP flag. "IDAP's got unused care facilities for NCID treatment that barely sees one or two soldiers, which would be good back home."
"But," he shook his head, crossing his arms. "Now that we have a world filled with NCID with everyone suffering..." His tone changed to one on the brink of defeat. "Jean, just... please, we are going to have to do this, whether we like it or not." He offered me a hand. "Promise me, Jean, you'll do this."
I took a moment to step back and hear the words that Yang had spoken out and thus stopped to look back down on myself. I looked at the uniform I wore, that of the United Nations Global Defense Initiative. And yet, the person wearing it... I feel like I didn't deserve it.
Draped in UN six-color camouflage, was a rich aristocrat whose only job was to serve as a filler commander in place until GDI could finally assume control of the area.
I wasn't prepared for this.
I wasn't prepared to lead.
I glanced at my rank insignia, showing the sign of a Brigadier-General. I felt ashamed.
I nearly ripped the thing off, but I stopped myself.
Being bribed out of OCS was the worst thing to happen to me. I would've been happy continuing to stand in, but... I'm now the only Commander, and I'm not even supposed to be the base commander in the first place.
Especially when your only experiences are botching training operations as a Lieutenant.
And becoming synonymous with 'massive casualties'.
I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. "If I can't lead, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I asked myself, taking off the peaked cap I put effort and time putting on. I flipped it around to look at the United Nations globe symbol and wreath facing me. I polished it for a bit and smirked when I still saw my face on the cap. It went away as I stared at it longer though. "...Should I continue bearing the flag of our forefathers?" I put the peaked cap back on.
Yang put his hand on my shoulders. "You're still the GDI's commander," He pats my shoulder. "I..." He stops and bites his lower lip for a moment. "I get it. You're..." Merde, he's stuttering. "You're stressed up, alright? And I get it. You're still reeling from the operations."
He lets go and stares at a Nod flag fluttering in the air. "We're all in this. GDI, Nod, IDAP..." He sighed. "You're in charge now, and I hate to say it, but you can't resign. They need a commander, and I don't think communications officers could fill in for a General," He looks back at me. "Welcome to the battlefield, Jean."
I weakly nodded.
"...Alright." I guess I'll have to adapt to the role now.
Even if I get stressed.
"See?" His expression changes, and now a faint smile rests on his face. "Though, are you... able to address the soldiers?" He asks, letting go.
"Well," I put my thumb and index finger to think about it. "Yes, but I'll have to address our lack of transportation back to Earth, our stagnant supply issue, and our lack of manpower." I stopped to process things for a moment. "I don't think we'll be able to fully address these issues, but I have to just be blunt about it to the men for some of the more obvious issues."
"M-hm," Yang noted. "Not to mention that next time they go on an operation..." His face shifts, with him glumly shaking his head. "Your head is on a pike if there are any failures."
"...Aren't you supposed to address Nod too?" I asked, with Yang nodding in response.
"Yes."
"Alright. What can we address first?"
"United Nations active deployment procedures, and lifting the operational threat level-"
"You have a DEFCON?" Yang snickered
"-To three, and a meeting with the officers of the front," I sighed before I looked back at the flags and then back to Yang. "That reminds me, have we been able to gain the support of Nod Officers to launch a tripartisan investigation on the Nod air support sabotage?"
"No, why?"
"I've already got the blessings of GDI-" I raise my index finger. "-And IDAP," I noted. "All I need now is Nod."
"I'll go talk to them," He grimaced. "Goddamnit, I hate those people. I get no rest from them." He grits his teeth again. "I swear they'd kill a child if it means taking my job as the commander of Nod.'
"You're the interim commander of the Nod, uh, organization," I stated, eyebrow raised. I didn't know what to call it so I defaulted back to calling it an organization. "How the hell are you unable to get them together?"'
"Assholes are all indoctrinated to the words of Kane, and whereas some people are willing to listen to their superior officer, others defer their orders due to hesitation or dogma," He groans a lot, then tightens his fist. "And then there are fundamentalists, assholes who're so committed to their vision of Kane and will consider me an unfitting commander at an arbitrary notice." He hit the wall.
"...Right," I noted, shifting and holding my collar in awkwardness. We couldn't discuss the details for too long, as we had a busy day ahead of us. Especially when dealing with this shitshow. "Let's deal with that after the speech, can we?"
"Alright." Yang nodded.
Just in time, I heard footsteps from the stairs to the backstage. Coming out of it was the IDAP Volunteer-Coordinator.
The man was in his twenties with a young, fresh face with blue eyes. But he had his hair covered by a PASGT helmet and wore an orange shirt with the IDAP logo plastered on it combined with white cargo pants. He looked like a volunteer worker rather than a high-ranking Coordinator, but the two executives who accompanied him often stood for his place in meetings.
"The men are assembled," He bowed, befitting of his Japanese background. "All officers, infantry, support staff, crewmen, paramilitary, and such have been accounted for." He stepped to the side. "And so are our guests," He added. "They're waiting."
I nodded and walked up the stairs to the stage, my sight being greeted by the podium and stage. And accompanying the stage were our guests, people who got stranded with us in the chrono-shift from Earth to... Terra, was it? Yeah, it was Terra.
To the right, were our intelligence community agents. Herbert, and his son, Shrub. Herbert was an old man, grimacing with the most sour expression you'd ever see. In fact, one could swear he was angry all the time. However, his son, Shrub, displayed a more carefree expression that befitted a kid in a candy store. A shit-eating grin displays his nature as a rich kid. I squinted looking at him. But, he saluted back, and so did his dad. The contrast between Herbert and Shrub was hilarious, I'll give them that.
To the left, were two executives who visited to check IDAP. GloboTech executive Akito Moriya and his partner, GloboTech executive Chin-Hwa Jeon. Both were members of IDAP's biggest sponsor, GloboTech. They were a big-tent company that offered things like medical service, military contracts, catering, electronics, and such. They have a surprisingly clean record for a company that offers all of these. Akito, the older man, wore sunglasses to hide his eyes, but his mouth was neutral. Dull. In contrast, Jeon's younger expression had him wear prescription glasses, a fresh young-faced executive behind the glass.
I approached Herbert and Shrub first, offering my hand. Herbert took the shake first, responding with a firm shake, and then let go. Then, when Shrub's term came, he rapidly grabbed my hand and shook it three times rapidly, before letting to and saluting me. Shrub wore a two-piece suit, but his dad wore camouflaged military fatigues. Fittingly, both of their clothes reflected their expression.
"Mister Herbert Walker," I saluted. He returned it. "International Security Agency, I assume?"
"Yes, indeed." He replied, taking his glasses off to put one of the frame handles in his mouth. "...Just me and my son." He shook his head. "We're all that's left of the International Security Agency."
"My condolences, sir," I replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Appreciated," Herbert nodded, but his tone was still a little bit more than annoyed. "But Shrub here's got important news."
"Oh?"
"Indeed," Shrub replied. "I've compiled a report on Reunion movements in Chernobog. From our U-2 spyplane..." He hesitates. "And my compiling, sir." He hands the folder to me, surprisingly light as I take it. I flip it open, eyes widening for a bit, before closing it and nodding.
"I will review this with Nod and IDAP as soon as this operation is over." Seems like Yang paid a visit to retrieve the photos of the Reunion camps, but neglected to mention that Shrub compiled these.
"Well done, son." Herbert replies, a smirk forming on his face. Shrub turned and nodded.
"Thanks, Dad." The two of them start walking to the right of the podium, to stand by the speech.
I turn away from the father and son duo to talk to the executives. Akito offered me his hand first, and I took it. I gave a light shake, and we both nodded before letting go. Jeon instead offered me an open hand. A high-five, it seemed. I obliged and gave him one.
"Akito Moriya," I said, with him bowing, before turning to face Jeon. "Jeon Chin-Hwa," I responded, and he nodded. "I see you are..." I bite my upper lip for a bit. "Adjusting to our new situation."
"I've gotten over the feeling of sadness," Akito solemnly says. "But I feel like we must do what we can with our situation." He continued. "As a GloboTech executive, we are at your service." He takes off his sunglasses, revealing his solemn expression. "We will remember our Blue Earth."
"Remember our Blue Earth, huh?" I say, giving it a thumbs up, but then sulking. I miss my home, too. "Well... we have to make do until we can get ourselves together."
"I understand." Akito bowed.
Jeon, on the other hand, looked like a hyperactive child. He nodded his head rapidly. "It's amazing to see you, sir!" He spoke. Surprisingly, for a Korean corporate executive, he was very un-abrasive and casual - nay, bombastically laidback - with his tone. "I... just want to put an end to this suffering. This world is teeming with it, and it's up to us to make it a better place." His grin made his statements a lot more naive. But hopeful.
"We will, don't worry," I tried to assure him, but my tone came off as un-assuring. As I said that, I turned my head to the side. "We just have to address the troops first."
"Understood, sir," Jeon nodded. "We'll make our way now."
"Arigatou." Akito stated, bowing down before making his way to the left of the podium.
That left me, Yang and the IDAP Volunteer-Coordinator to go towards the center of the stage, the podium in question. I stepped up, putting my hands on the sides of the podium. Yang took my right, walking alongside Herbert Walker and Shrub. The Volunteer-Coordinator took to my left, aligning with the GloboTech staff. I adjusted my color and coughed into the microphone as a test.
The microphone echoed, creating awkwardness in the air of the speech. But, I quickly recovered. Or at least I tried to. I didn't have a script for the speech, nor did I have a speechwriter, so I've gotta improvise. After all, I have nearly ten thousand people attending my speech.
"Peacekeepers," I addressed first, watching as the people I called upon saluted. "Paramilitary," I watched as both GDI and Nod soldiers in the back raised their fists in the air. "Intelligence," Officers in the front stood at ready as I said that. "Nod," Noddies stiffened and readied their weapons as I said that. "And Volunteers," IDAP HEAU and Humanitarian workers saluted. I smirked.
"All of you," I finished, "I say good morning. And I apologize for waking you up-" I heard chuckles from that, but continued. "-During these last few days, things have been hectic. Our uncomfortable situation, adapting to our location after the catastrophe on our base. You all and I have witnessed operations coming back with injured people, and we have three men lost-" The men put their heads down in solemness. "-And have suffered our worst viral outbreak in thirty years. For we have led our struggle against NCID and its terror against our home. This struggle shaped all of us, as it had forced us to live with the threat of viral infection in the background of... rising tensions."
I chose not to address the fact that not many people actually believed in the alliance. Better the Grunts don't know.
"That problem is halted," I noted. "This is not a victory for the United Nations, nor is it a victory for Nod." I shook my head. "Rather, we face a real problem that plagues us, the problem of..." I took a deep breath and continued. "Being stranded in an alien world which besieges us every walking day of our life." I watched as the men elicited shock. Surprisingly, get thousands to murmur and you've got people being loud. But, I continued.
"Multiple days ago, on September 29, 1995 - a day, which will shape our character - the Global Defense Initiative, the IDAP, and the Brotherhood of Nod, were besieged by a catastrophe that had ravaged our base. The Global Defense Initiative and Nod were at peace, and at the mutual benefit of both sides - working together to contain a viral outbreak."
I watched as both sides looked at each other, and some handshakes were exchanged. I guess I had to rally the people together, so I raised my fist and spoke. "Indeed, one hour after the catastrophe had displaced the base in the Italian River of Tiber, the commands of the United Nations and the Brotherhood lost contact with their headquarters, and a coalition of soldiers ventured outside to reestablish contact with a nearby camp on the Riverbed. And while we knew that our base had been compromised by the catastrophe, our situation contained no hint of displacement or an alien situation."
If you could tell the speech patterns, I had basically stolen the speech from America's greatest leader, but that's probably going to slip past a lot of people who don't know US History.
"It will be noted that during this operation, a pilot had been stranded in a nearby local city when it was under siege. We do not have confirmation if there are any more forces stranded of ours on this alien world, but what is certain is that we were attacked when we were retrieving him, and this bold enemy-" I slammed my hand on the podium. "Is no mere terrorist organization. Rather, it is called Reunion. An organization of rabid beasts working to slaughter anybody who could stand, walk, and work with two hands and feet."
I continued on, stealing more words from the Greatest leader of the United States. "Several days ago, our airborne forces were attacked while retrieving the pilot from a city called Chernobog, causing two deaths." I watched the GDI soldiers suddenly turn aggressive. Good, they were pissed. But not at me. "We lost a pilot during the operation, a Harrier pilot. And we have lost an APC and a Harrier." I was surprised to see them go rowdy when they heard that. A small grin formed on my face. "We routed Reunion, but our losses represent a terrible day for us."
I moved my head to address the Nod soldiers. "Several days later, Nod conducted a counter-terrorism operation to suppress Reunion before they had the chance to strike," I glanced at Yang, and he stiffened. I couldn't see his expression from here, but it probably wasn't good. "During this counter-terrorism operation, Reunion had attacked, not just Nod soldiers, but civilians as well." That... got a response. I can't tell if it's frothingly murderous or otherwise. "They attacked local authorities, citizens, and counter-terrorist operatives." I flinched as I saw people raising their hands and yelling.
"Reunion has, heretofore, entered an armed conflict with the United Nations," I announced. "Alongside the Brotherhood of Nod, and our constituent allies." I scanned the environment of the podium and watched as Noddies raised their firearms in shouts, while UN Peacekeepers slung their weapons by the shoulder.
Continuing, I pressed on. "And even now, Reunion has been conducting crimes in this very area. There is no denying that in this region, Reunion presents a dangerous threat to us. Hostilities exist, and there is no denying the fact that our people, the people of this world, and our very survival is in great danger. We cannot stick our head in the sand, nor can we move on, for we would be dooming ourselves to a naive notion that we can run away from a threat to our very survival in an interconnected world." At the end of that, soldiers responded with jingoistic yelling.
"Go GDI!"
"Kill them all!"
"Death to the heathens!"
"The Brotherhood will liberate the oppressed!"
Satisfied, I give them a clap, and they respond. Alright, way to get that crowd fired up. To my right, Shrub was raising his fist in the air, while Herbert was smirking. To my left, Akito gave a clap, while Jeon gave him a thumbs up. Yang and the Volunteer-Coordinator just stood, stiff.
"I ask, that the men and women in front of me declare, that since the Reunion attacks on humanity and liberties, a state of war has existed since Reunion and our factions. I have full confidence in our united alliance with the unity and peace of our peoples, and we shall fulfill our mandate against terrorism and imperialism, so help us, God." I finished, taking in the applause.
"And so, men, I request of you. Stay strong. We were sent here to contain a viral epidemic. But, we find ourselves stranded in a world unlike our own. Pull yourselves together, as I see neither Nod, GDI, or IDAP. Rather, I see a collection of men united by circumstance, and we shall uphold this alliance." Claps, claps, and claps. I grinned. "A full debriefing of Reunion will be issued. We will retaliate. Reunion will get their comeuppance."
I turned away from the Podium, before glancing back at it one last time.
"Welcome to a new world, all of you. May God help us all."
Okay, that was cheesy. I swear I grinned as I left. That speech was mostly stolen from the Great Depression's hero, but it got them fired up. As I exited backstage to return to the command center, I felt water drip down my hat. I look up to find that the cold weather turned into rain.
Appropriate, considering that we were counting on bad weather for this next operation.
Hilarious.
Thirty Minutes Later
Efreytor Anatoly Smirnov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Camp Tiber - Dated December, 1096
I pulled the charging handle on my AK-64M and double-checked if the cartridge was loaded. When I saw that a cartridge had indeed been loaded, I felt satisfied and let go of the charging handle, opting to put the gun to safety. Slinging it to my shoulder, I looked back at Vladimir, our Squad Leader. "I guess we're lucky that the speech didn't blame anyone specific, eh?" I said, trying to make some humor, even at this prompt.
"Well, it could be worse." Kiril addressed. "Our Commander could've blamed Kurds for this, as some in the Caucasus do." Ilyin snorted in response to that, looking at Kiril in the eye before grinning.
"We were raised by a Kurdish family, asshole." He said, before Kiril let out a chuckle too.
"True that, true that. I forget with how much of a mess Vladivostok is."
"Oh, with Japanese, Kurds, and Koryo-saram living together?"
"Yeah. Don't forget to mention the Jewish diaspora."
"Pfft. Serov'd have them declared as enemies of the Soviet Union."
"Yeah, haha."
The two of them chuckled at that, while Vladimir put a grenade launcher round in his GP-34, and flipped the safety on. He didn't respond to my question, but he did stare at the doorway.
"Sergeant?"
"They'll be here any time soon."
Of course, he was talking about a Major who was supposed to be part of the cream of the crop of the VDV. I never met the guy personally, but I just hoped that he knew his shit. Alongside that, he was supposed to come with an International Security Agency operative for the operation. I shrugged, and responded. "How many minutes you think they'll take to get here?" I asked, sitting down on a crate as my hand grasped my rifle.
He looked at me, then at his watch. "They'll be here in about a minute? Give or take, obviously, but still."
I nodded, and stood up with my rifle at the ready. Just then, footsteps were heard near the door to the briefing room we were using. Must be them, I think.
"Oh, here they are." He said, putting in a salute. I turned around and called for Ilyin and Kiril with a whistle.
"They're arriving."
They stiffened and had their rifles at the ready. The rest of the squad, however, was still sleeping. "Get them up." Ilyin told Kiril, who nodded. As for me, I turned around and waited for our special VIPs to come inside the briefing area.
As soon as one soldier stepped into view, Vladimir saluted him. In response, I saluted him too. The man looked satisfied as he walked in, and nodded. Saluting back to me, I smiled.
"Major Petrov," He introduced himself before I took notice of the blue beret on his head. "VDV.'
"I assume you're our officer for this operation?" I asked, holding my rifle. "If that's the case, welcome, sir." I said, smiling. Vladimir, meanwhile, didn't have the same expression and instead opted for a quiet nodding of his head. With that, Petrov took a seat on one of the crates. The man's blue beret and face gave me the impression that he was a real VDV Veteran.
Honored to meet one, considering that I'm just a Podnos maintenance man.
"Still waiting?" I asked.
"Yes. Comrade Shrub will be on his way in a few minutes."
...Comrade Shrub? Okay, now I was a little confused by that, but I shrugged it off. A minute passed and I heard footsteps from the doorway to the briefing area, and Major Petrov stood up from the crates and put his rifle against the crate. The sound of whistling drew my attention as the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man in a two-piece suit, an American flag pin, and a rather impressive forehead. Accompanying him were two other men.
One of them was dressed in a pilot's suit, the helmet of his reading 'UN'. His rank was that of a warrant officer. For a split-second, I was confused, until I figured this was our pilot. Considering I was in the VDV, dangerous heli missions are the norm, so better take them to briefing so they know what to avoid and what to engage with impunity.
The other one was dressed in a white-grey coat, with a white shirt and red tie underneath the coat. He was wearing a tank crewman's hat, obscuring most of his hair. What got me was his eyebrows, which were absolutely massive compared to the one with a massive forehead. On his left breast-pocket, a name tag displaying 'Michael Stanley D.' at the top, with a strip of black dividing it from the bottom, which said 'UNGDI Yugoslav Diplomat'.
The first one took a deep breath and greeted the briefing with a thick, Southern-American accent. I forgot if it was called Texan, but I digress.
"Howdy!"
I took it that this was Comrade Shrub. If only because he looked like the type of dude to be called Shrub. Meanwhile, the pilot stepped sideways to the briefing board, and Stanley stepped in and gave a simple greeting.
"Hello."
Shrub took the initiative and looked back at Vladimir, then to Petrov. Vladimir, then Petrov. "I assume that you're the, uh, Russian Self-Defensery Force?" He said. Somehow, his screwing up the name of the RSDF brought a smile out of me. And it appeared to pull one out of Stanley too.
"Shrub," Stanley put his hand on Shrub's shoulder. "It's Defense Force."
"Oh, uh, whoops," Shrub sheepishly put his hand on the back of his head. "Ignoring that, uh, gaffe," he turned to the briefing board. "I suppose we'll get on with the briefing then?"
"Hold on," I said. "Let me just get the rest up."
"What, they sleepin' or some'in?"
"Yeah."
Right on time, the rest of the squad came out, all of them ready for the briefing, even if they only got thirty minutes of sleep. But that was better than thirty minutes of not sleeping to save energy, that's for sure. As soon as they came in, Shrub clapped his hands and then spread them out. "Welcome, one and all! Welcome to my strategery meeting!"
A snicker spread among the squad like wildfire, though it excluded Vladimir and Petrov, who instead nodded. Shrub's expression turned confused but then shrugged. Guess he figured he wasn't being made fun of. Just his gaffes. "Alright, on a serious note, here's what we got," He turned to Stanley. "Duke! You got the projector?" He asked. Stanley nodded and picked up a projector from a nearby crate.
He set it on a table, facing the briefing board, and flipped a switch. Much to Shrub's annoyance, it didn't budge. He flipped it back off and on again, but nothing happened. He tried it again, this time with increasing anger. Nothing still happened. His expression turned irritated, and he was at his breaking point as he tried it again with no results. In response to this, Shrub banged on the projector with his fist.
Surprisingly, in a shocking twist, the projector suddenly started up. But Shrub had to flail his hand because of the pain, blowing air into it. He turned to the rest of us, an expression aghast as he remembered he was briefing. Though we didn't offer anything to say. In fact, I wanted to offer him a condolence. That just happens to military equipment.
You spend 99% of your time fighting it.
"Uh, sorry about that," He said, before stepping aside. "Major Petrov, if you would so start the briefing?"
"Da." Petrov said and stepped up to face the projector. Stanley walked to another crate that had a laptop on it and placed it on his lap. I guess that was the projector laptop.
The slide changed to a black slide with white text on it. It read 'OPERATION CHERNOBOG FREEDOM'. Petrov took the initiative and coughed. "This operation is a rescue operation. Our command has elected that our first operation occurs in the same city where we recovered our pilot, still under siege by Reunion." He noted, turning to the Pilot. "Pilot, if you will."
The slide changed, and Petrov stepped back. The pilot stepped up and took his place. He pointed at the slide, which was apparently a map. Taken from way up high. No way they could fake this.
"This is our objective," He noted, before taking a marker and circling a structure at the very center. "A concentration camp that, as far as we can tell, used to be a school. It's surrounded by Reunion guards, and aerial recon shows a camp nearby," He stopped, before shaking his head. "Just like Stalin's gulags."
That one got some shivers out of us. I never want to be reminded of that word ever again.
The pilot erased the marker ink and the slide changed. It was a photograph that displayed the area of operations, but bigger. To the right, there was a circle painted and an arrow pointed at it, with the letters 'LZ' under it. It's in the middle of a park, but at its center, it was surprisingly empty. "This is our landing area," He whacked it with a marker. 'What used to be a national park."
The slide changed to the park, zoomed in. I was confused about what it was displaying for a moment. I squinted my eyes at it before I recoiled and pulled back. I saw stripes on the ground which I thought were just something else entirely, but when I took a proper look at them, I almost retched.
There were mass graves lining the park, some buried, some half-buried, but most of them not even buried at all. I could vaguely make out faces in the graves.
"Are those mass graves?" Ilyin asked a venomous tone of disgust on his tone. "What the FUCK?"
"Yes," The pilot answered. "Those are indeed mass graves. The park's used by Reunion to dispose of bodies they don't like." He said. "Those bastards will go with their hate."
The slide changed to a map of the overall operation. In the landing zone, there were GDI unit markings, alongside arrows and a circle. Presumably displaying the LZ radius.
"Our situation," He noted. "Your VDV unit is attached to an airborne tank force, alongside HUMINT personnel and an interpreter," He pointed at the infantry unit markings, displayed alongside a tank icon.
"Today, by 17:00, we will cross the airspace from Camp Tiber to Chernobog via airborne cavalry. Reunion forces have not been sighted in the LZ, ruling it out as a Reunion activity zone by this hour. You are to expect reinforcements from the 2nd Bomber Aviation Regiment, which has assumed that heavy resistance will be expected. The 5th Guards Tank Division will be on standby, and shall lift in when the phrase 'State Scarlet' is called into the radio."
"Our task," he changed the slide to focus entirely on offensives. "Destroy enemy forces by the concentration camp, and extract prisoners for interrogation and rescue. When they are accounted for, call in Archangel MEDEVAC. Then, return to base."
"Execution," He changed the slide to focus on the offensive procedures, with longer arrows drawn into the scanned map. "VDV Unit is to advance north of the LZ, then head west before attacking from the south." The arrows displayed the unit and attached tank force going up, then taking a left turn, turning straight, before taking another left turn to strike at the combat zone. Presumably to jump them and gather HUMINT while they're surprised.
"Tank unit is to accompany VDV unit to the operation zone. In case the 5th Guards are called in, we are to hold the area until all forces are out of the area."
"Additional info," Shrub noted, stepping up as the pilot retreated. "Intelligence cross-referenced from pilot's fighting in Chernobog indicates that the area speaks Russian, which means that we have the chance of establishing contacts with Human Intelligence," he sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "Unfortunately, I don't speak Russian." He noted, grimacing. He turned to Stanley. "But we do have someone who speaks close the language close enough." He takes one hand out of his pocket and points at Stanley.
Stanley steps up, laptop in hand, and nods. "Yes, I speak a language closely related. Unfortunately, it's Serbo-Croatian, as required by diplomatic corps training when dealing with Yugoslavia," He changed the slide to one that reads 'COMPATIBILITY OF SERBO-CROATIAN WITH RUSSIAN'. To the left, was the word 'RUSSIAN'. To the right, were the words 'SERBO-CROATIAN'.
At the bottom, two arrows pointed to a word. 'COMPATIBILITY' it read. Below that word, a number percentage was saying. 71%.
"Sir, why don't we just use us as translators instead of this dude?"
"Mister Stanley is a diplomat, may I remind you." He notes. "He... was... uhh..." Shrub stumbled as he tried to find an answer for choosing someone who didn't speak Russian. Stanley glared at Shrub, who sheepishly shook his head. "I-uhh..." He stops, before coming up with an answer. "The Serbo-Croat speaker and the Russian soldiers can co-exist."
"Sounds fair enough," Kiril smarmily replied, before asking something else. "I'm guessing that he was picked because he was the only diplomat on hand?"
Shrub sighed in defeat.
"Yea."
"I understand then." He replied.
The briefing slide changed before it said 'END'.
I can't believe we were briefed using Microsoft Powerpoint. I guess this is what happens when desperation kicks in.
"Briefing over," Petrov turned. "Dismissed."
"Operation begins in ten minutes," Stanley said. "Grab what weapons you can get in the armory. See you in ten. We assemble at the helipad." He turned around and walked offstage, mumbling something.
After it ended, I headed to the doorway outside, opened it, and headed left, toward the armory. I guess this was my time to shine as an artilleryman. And not one who was just stuck using the Podnos.
Maybe I can finally start using the Knee-Mortar for something other than target practice.
Author's Notes:
Well, holy shit. I've got a week of finals ahead of me and I put my time into writing this fanfiction. It's been two years since I started, and I haven't even cleared the first two chapters. Now we're heading into Children of Ursus. It's going to be a short arc this time around, give or take only two chapters with an after-action report. But the chapters are going to be way longer. I'm thinking 10k words per spec ops chapter. Just like the real spec ops in C&C Games.
Also, if you're not vaguely familiar with names and American politics, do me a favor and google 'Herbert Walker US Politics', 'Michael Stanley D', and 'President 43'. If you are vaguely familiar, then I wish I could hand you a cookie. You probably play The New Campaign Trail, so I salute you for that.
This operation hinges on human intelligence, translation funnies, and what happens when you assign a diplomat who isn't good with actual Russian to assure Russian kids. Thank god he's got Russian VDV to back him up, otherwise he'd be tearing his head out when people misinterpret his messages.
Alright, that's a wrap. I hope you guys have a good day, and I will see you all next chapter.
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