Responses:
Don Cheeto: I appreciate the ship names and yeah I guess writers all have some sort of perfectionist trait. Also for the Chiss Ascendancy, I think that would happen near the end if at all. I only have the first 10 chapters sorta planned out since I'm taking tidbits of my older works and seeing what needs replacing and what can be improved.
Darpa-air-force: Yeah, guess so.
DeluxeHipster1945: Nice.
Perseus12: here it is.
Thatguyzeech: Thank you.
Sci-Fi Guy 22: Thank you.
rogue1Bois: I don't want to make this too curb-stompy. That is where I failed in the last 2 attempts.
Halo Star Wars X-over fan: Appreciate the advice.
Onyxtechs: happy to see you too :)
Just a Crazy-Man: thank you
Epic: Thank you
SpartanwolfJ6: hey my first reviewer, good to see you :) You'll see Spartan Ryeo way later by the way. You'll see Spartans a lot later in general.
[21 MARCH 2590]
Strangreal Detachment Strength
….
Fleet
Commander: Rear Admiral Boris Mikhailovich (02129-11982-BM)(O-7)
UTSC Revocation (Vindication Class Battlecruiser)
UTSC Guadalcanal (Marathon Class Heavy Cruiser)
UTSC Alexander Suvorov (Warrior Class Destroyer)
UTSC Gerhard Johann Scharnhorst (Warrior Class Destroyer)
UTSC Budapest (Paris Class Heavy Frigate) (Out of Action) (Reporting at New Cascades)
UTSC Cries of the Valkyrie (Paris Class Heavy Frigate)
UTSC New Alexandria (Paris Class Heavy Frigate)
UTSC Zweihänder City (Paris Class Heavy Frigate)
UTSC Watchtower (Charon Class Light Frigate)
UTSC Callisto (Charon Class Light Frigate)
UTSC Bagration (Charon Class Light Frigate)
UTSC Decker (Charon Class Light Frigate)
UTAS Good Hope (Hope Class Hospital Ship)
UTAS Fort Sarbinowo (Fortification Class Ammunition Ship)
Ground Detachment: ~7,000
Commander: Colonel Karl Gosan (22831-88272 KG) (O-6), Lt. Colonel Michael Blackwood (33482-22834 MB) (O-5)
113th Army Ranger Battalion
7th Marine Battalion
~4,000 Militia and Volunteer Forces
Current Objective: Defend and buy time for Civilians to evacuate Strangreal from an imminent Republic Invasion Force as per Operation AEGIS SPEAR. Once evacuations are complete take remaining naval forces and retreat to New Kilauea.
Location: Farbanti Correctional Center, Strangreal
March 22 2590
Captain Emilia Rustov
"Name and rank," Emilia Rustov said blankly, holding a tablet as the Republic officer in front of her began to stir.
The ONI Officer had been assigned the very laborious task of interrogating captured Republic POWs under the new restrictions given by the Terran Parliament.
A whole human rights declaration, which, to a cynical person like herself, made her job much less interactive and boring. especially since she had an Army MP NCO behind her to watch her every move.
"Why would I give such things to scum like you?" the Republic officer said, arrogance high and mighty in his voice.
Emilia simply huffed. If she weren't being watched or if certain laws were not passed she would already be cracking bones and having papers upon papers of information, yet here she sat, doing her best to act courteous.
"Well for starters it…" she looked down at her tablet and looked at the script that was given to her and nearly every other ONI interrogation officer when encountering resistance from certain detainees. "...establishes a relationship between us so we can discuss things about your status as a POW of the United Terran Space Command."
The Republic Officer simply scoffed, his arrogance still apparent.
"Listen, buddy. I don't want to have to cave your face in for some simple information I can look up in a database. I can see that you're a Commodore, but unfortunately for you, it seems your Grand Navy couldn't afford to print nametags," Emilia muttered, placing the table to the side as she stared into the Commodore's eyes.
He seemed to think it over and finally relented with an annoyed grunt after a few seconds of silence.
"Fine, Commodore Percy Durnan, distinguished commander of the 34th, 35, and 36th Cruiser Squadrons of the Open Circle Armada, 4th Flee-" the Commodore was cut off by Emilia, not interested in committing to a job interview.
"Yeah yeah, distinguished commander, fought at Geonosis, Christophsis, and Kamino, I understand your track record, sitting in the back while letting smaller units eat turbo lasers galore," Emilia replied, not even attempting to sugarcoat her analysis.
"I did what needed to be done to win, as you Terrans say, the pawns protect the queen," the Commodore replied, sitting back in his seat and huffing while doing so.
"I'm simply saying what I see on the report Commodore, but I assure you that you have more pressing issues at this time," Emilia replied as the Commodore raised an eyebrow.
"How so?" he replied sarcastically, his cuffs making a clinking sound as he rested them on the table.
"Well first of all the Intelligence Committee back home is asking why you would attack sovereign Terran Territory, this is unlike the Republic which usually respects our boundaries, even if they do so begrudgingly," Emilia replied.
The Republic, in its nearly 15-year history with the United Terran Federation, had largely left them be. Of course, the discovery of the UTF by the Republic was rather rude and often dubbed the 'Naboo Incident', but still an uneasy peace was achieved.
But as the Clone Wars erupted after years of Separatist unrest, the Galaxy seemed to once again be plunged into war once again and it seemed content to drag extra-galactic parties into it.
"The Gaulus Sector Security Act, we've already explained it to your representatives and you knew of the consequences of ignoring it, perhaps if you joined the Republic you would've had a say in it?" the Commodore said, his chin up high as he sat back into his chair.
"So, taking one of our planets is a consequence?" Emilia asked.
"It's a short consequence of this war against the brutish Separatists, you invaded Naboo under the same pretext," the officer replied.
"Because corporations under your wing decided to intimidate the legitimate government of Naboo, we simply fixed one of your wrongs," Emilia smugly replied, inciting the Commodore to slam his fists on the table.
"A wrong that we were fixing ourselves yet you felt the need to intervene, we didn't even have a serious military then and now you still think you are the prime shining light of this galaxy, we are fighting against a brutal dictatorship and yet you seem content to give them aid in every sector, if anything you have hardly been neutral in this war at all!" the Commodore shouted. The MP behind Emilia moved in, stun baton activated but Emilia stopped him.
"It isn't worth it," she muttered.
"We simply give aid to whomever we feels need it, we don't sit there and bomb people from orbit because we feel like it," Emilia retorted. She felt a little bit of hypocrisy seep into her viens. If anyone knew what the UNSC did during the Insurrection then many would point out that the Commodore was right.
The Terrans were not shining stars in the galaxy. If anything Terrans were brutes, possibly even worse than Jiralhanae, just hiding it under a facade of weak kindness.
But the Commodore didn't know that and Emilia kept her mouth shut about such things.
However, 2 wrongs do not make a right.
She had seen photos of the devastation planets have seen in this war. Was it as bad as the Covenant? Of course not. But a conflict still wrought unwanted destruction to both civilian and infrastructure alike.
Emilia was about to ask her next question, getting to the meat and potatoes of the interview when the room suddenly went red as Klaxons began blaring. Emilia covered her ears for a quick second before adjusting to the sound, those new speakers the Planets administration had just installed still sounded like they crawled from the pits of hell itself.
"What the hell is going on?" Emilia yelled to the MP, a Staff Sergeant frantically tapping away at a Tac-Pad.
"Reports indicate there's a Republic Fleet at the edge of the system, Administration just called in a Phase 3 WINTER CONTINGENCY," the NCO said as more MPs began to come into the cell, taking the Commodore and placing him in tighter cuffs as they escorted the confused and shouting officer out.
"Ma'am we are evacuating this facility, got a Falcon on the helipad, and Prowler Shimmer in the Sky is waiting for you at Farbanti Interstellar," an ONI Section V officer put a hand on her shoulder, the masked soldier leading her out of the cell and towards the helipad just a floor above.
"What is the situation like?" Emilia yelled, her voice nearly silenced by the Falcon's rotors awaiting her boarding.
"Republic Fleet in orbit, defense fleet is attempting to distract them, after that, they'll likely survey the situation," the Section V officer replied, helping Emilia into the Falcon.
"They're leaving them there?" Emilia asked as the Section V agent nodded.
"Yeah, poor bastards, at least the Republic takes prisoners right?"
The helicopter lifted off as Emilia was whisked away to a safe haven somewhere in the stars far from the front lines. A safe haven that the soldiers of both sides of the conflict wish they could embrace.
Location: L2 Point of Strangreal, GRNS Negotiator
March 22 2590
Admiral Arden Block
"Sir, picking up heavy civilian traffic leaving Strangreal's upper atmosphere, sensors indicate a small Terran formation on an intercept course," a sensor officer said from his console in one of the pits.
Admiral Arden Block simply nodded, his hands behind his back as he breathed slowly, calming himself before the fog of war wrought loose the 7 Corellian Hells.
"Any attempt at communication?" he asked.
"None at all," the officer replied. It was apparent what their objective was and Arden knew he couldn't let them.
"Have all Venator's move towards the front and launch fighters, have Commodore Fillun take his Victory Squadron and escort the Auxiliaries, shunt all power to the Particle Shields," Arden ordered. He knew of the threat that was the Terran Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, he had heard the recounts from the trade Federation who at Naboo had their ships picked off one by one at range by a single Terran ship.
A single Terran ship, the Heavy Cruiser, Song of the East had sat back and simply added 21 kills to their name.
Of course many had attributed this to mass hysteria among the Trade Federation and many Republic Officers chuckled at the tale, refusing to believe that a foremost military power would be embarrassed by primitive upstarts.
But Arden knew better than to doubt. He took it all at face value, having read up on past Terran military strategy he engrossed himself in Terran Books such as 'On War' and 'The Influence of Sea Power upon History'. He knew the Terrans were good at war, hell they were practically born with it and be damned if he were to ignore it.
"Sir, incoming communication from General Kenobi."
"Put it on the holoprojector," Arden ordered, turning away from the transparisteel windows and turning his attention to the holoprojector situated in the middle of the bridge.
The holoprojector whirred to life and soon hosted the figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi, strapped into an ETA-2 Fighter and flying with Yellow Squadron, the ARC-170's falling into formation behind the Jedi-Master's starfighter.
"Admiral Block, I see the party is just getting underway," General Kenobi said, a smile on his face which Arden returned in kind.
"Yes General, the Terran Fleet is moving to intercept, we'll provide cover for the auxiliaries and support Commander Cody's push on the ground once we are finished, may the Force be with you," Arden replied.
"May the Force be with you too Admiral," Kenobi said as the transmission cut.
Turning back to face the vacuum of space, Block was treated to the planet he was tasked to invade.
Strangreal.
It was a small little island world, covered in mostly ocean but did have 1 center continent that Republic Intelligence had outlined to be the location of the largest settlement, Farbanti.
If it weren't for the war, Arden would definitely love to spend some time down on the shore line. He had heard good things from the contractors and traders that had begun to do their business on the Terran held colony.
The people, the culture. They apparently had pretty good food in the form of 'Tapas' but Arden would be the judge of that.
"Sir! Electromagnetic Signatures detected across the Terran Fleet! They are preparing to fire!"
Location: Upper Orbit of Strangreal, UTSC Revocation
March 22 2590
Rear Admiral Boris Mikhailovoch
"That's 12 Kills sire, all MAC's are charging and reloading, missile impact in 5 minutes," the AI to the Revocation, Wellsey said, his British heavy accent cheerful as he beamed with ruthless ambition.
It was the opposite of what Rear Admiral Boris Mikhailovich was feeling recently. He was outnumbered, and very much well outgunned 5:1. His only advantage was range and he was damn well going to use it.
He checked up on the Tactical Display as he saw the distance close between the 2 fleets.
900 Kilometers, 890 Kilometers, 880 Kilometers.
The range the Republic needed to get in was around 130 Kilometers and they were most definitely gunning it.
He could have definitely hit them further out, when they arrived at the L-2 Point. The max effective range of the MAC was about 100,000 Kilometers. But he was skeptical as the farther out the target was the less accurate the shell tended to be. So he waited till they were in a definite range around 1,000 kilometers away, the same range his Spear missiles could engage the enemy fleet.
Added to this was his launching of the combined complement of 60 F-42E/X Sabre Multi-role fighter craft from the Revocation and Guadalcanal. Half of these craft were outfitted with 4 M-45 Longbow Nuclear Missiles, each with a yield of at least 20 megatons, while the other half were equipped as escorts with the appropriate anti-space equipment.
These fighters would remain in low orbit, awaiting the Republic landing force and then begin their assault before retreating back to their motherships where Mikhailovich would then finish his evacuations and retreat from Strangreal and fall back towards New Kilauea.
Mikhailovich hated the idea of leaving soldiers behind but he was assured by Colonel Gosan and Lt. Colonel Blackwood that they would be a necessary sacrifice, there to buy time for the UTSC and distract the Republic offensive from regrouping easily.
"How many civilians did we evacuate?" Boris asked, another Egret Spaceliner hauling ass just behind his flagship which was positioned just above the shield wall formed by his frigates.
"Ground forces report that all of Farbanti has been evacuated, we still have 150,000 on the ground that are taking shelter in their residences and another 50,000 unaccounted for," Wellesley said as Boris sighed. This was going to be a cluster fuck.
Not a Covenant War one but one nonetheless.
"Day's just getting started Admiral," his XO said as Boris nodded.
"Indeed."
Location: L2 Point of Strangreal, GRNS Negotiator
March 22 2590
Admiral Arden Block
"Losses!" Arden shouted, quick to regain his composure after the rude barrage by the Terran fleet.
Arden barely kept his balance when the strengthened Ray shields tanked a blow from a 100-tonner shell fired from a UTSC Destroyer. The projectile deflected from the shields, zipping past the bridge and putting on a dazzling display of lights that rivaled that of the stars.
"Sir, we lost 10 Venators and 2 Victories, Imperator is reporting her targeting sensors are knocked out and we have shields drained across the fleet, 2 minutes to recharge," the warrant officer shouted from one of the pits.
Arden felt a pit in his stomach form. They were doing the same tactics that had been witnessed at Naboo. Standing beyond visual range and simply picking off targets from a long ways away.
It was an undignified way to go out.
"Spread out our vessels! I want all escorting Artiquen's to come forth and cycle the shields!" Arden ordered, not even having a chance to take a breather before the hollering of a sensor officer cut him off.
"TORPEDOS INBOUND, point defense guns are engaging!"
Arden could physically feel his jaw drop as he saw the wall of incoming torpedoes, or if you asked a Terran they were missiles. The severe amount of them made the sensor screens short out and simply display a red wall heading towards his formation as he looked out the bridge windows, his stomach up his throat.
The point defenses did their best, shooting down as many as they could, even some of the spare fighter screens joining in to protect their mother ships.
There was just to many however.
The missiles slammed head first into Arden's own ship, the Negotiator, the Spears targeting the DBY-827's on the flanks of the bridge. The ship shook as 14 more missiles struck Negotiator, luckily none targeting her engines or any other critical compartment.
"Damages?" Arden asked a minute later, waiting for the calm of the storm to wash over the bridge as he got his answer.
"Our armor has been compromised in Decks 8 through 10 and we lost turret 2, turret 3 is reporting failures for its Ionized Power Cells, as well as most of the fleet reporting their shields gone or extremely depleted."
"Losses?"
"14 more Venators and 3 more Victorys," the sensor officer simply replied.
"Where is the Terran formation?" Arden frantically asked as his sensor officers frantically checked their screens to give him an answer.
He needed to get into range if he were to have any chance of fighting back. Unfortunately the answer he got was not one he was expecting.
"Around the far side of the planet sir, looks like they've retreated to an escape point."
Arden breathed both a sigh of relief and one of worry. The Terrans had fled but still on the loose and he hadn't a ship to show for it. He would have to maintain defensive positions if he were to lure the Terran fleet in again.
'If they take a bait.' he thought to himself.
"Sir, Auxiliary Fleet has reported no issues, they are beginning landing operations," a warrant officer said, allowing Arden to breath a little. He had completed his objective and wasn't completely dead.
Finally some good news in this damned war.
"Any orders sir?"
"Set up a defensive perimeter, keep a screening force on those ships, and report back to me if they make a move," Arden said, placing his hands behind his back as more Z-95s roared past the bridge.
This was going to be a long day.
Location: Upper Orbit of Strangreal, Republic LAAT
March 22 2590
Commander Cody CC-2224
The whirring of the horde of LAATs and their ARC-170 escorts was not lost upon Cody as the landing force cleared the atmosphere and finally opened the doors, greeting the Clones to a dusk sky with stars scattered around, small lights, likely from the city below on the edge of a vast coastline as small islands dotted the bay.
It was scenic and if the situation were any different it would make a wonderful shore leave location for the 212th.
"Nice little location for a vacation right Commander?" asked one of his lieutenants, Waxer, the Clone lieutenant featuring a small cartoon of a twi'lek on the right temple of his Phase II ARF helmet.
"If it wasn't for them kriffing Terrans I would be enjoying some shore leave on Christophsis," came the response of a 212th trooper, 'Packer', carrying a backpack filled to the brim with thermal detonators, how he got his nickname now obvious.
"Packer, the last time I saw your sorry ass you were in one of those Terran Nightclubs," Came the reply from Boil, also adorning an ARF helmet and armor set, the 212th Veteran's comments inciting some chuckle at the explosive expert.
"Listen, you would do the same if you knew how good their alcohol was."
"Alright, jokes are over, everybody understands their objective correct?" Cody said, calming the compartment.
"Yes Commander, go and insert behind enemy lines, flank the enemy and cause some havoc to their supply lines and then commit to a pincer movement with the other companies, we'll be a-ok," Waxer said, likely beaming under his helmet.
"Better than the vac-heads?" a Clone asked as Cody felt a little twist in his stomach.
He had been on the Auxiliary Fleet which thankfully did not experience much action compared to that of their escorts which had their force of 54 Venators, 14 Victories, and 1 Imperator reduced by half and still defending against constant missile barrages.
"Much better than the vac-heads," Cody muttered as he saw the city become closer. Then closer. He would feel a lot more confident if General Kenobi was here to fight alongside him and the rest of the 212th but Kenobi had promised to provide escort to the LAAT's with the rest of the flyboys as well as CAS if needed.
'May the Force be with you Commander.'
An explosion threw him from his thoughts quite literally as the LAAT in front of him burst into flaming debris. Then another. Then another.
"Kriff! It's an ambush!" the pilot yelped as the LAAT began to tip into a steep dive. Cody lurched forth, his magnetized boots keeping him in place as the doors shut once more, containing the troopers inside to ensure they didn't die a premature death by splattering on the ground.
"What the hell was that?" Packer yelped, dark triangles shapes could be made out from the slits in the doors, each whizzing past as plumes of smoke zigzagged among the formation of the landing force.
"Taking us down a little!" the pilot shouted as he dodged a missile, the munition scraping past as it detonated on another unfortunate LAAT. Cody cursed as he held onto the handles provided with dear life, his stomach flipping around as he felt his hands go numb.
"Yeah, a little! This is a 90-degree incline!" Packer shouted.
The LAAT closed the distance with the ground, many of its fellow compatriots following as the herd attempted to escape the ambush and have the escorting ARC-170's deal with it.
"General Kenobi!" Cody shouted into his comms, contacting his Jedi General, who he knew was currently in a starfighter.
"Yes, Commander! I am quite busy with these Terran jockeys at the moment!" Kenobi said, his holoprojector avatar showing him in great stress as he was likely duking it out with a Terran fighter.
"I see that General, we are too, I need you to provide a distraction for us lest we all get shot down!" Cody said, nearly falling over as the LAAT leveled out at a low altitude and closed in on the original landing area.
"I'll see what I can do! May the Force be with you, Cody!" General Kenobi said as the comms cut.
"So, how many troops do you think will get shot down before they make it?" Waxer asked as Cody shrugged.
"Hard to say, depends on if General Kenobi's distraction gets their attention, we were lucky we got out of there," Cody said as he felt his LAAT slowing down and making its landing in the empty fields on the city outskirts.
Cody's LAAT finally made landfall, followed by more LAAT/c's each with an AT-TE slung underneath instead of the normal troop bay. He would need those along with the few TX-130 Hover-Tanks stored within the Acclimators.
The Terrans despite being outnumbered sure seemed to put up a fierce resistance. Cody wondered how much they would fight if it was a significant world and not just some blasted mining colony in the middle of nowhere.
Cody looked into the sky, the night illuminated by the battle raging above, orange dots and blue streaks entertaining those stuck on the ground.
"Eventful battle isn't it sir?" Waxer muttered to Cody as the Commander simply nodded.
"I would agree Waxer," Cody muttered back as he wobbled on the ground sweet ground, the grass crunching beneath his boots.
'Just how eventful will it be?'
Location: Defensive Line Alpha
March 22 2590
Lance Corporal Wilfred Reed
The inside of the machine gun nest was stuffy and uncomfortable, especially to Wilfred when he was laying belly down in the mud, an M-250 pointed towards the designated no man's land, where Republic troopers would come around any minute now.
"And they told me to join the Marines, hardly anything happens anymore," his assistant gunner, PFC Todd Forrest muttered, adjusting the pouches of 7.62x51mm belts on his waistband. The young man from Reach had been expecting a nice shore leave to 'see some alien girls'.
Clearly, that never worked out for him.
"They never told you the 10 rules of the Marine Corp?" Wilfred muttered as he zeroed in his smart linked optic again, checking that the reticle was laser-focused on where he wanted to shoot, which was about 600 meters.
"What are the 10 rules Reed?" Todd grumbled as he wiped some mud he got into his helmet, the private forgetting to close his helmet to seal himself from the outside world and eating a crap ton of mud when he tripped.
"Rule #1, Be a fighter, not a bitch," Wilfred sighed as he scooped some mud out of the way till he hit some dry dirt, making a mound so he could rest his supporting hand on.
"Rule #2?"
"Refer to rule #1."
"Cut the chatter you two, I'd like to return in one piece and I don't need jabbering to be on my resume when I show up to the lord's pearly gates damnit, oorah?" came the gruff reply of the squad leader, Sergeant George Turner, sitting just feet away from where Wilfred lay, hunkering with the rest of his squad in a haphazardly dug trench, likely bitching about the mud as well.
"Oorah, but I am truly sorry I can't resist it Sarge, I'll buy you some beers after this," Wilfred quipped as the gruff chuckle of Turner echoed on the comms.
"Yeah, if there's any bars left."
"We got motion just beyond us, all machine gunners be on standby, squad leaders stick to the plan, Falcon-Troop over and out," came the comms from the Platoon Leader. Wilfred simply grunted as he aimed the reticle into the darkness, his HUD glowing green and outlining anything that gave heat signatures.
He pivoted his gun sight as he spotted something on the edge of his line of sight, a glowing object as he zoomed in closer, the outline becoming less blurry as it revealed itself to be a sheep.
'If we survive this might as well get some roasted chops when we clean up,' he thought, pivoting back as he scanned the landscape once again.
"You see any?" his assistant gunner muttered, also scanning the terrain with his MA-50 and getting slightly frustrated with each passing second.
"Be patient, they're likely gonna crest over the hill, just wait till they get balls deep," Wilfred muttered back. The silence was starting to get to everyone along Defensive Line Alpha. There were 3 platoons, each with 100 soldiers and reports indicated they were going up against a battalion-sized element coming up to complete a pincer movement against the city militia forces.
Another sweep turned up nothing as Wilfred decided that the position he was in was not comfortable enough and dug himself deeper in the mud.
"I got some figures on the thermal, position at your 2 o'clock," came the radio chatter of a Wombat Drone operator, Wilfred swiveled his sight towards the right, focusing in on a blob of white in the green filters of his HUD.
"There you are…" Wilfred muttered, seeing the outlines of multiple men in armor walking through the field, their heads on a swivel, likely scanning for any heat signatures among the flanking tree lines that Wilfred and the rest of his platoon hid.
"I got no armored vehicles, looks like that battalion-sized element from what I can see," came the radio chatter of their Wombat drone operator, the UAV hanging lazily above the field giving Defense Line Alpha some much-needed air cover.
However such air cover was limited as Wilfred learned in the briefing, the Sabres could only distract so much and the AI estimates placed the whole Wombat detachments of 23 units being shot down within 5 hours of the invasion.
"What's the signal again?" Todd asked.
As if on cue a Clone crumpled, the resulting bang ringing out a second later, his head exploding into a gore fest as Wilfred saw white splotches scatter across the thermals, courtesy of a Stanchion armed sniper somewhere behind the trench line perched up on a terrace.
He grimaced internally as he looked at the field of dead men walking.
"That's the signal," Wilfred replied as he and the other 3 SAW gunners depressed their GPMG triggers and opened fire on the group.
Tracers flew through the air as they impacted, turning 23 clones into a bloody mess, their comrades realized the danger as they began their hasty retreat to the hill, some diving to cover to avoid the tracers rounds erupting from the tree line.
"HERE WE GO!" Turner shouted, the whole Terran line lighting up and sending a torrent of lead towards the Republic invaders. Thumps of grenade launchers chucked their high explosive ordnance, attempting to reach where the machine guns couldn't, puffs of smoke rising above the crest of the hill.
Wilfred spotted another Clone, attempting to drag a wounded comrade to safety. He hesitated, staring into his scope as he tried to pull the trigger but his finger would not obey.
"Fuck," he muttered as the clone dragged his comrade back into cover.
"What? You jammed?" Todd muttered, firing a burst into a clone that tried to dive into a foxhole, the 4 round burst shredding the trooper and to put him out of commission.
"Nah, Jones is stealing all my fucking kills again," Wilfred said, referring to one of the other gunners in the platoon as he swiveled the muzzle around and fired at a few clones attempting to cross the field, suppressing their group.
Suddenly bolts began to crash into the Terran line, kicking up mud and grass as a couple found their marks on the Terran defenders.
"Fuck! It's an E-Web!" Turner shouted into the comms. Wilfred saw a Marine go flying as a bolt hit him dead center, vaporizing half of his torso as the tatters simply flopped to the ground.
'Holy fuck,' he thought.
Craters began to form into the wet ground as the E-Web spread its bolts to anywhere the gunner thought was a Terran position.
"If you don't take that position out we'll all be a closed casket funeral in a mass grave damn it!" Turner screeched into the comms, the bolts having found his position as he did his best to shrink his form and take cover from the withering suppressive fire he found himself in.
An empty mechanical click gave Wilfred an indication that his gun was empty as he put the feeding cover to the side and checked the feeding tray tossing the empty canister not too far away.
"Give me a new belt damnit!" Wilfred shouted as he grabbed a pouch off of Todd and loaded it in a fresh belt, not even bothering to secure the canister to the bottom of the gun as he charged the handle and fired once again.
He swiveled his arc of fire towards the E-Web position, sending its crew ducking for cover as the hypersonic 7.62 rounds sparked and shattered against the E-Web, making the position very noticeable on Thermals as more tracers focused in on the heavy blaster.
"Mark it!" Wilfred barked into his comms as a laser designator lit up the E-Web on the BATTLENET.
Seconds later the position went up in a cloud of smoke and debris as the Wombat dropped its ordnance of a GBU-1190, the high explosive warhead making a pretty massive crater as dust covered the battlefield.
Luckily thermals did not care for dust or debris.
Wilfred spotted another group of Clones, possibly looking to flank while the other machine gun nests were occupied. Wilfred decided to make it their last mistake.
Another pull of the trigger as the M-250 lurched back, sending 160 grains of hate at around 3,000 meters a second, his spray of lead hitting the leader of the group, turning him into bloody Swiss cheese.
"This is Wombat 1-1, you got armor coming up the hill, I'll see what I can do about it," the Wombat operator said. Wilfred heard his gut rumble. Armor.
'Shit, luckily we all got those AVSULs before deploying,' he thought.
"Wombat 1-1, this is Falcon-Troop, how many?"
"About 5? They're all AT-TEs. I got 3 more GBU's before I'm Winchester so I'll cut them down for you to handle," the Wombat pilot replied.
Seconds later 3 large explosions filled the night sky, just beyond the crest of the hill, marking the death of 3 AT-TEs. But there was still 2 more to deal with.
"AT-TE on your left!"
Wilfred turned his attention to one of the Republic's 'bug walkers' as he heard his compatriots call them.
"Holy shit they do look like beetles," Todd said, replacing his magazine with a fresh one.
"All the more fun to squish 'em like one," Wilfred said as he depressed the trigger again, aiming at the exposed cockpit. The hypersonic projectiles made quick work of the armored transparisteel, the armored beast slugging to a halt as Wilfred kept up the pace, suppressing those who dared to use the AT-TE as cover.
A plume of smoke erupted from the trenches as anti-tank teams fired their ordnance, 1 M-50 and another M-41 crashed into the AT-TE, the warheads making it into a twisted metal frame as the explosion lit up the dark fields like day again before dimming back into the gloom.
"They're retreating! Kill as many of the fuckers as you can!" he heard his Platoon Leader over the radio. Wilfred expended the last of his belt, letting his gun run dry as he stopped for a brief moment, he shifted in his position which was noticeably not filled to the brim with hot brass, a plus of caseless ammunition.
"You know, maybe that caseless idea wasn't so bonkers after all, I'm not getting any 3rd degree burns," Todd quipped, breaking the silence as Wilfred chuckled, taking a look at the 4 empty 200-round canisters.
"How much you got left?" he asked his assistant gunner.
4 more cans and 2 100 rounders for you, got 3 mags left before I'm punching out," Todd said, wiping his ammo counter clear of mud once more.
"Nice and quiet now right?" Wilfred said as he loaded a fresh belt into the M-250, racking the charging handle with a satisfying mechanical click.
"It's too quiet," Turner muttered over the comms.
It was too quiet. Wilfred had been enjoying it for too long to notice and now it was starting to edge on his nerves.
An explosion erupted along the treeline, then another, and another.
"ARTILLERY! GET DOW-"
The last thing Wilfred heard was a rumbling explosion as he felt himself being picked up and tossed in the air, slamming back into the muddied fields, his GPMG was left scattered in the mud as he tried to pick himself up, a sharp pain however caught his attention as he looked down.
Half of his left leg was missing.
"Fuck…" he muttered weakly, his mind going in and out of consciousness as the blood loss started to get to him. He blacked out seconds later.
Location: Outskirts of Farbanti
March 22 2590
Lieutenant Waxer CT-1477
"I got movement over there, in that house, it looks like a rocket launcher," Waxer muttered, sitting in one of the broken-down houses in the suburbian area of Farbanti.
"How do you want to flush it out?" Boil muttered, adjusting the folding stock on the DC-15S. A rare sight to see compared to the front lines with the clankers which often was fast-paced and mobility was a key factor in most battles.
Here in Farbanti, Waxer found it a lot more rewarding to take time with shots, making each one count as who knew where another Terran would be?
The landing had already gone bad, saved by the fighter escort led by General Kenobi as he and the rest of the flyboys chased the Terrans back into space, allowing the Acclimators to land their critical troops on the ground.
Now Waxer had been given a platoon-sized command, tasked with scouting ahead and following the crumbs of the ARF troopers that were deployed just an hour earlier.
"Packer, you still have that RPS?" Waxer asked as the explosives expert pulled out the rocket launcher, likely sporting a wide grin as he did so.
"Yes sir."
"Take aim with that and kill that scruffy nerf herder in there, don't need to lose another AT-TE to them," Waxer said as Packer took careful aim at the house, balancing the launcher on his shoulder.
Second passed and Waxer began to become impatient.
"What are you waiting for? We're all out of the way."
"Give me a second, just double checking," Packer grunted, finally pulling the trigger as he fired a high explosive warhead into the house containing the Terran anti-tank crew. The house went up in flames, sending debris flying as Packer laughed manically.
"Haha! Take that you bantha fodder!"
"Sir! I got some movement down the street, looks like militia!" a clone radioed in. Waxer quickly turned is attention towards his left, looking down as with his thermal goggles on his helmet.
He saw white splotches moving forth, ducking into cover and alleyways. They didn't look professional, he had yet to run into professional military forces. It seemed they were just more militiamen.
"Alright, you get a vantage point, you tell that E-Web crew they got some fun headed their way, Packer, load up some high explosive and be ready to rain down hell on those slimeballs," Waxer ordered his troops, the yellow-marked clones quickly getting into positions.
"Sir, Sergeant Kolta and his ARF troopers are coming on our rear and will provide fire support
He moved up as he linked with 3 other clones as they moved into an alleyway, pushing up as slugs whizzed past at hypersonic speeds, making clapping sounds as they rippled in the air. Waxer dived behind some cover that was provided by a dead AT-RT, its driver headless as drying red splatter was everywhere.
"Lot different than those clankers yeah?" Boil muttered, peeking out of cover to return fire, he tossed out an empty tibanna cartridge as he placed a new one in, the DC-15 beeping in response.
"Yeah," Waxer muttered. Boil quickly lunged near a housing unit, moving up with the rest of the clones of another platoon, taking advantage of an AT-RT providing fire support against the militia.
Waxer stayed back however, holding his position with a DC-15A, swiveling his muzzle left to right in the hopes of finding a target.
Another Terran darted across the street, firing wildly with one of their assault rifles, the bullets making the clones duck their heads and wait till the man was empty.
Waxer peeked from the AT-RT and aimed with his DC-15A, tracking the Terran's torso as he fired a burst, nailing the scoundrel as the man crumpled face first, dropping his empty rifle.
Click
Waxer wheeled around, the sound ringing in his ears as he saw a Terran fumbling with his rifle, banging on the charging handle of the gun. The Terran realized his mistake as he charged Waxer. However luckily for Waxer, he was quick on his feet, using his rather large DC-15A as a pole to block the knife of the Terran.
Waxer took his foot and swiped under the Terran, making him lose his balance as the clone turned the tables, knocking the knife out of the man's hand and throwing a hard right hook into his face, knocking off the Terran's scarf.
"A little help here!" Waxer shouted as another 212th trooper arrived to assist, throwing the Terran on the ground and putting 8 bolts into the body, Boil came up behind and put 2 bolts into the man's head, turning it into a blackened stump.
"Thanks, brother," Waxer said as he caught his breath, the sounds of the firefight fading away as more Clones began to pour into the streets.
"We linked up with another Platoon, the south side of Farbanti is secured, just have to move up the main road and capture city hall," Boil said, walking up to Waxer who took off his helmet, his DC-15A slung over his right shoulder.
"Good, we capture their capital the faster they'll crumble, they ain't mindless droids," Waxer said, looking down at the dead Terran, his hand on his right breast pocket. Boil seemed interested, leaned down on a knee, and grabbed what was contained inside, pulling a little photo.
Waxer grimaced, he knew what it was. Likely the man's family. A family that was now likely down a father or son.
"Yeah, not mindless droids," Boil muttered as he tossed the picture back onto the dead body. An AT-RT soon jogged up behind them, its pilot Sergeant Kolta as he hopped off the large mechanical walker.
"I scouted ahead with a few of the boys, we got clear streets all through here, seems to be a run for the town hall at this point," Kolta said, pointing down the main road which according to intelligence led to the capital building of Strangreal.
"Any ambushes?" Waxer asked, warry of more battle. The other platoons had reported mopping up some resistance but so far it had been minimal. At least as minimal as Terran resistance could be.
"None, unless they had really good trigger discipline, but I doubt it, these aren't professionals like the ones Jolt and the Commander have had to deal with up North on the outskirts," Kolta said, gesturing to the dead Terran on the ground, his head still smoking.
"I'll take your word for it then brother, when can I rely on you for backup?" Waxer asked as Kolta shrugged.
"Don't, the Terrans are everywhere and I've only scouted the main route, I've lost half my squad and need replenishment, Jolt will likely fold in my squad with another ARF detachment," Kolta replied as Waxer nodded, giving a salute which Kolta returned.
"Good luck Brother, you're gonna need it."
Those words still rang in Waxer's ears as he and his platoon marched down the road, flanking platoon checking the sides to ensure there were no defenders still hiding in the buildings.
So far Kolta had been correct in his assessment. There were no defenders on the main route, nor were there mines or snipers.
"This is their town hall?" one of the troopers asked. The town hall came into view as the clones turned a street. The building was 'Greek' in architecture, at least according to Terran definitions, it just looked like another Muun skyscraper.
On flanking sides were shops and businesses, all noticeably empty, likely since the invasion prompted the Terrans to evacuate their citizens, an admirable trait if Waxer had to add and also made it easier for him to pick out and engage targets.
"Looks a little glamorous for a mining colony," Boil muttered.
"You see that glint?" one of the troopers asked, his finger pointing towards the city hall down the street.
"What glint-" Boil didn't have any chance to finish his sentence as a projectile pierced his lower abdomen, knocking over the 212th trooper.
"SNIPER!"
More clones dropped as shots began to impact the ground around the clone troopers. The rest of the clones began to scatter, diving into cover behind cars, alleyways, and broken-in shop windows.
Waxer quickly dragged Boil to safety, another shot impacting the earth close by as his heart began to beat faster. He dragged his wounded comrade into an alleyway with some fellow clones as a medic was quick to assist Waxer and his friend.
"It… it's… stuck inside… AGHHH," Boil screeched, the wound on his lower abdomen leaking a kriff ton of blood as the medic did his best to mend it.
"Well it isn't going to get better if you keep squirming like that!" the medic shouted, taking off his helmet so he wasn't sweating so profusely, trying to treat the wound.
"Why don't you just slap some bacta patches and get done with it?" Waxer said, realizing that he had dropped his DC-15A in the street as he cursed himself silently.
This world was far from the vacation he and the rest of the 212th had expected it to be.
"It's a projectile you doof! I have to get it out or the wound gets infected!" the medic hissed, taking tweezers from an assistant as Boil's breathing became a lot more shaky, his glove damp with blood in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
The medic dove his tweezer in the little hole, doing his best to keep Boil calm as Waxer could only watch with worry as his friend's screams echoed through the streets.
Waxer watched as a clone peeked out from an alley on the opposite side of the street. The man twisted his torso just a little bit as he held his DC-15S, scanning the street, the Government hall ominously standing, casting its shadow on the dim streets.
The clone crumpled suddenly, Waxer seeing blood and brain fragments coating the street. A bang echoed through the streets just a second later, for a moment deafening Boil's screams of pain.
Then, the avenue was silent save for the pitter-patter of the drainage systems.
"I'd rather be fighting those clankers right now than whatever these Terrans are," Packer said, staring at the dead clone in the street. Waxer couldn't help but agree.
"We got armor on the way, it's a little scattered because of those damned Terrans but Cody is redirected most of the platoons our way," Packer informed Waxer. Waxer nodded as he looked at his injured friend who forced a smile.
"I'll be fine brother, just gotta rest up and not take drinking suggestions from Packer," Boil quipped, inciting a huff from Packer.
Soon a singular TX-130 moved down the road, Waxer watched it with focus.
It turned a corner and then was hit with no less than 6 rockets, each coming from the Town Hall. A second TX-130 maneuvered around it, firing into the large building in hopes that it would suppress the defenders inside and allow the Clones to move up.
Suddenly however this tank combusted as a large tracer went zipping through it, killing it as it slumped down as its repulsors failed. Smoke began to pour across the street, clouding the makeshift battlefield.
Waxer cursed as he attempted to peek into the corner, looking through the smoke with thermal goggles to make out any targets.
Soon a large armored vehicle revealed itself from the smoke as Waxer's eyes widened in fear. It was a large beast, rumbling down the main street as it fired its main armament at a squad of unlucky clones, blowing them to the heavens. This was not what he needed.
"Firefek."
A/N: Last Chapter for this month, likely a new on somewhere in February don't know when. R&R please.