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Finest Hour; CCRPG Marines Compiliation IV
Topic Started: 9 May 2009, 01:55 AM (1,123 Views)
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Preparing for the Second Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
CHAPTER XV

Battlefield Boulevard

"They finally ran out of steam," Captain Ryan said, scanning the horizon. A bullet snagged the ground nearby and Ryan quickly ducked back down. "Cow, report."

Cow wiped the rain from the datapad he held. "God damn this shit. Lemme see. Two dead, two missing in First Platoon. Five dead in Second. Three dead, one critical in Third. Two dead in Fourth - that replacement ensign bought it. And an astounding one dead in Fifth. I'm afraid that's Gunnery Sergeant Evans, thought."

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn," Ryan muttered.

"Orders?" Ares asked.

"This line is untenable. We took it, but us and the two companies from the Eighty-second are out here alone, in a salient. I think we're gonna have to fall back."

"We're still missing two. Shouldn't we at least wait until Calahan comes back?"

Ryan thought for a moment. "Fine, if he's alive. I'll contact Commander Harlan for orders, anyways."

-----------------------------------------------------

"Oi, Cow!" Lundy called as Cow passed by, "Really gonna give us all DuMont?"

"Fuck that!" Cow chuckled.

"Yeh backstabbin' bahstard!" Aster shouted, melodramatically shaking his fist.

"Tell you what - I'll scrounge up a few cases o' Laustralian stuff, then we'll see who's a bastard."

"You better!" Lundy yelled after him as he walked away. He spotted Sanol cleaning a rifle nearby. "Dutch, hey Dutch!"

"What?" Sanol replied irately, not looking up.

"What're ya cleanin' Ares's rifle for? You his little lap dog or somethin'?"

"Fuck you, Lundy. He asked, and I got nothing else to do."

"You will when they start-"

BOOM!

Lundy and Sanol's teams immediately scrambled for their dugouts.

-------------------------------------------------

Command Center, Fort Morvan

"Damn fine work, men. Damn fine," Bearing said. He raised his glass of scotch. "Cheers," he said, knocking it back.

"Sir, to tell the truth, I don't think we have much to celebrate about," said Wolfe.

"He's right. We lost far too much ground," added Brigadier Hansen.

"Bah," Bearing said, "We held 'em. The Navy'll be here in a couple days. Mark my words."

"If they aren't...?" Wolfe asked.

"Then I'll throttle Admiral Sarrius myself!"

All of the generals laughed.

------------------------------------------------------------

South Verdun, Coalition Sixth Army Headquarters

General Hiram Arson swore colonrfully and tossed the datapad across the room. While the offensive had been a smashing success, he had failed to achieve his primary objective - to end the bloody war. And now Sloan was missing, presumed dead.

His comm unit beeped. "Arson," he snapped.

"This is Fleet Admiral Bailiff."

"Sir!"

"God damn it, Hiram, the President-General wants this bloody business over with. Now."

"We took a lot of ground, sir. But-"

"Take the bloody planet, General. The President-General does not care about street names, only planet names."

"Then why don't you grab a rifle and slog through this Hell?!" Arson snarled.

"I'll ignore that last comment. We're landing Eighth Army to reinforce you. For your sake, finish this up."

The comm fell silent. After several moments of silence, Arson called up Brigadier General Coze'e, his artillery commander. "The guns are in range of the fort?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Burn it to the gorund."

--------------------------------------------------------

Command Center, Fort Morvan

Magorian recoiled after knocking back his scotch. "What the hell is this?"

"Dutch scotch. Very, very rare," said Bearing.

"Oh, that explains it. It's terrible."

The others laughed. "It's a taste you get-"

BOOM!

A muffled rumble very close by snapped the generals to alert. Then a shell smashed through the ceiling and blew apart a comm console, and the operator with it.

"Take cover!" Wolfe bellowed, dashing for anything to hide under.

More shells blew holes in the walls and ceiling, devastating the command center and the fort in its entirety.

-----------------------------------------------------

Battlefield Boulevard

The thunder of the guns grew fainter and fainter until it was a long way off. "It's moving further back, to the rear," said Ryan.

"The fort?" Ares asked.

"I think so. The brass are in for a very bad night," said Cow.

"Not as bad as some," said someone. Calahan appeared in the doorway to the dugout, a body slung over his shoulder. He was barely sihllouetted against the night sky.

Cow exploded. "Where the fuck have you been?! I ought to have you court-martialed and shot for desertion! Explain yourself!"

"I found Dearing. He had a really bad day."

Calahan dropped the body onto the floor and showed them the gashes and wounds that covered Dearing's corpse.

OOC: Made a quick double entry here because I wanted to finish up this: ACT I of this compiliation is now complete. I am now splitting each compiliation into three general "acts" that cover three major plot arcs of the compiliations. This is the end of the first arc, the great Coalition offensive.
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
CHAPTER XVI

Home, World, The Presidential Residence

"In the wenty years I've been in politics, Joseph Emeligan Whitehall, that was the stupidest move I've ever seen!" Hayes shouted.

"I'm sick of facades. If they want to know the truth so badly, then they can know, and they can panic," Whitehall replied.

"And you can't be serious about charging The Bear with treason."

"I am absolutely serious. I keep my word."

"Not while he has that file! He'll use it against, call it a polay to protect your career."

Whitehall snorted. "I re-read the report. That file proves nothing except that a few Marines died shutting down an illegal science facility."

"Joe, Joe, Joe, you don't understand. The Popular Front, the media, the populace will call for more, and there is."

"Nobody knows that but those who need to know. Relax, once the file is retrieved, we'll be in the clear."

Hayes frowned. "I hope so, for your sake."

---------------------------------------------------------

Home, World, The Watermill Hotel

Sherman checked his chrono again. "Seven hours to go," he muttered. He keyed his comm unit. "Bos, you in place yet?"

"Almost. EMP is ready. I'm about to go into the primary station now."

"Is that charge inconspicious?"

"Of course. C7V2, sarge."

"Good man. next time I call, do it."

"Right."

Mason inspected his gear, checking the power cells for his armor and M11A3 "stun gun." Satisfied, he lay down on his bed. "Shouldn't we get some sleep."

"Right. George, Berg, sleep. I'll watch the time."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours later, Sherman was clad in his special forces-issue infra-damping armor, as were his squadmates. He checked the time again: 0048. Sherman snapped on his helmet and reopened the comm channel. "Bos, do it."

"Roger that."

Three seconds later, the lights blinked out in the room. Out the window, he saw the entire block go dark. "Go!" Sherman ordered. The trio rushed out of the room, crashed through the powered-down alarm door to the staff stairwell, and dashed up the stairs. Reaching the roof, the three Marines rushed to the near edge and started to set up rappel ropes. "Three minutes," Sherman whispered, "Hook in!"

He clamped the magnetic anchor on his belt to the port on the rappel rope, then tested its strength. "Ready?" Bergeron and Mason nodded. "Go!"

The three men dropped off the roof, methodically pushing off and dropping down the face of the hotel. With one minute left, they reached the window to the darkened target room. "Not enough time to cut," said Mason, "Hold on." He stabbed a spike into the window. It emitted a low hum, then crescendoed into a soft but high-pitched whine. Suddenly, the glass shattered.

"Go! Gogogo!" The trio swung into the room and swiftly unhooked. Mason rushed for the recorder in the corner, cutting its wires, while Sherman quickly searched for the audio recorder under the couch and smashed it. Bergeron crouched in front of the safe, examining it.

"So, you figure something out?" Sherman asked. Suddenly, the lights flickered back to life.

"Yeah. MagnaCorp Firework 3200. Magnetically sealed. Lockdown and alert upon contact," Bergeron pulled something out of his pack and clamped it to the safe. "Vulnerable to military-grade EMP."

Bergeron blew the charge, then pulled the handle. Its generator dead and seals deactivated, the safe simply popped open.

"That simple?" asked Mason, incredulous.

"That simple. The smartest people back it up with a conventional lock or eight, or put in the extra money for full EMP dampening," said Bergeron.

"Well then," Sherman said, grabbing one of the files and looking at the tab, "we got it. Grab your gear and let's get moving."

Bergeron pulled the spent EMP charge from the safe and stuck it in his pack. The men reclamped themselves to the ropes and climbed back up. WIthin five minutes, they were back in the hotel room. Within the hour, Bosworth also arrived. No one suspected a thing until morning.

OOC: Short chapter here, but the operation is meant to be simple and smooth. Not everything has complications :P

I'm going to be doing a few double updates over the next few days, to catch up.
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CHAPTER XVII

Command Center, Fort Morvan

Brigadier Wolfe kicked out, then again, then again. With one last blow, the piece of debris fell forward and broke apart on the floor. Wolfe crawled out from under the table. Breathing heavily, he brushed ferrocrete dust from the lapels of his uniform coat and straightened his cap. The command center was a complete wreck. The ceiling was completely blown apart, chunks of it strewn across the floor. Several of the more intact comm and intelligence consoles sparked, illuminating some of the former room. Steam curled up into the night sky where the endless rain had quickly extinguished fires.

"Anyone alive?" Wolfe called, hoarsely.

General Bearing raised a shaky hand above a pile of rubble. "H-h-here," he stuttered, standing up. He stooped down and picked something up, then stuck his cap onto his head. Bearing's lip quivered violently.

General Magorian suddenly burst out of a pile of rubble behind Wolfe. "Hansen's dead," he gasped, "Saw him get shredded by a shell."

More men - staff, clerks, and comm operators - began to rise out of the ruins. But it was barely a fraction of those who had been standing only twenty minutes ago. Wolfe and Magorian walked over to where Bearing stood frozen.

"Sir," Magorian started, "are you okay?"

Bearing suddenly scowled. "Madness! Where is the honor of our enemies, these savages?! General Magorian, is there a secondary command post in this facility?"

"Destroyed. But a 'tertiary' comm center is in the bunker."

"Good. Relocate all staff to that bunker and restart operations. Magorian, you are in command of the Eighty-second until General Korealis shows up. If he shows up. Wolfe, take over Hansen's FIST."

"Understood."

"Excellent. We can't let this happen again. We're taking the fight to the enemy."

-------------------------------------------------------

Battlefield Boulevard

"Jesus Christ," said Ryan, "Who did this?"

"A dead man," Calahan replied, flatly.

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "I see. Carry on, Gunnery Sergeant."

As Calahan left the dugout, Ares and Cow gave Ryan uneasy looks. "This is bad, really, really bad," Ares said.

"You're just gonna let him off the hook like that?" Cow asked.

"He brought back on of our own. That's a good enough reason to me for his disappearance," said Ryan, "This is a much bigger problem. Torture and mutilation are war crimes."

The three men stared at each other for a few seconds. Cow opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't say it," Ares snapped.

"We already know, and accept it. This is new, on the other hand - the rebels are growing into Maxfricans," said Ryan.

Ares cursed under his breath. Ryan and Cow heard the tail end of a racial slur. "So what do we do about it?" Cow asked.

"Report it to the higher-ups and then carry on."

"That's it?"

"There's nothing else we can do about it."

"We can retaliate," Ares said.

Ryan shot hi a very nasty look. "You let your men do that enough\, Ensign. Absolutely not. I could care less what Gunnery Sergeant Bastard does, but no one else. Am I perfectly clear?" he snapped.

"Yes, sir," said Ares.

"Good. Now, all we do now is just...carry on. We recovered Dearing's body and nothing more. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," the other two Marines replied.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"They coming again?" asked PFC Gibson.

"Fuck no. After the ass-kickin' we gave 'em, I don't think they want to relive it," said Lundy, carefully watching the horizon over the parapet.

Gibson let out a sigh of relief. "That good. I don't want to either."

"Shut up! I want to be able to hear any incoming," Lundy said, blindly waving his hand at Gibson.

"Sorry, sarge."

"Shut up!"

"Problem, sergeant?" someone asked behind him.

Lundy jumped two feet and clutched at his heart. "Wraith?! Where the fuck did you come from?! You've been gone almost twelve hours!"

"Had some business to take care of. I trust all is well?" Calahan said, stepping out of the dugout stairwell.

"Er...of course, Boss. As I was tellin' Gibson here, we kicked ass and the bastards are sore!"

"I thought so. Where's-"

"Jack Goddamn Calahan. Can nothing kill you?" someone asked from behind. Lundy jumped another foot.

"Fucking Christ, Alex! All of you, STOP DOING THAT!"

"Sorry, Lundy. They just finished digging the communications tunnel up to here," Alex said, moving out from the shadows next to them.

"Tunnel?"

"Yeah, they're digging communications tunnels and trenches to link each line together now."

"Aboot bloody time," said Aster. Lundy clutched at his heart again.

"I hate you guys," he muttered.

"Good," said Calahan, "Well, I've got more things to check, people to kill. See you all later," Calahan walked off to the left and disappeared.

Aster walked up and slapped Alex on the shoulder. "You healed up fast," he said.

"Are you kidding? It takes more than a grazing shot to the cheek to put me outta action," said Alex, "How'd Dutch do in charge?"

"Just fine," said Lundy, "I'm surprised you got the squad leader position. Wasn't he senior to you?"

"Yeah, but he passed it on. He likes fire team command. Any activity."

Lundy groaned in frustration. "You know what? I'm fucking tired of explaining this to every joe on the block. I'm done for the night. Everyone can take a fucking look themselves," Lundy stomped off toward his dugout.

Alex cocked an eyebrow. "What did I say?"

---------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I've sent Dearing's body back to Graves Registration at the fort," said Ryan, "Now, we need to sort this out. Cow, get Calahan in here."

"On it," said Cow, disappearing up the stairs. When he was gone, Ryan gestured for Ares to come closer. Ares leaned over the flimsy wooden table.

Ryan suddenly grabbed him by the collar. "You need to get Gunnery Sergeant Bastard sorted out. I mean it. I saw the little reb bastard he strung up on that pole. I swear to God, if you don't sort him out youself, then I'll get a court-martial to do it. I will not tolerate his behavior any longer," he snarled.

"Y-yes, sir," said Ares, "But it's-"

"I don't care," Ryan growled, "Get it done," he released Ares's collar just as Cow and Calahan came down the stairs.

"Here, sir," said Calahan.

"Okay, this is a debriefing. I'm sure the Provost Marshal wanst to hear all about the rebels' conduct, so shoot. What happened out there?" Ryan began.

Calahan leaned against a wall. "On my way to Spirit Street, I spotted a high-ranking rebel officer and his staff exit a warehouse, taking with them two CMF prisoners, one of which was Dearing. I followed them to another warehouse on Battlefield Boulevard and-"

The comm suddenly crackled. Static. Ryan held up a finger and put a hand to his helmet. "This is Mike Niner-Four Delta Six, over."

"This is Uniform Six. Prepare for attack."
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CHAPTER XVIII

Comm Bunker, Fort Morvan

A huge map of the city covered the entire far wall of the bunker. Dozens of red lines, arrows, and Xs were scattered across its face, opposed by many green symbols of the same kind. It would have to do for a replacement holomap.

"Okay, red lines are confirmed and/or probable enemy positions. Thickness denotes approximate strength," said Wolfe, "The Xs are approximate locations of medium-range artillery. Locations are not exact or definite, as they were discerned using counter-battery fire calculations," he continued, pointing them out using a pole.

"Brigadier," Bearing cut in, "What the hell is what?"

Wolfe sighed. "Have any of you ever read a real map before?"

Each of the arrayed general officers looked at each other. Brigadier Killiak raised his hand.

"Jesus, only in the Marine Corps," Wolfe muttered, "The map legend is here in the corner," he pointed to the box in the lower left corner of the map, "The symbols and colors designate certain buildings or blocks. Let's look at this sector, facing my Company D. We believe there are gun positions in this church - marked by the cross - this gray residential block, this yellow office complex, and the brown junkyard. Enemy trenches hold Assembly Avenue and its adjoining side streets, represented by the bold black lines. Symbols are universal throughout the map. Questions?"

"Give us a full briefing, Brigadier," said Bearing.

Wolfe sighed again. "Okay, facing my Company A..."

----------------------------------------------

Battlefield Boulevard

"Okay, stick it up," said Lundy.

PFC Gibson nodded and lifted the pole. A badly damaged helmet rested atop it, peeking over the parapet. A bullet struck the helmet, sending it sprinning around on its mount.

Crack!

Gibson quickly jerked the pole back down. "Didja see 'im?"

"I saw him," Lundy muttered. He squinted through the scope, rifle poking through a small tunnel he had dug just below the lip of the trench. "Keep yer head down," Lundy sighed, inhaled deeply, and squeezed the trigger.

Crack!

Lundy paused, motionless, for a full minute, then cocked the loading lever. "Three."

"Nice shot, sarge."

Erikson suddenly appeared on the firing step next to Lundy. "What's up, sarge?" he asked.

"Watch yer head, Idiot. Goddamn snipers all over the place," Lundy snapped.

"Okay."

"Back form the aid station already, Idiot?" Gibson asked, grinning under his helmet. Erikson turned his head and glared at him.

"Boy, only the older fellows can call me 'Idiot,'" he snarled.

"Shut up, Idiot," said Lundy.

"Yes, sir."

--------------------------------------------------

Deadhead jumed down the last few stairs and stumbled into the dugout, nearly knocking over Izzy and Selucis. "Christ, Deadhead, what the hell?" Izzy shouted.

"Sorry, mate. 'M a bit up on adrenaline right now. Had to duck a few snipers," Deadhead replied. He eyed McKnight and Wolf hauling several heavy metal crates out of the new tunnel in the back of their dugout. "That ammo?"

Selucis glanced back. "Yeah."

"Oh, fuck yes," Deadhead tried pushing past them toward the stacked crates.

"Whoa, mate," Selucis said, he and Izzy holding him back, "That's for the whole company. Ares'll distribute it when we're done unloading it."

"What's the occasion? Brass got somethin' planned?"

"Probably. They got the shit shelled out of 'em last night."

McKnight and Wolf dropped their crate onto the stack. "Hey, jokers!" McKnight barked, "We're the sergeants! Get yer asses over here an' help!"

------------------------------------------------

"Brass saw fit to give us ammo," said Ryan, "Sure as hell hope they ain't-"

"Delta Six, this is India Six, over," Commander Harlan's voice suddenly interrupted.

"Fuck," Ryan swore. He keyed his comm. "This is Delta Six, over."

"New orders incoming direct from the top. Uploading to your HUD now."

"Roger that," Ryan held a hand to his helmet. Ares watched silently for several minutes as Ryan reviewed the orders. Finally, Ryan keyed his comm again. "India Six, Delta Six here, over."

"Go ahead, Delta."

"I cannot carry out these orders, over."

"You will be relieved of command if you do not, Delta."

"Then, I am...I am..." Ryan sighed, "Yes, sir. Delta out."

"What's wrong?" Ares asked.

"The bastards want us to attack."
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CHAPTER XIX

Battlefield Boulevard

"Okay, tactical plan," Ares said to the arrayed senior sergeants, "Command, in all its wisdom, has ordered a broad-front attack, with the objective of knocking out artillery pieces."

"Excuse me?" Alex interrupted, "Haven't they seen how many casualties the rebels have taken?"

"Yes, but they judge, by the success of our counter-attacks, that we will fare better."

"Unreal," Alex muttered, shaking his head.

"We got everyone back now, right? No one's down a wounded man?"

Alex nodded. "Brad and Padrino just checked in, they were the worst hit."

"Excellent. Okay, look alive," Ares knelt down and projected a holomap of the area, "There are four confirmed guns and two possible in Company D's AO. We are responsible for these two, highlighted red," The church and a junkyard changed from blue to red.

"Who gets who?" asked Irick.

"As a platoon, we take this stretch of trench here. Next, First Squad goes for the church, and Second and Third go for the junkyard. Alex, can you handle the church on your own?"

Alex gave a thumbs-up. "No problem, sir."

"I'm with them," muttered Calahan.

"Okay. Jump-off is in an hour," Ares deactivated the holomap and leaned in close, "Be prepared to write a lot of telegrams."

-------------------------------------------------

Assembly Avenue

Corporal Mastrik Worth held his right arm to stop the shaking. He was the fifth sniper ordered to this sector. His predecessors had been killed, all within four hours. Worth nervously aimed through the scope, scanning the landscape from his position in a blown-out, fourth floor office.

Northin. Not even a stray, bobbing helmet. Worth sighed, then inhaled again. There! A black speck, turning into a Marine helmet through the magnified scope. Worth centered his sights and fingered the trigger. Wait. Something wasn't right. Worth exhaled and relaxed his body. The helmet ducked down below the ground again.

Great going, dumbass, he thought to himself. Then Worth caught a flash of light in his peripheral vision. He turned and aimed at it. It was bright, obscuring the user. Worth aimed slightly to the left, inhaled, and fired. A moment later, the light went out.

Worth was dead before he heard the crack of the rifle.

--------------------------------------------------

Battlefield Boulevard

"Damn, you're good," said Gibson.

"I get that a lot," replied Lundy, cocking the lever and loading a new round. He pulled the rifle out of the hole and jumped off the firing step. "Let's relocate."

Gibson followed him. "Why aren't you a scout-sniper?"

"Eh, I didn't realize my potential 'til I was in this platoon. By then, I liked this outfit too much."

"Ah."

"What's the count now? Five?"

-----------------------------------------------------

"To the ones not here," said Gunnery Sergeant Corrion, raising his glass.

"To them," the other noncoms around the table said in unision. All of them knocked back their glasses of scotch.

"Dang, Cow," said Staff Sergeant Jonathan Masters, a sour expression on his face, "I dunno where you get this stuff, but..."

"Good ol' Laustralian scotch," Cow replied, grinning. "Anyone care for more?"

Several Marines whooped in unision, fighting to put their glass up first.

"Damn, even Dutch loves this stuff," Cow said. Everyone laughed, Sergeant Sanol included.

Ares stumbled into the dugout. "My officer senses were tingling. What's this, drinking on duty? I oughta arrest all you damn fools!" he said, grinning.

"Chair oop, mate!" Aster shouted.

"Us vets o' Third Maxfrica are celebratin' White Monday!" Cow finished.

"Is it that day already? Why wasn't I invited?"

"Chickenshit don't mix well with scotch!" shouted Wolf. Everyone, even Ares, laughed at that one.

"Just pour me some o' that," Ares said, grabbing a glass, "Lord, even Wraith's drinking."

"Just a little. It's a holiday," Calahan muttered.

"Well, now we can say we saw you do it!" said Cow, to everyone's amusement.

Ares raised his now-full glass. "It's been a long time. I hope to see all of you back 'round this table tonight! You hear me?"

"Here, here!"

-----------------------------------------------------

Okay, Lundy, you're up first. Mortars put in a little prelim hits, but now it's up to us. You ready?" Alex said.

"Why the hell do I go first?" Lundy complained.

"Because you're dependable."

Lundy rolled his eyes beneath his visor. "You're gonna get me killed someday. You know that?"

"Not today. Quit stalling and move."

"This is such a stupid plan," Lundy turned to face the squad. "Okay everyone, follow me!"

Lundy clabered over the top and stood up to run. Then his faceplate shattered and he tumbled back into the trench.

Alex stood and gaped. Sanol waved everyone forward. "Keep going. Move yer asses!"

Over the top they went.
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CHAPTER XX

Battlefield Boulevard

"Oh Christ, oh Christ," Alex muttered, kneeling down and ripping off Lundy's helmet. Numerous plasteel fragments cut into his face, and a neat bullet hole was right in the right side of his forehead. His mouth was agape, eyes rolled up into his head until only the whites showed.

"MEDIC!" Alex bellowed.

Corporal Goldstein groaned. One already, he thought, jumping up and sprinting down the trench, towards the source of the call. He ended up next to Alex, kneeling next to a clearly dead Lundy.

"Tim, thank God! C'mon, you need to help him!" Alex shouted.

"He's dead, Alex."

"Not yet, he's not!"

"He's shot in the head!"

Alex drew his pistol. "You will be too if you walk away."

Goldstein knelt down and quickly examined Lundy. "I can't do anything. If we can get him to the aid station, he might a chance. A very, very small chance."

Alex stood up, grabbing Lundy by his arms. "Help me!"

-------------------------------------------------------

As one, the squad climbed up and over the top of the parapet. The rebels immediately opened up with rifles and machine guns.

"Smoke! Throw smoke!" Sanol bellowed, pulling the pin on a smoke grenade. Several fire team leaders followed his example. Within a minute, the platoon's entire front was blanketed in a thick smokescreen. The rebels continued to fire through it, blindly.

Aster slid into cover inside a half-flooded shell hole. "Woon Elpha, on meh!" he yelled, waving an arm. Erikson and Gibson jumped into the hole, followed shortly by Gunny Calahan.

"Your team, Aster! Alex is off the air, I'm taking over the squad!" Calahan shouted, reloading his rifle.

"Bahstard! You said Ah wouldn't hef ta lead a team!" Aster snarled.

"Well, I didn't count on Lundy getting shot in the head. Di you?" Cocking his rifle, Calahan jumped out of the hold and charged into the smoke.

"Damn it," Aster muttered, "Okay, lads, follow meh!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

Assembly Avenue

Sanol heaved the grenade with all his might as he exited the smoke cloud. It exploded almost instantly after landing next to a machine gun. Sanol jumped into the trench and shot down two more rebels. Corporal Mannerheim jumped down a moment later.

"Manny, cover right!" Sanol barked.

"Darth and Pad were right behind me!" Mannerheim shouted. PFC Isis jumped into the trench, nearly slamming into them.

"Here, sarge!" he said.

"Okay! Manny, take Darth and start clearing the trench up that way!"

"On it!"

Lance Corporal Padrino appeared, clutching his shoulder.

"You alright?" Sanol asked.

"A scratch. Orders?"

"Follow me. Let's clear out these jokers."

----------------------------------------------------------

Sergeant Bladon knelt low to ground, taking cover in a shell hole. Bullets hissed and snapped wildly overhead. Lance Corporal Cole suddenly slid down from behind, holding a pistol.

"Hound, where's your rifle?" Bladon asked.

"Shot to Hell, sarge! Fell fucking apart!" Cole replied.

"Damn it, where's-"

Bladon was suddenly interrupted by a long burst of fire. Both men ducked their heads down further. PFC Miller, who had been moving forward nearby, fell forward and clutched his stomach, shrieking in pain.

"God damn it, I hate that fucking gun!" Bladon swore. There was an explosion nearby, and the volume of fire was cut in half.

"This is One Bravo, get a move on, we need some help up here!" Sanol's voice shouted on the comm.

"Two Bravo, regroup!" Bladon yelled. Corporal LePallin and PFC Rook crawled to the edge of the shell hole.

"Here!" said LePallin.

"Okay, stand up and charge! Go!" Bladon ordered, rushing out of the hole. Nearby, Ape and Lance Corporal Dean vanished in a flash and a puff of smoke. When it cleared a moment alter, Ape was staggering around, disoriented, and Dean was rolling on the ground, clutching a cracked faceplate.

Bladon and Rook dropped into the trench together, immediately covering opposite directions. "Clear left," said Bladon.

"Clear right!" said Rook.

As LePallin and Cole jumped, there was a crack and a brief screech of metal on metal. LePallin went limp and collided with Bladon like a rag dool.

"Sniper!" Cole yelled.

There was another crack. A few feet down the line, Conk planted his face in the mud. His teammates dragged him down into the trench. Bladon checked LePallin. "Shit, Marith's dead."

"I saw the flash!" Rook shouted, "Top floor, central window! That apartment building!"

Bladon repeated the location on the comm. "I see him," said Calahan's voice. There was a pause. "Got him. Everyone up! Let's finish this!"

----------------------------------------------------

Battlefield Boulevard

In a dugout, Ares nervously drummed his fingers on the table. An artillery blast shook the cavern, raining dust from the ceiling. Ares licked his lips and brushed dust from the table, then resumed his drumming.

"One-Six, this is One-Five," came Calahan's voice, piercing the silence. Ares bolted upright.

"Status?"

"We've taken the trench, over."

"Excellent, move on the objectives."

"Roger that."
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CHAPTER XXI

Comm Bunker, Fort Morvan

"Company E, Thirty-eighth FIST has secured Objective Tango!" a comm officer shouted. An aide updated the map, drawing a green line over a stretch of red.

"Company B, Twenty-first Division under attack by tanks, battalion strength!" another commofficer yelled.

"Order Company C to divert and support," ordered General Magorian. An aide drew a red arrow against a stretch of green line.

"Companies C and D, Ninety-fourth FIST have secured Objective Tango!" an aide updated the map accordingly.

"See? I told our men would succeed," Bearing said to Wolfe.

"At what cost, sir?" Wolfe snapped.

------------------------------------------------------------

94th FIST Aid Station, Victory Road

"OUT OF THE WAY!" Alex bellowed, shoving an orderly into a wall with his free arm, "Put him down here, Tim." Goldstein and Alex set Lundy's stretcher down on a table. The medic ran off, but quickly reappeared with a surgeon.

"What's the commotion? I have a lot of-"

"He's got a bad head wound, doc. You've got to help him!" Alex interrupted. The surgeon leaned over and examined Lundy.

"It's amazing he's still alive. I can't help you, he's as good as dead," he said, turning to walk away.

Alex swiftly drew his pistol and took aim. "You are too if you walk away!"

The surgeon stopped and sighed. "Sergeant Everett!"

A soldier with "MP" stenciled on his armor sleeve appeared. "Sir?"

"This man is threatening me. Arrest and remove him, please."

Everett looked at Alex, then at Lundy, then at the surgeon. "No sir, I will not."

Everyone in the room was completely silent and motionless for several seconds. Finally, Alex spoke up. "Every second you waste is one he doesn't have."

The surgeon turned, scowling furiously. "Fine," he spat, "James, fetch me my kit."

---------------------------------------------------------

Assembly Avenue

"This is One-Five to all squads. Move on designated objectives," Calahan said on the comm.

"Roger that," said Sanol, "One, this is Bravo. We'll take point, you follow behind! Let's go!"

Sanol climbed out of the trench and started to run towards the base of the apartment building. The sky startd screaming.

"Mortars!" Sanol shouted, leaping back into the trench.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The impacts shook the ground and threw chunks of ferrocrete into the air. As quickly as it had started, the bombardment stopped.

"Move!" Sanol jumped back out of the trench and dashed forward to the building. His team followed behind. "Manny, Pad, go!" Mannerheim and Padrino sprinted down the side of the road, hugging the walls of the buildings. Sanol and Isis trained their rifles down the street.

"In position. I hear the gun just ahead," said Mannerheim on the comm.

"Okay, we're moving," Sanol beckoned with his hand, and he and Isis sprinted forward. He crouched next to Mannerheim.

"It's up there, I saw it pivoting," the corporal said, pointing at the church up ahead.

BANG!

A shell flew by just overhead. The noise was deafening at such close range. "Okay, I can't get a shot. Darth, move across the street to cover my move. We'll cover you."

Isis nodded, stood up, and dashed across. Sanol and the others aimed their weapons down the street. "Ready!" came Isis's voice.

Sanol jumped up and dashed across. "Tango!" someone shouted, firing. Then Sanol's head jerked up and his body fell back onto the road.

"Shit! Cover me!" Mannerheim barked, running out into the road. He grabbed Sanol by the collar hook and dragged him back to Padrino. Setting his rifle on the ground, he ripped off Sanol's helmet. Blood gushed from below his chin and pooled on the sidewalk. Staunching the flow with one hand, Mannerheim bared two fingers and checked for a pulse with the other.

"He's dead."

---------------------------------------------------------

"Can you push forward any farther?" Calahan asked on the comm.

"Negative, Five. We'll clear out these buildings first," said Ben's voice.

"Roger that. Out."

"One-Five, it's Mannerheim, over!"

"Wrong number, Mannerheim."

"I know! Bravo is down, Kilo. I say again, One Bravo is Kilo. I'm taking over Bravo, over."

"Roger that, Bravo. Out," Calahan swore colorfully after deactivating the comm.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, the beacon's active. Pad, Darth, move to the corner," Mannerheim said. As the two Marines advanced, Mannerheim aimed his rifle down the street. Padrino crouched at the corner and firede three shots.

"Tango down. Move yp."

"Moving up."

Mannerheim ran up to the corner and crouched. A rebel fired at them from the second floor of the church. Triangulated fire from three Marines made short work of him. The gun began to pivot in their diection.

"Across the street, now!" Mannerheim ordered. The team quickly outran the gun and lined up against the wall. A breathless Isis slammed into it on the other side of the door.

"Ready?" Mannerheim asked. Both men nodded. "Okay, hit it."
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CHAPTER XXII

St. Theodosius's Church, Patition Parkway

Isis smashed open the doorway with the butt of his rifle. Mannerheim pulled the pin on a grenade, quickly pivoted to toss it inside, and flattened back against the wall. Two seconds after the grenade went off, Padrino ducked inside, rifle raised, and swept the room, Isis close behind. "Clear!" Padrino shouted.

Just as Mannerheim entered, a rebel burst in from a side room. All three Marines quickly cut him down. "Okay, the gun's that way. Stack up," Mannerheim said, stepping over a body and readying another grenade. "Okay, go!"

Isis pivoted and kicked the door with his armored boot, sending it splintering off its hinges. Mannerheim tossed his grenade inside. Four seconds later, Padrino entered and fired three shots, then shouted, "Clear!"

"Just like the MOUT course back gome, eh?" Mannerheim asked as he entered.

Isis examined an altar at the end of the room. "Why are they making us defile a prayer chapel? Who would be so terrible as to cause such beautiful places to be destroyed?"

"Well, that's why we fight, Darth. To stop these maniacs. The gun's in the next room, I heard it. Stack up and get ready to finish 'em off," said Mannerheim, "It's quiet in there, too quiet. Pad, set a breaching charge."

Padrino nodded and knelt in front of the door, clamping the small explosive to the handle. "Charge set," Padrino said, lining up against the wall, "Clear!"

The charge exploded inward, vaporizing the door and gutting two waiting rebels. While the gunners were stunned by the explosion, the Marines quickly entered the room and killed them with two shots to the chest each. Mannerheim walked up and examined the gun. "Okay, we're clear. What now?"

-------------------------------------------------------

Aster slammed against the wall of the church, panting heavily. "You alrigh', Gibson?" he asked.

"I-I'm okay," Gibson replied, clutching his left arm.

"Okay, stack ep!"

Calahan, Bradley, and the assault team jogged up to join them. "Having fun yet, replacements?" Bradley asked, jokingly.

"Let's get inside before more mortars come down, please," Calahan said, aiming up the street.

"Brech 'n' clair!" Aster ordered. Erikson kicked in the door and the three men entered, firing.

"One-Five, this is One Bravo, over!" came Mannerheim's voice on the comm.

"One-Five here," Calahan replied, walking into the now-clear room.

"We've taken Objective Charlie. Say agian, Charlie is taken, over."

"Roger that. Destroy the objective, over."

"Negative, Five! We don't have the ordnance, over!"

"A breaching charge to the rear breech-locks or some TNT down the barrel should do the trick."

"Roger that. Out."

A few seconds later, there was an explosion nearby. "One-Five, this is Bravo. Charlie disabled."

"Roger that, out," Calahan turned to the waiting men, "Okay, Manny disabled the gun, but we still need to clear out this church. Let's go."

-------------------------------------------------

Petition Parkway

"This is not fun," Wolf muttered, bent behind a rusted automobile, dozens of bullets zipping overhead. Selucis poked his head up for a moment, then ducked back down. "Uh, Wolf? It's turning-"

"MOVE!" Wolf bellowed, waving his arm forward. Wolf, Selucis, and McKnight's team sprinted away from the car, taking cover behind a large pile of junk. A moment later, the car exploded, fragments flying across the junkyard.

Wolf keyed his comm. "For fuck's sake, Jason, draw their fire," he said.

"Shut up, Wolf, I'm trying," Jason replied. Behind a junked neon sign, Jason's assault team stood up and opened fire on the machine gun next to the artillery gun. It quickly swiveled in their direction and opened fire. "Get a move on, Wolf," Jason said into the comm.

"Thank you," Wolf replied. He turned to the others. "As one...GO!" In unision, all five Marines sprinted across the open space to the next mountain of trash.

"Okay, one more time," said Wolf into the comm.

Jason looked at PFC Barrett. "John, up!" Barrett stood up and fired two shots, then crumpled to the ground. "Shit!"

"I'm okay!" Barrett grunted, rising to his feet. "Damn ricochets pack a punch!"

"Go, Wolf!"

Wolf, McKnight, and their men dashed to cover behind a wrecked bulldozer. They were behind both weapon explacements. Wolf pulled a grenade from his vest. "Okay, grenades in three...THREE!"

All five Marines heaved a grenade as far as they could. Five explosions later, the junkyard was deathly silent. Wolf stood up and walked to the gun. "Jason, get yer ass and the C-Nine over here!" he yelled, "One-Five, this is Three Alpha. Objective Juliet is secure!"
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CHAPTER XXIII

Comm Bunker, Fort Morvan

"That's damn impressive, Wolfe," sai Bearing, looking at the map, "Your Company D's already eliminated five outta six guns."

"Yes, sir. We've lost twenty-four dead, forty-seven wounded in that company alone, though," Wolfe replied, softly.

"Don't fret over it too much, Tom," Bearing said.

"Company C, Eighty-second Division has taken Objective Tango! Casualties at forty-three dead, seventy-one wounded! Company commander requests relief!" a comm officer shouted.

"Finally! That's the last link on Assembly Avenue," said Bearing.

"Order him to hold position. Divert Companies B and D to cover his objectives," ordered Magorian.

"And corporal," Bearing interrupted.

"Sir?"

"Report casualties to Graves Registration, not to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir!" another comm officer shouted.

"What is it?"

"Intel coming! Four enemy infantry battalions are moving to attack Ninety-fourth FIST and the Twenty-first Division!"

"Order them to dig in and hold."

---------------------------------------------------------

St. Theodosius's Church, Petition Parkway

"Glad you could join us, men. Where's Ben?" Calahan asked.

"Took a hit. Pinked in the leg," Wolf replied.

"Okay. First Herd, listen up! I've just recieved reports of two enemu battalions headed our way!"

The Marines groaned.

"I've been ordered to dig in and hold."

Pandemonium broke loose.

"Quiet. QUIET!"

The platoon fell silent.

"I say 'fuck that.' We're going to conduct an Organized Retreat and Resistance. Does anyone not know what that is?"

A couple Marines raised their hands.

"Of course not, you're replacements. An ORR consists of a series of fallback positions. We station parts of our unit at three of them, have the front put up some resistance, and then fall back before the enemy gets close, covered by the position behind. It's designed to cuse damage while minimizing casualties. Does everybody understand?"

The same two hands raised.

"Good. Frontline is the ditch behind the church. Aster, Manny, Brad, that's you. Set up there when we're finished."

"Fuck," Bradley swore.

"I know. Second position is this church. Mike, that's your squad."

"Got it," Irick nodded.

"Third position is the Petition Parkway trench. That's Third Squad and I. Now, order of fallbacks is one to four, two to five, and so on. Fourth position is that apartment building out the window there. Fifth is the building behind it, and the last is the Assembly Avenue trench. From there, Ares will decide whether or not we fall back. Clear?"

The same two hands rose again.

"Good. Everyone get ready."

--------------------------------------------------------

"Man, I hate that guy," whined PFC Manning, sitting cross-legged in the church steeple.

"Who?" asked Corporal McAllen, scanning the landscape through a broken window.

"That platoon sergeant. He's such an ass."

"Man, join the club."

"Alright ladies!" shouted Ape, coming up the stairs, "What's happening?"

"Nothin' much, sarge," replied McAllen.

"Damn. Now you two quit yappin' and keep a closer eye on the enemy."

"We are, sarge," said Manning.

"I'll believe that when I hear it!"

------------------------------------------------------------

Sergeant Bradley furrowed his brow, a confused expression on his face. "Mauve, what the hell are you doing?" he asked.

Corporal Shert took a break from his diggin, leaning on his collapsable shovel. "Diggin' us a deeper ditch. What did it look like, sarge?"

"Quit wasting yer energy. We ain't gonna be here much longer."

"Well, I'd like to have a place to curl up into the fetal position safely when the shells start comin' down."

"Whattever, man. I don't really care."

---------------------------------------------------------

"...and he won't talk to me either. Every time I try to ask him a question, he-"

"Shut up!" McAllen said suddenly, holding up a hand, "You hear that?"

Manning listened. "Yeah. That a tank?"

"No...APC. I see 'em. Here they come!"

--------------------------------------------------------

"Mauve? He's a monster at The Hard Place! I swear, he chugged six bottles the night before we left," laughed Mannerheim.

"I hear that. I just hope we make it back to do some drinking," said Bradley.

"And fucking," added Erikson.

"Fuck, who the hell's screaming?" asked Padrino, "Wait..."

BOOM!
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CHAPTER XXIV

St. Theodosius's Church, Petition Parkway

BOOM!

The blast send half of First Squad sprawling across the ditch. PFC Chan was peppered with shrapnel and went down, screaming and writhing on the ground. "HERE THEY COME!" bellowed Lance Corporal Padrino, raising his rifle and firing.

"APC, two 'o' clock!" Bradley shouted, pointing. Shert raised his rocket launcher to his shoulder and fired, killing it. Bradley directed the other fire teams to concentrate fire on the approaching infantry. Shert finished reloading the LAW just as a pair of APCs drove through a ruined building and began raking the trench with shells. PFC Gibson caught some shrapnel in his faceplate and crumpled to the ground, holding his face and giving off muffled groans.

"Yeh okay, Gib?" Aster asked, crouching down to check on him.

"MPH!" Gibson grunted. He removed his hands from his helmet and wiped some blood off on Aster's vest, then grabbed his rifle and rose to a crouch again. "I-I...I think I'm okay."

Shert fired a rocket at one of the APCs, which burst into flame and burned steadily, then dropped the empty tube in the mud. "That was my last rocket!"

"One-Two, this is One Charlie!" Bradley said into the comm, "We're about to fall back, cover us!"

"Roger that," came Irick's voice. Two rockets swooped out of the second floor windows and struck the APC, one glancing off the armor but the other piercing and destroying it. The volume of fire from the church increased dramatically.

"Okay, pick up your wounded and fall back! Go, go, go!" Bradley yelled, throwing a still-screaming Chan over his shoulders and stepping out of the ditch.

--------------------------------------------------------

Crack! BOOM!

"I'm out!" Lance Corporal LeGrand shouted, slinging the rocket launcher over his back and grabbing his submachine gun.

"That's the last of the rockets!" Sergeant Allen shouted, drawing his own, "SMGs! One's falling back!" Allen stood up and blindly fired out the window at the enemy positions.

Down the hall, Staff Sergeant Irick listened to his comm. "Say what is incoming?" he asked.

"Five Alpha Papa Charlies plus infantry! Over!" shouted Ape on the comm.

"Fuck! One-Five, this is One-Two! We've got five Alpha Papa Charlies incoming, ETA five mike, over!"

"Roger that. Hold position, One is not ready yet," Calahan replied.

"I don't think-"

BOOM!

The nearby wall exploded, sending Irick and Sergeant Bladon sprawling across the floor, covered in shattered masonry and ferrocrete dust. "Fuck," Irick muttered, getting to his feet, "Rockets! Watch out for-"

BOOM!

A window down the hall blew apart, and PFC Rook slammed against the opposite wall. "I'm-I'm okay!" he sputtered, standing up. With a wet slap!, a bullet pierced his armor and lanced through Rook's shoulder. "GAH! Fuck!" he swore, limping down the hall toward them.

Irick activated his comm. "Target the little bastards with rockets first! They're tearing us apart!"

The comm crackled. "One-Two, this is One-Five. One-One is in position, over."

"Roger that! One-Two, this is-"

BOOM!

The entire building shook with the most recent blast. "This is Actual! Fall back!"

--------------------------------------------------

Petition Parkway

Sergeant Bradley slid into the trench next to Calahan. "Chan and Gibson took hits but the rest of us are okay. Chan's hit hard, though," he said.

"We'll get everyone to an aid station once this is over. We've got five more APCs headed this way. You got any more rockets?"

"No, I only had two LAWs."

"Fuck. Grab Jason and get all of his rockets. You guys 'll have the better vantage points. Get going," Calahan said, slapping Bradley on the back. He opened a comm channel. "One-Two, this is One-Five. One-One is in position, over."

"Roger that!"

Someone tapped Calahan on the shoulder. "Man, what the fuck is this bullshit? Giving Brad all of my fuckin' rockets?" Jason asked.

"Quit bitching. He's got the better vantage point."

"But-"

"Shut it! Second Squad'll be passing through any second now!"

Sure enough, the Marines of Second Squad began streaming out the back of the church a moment later. Irick jumped down into the trench as they passed over. "Rookie got hit in the shoulder, but he'll be fine. Poor Manning's got a chunk of exploding church steeple through his goddamn leg," he said.

"Is he going to be okay?" Calahan asked, losing his calm monotone for a moment. Irick cocked an eyebrow under his helmet.

"His should be. We'll be in position in a few minutes," Irick climbed out of the opposite side of the trench.

A few minutes later, an APC burst through the wall of the church, immediately raking the ground with cannon fire. There was a brief yelp of pain, then a loud crack before the APC exploded. Calahan slapped Jason over the back of the helmet. "See? Brad's a good enough assault team leader!"

"Okay, okay," Jason said, taking aim with his rifle.

Infantry began to appear around the steaming wreck of the APC, crawling through the rubble and mud. Calahan tossed a grenade into a pack of them, causing them to scatter quickly. They were easily cut down.

Calahan activated his comm. "Okay, One-Three, this is One-Five. Fall back now. One-One, cover. Out."

Calahan blew a smoke grenade at his feet and climbed out of the trench with Jason.

--------------------------------------------------------

Assembly Avenue

"...So what are you going to do?" Ryan said into the comm.

"We're falling back. We don't have the manpower to stop this push here," Ensign Deladrier's voice replied.

"Okay. Don't worry about holding ground, just get as many of the boys back as you can. Out," Ryan took his hand from his helmet and turned to Ares. "How are your men doing?"

"I think we're taking the brunt of their assault. Wraith's leading an ORR back here," Ares replied.

"Good, good. Command is sending up two companies from One-Seventeenth FIST to reinforce us. ETA is ten minutes."

"Can we hold them here?"

"We should. How long until your platoon gets back here?"

"Wraith said First and Third Squads were falling back here now. So, moment-"

Calahan staggered into the dugout. "First and Third Squads...reporting," he gasped, "Second's close behind, we're covering them now."

"Speak of the devil. SitRep, now," Ryan snapped.

"We've got at least two platoons of infantry headed our way, three APCs left."

"What about casualties?" Ares asked.

"Chan and Manning were hit pretty bad, but nothing that a day at the aid station can't fix. Rook, Izzy, and Gibson all took minor wounds," Calahan replied.

"Okay. We've got two companies of Marines moving to reinforce us here. They'll be here-"

A Marine captain appeared in the doorway. "Fox Company's reporting. Golf is moving in as well," he said.

"Excellent. We've got two platoons of infantry about to hit us. The rest of my company should be falling back to this position now with whatever else is following close behind. Are your Marines ready?" Ryan said.

"Sure as shit. The day we can't beat two companies of planetary defense troops is the day we should all turn in our stripes and bars," the captain said.

"I thought so. Let's get 'em."
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CHAPTER XXV

Home, World

"The Bear wants a deal. He's offering the names of about three dozen informants for the Popular Front within your administration," said Kirk Hayes, laying a file on the President's desk.

"He wants a deal? Now?" replied Joseph Whitehall, leaned back in his chair, "Fuck him. I told that blowhard that I would prosecute this through to the end. And thanks to our friends, I have his leverege," Whitehall picked up another file on his desk and shook it, "Damn it, I wish I could decorate them."

"Very well, sir."

"What's next?"

"You have a meeting with SUCMAX this evening, and a briefing with the Executive Council and General Staff in an hour."

"Alright, let's get ready for that."

-------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, gimme a full situation report. Jeffrey, you first," said Whitehall, pulling his chair up to the conference table, which was surrounded by numerous high-ranking military officers as well as the ministers of the Executive Council.

"Ahem," Minister of Defense Jeffrey Moxxin coughed, clearing his throat. He was communicating with the meeting via vidcomm, as he was currently overseeing Fifth Fleet's preparations to attack the Coalition fleet over Verdun. "Admiral Barringer crushed the final rebel task force this morning, World Time of course. He has two days left on my deadline - he has done a good job in speeding things up."

"Excellent. Marshal Morrin, you said you had projections for the Verdun garrison in your last report?" Whitehall asked, activating a datapad and looking over a file.

"Yes, sir," said Marshal Henry Morrin, Chief of the General Staff. He nodded to a three-star general seated across the table, who stood up and cleared his own throat.

"I'm Farrik Molanus, the General Staff Logistics Officer. I've analyzed the arsenal at Fort Morvan prior to the attack on Verdun, as well as projected expenditures by the garrison and its reinforcements. I've drawn up an official report for you, Mister President," said the general.

"Give me a quick summary, General."

"In the event of a protracted battle, Fort Morvan held enough supplies to sustain its garrison for a maximum of two months. However, the addition of two Marine FISTs and an army division drastically increases munitions expenditures. Not even taking into account direct enemy attacks upon supply depots, I estimate that the garrison only has enough munitions and consumables for two or three days," Molanus explained.

Whitehall paused in thought for a moment, a semi-puzzled look on his face. "I understood most of that. Why is this bad?"

"Sir, while an army may march on its stomach, those troops can subsist without proper food or drink for a week, and if desperate, soldiers are instructed to resort to more...distasteful means of nourishing themselves." Whitehall noticeably cringed at the implications. "However, a modern military unit cannot continue a fight without ammunition. To order them to fight with melee weapons or, hell, their bare hands would be tantamount to suicide, and it is more than likely that the garrison commander would surrender first."

"So I see," Whitehall sat back in his chair, away from the table, one hand clasping his chin as he thought, "Gentlemen, as I have stated here and in public time and time again, we have not just a professional but also a moral obligation to relieve these men. We will not leave those who have sacrificed everything for our sake out to dry. Minister Moxxin."

"Mister President?"

"Admiral Barringer will commence Operation: Inspired Retribution at 0600, September 12, World Time, ready or not."

"Yes, sir," Moxxin disappeared from the vidscreen as the feed cut off.

"Now, Marshal, with our primary business taken care of, give me the rest of the report."

Morrin stood up and walked over to the now-blank vidscreen, reactivating it with a holographic map of the galaxy. "Mister President, the Coalition has launched a number of smaller offensives in the Kyrite Beta Cluster. Now, here are our available forces..."

-----------------------------------------------------

Assembly Avenue, Verdun

"Captain Harding, report," Captain Ryan said to the commanding officer of Fox Company, 117th FIST, one of several officers and NCOs arrayed within the dugout.

"We beat off that attack easy, there were only a couple APCs. Probably just a regular infantry battalion," said Harding.

"Casualties?"

"We lost four Marines killed in Fox, two in Golf. Seventeen wounded in total for both companies."

"Acceptable, I suppose. Ares, what is the status of your platoon?" Ryan said, turning to a helmeted, faceless officer to Harding's right.

"I'm at about fifty percent strength, with all my dead and wounded. However, most of the Marines with minor wounds should be returning soon enough," Ares replied.

"Any word on Lundy?"

Ares shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he sighed.

Ryan nodded. "Captain Harding, I recieved new orders from Command a couple hours ago. They're pulling us off the line to rest and regroup for a day or two. You're relieving us here on the line."

Harding smirked under his helmet. "You implying something, Captain? We can handle it."

"I wasn't implying anything. I only imply for doggie divisions," Ryan chuckled, "That's all for now. I want my platoon commanders and sergeants to gather their men and prepare for withdrawal. Dismissed."

As the arrayed Marines cautiously exited into the trench outside, two more men entered the dugout via the tunnel leading toward the rear. "Well, you look like you did alright without me," said one of them.

"Red! About damn time you got back!" Ryan said, clasping his executive officer by the shoulder.

"I know! I can't let you run around without your good luck charm to help," Red replied.

Ryan lost his cheerful demeanor, sighing lightly. "We've had some...bad luck indeed since you were hit."

Red sucked his lips. "Yeah, I heard about Dutch, and I saw Lundy at the hospital. Alex here brought me out," he said, jabbing a thumb at his companion, standing behind him.

Ryan turned to face Alex. "So...what's the word on Lundy? Is he gonna make it?"

Alex sighed deeply. "He made it, barely. I got a surgeon to operate on him as soon as I got him to the aid station, and he managed to stabilize him before sending him to the field hospital back at the fort."

"Is he gonna pull through?"

Alex sighed again. "They said the bullet destroyed much of his central nervous system, mostly his sensory nerves. They said that he may have speech or motor impediments, but worst of all...he'll lose his sense of touch. He'll never feel anything again. Anything."

Ryan was taken aback, flinching slightly. "Jesus," he muttered, "That most definitely makes him eligible for medical discharge."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think this is time for jokes," Alex snapped.

"I was serious. Unless he is still combat-capable after recovery and chooses to continue his service, he will be honorably discharged immediately due to wounds."

"Well," Red cut in, "That's...good news?"

Ryan sighed. "I don't know, Red. I just...don't know."
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CHAPTER XXVI

Below the City, Verdun

"OH FUCK!" PFC Isis swore loudly, tripping and falling into the waist-high, filthy water. He was submerged for a few seconds before finally standing back up, shaking his head. "Fuck! I don't think my filters work as advertised."

Alex chuckled. "Why do you think I told you to seal your suits?" he said, smug.

"Man," Isis wiped sewage from his visor, flinging his hands to drop the muck back into the water. "How the fuck did we manage to pull this assignment?"

"I don't think the general likes you very much, Darth," said Lance Corporal Padrino.

"Yeah, I figured that out myself. This platoon always gets the worst-"

"I meant you specifically, Darth," Padrino chuckled, "You really know how to ruin a joke, don't you?"

"Shut up, both of you!" Alex snapped, "Your voices echo in these tunnels, and they're rather annoying to hear!"

First Platoon edged along the side of a major sewage main, heading south along the tunnels. The tunnel they had entered through, which was below Fort Morvan, was very large in comparison to the norm, due to the huge amount of waste disposed at a military facility. The stream of sewage water flowed out of the main through much smaller tunnels, barely large enough for a man to crawl through.

At the front, Ben kicked open a grille-siev that covered one of those tunnels. "Alright, ladies, time to get your hands dirty. Has everyone properly sealed their suits?" The Marines of Third Squad nodded. "Alright. Wolf, lead the way."

Sergeant McGraw crouched a lay down, pulling himself into the man-sized hole. "Just like old times, eh Ben?" he shouted back before his legs disappeared inside. His fire team followed him in, trailed by the rest of the squad. Ares and Calahan waded through the sewage to Ben's position.

"You sure this is the right tunnel?" Ares asked. Ben paused for a moment. "The map says so. If we get lost, you fuck up that map, not me," he said.

"Duly noted. Ben, Wraith, you two go next. Once we reach the next sewage main I'll figure out where to go next."

---------------------------------------------------------

Comm Bunker, Fort Morvan

"Alright, I've sent those three companies south through the sewers, General. They should arrive at their assigned targets within two or three hours," said Brigadier Wolfe.

"Excellent," Bearing said, looking at the city map with arms folded.

"Err...sir? If I may ask-"

"Why I sent them into the sewers?" Bearing asked, turning his head to look at Wolfe and grinning, "Radar picked up several signatures - and I mean a lot of signatures - coming down in enemy territory last night. I believe they were transports bringing reinforcements."

Wolfe frowned. "Well, shit. At least we know we're hurting them. How many?"

Bearing turned back to the map. "Several dozen flights were detected, enough that, by my calculations, we face a fresh Coalition army."

"What?!" Wolfe gasped, eyes widening, "There's-there's no way..."

"I know. But we must assume that help is on the way. It's been two weeks, the Navy has to be ready. I needed some men to raise hell behind their lines, and conduct blocking actions against enemy reinforcements to the front."

"That's suicide for my men, sir. You can't possibly expect three understrength and underequipped Marine light infantry companies to hold against fresh and better-equipped forces of battalion size and upwards."

"It's a gamble, Brigadier, but I have to take it. For all we know, all we need to do is buy one more day."

Wolfe narrowed his eyes and walked up to the General. "This is your gamble, sir," he said normally, "But if half of my FIST gets wiped out in your gamble, I will hold you personally responsible."
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CHAPTER XXVII

Sovereignty Avenue

Erikson cracked the manhole and peered out into the wasteland. They were just below an empty street, with a filled-in trench just nearby. Erikson looked over the other side and was face-to-face with a tank tread. "HOLY SHIT!" he gasped, ducking back down. The heavy lid slammed down behind him.

"Bloody 'ell, Idiut, yeh wanna tell the bahstards we're 'ere?" Aster scolded, standing on the ladder just below Erikson.

"They're already here!" Erikson shouted, "There's a tank right up there!"

Aster paused and listened. "You 'ear a tank up thaya, Gibson?"

"No," said Gibson.

"Bloody Idiot. If thaya's a bloody tank, then et's off. Get up thaya!"

Erikson heaved with all his might and pushed the manhole up and over the ground, then pulled himself up and immediately took aim with his rifle. "You're right. We're in a fuckin' tank yard. You're clear to come up."

Aster and Gibson quickly climbed out of the hole and the three Marines took up overwatch positions next to a ruined building nearby. The rest of the platoon quickly followed them and dispersed among the tanks and ruins. Ares met with the senior sergeants next to one of the tanks.

"Delta Six, this is Delta One-Six. We have arrived at objective and are setting up now," Ares said into the comm.

"Roger that, One-Six. What's there? Over," Ryan replied.

"We seem to have stumbled into a tank yard. Estimate...Jesus, this goes on for a while - division-size unit, over."

"A division? Roger that, One-Six. Destroy the yard and fall back to a position one hundred meters back. Out."

Ares removed his hand form his helmet. "Okay, we're gonna destroy this place and bang out to the next street to set up there. Any suggestions as to how we're gonna to so?" Ares asked.

Calahan pulled his pack off his shoulders. "I've got some M9," he said, reaching inside.

"How...Why the fuck do you have plasma charges?" Alex asked, incredulous.

"I don't spend my paycheck on beer and whores like certain other people," Calahan rebutted flatly.

"That's illegal."

"Only if I sell it. I like to be prepared," Calahan handed out the hand-sized, pulsating boxes to each squad leader, "Just don't drop it. These things are volatile."

"I know how to handle plasma charges, Wraith," Alex snapped, standing up and running over to his squad. The other squad leaders followed his example.

Ares sighed and shook his head. "You tread a fine line, Jack."

"Sir, there's also a fine line between not listening and not caring. I don't even have to walk that one."

----------------------------------------------------------

Comm Bunker, Fort Morvan

Wolfe studied the new message he had been given by a comm oeprator. "Oh, this is excellent. First and Fourth Platoons, Echo Company have already engaged and destroyed advancing enemy mechanized units. First Platoon, Delta Company has stumbled into a tank yard for a goddamn armored division," he said.

Bearing smirked. "See? I told you it would work out."

Wolfe looked up. "These are just the opening moves. God help them when the rebels move on them in force."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sovereignty Avenue

Get your heads down and don't look at the blast," Calahan said, motioning for Third Squad to duck and cover with his hand, "This is gonna be big."

He pressed down on the detonator.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Coalition Sixth Army Headquarters, Verdun

"Don't worry, Hiram. My men are more than capable of finishing off this ragged bunch," said a smug General Jaygen LaMorta, commanding general of the Coalition Eighth Army. Both men conversed on the roof of the building, smoking Weston cigars from the Duranic Imperium.

General Hiram Arson took the hint. "Don't you dare take all the credit for this, Jay. My men have been slaughtered over the last few weeks trying to make this easy for you," he snapped.

LaMorta chuckled. "My dear boy, I've already arrayed my armored forces in preparation for the final offensive, and my mechanized divisions are moving to the front as we speak. I'm sure it wasn't your men's fault for not doing the job properly, but I assure you that my men will-"

There was a bright flash off in the distance - much closer than the front. A massive blue fireball arched up into the air, enveloping an intersection in its entirety. General LaMorta gaped, his jaw sleckening, cigar falling over the side of the building to the ground.

"Was that one of your armored divisions?" Arson asked.
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CHAPTER XXVIII

Near Sovereignty Avenue

Captain Merril Sevantis dove for the ground and covered his head with his hands. The explosion soon subsided, and he took a peek behind at the massive, arching blue fireball. "What the fuck was that?!" yelled Chief Sergeant Kerris Morrane, his chief company enlisted man, who stood up.

Sevantis followed suit. "Air strike?" he asked, dazed, ears still ringing from the blast.

"No," Morrane said, "I've worked with the CMF before, on Krodina. That's a plasma cloud."

"We better get over there, then."

"Be fucking careful," Morrane narrowed his eyes, "Only their SpecOps use plasmic explosives."

------------------------------------------------------------

Sovereignty Avenue

"Urgh..." Deadhead groaned, standing up and rubbing the back of his neck. His visor was cracked. "Damn, you weren't kidding. I think I broke something."

Sergeant McKnight slapped him across the back of the head. "Shut up, Deadhead, you're fine."

"Time to leave," Ben said, waving his squad members out of the building, "Let's go!"

The tanks in the street were thoroughly melted, fused into the ground. The ground around them was glassy, crytallized by the extreme heat. "Er..." Deadhead said, "Are you sure it's safe to walk on that?"

"Your armor protects against extreme heat if properly sealed. Come on!" McKnight said, following Ben. Staff Sergeant Synair appeared next to one of the melted slags and held out a hand in front of Ben.

"Hang on! Listen," he muttered. Their was a muffled rumble not far in the distance.

"Fuck!" Ares cursed, crouched next to them, "We blew it too close to an enemy unit. Everyone, take up defensive positions, now!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The APC rolled up to the edge of the glassed area. The outskirts of the dead ground was charred, some it even melted into molten rock. "Watch your step," said Junior Lieutenant Messwick, standing in the hatch and scanning the surrounding buildings. The street was deathly silent, and there was no movement in the surrounding buildings. "Platoon, disembark. Do not enter the dead zone. Fan out and secure the buildings."

Senior Sergeant Tirance Grekov pushed open the rear doors of the APC and jumped out, directing his two squads to move into the buildings on the left side of the road. Out of a second APC, the other section leader, Senior Sergeant Kaylis Coltrane, did the same on the right side.

"Driver, take me into the dead zone. Gunner, stay alert," Messwick said. he beckoned for the other APC to follow. Both vehicles rumbled forward into the glassed area, weaving in between the melted hulks. Messwick watch the buildings at each corner of the intersection, then sighed. "Well, it doesn't look like there's any-"

Crack! BOOM!

Messwick's APC exploded as a LAW rocket from Sergeant Garnett's launcher pierced its thin side armor and exploded inside, blowing it apart. The other APC attempted to back away, but was exploded by a second rocket from Sergeant Bradley.

"Targets, ten 'o' clock!" Grekov shouted, pointing at the corner building on the right side of the road. "Open fire!"

The light machine gunners immediately set up their bipod-mounted machine guns and sent a wall of lead at the windows at a rate of eight hundred and fifty rounds per minute. Grekov took his riflemen further down the line of buildings, crashing through doors and windows. On the other side of the street Coltrane ordered his men out of the buildings and advanced up the sidewalk towards the target building.

-------------------------------------------------

"First platoon has contact," Morrane said, sighing, "Messwick and both APCs are dead."

Sevantis clenched a fist and slammed in down into the roof of his own vehicle. "Damn!"

"I've ordered second and third to advance one block over. We'll trap them and slaughter them in detail."

--------------------------------------------------

"Well, those are all the platoon's rockets!" Jason gasped, slamming the door behind him, "Hope we put them to good use."

"Were you the last one?" Calahan asked.

"Yeah. Let's get going."

Beneath his visor, Calahan smirked.

---------------------------------------------------

Senior Sergeant Coltrane pressed up agianst the wall of the target building, then leaned over and peered just inside the blown-out window. "Looks clear," he muttered, "I guess they're gone. Lift fire, Ti, we're going in."

"Copy."

Coltrane raised his rifle and stepped inside the window, immediately sweeping the room for any enemies. "Clear. Hirez, move up."

"Roger," said Sergeant Hirez. He beckoned his squad forward and climbed into the next room through another window. "It's clear, I think they're gone."

"Okay. Joss, get your squad upstairs and clear that floor," Coltrane ordered. His second squad leader nodded and wordlessly moved his squad into the next room. Coltrane lowered his rifle and followed liesurely. "We're clear, Ti. Looks like a hit-and-run attack. SpecOps, just like you sa-"

BOOM!

Just as he was about to enter the next room, a huge explosion and wave of searing heat knocked Coltrane back several feet and to the ground. He immeidately lost conciousness. In the other room, the members of his section were blown apart or torn to pieces.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Holy shit!" Grekov cursed when he saw the building explode. "Kay! KAY!" he shotued into his radio. He switched channels. "Sarge! Sarge! The bastards just blew up Kay's entire squad! I'm going after them!"

"No! WAIT!" But Grekov had already switched off his radio and ordered his squad out.

------------------------------------------------------------

Behind them, a muffled explosion and a cloud of smoke rising into the air caused Calahan to grin under his helmet. "Jesus, Boss, what did you leave them?" asked Wolf.

"A couple of M8 Shrapnel Mines wired to a proximity fuse," Calahan replied, barely supressing a chuckle.

"Jesus..." Corporal Selucis muttered.

"Where the fuck do you get all this stuff?" Wolf asked.

"When you live this long doing what I do, you get to know a few people and pick up a few things."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Grekov stood on the roof of the building where Coltrane's section had been annihalated, scanning the block with his binoculars. There! "I see them! They're moving north through the block! Namith, you get Kay to an aid station! Everyone else, after them!"
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CHAPTER XXIX

Near Sovereignty Avenue

“We’re clear here,” said Corporal Mannerheim, “It looks we either took ‘em all out or scared ‘em off.”

The rest of the platoon ducked inside and took up positions watching the surrounding area. Calahan and Ares went upstairs. Looking out the western window, Ares magnified his visor. “More APCs,” he said, “I thought I heard something.”

“They’re trying to box us in,” Calahan added.

“No worries. Our access point is only a few yards away,” Ares ran back downstairs, “Okay, First Herd, we’ve got armored vehicles on the street to the west. Stay alert and don’t drift in that direction. First Squad has point, Third Squad rear point. Move out.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“There they are,” muttered Grekov, lowering his binoculars, “Kol, take your squad into that building there and hold fire until I tell you to. Maisson, follow me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what are you gonna do after this is over?” Deadhead asked.

“Me?” Selucis responded, watching the houses to his right, “Who says we’re gonna make it through this?”

“The enemy being idiots, that’s what. Seriously, their armored vehicles walked into a killing ground, and their infantry walked blindly into a building enemies had just vacated. I hope these guys aren’t their best.”

“Meh, I was hoping to get some leave time.”

“Off Bessan?”

“Yeah, off Bessan. I do have a mom and dad back home.”

“I can’t believe you wanna go back to that shithole, what d’ya call it?”

“New Sarthia, and it’s not a shithole. It’s…just got a lot of sand.”

“Yeah, that shit about ‘beauty is unto the eye of the beholder,’ eh?”

“Oh, shut u-“

“QUIET!” Wolf growled, “Fucking Christ, with you two talking all the damn time, I can’t hear any-“

A burst of fire cut from the second-story window of a building to their right, raking Wolf across the side. He stumbled, grunting, but then limped over to cover with the others. Selucis and Deadhead bolted for cover behind a metal fence. At least a dozen rifles opened up on their position, bullets clanging off of the fence. “This is…gah…this is Three Alpha, we have hard contact. I’m hit, and we’re pinned down. Estimate squad-size enemy element in a building just to the east of us. The arched building.”

“Roger that,” Ben replied, “We’re moving to you now, over.”

“Roger that. Out,” Wolf grunted again and clutched his leg.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Wolf,” Deadhead said.

“Shut up and get me a fucking Patch!” Wolf snarled, “Selucis, cover the rear!” Wolf unbuckled his left thigh plate, and blood immediately started pooling over the ground. “Fucking A’!” he cursed.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Deadhead said, ripping open a Platelepatch.

“Oh, shut up! Any hit is fucking bad!” Wolf snatched the Patch from Deadhead’s hands and slapped it on. “Now, gimme some of your Sorephine and I can walk this off.”

Deadhead nodded and reached into his belt pouches. Suddenly, a rebel soldier appeared around the fence ahead of their position. “TANGO!” Wolf snatched his pistol from his breast holster and both he and the rebel fired at the same time. The rebel fell dead from a precise shot through the heart. Wolf took two rounds to the upper chest and slumped over, blood leaking from his mouth.

“FUCK!” Deadhead swore. He grabbed his rifle and dropped another rebel rounding the corner with two shots to the chest. He spotted two armored Marines appear in the doorway to the nearby house.

“We’ll cover you Deadhead, wait one for smoke,” Sergeant McKnight’s voice said on the comm.. PFC Ballard tossed a smoke grenade out into the courtyard, which immediately popped and exhaled a large cloud of smoke. Deadhead tapped Selucis on the shoulder, who was firing at some rebels at the other end of the fence. Selucis nodded and slowly moved backwards, while Deadhead grunted and slung Wolf over his shoulder. While McKnight and Izzy fired on the hostile building, Deadhead and Selucis dashed for cover inside the house.

“Ungh!” Deadhead gasped, slumping Wolf against the wall. He immediately tore off the sergeant’s helmet and began unbuckling the chest plate. “MEDIC!”

“Here!” Corporal Kindret said, crouching next to them. “Christ, he’s lung-shot.” Kindret reached into his pack and grabbed something. Wolf suddenly sprang to life, coughing blood all over the two men.

“FUCK! What happened?” he shouted.

“You’re lung-shot, stay still,” Kindret replied, inserting a small plastic tube into the bullet hole. “This will hurt. I’ve got to drain the lung of fluid.”

“Fuck.”

Kindret grabbed a Sorephine syringe and injected it into a vein in Wolf’s neck. “This will only take a few minutes.”

“We don’t have a few minutes, Joe!” Sergeant McKnight shouted, “You can’t do this here!”

“Fuck. Deadhead, you grab him, let’s move.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Wolf’s hit bad, but they’re bringing him out now,” said Calahan, crouched next to Ares in the next house, “They might come from the left next. I’ll tell Mike to look alive.”

“Okay. We’ve gotta move faster. Those APCs might be on us in a few moments.”

Calahan took his hand from his helmet. “Mike says Second Squad has just been engaged by another squad-sized force.”

“Fuck, we can’t let them pin us down, or we’re screwed. Tell them to-“

CRASH!

Calahan and Ares jerked their heads to face behind. “What the hell was that?” Ares asked.

“That sounded like a tank crashing through a stone building,” Calahan said flatly.

Fuck. Get them up! We’re moving, now!”
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