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Finest Hour; CCRPG Marines Compiliation IV
Topic Started: 9 May 2009, 01:55 AM (1,121 Views)
Wraith
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Preparing for the Second Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
CHAPTER XXX

Near Sovereignty Avenue

Deadhead fell to the floor, against the wall, gasping for breath. "Whoo!" he wheezed, "This is not fun!"

"Get up, you dumb shit, before the tank comes around!" Sergeant McKnight shouted, grabbing Deadhead by the collar as he ran by and hauling him to his feet.

"It's a tank now?"

"Yesiree, it is. That's why you need to GET UP!"

BOOM!

Half of the back wall of the room blew out as the remnants of a tank shell whizzed by overhead. The shockwave knocked McKnight and Deadhead to the floor. "C'mon! Get up!" Corporal Kindret yelled, as Selucis ran by up ahead, carrying a groaning Wolf over his shoulders.

Deadhead's vision was blurry, and McKnight wasn't moving, probably out cold. Something suddenly grabbed him by the collar hook and yanked him firmly into the next room. Looking up, he saw Gunnery Sergeant Calahan, and Staff Sergeant Thamus grabbing McKnight as well.

"COME ON! ON YOUR FEET!" Calahan bellowed, "The infantry are right behind us!"

Deadhead quickly stumbled to his feet, and Ben lifted McKnight over his own shoulders. They rushed out the front door of the house and into the street, where Ares was pushing the men down the manhole under the cover of a smokescreen.

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

Selucis yelped and spilled onto the floor. Wolf rolled off and howled in pain. He crawled up to the wall and sat up against it, drawing both his rifle and pistol, setting the latter on the floor beside him. Selucis stood back up, limping from a wound to his left calf.

"You get going, I'm bleeding like Hell, lucky if my...fucking femoral artery isn't cut."

"Fuck that, Wolf! Marines don't leave their own behind!"

"I'm dead, you're not. AGH!" Wolf coughed violently, spattering blood all over Selucis's armor. "You...you make up an excuse. They'll be shootin' you in the asses."

Selucis made to pick him back up. "YOU SON OF A BITCH, move off or I'll shoot where it hurts and doesn't hinder. I'm dying on my terms, and I'm not letting some overzealous corporal take that away from me!" he snarled.

Selucis paused for a few moments, then a tank shell blew apart the wall in front of them, showering them with splinters and wood dust. Standing up again, Selucis gave a quick salute and ran off into the street.

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

Selucis sprinted into the smoke screen toward the manhole, almost slamming into Ares and Calahan. "Selucis!" Ares shouted in surprise, "Where the fuck is Wolf?"

"Last tank round...went right through him...I'm...damn....lucky to be alive," he gasped.

Are groaned. "FUCK!" he yelled, "Get down there, now. Calahan, rearguard."

Calahan nodded. "I've still got a few surprises for situations like these."

When Ares went down the manhole, Calahan heard shots coming from the building. He watched it for a few seconds, then smiled beneath his visor, before climbing down and closing the manhole.

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

"Well, I had a good run," Sergeant Cody McGraw muttered to himself. A rebel came around the corner, who he promptly cut down with his rifle. One after another, a full squad followed suit. Finally, a grenade bounced around the corner. Wolf simply threw it back, and it exploded amongst the shocked cries of many men.

A rifle edged around the corner, along with a grenade. Wolf kicked the grenade away and then fired through the wall at the corner. The rifle fell to the floor, and the grenade exploded another two men, judging by the cries of pain.

CRASH!

The tank suddenly burst through the nearby wall in front of him, intent on crushing the wounded Marine. Not yet, Wolf thought. He grabed two greandes and struggled to his feet, grunting in pain. He quickly climbed aboard and crawled onto the turret, just as it slammed through the opposite wall he had been leaning against. Wolf drew his knife and jammed it against the hatch, using all his remaining strength to pry it open. He yanked the pin out of one grenade with his teeth, then dropped it inside before rolling off the side of the tank and slamming onto the ground. He yelled in pain.

The grenade exploded shortly after, and the tank screeched to a halt. Infantrymen began pouring out of the destroyed house. They put two rounds in Wolf's body for good measure, but he was lying facedown in a widening pool of blood. Senior Sergeant Grekov kicked the marines body, flipping it face-up. A spherical object dropped from the body's hand with a metallic ping.

Grekov's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout a warning to the others. "-!"

BOOM!
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CHAPTER XXXI

Below Verdun

Calahan slammed down the manhole and spun the locking wheel, then slid down the ladder, splashing into the sewage flowing by below. "Okay Jack, we've got to move fast, those bastards are right behind us," Ares said, "Most of the platoon's already going through. You bring up the rear."

"I've got a few surprises for them," Calahan said, flatly. He secretly smirked beneath his helmet.

"I'm sure you do," Ares went flat and crawled into the cramped tunnel, just behind PFC Barrett.

Calahan crouched, reaching into his vest pouches for his last two grenades. As he went prone and crawled in after Ares, he pulled out a small spool of extremely thin, nigh invisible wire. Calahan was the last to splash into the pool of sludge in the first sewage main. He waved Ares on and crouched next to the tunnel exit. Cutting a strand of the wire with his knife, he very carefully wrapped and knotted the strand around the safety lever that was attached to the side of the grenade. Sticking the grenade into the ferrocrete, just to the side and out of sight of the exit, he ran the wire across the hole, then wrapped it around a nail, which he then rammed into the floor, using his pistol butt as a hammer. Finally, Calahan pulled the pin from the grenade and carefully backed away. Once he was several feet away, he broke into a sprint, catching up to the platoon.

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

"Be fucking careful, boys. They've practically annihalated First Platoon," said Junior Lieutenant Heckterburgh, looking down the sewer shaft.

"Well, we ain't dumb shits like First Platoon. I'll go in first. Follow me," replied Senior Sergeant JeKanno, hopping onto the ladder and sliding down its length. The men of his section followed his example one after another. "They're probably headed back north. This way." JeKanno went prone and crawled into the extremely claustrophobic sewage tunnel that headed north.

One after another, the twenty-six men of JeKanno's section did the same. Jekanno could see that there was a larger chamber up ahead, probably a sewage main. JeKanno grabbed the sides of the tunnel exit and pulled himself out, head first. He hit something, like a spider web, followed shortly by a metallic ping! Looking to his left, JeKanno's eyes widened in the split second before his head was shredded by the fragments of the tripwire-rigged grenade.

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

Hearing the muffled explosion behind him, Calahan quietly giggled with glee beneath his helmet. He laid another trip-nade inside the tunnel he had just re-entered, hiding the grenade and nail-end of the tripwire in a small alcove that connected to a similar sewage line. Climbing back out, he followed the platoon to another sewer shaft, leading up to another manhole.

"Okay, I think we're about three blocks from our lines. We're gonna climb up here, then fight through the Coalition trench line to get back to ours. That'll shake 'em up a little," Ares said, "Third Squad, on point this time. Second, you've got the rear. Go."

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

PFC Irea had the shakes. Since Senior Sergeant JeKanno had been brutally killed by that dirty tripwire-grenade, Irea was extremely nervous about being the pointman. Irea crawled with his arms outstretched in front of him - if there was another trap, better his hands than his life.

There had been no more traps for the last few sewage lines, so Irea began to relax, the shakes beginning to subside. His heightened senses were so heightened that he barely heard the metallic ping! of the grenade's safety lever detatching. His outstretched arms didn't save him from a storm of deadly shrapnel in an enclosed space.

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

Calahan's head jerked toward the sewer line the explosion had come from. "They're close, that was my last surprise," he said. He and Ares grabbed their rifles, crouched, and took aim at the tunnel exit.

"Fucking move," Sergeant Allen growled at PFC Freeman, who was just starting to climb the ladder.

Ares's trigger finger twitched when a bloody body was shoved out of the tunnel and splashed into the muck, but he managed to hold fire. When a head appeared in the opening, both he and Calahan pegged it with two shots. It slumped to the floor with a soft groan, and was soon pushed out of the tunnel with the other body.

"Got a grenade" Calahan asked. Ares nodded and reached into a vest pouch, retrieving one and handing it to Calahan. "Cover me." Calahan stood up and carefully walked along the sides of the room, careful not to splash the water. Ares popped another head that appeared in the opening. Once it too was pushed out, Calahan swiftly tossed the grenade into the tunnel. There were sounds of a scuffle and sharp, alarmed cries, then the grenade went off and there was silence.

"Get going!" Ares urged, seeing that Sergeant Allen was nearly out.

Calahan quickly waded through the sewage and followed Ares up the ladder, finally returning to the surface.

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

"Sergeant Moreau says that they've taken fire about two blocks from here," Chief Sergeant Morrane, shouted over the roar of the APCs engines.

"I don't think they'd make a stand in the sewer system. It's too cramped for anything more than a squad. Grekov was sure it was an infantry unit, approximately platoon-size?" Sevantis asked.

"Yeah!"

"Okay. All drivers, hostiles are emerging approximately two blocks north! Unload infantry one block north and advance with extreme caution!"

"This is Vehicle Two, I see man-size targets at about that distance, over."

"Roger that. All vehicles, engage targets as you see them!"

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

"Squad leaders, make a quick head count. We all here?" Ares asked, walking toward the side of the road.

"First Squad i-"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

High-explosive shells began popping all over the road. Shell fragments bit into Ares and Calahan, the former crying out in pain and falling to the ground, the latter grunting and stumbling. Calahan grabbed Ares by the collar hook and began to quickly drag him towards Third Squad, crouched next to a wall lining the road. "Get moving!" he bellowed, "APCs incoming! Move fast!"
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CHAPTER XXXII

Justice Avenue

Calahan picked Ares up with both hands and dumped him to the point of throwing him over the waist-high wall. "Everyone, get in the buildings! NOW!" he bellowed, out loud and into the comm.

Almost as one, Third Squad stood up and climbed or mantled over the wall, then rushed inside the nearby half-ruined houses and apartment complexes.

"Smoke!" Alex, across the road with First Squad, ordered. Lance Corporal Padrino yanked one from his vest, ejecting the pin, and tossed it out into the street. When it popped a cloud of thick black smoke, First Squad followed Third, jumping over the wall as cannon shells thudded into the ground around them.

Second Squad followed Staff Sergeant Irick into a different building next door.

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

"Deploy infantry, NOW!" Captain Sevantis ordered. The four APCs halted. The infantry squads inside the rear compartments threw open the rear doors and spilled out, immediately heading for cover along the sides of the street.

"I've got them on the ground here, Captain," said Chief Sergeant Morrane's voice on the radio, "We'll move forward and clear them out. You keep the cover fire up with the APCs."

"Why can't we just drive up and pin 'em down right outside their hidey-holes, right now?" Sevantis asked.

"If they ain't SpecOps with plasmic explosive, then they're Marines. Marines carry a lot of anti-vehicle rockets in their infantry platoons."

"I see. Carry on."

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

"Fucking shit," Ben swore, "If those vehicles come up on us right now-"

"I know, Ben! Let me think!" Calahan shouted, losing his normal calm demeanor, "We've just got to keep moving to the rear. These buildings don't provide much cover, or obstruction, so we fucking gun it." Calahan gestured to the half-destroyed apartment complex they sheltered in - roofless, missing two walls, and a third wall crumbling, halfway blown-out. "Delta One, this is Five! Move north as fast as possible. We must break through the enemy lines and get in range of friendly anti-vehicle weapons! Units, respond!"

"Understood," said Irick on the comm.

"Under-" As Alex began to grumble his response, the half-destroyed wall of the building blew apart in a huge cloud of ferrocrete dust. Crying out in frustration and cursing, Calahan rose to a crouch and grabbed the nearest two motionless bodies - Ares and Alex, the latter of which had taken a sizeable chunk of anti-tank rocket to the back. "Delta One, up and MOVE! If you're alive, move! If you're wounded, crawl! If you can't crawl, get someone to carry you!"

Calahan threw Ares over his right shoulder and dragged Alex by the collar hook, running north, out of the ruined apartment building, as fast as he could under the weight. Around him, the Marines of First and Third Squads darted through the rubble, under the cover of the heavy dust cloud. Two of the standing Marines were hauling wounded men in a fireman's carry, and another dragged a half-dead comrade by the arm.

Crossing the next street and entering the next set of ruins, Calahan collapsed and dropped the wounded men from exhaustion. Out of nowhere, Sergeant Tewkes sprang into view. "Yeh ain't dead on me yet, are yeh, Boss?"

"No," Calahan grunted, panting for breath, "Help me out, grab Alex."

"Sure thing, Boss," Ape knelt down a put Alex into the ever-familiar fireman's carry. There was a shout from behind, causing Calahan to half-turn in a fraction of second, draw a pistol, and fire a bullet through the heart of a rebel soldier raising his rifle.

"Close one," Ape grunted.

"Not even," Calahan replied.

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

"Blasted goddamn dust!" Morrane cursed, kicking a chunk of the apartment building the Confederation Marines had only just vacated.

"I think we got a few of them with that rocket, Top," said Senior Sergeant Malkovich.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. They left a couple-three rifles," Malkovich replied, grinning. Another section leader dashed up to Morrane, panting and bending to his knees when he stopped.

"We're taking heavy casualties up there!" he gasped, "Porloren's section found them!"

"Finish them. We're close to the line, are we not?"

"Yes, Top," said Malkovich.

"Shit yes. Try to wrangle up some support from the frontline troops. We'll surround them and defeat them in detail."

"Yes, sir."

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

CDN Chimera

Admiral Barringer approached Minister Moxxin, who was stooped over a situation map of the system, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Second Fleet has finally taken up positions in the cordon," Barringer said, smiling, "The fleet is in Jump Formation. We are ready to begin, Mister Minister."

"Very well, Admiral Barringer. Carry on," Moxxin replied.

"Mister Minister, it would be much safer if you would take a shuttle to Admiral Culloden's flagship."

"I trust you enough to keep me safe, Admiral," Moxxin retorted, smirking.

"Very well, Mister Minister."

Admiral Barringer stepped up to the comm console, linked to the bridge of every ship in the fleet. "All hands, now hear this!" he started, "Two weeks the infantry pukes have held their shit together on Verdun - let's show them what we can do! All ships, synchronise and prepare for Jump in fifteen seconds..." Barringer ticked off the seconds out loud, "...three, two, one..."

More then one hundred ships, large and small, mixed the Extrium fuel with Heliu-3. The blue-flame exhaust of their engines lit up a bright white for several seconds, then faded to a perfect black in the same microsecond that a brilliantly-white, ship-wide portal emerged from the darkness of space. In the span of that microsecond in which the portal was sustained in the Plane of Reality, every single ship of Fifth Fleet vanished into their respective portals with a brief flash.
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CHAPTER XXXIII

Near Battlefield Boulevard

Calahan collapsed in the midst of a ruined building, dropping the still-unconcious Ares from his shoulders, panting desperately for breath. He spotted an armored sillouette rush by through the smoke. "OI! MARINE!" he bellowed, "Over here!"

The figure rushed over through the cloud and crouched next to him. "Gunny? That you?" asked the Marine - Corporal Tiduos.

"Yeah, I need some help. I've been running for three blocks with this brute on my back. Help me out," he panted, "And where the hell's your team, your squad?"

"No...erk...fuckin' idea, Boss," Tiduos answered, slinging Ares over his back.

"Alright, get going. I need to catch my breath." Tiduos nodded, then ran back into the cloud. Calahan took a few deep breaths, then got back to his feet. There was a small noise just at his feet that pierced through the din.

Oh!" Calahan said, in genuine surprise, "You're still here?" There was actual affection in his voice. "Come on, let's have some fun!"

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

Where the fuck am I? Aster asked himself in his mind. Looking side to side, he could only see shadows and indistinct shapes - some armored, some not. There were no landmarks, the buildings long since ruined by the thunder of the guns. All Aster could do was continue running forward, towards what he thought was the safety of friendly lines.

Suddenly, he came face-to-face with a Coalition soldier, running at him from what was probably their lines. Without thinking, Aster threw his rifle at the rebel, who had been raising his own, then rushed at him during the split-second distraction, drawing his knife. He was on him before the rebel could react, stabbing at him multiple times before moving on, then retrieving his rifle.

Running on, Aster finally emerged from the enormous smoke cloud, finding himself only meters fom the rear of the rebel trench line. Then two bullets smacked into his chest and he lost conciousness.

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

Calahan, darting through the ruins carefully, rifle raised, met the brunt of the oncoming rebel assault from the trench, facing three men in a short standoff. For several seconds none of them moved, only watching each other through the sights of their rifles. "Surrender! You're outnumbered, and dead if you move!" one shouted.

"Only by one," Calahan muttered, "SIC!"

There was a fierce snarl of anger, barely heard through the noise of battle, and suddenly a large cat smothered the face of the speaker, clawing at him. The other two rebels momentarily distracted in shock, Calahan promptly dropped both with one shot to the head each. Throwing the cat onto the ground and furiously groping for the pistol at his side, the Coalition soldier searched frantically for the Marine they had cornered.

He found him when a knife blade suddenly slipped through the skin on his back.

"NOBODY!" The knife stabbed again. "HURTS!" Again. "MY!" again. "CAT!" The knife sank into the back of the rebel's neck, severing the spine. The body dropped limply to the ground. The matte-black cat was already back on its feet and was at Calahan's side. He crouched, then started stroking it on the head. "Good boy!"

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

Ape and his team had somehow maintained cohesiveness during the mass chaos, and then somehow made it across the enemy trenches without being shot. Ape, despite the load of Alex's limp form on his back, managed to jump the gap of the friendly trench with a single bound, if barely. He was soon followed by Corporals McAllen and Kindret.

"Hold 'ere!" Ape ordered, dropping his load and directing Corporal McAllen to crouch behind what was left of a wall. "Suppressing fire! Keep the chaps covahed!"

Dean dove over the wall, bullets zipping and snagging behind him. "Tom and his team are comin'! I dunno about anyone else." he panted.

"Where's Manning?" Ape asked.

"I dun-"

"There he is!" McAllen shouted, pointing. "C'mon, kid! Move!"

"I'm com-"

SLAP!

Manning staggered a few steps forward, then collapsed face-first onto the ground.

"Shit!" McAllen shouted.

"Keep up the fire! Cover me!" Ape shouted.

"I got 'im!" Corporal Kindret suddenly shouted, appearing out of nowhere to mantle over the wall, leap over the trench, then sprint down the street toward the fallen Marine.

"That stupid son of a bitch! Covering fire!" Ape barked, firing.

Kindret crouched next to Manning and turned him over. shrugging off his pack. Ripping off Manning's chest plate with on hand, he dug through his pack with the other, retrieving a small machine with several tubes attached.

"Jesus Christ," Kindret muttered, seeing the chest wound over the right side of Manning's chest. He fumbled for the Marine's dog tags. "C'mon, c'mon...YES!" Kindret cheered, seeing that Manning's blood type was AB Negative. He took one tube, with a long needle at the end, and stabbed into where Manning's heart was, just below the wound. He slid another tube-needle udner the skin of his own arm, tapping into a vein. He activated the machine, siphoning his own blood into Manning's heart, and pumping it through his body.

"Yes! YES! YES! YE-"

SLAP!

A bullet ripped through the waek armor plating where the helmet met the neck. Kindret went flying onto his back, blood spurting from the wound. At that moment, Manning opened his eyes and breath frantically, revived. He looked over at Kindret's body, then at his own wound, which was bleeding profusely. He cried out in pain for almost a minute before he finally expired, again.

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

Dean stopped shooting and simply sat back against the crumbling wall, shivering inside his armor. "Jesus Holy Christ," he muttered, "That's a terrible way to go."

Suddenly, one of the army soldiers in the trench, jumped out, grabbed both bodies, and dragged them down into the friendly trench. But not before taking a bullet to the leg.

Marines began appearing out of the smoke cloud sporadically, running or limping as fast as they could for the safety of the trench line. Several were carrying the bodies of their comrades over their shoulders. Using up all of their ammo in the process, Ape and McAllen kept up the covering fire until no more Marines emerged from the cloud, and all of them were safe in a rally point position almost a block behind them. By that time, night was falling, and under the cover of darkness the three Marines retrieved the bodies of their comrades and retired to the rally point. Time to read the butcher's bill.
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CHAPTER XXXIV

Verdun Orbit

The weapons control officer of the CSS Broadsword leaned further back in his chair, momentarily stirred from the nap that had recently become part of his daily schedule. He groaned.

"Seriously, Alec," said the chief communications officer, "You shouldn't be napping while we're orbiting a war zone."

"Eh...not fuckin' much else for me to do," the WCO grunted, "Been what, two weeks? The Confeds ain't comin'."

"Yeah? Well, what if-"

"Captain, sensors read heavy electromagnetic activity, approximately seventeen clicks, bearing zero-eight-seven high," the sensory control officer cut in.

"How strong?" the captain asked, walking over to the console.

"Weak, but it's growing fast."

"Sound general quarters as a precaution. It's probably just an anomoly. Didn't we get readings from a pulsar in the Dog's Head Nebula a few days ago," the captain said to the XO.

"Nine days ago," said the XO, walking over to a console, "How long does it take for a pulsar to radiate in our direction?"

"Who knows?" the WCO said, "Can I keep relaxing?"

"I don't advise it," said the captain, "it might not be an-"

"Spike!" the SCO shouted, "Spike in activity!"

"No cause for alarm!" the captain said, "Just see how long it lasts."

"Count: nine seconds."

"Okay, that's a bit long for a pulsar emission. That's definitely something. Prep-"

The entire Confederation Fifth Fleet emerged from PlaneSpace in perfect unision. The entire bridge crew of the CSS Broadsword stared, eyes wide, mouths agape.

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

CDN Chimera

"Returning to Reality in three...two...one..." the navigation officer monotoned. There was a brief flash of brilliant white light, and suddenly the planet was in view, several dozen ships in orbit around it.

"Targets in view!" the WCO shouted, "Guns traversing! On target in seven seconds!"

"Fire when ready!" Captain Roriarth ordered, "Firing solution?"

"Fifty-two percent!"

"Fire, Rack One!"

"Firing!"

In a single second, every single one of the dozens of heavy gun turrets and long-range cannons covering the Confederation dreadnaught exploded with a soundless crack, launching projectiles between 550mm and 620mm in diameter through the vast space between the two fleets. A full second later, three hundred 200mm missiles shot toward the three nearest targets. Brief fireballs dotted the surface of the Broadsword before the cloud of missiles distentegrated her in a silent, enormous explosion, which promptly burned itself out in three seconds.

More Coalition ships followed suit. Three more vanished beneath the missile barrage, and even more to the full fury of Fifth Fleet's battleships. The remnants of the Coalition Fleet began to frantically manuever, attempting to escape the onslaught to the far side of the planet or PlaneSpace.

"Close distance! Don't let them get away!" Admiral Barringer roared, standing up and pointing for emphasis.

The Chimera and a dozen battleships accelerated, long-range guns blazing the entire time. Many shells struck home, blowing apart the blue-tinged engines of half a dozen more Coalition ships, sending them drifting, helplessly, in their orbit. The Chimera rapidly came alongside a drifting battleship, which foolishly opened fire in a futile final attempt at defiance. A massive volley from the Chimera's Broadside Guns ripped the battleship apart, sending chunks falling through Verdun's atmosphere like a cascade of flaming meteors.

"All ships, now hear this!" Barringer enthusiastically shouted into the comm, "Cruisers, continue to pursue the Coalition fleet! Carriers and capital ships, launch atmospheric air forces! That is all."

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

The F-24 Demon heavy bombers went first, sixteen twelve-plane squadrons swarming out of the airships like a hive of bees. They each split off, by squadron, heading for their designated stretch of the Verdun front.

"This is Victor One-Six. Objective in sight, over."

"Roger that, One-Six. You are authorized to engage with extreme prejudice. Yankee Six out."

"Victor One, this is One-Six. Let loose at your discretion!" the lead pilot let out a shrill shriek of glee - his native Y'kthali Yell - as he dropped his two hundred and twenty-thousand kilogram payload of conventional bombs, carpeting a one-thousand meter stretch of the Coalition trenches with explosives.

As he and his squadron pulled up and headed for home, two squadrons of F-21 Poltergeist fighter-bombers swooped in on their tail, dropping cluster munitions on the fleeing rabble scurrying across the wasteland below. On their tail, four squadrons of F-12 Condor fighters launched flurries of laser-guided air-to-ground missiles, which obliterated the Coalition trenches three streets back.

The spectacle was copied at every one-thousand meter stretch of the front. The Coalition Sixth and Eighth Armies were in full rout, worse than broken, demoralized, or shattered. The unleashed might of the Confederation was a terrible beast to behold, indeed.
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CHAPTER XXXV

Monument Hill, Verdun

Jack Calahan stabbed a syringe into a vein in his leg, releasing the large dose of Sorephine into his blood. He sighed in relief and sat down on the hill, looking out over the ruined wasteland. He took a cigar from the case in his pouch, lit it using his pocket lighter, and stuck in his mouth. He beckoned the matte-black cat over to him and it jumped into his lap. As he stroked it slowly, he noticed that his right glove was being stained black. "Oho!" Calahan said, "You're not black at all are you? You're...gray? Good enough for me."

Below, there was a groan. An arm covered with ripped camoflauge fatigues, illuminated by the orange glow of the fires burning across the landscape, rose. Calahan quickly grabbed his rifle, took aim, and fired.

"You ever gonna cut out that racket?" Gunnery Sergeant Tom Corrion asked, approaching.

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

"They gonna be all right?" asked Red, gesturing at the five unarmored bodies on the ground.

"Yeah, they'll be fine," Ares stuck a cigar in his mouth and lit up, "Cigar?"

"Why the hell not?" Red asked, chomping down on it and leaning forward. Ares gave him a light, and they both puffed smoke.

"Selucis and Aster'll take a while to pull through, though," said Ares.

"Well, we always make it through, don't we?"

Ares scowled. "Lee didn't. Dutch didn't."

"I...I..." Red stuttered, the cigar dropping from his mouth, "I-I know, mate. We've been around a long time. Sooner or later, something'll get ya."

"Almost got me a couple times."

"Yeah," Red reached up a hand to grab his cigar, then realized he didn't have it anymore, "Well fuck," he said, looking down at his feet, "Hurts me to waste a perfectly good cigar." Red bent over, picked it up, and stuck it in his mouth again. "Got a light?"

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

Fort Morvan

"It's almost dawn, sir," said Brigadier Wolfe, leaning on a ruined building wall and peering out at the horizon.

"Think they'll ever be able to rebuild?" General Magorian asked.

"They always rebuild," said General Bearing, leaned back in a chair, boot on a table, hand tapping his knee, "Ninth and Tenth Armies are landing now. They'll clean up what's left of the rebels. Once battle on Verdun is officially declared over, they'll move the civilians back in."

"Took 'em long enough. We didn't have much ammo left for anything, did we?" asked Magorian.

"We had nothing. I had the last of the depot stores handed out this morning," Bearing replied.

"Jesus," Magorian muttered, "Y'know, I'd kiss Admiral Barringer if it wasn't for the fact that he had two weeks to move his ass."

"Kiss a squid? Are you mad?" asked Brigadier Kilraen of the 82nd Division, chuckling.

"Ever heard of cabin fever?" asked Wolfe.

"Ah, there he is!" Bearing suddenly exclaimed, jumping up to speak to an approaching aide. He returned with a box cooler and tossed it on the table. "Drinks for everyone!"

"Punch me in the fucking face if I'm dreaming," said Kilraen, "Is General Bearing really telling me to have a drink?"

"I sure as hell am, Sam! Fuck me if I'm gonna let you boys go through two weeks of hell without so much as one drink."

"I wouldn't quite call this hell, sir, but it's close enough," said Wolfe, cracking open a beer.

"Well, some of us weren't on Rock Island," said Bearing. He raised his bottle into the air. "To the men!"

"To the men!"

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

Fort Morvan Field Hospital

Thought we'd forgotten about you?" asked Captain Ryan, a warm smile on his face.

"M-m-m-maybe," answered Sergeant "Lundy" Lundhorn.

"Not quite. Your platoon's pretty banged up. Hell, the whole FIST's pretty banged up."

"I hope they didn't get into trouble while I was gone. Who would save their asses?"

Ryan chuckled. "No worries, Sergeant. War's just about over. You can hear Fifth Fleet's jets every now and then."

"What the hell happened to m-m-me?" Lundy asked, "And what the hell is wrong with m-my M-M-M-Ms?"

"You got shot in the head, Lundy. It destroyed part of your brain. That's a speech impediment you're hearing."

Lundy attempted to push himself upright on the cot with his arms, but promptly fell back down. Ryan bent down and pulled him upright. "What the...?" Lundy muttered, "Why...why didn't I...?"

"The bullet destroyed much of your...er...postcentral gyro, wait gyrus. That's the hub of your sense of touch. You...you won't feel anything again, I'm afraid."

Lundy's mouth went agape. He stared into space for several seconds. "Helluva...helluva way to break it to a m-m-m-man."

"I'm sorry, I have to ask you this question. You are still fit for combat duty, but your injury is enough for you to take a medical discharge. Do you want to stay in the Corps, or take the discharge?" Ryan leaned over, close to Lundy's ear, "I've already asked for the papers to be written up," he whispered.

"I..."Lundy paused in thought for a few moments, "I'll...I'll stick around for a while longer."

Ryan jerked back, a look of genuine shock on his face. "What...why?"

"I haven't got a whole lot left back home, and I haven't got a whole lot m-m-more to lose staying here, do I?" he said, grinning.

"If...if that's your choice, then so be it. I'll have them cancel that discharge request, then."
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Preparing for the Second Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
CHAPTER XXXVI

Home, World

"It's practically over, sir," finished Ferdinand Arcivan, the Minister of War, "We destroyed two thirds of the rebel fleet over Verdun, as well as a sizeable chunk of their ground forces."

"Well then," President Whitehall said, standing up from his chair at the conference table. The rest of the Council and General Staff stood up with him. "I think this is the first war that we can truly say hinged upon a single battle. We - and the entire Confederation - owe the Heroes of Verdun a great debt."

"I'll make the arrangements, Mister President," said Bastwik Anderson, the Minister of Domestic Affairs, "I trust I will have the full cooperation of the General Staff?" Marshal Morrin nodded.

"Excellent," said Whitehall, "Y'know, I expected a war to last longer than two weeks, Marshal."

"You underestimate modern war's capacity for speed and destruction, sir. These are not the epic, 'romantic' struggles that the Great Wars of old were," said Morrin.

"Nevertheless, the political elements always remain the same," Whitehall straightened his tie and brushed imaginary dust from his lapel, "If you would excuse me, I have a statement to make."

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

"...And so, ladies and gentlemen, please give your warmest greetings to President Joseph Whitehall, President of the reunited Country Capital Confederation of Worlds!"

As Whitehall walked out onto the stage, the dozens of reporters in the House of Sovereigns Press Room gave him a resounding standing ovation, shaking the very foundations of the presidential residence. Whitehall stood at the podium and waved the mob into silence, smiling the entire time.

"Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen!" he began, lowering his arm back to the podium, "It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that Varrus O'Riley, leader of the Secessionist Coalition, has contacted our Confederation to begin the pursuit of peace! Even now, Katherine Morgan of Foreign Affairs meets with his delegation. We shall have reunification and peace!"

The room shook again with shouts and applause, waved down once more by the President.

"Please, please! Do not applaud for me! Five and a half years ago, this Confederation faced a crisis of similar prominence! While the Fourth Maxfrican Insurrection was not on the same destructive scale as a second true interplanetary war, it was nevertheless a turning point in my presidency and our Confederation's history. Since the Third Maxfrican Insurrection almost twenty years ago, we had taken a resentful stance against our military, due to the catastrophic losses of that terrible war. Once the violence returned with the Fourth Insurrection, the pendulum of popular support had already swung to that of a militant stance. After that Fourth Insurrection, the pendulum had swung once again.

"Not enough time passed between the Fourth Insurrection and this War of Secession for the pendulum to make its inevitable swing. As such, we were entirely unprepared for the trechery of the Secessionist Coalition. But I assure, we shall never be unprepared again!"

Whitehall paused for yet another round of cheers and applause.

"Thank you, thank you! But to continue what I was saying before, do not applaud me, or my administration. Applaud the heroes who shed their blood for our sake, for our peace, for our lives every day. After the Third Maxfrican Insurrection, we brought the battered soldiers who fought in those terrible battles back to Home. For the Heroes of Verdun, we will do the same honor! Save your applause, please, for when our soldiers come here, to Home, to recieve it!"

The room erupted in a frenzy of cheering and applause. Nevertheless, Whitehall continued to speak over it.

"This war, on and off Verdun, has caused destruction on a scale not seen since the Interplanetary War hundreds of years ago! We shall rebuild! We shall prosper! We shall push forward into the new dawn ahead! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, and good night!"

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

CTS Corporal Vance Cordonoff

"Any idea where we're going?" PFC Gibson asked Lance Corporal Erikson, watching the stars flash by the huge viewports on the promenade.

"No, I don't," Erikson replied, closing his open mouth, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"What?" Gibson asked, looking at his teammate.

"The stars going by. Never thought it possible to go so fast as to see them shine that way, that fast. It's the kind of sight you don't forget, like a wildfire burning through a forest, or a sunrise over a ruined city."

"I...I suppose," said Gibson.

"Well," Erikson tore his eyes away from the viewports, "I've got something to do, Gib. I'll see you around."

"I'll be here."

Erikson exited the promenade and headed for the company passenger hold. Laying down on his cot, he grabbed his datapad and set it on his stomach.

"Record message," he commanded, "Hey Kate, it's me, Lewis. I know I haven't sent you much in a while, but I've been a bit busy lately. You see..."

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

Jack Calahan lay his pad down on the desk and grabbed a container from a pouch in his vest. Opening it, he popped a handful of pills into his mouth and followed them up with a swig from the bottle next to his pad on the desk. He sighed softly after he swallowed, then picked up the pad and began scribbling on it again.

"That colonel..." he muttered, "Not quite as much a work of art as others, but still a masterpiece in itself. Right, Tom?"

He stroked the gray cat on his desk, and it purred softly.

HERE ENDS COMPILIATION IV: FINEST HOUR

FIRST PLATOON WILL RETURN IN PREQUEL I: CALL OF DUTY
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