Spoiler: The Short Way Down
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While the suits were built identically, each one of us had some customizations. Mine was the tallest of them all, some of the others had service patches prominently showing, and the most egregious soldiers had mixed some paints out of the environment and stored supplies to draw unit insignias over their hearts- a tradition which no one remembered the origin of when asked.
Of course, my suit was also half blackened by explosive scorching, though luckily the damage to the armour was mostly superficial. The truck shook around, but was otherwise totally silent as it rode over the rocky terrain, headed uphill. The radio communications were entirely silenced. The bright and chipper Viers had disappeared with the rest of the company’s cheer today, replaced by the cold, calculating, machine-like Lieutenant Viers, built for giving orders.
The adrenaline began to pump as the two trucks of soldiers slowed to a halt, exactly on schedule. Swiftly dismounting, the group broke into their squads and the squads into their fireteams. Up the hill, scarcely a few hundred metres from them was the enemy camp, dim light escaping into the starry night sky. With the lowest power direct communication, Viers monitored each of the soldiers on his tactical program, seeing exactly where everyone was.
My group of six ascended up the hill to a side fence of the enemy base. Equipment bag quietly jostling over my shoulder, I quietly approached to open an entry point. Beyond the fence was a large open area through which we’d have to pass undetected, then two enemy aerial craft- modified versions of civilian shuttlecraft with mounting points for significant firepower. Past that, several concrete buildings clearly appropriated from some industrial purpose to house military functions now.
With the fence open, the four infantrymen went ahead first. Bronson and I would await their all clear before progressing. I collected my bag and equipment, whilst waiting. Then I heard it- the clacking sound of a muffled bolt. I twisted my head up to see one of the infantrymen firing his near-silent gauss rifle at some distant insurgent. It wasn’t a good sign- the insurgents could have easily been equipped with tactical tracking equipment. Bronson and I passed through the fence.
“Are we clear to go?”
The infantry fireteam leader gripped my shoulder, shouting a whisper, “Go! There’s no way they didn’t notice that!”
Bronson and I sprinted through the enemy base toward the enemy aircraft. Via satellite imaging, we had selected a craft suitable for the mission. Scrambling through the equipment bag, Bronson pulled a ruck kit out and set to work on the electronics. Looking out through the base with night-vision, I saw the other fireteams progressing into the base, moving toward their objectives.
The blaring alarm siren was quickly followed by the distantly audible sound of rifle bolts and the radio communication reconnecting. Viers’ simple order was first over the radio, “All fireteams, this is Alpha Actual, weapons free, over.” Acknowledgements went all around, and the sound of insurgents yelling and returning fire with their ballistic weapons shortly followed. Bronson manipulated the door control for the craft with the ruck kit, causing the door to pop open.
Without delay, we stepped into the shuttle-turned-gunship built by the insurgents. I had trained to fly in a similar model of craft, it was a popular design, though this one seemed to have a fire control system glued to the control board. It was good enough to function, and a shoddy enough job that it could easily be co-opted with direct access. Bronson managed to swiftly wipe the pilot ID registration, allowing us access to the craft’s systems.
There we sat, waiting for the cue we needed to take off. An explosion rocked the base.
“Bang one.”
Another explosion vibrated through the ground, kicking dust from the rocky ground and shaking pebbles.
“Bang two.”
We sat in anticipation, waiting for the signal to take off. The signal which didn’t come.
Bronson looked at me, though the reflective visor hid her face, the confusion came through her voice, “Where’s bang three?”
I began to activate the engines, and the shuttle radio began to buzz as an automated system alert came through, “Lima Four, unauthorised takeoff procedure detected. Power down your engines.” Bronson scrambled, flicking switches to bring on the fire control, “We can’t take off without that autocannon destroyed! We’ll get shredded out of the sky!”
My teeth ground like a vice, “We’ve got a 20 mil’, we can wipe it out before it knows what’s going on.” Bronson powered on the targeting display and began to rotate the 20 millimeter autogun that was strapped onto the shuttle, testing its movement. A staticy voice came through the radio again, not automated, “Lima Four, cut your damn engines!”
The shuttle rattled as the engines pushed us up and over the insurgent compound. Bronson hastily searched for the enemy gun, scanning the landscape with the infrared optics. I flew steady, ready to try and evade the gun’s line of fire, but I knew that the shuttle couldn’t take more than one hit from anything bigger than a 30 millimetre gun. With the shuttle viewscreens, I could see the battle below, but we couldn’t provide air support to our team until we destroyed the autocannon.
Bronson’s manipulations of the controls were precise and deliberate. Though her speech was panicked, the same fear did not translate to her motor skills, as she aimed at the enemy autocannon. On her screen, I could see the autocannon facing directly toward us, ready to fire- but too slow. She pulled the trigger, unleashing a burst of 20 millimeter shells. On the screen, the target erupted in an explosion.
A few of the ground forces broke the radio rules and let out some cheers- Viers didn’t have the time to scold them, but they quickly returned to their firefights. Firefights that the shuttle would now end. “Alpha Actual, this is Alpha 1-4, ready to provide CAS, over.” Viers relieved voice came over the radio, “Alpha 1-4, this is Alpha Actual, designating a target at bearing 210 of our position, over.”
On the screen, a flashing infrared laser illuminated the enemy position. Without delay, Bronson aimed the gun and fired, annihilating the group of enemy infantrymen. They disappeared off the screen, replaced by an explosive flash. “Alpha 1-4, destroy the hostile landed shuttles, over.”
I pulled the stick, gently moving the shuttle over the airfield. On the ground, various insurgent pilots ran for their shuttles. They looked up at us, knowingly, seeing their fate. The vibration of the autogun through the deck shook into my body as I saw the enemy insurgents disappearing. Bronson switched to the rockets and began destroying shuttles. The thud of each explosion shook me, but a hidden feeling was there as well. Gratification. The enemy was being completely annihilated, and it made me feel good.
Bronson’s breath over the local radio was steady, my hands felt numb, and the vibrations of the shuttle no longer felt alien, but as though they were part of my own body. With the last landed shuttle destroyed, the enemy could no longer scramble any air support, and we were essentially invincible. Over the cockpit radio, the insurgent ground control panicked, “This is Unison Base! Need immediate support, repeat, need immediate reinforcements! We’re under-” A burst of fire annihilated the small communication shack where the insurgents were broadcasting radio signals from.
The battle didn’t last much longer than that. Many of the insurgents surrendered from that point. The base was seized, searched and the insurgents were taken prisoner. As we surveyed the landscape from above, I looked over at Bronson. Her suit completely hid her face and body, essentially sealing her from the world, but even without seeing her face, I could see her perfect calm.
“Alpha 1-4, this is Alpha Actual, land at the front gate, over.”
Stepping out from the shuttle, I saw a line of insurgents on their knees outside the base- the ones who surrendered. Their hands were behind their heads, and they were under watch by several infantrymen. An officer walked in front of them, his voice amplified so that they could all hear him, “You are now prisoners of war! You are no longer combatants and cannot be harmed unless you make it necessary!” Bronson tapped me on the shoulder, “Hey, good work out there.”
I scoffed, “Good work? You did all the shooting, I just held my stick.”
“Takes two to fly a shuttle.”
“Yeah, I suppose it does.”
After the enemy base had been cleared, we were instructed to take the shuttle as a “battlefield acquisition”, and had to transport some supposedly high-value cargo back to our temporary base. When it was all over, we had the debrief to go through. Captain Marak stood in the mess hall, a temporary screen set up, “Today’s operation was a huge success. We destroyed the enemy base and acquired valuable battlefield hardware. Most importantly, we believe that we’ve cut off enemy access to ORSSAF.” The mess hall was silent, everyone here- except me had lost some friends in the bombardment. I hadn’t spent any time at the Redan base, but I was certain that I would have made some friends there.
