Author: Johannes "Jergen[K]" Cruz			Viewing: Chapter 4

"Silver Hammer," Lody spoke into his radio, "this is Shogun, we are in position." "Roger Shogun," Saturn replied to his Executive Officer, "Silver Hammer out." "Silver Hammer," Briggs called over the net, "this is Night Train, we are in position." "Roger Night Train, Silver Hammer out," Saturn placed a second x on his map indicating his marines' positions. "Silver Hammer," Diablo signaled, "this is Archon, we are in position." "Roger Archon, Silver Hammer out," Saturn smiled as he placed the last marker on his tactical map. "One hour before schedule," he said while nodding to himself. Out at the two main positions first and second platoons were digging primary and secondary positions into the high ground. Although modern marine doctrine did not call for fixed positions very often, this would be necessary because of the defensive nature of their mission. Each position was supported by a secondary position, and that was again supported by the final rally point and defensive area. The plan was that when one line of fighting holes was breached, then a fluid retreat could be ordered to an even better interlocking set of fighting holes further up the hillsides. Then, the final positions would be utilized as evacuation points to areas further south on the outskirts of the city herself. "Dig Marines!" Staff Sergeant Raptor called out as he prowled amongst the ranks of his charges. "We ain't got all day!" The marines worked in pairs, both of them pulling the soil of the hillside out with their entrenching tools and piling it neatly in front of their position to help stop incoming fire. "I want these holes by the book!" Raptor droned on. "You cut 'em five feet down and don't forget the grenade sump ladies, 'cause they sure ain't gonna forget the grenades!" "Yes Staff Sergeant," the marines called out half in jest, half in motivation. "After that, I want range cards from each one of you," Raptor said as he stopped his patrol, his eyes scanning the nearby sea. "I want to know where you lowlifes think you should be shooting, and I’m gonna tell you were you will be shooting!" "Yes Staff Sergeant," the marines said, continuing their work. "Night Train, this is Shogun," Lody said into his radio. "The path is clear, I say again, the path is still clear." Both Diablo and Briggs breathed a short sigh of relief. They had all rushed the entire unit into position as quickly as possible because they had feared the enemy might be into position before they were ready. Now it appeared that they had won the race. The fortifications would be in place, and they might actually have a fighting chance when the time came. "Staff Sergeant Easy," Diablo called out down into the fortifications. "Report to me as soon as possible." Near the toiling marines Easy could be seen walking the line, encouraging his marines and shouting commands much in the same way his counterpart Raptor had done with first platoon, but his method of leadership was a little more gentle. Easy had been in quite a while longer than Raptor, and that razor edge had worn down during that time to a calculated method of leadership he was more comfortable with. He was every bit as hard as Raptor, but he preferred to treat his marines more like sons than subordinates. Turning from speaking with one of the newer faces of his platoon, Easy walked quickly up the hill to the waiting form of his Lieutenant. Declining to salute in the field for fear of possible snipers, he simply greeted the officer, "Yes sir?" "How are the fortifications coming along?" Diablo asked, letting his optics hang loosely around his neck. "They will be done within the hour sir," Easy said, pointing past where both of them were standing. "The secondary and tertiary positions are already dug out." "Good to hear it Staff Sergeant," Diablo said, scanning the horizon once again with his optics. "Let me know when we are ready so we can start deployment of the support teams." "Yes Sir," Easy said, turning back to the lines and rejoining his men. Meanwhile, far forward of the main Kindred fortifications, Lody was going over maps with his reconnaissance team. Each one of the four marines had unrolled maps of their own and were copying the waypoints their Captain had marked for them to follow. They would each go out alone and cover a different approach for when the enemy began their movement, and hopefully the coverage would be great enough to ensure that they would not be outflanked by the mercenary forces. "You each have forty minutes to reach your positions, radio back when you are set up and wait for further instructions," Lody said to them as he finished his brief. "Any questions?" Lody asked before they each left the forward command center. None of the marines responded, silence was consent. "Very well, good luck marines." Each of the marine scouts nodded to their captain and then moved to don their ghillie suits and combat packs for the quick trip out to their waypoints. Once in position they would be able to see for nearly six miles in every direction, and when the enemy did appear they would be able to direct fire from the Cheyenne dropships and the APC's main cannons as they saw fit. "Silver Hammer," Lody called into his field radio. "This is Shogun." "Go ahead Shogun," Saturn replied to him over the channel. "The package is away," Lody began, breaking the signal for a moment so that it would be more difficult to triangulate. "The view will be excellent within the hour." "Understood, Silver Hammer out," Saturn jotted a note on his maps, indicating that the reconnaissance elements were moving into their final positions. Well, at least the enemy was being accommodating and letting him get into position as well as he could. Lody settled in for the short wait and fired up his portable Intelligence Unit. The IU was a small computer that allowed him to store the positions of his men and friendly supported units, and it would also provide him of a real-time map once the action began. With it he would be able to coordinate his reconnaissance teams and get them into proper position as the battle moved around them. The only constant in battle was movement, and he had every intention of making sure none of those subtle or not so subtle shifts went unnoticed until it was too late. Back in the Command APC Saturn's computer picked up the IU's encrypted signal and began comparing data with it. Positions with newer timestamps replaced the older ones, and any tactical data one system was missing was replaced by the other so that both systems had identical maps with the most current data. Once the rounds started flying knowledge would be power, and the speed with which it was transferred could mean victory or defeat. *** Agent Smith strapped himself into the auxiliary copilot's seat of the black Cheyenne dropship they were using for the short trip to Alexandria. The short four-hour jump to the system had been almost too short for him to complete his report to the agency, but he had managed, barely. In the aft section of the dropship, where an APC would normally be loaded, the four specimens were waiting quietly. Normally the hold of the ship would have easily accommodated such a small group, but with the massive suits of armor each marine was equipped with and the large payload of weapons stored nearby, the quarters had become cramped. The four men stood motionless, each one strapped to the bulkheads of the ship, and stared blankly ahead during the descent. The suits of armor they each wore were marvels in themselves, each one increased the already large men's size by nearly two feet in height and at least twice that in normal breadth. Their bodies were completely encased in blackened steel plates underneath which power conduits and pressure-pads mummified their naked flesh. Each suit was painted with a woodland camouflage pattern stenciled across the major portions, and then personalized with a standard designating who each man was. Like the Knights of old, once a man was suited up it would be impossible to discern his identity through his helmet. The dropship started to vibrate as it began to make its way through the thermal turbulence of Alexandria on its way to her surface. The four men did not seem effected by the sudden motion, they simply waited. In the cockpit Agent Smith was laboriously going over some of the notes he had received from command the night before. He had memorized several names, and after that he had been given his usual briefing via hypnosis. He was not at all certain what he was to do, but when the time was right he would perform the duties to which he was assigned. For a moment he wondered what they had done with Jones, but that wasn't at all important given the scope of current operations. He and Jones had worked together for years, but the Network was the law, and because of that he could not afford to worry after his partner. The dropship shook violently again as it hit more thermal layers in the atmosphere, it was more than likely raining where they would be let out of the ship. 'Good,' Smith thought, 'It will provide us the stealth we need to get into position.' *** "Check his vital signs Mekh," Doctor Stewart called over the radio. Mekhazzio knelt down over the fallen marine and flipped a cover up on the front of his suit and peered at a small panel mounted over Aegis' chest. The panel monitored the host's breathing, heart rate and relative blood pressure, and transmitted that back into the ship's central computer, but it also displayed the information in easy to read LED lights in case of the ship's systems not being available. Each of the lights shone solid green. "His life support shows green on all counts," Mekhazzio replied, standing up and moving to the communications console. "Should we remove him from his suit?" "No Mekh," Evelyn said a few seconds later through static. "Leave him there, the suit is helping to keep him stable." Dachande fidgeted with his weapon, his eyes going to the hatch every few moments as he nervously paced the small area around his fallen friend. "What's the plan Mekh?" Dachande asked, clearly very worried about Aegis. "We are going to be picked up by Hummel's Dawn in less than half an hour," Mekhazzio responded, sitting near Aegis and keeping an eye on his life support monitor. "What about that thing out there?" Dachande motioned with his rifle towards the aft of the ship. "It might get Hummel's Dawn too." Mekhazzio didn't answer. He was once again shaking his head as he ran his fingers through the thick mop of dark hair on his head. He was simply at a loss for words as to what was going on. In less than five months he had seen the end of civilized humanity, not that it had that far to go considering the state of things in the Outer Rim and the Unified systems, the close of his pirating career, which he had loved dearly, and now he was loosing his ship to some alien thing that had decided to transform itself into a tick. Just as Mekh had decided to let himself slip into a state of unrecoverable depression the entire bridge was lit up with red lights as the navigational consoles pulsed with a yellow proximity warning. Mekh leapt to his feet and moved to his seat, "Get yourself strapped in Dach, and make sure Aegis doesn't get himself painted on a bulkhead!" Dachande quickly grabbed his friend by the H-harness attached to his suit and dragged him into his lap as he struggled to buckle them both into one of the crew seats. Shadow Dragon, still running on backup power, but alive enough to understand that it was in danger began speaking in it's soft voice: "Collision warning, impact in eleven seconds." "What's coming for us?" Dachande called out to Mekhazzio. "I don't know, only the passive sensors are active and they aren't showing anything," with this Mekh flipped several switches, his mind working over scenarios with inhuman understanding as he tried to control the situation. Then, over the ship's main communications relay, Eric Hummel began his broadcast, "Shadow Dragon, we are in close position and prepared to receive you." Mekhazzio hit his console hard with his fist, then clutched at his wounded hand, "Damn you Eric, we thought that thing was moving around again!" "I should have known I could sneak up on you," Eric said. "I didn't expect to set off a proximity warning though, what seems to be your problem?" Mekhazzio sat in silence for a moment, then replied: "The problem is that huge thing attached to my ship." "What thing attached to your ship?" Eric asked, his face finally appearing on the low-wave communications monitor with confusion plainly written across its features. *** "Silver Hammer," Lody called into his radio. "The rain has begun." "Roger Shogun," Saturn called out. "Silver Hammer out." Saturn immediately began transmitting orders down to the line to prepare for assault. He couldn’t see it, but he knew his orders were being relayed to the men, and each fighting hole was being quickly filled with their assigned marines and weapons were being readied for battle. Lightning cracked across the Alexandrine sky, followed by the rolling boom of thunder. The sound of massive raindrops striking the APC could clearly be heard inside the small compartment as Saturn swiveled his chair and peered over the map. Lody had begun updating the tactical data with the locations of the enemy units he had spotted on the move to their position. Outside on the hillside Briggs and Diablo were calling out the orders to their men, each one of the struggling to be heard over the thundering din of the storm that had come at them out of nowhere. Marines were settled in their fighting holes, each one of them aiming out over his respective field of fire and waiting to sight targets. Normally the rain would have been a detriment to them, but in this case it was a great boon as it obscured their position and would allow the enemy to get right into their massed lines of fire before they had to expose themselves with small arms shots. Luckily, the road the enemy was using ran between the two hills, and because they did not expect enemy resistance, they would remain on the hard-top as long as possible to maintain speed and stay out of the mud brought on by the thunderstorm. Had there been no weather to obscure their vision, the enemy would be able to spot the position, and possibly work to outflank them, but that was neatly taken care of by the current weather. Lance Corporal Jammin cursed at the rain as it found its way down the back of his rain gear and onto his dry neck. "Why can't rain ever be warm?" He mumbled to himself as he shifted in a futile attempt to stay dry. "Because God wants to piss you off," Drake, one of Jammin's fireteam members, said. "Actually," Jammin said with a smile, "I think God wants to piss on me." Drake just nodded and looked down the sights of his rifle, "I can't see anything out there." "Oh, that's okay," Jammin replied, looking over his shoulder at his friend. "You can't shoot anyway." "Silver Hammer, this is Raven," came a voice over Saturn's tactical command net. "Go ahead Raven," Saturn said into the communications receiver strapped over his throat. "We just picked up a Dropship signature to the West of the battlefield Sir," Lieutenant Raven said. "Understood Raven, get me a grid on the landing position so that I can get it on the map," Saturn replied, shifting his map-table to the southeast to view Raven's position. "What is the status of your combat ability in the weather?" "We can fire on solid coordinates or laser designation Sir," Raven replied. "Winds are high, but not that high." "Glad to hear it, Silver Hammer out," Saturn cut the link, then passed down the updated report to his platoon leaders and Lody at the reconnaissance position, relieved that they would be able to use the Cheyenne's firepower with the weather like it was. Now he would only be limited from using his APC turrets for heavy support, but he would still be able to rain missile patterns on the approaching formations. Rubbing his eyes, Saturn again faced his map and watched as the enemy formations moved closer to his own men. *** Smith stood from his seat and quickly exited the cabin of the dropship. The pilots and the single doctor that had dropped with them, remained behind to monitor the progress from the ship. Smith had few weapons, but what he did have was a reflective ghillie suit that would render him nearly invisible unless he moved violently. He took a moment to watch each of the specimens as they rose from their respective places in the hold and began strapping weapons and ammunition to their armored suits. Three of the four men carried modified pulse rifles under-slung on each of their right forearms. The weapons fired the same caseless ammunition as their more standard brothers, but were now belt-fed from a large pack each of them wore. The pack contained five thousand rounds in two separate cells of twenty-five hundred and provided the power needed to supplement the pulse action of the weapon. A small laser-designator was mounted on the weapon that was monitored by a HUD mounted in the armored helmet. With this system the shooter would always know where his rifle was aimed, and could pinpoint targets with ease. The HUD contained several other sensors as well, including a tracking device, a terrain map that would monitor position, and a highly encrypted communications device. Each man was in essence an armored fighting vehicle capable of carrying out large-scale operations independently or in a team. The only secondary weapon each of them carried aside from their rifles and fists, was a device greatly resembling a chainsaw. It had a blade along it much like a sword, but it was edged with hardened metal teeth that could chew through most alloys and armors used in modern combat. The need for standard melee weapons had faded over the years with more lethal weaponry, but the highly armored nature of this new type of infantry called for some manner of close-in support in the case that normal infantry could close with the armor and attempt to drag it down. Even though the armor made the wearer much stronger, it did not stop determined attackers from swamping the wearer, and thus a weapon had been devised that was not only terrifyingly deadly, but also psychologically daunting. It was believed that the mere sight of a seven foot tall armored warrior carrying a sword-shaped chainsaw would be enough to break most attacker's moral, and in the case it didn't, the weapon would be so effective as to make short work of any who sought to ambush the wielder. The fourth man carried the support firepower for the team. Under-slung on his right arm was a highly modified M56 Smart Gun. This new model, the M56A3, utilized a twin-barrel rotating system, and fired the higher-caliber 14mm explosive round. A feeder line ran from the rear of the weapon to a pack much like the one the other three men wore, except that it was larger to hold the higher caliber round. The pack also carried the secondary power unit used to drive the barrel motor and the advanced targeting computer that the weapon was slaved to. The firing computer, mounted firmly in the bottom portion of the pack, transmitted IIF signals to a system designed to identify friendly tracks in the weapon's range. These signals would then be locked out, and thus not engaged by the weapon in tight combat quarters when such identification can be critical. Carrying seven thousand rounds, an advanced targeting computer, and the power unit to fuel the entire package did have it's drawbacks. The weapons package was incredibly heavy, and unlike the modified pulse rifle, if the armored suit was damaged and lost partial power, it would become impossible to maneuver. Also, the support person would not be able to mount the additional weapons packages that his allies enjoyed in battle due to the size of the weapon and the supporting gear required to operate it. Lastly, the HUD was modified by the Smart Gun design through software to allow for the targeting system, and because of this the suit's tracking device was disabled when the slaved targeting device was active. The heavy gunner could use his tracking device, but doing so required that his primary weapon system be powered completely down before it would function properly. Because of this, it was doctrine that the other three marines cover their Heavy Weapons asset in tight formation to keep it clear of sniper fire and to aid in the case of weapons damage. Smith took the time to ensure he had several good shots of each armored subject as they prepared to step out into the field of battle for their first real test under fire. The technology that had been used to create these men, along with the technology they were using in battle, had been in design for years, and his agency was very curious to know what the effectiveness of this kind of unit would be. Most of the weapons and technologies these men were now using had been initially intended for synthetics, but it had been quickly deduced that synthetics were much to advanced to be expected to operate in combat situations with absolute obedience. In giving synthetics to much Artificial Intelligence the agencies had run into problems with obedience and general psychotic behavior. Thus, the projects had been deemed a failure, and the decision to arm synthetics was quickly put under the table. The synthetic mind was too fragile and prone to malfunction to entrust it with so much versatile firepower. Thus these weapon systems, much to heavy to be used by normal military contingents of unmodified humans, had been stockpiled for future use, and now they had found a suitable wielder. Agent Smith had to admit, outside of the desire to complete his mission, he was very curious to know what kind of performance he could expect from this unit. *** "What do you mean 'What thing?'" Mekhazzio said, looking at Eric on his monitor. "That thing is huge!" "Look Mekh," Eric said with a sigh. "I can tell your ship has had some damage, and you are not emitting any power signs from your engines, which I admit is a little strange, but there is nothing out here." Just then Mekhazzio felt his ship shudder as some of the power systems that had been overpowered by the alien vessel came back to life. Looking franticly at his monitors Mekh watched in astonishment as most of the sections of the ship were returning to normal. "Take a look for yourself," Eric said, patching his external sensor feeds directly to Mekhazzio's forward view. The alien vessel was gone. Shadow Dragon showed light signs of damage where it had attached itself, but the ship was fine other than that. "I don't understand," Mekhazzio said in a sigh, shaking his head. "Mekh," Dachande said weakly from his seat. "Something is wrong with Aegis." "I know something is wrong with," Mekhazzio stopped in mid-sentence as he turned around to face Dachande. Standing directly in front of him was a very conscious Aegis with his helmet removed and his eyes sweeping the bridge with a look of what could only be called wonder. "Aegis," Mekhazzio said softly, looking at the man incredulously. "Are you okay Corporal?" The man in front of Mekhazzio paused and looked at him for a long time before he said anything. "You are not of the same structure as this form," came from Aegis' mouth, but it was not his voice. The words were smooth, almost metallic, and rasped as if spoken from a machine instead of a man. It stepped closer to Mekhazzio, reaching out to touch him. "You are a construct." Mekhazzio stood stunned, staring at the being as he reached out and touched him with a single finger. "What the," Dachande began, causing Aegis to face him. "You are as of the same structure as this form," it turned from Mekhazzio and looked at Dachande for a moment, then continued: "I am an emissary, I am a voice for the many who would contact the few." Dachande didn't move at all as the being approached him. He thought about lifting his rifle, but could not manage to make his hands obey the command. Again the being turned and faced Mekhazzio, "We have restored your vessel, it will be used to bring me to the few that we may converse." Mekhazzio nodded a little, "Whatever you say." "Very well," the being spoke, "I shall now retire until the movement is complete." Before either of them could respond Aegis' body collapsed, unconscious, to the deck. *** Ban was screaming when he woke up. Both of his arms were being held at his sides by Diehard and CCrew and he was struggling to tear free of them when he finally stopped, his sweat-drenched body shaking from the exertion. "I think he's finally awake," Diehard said. "Thank god," CCrew mumbled. "Can you hear me Sergeant?" Ban nodded. He tried to pull one of his hands free from Diehard's grip but he was still held. "Are you really up this time?" Diehard asked him, looking down at him suspiciously. Ban noticed that he had a nasty bruise developing under his left eye and wondered if he had been the cause of it. "Yea," Ban croaked, his voice breaking with the word from overuse. He had obviously been yelling for some time. CCrew nodded and both marines let go of Ban's arms. Ban tried to sit up, but his stomach cramped with the effort and he laid back down. Reaching up to whipe his face he noticed that he had been crying. He pulled his fingers back and looked at them curiously. "When I came up here to find you," Diehard explained. "I found you in the corner crying your eyes out. When I tried to talk to you," Diehard shook his head and pointed to his eye. "You popped me pretty good." "Don't remember," Ban said. "Dream, I dreamt that you were killed, all of us were killed." CCrew shrugged, "Not by the looks of it Sergeant. Preacher is sending a medic over to have a look at you, and Doc is going to take over the watch so we can all stand down." Ban simply nodded, then looked around the infirmary. The desk as well as the chairs around it had all been overturned. His weapon holster was empty, but thankfully it didn't seem like he had fired any rounds from it in his delusions. Diehard looked at CCrew for a second, "I'm going aft to meet Preach." "Okay D," CCrew said. "I don't think the Sergeant will be any more trouble." Diehard nodded, slapped Ban on the back once, and left the room. "I'm going to get some water," CCrew said, turning to exit the infirmary. "Want anything?" Ban simply shook his head and laid back on the thin mattress of the sick-bed. His body was still shaking from the dream and bathed in so much sweat that he stunk from it. "What the hell is happening to me?" He whispered to himself, rubbing his temples in the hope that the headache there might disappear.