He didn’t say it, but Watson and a few other troopers knew it. They were going for real combat. The call for action had been sounded and they were going to fight the Grigor. As the troop filed out, Watson called out, “King! Rider! Change your damn flight suits before somebody else notices.”
***
Space flight is long. There is something maddening when you force a creature used to something constantly changing environment into a constant environment. That’s what makes space flight so long. Everything is the same and nothing ever changes. Watson and his squad spent the time training. Simulated zero-gravity combat, virtual range, and tactical doctrine can only occupy the mind of killers for so long. Love affairs grew rampant among the squad. Bishop was jealous of King and Rider. The only time she saw Gunthix was in the hanger as he was testing and fine tuning his newest armor. Emotions came to a head one cycle as she ran into Charon’s quarters crying.
“I can’t stand it. Every time I see him,” started Bishop, “I break down crying. I wish he would either love me or tell me there is no love.” Charon shooed her in and had her sit down on the bunk. “You and Styx have known him longer than anyone I’ve met. Can he love?” Bishop placed her head in her hands. Charon sat down on the floor and remained silent for a few moments. After Bishop had slowed her sobbing, she began speaking slowly.
“Have you ever considered the outcome of both of you in love?” Bishop looked up with tear-filled eyes, shaking her head. “Imagine the pain that would happen if either of you got hurt. He is different and calculating.” Every word that was said pushed Bishop further down the well she had fallen, but it did make sense. She had seen Rider and King in the shower, promising one another eternity and that they would never let anything happen to one another. Bishop was stung with the realization that she might put Gunthix in danger.
Charon pulled her down into her lap and held her against her sobs. “If you want love,” whispered Charon, “you can find love. You need to be willing to accept the consequences.” Charon pulled her tighter against her chest. Bishop reached up with a hand gingerly. She looked up into Charon’s eyes, hoping to see something. They weren't empty like Gunthix's. Her deep blue eyes contrasted with his black. She thought about what was said. She thought about the other soldiers. Knight was different. She spread her love amongst the squad for anyone willing to share and return it. Maybe she could share her love and feel complete.
As they stared at one another, a blinking green light flooded the room and a low tone filled the silence. “Now hear this,” The tone was cut off by a voice. “All units are to report to their designated briefing rooms. Combat status has been raised and ship personnel are ordered to combat stations.” The voice ended, but the green light continued. Charon stood up with Bishop in her arms and set her down. “It’s time.” She said it simply and matter of fact.
***
Years of training and strict discipline insured that the squad was in the briefing room and seated within five minutes. Bishop had dried her tears long before she was in the room. Gunthix stood in the corner again, but he was alone. Charon and Styx were absent.
“Do you ever sit down, Gunthix?” asked Malloy.
“You saw me sit at the coronation, didn’t you?” he answered flatly.
“You were a bit drunk, Malloy,” chimed in Rider. “I think we all were a bit drunk.” A few others chuckled in agreement.
Hudson spoke, “Is there a specific reason why the major is always late?”
“Rank hath its privileges,” a voice sounded from the doorway. Major Leadly entered the room, followed by an old admiral and a young commander. The commander had a sour look on his face as if he had just graduated the academy. His eyes were red; he was obviously a Belthonian. Worse still; his skin was still tainted blue from the home system's star. Major Leadly stepped to the center of the room, “Troopers, this is High Admiral Kai and Commander Mars. The commander here is in charge of ground operations and the overall plan of this mission.” The troopers gave him an attentive nod as he took the place of the major while Watson internally questioned why a naval commander would be in charge of the army ground operations.
Commander Mars cleared his throat and placed on image of a planet on screen. “Troopers, thanks to tactical brilliance, carefully executed raids, and a bit of luck this planet is now a prime target for the Empire. Six full-cycles ago, this was a heavily guarded manufacturing depot for the entire Grigor military.” The image on screen flashed to several different images of construction yards, resource mines, and motor pools. “The planet now has no warships within immediate range. The goal of this assault is a smash and hold. We have multiple shock trooper deployments launching simultaneously with separate engagements. The battle group’s primary concern is a ring of ground based anti-orbital cannons.” The multicolored ball on screen turned flat black and several green shapes appeared. Several large dots glowed brightly along the equator with the largest one outlined in red. “This is your objective. It is the central control for the cannons as well as one of the largest manufacturing points for Grigor Main Battle Tanks.” The image flashed to a picture of a Grigor tank. The low, curved side connected to the top of the hull and was crowned with twin cannons. “You will be designated Smash Zero-One. Alpha and Beta squad will be Zero-Three and Zero-Five, respectfully, and will land on your flanks. However, it will be impossible for any form of assist from them and you will insert before the rest of the assault. Your objective is to disable the cannon’s power sources and secure the facility. Your insertion point will be a splash down, covered by long range volley aimed at the central military complex far north of your target. We anticipate that this complex is the primary communication center, and if successful; they will not be fully aware they are being attacked.” The image on screen zoomed to a small location in the ocean near a shore. A faint green line directed their path toward the target. It appeared to be a large, ancient fortress with high walls. In the center of the courtyard was a tower flanked by two massive cannons. “Questions?” the major added with a sharp tone.
“Estimated mission time until reinforcements?” asked Watson, the important question. “You will splash down one hour before the rest of the assault launches.” Commander Mars answered, “If the cannons are not offline within a six minutes of the deployment, casualties are estimated to be high.”
Knight examined the tactical data then asked, “It states that this is a combined complex and it has a motor pool. Are we expecting enemy armor?”
Commander Mars studied his data as if it was his first time hearing the question. “The last ships to leave were landing and assault craft,” he answered, “We aren’t anticipating a noticeable tank force.” A sigh of relief came from a few of the troopers. Seeing that there were no more questions, Commander Mars straightened up and motioned for the admiral.
“Troopers,” he spoke seriously, “I don’t need to understate the importance of your mission and the critical nature of it. I want to wish you all the best of luck.” He turned away and motioned for Commander Mars to follow him out of the room. Watson caught the glint of his shock trooper pin on the admiral. Strangely, Major Leadly stayed behind. “Styx and Charon are on separate assignments and will not be providing direct support for your mission. Anything else?”
Hudson stood up and spoke frankly, “Yes. Do we get to launch that tight-ass with us?” Everyone laughed. The Major looked at him, “No. He isn’t getting any combat stripes today unless you fail and the flagship gets hit. Now, I will be on my way. Drop is in one hour.”
***
An hour is a terrible amount of time before a drop. Anymore and they would be allowed time to drink, steal some rack, or enjoy another fruitless activity to get their mind off the mission. It doesn’t take long to gear up. They were ready in twenty minutes. The time they had left was used to wait in the hanger and stare at one another. Rider and King kept eying one another. Watson wished he would’ve had the time or some meaningless activity so he could
send them for some private time. No trooper knows when it is his last drop.
Malloy kept stretching in his new armor. Knight walked up to him, “I feel like a tin can. How much does this armor weigh?” A medical technician chased after her, attempting some last minute adjustments.
“The weight is carried by the armor, allowing you maximum flexibility, Sergeant,” answered the technician.
Patterson jumped up and down a few times. “That’s funny,” he remarked, “it doesn’t feel that much. Are you sure the gravity is lowered?” He knew it wasn’t. All the training had strengthened them immensely. Bishop felt along her left spaulder, tracing the symbol of the Lariot Program: an upside down triangle with a circle in the center.
Everyone silently studied Gunthix closely. His usual full piece armor was augmented on his calves, forearms, and chest. Attached to his back was a solid pack with a cannon tube tucked over it. His spaulders were larger, and his left one had his designation emblazoned on the front. No one had asked yet what it meant, but the cryptic ‘L-172’ was menacing. Bishop made a mental note took ask Charon next time she saw her.
Several technicians entered the room hauling crates behind them. Watson stepped up and took the data-pad from one. “Hudson, King. You are designated marksmen. Rider, Malloy. You are spotters. The rest of us get launchers.” The troops walked to the crate and picked up their weapons. Aside from the standard assault rifles, they were issued special weapons for something this big in the event that someone was wrong or they get bogged down. Bishop picked up the launcher and studied it. It was large, required two hands to target, and was magazine fed. It broke down in the middle so they could fold it and attach it to their back while moving. Rider and Malloy received grappling hook attachments for their rifles so they could scale the wall quickly to assist in providing cover. Gunthix walked up and picked up two launchers, folded them, and attached them beneath the cannon on his back. Bishop suddenly noticed that he wasn’t carrying machine pistols in his chest harness, but two assault rifles that were modified with shorter barrels and no stock to speak of. Watson cleared his throat, “All right troopers, time’s up.”
A technician ushered them to a wall in the hanger with very large suction tubes. Inside the tubes were drop pods. Bishop imagined the drop tube system like a conventional assault rifle. The pod goes up the tube into a modified cannon, and they are shot like a bullet. It was a fast, accurate, and terrifying way to deploy. Watson walked to the center tube, with another tube on each side. “Teams of three. First salvo will be me, Gunthix, and Patterson. Second salvo will be Hudson, Bishop, and Malloy. Final salvo will be Knight, King, and Rider. Load up.” The first three stepped into the tube and strapped in. A technician walked up to each pod and sealed the door. A terrifying clicking noise sounded as the pods were cranked up into the firing chamber. Bishop stepped into her pod and strapped in. The technician closed the door and Bishop was surrounded by darkness. The clicking sounded and she felt her pod being raised up. It was only her imagination, as this part of the ship was not affected by the artificial gravity. The third team followed as routine, except that Rider stole a kiss before getting into his pod. The whole team then waited, in silence and darkness.
Each member of the team had something different on their mind. Watson played the mission again over in his head and reminded himself that his team was the best and failure was not an option. Hudson thought about Commander Mars and tried to imagine a career in the military without fighting. Knight focused on several of the men in the outfit, promising herself to pleasure them after this. King and Rider thought about each other, touching the side of their pod hoping the other was doing the same. Malloy thought about home for the first time in a long time, remembering his family’s shop that he hoped to control when he got home. Patterson imagined himself as Gunthix and fantasized about what it would be to that strong. Bishop thought about Gunthix and Charon. Gunthix meditated, attempting to keep his mind away from his conversation with Scientist Cylos.
***
Scientist Cylos entered a large room with a small data pad in her hand. Scientist Rutle quickly approached her in an attempt to stop her progress. Scientist Cylos ended her powerful march at a large terminal connected to a covered cylinder. “What are you doing?” asked Scientist Rutle with anger. Scientist Cylos ignored him as she began working the controls. A console opened and extended a mechanical arm. She reached for it, but her hand was slapped away by her interrogator. “I won't have you sabotaging my project,” he sounded.
Scientist Cylos looked at him with intent eyes, “If you want it to work, you will need this.” She raised the data pad into his view.
“We don't even know if that is real,” he responded.
“I led the research team. I saw it with my eyes. I used this as the chief gene sample for Gunthix. If you don't think it is real, then why was I so successful?”
Scientist Rutle clinched his fist, “How do you expect my programming to work with the same gene sample as Gunthix? I want my own project and not a charity piece from you.” Scientist Cylos pressed a button on the data pad. The pad split in half with one of the halves containing a spike. She disconnected the spike and placed it on the arm. “When Guntha is reborn, the enemies of the throne will fall," Cylos spoke softly before turning to Rutle, "Let's just hope you are better than me. You are a programmer and I was a mother.” The arm retracted into the console.
V
An echo in their helmet sounded. “Smash Zero-One, prepare for deploy in one mike. Over”
Watson controlled his breathing for a moment then keyed his radio, “Roger that, Command. Smash Zero-One is ready. Over.”
He listened to the mechanism winding and twisting the pod and felt the terrifying effects of free-fall. “Smash Zero-One, prepare for launch in five.” Watson shook with fear for the first time in a long time. “Three.” Were they going to say one? “Launch.”
A sudden jerk negated any feeling of free-fall that Watson felt. He felt the straps doing their best to hold him to his seat, but the inertia fought equally well. The most terrifying attribute of his ordeal was that, aside from the initial launch, he coudn't hear anything. He keyed for his H.U.D. to activate. The darkness was illuminated by faint glow inside his helmet. He searched his data streams for how long he would have till he hit the atmosphere: another fifteen seconds. He mentally calmed himself and grew used to the feeling of being pushed against his straps.
Just as Watson grew accustomed, he was jerked back into his seat. He listened to the roar of the pod breaking through the atmosphere and imagined it engulfed in flames. His H.U.D. suddenly began flashing and it switched to a computerized view of his squad in flight. Everyone was now in the atmosphere, but Malloy’s pod was slightly damaged by the shock. He pulled up the technical data on his pod when another message flashed across his screen: ‘PREPARE FOR SPLASHDOWN.’ Before it had clicked in his head, another jerk rocked his pod and he felt gravity again. A final light bump told him he was at bottom.
Watson keyed a switched on the controls and a protective cover lowered down to form an airtight seal against the sensitive controls. After the covers where lowered, a single button remained. He pressed it and water began seeping into the pod. He disconnected his helmet from the cord connecting it to the pod, switched on his internal air supply, and waited for the water to fill the pod. Suddenly his helmet echoed with the frantic cry of Malloy, “Shit. Shit. My pod is fucked.”
Watson pulled up the technical data again on Malloy’s pod and called to him, “Calm down. Everything is fine. Your pod will only open from the outside.”
Watson’s pod was finally filled with ocean water and the door opened. He stepped out of the pod and viewed an entirely different world. A few curious creatures swam close to investigate the intruders of their secluded world. Watson shooed them away and started walking toward Malloy’s pod. “Troopers, rally on Malloy. Knight, get ready to do that egg-brain thing you do.” An echo of positive responses
filled his helmet as he switched his H.U.D. to give him a topographical view of his location with the location of his team as dots. Everyone had landed in a tight formation, they would be together shortly.
“Guys,” Malloy whined, “I’m not afraid of water but I am concerned about being stuck in a small place filling with water.” Knight began examining the door to the pod, pressing several buttons on a keypad for a few moments, and the door opened. Malloy exited without hesitation and collected himself.
“If that’s everything,” started Watson with a fatherly voice, “I do believe it is time to start moving.” No one disagreed. “OK, I want a wedge. Bishop on point. Combat spread. If you see something, don’t touch it. If something sees you, don’t piss it off. Move.”
***
It was a long walk underwater. Bishop got spooked by large fish a few times, but the march was uneventful otherwise. Watson had them crawl out of the surf to insure there were no patrols along the beach. The heat of the day pounded down on them as they ensured their landing was unnoticed. Watson pinpointed a small hill overlooking the fortress as their rally point and gave the command for the team to split into two groups and meet there.