Battle Earth I

Chapter 2

“Thirty seconds!” shouted Rains into the intercom.

The Eagle FV assault copter soared across the treetops like a vulture to its prey. 5.45am and the sun was just rising from the trees in the distance. Rains rubbed his eyes, feeling the early start more than usual. As a navy pilot he was conditioned to early morning operations but since their new joint operations, the Commander was pushing them hard.

Behind the cockpit of the copter sat ten U.S. marines. They each wore the Universal Camouflage Pattern (UCP), which was worn by all U.S., European Union and Alliance of Asia forces, as well as a number of smaller members of the UEN, United Earth Nations. After World War 3 there had been a more determined attempt than ever to unify the major powers in the world. The world had not seen a war between major powers for sixty years.

“Another fine day in the Marine Corps,” said Captain Friday.

Mitch Taylor grinned at his second in command as he looked back out of the porthole. He could see the almost silhouettes of their other aircraft soaring along beside them, nine in his view alone. The Major led back in his seat and looked around at his HQ Squad to be sure they were ready. The side doors slid open.

“Let’s do this!” shouted Mitch.

The copter’s tail slung down as the vehicle came to an abrupt hover, the signal light turning green. Without wasting another moment the Major leapt from the door. It was a thirty-metre fall to the street below, close to the limits of their free fall boosters. They fired up within seconds of him feeling the open air, the auto-sensors doing their work.

Seconds later the ten marines hit the ground, their boosters ticking from the immense heat burn. They made a quick dash to the nearest building, not stopping to survey the terrain. They were more than familiar with their surroundings from endlessly studying the maps and intel of the area. Taylor knew it was only a training mission, but to treat it as anything but real combat could be detrimental to his soldiers in the future.

Suarez hit the wall beside him, peering around the corner into the street. The buildings were derelict but still perfectly serviceable for their purposes, one of the many reminders of what a world war could do.

“Where are the limey bastards?” asked Lieutenant Suarez.

Sergeant Silva knelt out in front of them behind a large piece of fallen concrete from a building that previously stood in their position. It was a hell of a temperature for a combat exercise. Each marine wore a minimum of sixty kilograms of gear. Body armour technology had got progressively better and lighter, but that just meant they wore more of it. The Falcon armour system gave coverage to most of their armour, except for inner joints and a few gaps.

“Guess it’s too much to hope for that they didn’t show up?” asked Silva.

“You can rely on the British bastards to be there, and they’ll give you a good kick in the nuts if they catch you napping,” said Taylor.

The Major looked around quickly surveying the situation, the one hundred and eighty strong marine unit had landed on target and in good time. It was a good start to what was becoming a gruelling day. It felt like they’d stepped out into the desert, of which the abandoned city of Reno was quickly becoming.

“Alright, let’s move up,” he ordered.

The throat mics added little weight to their payload but allowed them to stay in contact for up to thirty kilometres in open terrain. Looking around the empty streets there was little left to show that this had been a gambling hotspot of the state. Years of abandonment, followed by regular military training activities, had robbed it of any splendour. All that was left were the empty hulks of hotels, casinos and clubs, dust and sand filled.

They moved along quickly but cautiously through the eerily quiet streets, there were still the remnants of abandoned cars. Taylor looked around to see his teams pouring through the old city. They moved on three parallel streets, giving as much of a spread as they could manage. Up ahead he could make out the familiar shape of the former Cortez Casino which was their target.

The Major knelt down beside a rusted old car shell, it was so old that he couldn’t even begin to identify its model, beyond the barely visible Cadillac symbol on the trunk. He pulled out his Infopad from his webbing and flipped it open. It had an edge-to-edge display and touch screen control. The map of their location displayed from when he’d last looked at it. Suarez huddled down beside him, his body armour slamming harshly into the rusted frame of the car.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t like it, a hundred metres from the target and no sign of resistance or even lookouts, Sir.”

“Maybe they’re waiting inside as they’re supposed to?”

“Not a chance, Sir, they won’t give it to us easy.”

“Alpha and Delta swing wide, Bravo and Charlie down the centre with me!” Taylor ordered.

Taylor could just see a glimmer of movement out of the corner of his eye as his teams moved forward in the adjoining streets. Their task was simple, to take the casino building, secure two VIPs and neutralise any hostiles. However the reality was that they were facing a British parachute regiment platoon from the European Union Army (EUA). Despite having numerical superiority, they were going in blind.

“Move up!”

He got to his feet and continued forward at an almost jogging pace keeping his upper body hunched low. One of his men spasmed, he dropped to the floor unable to move.

“Contact!” shouted Taylor.

He looked over at his downed comrade. The devices they wore on their armour during training sent a small pulse through their gear when hit by simulated fire, it momentarily incapacitated the target. The weapons they used were running blanks with the training device fitted, meaning they could simulate both the atmosphere and audio of combat, but also the incapacitation.

Looking at his downed marine, Taylor felt a shiver run up his spine. He had been engaged in several minor conflicts and policing actions around the world, but never had the cause for a real war. Had that been for real, he’d just had lost a marine. He looked up at the casino from around the corner of a shop wall, talking to his team through the throat mics.

“Man down, suspected sniper in the Cortez building, Ortiz and Campbell into firing positions on the tower, everyone else stay low and keep watch!”

“We’re getting bogged down, Sir,” said Suarez.

“Nothing much we can do about that Lieutenant, we continue the approach and we risk substantial casualties.”

“And the longer we wait, Sir, the greater their chance of re-enforcement!”

He sighed, it was yet another far from ideal choice to be making, he was only glad he was not gambling on his men’s lives. He peered back around the corner of the shop wall to the tower block of the casino. He grasped his M56 Assault carbine close, a shortened version of the typical caseless ammunition rifle in use throughout the UEN forces. The 8.6mm round had an effective range of four hundred metres and substantial armour penetration for its size.

The training missions did not allow them to make use of their high explosive weapons, artillery or other such destructive means of warfare. However, that meant that it tested their individual combat skills and unit effectiveness to the limit.

“Ortiz and Campbell, continue to setup a firing position, everyone else continue forward.”

He jumped out from the shop wall and rushed to the next piece of cover, zigzagging in between rubble, walls and doorways. Their competition would be all too pleased to bag themselves the leading officer early on in the mission. They heard the crack of a weapon firing, quickly followed by one on their own side.

“That’s a kill,” said Ortiz down the intercom.

“Alright, let’s get this shit going! Alpha, first floor breach. Delta, second floor. Bravo and Charlie with me through the ground floor!”

He lifted his rifle and leapt out from cover, upping his pace to an excited dash for the Cortez building. His marines rushed alongside him, the low drum of combat boots droning across the open street. The rest of their equipment made little noise at all, it all being padded and dampened in order to make as little noise as possible. Taylor crashed into the outer wall to the side of the main entrance that was barred shut.

“Ready?”

The men all nodded.

“Breach!” shouted Taylor.

The marines beside him fitted direction charges either end of the doors in the approximate position of the hinges, stepping back quickly to cover from what they knew was coming. All the charges blew simultaneously and the door rocked under the pressure. Finally, with little to hold it in place, it collapsed inwards.

Taylor’s two units stormed through the open door as Alpha and Delta squads fired grappling guns up to the first and second floors. The high power rifle-like devices fired a metal anchor that impeded in the concrete wall and expanded within it, hoisting the user quickly upwards under power. He watched as the first few marines soared into the air and smashed through the upper windows.

As shards of glass dropped around him and slid off his helmet, Taylor rushed through the breach into the building. Gunfire rang out in the atrium as he entered the hazy room. Three of the marines of Bravo squad were on the floor and out of action. He looked around, looking for any sign of their enemy.

“Sentry gun, Sir,” said Silva.

“Christ, that wasn’t part of the training exercise,” Suarez said.

Taylor grinned as he let his rifle hang freely on its sling.

“If they made it easy for us then this would be no kind of training exercise at all would it, Lieutenant?”

“This is supposed to be a training exercise for hostage rescue against terrorist and dissident forces!”

“And what would you do when you face terrorists who have got their hands on this sort of equipment? No good whining like a bitch because the enemy aren’t playing your game. Get your shit together and act like a marine!”

Suarez looked down, partly in shame and partly in embarrassment. He had just been humiliated in front of half their company. Taylor looked around at his men, several were covering doorways and a stairway, the others were looking on having witnessed the grilling he’d given Suarez. Had he done it to one of them the room would be filled with laughter, but no one dared angering the Lieutenant. Despite this, they were all well entertained, and they’d have a good joke about it later that evening.

“Alpha, report,” said Taylor.

“We’re in, one casualty from a sensor mine, further devices secure and floor is clear, over.”

“Delta, report.”

“We’re in, no casualties, sweeping floor now, over.”

“Four casualties to their one and we’re only just through the door. These are unacceptable losses!” shouted Mitch.

He paced up and down the entrance hall of the casino building.

“It’s time to move forward, I want section sweeps of every floor. Keep an eye out for any mines, trip wires, sensor devices, traps, anything! These bastards are here to embarrass us and they’re doing a damn fine job, it’s time to hit back. Bravo and Charlie, up to the third floor, we advance section by section as we secure floors.”

The two officers followed on after their marine squads. Mitch knew it was a harsh thing to grill an officer in front of the men, but he also knew how vital it was that they were honed into the best fighting force they could be. Despite not having faced a major war, after hundreds of years of marine combat warfare, he knew it would not be long until their services were needed. Twenty minutes later they were on the eighth floor with no more incidents but neither any sign of their targets.

“Any sign of movement?”

“Motion scanners aren’t picking up anything at all, Sir,” Baker answered.

“Switch to thermal.”

Taylor paced up and down the large room. Many of the gambling tables were still strewn about the place with chips scattered across the floor. It was a sad state to see what was once a highly successful and profitable place.

“Sir, I am getting four readings.”

“Four? They’ve split up?” asked Suarez.

“Or they’re using diversions. Either way, we have wasted enough time, we need this extraction stat. Where are the readings coming from, Baker?”

“Looks like, opposite ends of the twelfth floor, north west corner of the fourteenth and south east of the fifteenth.”

“A bit scattered aren’t they?” asked Suarez.

“That’s the idea, they know we need to close this down in a solid time frame. Each of our platoons is only equal to their force, they are trying to even up the odds.”

He strolled quickly over to Baker and took the Mappad device from him, studying the readings carefully.

“Alright, Alpha and Bravo take the twelfth floor, Delta the fourteenth, Charlie you’re with me on the fifteenth. Remember these guys are slimy bastards, they’ll do anything to catch you out. Okay, that’ll be all, let’s do this!”

Taylor lifted his rifle as he rushed to the steps. He was at the front of the company alongside several of Charlie squad. The heat was still intoxicating, but the shade of the building at least alleviated some of the strain.

They reached the doorway to the fifteenth floor. The entrance was a double door swing system with small windows peering into the hallway. The higher floors were mostly used as a hotel, the fifteenth not being unique in that regard. Taylor carefully moved across the wall until he was beside the doors and peered through one of the windows. It looked onto a long corridor with dozens of doors leading to hotel rooms. Many of the doors were missing or open. He turned back to look at his unit.

“Right, we’ve got a hotel corridor, perfect spot for an ambush.”

Before he could continue the radio cut in.

“This is Alpha, no contact, heat signal was a hoax, over.”

They heard an explosion erupt in the floors below.

“This is Bravo, location was booby trapped with a paint bomb, Sir.”

“Any casualties?”

“No, Sir, but I guess half of us are out of this mission.”

“Send what’s left of your platoon to the fifteenth to re-enforce Charlie, over.”

Taylor peered back through the window. It was a peaceful if desolate scene, but he knew better. The British paras were giving them hell that day, and he knew the next step wouldn’t be any easier. He turned back to his men.

“Alright, this is likely it, we’ve taken heavy losses already, I want this finished! Ready on my mark,” he lifted his rifle into both hands and took a deep breath. “Go!”

Smashing his foot through the door he rushed in, taking a quick turn into the first doorway. He quickly scanned the room, it was empty. He turned back to see his men running along the corridor. Mitch rushed back out to see Charlie squad swarming through the rooms of the corridor. The radio cut back in.

“Sir, I’m getting different readings, I think they are interfering with our equipment,” said Baker.

Taylor watched as his men and the re-enforcements from Bravo squad cleared the floor. They’d been duped, there was nothing there.

“God damn it! I should have known. Fuck the equipment! Let’s use some common sense. If you were to hold up in a world class casino and hotel, where would you be?”

“In the penthouse, Sir,” said Silva.

“Exactly! Form up, Sergeant, we’re heading upstairs, let’s end this. Bravo, head to the roof and set up a breach for the penthouse suite, over.”

Taylor leapt into a swift stride towards the stairs. Another ten flights in full gear in the heat was gruelling, but the very idea of fatigue had gone from their minds, they were eager to even the odds and set the record straight.

Less that ten minutes later they were waiting outside the entrance to the penthouse. They knew it was the location they had been looking for, they only kicked themselves for not thinking of it earlier. Taylor made a mental note to rely as much on instinct as technology on the future. For all their hardware, they had been deceived.

“This is Bravo, we’re good to go.”

“All teams, prepare to breach in ten,” Taylor ordered.

He looked around to the dozens of marines waiting in the corridor. Several stood next to charges on the walls, others beside the main entrance next to him. All in they had four breach points.

“Three, two, one, breach!”

The explosive charges fired simultaneously and were loud enough that they could not even hear the shattering of glass on the outer of the building as Bravo team swung in from abseil lines. They rushed through the breaches. The residue from the explosions had created a dust and screen throughout the room. Even before Mitch’s foot was through the door the guns were blazing.

The ruined old furniture of the luxurious room had been stacked up in make shift defences, the paras really had made maximum use of their numbers and time. So many of the training exercises involved units who put little effort into their resistance, but that was not the case here. Six marines were dropped on the breach, though Mitch could see at least a few Brits fall as the intensity of their fire increased.

The penthouse was vast, as large as their entire company’s quarters on base. They had breached the open plan living and dining area, but there were several doorways leading to other rooms. As the fire continued, the marines were slowly advancing on the positions from both sides. Taylor held point for several of Charlie squad to head for the doorways to his left as he and Sergeant Silva went for the master bedroom.

The two marines slammed up against the wall either side of the door to the bedroom. Taylor looked at his Sergeant and nodded in readiness. Silva reached for the door handle slowly, before quickly ripping the door open. The Major rushed through the entrance with his rifle raised. Initially he could see no sign of life at all, until in his peripheral vision he just caught sight of fast movement. It was too late, a British officer grabbed for his rifle and twisted around until he held his weapon and locked against his chest. The defender was holding him from behind in a tight grasp with a knife at his throat.

Silva entered just a second too late, he raised his rifle to target the attacker but there was little he could do. From the other side of the entrance another Brit was pointing a handgun at the captured Major’s head.

“Hard luck, old boy, this day belongs to us,” said the officer.

“Nuts,” replied Taylor.

He lifted his offhand and dangled a pin, which had clearly just been drawn from a grenade on his chest rig.

“Oh, shit!” shouted the officer.

The room erupted into a blinding flash of light. The two British soldiers dropped to the ground stunned and disorientated, the two marines stood as if nothing had happened. Taylor stepped over the officer who was rubbing his eyes in a desperate attempt to regain his vision. He was just beginning to get some sight back as Mitch offered out his hand, which the man gladly took.

“Your boys don’t have flash protectors yet, Charlie? It’s an amazing piece of kit really, a liquified contact lens which increases vision abilities by ten percent while providing a barrier shield against extreme bursts of light.”

Taylor hauled him to his feet, a man who had quickly become a friend of over the last three years. Captain Charlie Jones of the British Parachute Regiment, EUA army. Jones shook his head, trying to stabilise his body and regain balance.

“That’s a hell of a way to regain control of a situation. It isn’t too sporting but if it gets the job done, well!”

“You didn’t exactly play it straight yourself, Captain, I lost a lot of men getting up here.”

He was glad of the challenge Jones had presented, but aware that had it been for real, they would have experienced far heavier casualties that he’d consider acceptable. The four men went from the bedroom and into the open plan vastness of the penthouse. The mission was over and both sides were hauling fallen comrades to their feet and patting each other on the back.

“What are the total losses, Lieutenant Suarez?”

“Twenty-one casualties, Sir.”

Taylor turned to Jones and reached out his hand, which Jones took gladly.

“Good job, Captain, a pleasure training with you once again. All I can say is that I hope we never come out on opposing sides, as it’d be a real meat grinder.”

“Agreed.”

One of the British soldiers stepped forward to Jones. “Sir, I am getting an urgent request from Commander Phillips to speak with you personally.”

“Patch it through to my comm.”

“Sir, this is Jones.”

The Captain strolled off to the corner of the room, away from the troops. The British and American equipment was largely the same, but what few differences were now masked by the dust that had settled on their gear, making them blend into the demolished room. The men mingled and the ambience grew as they broke out into conversation. Taylor and Suarez stood off to the side of the room watching the men switch from hard-line enemies to the best of friends.

“I am sorry I had to speak to you the way I did, but you must know that it was of the utmost importance. In the field these men rely on our strength and leadership, it is no time to act like a civilian.”

“I know, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do, you saw the loss of your friends. I know this was a simulation, but I know that you took it hard when you saw it, just as I did. The realisation that had it been for real that we would have just lost many of the men under our command is never an easy one, but it is one that we must accept. You can’t win a war without taking casualties, fretting over those already gone will only get more killed, got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I know you’re a good officer. You have a lot of potential. As long as you can learn to keep a cool head you’ll do fine.”

Jones strolled back across the room to where the two marine officers were stood.

“All okay, Captain?”

“Not sure. We are being called back to our EU bases immediately. Seems there has been some cause for major concern but nobody is discussing across the airwaves. Our bird has to be in the air within the hour. Sorry to have to leave so soon, Major, but orders are what they are.”

“Of course, thank you, Captain. It’s a shame we couldn’t catch a beer together to finish the day off, but next time.”

Jones quickly saluted, waited for Taylor to respond and then turned quickly back to the crowd of soldiers.

“Platoon! Outside, now!” he shouted.

The British paras quickly assembled and were running for the steps, their Captain at the front.

“Sir, I am getting orders to return to base immediately, the Colonel says it is a matter of urgency!” shouted Baker.

“Right, get the birds on the line, we need pickup, stat!”

Baker called in the signal as Taylor turned back to his men.

“Good work here today. We took higher casualties than are acceptable, but we were facing a bastard of an enemy! Next time I want twice as much effort and half as many casualties! We’re being pulled back to base on an emergency basis. I have no further information at this time, but I can only imagine the shit that’s about to be put before us. Back to the landing zone, now!”

It was less than ten minutes before they reached the point where they were dropped by the copters that morning. They had jogged the whole way back, yet again in the burning sun. It was a relief to see that the birds landing just as they were arriving. They wanted nothing more than to rest their feet and relax in the air-conditioned cabins.

The marines didn’t stop on their approach, running directly from the town into the Eagle FVs. It was an hour’s ride back to their base, a long haul to be left wondering what was so urgent that required their attention. Many wondered if they had finally been called into a war worthy of their services. There was as much excitement among the men as there was relief at lying back in their seats.

For most of the men it was a welcome break from their early morning mission, but not Major Taylor. He had never been called away in such an emergency before. The fact that their British counterparts had been withdrawn at that exact same moment made him highly suspicious. Something big was going on, he wasn’t sure whether to be excited or concerned.

As the copter soared back to base, never lifting more than a few hundred feet above the open plain, the Major got to his feet and went up to the cockpit. The Navy pilot flying the transport was Lieutenant Eddie Rains, a man who to look at lacked discipline. However, years of experience had taught Taylor that Rains was the best pilot he’d met. His ragged appearance and slack manner covered up his courage and abilities.

Rains wore a jumpsuit in the same camouflage pattern that the marines wore, though his sleeves were rolled up. He wore a tattered old desert colour shemagh around his neck. On his front was a shoulder holster that could only be described as a relic. His helmet was decorated with wise cracking quotes from his favourite historical figures. The pilot looked more he’d come from their nations first helicopter war in the 21 ^ st century.

“Hey, Sir, how’s it hangin’?” Rains asked.

“Good, Lieutenant, fine job on our drop and we appreciate the fast pickup.”

“I can take credit for the first, Sir, but the pickup was ordered in no uncertain terms.”

“Really?”

“You bet ya. Whatever they want you for, it’s big!”

“Any idea what that might be?”

“No, Sir. But the comms have been alive, whatever the news it’s mighty big and affects more than just the US of A.”

It was a long journey back to their base for the Major. He now knew that they were heading for big trouble, his imagination could not even begin to get close to the reality of it. A second after they had touched down, Taylor was on his feet and out the door. The landing zone was scattered with aircraft. Just as Rains had suggested, all units had been recalled. Most had already returned, the decks were almost empty. A single jeep was waiting for them with a Sergeant at the wheel.

“Guess we’re walking,” said Silva.

The driver stepped out from his vehicle and straight up to the officer, saluting quickly but not waiting to be greeted.

“Sir, I am Sergeant Gibbons. I have orders to take you immediately to an emergency assembly of all base officers.”

“What about my men?”

“Sir, they’ll have to figure it out. This order comes directly from General White.”

Taylor nodded. He was surprised at the sheer urgency of the situation, it was beginning to look as bad as he had imagined. Turning back to his men he could already see how pissed off they were at the thought of lugging their kit on foot back to their digs.

“Lieutenant Suarez, get the men back aboard the birds, drop our boys off on the battalion’s drill square.”

“Sir, that is strictly against base procedures.”

“Look around, Lieutenant, there’s no one around to give a shit. Get our boys back and put some food in their bellies, I’ll return when I can.”

He nodded over to the Sergeant who was waiting impatiently. He knew he could not be too stern with his officer, but also that the orders of a General gave him a lot of power. Taylor walked up to the jeep and placed his rifle in the back. He unclipped his armour and felt the immediate release and freedom of its encumbrance being removed.

The jeep was an open top vehicle with a roll cage, running a turbine engine which charged batteries that ran individual motors at each wheel. It was the standard utility of the Marine Corps, being light enough to be slung under their Eagle copters. Many were severely armoured, but not those used as run-arounds on the base or for special mission deployment.

Mitch climbed aboard the jeep and yawned as he sat down. It had been a hell of an early start and the heat was really getting to him. Without saying a word the Sergeant fired up the vehicle and sped off at an unusually fast velocity. The urgency at which Gibbons drove gave yet more indication to the severity of the situation. Taylor bounced ideas around his head about the cause of such drama. He could only think that a major Eastern power was causing trouble. They’d be the only ones capable of causing such concern.

The vehicle pulled up outside the briefing hall. Dozens of cars and jeeps were strewn about the parking lot, with the odd straggler arriving as they did. Taylor leapt from the vehicle and rushed to the door. He still wore his combat fatigues which were covered in dust and sweat patches. He’d never turn out anywhere on the base looking like that, but he had no choice.

Inside the hall he could see it was lined with all the senior officers on base at the time. There was no seating left, so he took up position at the back of the room. There were at least a hundred officers there. At the forefront was a table with three chairs laid out for the General and his staff. Moments later General White and two other senior officers entered the room. They wore their BDUs, meaning they had rushed to the briefing. The audience leapt to their feet as the base leaders sat before them.

“Thank you, Gentleman, be seated,” said General White.

The crowd quickly sat down remaining silent. Everyone present was very anxious to hear the news, and the General did not delay.

“Shortly before 0800 hours a distress signal was sent from an Ares colony ship. The message claimed that the base had come under attack by an unidentified enemy. Communication officers on the Moon were unable to regain contact with Ares or its vessels, and based on the contact, there are not expected to be any survivors.”

Whispers and comments began to arise across the room, becoming a drowning drone of conversation.

“Pipe down!” shouted White.

They all went silent again.

“Now, based on the information given, we have not been able to identify the attacking forces. The info did not correlate to any military forces that we are familiar with. The crew who sent the message suggested that the forces were not human. Now I don’t want anyone to jump to any conclusions. What is clear, is that an advanced enemy has viciously attacked a civilian colony. There are already ships on the way to investigate, but as you know, it’ll be months until they arrive.”

There was a hush, as no one knew how to take the news. The planet had become used to peace between major powers. A new threat as substantial as was being suggested came as a shock to them all.

“At the moment that is all we know. However, while we should not panic, we must take this threat seriously. Alert levels are being raised across the world and all military personnel are being ordered to base and brought up to combat readiness. For all we know this could be the work of terrorists, an eastern power or a private organisation. Until we know differently, stay calm and be ready. That’ll be all.”

The General left, but the information he had provided only wetted his audience’s appetite. The officers were eager for action, but were still trying to understand and interpret the meaning of what they had been told. Taylor was one of the first to leave. His driver and jeep were gone. He shook his head in surprise, but quickly took to a walking pace, there was nothing left to do but return to his unit.