'Roger that. Well, suppose I better start asking for volunteers.' Said Hoffmeister, making to get up.
'Make sure that they are volunteers. I don't want to take anyone who doesn't want to go. Not on this. I'm fed up with my people dying or being injured in a war that's not really ours.'
Hoffmeister nodded, then left the room, leaving Hotston to his thoughts.
#
Hotston had to hand it to Hamilton and his people, they were superb pilots. Hog 1 was zipping barely twenty feet above the moonlit ground. They were flying in a vee formation, Hotston and his people in Hog 1, Hog 2 and Hog 3 with Hog 4, Hog 5 and Hog 6 providing air support. Hog 1's flight was configured as Lynxes this time.
The Lynx Airborne Assault Hovership was a VTOL (Vertical Take Off and Landing) aircraft, the workhorse of the ECAF. Used by Airborne Cavalry, as well as units such as Air Offence Regiments, the Lynx fulfilled many roles, but its primary role was to get troops onto the ground as quickly as possible whilst providing support.
Hog 4's element was configured as Hellcats, gunship deployed in a support role, hunting down enemy units before they can engage the Hellcat's brothers-in-arms. All-in-all, they were every infantryman's nightmare. Even armoured units would think twice about engaging them. Still, they were dead in the air if the enemy's sensors picked them up and sent a couple of jets their way.
They hit some turbulence, Hog 1 bucking like a bronco for a couple of heart-stopping moments. Curses filled the interior, as well as the sound of someone vomiting, which brought about a mixture of even stronger curses as well as ribald laughter.
'iCaptain, we're two minutes out. Let your people know.' Said Hamilton softly. The door gunners also made hooking signs in the air. Any troops that had managed to fall asleep on the flight were roughly shaken awake, and there was a bustle of activity as his people hooked their drop-lines onto the bars set in the ceiling, checking and re-checking that they were secure.
In what seemed like no time at all, Hog 1 was suddenly braking, the nose tipping up as Hamilton killed its forward momentum. At the same time the floor opened beneath Hotston's feet. As soon as they were fully open, a DROP! DROP! DROP! Message appeared on his HUD. Stepping forward, heart in mouth, soon to be joined by his stomach, Hotston stepped out into the void.
The drop was mercifully short and he landed with a negligible impact, the reel in Hog 1 automatically slowing his descent. Other members of his squad landed around him and he chinned open his tacmap even as he unclipped and took a knee. From what he could see the entire platoon was boots on the ground and no injuries or hitches had been reported.
'Good hunting 49ers.' Hamilton's voice was broadcast on the entire platoon's comms channel. Hog 1 banked away, leading the aircraft back to base, part one of their mission accomplished.
'Okay people, move out. 2nd squad to take lead. Drones in the air.' Whilst he'd decided that bringing bots was unnecessary, mainly because it would have required even more craft to transport them, he had decided that it was essential for them to have drones. I just bloody hope they don't get picked up by enemy sensors.
#
'1st squad in position.'
'3nd squad in position.'
'2nd squad moving.' Hotston rose and slowly advanced towards the point in the enemy wire that they had decided they would enter by. They faced approximately twenty metres of mines. As they approached, Choudhury, the man on point started to mark them on the tacmap. From what he could tell they were a mixture of smart, and dumb. Stealthed suits should prevent the smart mines going off, and they were using their sensors to map a clear path past the dumb mines, which were a mixture of pressure-sensitive and proximity (smart meaning that the mines were able to identify their targets and decide on the best angle of attack). Still it was slow going and he wriggled his shoulders as sweat ran down between them.
'Guard in the tower 100 metres to your west. Hold.' Hotston and his people froze in mid-step, waiting for 3rd squad's go-ahead. 'Down, clear to move.' Letting out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding up until that point.
'Ground's mapped, follow the blue line.' Whispered Choudhry, even though he was speaking over a closed comms channel.
2nd squad quickly lined up and made their way through the channel marked by Choudhury, drawing up against him as he carefully applied an acid aerosol to the chain link fence. As soon as the hole was big enough, Choudhury was through, pushing on five metres into the enemy base, securing a small but important beachhead for them.
In no time they were all through the fence. Hotston was surprised that there was only the minefield and a single rather than double line of fencing, but as he looked around he saw signs that the base had been freshly, and quickly, constructed.
'Okay people,' said Hotston, resisting the urge to whisper himself, targets are marked. Let's see if we can't also find where the mech crews are sleeping. Be nice to make sure they take a very long nap.' At that, they rose as one, Choudhury leading the way once more.
Sticking to the shadows as best they could, they bounded across any open ground they couldn't go around as quickly as possible.
'Mechanic, 20 metres to 12 o'clock.' Choudhury whispered again as the enemy mechanic's position was marked on everyone's HUD, 'He's talking to someone.'
'Drone out.' That was Holster, who also seemed to have thought she needed to whisper. As soon as the drone was up it was marking targets. It appeared from the display that a number of mechanics were up for a late night game of Dama, an old Qatari game rather like draughts, but with completely different rules. Aside from the one that Choudhury had marked, the others were sat around oil barrels pressed into service as tables.
'Can't go around, that damned hangar has a clear view both ways. No way we can swing further out as it'll take us too far into militia-ground.' Hotston said as he scanned the tacmap. 'Split into sections. One, take the entrance to the left, two will take the one with the mechanic. Go on my say.'
Moving as quickly and quietly as he deemed safe, he led his section into position. The lone mechanic was still there, pulling hard on a vape pipe and then blowing out heavily scented vapour.
'One, ready.'
'Two, go.' Hotston straightened up and swiftly closed the distance to the mechanic. The battle suit configuration he'd settled for the insertion team used suppressed sub-machine guns on both suit arms. It meant that they would have to be closer than usual to the enemy before they killed them, but it also meant that they couldn't be tempted to engage enemy they really didn't need to. Not that that should have been a worry, but with the hammering they had received and the friends they had lost and seen severely injured, there was a feral nature in his people. They were hurting and wanted to dish some of the hurt back out.
The mechanic was completely unaware of their presence and died before he even knew what was happening. As his body slumped to the ground, Hotston stepped around the side of the hangar and into the light - and therefore full view of the game players. Not one of the mechanics stood a chance. More accustomed to fixing weapons rather than facing them, they froze. Some even started to raise their hands in surrender. It was too late. By that point both sections were opening fire and the mechanics died in a hail of gunfire.
'Clear.' The clock was against them. In five minutes the first of the enemy soldiers would be respawning and the alarm would be raised. No plan survives contact with the enemy Hotston ruefully thought.
'Hustle people.' He keyed the reload button on his SMGs and led his people out of the hangar at a jog. 'Three, we're having to move quickly. If you see any impediment to our advance or withdrawal, go weapons hot.'
'Roger that. Engaging marked targets.'
Enemies marked on the tacmap rapidly started to disappear as 3rd squad, equipped with long-barrel .50 cal sniper rifles made their presence felt. Hotston nearly tripped as a body tumbled to the ground from above, shot from a guard post on the building they were racing passed.
Up ahead, the mechs loomed above the airfield. Ther
e were no lights on them as there would be in the movies, allowing enemy troops to see them from miles away. Instead they were shrouded in camouflage netting, with stealth cloth placed over large parts of them, and their power-supplies also shrouded in heat-masking cloth. Counting them, he uttered a silent prayer of thanks as he saw that the entire platoon was present.
Just before the mechs buildings set around on a quadrangle marked the mech's base. Each one most likely housed the crews and mechanics of the four mechs. Outside of those buildings were numerous smaller structures, most likely holding things like tools, ammunition and sundry supplies. From what Hotston could see from the drone's feed, there was no mess hall, implying that the crews ate separately, for whatever reason. Parked on the quadrangle were a number of jeeps and an officer's staff car. That's got to be for the ace he thought.
'Three minutes. Set up on the mechs first, then if we have time we'll sweep through the crew barracks. I doubt they'll appreciate being sent to the reinforcement point.' Prior to deploying, it had been agreed that the squad would split into sections. Three soldiers of each section would set the charges, whilst the remaining two provided security. Once they had set their charge they would leapfrog the other section until all charges were set. Three minutes was cutting it tight, but the suits gave them a speed that no man could match, even if they would make more noise doing so. Still, with three minutes left on the clock before the entire base was alerted to them, that was a compromise he was willing to take.
'Windsor, make sure your people are locked in on the mechs. If we're unable to complete the task, we'll mark the ones you need to kill. The Janissary is the priority.' Windsor already knew that, but nerves were starting to set in, and he was desperate for his friend to get the extra lives.
'Roger that. All targets marked and targeted. They won't be going anywhere.'
Skidding to a halt, first section's demo team quickly set about placing their charges as second section sprinted past to the next mech. Hotston had decided to act as security. Doing so allowed him to face away from the demo team and keep an eye on the whole situation rather than focusing on the task at the hand. Situational awareness was key for him on any mission.
'One. Set.' A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he rose to follow his team mates as they raced to the third mech in the line, the Janissary.
'Two. Set. Second section was hot on their heels, passing them again to start work on the fourth.'
They were down to the last sixty seconds and Hotston forced himself to breath slowly, matching each breath with every passing second, keying himself up for the moment when the base's lights would blaze into life and all hell would break loose.
'One. Set!' His team fanned out around the base of the Janissary, weapons facing towards the mech crew barracks. They had ten seconds left.
'Two. Hold. Fucking thing won't prime.' Hotston closed his eyes in frustration. Unlike in true games, nothing was guaranteed to work in World Domination. Weapons jammed, shells didn't detonate, and explosives refused to be set.
'How many have you planted?'
'Four.'
The timer hit 0. Then started to count beyond. It hit -5 before sirens started to sound all over the base and lights flickered into harsh life, throwing light and darkness in equal measures.
'Enemy drones're up. Shit that's a lot!' Said Windsor, her words tense and clipped.
Lights started to come on in the mech crew barracks in front of them and Hotston made a snap judgement. 'On me, into and through the buildings. One, take the one in front and to the left. We'll take the right and rear. Meet at the opposite side.' He was up and jogging towards the barracks before he'd even finished talking. By the time he reached the flimsy temporary structure he was flying along. Tucking in his shoulder he barged straight into the building and a target-rich environment.
None of the enemy was even attempting to fight him. Most seemed stuck in the middle of getting dressed, whilst others looked as though they'd only just been booted out of bed. Not one appeared to know what to do in the face of Hotston and his battle suit. There was no time for mercy. Raising both arms, he opened fire with his SMGs, cutting the men and women down where they stood, striding through their corpses as he hunted down any that might have thought they could hide. It was a maelstrom of violence and by the time the rest of his section piled into the building, there wasn't another human left alive.
'Fuck me sir. Could have saved us some DPs!' joked Choudhury.
'I'm sure there's plenty more in the next building. Move.' He used the wide double doors at the front of the building rather than smashing through another wall. There was a time and place for showcasing.
Men and women were pouring out of the last building, sprinting as quickly for the mechs as their un-augmented limbs could carry them. It wasn't fast enough. A hail of bullets tore into them, ripping them to pieces in the space of seconds. Looking towards where two section were, Hotston smiled as he saw them come bursting out of the double doors. A yellowish dancing light showed that at least one fire had been set.
'One clear!'
'Two clear!'
Hotston felt giddy with relief. Even whilst enemy units were racing towards them, they'd managed to obliterate an entire enemy mech platoon without - thus far - taking any casualties. Granted they'd be respawning within the next five minutes, but the slight on their honour and the loss of their mechs would be a severe psychological blow.
'Hottie, move. You've got a lot of LAVs headed your way. Fast and dumb, but they're going to play smart as soon as they see where you are.' Said Windsor.
Without another word Hotston turned and sprinted for the hole in the wire.
#
Windsor felt a knot in her stomach as her commanding officer and best friend raced towards the hole in the wire. Situated on a slight rise nearly 300 metres away from the base, her squad had good all over sight of the base. The sheer number of enemy drones zipping around also worried her. Hopefully their stealthed suits would keep them hidden, but if they needed to open fire, the weapons they were using would easily give away their position.
'Bollocks to this,' As fast as Hotston and his people were moving, they weren't moving fast enough and there was a whole swarm of combat drones closing in on them, 'Time to even the odds a little. First section, get an EMP drone amongst those closest to the CO. We're going to engage the quick reaction force. Slow them down a bit.'
Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out before holding it. As soon as she was settled, she fired her battle suit's main weapon, a 20mm railgun capable of 10 rounds a minute. The routing wasn't necessary, her suit ensuring that her aim was always spot on, but it had been drilled into her in basic and was good practice for when she wouldn't be in such a suit. With a massive flash, and a loud boom, the railgun fired. Light and sound had barely disappeared before the round had travelled the 600 metres or so, punched through the front armour, then the engine block and finally through into the crew compartment of the lead LAV.
'Well, that's disappointing,' she said as, aside from a flash on the armour at the point of impact, the LAV died with a whimper.
A chorus of 'Firing' filled her ears as the rest of the squad sent projectiles hurtling through the air. All hit, as she'd known they would. These were the best shots in the company, and also had the coolest heads. A couple of the LAVs died in a much more satisfactory way, ripped apart by explosions, or bursting into flame and then being ripped apart by explosion. The rest of the QRF scattered, trying to place buildings between them and where they thought the incoming fire was originating from.
'EMP drone worked, the CO's clear and hustling. We're moving to support point bravo.' Comm'd squad three's leader.
'Roger that squad two is ...' There was a blinding flash, a wave of heat, sharp stabbing pains in her face, then darkness.
#
'Repeat, need urgent extraction!' Hotston practically screamed into his mic. He knew that Hamilton was doing his best to get to them, but the fact that the t
wo squadrons of enemy fighters had scrambled in order to prevent valuable aircraft from being destroyed meant that he was having to take a much more cautious, and therefore slower approach. Knowing that didn't help.
'Hottie, they're coming aren't they?' Gasped Windsor, her voice thick with pain. An inferno shell from one of the surviving QRF LAVs had landed right in the middle of her platoon, killing four members and wounding all of the others. Windsor had, from what he could tell, lost her eyes.
'They're coming, they're coming.' He patted her hand, grimacing at the sight of his armour buckling under her immense grip, 'Best you loosen that grip though eh?' He smiled, trying to make his voice light. It was nigh on impossible. Seeing his friend so horribly injured, the mission parameters specifying that not only must the enemy mechs have been destroyed, but that the commandos be well and truly aboard their evac craft meant that she was still on her 49th life. Not that he could ever face triaging her no matter how many lives she had left.
'Hog 1 to Hotston, ETA thirty seconds, let me see you.' Hamilton's calm, almost casual tone, in response to his admittedly stressed previous communication made Hotston's face heat momentarily with embarrassment.
'Roger that. Marking now.' He chinned his strobe command. In reality it wasn't actually a light, but a pulse of code that would show up on all friendly aircraft. As the sound of the incoming Lynxes finally reached him, he held his friend's hand and gave her what comfort he could.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
'Sir, I've got something strange.' Hotston, tired beyond anything he'd ever experienced before, closed his eyes in frustration. He'd just come from washing his best friend's blood off his hands after seeing her into surgery, and was still wired from the mission.
'Something strange, is not the best way to report an anomaly is it corporal?' he snapped, taking guilty pleasure in the way the man flinched at his tone. He was so tired that he couldn't even tell if he was speaking to a 'script or a real human being. At moment, he really didn't care.
Devon's Demons: A Permadeath LitRPG LitFPS Novel Page 14
