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  FORMALITIES AND BATTLE PLANS

  Three fireteams on the roofs, ten more teams on street-level to assault from the ground and make their way up.

  That had been the original plan.

  Instead, they had one full fireteam in the form of Javelin, two thirds of one with Jaeger, with the rest all being stragglers who got cut off from their teams or had lost them. Raines was the last survivor of hers, while Crivello and Saberi didn’t know where their squad were or what had happened to them.

  Jackson, Crivello, Raines, Heermann, Saberi and the three Concordians.

  Eight Skydivers.

  Against an objective that’d been ordered to be taken by almost forty.

  Yet, no opposition came from anybody. Javelin had immediately agreed to the plan. Raines gave no complaints either. Saberi remained quiet, simply grunting his agreement to what Crivello had proposed. Heermann posed no opposition either.

  And of course, Jackson didn’t mind as well.

  This was their job. Get the impossible done.

  And thusly, the plan that Crivello had cooked up would be put in motion:

  Javelin would take the north-eastern tower; it was the largest of the Tango Triangle and would very likely pose the most opposition. For this, the team were assigned disposable anti-tank launchers from the pile inside the outpost.

  Mainly to be used against any enforcers that came their way.

  Crivello and Raines would take the north-western tower, with Raines’ anti-material rifle making short work of any heavier resistance. It was also the tower they had the least intel on – not that they had that much intel on any of the towers to begin with – so Crivello took up responsibility of handling what could be the most dangerous one.

  That left the southern tower of the triangular complex to Jackson and Heermann. It was the smallest of the three but also had direct line-of-sight to the outpost, meaning it and its occupants were likely already alerted.

  Then again, all three skyscrapers were probably on high alert at this point.

  For that, the two of them were handed a disposable anti-tank launcher each, as well as a few more plastic-explosives and grenades.

  The only benefit of the southern tower’s position was the fact that Saberi could also provide some assistance with a mounted grenade-launcher and mortar that the Skydivers had found on the pile of SDF materiel.

  The PFC would take position on one of the nearby roofs, setting up mortar and Mk29.

  The Mk29 was self-explanatory: an automatic belt-fed grenade launcher, set up on a tripod firing anti-personnel rounds. From a heightened position, it should be able to easily hit the higher stories of the towers.

  The mortar on the other hand, was a different story.

  The M551 was mostly automated, allowing for a single soldier to fulfil a role that back in the day would’ve required an entire mortar-team. It featured enhanced targeting systems, AI assistance, an autoloader and treads for self-propulsion, meaning that technically speaking, a shooter wouldn’t even have to be close to the gun to use it.

  So even if Jackson and Heermann were themselves in shorter supplies of heavy weapons, Saberi could make up for that from his position.

  With all the pieces in place, came the actual plan: Saberi would open up by hitting the three roofs with a couple of barrages from the mortar. Ranging, as well as intel of the city’s layout should enable the private to make accurate hits.

  Destruction was secondary, it was mainly to suppress their enemy and disorient them. For all they knew, the anti-air guns had already relocated or otherwise hardened.

  The three teams would then use this distraction to breach the towers and make their way upstairs. Clearing individual floors, especially if they featured enemy artillery, was on the list, but top priority was to reach the roofs as fast as possible and confirm Saberi’s hits.

  If anything up there was still standing, the Skydivers would either call in another barrage from the private, demolish whatever was left with explosive charges, or appropriate whatever they could.

  As Crivello had called it, ‘Snatch or Scratch’.

  From then on, it would follow the original plan they’d been told up in orbit. The Skydivers would deploy flares from their position to signify that the threat had been taken out.

  The team had already taken note of a few such flares appearing on the horizon… but not nearly enough.

  With some luck though, the other scattered Skydivers were also aiming for the upcoming window from the Strike-Force. Though it wasn’t they had much of a choice.

  They only had a few hours of night left.

  The morning sun would soon rise and with it would disappear any chance for the Strike Force to land unopposed. The early morning hours were the absolute latest they could signal for the troops to land.

  By sunrise the invasion-force was either coming down to the planet, or the landing was scrapped.

  So, before the last window would close, the fleet would send down an automated drone to make visual contact of the city and its situation. If enough key locations were secured, then they’d give the all-clear to the Marines.

  If not… well, then the Skydivers – or whatever was left of them – had a long few days ahead of them. Then again, knowing the tenacity of the typical Skycorps Trooper, Jackson was sure that many of them would simply accept that they’d have to take the planet by themselves and jump to it.

  For now, though, all they could do was wait. Saberi had set off with the mortar and would chime in to let the others know when to get in position for the fireworks. While they waited, the team had scurried into one of the abandoned buildings, out of the rain and darkness outside.

  It had net them about as much cover as a half-burnt apartment could offer. The story behind the fire had likely been a mundane one: somebody had left the oven on during the occupation, perhaps after being snatched, or after fleeing. There were no signs of fighting, and the building didn’t feature anything else that would’ve made it tactically important enough to raze.

  Either way, a good part of the complex had burnt down, leaving behind ruins in its wake.

  But, it’d been the quickest cover they could grab until the action would start again. The troopers were only settling in for a couple of minutes anyway.

  The addition of an electric lamp at least allowed them to rest their eyes from the constant NVG usage.

  Still, the waiting left all of them with a rather unpleasant and awkward silence.

  The best Jackson had come up with, was to fiddle with Langstrom’s dog-tags, eying them over from each angle he could imagine. From a certain angle, he could’ve argued that the kid’s corpse turning up at the outpost carried at least a small blessing with it. IT wouldn’t do him much good, but Jackson could keep his side of the promise and collect from the dead.

  Mirko was the first to speak up with a question, having seemingly enough of the white noise that filled everyone’s ears: “We sure Saberi will be able to get the job done?”

  “The kid might be hit, but as far as I see it, he now has one more reason to kill the enemy” Crivello’s attitude on assigning the private to his position on Mortar and grenade launcher remained steadily relaxed.

  Raines, on the other hand, evidently didn’t see eye-to-eye with the sergeant: “Yeah, and as far as I see it, he now has one more reason to whiff his shots. Shots that’ll be danger-fucking-close to us. Sarge, you do realize lack of depth-perception is a thing?!”

  “Your complaint has been noted specialist. Is there anything else you want to bother me with?”

  Once again, Raines managed to shoot daggers out of her eyes… but left it at that. Sharp tongue or not, the specialist didn’t seem willing to challenge Crivello over his decision.

  Heermann for his part seemed to become more and more twitchy, twiddling with his gun to a degree that even Jackson was getting annoyed at it.

  And for once, it seemed as if the German Colonial didn’t have to have it spelled out for him.

  Noticing the multitude of eyes piercing into him, Fred explained himself: “It’s the damn waiting Patrick. You know I always get nervous… it’s that… that” Heermann mumbled something in German, trying to find the right words. “Damn language… how do you call it? That ‘Calm before the Storm’? I hate it. Makes me want to…” Heermann continued to gesticulate an ‘explosion’ of kind.

  Or maybe an eruption? Jackson was never to impressed with the theatrical skills of his teammate.

  “You always this erratic before the action?”

  Jackson spoke up here, answering Mirko’s question succinctly: “It’s only when he’s got time to think about it and play up his own nerves. It’s always the worst before a jump. He acts like a massive baby, up to the moment the pods actually get launched. Then he’s quiet like a church-mouse.”

  “It’s not just the jump. Even when I get an injection, I just get my nerves all… ruffled! I can’t help it!”

  Their fellow Skydivers looked evidently less than impressed at Heermann’s antics, glancing between each other as the strange German continued practically vibrating on the spot.

  “Well… then let’s help our ‘elite’ from the 1st Regiment calm his nerves…” Crivello then took a moment to think, probably considering his options for what topic to broach with his fellow Skydivers.

  Jackson prayed it wasn’t going to be another tirade about the 1st. As much as he could appreciate Regimental banter here and there, now really wasn’t the time for it.

  “Ah! This one always gets people talking. Jackson, how ‘bout you start us off. What was your reason for signing up with the Skycorp?”

  Ah… the age-old icebreaker.

  Raines immediately hopped in, speculating in mocking tone: “Heh… I bet it was that one commercial with the Orchestra and loud horns blaring as the pods rushed down planet-side.”

  Mirko also decided to participate: “Oh I remember that one! The one with the patriotic music and Skydivers leaping out of their pods into action! Didn’t it end on a shot of the SCN flag?”

  “Yeahhhh… though it was completely unrealistic. The pods were way too close during that shot and those fuckers would’ve burned up halfway through that drop with the speed they were going.” Raines was obviously having a lot of fun with this…

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  As Jackson was weighing his options, if turning his gun on himself or his fellow skydivers was the better way out, Crivello asked – shit-eating grin smeared across his face – in a tone that could only be described as insultingly patronizing: “Sooooo… what is it Corp? And only honest answers.”

  Rolling his eyes, Jackson looked back at the group. Expectant grimaces and twitchy grins met him back. They were definitely enjoying this too much.

  Even Heermann was struggling to hide his amusement at Jackson’s misfortune.

  Cursing under his breath, Jackson finally relented: “Fine… it was for the pay. I signed up with the Marines because there was fuck-all to do back home. Dad used to be in the Navy, so I figured I’d just follow his example and try my luck at a military career. Worst case scenario, I’d slug it out and just reap the benefits and Veteran’s education and benefits. Plenty of Unis where I could get ahead of the waiting lists, with preferred treatment no less. Then, I got wind that the freshly created Skycorps was looking for Volunteers. Increased salary, benefits and hazard-pay for being shot out of a torpedo-tube towards a planet, praying that I don’t get turned into mush. Easy payday, right? Seemed like that at first until…”

  Jackson then hesitated for a moment.

  He'd been about to continue unto his plans past his service. But that had been before Lumen.

  When he’d felt like he could still easily return home.

  Now, having seen what he’d seen, done what he’d done… he didn’t know exactly.

  “Sounded like you wanted to add something there, corporal. Come on spit it ou-” Though fully intent on continuing her prodding into personal matters, Raines was halted by Crivello, the sergeant having clearly seen something that’d evaded the specialist.

  Mirko’s eyes had also turned gloomy.

  “Thanks for being so open corp. Now to you, our German friend. Why’d you sign up?”

  Raines seemed ready to protest, but something about the look Crivello gave her seemed to have done the trick, the Skydiver realizing either her faux pas or that it wasn’t time for bringing up such matters.

  After all, they were trying to lighten the mood.

  And despite the irony behind its name, Lumen only seemed good for darkening the demeanour of anyone that’d been there.

  “Mostly for the same reasons as Patrick. Though with the added bonus of citizenship back on Earth. Not that I dislike Gaia… but there’s something appealing about being able to own a lot back on the home of our ancestors. Haven’t found any good candidates yet though. Wayyyyy too long of a waiting list… I swear, it’s like every hoohah this side of the galaxy wants to snatch themselves a nice beach-resort back on Earth!”

  Heermann continued on in German, probably bad-mouthing those responsible for extending the waiting times of property back on Earth.

  Money wasn’t even the issue anymore. Housing had become a common commodity handed to the everyman and guaranteed under the Coalitions citizenship protection. It was only when it came to luxury that one either had to pay or wait. Even with the Veteran’s Benefits.

  Admittedly, though the colonization booms had helped alleviate the situation back home in Sol, many parts of Earth still had to deal with strict regulations enforced by things such as the Taipei Protocol – not to mention the many areas still abandoned after the climate catastrophes of the 2030s. The riches brought on from the colonies had led to an increase in birthrates on the home of their species, making any kind of available land there a hot commodity, while helping in trying to mend the scars of the prior century.

  It could sometimes feel like every family dreamed of that perfect home out in the countryside or on the edge of town.

  That and Heermann wasn’t the only colony-born human feeling second-hand homesickness for the soils of Mother Earth. It seemed as if there truly was no home like Home.

  Apparently satisfied with cursing whoever or whatever had caused prices in housing to skyrocket, Heermann turned over to Crivello and asked: “What about you sergeant?”

  “You wanna know why I joined?”

  Heermann nodded and the rest of their little hotch-potch group immediately turned towards the sergeant, interested in him spelling the beans.

  “Nothing dramatic. Family’s got a military history, that’s all. Dad’s a Marine, my brother joined the army. Grandpa was with the Navy back in the day. I didn’t feel like being ‘just another Marine’ or ‘just another Ranger’… so, when I saw that they were recruiting for the Skycorps, I took the chance right then and there. Now, every time there’s a family gathering, I get to rub it in their faces. First proud member of family Crivello to have joined the Skycorps.” The sergeant had put some theatrics into that last sentence, clearly proud of his accomplishments.

  The team for their part nodded along. Standard history and reasoning for joining something like the Skydivers. It’d been the driving force behind a surprising number of recruits, or at least so Jackson had learned over his time with his fellow troopers.

  Quite a few of them, when prompted, had admitted that they simply wanted to be the first amidst first. The elites in a completely new unit, made up of lunatics that were perfectly fine with being shot towards a planet.

  “Raines?”

  The Trooper for her part rolled her eyes, evidently less than pleased at the attention now being directed towards her.

  Still, she didn’t fuss about it and instead laid it out pretty plainly: “Dad died in the Marines, so, when I was looking to sign up, Mom made me promise to ‘never become a Marine’… well… I never did become a Marine, did I?” Raines’ tone carried both something jovial and venomous in it, clearly pointing towards an estranged relationship with her dear mother.

  Jackson wasn’t going to pry, but part of him wished to have been a fly on the wall on that family re-union.

  Family… a blessing and a curse.

  Thoughts about Jackson’s relatives back home were trying to make their way up to the surface but were soon pushed back down again by the soldier.

  No time for that.

  Crivello then turned his attention from Raines over to the Concordian Trio: “Don’t need to be a mind-reader to know you nutcases came in a bundle. So, whose idea, was it?”

  Miro chuckled, obviously not minding Crivello’s jabs and attempts at pushing buttons.

  “It had been a pretty unanimous decision. All three of us grew up in the same town and noticed quite early that there wasn’t much to do.”

  Tomas chimed in: “Didn’t have the benefits of a military history in our families either. Our parents and siblings are all either farmers, builders or engineers busy developing the colony.”

  Mirko nodded at that, continuing: “Exactly. But that lifestyle never fit for us. Easiest way out of the monotony of Concordia was to join the SCN and see what trouble we could get up to.”

  Danilo also spoke up: “If I remember correctly, the Skycorps hadn’t even been formed then.”

  The other two Concordians nodded along with their compatriot, Mirko explaining: “It was simple serendipity that led us to the Skycorps. The three of us had excelled in our training… and evidently the brass had noticed. One day an officer came up to us and told us about this new unit they were forming. As luck would have it, it was centred around three-man fireteams causing havoc behind enemy lines.”

  Danilo interjected, smirk plastered across his face: “Heh. Almost like it’d been made specifically for us.”

  “Exactly. And as you can imagine, one thing led to another. The added salary for joining the Skycorps was just the cherry on top.”

  Mirko ended his explanation by slightly throwing his hands up, making clear that it’d been circumstantial reasoning that had led the trio to becoming Skydivers.

  To that, the other Skydivers smirked a bit. The Skycorps had a habit of bringing together the weirdest mixture of people. Though that talent extended to the greater SCN.

  Nowhere else would one find people from so many corners of the Coalition. Colonists. Earthborn. Voidborn.

  All varieties available. At least it kept things interesting, so Jackson mused.

  And it also led to a trait fairly unique to the SCN; being able to discern just where the hell anybody had come from. Over his years in service, Jackson had developed a bit of a sixth sense for guessing the heritage of any of his comrades.

  But with storytime concluded, silence befell the group again.

  Evidently, no one else had much left to say. There really wasn’t much else worthwhile left anyway.

  It could only be a matter of minutes until they’d hear from Saberi.

  Until they’d jump into the fire again.

  Jackson looked up towards the sky – visible through a hole in the roof - and noticed how much it was darkening. The infernos surrounding New Poltava had evidently gone out. Likely extinguished by the ongoing storm. The bioluminescence had also toned down, Odessa’s plants cut off from their moons by the thick clouds blanketing Hetmania.

  Though the heavens were still occasionally lit up by distant plasma and lightning, the city had now finally been plunged into a seemingly endless darkness.

  Now, New Poltava would show its true colours.

  Now, before the sun would rise and announce either victory or defeat, the beast would complete its transformation.

  Towers became fangs. The sky a darkened maw waiting to swallow them whole. And the streets turned into greedy tongues, waiting to lead them to the slaughter.

  The rain and fog only worsened it, swallowing any errant light that tried to break through.

  Where before he’d been able to see the details of the towers and buildings around them, they now surrounded them like monoliths built from shadow.

  Giants, looking down upon them.

  The corporal understood immediately what was happening. Though it didn’t make dealing with it any easier. His rationale could fight it as much as he wanted, but a shiver still crept its way up his spine, caressing the back of his neck as it crawled up and nested in his skull, gnawing at his resolve.

  It was that sinking feeling…

  New Poltava was being plunged into darkness, just as their motley crew would make their attempt at a suicide mission. This was it.

  All of them had of course also noted the utter silence coming from their targets. Jackson had eyed the towers carefully, trying to see any kind of hint of what would await them.

  But there’d been nothing.

  Just the flames of Plasma spewing from the roofs, casting cold and harsh lights upon those three skyscrapers.

  It was out of the question if their enemy was expecting them. They had to have been.

  But it seemed that the aliens had decided to wait for the Skydivers to walk into the belly of the beast on their own accord.

  Low on numbers, low on energy and walking into a trap.

  It was hard to stay calm under those circumstances.

  The only upside was the ammo they’d been able to scrounge off of the dump in the outpost. A small and meaningless relief, considering what was waiting for them.

  Uncertainty was an insidious enemy in these situations. Doubts would come crawling up out of dark corners of the mind, questions without good answers, fears that it was all for naught.

  They couldn’t know if their fellow Skydivers would also accomplish their objectives or not.

  If the landing on Odessa would be successful today or not.

  If they’d survive long enough to witness the sunrise or be consumed by the long night.

  Then… came Saberi’s call.

  Crivello was the first to get up, grabbing rifle and helmet: “He’s starting his barrage. This is it people. Follow the plan and stick together… if we don’t make it ‘till sunrise, I’ll see you in Hell.”

  Raines for her part only gave a simple ‘oohhra’ in response, quickly following after Crivello. She and the sergeant thusly disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the abyss that was creeping out of every corner.

  Mirko and the rest of Javelin also stood up. “Good luck to you corporal. God be with you. God be with us all…” And without another word, the Concordians also disappeared into that darkness.

  Now, it was only the two of them left, Jackson and Heermann remaining seated for a few seconds as the two of them processed what was to come.

  Jackson for his part fiddled with Langstrom’s dog-tags one last time, looking them over, as if it would change anything. He quietly put them away.

  Eventually, Heermann looked over to Jackson, the German was evidently trying to stick to his usual stoicism, even in the face of everything: “Well… it’s now or never Patrick. Let’s get it done.”

  There was no hiding from it.

  No running from it.

  All that was left for Jackson to do, was get the job done.