Recruit - Jonathan Brazee (highly illogical behavior .txt) 📗

or significant friendly personnel at the camp, this was more of a free fire target, where all Marine and Navy assets could be employed.  Golf, with arty and armor attached, was on a mission to destroy, not rescue or save.  The People’s Army at the camp was to be destroyed so that none of the forces could deploy to the mines.

As the surface of the planet became visible, Ryck tried to place their own position relative to the ground below.  They wouldn’t be coming straight in from above, so the target was not under them.  They would sweep in from southeast to northwest, supported by two of the attached Wasps and three Navy Experion fighters.  Coming in on that trajectory kept them below any anti-air defenses until the end of the approach, but it also kept them out of the way of the Navy bombardment.  The Prake had deployed one of its monitors to soften up the rebel camp.  This ball of firepower had no sailors on board; it was operated entirely from the dreadnaught.  It did carry a pretty solid punch, though.  Parked in orbit right over the camp, so weapons had to travel through the least amount of atmosphere, it swept the camp with particle beams, disrupter fire, and explosive ordnance. 

Ryck had the map pulled up on his visor, watching as they approached.  At thirty klicks, though, he could actually see the flash of ionized gasses as the particle beams reached down from orbit to the camp. 

Ryck ignored most of the chatter coming over the platoon circuit.  It was mostly a countdown until they hit the deck.  If there were anything important, he would pay closer attention.  He only half-listened as he did yet one more status check on his PICS and ammo load. 

As the Stork swooped in, he waited for the green light.  It wasn’t as if he would have to do anything.  Technically, a PICS could withstand a 5-meter fall without damage, and the Stork could land on the ground so the Marines could take one step and be on terra firma.  But the Storks were a valuable piece of equipment, and a land mine could take one out, so the Marines would be lowered via a hoist that was incorporated into each station.  After the flare, a Stork could debark a platoon of Marines within five seconds. 

The ground got closer, and a voice came over the circuit, “Fox-1, stand by!”

The go-light flashed green.  Three seconds later, Ryck fell out of the sky.  Five seconds was not very long, but it was more than long enough for the bad guys to take them under fire, so Ryck quickly scanned the ground, waiting to fire at any threat.  They had trained to fire while being dropped, and with varying, if not very effective, degrees of success, but Ryck would go down trying if it came to that.

Nothing presented itself, though, and Ryck hit the ground, his hoist line automatically disconnecting and retracting back to the Stork, which had already begun to move out.

Ryck moved to his left, relying on visuals to get into position.  His head’s up display had every member of the platoon identified, and if he zoomed out, he would be able to see the entire company, but he still felt more comfortable with actual visuals. 

“Fox-1, move out” the lieutenant passed. 

In another time and place, the first few minutes of an assault would be taken up with getting oriented, of getting a headcount, but the lieutenant’s PICS-C had even more information flowing to him on each and every one of them.  The common statement was that he knew if you got a hard-on and why. Staff Sergeant Grabrowski’s PICS was “C-capable,” which meant it had all the bells and whistles.  He could view the same incoming information on each Marine, but if anything happened to the platoon commander, the AI would switch over and give his PICS the same capabilities, not only downstream but upstream as well.  Ryck’s PICS was the basic model with more limited upstream capabilities. 

As the platoon moved out, a Navy LCC came in carrying a tank.  It had to land in order to discharge its cargo, and that took a little bit of time.  Still, even if it was behind them at the moment, knowing that a Davis was there was a nice security blanket.

Ryck moved forward, trying to divide his focus between what he could see in front of him and his displays.  There was quite a bit of data streaming in, and he still was not totally comfortable with watching the real world out there and the electrons symbolizing the world on his visor at the same time.  He could see Greg Hohn moving up just in front and to his side, but Greg was also the first blue triangle that appeared on his visor display.  He knew on an intellectual level that triangle symbolized Greg, but he hadn’t yet made the leap to “feel” that it was Greg, and he needed to do that to maximize his own effectiveness, to be able to instinctively and quickly react instead of having to think things through.  

The platoon had about 900 meters of forested land through which to move, then there were another 400 meters of cleared land to cross before reaching the outer defenses of the camp.  It wasn’t as if this was a surprise, either.  Storks in the air and PICS on the ground were somewhat hard to hide.  Tactical “surprise” in the assault had to be how the Marines were employed, not in trying to hide the fact that there was going to be an assault in the first place.

He looked up to the upper-left section of his visor and blinked twice.  The feed there switched positions and filled the center of his visor.  It was a visual of the camp.  A recon Marine out there somewhere had the camp under surveillance and was beaming the view to every Marine.  There was the tiniest hint of a flicker, which was a good sign that the enemy was trying to jam the signal, but the AIs kept switching the frequency every micro-second, both for the broadcast and receiving, faster than whatever equipment the rebels had could catch up.

The vid showed a devastated landscape.  There were no intact buildings.  The Navy had leveled them.  Ryck was not complacent, though.  He knew the rebels were still there.  He quickly switched back to visual, scanning the area in front of him.  His PICS was moving smoothly, just an extension of his movements.  He moved his leg, the PICS moved its leg.  It was all done without thinking.  His head being almost three meters up, his “hands” reaching out over two meters, had taken a little getting used to during training, but now it was second nature.

For the thousandth time, he checked his HGL.  The “Heavy Grenade Launcher” was his prime weapon, the principal weapon in any Weapons Pack 2.  Greg, to his right, had Weapons Pack 1, which gave him the hypervelocity rifle, similar to the M99 Marines carried when on foot, but at 8mm, packing a much bigger dart.  The HGL, though, fired a 20mm grenade.  A combat load of the grenades was 250 and could be anti-personnel or anti-armor.  The anti-armor could take out almost any tank if employed correctly, and the anti-personnel had an ECR of 30 meters.  It could fire 60 rounds per minute, so it packed a pretty powerful punch.

Second Platoon was heading right up the gut of what had been determined to be the brunt of the defenses.  They were doing this to set the defense, to get them to commit while First Platoon swept up their flank.  Weapons Platoon was supporting both heavy platoons, and Third, the light platoon, was in reserve, ready to exploit any advantage.

Ryck’s visor lit up with activity.  Second was being hit.  As a grunt, he was not privy to all the comms, but it was obvious from the display if not from the sounds of explosions a klick to his right.

“All hands, be advised that the enemy forces are employing both Boost-Assisted Anti-Armor weapons as well as anti-armor mines,” the lieutenant’s calm voice came over the platoon circuit.

That was a surprise.  Mines were part and parcel to modern combat, but Boost Assisted Anti-Armor rounds could take out a PICS.  Only one power used those weapons:  The Congress of Free Worlds.  The Congress was a loosely allied group of 14 planets in the Third Quadrant, a long way from Luminosity.  If the People’s Army had Congress weapons, that meant either the Congress was sticking its nose into Federation space or that arms dealers were supplying them to the rebels.  Congress weaponology was no match for Federation, even the older Marine equipment, but still, getting hit with a BAAA round was sure to spoil a grunt’s day.  The Marines had to trust their PICS to deflect the rounds as they were “dumb” ordnance —the PICS’ defenses could not “fool” a round that had no brain.  All suits could do was to confuse the sighting of the weapon and hope for a glancing blow that the LTC armor could deflect.

Ryck started to blink up his scheme to change it, but the platoon sergeant beat him to it.  With the command capabilities, he could switch each Marine’s paint, and with visual sighting the norm for BAAA weapons, the “LSD” mode was the book answer.  The LSD was the nickname for the Fractured Array.  It didn’t make a PICS actually invisible, but rather “fractured” the light waves, making visual sighting difficult, even causing headaches for those looking at them.  An observer knew something was there, but exactly where and what would be difficult to determine. 

The sounds of war to his right grew in intensity.  Second was getting into it.  They wouldn’t be closing unless the opportunity presented itself, but that meant First had to step it up and breach the defenses.

A Wasp showed up on his readout.  Ryck hoped the platoons were showing up on the pilot’s readout as well.  There was the incoming icon, but in flashing amber instead of the flashing red of a near-miss by friendly fire.  Ryck didn’t hesitate in his advance as the sky lit up in front of Second’s position as the Wasp’s ordnance hit home.

Ryck’s visor flashed green twice, signaling that Phase Line Liverpool had been reached.  This was when First Squad changed their advance to a new heading, slightly oblique of the other two squads.  No verbal orders were given as the new heading was centered in the nav panel.

They had reached the rise leading up to the outer perimeter of the camp.  The ground was torn up from the pre-assault bombardment.  This was nothing