41
The third council gave way to a series of military personnel who briefed the mission. Rev thought too much time was spent in the history of the conflict and the Centaur incursion into the Home System. Yes, it was interesting to see how they’d pulled forces away from the planet, sacrificing ships to do accomplish that, then in a laser strike, attacked with their three ships, two reaching the planet’s surface.
And he was surprised to learn that the military hadn’t just been waiting for orders. Union SEALs, Hégémonie Legion 2ème REP, and Frisian Commandos had attempted inserts to get eyes on the situation, only to have their craft shot down before they entered the exosphere. An Alliance ship, part of the Final Stand Fleet, had turned its cannon to target the Centaurs who’d landed at the base of Mount Fuji. No one was sure why it had done so, but it was immediately vaporized by a hitherto and still unknown Centaur weapon.
But how did all of that affect the troops going in next? The planners had to know that and take all of it into consideration, but not the trigger pullers. Rev sure didn’t see the time taken had much of an ROI. He wanted the nitty-gritty of what they were about to do, and it had taken over an hour to get to that.
There were forty-nine known Centaur positions on the planet. Most were located among the few historical sites that had been spared and not razed to the ground once the Mother was designated a sanctuary. The general plan was for all forty-nine sites to be targeted by Raider or Mad Dog teams, each built around an IBHU or Pit Bull, as the Raiders were now calling them. With more “super-augmented” soldiers, as the briefers were calling them together, than sites, a few of the sites would be targeted by two teams. Additional teams would be held back, ready to insert as needed.
Insertion for the Marines was to be done via PIS-31, while the Mad Dogs had two-person small insertion capsules. No fewer than four of the briefers stressed that the Centaurs had never targeted either of these two insertion methods before.
Of course, the Centaurs had never been willing to sacrifice ships to get small teams on a planet before, either, but Rev didn’t bring that up.
To make sure that the teams would get to the ground, dummy drops of pissers and Mad Dog insertion capsules would be made at the same time.
There was much more to the plan, with naval forces and follow-on ground forces, contingency plans, and a lot more that really didn’t pertain to him. If those came into play, that meant the Raiders would have failed and were long past being part of the fight.
At the conclusion of the main brief, each combat team was taken aside, assigned a target, and given a detailed brief pertaining specifically to them. Third and Fourth Teams, First Raider Platoon, were briefed by a Marine full-colonel. Their target would be the Centaurs located at Machu Picchu high in the Andes. Having fought on Roher-104, Rev has some experience fighting at altitude, so he’d been tagged with that, and that meant the rest of the team was as well.
There were at least nine Centaurs at the site, with two paladins and a riever. The rest of the centaurs seemed to be in a new, smaller vehicle. No one knew the capabilities of the new armor, but they had to assume they weren’t defenseless.
Despite the smaller armored vehicles’ capabilities, three combat Centaurs were no laughing matter. Rev had doubts he could take them out alone, but that was why the two teams would be with him. He, with his cannon, might be the point of main effort, but every team member would be armed with multiple Morays and Yellowjackets, both improved versions from the ones they’d had during the invasion of New Hope.
With all the facilities available to them, the combined team was able to run three simulations before time ran out. Twice, they managed to destroy the Centaurs. Once, the Centaurs destroyed them.
Then, it was time to go. For one of the most important battles in the last millennium, from brief to prep was only five hours when it should have been weeks. But the enemy rarely cooperates, and the Marines were going to have to rely on their training.
The colonel tried to debrief them on the last simulation as they rushed to the train for the spaceport. They would not be returning to the Panny, which didn’t have robust pisser capabilities.
Unlike Union military ports with the sailors in various colored shirts, this one was run by civilians. The master guns looked around, trying to see who to check in with, but they found him instead. A young woman, her blonde hair in a tight bun, ran up and scanned his arm chip. She gave a cheerful “Will you follow me, please,” as she led them to a small holding area complete with a set of bleachers.
A familiar face was already sitting there.
“Ting-a-ling, what are you doing?” Rev asked as he, Tomiko, Hussein, and two of Second Team’s old-timers rushed up.
“Can’t let you Union jarheads hog all the glory, can we?” he asked, taking their backslaps.
“This isn’t a coincidence,” Hussein said, stating the obvious.
“I got pulled from my station an hour after the invasion. I guess my folks saw this coming, and since I’ve worked with you . . .”
“And you Fries can’t let the Mad Dogs and us have free rein, right?” Carp said.
Master Gunnery Sergeant Tuala walked up and asked, “Who are you?”
“Silver-Master Tjivyrtzlin, Master Guns, but you all call me Ting-a-ling.”
“He was with us before, on Roher-104, Tenerife, and Alafia. He’s good people,” Rev said.
“OK, he’s good people. But what is he doing here?”
“I’m going with you. Observer status, and all. You should have a message on that.”
The master guns frowned, then got the faraway look in his eyes that some had when conferring with their battle buddies. The frown didn’t fade when he came back to the here and now.
“I don’t have observers in my team, Silver-Master Tjivyrtzlin,” he said, sounding like he’d mastered the name. “If you’re coming with us, you’re a fighter.”
“No problem with that.”
The civilian had been waiting at the master guns shoulder, and seeing her opening, she said, “If you watch that light there, when it turns green, please get your people on the lift. You’ll be raised to the tarmac in front of your shuttle. I’ll be here until then, so if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
She stepped to the side, the smile still fixed on her face.
“You heard her. Everyone, stay put. No one leaves. And Radić, I’m tasking you with watching that damn light. I want to know the second it turns green.”
“So, it is true,” Ting-a-ling said, tilting his head at Pashu.
“’Fraid so.”
“We heard the rumors, you and the Mad Dogs.”
Rev smiled. He didn’t know the Frisians called the MDS soldiers Mad Dogs as well.
“Pretty effective, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah, pretty.” Rev liked Ting-a-ling, and he’d almost sacrificed his career to keep from fighting Frisians, but he wasn’t Union, and Rev didn’t know what he could reveal.
But if he was going to be with them on the mission, he’d find out soon enough, and better he knew what Rev could and couldn’t do before the rounds started flying.
“Come over here,” he said, leading him to the top seats in the bleachers.
He only had time to explain his cannon and briefly start to go over the team tactics before the light turned green. It was go time.