ItsDirector
patreon
The New Era 31
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 13:59:17 +0000 UTCChapter 31
Subject: Staff Sergeant Power
Species: Human
Species Description: Mammalian humanoid, no tail. 6'2" (1.87 m) avg height. 185 lbs (84 kg) avg weight. 170 year life expectancy.
Ship: N/A
Location: Classified
"About fuckin' time," Corporal Simmons muttered as the first shuttle came through the gate.
I watched as the shuttle gently settled onto the landing bay and Marines started pouring out of it. It lifted off as another shuttle came through. Simmons was being a little melodramatic, but I didn't exactly disagree. It had taken a lot longer than I'd hoped for our reinforcements to get here.
Guarding the gate had been tense, but we only came under attack from boredom. A mighty enemy, to be sure, but one that is only fatal to fools. We definitely had at least one amongst us, there's always one, but the job at hand had kept my marines from doing anything too stupid.
"Staffsarnt!" an officer called as he approached. "Staffsarnt Power! I need a word!"
Resisting the urge to sigh, I jogged to meet the officer and noted that my heads up display identified him as Captain Nickels. I snapped into the position of attention and gave the officer a subtle nod, the battlefield replacement for a salute. He returned the gesture without snapping to attention.
"At ease," he said. "Report."
"One KIA, sir, but no other casualties," I replied. "Haven't had contact with the enemy since we got on this side of the gate. My tactical assessment of the situation is that we will need anti-tank ordnance to continue our mission."
"Well, we've got plenty to spare staffsarnt. However, the Colonel wants to bring you back into the fold."
"Which colonel, sir?"
"Didn't get time to familiarize yourself with the new chain of command? A lot of that going around. Colonel Havensmith. She wants me to grab you and the rest of the MARSOC marines under her command."
"With respect, I might not be under her command. I've been acting under orders from USAI Omega, sir."
"Huh... I don't know what rank Omega is, come to think of it. What does it matter, though? Havensmith is the assault force commanding officer."
"USAI Omega is my fire-team's handler, sir."
"Ah, I see. Handler trumps CO in most cases but... Well, what about the other two fire-teams that make up your squad?"
"They've been placed under my command, sir."
"Are you at liberty to divulge your orders, staffsarnt?"
"Yes, sir. Proceed to and through the warp gates into the inner cores of the Grand Vessel, securing them as we go. We were told to wait for you this time, but I am under the impression that won't be the case again until we need a resupply."
"Shit, we've got conflicting orders... Okay, I'll relay this situation to the Colonel. You are to stand down until you receive further orders. From me. Understood?"
"Aye aye, sir," I replied with another nod.
"I'm serious, staffsarnt. If Omega's messing around by acting as your handler without proper authorization, you and your men will be subjected to a court-martial if you obey its orders without hearing from the Colonel first," Captain Nickels said, then chuckled sardonically. "Assuming we live long enough for that."
"Understood, sir."
"Dismissed."
I gestured for my squad to join me and made my way to where the weaponry was being unloaded. The spots my marines left were quickly taken up by the rank and file. They jogged to catch up to me, and we all arrived at the unloading area together.
"We're being told to stay put," I said, anticipating a negative reaction.
"Bullshit," Gunny Kim growled, proving me right.
The rest of my team murmured their agreement with the Gunny.
"On whose orders?" Staff-Sergeant Ramirez demanded.
"Colonel Havensmith," I answered.
"Who the fuck is Colonel Havensmith?" Kim asked.
"I don't know. There may have been a slip up in the chain of command, or things didn't get communicated correctly. Either way, we're under orders to stay put while it gets sorted out," I shrugged. "Even got threatened with a court martialin'."
"They can only court martial us if we live, staffsarnt," Simmons pointed out. "What're the odds of that?"
"Shut up, Simmons," I ordered.
"How long will it take to get things sorted out, staffsarnt?" Lance Corporal Goetz asked.
"Anywhere from minutes to months. Welcome to the fuckin' Marine Corps," Gunny Kim answered sarcastically.
"Thought MARSOC would be better than the fleet," Lance Corporal Langhell mumbled.
"Damn, boy. You must have gotten shit in your brain with your head that far up your ass. Spec Ops are always worse when it comes to bureaucratic bullshit."
"Especially MARSOC, because we don't have a clear-cut chain of command," Ramirez pointed out. "So, Power, what's the plan?"
"Gunny, find and talk to the quartermaster," I said. "Put some weight on them if they give you push-back. We need anti-tank ordo. Once we know how much we can get, we'll figure out who carries what."
"Roger," Kim said.
Kim and his team walked off, entering the barely controlled chaos of marines unloading crates. We stood in silence for a moment, watching shuttles land and take off again.
"What about the rest of us?" Ramirez asked after a few moments.
"We hurry up and wait," I replied.
More grumbling came from the assembled MARSOC operatives. If there is one thing that's been true for every soldier to ever exist, from the dawn of civilization all the way until the present day, it's that we all hate waiting for action. Many would be quick to call this feeling anxiety, and they're not wrong, but there's something particularly nasty about this form of anxiety that's difficult to put into words.
Delays prior to stressful situations always invite room for speculation, and this gets particularly nerve wracking when one is faced with the potential of an imminent demise. The more likely the imminent demise, the heavier the pit in your stomach gets. The longer the wait, the harder it is to ignore that pit.
It occurred to me that I could probably reach out to Omega and see if we could speed things up, but I knew all to well how that would be received if the higher ups found out. The chain of command might as well be fucking dogma. You have to step on toes to go over heads, and that always comes with consequences. It would be wiser to let the Colonel and Omega hash out who's in charge, regardless of how stressful it is to wait around and find out what the results of that conversation end up being.
"Oorah, gents," Gunny Kim called as he and his team returned with a massive crate in tow. "Presents for all! Where's my milk and cookies?"
"I got some milk for you, gunny," Ramirez said suggestively.
"Jokes on you, I'm ain't picky, fa-"
"What've you got for us?" I interrupted.
"Right. AT9s, six count. SHAP projectiles, 45 count. Two launchers and fifteen rockets per team. Oh, snatched some grenades and ammo, too. Lieutenant said to grab what we can carry and return the rest."
"Feel like HEAP would be better," Sergeant Smith added. "Get more splash, take out some of the surrounding platforms along with the mechs we hit. Don't even have to get direct hits."
"Do they even make HEAP anymore?" Corporal Johnson asked.
"Sure they do," Ramirez laughed. "In one-eighty mike mike. High Explosive Armor Penetrator rounds have been relegated to artillery-only for about half a decade now."
I popped the crate and looked at the ordo with a grim satisfaction. Smith wasn't wrong, the Saboted Heavy Armor Penetrator rockets wouldn't make much of a boom when they take down the mechs, but they'll definitely take the fuckers down. We've got bullets and grenades for the smaller bots.
The AT9, the latest in recoil-less rocket launcher tech to hit the fleet, was kind of overkill when used with the SHAP rockets. The launcher comes equipped with a laser guidance system that tracks refraction, which allows it to be used against refractive stealth technology, and the SHAP rockets possess shield-penetrative abilities. The mechs, however, possess neither. They were going to be dropping like gigantic, well-armored flies.
"Alright, pair up," I ordered. "Figure out who's carrying the tube and who's carrying the rockets. Odd ones out get to carry extra rounds and 'nades."
The marines set about divvying things up. Already knowing how my fire team was going to pair up, I grabbed some extra ammunition and grenades. Smith slung his AT9 while Hanson packed a sack of rounds. Things went less smoothly between Simmons and Johnson, though.
"Look, I've fired these before," Simmons said. "Both in boot and in live-combat. You haven't, right?"
"No, I haven't," Johnson snatched the tube from him. "That means it's my turn."
"What if you miss?" Simmons asked, snatching the tube back.
The two corporals kept arguing and the tube went back and forth for another ten minutes. Everyone else had already geared up and were watching the exchange by the time they finally played roshambo. They played best two out of three, and Simmons won.
"God damn it," Johnson grumbled, shouldering the pack of rockets.
"Well, glad we got that figured out," I said sternly. "You two get to return the crate."
The corporals turned to me, poised to argue, but my body language advised them that would be a bad idea. They shared a look, shoved each other, then began packing the crate up. While they strolled off, I found an empty shipping container to post up next to.
We formed a loose circle of sitting and leaning marines while we waited for word from on high. Johnson and Simmons joined us shortly after, and we all continued waiting together. I tried to keep my mind off the pit in my gut by eavesdropping on the various conversations around me.
A nutrient stick shoved its way into my lips, reminding me to eat. Like clockwork, all the conversations turned to how terrible and waxy the sticks were. Gunny Kim argued against this assessment, claiming that it reminded him of his childhood. Even I chuckled.
About an hour later, my comms activated.
"Staff Sergeant Power," Omega said. "Apologies for the delay."
"What's going on, Omega?" I asked.
My external speakers were off, but the rest of the marines noted the slight movements caused by speaking and fell silent.
"Colonel Havensmith is in charge of the assault on the gates. You're going to be merging with her command."
"That's not what you said. Tip of the spear, remember?"
"I am incapable of forgetting without quite a bit of effort on my part. The Colonel is going to be using you as forward scouts. Essentially the same thing that I was having you do, but you won't have to engage the enemy by yourselves."
"Fine. What took so long?"
"Negotiations," the AI chuckled. "Havensmith has her own scouts, and wasn't happy about handing that job over to MARSOC. She also wasn't happy when I offered to provide her all the intel I can get with their security system. Like many officers, she doesn't trust me. We had to get a general involved, but she came around in the end. That being said, I'm maintaining my status as your handler, and my orders supersede the Colonel's. Understood?"
"I'm going to need to hear it from an officer," I replied.
"I am aware. A captain is on his way to tell you. ETA is four minutes."
I sighed as the comm went dead, then waited for the captain to arrive. My squad watched me in anticipation, unsure of whether or not to ask what's going on. Just as Gunny Kim got worked up enough to clear his throat, Captain Nickels came from around the corner of the shipping container and gestured to me. With another sigh, I jogged over to the captain and gave the nod-salute at attention.
"Oorah, staffsarnt," Nickels said. "Got a mixed bag of news for you."
"Aye, sir," I replied. "Omega already briefed me."
"I bet it did. Okay, the main points are that you are now our forward scouts. Force recon isn't happy about it, but regardless of their feelings they are going to be your backup. Your task is to verify information provided by USAI Omega, and make tactical suggestions as you go."
"Roger."
"Also, Omega is still your handler," Nickels said with a sigh. "As you know, that means that if it gives you an order it supersedes any order given by Colonel Havensmith. Sorry, we tried. The bot wouldn't budge on that point, though."
"It's alright, sir. It isn't as bad as you'd think."
"Really? I'll be damned. Well, if Omega nabs you from us give us a shout and force recon will swap with you. Final thing, engaging with the enemy is at your discretion. Or theirs, I suppose."
"Roger that, sir. When are we headed out?"
"Oof," Nickels chuckled. "About an hour forty-five."
"An hour, sir?" I asked angrily.
"And forty-five mikes, yes. We're doing this the right way, staffsarnt. That means forward operations bases, supply lines, and defensive positions. If you knew how many marines are involved with this operation you'd be amazed that it's only gonna take that long. Be prepared for word."
"Aye aye, sir."
"Dismissed."
Captain Nickels performed an about face, and I returned to my squad. Despite their helmets, I could tell that they were all very curious. Mostly because the lances had cocked their heads like puppy dogs.
Keeping control of my anger and impatience, I relayed to the gathered marines what had been said. The emotional roller-coaster that each of them went through was damned near palpable. But they maintained their silence right up until I told them how long we'd have to wait to move out. Then they broke out into grumbles, mumbles, and curses. Many of these curses were rather long, but Corporal Johnson managed to sum up our situation with an almost poetic succinctness.
"This is fuckin' bullshit," he griped.
Comments
ItsDirector
From my notes: Ship - Vessel that subject is assigned to as of chapter taking place
Aerowarrier
That’s cute. This captain thinks he has any power over Omega whatsoever xD
Colton B
Kind of had a shit day and the last line in this one got me laughing. Thanks for that
Rhuidean
Another great chapter! This is really riveting as fuck. Now just a short wait for more.
Matthew Mclemore
Love these marine chapters Simmons and Johnson are peak
Skullboneslayer
Wouldn't the "Ship" in the chapter opening be "The Grand Vessel of the Omni Union" or is there a special reason it was left as N/A?
Michael Halpern
logistics wins wars. with the gate network as potential bottlenecks, they are right to be concerned about logistics.
