Arriving at the grenade crates, he clips several to the remaining free places on his webbing. A soldier next to him asks facetiously if he has enough ammunition because he won’t have room for water or rations. Rennin states the he’d rather die fighting, not eating.
Rennin focuses back to the explosives before him. Yet again he mentally chides himself for being a poor example. Then he realises that the soldier was a private mouthing off to a Sergeant, and so he feels better about the mild dressing down.
He moves to head back to the gunship when he spots a case full of NAPA bombs, behind an armoured cage. He literally feels his mouth water. He takes his dog tags out and runs the barcode across the lock scanner. It clicks open, probably since he’s an officer.
There is a god!
He drops three pouches of ammunition to fit the grenades into his harness then shuts the cage again. Even with losing those several magazines he’s still absolutely packed to the rafters.
Not long after he gets back to the gunship, the sirens go off and all crews head to their assigned squads. Rennin and the others of Nova unit pile into Dead Star and await further instruction.
Sabre stands up, waiting for his strike team to put their helmets on as the Dead Star gunship lifts off the ground with a pulse of energy.
Full deployment commences. All gunships fly out of the warehouse towards their assigned zones. Rennin looks out the left viewport at Raddocks Horizon. Random emergency lights from buildings and moonlight breaking through the clouds are all he can see on the surface. He doesn’t like the idea of being deployed in the dark, but there’s no knowing what the streets will be teeming with if they wait until morning.
The engines of the gunship roar inside the cabin, and he has brief images of the infamous drop through the atmosphere when the Possession went down in flames. But when he looks around the gunship at the others, all seated in rows back to back, he can’t help but remember his first deployment in a gunship to Hong Kong during the first major campaign of the CryoZaiyon War that would see an entire year swallowed in one single battle that raged across the solar system.
The cityscape provides a bleak background for the lieutenant, who stands in battle dress with one arm gripping a handle that drapes from the ceiling as the ship shakily shifts direction to avoid a building. Everything tilts sideways. Sabre starts talking loudly trying to be heard over the engines.
“We’re going to be dropped in hot zones where there are intense concentrations of infection. Raston Squad are holding the Stadium, which is our last line of defence, we can’t let them push us back further than that. We’ll be dropped half a klick from there. The bastards go where the meat is. They seem to be infecting or killing anyone they find.
“The LZ is entirely hostile, the ground troops have set up a perimeter in the surrounding area to keep the contaminants trapped. The gunships will then hit specific buildings, to prevent them spreading. After the gunships have cleared the main buildings we will be dropped on the ground to mop up the mess and will be reinforced with standard infantry. Remember to stay sharp and do not respond to calls for help, we know these fuckers lay traps and we cannot afford to lose soldiers that way.
“Anything you see in this zone is classed as hostile and you must shoot it. They’re not people anymore. Some of you might even recognise the faces you have to kill. It’s an inconceivable thing to think about, I know, but it’s not them anymore, it’s a parasite using the body as a puppet. Get yourselves mentally ready, there’s only three minutes until we open fire.”
Rennin looks closely out the viewport as Dead Star banks in an arc towards their designated attack zone. The local area is already smoking with several spot fires from various buildings. From that distance he can’t see any contaminants moving around.
A voice comes over their helmet communicators of the attack coordinates and Dead Star straightens up towards a nearby building that looks like an apartment complex. Due to the blackout and satellite problems they’ve been restricted to line of sight shooting since guidance systems and missile tracking are completely useless.
Dead Star fires a barrage of regular shells through the base floors of the building, then unloads four missiles that hit the ground floor, erupting in plumes of fire. The overall structure doesn’t simply collapse in on itself as the old buildings did, it remains upright but the floors above can be seen falling inwards. The superstructure of modern buildings can withstand anything up to an orbital strike.
Another building goes up in flames to Dead Star’s left, and Rennin looks over to see another gunship firing missiles and shells. Rennin feels a small glimmer of hope that they may actually succeed in this insane mission.
You wish, shit tits.
Sabre looks at the destruction for a moment before turning back to the crew. “Gunships Horus and Genome will be taking offensive positions at the west and north of our target zone,” he shouts, with more explosions in the background strong enough to cause a little turbulence. “This is done by the book. Don’t get separated, don’t respond to calls for help and for the love of God no wanking on mission.” The crew of Nova Unit do at least have a brief laugh at that, mere moments before the lights in the interior go red, meaning their deployment into the field is imminent.
Amid a smoky street with burning buildings all around, Dead Star sets down releasing the troops out the rear ramp. Several military minds have been locked in arguments that deploying from a rear ramp instead of out either side of the vehicle is a tactical flaw, since it bottlenecks the crew and a well-placed rocket would kill everyone aboard and more than likely take out the craft. The other viewpoint is that since the gunships are heavily armoured at the front, it is perfect. The crew can exit the craft using the gunship itself as cover whilst the vehicle maintains covering fire. Dead Star is newer and is equipped with sliding armoured doors at either side but they’re not used while the tactical debate continues. Rennin inwardly vomits.
We’re not under fire. Contaminants probably don’t even know what fire is. Standard procedures don’t apply.
Rennin is teamed with Obie, his target spotter, and they hold back to one side of the transport while the others spread out to their assigned fire teams. No contact.
Jawa takes a cover position just outside the craft with his heavy gun. Rennin assumes the name ‘Jawa’ being applied to this mammoth of a man is just someone’s idea of a joke.
Rennin wistfully glances at Dead Star, trying to hide the hunger in his eyes. Obie, Jawa, the pilot Bulldog and Sabre are all that stand between Rennin and his ticket to freedom. He thinks he could take them all out, but at least one of them would be able to raise the alarm. He’d have to do this quietly with Obie and Jawa. Once inside the gunship he can shoot Bulldog and Sabre in their military faces and be free. Free and on his way to Carla, he thinks while looking at his ring finger where the marital barcode can just be seen poking out from under his fingerless gloves.
Combat hasn’t started yet, so they shouldn’t be too on edge. Without the adrenaline that he can feel flooding his system he has the upper hand. Obie is a weed, easy to remove from the equation. Jawa is the biggest immediate threat but he is also carrying the heaviest weapon, which will slow him down. Rennin isn’t as quick as he once was but decisive action tends to negate that. Most people aren’t willing killers.
Sabre and Bulldog are the furthest away, therefore the most dangerous. Closing any distance between a ranged enemy is suicide if they know you’re coming. Bulldog should still be strapped in the pilot’s chair. Sabre won’t be expecting an attack from here. All Rennin needs is to be quick, quiet, and act with conviction.