"Men, this is going to be a hard target, the toughest nut for us to crack yet. We have an enemy who is dug in, paranoid, and the entire environment is rich with bystanders. This is going to be tricky. None of us present is special forces, and the spooky boys from the three-letter agencies aren't specialized in actually pulling their weight. Yet, I feel as if we can do this raid; you are the best of the United States, and I don't think getting a fancy class one certification will change the outcome of this job.
Everything must be done in a precise way, exactly, measure deviations from plans in half seconds, because one slip-up and one misalignment could result in this opportunity slipping from our hands. Our target, if he catches wind that we are on our way, will escape deeper into hostile territory, and that complicates things. We are pushing legality by our actions this shallow into enemy space. I mean it when I say, I might be screwed legally once this is done and over, but that's my problem, not yours, but I'd rather have some excuses when I have to testify in front of the silver stars."
The room of marines, naval aviators, and ship officers chuckles at my potential misfortune as I continue,
"This plan will utilize everything we have at our disposal.
First, our friends in the CIA (mispronounced as See-ya) have somehow procured us one of the enemy wooden vessels. How this is, I don't know, but they will utilize that ship to create a distraction for us. This will be done via a simple collision with either of the enemy ships pictured here. This should get all eyes away from us for a little while. The next phase is to get the enemy navy out of the way while we move into the AO on the ground. This will be done utilizing our battleships to rip the four vessels stationed over the palace, where the target is hiding. From there, the rest of the navy's job is to not let another vessel come close to the AO, which will protect our boys and deny any easy method of escape.
Second phase, we know the shield is up; all our sensors tell us that the enemy has kept the large city-wide shields up and running 24/7 for the few days we have observed the target zone. This has caused two problems for us, one of which means we haven't been able to use ground-penetrating radar to map out the interior of the target building, but we have managed to deploy multiple small drones into the area to give us a good idea where the target is located. It appears his residence has a balcony. The drones also confirmed this shield isn't completely rigid. The maximum speed anything can enter the shield is a little less than 500 miles per hour, just like the ones before, and since this is a very heavily populated city composed almost entirely of civilian buildings. We believe the entire world is some sort of resort. This means we cannot use excessive force on the ground or within the city, and since everything is stacked up together risk of civilian casualties is almost guaranteed with any main-line ordinance.
I have limited almost all ordnance to 50Kg of high explosive filler, which means accuracy will be paramount, making every shot count. We don't want wasted ammo, dead civilians, or anyone to get hurt because we failed to neutralize a potential threat. The atmospheric crew in phase two will consist of one dropship carrying two squads of marines and a single marine scout sniper team. This vessel will be escorted by three fighter wings and their wingman drones.
The first two wings, the Harry Houdinis and the Oregon Ducks, you two will perform wild weasel against enemy anti-aircraft defenses. Unfortunately, your entry will be at Second World War levels of speed, but I give you full permission to fire upon anything that looks like a skyward-pointed weapon, and I want you to lob a missile down its throat. Since the enemy here doesn't utilize any normal forms of sensors, we cannot use standard anti-radiation or anti-battery missiles. So it's air-to-ground missiles for days, boys and girls, make sure you and your drones hit your mark. Callsigns will be Black one and two. The other Fighter wing, the... Pretty Princesses..."
I shoot a glare at the three men who barely fulfil the Navy's maximums for aviators who compose this wing before continuing with them giving me shit eating grins,
"You guys will be dedicated to taking out that shield. Based on the data we gained from our few engagements with city-sized shields, we know there is at least one room or central location that works as the focus for this technology. We still don't know exactly how it works, and we have been lucky that so far the enemy hasn't tuned their shields in a way to stop most of our weaponry, but our target knows us and has survived an encounter with us. He knows his stuff... or at least has an idea of what we may field and what needs to be done. Intelligence indicates that the shields can become more like a physical wall if certain actions are taken by the user, which means our escape will be cut off if the shield remains. The Princesses will be in charge of either destroying the shield or at least denying the enemy access to the point of origin or the command center. We aren't certain yet what it exactly is.
Our information was gained during interrogation with captured enemy officers, and we do not want to take any risks with this shield. Shown here on the screen behind me is what out drones captured, and it appears to be the top of the central palace. Seen here are these translucent strands coming from this location and into the main body of the shield. We believe this to be the focus point. Hit it hard and make sure it is nothing but rubble. If it looks somewhat functional, keep slamming it. Bunker-busting rockets and smaller anti-fortification missiles will be your loadout. Your Callsign will be Blue.
The dropship will be tasked with sweeping the LZ and providing overwatch during phase three of the plan. The LZ is the target's balcony, which, from experiences in previous palaces, is capable of working like a normal LZ, especially since it is a full acre in size. The Dropship callsign will be White.
Phase three will consist of the ground operation. The Dropship will deploy the Sniper team onto a decorative balcony above the main balcony. This one has no entrance to the building, and from the other, they will provide overwatch and make sure no one tries to jump from any of the other balconies or terraces above, below, or to the side. We don't know exactly what kind of mobility their warriors can do, but it's better if we treat them as if they can keep up with our Marines. Sniper team callsign is K9.
The two marine squads will enter the target's room and perform two separate actions. The first squad will rush past the target and into the hallway outside of the room to deploy portable walls and wire to deny reinforcements. Squad one will then fall back into the room proper and form a defensive line facing the door and creating murder-holes in the wall separating the room from the hall to pick off anyone who tries to smash through. Squad one's Callsign is SWAT.
Squad two will be in charge of securing the target, as all the members of squad two have undergone less-than-lethal weapons training and apprehension training while they worked onboard a POW ship from the last war. Squad two is to apprehend the target as swiftly as possible. Since it appears he regrew his arm, he is probably a tough bastard and it will take lots of care and skill to apprehend him. We do know he is capable of working like a living flamethrower, so don't waste time and beat him into submission or leave him a twitching mess on the ground. We would give you sedatives, but we do not know his alien biology enough to create a safe one at the moment. So he's going to be wily. We are sending what is basically a coffin with air holes in it, with you to secure him inside. This container has been found to be able to withstand rather large explosive force, so utilize it to contain him. Squad two will be callsign LEO.
The final phase is exfiltration. The Dropship which has been providing some overwatch, will land on the LZ once again. All fighters will drop their current roles and work as wingmen for the dropship, as well as knocking anything down that sticks its head up. LEO will embark first with the target, followed by SWAT, who will cover their own retreat with directional anti-personnel mines. K9 will the the last to return to the dropship. From there, it is a matter of whether the shield goes down or not. If it's still up, I want the attack drones sticking to the dropship like flies to shit to take the hits if needed. If the shield goes down, then everyone will floor it and head to the stars. The naval assets in the area will clear a path through any enemy ships, where the USS Bullfrog will link up. The fighters will have to magnetically clamp to the outside of the vessel for their trek back to our little hidey hole behind the third moon of this planet. The final action will be all ships jumping from this system and into a less-hostile one before heading back to where the rest of the fleet is awaiting us."
I stare at the group gathered with me before continuing,
"This is going to have to be precise. I wasn't everyone on the top of their game when this happens. We start at 0400 hours local time. Our best bet is to get him while he is in slumberland. Get it done and do your work, boys and girls. Dismissed...."
"Hey, corporal, what do you think we should start calling the aliens? I mean, we have a term for everything, but since the aliens are like multi-species or whatever, we need a term for them in general."
The Corporal rubs the chin of his helmet before responding,
"I dunno private. We need to discuss this with the other Marines first. I don't think we can figure one out in time on this ride planetside."
The two squads of marines begin a quiet discussion while their dropship sails silently through the void. The trip from launch to hitting the ground is still a couple of hours of flight since they were deployed well past the orbit of the local moons. The conversation is lighthearted as the Marines do their time-honored tradition of finding a slur for whoever they are fighting. It's all a method to avoid pre-battle nerves, and in this case, avoid the anxiety of missing a window of time.
Thankfully for the Jarheads they can access the external cameras of the dropship meaning they aren't blind like people were in the past when locked inside a dropship, this means they can have a nice look outside at anytime, but in the space between celestial bodies there really isn't much to see, even the fighters and their drones which are "close" to them are still about a mile away in any direction, which is a method used to reduce the sensor cross section of their group, it's not a very good method but it works sometimes and that sometimes is the difference between a tungsten slug moving mach fuck going through your little ship, or landing on a planet and doing what marines do best.
The lights inside the crew compartment blink to red, and every single marine straightens u,p and all conversation stops. They access their neural computers and further memorize their roles. The Corporal was given official command of Squad callsign LEO due to his past work as security on a POW transport during the last war, which means he is the only veteran of combat who has any apprehension training. He rereads all his notes on the tasks he granted to the other marines in his squad. He doesn't like that he wasn't given any traditionally lethal weapons for this mission, just the less-than-lethal tools... but he is somewhat calmed by remembering that he is a marine and they can just squish the aliens. Although he is mostly nervous because he is the one directly in charge of hogtying the target or whatever they need to do, a big task, but four other marines will be there to hold a limb or something. He just hopes they catch the target with his pants off...
The crew cab lights go out as the dropship begins maneuvering every so slightly, the pilots listening to commands from the navy behind them. These slight changes to movement are for the missiles that were fired mere minutes ago, so that they don't have to waste even a fraction of a second to hit the ships hovering over the target location. On one of the screens for the pilots, about a dozen dots are screaming through the void behind their ship and the fighters, the window for the mission shrinking by the second.
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Over every comm, a quiet but confident voice announces,
"Orbital traffic collision complete. Good luck..."
The glowies, having done their job, somehow escape the cataclysmic collision they just committed, and the operation, for all intents and purposes, has entered phase two.
The marines watch as the hulking mass of the four enemy vessels go by as their dropship thunders past, they can see some movement from the deck and on the weapon systems before the ships being cracking apart as anti-ship missiles slam into them fast enough even the enhanced eyes of the marines can barely make out the small objects punching through the stone. Every marine can only imagine how deafening the sound would be if there were an atmosphere, as a cascade of explosions caused by unknown means tears the vessels apart just as the dropship goes past them and begins the first phase of deacceleration.
All marines feel the sudden shift as the dropship hits atmosphere, and their external cameras are limited as they are folded into specialized protective coves as the reentry causes a cone of flame to cover their ship. The hum of coolant pumping through the skin of the vessel can be felt more than heard as the ship rapidly reduces its speed, the marines feeling the extreme negative G's as retro-thrusters, and the specifically designed shape of the ship kills speed fast enough to be a health hazard for any normal human.
The distinct rumble and creaking of entering the atmosphere immediately hypes the marines up, each one of them excited for the mission and the imminent relief of their boredom from sitting around in space.
The idyllic city sits in a soft golden glow as the streetlights illuminate the dark night. All the bands have put away their instruments, and every market and boutique is closed for the night. The only ones still awake are the few merry men who had far too much to drink for the night and the few lovers sitting in perfectly manicured gardens, hoping to steal a kiss from one another. The great shield protecting the city makes the starry sky above slightly shimmer with iridescent colors as it blocks out all outside sound from the quiet city, because what kind of civilized society would let even a single call of a nightbird ruin the perfect sounds of a city at night?
A few guards, fairly drunk in their own right, stare up at the sky, enjoying the almost psychedelic color show of the stars mixed with the shield over their heads. The two friends pick out their favorite constellations and swap tall tales with one another. This job allows for them to be lax, because only those worthy were allowed to live in such a paradise, people with no chance to commit crimes due to long family histories of loyalty. Even the two lowly guards would be considered minor unlanded nobility in most other worlds, but in this place, they are considered the lowest on the totem pole of guard ranks, and the benefits, mixed with very little actual work, make the honor of a title a little less tempting.
The two guards watch the trippy scene as multiple shooting stars streak across the sky. They watch with warm smiles on their faces, wishing their wives were here, feeling the romantic scene is wasted on one another. The shooting stars disappear into the night sky and the two men clink their bottles together and start taking a long taste of their respective drinks, then a flash like lightning illuminates the sky above as the shield reacts to something hitting it close to the maximum speed, then the silence of the night is filled with a high-pitched roar coming from the sky, then this is drowned out with the sound of multiple rapid explosions, momentary flashes of light and deafening sound all over the city, all the potential destruction hidden in the dark.
The two guards start to scramble but realise they don't sense any major mana spikes and the explosions aren't tearing swathes of the city away... so they assume it is a prank by some gifted children or some drunk mages fighting in the streets, then the defensive tower next to them disappears in one of these momentary flashes causing it to crumble as if it were made of glass right in front of the guards...
"Beginning rocket run."
The two fighters and their dozen wingmen drones all open up with lightweight guided missiles into the potential generator for the shield over the city. The masonry is reduced to sand in mere seconds as the hovering aircraft launches its deadly salvo. Around them, all the air defense sites within the city are obliterated in mere instants as drones and fighters lob guided missiles into the barrels of the alien weapons.
The sky above dances for a singular second, and from orbit, a communication comes through to all forces,
"Readings show the shield has either failed or has become weak enough to allow us to see you perfectly on the ground. Good luck, boys. Pretty Princesses, fire another salvo really quick and then join in the wild weasel."
The response through their comms,
"Aye, Sir!"
The dropship screams over the palace as it rotates as its back-facing ramp slams open in half a second, releasing an audible clang that can be barely heard over the scream of atmospheric engines. Two marines leap from the vessel using back-mounted thrusters to extend their jump as they land on an overwatch position. Immediately removing the upper torso of multiple guards along the walls using 25mm automatic "rifles", the SAPHE round, designed usually for taking out soft cover, worked well against the magically enhanced armor of the guards, the team lead announces,
"This is K9, we are in position. Overwatch position cleared."
The dropship lands on the LZ balcony, and the two teams of marines sprint from the dropship. SWAT bursts forward and tears the balcony door from the wall, and enters the target's bedroom. The Inquisitor sits up in his bed, the noise suppression of his room shattered by the armored monsters tearing through the luxury place. The two women on either side of him squeal in fear as one falls from the bed and the other grabs the inquisitor by the arm, slowing his reactions further. SWAT moves forward and tears the hallway door from its hinges and begins setting up the barricades and wire, all this taking less than a few seconds to do as LEO begins their attempted capture of the Inquitor, who has finally begun understanding what's going on as the light produced by his body illuminates the room just enough for him.
Multiple members of LEO approach with long sticks with a strange hook on the end. The Inquisitor attempts to begin defending himself, but the woman clinging to his arm out of fear makes it impossible for him to stand or use his dominant hand. So he raises his other hand and begins preparing an attack spell, but one of the marines lunges forward with his stick, and as soon as the strange hook touches the hand, there is a loud snap as the hook immediately tightens and restrains the wrist like an oversized snap-bracelet. The marine yanks the stick upward and raises the man's hand over his head, sending the firespell straight into the air. Luckily, the room has 10-meter-high ceilings and there was no residue to rain down onto the room below, but the wooden support beams catch fire.
A second marine raises a small weapon and fires a set of two darts into the Inquisitor who immediately begins twitching, but he appears to be far more durable than expected as the oversized tazer appears to only cause him pain, and the shock makes the woman release her grip where another stick-weilding marine lunges forward and snaps the bracelet around the Inqusitors wrist. With both hands in the air, the Corporal rushes forward and rips the blankets off the bed, and with one of the snap-restraints not attached to any stick, he binds the ankles of the inquisitor.
The stick wielders move the ends of the sticks together, and the corporal snaps his wrists together as the stick attached ones detach from the long pole. The Corporal then manhandles the glowing being and flips him onto his belly as he writhes and tries to escape from the grasp of the metal monster. The Corporal tries to be careful, but the shoulders of the Inquisitor are less flexible than a human's, and he is also much stronger than the Marines initially expected, being forced to use more strength than initially predicted. In a moment of frustration as the timer in the corner of his helmet ticks down and their window for a successful operation closes, he yanks the inquisitor's hands down, dislocating both shoulders with a terrible popping sound. He will survive, so the marine believes this is a job well done. He takes a specialized form of fast-cuffs from his belt and hogties the inquisitor before bagging his head. From the SWAT defensive line, there are multiple 50-cal reports as the guards of the palace attempt to make their way through the wire.
Outside, the sound of rotary cannons tears into the night as the dropship and the fighters circle the palace, removing any reinforcements from reinforcing their inquisitor. The Corporal announces,
"Target secure. Everyone, back to the boat."
The Dropship begins landing as the snipers above announce a strange amount of activity along the walls and on the other balconies. With the dropship gone and the fighters focusing mostly on air defenses that have started coming online, the number of reinforcements begins getting dicey. SWAT places their anti-personnel mines and begins retreating as the wire is finally breached. Multiple guards or knights meet their fate at the wrong end of a directional mine, piles of twisted metal and wet meat being the only thing left.
LEO Boards the vessel with the squirming target, and the Corporal waits on the ramp for SWAT to get aboard. Swat almost makes it, but one of the members is lagging behind. The Corporal asks,
"What's wrong with you? Get the fuck on the ship!"
The lagging private responds,
"Left leg actuator is sticking something fierce, I can't get a proper stride in. I think I got some of their armor stuck in a joint or something when the mines blew, just my fuckign luck."
The Corporal swears and bounds over to the slow marine and grabs him by the power pack on the back of the armor. He inspects them quickly and sees that a shard of armor from one of the knights is perfectly wedged into the medial actuator of their right leg, right in the joint gap of the backside of the knee armor. A flaw that normally doesn't mean anything in standard combat, and only ever happens when a marine has their back facing a demolition or the like. Something rare since Marines are supposed to always have their front toward everything that can hurt them in normal situations, but in the rush back to the dropship mixed with the mines, it was just the worst luck at the worst time.
The Corporal supports the locked-up side of the damaged marine and half-shoves them back toward the dropship. Progress may be slow for a marine, but they still move much faster than any normal human would. The Corporal cusses as the window of time they were given closes, and a communication about enemy warships now beginning to enter the AO above them makes the situation all the more stressful.
"Corporal, on your ass, we got a fast fuck, we don't have a shot."
The Corporal shoves the slow Marine forward as he turns around to face the incoming threat with the heaviest armor forward. He is frustrated by the fact that he doesn't have a lethal weapon, so he raises his hands defensively as an alien woman darts toward him faster than any Olympic champion to ever have run. The woman isn't wearing any armor, but in her hand is a thin rapier-like sword. She is practically glowing on the radiation sensors as if she were highly enriched Polonium. This means that she is some sort of magic user. There is a massive thermal spike on her sword, and the Corporal remembers the dressing down that one marine got when the outer layer of armor on his helmet was sheared off by a glowing weapon. The Corporal understands that this weapon is dangerous, even for him. His enhanced reflexes and speed allow him to attempt a parry with the reinforced armor of his wrist braces as he steps back, still attempting a retreat. He hits the blunt of the blade, which releases a massive cloud of sparks and arcing electricity upon contact, but as the blade is struck, it bends unnaturally as the alien woman continues forward.
With a desperate attempt at survival, the Corporal shoves his arms forward to push the woman away, but the blade disappears from over his arms before suddenly appearing under his arms with a sonic crack as the woman does her second thrust. The Corporal hears the sound of armor being shorn away for a second before feeling intense heat on his neck, before feeling cold... then all alarms begin blaring in his helmet as his armor has been breached.
He screams in fear, and he stumbles backward before a large metal hand grabs him by the power pack as a burning sensation fills his body. He is still able to stand and backpedals with his rescuer attempting to fend odd the flurry of thrusts coming his way before a flash grenade appears in front of his helmet. The helmet's visor immediately auto-tints, but the alien woman is forced back by the bright light and concussive force. The corporal feels as if he is on fire as his undersuit loses the battle against the highly radioactive environment and his enhanced flesh begins falling apart under the bombardment of alien radiation.
He watches through blurry vision as the alien woman manages to dodge a few shots before disappearing out into the hall at impressive speed. The Corporal can no longer talk, and unfortunately, his enhanced biology doesn't let him pass out or go into shock. The suit begins administering pain killers and other first aid, but it's a losing battle as his entire body is bathed in radiation... Marines aren't easy to kill, and unfortunately, that means they die slowly...
K9 leaps onto the dropship as the boarding ramp closes. They had made it, but are horrified to see the writhing body of the corporal on the floor. The dropship now begins extreme acceleration, enough to knock the inquisitor unconscious with the sudden change in speed, as the marines attempt to do any first aid they can. Some hook their painkiller reserves into the corporal in an attempt to knock him out, but the biology of Marines makes this incredibly difficult.
The flight of fighters links up with the dropship as they all climb out of the atmosphere in order to meet up with their getaway ship...
In orbit, they find a graveyard of masonry where dozens of Royal ships had come to protect the inquisitor and were obliterated in moments with nuclear and conventional hellfire. On board the dropship, just as they begin docking with the marine vessel, a PFC announces over all comms,
"Corporal Jackson Leonard Young... KIA..."
