| Author |
Baptism of Fire- A Darkspace Story |
Lupino
Cadet
Joined: March 23, 2002
Posts: 359
|  Posted: 2003-07-13 15:25
Ch. 1
A single strain of thought was running through Private First Class Fredrick Wagner’s head. “How the hell did I end up here?”
The war was going bad for the rebellious Interstellar Culture Confederation, and the United Galactic Trade Organization had made recent gains in the Ross 248 system. Specifically, UGTO forces had recently liberated the planet of Enous, the last planet to hold out against the UGTO invasion. An immediate planet-wide declaration of martial law was announced minutes after the planet was secured, to which the local population of several billion went into an uproar over the UGTO’s “oppression” and took to the streets immediately. Wagner and his platoon were assigned riot duty in one of Enous’ domed cities, guarding a city-street that lead towards the UGTO command headquarters, formally the local university campus. And the natives were restless.
The soldiers stood from one side of the avenue to the other; the only thing separating the 16 men from the gathering mass was a simple wooden-post barricade, the Neocrete buildings on either side, and restraint on the crowd’s part. The soldiers were clad in standard battle suits, their white armor plastered with intricately designed ruby red brush strokes covering most of the body, with the exposed joints wrapped up in a layer of Kevlar-type material. Their heads were protected by a sleek helmet system, that swooped down and out to add more protection to the Kevlar-covered neck area, and a tinted visor that covered the whole facial region and provided a 180° Heads-Up Display. Most of them were armed with standard R-19 Particle Rifles, though three of the men carrier Light Particle Repeaters for additional firepower and RoF.
It was this glamorous, professional look that inspired Fredrick to join the Army in the first place. He came from a military background, and both his parents encouraged his joining into the armed forces. All three of his brothers had went Navy years earlier, though last he heard two of them were serving on scout ships scanning along the frontier, and Erwin was in command of a Frigate chasing around enemy supply convoys. Fredrick was after the fiery glory of personal combat, not the cold emptiness of spaceships and stars, and signed up at the local army recruiting station in Köln at 21. After months of intense, grueling physical and mental training, Fredrick was attached to the 25th Infantry Division, and was psyched for some real combat action. Unfortunately, by the time his military transport had reached the Ross 248 system, fighting on Enous was winding down, and Fredrick’s Echo Company, along with the rest of the 25th received their orders to “help in the prevention and/or suppression of any civilian uprisings by enemy insurgents”.
Currently, the only thing that was “uprising” was the volume of the protests and obscenities being thrown across the roadblock at the soldiers. One young woman standing in front of Fredrick took the time to lob a wad of spit at the young Germanic man, the saliva falling short and landing in a glob on the road in front of him, and returned to calling him an “imperialist pig-dog”. Had she been able to see through the visor, the anxious look on Fredrick would have been clearly visible.
“Umm, LT, this crowd seems to be getting a bit rowdy,” said Fredrick over the communications link. “Just sit tight Wagner,” was all Lieutenant Wilson would reply. There was not a very reassuring tone in his voice.
Unexpectedly his auditory sensors picked up something big coming up behind them. Turning to look behind out of the corner of his eye, Fredrick’s heart was suddenly lifted: It was the other two platoons of Echo Company, and they had a PainBeam in tow. The PainBeam was a large directional dish strapped to a millimeter-wave generator, the waves being 100 times more powerful then microwaves. The dish then aims these beams at the more unruly protestors, which gives a sensation of their flesh being boiled off their skin, though there are no lasting effects. The PainBeam set was being transported on a flatbed truck, which slowly backed up towards the wooden barricade, the rest of Echo forming up behind it.
The crowd that could see what was going on slowly began falling back, as word passed down the mob. Those who were too young or ignorant stood their ground, while those with first-hand experience pushed their way frantically through the crowd. Suddenly the PainBeam was fired, the invisible beams aimed precisely at one 20-something anarchist, who was immediately wriggling in pain on the hard street. The PainBeam then begin a steady steam of point, aim, and fire, and moving onto the next target as the last unlucky fellow would be squirming along the ground like an earthworm in pain. The mass riot instantly became a mass rout, as the thousands of protestors and spectators alike began a headlong charge in any direction from the UGTO forces.
It was then, on the third floor of a building down where the road bents onto another city street that Fredrick’s HUD picked up the puff of smoke, as it streaked towards his position. That million-dollar computer chip in his helmet predicted it flight path, its current airspeed, even gave a prediction on what type of rocket it was and what its yield was. However, the only thing going through Fredrick’s head was that it was heading for the PainBeam, and he was standing right next to it.
“Holy sh-”
Fredrick couldn’t tell how bright or loud the explosion was, as all his suit’s sensory systems went into instant shutdown to protect the wearer, but he could definitely feel the shockwave as he was thrown 20 feet into the air and smashed against the side of a building. Even Fredrick’s armor and soft under padding could not protect his brain from rattling around inside his skull, and Fredrick went unconscious before he hit the ground…
_________________
\"Time is the best teacher; Unfortunately, it kills all its students!\"
|
Lupino
Cadet
Joined: March 23, 2002
Posts: 359
| Posted: 2003-07-13 15:25
Ch 2
“Wagner, can you hear me?”
“Sir, we’ve got reports of more armed civilians moving towards our position-”
“His vital signs are coming back to normal. Wagner, can you hear me?”
“Let’s get some guns on those rooftops; I want a clean sweep of this area-”
“Wagner? Wagner?!”
Fredrick slowly awoke to see William “Doc” Miller standing over him, his instruments hooked into his suit while it monitored his life signs. The Medic was giving him a quick check-up while the two were inside some kind of shop, the sound of orders and gunfire just outside and Fredrick was strewn across a table. With his helmet lying next to him, his mind caught back up to the present and his hands traced his body to look for signs of shrapnel.
“Don’t worry son, your armor saved you this time, though it always helps to duck outta the way,” he said, adding a chuckle at the end. Miller was an old soldier, though how he ended up in a new unit like the 25th he never talked about. He never talked much about his past firefights, though through the knowledge he shared and what slips of info he did let loose, one could tell he had been through a lot.
Lieutenant Wilson stuck his head through the broken shop window. “How’s he doing Doc?”
“He’ll be fine,” replied Miller, looking back down on Fredrick. “His vitals are back to normal, and he doesn’t have a major concussion.”
“Alright Wagner, let’s move it.” Grabbing his helmet, Fredrick raced out of the shop on the heels of Wilson. “We’ve basically got farmers with slug throwers, the rest of the platoon is clearing the buildings while we’re advancing down the street,” spoke Wilson as they raced down a block towards the fighting. The coloring of his armor had changed into urban mode, varying shades of grey breaking up his outline. “And get your damn helmet back on, before we lose you for good Wagner.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two rounded another corner to find the platoon hold up at a make-shift barrier, armed gunman blindly spraying their bullets at the steadily advancing soldiers. They had piled up a couple of armored vehicles and other debris, and their weapons were mainly automatic machine guns. A stray bullet ricocheted off of Fredrick’s chest armor, and he instantly went against the wall, his helmet system still booting up. There wasn’t even a dent in his chest plate.
“I count 6 gunmen armed with 10mm caseless M-34 Assault rifles, looks like old hand-me downs from the ICC army,” crackled Pvt. James Corey’s voice over the comms. “I’d also bet on some more RPGs lying around.”
“Listen up soldiers,” It was Captain Richardson, Echo Company’s commander, who at this moment was safe and snug back at HQ. “Intel reports that most of the partisans in your area are concentrated in the main factory complex in the center of this commercial area. New orders are to advance with the rest of Echo and clear out that production center. Resistance is expected to be light-”
“Yeah, you know what happens every time Intel says that-”
“That’s enough, Sgt. Carlson.” Wilson wasn’t going to have any more talk like that over an open frequency.
“-so don’t expect any reinforcements coming soon. Bravo and Juno companies will be assaulting from the north and west, and Echo will come up from the south-east. Do your job well, men.” There was a flurry of chatter when the Captain went off the air.
“You do realize, LT, it’s a good three miles to that production center, and who knows what the hell they got waiting for us along the way.”
“Doesn’t matter Carlson, we’ve got a job to do. Now, let’s show these boys how real men get things done.”
“Yes, sir!” was the collective response from the platoon.
Wagner took another peek at the barricade, which the particle rounds had turned into a pile of Swiss cheese, and he could only count three people firing back now. Constant firing from the Light Repeaters was keeping their heads down, long enough for Pvt. Montgomery Nelson to throw a grenade right into the mound. Exploding with more force then a package of C4, car and body parts were sent airborne, and what was left of the make-shift wall was just a small crater in the street. The soldiers pilled through the gap with guns blazing, and two more gunmen coming out of a nearby building were taken down similarly.
“Cease fire, cease fire!” The whole platoon went silent, indeed the whole street went silent; it seemed there was no one left to shoot at, and no one shooting back.
“Lieutenant Wilson,” It was Captain Richardson again. “Your platoon is falling behind. Form up with Anderson and Menendez at 3rd and Main immediately, and move on the compound.”
“Yes sir,” replied Wilson, adding a few obscenities in his head. He knew Richardson was in competition with the commanders of Bravo and Juno, and he’d risk his whole company just to be promoted a rank.
Wagner was a little preoccupied to pay attention to the internal scuffle between the lieutenant and the captain. He was off to the side with one of the victims of the grenade blast, and she was literally a bloody stump from the waist down. There were also several pieces of metal lodged into her chest, and one shard went right through her rib cage into the heart.
“Please, help me,” she said, blood dripping out of her mouth and a blood-spattered hand reaching out for him. Wagner grasped her hand tightly, setting aside his rifle and adding some sorrow-filled words of comfort, “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all rig-”
A flash of light, and suddenly in place of her head was a smoking hole in the ground; the intense heat of the Particle shot cauterizing the blood vessels in her neck and frying her entire skull. Wagner stood up in shock to see Nelson standing over the body, his rifle still leveled at the woman. Fredrick was at a loss for words, feeling sadness and hatred all mixed in to one, felt like shooting Nelson on the spot while at the same time felt like commiserating with him.
“She was a goner, kid,” was all Nelson could say, before turning to join the rest of the platoon marching down the street. It took a minute for the events to sink in before Wagner picked up his rifle and ran down the street towards his fellow soldiers.
_________________
\"Time is the best teacher; Unfortunately, it kills all its students!\"
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