LIGHTNOVELONLINE Episode 22: Lock and Load
Episode 22
Lock and Load
The box was a rectangular shaped transport vehicle that looked about as aerodynamic as a coffin. But since it simply served to transport troops from orbit to the battlefield and back, it didn’t need to be streamlined.
All four sides lowered, forming ramps to its interior. The armored assault vehicles, including mine, were loaded first and secured to the aluminum floor with heavy chains and hooks. Then the contingent of combat-bots were embarked and strapped into form fitting cradles for the ride to the surface. Finally, a collection of drones of various sizes and configurations was taken onboard. The inclusion of drones strongly suggested that there would be some kind of atmosphere on Trappist-1e.
As the side panels began raising to their closed position, I reviewed the mission profile in my battle orders one more time. Just as Lucy had described, this would be an all or nothing assault. Every Marine on the ship was inserting in a single massive wave. The intention was clearly to project overwhelming force.
The downside of this tactic was, without a reserve force, if we were unsuccessful in pushing all the way to our objective, we’d be totally fucked. With the standing order prohibiting any unauthorized retreat, we faced total annihilation if things went sideways.
Just then, I received an incoming text message from Merc. It read, “Hey dumbshit, switch your radio to the squad frequency so you can hear me.” I was struggling to recall the squad frequency when another text arrived. “It’s in your orders.”
I swiftly scanned the battle orders and found the frequency. A quick copy and paste, and I began to hear Marines talking in the background. Their profanity laced discussions focused on how stupid it was to send us in as a QRF against a hardened enemy position, without any reserve force. Then Merc’s voice came over the radio.
“Okay everyone, listen up.” The chatter ceased as he began briefing the squad on the mission.
“We’re scheduled to launch in 3 minutes. Make sure you’ve downloaded the battle orders and understand them. Once we launch, we’ll form up with the other boxes and begin insertion. Approximately 10 minutes after that, we’ll be engaging the enemy.”
It struck me as surreal that these might be some of the last words I ever hear.
Merc continued, “Our objective is the main enemy strongpoint. We have been ordered to make one continuous push until we secure the objective. Drones will be out in front of the main assault force. Their feeds will be streaming in your HUDs. Keep all your sensors on and set to maximum range. Call out any threats you see. AAVs will follow the drones in … and then everyone else.”
He paused briefly, creating an uneasy silence before continuing. “There will be no stopping to assist any casualties. If you get hit and disabled, don’t call it out. Leave the frequency open so I can communicate with the squad. We’ll come back for you after we’ve taken the objective.”
Merc then asked, “Any questions?”
I had plenty of questions but was too intimidated to ask any of them in front of the veterans. Instead, I listened intently to the questions asked by others. My heads-up display showed the call sign of each Marine as they spoke.
DJ asked, “Hey Merc, the mission profile has no intel on the enemy or this objective we’re supposed to take. What does Command expect us to do if we don’t even know what we’re up against?”
In a deep male voice, callsign Alice, stated the obvious. “It’s an enemy strongpoint, you know it’s gonna be heavily defended.”
Merc spoke up, “Look, we’re going to have artillery support from the ship. The plan is to saturate the approach with artillery fire to eliminate any advanced enemy positions and static defenses. Then we start our push. The remaining enemy resistance will determine how quickly we advance to the objective.”
A concerned voice asked, “What about the survivors we’re supposed to rescue? They’re going to get chewed up by the artillery.”
Merc explained, “I just got word from Command. As of now, there are officially no survivors from the previous mission.” This grim news prompted a stream of profanity from the squad members.
Callsign Biscuit complained bitterly. “ I told you it was a fuckin’ setup. No survivors and they’re still sending us in? Still calling this a rescue mission? What a joke!” Whatever Merc’s opinion was, he didn’t say.
A vibration coursed through the box as the engines started. Despite the confusion and discord amongst the UCCs, we were launching right on schedule. If nothing else, the USMC was certainly punctual.
The box lifted off the deck and rotated to the correct orientation for launch. I watched in awe as external video feeds provided views from various vantage points. The massive hanger doors began retracting, slowly revealing a pale blue planet framed against the vast expanse of space. It seemed unbelievable that such an innocuous looking sphere would be the scene of violent combat in a matter of minutes.
As we passed through the opening, I heard Merc say, “Okay, start the clock.”
Someone responded, “Copy … clock’s running.” The clock was a backup system for the UCCs.
Every mission carried with it a rating from 1X to 100X. It indicated how much time served would be earned by the UCCs participating in the mission. 1X was straight time. Every minute on the mission was equal to one minute of time served, same as time spent in the combat simulator. 10X meant every minute on the mission earned 10 minutes of time served.
The rating was a rough gauge of how dangerous a mission was. The higher the rating, the greater the difficulty, and the higher the risk. According to the battle orders, this mission was rated 59X, or extremely dangerous.
The clock was intended to keep Command honest by keeping a separate record of the mission duration. Command was in the habit of editing the combat memories of every Marine, after each mission. This was purportedly to reduce the risk of PTSD, but no one believed that. It was considered by the UCCs to be just another manipulation by the AIs. Consequently, the clock was standard procedure for every mission, as an insurance policy against getting shorted on our time served.
As we exited the troopship, a collection of boxes was visible off to our right, forming up for insertion. We slowly approached the formation and took our place at the rear. I wondered whether being behind the other boxes was safer, or more dangerous.
Preoccupied with my risk calculations, I almost missed the notification from Command scrolling across my HUD. It read, ‘Autodestruct/master/armed’. This meant that every UCC, in every box was now the equivalent of a medium sized bomb. The amount of carnage that would result if even one of the UCCs got hit during insertion would be catastrophic. It would cause the loss of an entire box of Marines.
We sat there, waiting in formation as the artillery began their preparation of the battlefield far below. The rounds were visible as they left the cannon barrels at deceptively slow speed. With the effect of gravity as they fell from orbit, their speed at impact would be measured in miles per second. The amount of energy they would generate at impact would be massive. So much so, they didn’t require any explosive charge. The kinetic energy at impact would be the equivalent of a low yield nuclear device.
The artillery fell silent at the completion of the barrage. It was our signal to begin insertion.
Merc’s distinctive voice came over the radio. “Okay 7th squad. Lock and load.” I hit the virtual arming switch and for the first time in my brief existence as a universal combat consciousness, was operating a real AAV with live weapons.
Merc continued, “Beginning insertion in 10.” A countdown briefly showed on my HUD, after which we began hurtling towards the surface.
The tactical plan was to approach the battlefield from an entirely unexpected direction, confusing the enemy. Consequently, the descent to the planet’s surface consisted of random feints and changes in direction. As it entered the planet’s atmosphere, the entire box formation maneuvered as if it was one vehicle, jinking aggressively up and down, and left to right.
Each of these high G maneuvers produced massive loads on the ship’s structure and cargo. I was grateful for the heavy duty rigging which held my armored assault vehicle securely to the deck. Regardless of the sturdy nature of the box and the fastening system, each abrupt change in direction caused an audible groaning from the floor. I wondered what the maximum G-rating was for this rig.
It was nerve wracking, getting tossed all over the sky. A hunk of cargo in a box piloted by some AI.
After a particularly violent series of movements, I inadvertently thought aloud, “Who the fuck is flying this thing?” Unfortunately, my mic wasn’t muted.
Merc said, “Shut up and get off the frequency.”
Embarrassed, I quickly muted my mic. Here I was, not even in combat and already I was screwing up. With an unsympathetic squad leader and a total lack of real combat experience, my odds of survival seemed infinitesimally small.
Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to obsess over my misfortune. The box came to a jarring halt on the surface. I guess technically, it was a landing, but it felt more like a barely controlled crash. Regardless, we had arrived on the battlefield.
As the doors slowly began opening, I hit the release, freeing my AAV from its restraints and then waited for the doors to complete their transition into unloading ramps. Since the insertion and unloading process was not part of the combat simulator training, I was unprepared for the glacial speed of disembarkation and the chaos that accompanied it.
Everyone began simultaneously surging towards the exit ramps, producing an epic traffic jam. Instead of charging into battle as a unified force, we bumped and barged along, slowly inching our way towards the exits. It was maddening.
There was a sudden burst of gunfire. Someone had discharged an autocannon during the unloading. Either through accident as they collided with someone else, or as an expression of frustration with the infuriating offloading process.
Based on my current level of frustration, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was the latter.