Sergeant Gawain.

First Platoon, First Company, Second Division.

Sergeant Gawain banged his fist on the side of the assault shuttle’s bulkhead. “Let me get this straight. The, ‘I can do no wrong’, Third Company needs my help?”

“No, they need someone’s help and I volunteered your platoon.” His Gunnery Sergeant told him.

“Why me?” He asked, shaking his head. “I already have a Op.”

“Your platoon is needed to help what's left of Third Company complete the objective.” The Gunnery Sergeant said, stressing the word ‘your’. “That being said, you will take my platoon and report to Gunnery Sergeant Thompson to assist her in her mission. Is that clear, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Gunny.” Sergeant Gawain replied, trying not to grind his teeth to dust.

“I just messaged you the objective. Get it done, Sergeant.” The Gunnery Sergeant ordered, right before he switched off the radio.

“Sergeant Gawain, I just got new orders for your platoon. Switching to the new heading now.” The Navy pilot told him over the radio.

Sergeant Gawain sighed and acknowledged the pilot before he read his message. “Third Company my ass. There are only two of them left. The Gunny and that Earther bitch Magic.” He thought to himself, as he finished reading the rest of his new orders.

“Be careful here, Henry. This is a chance to prove that you are the best and at the same time show that Earther that she can’t compete with real, honest people.” He told himself, as he slowly turned around.

“Remember, it’s in how you say it.” He reminded himself, as he looked up at his platoon.

“Okay people, our objective has been changed. Seems the so-called best company in Second Division needs our help. Seems like they got shot to hell, and they can’t finish their objective without our help”. The sergeant said mockingly.

Sergeant Gawain watched the reaction of his platoon. He saw that they were annoyed with the last-minute change, but they were good people. He watched as they got over their feelings and looked to him - eager to get into the action.

“We all know about Third Company and their vaunted First Platoon.” Sergeant Gawain told them, holding on to the handle that was hanging from the ceiling, as the shuttle listed to the left with the course change.

“Careful here Henry.” He warned himself, as he paused in what he was saying.

“Look, I’m not saying you-know-who is a cheat and a hacker nor I’m not saying she is a diversity hire, here to make the civilians feel good. I can’t. You people are adults. You can make your own minds up what is true and what are rumors.” Sergeant Gawain told them.

“Good, very good. Can’t give me a fine because of that. It’s too vague and I could argue that I was literally telling them that the Earther is not a hacker or a cheat. But my people know what I really mean. They’re good boys and girls.” He thought to himself with pride.

“It seems like she and the Gunny from Third Platoon are all that's left. They need our help assaulting a base on some tiny island near our real objective. If we can help them out fast enough we can make it to our real objective when we’re done.” Sergeant Gawain told them, as he noted one of the replacement Private First Classes had his hand raised for a question. He nodded at the new man.

“Is it true what they say about her?” The PFC asked.

“By Tanya’s Tongue, new guy. She’s an Earther. Let’s just say that she tried out for this platoon and was kicked for not being good enough.” Gummy, one of the older PFCs told the new guy.

“Good man.” Sergeant Gawain thought to himself, fighting to keep the smile off his face. “He will go far. Not sure about the new guy. Well, there are always new PFCs waiting in the wings.”

“Moving on. This brings up a good opportunity for us to show those suckers what a real platoon can do. I want nice, clean lines. I want this to go off by the numbers. Anyone who doesn’t bring back double-digit kills will have to explain to me why that didn’t happen or they will lose some camp perks. People, I'm serious about this. You’re either helping us or bringing us down. Don’t be a rock. That’s all I’m saying.” Sergeant Gawain warned them.

“Oorah, Bredbeddle!” The new guy shouted. Sergeant Gawain let himself smile as the rest of the squad responded loudly.

“I may keep him after all.” He thought to himself as he nodded to the new guy. “Got to encourage the newbies when they finally get things right. Team building and all that.”

“One minute, Sergeant.” The pilot told him over a private channel.

“Ok, we don’t have a lot of time. We are going to keep this simple. We are going to assault the front of a base. First Squad, you go up the middle. Second, you go to the south side. Third, you go north. I’ll take Fourth and follow First Squad. We will act as a back up for First Squad and a swing squad, if reinforcements are needed. Expect a lot of resistance. That means machine gun nests and bunkers. Keep your head on a swivel and watch where you step. If I was them, I would set up a minefield right up front and wait for someone dumb enough to step in my killing field. The problem is we are the Federation's Marines and they have no idea what’s coming for them.” Sergeant Gawain told them.

“We will set down two miles away to protect the shuttle. Once we are down we will split off into squads and get the job done. Questions?” He asked, looking at all of his people.

He never got an answer as the shuttle tilted violently to the right. He quickly found his seat and strapped in as his radio came to life. “Get strapped in back there. We are taking heavy fire from the island. I’m calling for support.”

“So much for the Iron Hand taking out their anti-air weapons.” Sergeant Gawain said, pretending to forget that he left the speakers on his armor open. He deliberately made a show of turning them off.

As the ship rocked violently again, he used his authorization to access the feed from the shuttle. He noted right away that they were moving away from the island. He wondered if some higher up would cancel the operation. In a way he would welcome them canceling it, but on the flip side he really wanted to show up that Earther. He tuned to the flight command’s channel and listened in. He really wanted to know what they were going to do.

“...We have a flight of support ships rerouting to your position. ETA 1 minute. Head to coordinates King King 8155, 2740. Stay above 1 mile.” Sergeant Gawain heard them say over the radio.

“Roger that. King King 8155, 2740. 1 mile.” The Sergeant’s pilot replied.

Sergeant Gawain switched the feed so that he could see a three dimensional map with the coordinates. He saw his ship’s icon, which looked like a green toy on the map, changing course once more. He also noted three green support ships coming towards them from the right-hand corner of the map. He noted that they were moving much faster than the assault ship.

“A707 this is A101. It’s Mayflower. Coming in from the north east.” The lead support ship told Sergeant Gawain’s shuttle pilot.

“Damn glad to see you, Mayflower. I was told that the anti-ship weapons were out. Seems like the intel was wrong.” The assault shuttle’s pilot replied.

“We gotcha, Chief. Fall in behind us. We’ll clear the way.” Mayflower came back.

“Thanks, Mayflower. If you’re ever on the grey side call me up. I’ll buy the first one.” The assault shuttle’s pilot told Mayflower.

“I might take you up on that one, Chief, if Mayflower doesn’t.” A female pilot replied.

Sergeant Gawain tuned out the banter as he felt the ship turn. “We are headed back. It might be rough, people. Once we set down, I want us out in five. Understood?” He called out to his platoon. He nodded as they gave him a ‘Aye aye, Sergeant’. He turned his attention back to the feed.

“What are they shooting? Is that a solid projectile?” The female pilot asked as Sergeant Gawain turned the flight radio back on.

“Seems like it.” Mayflower replied.

“Who the hell shoots a solid projectile that big nowadays?” A third male that the Sergeant didn’t recognize.

“Contact. Marking it.” The female pilot called out, sounding excited. On his map Sergeant Gawain saw two toy tanks suddenly on his map.

“I got two tanks. Their active camo is down. Targeting… and they're down.” The female pilot said over the radio. As he watched, two new tanks appeared.

“Contact. Two more. Camo fell off. Targeting. Both down.” The male pilot that Sergeant Gawain didn’t recognize spoke over the radio. A third set of tanks appeared on the map.

“Contact. Two more.” The female pilot called over the radio. “Down.”

“I’m seeing a pattern. Chocks, a strafing run. Marking it now.” Mayflower said over the radio, as yet another pair of tanks appeared on the map. A yellow line appeared running over it and continuing running for about a mile or so. On his map Sergeant Gawain saw one of the support ships break formation at a very fast pace. It turned to the right before circling around back towards the island, lining up on the yellow line. A fourth set of tanks appeared. This set seemed to be moving away from the coast of the island.

“Lined up and running now.” The male voice called out.

“Hurry, they are trying to bail.” The female pilot said.

“If they move they leave their camo. They’re stuck. Someone must be out there taking down their camo.” Mayflower said over the radio.

“Friendlies? Any in the danger zone?” The male pilot said as he got closer to the island. Before he finished his sentence a green waypoint appeared in the ocean.

“By Mary’s toes. She’s shooting from the ocean. That has to be at least a mile out.” The Female support ship pilot called out, sounding stunned. As she spoke the support ship with the male pilot made his run. Four more red targets appeared as soon as he passed over them. Red crosses appeared over them less than a second later and the tanks faded a bit into the background.

“I’m clear.” The male pilot said as it passed over the island.

“Anybody see anything?” Mayflower asked.

“Clear.” The female pilot replied.

“Nothing, boss.” The male pilot replied.

“A707. We will follow you in and stay on station for three minutes. Get your marines off and get clear. We will cover you until you’re clear of the island.” Mayflower told the shuttle pilot.

“Thanks. Mayflower. You said she. You know the sniper?” The assault shuttle’s pilot asked.

“That’s B127. She’s a dropship pilot. She’s in some modified light Mech platoon. Crazy woman souped up her dropship. It’s like a friggin racing cutter now.” The female pilot told him. “Who does that?”

Sergeant Gawain cursed then looked around to make sure no one heard him. He was really glad he turned off his armor’s loudspeakers before all the action took place. He looked up as the light changed from the normal white to a dull red light.

“Ten seconds to drop.” The assault shuttle’s pilot told him on the private channel, before he switched back to the flight channel. “If you see her, tell her I owe her one at the NCO club. I’ll even tramp my happy ass over to the green side and buy her one.”

The female pilot laughed. “I’ll tell her, but she can’t get into the NCO club. She’s a Private.”

Disgusted, Sergeant Gawain turned off the flight radio. He had a job to do. He knew better than to get distracted. “Ten seconds, people. Up and at the ready.” He said, trying to put the Earther out of his mind. He stood up as the rest of the platoon got up as well and turned towards the back of the shuttle. He waited in the back, counting in his head.

The light went green and there was a soft bump. The ramp dropped down and the platoon rushed off the assault shuttle. Sergeant Gawain followed them, looking around - making sure they were doing what they were supposed to and taking positions to protect both the ship and the people still getting off. He took his position behind the lead in Fourth Squad.

“Gawain? This is Thompson. I’m setting a waypoint. I want your platoon to attack this point, but do not enter the base. Keep them busy.” A new female voice said over the command channel. It took Sergeant Gawain a second to remember the name of the Third Company's Gunnery Sergeant.

“Already on it. Ma’am.” He told her. “Ma’am, we can be inside the base in under fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t need you inside the base. Keep them occupied and be ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Understood?” The Gunny asked him.

“Ma’am, there are only two of you left. There’s not much you can do with just two people. We can take the base no problem. An hour tops if you let us.” He told her.

“We are not taking the base. We are friggin destroying it. You have your orders Sergeant. Follow them.” The annoying Gunny told him.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

He switched to the platoon channel. "The Op is a go. Let’s get it done, people.” He ordered his people.

“I won’t disobey orders, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show initiative.” He told himself, as he watched his platoon move forward with a critical eye. He was always on the lookout to cut anyone who he thought was a rock bringing down his company. He hated rocks. “Earthers are always rocks. Everyone knows that.”

Gunnery Sergeant Thompson

Company Commander, Third Company, Second Division.

Thompson sighed as she finished dropping the waypoint on Gawain’s map. “What an ass.” She thought to herself. Looking up, she saw Magic getting out of the water. “God, she’s smaller than Gwen was.”

Shaking her head, she motioned for the Private to follow her as she ran towards the enemy base. She smiled as she recalled what had happened a few hours ago. It wasn’t hard remembering, as it was the most action she had seen in over four years now. It had been fun being an infiltrator again - running around killing the enemy while mapping the base. It had been years since she had done something like that. She sometimes wished she put more mods into her memory, but she knew that there were only so many mods a person could have in their body.

She reminisced about the fact that most of her fellow infiltrators had already left the marines. People who picked the template didn’t normally make good leaders. Even she had to admit that people like her were normally way too reckless. Back in the day, the more reckless an Infiltrator was, the more successful they most likely were.

“It’s a pity that the Marines did away with the Infiltrator class. Or Templates, as they call them now.” She thought to herself, as she waited on her Private to get done.

It was also really hard for someone like her to sit back and let the kids do all the work when she knew she was so much better than they were. But as her last company commander had told her, ‘Marines need leaders more than they need more grunts. If you want to keep being a Marine, be a leader. Step back and let the kids play.’

It was still the hardest thing she had to do to stay in. Some days it was almost too hard. That is, until she remembered what was left of her planet after the war. Even centuries later, planetary time, they were still rebuilding.

It was why she liked her newest Private so much. That,and the fact that she knew that the little Private was a combat psychic. Not many had been in long enough to see one, but she had. Gwen had been her squad leader and could read people's minds. She was one hell of an Infiltrator. The best that she had seen.

There were a lot of tells that she had picked up on. Never missing a shot was a big one. Gwen never missed either. There were also little things - like she never tripped over rocks the way most people did once in a while. There was also the fact that she seemed to always know where the action was coming from and was in the thick of it, more often than not. There were more signs, but those were the biggest ones she had seen while she watched the combat feeds.

Gwen was like that, but she thought Magic might be better than Gwen ever was. The one thing Gwen was better at was surviving and not doing some really dumb stuff. Gwen never shot some random equipment in the middle of a battlefield. She never got run over by a tank after jumping out of a plane. Psychics should know better. Gwen did.

She led her Private up to the escape hatch and motioned for her to go forward. She watched her little baby psychic break out her hacking kit. Oh, they don’t call it that anymore. They call it something dumb like sabotage kit. “Whoever came up with that name should be shot.” She thought to herself, as the Private broke open the panel on the lock and stood frozen as she hacked her way past the door’s security.

“See, that's another thing Gwen would never do. No situational awareness. An enemy could easily sneak up on her and take her out. The Private would be dead way before she ever realized there was an enemy behind her.” Gunny Thompson thought to herself, shaking her head.

She scanned the area again as the Private worked. “To be fair, she’s a Scout not an Infiltrator. What kind of scout needs hacking and sabotage skills? God, her template is all over the place. She has things that no Scout in their right mind would have, but she skips things no Scout would do without.” She thought, as she scanned the area once more.

“Gwen was like that too.” She thought with a fond smile. “What kind of Infiltrator needs to know how to drive a tank? The amount of skills that she wasted on that thing still makes me cringe. What is worse she never got to drive one in an official named platoon sim or real mission before she got scooped up by the psycorps.”

“I wonder what I’m going to do when I get out. I know I should be a good girl and head back home to help rebuild, but I’m not a good girl. I like fighting. I like what I do.” Gunny Thompson thought sadly.

“I needed to get into First Division this deployment. I needed the exposure as a company commander in a prime company.” She thought to herself, as the private took her time opening the door. “At least this tournament is turning out to be fun.” Watching the Private do the impossible over and over again was more fun than she had had in years. “Speaking of doing the impossible, what is taking so long?”

“What’s the hold up, Magic?” She asked her Private.

“Sorry, Ma’am. It’s open now. I used the security protocol to download a piggyback Trojan horse program into their servers. I should have a huge chunk of their messages and supply lists downloaded to my armor when it gets done.” The Private replied.

“How long will it take?” She asked the Private, trying not to laugh.

“My God, she would have made an amazing Infiltrator. Well, with the right training.” She thought to herself. “The balls on this girl.”

“Five to ten minutes, Ma’am.” The Private replied.

“Fine. The racist prick should be in position any minute now. We wait for him to get going before we go ourselves.” She told her Private. She knew she didn’t really have to tell the Private that, but it’s always good to remind people what the orders were before and during a combat situation. When the adrenaline starts running, people tend to forget things. Sometimes really important things like what they were supposed to do. She always found it best to keep reminding her marines. At worst, she sounded like she was nagging them. It was better than them screwing up a mission. She could live with being a nag.

Her map pinged her to tell her that a platoon under her command had come under fire. She checked it and saw Gawain charging right into the teeth of the enemy. “Simple, and ballsy. Might work as long as the momentum stays with him.” She thought as she saw what was going on.

“It’s on.” She told her assistant. She wondered if the Private realized what kind of bonuses she was going to get when this was over. The company commander, which was her, never rescinded her promotion to assistant company commander. Though the Monarch might get involved and nerf the Experience points a bit, because of her rank.

“Can’t have a Private making Sergeant’s Xp. Wouldn’t be proper. Stupid. Enlisted points - another dumb name. Why don’t we call it what it used to be called - Experience points. E-points is just a stupid and fancy name for XP. Stupid to change it after calling it that for so long. Can’t be like the Empire. No siree, Bob.” She thought to herself, as the Private opened the door. “Time to have fun. No more orders needing to be given. The Private knows her job. The racist prick knows his. Let’s play!”

Private O’Malley (Magic)

Second Scout, First Platoon, Third Company, Second Division.

Freya watched as Gunny dashed away so fast she could barely see her. She ran after her boss, but she couldn’t keep up. It didn’t really matter though. She had a different objective. She had three bombs to plant. When Gunny had run into the base the first time, she had been looking for a reason why the base survived an orbital strike. Turns out the Monarch had cheated when she created the sim. The base had some kind of support structure that would spread the damage out far enough that the base would survive. Well, the underground part. Well, not the first two floors of the underground - they had caved in when the strike hit.

The good news was that it was very easy to remove the protection from the base. There were a bunch of support beams that needed to be removed. She had three and Gunny would take the rest. She looked at her mini map and followed the yellow line that Gunny had put up to show the way to the first support beam. As she ran she nearly tripped over a dead body. There was a large hole in the guy's chest. Freya shook her head as she jumped over the body and kept running.

“Gunny is a beast.” Freya thought with a smile. The funny part was it wasn’t the first dead body she had seen so far.

She came upon the first location and looked up. There was a white, checkered ceiling tile above her. She grabbed her sabotage kit and looked around for something to stand on. In the end she had to hack a door to find a chair so that she could get access to the ceiling tile. Two seconds later she pushed the panel back. The explosive attached safely to the beam hidden behind the ceiling tile. She took the time to push the chair back in place so no one would think to look up and find her explosive.

She ran to the next waypoint and placed the explosive, this time on the back of a metal beam that ran from the floor to the ceiling. She did her best to hide it, but still worried that someone would find it. In the end, she left it as is and hoped for the best.

She was on her third beam when her program pinged her telling her that it was done. She checked it and smiled as it filled the entire memory space she had in her armor. She would lose some data, but there was nothing she could do about it. She placed the explosive and ran back towards the exit.

She got about fifteen feet away from the last beam when she literally ran into a medium-armored soldier coming out of an office. She bounced off him while he stayed where he was. He reached over his shoulder to grab his rifle, but Freya was faster as she pulled her pistol out of her holster and held the trigger down. He went down with a bunch of holes in his chest.

“If you’re done playing cowgirl and bad guys, we need to leave.” Gunny said from behind her.

Freya turned around to see Gunny lowering her rifle. She nodded her head and started forward again, trying to take point. Gunny grunted and moved around her, taking point for herself. Frey shrugged and ran after her boss. She kept looking over her shoulder trying to keep guard on their rear.

“Next time you use the training facility, I want you to take all the situational awareness skills that you can get your hands on.” Gunny told her over the radio, breaking all sorts of communication protocols.

“She’s the boss. She can break them whenever she wants.” Freya thought as she ran to keep up with her.

Before Freya could move, Gunny had her gun up and was firing down the hallway. She never slowed down and kept going, even when they ran past the dead bodies. Freya shook her head and thought about what Gunny had said about her skills. She had to admit that Gunny had just proved her point. Gunny fired a few more times and her reaction each time was so much faster than Freya’s that Freya never got a shot off before the enemy were taken out.

It wasn’t all that long before they made it out of the base. They kept running for the ocean. Freya dove into the water after her boss and swam about twenty feet out along the bottom of the sea, before she stopped beside her.

“Stupid, racist prick. I told him not to enter the base. You know what. Screw it. He can deal with the fall out. I’m not waiting anymore.” Gunny said suddenly over the radio. “Fire in the hole!”

Freya was still trying to figure out what fire in the hole meant when her armor shut off her external audio pickup. It also did its best to stop the shockwave as the explosives went off behind her. She turned around in the water and watched as rocks started dropping down from the surface of the ocean. She noted that it was a much bigger explosion than the one in the hanger.