Shoot, Kill, Repeat

The hand on János' shoulder bareyl elicited a response. Already, eyes were down the 4x sight's tiny red chevron lining high on the torso of the lizard-warriors falling out of column into a hasty firing line once the shooting started. He spared only an acknowledging tilt of his head in Kristjana's direction as the Swede settled in off on his left just a few yards down the line. His head was cold, blank except for darting eyes and shifting shoulders as he kept the muzzle downrange. He watched as one of his rounds snapped across the snout of a Salvesh, the 5.56mm round sheering the front teeth teeth out of the creature's mouth. But the warrior seemed utterly unfazed except for the bright blue oozing from his gums. The things seemed to grow teeth with an alarming regularity, as though they were part-shark, whose mouths constantly grew and shed constantly. Provided the creature survived combat, . Where the bullet would have shattered a jaw from the force alone, the roots of Salvesh teeth were weak at the root while strong and serrated throughout, as though naturally engineered to remain in an ancestral prey creature that got away.

Fire shifted lower after a moment, bullets tearing through the center of mass to either side of the creature's sternum. The shots came with a practiced deliberation. János took his time with every target he acquired, though when he shot he did so with rapidity, a double-pull of the semi-automatic trigger sending two rounds down at whatever was in the center of his sights. They missed the tooth-torn Salvesh, who twisted, let out a saurian roar, and threw himself behind whatever cover there was in that synaptic reflex that demanded self-preservation

Fire if you've better than even odds, János had remember as a practical lesson of his combat experiences. Ideally, every bullet would find a target, but if it kept the beasts under cover, and from shooting back, or flinching, their shots going wild... Well, that was almost as good. Continued fire ensured that another of the creatures fell though, bullets riddling through his target's right half, shredding his shoulder and chest. The Salvesh fell, dead or wounded didn't matter to János as he shifted to the next target. And then the one after that too.

Once the brief firefight was over, the call for a medic was anything but unexpected. Nor was what happened fully unexpected. János did his best to ignore Anoi's plight. The doc would take care of him in due time: there wasn't much he or the others could do about a shredded, limp, arm. Looking from Anoi to Park (who merely seemed to have a bad headache and a nasty cut on his face), János couldn't help but think: twice lucky bastard. Park'd lucked out: perhaps the shells had been poorly manufactured, the detonators not going off despite having purchase? That had to be fun for the Salvesh, playing a game of dice about whether your ammunition even worked or not!

Pacing about the bodies with Viktor and the rest of the team, there was a detached efficiency to every step János took among the corpses of the dead, both already and not-yet. Fitting his bayonet to the rifle, he slashed the blade again and again over every body's throat that he came across, alive or dead. Those still living shot up a geyser of fluorescent blue. The dead merely oozed it as János stepped over bodies to C-team's assigned point on at the center of the squad's firing line.

A long swig from the camelback as suddenly, János' throat felt parched once he returned to the bunch. Magazine check - three rounds left: twenty seven rounds had been fashioned down range, cool and orderly. A new mag went in, and the old one went to the back of the line. Taking a knee on the center-left of the middle of the line, head swiveled in the direction of the low whine of the platoon tech's drone. Knowing more company was inbound, János slipped a grenade into the side-loading tube of his 320. He watched, waited...

---

Memoirs from an Alien Planet. Day 8, 5 minutes after first contact.

^{"You got that one, right? Millionaires and fucking movie stars!" -- Shattah, Daniel.((@HeySeuss))}

K-Ton made a clicking sound with a smirk and a wink that was shrouded by their breathing masks as he threw a thumbs up. "Oh don't you worry about that boss, I got everything!" he replied with an equally brutal chuckle. The attitude they had was perhaps a bit... morbid, but in this line of work, it helped ease the tension of possibly dying at the hands of four armed aliens god knows how far from home on a planet in distance space with no particular devotion to any cause.

Either way, the day was just starting, and the call for fresh mags and water was called. Taking a long sip from his camelbak's straw, K-Ton took the time to re-organize the load of his M32 to his typical setup, now that they had a moment to themselves. His rifle sat the way it was before they left- he hadn't fired a single round in the last engagement, opting instead to provide fire with his grenade launcher when necessary. Again, he had the feeling he probably spent more ammunition than necessary on such a small pack, especially with two more platoon sized packs of Salvesh heading their way.

The heat was gonna turn up again soon- if it wasn't hot enough in this damn jungle, and they had to get themselves ready- last time they ambushed a small scouting element, flat footed and unaware, it was less of a fight and more of mob hit. This time, they were facing greater numbers, and without the advantage of surprise. Still, with relative calmness, he pulled a mag out of his vest and offered it to Shattah.

"Hey boss, I'll trade you," he asked, gesturing to a couple of the 40s Danny carried on his vest.

Anthony Collins

---

The platoon had just executed a hasty ambush with the first and second squad along with the platoon’s two General Purpose Machine Guns laying down a base of fire and the third squad along with a few Platoon Headquarters personnel executing the assault across the Kill Zone. They Assault team fired double taps into the fallen enemy prior to passing them. This is a technique in compliance with the Geneva Convention back on earth, but completely irrelevant on this god forsaken planet. If the assault element bypassed a fallen enemy and later found the enemy combatant to remain alive, it is the ambushing unit’s responsibility to provide medical attention and evacuate as a Prisoner of War (PW).

The third squad’s aid and litter team were preparing their litter when Lieutenant Koh spoke up, "I have Salvesh silhouettes cresting the hill at a sprint! Roughly about two platoons in strength. Looks like they're here for the after-party."

Major Collins looked at the ridge line. It was a distance of roughly half a kilometer. “Mr. Gunn, how far out is that UCAV?” He was asking his Target Acquisition Specialist when the Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicle he had ordered would be on station to hit targets on the ground. @Trivval “Also, please call in mortar fire on this position right now, understood?”

As he turned to look at the platoon, appreciating the relative quietness of the jungle, he looked at the third Squad leader, “Disregard the wounded Salvesh! We won’t be able to take him with us.” Anthony Collins turned back to the majority of the platoon, “Damn, I really would have loved to take him back to the doctors.” Then he yelled for everyone to hear, “Fall back to last rally point and establish a linear defense along the ridge line over looking this area. I want third squad in the middle with a pig on each flank of third.” He then looked at Park, who was bleeding from the face, “Park, take your squad to the right of third squad. Then, he looked at Hedberg, “Take your squad about a hundred meters beyond the platoon’s line of defense and establish a secondary line. If the shit gets too deep, we are dropping back to your line. Be prepared to cover our retrograde operation or push forward and reinforce us.” Finally, he looked at Boggs and Laurent, “Get those pigs in position and use the AT Gunners and flank security.” The term pig is a friendly expression used to describe the larger GPMGs firing 7.62mm rounds. They are usually heavy and put out a lot of firepower. Not to be confused with the smaller 5.56mm Light Machine Gun or SAW used at the squad level.

“Ok, Ladies and gentleman, Unass the AO!” Tony Collins yelled as the platoon began running the 400 meters back to the last known rally point. Pieter Gunn would have to call in the mortar strike from the run. It was better than to sit here and wait for the Salvesh to catch up. Besides, the high ground of the last known Rally Point would give the platoon a height advantage and hopefully suck the enemy into their new kill zone, assuming the Salvesh follow the tracks the platoon would create across the jungle floor.


Brian Park, First Squad

---

Butch slapped Brian on the shoulder as she walked past him, ”’Tis but a scratch, ja?’" She smiled at him as she passed.

“Ja, a scratch. Really going to mess up my smooth Asian features. I was really hoping to get to know that Singaporean chick too.”

Once the shooting died down, the medic came by and put a bandage on his cheek. @Lord Shaxx “How’s it look, doc? Anything broken? Great scar to look forward to, though. Am I right?” Brian tried to smile, but it only hurt to move his facial muscles in such a manner.

Finally, Lieutenant Koh ruined the euphoria with her dismal report that two Salvesh platoons were heading their way. This could be anywhere from 60 to 100 combatants. She really hadn’t been specific. No one knew how large their grouped their platoons, but earthlings used anywhere from 30 to 50 men in theirs.

Time to unass the AO! The Platoon leader had spoken. “OK first squad on me, let’s beat feet and get back to that ridge line a half a click to our rear.” Brian counted the soldiers of his squad. So far, he was the only casualty. He knew he could still walk or in this case run. His wound wasn’t that debilitating.

Within seconds, the platoon began running back toward the platoon’s new position. Major Collins made sure he was the last one off the ambush site with Pieter Gunn and Lieutenant Koh right close by. “Let’s go, chaps,” Major Collins uttered, loud enough for the two of them to hear. The counter-attacking Salvesh had not yet reached the clearing where they stood yet.

As they moved hastily away from the ambush site, the roar of an A-10 flying overhead drowned out the silence. Then the signature loud burping nose of the GAU-8 Avenger Autocannon could be heard spitting our rounds toward their approaching foe.

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” The Major mumbled as he ran.

@Noxious@Hellis@Reaper@Hellis@JDolan

---

"Jesus Danny." Butch got a shrug in response as he moved closer to get a good look at his handiwork, and just, to be uncharacteristically cocky, circled a gloved finger in the air over where the shots landed on that Salvesh. This one had some sort of jewelry on him, an engraved metal bracelet of some sort on one of the four arms. Danny took that right off him without any regrets and popped it in the old-fashioned canteen pouch he used to hold expended mags and other goodies.

He left the weapon -- too heavy to carry back. "Poodle" wasn't quite the right term that came to mind for a four-armed werewolf-shaped thing with reptilian scales and a pattern on them. It had a crest, male, but they knew that.

Once done with that bit of housekeeping, he checked the team out visually, to make sure there weren't dings on the paint or anything springing a leak. They were in a hostile enough environment that they were wearing masks. He checked his, he looked over K-ton's, Butch's and Serge's. He made sure they weren't bleeding or freaking. It was a quick few seconds check, but everyone looked relatively okay, considering they'd just gotten kissed. Then again, his fireteam was lucky -- everyone had combat experience. They'd cope with it later, in their various ways.

He eyeballed Park too. He'd taken a bell-ringer, but he was making sense so far, so that was that. It had to hurt, but pain was less of a concern than having the squad leader not tracking all the way. But the guy was joking about chicks, "Relax Riddler, the Hentais," his short-hand for the Grathik, "probably can take that from 'gruesome disfigurement' to 'dashing Heidelberg scar' for you."

"Hey boss, I'll trade you," K-Ton cut in.

"Take it," he told K-Ton, as he worked the pouches open and handed the grenades over, gently.

The M32 was essential firepower for the squad, and that meant it was the responsibility of the fireteam to carry extra 40mm grenades for K-Ton.

Danny and K-Ton were just finished with the exchange, when the report came in from Koh, along with everyone in the platoon saying, 'fuck' at the same time. The order came down to start moving. Retrograde motion essentially meant that Danny, as point previously, traded that dubious honor for a new, equally dubious one. He'd never been down to more than a knee, ready to move.

He was rear-security now, along with Serge and his Negev, moving ahead of him. He'd run into this sort of thing in Syria, and it was the most nerve-wracking motherfucking job in the universe; you knew you had a tail, you were the guy that had to detect and deter them. Park didn't need to cut him the orders; he had pursuit deterrent munitions of the type used on Earth. When you were getting chased, you dropped them on your way back. Danny had four of them along. He pulled the pin on one, armed it and threw it toward the Salvesh they'd taken out. They had a self-destruct capability, which meant that it was theoretically civilian-friendly. It was meant to deny an area to pursuing foes during the emergency.

Once the grenade was thrown, it deployed tripwires. If disturbed, the mine launched into the air and then filled the effective radius with shrapnel.

And so, just as before, he laid them out. If nothing else, it'd perk the poodles' ears up and slow them down a bit, giving them more time. "Butch, K-Ton, PDM's. Make them count," he told them whisper-quiet over the comms, his voice back down typical patrol-level volume after the firefight. It was their job to deter the enemy, and that was why he'd taught them, though K-Ton didn't need it, the utility of that particular nasty bit of business. The fireteam humped extra ammo, extra grenades and extra other things as a matter of course, and that meant a few extra PDM's.

Of course, it wasn't just throwing them randomly; they were the far right element, that meant throwing them, like a grenade, further out right to deter them from shifting too far. It was entirely possible that someone else was setting up fire missions that involved the use of Area Denial Anti-Personnel Munitions (ADAM) which were essentially the M86's that they carried writ large, packed into an artillery shell. But Danny didn't rely on that.

The movement seemed excruciating by action-movie standards; one fireteam shifted back, at a run, the other covered, and so on and so forth. But always with Danny's fireteam at the drag-ass end of it. His clothing was sweated through on his back, shoulders and every other place where sweat accumulated, but he paced himself on sucking down the water, a slow swallow at a time here and there to avoid cramping. There wouldn't be much water left by the time they were done, but at least they were shedding weight. Fireteam A was on the other end of point now, probably while the fucker that was bringing up the rear before was whistling all the way back as he guided the platoon to the rally-point.

Even though it was less than half a klick, it was a long way back. It was tempting to curse Collins, but the man had the right of it; elevation and cover.

When the A-10 started to go to work, Danny nodded to himself slightly. He would have hated to think that they'd gone through all that bounding overwatch for nothing. When something blew up that didn't sound like the A-10, followed by a howl of pain, he felt a grim bit of job satisfaction.

Maybe the Salvesh thought the Humans were out of surprises or something. They were about to find out that they had lots of different kind of surprises, all of them nasty.

Though her helmet soaked up most of her sweat, droplets fell from her forehead and into her eyes, pearling at the tip of her nose. The climate was harsh, harsher than that one time she agreed to participate to a hot yoga session, and it was starting to wear her down. Physically, she felt the fatigue and would feel it tenfold later on, but right now her mind was sharp and alert.

The Iceland native adopted a smooth rhythm along with her fellow negveg shooters. Her larger mag capacity turned out to be a double-edged sword as she skipped a few reloading rounds and provided the other shooters with a longer resting period. When it was her turn to reload she practically devoured her water - and threw some on herself to rid her warm face of the unpleasant sting of salt.

“Bezrodny, make sure your boys and girls are as fresh as can be. I want you to form a firing line to my left.”

"Moving forward," Kristjana dutifully followed her team, as commanded, and set herself up on another oddly formed rock-like formation. It provided her with enough cover as she continued to pin down their attackers with a relentless assault. Her forearms ached from fatigue, her eyes burned from her own sweat and her throat was dry like a trout stuck on the pavement on a sunny day, yet none of it affected her aim or focus. Greater things were at stake which made her slight discomfort seem meager in comparison.

Kristjana rested her cheek against her weapon once more ad aimed for one of the Salvesh soldier's knees. She watched as Koolaid colored-blood poured out from the wound as his knee was effectively blasted out of his body - what remained of it anyway. "That's right, stay down ya gigantic arsehole!"

When their Warthog descended on the Salvesh like a rain of hellfire, Kristjana slid to cover behind a larger rock to take a moment's rest. As she gulped down some plain water, she wished she would have remembered to bring her pre-workout powder which had electrolytes and tasted like lime slush.

Explosions all around, blood both human and Salvesh tainting the purple planet crimson, dust from rocks raining on her from enemy's fire getting stuck to her sweat covered skin, Kristjana could honestly say she had never been happier.

As soon as the fighting sounded as if it were dying down Atwater was seen darting from shroom to shroom, ducking under low branches and hopping off of roots with urgency, having heard the call for a medic he was on the move without hesitation, knowing the extent of the callers injures wasn't a luxury Atwater was always afford and he treated every call the same. Ashley pushed the thoughts of uncertainty and the probability of himself getting shot to a spot in his mind reserved for such situations.

He could see the Park but his movements were halted as shots rang out around him, the sudden increase of incoming fire made him hastily adjust his steps, the smooth indent at the bottom of his boot made connection with a rather damp root and caused him to lose both his balance and footing, luckily for him though there were only a few metres between where he fell and the cover that Park was using and rolled into a small ditch to wait out the firefight.

The smirk that held itself on the medic's face was obscured by the respirator he wore, but the amusement in his voice was clear "You've got some visible damage done. But don't worry mate, you're still ugly." he teased with a light clap the the mans shoulder. For the most part he'd done what he could do out here in the hot-zone, there was no way he could really get to anything without exposing the man to more of the elements than necessary but from what he had assessed there was no reason for him to worry anyway.

"I'd advise gettin' you off the field asap but given that you're the only one who got zipped, I know that ain't happenin'." with that said Atwater winged it, rummaging in his ruck for all of seven seconds before he took out a roll of duct tape and made an impromptu reseal on the mans respirator, the man took a moment to inspect his work with a shake of his head and a unsure shrug "When we get back, you might want a new egg cover, mate".

---

"You heard the man, get it done." the Platoon Sergeant yelled, his rifle pointed downwards at an angle, finger laying idly along the trigger guard as he used his free hand to point out and about "Laurent, Hedberg, Park, Yb-Yb-Ybarra! Get your people on the move!" he barked, simply trying to reinforce the Major's words, it wasn't necessary, hell he could probably leave them to get things done without a word but naturally it got things to move just those few moments quicker. With his words finished he got into a job behind the last few of the weapons team and gave one of the gunners a slap on the shoulder "That was some good shooting out there boys, keep it up."

Atwater fell in just behind the platoon sergeant, absentmindedly getting instep with the man as they jogged with purpose and intent. "Check each others suits when we get a moment, I don't want anyone with bloody drippy willy or fuckin' runny arse because they didn't check 'emselves for breaches." the platoon's medic declared loudly as they hoofed it.

By the time they had reached their rendezvous Boggs was already in the centre pointing out the ideal locations for teams, he let his weapon fall to its sling as he used both hands to viciously cut through the air "First squad here, second squad there! Third squad on me!", casually Boggs strolled with Atwater and the third squad "Laurent, get your shooters and shove 'em right in wherever they fit, I want guns on deck for whatever they're hauling down here.". With a brisk jog up to the Major, Boggs nodded "Boys're in good, squad leaders'll put 'em where they want 'em."

A HAILSTORM FROM HADES

A hailstorm from Hades itself, his old commander had once said to describe a live firefight. Their ambush had been short, efficient, brutal, They had ushered the alien soldier into Hades through a hail of lead. They put down those still moving, far away from the conventions of man and honorable combat. They were battling morals as alien as their environment. ANd now. The enemy came bearing vengeance for their fallen, like primitive beast elevated just so they wield advanced weapons. He found himself thinking it was nice to fight a war were the enemy was so clear cut. Us vs Them was a dangerous thing, but this truly was Us vs Them.

And right now, the us was charging them, death in their eyes. He was briefly reminded by the faces of angry fanatical men with bombs strapped to their pickup. Of course, they didn’t sound so fucking terrifying. They were met by the deafening noise of a pair of lmgs unloading, into the tree line before the two gunners began to move back.

“Move!” He yelled to his soldiers, even as he they they began to beat feet backwards. He loaded a HE, took a knee and fired on in a beautiful arch that hit a tree and took the whole damn thing crashing down in the middle of the forward pack. “Left side, Don’t let them spread and send runners to our flanks. If they Do, Danny is gonna have a party of lead in his future.” He said as he let off another grenade, this one not hitting anything of worth, only causing some of the advancing enemies into cover. Speaking of cover, Leqba lost his footing one something and as he righted himself he was woefully out of position. Swearing, Hedberg called out.

“Leqba, they are drawing a bead on your position,” he called to the large man as what appeared to be a pair of their enemies carrying a pair of larger rifles. The thought came unbidden. Sharpshooters. “Leqba, put your fucking head do-” Then Henderson saw it; a glimmer of something and and then he heard the sharp, unmistakable report of a high power, heavy caliber rifle.

There was the sound of metal and wet meat colliding and he saw Leqba fall, a crater where the left eye should be, whatever calliber those sharshooters used was easily the equivelent of a 50.cal. A second shot hit Leqba in the chest, showing a sense of syncronisity and a intent on making sure there were killshots. From the entrence wound and the way Legbas body pushed of the ground at the hit, he wondered if they had hit him with a antitank round. The noise was a thing nobody really got used to. It was a different thing when it was from you or allies guns.

“Sniper, 3’0 clock, bearing left!, They are moving towards elevation!” Henderson called out.

Usually the enemy was to far away. But when a friendly got hit, that split second of a ping, and the slight sizzle of expunging kinetic energy turning a friend or ally into so much dead meat. He saw Joe, face screwed up in pain, take one look, then doubling his efforts to move out. “Good Man…” The Sarge mumbed. “Always keep moving.”

But there was a noise no alien roar could drown out. It was the AR-10. The gatling gun angel of death. The loud ‘brrrrrt’ of hundreds of rounds shredding foliage and aggressors alike, followed by the screaming death and gurgling demise of their enemies brought a savage grin to the man's face. “That’s for Leqba motherfuckers.” He mumbled before barking out orders. “Keep moving!”

Major Collins increased his speed to a hasty trot back toward their destination. The Salvesh were catching up to them. ’Must be nice having them long ass legs,’ Tony thought to himself. He could hear the A10s working them over. Their distinctive brrrrrrrrrt! Sound firing up the pink jungles below. He wondered if the pilots had an IFF (Identification, Friendly or Foe) system that identified friendly soldiers on the ground, he thought the Grathik would have invented such a device and placed it on each of the soldiers in his platoon. More than likely, the pilot of this A10 was several kilometers away in some hardened bunker. The Grathik were in the market of preserving lives, resorting to Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicles (UCAV) over manned aircraft.

Just as the A10 was pulling off the Area of Operations (AO), he could hear the 130mm mortars back at their Operating Base firing rounds. He looked for Mister Gunn, but could not identify him. ’Did Mr. Gunn get hit?’ Tony Collins thought to himself. ’Where the hell is he?’

The platoon was beating feet back to the wood line. The arcing scream of High Explosive (HE) rounds could be heard overhead. They impacted about two hundred meters behind them. The resulting Whump! Crump! Whump! Sounds fell in and around the rear portion of the Salvesh formation. He could not see where the rounds landed, it was too far back; probably where their ambush was set up. That would make sense. He told Pieter Gunn to target their ambush site expecting the reinforcing Salvesh to pass through that location anyway.

Sniper fire from the right. It was forcing people to pick up the pace. A few people sprayed rounds in the general direction, but no one called out distances. They could be Salvesh grunts, untrained to fire at great distances, simply firing rounds into the mass of running humans.

Sergeant Brian Park’s squad reached their destination atop a slight rise and went to ground. They spread out scanning for targets. The Machine gun teams, the other two squads and the headquarters personnel were still moving past them. “First Squad! Scan for hostiles! Do not shoot at friendlies! Hold your fire unless you can positively identify an enemy!”

Brian spied down the Aimpoint sites of his HK 416. He painted a red dot on a Salvesh infantryman moving toward him and squeezed the trigger, twice. The first round hit the beast in the head while the second round went high. He took a second aim at the same beast and squeezed off another round and then reacquired for a third shot. The second two rounds struck home dropping the alien soldier to the ground.

Brian looked at the three fire teams in his squad. Everyone was now in the prone position behind whatever cover was available. The friendlies had all found a new home; a new place to shoot from. The volume of fire coming from the first squad was gaining intensity. 40mm HE grenades were wooshing overhead, exploding among the Salvesh infantry. The two General Purpose Machine Guns (GPMGs) were talking to each other. The one on the right fired a steady nine to twelve round burst and stopped, the left one responded with a nine to twelve round burst of its own and then stopped. Then the right one spoke, then the left. They continued their conversation convincing Salvesh to rethink their course of action and take a dirt nap instead.

Major Collins watched the battle unfold around him. Sergeant Hedberg’s squad fell in on the far left of the line. That was fine, given the volume of enemy pushing in on the platoon. He spied the mortar rounds landing, now about four hundred meters away. He called over the radio, “Dagger five four, this is Dagger one zero actual, over.”

The mortar Fire Direction Center heard the message from Major Collins and responded, “Dagger one zero, this is Dagger, five four, go ahead, over.”

“Five Four, this is one zero, Tango Oscar is three two hundred mils, over.”

“One zero, I copy, Tango Oscar is three two hundred mils, over.” 3200 mils is navigational direction used by Field Artillery and mortar units using a 6400 mil compass. 3200 mils equals due south. Major Collins was informing the mortar’s FDC that he was due south of where the rounds were landing. It aided the Fire Direction Computers in adjusting rounds onto the target.

“Five Four, this is one zero, drop two hundred, fire for effect, danger close, over,” Major Collins yelled into the radio emphasizing the danger close aspect of the request for fire. This was to let the FDC know friendly infantry was closer than 600 meters to where the rounds were landing. There was a risk of friendlies being hit by incoming mortar rounds, but the enemy was very close and it was imperative to drop High Explosive rounds on the enemy right in front of them. More than likely the mortar rounds would not hit friendles, but the enemy were soon about to kill his platoon and wipe them off this Sauna moon. Firing a danger close mission was better than just using small arms fire to engage the enemy.

“One zero, this is five four, drop two hundred, fire for effect, danger close out.” The FDC received the message and were preparing to launch more rounds.

Major Collins looked down the sites of his rifle engaging a few targets while waiting for the FDC to call back. He actually heard the rounds leaving the barrels four kilometers away. Then the call came over the radio, “Dagger one zero, this is dagger, five four, shot, over.”

“Shot, out.”

He watched the area in front him picking up an occasional target. The flight time for the rounds was roughly forty seconds. Five seconds before they were expected to impact, the FDC called him, “Splash, over.”

"Splash, out." Major Collins called to let the FDC know he was paying attention.

The mortar rounds began falling among the advancing Salvesh infantry. Crump! Crump! Crump! Fwump! Fwump! Fwump! The concussive blast from each explosion, only two hundred meters in front of the human rifle platoon could be felt with each blast. It was like a warm slap in the face or someone turning on and off a hot hair dryer, blowing heat into their faces. But at least none of the fragments were ripping human flesh. It was however shredding several of the enemy infantrymen.

Tony watched the effects of the fire then called the FDC, “Dagger five four, this is Dagger one zero, Bravo Delta Alpha, eight enemy casualties, fire mission again, over.”

“Dagger one zero, this is five four, roger on the Bravo Delta Alpha, eight casualties, fire mission again, out.” Bravo Delta Alpha or BDA stood for Battle Damage Assessment. It helped the FDC to know how well their work was helping. Fire mission again simply meant the mortars should fire the same mission a second time.

Tony Collins turned to the company command frequency to update the company commander, “Dagger zero six this is dagger one zero, over.”

“Dagger one zero, this is zero six, go ahead over.”

“zero six, one zero, SITREP, ambushed enemy platoon at grid 768903, fifteen, one five Kilo India Alphas upon enemy, three friendly Whiskey India Alphas and two friendly Kilo India Alphas, break.” Whiskey India Alpha represents WIA or Wounded In Action and Kilo India Alpha represents KIA or Killed in Action.

“We have displaced four hundred meters to the south, enemy has a counter attacking force moving towards us at this time, roughly eight zero infantry, engaged enemy with Uniform Charlie Alpha Victors and mortar fire with limited success. Continue to engage with small arms, over.”

The Company Commander received Tony’s message, “one zero, this is zero six, that’s a good copy. I’m calling for a platoon of Sierra Alpha two Samsons to extract you. Continue to fight, but move to 751912 when I get confirmation from Samson, over.” The company commander was requesting a platoon of rotary wing aircraft to pick up the platoon at a predesignated pick up zone roughly thirteen meters south of their current location.

Major Collins returned to the mortar platoon’s frequency, “Dagger five four, this is dagger one zero, Bravo Delta Alpha, an additional ten enemy Kilo India Alphas. End of mission, over.”

“One zero, this is five four, good copy, end of mission, out.”

The platoon would be on their own with the survivors of the hell their indirect fire platforms just put them through, the human A10s and mortar fire just wreaked upon the Salvesh Infantry. Tony assumed roughly fifty of the enemy were still pushing towards their location, maybe more if his estimate of their strength was inaccurate. “Gunn! Pieter Gunn! Where the hell are you?!” Major Collins yelled looking for his Target Acquisition Specialist or Forward Observer. @Trivval

"First platoon!" Major Collins yelled over the din of the battle, the loud staccato of machine guns. "We have a platoon of Samsons inbound to pick us up. But we will need to move thirteen hundred meters to the PZ south of here. Keep the fire going and we will get out of this in one piece!"

---

Memoirs from an Alien Planet. Day 8, 30 minutes after first contact.

^{"Virgins always survive horror flicks." -- Claire 'Butch' Laurent ((@Noxious))}

"Butch, K-Ton, PDM's. Make them count," K-Ton vaguely heard over the comms. Their current response was automatic- bounding overwatch back to a more defensible position. K-Ton and the rest of his fireteam had the great honor and responsibility of being the lucky fuckers to hold the rear as everyone got a several meter lead on them. If he wasn't so busy gasping for breath and sucking water, he would've made a snarky remark about them 'always getting to do all the fun stuff'. Regardless, he haphazardly pulled PDM's out of his vest and tossed them into the jungle behind him, making sure not to accidentally hit trees or overlap with the others as much as possible.

"And Danny the bait survives, guess he is a virgin." laughed Butch as they got their way to the contact point and threw themselves into whatever cover they could find. K-Ton sunk to his ass at the base of a tree, his free hand clutching at the fabric around the base of his neck and rapidly pulling on it- in an attempt to stimulate airflow.

"I dunno if you noticed Butch, but I think the lot of us were bait." K-Ton yelled as he tried to make himself heard over the roar of the A-10s. He'd go kiss the A-10 Operators once they got back, god bless their trigger fingers. They had little form of respit as within moments the Salvesh were upon them and the fight began again in earnest.

"Goddam these guys are fast! K-Ton remarked loudly as he pulled out his M32 and leveled it towards the enemy. He was about to start firing when he heard the second squad leader call out a sniper team to their 3 O'Clock. Snipers were never any good- and K-Ton made a point of despising snipers- unless they were on his side. Quickly scanning the direction Hedberg called out, K-Ton spotted them, a small quartet of Salvesh scurrying along the treeline- two of them holding oversized rifle-like weapons.

Readjusting his aim, K-Ton paused to switch his M32 to an airburst tube. Gauging distance and heading, he pulled the trigger once, then twice. There tell-tale Thwump! Thwump! of his weapon and the slight rocking of his shoulders as he fired. Moments later the air around the Salvesh sniper team exploded in razor fragments and concussive force.

---

Between the A-10 and the mortar fire, there was a lot going on with the Salvesh. It was also a wakeup call to the entire planet, it felt like. The war was definitely on in Sauna, and they were in a straight firefight, infantry footslogging. So naturally, with the Salvesh suddenly outnumbering them, the idea was to keep pulling back while swatting with the big stick.

Once they were in position and prone, the fire got intense; the entire platoon was pouring it on; aimed shots, pairs for the Salvesh, were the order of the day, but the firing got more intense as the engagement got heavier. Danny did note that K-ton had the M32 on the enemy sniper team, which was the point of hauling the thing around. It was indirect firepower for the squad. He concentrated on engaging, but also keeping an eye on the flanks, ensuring that they didn't get rolled over. It was too easy to lose track, and it was his job to be eyes, just like Riddler, as much as it was to be the guns.

And so his eyes caught a glint of metal in the air, and he fired at that. It was rewarded with a bullhorn voice in several different, first alien and then human, languages and, finally, in English: "CHECK FIRE WE ARE A JOURNALIST! NICE SHOOTING THOUGH!"

The metallic object, an orb?, spelled out "PRESS (interstellar)" before reforming into the ball of liquid metal and bouncing off in a different direction.

Danny had seen some crazy shit before, but rather than continue to engage, he waited for Park or even Collins to sound off on that one. Instead, he resumed fire on the Salvesh. He didn't have time to be really shocked...

There wasn't all that much time as Rachel dropped her drone just low enough below the canopy and moved it out of the area the A10 would be engaging. She'd never seen one in action, but she had heard of its reputation and how much infantrymen cheered its power. She could see why now. The drone of the A10's guns and ordnance wasn't loud like gunfire, but she knew why. It fired too quickly to distinguish the individual shots going off, so it all got fused into one loud droning sound that sounded nothing like a lethal weapon going off.

"Good effect on target." She piped up, sending her drone back up and seeing a lot less signatures on the screen than before. "That fucked them up good!" Well, most of them would have known that just from experiencing with what the aircraft could do, but it was good for morale to announce it out loud.



As if that wasn't enough firepower, Rachel heard the call for mortars and could hear the telltale whistle of the rounds arcing through the air. The ground shook and she felt the airwaves of the concussion blasts rush past her, like subwoofers delivering an overpowered bass through her bones. They were 'danger close', but it got her blood boiling with excitement. She'd been observing enemies through binoculars and doing things quiet for most of her military career. While she appreciated the advantages of stealth and surprise, there were times when going loud and making things feel like a Michael Bay film got her excited, and this was very much one of those times.

"I think that got me wet." She quipped once the first wave of mortar rounds were done landing, and she nodded to the assessment of the explosives' effect on the Salvesh. "It'll give them second thoughts on chasing us down too far but let's not overstay our welcome. I can't keep an eye on the battle and watch for reinforcements both with one drone."

The battle was getting hectic enough to the point where she wasn't firing as much as she was keeping an eye on the tablet. Best not to let the Salvesh make use of the chaos of the mortar fire to flank them with a small squad. Each time she spotted a straggler or small detachment that were out of position from their main body, she relayed it to the closest fire team and let them decide on their target priority.

Still, they were outnumbered and fighting an enemy they didn't know all that much about. It wasn't a smart idea to push their luck and try to win a fight outnumbered on alien soil.

She turned to their platoon commander, an idea in mind. "Sir, permission to do something crazy?" She didn't wait for his response before elaborating on her plan. "I'm pretty damned good at moving like a ghost in this jungle terrain. Our main body leaves too large of a footprint for a stealth retreat, but I can remain out of sight and assist in directing our marksmen along the flanks to slow the Salvesh while evading their fire. If we bleed them enough they might change their minds on stalking us."

The platoon settled into their new location and the intensity of their fire increased. Major Collins only wanted to sit still for a few minutes and continue this retrograde bounding towards the rear. They had only a thirteen hundred meter movement to meet up with their air ride to freedom.

Lieutenant Koh offered a suggestion to the Platoon Commander, "sir, permission to do something crazy? I'm pretty damned good at moving like a ghost in this jungle terrain. Our main body leaves too large of a footprint for a stealth retreat, but I can remain out of sight and assist in directing our marksmen along the flanks to slow the Salvesh while evading their fire. If we bleed them enough they might change their minds on stalking us."

Major Collins listened to the young woman explain her idea. He knew this did not mesh with his plan to keep everyone alive and together. “I’m sorry Lieutenant Koh, but I cannot let you do that. I want to keep the platoon alive and together. I need you to keep eyes on the group in front of us and take a look at what might be behind us. The CO is calling in some birds to air lift us out of this shit hole. We need to make it thirteen hundred meters further south to get out of here. So, far our casualties have been light. I’d like to keep it that way. Keep your eyes up and let me know what you see, ok?”

Major Collins continued shifting mortar fire onto the Salvesh. He then ordered each of the squads to successively bound rearwards a hundred meters at a time in order to keep at least one squad and one General Purpose Machine Gun putting rounds on the enemy at all times. It was a lot of hard work, but the earthling platoon was attriting the enemy and preserving their force by sacrificing terrain for time. The enemy could not bring their entire combat power to bear on his platoon if they continued to move rearward. At best they were attacking the humans in a column formation rather than a linear one.

---

Retrograde movement under fire was not ideal, but getting out so they could saturate the place with lots of fire made sense if they were not going to reinforce and land more troops and start a wider battle. As usual, it felt like Park's squad was one of the last to shift out, but it always felt like you were getting the short end of the stick even when you were not and all things were relative. Collins put on as much support as he could bring into the fight, while the platoon sergeant and squad leaders focused on supervising the movements in order to give the boss the time and space to react to the situation as it evolved.

On Danny's level, it meant watching the flank and making sure everyone was reloaded, rehydrated and ready to move. His piece was the patch of territory they were supposed to keep locked down in a fight, should an enemy pop up in that zone, while relying on the other fireteams and squads to do their work. It was light infantry work, rather than the special operations that was his experience, but special operators tended to have a strong grounding in infantry work anyway. When things went to hell in a plan and recon became combat, you were infantry. Very vulnerable infantry in some cases. He checked his magazine, which had a clear piece of plastic that let him assess how much ammunition he had. He checked over the rest of the fireteam to make sure everyone was alright. He kept a tense, coiled watch over their sector as the people at their back started to pull back, feeling a spectral breeze of some sort at their back.

When it was their turn to move, they started to shift back, under the eyes of the element providing overwatch for them.

The whole point of it was to detect an enemy, so it was a surprise when he was suddenly face to face with one Salvesh, closer than any of them ever would like, in the path of their movement, with some sort of bladed weapon. There wasn't time to wonder how it got there, crest and all, looming and huge, with people who were -watching- for just this sort of thing, much less at what they all considered 'nightmare' range, with a Salvesh engaging him in hand to hand with some sort of huge blade on a huge haft.

He got his rifle up to block the strike, but felt another take him at the back, a blossom of pain right under his neck, and then nothing.

It was the nothing that scared him, as well as the way he crumpled, listening to the firefight all around him as it erupted.